John Janaro's Blog, page 54

Saint Bernadine: The Love of Jesus for All

May 20 is the feast day of Saint Bernadine of Siena (1380-1444), a Franciscan born in the same year that his great compatriot—the Dominican Saint Catherine of Siena—died. 
During one of the most openly corrupt and violent periods in the history of Western Christendom, Bernadine worked ardently and tirelessly to preach reform and reconciliation throughout the Italian peninsula. His witness brought many people to conversion, and restored harmony in places that had been dominated by seemingly implacable factions waging what amounted to civil wars that brought great hardship to the poor and powerless members of the population. 
His words resonate in our own time, in the darkness of so many vicious and combative places in the world, where God is ignored, love has grown cold, and the poor and defenseless suffer the consequences of so much human malice, negligence, and chaos which inevitably bring war and violence in their wake.
Bernadine reminds us today that it is through prayer that we become instruments of peace. Certainly, issues need to be addressed and justice needs to be done, but it is the "energy" of the humble love of those who beg for Christ, who surrender to God's love, that sustains all human efforts to seek healing, recompense, reconciliation, and lasting peace. The begging heart opens a "space" for the Lord to pour out all the glory of His unconquerable love, the gift of eternal life that we have all been created to receive.
"Prayer extends not to oneself alone but to the entire city. Let each one ask grace from God for the love of Jesus, notwithstanding that you are a sinner. And because we all have need of the grace of God, we must all ask it. Therefore I say that you should tell your sons and your daughters to recite five Our Fathers and five Hail Marys, to the end that the good God shall send unity and concord among all people, and that he may put into the hearts of all that which shall be above all to the glory of God and the salvation of their souls" (Saint Bernadine of Siena).

In the Silence, I Can Hear the Rain…

These are still silent moments for me. I feel like I am accompanying some tremendous grief that weighs upon another person or a group of people somewhere. They may be near or far (or both), but I do not know their pain or it source. I only sense that there is something more important for me right now—some combination of vigilance and powerlessness—that has placed a “hold” on my writing about so many things that I wish to write about.

Often there is rain in May around here. The other day, I took shelter under a tree during a shower. The silence in me was attuned to all the sounds of birds and raindrops and found them consoling for reasons I didn’t fully understand.

Spring and the vitality of the birds. We are usually suffocated by the noise we make or choose to be immersed in. Here are a few gratuitous sounds that silence invites us to listen to, reminding us of the time of the day, the season, the world that surrounds us, the remarkable gift of our own breathing:

The Ascension of Jesus

Marcos de la Puerta, “Ascension” (undated).

In the Silence, I Can Hear the Rain���

These are still silent moments for me. I feel like I am accompanying some tremendous grief that weighs upon another person or a group of people somewhere. They may be near or far (or both), but I do not know their pain or it source. I only sense that there is something more important for me right now���some combination of vigilance and powerlessness���that has placed a ���hold��� on my writing about so many things that I wish to write about.

Often there is rain in May around here. The other day, I took shelter under a tree during a shower. The silence in me was attuned to all the sounds of birds and raindrops and found them consoling for reasons I didn���t fully understand.

Spring and the vitality of the birds. We are usually suffocated by the noise we make or choose to be immersed in. Here are a few gratuitous sounds that silence invites us to listen to, reminding us of the time of the day, the season, the world that surrounds us, the remarkable gift of our own breathing:

More ���Shenandoah Spring 2023��� By JJStudios

Mid-May seems a good time to update the digital art portfolio. Still wet, with some warmer temperatures that have drawn out our ���Asian transplant��� flowers that have long been common in Virginia gardens and woodlands. The trees are fresh and vibrant hues of green.

Some works in various ���styles���: (1) ���Waxing Moon in May;��� (2) ���Bright Breaks Through the Haze��� on one of the bends of the river; (3) ���Rhododendrons in Bloom;��� (4) ���Peony.���

More “Shenandoah Spring 2023” By JJStudios

Mid-May seems a good time to update the digital art portfolio. Still wet, with some warmer temperatures that have drawn out our “Asian transplant” flowers that have long been common in Virginia gardens and woodlands. The trees are fresh and vibrant hues of green.

Some works in various “styles”: (1) “Waxing Moon in May;” (2) “Bright Breaks Through the Haze” on one of the bends of the river; (3) “Rhododendrons in Bloom;” (4) “Peony.”

���Stand By Your Gifts���

I am grateful that the Easter Season continues, and that we continue to be instructed, enlightened, and sustained by the presence of the Risen Christ celebrated in the liturgy of these days. How powerful and beautiful is this humble prayer that God���who has redeemed us and lifted us up in Jesus Christ���might ���stand by his works,��� indeed ���stand by his gifts��� by bringing them to fulfillment. Which, of course, our infinitely good, loving, and merciful Father will do for us if we remain with him, through the Risen Jesus, in the Holy Spirit. 

We pray here, in a sense, that we might persevere in our adherence to the God who has loved us in Jesus, enduring in that most firm hope that he will give us what we need in every circumstance of life, confident that he will never abandon us.

[Collect Prayer for the Thursday of the Fifth Week of Easter.]

