Spiritual Direction: Keeping Grounded in the 21st Century

Spiritual direction is an ancient tradition. It has existed in Christianity from its earliest times and also has iterations in other major religions. What is spiritual direction, and why is it a practice for the people of our times?

Spiritual direction is a discipline, like fasting, prayer and other practices that are meant to lead us to greater intimacy with God. The Church has encouraged the faithful to humbly seek the support of the community in the spiritual journey, and so this practice has grown over the centuries. It’s roots are in the early Church. The desert fathers and mothers helped each other by giving counsel, and this has been recorded in the Life of St. Anthony and other tomes, like the Sayings of the Desert Fathers. The practice is generally to meet regularly on a monthly or quarterly basis. During these sessions, a “director” who has experience on the path of prayer and who has received training, listens to the “directee.” The director must be fully aware that this contemplative listening carries an attitude of growing understanding of how God is acting in the life of the directee. This respectful listening is a prayerful calling on the Holy Spirit to be present—“where two or more are gathered in my name, there am I in their midst”—and to inspire the conversation in order to guide the directee to better understand God’s action in his or her life, to follow God’s will more faithfully, and to grow in humility and service.

Why is spiritual direction an important practice especially for our times? In earlier periods of human history, people tended to stay in the geographical area of their birth. With the exception of nomads or those fleeing famine or natural disaster, folks stayed put. There was also more stability in the work life too: one did what his father did, and his father before him. Women were mostly concerned with the work of the home and children, which was no small feat, and often included the production of many items we can now purchase, such as clothing and food. People lived simply. Life was stable and static, both geographically and in terms of identity.

Today, people live in a state of flux. We are more likely to face change and have to negotiate important decisions about where to live, where to work and where to worship. We travel as a matter of course and are exposed to information at a rate incomprehensible to our forbearers. We are vitally aware of people and events that take place around the globe. We are in touch through social media and exposed to many potentially good, but also some unhealthy things. In the midst of the moving torrent of today’s social reality, how do we keep grounded,  self-aware, knowing who we are and what is our calling in Christ?

Modern life challenges us to actually go deeper, to be more discerning and to sort out among the many choices presented to us, what will help us grow humanly and in our faith life. The literal meaning of the word “discernment” is sorting. St. Ignatius counsels us: to know the inner movements of our hearts so that we may distinguish between that which is of God and that which is of our own ego, a worldly spirit or of “the enemy of human nature” (his term for the devil). The purpose of discernment is so that we may embrace what leads us closer to God.

Spiritual direction helps keep us grounded, connected to who we are in the eyes of God. If a flood is coming, a tree with deep roots can stay in the ground, but one with shallow roots will be uprooted and carried away with the tide. So today, followers of Christ must go deeper, to live their faith at this intimate level. As the late Bishop Sheen used to say, we have to go against the current…

Copyright 2013 Julie Paavola

Habemus papum!

Now, I am not the emotional type. I don’t cry very easily and I’m not easily surprised, but ever since that early text, I’ve been surprised over and over by this man from Argentina, our new holy father, and I do believe that he will continue to surprise us. As a student of Ignatius of Loyola, the founder of the Jesuits, and as a bilingual person serving in the Hispanic community, Pope Francis embodies many of the things I hold dear. But I feel most compelled to write about his spirituality as a Jesuit.

What is a Jesuit? We have all heard the stories about Jesuits being academics, running universities and preparatory schools all over the world. We have also heard the stories, not always flattering, about their theological exploits, and that sometimes the brightest thinkers among them find themselves at odds with Rome. Yet few people know, that from their inception in the 1600’s, the Jesuits have made a sacred vow of obedience to the Holy Father, to go wherever in the world the demand was greatest, no matter how dangerous, no matter how far, to preach the gospel. Ignatius called his group, “La Companía de Jesús” (The Society of Jesus) to emphasize that they traveled in the company of the Lord. Men of action,  they had wanted to go to the Holy Land, but when access to the holy land was denied them by the political situation at the time, Ignatius boldly led the charge:  ‘If not Jerusalem, then the World!’ It was out of apostolic zeal and love of holy Church that they vowed obedience to the pope!

There is another fact about the Jesuits that is often not reflected in secular culture. Their most essential vocation is one of meeting Christ in prayer. This profound encounter with Christ is the basis upon which their life of action and service is built and sustained. Jesuits do not maintain prayer through monastic living, but through periodic intense days of retreat that Ignatius himself designed for his brothers and for anyone who desired to become an agent of the gospel in a weary world. These days of retreat are called The Spiritual Exercises. In the Exercises, one goes through a rigorous set of gospel reflections and faith meditations that are crafted to lead the human person to a profound understanding of the cosmos and one’s place in it. But Ignatius conceived of the cosmos in a way that transcends even the modern understanding of its boundlessness and vast scope. For very early on in his conversion period, he received a graced understanding, a vision if you will, of this cosmic reality. He spent the remainder of his life reaching out to his fellow Christians, so filled with desire was he, that they too be convinced of the Great Works of God and the importance of each individual doing his or her part, all for the Greater Honor and Glory of God, ad majorem Dei gloriam (the Jesuit motto).

It is easier now, to understand how a Jesuit could take the name of St. Francis of Assisi. For Francis loved the whole order of the created world and saw the very connectedness of all reality.

As we gather to pray for our Holy Father, at this moment of his inaugural Mass and the beginning of  his papacy, let us open our own hearts to feel the call of Christ: the call to encounter and the call to action.

Ad majorem Dei gloriam! 

Copyright 2013 Julie Paavola

How Can We Protect the Holy Innocents of Our Time?

As we enjoy our songs of hope and peace this Christmas, we raise our voices with bittersweet emotion. The nation is in mourning for the innocent children who lost their lives at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Connecticut, and we are poignantly aware of a deep longing for peace—peace at home and abroad, in our hearts, homes and schools. Where has this violence come from? How can a country so richly blessed be plagued with such senseless violence?

