The Legacy of Our Acts of Trust

Many things had to happen for me to make my perpetual profession as a Benedictine sister — some reaching back all the way to 1863! In that year the prior at St. Benedict’s Abbey, Augustine Wirth, decided that a school was needed for the rapidly growing town of Atchison. One hundred families formed a society and pledged to pay 50 cents per month to pay for the new building. My great-great-grandfather, Lambert Halling, an immigrant from Frankfort, Germany, who worked as a carpenter for the Abbey, started swinging his hammer, and seven Benedictine sisters from St. Cloud, Minnesota, agreed to move to Kansas to staff the school. Lambert met the sisters at the Ferry on the evening of November 11, 1863, escorted them to their new convent and school, and stood guard until morning to protect them from harm. Thus the community of Mount St. Scholastica was established — the place where, 159 years later, I have found a home for my vocation.

Prior Augustine, the townspeople of Atchison, my great-great-grandfather, and the sisters from St. Cloud had no idea if their efforts in this frontier town during the Civil War would be successful, but they saw a need and came together to act on it. We can take inspiration from their story to do the same thing in our own time. Not many of us can build a school out of our own resources or meet any of the other pressing needs of our society alone. However, when we are united in the Body of Christ, we have the power to improve the lives of others, and our efforts come back to us as a blessing,

My great-great-grandfather cannot have known that in 159 years, his great-great-granddaughter would take vows in the community of sisters he helped to house and protect. None of us can foresee the effects of our actions, but as American Civil Rights leader Ralph Abernathy said, ““I don’t know what the future may hold, but I know who holds the future.” When we act on behalf of others and leave the outcome in God’s hands, we can be at peace, a peace the world cannot give. 

Yielding to Our Vocation

Sister Joan Chittister says that for anyone with a vocation, whether it is to be a nurse, musician, car mechanic, or monastic, “…there is a deep down, simmering fascination in the subject at hand. Or to put it another way, our vocations are already in us.”

I can attest to that; I have had a “deep down, simmering fascination” with God since I was a child. It took a long time for me to surrender to it, however. Monastic life is no longer a common vocation, and being countercultural is not an easy path. The world is not geared for those who crave silence, solitude, a simple life, and a primary relationship with God. Eventually I saw the value of “seeking my tribe” in the monastery. Some people expressed surprise at how readily I adapted to monastic life, but as one with a contemplative temperament, I have found it much easier to deal with expectations in the monastery than expectations in the secular world.

I’ll be making my perpetual profession of the Benedictine vows of stability, fidelity to the monastic way of life, and obedience on May 15. A few days ago, someone asked me if I was getting cold feet, and although I certainly appreciate the ramifications of making this lifelong commitment, I am ready to make these vows. For me, perpetual profession is an acknowledgment and affirmation of my vocation and a vehicle for me to be fully myself.

It's always a cause for delight when a person accepts and gives expression to her vocation, no matter the subject of her deep down, simmering fascination. I am grateful for the whole-hearted support of so many family members, friends, and colleagues who will be celebrating with me.

Knowing God By Heart

In the April 2022 issue of Give Us This Day, I was struck by this description of Sr. Margaret Brennan, IHM, by one of the novices she directed: “She knew God by heart.”

How many things do we know by heart? Perhaps the way to get home, or our mom’s recipe for chocolate chip cookies, or the lyrics to a favorite song. But God — how do we go about knowing God by heart?

First, we need to differentiate knowing God through our mind versus through our heart. The mind wants to understand God — who God is, what God does, what God wants. The heart, on the other hand, wants to experience God, to be with God, as Jesus did when he went apart from others to pray.

Knowing God by heart necessarily requires spending a lot of time with God. To learn a song by heart, we sing it over and over; to learn a recipe by heart, we make it time and time again; to know the way home by heart, we follow the same path until it is ingrained in us. We can never know the depths of anyone we love, much less God, but that isn’t necessary to know someone by heart. What is necessary is to be present and listen, day after day, week after week, year after year. When we do that with God, people will also say of us after we die, “She knew God by heart.”

Borrowing the Eyes of God

Most of us view “mysticism” as a mysterious quality that doesn’t pertain to us. We believe it’s a type of insight that is exclusive to saints, who seem to have a particularly intimate relationship with God. German theologian Dorothee Soelle provides a different perspective: she believes that mysticism is not a new vision of God, “but a different relationship to the world — one that has borrowed the eyes of God.”

How would our relationship to the world be different if we saw it through God’s eyes? According to the book of Genesis, God looked at everything God created and said, “It is good.” We can take that to mean that for God, everything has value and contributes to the wholeness of creation. Unlike us, God does not look at weeds and mosquitos and proclaim them “bad.” People tend to have an “anthropocentric” view that considers humans to be the most important thing in the universe, so we judge everything from the perspective of its benefit to us. God has a broader vision of a world in which everything is part of the body of Christ and thus should be valued and reverenced.

If we borrowed the eyes of God, we also would be astonished to view everything through the lens of compassion and mercy. Jesus wasn’t kidding when he said we should forgive others “70 x 7” times, because in doing so, we are imitating God’s way of forgiving. This doesn’t mean that our behavior doesn’t have consequences; as Joan Chittister has said, “Sin punishes sin; self-centeredness destroys itself; God doesn’t punish sin.” We are the agents of our own punishment through our choices. God sees the goodness that is our birthright and pities us when we cut ourselves off from the source of life. Because of God’s unfailing love, we can always trust in God’s mercy.

