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determination, endure, envision, future, light, love, Sisters of St. Joseph, The Sophia Center for Spirituality
I smiled when I just looked at the title for my last blog entry (“What Time Is It?”), in part because I am in a different time zone than usual. Although Minnesota is only one hour behind the Northeast, and because all my electronic devices correct themselves without help from me, I might not notice the inner disturbance that occurs when visiting a location like California (3 hours difference) or a European country (6 or 7 hours difference). There is a subtle adjustment to be made, however. I have been up and thinking for over an hour and here it’s only 6:10am.
The shift happens inside too as I am sitting in a bedroom on a hall that used to house a large number of young women aspiring to become members of the Sisters of St. Joseph, and now is filled with older women who come to consider what it has been like and how we might envision a future for those of us who have lived this religious life for decades. The halls are long (especially for those of us situated far from the morning coffee) but hold a familiar comfort of the lively exchanges that take place during gatherings in our own Province Center – our Motherhouse – in New York State.
Next weekend I will be there to gather with the Sisters I have known over 52 years to celebrate and converse together about changes and what does not change about our life together. In both places the task is/will be, as we often say, “a long, loving look at the real.” This weekend I see familiar faces from interactions of many years ago on committees. Sometimes I remember the names that go with the faces, depending on the extent of what we shared. Most are still vibrant women who witness to hope. Some are less able but more dear, perhaps, as their willingness is still alive although their bodies, and sometimes their minds, fail them a bit. Next weekend it will be the same scene but with more recognition on my part.
What is evident to me is that light shines out from all of us. Love is deep and determination to endure is strong among us. And that is certainly enough to know.
We know only two things about St. Matthew whose feast we celebrate today. First, we know him as a tax collector and secondly that he responded to the call of Jesus who approached him with the command: “Follow me,” and later was credited with the Gospel that bears his name. In the time of Jesus, tax collectors were not beloved members of society. It seems that, once again, Jesus was trying to make an important point by calling Matthew to be a disciple – a call that Matthew was unlikely to accept in the unquestioning way that he did. He was making some money, after all, and his job was likely secure. But Matthew got up from his customs post and seems to have never questioned the motives of Jesus or his own response. Clearly, others questioned however! “Why does the teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?” they boldly said – not thinking of any transgressions they themselves might have committed. Jesus was clear in his response to these queries. “I desire mercy, not sacrifice. I did not come to call the righteous but sinners.”
The readings for today are all about transgressions and the need for forgiveness, from Ezekiel to the word of Jesus about the need to forgive 70 X 7 times. Synchronistically, John Philip Newell has a Prayer of Awareness for Thursday morning in his book, Praying with the Earth. Simple and short, it is sufficient for my reflection for this day.
St. Clare of Assisi, whom we celebrate today, was a great example of the adage “Behind every good man, there is a good woman.” While he did not see her often, St. Francis counted on her holiness and wisdom to shore up his determination in times of doubt and difficulty. Clare was a clear mirror of the presence of God for Francis and for those women who followed her to the convent of San Damiano, and he was the same for her. She was a woman of great strength and perseverance who believed that she was the one who knew best what should be written in a rule for women in a religious order. Although she easily accepted the rule that Francis has written in the early days, after the death of Francis she continued for 27 years to submit a revised rule to bishops and popes until she finally received and signed a constitutional document of her own two days before her death on August 11, 1253.
At the retreat center where I am privileged to live, we are in the midst of our “high season.” Every weekend we welcome people of diverse beliefs and religious traditions who come seeking to deepen the spiritual content of their lives. Thus, the simple but appropriate name of this place: The Spiritual Center. It is not only those who come as participants to the programs we offer who are changed in some way or newly committed to spiritual practice. The presenters and we ourselves know the value of what is transacted here, most often in the brief space of a weekend.
Everything is so still this morning. It reminds me of the line in Paul’s Letter to the Romans where he says that “all creation is on tiptoe, waiting for the children of God to come into their own.” That image is my favorite translation because it is so visual but also because it implies for me an intense use of both ears and eyes. We won’t see it if we have our eyes closed and we won’t hear it if we’re not really listening. Even if all of our five outer senses are engaged, there needs to be an interior readiness for the in-breaking of God’s presence. I’ve come to the conclusion that it is an incremental thing, sparked either by our own silence or by a communal encounter of recognition. Deeper than silence, the stillness becomes palpable and we know something that we didn’t know before – indescribable but deeply true. Again it is John Philip Newell whose prayer suffices for this morning.
We have arrived. “It is the first day”, the saying goes, “of the rest of our lives.” It is the first day of April, the month when we expect great flowerings – in our weather, our gardens and, hopefully, our life. We have survived the winter, some with great stress and destruction, and though it seems to be hanging on, we need to remember that the resistance of Mother Earth can be as strong as our own when it comes to change.
In a less than fully awakened state this morning I clicked on the US Catholic Bishops’ website to check the readings for the day. I thought for a second that I had missed the mark on the small calendar box for today because what came up was entitled “Easter Sunday – the Resurrection of the Lord.” But of course, the readings are for tonight at “the Vigil in the Holy Night” to come. There is no Eucharistic Celebration on this day; Jesus remains in the tomb of our remembrance.
Having nothing of merit to say on this Tuesday of Holy Week, I search Thomas Merton for a worthy word. Although he never disappoints, I find myself looking unsuccessfully for something soothing to counteract the sorrow of what is to come as this week progresses. I settle for an admission of God’s greatness (the only safeguard for us in distress) and the necessity of surrender if we are to take up our role and responsibility in concert with God.
It seems that the theme of light is meant to continue here for at least one more day. In Alan Cohen’s book, A Deep Breath of Life, just the title for this morning’s daily reflection got me curious. “Rocks or Light?” it asked. He was talking about the Hawaiian spiritual tradition that every child born into this world is like a “bowl of light” containing the radiance of heaven. The theory is that if rocks – like fear, guilt and unworthiness – are placed into the bowl, the original brilliance is obscured. The more rocks in the bowl, the less light we shine. Cohen’s comments are very similar to yesterday’s Scripture readings. (I love it when serendipity like this happens to support my conclusions!) Here’s a little of what Cohen offers.