Keeping Christmas All the Year

We should never tire of celebrating Christmas. Yes, it is natural to tire of the sugar overload and clutter of decorations and constant activity. But that is not what Charles Dickens meant when he said, “I will honor Christmas in my heart and try to keep it all the year.” No, he meant honoring the good news that the Christ child brought.

What is this good news? As Brian McLaren describes it, “…the story of God’s work in history has never been about escaping Earth and going up to heaven. It has always been about God descending to dwell among us.”

We don’t have to wait to go to heaven to be with God — God’s presence is already here among us. We don’t have to wait for Christ’s light to illumine our darkness — that light already shines within us. We don’t have to wait for a gate to open to enter the kingdom of God — it is already open to anyone whose heart is open to love others.

This good news calls for a change of perspective. Hard as it is to believe, we don’t have to wait until we die to be with God; God has already come to us. We need only ask for Wisdom, who “passes into holy souls from age to age, producing friends of God and prophets” (Wisdom 7:27) to open our eyes and hearts to God’s presence, where we will never tire of celebrating the good news of Christmas.

All Will Be Well

I learned a new word today: agathism, which is the doctrine that, in the end, all things tend toward good. It is from the Greek word “agathos,” which means “good.”

Some teachers who affirmed the doctrine of agathism were St. Paul, who wrote, “We know that all things work for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:28); Julian of Norwich, who heard Jesus say in a vision, “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well”; Teilhard de Chardin, who counseled, “Trust in the slow, slow work of God”; and Martin Luther King, Jr., who observed, “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.”

Persons who believe in agathism don’t deny the presence of misfortune or evil in the world but trust that everything ultimately will end well. Christians are agathists because they believe that the betrayal, crucifixion, and death of Jesus could not prevent him from being resurrected as the Christ. The love and mercy of God does not prevent misfortune or evil but transforms it. As Catherine Upchurch says in Give Us This Day upon reflecting on the death of the Holy Innocents, “Violence would not magically disappear in the coming of Jesus, but [the evangelists] knew his very presence in the midst of it would begin to transform the world.”

We can hasten this transformation of the world by participating in the work of Jesus, who demonstrated God’s love through his ministry of presence, healing, teaching, and advocacy for the poor and oppressed. As John of the Cross said, “Where there is no love, put love and you will find love.” And thus we will taste and see the goodness of the Lord (Ps 34:9).

Making a Joyful Noise

Music always has been important to the community of Mount St. Scholastica — in fact, it helped ensure that the mission of the first sisters would continue. Several months after they arrived in Atchison, Kansas, in response to religious prejudice, the city mayor and prominent citizens decided to meet to determine whether the sisters could stay in the town. Before they held their meeting, the sisters mounted a counteroffensive; they issued written invitations to the men and their wives to attend to an open house at their school. The sisters displayed their textbooks and needlework, played the violin and sang for the visitors, and provided a buffet supper. The guests were delighted and dropped their opposition to the sisters’ presence in the town.

In the early decades of the community, teaching music lessons was an important source of income for the sisters. The community was consistently blessed with excellent vocalists, instrumentalists, and composers. Sacrifices were made to purchase organs for St. Scholastica Chapel and the Choir Chapel.

Today, we honor this history by decorating the community Christmas tree with finely wrought miniature musical instrument ornaments — various horns, violins, guitars, and harps. It is a way of celebrating what we value and acknowledging what matters to us: to “Let the message of Christ dwell among you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom through psalms, hymns, and songs from the Spirit, singing to God with gratitude in your hearts” (Colossians 3:16).

May Christmas be a time for you to celebrate and proclaim that which matters most to you!

A Whole New World of Questions

The philosopher Susanne Langer said, “If we would have new knowledge, we must get us a whole world of new questions.” This insight certainly applied to our desire to know more about God, and with the birth of Jesus, new questions arise within us. Why did God choose a young peasant woman to be the mother of his son? Why was he born in a stable, of all places? Why were shepherds the first to be told about his birth?

These circumstances give us new knowledge about God:

1.     To further his plans, God uses those who are unlikely and overlooked, such as Mary, who had no status in her society because she was young, a woman, and a peasant. As Susan Quaintance, OSB, notes, “No one is paying attention. And that is God’s secret weapon…. I am called to trust that when Love is born in the world, it is through tiny openings, against impossible odds, with nothing but grace to cling to.”

2.     God wanted to be poor at birth and thus was born in the humblest of circumstances. Catherine Doherty observes, “He came into the world stark naked, as every child of woman comes froth from the womb. God loved poverty unto nakedness. This means that he made a total surrender, a total commitment to love. It had to be this way, if it were ever to lead to His Resurrection, and to ours. Don’t you think so?”

3.     Shepherds were observant by nature; they had to be, to protect their sheep. Therefore, the glory of the birth of Emmanuel was first revealed to people who were awake and paying attention.

Our questions, then, lead us to appreciate and trust in tiny openings and grace. They lead us to understand the importance of the total commitment to love that is represented by the life of poverty that is chosen by God. They affirm the importance of staying awake and paying attention in our own lives.

Like Mary, we ask questions, and as we ponder them in our hearts, they lead us closer to an understanding of the workings of God’s own heart.

Touched By an Angel

One e-newsletter I look at every day is a news update called “The Morning” from The New York Times. This newsletter ends with a “pangram” puzzle (word jumble), and yesterday the seven letters provided were a, g, e, c, I, n, and i. The following words can be formed from these letters: allegiance, angelic, angelica, canceling, cancelling, cleaning, enlacing, and inelegance. Guess which word I came up with: Cleaning!

