Good Heavens

The psalms are full of references to the heavens. For example, we commonly chant, “I see your handiwork in the heavens, the moon and the stars you set in place”; “The heavens praise your wonders, O God”; and “Your fidelity stands firm as the heavens.”

Before the advent of electricity, the heavens were a source of awe, imagination, and navigation. Today, we generally stay indoors at night, and only an exceptional event such as a solar eclipse or the rare chance to see a comet or the Northern lights draws us outside to gaze at the heavens.

I once read that those of us who spend hours every day looking inside the small frame of a computer screen should rest our eyes by looking outside a window at the horizon from time to time. Not only does this prevent eye strain, but it widens our perspective and reminds us that there is a world outside the screens of our electronic devices.

Gazing out at the world and the heavens is a good practice for other reasons. Seeing the vastness and immensity of God’s creation humbles us and reminds us that this self we are so attached to is tiny and fleeting. Despite our insignificance, we can rely on God’s faithfulness and enduring love and enjoy the beauty of creation in which we are immersed. And then we can join the psalmist in proclaiming, “With a heart full of thanks I proclaim your wonders, O God.”

The Way to the Heart of God

It’s my opinion that people who have too much to do need a patron saint. I nominate St. Gerard Majella, (1726-1755), a Redemptorist who was credited with bilocation — that is, the ability to be in two places at once!

I’m not so sure that bilocation is the answer to the problem of being overcommitted, however. It’s likely similar to multitasking, which gives us the illusion of getting more done but actually wastes more time than it saves and has a detrimental effect on our concentration and creativity.

Many people today believe, as writer Elizabeth Bibesco suggested, that being is a hurry is one of the tributes we pay to life. Our world is full of so many beautiful things to see, places to visit, books to read, food to eat, and people to befriend that we try to cram in as much as we can — and as a consequence, we often don’t fully experience anything.

It’s telling that St. Gerard was not a Benedictine, the only order that takes a vow of stability. What our life lacks in width, it makes up for in depth. Each moment that we fully attend to leads us to the heart of God and relieves us of the anxiety that we might be missing out on something that is happening elsewhere.

As Imogene Baker, OSB, said, “Be where you are and do what you’re doing.” When we attend to the present moment, wherever we happen to be, we encounter the presence of God. To paraphrase St. Benedict, “What could be sweeter to us than the voice of God calling to us? Behold in his loving kindness, the Lord shows us the way to life.”

Where God Wants To Be Met

Spending time with others is key to developing a good relationship. If we want to be in a relationship with God, then, it makes sense to set aside a regular time to pray. However, we can’t expect God to conform to our prayer schedule. As Joyce Rupp learned from her spiritual director, “Meet God where God wants to be met, not where you plan for it.”

What if God wants to be met not in the silence of a church but in the midst of a challenging conversation? The 15th century Indian poet Kabir suggests as much in his poem, “I Had to Seek the Physician:”

“I had to seek the Physician because
of the pain this world caused me.

I could not believe what happened
when I got there — I found my Teacher.

Before I left, he said, “Up for a little
homework, yet?” “Okay,” I replied.

“Well, then, try thanking all the people
who have caused you pain.

They helped you
come to me.”*

Prayer has many benefits, but perhaps its greatest gift is to instill in us an alertness to God’s presence at all times — especially when we least expect it.

*From Love Poems from God by Daniel Ladinsky. New York: The Penguin Group; 2002.

Becoming God's Gateway

St. Benedict devoted the longest chapter in his Rule to the cultivation of humility. Certainly we can benefit greatly by remembering that “God is God and I am not.” However, it also can be discouraging to dwell on our human weakness. As we hear of countries engaged in bitter wars over land and natural resources, immigrants being shunned, and the rich getting richer while the poor struggle to survive, we wonder if the human race will ever grow beyond self-interest. As we ourselves continue to struggle with our own faults of ambition, judgment, addiction, and selfishness, we may wonder if we will ever be able to change.

The spiritual writer Henri Nouwen offers this perspective: “We have been chosen to make our own limited and very conditional love the gateway for the unlimited and unconditional love of God.”

God, who understands our human limitations very well, nonetheless chooses to work through our tentative and conditional attempts to love others to express God’s own love, mercy, and compassion. We cannot assume that our small acts of support and care won’t make a difference in the face of a world awash in greed and hard-heartedness. To fail to act because we don’t believe our actions will make a difference is a form of false humility. It also demonstrates a lack of faith in God’s ability to offer unlimited and unconditional love to the world.

