Giving Without Expectation

My niece, Emma, has returned to Kansas after finishing law school in California and is in the process of setting up a new apartment, so I offered to let her look through several boxes of kitchenware I’ve had in storage since moving out of my house two years ago. She took about a third of the items, including her grandma’s 1958 Betty Crocker cookbook and teakettle.

It tugged at my heartstrings to give away some of the beautiful and well-loved items I had collected and inherited over many years. They triggered happy memories, and I hope they will now create new memories for Emma as they become part of the fabric of her life.

The experience made me reflect on what we pass on to the next generation. Whether it is our own wisdom or our possessions that we offer, those who come after us will take what they find useful or beautiful and integrate it into their own lives. They aren’t replicating our lives, so they won’t take everything, but they will take the thread of wisdom and beauty we offer and spin it in new directions, as will their children and their children’s children. In this way, in the midst of the unfolding of new life, we all remain connected—those who have gone before and those who will follow. The key is to offer what we have and then let go of how it will or will not be used, without trying to control the outcome.

A Journey Impossible to Accomplish Alone

One of the truths understood by St. Benedict is that living in community is necessary because it enables us to encounter the presence of God in each other and have companionship on life’s journey. Community also serves to wear down our rough edges, but at least when it comes to the friendships we form, the poet David Whyte suggests that learning to amend our faults is not the primary purpose of these relationships:

“The ultimate touchstone of friendship is not improvement, neither of the other nor of the self. The ultimate touchstone is witness, the privilege of having been seen by someone and the equal privilege of being granted the sight of the essence of another, to have walked with them and to have believed in them, and sometimes just to have accompanied them for however brief a span, on a journey impossible to accomplish alone.” (From the book Consolations: The Solace, Nourishment, and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words)

In community life, more opportunities exist to have our essence seen by the people with whom we share housing and ministries. As I prepare to move to the monastery and live with a different group of sisters, I am thankful for the gracious accompaniment of the sisters who have lived in the Marywood house with me these past two years. I am aware that living together, although sometimes challenging, is a privilege and a sacred activity on this journey that is impossible to accomplish alone. The companions God gives us, whether we walk together for long stretches or for just a short time, are a blessing.

Making a Move

By my count I have moved to a new residence 12 times since I graduated in college 34 years ago, and I am about to make another move from Marywood, our formation house, to the monastery. Although part of me longs for the security of staying in one place, I take comfort in knowing I am in sync with the universe, because science tells us that movement is what life is about. The universe has been unfolding for billions of years, and like the universe, I am unfinished; my story is not complete.

Physical moves are not absolutely necessary to an unfolding story, but they do introduce elements of newness—new neighbors, new surroundings, a new job, new routines—that keep us from becoming complacent. Such moves also provide deadlines for evaluating which possessions we have outgrown or no longer require so we can pass them on to others, allowing us to live more lightly on the earth.

Although moves can be stressful, tiring, and challenging, they are a sign that I am a part of what God is in the process of creating, and that is both exciting and humbling. As Ralph Abernathy said, “I don’t know what the future may hold, but I know who holds the future.”

Ten Simple Words

This past weekend, I attended a conference on “Christianity as Evolutionary Faith,” based on the insights of Teilhard de Chardin. I will be pondering the sophisticated concepts and theological implications that were presented for a long time. Initially, though, what spoke to me most was a simple chant we prayed together, consisting of just ten words:

I am here.

I am with you.

We are one.

How would our lives change if we imagined God saying those words to us every time we prayed? For one thing, awareness of the presence of God would free us from fear. We also would stop pursuing money, success, fame, and perfection, because knowing God is with us would mean we no longer need those things to justify or fulfill ourselves. The implications of being one with God include acting as God would act, with love, mercy, and compassion. Furthermore, if we imagined ourselves saying those words back to God, we would automatically become more present to our Creator, deepening our relationship and claiming our identity as persons united in the body of Christ.

But there’s more. How would our lives changed if every time we prayed with others, we imagined saying to them, “I am here/I am with you/We are one,” and hearing them say those words to us? Are we willing to be that present and connected to others? How are we going to treat others if we are indeed one?

What if we said to the earth, “I am here/I am with you/We are one” and heard the earth say it back to us? Would we be more present to the water we drink, the air we breathe, and the food we drink, and take better care of God’s creation?

Ten simple one-syllable words can foster a profound change in our lives. The question is whether we have the courage to pray them.

Love and the Quality of Our Attention

Recently I came across an intriguing definition of love by J.D. McClatchy: “Love is the quality of attention we pay to things.” If love is equated to attention, then the people and things to which we give our full attention indicate to us what we most love.

It stands to reason, then, that if I truly love God, I will take some time each day to give God my full attention. I thought of that today when I was tempted to put off my personal prayer/lectio time to attend to an editing deadline. I knew if I didn’t give God my full attention before starting work, it wasn’t likely to happen later in the day, so I set aside my anxieties about work for a half hour of prayer. That time apart gave me a calmness and confidence that comes from being aware of God’s love, which grounded me in the midst of a busy day.