I’m rather chagrined that my mind seems to prioritize cleaning over an angelic encounter. This incident reminded me of a poem called In the Kitchen by Kilian McDonnell, OSB, in which the Virgin Mary is recalling her visit from the angel Gabriel. It includes these lines:

Actually I had just
come back from the well, 
pitcher in my hand. 
As I placed it on the table 
I spilled some on the floor. 

Bending to wipe 

it up, there was a light 

against the kitchen wall 

as though someone had 

opened the door to the sun.

Rag in hand,

hair across my face,

I turned to see

who was coming in, 

unannounced, unasked.

Mary didn’t let her daily chores get in the way of a visitation from an angel. Can we say the same? Do we recognize angelic visitors who arrive unannounced and unasked, or are we too busy to recognize them and thus miss the tidings they bring?

They say cleanliness is next to godliness, but I’d still rather not miss a visit from an angel because I’m engrossed in wiping up some spilled water on the floor!

Drawn to a Crib

Babies are irresistible because of their innocence, vulnerability, and cuddliness. Seeing a newborn renews in us a sense of wonder at the miracle of life and awe that we are in the presence of something new and unique.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise, then, that God chose to come to us in the form of an infant. The writer of 1 Kings prayed, “May the Lord, our God … draw our hearts to himself, that we may walk in his ways….” (1 Kings 8: 57). Because our hearts are naturally drawn to babies, it makes sense that God would choose this avenue to draw us into a web of love.

In her book Donkey Bells: Advent and Christmas, Catherine Doherty said, “You will catch your first glimpse of love on the straw of a stable. There He is, emptying Himself, the Lord of Hosts becoming—out of love for us—a child. In a cradle, in a crib, we see Love so small that we can pick it up. And we look at that cradle and we ask ourselves, ‘Why do I think that God does not love me? Here He is. How stupid of me!’ That is one of the healing processes of God—to draw us to a crib.”

Our churches and homes generally display creche sets during the Christmas season. They are so familiar that we may tend to treat them as a backdrop. Perhaps it is time to renew the ancient practice, started by St. Francis of Assisi, of using the image of Jesus lying in a manger as a prayer tool to let God draw us into his heart.

The Witness of St. Juan Diego

In the year 1531, Our Lady of Guadalupe chose a peasant, Juan Diego Cuauhtlatoatzin, to relay the following message to Bishop Juan de Zumárraga of Mexico: She wished a chapel to be built so the people who sought her help would have a place to gather and pray.

Why did she choose a man like Juan Diego, who was poor and without status or influence, to deliver this message? For that matter, why didn’t she just appear to the bishop herself?

Although Juan Diego may appear to be an unlikely candidate to be a divine messenger, he had characteristics that made him a wise choice. He and his wife, María Lucía, were among the first to be baptized after the arrival of twelve Franciscan missionaries in Mexico in 1524, which reveals that he was open to the word of God and courageous. Juan Diego walked regularly from his home to a Franciscan mission station for religious instruction, thus showing that he was persistent and faithful. He also tended to his sick uncle, revealing a caring and compassionate heart.

Juan Diego protested to the Virgin that he was a “man of no importance” and she would do better to recruit someone of greater standing to talk to the bishop, but she insisted that she wanted him to be her messenger. In so doing, she affirmed indigenous people as being worthy instruments of God’s grace and gave the bishop (and later the rest of the world) the opportunity to see this as well.

Juan Diego was a good and faithful servant in carrying out the Virgin’s wishes, and after the shrine was built, he lived in a nearby hermitage and dedicated the rest of his life to serving her. This “man of no importance” was canonized in 2002. On his feast day, December 9, may we emulate his example of faith, persistence, and trust that no matter what service we might be asked to perform, with God all things are possible.

The Meeting of Kindness and Truth

Psalm 85 includes the beautiful line “Kindness and truth shall meet; justice and peace shall kiss.” It seems like truth and kindness and justice and peace should be natural companions. However, when people have different understandings of truth and justice, kindness and peace can feel very far away.

Later in Advent we will hear the story of how Jesus came to be conceived through the power of the Holy Spirit. When Mary spoke the truth to her betrothed about her visitation from the angel Gabriel, Joseph conceived of a different understanding of the truth; another man had gotten Mary pregnant, and justice required that he sever their relationship. This version of justice did not bring Joseph peace, however, and after the truth of Mary’s story was revealed to him in a dream, he was able to treat her with kindness and brought her into his home.

Mary and Joseph’s understanding of the truth converged relatively quickly, but this is not always the case. We all know of families who are estranged for years when a son or daughter speaks his or her truth, and a parent or sibling can’t accept it. “I’m gay”; “You can’t be, because God didn’t make you that way.” “I love this woman”; “You can’t, because she’s Muslim and we’re Christian.” “I’m an artist and I want to pursue a career as a musician”; “You can’t, because you won’t be able to support yourself.”

A lot of hard work is required for kindness and truth to meet: people must listen to each other, critically examine their own beliefs, and act out of love to allow others to be true to who they are. Similarly, when the hard work of determining the truth is completed, as when an inmate is proven innocent of a crime for which he has been convicted, justice can be enacted, which leads to peace.

Our pursuit of truth and kind acceptance of it — even when it looks different from what we ourselves imagined —is an important way that we can prepare the way for the kingdom (“kin-dom”) of God to flourish in our midst. This is the work not just of Advent, but of every season of our lives.

