The Woman at the Well

'tis I, the delinquent blogger.

A deep and fresh Lent to those of you who observe it.

I will tell you in the next post (yes, there will be a next post) about my Lenten practice, but meanwhile, it is Year A for those Western Christians who live in lectionary-land, and Sunday is the day we hear about the woman at the well (a.k.a. the Samaritan woman) in the Gospel of John.

I am not preaching on Sunday (I'm on the following weekend with the story of the man born blind) but I did preach on this text many moons ago in the form of a kind of one-woman show, being the woman at the well several years after Jesus' visit, reminiscing. This was when I was a Catholic laywoman in full-time pastoral ministry, working as Social Justice Minister at Boston's Paulist Center. I posted the sermon on this blog three years ago, so here is the link if you want to read it or read it again. Enjoy.


"The Samaritan Woman at the Well" by He Qi

Ash Wednesday

Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still


**********T.S. Eliot, "Ash Wednesday"




For the full text of the poem, click here.

Good Friday: the life and death of Sister Dorothy Stang

Yesterday evening I began my Good Friday reading, Martyr of the Amazon: The Life of Sister Dorothy Stang, by Roseanne Murphy.

Somehow I didn't want to read about Jesus. I wanted to read about someone who was living Jesus.

Dorothy Stang, a Sister of Notre Dame de Namur, lived and worked with Brazilian peasants in the landless people's movement in the Amazon. She was killed there in 2005.

Apparently there is a new documentary on her. There was a segment about it recently on PBS's "Now" program. Even the New York Post has written about it.

Website for the documentary, "They Killed Sister Dorothy," is here, with beautiful images and music and a trailer and all kinds of information. Narration by (yes!) Martin Sheen.

Stang was from Ohio and the Dayton Daily News wrote a three-part series on her after her death.

* * * * *
In related news, the Episcopal Café has a series of Stations of the Cross up. The one from Central America (El Salvador) is haunting. (Do not look at it if you are a trauma survivor; it is made up of drawings of tortured men and women. It resides at La UCA - the Jesuit-run University of Central America.) Another one is for children. Yet another is a series from Kenya. (I'd posted an image from that one two years ago here.)

Last year I posted the Arcatao Stations of the Cross from El Salvador. (That's a different series from the one mentioned above.)

And the year before, more Latin American Stations --images by Nobel Peace laureate Adolfo Pérez Esquivel with words from Argentina-- and some Stations by a Tanzanian artist with words by a womanist theologian from the U.S. (The latter, in a book called Where You There? is a favorite of mine.)

Icon of Holy Silence

Thanks to my friend Moira (the same one for whom some of you have been praying) for leading me to this icon by Bill McNichols (William Hart McNichols, S.J.).

Here is a short commentary on the icon by the artist.

Mothering Sunday - Laetare Sunday

It's Laetare Sunday here in the Western liturgical churches and Mothering Sunday in the Church of England. My friend Rob (aka Padre Rob+, with a gorgeous new blog that is almost all visual) sent this prayer earlier today with a Theotokos, using one of the Theotokos apps on Facebook. I'm not the greatest Anselm fan on the planet (understatement), but this is lovely.

As a mother cradles her child, so you enfold us, gently in your arms. As a mother comforts their pain, you calm and quieten our souls with your love.

As a mother teaches her child, so, Lord, you guide us, leading us through life. As a mother listens and cares, O Lord, you hear us and answer our prayers.

As a mother cries for her child, so you are weeping over our sins. As a mother feeds us from our birth, you daily nourish us with the bread of life.

Jesus as a mother, you gather us all to you. In your compassion bring forgiveness and grace. In you tenderness restore and remake us, In your love, bring us joy, give us peace.

Song based on a text by St Anselm; music by David Ogden.

Rob notes that he is not the originator of this quote. A friend of his from London, John Woodhouse, shared it with him after his church sang it at Mass today. Come to think of it, John's is a blog I used to read regularly and hadn't visited in a while. Hello, Organist Librarian! And thank you.

Taking up our cross: a meditation by Magdalene

Okay, back to Lent.

Magdalene, ever the fine preacher, theologian, and biblical interpreter, has a meditation on what the cross is which is a must-read. When you think of someone "having a cross to bear," what do you think? When Jesus says "take up your cross and follow me," what does he mean? Read Mags's thoughts on this here.

First Sunday of Lent

Spirit of integrity,

you drive us into the desert

to search out our truth.

Give us clarity to know what is right,

and courage to reject what is strategic;

that we may abandon the false innocence

of failing to choose at all,

but may follow the purposes of Jesus Christ,

Amen.

Janet Morley

Collect for Lent 1

All Desires Known (expanded edition, 1992)

"Journeys into the Heart of Prayer"

Whew, I didn't mean to post quite so much today, especially on a day of prayer and fasting, but I don't want to wait to put this one up since I just got a copy of the pdf and the series starts Sunday.

Click here for information on a Sunday 5 p.m. series on prayer, every Sunday in March, facilitated by yours truly at All Saints Episcopal Church in Greensboro, North Carolina. All welcome.

I am giving up stress for Lent

I'm serious.

Not that we have entire control over stress, as I know all too well given the fall's two house intrusions and various job, church, financial, and other matters of recent preoccupation.

But I wonder what it will be like to be mindful of what I contribute to stress and how I respond to outside stress.

And yes, stress can get in the way of both our relationship to God and our relationship to other people. (The recent issue of Newsweek notwithstanding.)

Lent: a time to breathe more deeply.

Liturgical blogiversary

Ash Wednesday is, liturgically speaking, the anniversary of this blog. The calendar anniversary has already passed, but since I am a liturgical creature, today's the day. It's been two years. I started haunting other people's blogs sometime the year before I started my own.

Thanks to all who visit here!

Daffodil report

A lone daffodil was working very hard to emerge from its green sheath this morning and to burst into yellow.

It is still working at it, but under the influence of the noon sun, has been joined by several of its siblings.

Daffodil solidarity!

+Maya Pavlova has been asleep all day. Doubtless she will emerge when the sun starts to go down. She has missed all the vacuum cleaner action so far. We're in Mardi Gras cleaning mode. Soon friends will pop in for crêpes. (More on my annual Shrove Tuesday event here.) The party is early this year, at tea-time, because I am teaching on Tuesday evenings this semester. We'll also have a little late crêpes-eating after I get home at 10:30 p.m. Crêpes in the morning, crêpes in the evening, crêpes till the midnight hour.