“Stand By Your Gifts”

I am grateful that the Easter Season continues, and that we continue to be instructed, enlightened, and sustained by the presence of the Risen Christ celebrated in the liturgy of these days. How powerful and beautiful is this humble prayer that God—who has redeemed us and lifted us up in Jesus Christ—might “stand by his works,” indeed “stand by his gifts” by bringing them to fulfillment. Which, of course, our infinitely good, loving, and merciful Father will do for us if we remain with him, through the Risen Jesus, in the Holy Spirit. 

We pray here, in a sense, that we might persevere in our adherence to the God who has loved us in Jesus, enduring in that most firm hope that he will give us what we need in every circumstance of life, confident that he will never abandon us.

[Collect Prayer for the Thursday of the Fifth Week of Easter.]

Christina Grimmie: Only Love Conquers Violence

As we mark six years and eleven months since Christina Grimmie was taken from this world, we find ourselves especially in need of remembering the precious gift of her life. In difficult times, we can look to her luminous joy—to the way she embraced every day with gratitude and expectation, and extended love and compassion to the people entrusted to her, both near and far.

We know these things because Christina used her musical talent, her splendid singing voice, and her pioneering presence on YouTube to share her joy, gratitude, and love with us. She remains for us a witness that her value as a person is greater than all the reckless and destructive forces of this world, and thus she encourages us to recognize the ineradicable dignity and unique value of every human person.

Christina’s sense of wonder in front of the mystery of reality and her confidence in the ultimate victory of goodness and love—rooted in her faith in Jesus Christ—help us to stand in front of these present days with courage and hope even as the dark clouds of violence seem to grow more ominous all around us. Her compassion, her open arms, remind us to open our hearts in compassion to one another and to so many who are suffering right now.

Many people from many places all around the world live with this violence every day. The wars, the bombs, the atrocities, the executions, the mass-graves, the refugees driven from homes that no longer exist, the migrants fleeing from poverty, chaos, and oppression in their native lands. From Latin America, Africa, the Middle East, Central and East Asia, and—of course—Ukraine, the cries of the innocent are heard every day.

And here in Christina’s home country—the United States—we heard the cries again, five days ago, at a shopping mall in Allen, Texas.

Cries and gunshots.

Eight people died and six more were hospitalized with bullet wounds. Hundreds more were traumatized in moments of terror and helplessness that they will remember for the rest of their lives, before police finally took down the shooter and ended his killing rampage.

“Why does this keep happening?”—people in the U.S.A. ask themselves. This country, my country, is a good country, but something is going terribly wrong in our society. Many things are wrong with the ways we relate to one another. And it seems like it’s just getting worse.

But our first thoughts must be for the real human beings who are suffering because of this most recent catastrophe. We must weep and mourn for the victims (three of whom were children), and we must not let their families suffer alone. Here especially, Christina Grimmie’s awareness of the needs of human persons and her willingness to accompany them “with love” has an ongoing significance in the work begun by her family and friends: the Christina Grimmie Foundation , which is dedicated to providing material and personal support to the families of the victims of gun violence. See the website for ways to participate in supporting people in the distress that remains for them long after the news reports move on.

Christina Grimmie inspires us to the conviction that only love can overcome violence. This victory will one day be made manifest to the whole world and all of history. Yet even now, it is not entirely hidden. It shows glimpses of its light whenever we begin to love one another as brothers and sisters, when we forgive one another, when we reach out in works of mercy to people who are suffering—in love and solidarity with them as persons and attention to meeting their concrete needs.

Love conquers violence. Christina’s whole life witnesses to this, and her legacy perpetuates this witness in many ways, significantly in the Christina Grimmie Foundation, where it is a light passed from person to person in the gathering darkness—a small light, it may seem, yet it burns trusting in the promise that the darkness will end finally with the dawn of an unending day.

Sometimes It Is Good to be Silent

I am finding it difficult to write at the present time. I am feeling more tired and achy than usual. But it’s not just that. I’m still learning many things—but as my awareness grows, I also have to face the fact that I have passed most of my life in immaturity and ignorance. I feel like I need to be quiet (or quiet-er) right now.

I am 60 years old, but still more perplexed than wise. Death may be around the corner, or it may be 20 or more years away. I have seen so much in this life and pondered it, and I think I still have something to offer on the path of history. But nothing seems clear at the moment.

In the past five years I have been through a lot of changes, some of them very difficult. On the one hand, I’m more firmly convinced that “change” is essential to life. Yet sometimes change seems more terrifying than ever. We are all immersed in gigantic and rapid change all over the world, and many people experience it through the sudden ruptures caused by violence. But we all learn—each in our own personal way—that the endurance of changes “beyond our control” lies at the heart of every human drama.

It was really hard to watch my parents die during these recent years. They had all the helps and comforts of modern medicine. They were not in physical agony. But after 80+ years of living—years that were not lacking in sufferings of many kinds—they were brought down, finally, to a level of powerlessness in the end that I had never imagined I would ever see. Well, I can’t explain what I mean, but I have realized in a far more intimate manner than ever before how fragile the whole of life really is. Ultimately, we all must face this utter powerlessness… and we know not the day nor the hour.

If the death and resurrection of Jesus is not something more than a metaphor or a therapeutic trick, then it won’t mean anything in front of this powerlessness. I believe in His death and resurrection as a saving event that is greater than death. But my faith remains weak and immature, and I have nothing in myself that can sustain it. I can only live in Him, adhering to Him, hoping in Him, loving Him.

And to live this way is a mystery. My words cannot possibly measure up to it. Notwithstanding my vocation to discourse and communication, sometimes I need more silence.