A Life of Tenacity and Tenderness

Sr. Elena Hernandez, who died on November 23, had a tenacious spirit that was honed in her childhood. Born in San Gabriel, Mexico, she knew she wanted to be a religious sister at the age of 10. However, when her mother died a few years later, she had to set aside this dream and left school after 5th grade to work in a clothing factory to help support her family. Finally, at around age 30, an avenue to fulfill her vocation appeared in the form of Benedictine sisters from Alabama who gave a talk at the parish in her village. She told them of her desire to be a sister, and within two weeks, she found herself in formation. She made her first profession of vows in 1958, and as if to make up for those years when she deferred her dream to care for her family, she was given 63 years to live her vows, dying at age 101.

Sr. Elena was also tenacious in pursuing an education. After transferring to a Benedictine community in Oklahoma, she completed high school and found a way to earn a B.S. in secondary education. Instead of teaching in a school, however, she was offered a job as a pastoral associate at Our Lady of Guadalupe church in the small rural community of Hollis, Ok., which did not have a resident priest. Her catechetical skills and devotion to her faith were put to good use as she taught religious education classes, prepared children to receive the sacraments, and acted as a spiritual guide for her parishioners.

It is no wonder that Sr. Elena had a feisty, strong-willed exterior, given the challenges she faced throughout her life. However, God tapped into her tender side in an unexpected way when she was given some parakeets, who became her beloved companions. When Sr. Elena’s community was discerning about leaving Oklahoma to join Mount St. Scholastica in Kansas, Sr. Elena’s only question was whether she could bring her birds along. An aviary was set up in an unused elevator shaft, and she spent many happy hours there with her winged friends.

Sr. Elena modeled determination, a joyful spirit, and the ability to encounter God in the smallest of creatures. At her 100th birthday party, when she was asked for advice about how to live a good life, she said, “Listen to God and follow your heart.” The best way we can honor her memory is by doing just that.

Now Is the Time

I’ve been at the Mount long enough to look forward to our Advent rituals. The vigil of the first Sunday of Advent signals that we are entering a sacred season: a fragrant evergreen wreath greets us, and candles are brought from the four corners of the chapel and blessed. Three cantors join in exquisite harmony to lead us in an invitatory prayer. Evocative songs warm the heart like good friends who only visit once a year. We reflect on themes of light, waiting, trust, and stillness.

These Advent rituals remind me of a line by the Persian poet Hafiz: “Now is the time to know that all you do is sacred.” Is time during Advent more sacred than time during other seasons of the year? Surely not; it just feels that way because we heighten our attention to God’s presence in the earth and in our lives through song, word, silence, and symbol.

If we can make Advent a sacred time, we can make all we do sacred through attention, reverence, and gratitude — even tasks we consider mundane, such as dealing with paperwork, cleaning bathrooms, and running errands. This is the way of Celtic spirituality, as Esther de Waal notes in her book Every Earthly Blessing:

“Every moment of the day, every activity becomes a way to God…. A thing is done well not only for itself but because of the part that that plays in God’s world…. Celtic spirituality is deeply incarnational. It is through God’s world, in its totality, however mundane and down to earth, that God reveals himself. So the Celtic way of seeing the world is infused with the sense of the all-pervading presence of God. This is God’s world, a world to be claimed, affirmed, and honored.”

Advent is the time of year when we are most aware of God’s incarnation in us (we, who are made in God’s image) and in our world. However, all our time will be blessed if we intentionally practice an incarnational spirituality throughout the year. Remember the wisdom of Hafiz: Now is the time to know that all you do is sacred.

Litany of Abundance

Taking for granted the constant flow of abundance in our lives is remarkably easy, even in a monastery! Litanies are a form of prayer that can awaken us to the particularity of our blessings. Therefore, I offer the following

 MOUNTanous Litany of Abundance

 God of generosity, I offer humble thanks for the profusion of your creation:

X The trillions of cells that compose each unique sister, oblate, employee, and friend of Mount St. Scholastica, as well as the spaces between all those cells that allow us to be vessels of your Spirit

X The multitude of notes sung by our schola and the ever-flowing breath that animates our songs

X The countless combinations of letters that form the words of our prayers, poems, homilies, conversations, and communications

X The untold moments of silence that unfold at sunrise, in our chapels, on our cemetery pathway, and during retreats

X The bighearted guests and donors who support our ministries and life of prayer

X The bounteous stream of bread, sweet rolls, pies, peanut brittle, and other baked goods lovingly made by Sr. Loretta McGuire

X The plentitude of pecans that will grace our table and the bellies of squirrels in the year to come

X The ceaseless opportunities to celebrate feast days, birthdays, name days, accomplishments, and creative pursuits in community

I hope Thanksgiving offers you the time to create your own litany of abundance as you reflect on the blessings of the past year. To paraphrase William Shakespeare, “The only answer we can make is thanks and thanks and ever thanks”!

Carriers of God's Message

When I was preparing for confirmation in the 8th grade, I chose the name “Mary” as my confirmation name — not so much because I felt a close connection to the mother of Jesus, but because I grew up in a Carmelite parish that honored Mary through May crowning rituals and by passing out scapulars depicting Our Lady of Mount Carmel. For the most part, it was instilled in me that having a devotion to Mary was necessary to being a good Catholic.

I thought about this yesterday during an online meeting of my oblate group as we reflected on the Annunciation in anticipation of Advent. One of the questions I asked the oblates was, “How are you being called to respond to the gift of the Spirit in your own life? Is Mary a sister / companion to you as you respond to this call?” Several of the oblates somewhat apologetically noted that Mary is not a central figure in their faith life; they said they have gained more sustenance and guidance from saints such as Benedict and Scholastica, Francis of Assisi, or Joseph, Mary’s husband, who is an important saint for Italians.

