It is Friday and it has been a long week with another string of long days ahead. I am in need of inspiration. So today I’m posting a quote I just found in a book I’m reading now with the hope that you’ll post yours too.

My quote for today:

Our experience is composed rather of illusions lost than wisdom acquired.
– Joseph Roux (quoted in Chapter 15 of Beyond the Last Village by Alan Rabinowitz)

Share the inspiration! What words of wisdom have you found that spark your imagination, get you thinking, or inspire you?

* * *

Both sisters are on the road today and so there will not be a podcast tonight. Catch up on previous Ask Sister podcasts by subscribing to iTunes or listening to Ask Sister right here. We’ll see you on Monday at 6 p.m. CST for prayer (your time zone).

Yesterday I came across a line by poet T.S. Eliot that struck me so soundly that I drove immediately to the bookstore and got a copy of his book of verse Four Quartets.

Quick now, here, now, always–
A condition of complete simplicity
(Costing not less than everything)
And all shall be well and
All manner of thing shall be well …

(T.S. Eliot, “Little Gidding” V in Four Quartets)

“A condition of complete simplicity / (Costing not less than everything)” … wow. As I read the rest of this section of verse, I realized I had heard many pieces of it before, but these two lines were like a sword piercing my soul.

Simplicity is a complex word. It’s nuanced and multivalent, seemingly contradictory in itself.

Main Entry: sim·plic·i·ty (Merriam-Webster)

1 : the state of being simple, uncomplicated, or uncompounded
2 a : lack of subtlety or penetration : innocence, naiveté b : folly, silliness
3 : freedom from pretense or guile : candor
4 a : directness of expression : clarity b : restraint in ornamentation : austerity

Depending on how you read it, simplicity can be a good thing or a bad thing. Which meaning did Eliot have in mind for these verses? And, perhaps more importantly, what meaning does the reader perceive as she or he reads these verses? Reading this, reflecting on it, has become a part of my prayer for today, a kind of lectio divina or “sacred reading” as I try to see what God might be saying to me through my being captured by these words.

I find that many times when I am struck soundly by something out of the blue that I can use the experience to “unpack” some kind of call from God. It might be a call to attend to a pressing concern, to explore an idea further, to grow in understanding God, etc. It’s an invitation to go deeper in a new way.

A couple questions for you … how do you read Eliot’s line about simplicity? Have you had a similar experience of being “struck soundly” by a word or image or other experience?

]]> http://anunslife.org/2009/08/11/3459/feed/ 8 http://anunslife.org/2009/04/14/easter-tuesday/ http://anunslife.org/2009/04/14/easter-tuesday/#comments Tue, 14 Apr 2009 10:53:13 +0000 Sister Julie http://anunslife.org/?p=2661

It’s the season of Easter and Spring is nearly here. The flower buds are popping through the ground, and the air, though chilled, gives hints of warmth and sun!

“This I saw on an April day:
Warm rain spilt from a sun-lined cloud,
A sky-flung wave of gold at evening,
And a cock pheasant treading a dusty path
Shy and proud.

And this I found in an April field:
A new white calf in the sun at noon,
A flash of blue in a cool moss bank,
And tips of tulips promising flowers
To a blue-winged loon.”

~ by James Hearst, In April

What will or has Easter and Spring brought for you?

Be like the bird that,
passing on her flight awhile on boughs too slight,
feels them give way beneath her,
and yet sings,
knowing that she hath wings.

~ Victor Hugo

What causes you to sing,
even when the bough beneath you feels like it is giving way?

At long last I am returning to a book about Saint Teresa of Avila that I picked up last year. It’s called Interior Castle Explored: St. Teresa’s Teaching on the Life of Deep Union With God by Sister Ruth Burrows, OCD, a Carmelite nun in Norfolk. I am a big fan of both Teresa’s and Sister Ruth’s writings. But I don’t always take the time that I need to do some spiritual reading. So I took out the book again and started reading it again from the beginning.

In Chapter One, Sister Ruth quotes a poem by Nikos Kazantzakis, a Cretan poet whose birthday, coincidentally, is today. Sister Ruth writes, “I do not know his beliefs but, as it stands, the poem wonderfully expresses what I believe.”

Blowing through the heaven and earth, and in our hearts and in the heart of every living thing, is a gigantic breath — a great Cry — which we call God. Plant life wished to continue its motionless sleep next to stagnant waters, but the Cry leaped up within it and violently shook its roots: ‘Away, let go of the earth, walk!’ Had the tree been able to think and judge, it would have cried, ‘I don’t want to. What are you urging me to do? You are demanding the impossible!’

