What is a monk?

Isn’t this the million dollar question, the question that can help us unlock the future of our life as monastics, and specifically for us, as Benedictines?

Over the next five weeks, we are watching a series from Michael Casey, OCSO titled Monasticism in the 21st Century: A View From the Trenches. It seems Fr. Casey will be addressing the current situation where the monastic family finds itself, emerging features of the life, and how we form ourselves to live this life into the future. 

One issue the Cistercian monk raised was that it is difficult to define monasticism and the monk. Because the life is so dynamic and varied, it therefore carries with it a less-than-concrete definition. There are many orders, many ministries, many cultures, many, many, many. Because of this, there can be a lack of coherent vision about monastic life. 

He joked, “The monastery is about raising cows,” referencing some of the more agricultural communities. One sister sitting behind me misheard the quote, asking, “Raising hell? Did he say the monastery is about raising hell?” I told her his actual words, and neither of us could stop laughing. 

But isn’t that a great vision? The monastery is about raising hell. It is about speaking up about the individualism that is destroying the collective good. It is about speaking up about the culture of violence that teaches children at younger and younger ages that it is okay to hate and act on that hatred. It is about speaking up about the gospel vision where the words of Mary’s Magnificat ring true for all and in all.

The monk therefore lives in community as a witness of abundance, radical equality, and shared goods. The monk lives nonviolently not only with her sisters, but with her larger community, and with the natural world. The monk lives rejoicing in the one true God who calls each of us favored. 

Of course there are one million ways to live that vision, but as long as I can be a part of bringing that tradition into the future, however it looks, count me in.

Let us walk in the holy presence.

The Truth

The lector read the lines of 1 Peter 5:5:

"And all of you, clothe yourselves with humility in your dealings with one another, for: 'God opposes the proud but bestows favor on the humble.'”

She walked away from the ambo and said under her breath, "Yeah, you got that right."

Yes, the God opposes the proud and favors the humble. Now, more than ever, we need these lines as our truth.

This little moment happened at Sunday morning prayer during a recent formation weekend. We spent the weekend reflecting on the topic of liturgy and the Benedictine life.

Liturgy, the center around which our lives orbit as Benedictines, takes many forms, but I have spent much time recently in gratitude for the Liturgy of the Hours. Not just because of moments like this that make you smile with hope, but because each day I watch the same women walk into chapel to be faithful to the life they have professed to live. It would be impossible to live conversatio, stability, or obedience without the grounding of the Liturgy of the Hours and the daily recitation of the Psalms that it affords us.

Last week also marked the one-year anniversary of my first vows, my first jubilee, if you will. Someone asked me an important question, "Has living these vows for a year changed you at all?" That's the real, most important question as I continue discerning this life. Are these the vows to which I want to commit myself, and are these the women with whom I want to live out that commitment? Does it make a difference? Am I a more loving person because of my commitment? Is this way of life that I have chosen part of my Truth?

And aren't these the questions we all must be asking ourselves all the time, no matter our path?

Let us walk in the holy presence.

the freedom to receive life with arms wide open

Send Us Forth

Last Wednesday we took our signs and went out to protest Donald Trump and his policies during his visit to Erie. It was a powerful experience, and once I saw the lyrics to our closing hymn at Liturgy this past Sunday (Send Us Forth—Bob Hurd), our choice made even more sense.

We gather as holy church, proclaiming your holy word,
Challenged anew by your gospel. Empower us daily
To work for your glory, with all who hope in your promise.

Send us forth; may we be your compassion
And mercy to each person oppressed by injustice and need.
May our lives be a blessing and light to the nations,
A sign of the reign of God.

Our flesh, your dwelling place; our touch, your healing grace;
Our struggles, the work of your spirit. So may we be builders
Of the new creation, so may we be faithful disciples.

Let us vote on November 6th, and...

Let us walk in the holy presence.

The Praying Mantis

Every morning I wake, dress in the dark, go downstairs.
I look out of every window.
I go out and stand on the lawn.
In the east, the slightest light begins
     flinging itself upward
and my heart beats (never an exception) with excitement.
(My gratitude to you, dear heart!)