Mary had a unique role in God’s plan to come into our midst in human form, and over the years I’ve learned that I can gain a lot of insight by meditating on her life. However, as theologian Elizabeth Johnson has said, “To call Mary blessed is to recognize the blessedness of ordinary people who are called to participate in the work of God in our own day.” One of the benefits of having a great cloud of witnesses who loved and served God in their own unique way is that we have a plethora of guides we can call on as we walk our own path. At different times in our lives, different saints may offer wisdom we need to hear, and that’s perfectly fine — ultimately it is the message and not the messenger that is important.

No matter who acts as our companion on our journey of faith, the need remains for us to discern how we will respond to the gift of the Spirit that has been given to us. May Advent, which begins next Sunday, provide fertile ground for our discernment.

Shifting Perspectives

A couple of days ago there was a 4.0 magnitude earthquake in southern Missouri — not big enough to do any damage, but a reminder that the plates that make up the earth’s crust are constantly shifting. Friction can slow down this shifting, leading to a buildup of pressure over long periods. When the force of movement finally overcomes the friction, sections of the crust suddenly break or become displaced, releasing the pent-up pressure in the form of seismic waves.

Like the earth, humans undergo a constant shifting in our perspectives and our plans. We, too, often try to put on the brakes when we sense that changes are occurring. Eventually, however, something so dramatic happens that we have no choice but to alter our perspectives.

An example is when the first full photo of earth, nicknamed “The Big Blue Marble,” was taken on December 17, 1972, by the American crew of the Apollo 17 spacecraft. For the first time humans were able to grasp the beauty, fragility, and wholeness of our common home from the perspective of space, and we responded by accelerating the environmental movement. A more dramatic seismic event occurred when George Floyd was killed by a police officer on May 25, 2020, ripping the scab off the wound of racism in the United States. This event jolted us into an awareness of how widespread racism is and how much suffering it causes and has led to ongoing efforts to address deeply ingrained racism through reform of policing, our judicial and educational systems, and our immigration policies.

Jesus constantly invited us to widen our limited human perspectives and look at life through the eyes of God, who reverences everything that lives and invites us to do the same. When we allow ourselves to experience the small shifts that call us to change our way of thinking and being and respond with patience and trust instead of resistance, we can live more joyful and peaceful lives and avoid the trauma of seismic changes that feel so overwhelming.

Obedience to the Creative Spirit

Today we said a final farewell to Sr. Paula Howard, who died on October 24 just a week shy of her 99th birthday. Sr Paula was one of those rare persons who was equally comfortable with both words and numbers — she earned an M.A. in speech and drama from the Catholic University of America and M.S. in mathematics from the University of Notre Dame. She put both skill sets to good use through her various careers as a teacher at the elementary, secondary and college levels; a high school principal; an English instructor and then registrar at Bethlehem University in the West Bank; and academic dean and assistant to the president at Donnelly College in Kansas City, Ks. (a job she undertook at age 65 and from which she retired at age 77).

By all accounts, Sr. Paula was a gifted teacher and administrator. However, one of her most enduring legacies may well be her obedience to the call of creativity in her elder years. She learned how to write icons at age 77 and created more than 250 of these holy images within a 20-year period. In her “retirement” she also became a first-time author when her book Monastic Springs was published in 2013, detailing a 50-year period of the community of Mount St. Scholastica in Atchison.

Sr. Paula revealed that it’s never too late to share in the creative work of God, who said, “Behold! I make all things new!” (Revelation 21:5). Our hesitation to obey the call of creativity and do something new generally stems from concerns of our ego: What if I’m no good at it and end up looking foolish? Sr. Paula was able to set aside those concerns, and her talents as an artist and author blossomed. May we honor her memory by setting aside our excuses and delving into our own well of creativity, no matter how old we may be.

Grazing On God's Wonders

Because the Word of God is so important to St. Benedict, in his view, mistakes in proclaiming or chanting Scripture are unacceptable. Thus in chapter 45 of his Rule, he says, “Any who make a mistake in a psalm, responsory, refrain or reading must make satisfaction right away before all.” The implication is that the person is at fault for neglecting to adequately prepare for prayer or for failing to be mindful during prayer. However, sometimes a slip of the tongue occurs that can be an occasion of grace.

Such an occasion occurred at mass last Saturday during the first reading from Wisdom. The passage described how God provided for the Israelites “an unhindered way out of the Red Sea, and a grassy plain out of the raging waves, where those protected by your hand passed through as one nation, after gazing on marvelous wonders.” What the reader proclaimed instead was “after grazing on marvelous wonders.”

This slip made me consider the difference between ”gazing” and “grazing” on God’s wonders. It is helpful to consider what happens when cows graze. First, they chew their food just enough to moisten it. Once swallowed, it goes to the first portion of the stomach, called the rumen, where it mixes with other acidic digestive liquids and is softened. This softened food is called the cud, and it is sent back up to the cow's mouth, where it is re-chewed before going back down into her stomach to be fully digested. Thus, the argument could be made that it’s not enough for us just to gaze (take in) God’s wonders; we need to “ruminate” about them so we can fully digest them and receive the full benefit of what God has provided for us.

