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.