What's in a Title?

I love titles. Just titles? Yes, just titles!  They are so often inviting and stimulating.  Note the following: “Feast of LIFE” or  “The EUCHARIST as a  RITUAL  to  SUSTAIN our HEALTH” or  “I COME with JOY” or “Our One Great Act of FIDELITY: Waiting for Christ in the Eucharist”. Each of these refers to the feast we celebrated last Sunday - the Feast of Corpus Christi, or in the vernacular, the Feast of the Body and Blood of Christ. The titles can stimulate our devotion as we prepare to receive what we need, while we wait in joy, the coming of Christ. 

I remember that, as a child, all first communicants in our parish would yearly carry baskets of flowers to lay before the approaching CHRIST-in-the-monstrance, carried in festive procession from the church to each of the three erected altars around the cemetery or church where we would then be blessed anew and our faith enlivened in this Mystery of Eucharist! Mystery… it continues to be so, and we continue, each time we celebrate the Sunday liturgy, to reenact those words of Jesus to “do this until I come again.”

Ronald Rolheiser is the author of the book, Our One Great Act of Fidelity: Waiting for Christ in the Eucharist.  He compares some of the dynamics of an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting to elucidate some of the reasons why we continue to go to the Eucharist weekly (or daily).  He quotes his friend: “It’s funny, the meetings are always the same, the exact same things get said over and over again. Everything is totally predictable; everyone, except those who are there for the first time, knows already what will be said. And we’re not there to show our best sides to each other. I don’t go to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting to share my talents or to be a nice guy.  No, I go because if I don’t, I know, and know for sure, that I will start drinking again and eventually destroy myself. It’s that simple.  I go there to stay alive!” 

And that is one reason why we go to the Eucharist regularly: to stay alive and to do it together!  “Give us this day, our daily bread” we pray more often than we can count! In our own homes, we share bread, are nourished around our tables so that, in turn, we can go out and feed other hungry multitudes. Elsa Tamez is the author of the poem, “Feast of Life”.  She brings the mystery of the Eucharist right into our own kitchens and then, out into the streets where we help “bring about the Kingdom” of peoples waiting for the final coming of Christ:  

“Come on.

Let us celebrate the supper of the Lord.

Let us make a huge loaf of bread

and let us bring abundant wine like at the

wedding of Cana.

Let the women not forget the salt.

Let the men bring along the yeast.

Let many guests come,

the lame, the blind, the crippled, the poor.

Come quickly.

Let us follow the recipe of the Lord.

All of us, let us knead the dough together

with our hands.

Let us see with joy how the bread grows.

Because today

we celebrate

the meeting with the Lord.

Today we renew our commitment

to the kingdom.

Nobody will stay hungry.”

Renee Domeier, OSB

Saturday Dishes

The trusty dish machine

This being the first blog after Pentecost, I felt that I ought to write about the feast or at least about the Holy Spirit. But I just don't seem to be inspired in that direction. What keeps coming into my mind is that, before I entered the monastery in 2007, I really couldn't imagine what life as nun would be like: Did they pray all the time? Were they ever irritated? Did they do ordinary things, like laundry? So, today, I'm going to talk about being me (a regular human being and a nun) and my experience of doing things like getting up and doing dishes.

Take a typical Saturday, when nothing special is going on. The day starts with the alarm ringing at a blessed twenty-three minutes past seven. I am not a morning person, but sadly monastery schedules generally seem to be set around those who are. From being a person who would happily stay in bed till 10 or 11 o'clock at the weekend, I now have to be content with the fact that Morning Prayer on Saturdays and Sundays starts at 8:15 a.m.. On Sunday, I can laze around till 8:02 a.m., but on Saturday I have to get up at 7:23 a.m. because I have a breakfast dishes charge - running the dish machine.

You'll note these times, 7:23 and 8:02, are very precise. Several years of experiment have demonstrated that these are the latest possible times to get to my dish machine on a Saturday and to the oratory on a Sunday without being late, but not a minute too early. Non-morning people will instantly recognize that these extra few minutes in the warm haven of bed are very significant and must be treasured.

