The Call of Our Common Ancestry

I was an observer at the Mount St. Scholastica Senate meeting on Saturday, when racism and cultural diversity were considered. One thing I learned was that all humans are very similar genetically; on average, only one of every thousand of the nucleotides that make up our DNA distinguish one human from another. And yet, although 999 of our nucleotides are the same, humans have chosen to focus on the one nucleotide that makes us different (resulting in, for example, different skin colors) and use it as the basis for judging the worth of people. Being part of the body of Christ, on the other hand, calls us to recognize our common ancestry as children of God and celebrate instead of stigmatize our differences.

The meeting also increased my awareness of institutional racism—the way in which our government and social institutions disproportionately channel wealth, power, and resources to white people, which is not only unjust but weakens our entire society through the waste of the potential of people of color. Because it is difficult to recognize any system of inequity in which we are the ones who are privileged, many of us are not even aware of the insidious effects of institutional racism. It is hard to believe that we can ever overcome a system that is so entrenched in our country and in our lives. However, I found comfort in our opening song at morning prayer today, Healer of Our Every Ill, by Marty Haugen:

Healer of our every ill, light of each tomorrow

Give us peace beyond our fear, and hope beyond our sorrow

In the pain and joy beholding, how your grace is still unfolding,

Give us all your vision, God of love

Give us strength to love each other, every sister, every brother,

Spirit of all kindness, be our guide

You who know each thought and feeling, teach us all your way of healing,

Spirit of compassion, fill each heart

We cannot overcome racism through our own efforts, but God can heal this wound, and God’s grace is still unfolding. Our role is to be open and responsive to that grace as it leads us to kindness and compassion in all our interactions with others.

The First Duty of Love

Although the theologian Paul Tillich and St. Benedict lived centuries apart, they must have been kindred spirits, because Tillich told us “The first duty of love is to listen,” and St. Benedict chose “listen” as the first word of his rule. We listen to God, ourselves, and others—and God listens to all of us—because love demands it.

Doing one’s duty is not always easy. I remember becoming aware that when my St. Louis book group was having a discussion I often interrupted others, and it bothered me, because it gave the message that I believed my thoughts were more important than those of my friends. Even after becoming aware of this tendency to interrupt, changing my ways was difficult. Loving others, loving ourselves, loving God is an ongoing challenge, but we know we are on the right path when we make the effort to listen more than we speak.

Discovering Who We Will Become

Now and then I encounter people who are surprised that I decided to join the Mount in my fifties. “It’s such a big change,” they say. It’s true that, although I have long-time friends in the community and was an oblate before I entered, I really didn’t know what the experience of community life would be like for me. L.A. Paul stated the situation well in the book Transformative Experience: “For many big life choices, we only learn what we need to know after we’ve done it, and we change ourselves in the process of doing it. I’ll argue that, in the end, the best response to this situation is to choose based on whether we want to discover who we’ll become.”

The desire to discover who I would become if I joined the Mount was a big impetus in making my decision. How would my life unfold in this very different environment, with both the challenge and support of living in community? Thus far it has led to a greater discipline in prayer and in writing; a greater understanding that the nature of God is bound up in relationship, movement, and abundance; and a greater awareness of the needs of others in the body of Christ. The discovery was worth the risk.

When you think about it, the older we get, the more we should be able to risk change, because we have seen in our lives and through Scripture that (a) God is always doing something new and (b) as promised, God is always with us. Through change, God offers us a life that is much more fulfilling than the diminishment, isolation, and stuckness that accompany fear. What discoveries await you in your next life choice?

Creating a Society Where It Is Easier to Be Good

Peter Maurin, co-founder of the Catholic Worker movement, once said, “We need to build a society where it is easier for people to be good.” I thought of his insight when I heard about the exhibition basketball game that was played by KU and MU to raise money for hurricane victims in Texas, Florida, Puerto Rico, and the Virgin Islands. Some of the people who watched the game might already have donated money for this cause, but nonetheless, the opportunity to see this particular game between longstanding rivals led them to reach into their pockets to contribute an additional $1.8 million to help people devastated by hurricanes. This money wouldn’t have been raised if Bill Self, the KU basketball coach, hadn’t pushed the idea of the game and if the schools hadn’t gotten on board to make it happen.

