Thanking Our Teachers from 2018

As 2018 closes, it feels appropriate to honor it by reflecting on our experiences during the year, for they were our teachers, and teachers always deserve thanks (even—or especially—the hard ones!). Consider taking some time on in the next few days to make a list of all that especially had an impact on you in 2018—people or places you encountered, situations or challenges you experienced, projects you worked on, insights you had. Are you surprised at anything that occurred in 2018? What did you learn about yourself or about God, and how will that change the way you approach the new year?

One thoughtful approach to the new year is to start a journal or consider new ways of journaling if you already engage in this spiritual practice. Keeping a journal doesn’t have to be daunting … jotting a few images or thoughts is just as useful as writing several pages every day! I answer several questions in my journal each night as a form of examen:

• How did I encounter Christ today?

• What was I most grateful for?

• What was I least grateful for?

• What did I learn by listening?

• What habit patterns did I notice?

• What delighted me?

I’ve known other people who write a haiku at the end of the day about whatever comes to mind. Any approach you take will be a guide to reflecting on your spiritual path, especially at the end of the year.

May the Holy Spirit guide your reflections and your path in the coming year!

God's Life in Miniature

We have many creche sets at the Mount—panoramic, traditional, folksy, minimalist—but the one that particularly caught my eye this year is a miniature set that graces the window sill on the landing of the north staircase between the first and second floor of the monastery.

The incarnation has profound meaning for us—much more than we can comprehend. Think about how it must have been for Mary, who conceived and gave birth to this child who, she was told, would be called Son of the Most High and would rule over the house of Jacob forever. How was she to raise such a child? Well, first things first: swaddle him, feed him, and change his diaper.

In doing the little things, the things that are in front of us today and need to be done, we not only observe the incarnation but participate in it. In this way, the meaning we cannot comprehend with our minds works its way into our hearts and our bones as we tend to the body of Christ in the people we encounter each day.

Yes, God’s coming in the person of Jesus is awe inspiring. But the littlest creche sets remind us that God comes to us in smallness too, helping us grow in awareness of God with us through the humblest moments of our lives.  

O Emmanuel

I wrote this poem for December 23, the day we pray the final O Antiphon: "O Enmmanuel, our King, hope of the nations and Savior of all peoples: come to deliver us, Lord, do not delay; come, Lord, come to save us." It seems like an appropriate poem for Christmas Eve as well. Blessings!

         O Emmanuel

          O Emmanuel

          Living icon of God among us

          Mewling infant,

               feeding at the breast

          Learning early

               the rootlessness of a refugee

                      and the rootedness

                  of trust in Yahweh

  

                   

                    Exhibiting teenage impatience

                      with parents who honestly

                              just don’t get

                        who you really are

     

                    Earning your daily bread

                         as a laborer

                      and feeding at night

                            on your love

                                of the word

                    Showing us the image

                    of a God who breathes,

                       learns, teaches,

                          smiles, heals,

                    suffers

                    And whose love

                       death cannot contain

                    O Emmanuel

                        teach us how to write

                            our own icon of God

                        using the stuff of our lives

                    and our deepest imaginings    

                    Remind us in all our unfoldings

                       You are here

                            You are with us

                                We are one

Delighting in the Winter Solstice

Today is the winter solstice, when in North America we experience the shortest day and the longest night of the year. Ironically, on this day that is often associated with darkness and gloom, Prayers for a Planetary Pilgrim by Fr. Edward Hays includes this prayer: “May I be awake to life as a gift from you that is intended to be enjoyed and experienced with delight.”

Cultivating delight is a spiritual practice. Even during Advent and the Christmas season, typically a time of good cheer, we can be more Scrooge-like than joyful. Christmas lights? Too garish! The smell of a pine tree? Too overbearing! Holiday music? Too repetitive! The taste of Christmas cookies? Too much cinnamon! All these things are intended to be enjoyed and experienced with delight, yet we are immune to their charm because our preoccupation with our own preferences leads us to sleepwalk through life.

Fr. Ed includes a clue in his prayer about how to cultivate delight: being awake, even on the longest night of the year. Delight surrounds us when we pause and open our eyes to look deeply at the world around us. Today’s O Antiphon is an appropriate prayer to remind us to look for (de)light on this solstice day:

O Radiant Dawn,

splendor of eternal light, sun of justice:

come and shine on those who dwell

in darkness and in the shadow of death.

