Weekly Word

Be inspired and encouraged with a weekly reflection on God’s Word and every day life.


 

Memorial of St. Martha

Preaching by Sr. Theresa Fox, OP

Today we celebrate St. Martha. We know all about her as the practical woman doing the things that needed to be done – like cooking and serving the guests. But there is much more that we can learn from Martha. There was a depth to her that we don’t hear in Luke’s account of her.

In John’s passage Lazarus had died and Jesus wasn’t there to keep him from dying. When Martha heard that Jesus was on the way, she ran to meet him.  Her conversation with Jesus that day revealed her understanding of the depth of the meaning of life and death and resurrection.  She knew that Jesus could bring someone back to life after the person had died. She may have been present at one of those times. But she knew more. She had come to realize that there would be new life after a person’s time here on earth.

But there was even more. Martha had come to believe that Jesus was more than a holy man of God who could work miracles. She was able to profess her belief in Jesus as the Messiah. She was able to say, “I have come to believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, the one who is coming into the world.”

We so often judge Martha only on the Luken story. Her sister, Mary, had chosen the better part – sitting at the feet of Jesus listening to his words. But John’s passage tells us so much more. Here is what these two readings teach me. It is so easy to judge a person by one perception of her/him. There is so much more that can be revealed if we just give the person a chance. After all each person has been created in the image of our loving God. So there is much good in that person whether or not we agree with the way they live their life, their political views, their race, or anything else that may be “different”. Recently I read this prayer on Facebook.

Dear God,
Give me eyes that see the best in people
A heart that forgives the worst
A mind that forgets the bad
And a soul that never loses faith.
Amen.

Posted in News, Weekly Word

Do I Know What I Don’t Know?

Sr. Pat Thomas, OP
Blog by Sr. Pat Thomas, OP

Tired of all that talk about racism? Pretty understandable since we’ve been talking and fighting about it for maybe 400 years. Some things you never get tired of talking and hearing about like your best friend’s wedding; the day you met your future husband; your Final Profession day; the worst day of your life; the storm that destroyed your house; the death of a son or daughter, a parent, a best friend, a sibling; and always when the folks get together someone will say “Remember when?”.

Unfortunately the stories of racism in our country, in our neighborhoods, in our Congregation and among our Associates are ever ancient, ever new. We hear the stories and shake our heads and ask ourselves, how can this be? When will we get over this, past this?

I have no answer except to look in the mirror. I am full of questions. Do I know what white privilege really means yet? Is it the same as white supremacy? What do I really believe about men and women and children of other races? I grew up learning about the good guys in the white hats versus those heathen Indians and the slaves revolting against the people who gave them work and shelter, who helped our country to thrive.

So what has happened to me? I learned more, and it wasn’t all good. Now when I try to retell the stories with more information and a different perspective, I risk being told I hate my country and I am rewriting its grand history. Really? What’s so grand about the Trail of Tears or the Tulsa Massacre or Eminent Domain? I will apologize for events like those and so many others, but I can’t change that they happened. So, what can I do?

All the information was out there, but some people hoped we wouldn’t find it.I’ve googled lots of books and out of print tomes on the subject, so I know now that they existed, but they just were not available to all of us, nor did some of us want to read them. But it is time. Read some James Baldwin from the 60s and 70s. Check out W.E.B. DuBois. Reflect more deeply on the writings of Martin Luther King, JR. There are many more titles and authors that I am sure you could all name. But the most fascinating aspect of it all is that if you hold up the books from those days next to the books from these days—–we might have some serious cases for plagiarism or déjà vu or “didn’t I just read that?”. The never ending story continues to unfold and we are at some pretty critical places in our country’s history. Seek the truth or follow in ignorance are just a couple of the choices we can make. I hope I can make the right one.

Posted in News, Weekly Word

Closed Doors

Blog by Rev. Ron Kurzawa

I have decided to put this in writing with the hope that it may help some in understanding something of what is stirring in our society these days.

