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poverty, prayer, seek, silence, Sisters of St. Joseph, solitude, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, Thomas Merton
There are a lot of people who have chosen a specific quote that expresses something important to them, something that they want to say to all the people with whom they share e-mail. I’m always interested to read these brief messages that conclude their e-mails to see if I think they fit the person behind the quote. Last week one of my Sisters of St. Joseph treated me to a quote of Thomas Merton that was characteristic of him but one I had never heard before. I might have claimed it for myself if I were called to choose it from the many great lines that run through my brain on any given day. I don’t know if I could ever settle on one choice to the exclusion of all others but this one is certainly a contender.
Do you have a favorite? This one came from Sister Linda Neil, CSJ, and I could say I value its message more and more each day. Thanks to Lin!
Let me seek, then, the gift of silence, and poverty, and solitude, where everything I touch is turned into prayer, where the sky is my prayer, the birds are my prayer, the wind in the trees is my prayer, for God is all in all.
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.
Sometimes when life feels very complicated I like to find some simplicity somewhere. This morning, since light had already arrived at this task before I did, I looked up and saw that my prayer plant had found a way to untangle herself from the tight configuration her leaves had been living in since I transplanted her a few weeks ago. She seemed happy to spread her arms in praise. That moment was enough to call me to do the same.
Today is the feast of St. Dominic, another of the great founders of religious communities. Dominic’s religious order is called the Dominicans but the formal title is “Order of Preachers,” thus the sometimes puzzling designation “O.P.” after their names. Dominic was a contemporary of St. Francis of Assisi and much like Francis in his asceticism and his desire to spread the Gospel. Reminiscent of the love Francis had for the poor, Dominic sold all of his books to help his neighbors who had survived a great famine. Like Francis, Dominic saw the need for a new type of religious organization, one whose members did not stay behind the cloistered walls of the monastery but rather traveled among the people, in the way of the first apostles, to spread the good news.
Isaiah is still waxing eloquently about good living and today introduces the concept of Sabbath when moving from “conduct becoming” in relationships to other people to a consideration of duties toward God. (Is 58:9B-14) In our fast-paced and diverse society, there seems to be too much work to do to take a whole day each week for rest and attention to inner work – the traditional meaning of the word Sabbath, at least in the Judeo-Christian understanding. I found an interesting and comforting thought in an alternate translation of the psalm that followed Isaiah’s words, a more personalized possibility of a way to conceptualize a Sabbath. Here is how Psalm 86, named by Lynn Bauman God’s Secret Inner Comfort, speaks to God:
I don’t often think about the biblical Book of Proverbs but this morning I was reacquainted with how pithy and sensible – and sometimes wry or ironic – they are. Here are a couple from chapter 21 that appear this morning and are worth more than a passing glance.
Today the Roman Catholic Church celebrates the feast of the Assumption of Mary, the Mother of Jesus, into heaven. It is one of many feasts observed by Catholics the world over – in both Eastern and Roman rite – and gives pride of place to the woman who said yes to the call of God to bring Christ to the world in the most significant way possible: by birth. In the renewal of the past half century, begun at the Second Vatican Council, we have come to appreciate Mary in perhaps more expansive ways. What I mean is that if we do indeed recognize her as a young woman (probably still a teenager) who lived in a small village in the Middle East, perhaps illiterate and certainly not privileged in any social way, her “yes” to God seems as extraordinary as it always has, but with one additional understanding that generations rarely if ever conceded – or even considered. This seemingly ordinary, humble young woman who cooperated with grace in an uncharacteristic way is the same girl who responded to the recognition by her kinswoman Elizabeth that she was carrying the Messiah with the following words:
It’s late afternoon here in the Northeast of the USA and I might normally skip the daily blog post on a day this far spent but today is the feast of St. Clare and I want to say a word (or more) about her.
All of the readings today speak of the danger of riches. We have seen how our culture fuels our desire for more – whether it be money or power – and the corruption that ensues in many cases when “more” is achieved. Clearly there are very rich people who do amazing and generous things with their money – Warren Buffett, for instance – but responsibility with wealth only comes from the development of a discerning heart and a life of understanding that we are, not just in theory, brothers and sisters in this world.
The Sophia Center for Spirituality 