Pursuing Our Unique Path to God

God delights in our uniqueness. The saints know this and don’t waste time trying to follow someone else’s path. For example, St. Ignatius Loyola was a soldier before he became a priest, and as Robert Ellsberg notes in Give Us This Day, after an all-night vigil at the Catalonian shrine of Our Lady at Montserrat, “he laid his sword on the altar and became a soldier of Christ.” On the other hand, St. Therese of Lisieux said in her book The Story of a Soul, “despite my littleness I can aspire to sainthood. To make myself bigger is impossible; I have to put up with myself such as I am with all my imperfections…. So I sought in the holy books … and I read these words that come from the mouth of Eternal Wisdom: ‘Let all who are simple come to my house’ (Prov. 9:4). So I came, suspecting that I had found what I was looking for.”

Finding our unique path to God entails offering hospitality to ourselves, just as we offer it to others. What does it mean to offer hospitality to ourselves? As Maria del Mar Albajar-Vinas, OSB, observes in Benedictines magazine, “In the same way that hospitality toward my sister means to recognize and value who she is, with her particular way of understanding and response to life — to look after her and allow her the time and space she needs to walk the path of being who she is — just so, hospitality toward myself means to recognize and value who I am, with my particular way of understanding and responding to life — to look after myself and give myself the time and space that I need to walk the path of being who I am.”

God’s world is large enough to encompass many ways of understanding and responding to life. Because we have lived in different cultures and had different experiences, it is not possible for us all to think alike and follow the same path, and it would not be healthy to try to do so. The kingdom of God needs nurses and artists, warriors and administrators, and farmers and sanitation workers, with their different skills and outlooks on life. If we are true to walking the path of who we are, as St. Ignatius and St. Therese and so many other blessed ones have done, we will find our own unique way to know and serve God. The sure sign we have found it is a sense of abiding joy, vitality, and inner peace.

Training Ourselves to Be Open to Grace

Every morning at the Mount we begin prayer with a reading from the Rule of St. Benedict and a commentary on the passage. Today’s commentary was by Norvene Vest, from her book Preferring Christ:

“So often the key issues in the spiritual life are those moments calling for a spontaneous and immediate response. The way I have trained myself through my daily habits will make a great deal of difference in my capacity to receive the grace God would give me in such moments.”

As it happened, today’s Gospel reading for mass is about Jesus’ arrival at Bethany after Lazarus has died. Surely this could be considered a moment in the life of Martha that called for a spontaneous and immediate response. Understandably, she was upset with Jesus for not coming sooner and preventing the death of her brother and could have refused to welcome him, but she had trained herself through her daily habits of service to provide hospitality, so she went out to meet him. In doing so she received the grace that allowed her to recognize Jesus as the Christ and to trust in his promise that he is the resurrection and the life.

Undergoing training is not easy, whether we are preparing to play a sport or a musical instrument, learning a new job, or attempting to grow in spiritual wisdom. We must put in many, many hours of practice (some people say as many as 10,000!) so we are able to respond immediately and spontaneously when the opportunity arises to steal second base, improvise while playing a piece on the piano, fix a problem at work, or recognize Christ’s presence in difficult times. The times when we get impatient with the monotony of our daily training regimen are the very times we need to trust that God will prosper our efforts and that our dedication will lead to joy and freedom.

It Is In Giving That We Receive

Often we are exhorted to seek the kingdom of God or change our lives so we are worthy of entering this seemingly magical place. Robin Ryan, CP, offers a different perspective when he says, “The gift of the kingdom is meant to be given away. It must be made present in and through the priorities we set and the choices we make.”

God does not hide the kingdom from us or create elaborate stipulations for entering. Jesus repeatedly told us that the kingdom of God is available to anyone who is single-hearted (e.g., selling everything to buy a field containing treasure or an incomparable pearl) and willing to share God’s love with others (i.e., acting like yeast in bread dough). We can’t believe that gaining entrance to the kingdom of God is that simple, so we become distracted by complications that we create ourselves.