As Christians and as Catholics, we must reach deep into the heart of our own tradition and challenge ourselves to find some way forward that will move us all in the direction of peace.  In the holy gospels, we read that when the Savior came into this world, He himself was targeted for a massacre: “When Herod saw that he had been tricked by the wise men, he was infuriated, and he sent and killed all the children in and around Bethlehem who were two years and under… then was fulfilled what had been spoken through the prophet, Jeremiah: A voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be consoled, because they are no more.”  (Matthew 2:16-18)

Why didn’t God protect the Holy Innocents of Bethlehem? He sent an angel to warn Joseph. Why didn’t God warn them? And couldn’t God have protected the innocents of Sandy Hook? The truth is that God rarely intervenes in human affairs. However, the Lord does work in individuals and communities whose hearts are open to grace and ready to make a change that is called for. Joseph was open. He could hear the angel and make the changes God asked of him: to leave his country, fleeing in the night to become a refugee with no knowledge of what might await him and his family in a strange land. But Herod’s heart was closed in an impenetrable darkness. Even if God had sent an army of angels he would never have taken notice. And because he had political power, he could inflict his darkness on others. So too, the young man who became a killer in Connecticut acted out of darkness. Instead of political power, he used firepower. In these two events in human history we see the Cross of Christ: that God can bring resurrection out of unspeakable evil done by human beings. And we also see that God desires to upset the powers of this world that perpetuate such evils, to struggle against them so they may not continue on. Only God can work this mystery of the Cross and bring resurrection out of human evil. However, human beings have the power to work to mitigate against the continuance of the powers of this world that perpetuate such evils.

What about our hearts? Are we open to allowing God to work through us to bring peace on earth? What keeps us from working for a better country, one where violence is not considered a form of entertainment; one where the existence of 300 million guns among us is finally deemed too much; a society in which mental health problems are diagnosed and treated immediately, for the well being of all?  I believe that women and mothers have a key role to play in accomplishing these things, for women and children suffer the most from war and violence in society.

This Christmas season, when we honor as saints the Holy Innocents feast day on December 28, let us also honor the holy innocents of Sandy Hook and the adults who gave their lives trying to protect them, honoring the teaching profession in ways never imagined. In their memory, let us do all we can to be open to grace and to take action for peace:  to find non-violent entertainment, to vastly reduce the number of guns in society and to let no one suffering from mental illness go untreated. Surely things will get better, and we will have honored the memory of those who have fallen, and their families.

Copyright 2012 Julie Paavola

The Best and the Brightest

Funny how everyone talks about choices for women, but when one of us makes a choice the criticism can be fierce. I remember an episode of the television newsmagazine, 20/20, featuring some of the best and the brightest women in America. These women had quit their jobs and opted to stay home with their small children. They were graduates of Stanford, Yale and Harvard, with high profile jobs in law, finance and business. They were the ones slated to have an impact on the world, to be something great. What on earth were they thinking? The guest on the show, an Ivy League professor, argued, ‘It’s a crime for such women to squander their education and talent caring for their children.’ “It’s wrong,” she insisted, “and I can tell them it’s wrong because I’m a philosopher.”

I couldn’t help but smile as I watched the group of professional women being critiqued by the older professor. They were quiet and unassuming, and looked a little hurt. The professor, a philosopher and also a mother, insisted she had made the “right choice,” that is, to let other, less brilliant stars take care of her daughter.  Aside from being amused, I was saddened by her critique. I wondered, “When will women start showing understanding toward other women, instead of being so judgmental?” After all, the philosopher’s logic was that these gifted women should subordinate their family desires to the greater goal of advancing women’s voice and presence in the professional world. Yet, had she considered how distinctly altered that voice would become after they had taken time to parent with full attention? How would it affect them and change their attitudes toward business practices, public policy and legislation, to name a few examples?

As a mother of two school-aged boys myself, I spent a lot of time at home over the last 11 years (though not all). I can say with some certainty, it makes a difference in how I see the world. The decision of professional women to value the art of parenting is a signal that women’s attitudes toward motherhood may be shifting. More women may be taking note of a need to pay greater, not less, attention to our unique role in forming the next generation. This is one of woman’s greatest joys as well as an unparalleled challenge. If we are lucky enough to have the choice to spend some of our children’s’ early years at home, it seems that the best and the brightest make a distinctly counter-cultural decision. They take on motherhood as something not-to-be-missed. This is good news indeed, from where I sit.

The Lord himself said to his disciples, “Let the children come to me and do not hinder them, for to such as these belongs the kingdom of heaven.” Jesus wanted to be near them. When we spend time with our children, they frequently challenge us to examine what we believe about ourselves, the world around us and God. Parenting is a transformative because it not only molds the child, it molds us. It teaches us to see through another’s eyes; it teaches us to live with difference and embrace another person without reserve; it teaches what is at stake in working for a more just world. In other words, the act of mothering teaches us Gospel truths. And when we return to our work outside the family, we will do so with a transformed perspective, a mother’s mind and heart. This may be just the remedy our war-weary, profit-crazy society is longing for.

Copyright 2012 Julie Paavola

Mary and the Rosary Invite Us to Spread Peace

Each autumn the Church celebrates two feasts of our Lady: The Birth of Mary on September 8 and Our Lady of the Rosary on October 7.

Not many people know that the feast of Our Lady of the Rosary was originally instituted to celebrate a Christian victory in a decisive battle with the Ottomans in 1751. The battle of Lepanto was fought on the Mediterranean in galleys. The coalition of Catholic maritime states prayed the rosary for a victory, thus October’s feast was originally called Our Lady of Victory. It seems strange to us today, to pray for a war victory, but it’s a reminder of how different the world was in the eighteenth century!

In our day, the rosary is a prayer of peace. Our Lady at Fatima reminds to pray the Rosary for peace among God’s children. We live in a world that is in many ways more dangerous than the times of the Battle of Lepanto: a world with nuclear weapons, a world where lethal drugs are available to our teenagers; a world that seems to be moving too fast for us to even keep up, let alone plan for our safety. Does this mean we should live in fear? That is the last thing we should do! In our times we have a new battle to win, the battle of the Spirit. Mary asked us to pray for peace and begged her children to work in order to make peace a reality in our world. This means we must aim to combine our praying of the Rosary with works of peace, such as love for the poor, welcome of the stranger, compassion and forgiveness to those who hurt us. We might well ask: how can we do this when our country is at war? First, we should reach out to our veterans and learn the stories they bring back from war. Many veterans today share their stories through novels, poetry and non-fiction works that help us understand what they have been through. Second, we should ask our political leadership to adopt policies that will help us to be a superpower that spreads only peace and good will. The more we do this, the more our stature will grow in the world. The best and brightest people of this great country, plus our wealth and our knowhow, could lay the groundwork for a new peace. This hard work, combined with the Rosary… now THAT would be a victory!