In my Spirituality of Emotions class, we recently read about how easily people were led to commit genocide in Rwanda and Jedwabne, Poland. Although we can build a society where it is easier for people to be good, we can also build a society where it is easier for people to perform horrific acts of violence. As Herman Goering said at the Nuremburg trials, “Voice or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is tell them they are being attacked, and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger. It works the same in any country.”

Humans have a deep instinct for self preservation. Instead of trying to overcome that instinct, we need to redefine what we mean by “self.” When we recognize that we are interconnected with everything that lives, we understand that what happens to another living thing also affects us; then the borders of the self expand, and suddenly self preservation means preserving all life, not just the life contained within our own skin. Christians understand it as being part of the body of Christ, and it is why we defend life from conception to death, which encompasses (among other things) opposing war, the death penalty, euthanasia, and poisoning of the earth. It is why we are about building the kingdom of God, a place where it is easier for people to be good.

A Lesson in Generosity

Did you know that the earth contains more than 16,000 species of moss? Why in the world did God believe we needed such an abundance of this tiny plant? Perhaps because, as Robin Wall Kimmerer notes in an interview in The Sun magazine, “Mosses teach sustainability. They take little from the world and yet flourish everywhere…. They’re not the biggest or the most species, but they have managed to survive on earth for at least 350 million years…. And they give much more to the community than they take. They build soil, purify water, make seed beds, and provide habitat for microscopic animals. Yet mosses use so few resources. They are a lesson in generosity.”

We seldom if ever take note of moss, but God does. As today’s Gospel reading from Luke observed, “Are not five sparrows sold for two small coins? Yet not one of them has escaped the notice of God.” In the marvel of God’s design, everything is interconnected, everything contributes to the life of everything else, and nothing is without dignity and value.

It is urgent for us to learn the lesson of the mosses—to give more to the community than we take—because, as is becoming evident, to do otherwise is to destroy our common home. Recently reported results of a 27-year study in Germany show a shocking 75% decrease in the number of winged insects in the past 25 years, likely because we have taken over their habitat and poisoned it with pesticides. These insects are vital to life on earth because they pollinate plants, provide food for many animals, control predators, and clean up decomposing matter. Every fly, moth, beetle, and moss matters. Let’s not sabotage God’s clever design of the world but instead celebrate and foster the interconnectedness of all life.

The Honorable Harvest

Today is World Food Day, which is a welcome reminder to be aware of and grateful for the plants and animals that sustain us each day. Unless we grow our own food, we tend to overlook the miraculous ecosystem that provides the roasted chicken and succulent tomatoes sitting on our dinner plate. Unless we have contact with people who are hungry, it is easy to forget that many persons don't have access to the bounty of food we enjoy.

World Food Day happens to coincide with harvest season in the Northern hemisphere. It is a good time to contemplate the indigenous teaching of the Honorable Harvest, as described by Robin Wall Kimmerer in her book Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teachings of Plants. May this meditation infuse our prayer today.

Never take the first. Never take the last.

Harvest in a way that minimizes harm. 

Take only what you need and leave some for others.

Use everything that you take. 

Take only that which is given to you. 

Share it, as the Earth has shared with you. 

Be grateful. 

Reciprocate the gift.

Sustain the ones who sustain you, and the Earth will last forever.

Choose Life

Recently, Lamonte McIntyre was freed from prison after serving 23 years for a crime he did not commit. In an interview with the Kansas City Star, he was asked, “Do you have any concerns? You spent more time in prison that when you were free.” McIntyre replied, “I have no reservations about life. I fear not living more than I fear living. So I’d rather choose to live.”