God's Timing

God’s timing is often inscrutable. When God surprises us with a twist in our life’s journey, instead of responding with an enthusiastic “Yes!” we often instead murmur “How can this be possible?” or “Why now?”

The bible is full of stories of people like us who doubted the timing of God’s requests and actions. We heard one such story at mass today: Zechariah, who received a message from no less a being than the Angel Gabriel that his wife Elizabeth would conceive and bear a son, was skeptical that such miracle could be wrought. Zechariah had relinquished hope for a son long ago, and he had written a new script for himself and his wife in which they died childless. His mind was so clouded by his own assumptions that he couldn’t fathom the good news when it was proclaimed to him. If God really wanted him to have a son, why didn’t it happen at the usual time, when his wife was in her late teens or early twenties?

It is not surprising that Zechariah was struck mute until the time his son was born—he needed to stop being preoccupied with and expressing his own thoughts so he would have the quiet time necessary to listen and assent to God’s plans and dreams.

As Fr. Duane Roy noted at mass today, “Zechariah teaches us that we have to have hope and speak out our yes.” Even—or especially—when God’s timing leaves us scratching our heads!

A Breathtaking Advent

The last week before Christmas is always a flurry of decorating, baking, writing cards, and attending holiday events or gatherings. As always, God provides a way for us to take a breath and get centered, as described by the writer of Psalm 8:

When I see the heavens, 

the work of your fingers,

the moon and the stars 

which you arranged,

what are human beings 

that you keep them in mind,

mortal creatures 

that you care for them?

When we take a moment in this season of Advent to look outside as the sun is rising, we see the graciousness of first light highlighting the simple beauty of bare tree branches. When we look up at the night sky, we can catch a glimpse of the green fuzzy “Christmas comet” streaking across the heavens. Given the majesty of creation, it is a wonder why God keeps us in mind and cares for us—and yet, each year we are reminded of God’s great love in the coming of Emmanuel, God with us.

The rituals we have developed to celebrate the birth of Jesus are wonderful expressions of our creativity. Let’s also take time to honor the handiwork of God by looking at the marvels of creation in which we are immersed and offering our heartfelt awe and gratitude.

Celestial Guideposts

The other night a cresent moon shone with simplicity and clarity. It reminded me of a person who said he prays with the phases of the moon; when it is waning, he prays about what he needs to let go of, and when it’s waxing, he prays about what he needs to welcome. Jesus spoke about seeing signs in the sun, moon, and stars; here is a poem I wrote that contemplates that possibility.

Guideposts

¦ º ‚ ô ð ù ç Z ó ƒ » m

There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars….

           —Luke 21:25

                                               Exploding into life

                                                         then constantly emitting light

                                        if you are a star

                                                          and reflecting light

                             if you are a moon

Consisting of the same elements as everything else in the heavens

but expressing them differently

                                                      and not once wishing

               it were otherwise

Providing navigation for humans

    concerned about finding their way

simply by being who you are,

where you are

                                                   Offering the gift of contemplation

                                                   for those who wonder

at your serenity

in the silent

vastness of space

Accepting death as a conduit

                                                           to the birth of new being

          via spontaneous combustion

                                                            or

                                                                fragmentation

                                                             from

                                                      repeated

                                                              concussion

                                             We who are confounded

                                                       need only look up

                                                  to find an eternal celestial guide

                                                       into fullness of being

—Jennifer Halling, OSB

The Advent Call to Poverty of Spirit

In his book The Violence of Love, St. Oscar Romero observes that “Mary appears in the Bible as the expression of poverty, of humility, of one who needs everything from God.” Perhaps because artists often depict Mary in queenly robes, it’s never really sunk in for me that Mary was part of the peasant class, which makes her “Yes” to God’s request even more remarkable. Marriage was really the only way for her to survive given her culture and her economic status, yet she put her impending marriage to Joseph at risk by agreeing to conceive and bear God’s son before she was wed. She was very aware that she needed everything from God, and because of her trust, everything came to her, including God’s very self, Emmanuel.

All of us, of course, need everything from God, but our material possessions mask that fact. It’s no wonder Jesus insisted that we give up our possessions to follow him, because poverty unveils our latent hunger for God and our need for each other, which leads us to the very God we crave. Mary needed a man who trusted God and was willing to step into the mystery of God’s ways with her. Without Joseph’s compassion, the birth of Jesus could not have been accomplished. Together, Mary and Joseph give us a model for cultivating the poverty of spirit that allows Christ to come to us and to our hungry world.

