village-center-Saint-Paul-Community

Headline news

Sunday 31 st March 2024
 


Happy Easter of Resurrection! Today we are starting the longest of all liturgical seasons, 50 days that offer a unique opportunity to savor and make ours what we have just celebrated. Jesus, alive and present among us, is the reason of our joy; otherwise, our faith would be void.

In this season of Easter we celebrate the great feast of the Love of God, that has been bestowed on us with no merit of our own, as the Gospel of John states clearly: “For this is how God loved the world: he gave his only Son” (John 3, 16). We recognize, as our liturgy points out, what God has done for us, out of love, by offering us salvation in his Son, even in death. Easter is a feast because we celebrate the gift of life that comes from God, and which none of us have merited or achieved of our own.

Our main attitude in this season of Easter and, therefore, in Christian life, has to be gratitude: being and living in thankfulness is a virtue that should define our lives, signaled by Faith, for, while embracing the experience of Easter, we recognize that life is always a gift. This is the very essence of our faith, as the Easter proclamation goes: “Our birth would have been no gain, had we not been redeemed. O wonder of your humble care for us! O love, O charity beyond all telling!”

In this season, more than ever, we celebrate the love of God in our lives. It is only fitting to ask ourselves if the way we live our faith reflects this gratitude for the gift we have received or, if more often, we go back to religious practices where we try to please God with our worship, our piety or even discipline to show him our love. A truly Easterly faith will not try to “gain” God’s love, for redemption can only be understood as the free outpouring of divine love, and the only way to respond to this gift is gratitude, the truly Easterly virtue of Christian life.



 

Friday 29 th March 2024
 
In the Passion Narrative, Jesus shows his radical vulnerability. He is crucified as a criminal abandoned by his disciples, in pain and in agony, mocked by Romans, rejected by Jews.

Jesus shows himself so vulnerable and powerless to the level of exasperation. We have a feeling that Jesus could have done more to avoid such pain. He is mocked and ridiculed, betrayed and denied, humiliated and tortured; even criminalized, and yet he does not do anything to avoid it. 

Even at his last moments when torture is unbearable, He shows no indication that he will use a final ace (or superpower), to pulverize his enemies (maybe we’ve watched too many Hollywood movies.)  In fact, not even during His Resurrection, does Jesus seem to care about making things right, about swift revenge for those who wronged him. At the Cross, Jesus is hurt physically, socially, psychologically, in all possible ways, yet he is there showing his weakness as if He chose the path of vulnerability.

There is a paradox in the Cross. On one side, the more vulnerable we are, or we want to become, the easier it is to be hurt. Vulnerability exposes us like Jesus was exposed publicly on the Cross. We can become the easy target of gossip, judgement, prejudice and punished to ostracism. But at the same time, vulnerability makes us free. Jesus was a free man because he did not intend to negotiate power-bargains with Jews or Romans. Jesus did not have to pretend; He literally had nothing to lose. He chose not to carry the burden (or the chains) to have to play the role of the tough guy, or strong leader, not even confident believer (remember his crushing words “Father, why have you forsaken me?”).

The church is not a community of the convinced, or self-righteous; it is the church of the vulnerable.

The church is the community of those who become free to show their miseries, shortcomings and inadequacies; Those able confide in others about their poor skills in parenting, or their mediocre professionalism or their selfishness as partners and recognize their flaws and poor choices. It is a risky business, we can get hurt, but the more we show our cross, the more we recognize our vulnerabilities, and the more we accept them, the easier it will be to heal them.  

Making ourselves vulnerable creates a sacred space where we can show our doubts, our uncertainties, our wrong doings, our regrets, our frustrations. We all fail, and we tend to fail often. We can hide our failures, or we can show them and be naked in our personal shameful cross. We may be hurt, but we may also open a space for empathy

…  a space for compassion

… a space where we are not judged

… a space for acceptance

where vulnerability begets empathy, and then trust and then, love.

Thursday 28 th March 2024
 


On Holy Thursday, we traditionally celebrate the Passover, the institution of the Eucharist, and the institution of the priesthood. The Holy Scriptures we read for this celebration invite us to reflect on these mysteries. The book of Exodus narrates the Passover when the people of Israel prepared for their journey out of slavery. That crucial moment right before they set out on the road to the promised land. A dream come true: freedom. The promised land for the people of Israel is freedom and abundance. God heard the cry of his people’s suffering. God, in his deep love for his people, did something unexpected: he found an ally, Moses, and faced the power of Pharaoh to free his people—a gesture of love and commitment to his covenant with his people. For us Christians of the 21st century, this holy night should help us reflect on the use of our freedom and the abundance that some of us enjoy and millions of people do not have. How can I, from my little corner of the world, push for the Lord’s dream and promise of a land of freedom and abundance for all to come true? Am I willing to partner with God to fight against the world’s injustices out of love for others?
 
Saint Paul’s letter to the Corinthians tells us the words of the Last Supper that Jesus shared with his followers. In that intimate moment of sharing, Jesus gives himself to us as food for the journey of life. In that gesture of love, Jesus leaves us, his disciples, a sign of total dedication so that we remember him every time we share the Eucharist. In a world where many fears and misinformation abound in social media, the Lord’s example reminds us to value the gift of self without fear and sincerity.
 
But the most unexpected thing about the celebration of Holy Thursday is the gospel we read. Every Holy Thursday, we are reminded that the Lord, while at the table with his disciples, put on a towel and began to wash his disciples’ feet. This was unexpected for his disciples, who had just experienced the triumphal entry into Jerusalem. They were acclaimed by those who awaited the “triumphant messiah.” Suddenly, in an unplanned moment, Jesus begins to wash the feet of each one of them. Judas, who betrayed him and sold him for 30 coins. Peter, who denied him when things became difficult. Thomas, who struggled to believe in the promise of the Resurrection. John and James, who wanted a place of power and honor. To all of them, one by one, Jesus washed their feet and showed them a love that overcomes all their flaws. His love for them is greater than their pettiness. As Jesus washes his disciples’ feet, he teaches that love in its purest form is service.
 
