When I work until 10 o’clock in our infirmary, I find it hard to get up at my preferred rising time to make it to chapel for a full hour before lauds at 6:30 a.m. 
 
Consequently, this morning, I made my meditation after Mass instead of before.  I heard the readings given us for this Wednesday of the 2nd Week of Lent.

Lately, I have been going through a list of scripture passages which were suggested to me for prayer, but this morning’s gospel from Matthew struck me.  I decided that I would use it, instead, for my scriptural prayer. 
 
“As Jesus was going up to Jerusalem, he…said to them on the way, ‘Behold, we are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be handed over to the chief priests and the scribes, and they will condemn him to death, and hand him over to the Gentiles to be mocked and scourged and crucified, and he will be raised on the third day.’ ”   (Matt. 20:17-18) 
 
What struck me today was that Jesus knew what awaited Him.  He knew a horrendous death and untold sufferings were in store for Him in Jerusalem.  Yet, He was going there freely. 
 
What courage and love this must have taken!
 
I realized that I, on the other hand, do not know what my “cross” will be, this day or in the future.
 
I do not have the courage or strength to meet it on my own. 
 
Thankfully, I can ask strength and courage from “our brave shepherd,” as the liturgy calls Him (Collect of the Fourth Sunday of Easter). 
 
Today’s gospel provides us with beautiful inspiration as we strive to follow the One who “did not come to be served but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many.” (Matt. 20:28)
 
What an example we are given! 
 
May we always take up the crosses that come to us with the love and courage He provides!

Last evening, I had a kind of wild shift in St. Mary’s (our infirmary unit).  Around 9 p.m., one of the Sisters told me that the big lights were on in chapel. 
 
There is a balcony there, we call it the choir loft, which overlooks the chapel. 
 
I had noticed the lights a little while earlier, but had kind of assumed that our chaplain was doing something in there.  Being busy, I hadn’t checked back on the situation. 
 
The concerned Sister told me that she had called out: “Is anyone in here besides Jesus?” 
 
I had to chuckle.  It was a dear, but practical witness to Our Lord’s Eucharistic presence.  She knew He was there.  What she wanted to know was if anyone else was there, explaining for this use of the lights. 
 
I told her that I would take care of it and hurried down the stairs to turn off the unused lights in the chapel. 
 
As I entered the chapel, I could here her call out her question again.  I turned off the lights and went back upstairs. 
 
Sometimes, something as mundane as conserving electricity can remind us of Christ’s love, His constant presence with us. 
 
Thanks be to God for these reminders and for the wondrous gift of the Eucharist in which He is always here!

For the first time in a while, I signed up to read at Mass tomorrow.  I decided to start preparing and praying with the reading today in case the morning gets wild.  When I did so, I noticed that the first reading is a bit on the longer side, but it didn’t look difficult. 
 
This reading from Isaiah 58 touched on the themes of fasting and acts of charity.
 
I don’t know about you, but as I begin this Lenten season, the thought of what outward, physical penances I should undertake has come to mind for me. 
 
I don’t think this is wrong.  I think we are invited, even called, to do penance and discipline ourselves.  However, in Friday’s first reading, Isaiah reminds us of another important part of living out our spiritual life:
 
“This, rather, is the fasting that I wish: releasing those bound unjustly, untying the thongs of the yoke; Setting free the oppressed, breaking every yoke; Sharing your bread with the hungry, sheltering the oppressed and the homeless; Clothing the naked when you see them, and not turning your back on your own.”
 
Reading over this passage was a reminder to me to be on the lookout for a brother or sister in need and to be ready and eager to lend a helping hand. 
 
This “need” can manifest itself in so many ways.  Although I may not find any yoke thongs to untie or meet someone in need of clothing, each day holds occasions, if I am aware, for me to serve our Lord in His people. 
 
This Lent, perhaps I need to slow down a little bit so that I can notice the opportunities for “the fasting that [He] wish[es].”  

Perhaps a large part of my call this Lent is to foster this awareness and act upon it.

Soon, we will be entering the holy season of Lent with its plentiful opportunities for deepening our faith and life of prayer…parish missions and Stations of the Cross, carefully chosen personal practices of self-enrichment and self-denial, group volunteer opportunities…and the list goes on.  
 
Sometimes, though, our entrance into the holy is not preplanned and is not part of any community-wide program for formation or renewal.  Sometimes, oftentimes, the holy comes to meet is right where we’re at.
 
Last night, I was helping a Sister with bedtime preparations as I neared the last leg of my shift in our infirmary.  As I was doing so, I happened to catch a glimpse of the crucifix hanging on the wall in the adjoining room.  
 
Something in this struck a chord with me.  It was a beautiful reminder of Christ’s presence in this Sister, in this moment.  It spoke to my heart, telling me that this was, indeed, a holy moment.  
 
I may go about my day doing any number of things, updating a webpage, creating a flyer, promoting upcoming retreats, or even cleaning a bathroom.  What I do need not be something sophisticated, complex, or potentially beneficial to a large group of people.  
 
In caring for one person with patience, kindness, and even a little humor, I am given the privilege of caring for Jesus.  
 
I use the word “privilege" very intentionally here.  One of our recent popes commented on this, sharing that those involved in acts of mercy will realize that they are truly receivers in this role and not only givers.  The line in the prayer attributed to St. Francis that says, “it is in giving that we receive” rings true.  
 
As we anticipate the Lenten season of grace, I pray that you and I may be more aware of the special moments that fill our day and that you, too, may have beautiful glimpses into Christ’s presence in your everyday encounters.  This awareness, in turn, can lead to gratitude.
 
If we are aware, we have so many opportunities to meet our Lord in the mundane - or rather the holy - moments of our lives.