Picturing a More Empathetic World

Antoine de Saint-Exupery is best known for writing the classic book The Little Prince, but he also was a renowned pilot who helped establish airmail routes over Northwest Africa, the South Atlantic, and South America, which made him a pioneer in postal aviation. Saint-Exupery said, “Transport of the mails, transport of the human voice, transport of flickering pictures—in this century, as in others, our highest accomplishments still have the single aim of bringing men together.”

Today, we can add transport of our thoughts, images, and videos via the World Wide Web to the list of accomplishments that bring people together. Perhaps what really brings us together, however, is the enhanced empathy and compassion that these shared thoughts and images are capable of engendering. Humans are much, much, MUCH more alike than we are different. According to the Human Genome Project, the DNA of any two humans is 99.9 percent identical. Furthermore, we are hardwired to react to the emotions of people we encounter, whether in person or through an image; neuroscience confirms that seeing someone in pain activates the parts of your brain that activate pain.

Now that videos can be taken and transmitted with phones, we are able to see the tears on the faces of refugee children who have been separated from their families and caged. We can witness the deaths of people like George Floyd who die while gasping “I can’t breathe.” We can see how much like us they are—that they breathe like we do and love their families like we do—and their suffering fosters empathy and moves us to act.

In his quest to share God’s love with us, Jesus didn’t attempt to overcome his oppressors with force. Instead he suffered, and through his suffering we discovered that resurrection follows death and God’s love and life are available to all of us. When we suffer with others as Christ does, we reveal the same thing. As Richard Rohr said, “Our healing is bound up in each other’s.”

Our modern ease in transporting thoughts and images has great potential to bring us together through suffering to the joy that accompanies freedom and the end of injustices. Camera phones in hand and with engaged hearts, may we walk the freedom trail together.

Everything Is New Under the Sun

If Qoheleth, writer of the book of Ecclesiastes, lived today, he would no doubt be diagnosed with clinical depression. He takes no pleasure in life, declaring, “The eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor is the ear filled with hearing.” He goes on to say, “Nothing is new under the sun.”

Qoheleth could not be more wrong. Because of our very existence, everything is new under the sun. My recent foray into nature photography has taught me this. Every time I take a breath and click a button to take a picture of a flower, something unfolds that has never existed before and will never exist again. If I took the picture 30 seconds earlier, an insect might be crawling on the flower’s stem. If I took it 30 seconds later, a breeze might be ruffling its petals. If someone other than me took the picture, he or she would frame it slightly differently. The alchemy of me and the flower and the moment is utterly new and not to be repeated. For this reason, every moment of our lives is holy and filled with potential because of the unique ways that we interact with God’s creation.

Qoheleth also laments, “There is no remembrance of the men of old; nor of those to come will there be any remembrance among those who come after them.” Pearl S. Buck has a response to Qoheleth: “Like Confucius of old, I am absorbed in the wonder of earth, and the life upon it, and I cannot think of heaven and the angels. I have enough for this life. If there is no other life, then this one has been enough to make it worth being born, myself a human being. With so profound a faith in the human heart and its power to grow toward the light, I find here reason and cause enough for hope and confidence in the future of mankind."

To which I would add that it does not matter if no humans remember us after we die, because we dwell forever, precious and beloved, in God’s eternal memory.

State of Grace

Grace is a shape shifter, as noted in the following poem. Keep your eyes peeled!

Chameleon

Over eons, grace 

has perfected

the art of hiding

in plain sight

by shape shifting—

Here a tissue

offered to dry

tears of exhaustion,

there the sparkle

of a ring affixed

to a woman’s finger

for more than 50 years,

Always wafting

on the milky breath

of a newborn 

and on breezes

that fortify crews

of sweaty roofers,

And if you look

askance, you can see

her in the cat’s offering 

of a dead mouse

and in valentines

scrawled for mothers

of second-graders.

Through a lifetime 

of constantly changing 

circumstances, she is

the chameleon found

wherever beauty abounds

and kindness quickens,

a sly yet steadfast 

reminder that all 

of us live continually

in a state of grace.

       — Jennifer Halling, OSB

Companions on the Journey

I have known several people who have completed the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage that leads to the shrine of the apostle St. James the Great in the cathedral of Santiago de Compostela in northwestern Spain. Many pilgrims walk three weeks or longer, staying at simple hostels along the way. One fascinating aspect of this journey is that pilgrims often walk in the company of different companions each day because people walk at different speeds, get started at different times in the morning, and join the route at different points.