The unexpected actions of Jesus’ love for his disciples urge us to dream of a new world with freedom and abundance for all, not just for the few. Jesus’ unexpected self-gift in the Eucharist invites us to make our Christian lives a gift in service to our brothers and sisters. The humble and simple gesture of the teacher invites us to understand that authentic leadership is done in service. For followers of Jesus, the Eucharist discovers its most profound meaning when our lives are spent in service and dedication to others.


 

Saturday 23 rd March 2024
 


Tomorrow we will begin Holy Week and, following cycle B of the readings, this Palm Sunday we will read the Passion according to Saint Mark.
 
It is a story that begins with the intriguing scene of Jesus in Bethany, in the house of a certain Simon, nicknamed the leper. A woman arrives at the house and anoints Jesus’ head with expensive nard perfume, provoking the indignation of those who see it, who are scandalized and do not understand the meaning of her gesture.
 
The woman has anointed Jesus as the Messiah. And she has anointed him knowing perfectly well who he is, because she has gone to look for him at Simon’s house. She has no doubts about what kind of Messiah is the prophet of Nazareth: a Messiah who stays with a man known as the leper: that is, the impure, the marginalized, the forgotten, the rejected. The representative of all those excluded then, today and always.
 
This scene, and the dispute between the woman and those who do not understand her gesture (Jesus’ own disciples: who, if not them, would be in Bethany with him?) prepares us for the celebration of Palm Sunday. When tomorrow we will celebrate Jesus entering into Jerusalem, and we will receive him with our palms, we should ask ourselves which Jesus we are receiving. When we welcome him, and tell him that we want to receive him in our city, in our homes, in our world, in our lives… to which Jesus do we say all this?
 
Because we could be welcoming the same Jesus that the crowds cheered, who projected onto him their desire for power and prominence. Then we would be participating in the great misunderstanding of Palm Sunday: the crowds applauded a triumphant Messiah, destined to conquer power through the use of force, which had nothing to do with what Jesus represented. Or we could be receiving the Jesus who stayed in the house of Simon the leper, the Messiah who stood beside the marginalized, proclaiming that they were God’s favorites and who —because of that— ended up on the cross. The Messiah of the poor, anointed as such by that woman in Bethany.
 
If on Palm Sunday we do not welcome this humble Jesus, distancing ourselves from the frenzy of the crowds (which raraely understand God's love), we will not understand anything of that comes next: neither the washing of the feet on Thursday, nor the loving surrender on the cross on Friday, nor what the New Life of Sunday really means.


 

Monday 25 th December 2023
 


Merry christmas! Today we celebrate a unique birth: that of a child, vulnerable and defenseless, who came into this world in total anonymity, unknown to the powerful and important of the society of his time, and who, however, was also born marked by the promise of that would change the course of History, as the angel announced to the shepherds: "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.” (Luke 2:10-12).

It was they, the irrelevant and poor shepherds, who were the first to visit him in the stable in which he had been born. If we think for a moment about that humble and simple place, which sheltered some involuntary pilgrims displaced by Roman power, we can affirm, without a doubt, that it smelled of sheep, since both the place and those who went to visit it would be impregnated with its smell. In fact, that was the first smell that surrounded the newborn, and that would remain engraved in his memory. Modern science affirms that olfactory memory is the most primitive and also the most emotional of the experiences that we accumulate as memories. A smell and a taste inevitably take us to a remote experience, recorded in our memory, and link us to it.

What do sheep smell like? Whoever knows the countryside, and the life of the shepherds, knows that the sheep smell of sweat and manure, that is, of poverty, and of humanity. The smell of it is not perfumed, nor does it convey the solemnity of incense or the sacred. What's more, he who gets too close to the sheep, and assumes responsibility for herding, not only ends up smelling like them, but also becomes filled with ticks, their inevitable parasites. In today's Feast we see how Jesus was born in a manger, in a stable, and thus he came to be impregnated with the smell that both animals give off, as well as the humanity that accompanies them, signified by shepherds. A penetrating smell that generates rejection, while defining a commitment to the poor and marginalized.

Nowadays, we can add, the sheep smell of drugs, migrants, and exclusion. It is the smell of those who fight to survive on the periphery of societies, and have been deprived of their dignity, as were the shepherds in the Christmas story. That is the first smell that Jesus knew. And it is the smell of Christmas. Pope Francis likes to ask shepherds to smell like sheep. Christmas teaches us that this smell was assumed from birth by the child we adore, a smell that forces closeness and solidarity with the suffering who multiply around us. It is only in this exchange with the sheep and their shepherds that we can come to understand the unexpected Savior who came to fully assume all of our humanity in order to share with us his divinity.


 

RSS news feed

Blog archives









Contact

1505 Howard Street
Racine, WI 53404, USA
racine@comsp.org
Tel.: +1-262-634-2666

Mexico City, MEXICO
mexico@comsp.org
Tel.: +52-555-335-0602

Azua, DOMINICAN REPUBLIC
azua@comsp.org
Tel. 1: +1-809-521-2902
Tel. 2: +1-809-521-1019

Cochabamba, BOLIVIA
cochabamba@comsp.org
Tel.: +591-4-4352253

Bogota, COLOMBIA
bogota@comsp.org
Tel.: +57-1-6349172

Meki, ETHIOPIA
meki@comsp.org
Tel.: +251-932508188