Most of us would probably say we don’t fear living, but our actions speak otherwise. Any time we avoid others who are different from us, resist promptings of the Spirit that will disrupt our comfortable lives, or refuse to face our shortcomings, we are demonstrating that we fear life. Humans generally seem to prefer that life be contained, predictable, and safe—and then, on our deathbeds, we are filled with regrets that we did not love more freely, play more frequently, and notice the wonders of the earth more readily.

In the book of Deuteronomy, we are offered a choice: “I have set before you life and death, the blessing and the curse. Choose life, then that you and your descendents may live, by loving the Lord, your God, heeding God’s voice, and holding fast to God.” Lamonte McIntyre held fast God for 23 years, and upon being released from prison, he has chosen life: “I want to enjoy my journey. I want to stop and smell the roses. I don’t want to rush through life. I don’t want to take nothing for granted.” We, who are in prisons of our own making, can also find freedom by loving God and heeding God’s voice; we too can fear not living more than we fear living, and choose life.

The Path to Holiness

James Finley has noted, “The mystic … is not more holy but is granted a greater realization of the infinite holiness of the simplest of things.”

The simplest of things tend to escape our notice until spilled flour sends us to the broom closet, or we feel the tickling of a ladybug on the nape of our neck, or someone points out a cloud that’s shaped like a bunny. Even then, we tend not to recognize the holiness of brooms and ladybugs and clouds. If we did, we would treat them with greater reverence and care.

Mystics understand that the path to holiness is not performing great feats of asceticism but recognizing the holiness that exists all around us. When we can do that, we will join the ranks of those who have learned to “rejoice always, pray without ceasing, in everything give thanks; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus” (1 Thessalonians 5:16). Then we will understand what Abraham Joshua Heschel meant when he observed, “Just to be is a blessing; just to live is holy.”

Knowing Our Path in the Midst of Change

Change is difficult for humans, from the moment we are expelled from the comfort and warmth of our mother’s womb. Because it is the fate of most of us to grow up and grow old, life is always changing, whether we like it or not. Change that we are ready for and desire is often exciting, but we have reached a point in human evolution where change seems to be happening faster than we can process it, leaving us overstimulated, anxious, and fatigued.

I believe God designed the earth to be cyclic to soothe us in such times of anxiety. It is encoded in our DNA to hunker down in winter, plant in the spring, enjoy growth in the summer, and harvest in the fall. Yes, climate patterns are changing, but the seasons are still with us, the sun rises and sets each day, and the moon continues to move through its monthly phases. Taking a cue from the earth, we design our holidays and rituals to provide stability and comfort through their cyclic nature; we know to expect fireworks on the Fourth of July and It’s A Wonderful Life to appear on TV in December.

Furthermore, even though God is always making things new, we have learned through the ages that God also has some never-changing qualities that we can count on: mercy, lovingkindness, compassion, forgiveness, and intimate knowledge of who we are at our core. Psalm 142 says, “When my spirit was overwhelmed within me, then you knew my path.” When we become still and in sync with the rhythms of the earth, we know our path too; it is the one that winds through the heart of God.

Art and the Truing of Vision

Christ the Light Giver Icon
Sister Paula Howard, OSB

On Saturday, October 7, the topic of Oblate Renewal Day at the Mount was “Artisans of the Monastery.” Dr. Dennis Dunleavy led the group in an exploration of how symbols are part of our daily lives, and many oblates displayed original photographs, paintings, and crafts, while others led workshops that enabled participants to engage in hands-on art projects.

It’s not surprising that St. Benedict includes a section on artisans in his rule. As the poet Jane Hirshfield notes, “Good art is a truing of vision…. The desire of monks and mystics is not unlike that of artists: to perceive the extraordinary within the ordinary by changing not the world but the eyes that look.” In St. Benedict’s time, as in ours, anyone who can pick up a pen, a needle, a penny whistle, a lump of clay, a paintbrush, carving tools, a spatula, or a garden spade can enter into the creative process, enabling us to participate in God’s life of continual newness and transformation. Anyone who has lost track of time while immersed in writing, drawing, making music, or any other creative endeavor knows what it means to die to self and see with the eyes of God.