Cows spend nearly eight hours out of every day chewing their cud. How much time do we spend each day contemplating the splendor and variety of creation, the marvelous workings of our own bodies, and God’s very presence in our lives? I invite you to take some time today not just to gaze but to graze upon some of God’s marvelous wonders. Then, like all healthy cows, you too can be called contented!

 

Remember Lot's Wife!

"Lot's Wife" by
Sir William
Hamo Thornycroft

In the Book of Genesis, chapter 19, we are presented with a vivid cautionary tale about the reluctance to let go of the past and move forward in trust. Abraham’s nephew Lot, along with his wife and two daughters, are fleeing from Sodom with the help of two angels, who tell them, “Don’t look back!” Lot’s wife can’t resist the urge and turns into a pillar of salt.

Did you ever wonder why she was turned into a pillar of salt and not a pillar of iron or stone, for example? Our tears are salty; perhaps the fate of Lot’s wife is a message that excessive regret and grieving for what we are leaving behind wears us down until we are nothing but the salt from our tears. It’s also worth considering that salt is valuable because the sodium it contains is essential for nerve and muscle function; in addition, salt is useful in flavoring and preserving food, cleaning, and producing a variety of items such as pottery, soap, and chlorine. Thus, by becoming a pillar of salt, Lot’s wife enhanced the lives of those who followed her and was an enduring example of the need to let go of attachments in order to have new life.  

In speaking of the coming of God’s kingdom, Jesus himself told his disciples, “On that day, let no one on the housetop come down to retrieve his possessions. Likewise, let no one in the field return for anything he has left behind. Remember Lot’s wife!” (Jn 17: 31-32). As my friend, Marty Rymarz, told me recently, “I think about the Benedictine (and Buddhist) teachings on detachment and remind myself that attachment to buildings, people and ‘things’ of this world stand in the way of our complete attachment to God. It is hard to say goodbye to many things but often saying goodbye to ‘things’ allows a more complete hello to our Father in Heaven.”

We can’t receive new blessings from God when our hearts and our arms are already full of things we treasured in the past and relationships that no longer lead to the fullness of life with God. Trust is required to let go of our attachments — as Ralph Abernathy said, “I don’t know what the future may hold, but I know who holds the future.” May our head be clear of desire, our heart be freed from regret, and our arms be empty of possessions so we are free to embrace the future fully in the company of our God.

Suffering and Transformation

Fr. Richard Rohr says that transformation generally comes through great love or great suffering. In the case of Sr. Celinda Medina, both appear to be true.

Sr. Celinda, who died on October 24 at age 96, experienced disabilities that left her unable to walk or talk clearly during the last 20 years of her life, along with chronic pain relating to cancer. Nonetheless, she wanted to connect with everyone who passed by her wheelchair, reaching out to hold their hand. Despite her diminishment, she often found joy in life, especially when family visited, when candy was to be had, when she got hold of a good book, and when her favorite program was on the television. As Kaira Jewel Lingo said, “Suffering doesn’t have to disappear for beauty to be there.” Sr. Celinda’s beauty shone through her sweet nature, patience, love of others, and peaceful acceptance of her infirmities.

For reasons beyond our understanding, suffering is an inescapable part of our lives. Jesus showed us how to deal with loneliness (through prayer), betrayal (through understanding of human failings), and physical pain at the hands of others (through forgiveness). It is a mystery why some people experience a greater degree of suffering than do others. If asked if we would prefer to be transformed through love or suffering, most of us would choose love, even with its challenges. However, when suffering befalls us, if we meet it with acceptance rather than resistance, it will lead us closer to Christ, who showed us that our suffering will be transformed into wisdom and new life — as it was for Sr. Celinda.

Our God of Opportunity

In Greek mythology, Kairos, the youngest son of Zeus, was the god of opportunity. He was depicted as a youth with a long lock of hair hanging down from his forehead, which suggested that opportunity could only be grasped as he approached.

As it happens, God as revealed in the Hebrew and Christian scriptures also is a God of opportunity. In Exodus 19:5, God says to the Israelites, “Now if you obey me fully and keep my covenant, then out of all nations you will be my treasured possession.” In John 15:7, Jesus tells us, “If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask for whatever you want and it will be done for you.” What marvelous opportunities! What more could we ask?

Actually, we could and do ask God for all manner of things without being willing to keep up our end of the bargain. Keeping God’s covenant and remaining in Christ can seem tedious and overly demanding because it entails loving God above all else and loving our neighbor as ourselves, which means dying to self. Why do opportunities always have to come with a catch?

What God the Creator, Redeemer, and Holy Spirit are asking of us is relationship — which, as we know, means sacrifice for love of the other, but also the opportunity for joy and fullness of life. Our God is always offering us acceptance, forgiveness, belonging, and new life. Will we grasp those opportunities when God approaches us?

Love in Action

I learned a new word today: “haecceity,” which means “The quality that makes something or someone what they are.” We all know people who are compassionate; the haecceity, or quality, that makes them compassionate is kindness. Unfortunately, today are seeing more and more examples of people who are violent; the quality that makes them violent is anger. This makes me wonder: What is the quality that makes someone a Christian? I believe it is trust in a God who loves all people and calls us to do the same.

According to Fr. John Kavanaugh, Mother Teresa believed that the greatest need in life is greater trust. Her belief is being affirmed today as many people are exhibiting high levels of mistrust in government, science, and our religious, educational, and judicial institutions. The peace educator Paul Chappell believes that this mistrust in coming from “tangles of trauma” that many people have experienced at the hands of family members, employers, religious figures, teachers, politicians, and judges.

