Heading into Holy

We prepare to celebrate Palm Sunday this weekend. So much can happen in a week! It seems bizarre to go from waving palm branches and shouting ‘Hosanna!’ to ‘crucify him’, a punishment typically reserved for crimes that threatened the Roman Empire and associated social order. Yet, in a way, Palm Sunday was the moment that sent a soldier or local out to cut down a tree. Jesus went to Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover, a festival that celebrated the freedom from slavery and oppression, whilst living in occupied territory. Tension was rife as people wanted the leader to emerge who would deliver them from the Romans. The population in Jerusalem would have doubled for this holy festival, which would have only escalated the concern of the governing power for an uprising, or at least some form of unrest. It is hard for me to imagine what that week would have looked like.

Jesus was no political candidate. His approach transcends the political, aiming for a change that is both internal and eternal, while political candidates focus on external and temporal changes within the framework of government and society. The revolution he offers starts within with a change of heart, a ‘metanoia’. We are called to repentance, to that deep transformative change within. This change is both personal and communal, affecting not only individual hearts and minds but also the ways in which communities understand justice, mercy, love, and forgiveness.

Then we come to Holy Week. I wondered what did Jesus do in this time between Palm Sunday and Holy Thursday’s Last Supper?

Monday: Cursed the barren fig tree (Mark 11:12-14, 20-25); Cleansed the Temple overturning the tables of the money changers etc (Mark 11:15-19).

Could we consider on this day the fruits of spirituality and how to nurture them and how to avoid the commercialization of religious practice.

Tuesday: Taught in the Temple- Parable of the Tenants (Mark 12:1-12), Parable of the Wedding Banquet (Matthew 22:1-14); Prophetic discourse on the Mount of Olives, in which he foretold the destruction of the Temple, the signs of the end times, and his second coming (Mark 13, Matthew 24, Luke 21) – busy day!

When, like the Pharisees and (at times) the disciples do we ‘get it wrong’ and fail to hear the true message? Maybe we could pray on this day to be gifted with the grace of wisdom and discernment that we may more readily see the truth.

Wednesday: Not sure. It’s believed that Jesus spent this day in Bethany, resting and preparing for the Passover. However, this day is also traditionally associated with the plot to arrest Jesus, where Judas Iscariot conspires with the chief priests to betray him (Matthew 26:14-16).

As we head into the most sacred time of the year how do we take time to prepare in a spiritual way? Maybe on this day we can think about what spiritual practice we will undertake on each day of the Paschal Triduum so that we may refresh our relationship with God.

Fatigue

Here in Adelaide we have just had a stretch of hot weather and it drains energy and renders many fatigued. It got me thinking about different types of fatigue. And what of spiritual fatigue today? What does that look like and how prevalent is it?

In an individual and personal sense I can say that there are times when I feel disconnected from my religion and the practices that usually remind me of what I believe and who I feel called to be. They are the times I know I need to get out in nature and recharge my spiritual batteries (so to speak) as I know that usually works for me. There are times when others have prompted me to do this as, realistically, when I am really exhausted spiritually, I lack the cognisance to make good choices.

I am aware that the recent child abuse scandal in the church has caused significant spiritual fatigue (if we take the meaning of spiritual fatigue as feeling disconnected from one’s sources of spiritual and religious strength). This awareness comes from conversations but is also reflected in church-going statistics. It is hard to keep reconciling your beliefs in a church where leaders (and those we have thought were to be trusted) have behaved in such a heinous manner to those whose innocence should have been treasured. The thing is though, again I go to the numbers, these men are a minority.

How do you, continue to look past the human failings that riddle a religious institution and keep faith? I think we need to remember that it is in God we trust not man. And for all the flaws in our church there is so much good. It is a funny thing faith. Almost by definition it defies explanation, but it holds a place at our core, unshakeable for the most part. We must learn how to renew when it stretches to breaking point. A bit like finding somewhere cool in a heat wave.

