4th Sunday of Easter
Friends,
This afternoon at the nursing home I did a worship service up on one of the dementia floors, as I do every week. At the end of the service I went around, collecting song sheets and wishing each person peace. When I said “God bless you” to one of the women, she responded, “I bless you!” It was a sweet moment. She used to say things like that a lot, but in recent months she has grown more and more quiet. So everything she says now is a treasure.
How good if we can remember to treasure every moment with those we love, every moment we have. The weather lately has been a good reminder of that. One day we were basking in the glory of the magnolias: the next day there was a frost and they all turned brown. One day the lilacs were opening in Highland Park: the next day they were covered with snow. I drove by this morning and the street was lined with broken branches, pruned from the lilacs by very busy parks people the day before. If this Spring doesn’t teach us to enjoy the moment, I don’t know what will!
One day I had my calendar out and was explaining a complicated plan to Santiago, for a day about three weeks in the future. “If this happens, we’ll do this, but if the other thing happens, we’ll do that.” My calendar is full of appointments and things I must do. He looked at the confusing mess of dates and names in a bemused sort of way and said, very quietly, “You make a lot of plans.”
I’ve been thinking of that ever since, and have become aware of how it feels to have “a lot of plans.” This might not be true for everyone, but for me, when I look at all those entries in my calendar I feel stressed and worried. It actually feels better when things are open. Are you familiar with the Myers-Briggs Personality Indicator? That’s been used a lot in ministry in recent decades, along with the Enneagram. People who are “P”s on the Meyers-Briggs are more comfortable when things are open; people who are “J”s are more comfortable when things are decided. Cultures have personalities, too, and ours is a “J” culture. As a culture, we like to have plans and to know what’s going to happen. Latin America, on the other hand, is a “P” culture, with a different attitude toward time. I think our cultures have a lot to learn from each other.
Here are some things I’ve learned this winter. You don’t have to have an agenda for a date. It’s okay to just sit and be. When you live close to the earth, your plans are easily changed by weather. Sometimes the most important thing in the world is simply whether your beloved’s cup of tea is warm enough. And you can have a whole phone conversation about nothing at all.
At St Romero’s today, we don’t know what the future holds. Our city church is tiny. Our migrant church will begin celebrating Mass together eventually, when planting time is over and people have time to do something besides eat, sleep and work. But all is well. Right this minute, in this very moment, all is absolutely well. Thanks be to God!
Love and light to all,
Chava
______________________________________________
Oscar Romero Church
An Inclusive Community of Liberation, Justice and Joy
Worshiping in the Catholic Tradition
Mass: Sundays, 11 am
St Joseph's House of Hospitality, 402 South Ave, Rochester NY 14620
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Bulletin for Sunday, April 22, 2012
3rd Sunday of Easter
Friends,
This morning in Buffalo, checking in at Immigration with the guys, I had a little surprise. We got on the elevator, and for the first time, I wasn’t the one standing by the buttons, so I asked one of the guys to do it. He hesitated, touched the circled number next to the button and asked, “This one?” It had never occurred to me that knowing how to use an elevator was a skill our guys might not have. So after that I made a point of always asking one of them to press the buttons.
Are you aware of the power you have? Power to come and go as you please, power to accomplish what needs to be accomplished in your life, knowing how to get things done, knowing how to use the basic stuff around you. That’s called cultural capital. When I’m in El Salvador, I’m like a baby. My friends take me everywhere, deal with all the little things necessary to get things done. But when people come to this country without documents, they don’t have anyone to take care of stuff or show them the ropes. They just survive as best they can.
What does it do to a person, to live like that year after year? You might start to believe that you are less than the people you see around you. You might start to believe that you’re not very intelligent, or that you’re a “dirty Mexican.” You might have a hard time recognizing the gifts and talents that you have.
