Franciscan Sister of Christian Charity Sister Kathleen Murphy reflects on Pope Francis’ Prayer intention that this “Jubilee year strengthen our faith, helping us to recognize the Risen Christ in our daily lives, and that it may transform us into pilgrims of Christian hope”.
December dawns and finds us reflecting on the circle of the Advent wreath. Its circular shape is a life circle of Jesus in which we anchor our hope. We are filled with this hope at the manger wherein lies the realized promise of the Old Testament, we are similarly hope-full at the foot of the cross where momentarily hangs the one who will soon burst forth with a life promised us forever. Francis knelt beside that manger and stood in the shadow of that cross with an overflowing sense of hope that was rooted in the very person of Jesus, a Jesus he knew so thoroughly that the wounds of Love also came to mark his own hands.
This hope seasoned by straw and stigmata plays into Pope Francis’ intention for this month. We are asked to pray: that this Jubilee year strengthen our faith, helping us to recognize the Risen Christ in our daily lives, and that it may transform us into pilgrims of Christian hope.
This prayer can be strengthened by pondering the call to be a pilgrim. The following excerpt of a story entitled “The Pilgrim” by Joy Cowley may help us in these reflections.
I began my spiritual journey in a fervor of prayer, asking God to give me the companions I needed for the road. The voice in my heart was gentle but firm. “Name your needs.”
Ah, but that was easy. There were three whose company represented my constant longing. “Wisdom! Compassion! Holiness!” I cried.
I wasted no time but set out, delighted that I had found favor in God’s eyes . . . but my companions did not appear. I looked for them along the road. I called their names in vain. Indeed, I was so concerned with finding them, that at first, I didn’t notice the three ruffians who followed me at a short distance. They were travelers of the worst kind, ragged, shifty-eyed, probably thieves and possibly murderers. I tried to outpace them, but they walked faster.
The first, a man with bandaged hands, reveals his name: Error.
The second, a woman with matted hair and a crooked back: Pain.
The third and oldest, a man with no hair and thick glasses: Doubt.
The Pilgrim makes her way and Error, Pain, and Doubt continue to shuffle along behind her, growing closer with each passing day.
“The fact that I was continually aware of their presence interfered greatly with my prayer and songs of praise,” the pilgrim complains.
And as the story goes, one night, in deepest despair, the pilgrim called out in prayer, “Help me to get rid of them!” And God responds, “Why don’t you listen to what they have to say?”
“You can’t be serious!” the pilgrim cries.
She begins to speak with her companions. First with Doubt, who notices her pilgrimage is uphill even before she does.
“Getting steeper,” said Doubt, “but the views are getting better.”
Pain comes next.
“No one wants to walk with me,” she notes. “. . . There was only one who welcomed Pain with wide open arms and even he had some misgivings.
She goes on. “Pain, you know, is part of the wholeness of God.”
This makes the pilgrim angry.
“What do you know about God?”
Pain drew her hair back to look directly at the pilgrim. “Not as much as God knows about me,” she said.
Finally, it was Error’s turn.
“I might be unpopular,” he says, “but . . . if you haven’t known error how can you choose good? But . . . most people don’t see it that way . . . they want to see themselves as good. . . . Let me tell you something. You think there are evil people in this world? The evil you see out there is done by people convinced of the goodness of their motives. They never learn, you see. They pretend they don’t know me.”
“That’s because they see you as the enemy,” the pilgrim replies.
Error shrugs. “I’m the enemy of pride. I’m the friend of spiritual growth. If pilgrims value my guidance, I show them how to find the compass needle that points to true North.”
The pilgrim journeys on and begins to speak more and more with Error, Pain, and Doubt. Better yet, she begins to listen. And to learn. And to realize that these companions were not as miserable as she once thought. In fact, they were not even who she once thought them to be.
“Haven’t you worked it out yet?” asked Doubt.
“I don’t understand,” I said. “Worked what out?”
“Our other names.” Doubt put his hand on Pain’s shoulder. “This is Compassion,” he said. Then he held up Error’s scarred hand. “His other name is Wisdom.” I looked at Pain and Error and felt their truth in my heart. “And you?” I asked Doubt.
He chuckled. “Yep. I’m Holiness.”
As we come to the end of the 800th anniversary of Francis’ reception of the Stigmata, may the wounds of Christ attract us to the beauty of life flowing from them. May these wounds be a source of our hope!
