The Courage of a Glad Heart

People of compassion have a lot to grieve about these days: the callous treatment of refugees, increasing rates of violence and suicide, and exploitation of the earth, to name just a few crises. However, we can take counsel from the words of Sirach, which echo back to us from the third century BC:

“Do not give in to sadness, or torment yourself deliberately. Gladness of heart is the very life of a person, and cheerfulness prolongs his or her days. Distract yourself and renew your courage, drive resentment far away from you; for grief has killed many, and nothing is to be gained from resentment. Envy and anger shorten one's days, and anxiety brings on premature old age" (Sirach 30:21-24).

We are called to respond to the day’s needs as best we can, remembering that many others are doing the same, and offer our prayers for the people we can’t reach personally. To give in to sadness and grief is of no benefit to anyone, but to gladden our own hearts and those of others through kindness is a real act of courage in the midst of difficult times. May your heart be glad today, remembering the generosity of God and the resilience of the earth, gifts that can help us all to thrive when used wisely.

Why I Live in a "Monastery"

Recently I encountered a member of my prison ministry group at a friend’s funeral, and when I mentioned something I was doing at the monastery, he gave me an odd look. “You’re calling it a monastery now, not a convent?” he asked.

Benedictine women have reclaimed the words “monastery” and “monastic” because of their rich meaning. “Monos” means “one” in Greek. On the surface, “one” could mean being single (unmarried), but it also means having a singleness of purpose (the search for God); thus a monastic seeks to be one in the One. Within communal life, this singleness of purpose means having one heart and one community of goods. Referring to our home as the “monastery” and ourselves as “monastics” (because “monk” is used exclusively to describe a man in the English language) reminds us of that oneness we seek, that singleness of purpose.

Interestingly, the word “nun” comes from the Latin word “nonna,” which is the feminine of the word “nonnus,” which means “monk.” Thus nuns originally were considered to be female monks. The term “sister” began to be used when apostolic orders were founded in which women took vows but were no longer cloistered. Benedictines are something of a hybrid; we take a vow of stability, meaning we will live at one particular monastery, and we are rooted in place through our communal prayer, but we also go outside the monastery to minister to others in various ways. Thus our life includes elements of both cloistered nuns and apostolic sisters, and both terms are used to describe us. However, at heart we are monastic—one in heart, one in the body of Christ.

Seeking Peace with Holy Perseverance

Many organizations throughout the world are working to assist people whose lives have been upended by war, oppression, and natural disasters. For example, my friend Kate Steger works at the International Rescue Committee, which delivers aid to people in crisis worldwide and helps resettle refugees. In the face of all the suffering being experienced by refugees, my own response—that is, prayers and contacting my elected officials—seems paltry. However, recently Kate gave me another perspective:

“I’m grateful for the encouragement and your prayers when you have a chance to include me in them. The work you do is so important for the world. We shared the experience of praying for the world at Shantivanam without the direct assurance that it had any effect. But now that I’m out in the world with all of its troubles and distractions…I not only know how much the prayers of your community are needed, but I rely on them to put peace into the world when I can’t find it in myself or in others. I’m thankful to know there is someone counteracting the turmoil.”

Our daily prayers for those in need and for peace in our world are more powerful than we realize. They model trust that God hears the cry of the poor, that creating peace is possible, that we won’t allow greed and violence to have the last word. Staying faithful to prayer can be difficult because generally we don’t see the direct results that come with feeding the hungry and housing the homeless, for example. However, “putting peace in the world” by cultivating peace within ourselves, offering hospitality to those who come to our door, and praying for others offers comfort and hope, and thus can change lives. May all who seek peace and pursue it, whether through direct care of others or through the ministry of prayer, be blessed with holy perseverance.

Paying It Forward

The days of my canonical novitiate year are drawing to a close—as of June 25, I will have spent a year and a day in the novitiate. In anticipation of that milestone, my formation director gifted me with an empty box to hold “A memory from your novitiate that you hope to always carry with you.”