One of the tasks of a pastor is to call forth the gifts in the community; to recognize and identify and celebrate what people have to give. So right now I want to tell you about one of the really amazing things I see in the migrant church, and that is their physical strength. Do you know what they’re doing right now? They’re planting onions, 12 hours a day, 6 days a week. Bent over, seven people follow a tractor. They’ve got about 100 onions in their left hand, and with their right they grab an onion and plant it. Capo estimates he plants 40 per minute. And everybody has to go at that rate so they all stay together. All this while bent over. I don’t think I could do it for ten minutes, and they do it for twelve hours. At that rate, each person must be planting about 20,000 onions a day. I think that’s absolutely amazing. They have pushed their bodies to a point where they can perform marvels of stamina and endurance.
For many years I worked as a research technician at the U of R. The doctors I worked with had pushed their mental abilities to great extremes, and accomplished wonderful things. They make important contributions to the common good, and for that they receive respect, honor, and quite a bit of money. How is it that people who use their minds so well are lauded and paid well – and people who push their bodies to extremes for entertainment are lauded and paid well – but people who push their bodies to extremes in order to provide us all with food are at the bottom of the social ladder, and paid minimum wage?
They taught us in Divinity School to “preach the questions, not the answers.” So today I will simply share with you these questions that I’m carrying, in hopes that you will carry them, too. Let’s be bothered by these questions. Let’s let them nag at our souls, until we are forced to do something about them, and maybe turn over some tables and point out just how wrong things are. We’ve got to get mad enough – to care enough – to love enough – to push our own creativity to extremes and find a way to change this filthy, rotten system.
Love and light to all
Chava
“ The migrants have no lobby. Only an enlightened, aroused and perhaps angered public opinion can do anything about the migrants. The people you have seen have the strength to harvest your fruit and vegetables. They do not have the strength to influence legislation. Maybe we do.”
-Edward R. Murrow’s final words at the end of the documentary “Harvest of Shame,” 1960
PS I came home from Buffalo to find two kitchen chairs, a crockpot and a cardboard dresser on my front porch --- thank you, Caryl Marchand! We could still really use a shelf unit or two if anybody’s got one. And a kitchen table, as it turns out. But the bathroom floor is painted at last!
Friends,
This morning in Buffalo, checking in at Immigration with the guys, I had a little surprise. We got on the elevator, and for the first time, I wasn’t the one standing by the buttons, so I asked one of the guys to do it. He hesitated, touched the circled number next to the button and asked, “This one?” It had never occurred to me that knowing how to use an elevator was a skill our guys might not have. So after that I made a point of always asking one of them to press the buttons.
Are you aware of the power you have? Power to come and go as you please, power to accomplish what needs to be accomplished in your life, knowing how to get things done, knowing how to use the basic stuff around you. That’s called cultural capital. When I’m in El Salvador, I’m like a baby. My friends take me everywhere, deal with all the little things necessary to get things done. But when people come to this country without documents, they don’t have anyone to take care of stuff or show them the ropes. They just survive as best they can.
What does it do to a person, to live like that year after year? You might start to believe that you are less than the people you see around you. You might start to believe that you’re not very intelligent, or that you’re a “dirty Mexican.” You might have a hard time recognizing the gifts and talents that you have.
One of the tasks of a pastor is to call forth the gifts in the community; to recognize and identify and celebrate what people have to give. So right now I want to tell you about one of the really amazing things I see in the migrant church, and that is their physical strength. Do you know what they’re doing right now? They’re planting onions, 12 hours a day, 6 days a week. Bent over, seven people follow a tractor. They’ve got about 100 onions in their left hand, and with their right they grab an onion and plant it. Capo estimates he plants 40 per minute. And everybody has to go at that rate so they all stay together. All this while bent over. I don’t think I could do it for ten minutes, and they do it for twelve hours. At that rate, each person must be planting about 20,000 onions a day. I think that’s absolutely amazing. They have pushed their bodies to a point where they can perform marvels of stamina and endurance.