But the Cry, without pity, kept shaking its roots and shouting, ‘Away! Let go of the earth, walk!’

It shouted in this way for thousands of eons; and lo, as a result of desire and struggle, life escaped the motionless tree and was liberated….

The poem continues, but my reflections remained with this first part. How timely it is in my own life as well as in the life of the Church as we approach the wonderful season of Lent!

Some thoughts …

• What is the great Cry that I hear in my own life?
• What might God be asking me to let go of?
• In what ways am I tethered by roots that keep me from letting go and walking free?
• Is there something that I’ve been putting off for “thousands of eons”, thinking it impossible, that actually is possible?

Archbishop Claudio Celli, president of the Pontifical Council for Social Communications, recently gave a conference on Media and Evangelization and how the Catholic Church is committed to using new media.

What I found particularly intriguing was how the Archbishop framed his remarks about communication. He referred to the work of the late Cardinal Avery Dulles on the theology of the Trinity in order to illustrate his thoughts on communication and how such a theology is foundational to how we connect with others, especially via the new media

The Trinity is, of course, one of the great mysteries of our Catholic faith. The One God is at the same time three Persons: God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. Many mystics and theologians of our faith have looked to the Trinity as a model of how to relate to and communicate with God and one another. The Archbishop quoted Dulles on what this relationship and communication “looks” like within the Trinity:

“The Trinity is communication in absolute, universal perfection, a totally free and complete sharing among equals. In generating the Son as word, the Father totally expresses himself … the Holy Spirit completes the intradivine process of communication” (The Craft of Theology: From Symbol to System).

Although this particular quote doesn’t make mention of it, love is key to Dulles’ understanding of the Trinity and of how the Triune God communicates among the three Persons as well as to all of creation. For example, Dulles writes:

“Within the Trinity the Spirit is the subsistent love breathed forth by the Father and the Son. He is the personal bond of union expressing and sealing their mutual love, and proceeding from them” (The Catholicity of the Church, 45).

Key messages about the nature of good communication can be found in both of Dulles’ quotes:

• Good communication is “a totally free and complete sharing among equals”.

• Good communication is the generation of not only words (information) but of a word about who we are; we express ourselves, give ourselves to others when we communicate with them.

• Love proceeds from good communication.

What does this mean in this age of mass communication where we can relate to and communicate with others immediately and through huge variety of media? Do we treat others as equals when we are communicating with them, especially when we are hidden behind the veil of anonymity? Are we attentive to how are words are expressing how we are? Do all of our communications (yes, even that 140 character tweet on Twitter) express love? I’m not talking about sentimental love, but a love that Saint Paul so well articulates in 1 Corinthians 13.

Love is patient, love is kind. It is not jealous, (love) is not pompous, it is not inflated, it is not rude, it does not seek its own interests, it is not quick-tempered, it does not brood over injury, it does not rejoice over wrongdoing but rejoices with the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

Let’s talk more about this. What key messages do you hear in the Archbishop’s conference or in Dulles’ theology of the Trinity? How can we make the blogosphere, especially the Catholic blogosphere, more of a place where good communication is the rule, not the exception?

Other thoughts, ideas, wonderings …

One of my favorite quotes that keeps me on track and stills my heart …

Prayer is the quiet readiness to be addressed./p>

- Gregory Baum, Canadian Roman Catholic theologian

What a wonderful conversation on Doubt the Movie yesterday! My profound gratitude to the Sister Regina, Sister Connie, and Sister Mary of the Sisters of Charity of New York for joining us.

I encourage you to read through the comments and, if you haven’t already, go see the movie or read Doubt: A Parable. Feel free to continue the conversation on yesterday’s post. I’ll be checking in too.

Since we’ve had much Doubt here on A Nun’s Life, I thought perhaps we should meditate for a little bit on Hope.

“Isn’t it the moment of most profound doubt that gives birth to new certainties? Perhaps hopelessness is the very soil that nourishes human hope; perhaps one could never find sense in life without first experiencing its absurdity …”

- Vaclav Havel (playwright, writer, politician)

What is your experience of hope in the midst of doubt?

Give me, if you will, prayer;
Or let me know dryness,
An abundance of devotion,
Or if not, then barrenness.
In you alone, Sovereign Majesty,
I find my peace,
What do you want of me?

Yours I am, for You I was born:
What do you want of me?

- Saint Teresa of Avila

“Be still and know that I am God.” (Psalm 46:10)

This is one of my most favorite quotes that when I read it or say it or hear it, it drops me right into a place of contemplative silence with God.

