What a Celebration: IRENE

One of the highlights of our annual Donor Day celebration is the Mother Benedicta Riepp Award, made to a woman who we’ve known for years, and seen living the Benedictine motto of “Work and Prayer”. What a joy this year to recognize someone who’s like part of the family, Irene Pundsack.


Irene wouldn’t claim to be anything other than ordinary, but we sisters know she isn’t. She and husband, Richard, totaled nearly a century of devoted service as our employees. Irene didn’t just do a fantastic job in the bakery and kitchen. She balanced work with prayer, often coming in early so she could join sisters at Morning Prayer and Mass. She listened to their troubles, gave help as needed, and cared for St. Raphael’s Convent when it closed and sisters transferred to St. Scholastica’s (where Irene later followed).



L to r: Sister Karen Rose, Irene Pundsack, Sister Gen Maiers

If Irene shared the life of the Sisters, she also shared her family life with them. Her 7 children had dozens of “sister-grandmas”. Family life was important, so it was no surprise on Donor Day when Irene arrived surrounded by family. And what a family! Only weeks before Donor Day, Irene broke her hip and had surgery. Despite still being in pain and using a wheelchair, she was determined to go onstage to receive her award. Family made it happen. Her sons carried her up the steps, wheelchair and all. Irene received the honor, made a gracious speech, and then her children surprised us all with a tribute to their mother in song – not a dry eye in the house.

Irene continues to shine her Benedictine light to this day. She’s done amazing work building community through her church and work with projects such as Place of Hope and Hope Park. In April, she walked a 5K marathon in support of Earth Day. What a privilege to see her honored by our Benedictine community. No wonder the applause was deafening!

 

CHERRY TOMATOES


By Anne Higgins

Suddenly it is August again, so hot,

breathless heat.

I sit on the ground

in the garden of Carmel,

picking ripe cherry tomatoes

and eating them.

They are so ripe that the skin is split,

so warm and sweet

from the attentions of the sun,

the juice bursts in my mouth,

an ecstatic taste,

and I feel that I am in the mouth of summer,

sloshing in the saliva of August.

Hummingbirds halo me there,

in the great green silence,

and my own bursting heart

splits me with life.



Who could say anything to surpass Anne Higgins’ luscious poem? Read it again. Carry it around with you. Experience the split skin, the ecstatic taste-- warm and sweet. Are you sitting on the ground and letting the juice burst in your mouth? After all, it is August; (we’re not yet in one of those formidable months spelled with an“r” ). Have you noticed a hummingbird or two as well in the great green silence? And is your own heart bursting? Cherry tomatoes can do that for one.

Mixed Feelings

As I sit at my laptop in Colorado Springs, CO I feel a bit like Tevia from the “Fiddler On the Roof” when he repeatedly said, “On the one hand…and on the other hand” as he tried sorting through his mixed feelings. Because as I see before me the majestic Rocky Mountains from the front yard of the Mercy Retreat Center, I simultaneously recall all the forest fires that recently blackened major portions of the mountain’s face. The retreat center itself needed to face possible evacuation as clusters of ash the size of zucchini leaves began landing in the yard on Tuesday, June 26th. Fortunately the winds shifted and didn’t allow the flames to jump over the highway and cause the retreat buildings/homes to be counted among the many that were destroyed by the fires. It was a bit like trying to rejoice and simultaneously walk with the pain of all those affected by their flaming losses of homes and lives.



Driving up 14,110 feet to the top of Pikes Peak two weeks later left a vivid image of the scope of the fire. Yet I remember how Yellowstone forest workers chose not to replant trees after their devastating fire and simply let nature’s seedlings reshape the swatches of forest that had been fire blackened. Who knows what varied fall colors may emerge ten years after this awesome mountain’s blackened canvas face has been repainted with young foliage and fauna. It may happen that a young poet may be inspired to write yet another stanza to Katherine Lee Bates’ “America the Beautiful” written under the inspiration of her beholding the vistas seen from Pikes Peak in 1893.

All are Created Equal

Recently I listened to an interview that Krista Tippett, host of Minnesota Public Radio's "On Being," did with Jacob Needleman, the philosopher and author of "The American Soul: The Inward Work of Democracy." His ideas have particular resonance this week, when our nation celebrates its historic invitation to self-actualization and freedom. That resonance becomes even more powerful in the face of the many questions and complications - not to mention confusion and divisive partisanship - with which our country is so riddled right now.
Jacob Needleman passionately presents some of the great and fallible human beings who forged this country we love - men and women who demanded of themselves high ideals, which they in turn expressed in our Declaration of Independence, Constitution, and Bill of Rights. Among these people, he highlighted: George Washington, for being a man who "turned away from power" - no easy task in our competitive and power-hungry world; Jefferson, who knew the invaluable importance of "listening well," particularly if there were to be agreement among the Declaration signers; Lincoln, "humbled by power" even as he firmly exhorted "malice toward none, and charity toward all"; and from the 19^th Century, Frederick Douglas, an escaped slave who deeply loved the America he felt compelled to criticize for allowing slavery to exist. Call what these men stood for what you will-- ideals or virtues-- but we need to reflect on them today, as we struggle to maintain our democracy. Let it not be thought that anyone, least of all Jacob Needleman, would deny Americans the fireworks, festivals, marches, and parades we so love to employ in our Fourth of July celebrations; but Needleman feels our patriotism must go deeper than all that.
Astutely, I think, he asserts that our age needs not just external action groups, but "think groups" that could help us ask such hard questions as: "What are the duties implied by our rights as very blessed Americans? What is the inward work of democracy? What does the Declaration of Independence imply when it says, "All are created equal," and, "All have the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness"?
Dear God, we pray for this our nation and world. We ask that You help us remove the walls that separate us. Now, in this moment, we ask for new light; illumine our minds, so that we may seek truth, harbor no malice, and live in charity toward all. Use us, dear Lord, as part of your plan for the world's healing. May we no longer be at war with each other, or with ourselves. May every nation and every people, every color and every religion, find at last the one heartbeat we share. Continue to create and sustain this country, dear God, for us and for our children. Hallelujah at the thought! Praise God, that such a thing could come to be, through You, through us, and through Your light that shines within us! So may it be. So may it be. We thank You, Lord. AMEN.