For many years I worked as a research technician at the U of R. The doctors I worked with had pushed their mental abilities to great extremes, and accomplished wonderful things. They make important contributions to the common good, and for that they receive respect, honor, and quite a bit of money. How is it that people who use their minds so well are lauded and paid well – and people who push their bodies to extremes for entertainment are lauded and paid well – but people who push their bodies to extremes in order to provide us all with food are at the bottom of the social ladder, and paid minimum wage?
They taught us in Divinity School to “preach the questions, not the answers.” So today I will simply share with you these questions that I’m carrying, in hopes that you will carry them, too. Let’s be bothered by these questions. Let’s let them nag at our souls, until we are forced to do something about them, and maybe turn over some tables and point out just how wrong things are. We’ve got to get mad enough – to care enough – to love enough – to push our own creativity to extremes and find a way to change this filthy, rotten system.
Love and light to all
Chava
“ The migrants have no lobby. Only an enlightened, aroused and perhaps angered public opinion can do anything about the migrants. The people you have seen have the strength to harvest your fruit and vegetables. They do not have the strength to influence legislation. Maybe we do.”
-Edward R. Murrow’s final words at the end of the documentary “Harvest of Shame,” 1960
PS I came home from Buffalo to find two kitchen chairs, a crockpot and a cardboard dresser on my front porch --- thank you, Caryl Marchand! We could still really use a shelf unit or two if anybody’s got one. And a kitchen table, as it turns out. But the bathroom floor is painted at last!
__________________________________________________
Oscar Romero Church
An Inclusive Community of Liberation, Justice and Joy
Worshiping in the Catholic Tradition
Mass: Sundays, 11
St Joseph's House of Hospitality, 402 South Ave, Rochester NY 14620
An Inclusive Community of Liberation, Justice and Joy
Worshiping in the Catholic Tradition
Mass: Sundays, 11
St Joseph's House of Hospitality, 402 South Ave, Rochester NY 14620
Monday, April 16, 2012
Bulletin for Sunday, April 15, 2012
2nd Sunday of Easter
Friends,
Good News! Our friends arrived safely from Florida on Easter Sunday afternoon. On Good Friday evening, those of us who were here for the winter shared a fish supper and prayed for their safe passage. It’s lovely to see them again, and to say, “We were praying for you!”
Now we are adjusting to having the community spread over two locations, as most people are back in the house where they were last summer. As people change residences, once again we are cleaning and painting. Last night I went in and painted before folks got home from work, and tomorrow morning I am hoping to finally achieve the dream of painting the bathroom floor.
It is so easy to focus on what is lacking (and later in this bulletin I will give you a list!) but here is a story that points out what they have. One of the guys arrived from Florida without a blanket, so Capo gave him one of his. But he didn’t just give him “one of” his blankets. He gave the best one. The great big thick soft white one that can be folded over to make two blankets. Now he’s making do with a couple of throws and an old army blanket I had in my trunk. Do you have the ability to give away the best thing you own? I don’t.
Seems to me that a measure of wealth – inner wealth – is what you can give away.
As furniture and things are being spread over two houses, some needs are opening up. The guys found some kitchen chairs and a shelf unit by the side of the road and took them home… but when they got the stuff in the house and examined it, there were signs of bedbugs, so out it all went, again. If you have any old furniture you’re looking to share, here are some things they can use: two kitchen chairs, a night stand, a shelf unit. A crock pot would make their lives easier because they could come home at 8 pm to dinner being ready. And last night I forgot and drank the water from the tap. Faugh! It was the worst tasting water I ever drank. One of those water purifiers that fits over the tap would save them having to carry in water from an outside source – they fill this great big container and two of the guys carry it in.