What quote (doesn’t have to be biblical) helps you to drop into contemplative silence — even amidst the activity and challenges of daily life?

When I was in college, I saw an ad in a Toronto city bus with a woman mountain climber endorsing a sneaker or a sports drink or something. I wish I could remember what it was for or the exact wording. It was something like, “Every time I find the highest mountain I can climb, I get to the top and think, ‘This is what God sees.’” I used to have a copy of that ad in my dorm room, but it’s gone now, gone the way of much of my other college stuff like the milk crates used as bookshelves and the footlocker full of notebooks.

Still, I can’t forget how that quote struck me. On a basic level, the quote implies an image of God being somewhere up in the heavens looking down on us, like the mountain climber who can look down on the earth from the vantage point of the highest mountain. But to me, the quote always seemed deeper than that, as if somehow, through my eyes I can actually see what God sees. I’m not talking about physical eyesight, though that might be part of it; no, I’m talking about seeing or sensing the deeper meaning or nature of something,  someone. It’s kinda like seeing/sensing something on its own terms, for what/who it is, and being open to being changed by it. I’m grasping for words here because I’m just not sure how to articulate this, but I know it when I see it. Maybe it’s seeing the sadness in the bartender’s eye when she pours you a drink at a dingy bar on the edge of town; or maybe it’s the one thin piece of grass that breaks through the paved surface of a massive mall parking lot. It could be any situation — literally.

Over the years I’ve discovered that everyone has this gift of seeing what God sees, though we don’t always make a choice to do something about it. I will always regret not having asked that bartender if she was okay, if I could help her in any way. Her sadness has hung on to me, a living reminder to not close my eyes to what God sees and what I could see.

A fellow blogging nun has posted a wonderful reflection that she gave to a group of lay people about religious life. This contemplative Redemptoristine sister (Order of the Most Holy Redeemer) writes the blog Contemplative Horizon. This reflection on religious life, she writes, is meant “to bring our lay friends up to date and give them a perspective concerning the current state of religious life. It was meant to give historical context, be reassuring and also to offer a bit of a challenge.”

The reflection, “To Pray Always” – Monastic Life into the 21st Century, begins with a great quote from Mark Twain …

After the London Times published his obituary, Mark Twain quipped to a lecture audience, “The report of my death was greatly exaggerated.”

Tonight I would like to assure you that reports of the death of monasticism, indeed the death of religious life, have been greatly exaggerated. Both are alive and well, though diminished in number. Indeed, if the record of history and culture is predictive and if, as a result, artistic imagination keeps bringing monastic images to our cultural radar screen, they will never die….

Please take the time to read Sister’s reflection and begin/continue a conversation with her and her readers. Also I’d love to hear what you think too. While the article is focused on monastic life, what take-aways do we have for our own vocations?

Summer Day

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean-
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

~ Mary Oliver in New and Selected Poems (Boston: Beacon Press) 1992

Indeed … what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life? Becoming a nun was and is my answer to this question! How about for you? Or are you still wondering?

(more on the Pulitzer Prize winning poet, Mary Oliver)

I recently received the following question: I have a question about surrendering ourselves to God. What does this “surrender” exactly mean and how should one go about in surrendering him/her self totally to God?

Surrender is allowing God to embrace us fully. It has to do with what Saint Paul said: “No longer I but Christ who lives in me” (Gal 2:20). Surrender in this sense does not have to do with “giving up”, being resigned or accepting despair or defeat. On the contrary, surrender is about becoming most fully alive by allowing God (who is our proper “home’) to fill us, become one with us.

The writer of Blog by the Sea has a very thoughtful post called “Love and the Will of God” in which she addresses surrender through the words of Saint Edith Stein (1891-1942), the Carmelite nun, writer, and martyr:

No finite spirit [Geist], to be sure, is capable of wholly embracing the Divine Spirit, but God — and he alone — embraces and encompasses wholly every created spirit. Those who surrender their selves to him attain in loving union with him to the highest perfection of their being and to that love which is at once knowledge, surrender of the heart, and free act. That love is wholly turned upon God, but in union with divine love the created spirit also embraces its own self — in knowledge, in joyful bliss, and in free self-affirmation. The surrender of oneself to God is simultaneously a surrender of one’s own self — a self which God loves — to the entire created world, and in particular to all spiritual beings united with God.

(Saint Edith Stein in Section 9 of Chapter VII of Finite and Eternal Being)

There’s a lot to chew on in there … good stuff to pray with and reflect on.