Persons who think art is dispensable typically are resistant to change. Hirshfield goes on to ask, “Why ask art into a life at all, if not to be transformed and enlarged by its presence and mysterious means? … And by changing selves, one by one, art changes also the outer world that selves create and share.” Art thus helps us transform the world into the kingdom of God, so we should actually be picking up our paintbrushes, musical instruments, writing tools, and other implements of creativity at every opportunity! 

End of the Line

In 1988, musician Tom Petty, a member of the Traveling Wilburys, co-wrote a song called End of the Line that included this lyric: “I’m just glad to be here, happy to be alive.” And then, as of October 2, 2017, at the age of 66 years, he was no longer here, having died of cardiac arrest. Another lyric from the song suddenly became more poignant: “Maybe somewhere down the road a ways / You’ll think of me, wonder where I am these days.”

Why is the death of a musician, actor, or politician we never even met such a shock to us? Somehow we connect with them emotionally through their music, art, or the way they lived their life; their death then triggers grief that may be surprising to us and provides a stark reminder that our own time is limited. A few weeks before his death, Petty said in an interview that he wanted to take on a number of different projects, but “There’s never enough time, you know?”

We do know, but we don’t act as if we know that our time is limited. St. Benedict advised us to keep death always before us. The death of anyone who has touched us in some way is a reminder to use our time wisely, because we don’t know when we ourselves will come to the end of the line.

Water of Life

Although we often talk about seeking God, I find it more helpful to think in terms of becoming more aware of God’s presence in my life and in the world. The distinction may seem subtle, but I think it is important. Is God somewhere I am not, meaning that I need to go and find God, or is it a matter of needing to become attuned to God who is already present?

In a commencement address at Kenyon College, the writer David Foster Wallace told the following story: “There are these two young fish swimming along, and they happen to meet an older fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and says, ‘Morning, boys, how’s the water?’ And the two young fish swim on for a bit, and then eventually one of them looks over at the other and goes, ‘What the hell is water?’”

It is important to maintain awareness that we are swimming in the sea that is God because it changes the way we approach life. For one thing, such awareness helps us be more courageous, as the psalmist notes: “The Lord is my life’s refuge; of whom should I be afraid?” (Ps 27: 1). Furthermore, when we swim in the same sea of God that Jesus did—that is, when we experience God as a loving, affirming, and liberating Father—then we can participate in the flow of God’s life by living joyfully and reaching out to heal and liberate others.

How do we go about becoming attuned to God’s presence? Tried and true tools that can help us include practicing prayer and gratitude every day and striving to develop humility. One way to combine all three attributes is to recite this simple prayer every time we use water throughout the day to quench our thirst, brush our teeth, cook, wash, or bathe: “Loving God, thank you for being my water of life!”

To Infinity and Beyond

Last night, the TV show 60 Minutes included a feature on the Hubble telescope, which has been transmitting photos of space since its launch in 1990. One detail that caught my attention was described by NASA astrophysicist Amber Straughn, who noted what happened when the telescope was pointed at a seemingly empty, black patch of sky directly above the Big Dipper. After staring for days into what seemed to be a deep, dark void, the Hubble telescope revealed that the region includes thousands of galaxies—not just stars, but galaxies. The interviewer, Bill Whitaker, asked, “Is it that Hubble just stares into that dark spot until the light penetrates and reveals itself?” Straughn replies, “That’s exactly what happens. It’s sometimes many, many, many days of just staring at one part of the sky and allowing the photons to collect on your detector.”

It appears that the Hubble telescope, in addition to revealing the secrets of the universe, has also revealed a secret of the spiritual life: Light always exists, but sometimes we have to sit for many days and stare into the darkness until the light penetrates our limited vision and reveals itself. It takes patience to sit long enough for “the photons to collect on our detector,” but eventually we learn to trust that Christ our Light is always there, even when it doesn’t seem to be. Thus our attempts to learn more about the far reaches of the universe inversely are teaching us about the inner depths of our life in God. As Scripture tells us over and over, the beginning of wisdom is awe at the workings of the Lord!