It will be a while before we figure out a new Mass schedule for the migrant church. Right now everyone is getting home close to 8 and still need to cook, eat and shower, six days a week, so we may need to wait until the schedule eases up to have an evening Mass. Right now it’s just lovely to all be together again. Several of us ate dinner together, last night: “The family, together,” Capo said. And my Spanish has improved to where I even understood parts of the conversation. Woo hoo!
SO MUCH to be grateful for. Come join us for Mass at St Romero’s this Sunday... we’ll be upstairs at 11, because Sarah and Kevin will be having their pancake breakfast for Haiti on the first floor... $5, all you can eat. After Mass we’ll all go down and eat together... come join us!
Rachael Morlock, who has been my right hand for the past year since Eli left (and who sends this bulletin each week, saving me at least an hour at the computer) is leaving St Joe’s. We are ever so sorry to see her go, but so grateful to have had her with us, gracing us with her gentle presence this past year and more. She will be moving on to work at the new café at the Spiritus Christi housing project on West Main Street. God bless you, Rachael. You will be a light, wherever you go.
Love and light to all
Chava
"The immigrant who resides with you shall be to you as the citizen among you; you shall love the immigrant as yourself, for you were immigrants in the land of Egypt."
Leviticus 19:34
__________________________________________________
Oscar Romero Church
An Inclusive Community of Liberation, Justice and Joy
Worshiping in the Catholic Tradition
Mass: Sundays, 11 am
St Joseph's House of Hospitality, 402 South Ave, Rochester NY 14620
Bulletin for Sunday, April 8, 2012
Easter Sunday
Friends,
Today is Good Friday, one of the holiest days of the year. For priests it’s also one of the busiest. When I got home from work after two beautiful services at the nursing home (bringing the cross around to each person there, for them to venerate, was one of the holiest things I’ve ever experienced. So much love in so many people) and decorating the chapel for Easter, I was tired and chose to lie down for an hour. When I woke up I suddenly realized – I don’t know the name for the feeling – dismay? Horror? that our friends in the migrant church, who started planting onions this morning at 7:30, still had hours to go. And with nothing like my ability to stop and take a rest when they need one. They expect to have to work on Easter. Having lost two men to deportation last week, they are short of workers, and everyone else has to make up the difference. For the foreseeable future they expect to be working 12 hour days, seven days a week. "If you don’t like it," they were told, "you can look for work someplace else."
I had hoped to bring them in to the "Seven Last Words" at Spiritus, tonight, but they won’t be home until 8. So, I’m bringing over a fish fry, and we’ll observe Good Friday with supper together and prayers for those who are on the road.
This morning there were two "Stations of the Cross" around downtown, visiting the places in our city where the poor are crucified daily. One was led by St Joe’s, the other by the GRCC (Greater Rochester Community of Churches, of which we are a member).
If we could do a Stations of the Cross for Migrant Farmworkers, here’s what it might look like:
We would start at their damp and tiny house, and notice the enormous jug of clean water that the guys filled at some source outside the house and carried in together, because they don’t trust the water from the tap to drink or cook with. We would notice the lack of privacy, the torn up linoleum, the bare concrete floor in the bathroom, the shower orange with something that won’t come off with hard scrubbing (I tried). We would repent that we accept such housing for our brothers and sisters.
Our second station would be just 200 feet from the house, where two of the guys were stopped by immigration officers last week, four or five cars surrounding them when they pulled out of the driveway. Our men were allowed to leave, because they are already in the system and have court dates. We would pray for the men the ICE officers had expected to catch, that they are safe and well wherever they are, and we would repent of causing our sisters and brothers to live in fear.
Third, we would go to the bodega where our folks punch in at 7:30 am and out at 7:30 pm, and recognize how our government’s removal of two of their number has made their already hard lives even harder. We would repent a system that sees such captures as accomplishments and does not count the human cost.
We would go to the fields, and for a while we would work. We would bend over, planting onions, until our muscles ached and we wept with recognition of the daily realities of our friends, the work that they do that puts food on our tables.