The Birth of Mary reminds us that lasting peace will only be achieved through Jesus. Mary is called Morning Star in the Litany of Loreto because she was the first sign that the dawn was coming, that is, Jesus, the Day Star, the Savior of All, the Prince of Peace. So many of the images of Mary are of peace and tenderness! How could it be otherwise? She was to be the mother of the Great Healer, Jesus, the greatest Man of Compassion who has ever lived. Mary must have been an example of such gentle love. Yet, let us not confuse gentleness with weakness. For Mary had to be strong enough to bear all the attacks her beloved son would face-and they were many. I often think of her after the death of Jesus, waiting, still hope-filled, yet suffering in silent strength until he revealed himself after the Resurrection. Yet Mary did not condemn Jesus’ attackers, nor rebel against God who allowed him to suffer and die. Mary repeated ever the same prayer: “Let it be done to me according to your word…”, and “the Almighty has done great things for me and holy is his name.”

This autumn, let us reflect on Mary, our mother, and commit ourselves to becoming more worthy of being her children by praying the Rosary and doing works of peace. Let us slow down, breathe deeply, and look at the beauty around us, offering compassion to all we meet.

Copyright 2012 Julie Paavola

The feast days of the Church calendar are best understood in relation to one another: Lent is followed by Easter, Easter culminates in the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost; then we celebrate Holy Trinity Sunday, Corpus Christi, and the Sacred Heart of Jesus. Finally we come to June and celebrate the Immaculate Heart of Mary; we celebrate the one person who gave her heart to God without reserve. Yet, it’s important to avoid thinking of this feast in a sentimental way, as if the heart symbolized only warm feelings or happy thoughts. Mary had to accept God’s will on a daily basis and in many difficult situations, as do we. She experienced deep joy in giving herself to God so completely, but not without a fight. What is the meaning then, of this Feast of the Immaculate Heart of Mary?

We start with the physical heart, the center of a person’s existence. It is not merely a biological organ, but the center of one’s life-energy; it is the soul and sacred identity of each individual. In the Christian tradition, the heart is also seen as the battleground whereupon God wages war for our eternal salvation. It is the place of conversion, of turning away from ourselves and toward God. This is a gradual process.

Next, consider that every human heart belongs to the owner and can only be given freely, in love.
The heart of each person is unique, like a new territory, discovered and coveted by God, who arrives there like an explorer, ready to plant his divine flag of ownership: “I have wooed you and conquered you with my love, you are precious and you are mine!” God wants to permeate and rule over our hearts not out of a need to dominate and control—a misunderstanding of divine ways that is all too common—but to give us a share in the bliss of God’s own divine life. The heart is where God communicates and receives love.

The heart is also a place of decision. Have you ever had the experience of knowing you had to do (or not do) something, a feeling, an intuition, a kind of insistent nudge that you felt you must follow? This is your heart talking! While not a common experience for most of us—usually, we have to think, plan, deliberate and converse with others to make good choices—this feeling deep within can assert itself at times. St. Ignatius called these tugs “movements of the spirit” and explained that some movements lead toward God and some lead away from God. He spent years testing guidelines or Rules to figure how to discern the movements of the heart, so as to always follow those movements that lead us closer to God and reject those that lead us away. The heart is our sacred identity. It can only be given in freedom. It is the center of our discerning choice for God above all else.

Mary was a champion in choosing God above all else. Her heart was immaculate because of this consistent choice, this fiat, this yes to God. Her purity is a singleness of vision, an intensity of love, and an intelligent devoted choice of those movements that would lead her to God. There was not a spark of idolatry in her and so God could place humanity’s future on her shoulders and ask her to collaborate in the Incarnation of the Second Person of the Holy Trinity! What a powerful thing a pure heart can be in the plan of God!

Because Mary’s heart is pure, her love for us is also pure: her one desire for us is that we become more her children through likeness to Christ, and with him belong to and build the kingdom of heaven. Let us pray on this day and in this month of June, when we celebrate the sacred love of Jesus and the pure love of Mary, that she will help us become more single-hearted. This is true freedom and it leads us to the kind of joy no one can take away from us. Mary, Cause of Our Joy, Pray for us.

Copyright 2012 Julie Paavola

May culminates in the feast of the Visitation. Most of us have seen depictions of this Mystery, the second Joyful Mystery of the Rosary. It shows Mary visiting her cousin, Elizabeth, who is with child. The two of them embrace joyously. Mary’s visit to Elizabeth was also a visitation from God. “Visitation” is used in Scripture to refer to an encounter between God and the faithful soul, a moment of intimacy in which God imparts some gift or message deep within the human heart. When Mary visited Elizabeth, she mediated the power and presence of the Holy Spirit: the Babe in Mary’s womb gifted the babe in Elizabeth’s womb with sanctifying grace and Elizabeth herself was filled with the Holy Spirit. In this mysterious meeting, Mary would later become known as “Mediatrix of All Grace.” She brings Jesus, God-made-flesh, to Elizabeth and to us. When the Holy Spirit finds an open heart, God rushes in to purify and make our hearts holy and joyous: as the gospel says, the child leapt for joy.

What does it mean to mediate grace? Well, Mary receives God in the Annunciation, and she gives God away in the Visitation; she responds to the Angel’s “Salve Maria” with her Fiat (“let it be done to me according to your word”) and then greets Elizabeth with her own “Salve” thus giving grace to others. But Mary had to first receive before she could give. God works in this way, to promote a kind of chain reaction of grace and love wherever souls cooperate with the loving plan of God. Mary is Mediatrix of Grace to those around her because she participates wholly in God’s plan for humanity.

What does the Visitation mean for us? When we come ready to follow the will of God in our lives, no matter how simple or obvious it may be—working at our jobs, taking care of our families, making time for prayer, taking time to volunteer—that humble obedience in faith can mediate divine grace to others. We don’t often know the impact of our actions here and now, but that doesn’t mean God isn’t using us to spread his grace around. When Mary went to assist her pregnant cousin, nothing could have been more simple and humble, and yet it became the occasion of great grace. God uses our life circumstances as well, to create miraculous grace. If we are sons and daughters of Mary, we must certainly be like her in this regard.

“Blessed is she who believed that the word of God spoken to her would be fulfilled.”

