Jesus Is Coming

Once I got a Christmas card from a friend with a decorative stamp on the back of the envelope that said, “Jesus is coming. Look busy!”

Being busy as we anticipate our celebration of the birth of Jesus isn’t a problem for most of us, as the days before Christmas are filled with cooking and baking, house cleaning, decorating, buying and wrapping gifts, organizing or attending holiday get-togethers and events, and practices for the choir or other liturgical ministries. There’s no need to look busy, because we are busy!

I have yet to see a stamp that says, “Jesus is coming. Be still!” It’s not that Christ doesn’t appear to busy people — it’s just that people who are still are more likely to notice Christ’s presence. In stillness, we observe the random acts of kindness that occur around us every day. In stillness, we see Christ’s manifestation in the sunset or in an evergreen tree. In stillness, we hear God say, “Do not be afraid; I am with you.”

Jesus himself was often busy during his years of public ministry with the demands of healing and preaching. Serving others necessarily entails a certain amount of busyness. However, the gospels tell us that Jesus also frequently withdrew to a quiet place to be still and totally present to the Father, who guided and sustained him.

Jesus is coming. Let us celebrate, both in the bustle of our communal life with others and in the stillness of our heart where we hear God whisper our name — “Beloved.” 

Heartening Acts of Kindness

The woman who cuts my hair doesn’t talk much while she works, so my attention tends to drift to the conversations going on between other stylists and their customers. Yesterday, across the room, a fashionable stylist with a mass of red ringlets cascading down her back was chatting with the elderly woman whose hair she was cutting when the woman’s husband arrived to pick her up. He was a bit stooped, had a lined face, and was dressed in well-worn jeans — perhaps a retired farmer or mechanic, I speculated.

Interestingly, the stylist called him over and gave him instructions about how to curl his wife’s hair; he obediently picked up the curling iron and followed her directions to curl over or under in the front and on the sides. The woman joked with her husband, “I would have had her cut the sides shorter, but you say I have big ears!” When it came time to leave and the woman struggled to transfer from the hairdresser’s chair to a wheelchair, I realized she was nearly blind. “I’d rather lose my hearing than my sight,” the stylist commented. “I would too,” the woman replied, “but you learn to live with the hand you’re dealt.”

It was heartening to see the kindness of the stylist, who took extra time to give the woman’s husband a lesson in curling hair, along with his willingness to take on a task that was outside his skill set for the sake of his wife and the blind woman’s acceptance of her limitation. Although the news is mostly filled with stories of rancor, we are surrounded every day by examples of thoughtfulness, devotion, and acceptance. When we follow the Advent admonition to open our eyes to see and our ears to hear, it becomes clear that the kingdom of God is indeed growing into fullness in our very midst. Behold!

The Challenge and Peace of Commitment

The Annunciation by Henry Tanner

In his homily today on the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception, Fr. Meinrad Miller pointed out that perhaps the most important line in the story about the Angel Gabriel’s appearance to Mary is the last one: “Then the angel departed from her.”

Often it is easy to say “yes” to a life-changing request when an angel is standing before you, or your beloved proposes marriage, or you receive a job offer, or you think you’ve found the perfect monastic community. Mary’s joy overflowed when she visited her cousin Elizabeth, and she praised God with a full heart. However, after the joyful “yes” came a life of hardship — judgment by neighbors, fear of being rejected by the man to whom she was betrothed, living for a time as a refugee, having her adolescent son go missing, worrying about his safety during his years of ministry, and suffering at the foot of his cross. Saying “yes” to a commitment, admirable as it is, does not guarantee that the road ahead will be smooth.

And yet. There is a peace that comes with identifying and living out our calling, our vocation, despite the hardships that inevitably accompany it. We all know people who never seem to find their calling (or resist it). Although their freedom from the demands of commitment may seem enviable at times, their restlessness is not something we would ever wish for.

Just as God prepared the way for Mary to be the mother of his Son, God prepares the way for us to recognize and respond to our call to serve others through our own unique aptitude and capabilities. When we listen, the spirit of discernment will be with us, and we will find the companionship we need to help us live out our commitments. May God’s grace be with us all!

The Charity God Pours Into Our Heart

Jesus appeared to have been very observant; his eyes were open to what other people failed to notice or appreciate. An example is when he called attention to a widow who contributed two small copper coins to the temple treasury. Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything —all she had to live on” (Mk 12: 43-44).

The widow’s action tells us several things about her. First, it was important to her to offer what she had to God, even though it was not valuable in the world’s eyes. Second, in giving all she had to live on, she was expressing confidence in God’s care and abundance.

Most of us do not experience financial poverty, but we all have an inner poverty of some kind. Perhaps we lack self-confidence, attentiveness, trust, resiliency, or patience. Can we muster what little self-confidence we have to be of service to God or use the last drop of our patience to help someone who asks a favor of us? Can we trust that, as St. John of the Cross says, “Where there is no love, put love, and you will find love”?

In his book Letters from the Desert, Carlo Carretto said, “ I, a little creature … have been called to be transformed into God by sharing [God’s] life. And what transforms me is the charity which [God] pours into my heart. Love transforms me slowly into God.”

Our inner poverty teaches us that we cannot always be self-reliant. However, like the poor widow, we can always draw on the strength, compassion, and charity that Christ pours into our hearts, and then we ourselves will experience God’s abundant love and care.

