The Goodness of Gray, the Holy Innocents, and the Kairos (Time) of God

Posted on by Julia Walsh

It’s a gray day, one of those types where the clouds hang heavy and seem to block out all sunlight. Inside a cozy lamp-lit room, I am sitting in a circle of ministers training to be spiritual directors and practicing the art of listening. Around the circle, person after person tells a story from their life that is personal.

With each telling, I notice layers of transformation and transition; I hear about the wonder of discovery and the lightness of hope. A phrase comes to mind: the goodness of gray. I jot the words into my notebook and open my heart wide. Although this happened weeks before Advent, “the goodness of gray” remained a constant suggestion, a companion in the season of searching, longing and waiting.

We are people who long for simplicity, who often ache for clearly defined borders and lines. Even though we may know that complexity and conversion is healthy and natural, we are comfortable with what’s predictable, what we know, what feels safe.

There may have been times when answers were easy, when we knew what to expect. For some it was the patterns of childhood, the days of easy answers and comfort zones. For others, we found solace in the rituals of our religion or what was considered proper and polite. Our memories might be hazy, but nostalgia convinces that there was a time when much stood strong on solid ground. Elected leaders compromised. Polarities were unusual. Religious life was defined. Democracy was functional. Unity and peace were valued and Churches were places of refuge and calm.

Now, we don’t know about much. Nearly everything we are familiar with — from the structures of Church and society, to technology and the ecosystems sustaining us — seems to be in transition, in flux. What we forget, though, is that…  [This is the beginning of an essay I wrote for Carl McColman’s blog at Patheos. Continue reading here.]

Photo by Martin Adams on Unsplash

Alive in the fire

Posted on by Julia Walsh

In the stretch of some days, we switched over from Resurrection joy and fiery feasts to ordinary time. (At least, according to the Church calendar that guides my contemplation.)

Holiness, light goodness, hope, love, transformation: all these energies are offered to us on this side of linear thinking and time. Yet, the God we know and love is bigger than the limits of our human understanding. This love invites us into a mystery that remakes us each moment, through each breath.

The Psalm (104) says: When you send forth your Spirit, they are created and you renew the face of the Earth.

The Spirit is being sent upon us constantly. Over and over we are created. Again and again, the face of the earth is renewed. The nature of the Spirit doing all of this is fire, wind and the flight of doves. It’s forceful, fierce, and moving. Not still and rarely subtle.

Yet, we are stalled by our lack of faith; by our fear of the Spirit’s fire and force, it seems.

Our faith in God’s power is corroded and corrupted by the world’s lies, by matters that are unGospel: security, strength and an obsession to protect our things. This is the trouble I encountered in a quick conversation with a man before worship on Sunday. As I aimed to prepare my heart for Pentecost Mass, I heard a suggestion that I ought to carry a weapon when I go to the margins of society, into the corners where street violence is a regular thing.

Such suggestions are due to the stalling to truly change our ways and steward the sacred gift of life and Earth we’ve been given — as named by the prophetic and powerful voice found in Greta Thunberg.

If we truly allowed the Spirit to change us — to create us — we would be burned by the fire, I believe. We would wear the scars of our transformation, just as the Risen Jesus and Body of Christ bears the scars of our salvation. Our flesh wounds would influence how we carry our bodies around each day. Feeling the impact of our faith in the Spirit’s power would mean we’d really believe in the Gospel:

“Lay down your life.” (John 15:13)

“Put down the sword.” (Matthew 26:52)

“Love your enemies …” (Luke 6:27-36)

“Take nothing …” (Luke 9:3)

“Whoever loses their life for my sake will find it.” (Matthew 10:39)

For as Jesus said, “I have come to set the world on fire, and how I wish it were already burning.” (Luke 12:49).

I am convinced, dear friends, that in these evolving (and yet ordinary) times we must trust and pray and have strong faith in the Spirit — with the possibility alive that good faith is the stuff of orthopraxy, not so much orthodoxy. For like the Spirit, our faith is shown through movement and bold acts.

If we are totally alive in the Fire, we will be formed by a type of freedom that makes us wild and brave. We’ll be weapon-free peacemakers fiercely giving our lives and acting boldly as instruments of true hope.

Let us do this, Church! Let’s act as instruments of the Fire, for as Greta Thunberg has said, it is through our actions that change is made: “The one thing we need more than hope is action. Once we start to act, hope is everywhere. So instead of looking for hope, look for action. Then, and only then, hope will come.” Amen!

Photo by Christopher Burns on Unsplash

A litany for the teens in Parkland, FL

Posted on by Julia Walsh
photo credit: https://theforestscout.com/9811/in-the-news/time-different-one-kind-parkland-movement/

Behold, now is a very acceptable time; behold, now is the day of salvation. –2 Corinthians 6:2

Lord, have mercy.
Christ, have mercy. 
Christ, hear us.
Christ, graciously hear us.