For our fifth station we would go to the migrant health clinic in Brockport, and learn that medication that used to be available for free, now requires a social security number. We would repent the meanness of our government that would deny necessary medication to those without documents. We would repent our ignorance of the indignities faced by our sisters and brothers.
We would go to the Mexican grocery store and ask how often they routinely overcharge their customers, as I was overcharged when I was there. Are they profiting from the simplicity of people who would never think of challenging a receipt as I did? We would weep for the vulnerability of our sisters and brothers, for the ease with which they are exploited.
Seventh, we would stop by Walmart, and repent of the economic systems that have the poor in our country buying products made by the exploited poor in other countries. We would question the systems that keep us all bound, and ask God for help in breaking out of them.
Our eighth station would take us to Buffalo, on the journey that those in the Alternatives to Detention System must take every second week. We would experience the humiliation of proving, yet again, that we are cooperating with the system that oppresses us, showing ID, answering questions, trying to communicate with officials who don’t speak our language.
While in Buffalo we would stop by a school, and grieve for our sisters and brothers who never received basic education, who live with the shame of their ignorance, and weep for the loss of human potential.
Tenth, we would go to immigration court. We would see the fear as people wait to hear their fate, feel the hearts pounding, the anxiety in the breath of each person as they wait to see the judge. We would repent our complicity in a system that excludes those who now try to do exactly what our own ancestors did, to come to the land of opportunity to find a better life.
For our eleventh station we would stop by the little store where the guys and I get coffee after checking in at the immigration office, and, like Jesus having his face wiped by Veronica, give thanks for the little moments of respite that give us the strength to go on.
Twelfth, we would go back to work, to be yelled at for missing time when we went to Buffalo. We would feel the powerlessness of workers with no recourse, no voice, no union, no leverage. We would recommit ourselves to standing with workers, to justice for those who are excluded from labor laws as are farm workers.
We would work again beside our brothers and sisters, and listen to their stories. We would hear of separation from families, of funerals missed, of grandchildren never seen. We would repent of ever summing up the lives of other people with terms like "illegals," and ask for help in seeing the human face of every person.
Our fourteenth station would be at the grocery store. We would stand in the produce section and realize that every vegetable, every fruit, was planted and picked by human hands, most of them likely undocumented.
We would repent our indifference, our blindness, and recognize the holiness of each person and of the work of their hands.
And at the last we would pray and ask, how do we turn this system around and create a way that is life-giving, respectful of human dignity and worth, a system where everyone has reasonable hours, opportunities for rest, a decent place to live, education and health care. How do we get our sisters and brothers down from the cross?
Blessings and love to all,
Chava
Join us for Mass Easter morning at 11! If you like, bring something to share for breakfast after Mass.
This Wednesday, April 11, the documentary "After I Pick the Fruit" will be shown at the Sisters of St Joseph Motherhouse on French Rd in Pittsford at 7 pm
Next Sunday, April 15, pancake breakfast for Haiti Catholic Worker program. Mass will be upstairs at St Joe’s. Come and get breakfast and then come to Mass, or vice versa! $5 per person, all you can eat. See you there!
___________________________________________________
Oscar Romero Church
An Inclusive Community of Liberation, Justice and Joy
Worshiping in the Catholic Tradition
Mass: Sundays, 11 am
St Joseph's House of Hospitality, 402 South Ave, Rochester NY 14620
Friends,
Today is Good Friday, one of the holiest days of the year. For priests it’s also one of the busiest. When I got home from work after two beautiful services at the nursing home (bringing the cross around to each person there, for them to venerate, was one of the holiest things I’ve ever experienced. So much love in so many people) and decorating the chapel for Easter, I was tired and chose to lie down for an hour. When I woke up I suddenly realized – I don’t know the name for the feeling – dismay? Horror? that our friends in the migrant church, who started planting onions this morning at 7:30, still had hours to go. And with nothing like my ability to stop and take a rest when they need one. They expect to have to work on Easter. Having lost two men to deportation last week, they are short of workers, and everyone else has to make up the difference. For the foreseeable future they expect to be working 12 hour days, seven days a week. "If you don’t like it," they were told, "you can look for work someplace else."