God's Delight In Us

Many of us have never been told that God delights in us — our personality quirks, our creative use of our talents and aptitudes, our exploration and enjoyment of the world, and our expressions of compassion and kindness. Instead, the image of God that has been instilled in us is that of a demanding and critical judge, which makes us fearful of doing anything that would lead to failure. The irony is that God is not disappointed by our failures; rather, God is saddened when we let fear keep us from uniquely reflecting the creative, loving, joyful God in whose image we were made.

It is important for us to be confident that God delights in us, for as St. Albert the Great said, “The greater and more persistent your confidence in God, the more abundantly you will receive all that you ask.” When we trust that God will support our imaginings, efforts, and explorations, we can dream big and confidently ask for what we need.

Sometimes our fear is not about whether we will fail; instead, it is about the sacrifices we know we will have to make to be the person we are called to be. Persons who thrive as teachers, social workers, and aides in nursing homes, for example, know they will make much less money than they would in other professions. I have found a fulfilling life as a Benedictine sister, but that has required giving up a good measure of autonomy and solitude time and the adoption of a simpler lifestyle. For me, at least, the sacrifice necessary to gain more and more experience of God’s blessing, presence, and care is well worth it.

Ultimately, we need to dare to expand our imagination regarding God’s delight in us. As St. Paul says, “Eye has not seen, and ear has not heard, nor has it entered the human heart, what God has prepared for those who love him” (1 Cor 2: 9). Let us move confidently in the direction of our dream of sharing fullness of life with God and all that God has created!

 

Joining In God's Great Flow of Mercy

Photo by Suzanne Fitzmaurice, OSB

On November 11, 1863 — 160 years ago — seven Benedictine sisters who became the founders of Mount St. Scholastica arrived in Atchison, Kansas. My great-great-grandfather, Lambert Halling, who was employed by the monks of St. Benedict’s Abbey as a carpenter, met them at the ferry with his co-worker, James Kennedy, and escorted them to their newly built convent. Not all people in this frontier town welcomed Catholics, however, and the wharfmaster had heard of threats to burn down the house if Catholic sisters took up residence. Therefore, these two carpenters paced in front of the building until morning, lanterns in hand, to ward off potential intruders.

At a compline prayer service on November 10 commemorating this event, we heard this reading from Sirach: 

Now bless the God of all
    who everywhere does great things,
    who raises us up from our birth
    and deals mercifully with us.
May God give us gladness in our hearts,
   and may there be peace in our time,
    in Israel as in times past.

May God grant us his mercy,

    and may God rescue us in our lifetime.

In 1863, my great-great-grandfather listened to the call to protect this small band of vulnerable sisters; he happened to be present at a time of need and he responded, and in doing so, he became an agent of God’s mercy.

Like him and so many others, we who are present today when others are in need can join in God’s great flow of mercy. We can stand up for those in our own time who are misunderstood or oppressed. We can provide spiritual and physical sustenance for those who need food and housing and for those who are hungry to know God. And in extending God’s mercy to others, we come to see how God deals mercifully with each of us in our own time of need, our own time of brokenness, our own times when we need rescue. In being agents of God’s mercy by serving others, we learn gratitude and humility. And so may we extend God’s light to others, that God may give us gladness in our hearts and peace in our times.

Whatsoever You Do

Yesterday at Morning Prayer, our reading from Chapter 52 of the Rule of St. Benedict said, “When the Work of God [i.e., communal prayer] is finished, all should leave in deepest silence and show reverence to God so that anyone who may wish to pray alone is not disturbed by the insensitivity of another.”

It is interesting that St. Benedict links reverence to God and sensitivity to the needs of others. When we remember that God’s Spirit dwells in all persons (“Do you not know that you are God's temple and that God's Spirit dwells in you?” [1 Corinthians 3:16]), then reverencing God becomes very practical. It entails simple acts of thoughtfulness, consideration, and kindness.

In her book Preferring Christ, Norvene Vest comments that “this ‘humdrum’ and ‘external’ matter of everyday thoughtfulness for one another is where Benedict locates ‘spiritual’ progress.”

We may be accustomed to charting our spiritual progress through quantifiers such as the number of retreats we attend, our faithfulness in attending Mass, and the amount of our charitable giving — all laudable activities, to be sure. However, for St. Benedict, seeing Christ in others and responding to them through humdrum acts of service such as doing household chores, leaving the last piece of cake for someone else, and taking care of others when they are sick is the highest form of reverence for God. St. Benedict takes seriously the words “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me,” and invites us to do the same.

The Treasures of a Lifetime

Our lives are like a kaleidoscope — a jumble of experiences, feelings, relationships, prayers, challenges, and hopes. It is only after we die that all the pieces come together in a beautiful pattern that is illuminated by the risen Christ.

On All Souls Day, we remember the kaleidoscopic lives of our loved ones who have walked through the doorway of death. It’s also a day to think about how we want to live in preparation for the day death comes to our own door. Rabindranath Tagore wrote the following poem about how, in the words of St. Francis of Assisi, we can praise God through “our Sister, bodily death”:

When death comes to your door

at the end of the day,
what treasures will you hand over to him?
I’ll bring my full soul before him.
I’ll not send him away empty-handed
the day he comes to my door.
Into my life-vessel pours the nectar
of countless evenings and dawns,
of numberless autumn and spring nights.
My heart gets filled with the sight
of endless fruits and flowers,
with the touch of joy and sorrow’s light and shade.
All the treasures I’ve gathered
during my lifelong preparation
I’m now arranging for the last day
to give it all to death –
the day death comes to my door.