Copyright 2012 Julie Paavola

The first thing we may consider is that Mary appeared to a poor and humble child to communicate a message for us all. The gospel parallel is the shepherds, who were chosen to receive the news of Christ’s birth and were first to hear the words “Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace to all of good will.” Other Marian apparitions are similar. We find Mary of Guadalupe appeared to a poor indigenous man, Juan Diego; Mary of Fatima to the three poor children, Lucia, Jacinta and Francisco; and at Medjugorje, Mary appeared to Marija, Vicka, and Ivanhow, children of humble origins. In all these cases, visionaries received messages of love and encouragement for all. God chose the weak and the humble, and we also must learn to give our lives and concerns over to God in a spirit of poverty if we would hear and live the gospel.

Lourdes also has a special message directed at the whole Church, to summon us to seek holiness. Too often we may grow comfortable with the idea that the laity need only obey a few precepts of the Church. Jesus himself taught that we had to go further in order to enter the Kingdom of heaven.  The Marian apparitions challenge us as laity to a deeper commitment, to pray, fast, love God and neighbor, work and pray for peace and seek healing. To acknowledge we too are called to discipleship in a radical way, just as the priests and consecrated religious are, but through consistently living “in the world, but not of the world.”

Most of all, Our Lady of Lourdes calls us to understand and practice the virtue of compassion. Through Bernadette Mary reminds us that we are, all of us, in need of healing, both physical and spiritual. Only in her Son, Jesus, can we find this healing. So the waters of Lourdes wash the body, but also the soul. What is more, Lourdes is about healing but also about those who facilitate the healing: doctors, nurses, countless volunteers who bring the sick to the Basilica, pray the rosary and the Mass. It is a place of joy for so many who are not themselves sick, but the angels of the sick. They are given the joy of seeing burdens lifted, bodies healed and spirits reborn. This is the on-going miracle of Lourdes: healing and compassion. What better message for our world today?

As mothers, these messages are a consoling thing indeed: God chooses the humble ones and children to deliver his message, God calls the laity to holiness, God wills us to be people of compassion who seek health of body and soul. This speaks to us so directly and offers us the encouragement we need, to know our lives have great meaning before God. As we faithfully raise our children and do our work in the world, let us meditate on Mother Teresa of Calcutta’s words: “If you desire peace in the world, then go home and love your families.” We live out the challenge put to us at Lourdes every day when we do this.

Artwork: Our Lady of Lourdes by Joan Grayson

© 2012 Julie Paavola

Tucked into the warmth and celebrations of November  is a feast of Mary. It is called The Presentation. Unlike many other Marian feasts, it is not a celebration connected with a mystery of the Lord, and there is no source in Scripture for it. Instead, the Presentation is based on a tradition. It commemorates the dedication of a Church in Jerusalem. The Church, called St. Mary, was built in honor of a long-held story among Christians, that Mary was offered to the Lord at the temple by her parents, Anne and Joachim. At Evening Prayer on this feast day, we pray:

Holy Mother of God, Mary ever-Virgin, you are the temple of the Lord and the dwelling place of the Holy Spirit. Beyond all others you were pleasing to our Lord Jesus Christ.

This feast gives me such consolation. I imagine Anne and Joachim, offering thanks for this miracle baby, this girl they knew had a special role in the work of God to save. We each have our own childhood history and purpose to offer to God. We each have our childhood innocence, a time when everything about us was pleasing to God. Mary, “beyond all others” pleasing to God, is a sign that we can all please God and be a holy offering to God. As the French Carmelite, Therese of Lisieux said, when we do everything with great love, it is not hard to please the good God.

Like the other, amazing days of celebration in November, this one is warm, encouraging and hopeful. We are—all of us—temples of God like Mary, by the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. In Mary, we were all present, as her children, being offered in the moment of her presentation, as part of the New Creation in Christ. Even as we begin the part of coldest winter, we have the greatest of hope.

Prayer: Mary, help us to remember that, in your Son, we are already holy offerings to the Father, for God looks at us with the tenderness of a mother, and calls us closer by inspiring us to continually seek his face. Amen

Copyright 2011 Julie Paavola

Editor’s Note: Today, we begin a new series by Julie Paavola, author of the wonderful book  The Mother’s Calling: Love in the Heart of the World. Did you know the Church invites us to celebrate a feast of Mary every month of the year? This new series of articles by Julie Paavola offers a reflection for mothers on each Marian Feast of the year. This month of October the feast is Mary, Queen of the Rosary. LMH

Mary is the most celebrated person in the Church. For the most part, Mary lived a hidden and humble life. Her acceptance of God’s will, however, opened the way for God’s Son to enter this world as one of us. When she collaborated with God’s work of salvation, Mary became the new Mother of all the Living. The early Church Fathers called her the New Eve.

Mary teaches each of us to open the way for Jesus by our own fidelity to God’s will. We do this by figuring out our own unique gift and calling, by accepting our life as it is and then asking, “Lord, what more would you have me do?” Like Mary, we ask our question not out of fear. Rather it comes from a desire to please God, to know and love the God who has loved us first. Our Lady of the Rosary shows us the key to this simple, humble dedication. She shows us how to meditate on the stuff of daily life as we pray in the presence of the Lord. For, in the Rosary, Mary meditates on her Child and we join her.

Here is a simple exercise for any mother or parent:

1. Set aside a period of 10 minutes; light a candle and listen to your breathing; let go of your worries and bring to mind one of the mysteries of the rosary. As an example, let’s take the Annunciation.
2. Pray with Mary, remembering with her the day Gabriel told her of God’s plan that she have a child, Jesus, meaning “The Lord Saves.” Meditate on the name of Jesus and its meaning.
3. Think of your first pregnancy (or your wife’s if you are a father). Think of the way you felt about the gift of becoming a mother/parent for the first time. Give thanks for this vocation; remember the early days in the life of your first child and your transition into becoming a parent (birth, coming home from the hospital, first bath, first outing, first step, first word)
4. Call to mind your child today as he/she is today; call to mind your other children, if you have them.  Each of them is called to be a sister or brother of Jesus, saved through the Son of Mary. As you meditate the Incarnation (Jesus becoming flesh in the womb of Mary), invite your child(ren) into the circle of light that is the Grace of Salvation. See yourself in the mystery of the Annunciation, blessed and saved by Mary’s generous yes to God.
5. Finish your prayer by placing your child(ren) and their future in God’s hands; pray with Mary as she says to God in the Annunciation: “Let it be done to me according to your word.”