How we live this in everyday life is a whole other question. One of my little mantras is “Not my will but Yours be done.” I keep this mantra like a little bookmark in my mind to remind me in specific situations that I want to act out of what is truly good not just for me but for others and for whatever mysterious intentions God has. Sometimes it’s as “simple” as stepping back from a situation and realizing that I was so intent upon something that I forgot to check in with God. Sure God is in my desires and impulses, but so is a lot of me! So surrender for me might mean allowing for a space in myself to be open to God’s ideas and dreams for me, not just my own or those of people around me.

That’s just one way. Let’s see what others think about this …

What else does Surrender in this context mean to you? How do you live it out?

Here is an essay from Sister Helen Prejean, CSJ. It was aired on the NPR segment, This I Believe, ”a national media project engaging people in writing, sharing, and discussing the core values and beliefs that guide their daily lives.”

To listen to the Sister Helen’s essay, Living My Prayer, click here and then click on “Listen Now”.

Living My Prayer
by Sister Helen Prejean

Sister Helen Prejean’s work as spiritual adviser to death row inmates formed the basis of two books, including Dead Man Walking. A native of Louisiana, Prejean became a nun in 1957. In 1981 she dedicated her life to helping the poor of New Orleans.

Weekend Edition Sunday, January 6, 2008 · I watch what I do to see what I really believe.

Belief and faith are not just words. It’s one thing for me to say I’m a Christian, but I have to embody what it means; I have to live it. So, writing this essay and knowing I’ll share it in a public way becomes an occasion for me to look deeply at what I really believe by how I act.

“Love your neighbor as yourself,” Jesus said, and as a beginner nun I tried earnestly to love my neighbor — the children I taught, their parents, my fellow teachers, my fellow nuns. But for a long time, the circle of my loving care was small and, for the most part, included only white, middle-class people like me. But one day I woke up to Jesus’ deeper challenge to love the outcast, the criminal, the underdog. So I packed my stuff and moved into a noisy, violent housing project in an African-American neighborhood in New Orleans.

I saw the suffering and I let myself feel it: the sound of gunshots in the night, mothers calling out for their children. I saw the injustice and was compelled to do something about it. I changed from being a nun who only prayed for the suffering world to a nun with my sleeves rolled up, living my prayer. Working in that community in New Orleans soon led me to Louisiana’s death row.

So, I keep watching what I do to see what I actually believe.

Jesus’ biggest challenge to us is to love our enemies. On death row, I encountered the enemy — those considered so irredeemable by our society that even our Supreme Court has made it legal to kill them. For 20 years now, I’ve been visiting people on death row, and I have accompanied six human beings to their deaths. As each has been killed, I have told them to look at me. I want them to see a loving face when they die. I want my face to carry the love that tells them that they and every one of us are worth more than our most terrible acts.

But I knew being with the perpetrators wasn’t enough. I also had to reach out to victims’ families. I visited the families who wanted to see me, and I founded a victims support group in New Orleans. It was a big stretch for me, loving both perpetrators and victims’ families, and most of the time I fail because so often a victim’s families interpret my care for perpetrators as choosing sides — the wrong side. I understand that, but I don’t stop reaching out.

I’ve learned from victims’ families just how alone many of them feel. The murder of their loved one is so horrible, their pain so great, that most people stay away. But they need people to visit, to listen, to care. It doesn’t take anyone special, just someone who cares.

Writing this essay reminds me, as an ordinary person, that it’s important to take stock, to see where I am. The only way I know what I really believe is by keeping watch over what I do.

Independently produced for Weekend Edition Sunday by Jay Allison and Dan Gediman with John Gregory and Viki Merrick.

(source)

Great article from Zenit. I love the image of lectio divina as “spiritual GPS” … what has been your experience with reading Scripture? How does Scripture help you pray and navigate life?

“Lectio Divina” Seen as a Compass and Spiritual GPS
Site on Meditation of Scripture Aims to Attract Youth

By Miriam Díez i Bosch

ROME, DEC. 18, 2007 (Zenit.org) – A “spiritual GPS” and a “compass for life” are two images that have been used to illustrate the importance of reading the Bible, says a Catholic consultor for the United Biblical Societies.

Ricardo Grozna said this to ZENIT when commenting on the Web site www.lectionautas.com, which offers guides for “lectio divina,” or the meditative reading of Scripture, and aims especially to attract youth. It already has 50,000 users.

“To define ‘lectio divina’ as a GPS [Global Positioning System] is to see in it a satellite that tells us where we are, like a compass, which indicates to us the path to follow,” Grozna said. He commented that Cardinal Oscar Rodríguez Maradiaga, archbishop of Tegucigalpa, Honduras, “has referred to ‘lectio divina’ as a GPS, and the Pope has defined the Bible as a ‘compass for life.’”