We all face situations in which we struggle to be kind to people who irritate us, pray when we are tired, or help someone when it inconveniences us. It is helpful to remember that when we choose to prioritize kindness, prayer, and the needs of others we are actually making the kingdom of God present and, paradoxically, finding it by giving it away.

God's Poetry

Image by Stefan Chinof

The poet and novelist Robert Graves said, “There's no money in poetry, but then there's no poetry in money, either.” I understand what he’s getting at—unfortunately very few people make enough money to support themselves by writing poetry, and in general we do not associate money with beauty of expression. However, it does not have to be that way. For example, when Jesus was challenged about whether people should pay taxes and he replied, “Give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and give to God what belongs to God,” I would argue that there was poetry in his words, even though he was talking about money. After all, his response was eloquent, imaginative, concise, employed the literary technique of parallelism, and evoked an emotional response.

I believe God is a poet. Is there not meaning, sound, and rhythm in the things God has created, such as ocean waves lapping the shore, a bird calling its mate, and the echo of thunder? And if God is a poet, then that must mean that everything contains the seed of poetry, because something of God is in all things that God has created. As is so often the case, we don’t see poetry unless we look for it, just as we don’t see God in others and in our experiences unless we look for God there.

The beauty of God’s expression through creation surrounds us. As St. Benedict counsels, all we need to do to hear it is to listen and incline the ear of our heart.

A Model of Faithfulness

As we celebrate the Feast of St. Mary Magdalene, what strikes me is her faithfulness to Jesus. All four gospels mention that she was present at his crucifixion and death. As Cynthia Bourgeault points out, “…when all the other disciples are fleeing, Mary Magdalene stands firm. She does not run; she does not betray or lie about her commitment; she witnesses.” Not only that, but she kept vigil at Jesus’ tomb after it was sealed (Mt 27:61), and she was the first to return to the tomb after the Sabbath.

It is clear that God values faithfulness. How do we know this? First, God models this attribute for us throughout the scriptures and in our own lives. Second, God rewards people who are faithful; for example, Abraham was given more descendants than stars in the sky, and Mary Magdalene had the privilege of being the first person to meet the risen Christ.

Perhaps faithfulness is so highly valued because it comes at a cost. Being faithful requires trust in the face of ridicule, relinquishment of our own desires and plans, and the willingness to suffer with the people we love by witnessing their pain. Yet, as Richard Rohr, OFM, observes, “Mary Magdalene and the other women were the first witnesses to the resurrection because they remained present for the entire process, from death unto new life, exactly what is necessary to witness resurrections in our own lives as well.”

Remaining present. Witnessing. Let us be faithful so we can be joyful beholders of the resurrections that occur in our own lives.

Thy Kingdom Come

Good gardeners pick over their seeds before they plant them to discard any that are broken, withered, or moldy. If we consider God the Master Gardener, as it says in the song What Is the Kingdom We Await?, we “trust the One who plants the seed.” Our trust that God has planted good seed in us gives us the conviction that our dreams and gifts are worth nurturing.

The Word of God might be considered a “super seed.” As it says on the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops Web site, “[The] Word of God … possesses a special sacramental power to bring about in us what it proclaims … it not only tells us of God and God’s will for us, it also helps us to put that will of God into practice in our own lives.”

For many of us, the Word of God that we likely proclaim most often is the “Our Father” prayer that Jesus taught to his disciples. In fact, we pray it so often that it can become rote. However, praying “thy kingdom come” carries the power of God’s Word regardless of whether we are fully aware of what we are saying.

Therefore, we should not be surprised when we see signs of God’s kingdom unfolding around us: the arrogant of mind and heart dispersed, the lowly lifted up, the oppressed set free, the (spiritually) blind recovering their sight, the hungry being filled with good things. For example, the many long-oppressed people who are letting their God-given seeds of dignity and worth flower in peaceful protests are a direct sign that God’s kingdom has come, as we ourselves have so often asked! In God’s kingdom, all people are valued, respected, loved, heard, and nurtured, and nonviolent protests are a way to help bring that Word of God to fruition. Although it is a sometimes chaotic process (people in power generally don’t step aside without a struggle), we can rejoice that a fuller expression of God’s kingdom is unfolding in our midst.