In the Rosary we ponder the life of Jesus with Mary. We also ponder our own lives before God, asking God to make us holy by the life of Jesus. We can include everything in this prayer: our children, our spouse, our friends and relatives, along with all the needs of daily life. What a consolation, that our own lives are part of the mystery we contemplate!

Copyright 2011 Julie Paavola

This might’ve been the end of the story, only God had a new plan for me. During a retreat while I was in graduate school, I met a young man and we fell in love. We married in a beautiful Church, and the stained glass windows, antique lace gown and my cousin’s angelic Ave Maria are still a blessed memory. Like many women today, I married later in life, but my husband and I were easy going and adjusted well to married life.  I identified strongly with my work and enjoyed my husband’s encouragement, and I in turn supported him in his career. We loved our free time together hiking and going to the sea shore.

But there was another gift in store. Twenty-two years after becoming a nun, eight years after leaving the convent and four years after getting married, God did another really new thing. God called me to be a mother.

If I had not been paying attention earlier, this got my attention! It was as if I had been altered at the molecular level. Why hadn’t anyone told me? I had assumed having a child would be like anything else, something you learned, adjusted to—even mastered. But I couldn’t master motherhood. It mastered me and transformed me in ways beyond my imagination to predict or control. My life was reorganized; reshuffled, redone to meet the needs of the little one who came to join us in this project we call family. This was both unsettling and exhilarating. It was also spiritual. I was delving headlong into an experience of the gift of new life and coming closer to God because of it. So I looked for help.

I began with books of women saints and found virgins, widows and martyrs—few celebrated for their holiness as mothers. So, I looked again, this time to Scripture. Ah! Here they were! There were Sarah, Rachel, Rebecca and the other Matriarchs of the Old Testament; Mary, Anna the Prophetess and Elizabeth in the Gospels. Not only were these women mothers, they were Key Players in the redemption story. I even meditated on the First Mother, Eve, imagining that while she gave birth in pain, pain did not rule her. Instead, she lived in holy longing, with unquenchable desire for the One with whom she had spent so many afternoons, walking in Eden as with a trusted friend.

In the gospels I read old stories with a new awareness. For example, the day Mary went in haste to visit her cousin, Elizabeth. The angel had insinuated she go, saying, she who was said to be barren is now in her sixth month, for nothing shall be impossible with God (cf. Luke 1:36). When Mary came to Elizabeth’s door, Elizabeth’s child leapt within her, sanctified by the Holy Spirit, and she cried, Who am I that the mother of my Lord should come to me? (cf. Luke 1:43) I was surprised, that two pregnant women set the stage for the first instance of evangelization in the history of the Church. Pentecost is celebrated as the birth of the Church, yet the Visitation is the moment when she was “conceived,” through the faith of two women who believed that the Promises of God would be fulfilled.

These and other Scriptures taught me that God calls women to be intimate collaborators in the works of creation and redemption. That God never leaves us to ourselves, but calls us to know firsthand that we are beloved by God. Our human experience–of pregnancy and birth, nursing, and loving our children, from preschool, to school age years and beyond, is a flesh-and-blood training ground in the love of God.

Anything can be part of this collaborative work with God—whether dramatic or mundane, joyous or sacrificial. Once when I had lost my temper and yelled at my little ones, I felt in a bad mood all afternoon. When night prayer came, I knew I had to come clean. So, before I prayed, I just asked their forgiveness for getting “too angry.” This forgiveness moment was something my children and I shared again. They started learning to ask too. Daily failures were not as bad when we all knew forgiveness would come again. The practice bred enormous peace in the household and reminded us all: “Do not let the sun go down on your anger” (Ephesians 4:26).

My journey into motherhood was a long one. Yet because the spiritual life is a feet-on-the-ground human endeavor, graced by God to grow and flower, it is a way of life that is deeply human and therefore also, deeply divine. Religious life taught me what it is like to feel the call, and I felt the call again to become a mother. On this journey I take as my guide and companion Mary, the mother of Jesus. She knew well how the human and the divine are knitted together, as she allowed God to be formed in her womb.  God gives us the grace too, so we can seek his face and learn to love God and the human family like Mary did, with all her heart, until they become one, pure love.

Copyright 2011 Julie Paavola

Editor’s Note: I am very happy to share the following information on a wonderful retreat being presented by our CatholicMom.com Contributor Julie Paavola. The retreat is presented in Spanish, but we’ve included the information in English below. Julie is available to speak for your retreat or organization and can be contacted through her email address or in the comments below for additional information. LMH

El Compromiso Evangelico: Formando la Familia de Dios á Través del Trabajo

Fecha: mayo 13, 14 y 15 del año 2011

Directores:  Rev. Padre Jorge Schultze, S.J. y la Sra. Julie Paavola, M.A.

Lugar: The Jesuit Retreat Center, 300 Manressa Way, Los Altos, CA

¿Cuál es la realidad de nuestra vida actual? ¿No es el trabajo? Dedicamos gran parte de cada día al trabajo, sin embargo podemos pensar que dentro del afán de cada día, Dios esté ausente, involucrado en cosas “más importantes.”

The Gospel Challenge: Forming the Family of God Through Daily Work

Date: May 13, 14, 15, 2011

Directors: Fr. George Schultze, SJ and Ms. Julie Paavola, MA

Location: The Jesuit Retreat Center, Los Altos, CA 94022

What is the reality of our lives? Isn’t it work? We dedicate a large portion of our day to work, and yet, we may secretly believe that in the hectic pace of life, God is absent, concerned with “more important things.”

But it isn’t so. Through our work—whether it be employment, the care of our homes and children, or volunteer work—God is calling us to transform the world and become holy. This retreat examines ways to encounter God through work and family life, challenging us to live in the love of the Holy Family

“How often do mothers think about the fact that a mother’s love brought God to earth?”

Think of Mary when she was only a young teenager, around fourteen years old. At this time in her life, she was thinking about marriage and about starting a family. She was already betrothed to Joseph. From the outside she looked like an ordinary girl. Yet within her heart, she was anything but ordinary. Her inner life was one of intimate love that kept her so close to God that she was already, at fourteen, the forerunner of all the great saints. Like the women mystics who would one day follow her Son, Mary had such a longing and desire for God that she might have said, like St. Teresa of Avila did, muero porque no muero (I die because I do not die). When the angel announced to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you” it was not simply that God chose her among many. She was a rare flower because her love was already in full bloom. She was irresistible to God for her great desire. The Holy Spirit rushed towards her, in part, because of her love, which wooed God. The greatest surprise is, that God answered her with a child: “therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God” (Luke 1:35). It was a mother’s love that brought God to earth!