Once I've made the break with bed, I really enjoy my Saturdays. I work as part of a team of four sisters who do the breakfast dishes. I have a "machine assist" who has to make sure all the dishes are to hand, clean (ground flaxseed sticks like you wouldn't believe and bakes on in the machine) and ship-shape before they go into the machine and then there are two "unwrackers" who take the clean dishes off the conveyor belt and put them away. I am jokingly referred to as the "CEO" of our dish crew because, if there is any alteration to our schedule, I am the one who coordinates the change. In return, I have dubbed my dish-washing colleagues "The Dream Team."

Well, we chug along with our task till about 8:10 when we go to prayer. Half an hour later we return to our task. There is always a frisson of anticipation at this point because sometimes the "angels" (our food service staff) will have finished up the dishes for us and all we have to do is clean up.

And what once it's all done? Well, the morning stretches out ahead until Mass at 11:30. Go for a walk? Read a book? Make a cup of tea (I'm English)? E-mail some friends? Or even ... go back to bed? Believe me, on occasion that's exactly what I've done!

Karen Rose, OSB

One of My Gurus

Nancy Bauer, OSB

Frederick Buechner allows mystery to exist. So, it would seem that God can exist whether or not we humans prove that existence. In fact, he says: “It is as impossible to prove or disprove that God exists … as it is to prove or disprove that Goodness exists beyond the various and conflicting ideas people have dreamed up about what is good.” Or “It is as impossible for man (sic) to demonstrate the existence of God as it would be for even Sherlock Holmes to demonstrate the existence of Arthur Conan Doyle.”

Then Buechner sits back and laughs at himself and at all who try to penetrate the mystery of God’s existence. He writes: “All-wise. All-powerful. All-loving. All-knowing. We bore you to death with our chatter. You cannot be expressed but only experienced … In the last analysis, we cannot pontificate but only point out.  A Christian is one who points at You and says: `I can’t prove a thing, but there’s something about your eyes and your voice. There’s something about the way you carry your head, your hands, the way you carry your cross — the way you carry me.'”

How I wish I had written those words.  It’s exactly what I would have said after experiencing a 93-year-old saint yesterday!  She spoke about nothing but Jesus except when she told me she had a glass of wine for me. That glass of wine was what kept her – and me – and even Jesus grounded. I kept listening as she told me Jesus had asked her to dance with him, that he had done “silly, little, lovely things like that often.”  She, in turn, wrote journal after journal of prayers in which total surrender – on her part– was what kept popping out at me as I avidly read her responses. As the sacrament of presence began to wipe away anything in me of jealously, disbelief or doubt, I simply wanted to surrender, too!

 You're right, dear guru.  God is in the way my 93 year-old-friend is being carried!

Renee Domeier, OSB

Nature's Wisdom from Trees

Lately I have been taking some spring walks through our monastery woods. I have watched the trees awaken in their budding and greening. It’s a marvelous transformation. I have been thinking a lot about the trees that greet me on my walk. What can I learn from trees? They’ve been around a lot longer than I have, so probably quite a bit. Trees are incredible creatures that we often overlook -- considering the fact that they are among the primary members of our planet providing us with enough oxygen to survive. If we can become quiet and attentive enough, we realize that trees can tells us many stories of wisdom and awareness that apply to our everyday lives. As silent teachers, trees have much to share, so take a walk in your favorite woods or forest and open your heart and mind for lessons on life. 

As I ponder and wonder at the trees around me I have to believe trees share the wisdom of community and how they fit. We know that trees live where they are for tens, hundreds and sometimes even thousands of years. They accept where they are planted, the things they cannot change and continuously work to help themselves and those around them thrive. The nature of trees is to collaborate with those around them to co-create an environment that is beneficial for all its creatures, as they are inherently aware of the interconnectedness of everything. This is a very large and honorable concept, but can be boiled down to: we are interdependent people – we need each other.

Lastly, trees are vulnerable creatures.  Wild storms and extreme weather conditions can make trees dance wildly and naturally uproot. Other trees are vulnerable to humans’ wishes and whims. Yet, through all of this, some survive the test time and time again. The amazing miracle is that nothing is wasted in life. For trees (and all of nature, really) waste does not exist. Everything has a purpose; debris and dead plants become soil for new seeds to sprout on, new plants become food for another creature that fertilizes other plants. Essentially, there is nothing new, because nothing is ever thrown away. If we realize that we are also made out of materials from those that came before us, perhaps our appreciation for this life and its wonders will grow.  Take a walk in nature and ponder its wisdom.