The good seed of the Word of God is implanted in us when we hear and speak it. We need only trust in the wisdom and ways of the Master Gardener to be fruitful in God’s kingdom.

A New Perspective

So much of life depends on our perspective. Verse 2 of Psalm 40 says, “I waited, I waited for the Lord,” which implies that God is absent. How does the situation change if we realize that what we need to pray for is clearer vision to see God who is already present?

Often we aren’t even aware of our underlying assumption that everyone else has the same perspective we do. Yet how can a tree be seen the same way by a boring insect (which relies on the roots for food), an owl (which depends on the branches for shelter), and me (who counts on the leaves for the oxygen I breathe)? Our own particular needs and the experiences that have shaped us feed our perspectives, which makes life interesting when we encounter the differing perspectives of others in our homes, schools, workplaces, and communities.

Robert Morneau’s poem A New Song takes a helpful approach to this situation:

We each are given a song to sing

the notes of which

are essentially the same.

We simply order them differently

(or is it, they order us?)

Recognizing the notes we have in common can help us be patient with each other: we all are loved by God as we grapple with fulfilling our basic needs, developing relationships, finding satisfying work, dealing with loss and grief, and facing death. On the other hand, celebrating our differences by enjoying the unique songs people create as they order these notes differently can make life a rich and joyful adventure.

At least, that’s my perspective.

Savoring Earth's Rhythms

In a year when so many of our rhythms have been disrupted, the earth continues to nurture and comfort us by calmly progressing through the seasons. Just as always, tulips and daffodils and fruit trees bloomed in April and bees were seemingly everywhere collecting pollen. Like clockwork, in June we picked and pitted cherries and began efforts to fend off Japanese beetles and squash bugs. As is typical, in early July we harvested our first crop of sweet corn and cabbage.

The food we grow and share fuels not just our bodies but our spirits during these days of separation from loved ones. The community is downright giddy on days when sisters gather to shuck corn because we know it will appear at dinner, and with butter dripping from our chins, we remember how Sr. Philomene Glotzbach could polish off four to five ears in one meal. The day seems suddenly brighter when fresh-picked black raspberries appear at breakfast. I made a berry pie for my living group and as I ate a piece, I was transported back to my childhood and thought, “This tastes like home.” Many people start pulling out family recipes for zucchini chocolate cake and rhubarb custard pie so the bounty doesn’t go to waste.

Earth teaches us that God will continue to provide for our needs during turbulent times; to be present and generous is part of God’s nature and cannot be disrupted. The best way to show our gratitude is to take good care of the land, air, and water God has entrusted to us and build loving connections with each other as we enjoy and celebrate the fruits of the earth.

God's Glory in the Balance

Many contemplative people seem to be driven to a life of service. For example, as Kimberly Hope Belcher notes in Give Us This Day about the prophet Isaiah, “Isaiah’s vision of the Lord in the temple was solitary, yet his encounter with the weight of God’s glory called him into a painful life of service” (Isaiah 6: 1-8). Jesus himself led a life of contemplation, often rising early to have time alone with his Father in prayer, but he also engaged in a demanding ministry of prophecy, healing, and teaching. St. Benedict spent years of solitude in a cave and yet ended up founding cenobitic monasteries and writing a Rule about how to live in community. What is it that impels contemplatives to serve people outside their life of prayer?

An encounter with the true God can lead to nothing but service to others because God exists through relationship: Father and Son and Holy Spirit. A relationship with God cannot be exclusive but expands in ever widening circles. The energy created between ourselves and the three persons of God is infectious and leads to the desire to share it with other people. The most effective way to do that is to meet them in their need and respond through acts of service—visible signs of God’s love and compassion.