We encounter the same situation in our life journey. Some friends and siblings are lifelong companions, whereas other people enter our lives for a brief period and then move on. What is certain is that each person who travels with us has something to teach us about ourselves and what it means to be part of the body of Christ.

Today Sr. Agnes Helgenberger, who was born and raised in Micronesia, transferred her vows to Mount St. Scholastica and became our newest member. She previously was prioress of Queen of Angels Monastery in Liberty, Mo. I’m sure the Mount community never imagined it would have a member from Micronesia—one of God’s delightful surprises. Sr. Agnes brings a serene and joyous spirit to the Mount, and our dog Sophie is particularly glad she has joined us because Sr. Agnes lets her take naps on her bed in Dooley Center!

One of the graces of a long life is that we are enriched by many and varied companions who expand our hearts and our vision. I am grateful that God sent Sr. Agnes to be our newest companion on the road to everlasting life.

Sustained by Beauty

In January 2020, Mount oblate Terry Chamberlain Diehl went to the Mexican border to work at the Humanitarian Relief Center in McAllen, Texas, and to take supplies to a refugee camp in Matamoros, Mexico. She told the following story:

“A woman came up and asked us if she could have some empty milk jugs. Later we discovered why. When we were walking through the tent city, we saw the same woman using the chocolate milk jugs to bring water from the Rio Grande River to water some flowers she had planted in the midst of all the tents. It reminded me of the importance of working with God in his plan for beauty, goodness, and harmony and of 'blooming wherever you're planted.' I'm so impressed with these, our brothers and sisters, and their indomitable spirit of hope." 

Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “The earth laughs in flowers,” and this woman was partnering with God and the earth to bring some brightness to the lives of her companions who were living in difficult circumstances.

My life is nothing like that of people in refugee camps, but I too have responded with gratitude to the outpouring of beauty in the flowers gracing the Mount campus in this spring of the COVID-19 pandemic. Beauty is one of the ways God sustains us, no matter where we dwell, and it is also how God connects us with each other. Whether or not we grow flowers, we can make the choice to participate in some way in God’s plan for beauty, goodness, and harmony.

Lessons from Life's Ferocities

The poet Jane Hirshfield says, “To love your life means agreeing to its joys, warmth, light, and also to its ferocities and transience.”

I confess that I have only reluctantly agreed to the ferocity of a backache I’ve experienced for the past week after slipping and falling down a short hill, along with its revelation that the past resilience of my body is fading. Still, ferocities and transience teach wisdom that can’t be gained by joy, warmth, and light.

God was humorously prompt in teaching me one lesson as a result of my fall. Just before I slipped, I was dragging a large bag of mulch down to the garden; Sr. Delores Dolezal saw me and called out, “Do you need help?” “No!” I called back, and she went on her way. Two minutes later, after I heaved the bag down the hill, I tumbled down after it. Lesson learned: I need the humility to accept help when it is offered, because I’m not as strong as I like to think I am.

Another bit of wisdom I take from this incident is not to tempt fate by taking shortcuts. It would have taken me just an extra few minutes to walk around the hill instead of trying to go down it. Why am I in such a hurry? Unfortunately, it is likely because the more efficient I am the more productive I can be, and productivity is my measure of self-worth. I suspect God would much rather I enjoy work for the pleasure of working and feel valued as a result of being created and loved by God.

Finally, my backache as taught me compassion for others who are dealing with pain. E. Jane Rutter says, “I’d like to think that the spirit of kindness has settled naturally into my bones,” as would I, but when those bones are bruised it’s all too easy to be irritable, which I’ll remember when I encounter irritability in others.

I have noticed that in the monastery, sisters tend to share cycles of ailments—there are always three or four people who have sciatica, broken wrists, or sprained ankles at the same time. Sure enough, three other sisters have had back problems in the past couple of weeks. I guess you might say that my own backache is a sign I have been incorporated fully into the community!

When the Stones Cry Out

When Jesus rode into Jerusalem on the colt of a donkey to shouts of “Hosannah!” some of the Pharisees said to Jesus, “Teacher, rebuke your disciples.” Jesus replied, “I tell you, if these were silent, the very stones would cry out” (Lk 19: 39-40).

We don’t typically think of stones as praising God. For example, Psalm 148 calls for everything in creation to praise God, from the sun and moon to sea monsters to snow and mist to winged fowl, but it doesn’t include stones in its litany. Today, however, I learned that there is such a thing as a lithophone, meaning “Any of various musical instruments in which sound is produced by striking pieces of stone.” An intriguing video called “Lithophones of Gobustan” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lEf9cNoYd4k) shows how, in a plateau of rocky boulders in the semi-desert of central Azerbaijan, stones are used to make music that sounds like chimes or bells.

