Hidden Treasures

In one of the Spring morning prayers from Prayers for a Planetary Pilgrim, Fr. Edward Hays includes this line: “May I find the countless hidden treasures that you have scattered throughout this day.”

Thinking of each day as a treasure hunt prepared by God may seem unusual, but in a way, the psalms encourage this attitude. For example, Psalm 67 says, “The earth has yielded its fruits; God, our God, has blessed us.” Psalm 145 notes, “You open your hand and satisfy the desire of every living thing.” Psalm 112 observes, “Lavishly he gives to the poor; his generosity shall endure forever.” Indeed, the treasures God provides don’t seem to be hidden at all!

Nonetheless, often we do not have the vision to see some of the treasures scattered throughout our day. As J. R. R. Tolkien said in The Lord of the Rings, “All that is gold does not glitter.” People who quietly and competently go about doing their jobs do not glitter; does it occur to us to treasure them? When we are grumbling about the need to rake leaves, can we treasure the oxygen, fruit, and shade that trees provide? When people annoy us, can we treasure them for teaching us patience?

One way to sharpen our eyes to the hidden treasures scattered throughout our day is to perform an examen at night. When we make it a practice to reflect on a series of questions at the end of the day, such as, “How was Christ present to me today? What was I most and least grateful for today? How did God speak to me today?” then we are more likely to discover treasures that we overlooked because we didn’t notice them or because they were disguised as challenges.

Finally, as you go about your daily treasure hunt, don’t forget to peek into the most overlooked place of all: within yourself. It may be God’s favorite hiding place, because most people seldom think to look there! Look within and you are likely to find an undiscovered wealth of fortitude, courage, creativity, and resilience—enough for yourself, with plenty to share. You will also find God’s most precious gift of all there—Christ who dwells within us. We have been blessed with great hidden treasure, indeed!

Unique and Included in the Body of Christ

In a recent interview in The Sun magazine, sociologist Mark Moffett noted, “…people have the most self-esteem when they achieve a balance between their sense of uniqueness and their sense of inclusion. We want to be different enough to be special, yet similar enough to feel we belong.”

We don’t often think of Jesus as being a psychologist, but he nonetheless had a brilliant understanding of this ideal balance, likely gained by reflecting on his own life. At his baptism, he heard the voice of God say, “You are my beloved son.” He was uniquely loved by God, and as such, was included in the circle of those God loves. Through the nudging of the Holy Spirit, he came to understand that this applied not just to him but to everyone: prodigals, prostitutes, and tax collectors are uniquely loved by God. Women, Samaritans, and lepers are included in the circle of God’s kingdom.

Jesus proclaimed his unique love for each of us when he said, “I have called you friends.” We love all our friends, but not each in the same way. Just so, Christ loves each of us uniquely. Jesus also expanded our understanding of who is included in God’s kingdom by using bread and wine to represent his body and blood: all who eat and drink of it become part of the body of Christ. It was a more expansive covenant than the one God established with the Israelites; now not just one tribe was included in the covenant, but anyone, Jew or gentile, who followed Jesus’ command to love. Thus, in Christ we are provided both an understanding of our uniqueness and a sense of inclusion and belonging.

In The Sun interview, Mark Moffett also noted, “There’s no question that the human ability to be around strangers whom we nevertheless see as ‘one of us’ is a pretty unique trait, just as important to us as our opposable thumbs or our upright stance.” It is certainly an essential ability for those who wish to live in the kingdom of God, where “the stranger” is always welcomed and included in God’s ever-expanding circle of friends, regardless of race, creed, gender, sexual orientation, occupation, country of origin, or status.

The Radical Call of Christ

Jesus was totally rad.

“Rad” is a slang word meaning extraordinary; wonderful; hip; cool. In hindsight, we can see that Jesus was all those things. But “rad” also means “one who advocates fundamental or far-reaching change or reform.” What fundamental or far-reaching reform does Jesus invite us to?

