Keeping Our Humanity Alive

Last night I had the opportunity to listen to Sr. Norma Pimentel, MJ, the 2019 Fellin lecturer, as she told us stories about the Central American refugees she serves in the Rio Grande Valley. I was able to picture what it was like for her community to try to serve 2000 exhausted, hungry, unwashed people in a church hall without showers or beds. I imagined the pain experienced by a refugee whose hand was deformed after she used it to shield her daughter from a blow from a machete. I considered what it would be like to try to flee destitution in my homeland, only to face more shakedowns for money in exchange for even the possibility of being admitted to the United States.

At the end of Sr. Norma’s presentation, a student asked simply, “How can we help?” That is our response when we hear the stories of people who are suffering, whether firsthand or as relayed by someone else. That is why we must provide opportunities for people to encounter the stories of others who aren’t part of their day-to-day world. That is why we must remove the barriers of wealth and privilege that prevent us from seeing the poor and suffering among us, as the rich man in Jesus’ story failed to see Lazarus languishing outside the gates of his mansion.

How can we help?

• We can go to Catholic Charities and offer to help with resettlement of refugee families.

• We can strike up conversations with people of other cultures whom we encounter in the airport or in line at the grocery store.

• We can create art that helps us connect with the experience of the poor, such as the statue “Angels Unaware” by Timothy Schmaltz in St. Peter’s Square that depicts a group of migrants and refugees from different cultural and racial backgrounds and from diverse historic periods who are huddled together on a raft. Within this diverse crowd of people, angel wings emerge from the center, suggesting that the sacred is to be found in the stranger, in this case, in refugees and migrants.

•  We can read stories about people to gain an understanding of their life; as Thomas Page McBee has noted, “…readers [are]…used to searching for connections with strangers.... Reading is for the brave among us. It teaches us how to love people we don't know and will probably never meet.... We see that everyone is part of the human condition, even and especially us.”

Holocaust survivor Helen Fagin says, “…to surrender to a story is to keep our very humanity alive.” The inhumane treatment of Central Americans seeking asylum in the United States shows that our humanity is slipping away from us. We must wake up, remove the barriers of comfort, self-preoccupation, and indifference we have erected, and search for connections with strangers through their stories so we can welcome them as Christ. They will return the favor to us by helping us see the Christ light within ourselves.

Defending God's Dwelling Place Inside Us

All Christians must grapple with the following Scripture passage at one time or another: “But I say to you, love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your heavenly Father, for he makes his sun to rise on the bad and the good, and causes rain to fall on the just and the unjust” (Mk 5:45).

It just seems so unfair, even infuriating, that the bad and the unjust should receive God’s blessings. Why would God do this? For one thing, people are more likely to truly reform their lives when they are graced with unexpected kindness than with anticipated punishment. For another, we create our own experience of the world through our actions, so people who are greedy, proud, power hungry, and exploitative are creating their own cage of emptiness, isolation, and fear without any help from God or the rest of us.

By its very definition, inclusivity cannot be partial. As German theologian Dorothee Soelle wrote, “There is a temptation to affirm life only partially, for only a little way, only under certain circum-stances. He [Jesus] puts me to shame—my limited, impatient, partly superficial affirmation. He teaches me an infinite, a revolutionary ‘yes’ which doesn’t leave out anything or anybody at all.”

Etty Hillesum, who died in Auschwitz during WWII, had more reason than most to hate her enemies. Her response to her situation is instructive; instead of giving in to hatred, she wrote, “And that is all we can manage these days and also all that really matters: that we safeguard that little piece of You, God, in ourselves. And perhaps in others as well. …we must help You and defend Your dwelling place inside us to the last.”

Safeguarding that little piece of God, God’s dwelling place inside us, means rejecting hate out of the understanding that no one can be excluded from God’s love. Should we take the necessary steps to protect ourselves, others, and the earth from the actions of people who would do us harm? Absolutely. Should we fight to keep unscrupulous people from having access to positions of power? To do so is imperative. Should we hate our enemies? If we want to be children of our heavenly Father, then our answer must be a revolutionary “No.”

