The Pillar of Salt

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Often when women get together to discuss Scripture, amazing ideas emerge. A group of women students were meeting. Here is some of what was said:

Molly began:

It’s so simple. I was thinking about that Lot story. You know, the one where Lot is told to take his family out of Sodom because everyone was so evil? Got to thinking about it and here’s the way I see it.

First, Lot’s wife doesn’t have a name. I named her Dama (Hebrew for tears). It was early morning and Dama had just fed her daughters. The two neighbor girls came running in to play. Dama stopped short. “Surely, Yahweh is not going to destroy those beautiful babies. Surely not.”

As Dama began to put a few things together as Lot had asked, Shira, her best friend, knocked on the door. “Dama, are you coming to the market with me?” Dama choked back her tears and called out, “Sorry, Shira, Lot has me gathering some things for him.”

The day was sprinkled with friends and children’s laughter. Then it was time. Lot came in and said, “It’s time to go.” Reluctantly, Dama walked with her husband and children out the back door.

Lot was adamant: “Don’t look back. We’ve been told not to look back.”

As they walked up the mountain, Dama could not hold back her tears. She tried not to listen to the cries that were coming from halfway down the mountain.

She looked back.

The story ends with a lesson: “She was turned into a pillar of salt because she did not obey.”

“Ahhhhh,” said Molly, “but do you believe this is the end of the story? Not on your life!”
Women know but it has not been recorded. The pillar of salt?

It was what was left of Dama’s tears.

Pat Pickett, OblSB

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Gratefulness After the Fact

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For many years, I resented the fact that while growing up, my parents expected me, as well as my brothers and sister, to do so many chores around our home setting. We had to hoe in the trees and orchard, keeping the weeds out; mow the lawns; weed the garden, pick the garden produce and help can or freeze it; clean the house, garage and patio; help get ready for guests by making desserts; and we had to help with washing clothes, ironing and mending, as well.

Not until many years later did I realize how much I was taught and how much I was able to do. Not only could I do ordinary household chores, but I also recognized particular plants be they flowers or trees or garden vegetables. Besides all this, Mom taught my sister and me to crochet, embroider dish cloths and sew. She loved crafts and tried out any new fads that came along. My sister and I both have similar ways in that we can follow directions and make whatever we choose. We were taught how to use our hands in very productive ways. In similar fashion, my Dad taught my brothers how to fix things, how to change oil on a car and also took them hunting so they understood the ways of guns.

What a blessing! And yet it took me a mighty long time to be grateful to my parents for their foresight and fortitude. Perhaps it’s never too late to say thank you. I suspect our parents knew that one day we would realize what a legacy they left us.

Mary Jane Berger, OSB

Have I Told You Lately That I Love You?

Photo: Andra Johnson

Is there anyone among my readers who recalls Eddy Arnold’s tear-jerking lyrics: “Have I told you lately that I love you? Could I tell you once again somehow?”

Those two lines run musically through my mind too often to be meaningless! I want to revive them! I want to make a difference where I live, in what I hear and what I read! I need to tell another—or better—sing to all those who cross my path, who emit ugly sounds or cruel words: “Could I tell you once again somehow...that I love you?” And I’d suggest that the more we hear words of hatred and division, tweets and social media insults, the more I need to learn the melody of Eddy Arnold’s lyrical tears and find ways to follow through on those questions without feeling crazy or isolated! I want to sing those words loudly and clearly to those I disagree with, dislike, avoid, isolate, deport, even want to silence or, perhaps, impeach! Will you help me, dear reader? I think we could make a difference...

Renée Domeier, OSB

Julian of Norwich, A Saint for Today

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Sixty years ago, an old Benedictine monk spoke of God in a way I had never heard before: “Christ is your mother.” He was quoting Dame Julian, a 14th-century woman. “Christ loves you as only a mother can love. God enfolds you in Her love. Like the hazel nut. God created it. God sustains it. God loves it. You do not need to work for it. It is all yours. God has oned you to Herself. She has knit all of your sensuality to your soul. You are one being, enfolded in God’s love.”

Fast forward 60 years: I have returned to reading Julian’s Showings of Divine Love. As I read her words, the impact is instantaneous. I read a few words and it is like this 14th-century woman was writing them just for me. I grew up in a household where father was distant and to be feared, while my mother lived unconditional love. It took a woman to best write this for me.

Julian’s Showings is the first book written in English by a woman. Of course, back then, women were forbidden to learn Latin and even more forbidden to write in it. She was probably a widow, had had children who may have died in the plague. She is a woman very much in tune with the ordinary. Yet she is so bright and writes in a way that can be readily understood. I find reading her brings me more deeply into the enfolding love of God. It is transfiguring.

There are different translations available, but the best one for me is that of Mirabai Starr, The Showings of Julian of Norwich.

Charles Preble, OblSB

Attention

Sister Herman Tschida and a furry friend!

It’s strange how often a message can repeat itself until it finally receives the attention it is inviting. Recently, a friend described what she learned when she chose to tour a facility that provided housing for persons living with Alzheimer’s disease. The facility was called the Sanctuary. Before the person giving the tour began, she shared some basic information. She included some relevant facts about communication. She reported that when preferring to have meaningful communication with another, it is important to recognize that 7% of what we communicate is in the words we choose, 33% is based on our tone of voice and 55% is conveyed by our body language. Is that why when infants or our pets looks up at us as though they think we are wonderful, we immediately perceive their loving message? It can even happen when a friend you meet not only greets you, but immediately finds a place for the two of you to sit down together. We take their message/gesture in as a gift. Maybe Simone Weil was right when claiming, “Attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity.”

Mary Rachel Kuebelbeck, OSB

Look for Miracles

We have a small, unassuming cabin in the woods on a lake. Surrounding the lake are neighbors we have come to know over the years. While we see each other infrequently, we cherish the time we do spend with them. One of these neighbors became ill with a viral infection, brain swelling, seizures and was placed on a ventilator. Scott was looking forward to retirement in February 2020.

Word spread across our tiny lake and on Saturday, we were all called to pray for him because he was to be taken off the ventilator and allowed to die. Yet, something miraculous happened. Before stopping the ventilator, he opened his eyes. His wife decided to give him more days, hopeful. Each day we have heard hopeful news, and our small lake community continues to pray for a miracle. We do not know what the outcome will be for our friend, yet we know the power of prayer we have sent his way speaks our love for him and his wife. It speaks of a community of faith. Miracles do happen.

Mary Baier, OblSB

January to July

Photo: Carleen Schomer, OSB

Do you remember how cold it was this past January? When you looked at the thermometer and it read 30 degrees below zero? No matter how many layers of clothes I put on during those cold days to walk outside, the cold was bitter, biting through to my skin. I was glad the time I needed to be outside was only to get to another building. As I listened to the news one evening, it appeared that the whole state of Minnesota shut down during those cold days. Then, a few days later, it warmed up to 18 degrees above zero, 50 degrees warmer. 

So now here we are in July; the grass is green, the vegetables are being harvested and the cold days of January are only a memory. At Saint Benedict’s Monastery, July is full of retreats and celebrations. This year, we have one woman making her perpetual profession on July 11. I treasure the memories of my own perpetual profession. The community, along with my family and friends gathered around me in the chapel as I read and signed my profession document. This was followed by a festive meal in our dining room. During July, we will also celebrate the 50th jubilee of three sisters. It is truly a month of joyful memories for our community.

If you would like more information about Saint Benedict’s Monastery, please contact Sister Lisa Rose at lrose@csbsju.edu.

Lisa Rose, OSB