Sacred Scripture “is a book that interprets my life; the Bible ends up being like a mirror that helps me, and teaches me to seek a path,” Grozna added. “For years, Pope John Paul II and then Benedict XVI insisted a great deal that ‘lectio divina,’ which was a method of monastic prayer of the monks, could reach all Christians.”

Novel evangelization

The program of “lectio divina” on the Internet consists in offering users texts and MP3 files. Users are chiefly youth who download the audio files on their mobile phones. Grozna explained that the aim of the program is to train young people who can lead other youth in reading the Bible.

“The Church is taking all the programs promoting biblical reading as a priority,” explained Grozna, pointing especially to his experience in Latin America. “Catholics have delayed a little in rediscovering the Bible, but the Bible has always been present in the Church. [...] I don’t read the Bible, it is the Bible that reads me.”

Grozna said the site’s success is shown by hundreds of e-mail messages from youth telling “how they are changing their lives by following the prayerful reading.”

The method is also ecumenical, he added: “‘Lectio divina’ has been a point for moving forward in dialogue with other Christian brothers.” And it also serves as a social apostolate, “In some countries, the parish youth are using the method of ‘lectio divina’ to reach ostracized youth; those who are in very poor neighborhoods, those who have been victims of drugs, violence, gangs.”

Hugo Flores, manager of the site, was in Rome to present the program. He told ZENIT the program has been well received by theologians and biblical scholars. “They have taken ‘lectio divina’ as a point to help them evangelize and carry the word of the Lord to more groups. Cardinals, bishops, priests … they are fascinated with this novelty, this new form of evangelizing through the Internet.”

(click for article at Zenit.org)

It’s SNOWING! I’m terribly excited about the snow … we had a little bit on Saturday (I was bike riding as the snow began to fall — see post-ride photo) but last night it really came down. I absolutely love the snow.

When we were kids my parents would take us kids tobogganning at the local park — it was awesome. This was no neighborhood park-ette, but a huge forest you could lose yourself in for days. When we would go tobogganning, we could go a full 3-5 minutes down this huge hill, duck around a 15 foot drop (Dad accidentally took us down that once), enter a densely forested area (yup, hit a tree a few times), cut across an open space and end up at the edge of a river. It was the coolest, most awesomest ride ever. My Dad was a master at ye old toboggan. I know he enjoyed it as much as we kids did. Mom usually stayed up top with a steady supply of hot chocolate, extra mittens, and a warm hug.

So now whenever it snows, I always feel this excitement along with a profound sense of gratitude for the beauty of creation. These Scripture verses echo in my heart:

Cold and chill, bless the Lord; praise and exalt him above all forever.
Dew and rain, bless the Lord; praise and exalt him above all forever.
Frost and chill, bless the Lord; praise and exalt him above all forever.
Ice and snow, bless the Lord; praise and exalt him above all forever.

~ Daniel 3:67-70

Yesterday I listened to the broadcast of the conversation between Sister Marie Pappas, CR, and myself on the “Pathways to Learning” program on Sirius Radio’s The Catholic Channel #159. Strange to listen to oneself. Never quite sounds like yourself.

During the program we talked about what was happening in religious life around the time of the Second Vatican Council. This was a very important time of renewal for the whole Church including religious. In the document, Perfectae Caritatis, “The Decree on the Adaptation and Renewal of Religious Life” (1965), the Council called religious to adaptation and renewal “under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit and the guidance of the Church.”

“The adaptation and renewal of the religious life includes both the constant return to the sources of all Christian life and to the original spirit of the institutes and their adaptation to the changed conditions of our time.” (Perfectae Caritatis #2)

So much could be said about this one sentence. It is filled with this call to return to our foundation — both our foundation in Christ (which all are called to) and our foundation as a religious community. Every religous community was founded through a unique inspiration of the Holy Spirit. No two communities are exactly alike. We might do the same ministries, wear similar habits, and pray in similar ways … but each charism (that original gift of the Holy Spirit) is unmistakeably unique.

I think this is an amazing idea … to renew ourselves we must return — not just once — but again and again to our foundations. I do this first through the “sources of all Christian life” — prayer, the Eucharist and celebration of the sacraments, meditating on Scripture, participation in the faith community and so on. As a religious, I also do this by immersing myself in the story of our foundation, of our founders Mother Theresa Maxis Duchemin and Father Louis Florent Gillet, and of our “godmother” Mother Mary Lange of the Oblate Sisters of Providence. I read the letters, visit the places they lived and worked, and pray on this wonderful gift of IHM that the Spirit has given my community for the good of the Church and world.

