moses

A Sign of the Times

bcicirel Lent, Mission Monday, Signs of the times , , ,

This Mission Monday continues our journey with Christians throughout the world who move through their sacred season of Lent. In the Lenten Scripture readings for this week, we engage with a familiar story from the Old Testament. Moses, tending his flock, encounters a burning bush. To his surprise, the bush remains intact, continuing to burn but unconsumed by the blaze. So, Moses investigates … and he hears from the flames the call of God. Mysterious, commanding, fearsome, the voice of God speaks to Moses. His life, as well as human history, will never be the same.

Lucky Moses. His sign came in the form of a supernatural occurrence—a non-perishable shrub—and the self-identified voice of God calling him by name. It would have been next to impossible for him not to have noticed these things around him! My signs are usually a little more difficult to discern. Maybe yours are too.

I am not saying they are not there. I believe we do get signs all the time, from God, the universe, our Higher Power, or perhaps just as a result of how we choose to make meaning out of the things in our lives. Whatever the source, receiving a sign can be a purposeful, powerful event. It can give us strength, conviction, and guidance. But it is seldom as obvious as a burning bush.

Then how do we discern the signs in our own lives? The rainbow after a shower that gives us hope. The call that seems more like a whisper. The invisible hand of God. If asked how to discover the signs around us, Vincent de Paul would very likely advise paying close attention to our own life experiences.[1] Reflecting upon our thoughts and feelings, our successes and failures, our values and desires, our relationships and behaviors—honestly, humbly, patiently, compassionately— allows us to learn and grow. It is a practice Vincent and his colleagues devoted their lives to, and it contributed to many of the decisions they made in establishing what we now know as the Vincentian Family.

So many of us are eager to encounter and cooperate with the signs that we believe exist in and around us, to connect with that which is bigger than ourselves. Cultivating a practice that helps us attend to the signs in our lives is time well spent. We may never come upon a burning bush. But undoubtedly, we will discern the wisdom, truth, and hope that are there for us and that we are meant to uncover.

Invitation for Reflection:

How do you look for signs around you? How do you discern them? When have you discovered and been led by them in the past?

What might be signs in your life right now? What are they calling you to or pointing you toward? Are you excited by them? Do they evoke other feelings (uncertainty? fear?) in you?

Consider how you can cultivate a practice of reflection and discernment. What questions do you have? What might be helpful for you to make this a successful practice?

Reflection by: Tom Judge, Assistant Director and Chaplain, Faculty and Staff Engagement, Division of Mission and Ministry

[1] See for example, Letter 1138, “To Étienne Blatiron, Superior, in Genoa,” September 17, 1649, CCD, 3:480; and Letter 460, “To Pierre Escart, in Annecy,” July 25, 1640, CCD, 2:84.

 

Moving from Revelation to Action

bcicirel Lent, Mission Monday , , , ,

Have you ever had an uplifting, transformational experience that is so striking that, at least in the moment, you don’t think you can go back to the way things were? Where you lost your routine thoughts and cares and became one with the moment, washed away with wonder? Did it feel as if you were no longer just “you” but part of a broad tapestry of life and being, woven together in uncanny ways? This happens to me most often when I’m on a trip or in nature, quite appropriately in a liminal or in-between space. Often, it takes such distance from the mundane to open myself up to transformation. Hiking the heights of mountains, staring off into the sunset of a boundless ocean, living and caring for others on a service trip, or closing your eyes and hearing the echoes of music in an ancient cathedral … these experiences connect us to something deeper, as we let go of our normal patterns of thought and being. They remind us of who we are and who we can be.

Details of such moments abound in good books, engaging movies, the sacred stories of many faith traditions, and in different narrative accounts of personal and collective transformation. We find one of those in the Christian scriptures in the readings prescribed for this week of the Lenten season. It is a story of a literal mountaintop experience. A few disciples have hiked up a mountain, following Jesus. At the top, they see a “transfigured” Christ, who has been revealed as supernaturally radiant. They also have visions of Elijah and Moses. We don’t need to go into the religious connotations to see this reading’s relevance in our lives. For the disciples, their mountaintop revelation is an uncanny experience—an event that they believe will forever mark a line between the before and after. They are transformed as much as Jesus is transfigured. One of the disciples wants to pitch tents and stay in that moment longer, but it is carried away, quite literally, with a passing cloud.

That’s the thing about transformational experiences. The clarity that they give can pass by as quickly as a cloud. Even as we try to hold on to them, their impact can fade with time. We can be tempted to try and stay within them—lost in their beauty, but without a clear idea of how to integrate that experience into our lives. I’m sure we’ve all been there: we come back from a trip and pledge that we’ll do things differently! But soon we lose that urgency and inspiration and fall back to the status quo.

