How Will We Think of the Year 2020?

The "No Visitors" sign that has been posted
outside of the monastery since we closed to visitors,
taken by Sister Thomasette Scheeler

So far, with more than half of the year over, 2020 has definitely been bizarre. Our usual routines have been totally upset, so that “normal” is foreign. Every day seems more uncertain than the previous one. I can’t ever remember months and months like this before. And, I don’t like it.

Yet at the same time, I do like some things about the chaos of the times we are living right now; for example, that changes are happening.

Because the death of George Floyd, the ensuing protests and riots raised awareness of the ongoing racism in our country, and people are being forced to look around and talk to one another.  Taking a look at our history that points out the need to finish the job of giving “everyone” equal rights, equal status and general equality, becomes a real job for all of us

The coronavirus pandemic has helped us see the reality of the unfairness in many of our systems, such as health care and education. In order for the horrors of the pandemic to be resolved, we need to come together as community to examine the glaring issues facing us. A truly vital issue is changing of the mentality of “me” to “we.” Finding ways to beat the virus must be done together rather than something we tackle individually. Doing this will give us a chance to become stronger as a community, getting important, life-giving things done for all of us. Strengthening our beliefs that we are a nation of strong moral principles is essential to our collective future.

Where is our God in all this? Hopefully, God is right beside us, cheering us to the finish line. Daily prayer strengthens our path and our ability to continue being who we are, people of justice, law, and order.

Will we use humor to get through the hard times? I hope so because this tool is very real in helping us understand the way through rather than around issues. If we laugh together, we can strengthen our bonds and our understandings of one another. Already funny videos and cartoons have been produced that help us laugh at the many inconveniences of the times.

So, when we look back on 2020, we can remember the hard times, the seemingly impossible hurdles, but also the great lessons we learned to forge ahead in making our country a “more perfect union.”

Mary Jane Berger, OSB

Cartwheel

On August 15, the feast of the Assumption, James Martin, S.J., challenged those who follow his blog to create our own Magnificat daring the strength of language Mary used. 

I turn a cartwheel. Great is our Creator!

my spirit sings: You are an Awesome God!
I stood naked before you.
You know my racism, my pride, my privilege.
Purging me of ego, clothing me with goodness,
inviting all to see my whole in you.
What great mercy from all eternity-
Your gentle strength picks up knee-benders kissing with justice,
But the laughing proud mistake their shame for grandeur.
As caged babies cry for mamas, those responsible begin to fall-
blind to riches you have given -
Still, glorious colors sing of a return to you while bullies only see as weak.
Their only smile in photo ops twirling bibles upside down.
Retirement funds they steal, camouflaged tax cuts are their only friends.
They are alone, those golden boys until repentance.
Marginalized have found a home in everlasting arms
For you remember justice.

Pat Pickett, OblSB

Learning to Let Go

A brilliant sunrise taken by Sister Nancy Bauer

Be still and know that I am God. So often I hear these familiar words from Psalm 46:10 and I bristle. The irony is that when we do attempt to be still, the more uptight we become. Rather than becoming quiet and serene, we see how unquiet and uptight our heads really are. The Jewish translator, Robert Alter, translates the verb “be  still” as “let go.” Literally it means to relax one’s grip, like a clenched fist that has been holding on so tight, and then loosens its grip. “Be still” sounds like something a nervous parent might say to a fidgety child. It doesn’t work. The child becomes more restless. The same for the rest of us.

Alters’ translation reads, “Let go, and know that I am God.” This is what God is saying: “Trust me, I am God. You are not. So learn to let go." It’s a practice. Like any practice, it takes practice. It must be practiced. It is good when you are having trouble falling asleep. It is good when that “moron” irritates you once more. It is good at prayer time. Really good. You are not God. God is God. Let go. We need to loosen our grip.

Charles Preble, OblSB

Learning From Henri

A serene summer scene, taken by Sister Carleen Schomer

I got there early so I could sit in the front row. His books had meant so much to me, and I didn’t want to miss a word of his two lectures. There, in the sanctuary of a Lutheran church in Fridley, Minn., on an October Friday in 1980, I was in the presence of Henri Nouwen. Little did I know that he would remain my mentor 40 years later.

His first lecture was about compassion. I often recall some things he said that day. To be compassionate, I must be willing to listen to another’s pain, not rush to try to fix it. Care, he said, is more important than cure. The two ways we show our compassion are by our presence and by our absence. My presence can be a sign of God’s presence. Then when I go, you can know that God will stay. Henri said this is why Jesus’ leaving was as significant as His coming.

Henri kept us so quiet. In fact, after the coffee break between the two lectures, he had us sit in silence and then sing a simple hymn together. I didn’t know hundreds of people could be so quiet together.

The second lecture was about patience, which he called the discipline of compassion. To be patient means to experience the now. Dig where you stand, he said: the treasures of God are beneath your feet. 

In 1980, I had never heard the word oblate, but the day that I listened to Henri Nouwen was no doubt when my Benedictine journey began. He named three disciplines for one who aspires to the Spirit-filled life: worship, Scripture and solitude. Then he talked about the difference between introspection and extraspection. Introspection, in his opinion, is just a deeper look at the old self. Extraspection asks, “Who am I in Christ?” Introspection, then, should not be seen as ongoing attentiveness to God.

At that point I owned two books by Henri Nouwen—Out of Solitude and With Open Hands. Now there is a longer row on my bookshelf. They have served me well. He died 24 years ago, but his legacy and influence have flourished through the work of the Henri Nouwen Society. Seven days a week, I receive a daily meditation available by signing up on the website. Even in our present turbulent and unpredictable times, I learn from Henri through his words of hope and encouragement.

Marge Lundeen, OblSB

Will You Pray For Me?

Sister Luanne Lenz praying in the Oratory,
taken by Sister Nancy Bauer

Earlier this year, I attended an evening of prayer and praise. At one point during the evening, I was asked to stand in a circle with several religious sisters and brothers. The other people in the attendance at the youth rally were invited to come forward, one at a time, to one of us in the circle and ask for prayers. A young woman approached me and asked me to pray for her anxiety. A young mother came forward and asked me to pray for her children. My third request came from two siblings; “Will you pray for our sister?” they asked me. Many more came forward. I was in awe at their trust in the power of prayer and in me. I would ask their name at times, hold their shoulders, look them in the eye as we exchanged a few words. Each encounter was an encounter with Jesus. With each prayer request I listened to, I respond in love, the love of God. I was moved by their belief in the power of prayer. I continue to pray for these people every day at Liturgy of Hours.

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

Lisa Rose, OSB