I want you to visit Sister Susan Rose’s blog “Musings of a Discerning Woman” where she writes about her own experience of literally returning to the foundations of her community. Sister Susan Rose is a Sister of Saint Joseph of Peace here in the United States but is currently ministering in London. She’s had the opportunity to visit the places of the foundation of her community. Take some time to go through her back posts and read about her ongoing pilgrimage and what it has meant to her. Sister Susan is very much incarnating the call from Perfectae Caritatis to return to our foundations.

What are the foundations that you return to again and again for renewal?

I found this most excellent quote on a triathlon blog I check every so often. Triathlon, you say? I’m doing my very first triathlon in August. I’ve never really been a competitive person (though when engaged in a game I do tend to give folks a run for their money) nor have I spent much time on anything other than cycling. I always thought a triathlon was well beyond me, especially considering that I never learned how to swim (my mom had to save me from drowning at a YMCA lesson when I was little). I happened to see a women’s triathlon on TV and thought, you know, I think I can do it. Not for speed or to compete against others, but just to finish and more importantly to engage in the very spiritual, ascetic discipline of training the body, spirit, and mind. Anyway, back to the quote. So I was reading this blog and saw this quote:

It is never too late to be what you might have been.
~ George Eliot

Something about this quote rang true for me in terms of doing the triathlon in particular, but also in terms of life in general. It reminded me of one of my most favorite quotes: “Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it.” (Johann Wolfgang von Goethe) Now I’m not talking about the impossible here. I always wanted to be an astronaut but it ain’t going to happen. But that shouldn’t keep me from learning about the planets and stars and universe. I think we all have dreams for our lives, some of which are actualized, and others fade into the distance. Sometimes it may feel like bits and pieces of ourselves that we can’t recover. But I think we can, provided we are willing to allow those dreams to meet us where we are at and willing to allow our own dreams to transform us.

So my questions for you today are these: what is something that you’ve dreamed about or some part of you that you feel like you’ve lost? how might you recover it in your life today? how might this help you be more of yourself?

To Keep a True Lent

Is this a Fast, to keep
  The larder lean?
  And clean
From fat of veals and sheep?

Is it to quit the dish
  Of flesh, yet still
  To fill
The platter high with fish?

Is it to fast an hour,
  Or ragg’d to go,
  Or show
A down-cast look and sour?

No: ‘tis a Fast to dole
  Thy sheaf of wheat
  And meat
Unto the hungry soul.

It is to fast from strife
  And old debate,
  And hate;
To circumcise thy life.

To show a heart grief–rent;
  To starve thy sin,
  Not bin;
And that’s to keep thy Lent.

~ Robert Herrick (1591-1674)

This morning’s reading in my prayer book (People’s Companion to the Breviary) is truly awesome. The author, Annice Callahan, RSCJ (who was teaching at Regis College in Toronto while I was studying there), writes about one of theologian Father Karl Rahner, SJ’s central messages in all of his theology (and trust me, he’s written a lot … he happens to be my all-time favorite theologian and the subject of my Masters’ thesis). Rahner teaches, as does the Church, that we have the capacity not only to know about God, but to truly experience God. We may even know that it is happening … we may even feel farther from God’s presence than ever … yet even if we are not consciously aware, God is communicating himself to us, he is in direct relationship with us. Read on …

Rahner asserts that to speak of the human is to speak of the divine and vice versa. He describes God as the mystery in human experience. For him, then, God is the depth dimension in experiences such as solitude, friendship, community, death, hope and, as such, is the orientation toward the future. Rahner goes so far as to say that loneliness, disappointments and the ingratitude of others can be graced moments because they open us to the transcendent. The silence of God, the toughness of life and the darkness of death can be graced events. This mystery of grace discloses itself as a forgiving nearness, a hidden closeness, our real home, a love which shares itself, something familiar which we can turn to from the alienation of our own empty and perilous lives. When we are in touch with ourselves authentically, we experience God.

Annice Callahan, RSCJ, Traditions of Spiritual Guidance, p. 341, (32)

My readings this morning brought me to this beautiful poem written by Edwina Gateley. It is a prayer that I’ve probably prayed before though in different, less poetic words and in various circumstances. It is a reminder to me that God is always with us, calling us, loving us, even when we may feel so far away.

