Our Great Hope

Before he left office, when President Barack Obama was asked what gives him hope for the future, he said, “Young people.” After visiting with students at Notre Dame de Sion high school and St. Agnes Grade School in Kansas City on Tuesday of Catholic Schools Week, I can understand the reason for his optimism. These students are bright, inquisitive, engaging, interested in service, and open to listening to God’s call in their life.

I came away from the day with appreciation for the parents and teachers who devote so much of their time and attention to nurturing these young people who are bursting with energy and possibilities. I am grateful they are such good guides to those who will be our next policymakers, health care workers, judges, teachers, poets, and theologians.

If you need a dose of hope these days, I encourage you to hang out with some kids, teens, or college students. If you have time to do some mentoring, great—but ultimately, the most important thing for all of us to do is follow the lead of the next generation as they work to create a more compassionate and selfless world community that serves the entire Body of Christ. 

Monastic Adaptability

The main ministry of Mount St Scholastica traditionally has been teaching. However, as it became clear that fewer sisters would be available for the classroom, the community envisioned a new way to continue its teaching ministry by creating Keeler Women’s Center, where women are taught life skills in partnership with professional volunteers and nonprofit organizations. Thanks to this creative vision, thousands of women (and a number of men as well) now learn to read or speak English, prepare a household budget, manage health issues, receive counseling and spiritual direction, learn parenting skills, and receive many other services in a welcoming, hospitable environment.

Keeler Women’s Center is just one example of the Mount’s adaptability to changes within the community itself and in society. When Benedictine College consolidated on the North Campus, the Mount took Feeney Memorial Library and made it into a spirituality center. When Hemmen and Northman dormitories deteriorated to the point that they had to be torn down, the community planted a grove of trees dedicated to Mount St. Scholastica alumnae and Nobel Peace Prize Laureate Wangari Maathai. When solar energy production became feasible, the community installed panels on top of Dooley Center and Sophia Center and next to the grape vines.

St. Benedict couldn't have envisioned the radical change the world has undergone since he died in 547 AD. However, he served his followers well by modeling adaptability in his rule. I'm grateful to be part of a community that continues to find vital ways to serve and be good stewards of the earth in the midst of rapid change, while staying grounded in the ancient values of hospitality, humility, and discernment.

Embracing Chaos

Thomas Berry says that the universe itself is a wisdom text. One piece of wisdom that text relays is that chaos is a necessary step in the organization of the universe. As Susan Elizabeth Phillips notes, “If we want to embrace life, we also have to embrace chaos.”

Most of us have difficulty embracing chaos. We prefer the known because it is familiar and gives the illusion that we are in control. Ironically, the key to giving in to the chaos that brings life is to cling to just one thing: faith that God will lead us and lift us up through the companions who have been given to us.

This concept was illustrated in a short video clip I saw recently. A dog that appeared to be a black lab was being swept downstream by rushing water. Despite its predicament, it refused to let go of a large, stout stick it was holding in its mouth. As the black lab came around a bend, another dog standing on the bank, a golden retriever, grabbed hold of the end of the stick and used it to pull the black lab to safety. If we cling to faith in God and our companions as that dog clung to its stick, the chaos of life won’t sweep us away, and we will be brought to a new place.

Our society is in a great deal of chaos today, but as is the way of the universe, something new will be born out of it, and we will ultimately survive and thrive through faith in God who leads us and through our companions who accompany us.

The Light of Kindness

One of the bits of wisdom we acquire with age is well stated by Abraham Joshua Heschel: “When I was young, I admired clever people. Now that I am old, I admire kind people.” How does the experience that comes with age lead us to value kindness? I believe it occurs when we come to understand, as Rev. John Watson said, “Be kind; everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.”

Recently, the movie Manchester By the Sea reminded me of that important truth. At first the main character is a puzzle because, although he is young, attractive, and healthy, he chooses to isolate himself, has no desire to better his life, and is practically noncommunicative. Only later do we learn that he is carrying an immense grief that has crippled him.

We often don’t know what the people around us are wrestling with—it might be sadness about a death that occurred years ago, the resurfacing of an addiction, regrets about what might have been, depression stemming from maltreatment in childhood, or the diminishment that comes with aging. Therefore, when we encounter people whose behavior puzzles or irritates us, we need to train ourselves to respond with kindness, which is manifested as patience, compassion, and presence. As all of us can attest, kindness is sometimes the only light that can reach us when we are immersed in our battles to let go, to trust, and to forgive.

