What is it that you wish to seek?

Chapter 58 of the Rule of Benedict outlines the procedures for receiving people who desire to enter into the monastic life, specifically for Benedict, the cenobitic community. The chapter does not sugarcoat the process; it’s not meant to be a breeze. The elder member of the community entrusted to journey with the seeker must lay out the struggles in a candid and sincere manner. The seeker must show a love for the Liturgy of the Hours, for obedience, and for the hardships that are inevitable on the path of a communal life focused in humility and prayer and conversion.

Next week I will begin a lengthy retreat meant to focus on this discernment. Usually Scholastics (members in first profession) would travel for this experience, but here we are, in a pandemic, getting a little more practice in our vow of stability by staying put at home. Yes, we will get some solitude, and we will still be in conversation with others from different communities discerning a perpetual commitment, as well as directors, through the gift of technology. But, as is the reality with all life as affected by Covid-19, it will be different.

Someone asked me this evening what I hope to get out of the experience. I hope to continue to be affirmed in what I already know—that I love this life because it calls me to wholeness; that I love the women who make up this community because they show me how to live loving, human lives; that I love living an intentional life rooted in prayer and contemplation. I hope to remember that all my passing doubts are just that—passing, that the “What-ifs” that I ask myself are important and worth considering, but they are not the be-all/end-all because in the end “All shall be well.”

There will be a bit of a lull in this blog while I take that time away—while I continue the lifelong practice of encountering the Divine. We recently finished reading the book Keeping Faith by Fenton Johnson. Toward the end, he writes:

This act of confidence in our human right and responsibility to shape the terms of our encounter with the divine, as well as confidence in the greater order in which our search takes place—we give the name of faith.

I loved that line, “...our human right and responsibility to shape the terms of our encounter with the divine.” That is what a mature community does, together. As someone in formation moves from one phase to another, the prioress always asks the question, “What is it that you wish to seek?” I wish to seek an encounter with the Divine supported by a group of faith-filled women who also continue to seek that holy encounter. 

I think I am in a pretty good place.

Let us walk in the holy presence.

Fire at sunset

A Combination of Flavor

You know how some people have to eat all their potatoes, then all their peas, then all their carrots? You know how some people cannot handle one kind of food touching another on their plate? And, you how some other people like a little bit of potato, and peas, and carrots all in one bite?

Who knows why people choose the method they do when eating their meal, but I know that I am part of the ladder group. I love combining flavors. The other night at dinner, I had the applesauce on top of the sauerkraut, which was on a bed of mashed potatoes. I love that combination.

Well, the orioles have been back at the feeders after a brief hiatus. I have had a female at mine, and she keeps coming every day. Perhaps it's the grape jelly. A friend led us onto this trick; the birds love it!

But, to my amazement, or at least, my mild opportunity for reflection, I watched as this oriole flew up to the feeder with some green already in her mouth! I wondered if she likes combining flavors just like I do. I mean, grape jelly is basically sugar, and sugar goes super well with, well, everything!

It made me think of the movie, Ratatouille, a Disney/Pixar animated film from 2007. Of course, the combination of Disney/Pixar and a movie about food made me salivate myself. It was a wonderful film with a tear-worthy ending. There's a moment in the movie when Remy, a rat who is the main character, remembers the joy of each unique food flavor, but also the even-greater joy of combining those flavors.

Maybe the rest of the animal world is full of culinary artists, too!

Let us walk in the holy presence.

A Retreat of Small Joys

This past week our community was on its annual retreat. Understandably changed due to Covid-19, we had no Oblates present with us as we usually would, nor did we have some of our sisters who live out of the monastery since the presentations were available online. So, it was even more quiet than the week’s usual noiselessness. An additional small retreat from technology made it even nicer.

Winnie Varghese, an Episcopal priest in NYC, presented our retreat virtually on the call to love and justice. She shared many stories illuminating the reality of racism in a very timely way, and there was lots of free space to spend in reflection.

I also decided that I would use my retreat to try to practice feeling like there was nothing that I “had to do.” When a little, annoying urge to be somewhere other than where I was arose, I tried to pay attention to that. Why wasn’t I content in the present moment? I, too, had a bit more time to notice small things, literally so, as I ran past the young grapevines.

I also found such delight in the way that the morning sun glistened through the trees, making it appear as though stars were twinkling in the sky between the leaves blowing in the wind; I thought about how I always expect to find God in big ways. Then, I read a paragraph from Eve Ensler’s memoir, In the Body of the World:

I was always reaching for love, but it turns out love doesn’t involve reaching. I was always dreaming of the big love, the ultimate love, the love that would sweep me off my feet or ‘break open the hard shell of my lesser self’ (Daisaku Ikeda). The love that would inspire me to give everything. As I lay there, it occurred to me that while I had been dreaming of this big love, this ultimate love, I had, without realizing it, been giving and receiving love for most of my life. As with the trees that were right in front of me, I had been unable to value what sustained me, fed me, and gave me pleasure. And as with the trees, I was so busy waiting for and imaging and reaching and dreaming and preparing for this huge big love that I had totally missed the beauty and perfection of the soft-boiled eggs and Bolivian quinoa.

And, for me, I’ll substitute eggs and quinoa for the tiniest grapes and whimsical starry trees.

What are your soft-boiled eggs and Bolivian quinoa these days?

Let us walk in the holy presence.