Our own Vincentian tradition at DePaul counsels us to lean into action after these transformational experiences. Vincent de Paul had his own seminal experiences, most of which were grounded in his interactions with others. From the dying peasant in Folleville, to the outpouring of charity and the insistence of Madame de Gondi on “what must be done,” to his lifelong friendship with Louise de Marillac, Vincent was transformed by his mutuality with others. He was able to integrate these experiences into sustainable action. They revealed to him our shared mission to help others with our goodwill and honest efforts. He charged us “not only to do good, but to do it well.”[1]

What are some experiences that made you lose yourself and feel a deeper connection to the world? Did these experiences share anything in common?

Has there been a time when you’ve returned from a trip or a momentous experience, and you implemented change in your life? What was it?

What helps you personally make sustainable change? How about collectively in your work with others?

Reflection by: Alex Perry, Program Manager, Division of Mission and Ministry

[1] Conference 177, “Repetition of Prayer,” November 25, 1657, CCD, 11:289. Available at https://‌via.‌library.‌depaul.‌edu/‌vincentian_ebooks/37/.

 

 

Sharing Our Trials as Well as Our Joys

bcicirel Community, Islam, Mission Monday , , , , ,

“I received your letter yesterday; as always, it gave me fresh reasons for praising God. Still, it troubled me a little because, from what you tell me in your last letter, it seems to me you are suffering from something, although you did not state this clearly. Please share with me, Monsieur, your trials as well as your joys.”[1]

Moses (Peace be upon Him) is one of the most important figures in all three Abrahamic traditions,[2] and historically in American culture.[3] The Qur’an devotes more time to the life of Moses[4] than to any other person. In the Qur’anic telling, when Moses flees Egypt and the Pharaoh he arrives in Midian in a desperate situation. He hasn’t had anything to eat other than leaves, is physically drained and exhausted, and he remains deeply fearful that there are powerful forces seeking to capture and punish him. He is separated from all that was once dear and familiar. Moses comes across a large group of men watering their animals at a well, but his attention is drawn to two women who are said to be holding back theirs. Moses approaches them and asks “what is the matter?”[5] After they explain that their father is old and can’t come to the well, and that the men will not let them water their animals, Moses assists them and waters their animals himself. Moses then leaves to rest and pray to God, but this is the beginning of an unexpected blessing that will radically shift the course of his future.

Many of us have experienced, especially in times of loss, anxiety, or other suffering, the blessing of having someone listen to our story or to our feelings. In some cases they may be able to assist us in material ways. At other times, perhaps they can only accompany us in our grief or hardship. Either way, it often feels that sharing our burdens lessens them. This is what profoundly struck me in the excerpt above: “Please share with me Monsieur, your trials as well as your joys.” As Marilynne Robinson says in Gilead, “There’s a lot under the surface of life, everyone knows that.”[6] When we are able through words or actions, let those close to us know that they can share with us what is normally kept under the surface, their trials as well as their joys. This can be a powerful step towards creating real community. We strive to make DePaul more than just a workplace. We strive to create a community joined together for the sake of mission. Let us ask ourselves how we can be open to those around us, whether it be students we serve, those we supervise, or the fellow employees we encounter and work alongside.

There are many ways people respond to the brokenness of our world. One of the most memorable characters in literature is found in Charles Dickens’ Bleak House. Mrs. Jellyby fills her every moment with “work” towards an idealistic project in Africa, which she thinks will do enormous social good. Yet this project never comes to fruition. All the while she is ignoring the sufferings of those close to her, including her husband and her own children. In truly listening to the trials and joys of others, that which is under the surface, we begin to discern how we can best respond to those challenges that are within our sphere of influence. We see changes that can be made and realities that can be faced together.

For Reflection: Is there someone in your life with whom you can truly share your trials as well as your joys? Are there people for whom you provide that deep listening? What are some of the reasons we may be reluctant to share with others, or open ourselves to others sharing with us? How can we overcome these barriers to deeper community?

—

Reflection by: Abdul-Malik Ryan, Muslim Chaplain and Assistant Director of Religious Diversity and Pastoral Care, Division of Mission and Ministry

See also our past Mission Monday reflection “Being Fully Present” by Emily Lahood-Olsen, based on a quotation from Saint Louise de Marillac: https://blogs.depaul.edu/dmm/2019/10/21/being-fully-present/

We remind all of you that one of the ways you are invited to share with the DePaul community, whether sharing news of weddings, births, adoptions, or bereavements in your immediate family, is through the Newsline Family Events column: https://resources.depaul.edu/newsline/contact/Pages/life-events.aspx

You are also invited to share any requests for prayer with the Division of Mission and Ministry at: https://offices.depaul.edu/mission-ministry/religious-spiritual-life/Pages/Prayer-Requests.aspx

[1] Letter 1823, To Charles Ozenne, Superior, In Warsaw, 1 January 1655, CCD, 5:255.

[2] Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. As I remarked in a recent interfaith dialogue event about Moses, perhaps they could just as accurately (if not more so) be referred to as the three Mosaic faiths or traditions.

[3] Moses serves as one of the most popular superhero archetypes in popular culture and historically has been a touchstone for all Americans regardless of their political beliefs.

[4] In Arabic, Musa.

[5] Qur’an 28:22-24.

[6] Marilynne Robinson, Gilead (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2004), p. 6.