May we all live in such a way that the treasures of our life create a remarkable kaleidoscope to carry with us into eternal life.

 

Benedictine Lessons in Contentment

Where should you go if you want to live in the happiest country in the world? According to the 2023 World Happiness Report of the United Nations Sustainable Development Solutions Network, you should pack your bags and head to Finland.

Arto Sabnen, a professor at the University of Eastern Finland, believes that the Finnish people understand an important key to contentment: “When you know what is enough, you are happy,” he says. Coincidentally, St. Benedict also was a proponent of moderation in all things, whether that be eating, drinking, sleeping, reading, working, or praying.

How do we learn how much is enough? Wendell Berry tells us to look to no further than our gardens: too much rain, and the roots rot; too much sun, and the foliage withers; too much fertilizer, and the plant gets out of balance and can’t grow properly. Like plants, we humans are healthier when we take what we need and don’t overconsume. As St. Luke reports in Acts 4:35, “Distribution was made to each one as he had need,” and thus the early Christian community lived in harmony.

Finland has a strong social safety net, so the people there don’t need to worry about obtaining housing, food, health care, and education. That doesn’t preclude other forms of adversity, but a national trait called “sisu”— perseverance without complaining — helps the Finnish people at such times. St. Benedict also was a proponent of perseverance (“…faithfully observing God’s teaching in the monastery until death, we shall through patience share in the sufferings of Christ that we may deserve also to share in his kingdom”) and decried grumbling (“First and foremost, there must be no word or sign of the evil of grumbling”).

One other contribution to happiness in Finland is access to an abundance of nature, as 75% of the land is covered by forest, and all of it is open to everyone. St. Benedict too believed in living according to the rhythm of nature, and he adjusted the time for prayers, work, meals, and sleep accordingly.

Perhaps we don’t need to move to Finland to be happy after all. We just need to follow the Benedictine and Finnish practices of knowing what is enough, persevering without complaining, and absorbing the wisdom of nature.

An Autumn Perspective on Our Crosses

Autumn gives us a unique perspective on our crosses. In this season of letting go, trees blaze with the glory of leaves that soon will drift to the ground and become part of the soil. Grape vines relinquish their fruit and become dormant during the coming season of plummeting temperatures and wind. On the Feasts of All Saints and All Souls, we cherish the memories of those who once walked among us.

It is instructive to see how Jesus approached the autumn of his life, when he knew that his immediate future likely held betrayal, suffering, and death.

• He allowed others to minister to him and comfort him, as when Mary of Bethany anointed his head and feet with costly perfumed oil in anticipation of his death and burial.

• He gathered his closest companions around him to enjoy their company one last time and to strengthen them on the night before his death.

• He continued his work of healing and teaching until his last day, when he restored a man’s ear that had been cut off by Simon Peter in the chaos of his arrest and forgave those who had crucified him as he hung on the cross.

In the midst of our own crosses of illness, diminishment, and grief, we too can accept comfort from others, savor the company of our loved ones, and continue to minister to others in whatever way we can. And when it is time to surrender the life we currently know, autumn teaches us, as Sr. Joan Chittister says, “to accept and let go, so we see the promises of every new moment.”

 

Seasons of Waxing and Waning

In October we had a “super moon,” and I have been enjoying its remnants in the pre-dawn sky. Even in its journey of waning from three-fourths to half full to a crescent, the moon has seemed particularly brilliant, clear, and lovely.

The October moon reminded of a spiritual practice suggested by James Larkins: “During the waning moon, I ask the Creator to remove from my life whatever is not in my best interest. During the waxing moon, I ask the Creator to add to my life whatever will help me become the person I am meant to be. As I walk, I reflect that faith will be my guide.”

Along with the waning moon, the season of autumn invites us to the process of letting go and clearing out so that future growth can occur. Today I gathered pole bean pods that contain the seeds of next summer’s plants and pulled up the spent plants and vines. I’m also finally feeling the urge to sort through boxes of stuff I saved from my pre-monastic life so I can let go of things I no longer need and pass them on to others who can put them to good use.

Ultimately, of course, we ourselves will become spent as we age and move closer to the doorway of death, when we will no longer be concerned with the rising and setting of the sun and the waxing and waning of the moon. The prophet Isaiah offers a beautiful meditation as we approach this time: “No longer shall the sun be your light by day, nor shall the brightness of the moon give you light by night; rather, the Lord will be your light forever, your God will be your glory. No longer will your sun set, or your moon wane; for the Lord will be your light forever, and the days of your grieving will be over” (Is 60: 19-20).

John the Baptist said of Jesus, “He must increase, but I must decrease” (Jn 3:30). Those who follow Jesus are called to do the same. The irony is that decreasing (waning), or dying to ourselves, is actually the path to increasing (waxing) through our unity with Christ, who will be our light forever.

Cultivating Delight

Psalm 36 contains some of my favorite lines in scripture: “You give us drink from the stream of your delight / For with you is the fountain of life / and in your light we see light.” Coincidentally, my favorite Mary Oliver poem, Mindful, begins with similar lines: “Everyday / I see or hear / something / that more or less / kills me / with delight.”

Typically, delight isn’t considered to be a particularly important spiritual value. However, I find it to be so valuable that I include it as a component of my nightly examen. This is one of the questions I ask myself at the end of the day: “What delighted me today?”