Partners With the Gospel

In his letter to the Philippians, Paul gives thanks for the members of this community “because of your partnership for the gospel.” More than being partners for the gospel, however, I believe we are called to be partners with the gospel.

What does it mean to be in partnership with the gospel? It means letting the good news permeate our lives and then responding to it as we find ourselves this day. I am at present a 56-year-old female Benedictine writer living in a monastery in northeastern Kansas in the United States. How I respond to John the Baptist’s call to make ready the way of the Lord will be very different from the response of a 25-year-old subsistence farmer with a wife and two children who lives in Honduras and is desperate to escape his corrupt and violent country. Although our circumstances are very different, God needs us both to listen and act out of trust and compassion. Because we are all connected in the body of Christ, our attempts to live according to God’s word will nurture each other, regardless of how different our lives appear.

We are fortunate to be in partnership with a gospel that consoles, inspires, and challenges us. When we commit to this partnership, one thing is certain: life will never be boring. As Advent reminds us, it’s time to awaken from sleep and follow the example of St. Augustine, who heard the call to “take up and read.” When we do so, the gospel will point us in the right direction.

A Startling Advent

Barbara Crooker wrote a poem that begins “Sometimes, I am startled out of myself.” Generally we are such prisoners of our own thoughts and perspectives that to be startled out of ourselves is a real and marvelous awakening. Perhaps, then, during Advent—that time when we seek to become awake—we should allow ourselves to be startled with increasing frequency!

The doorway to startledom is wonder, which is always available to us because God’s wonders are endless. As the writer of psalm 40 proclaimed:

How many are the wonders and designs

that you have worked for us, O Lord my God;

you have no equal.

Should I wish to proclaim or speak of them,

they would be more than I can tell!

The Irish poet William Butler Yeats noted, “The world is full of magical things patiently waiting for our wits to grow sharper.” Magical things, startling things, await us when we slow down enough to observe and explore the creativity of our natural world. Just learning about the marvels of trees, or insects, or galaxies, would take a lifetime and provide endless opportunities to be startled and thus awakened.

It seems appropriate that the word “startled” begins with “star,” for when something surprises us, we often are enlightened. Ironically, in the Northern hemisphere we experience longer periods of darkness during Advent as we approach the winter solstice. However, it is in darkness that the light of far-away stars is most visible to us. Thus, this Advent, may we pray: Come, O God whose light becomes manifest in the darkness—startle us into awakening to your wonders!

The Soul of Genius

Along with an array of incredible music, the composer Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart passed on to us the following bit of wisdom: “Love, love, love, that is the soul of genius.” It makes me wonder: Who are geniuses in love, and what can we learn from them?

Jesus is the ultimate phenom when it comes to love, but other people have been exceptional lovers too: Mother Teresa, Bishop Desmond Tutu, and Nelson Mandela especially come to mind. What these geniuses in love all share is the willingness to risk. Mother Teresa risked expulsion from her order when she disobeyed orders from her superiors to teach and instead pursued her calling to serve the poor. Bishop Desmond Tutu and Nelson Mandela risked their lives in their efforts to end apartheid in South Africa. Jesus risked and lost his life as a result of his faithfulness to his call to relay God’s love to the world.

Sr. Megan McKenna has said, “There is no Eucharist without risk.” We cannot be part of the Body of Christ without taking the risks that love requires. Although our risk may not bear fruit in our own lifetime, the soul of genius—love—ultimately will not be denied, because the God of love is always with us. Let us continue in our efforts to become more fearless lovers so that one day, after we die, others may say, “When it comes to love, she (he) had the soul of a genius!”

A Clear Cut Need for Urgency

The Hebrew scriptures are filled with words of longing for the Messiah to arrive, as in Psalm 130: “More than sentries for dawn, I watch for the Lord.” But what about those of us who believe the anointed one has already arrived? Jesus came, discerned that his mission was to proclaim God’s love for us, died on the cross because of his faithfulness to this mission, was resurrected, and promised to be with us always, until the end of time. If Christ is with us always, why should we have a sense of urgency?