Autumn's Contemplative Shadow

Autumn is a rather schizophrenic season. It is filled with activities, such as church and school fundraisers, sporting events, leaf raking, Halloween parties, and Thanksgiving gatherings. At the same time, it also calls us to contemplation as daylight lessens, gardens peter out, we commemorate All Saints and All Souls day, and Advent beckons us to prayer. Typically, our activities crowd out contemplation. Contemplation might even be considered the shadow of the season of autumn, summarized by St. Benedict in the following line from the Rule: “Day by day, remind yourself that you are going to die.” Most of us aren’t ready to face that, but it pops up nonetheless in our Halloween costumes and Day of the Dead decorations: skeletons, mummies, ghosts, decaying zombies, and the like.

If we want to ensure that contemplation doesn’t get swallowed up by autumn activities and holiday celebrations, we need to literally make time for it by putting it on our calendar. On the Feast of All Souls, schedule a contemplative walk in a cemetery. Create an altar in your prayer space with pictures and mementos of your loved ones who have died, and offer a prayer there daily. Keep one Sunday in your calendar blank each month for a Sabbath day of rest and holy leisure. Make a reservation now for an Advent retreat.

As with creativity, we tend to have romantic notions about contemplation, believing that it can’t be planned or scheduled. Although we cannot command creativity or a spirit of contemplation to appear at will, we can honor its significance and invite it to grace our lives by giving it our most precious gift—our time and attention.

An Ornithological Cloud of Witnesses

On Saturday during midday prayer in St. Lucy Chapel, several ravens gathered at one of the small windows at the very top of the chapel—a meeting of the ornithological prioress and her monastic council, perhaps. (Because the raven was so significant in the life of St. Benedict, it seems natural to assign these birds monastic roles.) Two of the ravens engaged in a very animated conversation; while facing each other, one member of the council cawed mightily and the prioress responded. This went on for a while, but apparently the council member didn’t like what the prioress had to say, because she deliberately turned her back on her. The conversation continued for a while, with the council member continuing her complaint and the prioress responding to the turned back of her companion, until the aggrieved council member flew off. The prioress pecked in frustration at the window, as if to say, “See what I have to put up with!” before she and the other council members also flew away. As this drama was unfolding, our prayer leader was reading, “Therefore, since we have so great a cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us also lay aside every encumbrance and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us….” (Hebrews 12:1).

Perhaps this ornithological Benedictine “cloud of witnesses” that surrounded us on Saturday was showing us the importance of laying aside our own preferences, being willing to compromise, and staying engaged in conversation even in the midst of heated disagreements. If we are to persevere in running the race that is set before us—that is, living out our vocation to love God and others during our lifetime—we will need the challenge, encouragement, and patience of our companions. Saint Benedict knew that very few people are strong enough to travel the road alone, as hermits, which is why he wrote his Rule for how to live together in a monastic community. In the midst of its challenges, life in community teaches us how to recognize Christ in our midst and how to persevere. Ultimately, it is a “caws” for celebration!

Faith in God's Timing

Generally, I find that summer doesn’t leave quickly enough to suit me. This year autumn will arrive in the northern hemisphere at 2:50 am on Monday, September 23, and summer is clinging to 90° temperatures and high humidity until the bitter end.

Weather is a great teacher in the school of humility, because we can’t control it. We must take it as it comes, whether we like it or not, and make the best of it. There is no doubt that God created weather, because God’s timing, too, is often inexplicable. Sometimes the hardest thing about aligning ourselves with God’s will is not what we are asked to do, but when. You want me to start a new job now? Can’t I wait and join the Hunger Coalition Task Force next year? You can’t really expect me to handle another loss this year, can you?

God’s timing is one of the most mysterious things about our Creator. However, if we are indeed all connected through Christ, then we have to trust that the timing of what we are invited to do is part of a great cosmic tapestry. We can’t always appreciate the artistry when we examine it up close in our own lives, but in stepping back and looking at the bigger picture, we can see that the timing of our invitations and responses is a critical part of the weave of the Body of Christ.

Scullinary Aspirations

When was the last time you heard a youngster say, “I want to be a scullion when I grow up!” or overhear an adult admit, “I’m a doctor, but my dream is to be a scullion!”

We’re not likely to hear those word cross anyone’s lips, because a scullion is a servant who does menial work in a kitchen, such as washing dishes—a lowly person. According to the A.Word.A.Day Web site, the word is “probably from Old French escouvillon (dishcloth, mop), diminutive of escouve (broom), from Latin scopa (broom) or from scullery (a small kitchen), from Old French escuele (dish), from Latin scutella, diminutive of scutra (pan). Earliest documented use: 1483.”