Delight is closely associated with gratitude, attention, and humility. If we can’t find something to delight in every day — such as cool, clear water when we’re thirsty, the taste of honey, or the appearance of light when we flip a switch — then we aren’t paying attention. If we aren’t paying attention, we aren’t grateful to be immersed in a marvelous world. If we aren’t grateful, we lack the humility of understanding that everything, including our very life, is a gift from God, and we subsequently suffer from the burdens of entitlement, conceit, and isolation.

Mary Oliver goes on in her poem to say that this is what we were born for: “to instruct myself / over and over / in joy, / and acclamation.” We can teach ourselves to be people who take delight in the wonders that surround us and dwell within us. It just requires a little time each day to cultivate attention, gratitude, and humility.

Peace Through Practice

As my living group at the monastery began to do lectio divina with the Sunday gospel recently, Sr. Barb invited us to quiet our minds and our hearts. I thought to myself, “I wonder which is more difficult to quiet — the mind or the heart?” The mind is notorious for jumping from thought to thought and demanding attention, but it is often difficult to quiet the heart as well, especially when we are feeling troubled, hurt, or sad.

The parable in the gospel we considered presented another question. A man had two sons and asked first one and then the other to go work in the vineyard. The first refused but later changed his mind and did what was asked of him; the second agreed to go but never showed up. We might ask: Was it more difficult for the first son to change his mind or have a change of heart? Do we need to change our heart before we can change our mind, or vice versa?

Sr. Judith Sutera offers some insight into this question in her book St. Benedict’s Rule: An Inclusive Translation and Daily Commentary:

“Benedict builds his model of the peaceable kingdom on a premise that practice shapes thought. What this means here and elsewhere in the Rule is that we cannot wait until we totally comprehend and embrace the importance of our service and enter into it wholeheartedly. First, we begin to act, even if just reluctantly, and by doing the actions, we will hopefully come to learn why it is a good and holy thing, why we should love serving others, why this action is an imitation of Christ.”

According to St. Benedict, then, what comes first is practice, which helps us to quiet and (when necessary) change both our mind and our heart. There is something about action that helps integrate mind, heart, and body — such as when gardening soothes our heart or doing dishes helps us untangle a problem. If we are seeking to imitate Christ, that practice will include both serving others (which for Jesus entailed teaching and healing) and taking time to pray (communally or alone in a quiet place).

Practice may not make us perfect, but it likely will make us more peaceful as we help build the peaceable realm God envisions for us.

 

A Model of Humility

St. Benedict devoted the longest chapter in his Rule to humility. Nonetheless, the best way to grasp this concept is to see it embodied in someone who has been practicing it for a long time. Such is the case with Sr. Bettina Tobin, who died on September 16 at age 93.

Sr. Bettina grew up on a small farm in Burlington Junction, Mo., and the sense of being grounded in the earth and connected to God through nature and animals never left her. She related well to children because she respected them and shared their sense of play and wonder. Because she was so observant, she also had a well-developed sense of humor.

Although Sr. Bettina was very unassuming and had a quietness of soul, she led an adventurous and accomplished life. She taught for 30 years, served as a missionary in Brazil for 12 years, spent a sabbatical at Madonna House in Canada, and published two children’s books at age 90. Her inquisitive nature led her to take summer courses in whatever caught her fancy — usually art and literature.

C.S. Lewis famously said, “Humility is not thinking less of yourself but thinking of yourself less.” Sr. Bettina had definite opinions and convictions and was willing to express them, but she didn’t insist on having her own way. This ability to set aside her self-will came from a lifetime of putting herself in God’s hands. Sr. Kathleen Flanagan told me that every day for many years, Sr. Bettina would go to the chapel and pray for three things: (1) that St. Scholastica would help her be a good sister; (2) that all decisions made by the community would be aligned with God’s will; and (3) that when it came time for her to die, Saints Benedict and Scholastica would come to take her to heaven.

It appears that Sr. Bettina’s prayers for a happy death were answered. After being hospitalized because of pneumonia and heart issues, she had just enough time before she died to call or FaceTime or have in-person visits with her family members. She was in good spirits and confided to several sisters that she was excited to go and see what heaven was like. She wanted to die at the Mount, and within minutes after reaching her room and getting settled into bed, Saints Benedict and Scholastica answered her prayer and whisked her away to her heavenly home.

As St. Benedict outlined in the prologue to his Rule, Sr. Bettina did indeed progress in this way of life and in faith and ran on the path of God’s commandments, her heart overflowing with the inexpressible delight of love. In doing so, she has provided us with a model of how we can do the same.

 

 

Honoring Those in the Background

One thing I’ve learned while taking photos of flowers is the importance of the background. What is behind the flower needs to be relatively plain, uniform, and non-distracting so the beauty and intricacy of the flower can shine.

Most of us have had someone — a parent, teacher, friend, spouse, or colleague — who provided a background of steady, unobtrusive support for us so we could shine. Jesus experienced this himself, as Luke mentions in his gospel: “Afterward he journeyed from one town and village to another, preaching and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom of God. Accompanying him were the Twelve and some women … Mary, called Magdalene … Joanna, the wide of Herod’s steward Chuza, Susanna, and many others who provided for them out of their resources” (Lk 8:1-3).

