Gratitude for a Holy Presence

Sr. Miriam Schnoebelen, whose funeral Mass we celebrated on Saturday, taught me a lot about how to live as a Benedictine woman.

Although her inclination was to lead a contemplative life, Sr. Miriam was often on the move, living in four different communities at Guthrie, Tulsa, and Piedmont, Oklahoma, and Atchison, Kansas. She lived out her vow of stability not in the sense of physical location but in her commitment to her life of prayer and service. Over almost 75 years as a Benedictine, she served in an extraordinary number of ministries as a teacher, administrator, social worker, counselor, pastoral associate, and founder of the Benedictine Peace House in Oklahoma City. She balanced these highly responsible positions with a clown ministry that allowed her to express her impish humor and delight in the people she met.

By the time I met Sr. Miriam at Mount St. Scholastica, she was in her contemplative stage of life. She was quietly gracious and supportive, offering words of encouragement at just the right time, which is such a gift in communal life. She also modeled how to carve out space for quiet reflection — every morning when I entered the dining room, I would find her sitting alone in a holy zone of semi-darkness by the patio windows, eating slowly and taking in whatever scene nature laid out before her.

Having run for many years on the path of God’s commandments, Sr. Miriam welcomed death in the manner of St. Francis of Assisi, as a direct conduit to God whom she loved and longed for.

I remember Sr. Miriam with gratitude and hope I can follow her example of serving where called, being a supportive and affirming presence to others, making time for contemplation, and accepting death as the path to deeper union with God. Her memory is a blessing.

Hers Was the Greater Love

St. Scholastica lived an obscure life in Italy in the 5th/6th century. Why, then, are so many monasteries, churches, chapels, and schools named after her?

The only source of information we have about St. Scholastica is contained in a single story in the Dialogues of St. Gregory. St. Gregory reports that St. Benedict used to visit his sister, Scholastica, one day a year and that he would return to his monastery before nightfall. On the occasion of one visit, Scholastica enjoined her brother to continue their visit through the night, but he refused. Scholastica bowed her head and entreated God that her brother might stay with her, and a mighty storm arose that prevented Benedict from departing.

St. Gregory commented, “This wish of St. Benedict [to return to his monastery] was thwarted by a miracle almighty God performed in answer to a woman’s prayer. We need not be surprised that in this instance she proved mightier than her brother…. Do we not read in St. John that God is love? Surely it is no more than right that her influence was greater than his, since hers was the greater love.”

Hence St. Gregory provides the answer as to why St. Scholastica’s name continues to be so prominent more than 1500 years after her death. The memory of those who exhibited great love will echo through creation forever.

Viral Lessons in the Spiritual Life

A few weeks ago, almost three years after the COVID pandemic began, I was infected with the virus. Fortunately I had a relatively mild case, but a week in quarantine nonetheless provided time to reflect on some lessons I will take from this experience.

First, testing positive for the virus was humbling, as I realized I had harbored a reservoir of pride for being uninfected for so long. I have now joined the 676 million other people in the world who have been ill with COVID and have had to deal with unpleasant and sometimes life-threatening symptoms, the need to take time off from work and family responsibilities, and worry about long-term consequences of the virus. This experience has increased my compassion for others who have been affected by COVID and appreciation of my own human vulnerability.

Second, because I have access to a laptop computer and the internet, I continued to work several hours a day during my time of quarantine, despite feeling sick. This accessibility to technology led me to contemplate my relationship with work. Again, the issue of pride surfaced. Is my work so important that I can’t turn off the computer for a few days when I’m ill? Technology provides a tool for staying connected to others and for entertainment as well as for work, but it is my responsibility to make healthy decisions about how and when to use it.

Third, quarantining with other sisters helped me appreciate the support we receive in community. Those of us who tested positive for the virus were provided with a comfortable space in our guest quarters to recuperate, and meals were delivered to us three times a day. Sisters in the monastery sent cards and treats, and rather than feeling isolated, those of us in isolation built camaraderie by sharing stories of life in community, watching a KC Chiefs playoff game together, and offering each other sympathy and assistance. St. Benedict says in his Rule that care of the sick must come before all else, and being infected with the COVID virus allowed me to experience the blessing of that piece of wisdom.

Illness is a challenging aspect of being human, but as with most things we encounter in life, it can instruct us in the practice of humility, discernment, and gratitude.

Markers of the Path of Truth

Verse 11 of Psalm 86 says, “Mark your path, Lord, that I may follow your truth.” The image that arose for me when we chanted this verse at Morning Prayer was God leaving us a trail of bread crumbs so we can always follow the ways of truth!

I do believe that God marks the path to truth, but with something more durable than bread crumbs. Rather, God uses the lives of people who have adhered fiercely to the truth as markers for us to follow, similar to the historical markers that dot many roadways.

Jesus is our primary example of one who was a steadfast witness of the truth of God’s love and forgiveness, and he inspired many other prophets of truth. Examples include Franz Jäggerstätter, an Austrian farmer who refused to fight for Nazi Germany; Martin Luther King, Jr., who advocated that all people be free from oppression; and Dorothy Day, who saw Christ in the poor whom she fed, clothed, and housed.