Building a Bridge to Justice

When I lived in St. Louis, I had numerous opportunities to attend concerts by the folk singers John McCutcheon and Charlie King. They always included a few old union songs in their repertoire, such as this one:

            Step by step the longest march can be won, can be won

             Many stones can form an arch, singly none, singly none

             And by union what we will can be accomplished still

             Drops of water turn a mill, singly none, singly none

I thought of this song as I gathered with 8000 or so people at Washington Square Park on Saturday to advocate for the rights of women and their families to earn a just wage, have affordable heath care, be protected from sexual harassment and assault, and live peacefully in the United States no matter their race, religion, or country of origin.

Throughout U.S. history, protest movements have generally been led by people of vision, such as Martin Luther King Jr. and the suffragettes Susan B. Anthony, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, and Alice Paul. However, they weren’t able to achieve change on their own. The voices and actions of many, many people are required to achieve human rights.

We who are members of the Body of Christ recognize that what affects one of us affects us all. If I have health insurance but many of my brothers and sisters do not, the entire body is weakened. In our society, it has been shown time and again that when we stand together, we can change systems and help meet the needs of those who have been marginalized and disenfranchised. Many members of the Body of Christ can build a bridge to justice … singly, none.

How Prayer Works

I once heard it said that the most useless things in life are the most valuable, which certainly applies to prayer. Time spent in prayer might appear to wasted because often it does not seem to produce measurable results. That notion was refuted by Pope Francis, who said, “You pray for the hungry. Then you feed them. That’s how prayer works.” However, the value of prayer extends beyond moving us to action.

People who pray are keepers of the truth that all people and all creation are beloved of God. In my study as a postulant, I am learning that people who pray the psalms become the voice of all creation and that we pray in the name of the entire Body of Christ. Thus persons who aren’t able to pray themselves, including the sick, dying, exploited, or oppressed, are given a voice in our prayer. It is a matter of witness, of upholding the truth, of validating the dignity of all people, and of providing hope.

Part of the reason I joined the Mount was my belief that the ancient monastic traditions are valuable and even critical to the survival and well being of humankind, and that at least some people need to devote themselves to practicing those traditions of prayer, community, and hospitality. I shouldn’t expect others to do it if I’m not willing to do it myself.

Fr. Hilary Ottensmeyer said, “Until you are convinced that prayer is the best use of your time, you will not find time for prayer.” As I continue on the path of postulancy, I’m becoming more convinced, and I am grateful that the Mount is so generously nurturing my practice of prayer.

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Finding My Voice

I was a shy child—it took me a long time to “find my voice.” Even now, when I get sick, the illness often starts with a sore throat. Clearly, this is a vulnerable area for me. It’s interesting, though, how God works through our vulnerabilities. The way I found my voice was through writing, which is now one of my strengths. I was also given many opportunities to practice public speaking when I was a parishioner at St. Cronan in St. Louis, and now I am comfortable in front of a microphone. Although it goes against our instincts, working with our vulnerabilities can lead us to discover our greatest gifts.

Lately I have been studying the practice of lectio divina. First, I read a chapter on sacred reading in the book Monastic Practices by Charles Cummings, in which he recommends reading scripture aloud and slowly. Then I watched a video on lectio divina by Sr. Lucy Wynkoop, who recommends that we “read the text aloud, slowly, vocalizing words to engage the lips, eyes, and ears, letting the sound of the words hum within us and letting our throats and lungs sustain our breath.” Then I read in A Book of Wonders by Edward Hays, “If Christians, as well as Muslims, Jews, and Buddhists, wish to find the treasures hidden in their sacred texts, they should read them slowly and aloud, as if they were children once again.… What you read aloud, hear as being spoken to you exclusively by the Divine Author of all holy books.”

Because I received these three instructions in the course of just two days, I’m inclined to believe I am now being called to use my voice in my lectio practice. I’m sure it will feel odd at first. However, it appears that the call to work with the vulnerability of my voice—and, in turn, my other vulnerabilities as well—is going to be a lifelong process!