As it turns out, although Christ is always coming to us, many people are not attuned to or conscious of that presence in our world, and they are using their free will to destroy the very gift that sustains us, the earth. I am currently reading a book called The Overstory that describes how God uses trees to enable life (including human life) to exist, and yet humans are clear cutting forests at a rapid rate. Our use of carbon for fuel is warming the earth, throwing our ecosystems out of balance. We are using water and other resources at a rate that is unsustainable. Yes, Christ is present, but if we don’t respond in kind with love and accountability for all beings, including plants, animals, and water creatures, we will perish nonetheless. That is the urgency of our times.

We who recognize Christ in our midst must now move beyond watching to do what the prophet Micah suggested so long ago: act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God. The future of earth and all its marvelous beings depends on it.

Our Ever-Present Lifeline

I’m grateful I’ve been able to return to prison ministry after completing my novice year because I learn so much from the inmates. They are faithful in coming to our Catholic gathering every Wednesday night, even though they are derided as holy rollers and it would be so much easier to zone out in front of the TV. They come because it is a place where they will be accepted, where they can let down their guard for 90 minutes, where they can gain strength from receiving the Eucharist. They are acutely aware of their need for forgiveness and are grateful for it.

Those of us who have had comfortable upbringings rarely come to God out of a sense of urgency. It’s different for persons with a background of poverty, addiction, abuse, and mental illness—for them, God is a lifeline. Being with the inmates reminds me that God is my lifeline too, my rock, the one whose love is everlasting. We are all humbled by the challenges of life at one point or another, but when we gather in God’s name, we help each other remember that we are beloved by God. Recognizing that we are claimed by God and reforming our lives to walk on God’s path gives us a dignity that no one can take away.

Lessons on God’s path often come in unexpected places, such as behind prison bars. Fortunately, life often presents us with the unexpected to help us see in new ways and learn that God is always present wherever we go and in every person we encounter.

Advent Prescription for a Light Heart

In the gospel for the first Sunday of Advent this year, Jesus says, “Beware that your hearts do not become drowsy.” In a reflection entitled Between Two Advents, Fr. Dennis Hamm notes that the sense of the Greek verb for drowsy, barethosin, is literally “to be weighed down.” It is worth pondering as we enter the season of Advent what is weighing our hearts down: News that refugees seeking asylum in the United States are being repelled by tear gas? Health or financial worries? Sadness about the death of a loved one?

We may sometimes wonder if our hearts are strong enough to withstand all that is weighing them down. However, in his first letter to the Thessalonians, Paul offers a prescription to strengthen our hearts at such times:

Brothers and sisters:
May the Lord make you increase

and abound in love
for one another and for all,
just as we have for you, 
so as to strengthen your hearts…. 

As Kathleen Dowling Singh says in her book The Grace In Aging, “Two thousand years so, Jesus told us to love one another. He was giving us the key to our own holy awareness beyond self. He was telling us exactly how to become liberated, how to awaken. He was giving us the simplest possible key. Three words. Love. One. Another. Love one another.”

 During Advent, we may not be able to put a halt to tear gas, poor health, money woes, or the sense of loss when someone dies. However, we can lighten and strengthen our hearts, and those of others, by choosing to love others in whatever situations we encounter each day. Jesus doesn’t ask us to fulfill a laundry list of laws, but makes one simple request that allows us to see how he comes to us each day: love one another.

May you have a blessed Advent that leads to a light-hearted Christmas!

Dissolving Into Love

On the feast of Christ the King, Sr. Esther Fangman offered the sisters of Mount St. Scholastica a few suggestions about what the kingdom of God is like. One that especially caught my attention was this: “In the kingdom of God, power dissolves into love.”

This concept should not be surprising; it simply requires looking at the universe from a different perspective, as scientists did when they discovered that the Pando aspen grove in Utah is not in fact more than 40,000 individual trees but one tree that originated from a single seed and spreads by sending up new shoots from its expanding root system. Similarly, God’s love is the single seed from which we all sprout, and that seed expands through the interconnected roots of all that lives. As trees that become weak through age or disease fall to the ground and die, becoming a source of nourishment for the roots below, humans who are afflicted by love of power, greed, or pride will die and dissolve back into the love from whence they came.

The sacrifice love demands is the camouflage that prevents us from seeing that love is the substance of the universe. As one hymn proclaims, “The king of love my shepherd is,” but that love required Jesus to sacrifice the comforts of home, family, possessions, and his own desires and ultimately led to his death. Love may be the essence of who we are, but it is not easy to practice. At such times, it is comforting to remember that at the end of life as we know it, we too will dissolve into love.