In a story by Kate Osterloh titled “Maryam and Yeshua” in The Sun, as Jesus lies in the tomb, he reflects on his life and says of Mary Magdalene, “…you’ve always been the practical one; when we were run out of town or mobbed you’d clap your hands and say, ‘What about an inn? I know a place, not far,’ or ‘There’s a grove. Let’s sleep. I know a woman in the next village. We’ll bring water and bread….’”

Could Jesus have carried out his ministry without the practical assistance of the women who supported him? Could we ourselves fulfill our potential without others who stand in the background, helping and encouraging us?

It may seem as though taking on the role of serving and supporting others is a diminishment, but doing so is actually a crucial component to fulfilling God’s vision of a peaceful and loving world. As Peter said, “Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God’s grace in its various forms” (1 Peter 4:10-11).

May we call to mind with gratitude those who have graced us with their kind support, and in turn be faithful stewards of God’s grace when we ourselves have the opportunity to be of humble service. Either way, it is Christ’s light that shines through all of us. 

Channels of Hope

At a recent community gathering, the sisters at the Mount considered our response to the culture of pessimism that our U.S. society seems to be immersed in. Given growing divisions between segments of the population, the overwhelming challenges of a warming planet, and the anxiety and depression of many of our youth, it’s tempting to believe that our individual efforts to act with purpose, hospitality, and hope are to no avail.

The first thing we need to do is reframe the question, “What good can I do?” Instead, we should be asking, “What does God want to do through me?” Our ego gets involved when we think about what “I” can do; we want to measure our success and get discouraged when we don’t seem to be achieving much. If, instead, we attempt to be open to the ways God wants to work through us — cooperating with God’s grace instead of trying to act on our own — we can let go of expectations and find that, as Jesus said, when we remain in God and God in us, we will bear much fruit (Jn 15:4-5).

Here at the Mount we experienced this form of grace when the program Journey to New Life asked if they could purchase Peace House, our building that once housed 30+ sisters who ministered in the Kansas City area. Journey to New Life assists women who are transitioning from life in prison — just the kind of program we once would have started ourselves. Instead of clinging to this mostly unoccupied building and dreaming that enough women would join us to fill it again one day, we discerned that God had a different plan for this space that we could help facilitate. Journey to New Life is now thriving in Peace House and helping women rebuild their lives and families — and who knows what gifts they in turn will contribute to the world?

According to Michael F. Lee in Give Us This Day, “Jesus says it is the outsiders, the widow in Zarephath, the leper in Syria, who are privileged channels of hope.” Former president Jimmy Carter took this to heart and directed his post-presidential efforts into building houses for Habitat for Humanity and working to eradicate diseases such as guinea worm that primarily affect the poor in remote regions. Thus the unhoused and poor became channels of hope that it is possible to restore dignity and facilitate healing for those in need.

Two other pieces of advice about how to counter despair come from Fr. Daniel Berrigan, who said, “If you want to be hopeful, you have to do hopeful things,” and Dorothy Day, who said, “No one has the right to sit down and feel hopeless. There is too much work to do.” All right, then! Let us be open to God’s grace and carry on in hope.

Keeping a Rhythm

Artwork by Marcy Hall

I suspect St. Benedict would have been a good dancer, because it’s clear from reading his Rule that he’s really into rhythm — the daily rhythm of prayer, the rhythm of nature’s seasons, and the rhythms of the liturgical year. He prescribes exact times for his monks to meet for prayer every day and indicates that when the prayer bell rings, one must drop whatever is at hand and proceed immediately to the chapel. He changes the times for sleep, meals, and work for summer versus winter. He gives instructions for the number of prayers to be said on Sundays versus ordinary days versus anniversaries of saints, and he gives special attention to spiritual practices during Lent.

Living according to such a rhythm means that we are constantly called to be awake to the presence of God in our lives. Yes, our rhythms occasionally are disrupted, as when a guest unexpectedly appears; however, Benedict sees this as another opportunity to recognize Christ’s presence. Benedict indicates that the guest is to be greeted, invited to join in prayer, and then provided for, because as Jesus said, “I was hungry and you gave me food, thirsty and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me” (Mt 25:35).

When we don’t set aside specific times to remember God’s presence each day, our awareness gets lost in the demands of daily life. It’s rare for us to notice a sunrise or sunset unless it’s particularly spectacular, or know the phase of the moon on any given night, or see Christ in encounters with strangers, because we just aren’t paying attention. The rhythm of a regular prayer life in connection with the changing seasons at the very least draws our attention regularly to our Creator and Sustainer so we can join Christ in the dance of humility, gratitude, and hospitality.

The Sacrifice of One Path for Another

Lately I read the novel Tom Lake by Ann Patchett, in which she tells the story of a happily married couple with three daughters. Patchett writes beautifully, and her description of this couple’s mutual affection, steady commitment, and respect gave me a pang of regret that I never found such a partner myself.

Pope John the 23rd said, “Every choice is a sacrifice of one path for another.” It’s human nature, it seems, to wonder how our life would have unfolded if we had chosen a different path — but all we can know for certain is that it would be different, with a different set of blessings and challenges. Looking at past choices can help us affirm what once was and is now important to us and how God has been present to us all along the way. However, to spend too much time ruminating on our regrets can blind us to the sacrament of the present moment.

In a recent essay, Garrison Keillor said, “I resolved to give up regret, which is merely self-pity, and to embrace what is true, namely love and kindness, the vocation of cheerfulness, the dedication to the day, this day, each hour.”