The story is true.
The story is part of our history as a society and as Church.
I had this story very much in mind recently when participating in a public prayer service. The service was a response to the cries these days challenging us to deal with systemic racism. The service took place on the campus of Madonna University in Livonia, Michigan. Participating in this service were representatives of the various Felician sponsored ministries on this campus as well as St. Mary’s Hospital.
At the very onset of this time of prayer spokespersons stepped forth and declared whom they were standing with and for in this service.
I spoke.
My declaration stated that I was standing with and for all of those for whom the doors of our churches and even of our hearts had for too long been closed.
These were not just some nicely chosen words.
Much thought and prayer was placed into these words as I reflected on whom I wanted to publicly stand with or maybe rather on whom the Lord was calling me to stand with and for.
I know stories.
From my many years of ministry I have heard many stories, and sadly, I have heard too many stories about these closed doors.
These were the ones with whom and for whom I stood in prayer – those who experienced doors closed to them, doors that really should have been open wide.
With that background, I have decided to share one of these stories.
It is a story that goes back into the 1980’s.
That’s a long time ago but the story has stayed with me and is also one of the stories that has helped to form and shape me, I believe, for the better.
As I share this story, I also hope and pray that it may help to form, shape and enlighten you as well.
At the time that this story unfolded I was pastor of Precious Blood Parish in Detroit.
By then this was a small faith community, consisting of perhaps 250 or so households.
Everybody knew everybody.
And one fine Sunday, right there in the front pew, there was a definite newcomer.
She was an elderly Black woman, stately and noble in appearance, dressed to the nines in her finest Go-to-Church wear.
It would be impossible not to notice her presence.
I determined to find out more and to certainly welcome her to our community.
I expected that she would, after Mass, follow the crowd to the back of the building.
Because this was a significant sized building and because we did not need to fill it with pews right up to the back door, several rows of pews had been removed and a gathering space created. There, after Mass we had room to gather for coffee, cookies, donuts and all sorts of other goodies that folks would bring to share. When Sunday Mass was finished, all would march to the back and gather and socialize and live community.
But she did not join us.
This mystery lady from the front pew had gone out the side door.
But she was back again the following Sunday.
And this time I was sure she would catch on and join us in the back.
But again I was wrong.
Once again, she slipped out the side door.
A third week she returned yet again.
And this time I resolved that she was not going to get away.
As the procession began to exit down the center aisle, I slipped away and headed to that side door.
And I caught her and greeted her and welcomed her and we began a conversation, one that remains with me to this day and one that inspired my words at that prayer service.
I asked if she was new to the neighborhood.
“Oh no,” she replied, “I live right down the street, about half a block away. I’ve lived there for sixteen years.”
“But we’ve never seen you here before,” was my reply and question.
And then she explained.
Sixteen years ago she bought that house and moved into the neighborhood, locating deliberately within the shadow of the church. She loved her faith and wanted to live within walking distance of the church. She did not drive, relied on public transportation to get around. However, she would be able to walk to church whenever the Spirit moved her.
She was so happy to have found that home.
And the first Sunday after her move, she walked to the church.
She entered through the main doors, the great doors.
She was entering her church.
Only she had hardly taken two steps in when one of the ushers quickly moved toward her and stopped her.
“Excuse me,” he stated.
“Excuse me, but you are in the wrong church,” he explained to her.
“There is a separate church for your people,” he let her know.
You do not belong here.
Wrong church!
Doors closed.
For sixteen years she lived in the shadow of the church that she loved, the church that did not want her.
For her and for so many others whose stories are of doors closed, I stood in prayer.
Doors closed – that is what systemic racism is.
And it hurts God’s children.
Our sisters and brothers.
Meantime,
keep praying
and stay safe.
Posted in News, Weekly Word

A New Mind Set

Sr. Pat Thomas, OP
Blog by Sr. Pat Thomas, OP

I have finally started wearing hearing aids, and it has been quite an adjustment. I know a lot of us have had to begin using these devices.  The one thing my audiologist has to keep me reminding me about is how my brain must be involved in how I use them. Once the aids are in my ears, it requires a tremendous rebooting for my brain because it has to regulate my hearing in a new way.

These last few months under the harsh realities of COVID-19 and the killing of George Floyd, our brains have had to make serious reboots. What was normal then is not normal now. How do we make rational decisions now in the face of the “wear a mask/don’t wear a mask” controversy; get a haircut or not; participate in protests or not; write letters to our leaders to encourage them to rethink how America will continue or not. You get it.