The Stirring of Compassion

I’ve started seeing posts of a new kitten on my brother Greg’s Facebook page. Once again when Greg was leaving work late at night, a mewling waif melted his heart and now has a new home, with one canine and four feline siblings.

We never know what is going to stir our compassion—a stray cat, a tender scene in a movie, an encounter with a homeless person, an elder struggling with diminished eyesight. Such moments connect us directly with God, whose compassion is boundless. Unlike God, we tend to guard our hearts to avoid the sorrow of seeing other beings suffer, which is understandable, given our human limitations. However, although we can’t ease the hardships of every being we encounter, we can acknowledge their dignity as God’s beloved and steer them toward people who can help them when we can’t. God bless those who build no-kill animal shelters and tiny houses for homeless veterans, who make films that stir our empathy and who read to persons with failing eyesight!

We are called to be compassionate as our God is compassionate. That’s a tall order, but the smallest effort on our part leads us to the heart of God, that mysterious place where nothing is impossible and all are welcome.

Inviting God's Gaze

You don’t hear the old-fashioned word “gaze” much anymore. Who has time to sit in a gazebo in the midst of our fast-paced days? The psalmists, on the other hand, used the word quite a bit to express the longing to see God: “Let me gaze on you in your temple, a vision of strength and glory” (Ps 63:3).

Although we may not do much gazing these days, we still have the desire to see God, like Zacchaeus, who impulsively climbed a sycamore tree to get a glimpse of Jesus. However, instead of seeking God's face, we might do better, as Rachelle Linner says, to “allow ourselves to see him looking at us.” My friend Dan Boyd tells a story about arriving early for a spiritual direction appointment and being told, “Just go sit over there and let God enjoy looking at you.” When we can trust that God does indeed enjoy looking at us with warmth, love, and forbearance, we can let go of any inauthenticity and learn to look at others as God looks at us.

The Thanksgiving holiday offers us a little breathing space in our normal routines to do some gazing at that with which we have been blessed. May we also take time to allow ourselves to be transformed by God’s loving gaze.

The Best Way to Love God

Scripture calls us to “love God with all our heart, with all our soul, and with all our strength” (Deuteronomy 6:5). However, as John Valtners Paintner notes, “One cannot be truly dedicated to the Creator without being dedicated to the Creation.” This Thanksgiving, people throughout the United States will be giving thanks for the animals and plants that provide food for us. Giving thanks is a good beginning. However, we who say we are dedicated to God need to safeguard the work of God’s hands by protecting creation from harm and by honoring the wisdom of God that is embedded in creation.

Of course, humans are part of God’s creation. The idea that our dedication to God is linked with our dedication to creation is reflected in the post-resurrection exchange between Christ and Peter: “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” He said, “Lord, you know all things; you know that I love you.” Jesus said, “Feed my sheep.” How much more directly can we be told that loving God requires taking care of others?

Being dedicated to feeding others can feel like an enormous task. However, as the Talmud instructs, “Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world’s grief. Do justly now. Love mercy now. Walk humbly now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.” We can’t single-handedly save all of creation, but we can plant trees and fight for clean water in our own community. We can’t feed everyone, but we can feed those we directly encounter who are hungry. God provides enough bounty for all; our task is to assist in the distribution. This Thanksgiving, may our love of God expand our hearts to encompass love of God’s creation, in whatever way we encounter it.

Words From the Wise

Yesterday I spoke with Sr. Joyce Meyers about her recent trip to Philadelphia, where she was honored as one of the nation’s top ten exceptional elders by LeadingAge, a nonprofit organization that supports nursing homes and focuses on education, advocacy, and research related to aging.

As part of its “Words From the Wise” campaign, LeadingAge sought nominations nationwide for persons who, after the age of 65 years, had exemplary accomplishments that resulted in a positive effect on their local community. Sister Joyce certainly qualifies because of her service to the underprivileged and underserved in her psychology practice and her volunteer work at Keeler Women’s Center—all that after her previous career as a math, physics, and English teacher and as a principal for 15 years.