It is worth considering whether we ourselves can be counted among God’s living markers of truth. Are we willing to accept the truth when it visits us — even the truth about ourselves — thus living humbly with knowledge of our limitations and with gratitude that God loves us as we are? Are we willing to refute the lie that some people lack value and are rejected by God because of their gender, race, religious affiliation, or the sins they have committed? If so, we will join the company of those who didn’t settle for bread crumbs of truth but showed how to forge a path leading to reconciliation, peace, and inclusion in the kingdom of God.

Finding Hope in Our Mistakes

Comedian Sam Levenson offers this advice, which is especially worth pondering at the end of the year: “You must learn from the mistakes of others. You can’t possibly live long enough to make all of them yourself.”

Typically at year’s end many of us pause to review our accomplishments, perhaps for an annual Christmas newsletter. However, it might also be a good practice to look back at the mistakes we made in the past year. Why? Acknowledging our mistakes keeps us grounded and humble. It gives us a chance to be grateful for the patience shown to us by God and by our family, friends, community members, and colleagues. It allows us to forgive ourselves and move into the new year with a lighter heart and the intention to be more considerate and generous in our daily interactions.

So what’s your year-end roundup of mistakes? Did you insist on your own way at times, to the detriment of your relationships? Did you injure yourself because you insisted on playing a sport or doing a chore that you no longer have the strength for? Did you step on another person’s feelings, disappoint someone who was counting on you, buy too much food and let it go to waste, or indulge in gossip and criticism?

James Joyce said, “Mistakes are the portal of discovery.” Through our mistakes, we learn who we want to be and how to live a good life. Thus our goal shouldn’t be to eliminate all mistakes from our lives but to learn from them.

One of the vows that Benedictines take is to practice conversatio morum, or fidelity to the monastic way of life, which means being continually open to transformation. This practice is illustrated by a story in which someone asked a Benedictine monk, “What do monks do all day?” He responded, “We fall and we get up, we fall and we get up, we fall and we get up.”

The writer Neil Gaiman captured the spirit of conversatio morum when he said, “I hope that in this year to come, you make mistakes. Because if you are making mistakes, then you are making new things, trying new things, learning, living, pushing yourself, changing yourself, changing your world. You're doing things you've never done before, and more importantly, you're doing something.”

Blessings as you cross the threshold of 2023, and may your openness to change in yourself, your loved ones, and the world bring you vitality and peace of heart.

Venturing Through Open Doors

I recently came across a prayer for the new year by Debbie McDaniel that included these lines: “We ask that you open doors needing to be opened and close the ones needing to be shut tight. We ask that you help us release our grip on the things to which you’ve said ‘no,’ ‘not yet,’ or ‘wait.’”

Sister Wendy Beckett understood this prayer well. She spent many years as a teacher while longing for the contemplative life. Eventually she was able to live as a hermit, only to have God open an unusual door for her late in her life as the host of a BBC television series about art called Sister Wendy’s Odyssey. This experience gave Sister Wendy the following insight: “We will never find Him completely if we only want to engage with Him on the level we have chosen.”

The beginning of a new year is a good time to ask for the grace to venture through unexpected doors that open for us and stop rattling the handles of doors that are closed. If we want to meet God only on our own terms, we will cut ourselves off from the richness of the divine imagination that would infuse our lives with wonder, vitality, and sacred purpose. As Rainer Maria Rilke said, “And now let us welcome the year that is given to us, new, untouched, full of things that have never been.”

 

Cultivating Holiness Through Our Work

The mystic Meister Eckhart said, “Do not think that saintliness comes from occupation; it depends rather on what one is. The kind of work we do does not make us holy, but we may make it holy.”

I pondered this insight as it relates to Mary of Nazareth. Mary tends to be revered because of her occupation, so to speak: the mother of God. However, it is not this position in and of itself that makes her holy. Rather, it was her openness to listen, to trust God, and to act on the invitation extended by the Angel Gabriel that made her holy. Furthermore, once she made her decision, she accepted the responsibility and the consequences of her choice without grumbling or trying to renege.

Mary must have been an extraordinary mother, for we can surmise that she nurtured her son’s remarkable compassion for the poor and ailing, modeled the life of prayer that he adopted, and taught him to believe that God would fulfill God’s promises, even in the face of death. She could have brought up her son to be proud, selfish, entitled, and arrogant; instead, she made her work of mothering holy by drawing on her own humility, deep faith, and radical trust.

Just as with Mary, our work does not confer holiness on us, but we make it holy by the care and attentiveness with which we do it. I’ve known as many holy dental hygienists, certified nursing assistants, and preschool teachers as holy physicians, college professors, and chief executive officers. During the Advent and Christmas season, may holy Mary inspire us to attend to our vocation, whatever it is, with care, commitment, and the knowledge that God is always with us.