No matter the path we have chosen, it contains opportunities for us to embrace love and kindness and to be aware of God’s presence in each day, each hour, each moment. No matter what path we are on, we can say with civil rights activist Ralph Abernathy, “I don’t know what the future may hold, but I know who holds the future,” and thus we can be assured that all will be well.

 

Unexpected Encounters

This morning, while working in the garden, I received a lesson in attentiveness. I was trimming dead leaves out of a horseradish patch and came face to face with a large black and yellow garden spider. To be fair, it attempted to alert me to its presence with markings on its back of what appeared to be a set of eyes that glared at me fiercely. Fortunately, I saw the spider before I plunged my (ungloved) hand into the foliage that surrounded it.

Lately I’ve been trying to give my mind a bit of a rest by doing more physical work. However, this strategy is doomed to fail if I continue to pay more attention to the thoughts that cross my mind than the actions my body is performing. This mini moment of gardening drama reminded me to be present and focus on what I’m doing in the present moment.

I’m also grateful that I noticed the spider because it really is beautiful (from a distance). Furthermore, it provided a reminder that when I garden I’m part of an ecosystem with different inhabitants, each of which has an important role to play. I need to be respectful of the co-inhabitants of the garden we share.

Sister Imogene Baker, OSB, used to say, “Be where you are and do what you’re doing.” That’s sound advice for anyone who seeks to be open to the Divine Presence that is revealed in all of creation — especially in unexpected encounters.

Word Watching

The other day in the dining room, a sister overheard a bit of conversation from another table and commented, “’I think ‘gosh’ is Janelle’s favorite word.” This got me thinking about what our favorite words say about us.

We all know that toddlers enjoy exerting their fledgling independence by using the word “No!” at every opportunity. As we get older, we often encounter enthusiastic types who repeatedly pronounce things “cool” (or in more modern slang, “sick”), along with skeptics (“hmmm”-ers) and contrarians (“yeah, but”-ers).

The word Jesus is best known for uttering is “love,” which succinctly sums up his reason for being. That’s something we can all strive for, but I’d be satisfied if “wow” was known to be my favorite word. If we really pay attention to the world around us, we could easily say “wow” approximately 10,000 times a day, as in “Wow, these homegrown tomatoes taste good,” “Wow, I didn’t know that some grasshoppers are orange,” or “Wow, that song really spoke to my heart.” Not all of us will be known for wowing the world, but we all can be known for being wowed by the world, which is intricate, marvelous, diverse, and utterly sacred.

As we consider our favorite words, it is worthwhile to note that St. Benedict holds silence in high esteem. He says in his Rule, “…so important is silence that permission to speak should seldom be granted even to mature disciples, no matter how good or holy or constructive their talk.” St. Benedict knew that talking prevents us from listening, which is critical if we are to hear God’s voice and gain wisdom. All the more reason to give thought to our words and use them judiciously. Wow, what a thought!

Meeting Jesus Where We Are

At the end of July, the Catholic Church celebrates a number of holy men and women who had varying relationships with Jesus. Mary Magdalene was healed by Jesus and became his patron and faithful companion; James was one of Jesus’ first disciples; Joachim and Anne were Jesus’ grandparents; and Martha, Mary, and Lazarus of Bethany were his close friends.

An old saying proclaims that you can’t be all things to all people, but that doesn’t apply to Jesus, who enters into relationship with us in whatever way we come to him. Do you need a mother’s tender and healing touch? “He took the child by the hand and said to her, ‘Little girl, I say to you, arise!’” (Mk 5:41). Do you need a father’s faithfulness and forgiveness? “While he [his son] was still a long way off, his father caught sight of him and was filled with compassion. He ran to his son, embraced him, and kissed him” (Lk 15:20). Do you need a nurturing friendship? “I have called you friends, because I have told you everything I have heard from my Father” (Jn 15:15). Are you weary because of life’s demands? “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest” (Mt 11:28).

Whatever form our relationship with Jesus takes, it ends up transforming us into our best selves. After being healed, Mary Magdalene found the courage to be faithful to Jesus through his death and burial and was the first to encounter him after his resurrection. James overcame his desire for power and glory and gave his life to share the good news about his beloved teacher. The hospitality offered by Martha, Mary, and Lazarus led them to recognize Jesus as the Christ and enabled them to directly experience his ability to bring us to new life.

We can turn to Jesus, whatever our needs: “Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you” (Mt 7:7). However, when we enter into a relationship with him, no matter what that looks like, we need to be prepared to have our hearts opened to a new and more expansive life.

Finding Balance

Checking In

I think of my mind as a tyrant,
a scold that insists I must

      Clean up the kitchen
          before romping with the dog
      Pull weeds in the garden
          before watching the sun set
      Read classic literature
          before diving into a mystery
      Eat cruciferous vegetables
          before indulging in ice cream

When it occurred to me to ask
my mind how it is doing, it said:

                      I’m tired.

         Can you please let body
  and soul sit in the driver’s seat
                  for a while?

I wrote this poem after participating in a “focusing” exercise at a Souljourners spiritual direction training residency. Yesterday, I had an experience of allowing my body to sit in the driver’s seat for a while. Here’s what happened:

I went outside to take a photo of a sunflower. I noticed that the flower bed needed weeding, so I did that. I then went to shake Japanese beetles off the rose of Sharon bushes to feed to the chickens, and noticed that a a nearby tree and bush needed to be trimmed back. As I pruned away, the work my body was doing led me to notice the desire to prune away some of my possessions that are no longer life-giving. An hour later, as the humidity increased to an uncomfortable level and my back started to protest this unanticipated labor, I stopped and headed inside to clean up.

