Bridge Over Troubled Water

My daily commute to work can take me along various routes, some determined by the weather others by my mood. After a busy day at work, my preference is a more leisurely ride home along tree lined streets through a quiet residential area. In the morning I tend to use the most direct route, busy Adelaide Street one of London, Ontario’s main thoroughfares.  Driving along for about 8 km there is a constant change of the usual sort of sights. Apartment buildings, homes, shops, gas stations line the street.  My least favourite part of this route are the railway tracks.  However, my favourite, at least until very recently, has been a bridge spanning the road that lies beneath.  It is not so much the bridge that is my favourite but the fascinating sight of hundreds of tiny birds most days perched on the wires spanning the bridge.

While I wait at the nearby intersection for the lights to turn green, I like to watch these birds, fascinated by how they huddle together on the wires, mostly all facing the same direction.  On my early morning commute the sight of the bridge and the tiny birds has always been my favourite part.  Until a few days ago when what is happening on the underside of the bridge made the evening news. Now I don’t know about you, but though I have driven across that bridge innumerable times over the past ten years, I have never given any thought to its underside since I have never driven on the road below.

There are usually two sides to every story, and there are two sides to the bridge.  Above and below.  Above the sky, the birds on the wires, my mind set on the day to come.  Below, I learned this week, troubling things have been going on of which I was totally oblivious.  Below, tragically, homeless people who have been seeking refuge.  Safety concerns and damage caused to the bridge by those seeking shelter under the bridge has now prompted the authorities to take drastic measures. Security guards who have been hired have removed needles and other drug paraphernalia from beneath the bridge.  “The city has hired the firm to keep the area clear of people because of recent vandalism to cement slabs under the bridge.” (London Free Press, 19 September 2019) Though the city is reaching out to these homeless people by providing housing through London Cares Homeless Response Services, the problem will not be solved over night. It will be a slow process. 

So, I am asking myself, “What to do! What can I, what could all those who daily drive across this bridge spanning the ‘troubled water’ below, do to aid our less fortunate sisters and brothers? How can we bridge the gap between ‘those of us above and those below’?”  I can no longer simply drive over the Adelaide bridge, merely enjoying those tiny birds on the wires as I used to do. Now, every time I cross that bridge, I wonder who might be evicted right there and then at the underside of the bridge.  Whenever possible, I slow down and say a prayer for those who may continue to seek shelter right beneath me, waiting for help, waiting for a safe warm place provided by London Cares and other agencies reaching out, looking for long term solutions for our homeless sisters and brothers. Are any of us daily commuters willing to be that bridge over troubled water, ‘laying down’ for our sister and brother ‘down and out…on the street’?

Whatsoever you do for the least of my sisters and brothers, that you do unto Me.

 - Sr. Magdalena Vogt, cps

A Christmas Reflection

How do we live the spirituality of Advent and Christmas in a milieu where this great mystery of faith is celebrated as a secular holiday and its preparation is a call to rampant consumerism and extravagant feasting?   How do we keep our focus on the Gospel call to be alert and aware, to await in hope when all around us lies a landscape of frenetic activity, and considerable anxiety about meeting expectations or deadlines?   How have we resolved the tension between being faithful to the beautiful season of Advent with its powerful message of hope and longing, and the reality of our world which seems so out of sync as our eyes and ears are assaulted with the sights and sounds of a commercial Christmas as soon as Halloween is over until they end abruptly on December 26.  Do we sometimes welcome the new liturgical year with great anticipation and find ourselves four weeks later a bit strung out and disappointed as we enter into the celebration of this great day, wishing our preparation had been a little more focused, a little less caught in the frenzy around us?  Is there a sense that we might be missing something as we respond to this beautiful day in the best way we know how?

As we gather together with friends and family to celebrate the great mystery of the Incarnation, we can sometimes fail to see the fullness of this gift, because we expect God to be present in the extraordinary, in that which stands out in contrast to everyday life.  But the story of the nativity of Jesus tells us how completely God abides in what is ordinary, and chooses to enter our world amid the very real stresses of life that surround his kinfolk and account for his birth in a stable.  God is in the midst of our world and our lives as truly as God came to earth more than two thousand years ago.  God has been given once and for all, and forever to the human species and to the whole created world. That is the meaning of the Incarnation, the meaning of Emmanuel, and the meaning of Christmas.

As we celebrate with thanksgiving this mystery of the Incarnation of Jesus, we can be grateful for the incarnation of God in every human being and in all living creatures.  We can find hope and joy in the many expressions of God found everywhere around us, in the tremendous outpouring of generosity and caring, perhaps not named as such, that is present in our culture these days, in the beauty of our tastefully decorated homes, in the liturgies we have celebrated, in the gifts given and received over these days, in the friends and relatives who have connected with us, in this festive meal prepared with loving care, and most of all in the spirit of caring and concern we give to one another.  At times we are called to rely on God with us when Christmas becomes a moment of pain or heartbreak when we are ill or grieve the suffering or loss of a loved one and we know we are not alone.  Presently in a world torn by war and division, we are called to stand in the darkness with those who suffer and respond by sharing our blessings in whatever way we can.