Spiritual fatigue is something that any person can feel. It is unbound by religion. It stems from the generally accepted approach that really – humans are more than cells. Thereby, that thing within that defies clear definition and spurs us on is our spirit. Thereby, we all have a spirituality. Therefore, we can all experience both spiritual elation and spiritual fatigue. We all can lose our sense of purpose and meaning. How do we recover this? How do we renew? How do we support those around us to do this as often when you are that fatigued choosing a renewal is a logic that stems not from exhaustion.

Who do you see in your circle in need of renewal? We say it takes a village to raise a child, well I think it takes a community to save your spirit.

The woman at the well

Sunday marked the beginning of the third week of Lent. It seems that it was not long ago that we placed ashes on our foreheads, reminding us of our mortality (unto dust we shall return) and the Lenten summons to repentance, made tangible in our fasting, almsgiving and prayer. Particularly striking this week was the Gospel story of the Samaritan woman at the well, a narrative that gains additional significance against the backdrop of International Women’s Day. Celebrated as a foundational text by female theologians for its challenge to patriarchal structures, the story illuminates Jesus’ radical acceptance of the woman whilst acknowledging her humanity. Her profound belief and enthusiastic proclamation of her faith inspired not just her, but also her entire community, to seek Jesus. There are so many different aspects that one could focus on in this story around the cultural context of this meeting but today I want to focus on the idea that here was a flawed person, who was critically viewed, but felt acceptance from Jesus, and that sense of love prompted her to a joy that she could not contain.

Lent, therefore, unfolds as a season not solely defined by sacrifice but also by the substantial gains we make: a heart resonating more closely with the divine, a spirit that resists the lure of sin more robustly, and a life that mirrors the brilliance of Christ’s light more vividly. This season beckons us to live out our baptismal vow of holiness, embarking on a conscious path of metanoia—a transformation that is both deeply personal and shared within the community. Through this purposeful journey away from sin and its myriad effects, Lent offers us a potent opportunity for spiritual revival, drawing us closer to God and the hope imbued in Easter’s promise.

This past Sunday also brought us the first scrutiny of the elect. The liturgy’s prayers during this part underscore the critical theme of liberation from sin and its repercussions—a fitting reflection during Lent. They remind us that our deeds, words, and thoughts possess the power to free us. Lent challenges us to seek liberation not only from our personal sins but also from the pervasive consequences of sin that affect our relationships and communities. In this season, fasting, almsgiving, and prayer emerge not as ends in themselves but as means to achieve true freedom, paving the way for grace to flourish within and around us. In embracing our Lenten disciplines, we discover Lent’s true gift: the spiritual renewal that draws us ever closer to the divine embrace.

Transformation

This Sunday’s gospel (2nd Sunday of Lent) tells us of the Transfiguration. The three disciples gain a glimpse of divine glory and whilst their ability to comprehend is limited (human limitation) they know it is amazing and want to stay in the moment. God’s glory goes beyond human comprehension.

When we catch glimpses of God we are reminded of the need to transform. Too often we focus on transforming the world, or other people, without first starting with self. It is only when we focus on self-transformation that we can truly impact on those around us, and further on the world in which we live. We need to see the image of God within first so that we can strive for enlightenment in our lives.

Prayer is key. Prayer reveals God’s grace and beauty. Prayer is an encounter with God who speaks with us (if only we listen). We are all different and called to varying forms of transformation (it’s not a one size fits all scenario). We go to God with our struggles, and we go away with the strength to face them. Transformation is not an easy path, it is a mountainous climb, but just like the disciples, perhaps we will catch a glimpse of what is truly good when we keep climbing.

Active Listening

The Season of Lent is both a challenge and a gift. Sunday’s gospel takes us into the desert and the challenge of temptation. Just like Jesus, we encounter moments where we need to make a choice. Sometimes we know what to choose, but in those moments when we pause and uncertainty silences our own moral compass whose voice do we hear? There are many voices that surround us today, some loud and some barely a whisper, but which ones do we look for to listen to in this time of renewal? To what extent can we actively try to listen for the voice of God reminding us who we are at our very core, instead of the voices of temptation leading us away from the path of Truth?