The unnamed musician in this video says, “Just like the chime purifies the environment, the sound of this stone, too, purifies the environment and the human.” Perhaps the psalmists are so insistent that we praise God because they know that the sound of our praise purifies us by fostering humility and gratitude. When we acknowledge that God made us and that everything we have is a gift from God, our environment is cleansed of the noxious effects of pridefulness, egotism, smugness, vanity, and self-glorification.

When we fail to praise God, other elements of nature will step in to fill the void, even seemingly silent stones. Instead of seeking to dominate nature, we should seek to follow its example by glorifying God with our very being, thus fostering a healthy environment where all things God made can flourish.

No Need to Wait

Anne Frank, whose birthday is today, endured two years of hiding in a cramped attic with seven other people before she was discovered and sent to the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp. She left us these words of wisdom in her diary: “How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world.”

Although she was confined in an attic, Anne did what she could; she picked up her pen and wrote about her experience. In doing so, she taught generations about the value of every human life and how to persevere in the face of hatred and persecution. As it says in Psalm 37, "Trust in the Lord and do good...if you trust, then God will act, and make your righteousness shine like the light, your justice like the noonday sun."

Most of us can think of many ways we would like to improve the world: ensuring that no one is hungry, that every child has a good education, that black and brown people are not persecuted, that the right to vote is not suppressed, that the land, air, and water are not polluted, and that everyone has access to health care, for starters.

No single person can address all these challenges. However, isn’t it wonderful that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world?

A Eucharistic Invitation

I have often seen the icon The Holy Trinity, which was painted by Andrew Rublev in the fifteenth century, but was never particularly drawn to it until I read a description of some of the symbolism in the piece. As Peggy Rosenthal notes, “A feature of Rublev’s Trinity often commented on is the empty place along the fourth side of the square table, the side closest to the viewer. This empty place is generally seen as an invitation to the viewer to join in God’s inner life—especially as the Eucharistic chalice stands close to the edge of this side of the table.”

On the two Sundays after Pentecost, the Church celebrates the feast of the Most Holy Trinity and the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ. The feast of the Most Holy Trinity invites us to “join in God’s inner life,” and the feast of Corpus Christi shows us how—by partaking of the Eucharist and literally becoming a part of the body of Christ.

Why would anyone refuse this invitation? Perhaps because as Moses removed his sandals before he approached the burning bush, we must (metaphorically) remove our shoes before we approach this table—that is, we must be willing to leave part of our “self” behind, the part that enables us to move on if we wish. To join God’s inner life is to enter into the stability of commitment that love requires. God’s inner life is magnificent, but it is also demanding—to love God with all one’s heart, mind, and soul and to love one’s neighbor as oneself. As we give, so shall we receive—but we can’t be sure of that until we take the risk to accept the invitation and take our seat at the table. Are we willing to take off our shoes and approach?

Recognizing God's Voice

Nydia, a statue by Randolph Rogers

When the prophet Samuel was a youth, he served the high priest Eli and lived in the temple with him; indeed, “Samuel [slept] in the temple of the Lord where the ark was” (1 Sam 3: 3). It was here that God called to Samuel three times, but Samuel did not recognize God’s voice and went running to Eli instead. Eli, an old man who could no longer see, nonetheless recognized that God was calling Samuel and instructed him to say, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.”

It seems rather ironic that Samuel, who was schooled in God’s service and even slept where the ark of the covenant was kept “was not familiar with the Lord” (1 Sam 3: 7). On the other hand, many of us have received religious education, and we all live in God’s temple of creation, yet we too often fail to recognize God’s voice.

Perhaps we don’t recognize God’s voice because we expect it to sound a certain way. When I was assigned to be the voice of God in our Pentecost vigil this year for the reading of the dry bones from Ezekiel, I reflexively used a deep, booming voice (although, to be fair, the reading was dramatic: “Summon the winds from the four corners of the earth! Tell it to breathe life into these dry bones!”) Still, what gave me the idea that God’s voice is masculine and commanding? If that is the God I expect to hear, am I missing the still, small voice that God used to speak to the prophet Elijah in his cave?

We also may not recognize that God is speaking to us because we feel too insignificant to be visited by God. However, because of the very fact that we were created by God, we cannot be insignificant! If we expand our concept of God to that of Mother who nurtured us and spoke to us in the womb, then we will surely realize that we are already familiar with God, as we are familiar with our human mother’s voice.