Mother Teresa also believed that the absence of love is the greatest poverty. Therefore, it is critical that we who are grounded in the love that comes from knowing God extend that love to others. It is not enough to say “God loves you”; we need to demonstrate the effects of that love in our own lives by being generous, peaceful, caring, prayerful, and patient and by serving others. As another saint — Teresa of Avila — said, “Christ has no body on earth but yours, no hands but yours, no feet but yours. Yours are the eyes through which Christ's compassion for the world is to look out; yours are the feet with which He is to go about doing good; and yours are the hands with which He is to bless us now.”

It may seem impossible to untangle all the traumas afflicting our world today. However, that’s not our job. Our job is to be open to the ways God seeks to work through us to heal others. As Jesus said, “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another” (Jn 13:35).

Celebrating Our Dwelling Places

After my parents were married, their first home was in Ottawa, Kansas, where my father worked for a jewelry store in his first job as a watch repairman. Four years later they moved to Leavenworth, Kansas, my mom’s hometown. When my folks returned to Ottawa to visit friends, they would always drive by their former house to see if the fence dad built was still standing (it was) and to check on the trees they had planted.

We invest a lot of ourselves in the buildings we inhabit; the memories we create there become part of who we are and are markers of our lifelong journey of becoming. It’s no wonder we find it difficult to let go of buildings that have been important parts of our lives.

Today Mount St. Scholastica said a final farewell to St. Ann’s, a 9-bedroom building originally built to house workmen with no other home. Over 90+ years, St. Ann’s provided lodging for generations of laborers, college students, volunteers, and sisters. However, as Judith Sutera, OSB, reminded us, “their spirit is not in that one house but in all the grounds and buildings and works that they have created to sustain us.” Sr. Judith also offered this perspective:

“We are in our buildings for as long as they serve us well. We are of our buildings because architecture shapes our interactions and sensory perceptions. But we never are our buildings. Wherever we are is to be a place of spirit and truth.”

Because Benedictines recognize that God is constantly making things new, we attempt to practice conversatio morum — not clinging to what is at the moment but being open to the new ways God is working in our lives. That spirit of letting go sometimes means letting go of former dwelling places that no longer serve us. Gratitude for the blessings those places provided helps us to remember, to celebrate, and to move forward with confidence in God’s continued providence.

The Saints as Wounded Healers

Illustration by John August Swanson

For the past several years I have read about the lives of many saints in Give Us This Day and have come to realize that most of them are “wounded healers,” to use Henri Nouwen’s phrase. Many of the saints faced discrimination because of their social class or their race; often their spiritual gifts were doubted or discounted; some died early of physical ailments or martyrdom. How is it that the physical and emotional suffering they experienced aided them in their often heroic service of others? Consider this perspective offered by Rachel Naomi Remen:

“Wounding and healing are not opposites. They’re part of the same thing. It is our wounds that enable us to be compassionate with the wounds of others. It is our limitations that make us kind to the limitations of other people....  I think I have served people perfectly with parts of myself I used to be ashamed of.”

Being wounded in one way or another is an inescapable part of being human. In reading about the lives of the saints, we see that they had to deal with illness, grief, unfulfilled dreams, and family and workplace demands just as we do. What is distinctive about the saints is that they learned to refrain from making their wounds a source of bitterness or self-preoccupation and instead used them to foster healing through compassion and humility. They were able to do this by drawing upon Christ’s strength and sustenance. They give us hope that we can do the same, and so we honor the saints — those throughout history and in our own lives —and attempt to imitate them.

Expanding Our Vision of Heaven

As Halloween approaches, horror movies abound featuring zombies, evil witches, werewolves, vampires, and psychologically damaged murderers. The novelist Evelyn Waugh made an intriguing observation about this phenomenon: “The human mind is inspired enough when it comes to inventing horrors; it is when it tries to invent a heaven that it shows itself cloddish.”

When asked what heaven will be like, most people speak in vague terms of seeing Jesus, being reunited with deceased loved ones and pets, having no pain, and being granted their every wish. We tend to focus on what our mind and body would want (A never-ending banquet! No more arthritis! Hugs and kisses from our parents, spouse, and friends! The chance to ask God any questions we want!).

Perhaps we should spend more time contemplating what our soul hopes to find in heaven. Here we can get more specific, because it is the same thing our soul longs for here on earth: Lush forests brimming with marvelous birds and animals, oceans and lakes of sparkling water, and rolling fields of fertile soil. People of different cultures celebrating each other’s food, customs, and art. Universities and industry buzzing with medical discoveries and engineering feats. The absence of weapons, poverty, and discrimination. Endless inspiration provided by musicians, storytellers, poets, and artists. A worldwide ethos that values and nurtures every unique being.

If we can choose to introduce horror and death into our world through monsters both real and imagined, we also can choose to introduce delight and life through the better angels of our being. We can do a better job of inventing an astonishing heaven that has its origin right here on earth. Imagine that!

Deep Listening and Gentle Speech

We humans are wired to try to make sense of things. We are also wired to tell stories. Thus, when we don’t understand the actions of another person, we try to figure it out by telling ourselves a story that will explain the person’s behavior. That’s when we run into problems, because the stories we tell ourselves are often inaccurate or incomplete. The remedy, as St. Benedict knew, is to ask the person for his or her perspective (that is, offer a place of hospitality) and be willing to listen.

Here’s an example: “Johnny” is a poor student and acts out in school. His parents are frustrated because they believe his behavior reflects poorly on them, and they create a story about why he acts this way. “He doesn’t care if he gets poor grades,” they say. “All he cares about is playing video games.”

