March 2008

Welcome to Stories Seldom Heard. I would especially like to welcome the members of St. Ephrem’s Parish in Brooklyn, NY and St. Joseph’s Parish in Capitola, CA.

Out of the depths I cry to You O God,

God listen compassionately to my pleading!

If You never overlooked our sins, O God could anyone survive?

But You do forgive us and for that we revere You.

I trust in God, my soul trusts in God’s word.

My soul waits for God more than sentinels wait for the dawn.

More than sentinels wait for the dawn, let Israel wait for God.

For with God is kindness and generous redemption,

and God will redeem Israel from all their iniquities.

Less than a month ago I was in New Orleans volunteering. When I arrived I was shocked. It’s been almost 3 years since Katrina. Even in the more affluent areas of the city, the houses that did withstand the flush of water from Katrina when the levies broke still carry the marks of the disaster. The streets are devoid of color. Huge gray oak trees are split and fractured. Lawns and flowers have been replaced with high weeds and rats. Street after street of silent empty houses with windows and doors blown out, some half boarded up, are now inhabited by a newly arrived neighborhood scavenger – black mold. The houses look as though there had been electrical fires because the black mold is growing from the inside out. It all looks a bit surreal! And on that cold, rainy day when we arrived in New Orleans it felt as though God has left New Orleans on its own. I could almost taste the grief.

But we don’t have to live in New Orleans to understand what pain and loss feels like. Each of us at one time or another has experienced our own Katrinas: events that have destabilized us, torn the foundation from under us, thrown us into panic and made us fearful of the future or situations that have sucked us into depression and self doubt.

At different times in our lives we have, perhaps, described them differently, but we have cried out to God. Last September a friend of mine who teaches in a local high school said that one of her students was shot and killed by a classmate because the girl didn’t want a steady relationship with him. It left everyone horrified and the teenage girls questioning whether or not they can say no -- no to a relationship without having their lives threatened.

Bad things happen in our lives and we often have little or no control over them. So how do we hold on? Where do we go when we feel life has dealt us a cruel blow? What keeps us from giving up or giving in? Well, it’s probably slightly different for each of us, as it was for those I asked in New Orleans. For most of them New Orleans is their home. They were born and raised there. They started business and held jobs. The city is where their families live or at least used to live. “So what gives you the courage?”, I asked my coworkers. There are so many heavy decisions you have to make each day about your future lives. If you return will your neighbors come back; and if the people do come back will the neighborhoods be protected with strong- well designed canals and levies? And if you don’t return, where will you go?” “What keeps you going? What gives you hope in the face of so much destruction?”

One person said, “People who volunteer. We’ve had thousands of volunteers!” Then she smiled and said… “People who work their 'tails' off and then thank us for letting them do it.” Another said, “People like Leon Philpot over at Grace Lutheran who chose to move here because he experienced his own flood in Grand Rapids years ago and knows what loss is.” “Sister Virginia (Virginia Corley, an Adrian Dominican)! I’m not Catholic, but I try to tap into the power of the Holy Spirit. I can hear her in her office on difficult days praying ‘Come Holy Spirit’ and I know I, too, need a Holy Spirit to lean on.” An older man said, “It’s that old story about the Italians who laid a railroad track through the Alps before there was a powerful enough engine to make the grade. Some people thought they were crazy. But in the end the tracks were used because a powerful engine was built and the train went through the Alps. We’re doing our part. We’re working hard and trying to make good decisions. And each day we pray for guidance. We pray that God in God’s mysterious ways will help us get over the mountains.”

These were their answers to what keep them going and my suspicion is that our answers are probably similar. Family helps us hold on. Their willingness to companion us gives us the support we need. Friends who listen to us and support us are deep sources of strength for us. Spiritual directors and counselors help guide us and keep us on track. And as the psalmist says, “Our trust in God”. We might not sound as eloquent as the psalmist or as sure of our words, but we know that even in the darkness of waiting God is with us. Like the psalmist, we trust that in the midst of struggle and doubt God is there. God is slowly bringing us to new life.