For our failure to protect children, God, have mercy.  
For our failure to elect leaders who protect lives, God, have mercy.  
For our failure to end unjust laws, God, have mercy.  
For our tendency to justify evil, God, have mercy.  
For our tendency to complicate love, God, have mercy.  
For our greed, God, have mercy.  
For our pride, God, have mercy.  
For our violence, God, have mercy.  
For our excuses, God, have mercy.  
For our selfishness, God, have mercy.  
For our stubbornness, God, have mercy.  
For our love of guns, God, have mercy.  
For our desecration of childhood, God, have mercy.  
For our desecration of the vocation of teaching, God, have mercy.  
For our desecration of schools, God, have mercy.  
For our desecration of the joy of being young, God, have mercy.  
For permitting a society full of inequality, God, have mercy.  
For allowing money to have more power than people, God, have mercy.  
For putting any life above another life, God, have mercy.  
For calling people monsters, God, have mercy.  
For our failure to love our enemies, God, have mercy.  
For our failure to believe in you, God, have mercy.  
For our failure to follow your nonviolent way, God, have mercy.  
For our failure to trust You, God, have mercy.  
For our failure to trust each other, God, have mercy.  
For our failure to love one another, God, have mercy.  

Heal our sorrow, Help us, Good God.
Mend our hearts, Help us, Good God.
Make us yours Help us, Good God.

For teens who teach us how to raise our voice, We thank you God.
For teens who turn trauma into strength, We thank you God.
For teens who lead us on the path of peace, We thank you God.
For teens who speak Truth to power, We thank you God.
For teens who lead us to true freedom, We thank you God.
For teens who are smart and articulate, We thank you God.
For teens who are deep and wise,  We thank you God.
For teens who are the hope of this nation, We thank you God.
For teens who offer their gifts to the greater good, We thank you God.

Heal our sorrow, Help us, Good God.
Mend our hearts, Help us, Good God.
Make us yours Help us, Good God.

Lord, have mercy.
Christ, have mercy. 
Christ, hear us.
Christ, graciously hear us.

May we all have the courage to join the teens of Parkland, FL in demanding common sense gun reform and advocating for nonviolent peacemaking. Let’s unite to protect life, so that there is #NeverAgain a school shooting.  Sign up to join a march in your community on March 24th here:   www.marchforourlives.com 

in God’s time

Posted on by Julia Walsh

We can’t really know what God is up to.

But we can wonder, and we do.  Wondering about what God is doing makes me feel like I am the size of an ant in an expansive universe.   Actually, I am, in a way.

Somehow, though, I am part of it all.

Paradigms of planet, church, religion and humanity are shifting all around us.  Sometimes, these shifts are gradual and gentle, like water flowing silently downstream  Other times, though, the societal changes are so bold we almost feel damaged.  We collapse on crosswalks and sprint down the streets of tomorrow while the statues of our ancestors laugh at our blindness.  Can we see the beauty that surrounds us today?

But, it’s hard to know beauty when there is a lot of clutter.  As we listen to the news and hold it up to what we’re working for, we quickly become discouraged.  The mess is confusing and we’re worried. What’s happening to our democracy? What’s going on in Christianity? Passions and power quake the church and government and we wonder what to have faith in.

Could it be ourselves?  Or shall we, can we, have faith in God?

A week ago I was a participant in a wonderfully strange conference.  Giving Voice, a national organization for young women religious, sponsored an inter-generational conference in Chicago to discuss what is happening in this life of ours, religious life.  We came with a sense that God is up to something new and different.  Together we wondered what that was.  The wondering was strange because we were talking about something that we didn’t know.

In Madeleine L’Engle‘s book  A Wrinkle in Time, Mrs. Whatsit sighs and tries to answer the questions of children.  “Explanations are not easy when they are about things for which your civilization still has no words.”  I desire to explain what I’ve experienced and sensed, but what is emerging seems to be beyond anything we have ever known.

I know it though, God is up to something. Paradigms are shifting; the world is changing right under our feet.  When the earth moves, it can feel dangerous.  We don’t know what will break around us.  We grip to reactions based in fear and power and doubt survival.  We crash and forget what we most need to move on: eachother.  As tumultuous as all the crashing and changing may feel, we can trust God and have hope.  God is in control and shifts can be good.

At the “young nun” conference we sought to contemplate the goodness that vibrates through the groans.  The process was deep and profound.  We listened, prayed, shared, played, questioned, connected and organized.  We learned too.  We were blessed to be with Sandra Schneiders, who is a great historian and theologian.  She’s pretty much the expert on religious life and what is has been, is, and could be.  In other words, Schneiders is a woman who can speak quite well about how God has worked with people throughout time.

We pondered what it means to be religious women in this time of unknowing.  We leaned in, all 150 women religious seemingly stuck in 2011. We felt connected to the deep roots of our ancient tradition and movements toward the future.  In these moments, I pondered how our human minds limit understanding what time really is.  Science agrees with what my spirit senses, too.  Time, as we know it, is an illusion.

So, we’re a part of this illusive time and God needs us to work.  Schneiders’ analysis of this Kairos was based in her insights that the signs of these times are globalization, secularization, pluralization, and de-traditionalization.  We are called to respond to what’s going on and how it impacts spirituality, politics, service and poverty.  As I listened, I felt relieved, actually.  We can commune in the struggles together.

Through it all I kept wondering.  What are we supposed to do?  If the needs of this time are so great- and they are- then how are we supposed to be present?  What actions do we need to take to birth a new paradigm and way of being?

As we ponder the power of Now, we get to listen to the whispers of the Spirit who always compels us to grow and change.  At the end of the conference, consciousness brought forth the art of poetry.  We peacefully walked through the shift and blessed the words of wonder.  There was silence as we gazed at what the time had emerged.

In art there are answers.  We need not worry about how to bring forth a new paradigm, after all.  We can just focus on living the reign of God.  After we do this for some time, then we’ll be able to look around and be awed that God has used us to help create something new.  Thanks be to God!