Here is where another tenet of St. Benedict comes into play: humility. We often think that the actions of another are somehow related to us, because we have a tendency to make everything about us. However, as Eleanor Roosevelt said, “You wouldn’t worry so much about what others think of you if you realized how seldom they do.” If Johnny’s parents asked him why he doesn’t like school, they might discover that his acting out has nothing to do with them, and indeed he cares very much about his poor performance in school. However, unbeknownst to his parents and teachers, his brain scrambles letters, making it impossible for him to keep up with the other kids in his class. He thinks his parents don’t love him because he’s “stupid” and finds comfort in video games that use images instead of words and allow him to be a hero instead of a failure.

In His book Fear: Essential Wisdom for Getting Through the Storm, Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh notes, “Much of our suffering comes from wrong perceptions.” When we listen to each other and use gentle speech (another recommendation of St. Benedict), we often discover that we each have been victims of our wrong perceptions. “The intention of deep listening and loving speech is to restore communication,” Thich Nhat Hanh says, “because once communication is restored, everything is possible, including peace and reconciliation.”

Our society is greatly in need of peace and reconciliation within families and in our workplaces, schools, and churches. We can help by modeling deep listening and gentle speech, because our current situation will only improve one conversation at a time. 

Knocking at the Doorway of Death

In the past two weeks, four sisters of Mount St. Scholastica have died: Sr. Berlinda Gallegos on October 9, Sisters Celinda Medina and Paula Howard on October 24, and Sr. Sheila Carroll on October 25. When I was a staff member at Shantivanam House of Prayer, we used to pray for those who had “walked through the doorway of death,” so it was fitting that today in our communion hymn, we sang “Knock and the door shall be opened.”

These sisters had unique journeys through life — among them, they taught every grade level from preschool through college, provided elder care, wrote icons and books, provided spiritual direction, led retreats, and lived with various debilitating illnesses. Likewise, just as every woman’s labor to give birth is different, their labors to gain release from their bodies in order to be born into new life were different.

These labors are sometimes difficult to watch. When I was sitting with Sr. Celinda a few hours before she died, an aide came in and said, “I know you all try to make this happy, but I have a hard time with death.” The work of dying often is a struggle, but we are able to view this transition with joy because we know that when one of our sisters who is at the doorway of death knocks, the door will be opened by the One who says, “Come to me, all you who thirst; come, and life shall be yours” (Rev. 21:6).

Because Jesus walked the passageways of death before us, we can trust that he is the way for us in death as in life. There is nowhere Christ is not with us, even in death. And so, whether our labors are brief or prolonged, new life awaits and we can say with Dag Hammarskjold, “For all that has been, thanks! For all that will be, yes!”

 

Watering Our Life of Prayer

St. Benedict provides many instructions about prayer in his Rule, including detailed directions about prayer times in the different seasons of the year. In Chapter 16, St. Benedict quoted Psalm 118, which said, “Seven time a day have I praised you,” and he noted “We will fulfill this sacred number of seven if we satisfy our obligations of service at Lauds [dawn], Prime [sunrise], Terce [9 am], Sext [12 pm], None [3 pm], Vespers [ending between 5:30 and 7 pm], and Compline [before retiring].” Because Psalm 118 also said “Let us arise at night to give him praise,” Benedict’s monks also prayed Vigils (Matins) during the night, sometime between 2 and 4 am.

What is the purpose of praying so often? Desert Father Abba Poemen provides one perspective:

“The nature of water is yielding, and that of a stone is hard. Yet if you hang a bottle filled with water above the stone so that the water drips drop by drop, it will wear a hole in the stone. In the same way, the word of God is tender, and our heart is hard. So when people hear the word of God frequently, their hearts are opened to God.”

Another water-based image of prayer I heard mentioned at the 2021 Oblate Renewal Day at Mount St. Scholastica is that prayer is like an ice cube that melts into us throughout the day. In other words, we are always to carry an awareness of the divine presence within us.

Few of us are able to take time to pray eight times a day, but it is likely we drink water or other liquids that often — perhaps even during the night when we wake up thirsty. One way for us to stay centered in God, then, is to recall whenever we take a drink that God is our water of life and the source of all the blessings that flow into our lives.

Thomas Merton, when asked how to improve prayer, replied, “take the time.” Taking time to drink fluids is essential for a healthy body; taking time to pray is essential for a well-developed soul.

 

Humility in Action

Humility is easy to talk about but difficult to live, which makes it all the more striking when we see it in action.

Such is the case with Sr. Evelyn Gregory, whose funeral mass and burial was today. Sr. Evelyn was a beloved spiritual director, formation director, principal, and teacher; a raconteur whose deadpan delivery of a quip was unparalleled; and a lover of poetry who, in her 90s, could still recite poems she had memorized in grade school. However, one particular memory unrelated to any of these characteristics will stay with me.

A couple of years ago, when she was living on second floor of the monastery, Sr. Evelyn slipped off the edge of a sofa onto the floor. Although she wasn’t injured, she wasn’t strong enough to lift herself back onto the sofa. Inexplicably, all the strongest sisters in the monastery happened to be away at the time, and so the prioress, Sr. Esther, enlisted my help. When the two of us were unable to lift her, Sr. Esther devised a plan: we would get a sheet under Sr. Evelyn and slide her over to a stairway bannister, which she could use to pull herself up. (The ingenuity of this plan helped me understand why wisdom and creativity are important qualifications for a prioress!) As we pulled Sr. Evelyn across the floor, she sailed along like a queen and pulled herself up without difficulty once she reached the bannister.