• Loving God with all our heart, mind, and soul, which means prioritizing God in our life

• Seeing Christ in the hungry, the homeless, the sick, the stranger, and the imprisoned, which means putting aside judgment

• Serving others, which means practicing humility and selflessness

• Forgiving others, which means acknowledging and imitating God’s boundless mercy in our own lives

As noted in A.Word.A.Day by Anu Garg, the word “rad” is a shortened version of “radical,” which comes from the Latin radix (root). Ultimately it is from the Indo-European word wrad- (branch, root), which also gave us radish, root, rutabaga, and eradicate.

Apparently, it is totally rad to eat radishes, rutabagas, and other root vegetables. It is also radical to be rooted in Christ, from whom we gain the nourishment and grounding we need to eradicate our preoccupation with self and branch out to share the fruit of the kingdom of God with others.

Takeaways from Sightings of the Risen Christ

According to the Gospel of Mark, after his resurrection, Jesus appeared first to Mary Magdalene, who went and told his companions that she had seen the Lord. However, “When they heard that he was alive and had been seen by her, they did not believe.” After this, “He appeared in another form to two of them walking along their way to the country. They returned and told the others; but they did not believe them either.” Finally, Jesus appeared to the eleven “and rebuked them for their unbelief and hardness of heart because they had not believed those who saw him after he had been raised.”

It is interesting that the resurrected Jesus chose to appear first to a woman and to two country folk, who were not held to be of much account in their culture, rather than to his inner circle of disciples. Did he appear to them first because he wanted to affirm the worth of those who are often overlooked? Did Jesus know that Mary Magdalene and the two on their way to Emmaus had more open hearts that made it possible for them to recognize him in an altered form? Did he know they had the courage to tell their story to others, even though it was likely they wouldn’t be believed?

Although we may never know the answers to these questions, we can nonetheless glean several lessons from Jesus’ postresurrection appearances. First, do not discount unlikely messengers; second, trust your heart rather than your expectations; and third, have the courage to do what Jesus asks: “Go into the whole world and proclaim the gospel to every creature.”

In Grateful Memory

One aspect of my role this week as acolyte at evening prayers is to pray for community members by name on their death anniversary. Looking ahead, I noticed that today is the death anniversary of Sr. Mary Mel L’Ecuyer, and I didn’t know how to pronounce her last name. I asked my dining companions last night at supper and was told it is pronounced “liquer.” This morning at breakfast I commented that I had learned how to pronounce Sr. Mary Mel’s last name, and Sr. Bettina Tobin nodded and said, “Yes—‘leck'-wee-ay.’” I said I heard it was “liquer,” and Sr. Bettina said she was in Sr. Mary Mel’s class at the Mount Academy and “leck'-wee-ay” is the way she herself had pronounced it. “Leck'-wee-ay” it is!

The Benedictine Order is the oldest institution in Western civilization except for the Church itself, so it stands to reason that it has a long memory, stretching back to the lifetime of Sts. Benedict and Scholastica (480 to 547 AD). I’m glad to be part of a community that holds its former members in grateful memory. In addition to praying for deceased sisters every day and keeping a votive candle lit by their picture for a month after their death, as well as praying for them on their yearly death anniversary, we keep a book on permanent display in the main hallway of the monastery that contains a short biography of each deceased sister. We still have much to learn from the way they lived as followers of Jesus in the Benedictine tradition.

I suspect it no longer matters to Sr. Mary Mel how her last name is pronounced, because she has shed her earthly persona and has new life in Christ. Still, pronouncing her name correctly seems to be part of the way we honor the spark of Christ that was within her during her time among us.

Future generations, please take note: My last name is pronounced “hauling,” not “hailing”!  

Be Glad and Rejoice

When I looked out the window today, April 17—almost a month since the spring equinox—I saw a light layer of snow clinging to tree branches and roof shingles. It reminded me of a statement by Peter Gzowki: “We need spring, we need it desperately, and usually, we need it before God is willing to give it to us.”

Of course the mass readings today include this verse from Psalm 118: “This is the day the Lord has made; let us be glad and rejoice in it.”

