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.

How's Your Heart?

Psalm 95:8 urges us, “Do not harden your heart.” We usually think of hardening our hearts against God when our desires and plans are thwarted. However, as we are seeing in these days of political polarization, we also have a tendency to harden our hearts against our neighbor.

Surely God disagrees with many of the choices we make that harm ourselves and others, and yet God never writes us off. Although eventually we have to deal with the consequences of our actions, we are never cut off from God’s mercy and forgiveness. Our gratitude should lead us to extend the same forbearance to our neighbor.

We do not know what family/religious background, life experiences, and type of education inform people’s decisions, judgments, and attitudes. It is charitable to assume that all people are doing the best they can given their life circumstances and be willing to listen to them, for only then will we find common ground in areas such as love of family, music, or nature even if we have to agree to disagree about whether to wear masks, welcome immigrants, or expand the social safety net.

At our virtual Oblate Renewal Day at the Mount, a participant said that when she feels anger or impatience with someone, she imagines herself extending her hands over the person and praying for his or her healing. The type of healing that may occur is up to God—but our desire for wholeness for another fosters wholeness in ourselves and helps us let go of anger and judgment.

If we want to live in an inclusive, peaceful society, we must enflesh that desire by welcoming all others, not just those we like and agree with, and extending peace to everyone. As Mahatma Gandhi said, “You must be the change you wish to see in the world.” If I want to see a world where people resist hardening their hearts and exhibit tolerance, I must practice these values in my own life.

The Tribute We Pay to Life

In a 1922 book of short stories entitled Balloons by Elizabeth Bibesco, she says of one character, “He is invariably in a hurry—being in a hurry is one of the tributes he pays to life.” Contrary to what we might think about people in the early 20th century, they apparently lived hurried lives just as we do—although we have since sped up our lives even more through the invention of computers, microwaves, airplane travel, and the like.

Our attitude about being in a hurry certainly doesn’t seem to have changed much since 1922. Being busy is viewed as a badge of honor; we almost feel a sense of shame if a friend asks us what’s going on and we reply, “Nothing much.” It’s easy to see how being in a hurry can be considered a tribute to life, because the world is full of wonders and we have a limited life span, so rushing to cram in as many experiences as possible is a way of acknowledging and appreciating what life has to offer.

The problem with this approach is that appreciation requires time. Speeding through life blurs our vision, so we fail to grasp the beautiful complexity of the people and things we are hurrying past. Being constantly on the move also overloads our mind, heart, and soul, leaving us frazzled and irritable rather than peaceful and grateful.

In his Rule, St. Benedict counteracted our impulse to lead a busy life by requiring stability and stipulating set times for prayer, meals, work, study/leisure, and sleep. Ironically, the discipline of following this horarium frees us from busyness because there is no other option but to be where we are called to be. Praying slows our breathing, sitting down to a meal with others fosters relationships, working set hours forestalls preoccupation with productivity and success, taking time to read aids in focusing our mind, and resting/sleeping reminds us of our human needs and limitations.

Upon reflection, it seems that slowing down rather than being in a hurry is our real tribute to life. We do not need to regret what we might miss by moving at a more deliberate and intentional pace, for as Anne Sophie Swetchine observed, “To love deeply in one direction makes us more loving in all others.”

Building Our Spiritual Muscles

Many of us wish that we could be kinder and more patient — but how do we develop those qualities? It might help to think of patience and kindness as muscles that we need to exercise.

People who want to increase their muscle strength do exercises that cause their muscles to deal with higher levels of resistance or weight. In the process, muscle fibers are weakened, and the body repairs these fibers by fusing them, which increases the mass and size of the muscles.

The pandemic has given us many opportunities to practice patience and kindness, to the extent that we sometimes feel we are at our breaking point. Being isolated with our family or community members for months on end has been challenging, and we can get quite frustrated with people who believe differently than we do about vaccinations, wearing of masks, and social distancing.

Nonetheless, as we look back over the past year and a half, it is likely that we have become kinder and more patient than we ever thought possible. As our patience and kindness muscles have worn thin, they have been fused by God’s grace into strengths that we can utilize beyond the pandemic.

Like all our muscles, patience and kindness will atrophy if they are not used regularly. Therefore, we need to keep in practice by performing “random kindness and senseless acts of beauty,” as suggested by Anne Herbert. At the same time, remember the adage to be careful what you pray for — because if you pray for patience, you will likely be given many opportunities to practice it!