Most of us are inclined to operate out of our head, but letting the body and soul take the lead now and then can offer fresh perspectives and new insights and lead to better physical and spiritual health as well. I believe the mind is inclined to agree, as the poem indicates!

Hospitality: A Benedictine Path to Peace

Although we pray to live out the end of our days in peace, it doesn’t always work out that way. Such was the case for St. Benedict, whose Feast we celebrate today.

As Dom Brendan Thomas explains, “There were two natural disasters that afflicted Benedict in his time. The first was a climate crisis, an extraordinary change of weather patterns. In 536 the sun disappeared for nearly a year behind a veil of dust, shining feebly with a strange blue light, not global warming but global cooling. There were volcanic eruptions, floods and earthquakes, crop failures and famine. Today we mark the death of Benedict around 547, but he lived through a pandemic in his final years. The plague of Justinian from 541-42 is estimated to have killed 30 to 50 million people.”

Given the fear that these events generated, it is remarkable that St. Benedict makes hospitality one of the hallmarks of his Rule. Instead of turning people away from the monastery door during times of famine and plague, Benedict said, “All guests who present themselves are to be welcomed as Christ, for he himself will say: I was a stranger and you welcomed me (Mt. 25:35). … Great care and concern are to be shown in receiving poor people and pilgrims, because in them more particularly Christ is received….” (Rule of Benedict 53: 1, 15).

St. Benedict formed monastic communities because he knew that we need each other during our time on earth. Those of us who have homes, jobs, health insurance, and full tables might question why we need the homeless, the unemployed, the sick, and the hungry who come to us seeking aid. Perhaps we need them to teach us how to be grateful, how to live simply, and how to take care of the earth that provides us with food and water.

Toward the end of his life, St. Benedict was blessed with a vision in which he saw the whole world gathered up in a single ray of light. He was bathed in God’s light, which encompasses all humans and all creation. When we come to recognize the Christ light not just in ourselves but in everyone we meet, we too will extend hospitality in good times and in bad and will live out the end of our days in peace.

The Healing Power of Listening

A friend was recently visiting his elderly father, who had a broken pelvis and was about to enter into hospice care. For many years, they had an uneasy relationship because of some unfortunate parenting decisions and expectations. However, after his mother died several years ago, my friend started to call his father every morning just to make sure he was okay and to chat a bit. He also traveled for in-depth visits with his father (who lived ten hours away) twice a year.

When they were together in the hospital, his father said, “You know, I think our relationship has gotten better the past several years.” My friend asked, “Why do you think that is?” “Because you listen to me,” he said. He then apologized for an incident that occurred when my friend was in high school.

This story illustrates the wisdom of St. Benedict, who said, “Listen with the ear of your heart.” It is difficult to be open to people who have wounded us, but when we do, space opens up for healing to occur.

Jesus certainly knew about the power of listening and being present to others. The gospels tell us about lengthy conversations he had with Nicodemus and the Samaritan woman. He once asked a blind man, “What do you want me to do for you?” He even engaged the man with the power to condemn him to death, Pontius Pilate, in a discussion about truth that led Pilate to want to release him.

Our judgments and feelings often hinder our ability to listen, but when we can set those aside with the intention of simply listening to another person, the only things required of us are time and patience — the same things that God offers to each of us in abundance. Thus, if we really want to follow the way of Jesus, we need to take time to listen to others, which will help contribute to the healing of the world.

Something in the Heart

On the Feast of Saints Peter and Paul, I am reminded of the following quote by opera singer Enrico Caruso, who said that his success could be attributed to six things: “A big chest, a big mouth, 90% memory, 10% intelligence, lots of hard work, and something in the heart.” 

As a fisherman who lugged around heavy nets, Saint Peter likely had a big chest; we know he had a big mouth (“Even though all should have their faith shaken, mine will not be!”); and he certainly relied on his memories of Jesus as he proclaimed the Good News. Saint Paul also had a big mouth (“You foolish Galatians!”). As a scholar who had never met Jesus in the flesh, he naturally relied more on intelligence than on memory. However, both Saints Peter and Paul were indefatigable in their work of building up the kingdom of God, and it was all made possible by something in the heart — a personal experience of the love of Christ. 

Last week in my residency for the Souljourners spiritual direction training program, the following observation by Jennifer Ruffing was shared: “Our directees sense that we respond to them in the same way that God does, so the ground we stand on is the same ground we sense God is standing on — open embrace, love, acceptance, and belief in the other person” (from Spiritual Direction: Beyond the Beginnings). 

This calling to respond to others in the same way that God does is not limited to spiritual directors — it is the vocation of all disciples of Jesus, who said, “Love one another as I have loved you.” We need to remind ourselves constantly of God’s loving presence in our lives through prayer, receiving the Eucharist, journaling, gratitude — whatever keeps us in touch with that “something in the heart” that allows us to stand on the ground of God’s faithful love and mercy and offer it to others. 

Impermanence: The Playground of the Holy Spirit

During our recent election of a new prioress at Mount St. Scholastica, we invited the Holy Spirit to be present and guide us in our deliberations. The prayer chant we sang to open our sessions throughout the week was “O God, send Spirit; open us to the wisdom heart of Jesus” by Suzanne Toolan. For our part, each of us in the community had to create space for the Holy Spirit to work by listening to each other, being open to all possibilities, and not clinging to our own preferences. Looking back, it seems clear that the Spirit was guiding us as we elected Sr. Mary Elizabeth Schweiger, a woman of many gifts and much leadership experience, who will challenge us to be true to our Benedictine charism and to make critical decisions about our future life together.

