Picturing a More Empathetic World

Antoine de Saint-Exupery is best known for writing the classic book The Little Prince, but he also was a renowned pilot who helped establish airmail routes over Northwest Africa, the South Atlantic, and South America, which made him a pioneer in postal aviation. Saint-Exupery said, “Transport of the mails, transport of the human voice, transport of flickering pictures—in this century, as in others, our highest accomplishments still have the single aim of bringing men together.”

Today, we can add transport of our thoughts, images, and videos via the World Wide Web to the list of accomplishments that bring people together. Perhaps what really brings us together, however, is the enhanced empathy and compassion that these shared thoughts and images are capable of engendering. Humans are much, much, MUCH more alike than we are different. According to the Human Genome Project, the DNA of any two humans is 99.9 percent identical. Furthermore, we are hardwired to react to the emotions of people we encounter, whether in person or through an image; neuroscience confirms that seeing someone in pain activates the parts of your brain that activate pain.

Now that videos can be taken and transmitted with phones, we are able to see the tears on the faces of refugee children who have been separated from their families and caged. We can witness the deaths of people like George Floyd who die while gasping “I can’t breathe.” We can see how much like us they are—that they breathe like we do and love their families like we do—and their suffering fosters empathy and moves us to act.

In his quest to share God’s love with us, Jesus didn’t attempt to overcome his oppressors with force. Instead he suffered, and through his suffering we discovered that resurrection follows death and God’s love and life are available to all of us. When we suffer with others as Christ does, we reveal the same thing. As Richard Rohr said, “Our healing is bound up in each other’s.”

Our modern ease in transporting thoughts and images has great potential to bring us together through suffering to the joy that accompanies freedom and the end of injustices. Camera phones in hand and with engaged hearts, may we walk the freedom trail together.

Everything Is New Under the Sun

If Qoheleth, writer of the book of Ecclesiastes, lived today, he would no doubt be diagnosed with clinical depression. He takes no pleasure in life, declaring, “The eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor is the ear filled with hearing.” He goes on to say, “Nothing is new under the sun.”

Qoheleth could not be more wrong. Because of our very existence, everything is new under the sun. My recent foray into nature photography has taught me this. Every time I take a breath and click a button to take a picture of a flower, something unfolds that has never existed before and will never exist again. If I took the picture 30 seconds earlier, an insect might be crawling on the flower’s stem. If I took it 30 seconds later, a breeze might be ruffling its petals. If someone other than me took the picture, he or she would frame it slightly differently. The alchemy of me and the flower and the moment is utterly new and not to be repeated. For this reason, every moment of our lives is holy and filled with potential because of the unique ways that we interact with God’s creation.

Qoheleth also laments, “There is no remembrance of the men of old; nor of those to come will there be any remembrance among those who come after them.” Pearl S. Buck has a response to Qoheleth: “Like Confucius of old, I am absorbed in the wonder of earth, and the life upon it, and I cannot think of heaven and the angels. I have enough for this life. If there is no other life, then this one has been enough to make it worth being born, myself a human being. With so profound a faith in the human heart and its power to grow toward the light, I find here reason and cause enough for hope and confidence in the future of mankind."

To which I would add that it does not matter if no humans remember us after we die, because we dwell forever, precious and beloved, in God’s eternal memory.

State of Grace

Grace is a shape shifter, as noted in the following poem. Keep your eyes peeled!

Chameleon

Over eons, grace 

has perfected

the art of hiding

in plain sight

by shape shifting—

Here a tissue

offered to dry

tears of exhaustion,

there the sparkle

of a ring affixed

to a woman’s finger

for more than 50 years,

Always wafting

on the milky breath

of a newborn 

and on breezes

that fortify crews

of sweaty roofers,

And if you look

askance, you can see

her in the cat’s offering 

of a dead mouse

and in valentines

scrawled for mothers

of second-graders.

Through a lifetime 

of constantly changing 

circumstances, she is

the chameleon found

wherever beauty abounds

and kindness quickens,

a sly yet steadfast 

reminder that all 

of us live continually

in a state of grace.

       — Jennifer Halling, OSB

Companions on the Journey

I have known several people who have completed the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage that leads to the shrine of the apostle St. James the Great in the cathedral of Santiago de Compostela in northwestern Spain. Many pilgrims walk three weeks or longer, staying at simple hostels along the way. One fascinating aspect of this journey is that pilgrims often walk in the company of different companions each day because people walk at different speeds, get started at different times in the morning, and join the route at different points.

We encounter the same situation in our life journey. Some friends and siblings are lifelong companions, whereas other people enter our lives for a brief period and then move on. What is certain is that each person who travels with us has something to teach us about ourselves and what it means to be part of the body of Christ.

