Sr. Judeen discusses human trafficking with people she has met on the street

The Sisters of Notre Dame have long been committed to combating Human Trafficking in Southern California, partnering with CAST both to work with law enforcement and in raising awareness. Last weekend, the SNDs met up in LA with other concerned organizations and heard stories from survivors of human trafficking followed by a three-mile awareness walk. By talking to survivors and sharing their stories with others, we are taking the first steps toward ending modern slavery.

We pause for just a moment before the walk begins

We ask you to partner with us this month in prayer. Please consider adding Human Trafficking to your prayer intentions both for the victims of this horrible crime, that they may be healed and find strength to grow again, and also for ourselves, that we may be channels of mercy and hope.

Merry Christmas to all of you from the Sisters of Notre Dame, California. We are keeping your intentions in our hearts during this Christmas Novena, and we look forward to sharing our ministries with you in 2012.

Is it any wonder that we are on overload, suffering from 21^st century attention deficit? Bombarded by communication – some fostering incredible anxiety and stress.

Now visualize Mary, the young maiden of Nazareth, engaged to Joseph. Any overload that Mary experienced was simple by today’s standards. Perhaps uncertainty about the wood samples that Joseph brought her for the cabinet work in their future home. Perhaps concern over a limping donkey. Perhaps concern for Joachim who was starting to display memory problems. Perhaps concern for cousins Elizabeth and Zachary, without children, facing an uncertain future in their senior years.

Although we do not know Mary’s level of overload, we do know that she was human – prone to experience anxiety (Luke 2:48). But Mary was also full of grace, with a spiritual reservoir to help her cope with basic human anxieties. As a woman of deep prayer who often reflected on the Scriptures, we know that Mary was able to focus on the one thing necessary – her relationship with God, a relationship characterized by profound trust.

When Gabriel appeared to Mary, he quickly spoke to dispel her fear. Gabriel proclaimed, “the Lord is with you.” Our choice is to disconnect, if only briefly, from all that bombards us, to cherish silence, and to embrace God’s presence, especially in Scripture. St. Paul’s commandment is simple:  “Dismiss all anxiety from your minds.” (Phil 4:6) What a transformative practice this might be during these last days of Advent and 2011.

- Sr. Mary Lisa Megaffin, SND

Among early Christians there was a custom of saying a blessing when the household lamps were lit:  “Praise God who sends us the light of heaven.”

The Jewish Sabbath observance begins with the ritual lighting of candles by the woman of the house, a reminder that light was one of the first acts of creation. The Sabbath ends with the father saying a prayer, his hands spread towards a lighted candle, toward the light, as if longing for it.

Isaiah wrote: “The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light; on those who live in a land of deep shadow a light has shone.” (Isaiah 9:1)

What could be clearer than that?  And yet it led to so many not seeing Jesus when He came. All through history it often seems that the chosen one, one who has a great gift, to do a great work, to influence the ages, is the unlikely one; the youngest rather than the eldest, the meek and humble not the strong and proud, the unlettered rather than the learned, the rejected not the accepted one.

In stillness our spirit clarifies. It becomes pure and transparent.  The God who’s Spirit abides within us then shines through our spirit, just as sunlight shines through water. This is what we call purity of heart.  This is what allows us to see God.

Saying our mantra, our prayer word faithfully, simply and lovingly, brings us to that stillness where we see the light clearly both within and around us.  Seeing this light is the only secure basis of contentment and peace. Let us mindfully walk this Advent journey on the path that leads us further into the stillness.

- Sr. Rose Marie Tulacz, SND

ndcreation@aol.com

   “The day of the Lord will come like a thief, and then the heavens will pass away with a mighty roar and the elements will be dissolved by fire.” Peter 3:8

We approach fire with near religious devotion. We chose wood carefully. Perhaps a green log for the back of the fire, to burn slowly through the night. Kindling is carefully stacked.

Fire is powerful. Fire is a strong stimulus to dreams and song, the things that make us human but are often locked out of our minds by our desire for power. We gaze into the embers where flames flirt magically into light and smoke.