I had hoped to bring them in to the "Seven Last Words" at Spiritus, tonight, but they won’t be home until 8. So, I’m bringing over a fish fry, and we’ll observe Good Friday with supper together and prayers for those who are on the road.
This morning there were two "Stations of the Cross" around downtown, visiting the places in our city where the poor are crucified daily. One was led by St Joe’s, the other by the GRCC (Greater Rochester Community of Churches, of which we are a member).
If we could do a Stations of the Cross for Migrant Farmworkers, here’s what it might look like:
We would start at their damp and tiny house, and notice the enormous jug of clean water that the guys filled at some source outside the house and carried in together, because they don’t trust the water from the tap to drink or cook with. We would notice the lack of privacy, the torn up linoleum, the bare concrete floor in the bathroom, the shower orange with something that won’t come off with hard scrubbing (I tried). We would repent that we accept such housing for our brothers and sisters.
Our second station would be just 200 feet from the house, where two of the guys were stopped by immigration officers last week, four or five cars surrounding them when they pulled out of the driveway. Our men were allowed to leave, because they are already in the system and have court dates. We would pray for the men the ICE officers had expected to catch, that they are safe and well wherever they are, and we would repent of causing our sisters and brothers to live in fear.
Third, we would go to the bodega where our folks punch in at 7:30 am and out at 7:30 pm, and recognize how our government’s removal of two of their number has made their already hard lives even harder. We would repent a system that sees such captures as accomplishments and does not count the human cost.
We would go to the fields, and for a while we would work. We would bend over, planting onions, until our muscles ached and we wept with recognition of the daily realities of our friends, the work that they do that puts food on our tables.
For our fifth station we would go to the migrant health clinic in Brockport, and learn that medication that used to be available for free, now requires a social security number. We would repent the meanness of our government that would deny necessary medication to those without documents. We would repent our ignorance of the indignities faced by our sisters and brothers.
We would go to the Mexican grocery store and ask how often they routinely overcharge their customers, as I was overcharged when I was there. Are they profiting from the simplicity of people who would never think of challenging a receipt as I did? We would weep for the vulnerability of our sisters and brothers, for the ease with which they are exploited.
Seventh, we would stop by Walmart, and repent of the economic systems that have the poor in our country buying products made by the exploited poor in other countries. We would question the systems that keep us all bound, and ask God for help in breaking out of them.
Our eighth station would take us to Buffalo, on the journey that those in the Alternatives to Detention System must take every second week. We would experience the humiliation of proving, yet again, that we are cooperating with the system that oppresses us, showing ID, answering questions, trying to communicate with officials who don’t speak our language.
While in Buffalo we would stop by a school, and grieve for our sisters and brothers who never received basic education, who live with the shame of their ignorance, and weep for the loss of human potential.
Tenth, we would go to immigration court. We would see the fear as people wait to hear their fate, feel the hearts pounding, the anxiety in the breath of each person as they wait to see the judge. We would repent our complicity in a system that excludes those who now try to do exactly what our own ancestors did, to come to the land of opportunity to find a better life.
For our eleventh station we would stop by the little store where the guys and I get coffee after checking in at the immigration office, and, like Jesus having his face wiped by Veronica, give thanks for the little moments of respite that give us the strength to go on.
Twelfth, we would go back to work, to be yelled at for missing time when we went to Buffalo. We would feel the powerlessness of workers with no recourse, no voice, no union, no leverage. We would recommit ourselves to standing with workers, to justice for those who are excluded from labor laws as are farm workers.
We would work again beside our brothers and sisters, and listen to their stories. We would hear of separation from families, of funerals missed, of grandchildren never seen. We would repent of ever summing up the lives of other people with terms like "illegals," and ask for help in seeing the human face of every person.