When I thought back over all the past year has held—retreats, liturgies, classes, assigned tasks, meals, celebrations, community meetings, desert days, “vow camp” in Yankton—the most distinct memory is of the day I entered the novitiate because of the many hugs, cards, and other expressions of support I received from the community. I will never forget the encouragement and support I received, and I will carry that with me as I continue my life as a Benedictine.

It doesn’t take much time to offer encouragement to others, but the effects can be remarkable. I am grateful for the example of how to be supportive of others and hope to “pay it forward” in the years to come.

Our Divine DNA

Recently a friend, Teka Childress, was interviewed by St. Louis Magazine after being named a 2018 Woman of Achievement for community betterment. She recalled a story from her childhood: “A man came to our door in St. Louis Hills, and my grandmother told me, ‘We have to give him food; he could be Christ.’ I thought, ‘Christ pops into people’s bodies!’” 

Although Christ popping into people’s bodies is a cool image, I suspect that because we are made in God’s image, when we are born, Christ’s DNA is already a part of us. As Richard Rohr notes, “You are created in the image of God from the very beginning (Genesis 1:26-27). This is the basis for God’s justice: Since everyone is made in the image of God, then we need to recognize, honor, and respect the image of God in everyone. No exceptions.”

It is difficult to recognize the image of God in people whose brokenness or obsession with power, wealth, and prestige leads them to perform selfish and cruel acts. Nonetheless, we can acknowledge that they were made by God and are loved by God. Even as we work to contain the suffering they cause and condemn their actions, we cannot write them off as irredeemable, because that would place limits on God’s mercy, love, and transforming power.

Treating others with dignity, honor, and respect because they carry the seeds of Christ in them makes it more likely that those seeds will take root and grow. We know this from our own lives; we respond to kindness and to persons who see something in us that we can’t yet see ourselves. It’s not a matter of waiting for Christ to pop into someone’s body—it’s recognizing that Christ is already there, and acting accordingly.

Developing Resiliency

On Saturday I went to a Kansas City Royals baseball game with six sisters to celebrate Sr. Janelle Maes’ birthday. As we passed by corn and soybean fields en route to the stadium, it was amazing to see how green and sturdy the crops looked despite the recent scorching heat and lack of rain. What is the secret to their resilience? It is an important question to consider, because with the rising rates of suicide and violence in our culture, we seem to be losing the quality of resiliency.

I can think of at least two lessons plants can teach us about resiliency. First, they are deeply rooted in the soil and thus can find reserves of water deep underground. Benedictines believe that being deeply rooted is so important that they take a vow of stability. Our consumer culture, on the other hand, promotes restlessness through the notion that life has got to be better somewhere—anywhere—else, where we are sure to find a better job, a better house, a better spouse. Plants tell us that to become resilient, we need to stay put so we have reserves to deal with the inevitable struggles of life.

Second, plants live within a supportive community. Strength in numbers provides support in the midst of wind storms, for example, and allows sharing of resources. Peter Wohlleben, a German forester and author, noted in the March 2018 Smithsonian Magazine, “All the trees here, and in every forest that is not too damaged, are connected to each other through underground fungal networks. Trees share water and nutrients through the networks, and also use them to communicate. They send distress signals about drought and disease, for example, or insect attacks, and other trees alter their behavior when they receive these messages.” Similarly, humans become more resilient in the face of disease and dwindling resources when they live within a supportive community.

Setting down roots and living in community are key aspects of developing resiliency. They are also keys to the Benedictine way of life, and our witness of how to live such a life is a gift to the world in great need of a resilient spirit.

Earthbound Transformation

Every morning, I look forward to seeing the “Word a Day” that is sent to me from the Wordsmith.org Internet site. The English language includes more than a million words, whereas most people typically use only about 5,000 words in their day-to-day speech and 10,000 words in their writing. Learning a new word a day won’t get us close to the one million mark, but  it’s a start!

A couple of weeks ago, I learned that the word “cremnophobia” means a fear of steep cliffs or precipices. That bit of knowledge gave me the idea for the following poem. You might want to make sure your feet are planted firmly on the ground before you read it!