Mary is our mother in the Church for just this reason. She teaches us not primarily with words that instruct, but with actions that demonstrate the inner thoughts of her heart. This is why in Scripture we read that she pondered in her heart (Luke 1:29, 2:19, 2:51) all the events in her life and God’s will for her.

A spirituality of pregnancy and birth is a spirituality of desire for God. For this time of waiting and anticipation which every mother remembers, is a Christian symbol of this desire. This is why, during Advent, we sing the O Antiphons begging the Lord, Come! Pregnancy is about love, longing and desire. While it also involves swelling, heartburn and insomnia, pregnancy is beyond us, just as the person to be born will reach beyond us to his or her own plans and schemes as a unique and separate individual. Mary knew this more than any mother! For God was in the coming of her Child as in no other. Her life was caught up in the story of her Son’s and carried her beyond herself, to embrace all of us as her own children.

During these blessed days of Lent, we should see every individual Lenten practice-whether it be a fast of a sacrifice, whether an act of charity or prayer-as a means to increasing our desire for God. Lent is nothing if not a time to grow in this desire, for we come to God by our glorious freedom to choose God above all other good things. In God we find them again with hearts renewed.

Copyright 2011 Julie Paavola

“Each one of us had a sound to make during our lifetimes, a song, a message or a mark to leave.” (The Mother’s Calling: Love in the Heart of the World, p. 7)

Last week I attended a fundraiser for a boy’s choir in the San Francisco Bay Area. I didn’t feel like going. I was tired and feeling depressed. I would have preferred a night in. When we arrived, we had to stand because all the chairs were taken. This didn’t help my mood.

We had just gotten glasses of Sangria served for the “Havana Nights” themed event, when the singing started. I looked at the stage, at the faces of the young boys as their voices rang out, and in that moment all my pressures and negative feelings melted. I relaxed and in place of my fatigue and worry, I felt happiness. In seconds, not minutes, my spirit was healed. The rest of the evening was pure joy as three choirs, an ensemble group and ten soloists performed for us.

So many times hardship and worry interfere with God-given joy. As mothers, we often feel this overwhelming pressure that can block out our capacity to enjoy. These little choristers gave me the gift of the present moment, so I was able to let go of my burdens and understand:  my life-as-it-is enough to please God. If these young men could give such joy by their song, like the bird who flies praises God, why is it so hard for me to see God in my own daily life?

The story of the Samaritan Woman always brings this home to me (John 4). Jesus comes to the well where a woman of Samaria is drawing water; he comes to her on her own turf and asks her for a drink of water. Jesus asks for something within her reach, not something great or grandiose: “Give me a drink.” As a mother, my life has plenty of mundane moments, and not a few thankless jobs. It often doesn’t match with my ambitions and dreams. Yet, can I not offer a mighty love like Therese of the Child Jesus did, with my daily life of work and service? If this is the “drink of water” Jesus is asking of me, why not give him this love throughout my day? Why not see God, and feel joy, everywhere?

At the end of the evening, I thought of my own boys, tucked home in bed that night. They had recently joined the choir but had not yet advanced to the performance level. Their sleeping was enough!  So our gift is also enough and pleasing to God. Each of is invited, through our own very particular life and calling, to leave our mark, proclaim our message, sing our song. And this will make a difference in the world and please the Lord.

Copyright 2011 Julie Paavola

Editor’s Note: I’m so happy to congratulate my friend and fellow CatholicMom.com contributor Julie Paavola on the publication of her wonderful book The Mother’s Calling: Love in the Heart of the World.  It’s such a wonderful resource for any mom – I hope you’ll enjoy it and share it with your friends!  LMH

March 16, 2011

“My son, Joseph, was born in North Carolina in April, as we were enjoying a beautiful spring. But the morning he was born, the air took on a crisp, cold quality. The trees held their breath, and suddenly it began to snow! Newspapers featured pictures of amazed faces looking up at the falling snow. When I saw the snow outside my hospital window, it made me feel like heaven was just delighted about Joseph’s birth. And I was so delighted to become a mother that day. This story symbolizes how Joseph is dear to me, like Isaac was reminded of Jacob whenever he smelled the fragrant field; I am reminded of Joseph when I see delicate flakes of snow falling.” From The Mother’s Calling, p. 107

This story, taken from my newly released, The Mother’s Calling: Love in the Heart of the World, describes one of my most happy memories on the day I became a mother.

We all have blessed remembrances like this. From the moment our child is born, we begin creating these memories. We ponder them in our hearts, like Mary did (Luke 1-). As we reflect, we come to better understand our own lives, as women and as mothers, and to live more deeply our vocation to be a force of love in the world. The family and community into which a child is born must be simply a place of sharing the sweetness and the pains of life with an attitude of love. This atmosphere forms and molds our children and us. Because our children long for encouragement, we are summoned to show courage; because they need the limits of discipline, we are challenged to be self-disciplined; because they thirst for love, we are asked, by the Lord, to be loving and patient, even when we don’t feel like it. When we’re tired, or blue, or just have had enough! So God teaches mothers the spiritual path in a natural way, calling us to be followers of Jesus in our daily walk.

I invite you to nurture your prayer life as you read each of the seven chapters of The Mother’s Calling. As I send articles your way this Lent, giving a seed for contemplation from each chapter, I invite you to note your own blessed remembrances and the gift of each child. You and your family are in my prayers as you seek to grow into your vocation as a mother, and spread the love of your calling beyond and into the world.

Copyright 2011 Julie Paavola

O Morning Star, Radiance of the Light eternal and Sun of Justice: come and enlighten those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death.

Stories are told by the ancient Mayan about the death of their god, Quetzalcoatl, which they said took place when Venus was no longer visible in the night sky. But when Venus rose again as a morning star, they believed Quetzalcoatl was reborn and ascended to the sky as lord. Humans have always looked up to the sky, in wonder and in hope. Why look up? How does the cosmos speak to us of God? How does the light we see shining in the sky inspire us and give us consolation that there is some great goodness beyond our world?

In today’s O Antiphon, we have three light images- morning star, splendor of eternal light and sun of justice.

