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A Connections Sampler Every month, Connections offers stories, images, reflections and meditations relating to the themes of each Sunday’s readings. Material comes from the evening news and the every day, from the stage and screen, from the music world and the marketplace – all designed to help homilists “connect” the world of Monday through Saturday with the Gospel proclaimed on Sunday. To give you an idea of what Connections is all about, we’ve assembled the following sampling of stories, meditations and connecting reflections from recent issues of Connections. Included in this sampler are stories and reflections for: Baptism of the Lord [January 11, 2009] Please note that, in every issue of Connections, we offer two stories/meditations for each Sunday’s Gospel. After reviewing this “electronic sampler,” if you’d like information on subscribing – or receiving the next complete issue of Connections click on About Connections for subscription information and an order form. Enjoy! Baptism of the Lord Jesus was baptized by John in the Jordan. On coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens being torn open and the Spirit, like a dove, descending upon him. And a voice came from the heavens, “You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased.” ‘Bat cole’ You first heard it as a child — the Voice. You wanted that extra candy bar or escape the boundaries of the back yard or slug your annoying little brother, but you heard that Voice saying, Don’t! You know what Mom said. Now, you may not have paid any attention to the Voice. But you heard it. You know you did. As you got older, the Voice spoke a little more critically. That was dumb . . . You really came off like a jerk . . . What were you thinking? But the Voice could also be encouraging and affirming: Nice work . . . You’ll be glad you did that . . . You didn’t deserve that. The Voice would prod, nudge or clobber. As you grew up, you understood that the Voice was right. Eventually, we make friends with the Voice. We don’t just listen to the Voice, we converse with the Voice. I’m not sure what I should do here . . . What was that all about? . . . How can I make things better? And together, you and the Voice find a way to move on, to work it out, to put things back together. In time, we begin to hear the Voice speaking more comforting and consoling words: You are loved. You belong. You are mine. In the Jewish tradition, there is a name for that Voice: bat cole, which means literally, “the daughter of a sound.” That “daughter of a sound,” the smallest, thinnest of voices, is the Voice of God — God speaking to us in the events of our lives, in the people we love, in the characters and conundrums that challenge us. In the story of his baptism, the bat cole is heard by Jesus: You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased. May our hearts be attentive to that same Voice speaking to us in the course of the simple, undramatic everyday of our lives— the Voice of God cajoling and nudging us to his dwelling place. [Adapted from a sermon by Marcus Borg.] Third Sunday of the Year [B] / Third Sunday after Epiphany [B] “Come after me, and I will make you fishers of men.” What’s in a kiss . . . A mom learns about the power of a mother’s kiss: “My youngest daughter always had me kissing her boo-boos. I did it because, as every mother knows, it makes it feel better. What I never understood was the thought process behind the action. “One day my daughter asked me to kiss her boo-boo when I was pressed for time, so I hurriedly obliged. She cried, telling me it wasn’t any good because my kiss didn’t have any love in it. I realized that kissing boo-boos was really about loving the pain away. “This simple truth, along with the value of mindfulness my daughter taught me, has encouraged me to slow down, to become more aware and present in the moment. Slowing down is a conscious decision to live at a gentler pace and to make the most of the time I have. “When my own mother passed away, I did not forget the love she gave me; it will live on in my heart forever. She gave me life, but beyond that, she gave me love . . . “With that errant kiss, I realized it was my responsibility as a mother to watch over my child’s spiritual growth . . . By simply showing my child kindness through listening, I believe I have satisfied my child’s earliest spiritual needs. By being genuine — that is, personally connected and physically present — I have satisfied my child’s developing spirit.” [Mary Ann Rollano, writing in Spirituality & Health, November/December 2005.] Christ entrusts to each one of us — whether we are a fisherman or a mom — the work of discipleship: to extend, in whatever our circumstances, the love of God to all; to proclaim, in our own homes and communities, the compassion, the forgiveness, the justice of the Gospel. As God is present to us in the person of Jesus, we are called to be present to one another in our love and care. To be the “fishers” that Christ calls us to become is to “cast the net” of God’s love that we have experienced upon the waters of our time and place, to reach out and grasp the hand of those who struggle and stumble, to “love” away the hurt and pain and fear of those we love. Fifth Sunday of the Year [B] / Fifth Sunday after Epiphany [B] Rising very early before dawn, Jesus left and went off to a deserted place, where he prayed. Simon and those who were with him pursued him and on finding him said, “Everyone