Someone once said, “What we love to do, we find time to do.” I don’t usually think in terms of loving prayer, but I do miss it when I don’t make time for it, so perhaps I’m on the pathway to a fuller expression of love of the God who always makes time for me.

Daring to Be Ourselves

An acquaintance recently told me that it will feel odd to start calling me “Sister Jennifer” after I make my first profession, and I responded that it will take some getting used to for me as well. Yet, as the poet May Sarton wrote, “We have to dare to be ourselves, however frightening or strange that self may prove to be.” It’s a bit disconcerting to discover that religious life feels like such a natural fit for me when I thought I closed the book on a monastic vocation 30+ years ago. What other avenues have I chosen not to explore because they don’t fit into the image of the person I would prefer to be, instead of the person I actually am?

It can be unsettling to discover new things about ourselves: “I didn’t know I could get that angry.” “I always thought introverts weren’t good at public speaking, but it turns out I’m pretty good at it.” “I was always afraid of dogs until I met Lucky.” Letting go of an old image of ourselves is part of the process of dying to self, and it’s a sign of growing wisdom and humility when we increasingly accept who we are and dare to be ourselves, no matter how surprising or eccentric our true self turns out to be!

Succumbing to Slowness

Technology is a gift in many ways, but by hastening the speed with which we can heat our food, locate information, and contact each other, it also has eroded our patience. Without fully realizing it, we have come to expect instantaneous results in all aspects of our lives, including our life in the Spirit. Why shouldn’t God reveal all things to us now? What’s the point of waiting?

As I look back at my two years of initial formation as a Benedictine, it is clear that I would not have been able to grasp all the wisdom of scripture and the Rule of St. Benedict had it been poured into me on day one of my postulant year. As gardeners prepare soil to receive the seed, we must prepare ourselves to receive wisdom and insight. How do we do that? Through the infinitely slow process of living with others, working, and praying day in and day out. There are no shortcuts, and the process continues until our last breath.

We can choose whether to view this process as frustrating (because we want instantaneous wisdom) or engaging (because it gives us the satisfaction of building relationships, learning, and enjoying life as a human on earth). The speed that technology provides is often a blessing, but to reach our full potential as human beings, we need trust the wisdom inherent in the slow, slow ways of God.

Enjoy Every Sandwich

In the past month, I have known two people who died suddenly—my cousin Elaine in a car crash, and the choir director from my former parish in St. Louis, Mary Ellen, from a brain hemorrhage. It is disorienting to realize that I will never see them on this earth again, and disquieting to think that I might experience such a sudden death myself. What is the best way to respond to such reminders of our mortality?

When David Letterman asked the musician Warren Zevon if his diagnosis of terminal cancer had taught him anything about life and death, Zevon responded, “How much you’re supposed to enjoy every sandwich.” We can remind ourselves daily to enjoy every ear of corn dripping with butter, every blooming flower, every chance to visit with a friend. When we give our full attention to what each day brings, we are less likely to have regrets when death approaches.

In her song Who Among You, Delores Dufner, OSB, offers another perspective in contemplating death: “We would run ‘til day is done / ‘til our life on earth is past / walk together to death’s door / find with Christ our home at last.” Accompanying each other to death’s door is a comfort and a gift we can offer each other, and the prospect of being at home with Christ can help us take the final step over the threshold.

The last song Mary Ellen led at St. Cronan before her death was God is Calling Me. God calls us in some way every day, whether it is to enjoy every sandwich or cross over from death into new life. Our task is simply to respond wholeheartedly to each day’s call, whatever it may be.

Celebrating Our Uniqueness

On July 8, the Mount community celebrated the 50th anniversary of Sr. Helen Mueting’s monastic profession. In her homily at the Jubilee mass, Sr. Esther Fangman noted that the people in Jesus’ home town didn’t know what to make of him because he didn’t fit their expectations of a person from Nazareth. Just so, in 50 years of monastic life, God has molded Sr. Helen in ways that might be surprising to others and even to herself. When we say yes to having a relationship with God, one thing we know for sure is that life will unfold in unexpected ways.

Sr. Esther also pointed out that Sr. Helen is unique in the way God has molded her. No one else has her exact combination of faithfulness, teaching skills, love for the earth, and dedication to advocacy for justice. We can be inspired by her fidelity, hard work, and creativity, but we will exemplify them in different ways in our own lives. As Mary Jo Koch noted in her book Flight Plans, “Not all birds fly or sing or build nests. Yet all birds share one feature: feathers.” Similarly, not all Benedictines are teachers or gardeners, but we all seek God through stability, obedience, and fidelity to the monastic life. I am grateful to Sr. Helen for being a model of fidelity to this way of life as I anticipate the day I will make my first profession.