Things That Matter

This year as we celebrate the life of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., I am especially mindful of the following statement he made: “Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.” Think about that: speaking out about things that matter is so important that our lives begin to end if we do not do so. It was in this spirit that Protestant pastor and peace activist Martin Niemöller famously said,

               

               First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—

               Because I was not a Socialist.

               Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—

               Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

               Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—

               Because I was not a Jew.

               Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

Truly, as it says in the Rule of St. Benedict, “Death and life are in the hands of the tongue (RB 6:5).

I’m reminded of the scene in the movie Spartacus when Roman soldiers were seeking the rebel and his supporters refused to identify him, each saying in turn, “I am Spartacus!” Because we are united with all people in the Body of Christ, when those in power attempt to oppress or discriminate against our brothers and sisters, we are called to say, “I am an immigrant!” “I am transgender!” “I am handicapped!”

Psalm 34:13 says, “Which of you desires life and longs to see good days?” If we hear this and respond, “I do!” then we need to heed the words of Dr. King and speak out about the things that matter—especially justice for all people.

Proverbs from the Monastery

In one of my new classes, we are starting our study of wisdom literature class with the book of Proverbs. Sr. Mary Irene suggested that we try our hand at writing our own proverbs, so here are some from a postulant’s perspective:

• A journey of a thousand miles begins … on the walk from Marywood to the monastery.

• All good things must … be shared.

• Better late than … explaining to your formation director why you missed prayers.

• Don’t judge a book … until it’s been reviewed in Benedictines magazine.

• Don’t put all your eggs … into the hotzelbrot.

• If you can’t beat them … pray for them.

• There is no such thing as … too many pecans.

• Practice makes … the schola director happy.

• Keep your friends close, and your enemies … confined to your mirror.

• When in Rome … visit the abbot primate.

• You can’t always get … a soft-boiled egg for breakfast.

• If you want something done right … ask a sister to do it.

May the wisdom of Sts. Benedict and Scholastica be with you today!

God Does Not Leave Us Comfortless

Recently, the brother of a Mount sister died unexpectedly, and the way the community responded was instructive. Although the wake on Monday night and the funeral on Tuesday morning took place in a town two hours away, three carloads of sisters traveled to the wake and two carloads traveled to the funeral. Providing support and comfort to a sister and her family far outweighed any concerns of distance, time, or inconvenience.

As with all the corporal and spiritual works of mercy, presence is key. Sometimes we feel like we don’t have any words of comfort to offer those who are grieving. However, by simply showing up, we reveal God’s presence and compassion, and often we experience an affirmation of God’s presence ourselves. To those of us traveling to the funeral, this affirmation happened in a dramatic fashion when a “sun dog”—a small, vertical rainbow to the side of the sun—appeared in the sky. It was breathtaking, and we wouldn’t have seen it if we hadn’t made the trip.

The occasion reminded me of the ending of the poem Let Evening Come by Jane Kenyon, in which the word “evening” could easily be a stand in for “death”:

                                                Let it come, as it will, and don’t

                                                be afraid. God does not leave us                                                                            comfortless, so let evening come.

The Epiphany of Baptism

At evening prayer on the Feast of Epiphany at the Mount, we prayed the following Magnificat antiphon:

Three mysteries mark this holy day:

today the star leads the Magi to the infant Christ;

today water is changed into wine for the wedding feast;

today Christ is baptized by John in the river Jordan to bring us salvation.

In the past, I had never linked these three events as all being epiphanies of who Jesus was—the Anointed One who came to show us God’s love and mercy. We humans, with our limited understanding and insight, have been given many signs to open our eyes to God’s presence in the world through the person of Jesus.

This realization led me to muse on the epiphanies of our own lives—how is who we are revealed to the world? Accordingly, I decided that my obituary in its entirety should read as follows:

           Jennifer Jane Halling, daughter of Luke and Dolores Halling, was born

on March 19, 1962, and baptized on April 1, 1962, at Sacred Heart

Church in Ottawa, Kansas.

For Christians, our baptism fundamentally reveals who we are—persons who believe that God is the Holy One, that Jesus is the Word made flesh and the model for how we can live our lives, and that the Holy Spirit is at work in our midst. Once that revelation of who we are occurs, the remaining details of our life are superfluous, for no matter what work we do, what vows we take, or who we enter into relationship with, the focus of our life is to be an instrument of God’s love, compassion, and mercy. Thus, the Feast of the Baptism of Jesus provides us with yet another epiphany: that the day of our own baptism is a cause for commemoration and celebration, along with our birthday and name day! 