When we ask the Lord to come as morning star, oriens, it is like asking God to rise within our hearts. This is a plea for a deeper conversion. The morning represents a beginning, a new start. Don’t we have to start again each day? My children are always the most fun to be around in the morning. I never want to miss this time when they first wake up, before they begin to think of getting dressed or worry about fixing lunch.  Morning is the best time for hope and for delighting in the prospect of something new. God comes to us anew each day too. Do we notice the circumstances that provide us a way to turn toward God more and more each day?

The next light image is breathtaking-the splendor of eternal light! This is not so much an image as a promise- that the One who shines on us here and now, in the midst of the darkness of our sorrows, losses and difficulties-will give us a consolation of joy that will not end. The very radiance of light that shines in eternity also reaches us in time, every single day, if we but look up!

The third image is the sun of justice. I recently saw Tron Legacy, about a man who creates a digital world into which he travels and then gets trapped. Sam, the creator’s son, describes the sun to lovely Quora who has never before seen the sun:  it is hard to describe; it is warmth on your face, it’s bright and it’s just beautiful! Quora later escapes with Sam to the real world. Sam takes her to see the dawn as they ride together over the bridge. The sun rises and shines on her face. She smiles as the warm rays of the sun touch her. I often think that our lives are passed in a virtual world, one that is very dim indeed in comparison with the world we are meant for. In that next stage of our journey, the Sun of Justice will shine on our faces and we will feel truly alive, in a way that is impossible for us to grasp now.

Today, only days from Christmas, as we look up to the star of Bethlehem, we pray: “Come, Lord! Do not delay! Give light to us, who sit in darkness and shadows of death.” Not even death can overcome the light you give, the light of eternal splendor.

We should remember, this Christmas, to find warmth, light, hope and joy in Jesus, more than any other event or gift given or received all year long. For this Morning Star arises and lives within us, giving warmth of new life. Maranatha, Come Lord Jesus!

Copyright 2010 Julie Paavola

O Key of David and scepter of the house of Israel,

You open and no one can close, you close and no one can open:

Come and rescue the prisoners who are in darkness and in the shadow of death.

In the antiphon today, the Lord is one who carries authority. He is called “Key of David” and the “Scepter of the House of Israel.” The key is a sign of power and access, while the scepter is a sign of government.

In our day, there is a fear bordering on hostility towards authority. An example from my own life is telling. My sister has been a teacher for years in a Catholic school setting. After teaching art and art history for 14 years, she transferred to the religion department to teach high school freshman. She was excited about a change of pace and, as a woman who deeply loves Catholicism, eager to share the faith. Yet her experience has been a devastating rejection by students of the content of her course. They seem unable to simply trust what she teaches about God and the Church, or to respect her considerable training (she has a PhD in Theology and the Arts). She does not tell them they should believe–many Catholic school students are not Catholics or even Christians—but that they simply learn.  She presents the faith as a way of life, one that a third of the world’s population believes (as Christians) with and lives out with conviction. What is the contrast between her life as an art teacher and as a religion teacher? Night and day! The students challenge her authority as a religion teacher in a way they never did as an art teacher. Their attitude is, “Don’t even suggest you can tell me what to think or do!”

Yet Jesus does not use power to control people, nor does he govern with force. Instead, His way is completely unlike the power wielded for worldly reasons of selfish gain. The Lord’s authority arises out of his mandate from the Father, for Jesus is sent to us from God. The Lord’s power is the power of grace, that is always an invitation, not a mandate. Jesus invites us to believe the Good News, and welcomes the vulnerable, the sinner, anyone in darkness and difficulty—that would be all of us! The power of God and the rule of the Lord seek not to control but to lift up –He proclaims that under his rule “the last will be first” and “the greatest among you serve the rest.” He says to his followers, “Come all you that labor and find life burdensome, for my yoke is easy and my burden is light” (Matt 11:25-30).

If we desire to give our children the faith, we must encourage them to come to know the gentle and free calling that God makes to us to follow Jesus. As we celebrate Christmas, grace invites us to open our hearts more to the thrill of a God who pursues us not to wield over us some arbitrary control, but to show us the way to true and lasting goodness and life.

When a child seems closed or indifferent, we must encourage them in any way we can, and pray that God will show our children the attractiveness of the Lord, the consolation of God’s love. God is Truth, Beauty and Goodness and coming to know and trust God is a matter of invitation and free response. May we teach our little ones and our teens so they grow in the understanding that God is forever trustworthy! Jesus is the one who is the key that will open the doors of our hearts, break down barriers of mistrust and doubt. It is our job as parents to make sure we show the faith in its true light, not as a matter of control, but an invitation to a marvelous adventure to follow the one who said, “Learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart.”

Copyright 2010 Julie Paavola

O root of Jesse, standing as a sign among the nations; before whom kings keep silence, for whom the nations long; come and liberate us and delay no longer.

The third O Antiphon takes its inspiration from Isaiah 11, read on the second Sunday of Advent: “A shoot shall sprout from the stump of Jesse and a branch shall grow out of his roots. The spirit of the Lord shall rest on him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and fear of the Lord.”

The image of a leader among kings, endowed with the gifts of the Spirit, brings back a vivid memory for me. It is of a procession I took part in during Holy Week in Antigua, Guatemala, during the final years of the civil war that ravished that country for 36 years. The Palm Sunday procession starts at the main Cathedral with Mass and winds through the streets from dawn to dusk. The entire city plays a part. An enormous platform weighing several tons is brought forth, born by twenty-some people. The platform is about the length of a semi truck trailer and covered with silk and flowers. On it stands a life-size figure of Jesus, wearing a golden crown, dressed in royal clothing and carrying the cross. Jesus is beginning his passion today. Around the figure of Christ are other figures, about a dozen of them, all kings, all kneeling and throwing down their own crowns at the feet of Jesus. As the people lift the platform onto their shoulders, the crowd begins to sing and the procession moves forward. All day long the procession will make its way through the town, and in each street it will trod over rose petal designs laid down on the stone pavement. The streets are decorated by community groups with vibrantly colored flower petals arranged to paint the group’s emblem or motto that scatters mandala-like as the procession passes. It feels like Palestine at the time of Jesus. I wave my palm branch along with the crowd and feel an urge to help carry the image of Jesus.  All day long people pray and sing, visit with each other and take their turn carrying the heavy platform. A mighty joy and solidarity is in the air. The people witness to the truth-in the midst of war and unrest, they know and state publicly that Jesus is their king, that God understands their struggles and loves them tenderly. Jesus is the true and lasting king, before whom all earthly powers must keep silence.