Though it will all vanish utterly, and surely in
     a little while,
I know what is wonderful—
I know what to hoard in my heart more than the value
     of pearls and seeds.
There was the day you first spoke my name.
There was a white house at the edge of the harbor.
There was the swan, and the hummingbird.
There was music, and paper, and the tirelessly pursued work.
There were a thousand and again a thousand unforgettable days.

And still I’m looking at everything—
in the wide morning and the strike of noon
I’m humming, and clapping my hands

and I can’t stop 
not for any reason

not even for the easiest thought.

And, anyway, what is thought
but elaborating, and organizing?
What is thought
but doubting, and crying out?


(In the dark, in the distance,
I can just see the heron
dimpling then calming her long wings.)


As reliable as anything you will ever know,
time moves its dim, heavy thumb over the shoreline
making its changes, its whimsical variations.
Yes, yes, the body never gets away from the world,
its endless granular shuffle and exchange—

everything is one, sooner or later—
the red fox and the bullrush,
the industrious ant and the sleepy bear,
the green crab and the minnow,
the pink boat and the dog in the pink boat,

Shelley’s body and the gleaming sand.

When the praying mantis opens its wings
     it becomes a green flower.
When the egg breaks
     it becomes a bird.
When the river is finished, its avenues of light
fold and drop and fall into
and become the sea.
(Mary Oliver)

I have spent some time this week reflecting on the praying mantis that decided to find some stability on my window for at least an hour the other evening. (Still there after an hour, I went to sleep.)

I searched Mary Oliver online to find a poem that mentioned a praying mantis, confident that she would have written about such a creature. From her book, The Leaf and the Cloud, Mary conveys the message, yet again, of interconnectedness, conversion, and gratitude; all is one, all is transforming, all is worthy of praise.

So, I did a quick search to read about the symbolism of the praying mantis, also confident that this lingering insect had a message for me.

"The praying mantis takes its time in all that it does. It takes care to pay diligent attention to its surroundings, and moving through life at its own pace. It demonstrates the ultimate power of stillness. It serves as a reminder for humans to slow down in our chaotic, fast-paced lives.

Wisdom emerges when we are still and quiet, sensing and feeling rather than thinking critically. It comes with experience, age, and being, rather than traditional schooling. It cannot be obtained through arrogance.

In fact, the Chinese honor the praying mantis for its elegant, mindful, and contemplative movements. By reminding ourselves to have patience with ourselves in our own movement, we, like the mantis, can grow in our wisdom. They remind us to have patience in acquiring the things we want and to remain balanced throughout the duration of the wait.

The praying mantis will become your animal totem once you have learned to take your time and live your life at a silent and reflective pace. You should make all choices with a sincere commitment to careful thought and contemplation.

By being mindful of this, you will enable yourself to know exactly where you are going and when you will get there. Calmness and serenity are crucial to living like the praying mantis."

It turns out the praying mantis clearly had a message for this perfectionist, hell-bent on completing to-do lists, proving her efficiency, and trying to do a bit of everything. Serenity, in fact, is the virtue of an Enneagram 1, a goal for the persistent perfectionist. Which means it is time to sit with the experience I had through both these sets of words, Mary and the symbolism of the mantis.

Which animal has called to you lately?

Let us walk in the holy presence.

Into The Forest

Taking a break from technological connectedness this past weekend, we enjoyed a different type of connectedness heading off to the Allegheny Forest for a weekend of camping. Specifically we were at the Minister Creek campground, and with a site right next to the water, we couldn’t have asked for more. The sound of the flowing creek accompanying us in each moment gave me a sense of comfort that I only find with water.

I had been craving solitude of a different sort, but this was a totally worthy substitute. The weekend surrounded by dear friends, a fire, songs, trees, and simplicity afforded me a necessary respite from the usual busyness. And because nature is my favorite teacher of humility, I gained that sense of peace that one encounters through creation. I think I captured it in this semi-accidental photo.

Of course, we had the “dailiness of life” there, too. Dishes, shananigans, etc.

The weekend also provided the answer, yet again, to that question we never stop asking...

What’s it all about? Well, here it is.

Joy, relationship, Love, and that in all things God be glorified.

Let us walk in the holy presence.