Pentecost Blessings

A Psalm of Spirit

Miriam Therese Winter

Come, Holy Spirit,

rattle the rooms

in which we are hiding.

Shake the tired foundations

until the institution crumbles,

break the rules

that keep You out of all our

sacred spaces,

then lift from the dust and rubble

a completely new creation.

Come, Holy Spirit,

enter our lives,

whisper our names

and scatter Your gifts of grace

with wild abandon,

give Your silent strength to all imprisoned

by the structures,

and let Your raging fire be our sign

of liberty.

Come, Holy Spirit,

help us find ourselves

in vital places,

bringing Your word of freedom

to the poor and the oppressed.

We will remember

women were there

when You burst upon a waiting world

creating and recreating

opportunities for everyone

to feel and fear

Your face.

Let us walk in the holy presence.

P.S. The tomatoes have been planted...along with some basil, cilantro, parsley, and hot peppers! Thanks to Wild Field Urban Farm for the beautiful plants! Thanks to all our sisters for contributing to create our beautiful monastery compost!

And, if you're ever in Pittsburgh, consider Tocayo. We ate some DELICIOUS tacos yesterday! Plus, we savored a perfect sunset on the drive home, while listening to a song with the words "Ego Loss" in the title. Thank goodness that summer will be here soon!

Leaves and Blossoms Along the Way

When I stepped outside with my coffee this morning, the birds, too, were singing their Benedictus in harmony. So many voices chanting their morning canticle.

For me, there's nothing like this time of year. It's like the joy—that's much harder for me to come by in winter—returns in direct proportion with the blossoming of nature.

The other week I was driving one of my sisters to an appointment. I had been in a car with her last year around this time, too. But, I forgot. Passing each full magnolia tree, vibrant red bud, or flowering cherry, we exclaimed our joy at the beauty, pointing each one out to the other as we spotted them. There's nothing like it. She also pointed out to me the way that the trees lining Franklin Avenue blossom on one side before the other. What a time of year to live with eyes wide open.

And we haven't even mentioned our favorite tree at the monastery. Well, it's the favorite of many. (I think all of us have a tree on the property that lives a little deeper in our hearts for one reason or another.) This particular one, though, is much-loved because for about 2 weeks, it is on full display in the wide library windows. Jackie caught a few great photos from the other side of the glass. That sister that I mentioned in the last paragraph doesn't walk through the hallway during those two weeks. She re-routes through the library so that she can catch glimpse of the beauty as often as possible.

Who could blame her?

Leaves and Blossoms Along the Way
Mary Oliver

If you're John Muir you want trees to

live among. If you're Emily, a garden

will do.

Try to find the right place for yourself.

If you can't find it, at least dream of it. 

•

When one is alone and lonely, the body

gladly lingers in the wind or the rain,

or splashes into the cold river, or

pushes through the ice-crusted snow.

Anything that touches.

•

God, or the gods, are invisible, quite

understandable. But holiness is visible,

entirely.

•

Some words will never leave God's mouth,

no matter how hard you listen.

•

In all the works of Beethoven, you will

not find a single lie.

•

All important ideas must include the trees,

the mountains, and the rivers.

•

To understand many things you must reach out

of your own condition.

•

For how many years did I wander slowly

through the forest. What wonder and

glory I would have missed had I ever been

in a hurry!

•

Beauty can both shout and whisper, and still

it explains nothing.

•

The point is, you're you, and that's for keeps.

Let us walk in the holy presence.