Trish Dick, OSB

Moderate Hospitality

Hospitality is a characteristic of Benedictine living. St. Benedict tells us in Chapter 53 of his Rule that: "All guests who present themselves are to be welcomed as Christ." Throughout the chapter he continues to suggest ways that monastics can live out that precept.

Although he is writing for monastics, what St. Benedict says applies to many of us, in all walks of life, because hospitality, for Benedict, isn't just about being pleasant and polite to people: it's a sacred duty, which must be integrated into our our gospel calling -- all of us receive that call.

For example, the community, led by the abbot, is asked to wash the feet of each guest, symbolizing Christ's washing of the disciples' feet at the Last Supper and reinforcing the idea that we find Christ in every guest. Similarly, Benedict reminds us of Christ's statement  that "the last shall be first" by saying that: "Great care and concern are to be shown in receiving poor people and pilgrims ... ."

Yet, wise monk that he is, Benedict sees a need to exercise moderation and prudence when receiving guests. He recognizes that if we are busy with people all the time and don't balance our hospitality to others by allowing ourselves time to pursue our calling to seek God, then our hospitality, however abundant it might seem, will be lacking. And so, he builds in guidelines that mean monastics aren't out there all the time, leaving no time or space for prayer, meditation or building a relationship with God. Thus, the guest quarters "are to be entrusted to a God-fearing brother" meaning that one person has responsibility for that ministry in an ordered way. Monks are also told that they are "not to speak or associate with guests" without being given the go-ahead to do so. "If a brother meets or sees a guest, he is to greet him humbly ... . He asks for a blessing and continues on his way, explaining that he is not allowed to speak with a guest."

Benedict's wisdom in preaching moderation is profound. He knows that in order for guests to benefit fully from their stay at the monastery, the monks have to be able to offer not only a warm welcome, a comfortable bed and good food, but something deeper -- a connection to the holy. This can't be done without paying attention to the  foundation, which involves seeking God through prayer, an undertaking which, in its turn, demands time and some silence and solitude.

St. Benedict allows adaptation of the Rule to suit local circumstances and we, in the 21st century, have done that. Nevertheless, we keep the essence and can see that what he says about not always busily interacting, but also tending to the foundations of our hospitality, is still relevant today. Taking some time to be alone with God is necessary to each and every one of us today as we strive to follow Benedict's wise counsel by moderating our hospitality in order to make it truly a hospitality of  holiness and the heart.

Karen Rose, OSB
                   
Photo by Jennifer Morrissette-Hesse: Symbols of hospitality laid at the altar

Not More Perfect

We have one of those little fold-back booklets on every table in our lunch room, ones we can look at, if drinking a cup of coffee alone, or that we can read aloud to anyone who might need a good word or “thought for the day”!  Recently, I read this message: “Lord, help me to have a gentler attitude toward everyone.  I need to remember I am not more perfect than they.  Amen.”

Well, I was surprised  that the message  made me think not so much of perfection as of its opposite, brokenness, and the fact that being broken is what makes us human.

I began to sing:

'Tis a gift to be simple (to be broken)

'Tis a gift to be free (to embrace my humanness);

'Tis a gift to come down where we ought to be ...

  

I kept singing wondering where this would take me next in thoughtfulness.

And when we find ourselves in the place just right, 

We’ll be in the valley of love and delight.” 
 

“Why in the valley of love and delight if we can accept our brokenness and that of others?” I asked myself. 

Perhaps it is because, then, we won’t have to feel shame, so that compassion could reign in our hearts.  All of us are broken ... I can see it now ... it’s not only I ... so if I think about it, I won’t have to deny my brokenness and humanity or that of others.  It seems that our brokenness  is what makes us one multi-faceted human family!

Oh, welcome to the human race, black sister, brown brother, yellow children, white rascals, limping cousins, gay friends, even war-mongers and inadequate politicians, sinners of all stripes and ages!  Whoever you are, come on in, wash your hands and have a seat at the banquet of love and delight! I’m not more perfect than you nor are you less human than the guy next to you!

Renée Domeier, OSB