Most of us are more likely to rejoice at seeing snow at the beginning of winter, not a month into spring. Winter is when snow is supposed to appear, not when the tulips and dogwood trees are blooming and the bees are out seeking pollen. Many of us are grumbling about another gray day and the need to retrieve our sweaters from storage. And so, because the day isn’t progressing according to our own plans and preferences, we judge it as second rate.

The person who wrote Psalm 118 was an early advocate of the power of positive thinking. From the moment we awaken, we can’t say with certainty how the day will unfold; what we do know is that at the present moment, we are alive and God is with us, whether the day brings us joys or trials or a mixture of both. The divine fullness as revealed in Christ includes both peace and suffering; when we are receptive to both, we grow in fullness ourselves. Therefore, we can trust that every day we draw breath is held in God’s hands and is a cause for gladness, whatever it might bring.

Today a Facebook friend in South Dakota who experienced a much greater snowfall than we did here in Atchison posted a picture of an evergreen tree covered in snow. Someone commented, “Beautiful!”

Rejoicing in this day God has made, I can affirm yes—yes, it is.

A Life of Receptivity and Gratitude

In today’s reading from the Rule of St. Benedict at morning prayer, the proper amount of drink is discussed; Benedict believes that half a bottle of wine a day for each monk is sufficient, but “where local circumstances dictate an amount much less than what is stipulated above, or even none at all, those who live there should bless God and not grumble.” In reflecting on this passage, Terrence Kardong, OSB, notes, “…there is a deeper asceticism that consists of accepting cheerfully whatever life presents.”

Sr. Alice Brentano, who died last week on Holy Saturday, was a skilled practitioner of this receptivity to what life presents. Because of her abiding trust in God, she accepted whatever happened with equanimity, and that translated into a calmness, cheerfulness, and nonjudgmental approach to life that was a great gift to her students, colleagues, and community. Despite the diminishment she experienced in her final years as a result of chronic health problems, she was grateful for the simple gifts of each new day of life—talking with family members, playing a game of cards with her beloved classmates, or enjoying pizza or ice cream.

Abraham Joshua Heschel once said, “When I was young, I admired clever people. Now that I am old, I admire kind people.” Throughout her life, Sr. Alice showed us the face of God through her gentleness and kindness. She helped ease the challenges of living together in community by following Paul’s advice in Colossians 3:12, 15: “Put on, then, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, heartfelt compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience…. And let the peace of Christ control your hearts, the peace into which you were also called in one body. And be thankful.”

Sr. Alice chose to put the following Scripture quote on her holy card: “I will never stop thanking God” (Ps. 34:1). We in turn will never stop thanking God for her life and faithfulness to her monastic call.

A Web of Belonging

 Humans first began participating in a world wide web on the morning God raised Jesus from the dead, as news of his resurrection spread from an angel to Mary of Magdalen to the disciples in Jerusalem to Jewish followers in outlying regions to gentiles and eventually throughout the entire globe. One can imagine the message spreading as in the children’s game of “telephone”: “Jesus is risen!” one person whispers urgently to another. “The breeze has arisen?” she responds. “No; JESUS IS RISEN!”

John tells us how seeing the risen Christ opened the eyes of the disciples to the fellowship made possible through Jesus’ resurrection: “…we proclaim to you the eternal life that was with the Father and was made visible to us—what we have seen and heard, we proclaim now to you, so that you too may have fellowship with us; for our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son, Jesus Christ. We are writing this so that our joy may be complete” (1 Jn 1: 3-4).

Jesus’ resurrection unveiled the web that connects all of us. He died to show God’s love for everyone, not just a chosen few. His resurrection promises new life for all people, not just his disciples or those of the Jewish faith or those who identify as Christian. God is inclusive in love, mercy, and forgiveness, and thus we all have a share in God’s kingdom.