Looking into the flames of a hearth, it is easier to forgive. Fires are for romance, friendship, and song. It was around the fire that households gathered and communicated.  It was around the fire that our ancestors offered sacrifices, and incense carried prayers heavenward.

At the core of the Gospel is the invitation to be changed, to let the old be burned away. Meditation is the way we respond to the call of Jesus to leave self behind. The Word is Incarnate among us and within us. The quality of our life together is directly proportionate to the life of our prayer.

A deception is that we authentically pray only after we have come together at the other levels of human relatedness. But the truth is that a family of loving, mature people is created out of the prayer it enters together. For in prayer, even though one may be a sinner, the one who thinks the right thought changes the lives of many. If we release the unconditional love present in our hearts, if it is received and welcomed, it will be a power nothing can stand against on the day of the Lord.

- Sister Rose Marie Tulacz, SND

ndcreation@aol.com

Jesus is a patient wait-er ..?  Jesus as servant longs to be servant to me…waiting to fulfill my every need…if I would only allow him to be that in my life….or is it that I need to be in such control that the thought of Jesus waiting upon me seems so foreign?  Allowing Jesus to wait on me would be to admit that I am in need of something I cannot provide for myself…I open myself up in vulnerability to the infant vulnerable one….I open my door to the One waiting at my door…knocking, eager to be invited into my crowded life….Can the call to advent be really a call to simply BE…to revel in the knowledge that my God is waiting for me to recognize his presence, to accept his love for me, to say “yes” to the miracle of rebirth, to speak his name with courage, to tell his story, to follow in true discipleship.

God is waiting for me to become as simple as the shepherds, as wise as the magi, as brave as Joseph, as open as Mary…God gives me this time each year to become the  best I can be….and waits year after year for me to wake up and see the star…and then to follow it…

As this new Advent season begins, I ask for the grace to respond to all that the Lord calls me to be.  May I take more precious time to be present to my God who waits for me with open arms!

- Sister Marie Paul Grech

Can you embrace your thorns, your suffering through Jesus?

Inspired by John 18:1-19:42

In the passion narratives, we are confronted with the public trial of two men with the same first name—Jesus Barabbas and Jesus of Nazareth. And like the citizens of Jerusalem, we must choose between the two.

Jesus Barabbas was a revolutionary who wanted to re-establish the nation of Israel through violence. He was the type of Messiah Israel was waiting for—a new David who would restore glory to God’s people.

Jesus of Nazareth, on the other hand, came to establish a kingdom not brought about by overthrowing earthly empires, but by overcoming sin and death through suffering.

The Gospel writers highlight the paradox of the two men named Jesus with a clever play on words. The name Barabbas should really read Bar (son) – abbas (father). Like the rabble, we are being asked, “Who is the true Bar-abbas or Son of the Father?”  We know they chose wrongly, but now we must also choose.

Do we recognize the Son in the suffering Jesus?  Do we believe that God’s power is at work in human suffering? Do we recognize the face of Jesus in our own sufferings?

On Good Friday, each one of us is invited to confront suffering, to choose it and embrace it as something that has value in our lives. So we carry to the Cross our own weaknesses and struggles, the things we just don’t understand or cannot accept. We look on Jesus crucified and we cry, “You are our true Bar-abbas!” and we choose once again His way.

How do you share your thorns, your suffering with Jesus ?

Once during Lent, I was reflecting with a group in a parish on the passion of Jesus. A woman came up to me and asked me why she had not been healed if in the scriptures it says that if you have faith you will be healed. She had been to many healing Masses and still she did not experience healing. I had a little conversation with her and then I asked her, “Whom are you following, those who were healed by Jesus, or Jesus who embraced suffering for the salvation of others?”

This is pivotal for us Christians. Unlike our popular culture, we believe that suffering has value. There is no sin, no darkness, no crime, no tragedy that cannot be turned to good, that cannot be redemptive. And our proof of this is in the crucifixion itself. Jesus’ death and resurrection changes everything. By uniting our own sufferings to the cross of Christ, we have the tremendous power and privilege to participate in the transformation of the world.

