We watched, some for the first time, and some with resuscitated memory, as two astronauts completed a fiery, high-speed journey back from the International Space Station with a tropical storm hurling.

For a moment, perhaps, we were engulfed in the scientific mystery and magnificence of seeing the Crew Dragon in all its glory.

Descending, the boundaries that separate continents were momentarily blurred, united as one. Once in focus, we hear the cries of both the present and the past.

August arrives and we gather in prayer, especially remembering:

  • Our sisters and brothers in Beirut
  • The 75th anniversary of the dropping of atomic bombs at Hiroshima and Nagasaki
  • The global pandemics of coronavirus and systemic racism, which both impact each of us
  • The aftermath of tropical storms
  • The challenges of educators at every level
  • Our call to reach out to those for whom separation and isolation yields a crisis of body, mind and spirit

We begin with silence,
no text messages,
no social media,
no informative video,
just silence.

Like the whisper Elijah knew,
after the wind, the rain, and the earthquake,
presence in the silence.

Like Jesus who withdrew to the hills,
after the feeding, the healing, the teaching,
presence in the silence.

Like the disciples who sat silently in the boat, 
after the storm and Peter’s venture of faith and doubt,
presence in the silence.

In the silence, we hold
grief and loss,
Beirut,
Hiroshima,
George Floyd,
John Lewis,
the tension between tragedy and responsibility,
and our own complicity in systems that consciously or unconsciously
cause harm to others.

In the silence, we hold
awareness,
our own power and powerlessness,
our call to action
to be one family of the Sacred Heart,
whose hearts are broken open
by the world,
with the world,
for the world.

In the silence,
broken open by what we see
knowing the scars and the sacred,
we are the ones to whom the words of Jesus are spoken.
Not Peter, not Elijah
but me – us,
“Take courage, it is I; do not be afraid.” (Matthew 14:27)

In the silence, we hold
the possibility of hope,
the promise that love matters,
the trust that what I do today contributes,
the confidence that something new IS possible,
the courage to see as God sees,
the earth, without boundaries.

In the silence, we believe.

Reflection: based on Sunday Readings for August 9, 2020 by HEART Response Team
Image: Elena Mozhvilo