Like many of the prophets, we often have doubts about whether we are capable of doing the service God asks of us. These doubts are a waste of energy. In a sense, when God brought us into being, we each became a word of God, and as God said in Isaiah 55:11, “my word shall not return to be void, but shall do my will, achieving the end for which I sent it.” Through our very being, we are part of God’s plan. Because God’s ways are generally inscrutable to humans, there is no point in judging whether we are being effective from our own standpoint. We are simply asked to be faithful to the work we feel called to do.

Prayer without service is insular, and service without prayer is exhausting. It may take a lifetime to keep tinkering with the balance, but when we achieve it, we encounter the glory of God, for as St. Irenaeus said, “The glory of God is a person fully alive.”

The Book of Life

In his letter to the Philippians, St. Paul refers to his coworkers, “whose names are in the book of life.” I wonder if this is one reason we picture St. Peter standing outside the pearly gates and checking a book to see if newcomers have gained admittance to heaven. I suspect that if Jesus were the one standing outside the pearly gates, he would be more likely to check to see if our names are in the book of death, for he said, “Whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it” (Lk 9:24).

A more likely scenario is that the pearly gates are permanently wide open, because eons ago God wrote all our names in the book of life. Remarkably, despite our physical, psychological, and spiritual limitations and our selfish attitudes and actions, God has shown an increasing desire to share life intimately with us. As Sr. Jeanne Weber has noted, " The good news is that we are, in this very state of limitation and sinfulness, tremendously loved by God, who created us, who continually holds us in being, who regards our weakness and sinfulness with infinite compassion, and who calls us in that very weakness and sinfulness to be co-creators.”

Our names are entered in the book of life because of God’s mercy and compassion. The best way we can respond to that gift is to live with zeal and share the love and mercy we have received with others. Then our names will be inscribed in the book of life with indelible ink!

Saying Yes to Chaos

Although some people seem to thrive on chaos, I am not one of them. I prefer routine and order and tend to feel unmoored when I face a great deal of change that happens quickly. The Benedictine vow of stability suits me just fine.

That said, chaos is also an important aspect of the spiritual life. Storms test our foundation: are we truly grounded in God? If so, we will find safe shelter. If not, the sand of the false self will dissolve beneath us  and give us the opportunity to rebuild on the rock of humility and gratitude.

Chaos also allows us to see ingrained attitudes and behaviors that we don’t even recognize in ourselves when we live in a bubble of our own making. Did men understand the extent of male privilege until the suffragettes took to the streets and endured imprisonment and hunger strikes to claim the right to vote? Did white people understand that their access to education, employment, and housing and freedom from oppression relied to a large extent on the color of their skin until people of color recorded videos of killings, organized protests, and toppled statues of people who fought to preserve slavery?

Chaos invites us to reimagine our current beliefs and political structures to create a more just society—a fuller vision of the kingdom of God. To do that, we must be willing to tear down our current decaying and crumbling structures and rebuild. Like carpenters, we can use a “spirit level”—an instrument designed to indicate whether a surface is horizontal (level) or vertical (plumb). In building the kingdom of God, love is the “spirit level” we need to ensure that all people are on the same balanced footing and have the opportunity to rise as high as their gifts and aspirations will take them.

The same discipline we use to stay true to our routines of work and prayer allows us to say yes to chaos, because in either situation, God is at the center and keeps us grounded. As Psalm 27 says, “The Lord is the stronghold of my life; of whom should I be afraid?”

My Burden is Light

Today I find myself reflecting on the following words of Jesus: “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for yourselves. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.”

Although burdens find their way to everyone—it is an inescapable aspect of being human—we also have a tendency to create some of our own burdens. Our desire for success leads us to the burden of perfectionism. Our desire for control leads to the burden of loneliness. Our desire to live someone else’s life instead of our own leads to the burden of envy. I believe this is what Jesus was getting at when he said “learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart.” When we relinquish our desires and walk in Jesus’ way of humility and trust, our burdens are lifted and we find peace.