The beautiful Christmas song O Holy Night has been sung in churches and halls all over the world in many languages. Written by a simple wine merchant in Germany in 1847, this hymn contains a line that says when God came among us in the shape and form of Jesus “the soul felt its worth”. That baby in the manger at Christmas mirrors the truth of the divinity that is also present in you and me. As we gaze on the nativity scene where God becomes human, and realize that our worth comes from the mystery of God at the centre of our being, we find reason to sing further of the thrill of hope and the new and glorious morn we celebrate at Christmas. And we do not need to prove our worth, only to recognize it, to accept it in faith, to be grateful for it and try to live out of its power in our lives.  And as Jesus shows us from the stable, weakness and vulnerability take nothing from it, but only add to that power.

Soon the Christmas bells and lights and tinsel will lose their significance in our society as people rush madly to take in the boxing-day sales and return to the humdrum of daily routines.  But that spark of divinity that is such an essential part of our human identity will continue to be a light for us and for those whose lives we touch.  As a Sister of St. Joseph,  I wish to thank my companions in community for the many ways you have expressed the truth of the Incarnation in your lives, and continue to bring the light of God into a world in need.  As we celebrate the great worth that is in each one of us through the Incarnation, let us be grateful for this power of God that is present in our world, expressed in unique but very ordinary ways we can often take for granted.

Joan Driscoll CS

December 2017

"Hanukkah Sameach!" that is Happy Hannukkah

Chanukah, the Festival of Lights (December 6-December14)

The story of the Maccabean revolt against the Syrian Greeks is not included in the Hebrew Bible (a.k.a. the “Old Testament”). However, the Apocryphal books of 1 and 2 Maccabees, and the historical writings of Flavius Josephus, capture the essence of the Jewish rebellion against Hellenism in the 2nd century B.C.E. Later, the Rabbis of the Talmud, in the early centuries of the Common Era, described the miracle of the oil. When the Maccabees came to rededicate the Temple, there was only 1 day’s measure of proper oil, yet miraculously it burned for the entire 8 days of their festival. Whether one believes literally in that ancient miracle, it is fitting at this season to celebrate God’s presence in our lives, as we kindle the lights of Chanukah.

Chanukah is in fact what we call a “Minor Festival” in Jewish calendar. Like Purim, when we read the Biblical book of Esther, we have joyful celebrations. However, we are not asked to abstain from work and everyday responsibilities, as we do with our fall High Holy Days and “Major Festivals” like Passover in the spring. The celebratory co-exists with the ordinary.

As Chanukah in North America has developed against the backdrop of Christmas, this blending of sacred and every day is an apt metaphor for our modern Chanukah rituals. Some resist the gift-giving and other borrowed traditions as unnecessary assimilation to the Christmas holiday culture. Yet others embrace the festive celebration, when Jewish children eagerly share their own 8-day celebration as a symbol of pride in their Jewish identity.

Whatever your motivation and understanding of Chanukah, at this joyful time of year, we can all appreciate the religious freedom of our society. That we can all enjoy and celebrate each other’s religious cultures, is a true miracle indeed.

Gust Blogger: Rabbi Debra Stahlberg Dressler, Temple Israel of London.rabbi.dressler@templeisraellondon.ca

Longing for the Light

Within the cycle of the seasons, we know that now is a time when more darkness surrounds us, wrapping us in a black shroud that causes our energies to wane. The first day of winter, December 21st, marks the time of year when the darkness will give way to the light. Together with all of creation in our Northern Hemisphere, we remember that this longest night of the year is a promising sign that the sun will return to lengthen our days.

Nature has much to teach us about light and darkness:

• Experiencing the radiance of the sun lifts our spirits.

• It is a delight to see a rainbow of magnificent colour arch across a once stormy sky.

• We are filled with wonder and awe, as we look up to see the silvery moon and the vast array of diamond-like stars, against a grey-black back drop.

• Fireflies flitting past us create sparks of light in an otherwise dark night.

The paradox of the process of transformation is that although we need light for our life’s journey we also need darkness. Our body was formed in the darkness of our mother’s womb.  When we are born, we enter into the light where we grow and change. The intertwining of light and darkness is the pattern for the rest of our lives. Waiting anxiously in the darkness of night, we yearn for the first glimmer of the light of dawn. After a trying, bleak day, the hues of brilliant colour that appear on the horizon as the sun sets, offer hope for a brighter tomorrow. During this reflective time of day, perhaps we will recall our mortality when our earthly life will end, in the seeming darkness of death, and we will be drawn into the eternal light of our loving God. 

As we begin Advent, we long for the Light of Christ to dispel our inner darkness of weariness, disillusionment, and despair. As we move through the four weeks leading up to Christmas, more light appears on our Advent wreathes until the Christ candle brilliantly shines out. Christ, Our Hope, is the everlasting Light which no darkness can overcome.

Ponderings:

Where do you find light when you experience deep darkness in your life?

How are you a Christ-light in the darkness of other people’s lives?

 Kathleen O’Keefe CSJ