                  Cremnophobia

If the devil took me up

to a precipice to tempt me,

I’d promise anything

to return to flat land.

If Jesus had invited me

to join him on the mountain top

to witness his transfiguration,

I would have politely declined.

If God instructed me to climb

the heights in exchange for a view

of the promised land, I’d say,

“I’ll take your word for it.”

I can expand my view plenty far on the plains

of Kansas, and cocooning myself at the base

of a tree trunk amidst leaf litter

is a fine way to undergo metamorphosis.

Earth promises that cremnophobia

doesn’t preclude transformation

for those who prefer the lowliness

                                                           of roots to the rush of wings.

Inoculation from Discouragement

When we get discouraged by the ways of the world, it is helpful to gain perspective by listening to what historians have to say. For example, in his article “The Optimism of Uncertainty,” historian Howard Zinn reminds us, “There is a tendency to think that what we see in the present moment will continue. We forget how often we have been astonished by the sudden crumbling of institutions, by extraordinary changes in people’s thoughts, by unexpected eruptions of rebellion against tyrannies, by the quick collapse of systems of power that seemed invincible.”

Such dramatic changes may seem to come out of nowhere, but they have roots in the innumerable acts of kindness, decency, compassion, and resistance to evil that people around the world engage in every day. Zinn goes on to say, “Small acts, when multiplied by millions of people, can change the world…. The future is an infinite succession of presents, and to live now as we think human beings should live, in defiance of all that is bad around us, is itself a marvelous victory.”

Every day, the scriptures remind us to walk in God’s ways and leave the rest in God’s hands. Isaiah quotes God as saying, “I, the Lord, promise justice” (Is 45: 19). The book of Proverbs cautions, “Injure not the poor because they are poor, nor crush the needy at the gate; for the Lord will defend their cause, and will plunder the lives of those who plunder them” (Prov 22:22-23). Psalm 33 teaches us, “The Lord brings to naught the plans of nations; he foils the designs of peoples. But the plan of the Lord stands forever; the design of his heart, through all generations” (Ps 33:10-11). Trusting in God’s ways inoculates us from discouragement and leads us, with the other members of the body of Christ, to faithfully perform the small daily acts that cumulatively help change the world.

Hold Hands and Listen

I recently came across an unexpected meditation on God in a novel entitled The Love Song of Miss Queenie Hennessy by Rachel Joyce. The main character resides at a hospice, and she made this observation:

“There was a patient who sat with her family in a circle around her, all holding hands. Sister Philomena asked if they would like to join her for prayers and they said yes, they would. They closed their eyes as Sister Philomena whispered the words and I thought this must be the nearest humans get to whatever God is, when they hold hands and listen.”

Saint Benedict would concur. The first word in his Rule is “listen,” and he emphasizes the importance of supporting each other—giving one another a hand, as it were—in the monastic community. Saint Benedict knew that in a noisy world, when we become isolated in the service of ambition, wealth, and fame, we can allow ourselves to drift far from God. Holding hands and listening is the antidote that tethers us to God and others, allowing us to hear the voice of the One who loves. As it happens, Jesus who listened and held the hands of the people he healed told us that “the One who loves” is the best understanding we have of whatever God is. Thus, let’s not wait until we are in a crisis or at a deathbed to hold hands and listen.

Finding the Kingdom of God in the Commonplace

Jesus used nature imagery a lot in his teaching. For example, as Fr. Eugene Hensell pointed out in our retreat at Mount St. Scholastica, Jesus compared the kingdom of God not to a majestic cedar of Lebanon but to a common mustard plant. Why? Jesus knew that we expect the kingdom of God to be beautiful and majestic, and he wanted us to understand that God’s grace is also available to us in the common aspects of our lives, the things we take for granted, like mustard plants and scrubby trees we’ve seen so often that we no longer notice them.

I recently read the book The Love Song of Miss Queenie Hennessy, in which a woman meditates on her life during her final weeks in a hospice. A few days before she dies, she and a companion are sitting in the garden, when her friend looks up at a tree and starts laughing. “Look at the branches. Look at the leaves. When you really look, you see how fantastic it is. It’s so perfect you have to laugh!” They sit, weeping with laughter, until her friend wipes her eyes with her handkerchief. “Dear, oh dear. We really should sit and laugh at trees more often.”