That is but one aspect of the earthquake that happened when Jesus emerged from the tomb: we can no longer justifiably judge, exclude, enslave, exploit, or persecute others, because Jesus’ resurrection has made us all brothers and sisters in the body of Christ. Unfortunately, many humans still have myopia and cannot see that truth. Those of us whose eyes were opened to a new way of seeing when Jesus arose must work to strengthen the web that sustains us all by bringing glad tidings to the poor, healing the brokenhearted, proclaiming liberty to captives, giving sight to the blind, and letting the oppressed go free. We must continue to spread the good news that Christ lives and we live in Christ—all of us, without exception—for it is only when we all take our place at the table that our joy will be complete.

Honoring Grief Through Ritual

Although Jesus repeatedly told his disciples that he was going to suffer and be put to death, as far as we know, only two took him at his word: Thomas and Mary of Bethany. When Jesus announced that he would go back to Judea after receiving word that Lazarus was ill, most of the disciples protested, pointing out that the people there had just tried to stone him; Thomas alone said, “Let us go die with him.” Perhaps these words of solidarity offered Jesus the comfort of knowing that the spirit was willing even though the flesh was weak—for Thomas did indeed flee with the others after Jesus was arrested.

Mary of Bethany had a keener grasp of what awaited Jesus. She was deeply grieved about his impending death and expressed her sorrow not with words but with an extravagant gesture of love. By anointing his feet with costly perfume, she comforted him with her understanding of what he would endure and transformed a burial ritual into a rite that helped him prepare to die. Jesus did not try to assuage her grief by telling her that everything would be all right, as we tend to do in an attempt to comfort others; rather, he honored her sorrow by permitting her to perform the ritual and by entering into that liminal space between life and death with her.

Every Holy Week, it is difficult to recall the passion and death of Jesus, whom we also have come to love. It helps to remember that he carried the memory of Mary’ loving act of anointing with him as he endured scourging and crucifixion. We usually express our own sorrow at Jesus’ suffering and death at our Good Friday services through the ritual of kissing or bowing to the cross. Although we cannot gather in our churches this Good Friday because of the COVID-19 pandemic, we can still set aside time to sit with the cross and be united in prayer with all people in our world today who are carrying their own crosses of illness or impending death, isolation, and fear.

Walking, Walking, Walking

Jesus was closely connected to the earth. We know this because he was a walker; as Brian Doyle says, “Mostly what we see of the physical Christ in the Gospels…is the travelin’ man—walking, walking, walking, all over Judea….” People who walk are intimate with mud (which Jesus used as a healing agent) and dust (which he wrote in and washed off the feet of his disciples). People who walk move slowly enough to notice the growth of weeds and wheat and the behavior of sheep and shepherds (staples of Jesus’ parables).

We also know that Jesus was closely connected to the earth because he retreated to the desert, the mountains, and the sea when he needed time alone with God. He chose fruits of the earth, bread and wine, to become transfigured into his body and blood. He spent his last moments of precious freedom in a garden. He was hung on a tree and buried in a tomb hewn out of rock.

We who follow the way of Jesus must also be earthy people. During times of trouble, we can turn to nature for healing and consolation. In the face of our human failings, we can look to the wisdom of earth, which teaches us patience, faithfulness, acceptance of death, and the assurance of new life. When we get too full of ourselves, we can allow the awesome beauty and workings of the universe to teach us humility. We can remember that we are of the earth and to the earth we will return—which means that we will be held by God as God holds the earth that God created.

We are entering into Holy Week at the time of a pandemic. Although we can’t gather in churches, we can go outside and meditate in God’s earthly temple as we follow Jesus’ practice of walking, walking, walking on the path of beauty, sacrifice, death, and new life.

No Greater Love

In John 15:13, Jesus is quoted as saying, “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” Although some people such as police officers, fire fighters, military personnel, and health care providers who care for infectious patients heroically die in service of others, I suspect what Jesus meant by laying down one’s life was to set aside one’s preferred way of life in order to serve others.

Most people are willing to make sacrifices for people they love within their intimate circle. For example, parents sacrifice their time and resources to care for their children. Spouses often move to a new city or give up their own dreams to support their partner’s career. Close friends listen to each other’s woes when they’d rather be curled up with a good book or movie.

