Yesterday, I had an outpatient procedure
to remove a little spot of skin cancer
on my face.
Cut-cut. Snip-snip. Stitch-stitch.
And just like that: Gone.
Like waking up from a bad dream.
I am grateful.
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Last week, our beloved priest
of years upon years upon years
was indicted for alleged abuse 50 years ago.
Just like that: removed from our parish.
Just like that: Gone.
Like a bad dream with no end.
We are stunned. Confused. Distressed.
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For weeks now, our country has been
raining down bombs from the sky
upon a faraway people in a faraway land.
Military targets: obliterated
Civilian structures: demolished
Homes + humans + innocent children:
hit and hurt, crushed and killed.
Just like that: Gone.
As some cheer. As many weep.
As surely Jesus weeps.
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I feel like, in some ways,
I have been living Lent since January.
January, 2025.
The Lent of the Desert.
The Lent of the Wilderness.
The Lent of Penitence
for the sins of my country.
The Lent of Silence in the Stillness
with no words adequate to speak
to the cruelty and relentless aggression
which I witness on seemingly all sides.
The Lent of bearing witness to suffering
And to the hope of Resurrection
— even as it feels a long way off —
And yet . . . .
And yet . . . .
All around me, and even within me,
there is grace + gratitude,
sweetness + tenderness,
and joy, in the midst of it all.
Just as Jesus, Light of our World, is here
— in our midst — always + everywhere —
————- no matter what ————-
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A friend says:
“I don’t even know how to pray right now.
So I let the Holy Spirit pray within me.”
Another says:
“I pray the rosary. I look to Mary.
Because Mary understands.
Mary is always present.
Bearing witness to suffering.
Bearing witness to Love Without End.
A friend quotes the words of a song:
“Love was drowned in death and did not die.”
I do not know that song;
I don’t know who to credit.
It brings to mind another (by Michael Card):
“Love crucified arose.
And the heart that sin and sorrow broke
is beating once again.”
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A Bishop in Rhode Island gathers a group
monthly to pray the rosary
outside the local detention center.
We read and pray and sing
in English, Spanish and Portuguese.
We meditate on the “Holy Migratory Mysteries”:
1. The Journey to Bethlehem
2. The Flight of the Holy Family into Egypt
3. The Journey to Nazareth
4. The Journey of Our Lord to Jerusalem
5. The Journey of Our Lord to Galilee
to meet his disciples.
Those inside come to the windows.
And wave. And pray.
Last time, I saw no one in the windows.
We will go again on Holy Saturday.
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Others have driven this point home
more eloquently than I:
“It’s Friday. But Sunday’s Comin’ !!!”
In these lingering days of Lent
as we step once again into Holy Week,
I find myself wondering:
Is Friday ever fully gone ???
Is Sunday ever really distant ???
We never walk alone.
“Love Crucified Arose”
Love to All.
Prayers for everyone everywhere.
Grace + Hope, Peace + Joy, ~ shoshanah
On behalf of your OEF Council:
Juniper, Markie, Neal, Kelly and Shoshanah