Our fourteenth station would be at the grocery store. We would stand in the produce section and realize that every vegetable, every fruit, was planted and picked by human hands, most of them likely undocumented.
We would repent our indifference, our blindness, and recognize the holiness of each person and of the work of their hands.
And at the last we would pray and ask, how do we turn this system around and create a way that is life-giving, respectful of human dignity and worth, a system where everyone has reasonable hours, opportunities for rest, a decent place to live, education and health care. How do we get our sisters and brothers down from the cross?
Blessings and love to all,
Chava
Join us for Mass Easter morning at 11! If you like, bring something to share for breakfast after Mass.
This Wednesday, April 11, the documentary "After I Pick the Fruit" will be shown at the Sisters of St Joseph Motherhouse on French Rd in Pittsford at 7 pm
Next Sunday, April 15, pancake breakfast for Haiti Catholic Worker program. Mass will be upstairs at St Joe’s. Come and get breakfast and then come to Mass, or vice versa! $5 per person, all you can eat. See you there!
___________________________________________________
Oscar Romero Church
An Inclusive Community of Liberation, Justice and Joy
Worshiping in the Catholic Tradition
Mass: Sundays, 11 am
St Joseph's House of Hospitality, 402 South Ave, Rochester NY 14620
Sunday, April 8, 2012
Bulletin for Sunday, April 1, 2012
Palm Sunday
Friends,
Have you seen the night sky these past couple of weeks? There are two very bright stars, one directly above the other, and this week they’ve been hanging out with the crescent moon. Actually, they’re not stars… I went on line and googled "sky tonight" and learned that the big one is Venus, and the smaller one (because it’s so much farther away) is Jupiter. It’s been breathtaking, watching them all week. Isn’t it amazing that something as familiar as the night sky can change so dramatically? It gives me hope, looking at the sky like that. The universe is so vast. I love to look at those stars and just feel the awe and wonder.
Another thing that gave me hope this week was seeing the number of people who marched to protest the killing of Trayvon Martin. As I was finishing up at work on Sunday, I checked the internet and people were posting photos of all the people downtown wearing hoodies. It made me think of Mister Rogers, who used to say that when he was a boy and there was a fire or other disaster, his mother would say, "Look for the people who are helping." So look for the people who are standing up to protest injustice.
It’s easy to get to despairing at the ugliness and injustice in the world. As we head into Holy Week, we remember that our God walked with us and took on that ugliness and injustice, suffering and dying from it. But never forget that we are an Easter people! We believe that love is stronger than death. We believe that as bad as it gets, life wins in the end. Love wins. So don’t despair. Look at the hope in the stars, in people walking for justice, in the internet connections that help us to know what’s going on in the world so quickly.
We commemorated another cause for hope this past Sunday at St Romero’s, with our Mass and potluck in observance of the 32nd anniversary of the assassination of Oscar Romero in San Salvador, El Salvador in 1980. Before he died, Monsenor Romero said, "If they kill me, I will rise again in the Salvadoran people," and it was true. Everywhere you go in El Salvador, there are murals of him on the walls, statues in the parks. His name is synonymous with "we care about the poor." I find hope in his willingness to speak the truth about what was happening in his country, and to stand with the suffering people, even though he knew he would die for it. May his memory continue to inspire us to work for justice for the forgotten people.
We do not yet have firm plans for Holy Week, other than 11 am Masses on Palm Sunday and Easter. Last year we met on Holy Thursday in the upper room over at the bakery for Mass and foot washing. If you are interested in doing that this year, please send me a note. If two or more want to be there, we’ll make it happen.
Have a blessed Holy Week. May you go deeper with God, and be more deeply your own, true self.