Holy Week is not merely a time to sit back and admire Jesus or to feel sorry for him as he suffers. It is a time to gather our own sufferings, our own weaknesses, our darkness, our struggles, the things we just don’t understand or cannot accept and bring them to the Cross. This is the transformative power of the Paschal Mystery. We may not understand why we suffer, we may not receive any clarifying insight, but in our embracing our crosses, placing them in His open side, we participate in His redemption of the world. Only in heaven will we see the fruit of our offering in the lives of people we have never met.

Can you open yourself to God's love this Easter, or will you dwell on your brokenness?

Inspired by Matthew 21:1-11 and Matthew 26:14-27:66

Palm Sunday starts out sunny, joyful and full of hopeful hosannas. There is excitement as people gather outside church fidgeting with their palms. It is a story of entry and triumph for the Son of God, someone we hope will set right our broken world. But in the Gospel directly after this scene, Jesus cleanses the Temple and it is a little unnerving. Jesus enters as the prophet who challenges the status quo. Once Jesus arrives in Jerusalem and sets himself in contrast to the establishment, he enters his Passion. Anyone who does not want to be changed will join the crowd whose hosannas give way to “crucify him.”

We are a stiff-necked, fickle people. We are ambivalent about God’s work within us, even as we pray to be faithful. His entrance into our lives is greeted with excitement and trepidation. Yet we are burned by his love, faithfulness and mercy. His love scares and intimidates us because it takes us all the way to the cross where his arms are outstretched in forgiveness.

Palm Sunday is very personal to me.  It was 25 years ago on this day that I said “yes” to my religious vocation. During the reading of the Passion, when we chanted aloud, “Crucify him, crucify him!” I broke down and gave in to a two-year struggle. At that moment I was afraid of losing him and the desire to give myself wholeheartedly. I have never regretted that moment, though in my human ambivalence I have tried to avoid him far too often over the years. Every Holy Week for me is an anniversary, a reminder of my fickleness and God’s faithfulness.

Sing “Hosanna” all the way to the Cross of Love.

Inspired by John 11:1-45

Where are the roses of friendship in your life? How do they bring you closer to God?

The story of Lazarus and the words “Jesus wept” reveal God’s invitation to intimate friendship.

In John 15, Jesus indicates “I have called you friends, for all that I have heard from my Father, I have made known to you.”  This divine revelation includes familiarity, care, forgiveness, hope, delight and joy—all that describes authentic friendship. Through no effort on their part, the disciples experienced Jesus’ friendship and unconditional love. In turn, they must share this love.

Jesus’ tears cannot be exclusively associated with his grief over the death of Lazarus; they reveal his affection for every human person. Jesus weeps in his frustration that his offers of spiritual intimacy, unconditional love and friendship will be misunderstood and rejected.

Our resurrection is an ongoing spiritual event as we are inspired to abandon sin and to accept God’s friendship. God’s invitation to intimacy comes in many ways, including Scripture, the Sacraments and, I like to believe, the “sacramental of friendship.” As all-embracing as our relationships can be, each friendship reveals the very heart of God and helps to make the resurrection a real-life experience.

In God’s providence, this reading of the raising of Lazarus coincides with the end of my own treatments for cancer. Since last July, I have journeyed through diagnosis, chemotherapy, surgery and radiation. I will always be humbled and grateful for the graces of the “sacramental of friendship” from relatives, Sisters and Associates of Notre Dame, colleagues, medical care-givers, and friends. The Sisters of Notre Dame believe that “where one of us is, all of us are.” The spiritual reservoir of community and friendship has been a source of great strength for me in moments of anxiety and physical weakness. Words are inadequate to thank all who have journeyed with me; I ask God to give you special graces as my gratitude.

“If you believe, you will see the glory of God…” May the glory of God, as seen in the raising of Lazarus and in the graces of divine and human friendship, strengthen our confidence in His provident care.