This is my prayer —
That, though I may not see,
I be aware
Of the Silent God
Who stands by me.
That, though I may not feel,
I be aware
Of the Mighty Love
Which doggedly follows me.
That, though I may not respond,
I be aware
That God—my Silent, Mighty God,
Waits each day.
Quietly, hopefully, persistently,
Waits each day and through each night
For me,
For me—alone.

Edwina Gateley, “Silent God,” in Psalms of a Laywoman, p. 22, (51)

“She also serves who sits and waits.”

One of my IHM sisters just told me about this as we walked home from Mass of the First Sunday of Advent. The homily was about how waiting and anticipation are good things, even though in our society we often rush, rush, rush. She said how many of our sisters said this when sisters were waiting to speak with the superior. Isn’t it a great thought? … that by our waiting we are serving.

Sometimes saying “thank you” can become an automatic response. “Have a nice day.” “Thanks, you too.” It’s a polite gesture which actually has some very profound meaning behind it. The word gratitude speaks to that deeper dimension.

The word gratitude comes from the medieval Latin words gratitudo and gratus which mean “thankful.” Interestingly, these words are related to the Latin word gratia which means “favor,” “grace,” or “gift.” Gratitude is significant because it is a sign of self-transcendence, that is, the capacity to step out of ourselves. In Spirituality Today, Joanne Wolski Conn (an IHM Associate) and Walter Conn say this about self-transcendence:

“… self-transcendence proposes the paradoxical claim that authentic self-realization consists, not in the self-centered and illusory attempts either to deny the self or to meet its desires, but in a dynamic movement beyond oneself toward the good of others.”

Conversion as Self-Transcendence Exemplified in the Life of St. Thérèse of Lisieux
… the article is from a while back, but the content continues to be relevant …

Think about it. Cultivating a spirit of gratitude means that we must look for the good in others, no matter what. It means we recognize not just a gift given but all life as gift. It means we can be a little more like God in how we relate to others:

The Lord works vindication
and justice for all who are oppressed…
The Lord is merciful and gracious,
slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.
He will not always accuse,
nor will he keep his anger for ever.
He does not deal with us according to our sins,
nor repay us according to our iniquities.
For as the heavens are high above the earth,
so great is his steadfast love towards those who fear him.

verses from Psalm 103

What are you grateful for this day?

My friend and colleague Jim has some quotes by Flannery O’Connor on his blog People of the Book. This is one of my favorites:

“Almost any spiritual writer ought to wear thin for you. It’s like reading criticism of poetry all the time and not reading the poetry.”

This quote says a lot. So often we get caught up in this or that thing that is going to be “it” — that one thing that gives us some meaning or insight into life, God, or ourselves. The perfect mentor, the perfect book, the perfect place of solitude, the perfect whatever. All these things are good, but the temptation is to not have the experience itself. It’s great to read about God and hear others tell of their experience with God, but what of your experience? Why not learn about God from God himself? Prayer is nothing more than talking and listening with God. It really is that simple. So next time you pick up that inspiring book, remember to go to the primary source as well — live the experience.

As Election Day approaches, I’m reminded of how our right to vote is both a privilege and a moral obligation. As Catholics, we must be informed about and participate in the politics of our local community and our nation. The world of politics is a place like any other in our world where we are called to be light in the darkness.

In the Catholic tradition, responsible citizenship is a virtue; participation in the political process is a moral obligation. All believers are called to faithful citizenship, to become informed, active, and responsible participants in the political process. (USCCB Administrative Committee, Faithful Citizenship: A Catholic Call to Political Responsibility, p. 8.)

Politics . . . should be about an old idea with new power—the common good. The central question should not be, “Are you better off than you were four years ago?” It should be, “How can ‘we’—all of us, especially the weak and vulnerable—be better off in the years ahead? How can we protect and promote human life and dignity? How can we pursue greater justice and peace?” (USCCB Administrative Committee, Faithful Citizenship: A Catholic Call to Political Responsibility, p. 2.)

The United States Conference of Catholic Bishops (USCCB) has done a lot in terms of articulating how our Catholic tradition impels us to be faithful citizens. Check out their Faithful Citizenship web site which provides resources that “are designed to help you learn, share, and act on Catholic teaching about how our faith can and should shape our choices and opportunities as citizens, so that we can build a world more respectful of human life and dignity and more committed to justice and peace.”

Today is the feast day of Saint Teresa of Avila (1515-1582). Teresa is a Doctor of the Church, a major Catholic reformer (particularly in the Carmelite order), a mystic and writer. She is also one of the patron saints of the IHM Congregation.

Teresa was a woman of prayer and continues to teach many people in and outside of the Church how to grow in prayer and one’s relationship with God.