It is human nature to resist change. Our current prioress, Sr. Esther Fangman, has shepherded our community well and led us safely through the COVID pandemic; it would be so much more comfortable if we could maintain the status quo by keeping her in office! However, in setting term limits, we open new pathways for the Holy Spirit to work. As the Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hahn said, “Thanks to impermanence, everything is possible.”

I find that thought comforting whenever I am challenged by loss. Cutting down a dead tree creates space for a different type of tree to be planted. The loss of a job can open a path to a more fulfilling career. Even our own impending death frees us to be with God in a different way, without the limitations of an aging body and mind.

Come, Spirit. Free us from clinging to what is and open our hearts to the possibilities that accompany impermanence. Help us join your beloved daughter Emily Dickinson in saying, “I dwell in possibility.”

Revealing God's Face

Helen Keller said, “I believe that God is in me as the sun is in the color and fragrance of a flower — the Light in my darkness, the Voice in my silence.” It’s remarkable to consider that not only is God in us, but our unique characteristics reflect that presence. In my community, God’s sense of humor is reflected in laughter at the dining room table; God’s concerns about the needs of the poor are reflected in the programs we offer at Keeler Women’s Center; and God’s delight in the beauty and diversity of creation is reflected in the variety of trees, flowers, and vegetables that we plant.

One implication of this idea that God is in each of us and is expressed by each of us is noted by Pope Francis: “…all are needed to reveal the Lord’s face.” When we fail to see God’s presence in certain people, our image of God’s face is incomplete — perhaps God is missing an eyebrow, an upper lip, or a left nostril! More seriously, we might not see God’s industriousness if we exclude immigrants from our workplaces, or God’s love of rhythm if we refuse to listen to rap musicians, or God’s desire for adventure if we judge people who go on exotic vacations.

God often resorts to the element of surprise as we receive insights and direction in unexpected ways — perhaps through illness or loss, the discovery of a hidden talent, or an unforeseen friendship. Thus we, who carry God within us, should continually expect to learn new things about ourselves (and thus about God) and be open to the often surprising ways that others reveal God’s face to us.

Who Can See the Face of God?

Lately I’ve been entertained by a Facebook group called “Things with Faces.” Participants post photos of ordinary objects or structures that have the appearance of faces — for example, misshapen vegetables, wood grain, buildings, coffee foam, garden tools, toast, or cooking implements. It’s amusing and also likely says something about our inclination to see our human likeness in the world around us. Once you become attuned to seeing faces in your environment, they start showing up everywhere!

We also can become attuned to seeing the face of Christ in the world around us — we just have to learn to recognize it in the joy of a toddler at play, the compassion of disaster relief workers, the tenderness of a mother giving her infant a bath, the generosity of trees that share nutrients with their neighbors,  the healing touch of physicians and nurses, the exuberance of guests dancing at a wedding, the life-giving rain that quenches our thirst, and the patience of friends who truly listen to one another.

Jesus said, “I will be with you always.” Doesn’t it make sense that he would choose to become immersed in the world so we will always be able to recognize his presence around us? If you look for the face of Christ with trust and confidence, you too will start seeing it everywhere. Who can see the face of God and live? Thanks to the coming of Emmanuel and the ministrations of that divine oculist, the Holy Spirit, all of us can see the face of God and not only live but thrive with the companionship of Christ who is always with us.

The Age-Old Call to Listen

Many young people (and older people too) seem to have lost a sense of purpose and belonging these days and consequently are awash in depression, anxiety, and loneliness. As a society, we no longer give much of our time and attention to fostering the formation of friendships and providing opportunities for rites of passage that allow us to explore our interests, test our strengths, and instill purpose through service to others. Today’s generation typically experiences the important developmental milestone of the mythic “hero’s journey” in a virtual fashion through video games.

I was heartened recently to learn that some video games are now being designed to help people learn the tools they need in the quest for a meaningful life. For example, the premise of the video game “Sky: Children of the Light,” is that all the stars were once united in a great light, but when darkness came, many stars
fell out of the sky. The goal of the players is to “help the star spirits return home … you will need compassion for humanity, timeless wonder, and light within your heart to guide your way.” Importantly, players receive encouragement and affirmation as they test their skills; they have a goal of serving others; and they can form relationships by teaming up with other players around the world.

The way that earlier generations embarked on a hero’s journey was very different. Many people were tested early on and without much preparation through marriage/child rearing at a young age, illness, family responsibilities, the experience of discrimination, and/or the challenges of living in times of war. Some of today’s young people will experience those things too, even as they are immersed in a culture of gun violence. It’s encouraging, then, to know that a mechanism they can relate to (playing a video game) is available to teach them about the courage, inner strength, friendship, and compassion they will need to face the challenges they will encounter.

Although technology can be put to good use in this context, we all need to be willing to respond to the crisis facing so many people today by being available to them and, as St. Benedict instructs, “Listen with the ear of your heart.” All the technology in the world won’t lessen the need for that age-old and critical component of loving our neighbor. Giving others our full attention signals our belief in their worth and affirms their dignity and purpose as fellow bearers of the Christ light.