Although many people view cleaning as an unwelcome chore that should be done by people without education, privilege, or ambition, St. Benedict had a different perspective. He did not view kitchen work as menial; in fact, he devoted an entire chapter in his Rule to “Kitchen Servers of the Week.” St. Benedict saw kitchen work as a golden opportunity to practice humility by serving others with love. Like Jesus, he saw lowliness as a virtue to be cultivated, because it deflates the ego and instills gratitude for our blessings of sustenance and shelter.

In the monastery, all those who are able take turns washing dishes or doing other “obediences.” I’m grateful to the sisters and our employees and volunteers who are faithful to their tasks; it is a true pleasure to live in a place where soap dispensers are always filled, compost buckets and trash cans are regularly emptied, floors are not sticky, and clean dishes and utensils are always at hand. In the monastery, once a scullion, always a scullion—thanks be to God!

How to Please God

In Psalm 65 we hear the speaker say to God, “To you must vows be fulfilled, you who hear prayers.” Apparently the psalmist believes that our relationship with God entails a transaction: God hears our prayers, and we make vows that we must fulfill.

We don’t “owe” God for the gift of life and other blessings we are given. God does not demand a certain percentage of our time or our goods in exchange for favors provided. However, Jesus told us how we can please God, if we wish to show our gratitude: by loving God with all our heart, mind, and soul (which is really another gift to us, to join in the love triangle of the Trinity), and by taking care of our neighbor (with its gift of seeing God's face). People often ask “Where is God?” in times of tragedy, when God is present in our desire and efforts to provide assistance and companionship.

May our prayers—evident both in our wholehearted attentiveness to God and our actions on behalf of our neighbors—rise like incense before the giver of all gifts.

Me and My Shadow

In my new formation class on the Desert Mothers, Sr. Cecilia asked the question, “What are your thoughts on what these desert dwellers could possibly have to teach us in the 21st century?”As it turns out, they have much to teach us about living simply, the need for silence and solitude, and keeping our primary focus on God. Perhaps most importantly for us today, however, is that they teach us how to struggle with temptation, which today we often call our shadow—the thoughts, feelings, and impulses within us that create fear and shame and that we thus try to bury. What we fail to appreciate is that we cannot throw light without creating a shadow. Instead of viewing our shadow as a teacher, however, we generally choose to project our own faults and failures onto others, which often leads to acts of scapegoating and exclusion.

Someone once told me that if a monster is chasing you in a dream, you should stop running, wheel around to face the creature, and shout “Why are you chasing me?” It is likely the monster will respond, “You tell me: it’s your dream!” The desert mothers and fathers sought seclusion to avoid the distractions that keep us from facing our inner monsters and our role in creating them.

We are living in a world in which people don’t know how to face their inner darkness, and they are suppressing it so thoroughly that it is exploding into consciousness through gun violence, fear of “the other” (people of different races, cultures, religions, and sexual orientation), domestic violence, and addiction. The desert mothers and fathers can give us much-needed guidance in how to face our shadow and work with it to become more whole (holy) and compassionate people.

Creating God in Our Own Image

Voltaire once said, “In the beginning God created man in His own image, and man has been trying to repay the favor ever since.” Why do we try to cast God in our own image? We could call it a failure of imagination or a failure to listen to the revelation of God through creation, scripture, and our lives. Most likely, though, it is an effort to control God. If God thinks like us and acts like us, then we know what we are dealing with. As Paul said in the letter to the Colossians, we need to put aside the “greed that is idolatry”—the worship of idols that, we believe, will satisfy our greed for wealth, success, praise, and security because we create these idols ourselves and thus can control them.

The true God, on the other hand, is mysterious and unpredictable. We do know some things about God because they have been revealed to us over and over throughout human history: God is merciful, compassionate, loving, trustworthy, and creative. However, because God is continually making all things new, God also constantly surprises us with new invitations, new companions, and new revelations that challenge our circumscribed, narrow understanding of what life with God is meant to be.

It is very human to want certainty regarding how God will act and what the future will hold. Such a desire is futile, of course. However, we can pray for the openness and trust displayed by American civil rights activist Ralph Abernathy, who said, “I don’t know what the future may hold, but I know who hold the future.”

