Catholic
Spirituality
Let
God escape the confines of the holy cards
Guest Columnist
Michelle Francl-Donnay
He
is like a shepherd feeding his flock, gathering lambs in his arms, holding
them against his breast and leading to their rest the mother ewes.
[Is 40:10]
My 75 year-old father’s faint call for help drifted over the top
of the hill.
The clang of the kitchen garden’s iron gate echoed behind me as
I pounded down the vineyard steps to the back pasture, worst-case scenarios
flashing through my mind. Ducking under the huge cypress that shades the
gates, I was momentarily taken aback to find my father on his feet and
apparently fine.
“Here — take her.” He thrust a wet, bloody bundle of
wool over the fence at me and jogged back down the hill. Heedless of my
white shirt, I cradled a terrified newborn lamb against my chest, feeling
her pounding heart slow as I held her close. Meanwhile, my father was
trying, without much success, to corral her mother as she struggled to
deliver my charge’s twin.
Holy cards of the Good Shepherd favor white robes, fluffy lambs and bucolic
scenery. After my summer sojourn as a shepherdess, I realized we’d
been sold the sanitized version. Newborn lambs are not fluffy and white,
the ewes do not always trot sweetly along at your side, and those white
robes will never be the same after a day in the pasture.
Our urbanized culture pulls a misty, nostalgic curtain over Isaiah’s
images, impeding our ability to use this gate to enter into the mystery
of God’s relationship with us. We become like the people that St.
Gregory the Great once chided in a sermon about the Good Shepherd: “foolish
travelers who are so distracted by the pleasant meadows … that they
forget where they are going.”
In his Spiritual Exercises, St. Ignatius, the founder of the Jesuits,
offers us a remedy for our tendency to fasten onto the pleasant superficialities
of the rich and enduring images in Scripture: Pray with our imagination.
Ignatius encourages us to ask God for the grace to enter into the scene,
itself. Don’t merely read a passage from Scripture, but take a part
in it. Engage all your senses. Historical accuracy is not the point; opening
yourself to hearing God at work in your own history is.
Slowly read the verse from Isaiah. Who are you in this encounter? Who
else is there? What are you doing?
Smell the hay. Hear the ewe bleating for her lamb. Feel the dust tickle
your nose. See the Good Shepherd try to charm the panicked ewe to His
side — and never mind that he is wearing khaki shorts and a trout
fishing t-shirt. Share His joy as He brings new life safely into being.
What does God want you to know? Ask God to reveal His will for you as
the scene unfolds.
Ignatius challenges us to let ourselves be surprised by God in these lively,
yet prayerful, encounters. Before the summer of the sheep, I had never
quite understood how hard it was to lead a ewe. Now, when I pray with
this passage, I wonder how hard God finds it to lead me.
Let God escape the confines of the holy cards. We need to move beyond
our static, two-dimensional images of Creator, Redeemer and Spirit, and
experience the reality of these Persons active in our lives.
Use your imagination. Allow the Word to become flesh in you.
Almighty God,
Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, faith in Your word is the way to wisdom,
and to ponder Your divine plan is to grow in the truth.
Open our eyes to Your deeds, our ears to the sound of Your call, so that
our every act may increase our sharing in the life You have offered us.
Grant this through Christ our Lord. Amen.
Michelle
Francl-Donnay is a member of Our Mother of Good Counsel Parish in Bryn
Mawr. She can be reached at: mfrancldonnay@gmail.com. For more resources
on prayer including links, audio and video content, see PhillyCatholicSpirituality.blogspot.com