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.