Life Is No Coincidence

I recently came upon a new word coined by Donald Drysdale: Godincidence (definition: not a coincidence, but caused by God). Not everything is caused by God, of course, because we have been given the free will to make choices, and those choices have consequences. However, I do believe that God uses whatever we encounter—in ourselves, in others, and in the world—to call us to fuller life in the Spirit. In this respect, everything is capable of leading us to wholeness and holiness.

As Christine Valtners Paintner observes,

“Monastic spirituality calls us to see everything and everyone—including ourselves—as holy.  The tools of the kitchen are to be regarded as sacred vessels. The places in our heart where we wrestle are to be embraced with kindness. The person who irritates us or makes us feel fearful is a window into how God is at work in our lives. Being a monk in the world means that there are no more divisions between sacred and secular.”

This attitude can lead us from despair to hope; the deeper the shadow we face, whether within ourselves (addiction, feelings of unworthiness, or pride) or in the world (disregard for life, unbridled greed, racism, or misogyny), the more urgent the invitation to face our wounds and misconceptions and choose that which gives life—which is the true “Godincidence.”

Listening to the Earth

St. Benedict instructed us to “Listen and incline the ear of your heart,” but what should our listening encompass? Most of us probably think first of listening to God, and then perhaps to one another. However, it is becoming urgent for us to take time to listen to the earth, which, as part of God’s creation, carries its own wisdom. Consider the following verse from Christine Valtners Paintner:

Beyond my plans
for how to spend the day,
I hear the great breathing
of the sea.

We get so caught up in our human agendas that we forget to listen to the sea, which is a living, breathing organism. What does the sea have to tell us? After Hurricane Dorian blew through the Bahamas, someone posted a picture of a garbage-strewn beach and said, “When the planet is tired of being sick, she vomits all the ocean trash and pollutants back on solid ground.” Likewise, the reduction in the number of bees and butterflies, the increased number of earthquakes in areas where fracking occurs, and the increase in 100- and 500-year floods have something to tell us, if we have the good sense to listen.

Autumn is approaching. During this season of quieting within, may we all include some time to go outside and listen to earth’s wisdom.

In the Twinkling of an Eye

In his first letter to the Corinthians, St. Paul says, “Behold, I tell you a mystery. We shall not all fall asleep, but we will all be changed, in an instant, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet.” As we now know, we don’t have to wait until the last trumpet to be changed in an instant, because science tells us that approximately 300 million cells die in our body every minute, and they are replaced at a rate of about 2 million per second! Thus we are constantly being changed in an instant, in the twinkling of an eye!

How do we respond to this remarkable phenomenon? Perhaps we could take a cue from Sr. Dorothy Heideman, in a story relayed by Sr. Susan Barber. Sr. Dorothy asked a visitor where she lived, and the visitor replied, “In Colorado,” and pointed west. Sr. Dorothy said, “I used to live over there” (pointing the the north), “and now I live over here” (pointing to Dooley Center in the south). With an elaborate shrug, she then said, “Whatever!”

We can respond to life’s changes with an eye roll and apathy (muttering “whatever”), or we can greet it with a sense of trust in and excitement about the new things God is doing (exclaiming “whatEVER!”). However, our very bodies are designed to give us practice in letting go of old life and welcoming new life; we would be wise to embrace that ever-present lesson so we are prepared for whatever is to come after our earthly body becomes humus, the humble building block for yet another form of life in God’s creation.

A Day of Rest

It seems somewhat ironic that the United States celebrates Labor Day as a holiday, a day off from our labor. However, we cannot hold up the importance of our work and the need for just labor laws without also considering the importance of our time for rest.

Why is rest so important? It is not just so we can function more effectively at our jobs. No, when we work all the time, we tend to lose our perspective, believing that our lives are in our own hands and forgetting that everything is a gift from God. As it says in Exodus 31: 12-14, God said to Moses, “Say to the Israelites, ‘You must observe my Sabbaths. This will be a sign between me and you for the generations to come, so you may know that I am the Lord, who makes you holy. Observe the Sabbath, because it is holy to you.’”

Why do we rest? So that we may know that God is God, and we are not. To cultivate the humility that keeps us from the pitfalls of pride. To have the time to reflect on the needs of others who don’t have jobs that pay a living wage or whose health is endangered by the work they do.

May we all enjoy a balance of work and rest, of prayer and play, of enjoying the goodness of the Lord and acting on behalf of those on the margins of the good life.