is looking for you.” The blessed bathrobe A woman was diagnosed with cancer. Despite being well off financially, she always had a feeling of emptiness. Seeking to fill that void, she amassed more and more things -- books and magazines, art and collectibles, even more and more people. But the more she accumulated, the less time she had to enjoy them all, to appreciate them all, to know them all. Her motto had become “Have everything, experience nothing.” That began to change with a bathrobe, one of the few things she took with her to the hospital for her cancer surgery. Every morning she would put it on and took comfort in how soft it was and enjoyed its beautiful color, its warmth, the way it moved around her when she moved. She later told her doctor, “One morning as I was putting it on I had an overwhelming sense of gratitude. I know it sounds funny, but I felt so lucky just to have it. But the odd part is that it wasn’t new. I had owned it and worn it now and then for quite a few years. Possibly because it was one of five bathrobes in my closet, I had never really seen it before.” When she completed her chemotherapy, she held a huge garage sale and sold more than half the things she owned. Her friends thought she had gone “chemo-crazy,” but getting rid of so many possessions brought a new joy and appreciation to her life. Until her illness, she had no idea what was in her closets or on her bookshelves, she didn't know half the people whose telephone numbers she had in her address book. But the fewer things she has she now enjoys; she has fewer but much deeper friendships. Having and experiencing, she discovered, are very different. [Adapted from My Grandfather's Blessings by Rachel Naomi Remen, M.D.] In today’s Gospel, Mark includes the short but important detail that Jesus, in the midst of his demanding preaching and healing, seeks out a “deserted,” out-of-the-way place to pray. We all need that deserted place in which we reconnect with God and the things of the heart. That “deserted” place may be a set time for prayer every day, a walk in the woods, a quiet corner of the house or apartment, or even a bathrobe -- whatever keeps us aware of God's presence in our life and renews within us a sense of gratitude for the blessings of that presence. Sixth Sunday of the Year [B] / Sixth Sunday after Epiphany [B] A leper came to Jesus and kneeling down begged him and said, “If you wish, you can make me clean.” Moved with pity, Jesus stretched out his hand, touched him, and said to him, “I do will it. Be made clean.” Miraculous communication “My husband and I can't say two words to each other without drawing blood,” a woman cried to her therapist. “The second he walks through the door, we're at each other’s throats. Deep down, I know the love’s still there, but it seems hopelessly buried.” The therapist listening to her intently; then he reached into his drawer, pulled out a bottle, and handed it to her. “This is special water, holy water from a sacred spring in India,” the therapist explained. “For the next week, whenever your husband’s about to enter the room, take a drink, hold your tongue and look into his eyes. After a couple of seconds, swallow it. You should notice an improvement in your interactions right away.” The woman went home and waited eagerly for her husband to come home. When he walked in, she took a swig of the blessed water and silently held his gaze. He gave her a suspicious look, then grinned curiously. She swallowed the water and asked how his day went. Amazingly, they didn’t argue. In fact, they had one of the warmest and loving conversations they had had in recent memory. The next night before he came to bed, she snuck another jolt of the powerful liquid, performing the same ritual. Suddenly, it was as if a veil was lifted: She saw him in a whole new light, she saw him as if it were the first time again, she saw the man she fell in love with. And, of course, the predictable fight never came. The following week, with her water supply depleted and her relationship with her husband nearly fully restored, the woman returned to her therapist, proclaiming that the treatment had healed her marriage and that she needed to get more of this miraculous water -- and fast. The therapist smiled and revealed that the potent elixir was nothing but store-bought Mountain Spring water. [Adapted from “A Practice for Harmonious Communication” by Derek Rydall, Spirituality & Health, July/August 2005.] It is not the “magical” water that reconnects these two spouses – it’s the woman’s desire to heal her relationship with her husband that brings about their reconciliation. The “miracle” that healed the woman’s turbulent marriage was not the water but her willingness to “drink”: to stop and look at her husband with new eyes, to put aside her urge to lash out from her hurts and disappointments and speak, first, from the love they cherish in one another. The request that the leper makes of Jesus – ‘If you wish, you can make me clean’ -- is a challenge to all of us who now seek to follow Jesus. We possess within ourselves the resources to heal and restore our relationships with others -- what is first needed is the will to put aside our own fears and doubts and interests to do so. Christ promises us the grace to be imitators of his compassion and forgiveness whenever we are ready to take the first step in healing the wounds and cleaning the “leprosy” that afflicts us and divides us from one another.
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