Benedictine Women's Service Corps

The weekend of May 19-22 was a busy one for the BWSC, Benedictine Women’s Service Corps. The volunteers who had been serving in Puerto Rico arrived at St. Benedict’s Guest House Friday night.

On Saturday afternoon they gave their first presentations to the Sisters at St. Scholastica, along with the volunteers who had served in Tanzania. On Sunday afternoon at St. Benedict’s Monastery Dining Room, the Benedictine Women’s Service Corps volunteers showed a video and power point presentations to the Sisters at St. Benedict’s. Sarah Schwalbach and Jana Graczyk spent ten months in Humacao, Puerto Rico living with the Benedictine Sisters of Monasterio Santa Escolastica and teaching English to kindergartners and history and geography to eighth graders at El Colegio San Benito. Ashley Irons and Maggie Niebur spent seven months in Chipole, Tanzania, and three months at St. Benedict’s Monastery in St. Joseph, Minnesota.

The experiences of these women going out to the world as Benedictine volunteers, makes a huge impact on their lives and the lives of those they serve. As they debrief from their service, they demonstrate the differences in placements, cultures, and experiences. The audiences of sisters, mainly, showed their appreciation when the women would talk about the various Benedictine Houses and their local customs, or about the length of liturgies.

The Corps now boasts of seven women who have served in the past two years, and will be sending out another volunteer at the end of August. This year, the emphasis is domestic. Therefore volunteer Ashley Blaine, just recently graduated from the College of St. Benedict will serve in Ridgeley, Maryland, where the Benedictine community of St. Gertrude’s ministers through their Benedictine School for Exceptional Children, the Barn, which helps the poor with clothing and food, and a transition house for abused women and children.

Barefoot Weather

I love the months that don’t have an “r” in them for several reasons. One of the main ones is my inclination to go barefoot whenever possible, especially on warm grass. I’m sure I may have lost some “cold feet” readers just mentioning the removal of shoes. But I wager there are a good number of us that rarely wear shoes in the house, even in winter. Might it be that taking our shoes off in the house acknowledges it as “sacred space”. You can probably guess my scriptural basis for this belief.

Remember when Moses saw the burning bush and God called out to him saying, “Remove

the sandals from your feet, for the place where you stand is holy ground” [Exodus 3:5]. When we remove our shoes, could it also be possible that this very act creates a sacred space? I think of the many early tribal peoples that have a profound reverence for the earth. They learned to walk as gently as possible on mother earth, acknowledging that it is pregnant with life. And those would silently let nature speak to their being, often report how each dimension of creation is a sacred aspect of ourselves that we may have forgotten.

Did you say you were going to join me in the revere of removing your shoes and running through a yard sprinkler… clothed but shoeless?! Some children never recover from their childhood delights.

The "Dead Church"

Two weeks ago, we celebrated the feast of Pentecost! It’s one of my favorite feasts but it is also a disturbing one!


Scripture gives us the wonderful story of the first coming of the Holy Spirit upon Mary and the Apostles by referencing many images of surprise, change, movement, energy, fire, empowerment, understanding of foreign languages. And, today, if we consult Scripture scholars and spiritual directors, they will tell us that the same-- the exact same-- changes, surprises, energy and empowerment are meant also for us, gifts from the same Spirit, to fit our needs, in our specific place and time! That’s the disturbing part of the Pentecost liturgy and truth! But also the most promising part of Pentecost! So, you may ask, how can it be both disturbing and promising? Where’s the missing link?
Recently I received the following e-mail message entitled “Dead Church.” There are times, aren’t there, when we feel we are dead members of a dying church? Let me share this email with you! It seems a new Pastor in a small Oklahoma town spent the first four days making personal visits to each of the members, inviting them to come to his first services. The following Sabbath, the church was all but empty. Accordingly, the pastor placed a notice in the local newspapers, stating that, because the church was dead, it was everyone’s duty to give it a decent Christian burial. The funeral would be held the following Sabbath afternoon, the notice said.

Morbidly curious, a large crowd turned out for the ‘funeral.’ In front of the pulpit, they saw a closed coffin, smothered in flowers. After the Pastor delivered the eulogy, he opened the coffin and invited his congregation to come forward and pay their final respects to their dead church.

Filled with curiosity as to what would represent the corpse of a ‘dead church,’ all the people eagerly lined up to look in the coffin. Each ‘mourner’ peeked into the coffin, then quickly turned away with a guilty, sheepish look.

In the coffin, tilted at the correct angle, was a large mirror.

Am I the missing link? And perhaps you too?