Epiphany and the "Whatness" of Jesus

On Sunday we celebrate the feast of the Epiphany, when three wise men affirmed the kingship of Jesus by bringing him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. The writer James Joyce used the word epiphany to mean the "revelation of the whatness of a thing." Certainly, the three wise men revealed one aspect of the “whatness” of Jesus—his kingship—though it was not an earthly but a heavenly kingship beyond their imagination.

Joyce also used the word epiphany to describe the moment when “the soul of the commonest object […] seems to us radiant. Consequently, for those of us who have experienced the epiphany that God’s spirit infuses all of creation and that we are all part of the body of Christ, everything we encounter should be radiant. Why is this not so? The writer Terry Pratchett offers a possible explanation: “It’s a popular fact that 90 percent of the brain is not used, and, like most popular facts, it is wrong…. It is used. One of its functions is to make the miraculous seem ordinary, to turn the unusual into the usual. Otherwise, human beings, faced with the daily wondrousness of everything, would go around wearing a stupid grin, saying, ‘Wow,’ a lot. Part of the brain exists to stop this from happening.” 

As Emily Dickinson said, "The truth dazzles gradually, or else the world would be blind." The feast of Epiphany is an annual reminder to open ourselves a bit more to the "whatness" of Christ and allow this truth to radiate in our very extraordinary day-to-day lives.

Celebrating Christmas at the Monastery

The fact that monastic life follows a different rhythm than the rest of the world becomes very apparent at Christmas. Most people begin celebrating the Christmas season the week after Thanksgiving, with holiday parties beginning in early December, and by December 26—or, at least, by New Year’s Day—they are ready to take down the tree and be done with celebrating. In the monastery, on the other hand, the weeks leading up to December 25 are devoted to the reflective season of Advent, and the Christmas season is celebrated from December 25 until the feast of the Baptism of the Lord, which in the year 2017 is celebrated on January 9.

After 54 years of being immersed in secular holiday rhythms, I have needed to adjust to the monastic practice of giving Advent my full attention and extending the Christmas season long into the new year; in addition, I have learned the various traditions associated with celebrating Christmas at the Mount (hutzelbrot, anyone?). My decision to enter the monastery reflected a desire to approach life differently, but as Christine Valters Paintner notes, that desire has consequences: “Our intention is to see things from a new perspective, but the paradox is that this longing requires us to relinquish our usual ways of relating to the world.” This year, to my regret, it was necessary for me to relinquish a traditional Christmas breakfast with family and time visiting close friends in St. Louis during the holiday season. On the other hand, after spending Advent and Christmas at the Mount, I have a greater appreciation for the immensity of the incarnation and its implications and thus a deeper sense of peace in spite of the turbulence in the world.

Rather than being ready for Christmas to end, it now seems right to extend our celebration of such a momentous occasion in human history—the coming of the Bread of Life and Hope of the World. So, until next Monday, I continue to wish you a Merry Christmas!

Wakefulness of Spirit

The beginning of a new year is a natural time for self-examination and initiation of positive changes. I usually make a few New Year’s resolutions, but my commitment is often lacking, and my resolutions generally fade quickly. This year, I thought it might help to reframe my resolutions with the goal of increasing my “wakefulness of spirit,” a phrase Mark Nepo uses in The Book of Awakening. With that in mind, here are my goals for the new year:

• To be more awake to the spirit of the Mount community and the opportunities and challenges awaiting us in the coming years, I will recite our “Prayer for the Election of a New Prioress” daily.

• To be more awake to the spirit of words, I will memorize a new poem every month in 2017.

• To be more awake to the spirit of creativity, I will read a passage each day from A Book of Wonders by one of the most creative people I’ve ever known, Fr. Edward Hays.

• To be more awake to the spirit of a healthy body, I will cut down on my sugar intake and practice tai chi several times a week.

• To be more awake to the spirit of prayer, I will commit to a regular practice of lectio divina.

At the end of January, I’ll evaluate whether my wakefulness of spirit has increased and let you know how I’m doing!