Carla Mae's Blog

As Easter dawns upon us, as welcome as the blossoming of springtime, I am struck by the fact that so much of our salvation story takes place in a garden. There is the Garden of the Sinning in Genesis, when forbidden fruit was eaten from a tree. There is the Garden of Sorrow where Jesus suffers the agony of turning his human will to the will of his Father, to reverse the sinni ng. There is the Garden of Buria l, where they quickly bury Jesus, because the Sabbath is coming, without knowing it is just a temporary measure.  The n this Garden of Death and Buria l becomes the Garden of Life and Resurrection. The marvel, I think, is that all of these gardens exist wit hin us. We know about the sin thing. We know about the agony of struggle thing. We know about the deadening thing, But what does the life and resurrection thing look like? We ponder the Easter readings to find out. I suggest we position ourselves in the d oorway of our tombs and peek out as we peel the burial clothes fro...

We have the audacity of using the language of hope because of one remarkable fact: what we hope for is already here. Now, this is not your usual meaning of hope. I can hope for sunshine tomorrow, but it may or may not turn out that way. I can hope this crisis with the virus is soon over...but I’m not sure about what “soon” means. It may linger for several weeks or even months.  But the virtue of hope t hat Pope Francis is writing about ( On Hope , 2017), is remarkably different. As baptized Christians what we hope for is already present . We just don’t see it or experience it yet. Now, that is unbeatable assurance! The apostles in their early preaching were very clear. Because of the resurrection of Jesus, his overcoming of death, we will experience the same, for our baptism bonds us with him. This is the reason the early Christians greeted one another with “We shall always be with the Lord.”   This means that every loved one we part with in death, we will see again. It ...

Wash the windows, wipe down the walls, air the carpets…we know the routine. For our homes, that is. But what about our souls? Lent means springtime, so how do we do a clean-up there? I suggest you don’t give up anything this Lent. Instead, restore something. Open the windows of your soul and let in the magnificent Light of the Son, within your deepest being since your baptism. That act, done for you by loving parents, filled you with a marvelous light energy, a magnetic field, you might say. You are, spiritually speaking, surrounded by a light-capsule, and that means that you are off-limits to evil when it tries to penetrate your consciousness. Satan and his minions can be quite noisy, yes, but demoted angels can’t penetrate this Son-light. It is made from blood, shed by an unbelievable Lover. Can we leave our Son-light? Oh, yes…and when we do we become easy prey. Seances, Ouija Board activity, intentional rejection of our baptism, etc. can leave us quite defenseless....

In his little gem treatise on Hope, Pope Francis goes quite out on a limb. He says, “Now, this is my opinion, but women are more courageous than men.” (On Hope, 56) Then he proceeds to remind us of the story of Judith, who saved her people when they were absolutely desperate. Before she cuts off the head of the invading general, Judith rebukes the Jewish leadership for their lack of trust in God. Her language is interesting. What Judith says gives us a clue to how hope talks. She tells them their horizon of possibility is too narrow, and that their fear is paralyzing them. Then she shakes her head at the fact that they have given God five days to respond to their need. She says no to setting limits on God and hemming him in, tempting him and giving ourselves the chance of escaping his will. God saves, she says…and this can mean deliverance, or it can mean death. But God saves. This is hope talking. In the midst of our ongoing journey and our waiting, we, as a community of ...