Repent!

As we hit the second Sunday of Advent, the Gospel tells us to Repent – to prepare.

When I walk into the Cathedral (where I go for Mass), the first thing that strikes me is the colour purple everywhere. A symbol of a time of preparation. St John the Baptist howls to us from the wilderness that we need to prepare the way.

What does it mean to prepare the way today?

It was actually the Second Reading from Peter that struck me this week. There was a sense of time, and the infinite patience of God. A mention of a new heaven and a new earth. Fr Anthoni talked about this as when righteousness walks amongst us, which hit a nerve and spiraled my brain into a loop of thoughts.

What if we could see righteousness walk amongst us in our lifetime? How amazing would that be! I returned to that idea of repentance.

As humans, we spend far too much time – well I think I have anyway – wanting to change others because of how we feel when they treat us a certain way. Really, the only person we are responsible for changing is ourselves. It is my own repentance that I need to focus on.

What does it mean to repent? It takes an inner knowledge to fully comprehend the actions and words, thoughts and deeds. Only I can repent for my failure to be holy, and no-one can make me repent, perhaps you can make me atone or hold me accountable, but only I can work from a position of repentance.

This is the call (to me) this Advent. Instead of cleaning my home, I need to clean my soul. Instead of decorating a tree, I need to decorate my character. To answer the call of St John the Baptist in the wilderness, to prepare the way, to prepare the way for righteousness, I need to step away from the sin that I surround myself in, the habits that provide comfort in a challenging existence, finding the courage to face the failings that lie in me (not in others). In the words of St Augustine ‘My heart is restless, until I rest in you.’

There is a song I have been listening to a lot lately and it seems to just fit with this week of Advent. ‘Gracefully broken’ by Matt Redman. It is the broken vessel that lets the light in.

Character

Living your inner character is a challenge. Isn’t it?

It would be nice to think that we live by the values we espouse all the time – but that would be somewhat illogical given the human propensity for failure in that regard. We say all the right things, we may even mean them, but consistently acting by them seems to be a challenge larger than human capacity.

We are – after all- human. We fail. We have times when we do not abide by what we say means the most to us. We have times that we give up on what we say are our values. We have times when we just can’t.

Is this ok? Society says yes. Scripture talks about forgiveness. But is it an excuse? Could we try harder, be better, expect more? What if we did? We can eat ourselves up with guilt because we caved knowing we could expect forgiveness, but really – could we have done better? Do we excuse the other readily because ultimately we don’t want to have to stand up to what we have said is who we are?

At what point do we stop striving for excellence in our values and actions and consistency between the two? Have we gone too far in our doctrine of human frailty to make humanity more flawed as an acceptable standard? Will we become less admirable as time goes on?

Have we arrived at a point where we excuse ourselves and judge others?

Every human has dignity and every human matters. But – at what point do we say that human dignity does not excuse laziness or fear?

Limited

I recently heard an interesting reflection on the Parable of the Tenants. The priest talked about Jesus referencing Scriptures to the leaders of his time, paralleling them with those who had a possessive attitude and refused to hand over the harvest. He further referenced the tendency of Jesus to include those judged by the Pharisees – the ‘unclean’, the sick, the poor, those who had made errors in judgement.

In a moment I saw a parallel myself – so stunningly clear it took my breath away. Before I give it, let me just clarify that I really like Pope Francis and find his approach a great improvement, and I am a practicing Catholic. I have a slight discomfort with my analogy but that is my challenge to carry.

Servants with a possessive attitude. Well, I’m sorry, but that is the Church. Despite all of the shifts in social perspectives around women and equal rights, women still have no say at the decision-making table in the Catholic church. Much as I love Pope Francis, he has not addressed this. The Church is not the great includer that Jesus was. As a woman I am limited in my own church. The Catholic Church is a church that still does not subscribe to gender equality.

There are still so many external limits placed unjustly on human beings. Then we go and add our own when we limit ourselves and doubt our ability to even try. Add to this the limits that are genetically bestowed on us – we are indeed caged by limitations.