After Jesus died and was resurrected, it appeared that he expanded his definition of “friends.” In conversing with Peter, he did not say “feed your friends,” he said “feed my sheep.” Now, it appears, no one has greater love than to lay down one’s preferred way of life for those who belong to Christ—which, of course, includes everybody.

Today, people the world over are being asked to sacrifice their personal freedom—to lay aside their personal preferences about where and how to work, recreate, shop, and pray—to contain a virus that is killing friends and strangers alike. We are being called to summon great love to lay down our life as we have known it to save the lives of others.

Although unleashing this force of love will require tremendous sacrifice, I think we will be astounded at the outcome. Our priorities will be reordered, we will appreciate that we are only as healthy as any other person on the planet, we will rediscover the joys of creativity and simplicity, and the kingdom of God will flourish as we affirm the value of all people and share earth’s resources. In retrospect, we will discover that the pandemic is a school in how to enter into the greatest love of all—to lay down our preferred way of life for each other.

Becoming Rooted in Solitude

Recently I saw an intriguing video on Facebook about unusual ways to start growing plants indoors (https://www.facebook.com/TexasDecoration/videos/518358009087822/). For example, a cutting from an aloe vera plant starts rooting when it is inserted in a banana; chickpeas begin sprouting when inserted in a used teabag; and a potato cutting starts to develop roots when it is placed eye down on top of the water in a fish tank.

An anchorite's cell attached to a church in Wales

Similarly, humans can set down spiritual roots in a number of different environments, such as their families, worship communities, and monasteries. However, as with plants, a period of waiting in isolation and darkness is required for our roots to grow deep and become firmly established. Persons throughout human history demonstrate this need for an extended period of solitude to grow in the life and love of God: Jesus in the desert, St. Benedict in his cave, Julian of Norwich in her cell, and Mohandas Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr., and Nelson Mandela in jail.

Solitude is important because, as Jeanne Weber, OSB, notes, it leads to the fruit of “deepening awareness of God and deepening knowledge of the self.” She observes, “Only by creating regular time and space for silence and solitude can we come to know ourselves and get in touch with the movements and motivations of our hearts, especially those that aren’t all goodness and light, and open them to the deep source of healing and life whom we call God.”

In the early days of sheltering at home during the pandemic, most of us have responded by seeking distraction: watching TV and movies, obsessively scanning social media outlets, reading novels, cooking, cleaning out closets, etc. As days stretch into weeks, perhaps we can settle into

a rhythm of silence, rest, prayer, journaling, and deepening knowledge of ourselves so we can emerge from our hibernation with enhanced wisdom and recalibration of our priorities: to share God’s life and love through prayer and service to others in need.

Ring Bearers

Several years ago I wrote the following poem in which I mused about whether humans, like trees, contain internal rings that trace our years of drought and plenty. If so, at the end of our earthly life, it would be interesting to see what our ring for 2020 looks like. Will it be a thin ring, reflecting our unslaked thirst for human touch and our fears, which shrivel every aspect of life? Or will it be a thick ring, reflecting previously untapped reserves of creativity and connection and our increased understanding that all beings are linked in the body of Christ?

To a great extent, we don’t have control over what life hands us, whether it be disease, natural disasters, the type of parenting we receive, opportunities, or the people we encounter who become our teachers and friends. However, we can always choose how we will respond to whatever we encounter, and it is this response that will determine whether our years are marked by diminishment or growth. Furthermore, as the poem indicates, every spring we can allow Easter to give us an annual infusion of joy as we revel in the good news of the resurrection of Christ, reflected in the new life bursting forth on earth.

Ring Bearer

If you were

to hew me down like a tree

you could trace

my years of drought and plenty,

but whether

the rings be thick or thin

you’ll notice

jagged spikes in the same spot

on each circle,

bursts of exuberance

prompted

by the smell of freshly tilled soil,

the season’s

first impossibly yellow daffodil,

and birdsong—

first fruits of a spring we

weren’t sure

would ever arrive,

and though the

year’s provenance has yet

to unfurl,

I know for certain it’s time

to plant peas

and turn the compost pile,

groundwork

for whatever life presents

in another

circle around the sun