The remarkable thing about this episode is that Sr. Evelyn didn’t apologize for her predicament, protest that she didn’t need assistance, or show any signs of embarrassment. She accepted our help with dignity and gratitude and didn’t bemoan or try to hide her physical weakness. This humility made quite an impression on me, because giving up control isn’t easy. It is a sign of a deep spirituality and results from a lifetime of surrender to and trust in God, as well as trust in the love of one’s companions.

Walter Stanley Mooneyham said, “Love talked about is easily turned aside, but love demonstrated is irresistible.” The same can be said of humility. I’m grateful to Sr. Evelyn for giving me a beautiful demonstration of this trait, which is key to living with grace and gratitude. 

Cultivating Peace

Many people roll their eyes when a beauty pageant contestant is asked to name three wishes and the first is inevitably “world peace.” No one seems to take such a wish seriously — perhaps because (1) such a dream appears impossible to achieve and (2) it comes across as an insincere attempt to express concern for others.

Although we might envision a world of peace in which wars have ceased, nations cooperate in sharing resources and caring for the needs of the poor, and the peoples of the world are seen as interconnected, this is not the peace Jesus told us to expect. He said, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid” (Jn 14: 27).

The source of Jesus’ peace was not being loved by others, enjoying the seeming security of possessions, or having a conflict-free life; rather, it came from his relationship with his Father. He knew he was loved (“This is my beloved son”) even when others rejected him and conspired to put him to death. The peace he gives us is to know we share in that love, which is present even in the midst of human conflict, greed, and weakness.

Just as Jesus bequeathed his peace to us, we can cultivate a peaceful spirit to share with others. Here are some ways to do that:

• Treat people with respect and empathy, even when you disagree with their opinions or oppose their behavior

• Take the long view: this too shall pass

• Trust that the love of God is stronger than any obstacle you may face

• Be humble, accepting that you don’t always have answers or solutions

• Understand that appearances may be deceiving; a situation you judge as “bad” might eventually lead to “good”

• Become attached to God, not to possessions

• Spend some time in prayer and silence each day and learn how to tame your mind’s busyness and worries

Although it’s a safe assumption that we won’t experience world peace in our lifetime, we can move a little closer to that goal by cultivating inner peace, as A.P.J Abdul Kalam noted:

Where there is peace in the heart, there is beauty in the character. When there is beauty in the character, there is harmony in the home. When there is harmony in the home, there is order in the nation. When there is order in the nation, there is peace in the world.

The Breathing Together of All Things

The poet E.E. Cummings described his father, Edward Cummings, as “a preacher who horribly shocked his pewholders by crying ‘the kingdom of Heaven is no spiritual roofgarden: it's inside you.’” 

I agree with Edward Cummings that the kingdom of heaven is inside us. However, we need to take that marvelous realization a step further by understanding that it is not just inside us, it is inside everything. Perhaps this is what Teilhard de Chardin meant by “the breathing together of all things.”

It might seem ridiculous to think of an inanimate object like a desk “breathing.” However, all matter, even matter that is very dense, is made up of infinitesimal particles that have energy and are constantly moving. In order that have space to move, there must be some space between these particles. The process of these particles moving through space can be likened to breathing, as air particles move through the space in our lungs. Thus, it indeed can be said that everything that exists is breathing together! Furthermore, if we believe that God created the universe, then this movement of particles through space is God’s breath animating all things!

That the kingdom of heaven is within us through God’s breath means that we can never be separated from God. This understanding frees us from fear. That the kingdom of heaven is within all things through God’s breath means that all things are imbued with God’s Spirit. This understanding requires us to treat all other beings and all things with reverence.

We don’t need to go to a spiritual roofgarden to find the kingdom of heaven. It is both within us and around us, as water is to a school of fish. We just need to school ourselves to understand that the kingdom of heaven is in our midst and act accordingly.

Esteem for Silence

Miguel de Cervantes, who wrote the novel Don Quixote, once said, “A proverb is a short sentence based on long experience.” This quotation came to mind when I heard the following passage from the Book of Sirach (5: 13-15 – 6:1) at morning prayer recently:

Be swift to hear, but slow to answer.
If you have knowledge,
answer your neighbor;
if not, put your hand over your mouth!
A man’s tongue can be his downfall.
Say nothing harmful, small or great,
Lest you acquire a bad name and disgrace.

It certainly sounds like Sirach had “long experience” in learning how to train his tongue!

It is doubtful that St. Benedict was familiar with the Book of Sirach (at least, he did not quote it in his Rule), but Sirach definitely was a man after Benedict’s own heart, for Benedict’s Rule includes a chapter on “Restraint of Speech.” In these days when we have so many social media avenues to express our opinions, restraint of speech is often seen as a quaint, outmoded notion. However, being “slow to hear but swift to answer” is contributing to the breakdown of our society as many persons spout off without regard for the truth or the consequences of their words. Their bloated pride and vanity would be laughable if they weren’t so dangerous; as it says in Proverbs 18:21, “The tongue holds the key to life and death.”

Another short sentence based on long experience is the familiar proverb “Actions speak louder than words.” The way we treat others, not our words, is the truest test of character. Furthermore, Benedict said in his Rule that “…there are times when good words are to be left unsaid out of esteem for silence” (6:2). “Listen” — the first word of Benedict’s Rule —is an anagram of “silent,” so clearly he was one who esteemed silence. If we are to gain the wisdom to meet the challenges of our current age, our starting point must be learning to esteem silence.