Another aspect of these words of Jesus that I hadn’t considered before come from Rev. Mel Williams: “A yoke is a harness, like the yoke over the shoulders of an ox. But Jesus’ yoke is not restrictive; it provides a useful structure. His yoke is easy. It’s really a gift, a practice that harnesses for us a pathway to newness, aliveness. ‘Learn from this gift, this way that I offer you,’ Jesus says. ‘My burden is light.’ Did you get the double meaning? My burden is not heavy, but also…my burden is light—energy.”

Light doesn’t weigh anything, but it infuses us with the energy to act; think about how you feel when it has been cloudy for a week and the sun emerges. Similarly, the “yoke” of humility and obedience that Christ offers puts us on the path of love and gives us the energy to share God’s love with others, which leads us to lightness of heart.

“Come to me,” Jesus said. “Learn from me.” Are we ready to follow the Light of the world?

God Bless Us, Every One

Independence Day is a good occasion to revisit E.B. White’s description of democracy, which appeared in the July 3, 1943, issue of The New Yorker:

"Democracy…is the line that forms on the right. It is the don’t in don’t shove. It is the hole in the stuffed shirt through which the sawdust slowly trickles; it is the dent in the high hat. Democracy is the recurrent suspicion that more than half of the people are right more than half of the time. It is the feeling of pri-vacy in the voting booths, the feeling of communion in the libraries, the feeling of vitality everywhere. Demo-cracy is a letter to the editor. Demo-cracy is the score at the beginning of the ninth. It is an idea which hasn’t been disproved yet, a song the words of which have not gone bad." 

Democracy, when practiced and safeguarded, helps us “make the kind of society where it is easier for people to be good,” as Peter Maurin advocated. It is easier for people to share their resources and skills, encourage and support each other, and protect the rights of all humans when their voices are heard and their basic needs for sustenance, housing, education, employment, and health care are met.

True leaders work to ensure that the needs (not the wants) of all people are met. I have been particularly praying for strength and wisdom of administrators during the pandemic—for our monastic council at the Mount, for hospital and nursing home administrators, and for state governors—as they make difficult decisions to try to keep everyone safe. Their administrative skill, although generally overlooked, is a critical gift of the Holy Spirit that we often come to appreciate only when we suffer under corrupt, self-serving, and inept bosses and politicians.

This Fourth of July, let us all pray for the health of our democracy and the wisdom to choose leaders who will help us make the kind of society where it is easier for people to be good—as well as vibrant, tolerant, caring, and optimistic.

Letting Go and Living On

The most recent cat in my life was Amy Rose, a petite feline with a gorgeous tortoise shell coat who lived in the Mount Art Haven (a former boiler house). She was decidedly prickly but eventually concluded that I had sufficient ear and chin rubbing skills to merit seeking me out when I was in the garden. Like many cats, she was highly attuned to the natural world and had a remarkable degree of self-possession.

Two days ago Amy Rose had what appeared to be a stroke—with one eye fixed, she trembled, paced, stumbled, and hung her head. It seemed clear we were going to have to send her to her eternal home. When I picked her up and took her outside to wait for Sr. Rosann to take us to the vet, I thought she would want to feel the grass under her feet one last time, but she was content to enjoy the view and sniff the breeze as she settled into my arms. For a precious few minutes, as often happens when we are aware of the nearness of death, we had the holy experience of being fully present to each other and the world around us.

Her final gift to me was her peacefulness in the face of death. I could still sense her engagement with life, but at one point as I held her in the examination room, she looked up into my eyes and I saw sadness and a bit of fear, but mainly resignation and understanding. I thought of a poem that Daniel Ladinsky wrote in the voice of St. Francis of Assisi:

A tool

in your hand I am, dear God,

the sweetest instrument you have shaped my being into.

What makes me now complete—

feeling the soul of every creature against

my heart.

Does every creature have a

soul?

Surely they do; for anything God has touched

will have life

forever,

and all creatures He

has held.

Sr. Elaine Fischer dug a grave in a beautiful spot near the cemetery, under a tree next to some tiger lilies, and there Amy Rose’s monastic friends laid her to rest. Although her body is stilled, her spirit remains free to roam the land and nestle in the heart of God and all those who love her.