Of all the places she visited in Philadelphia, Sr. Joyce was most impressed with the Cathedral Basilica of Saints Peter and Paul, where St. Katharine Drexel is buried. Sister Joyce noted, “I was so thrilled that, in the midst of all these other glamorous buildings, they put so much into the building for God. Sometimes we forget who gave it all to us.”

Words from the wise, indeed!

Perseverance in Peacemaking

Photo by Dan Dakotas

As I and other sisters of Mount St. Scholastica left our Night of Dreams celebration in Kansas City yesterday, we passed by Liberty Memorial, which was lit up with images of poppies in honor of the 100^th anniversary of the conclusion of World War I. The sisters who founded the Mount arrived in Atchison on November 11, 1863, during the Civil War, and in our 155 years here we have prayed for peace during World War I, World War II, the Korean conflict, the Vietnam War, the war in Afghanistan, and Desert Storm I and II, along with innumerable worldwide conflagrations and genocides.

It might seem as though our prayers have been ineffective. However, as Steven Pinker has noted in his book The Better Angels of Our Nature, “The number of people killed in wars is close to its lowest point since 1946.” That is small comfort given the number of people who do die in war each day, particularly in the Middle East and Africa, but it does show that efforts to prevent and contain war, fueled by compassion and prayer, can make a difference. The way of peacemaking is the way of perseverance.

A verse from our morning prayer today instructs us in how to foster peace: “Listen today to God’s voice: ‘Harden no heart, harden no heart.’” Forbearance and the determination to remember that we are all part of the body of Christ—all beloved of God, despite our actions—is the only way to defuse violence and spread peace instead of furthering conflict. As Paul said in his letter to the Colossians, “Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful.”

God's Dwelling Place

O how lovely is your dwelling place,

dwelling of the Lord of hosts! —Psalm 84

We are especially attuned to the loveliness of our world when something unusual occurs, like a picturesque early snowfall. However, if Teilhard de Chardin is correct in saying that God has implanted a divine spark of love in everything created, the entire world is God’s dwelling place and it is lovely at all times, if we have the eyes to see it! Furthermore, if we truly believe that everywhere is God’s dwelling place, it follows that we should honor and fiercely protect all of creation so that the divine plan may be fulfilled, as God proclaimed through the prophet Isaiah:

For just as from the heavens

the rain and snow come down

and do not return there

until they have watered the earth,

making it fertile and fruitful,

giving seed to the sower

and bread to the hungry,

so shall my word be

that goes forth from my mouth;

it shall not return to me void

but shall do my will, achieving

the end for which I sent it.

                             —Isaiah 55:10-11

When our eyes are opened to the loveliness of the dwelling place we share with God, may our gratitude compel us to walk gently and, as St. Benedict instructs, treat all that we encounter as sacred vessels of the altar.

Electoral Lessons about God's Plans

Last night I watched midterm election results, and along with many other people across the country, I cheered when my preferred candidates won and groaned when my preferred candidates lost. It’s hard to detach from our preferences for candidates who share our values and priorities when it’s clear that they are superior to those of the other side!

As with so much else in life, elections provide an opportunity to learn that it is not our desires that matter, because God’s plans will prevail:

                             

The Lord frustrates the designs of the nation

   and defeats the plans of the peoples.

The designs of the Lord stand forever, the plans

   of God’s heart from age to age. —Ps 33: 10-11

If racist, sexist, or corrupt candidates are elected to office, they will bring to light this dark side of our country’s character and help us heal by choosing and fighting for alternate values of inclusion and compassion. It is not our place to judge that a particular outcome is good or bad but to act as Jesus called us to do—to love God and love our neighbor—and then leave the rest to God, who says:

                              I know well the plans I have in mind for you,

                                 plans for your welfare, not of woe,

                                 plans to give you a future full of hope.—Jeremiah 29: 11

May our post-election prayer echo that of the writer of psalm 33: “May your faithful love be upon us as we hope in you, O Lord.”

Making Wise Decisions

At the Mount community meeting this past weekend, we received the welcome news that we are on a firm financial footing—a blessing that has flowed to us from the prudence, sacrifice, and wise decisions of community members in the past, as well as the generosity of our donors.

I’m certain that the sisters who made important decisions at critical junctures in the Mount history did not know at the time if their course of action would turn out to be wise. Buying Price Villa for $25,000 plus interest in 1877? Building Mount St. Scholastica chapel in the midst of the Great Depression? Going into debt to build Dooley Center for the care of our elder sisters? How did they find the courage and trust to make decisions that, in hindsight, we can now see were wise indeed?