Trust in God doesn’t mean we won’t have pain or loss. It doesn’t mean that all our problems will disappear, or that we will never be discouraged or disappointed. Trust in God isn’t a magical formula that takes away distasteful experiences. It is, according to the psalmist, a gift. Trust is the gift of waiting – waiting patiently, confidently, expecting God to come. Trust is like a sentinel, a person who watches over the city at night so the people inside the walls of the city can sleep, not anxiously, but with confidence because someone is on guard looking out for their good.

Trust is a strong virtue that waits out the darkest nights with surety knowing that the light of dawn will come. And even more, God is even more trustworthy than the rising sun. We can bank on God’s compassion and mercy even more than we can trust the cycle of day and night. God is constant and God promises to be with us even at the most fragile time of our lives – our death. Just as God was with Jesus to the very end, so too, will God be with us.

As we move closer to Good Friday the image of the cross becomes more dominant. It reminds us of Jesus’ sufferings and death and of his great love for us. But the cross is more than a reminder of a past event. It is a sign of God’s daily promise of God’s mercy for us now. God claims us in our brokenness and loves us even when we find it hard to love ourselves. God heals our wounds and gives us strength to go on even when we are not sure of the way. No, the cross is not a past event. It’s a present guarantee that nothing can block God’s love for us – not our lack of integrity, not our tepid faith, not our fragile hope, not even our cynical attitudes.

In a very real way this psalm is a Lenten psalm because it can be read as a personal prayer for deeper trust and as a prayer for the world community. Many of us might feel strong in our faith. Life might be going well for us. “No unwanted surprises.” We say and then quickly add, “Thank God.” There might be changes in our lives, but we’re coping with them. Our lives at this point are filled with a deep sense of gratitude. We find ourselves during the day thanking God and being filled with deep appreciation. But we also realize that our appreciation of life and deep sense of gratitude is a bitter-sweet companion, because it often heightens our awareness of the world’s pain.

Our world is hurting. It is suffering from violence, war, and famines that are the result of serious inequities and greed. So as a Lenten practice we might want to pray this ancient prayer, Psalm 130, on behalf of the thousands of people who live inside and outside our borders. We might want to offer our prayers for people who live in our world where there is enough food and water for everyone, but many still lack the necessities of daily life. We can’t always change another person’s situation, but we can pray for them. We can pray that our minds will be enlightened and our wills strengthened to act on their behalf. Praying this psalm in the name of others is a way of being in solidarity with those who suffer. Even if we don’t know their names, we can pray for all those who feel abandoned or feel there is no one who cares. We can pray for those who “cry out from the depths.”

The invitation of the psalm and of Lent is to remember that we are a part of a world community. Each time we gather as church we are called to use our diverse gifts to make God’s justice and mercy more real in our world today. In very tangible ways our good works and faithful prayers continue to spread the rumor that God is present today in our world and that God is faithful to God’s promises to the end. But how do we confirm these rumors of God’s dependability and trustworthiness if not through our daily actions? When we reach out to others – even strangers - and treat them as family, they come to believe in a compassionate God. When we forgive others and let the bitterness drain from our hearts, those whom we have forgiven will come to trust in a forgiving God. When we not only speak about a loving God, but our actions become more loving, people will come to believe that change is possible and their faith – no matter what religion they are - will become more real.

A couple of years ago, in France, when I was studying St Dominic’s life and preaching, the founding of the Order and St. Mary Magdalene, I met and became friends with an older Dominican nun. She was living in the monastery near where St. Dominic founded his first followers – women. On the day I was leaving France I went to say good-bye to Sister Marie. I asked her to pray for me and I told her I would pray for her. She then took my hand and said in French, “Pray that I will become Love.”

That’s a big prayer, but it sounds like she’s heard the voice from the cross – the voice that guides us not only on our Lenten journey, but also on our life’s journey.

Special thanks to Sharon Grant, Mary Ellen Green and Jeanne Keating who have helped in editing this article.

"Stories Seldom Heard" is a monthly article written by Sister Patricia Bruno, O.P. Sister is a Dominican Sister of San Rafael, California. This service is offered to the Christian community to enrich one's personal and spiritual life. The articles can be used for individual or group reflection. If you would like "Stories Seldom Heard" sent to a friend, please send a note to "purple115@juno.com". If you would like to support this ministry, please send tax deductible contributions to Dominican Sisters of San Rafael, c/o Sister Patricia Bruno, O.P., 1520 Grand Avenue, San Rafael, CA, 94901