St. John of the Cross summed up this situation succinctly: “Where there is no love, put love, and you will find love.” No effort on our part is too small to be a conduit to God’s blessings of peace, loving kindness, and acceptance.

My, My, My

St. Benedict viewed private ownership as a vice, and he was serious about uprooting it. Here is a list of what the monks in his monastery were provided: a cowl, tunic, sandals, shoes, belt, knife, stylus, needle, handkerchief, and writing tablet. Otherwise, no one was to give or receive anything without the permission of the abbot — no gifts from family members, not even a book. This is why, years ago, books used by the sisters at Mount St. Scholastica were inscribed with the words “Ad usum” — “For the use of” — a reminder that this item was not a private possession but was on loan and thus should be well cared for.

When studying Chapter 33 of the Rule of St. Benedict, “Monks and Private Ownership,” an oblate candidate recently decided to pay attention to how often she used the word “my” in conversation. She was astounded at how often she used the word, not only in regard to possessions but to relationships and intangible things as well — “my sister,” “my job,” “my plans.” Are these things we can actually own? What are we saying with our constant use of the word “my”?

St. Benedict likely was so adamantly opposed to owning possessions for a number of reasons. The practice lends itself to envy and greed rather than gratitude; it leads us to measure our worth by how much we own; it promotes self-sufficiency, rather than an awareness of our dependence on God; it places our focus on ourselves rather than on the needs of others; and it consumes much of our energy, which is directed toward acquiring and protecting our possessions rather than “spending” time with God, family, and friends.

We won’t be able to take any of our possessions with us after we die, so why burden ourselves with them now? Let’s give ourselves the pleasure of walking more lightly on the earth, relinquishing the possessions that weigh us down and trusting in God’s loving providence and care.

Finding Our Quiet Center

“Labor Day” has always seemed like a misnomer to me; because it is a holiday for most people, “Laborless Day” would seem more apt! It does seem odd to celebrate our labor by … well … not laboring. However, taking a break from our endeavors gives us a chance to savor the work we do, which is an important element of honoring it and finding satisfaction in it. Wisdom, who was with God during the creation of the universe (Proverbs 8: 22-31), apparently convinced God to rest after working for six days. It was such a good idea that God commanded us to do the same (“Thou shalt keep holy the Sabbath”).

Sarah Orne Jewett told aspiring writers, “You must find your own quiet center of life, and write from that.” It is sage advice, no matter what work we undertake. And to find our own quiet center of life requires time apart for rest and reflection. Jesus found his quiet center of life during his times of solitude in the desert, in the mountains, by the sea, and in a garden. In his Rule, St. Benedict specified specific times every day for the members of his community to rest and read. Humans aren’t designed to work 24/7; when we try to do so, we suffer physical, emotional, and spiritual consequences.

To believe that the world will fall apart if we take a break from work is a sign of pride, especially when we know that Christ has affirmed the value of going off the clock now and then. So I hope you can enjoy your laborless day (or even the entire weekend!) Let’s honor the fact that God gave us a built-in need to sleep, dream, and be human be-ings, not just human do-ings.

A Benedictine Approach to Illness

In chapter 36 of his Rule, St. Benedict says, “Care of the sick must rank above and before all else.” This verse means one thing when you are the one providing the care and something else when you are the one being cared for.

Caring for those who are sick gives us the opportunity to practice compassion and put someone else’s needs above our own. It also teaches us patience and the need to reorder our priorities, as when we care for aging parents or a family member with a chronic illness for years on end. At the same time, being a caregiver is an active role that gives us the satisfaction of helping someone else.

Being sick and under the care of someone else is a very different situation. Our task here is to accept our limitations and practice humility, as we face a situation we can’t control (illness) and by necessity must rely on the assistance of others.

I’m accustomed to being in the caregiver role, but a recent bout with COVID flipped the script and thrust me into the role of patient. Sisters in the monastery who have COVID are quarantined in their bedroom (except for trips to the bathroom) until they have two consecutive negative test results. This means someone must deliver “meals on wheels” to us three times a day, cover any of our regular household chores, and assume any of our monastery assignments, such as leading midday prayer or being lector at Mass.

This situation quickly leads to gratitude for the faithful care of others and appreciation for community life with its built-in support system. It’s also a reminder to enjoy our health while we have it, because it won’t last forever, and it provides an opportunity to practice giving up control, for that too will one day slip away.

It turns out that one of the ways to know Christ and walk the road to eternal life is not just visiting and caring for the sick but practicing patience and humility when we ourselves are ill.