Here is one of my favorite writings of Teresa (Poetry, 386).

Nada te turbe Let nothing trouble you,
Nada te espante, Let nothing scare you,
Toda se pasa, All is fleeting,
Dios no se muda, God alone is unchanging.
La Paciencia Patience
Todo la alcanza; Everything obtains.
Quien a Dios tiene Who possesses God
Nada le falta. Nothing wants.
Sólo Dios basta. God alone suffices.

Today is the feast day of Saint Francis of Assisi (1181?-1226). Saint Francis is the Patron Saint of Italy, Italian merchants, ecologists, the environment and animals. He is well known for his love of animals and for his prayer of peace. Catholic Online has a nice article in honor of Saint Francis’s feast day: ”Reflecting on feast of St. Francis – Pets seen guiding on path to God.”

One of my favorite writings of Saint Francis is the Canticle of Brother Sun. The following translation of the Canticle is from the Franciscan Web site www.franciscanfriarstor.com.

The Canticle of Brother Sun

Most High, all powerful, good Lord,
Yours are the praises, the glory, the honor,
and all blessing.

To You alone, Most High, do they belong,
and no man is worthy to mention Your name.

Be praised, my Lord, through all your creatures,
especially through my lord Brother Sun,
who brings the day; and you give light through him.
And he is beautiful and radiant in all his splendor!
Of you, Most High, he bears the likeness.

Praise be You, my Lord, through Sister Moon
and the stars, in heaven you formed them
clear and precious and beautiful.

Praised be You, my Lord, through Brother Wind,
and through the air, cloudy and serene,
and every kind of weather through which
You give sustenance to Your creatures.

Praised be You, my Lord, through Sister Water,
which is very useful and humble and precious and chaste.

Praised be You, my Lord, through Brother Fire,
through whom you light the night and he is beautiful
and playful and robust and strong.

Praised be You, my Lord, through Sister Mother Earth,
who sustains us and governs us and who produces
varied fruits with colored flowers and herbs.

Praised be You, my Lord,
through those who give pardon for Your love,
and bear infirmity and tribulation.

Blessed are those who endure in peace
for by You, Most High, they shall be crowned.

Praised be You, my Lord,
through our Sister Bodily Death,
from whom no living man can escape.

Woe to those who die in mortal sin.
Blessed are those whom death will
find in Your most holy willl,
for the second death shall do them no harm.

Praise and bless my Lord,
and give Him thanks
and serve Him with great humility.

AMEN

“Christ has no body now but yours
No hands, no feet on earth but yours
Yours are the eyes through which He looks compassion on this world
Christ has no body now on earth but yours.”

attributed to 
Saint Teresa of Avila (1515-1582)
Carmelite nun, Doctor of the Church, monastic reformer, mystic, writer

I arise today
Through the strength of heaven:
Light of sun,
Radiance of moon,
Splendor of fire,
Speed of lightning,
Swiftness of wind,
Depth of sea,
Stability of earth,
Firmness of rock.
I arise today
Through God’s strength to pilot me;
God’s wisdom to uphold me,
God’s eye to look before me,
God’s ear to hear me,
God’s word to speak to me,
God’s hand to guide me,
God’s way to lie before me,
God’s angels to save me.

attributed to Saint Patrick (c. 390-c. 461)

If I had a nickel for every time I’ve been asked this question …

I’ve certainly asked myself this same question while I was in the process of trying to figure out what crazy thing God was calling me to. I often wondered what I could do as a nun that would be so totally different from being an “ordinary” person. I thought that if I could just name that one thing that was so exclusively nun-esque then I could decide whether to be a nun, or not to be a nun. That was the question.

I never did come up with that one thing, yet I know that this is the lifestyle for me. Being a nun “fits.” It’s the thing that will make me most fully myself, just like for my blood sister–being married and a mom “fits” who she is and makes her most fully herself.

I guess over time (9 years to be exact … no rush) the question, “what makes a nun different,” lost its meaning as I began to live the life. I fell in love not with the idea of being a nun, but with the lived reality of being a nun. I couldn’t answer the question by thinking about it, but I could answer it by living into it. Rainer Maria Rilke’s words ring true here:

“Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language. Do not now look for the answers. They cannot now be given to you because you could not live them. It is a question of experiencing everything. At present you need to live the question. Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day.”

Letters to a Young Poet

And yet the question lingers: what makes a nun different? My friends ask me, my family ask me, strangers who happen to find out that I’m a nun ask me. So, I continue to think about this question. Over the next few posts I hope to approach this question from a variety of angles. Stay tuned. Please post your comments–how would you respond to this question?