Today Sr. Agnes Helgenberger, who was born and raised in Micronesia, transferred her vows to Mount St. Scholastica and became our newest member. She previously was prioress of Queen of Angels Monastery in Liberty, Mo. I’m sure the Mount community never imagined it would have a member from Micronesia—one of God’s delightful surprises. Sr. Agnes brings a serene and joyous spirit to the Mount, and our dog Sophie is particularly glad she has joined us because Sr. Agnes lets her take naps on her bed in Dooley Center!

One of the graces of a long life is that we are enriched by many and varied companions who expand our hearts and our vision. I am grateful that God sent Sr. Agnes to be our newest companion on the road to everlasting life.

Sustained by Beauty

In January 2020, Mount oblate Terry Chamberlain Diehl went to the Mexican border to work at the Humanitarian Relief Center in McAllen, Texas, and to take supplies to a refugee camp in Matamoros, Mexico. She told the following story:

“A woman came up and asked us if she could have some empty milk jugs. Later we discovered why. When we were walking through the tent city, we saw the same woman using the chocolate milk jugs to bring water from the Rio Grande River to water some flowers she had planted in the midst of all the tents. It reminded me of the importance of working with God in his plan for beauty, goodness, and harmony and of 'blooming wherever you're planted.' I'm so impressed with these, our brothers and sisters, and their indomitable spirit of hope." 

Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “The earth laughs in flowers,” and this woman was partnering with God and the earth to bring some brightness to the lives of her companions who were living in difficult circumstances.

My life is nothing like that of people in refugee camps, but I too have responded with gratitude to the outpouring of beauty in the flowers gracing the Mount campus in this spring of the COVID-19 pandemic. Beauty is one of the ways God sustains us, no matter where we dwell, and it is also how God connects us with each other. Whether or not we grow flowers, we can make the choice to participate in some way in God’s plan for beauty, goodness, and harmony.

Lessons from Life's Ferocities

The poet Jane Hirshfield says, “To love your life means agreeing to its joys, warmth, light, and also to its ferocities and transience.”

I confess that I have only reluctantly agreed to the ferocity of a backache I’ve experienced for the past week after slipping and falling down a short hill, along with its revelation that the past resilience of my body is fading. Still, ferocities and transience teach wisdom that can’t be gained by joy, warmth, and light.

God was humorously prompt in teaching me one lesson as a result of my fall. Just before I slipped, I was dragging a large bag of mulch down to the garden; Sr. Delores Dolezal saw me and called out, “Do you need help?” “No!” I called back, and she went on her way. Two minutes later, after I heaved the bag down the hill, I tumbled down after it. Lesson learned: I need the humility to accept help when it is offered, because I’m not as strong as I like to think I am.

Another bit of wisdom I take from this incident is not to tempt fate by taking shortcuts. It would have taken me just an extra few minutes to walk around the hill instead of trying to go down it. Why am I in such a hurry? Unfortunately, it is likely because the more efficient I am the more productive I can be, and productivity is my measure of self-worth. I suspect God would much rather I enjoy work for the pleasure of working and feel valued as a result of being created and loved by God.

Finally, my backache as taught me compassion for others who are dealing with pain. E. Jane Rutter says, “I’d like to think that the spirit of kindness has settled naturally into my bones,” as would I, but when those bones are bruised it’s all too easy to be irritable, which I’ll remember when I encounter irritability in others.

I have noticed that in the monastery, sisters tend to share cycles of ailments—there are always three or four people who have sciatica, broken wrists, or sprained ankles at the same time. Sure enough, three other sisters have had back problems in the past couple of weeks. I guess you might say that my own backache is a sign I have been incorporated fully into the community!

When the Stones Cry Out

When Jesus rode into Jerusalem on the colt of a donkey to shouts of “Hosannah!” some of the Pharisees said to Jesus, “Teacher, rebuke your disciples.” Jesus replied, “I tell you, if these were silent, the very stones would cry out” (Lk 19: 39-40).

We don’t typically think of stones as praising God. For example, Psalm 148 calls for everything in creation to praise God, from the sun and moon to sea monsters to snow and mist to winged fowl, but it doesn’t include stones in its litany. Today, however, I learned that there is such a thing as a lithophone, meaning “Any of various musical instruments in which sound is produced by striking pieces of stone.” An intriguing video called “Lithophones of Gobustan” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lEf9cNoYd4k) shows how, in a plateau of rocky boulders in the semi-desert of central Azerbaijan, stones are used to make music that sounds like chimes or bells.

The unnamed musician in this video says, “Just like the chime purifies the environment, the sound of this stone, too, purifies the environment and the human.” Perhaps the psalmists are so insistent that we praise God because they know that the sound of our praise purifies us by fostering humility and gratitude. When we acknowledge that God made us and that everything we have is a gift from God, our environment is cleansed of the noxious effects of pridefulness, egotism, smugness, vanity, and self-glorification.

When we fail to praise God, other elements of nature will step in to fill the void, even seemingly silent stones. Instead of seeking to dominate nature, we should seek to follow its example by glorifying God with our very being, thus fostering a healthy environment where all things God made can flourish.