The advice that wise old Eli gave to Samuel applies to us all: When we experience an unexpected call, we should say, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.” And then we should be quiet and attend to what we hear, trusting that we will be able to discern the voice of the One who loves us.

The Duty of Delight

Dorothy Day said, “We are called to the duty of delight.” I’ve always considered delight to be intermittent and fleeting, but by using the word “duty,” Day suggests that it is something we need to cultivate and practice intentionally.

We need delight because it fosters gratitude, and we need gratitude because it leads to humility and perspective, and we need humility and perspective because they instill wisdom, and wisdom leads to the good life: contentment, trust, patience, and peace.

It may seem like a difficult task to find delight in troubled times, but even when we ourselves and our world are struggling, the birds continue to serenade us, strawberries still taste sweet, people continually create art and music, and we are surrounded by humor and acts of kindness. Our duty is to adjust our focus so we see the delightful things of the world clearly. That requires the humility to value what might seem small or insignificant and the perspective of remembering that our earthly life is short and the world doesn’t revolve around us.

We all have many duties, but the duty of delight is not burdensome—it is the way of Christ, who said, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light” (Mt 11:28-30). The yoke of delight in creation that we share with God does indeed lead us to rest for our souls. The more people take up this duty, the more peaceful our world will become.

The Urgent Call of Justice

While working as a photographer for the Farm Security Administration in the 1930s and 1940s, Dorothea Lange documented the plight of the poor and forgotten, especially migrants, sharecroppers, and displaced farm families. Most people are familiar with her iconic photo of Florence Owens Thompson called “Migrant Mother.” I recently came across the following quote by Lange: “One should really use the camera as though tomorrow you’d be stricken blind.”

From one perspective, this comment can remind us not to take our work and our many blessings, such as sight, for granted. If we knew we would lose our vision tomorrow, think of the urgency with which we would gaze upon our loved ones today. Integrating gratitude into our lives is perhaps the best way to be more conscious of the gifts of life and savor them.

Lange’s comment also can spur us to urgency in working for justice in our world. In the recent rioting in Minneapolis, a freelance photographer named Linda Tirado literally was stricken blind in her left eye when she was hit by a rubber bullet. At the time she was using her camera to document the outcome of injustice—to open our eyes to the desperation of a persecuted people who feel they have no other recourse but to march in the street to make themselves seen and heard.

When injustice is allowed to fester, violence erupts. We need to use every tool at our disposal—cameras, the vote, prayer, outreach by our faith communities, education, our voices—to stop the killing and economic suppression of people of color. Jesus spent his years of ministry reaching out to the marginalized: lepers, women, poor people, and those oppressed by the political power structure of the day. That is what you do when you know and love God. And because we are not promised tomorrow, we need to do it today.

Send Us Your Spirit

Fr. Ronald Rolheiser has observed that after any loss, we are always given new life—“but if we are trying to live that new life with our former spirit, we will find ourselves deeply out of sorts.” He says we need to let Pentecost happen so we can receive a new spirit for the new life we are now living.

The United States has been deeply out of sorts since it was visited with new life in the form of the 13th amendment to the Constitution that abolished slavery. Although black people slowly gained rights through great struggle in the ensuing years, as a whole, the U.S. has been trying to live a new life of equality for all with our former spirit, which held that white lives are more valuable than black lives. As Fr. Bryan Massingale says, “The only reason for racism’s persistence is that white people continue to benefit from it.”

As protests devolve into violence throughout the country after the killing of George Floyd, many people are expressing dismay at the deeply entrenched racism and white privilege of our society and wondering how it can ever be rectified. Mary Stommes offers the following advice in Give Us This Day: “When we…make a mess of things, we would do well to turn to our Blessed Mother. This wisest among all women turns our attention to Christ and tells us simply, ‘Do whatever he tells you’ (John 2:5). Christ is the one in charge of this household of God. Listen to him.”

And what does Christ tell us? “Love one another as I have loved you.” As Benjamin Franklin once observed, “Justice will not be served until those who are unaffected are as outraged as those who are.” Justice will not be served until love compels us to recognize the humanity of all people and act to ensure they are respected and their rights are upheld.

Mary Stommes continues, “Listen also to the Spirit, the Breath of God who loves to enter—sometimes quietly and sometimes with great force—through locked doors and even through walls. Through the barriers of all our doubts and fears.” The Spirit is equal to the task of giving us a new heart. But first, we must let Pentecost happen. It’s way past time for us to stop letting our love of privilege deflect love of neighbor and the new spirit God wishes to bestow on us.