The following insight by Richard Rohr offers a clue: “Our holiness is first of all and really only God’s holiness, and that’s why it is certain and secure. It is a participation in love, a mutual indwelling, not an achievement or performance on our part.” When we are rooted in the love of God and set aside our own agendas, Christ who dwells within acts through us, and we need not worry about outcomes. As our founding prioress Mother Evangelista Kremmeter said so succinctly and eloquently, “The love of Jesus keeps me from fearfulness.”

It is our faithfulness to coming to the chapel to sit in prayer, day in and day out, that allows that love of Jesus to take firm root and crowd out our own concerns—which is why it is so critical that we don’t allow busyness to encroach on our prayer. Faithfulness to prayer leads to certainty and security because it reminds us that (1) God is God and we are not and (2) God has promised to be with us. Furthermore, God honors us with the invitation to partipate in God’s love, which can only lead to prudence, sacrifice, and wisdom.

Rewriting Our Story

Halloween is magical because it is a day when we give ourselves permission to create a new story for ourselves. I’m a princess! I’m a wizard! I’m a superhero! It’s no wonder that dressing up for Halloween has extended beyond childhood and is now practiced by many adults as well. In fact, in 2018, around 9 billion dollars was spent on Halloween costumes, decorations, candy, and party supplies in the United States. The lure of creating a new story for ourselves is great indeed.

Halloween is a wonderful opportunity to practice re-creation, which isn’t limited to just one day a year. We all have created stories about who we are: “I’m Mom’s favorite.” “I’m a great athlete.” “I never get sick.” “I hate swimming.” When presented with evidence to the contrary, we expend a great deal of energy getting angry and upset and insisting that our preferred story is true. Instead, we can draw on the lesson of Halloween and rewrite our story so it is more expansive, more life giving: “Mom has a lot of love to give all her children.” “I’m grateful to have a body that allows me to enjoy sports.” “Being sick is giving me a chance to recharge my batteries.” “Wow, swimming is a lot easier on an aging body than other forms of exercise!”

God is always creating something new, and so should we, by rewriting parts of our own evolving story each day as we grow in our capacity to participate in God’s life of love, forgiveness, and grace.

Walking in Someone Else's Shoes

We need a new national holiday: “Walk a Mile in Someone Else’s Shoes” Day. Such a day is necessary because we are losing the capability to imagine what the world is like for anyone other than ourselves.

On this day, we would be given a picture and story of who we will be that day—someone of a different race, age, sexual orientation, social class, health status, or body type, for example. I’m sure that computer programmers could develop a video game that would illustrate the challenges faced by our avatar as he or she attempts to get a job after being released from prison, access health care without insurance, or get on a bus when confined to a wheelchair. After exercising our imagination, we would then vote in our regional, state, and national elections (or face penalties for not fulfilling this critical civic duty).

As Margaret Atwood noted, “Oppression involves a failure of the imagination: the failure to imagine the full humanity of other human beings.” Imagining the full humanity of others is only the first step to overcoming oppression, however. As Albert Einstein said, we must then overcome the “optical delusion” that we are separate from everyone and everything else that lives. As Chief Seattle so eloquently observed, “Humankind has not woven the web of life. We are but one thread within it. Whatever we do to the web, we do to ourselves. All things are bound together. All things connect.”

It’s not surprising that empathy is dwindling in our world, because it isn’t easy to feel the pain of others. But without empathy we don’t feel their joys either, and we become imprisoned in our own very limited perspective of what the world encompasses. Walking a mile in someone else’s shoes (or boots or sandals or flip-flops) is a time-honored practice of appreciating what it means to be part of the Body of Christ and to live a fully realized life. Let's get walking.

Being an Instrument of Kindness

When it comes right down to it, we don’t know a lot of particulars about God. However, the person who wrote Psalm 33 offers us some insight: “God loves justice and right; the earth is full of the kindness of the Lord.”

If God loves justice and right, then we please God when we advocate for justice and right. If God values kindness, then it is a privilege to be an instrument of kindness in the world.

Studies show that plants grow better when we speak to them, and that is certainly the case at the Mount. Our plant caretaker, Sr. Delores Dolezal, offers a constant stream of affirmation to the plants she cares for, and they are flourishing. It is no different for humans. If we can speak kind words to our plants, we can also make it a habit to offer kind words to the people we meet each day. Then the earth will be even more full of the kindness of the Lord, and justice is more likely to flourish.

