Looking Without and Within

I’m thinking of Sr. Frances Yarc today, on her one-month death anniversary. Born in 1927, she joined a long line of Benedictine sisters who faithfully and quietly tended to the needs of the people around her by teaching elementary school children and providing nursing care in hospitals and infirmaries. In her later years, Sr. Frances’ one indulgence was to ask for steak and cherry pie on her birthday.

After I entered the community, I was surprised to learn that this unassuming woman was a talented artist. Years ago, she taught herself oil painting by watching the instructional television show Paint This with Jerry Yarnell. She excelled at painting landscapes, but what really astounded me was her depictions of the cosmos — swirling clouds of gas, bright galaxies, and pinpoints of stars.

When she looked outward, Sr. Frances focused on those right in front of her and attended to their needs. When she looked inward, she found God’s beauty and expansiveness within herself, and reflected it on her canvas.

In these days when we are constantly bombarded by news about the world’s troubles, we would do well to follow Sr. Frances’ example. When we look outward, let us narrow our focus on the areas where we can make a difference. When we look inward, may we be awed by the reminder that we are part of a glorious universe where the Cosmic Christ calls us to live in love and harmony.

The Light of Christ Surrounds Us

I never pay much attention to the candles placed near the ambo in our Choir Chapel at Mount St. Scholastica, except when I’m acolyte and it’s my responsibility to light them. However, a couple of weeks ago when our access to electricity was disrupted and we gathered for Morning Prayer in semi darkness, the candles drew my eye with their soft, steady luminescence. Their light had always been with us, but I didn’t notice it until we faced a time of darkness.

Similarly, the light of Christ is always with us, but we tend to overlook our reliance on it until we are overcome with darkness. The Christ light is always there; what changes is our recognition of it. That is why we are called to praise God — not because God needs or desires our praise, but because we need to remind ourselves of God’s unwavering goodness, steadfastness, and presence.

As Christians, we are called to reflect God’s light, as Jesus did. We are living in a time of increasing darkness, when people need to be reminded of God’s tenets (“Love one another as I have loved you”), God’s inclusivity (“you are all one in Christ Jesus”), and God’s upside-down logic (“the first shall be last, and the last shall be first”). Thus even though we may be feeling weary and depleted by sadness, anxiety, and fear, now more than ever we need to draw on Christ’s inextinguishable light and reflect it to those in need of strength, kindness, and hope.

Rest As a Kind of Prayer

It’s getting to be cabin fever time after a long stretch of cold, windy, snowy weather. When every particle of our body longs for spring, it takes discipline to honor the lessons and gifts of winter. As Christine Valters Paintner says in her poem How to Pray:

Remind your body how it says yes
to blossom, fruit, release, and rest,
each its own kind of prayer.

Spring, summer, and autumn are active seasons of planting, growing, and harvesting. Winter, on the other hand, calls us to contemplation, rest, and quietude. It invites us to the prayer of incubation — that fallowness required for seeds and dreams to germinate and grow.

Most of us feel something is amiss if we are not busy. We judge the quality of our life by how much we accomplish. We feel guilty if we take naps, daydream, or read a novel. The only time we slow down is when illness forces us to do so. And yet, given a fair chance, our body, mind and spirit say “yes” to fewer hours of daylight, to rest, to silence.

In the busyness of spring, which is right around the corner, we likely will long for a little bit of time to ourselves. Why not savor it now, when winter offers it to us with snowy breath, whistling winds, and the promise of long, dark nights?

Falling More In Love

As we get older, it’s easy to settle into fixed ideas of who God is, how the world works, and how our loved ones should relate to us. With our many years of life experience, we know what to expect, right?

Benedictines are called to a different perspective. As Christine Valters Paintner says, “St. Benedict described conversion as a practice of lifelong transformation. We are never done falling more in love with God, with the world, and with one another. As long as we are alive, there is always more love to pour out.”

What if today God were to surprise you with an opportunity to fulfill a lifelong desire, or you suddenly become aware of Jesus’ compassionate presence as you deeply grieve the death of a friend? Wouldn’t that give you new reasons to fall more in love with God?

What if today you read a story of a herd of elephants that traveled 12 hours to reach the home of a former caretaker who had died, in order to pay their respects? Wouldn’t that lead you to fall more in love with the marvels of our world?

What if today a friend accompanied you to a doctor’s appointment so you wouldn’t be alone when you received important test results? Wouldn’t that lead you to fall more in love with him or her?

Today our world is greatly in need of people who are willing pour out love to those who are wounded, scapegoated, or disregarded. May our practice of conversion lead us to be in their number because we have learned that the well of love available to us is inexhaustible.

Love Made New

Moses once said to the Israelites, “I place before you life and death, blessing and curse. Choose life so that you and your children will live. And love God, your God, listening obediently to him, firmly embracing him” (Deuteronomy 30:19-20).

In choosing to do the things that foster life for ourselves and others, such as sharing our abundant resources with the poor and living in a spirit of gratitude, forgiveness, and mercy, we are listening to and embracing God.

Consider Jesus’ parable of the prodigal son. The father in the story (who is a stand-in for God) could have been bitter when his younger son (representing each of us) took his precious inheritance and squandered it in dissolute living. Yet every day, the father chose to keep watch for his son so he could embrace him if he returned.

Every day, God makes the choice to love us, even when we act selfishly out of greed, pride, and fear. Every day, God forgives us and offers us mercy. And God calls us to do the same (“Love one another as I have loved you”).

Ursula K. Le Guin wrote, “Love doesn’t just sit there, like a stone; it has to be made, like bread, remade all the time, made new.” Every day, we are refreshed by the Bread of Life who chooses over and over again to love us. Every day, out of gratitude and obedience, may we extend that same love and mercy to others.