Our brains have to make a new balance and help us relearn how to live in our various settings. We have to relearn how to prioritize; to define our values once again. The question looms large out there – do we just go back to the way it was or have we been able to learn better ways? That is what our brain is trying to make sense about, and we can’t rush it. It has been too used to the way things always were, but then that’s the way most of us would like it to be – THE WAY THINGS WERE! I guess one of my hopes is that this virus and the horrendous murders of so many Black people will make us say we can NEVER go back to the way things were.

I hate the way things were and I see so many possibilities for us to make the words of an old Mamas and Papas song come to life.

There’s a new world coming
And it’s just around the bend….
There’s a new voice calling,
You can hear it if you try….
Coming in peace, coming in joy,
Coming in love.

An awful lot of people call that “pie in the sky” language; but I think the roots of those words are found in the Word. Jesus preached a new world order and told his first followers they had better get crackin’ to establish a different way of living where the last will be first from now on! It is a world of paradigm shifts, revolution and systemic change. Are you in?

Posted in News, Weekly Word

Tears We Cannot Stop

Blog by Sr. Anne Lythgoe, OP

We would like to believe that progress towards racial equality is being made, but Sister Anne Lythgoe’s blog on Michael Eric Dyson’s “Tears We Cannot Stop” is even more relevant today than when it was written in 2017.


At the moment I am reading a very disturbing essay by Michael Eric Dyson: “Tears We Cannot Stop: A Sermon to White America”. In it, Dyson speaks as a black Baptist minister to white folks about what it really means to be black in America. It is personal, angry, and there is little comfort in his pages.  I have never read such a straightforward and troubling piece, exposing me to the realities faced by our black brothers and sisters in this country. I am disturbed by it because I see my own whiteness contributing to the systemic indifference to black experience that has kept racism (and violence as an acceptable norm) alive for 400 years.

Dyson’s sermon is difficult reading, not because it is intellectually challenging. I simply can’t go too quickly, because every word of it feels like an indictment, a pointed, loving slap of cold water on my face. It is an assault on my assumptions to read his words, yet the tone and credibility of his preaching keep me on the page. He speaks with respect toward white folk, calling us “beloved”, telling us like it is and at the same time, he does not let us off the hook. The Presidency of Barack Obama, the ascendency of Donald Trump’s unapologetic bigotry, the NFL’s Colin Kaepernick, the sad story of Levi Pettit, and numerous examples of black folk victimized by errant police without accountability – all are laid bare and given a new context, a new perspective.

His essay calls to mind the famous songwriters Simon and Garfunkel and their emotionally stirring song: Bridge Over Troubled Water.  There really is a great deal of troubled water under the bridge, much of it is our own making.

His encouragement to white folks comes in an exhortation to empathy.

“Beloved, all of what I have said should lead you to empathy. It sounds simple, but its benefits are profound. Whiteness must shed its posture of competence, its will to omniscience, its belief in its goodness and purity, and then walk a mile or two in the boots of blackness.  The siege of hate will not end until white folk imagine themselves as black folk – vulnerable despite our virtues. If enough of you, one by one, exercise your civic imagination and puts yourself in the shoes of your black brothers and sisters, you might develop a democratic impatience for injustice, for the cruel disregard of black life, for the careless indifference to our plight…

Do not tell us how we should act if we were you; imagine how you would act if you were us. Imagine living in a society where your white skin marks you for disgust, hate, and fear. Imagine that for many moments. Only when you see black folk as we are, and imagine yourselves as we have to live our lives, only then will the suffering stop, the hurt cease, the pain go away.”

In reading this essay, I realize white folk need not fear Dyson’s words. His indignation is genuine, his anger righteous, his hope born from deep faith. I urge everyone to read it.  The bridge over troubled waters is us.
Tears We Cannot Stop: A Sermon to White America is available from Amazon.com and other sources in several formats.

Michael Eric Dyson is an award-winning author, a widely celebrated Georgetown University sociology professor, a prominent public intellectual and a noted political analyst. A native of Detroit, Michigan, Dyson is the winner of the American Book Award for Come Hell or High Water: Hurricane Katrina and the Color of Disaster. His book The Black Presidency: Barack Obama and the Politics of Race in America was a Kirkus Prize finalist. Dyson has written 19 books.

Posted in News, Weekly Word