Kindness is not complicated, but it does require time and attention. Are we willing to make that offering to God, who already offers it to us?

Balancing Stability and Conversion

One of the paradoxes of Benedictine life is that we take a vow of stability (being rooted in one place) while seeking constant conversion (being open to change). Fortunately, teachers in this great balancing act are all around us, and their lessons are particularly striking in the season of autumn. I’m speaking, of course, of earth’s great gurus, the trees!

Trees spend a lifetime standing in the same spot, and yet we cannot deny that they are constantly changing; sap begins flowing in the spring, leaves sprout, photosynthesis occurs, winds bend branches, seeds ripen and fall to earth, water and nutrients are absorbed from the soil, birds and bugs and squirrels take up residence, leaves change color and flutter away, and bare branches are highlighted by ice and snow. Furthermore, although trees stay in place, interconnection with other beings occurs underground as spreading roots communicate with roots from other trees.

Like the trees, we do not need to move from place to place to awaken to the life within us. St. Benedict believed that being itinerant is a hindrance to the spiritual life because it is a means of escaping uncomfortable situations or truths about ourselves we would rather not face. When we choose to stay put and observe our long-held unconscious beliefs, attachments, aversions, coping mechanisms, and desires, we gain access to light and wisdom. As the trees know, participating in ongoing conversion leads to the good life, whether it is spring, summer, fall, or winter. May we join them in the great balancing act of stability and conversion!

Resisting the Tumbleweed Prayer

Psalm 83, which we prayed at the Mount this morning, includes an evocative plea to God about how to deal with our enemies:

Reduce them, God, to tumbleweed,

to straw in the wind.

I am tempted to offer this prayer when I hear about the many politicians and their donors who are bloated with wealth and yet refuse to let destitute refugees find a home in the United States. It would be poetic justice for these currently powerful men and women to become dessicated tumbleweeds driven from place to place and never finding rest. However, as the psalmist knew, although we can make suggestions to God about how to deal with our enemies, justice ultimately is in God’s hands. If the people whose actions trouble us need to be humbled to be redeemed, we can trust that is what will happen (maybe even with our assistance when we vote them out of office and boycott their businesses!).

I’m actually finding it easier to pity those who clutch worldly treasure so tightly that they are unable to accept the infinitely greater treasure that God offers us—treasure that we won’t have to relinquish when we die. One day, whether on earth or in the hereafter, when these men and women realize that the self they spent so much time protecting and pampering is nothing but an empty shell and they are faced with the immense suffering they inflicted on others, they will endure great anguish. As much as I their actions infuriate me, I don’t wish that on anyone. Thus, rather than imagining them turning into tumbleweeds, it is better to pray that their hardened hearts may turn into hearts of flesh. After all, if we would deny them the opportunity for conversion, we risk hardening of our own hearts, which will only bring more harm to ourselves and the world. The world has enough tumbleweeds. What we need is a greater number of compassionate hearts.

Expanding the Boundaries of Our Heart

Some events can’t help but get your attention. When they happen not once but three times within a few weeks, it’s time to figure out what message we need to take to heart.

A month ago, a sister in the Mount community died within a week after a mass was found in her chest. Earlier this week, the 70-year-old brother-in-law of a Mount sister died suddenly in his home of a likely heart attack. Yesterday, I received word that the 70-year-old husband of a friend in St. Louis died suddenly of a heart attack after taking a walk in the park.

The message I take from these sudden departures is that I need to prepare my heart for death, so I will be ready if it arrives unexpectedly. How to do that? By broadening the boundaries of my heart to welcome Christ who already comes to me every day in all the persons I meet. I will then be ready to meet Christ at the doorway of death when I arrive there.

Last night at our weekly poetry gathering, Sr. Deborah read the poem Abou Ben Adhem by Leigh Hunt. In it, Abou Ben Adhem awakens at night to find an angel writing a list of the names of those who love the Lord. He asks the angel if his name is on the list, and the angel says no. Ben Adhem then says, “I pray thee, then, write me as one who loves his fellow men.” The poem concludes with these lines:

The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night

It came again with a great wakening light,

And showed the names whom love of God had blest,

And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.

May your own heart be blessed with broad boundaries this day!