Love and light to all
Chava
There will be a pancake breakfast to raise money for Sarah and Kevin’s Catholic Worker meal program in Borgne, Haiti, on Sunday, April 15 from 9-1 at St Joe’s. All you can eat, $5. Come and have a wonderful time and support this lovely ministry. We will worship upstairs that day, so come on to Mass and then to the pancake breakfast!
The documentary "After I Pick the Fruit" will be shown at the Sisters of St Joseph Motherhouse on Wednesday, April 11 at 7 pm. Nancy Ghertner of Sodus filmed a number of women farmworkers over ten years. Come see this powerful documentary.
_____________________________________________________
Oscar Romero Church
An Inclusive Community of Liberation, Justice and Joy
Worshiping in the Catholic Tradition
Mass: Sundays, 11 am
St Joseph's House of Hospitality, 402 South Ave, Rochester NY 14620
Friends,
Have you seen the night sky these past couple of weeks? There are two very bright stars, one directly above the other, and this week they’ve been hanging out with the crescent moon. Actually, they’re not stars… I went on line and googled "sky tonight" and learned that the big one is Venus, and the smaller one (because it’s so much farther away) is Jupiter. It’s been breathtaking, watching them all week. Isn’t it amazing that something as familiar as the night sky can change so dramatically? It gives me hope, looking at the sky like that. The universe is so vast. I love to look at those stars and just feel the awe and wonder.
Another thing that gave me hope this week was seeing the number of people who marched to protest the killing of Trayvon Martin. As I was finishing up at work on Sunday, I checked the internet and people were posting photos of all the people downtown wearing hoodies. It made me think of Mister Rogers, who used to say that when he was a boy and there was a fire or other disaster, his mother would say, "Look for the people who are helping." So look for the people who are standing up to protest injustice.
It’s easy to get to despairing at the ugliness and injustice in the world. As we head into Holy Week, we remember that our God walked with us and took on that ugliness and injustice, suffering and dying from it. But never forget that we are an Easter people! We believe that love is stronger than death. We believe that as bad as it gets, life wins in the end. Love wins. So don’t despair. Look at the hope in the stars, in people walking for justice, in the internet connections that help us to know what’s going on in the world so quickly.
We commemorated another cause for hope this past Sunday at St Romero’s, with our Mass and potluck in observance of the 32nd anniversary of the assassination of Oscar Romero in San Salvador, El Salvador in 1980. Before he died, Monsenor Romero said, "If they kill me, I will rise again in the Salvadoran people," and it was true. Everywhere you go in El Salvador, there are murals of him on the walls, statues in the parks. His name is synonymous with "we care about the poor." I find hope in his willingness to speak the truth about what was happening in his country, and to stand with the suffering people, even though he knew he would die for it. May his memory continue to inspire us to work for justice for the forgotten people.
We do not yet have firm plans for Holy Week, other than 11 am Masses on Palm Sunday and Easter. Last year we met on Holy Thursday in the upper room over at the bakery for Mass and foot washing. If you are interested in doing that this year, please send me a note. If two or more want to be there, we’ll make it happen.
Have a blessed Holy Week. May you go deeper with God, and be more deeply your own, true self.
Love and light to all
Chava
There will be a pancake breakfast to raise money for Sarah and Kevin’s Catholic Worker meal program in Borgne, Haiti, on Sunday, April 15 from 9-1 at St Joe’s. All you can eat, $5. Come and have a wonderful time and support this lovely ministry. We will worship upstairs that day, so come on to Mass and then to the pancake breakfast!
The documentary "After I Pick the Fruit" will be shown at the Sisters of St Joseph Motherhouse on Wednesday, April 11 at 7 pm. Nancy Ghertner of Sodus filmed a number of women farmworkers over ten years. Come see this powerful documentary.
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Oscar Romero Church
An Inclusive Community of Liberation, Justice and Joy
Worshiping in the Catholic Tradition
Mass: Sundays, 11 am
St Joseph's House of Hospitality, 402 South Ave, Rochester NY 14620
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