How do these limits impact how fruitful we are or what harvest we bear? How do we navigate through the drought?

The priest also spoke of the mercy of God as a stumbling block for the Pharisees. They could not fathom the depth of God’s love and mercy. Why can’t a woman run the Catholic Church? What is it that truly creates this particular limit? Women run organisations all the time (often successfully). Women pray. Women act bound by Catholic ethics. Men do not hold this monopoly. And yet – interesting thought- all the Pharisees were men too. And Jesus told them they were going to lose the kingdom, that it would be given to a people who will produce it’s fruit because they were unable to see beyond the literal or traditional.

Time for girls to get into the garden!

The grave we carry

There is a song by Hillsong that I absolutely love. So Will I (100 Billion X). The one I listen to is the live version that goes for just over 7 minutes.

There are so many lines that over the past few years have spoken to me; the other day I was driving and one line hit me so much I put it on repeat. It had always stirred in me that sense of awe and wonder in the greatness of God and a deep appreciation for the world in which I live and journey. Previously the lines that impacted me the most were:

If the stars were made to worship so will I.

If the mountains bow in reverence so will I.

If the oceans roar your greatness so will I.

for if everything exists to lift you high so will I.

If the wind goes where you send it so will I.

If the rocks cry out in silence so will I.

Then after the lull in the middle, well slightly later, at about 5.30:

If you left the grave behind you so will I

What is the grave? The grave is where we go when we die. Theologically we are called to die to self, to die to all the things that keep us from being God-like. Perhaps the grave is where we go to leave our sin – which kind of fits with the idea of Salvation. Jesus left the grave behind – he was after all, the one who died for our sins. How hard is it though to truly leave the grave behind? I think, rather, that we bring the ashes of the grave with us and sprinkle them on the blooms of tomorrow and today. If only we could truly leave them behind so that the sun could rise on an untainted tomorrow.

As humans we struggle to really let go of things, and this includes sin. When we do wrong, or are flawed, even when we atone, and try, there is a tiny shred of self-doubt that accompanies us into our next venture.

How do we leave the grave behind? This would take courage and discipline I imagine. I can’t say how we would for it is not something that falls readily into my skill set.

So will I.

This is the call.

Forgiveness

Some say you just have to forgive. That to not forgive is like drinking poison and waiting for someone else to die. I have heard so many statements about forgiveness and it has always left me feeling like a failure. So many people telling me that ‘it’s about being the bigger person’, as if forgiveness is a badge we wear and how important it is to ‘let it go and move on’. There are those whose actions still make me feel hurt, or angry, or frustrated. I began to believe it was my failing for not ‘forgiving’ them.

At Mass in the Sermon I heard a vastly different philosophy. Forgiveness is not about how you feel, forgiveness is how we choose to treat each other. For me, actions and words have always been far more important in terms of personal responsibility than feelings, despite the contemporary dialogues around emotions which seems to simply be omnipresent. For years I argued with my own children that their feelings were not the centre of the universe and that it was far more important to act in a moral manner. Trying to do what is best for the other, that is how we forgive. That I can do. It’s not warm and fuzzy – it’s really just about human dignity and not wanting ill for another. If we can leave emotion out of the equation that suits me.

I was thinking I was ok – for a moment. Then the priest reminded us of the forgiveness of Jesus in the crucifixion and that beyond that – on the cross – he asked God to forgive us. At the end, in the midst of all that pain, he thought of someone else’s wellbeing. That is forgiveness. Then came the biggie – we are called to forgive from the heart. Now, today we have a particular way of imagining what we mean by ‘heart’. Our understanding of heart is limited. The ancients tell us that it is the seat of our being, it is where we ‘are’. Is it our conscience, our soul, our essence? It is where we make choices and it is also where we hold pains. In that regard, when we truly forgive it must come from the heart, from the place which holds our pain and our choices. It’s a complex notion.

I may be no closer to seeing myself as a forgiving person, but I think I can now view the discussion with a fresh lens.