When we embrace mysticism and start developing a relationship to the world though God’s perspective, we are relieved of the burden of judgment, which is a great gift. We become more attuned to beauty, to wonder, to possibility. This is not an outlook that is confined to saints — it is available to each of us when we make a conscious effort to see with the eyes of God!

The Sacrament of Astonishment

In the acknowledgments to One Long River of Song, a collection of essays by Brian Doyle that was published after his death, his wife said, “I believe Brian had already been to heaven and back and found it irresistible not to return and restore astonishment, which is a sacrament.”

After his resurrection, Jesus appeared to his disciples before he had ascended to his Father, but he too offered them the sacrament of astonishment. The one who was dead is alive! Death is not what it seems! Nothing can keep us from the love of God! And Jesus did not appear only once, which might lead the disciples to wonder if they had been dreaming. No, as Elisabeth Johnson says in a reflection on the Working Preacher website,

“What is more, he keeps showing up. As he came back a week later for Thomas, Jesus keeps coming back week after week among his gathered disciples — in the word, the water, the bread, and the wine — not wanting any to miss out on the life and peace he gives.”

The sacrament of astonishment — that is, being present to the wonders and love of God that surround us — prevents us from missing out on the life and peace Christ brings. We cannot allow the routine, frustrations, and busyness of daily life to keep us from following the instructions for living a life, as articulated by Mary Oliver in her poem Sometimes: “Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it.”

The last of those instructions is important: Tell about it. That is the commission Christ gave us: “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” Brian Doyle called attention to the wonders of life through his beautifully written essays. We may choose to do so through art, music, poetry, gardening, teaching, prayer, or a myriad of other ways.

Perhaps the simplest way to practice the sacrament of astonishment is to live a life filled with gratitude. You will be astonished to see the difference it makes to walk through your day with “thank you” on your lips. And what better way to tell others about Christ’s gifts of life and peace that are so desperately needed in our world?

No One Is Meant to Suffer Alone

In her spiritual classic The Way of the Cross, Caryll Houselander says that one thing we can learn from Jesus’ passion is that “no one is meant to suffer alone.” Those who helped Jesus bear his suffering included Mary of Bethany, who anointed Jesus’ feet with costly perfume in anticipation of his death; Simon of Cyrene, who carried Jesus’ cross during part of his march to Golgotha; and the disciple John, who at the foot of the cross agreed to take Jesus’ mother into his care.

Others failed to accompany Jesus in his suffering. As Houselander notes, “He asked the three apostles … for sympathy in the garden of Gethsemane. He did not ask them to do anything to avert his suffering, but only to be with him in it, to share it with him through compassion: ‘Could you not watch one hour with me?’”

We, who are called to see Christ in each other, also are asked to be with Christ in his suffering. As Matthew says so eloquently in his gospel (25: 31-45), when we feed the hungry, give water to the thirsty, welcome the stranger, clothe the naked, care for the ill, and visit those in prison, Christ says, “You did it for me.”

To be with those who are suffering when we can offer them nothing but our presence is especially difficult. We all encounter among our family, friends, and communities those who are facing death, have chronic, debilitating physical or mental illness, or are grieving a loss. We feel helpless because we can’t avert their suffering; all we can do is sit with them and listen. And yet, that is all Christ asks of us — to remember that no one is meant to suffer alone.

On Good Friday, we are called to watch and wait at the foot of the cross. On Holy Saturday, we are called to watch and wait at the tomb. If we are faithful in our presence in dark times, we will also be graced to witness the new life that always emerges through our communion with Christ.

Imperfect Timing

Most of us experience with some regularity what we would call “imperfect timing.” I’m in the midst of an episode right now: As soon as I started a week as acolyte (reader of prayers) at morning and evening prayer at the Mount, I came down with a sore throat/cold that impairs my ability to speak.

When it comes to a cold, “this too shall pass,” but other examples of imperfect timing can change a person’s life direction: an unexpected pregnancy, the need to care for an aging parent, or the loss of a job, for example.

In his poem The Guest House, the Persian poet Rumi says that the occasions we view as imperfect timing may be “violently sweeping your house empty of its furniture,” thus “clearing you out for some new delight.” Typically, we aren’t able to appreciate the value of imperfect timing in the moment. It is only in hindsight that we see how a cold may be signaling the need for more rest, an unplanned pregnancy may bring joy to our family, caring for an aging parent may strengthen this vital relationship, and the loss of a job may lead us to our true vocation.

If we believe that “the Divine Presence is everywhere,” as St. Benedict says in his Rule, we know our Consoler is always at hand to help us adjust to difficult circumstances and that love will keep flowing through our lives — perhaps not in the way we envisioned or desired, but bringing its own wisdom and delight.

From our human point of view, the timing of events in our lives is often imperfect. When we choose to dwell with God in the realm of possibility, we stop judging timing as good or bad and trust that what unfolds will lead to love in some shape or form, no matter how unexpected.