This scene made me think of a quote by Rachel Carson: “Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find resources of strength that will endure as long as life lasts.” Jesus spent the last free moments of his life in a garden. Perhaps the beauty he found there helped him access the resources of strength he needed to face the suffering that was to come. When we are tired or struggling, we should go outside and contemplate the sky, the trees, and the plants that surround us, for the kingdom of God is closer to us than we think.

Sowers Needed; Reaping Not Required

We have heard Jesus’ parables so many times over the years that we tend to believe we already understand their message. For example, we believe the parable of the sower and the seed is telling us to let the word of God take root in us. That’s true as far as it goes, but in this week’s retreat at Mount St. Scholastica, Fr. Eugene Hensell proposed another lesson of this parable: Our task as disciples is to be sowers of the seed and let God take care of the harvest. How different our lives would be if we simply did our work without basing our self-worth on the outcome!

If our task as disciples of Jesus is simply to spread the good news, it bears considering how we should go about doing that. After all, not everyone has the skills or opportunity to be a preacher. Jesus gives us a hint: “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another” (Jn 13:35). Francis of Assisi is even more clear: “Preach the Gospel at all times. If necessary, use words.” Our acts of kindness and compassion speak more loudly than words about the good news: There is another way to live than to measure our days based on wealth, success, fame, productivity, and competition. When we act lovingly, we proclaim that we are rooted in God’s ways, with the freedom that comes from letting God take it from there.

It appears that Jesus’ parables have more to teach us than meets the eye, even after a lifetime of listening to them.

Benedictine Timesucks

I recently learned that 1 billion hours of videos are viewed each day on YouTube, and 400 hours of new content are uploaded each minute of every day. Most people find it easy to get caught up in a loop of watching video after video, which is known as a “timesuck” (an activity that sucks up your time).

Someone observing the Benedictine way of life would likely identify liturgy of the hours, lectio divina (praying with scripture), work, and sharing the common table as timesucks. What is the difference between watching videos and these activities? Through the centuries, those seeking God have identified prayer, work, and communal life as avenues for transformation, for putting on the mind of Christ. To be sure, some content on YouTube is educational, inspirational, and even transformative, but in general people watch videos for entertainment. It’s usually a solitary activity that does not lead to communion with God and others.

St. Benedict valued moderation and balance. If he were living today, I imagine he would allow his monks to watch videos that lead deeper into the heart of God. However, I believe he would also counsel us to monitor our activities to ensure that we are sucked into God’s way of passing time—by creating, being in relationship with others, and just being—instead of getting sucked into the distraction offered by the vast world of media available to us today.

All Are Welcome

Yesterday it was cool enough to sit on the patio outside the dining room for breakfast. Sr. Micaela noted a straggly purple petunia growing out of a crack in the sidewalk, and Sr. Susan Barber murmured, “All are welcome.”

I’ve heard it said that weeds are commonly defined as plants that are growing in a place where they are not desired. If that is the case, the word “weed” is not in God’s vocabulary, because God loves and desires all that God has created.

Unfortunately, some people view other human beings as weeds—being in a place where they are not desired—when they seek asylum in the United States because of economic hardship or political or religious persecution. Sometimes these immigrants are tolerated if they stay out of sight and perform difficult work, such as slaughtering and dressing livestock or picking fruit and vegetables. If they stray outside certain areas, however, they are plucked up by the roots and tossed out to survive as best they can (or not).

We who are made in God’s image need to adopt God’s vocabulary, which includes such words as “welcome,” “share,” “compassion,” and “serve.” Phrases such as “this is mine,” “get out,” “you’re not one of us” and “there’s not enough for you” are incomprehensible to God, who said, “The stranger who resides with you shall be to you as the native among you, and you shall love him as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt; I am the lord your God” (Lv 19:34). In other words, God says: “Repeat after me: ‘All are welcome in this place.’”