In our times of political stalemate, it is a challenge to imagine the leader among kings described here. This “root of Jesse” or “a shoot” sprouting from the stump should give us hope in God, however. For God brings new life where before we saw only a tree chopped down and left behind. God works in a hidden way and with small beginnings. This “sprout of Jesse” will become mighty and grow into a strong liberator, the One who will free the nations.

As mothers, we must continue to hope for a peaceful world for those we love, our children and our family members. We have a part to play in assuring a more peaceful future and we do this by placing our primary allegiance to Christ and not to any earthly power. As mothers, we pray, with the prophet Isaiah in chapter 11, “The wolf will lie down with the lamb… and a child shall lead them… they will not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain; for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea” (cf. Isa 11:6-9). May God show us the way to peace through Jesus, the leader among kings, the Prince of Peace. Amen.

Copyright 2010 Julie Paavola

O Adonai and Ruler of the House of Israel, you appeared to Moses in the fire of the burning bush and on Mount Sinai gave him your law.  Come, and with outstretched arm redeem us.

Yesterday afternoon I had the blessing of attending the Memorial service of a dear friend, someone I have known for twenty years.  My feelings as I write this are of love and hope, but also of sorrow, disbelief. As the Little Prince in Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s famous novella said, “The land of tears is such a mysterious place.” As I think of my friend, I remember him as a seeker, someone who had become a man of compassion and indiscriminate love, though he sometimes claimed not to believe in God. He will inspire my meditation today on this Antiphon.

First, the burning bush: My friend was very much the brilliant empiricist. He would’ve gone straight up to that burning bush, like Moses did.  He would have wanted to know, “what is this thing I see, that the bush is burning but not consumed?” (Exodus 3:3) This curiosity, this wanting to know, is what allowed Moses to see the Lord face to face, to hear his name called by God himself: “Moses, Moses…!” And Moses’ yearning to know the truth of things also enabled him to have the courage to accept God’s invitation to lead the people of Israel out of bondage.

The desire to know is one of the most beautiful things about human beings, what makes us children of God, beings in God’s image because we have the capacity to know and to love. Don’t we all want to know? Not just by someone else telling us, but through first hand experience, in our bones, that God is good and real and present to us on this earth? This antiphon inspires be to be bold, live life with all my strength, to seek to find—and that is what my friend’s life also inspires in me.

The final phrase is “Come, and with outstretched are redeem us.” After celebrating the life of my friend and also feeling the loss, I feel comforted that the most powerful aspect of God’s character is mercy. Were it not so, God would never have reached out to the people of Israel to give them the promises, the law and the covenant to become his own people. Out of mercy, the Lord, Adonai, came down, descended into our reality to become flesh, to dwell with us on this earth, to work and live as one of us and to one day face death himself.  If mercy can bring God to earth, then mercy can bring earth to God; can bring my friend into the presence of God and new life in God.

I have come to believe that many people long for God and seek God throughout their lives, although they may not know it. By living in a way that invites the Spirit of God into their hearts, they will hear those words of Christ, “Come beloved of my Father, for I was hungry and you gave me to eat; I was thirsty and you gave me drink; I was homeless and you gave me shelter, in prison and you came to see me, sick and you visited me. And they will be surprised and ask, “When, when did we do this for you?” And the Lord, Adonai, will answer, “As long as you did this for one of these the least of my brothers or sisters, you did it for me.”

Many will be surprised to hear those words addressed to them, and it is my hope that this dear friend, who so loved to play jokes on everyone, will have this last joke played on him, to hear those words of welcome from the Lord, to his everlasting joy.

Copyright 2010 Julie Paavola

It is the first Sunday of Advent, weeks before Christmas Day, and our meditation will be on the first of seven O Antiphons. These verses from the ancient Church are sung every day from December 17 to 24. Each Antiphon is a title for the Messiah and a foretelling of the Lord’s coming from the book of Isaiah.

The first O Antiphon is, “O Wisdom, coming forth from the mouth of the Most High, reaching from one end to the other, mightily and sweetly ordering all things: Come and teach us the way of prudence.”  It is reflected in Isaiah 28:29, “He is wonderful in counsel and excellent in wisdom.”

The gospel of John tells us how the Messiah comes forth from the mouth of the Most High, saying “In the beginning was the Word.” What comes forth from the mouth but words? When a person speaks in earnest, we say they speak from the heart. Jesus comes forth from God as a most earnest Word: through this Word “all things came into being” and so earnest is God’s word to us that “the Word became flesh and lived among us” (John 1:3, 14).

Years ago there was a film called “The Last Temptation of Christ.” I saw the film on DVD with a friend from seminary class and my sister, and the friend, a Unitarian, was very keen on knowing how we would react as Catholics. He was surprised to find out what we disliked most about the film wasn’t’ the invented romantic relationship between Jesus and Mary Magdalene, but the way the film portrayed the person of Jesus:  as a weak, unthinking man, so filled with self-doubt that Judas looked like a genius by comparison.

This is not the Wisdom come forth from the mouth of the Most High. Such cultural portrayals of Jesus as a man conflicted about just about everything, with little charisma and almost no critical skills are a false gospel. Jesus must have been filled with natural human gifts, but he was also divine. He was “wonderful,” a counselor because He had such beautiful counsel to give, suited to each person and situation because of his abiding love and deep, intuitive knowledge about humanity and creation, in all its richness and beauty… through him all things were made.

The title “Wisdom” is the most consoling for me of all the “O Antiphons” because it shows that wisdom is like an angel that helps us live practically the challenging and lofty truths of the faith.  Jesus, Wisdom, teaches us how to live as his brothers and sisters, children of the Father, so that we may be life and light to the world, “shining in darkness” (cf. John 1:3-5). That one small word, wisdom, represents who we are in Christ, life and light to a darkened world.

As we begin to prepare for Advent, let us look up to the star of Bethlehem and remember that the Lord became one of us for a reason, so that he could transform us into God’s wisdom and light of mercy to the world. “Prepare the way of the Lord” means that we allow Jesus to grow within us as the carol prays: “cast out our sin and enter in, be born in us today!” (O Little Town of Bethlehem).

Come, Wisdom, and teach us the way of prudence.

Image Credit: Brigid Marlin

Copyright 2010 Julie Paavola