A Father's Love

Yesterday being Father's day, it seemed appropriate to discuss fathers in this weeks blog.  We have a tradition here at Clyde to set up a table dedicated to fathers and then each sister puts out a photo of her father whether living or deceased.  It can be fun to try and guess whose dad is whose especially in the old black and white photos.   I usually pick a photo of my father, Ed, playing the accordion since that was his great love, after my mother of course (although sometimes my mother questioned that!).

I took the opportunity at our noon meal to ask different sisters at the table what their father thought of them entering the convent.  Sadly, some of them lost their father at a young age so dad wasn't around when they did enter.  One sister lost her father to cancer but we asked her if her dad would have been surprised at her choice if he had lived.  She laughed and said, "probably not."

Some fathers were very proud.  That was the case in my own experience.  Mom told me that when Dad found out I wanted to enter the convent that he wanted to run down to the local newspaper office and have a story written up.  My home town has a population of 710 people and puts out a paper once a week...I would have been embarrassed to death!  My oldest brother said Dad would 'pop his buttons' every time he would talk about me after I entered.  Even though he was thrilled, he was a practical man and when we were discussing what I should do with my finances when I entered, he said, just keep it tucked away some where for awhile...things happen."   Another sister said that while her father was okay with it, he told her, "Just come home if it doesn't work."

One sister said her father had a photo of her in her habit that he carried around in his pocket and would show people because he was so proud.   Another sister related the following story: in the late 1940's sisters weren't allowed to have their pictures taken.  However, her father came to her first profession and naturally wanted to take her picture.  So he said, "Your rules aren't my rules," and asked the mother superior about it and was allowed to take his daughter's picture.  I suspect he might have done it anyway without her permission.

One of our current junior sisters was 23 when she entered.  Her family was not thrilled about her entering so I went to visit the family so I could answer their questions and hopefully make them see we aren't a group of weirdos.  (That meant I had to be on good behavior, which I CAN do when called for)  Her mom, dad and sister came along to pick me up at the airport and then we drove to a garage to pick up a car that had had some work done on it.  So her dad says to me, "Sr. Ruth, you come with me," as we separated into 2 vehicles.   So it was with some trepidation I got into the car alone with her father.  He wasted no time and got right to the point with his questions.  However, he asked what I call 'good parental' concern and practical questions...that's what a good father does.  So our car ride wasn't so bad after all.

I didn't always see eye-to-eye with my dad.  Really, what kid does?  However, I suppose if I'm honest with myself I don't always see eye-to-eye with God, my Father.  When some tragedy happens I question God, "Why did you let that happen?  Where were you?"  And I really don't get a satisfactory answer.  However, just as when my earthly dad and I would argue, I knew in spite of that he would always be there for me.  So it is with my heavenly father, he is faithful and steadfast in his love, even when I want to argue with him about how he is running the world.   I suspect when Ed Starman made it to heaven 2 years ago, he probably asked God, "Why did you make her so stubborn?"  :)

The Body and Blood of Christ

Yesterday was the Feast of Corpus Christi, the celebration of the Body and Blood of Christ.    A beautiful feast indeed, but this year underlying it was a sad memory.  It marked the ten year anniversary of a tragedy that happened to our brother monks at Conception Abbey just 2 miles away.  On the morning of June 10, 2002 a gunman entered the Abbey church and proceeded into the monastery enclosure with an assault rifle.  He gunned down every monk he saw, killing two, seriously wounding two and then committed suicide in the back pew of the Abbey church.  The gunman was around 70 years old with no known connection to the Abbey that was ever found.

I had been out watering flowers at the front of our monastery when another sister yelled out to me to come inside because there was a gunman over at the abbey and we were supposed to go on lockdown.  I thought this must be some kind of mistake because this kind of thing does NOT happen in little Conception (population 56) or Clyde, Missouri (population 72).   We are out in the middle of nowhere and people don't even lock their doors here.   Rumors abounded in the early hours that 20 monks had been shot or the gunman was on the loose and we shouldn't let anyone into our monastery who came knocking.

The monks were forced to wait outside the whole day as their monastery was checked out room by room until they determined it was a lone gunman.   Radio and TV stations had descended on the area to give live reports of what was going on throughout the day.   The most impressive thing was that the Abbot was stressing forgiveness every time he was interviewed.

We waited helplessly at Clyde not knowing what to do for our brothers at this moment.   But we did the one thing we COULD do - we invited them over to pray Vespers with us and eat the evening meal with us because their church was cordoned off as a crime zone with police tape.    The Abbot mentioned during a final radio interview that the sisters had issued an invitation to pray and eat at the convent that evening.   Because everyone was listening to the local broadcast, our cooks showed up to help get food ready and our workman who drives the school bus volunteered to bring the monks over with that.  That's what happens in a small town.

I will never forget the look of shock and pain on their faces as they stepped off the bus at our monastery entrance.   Vespers was sung to a background of occasional quiet weeping as the emotions washed over all of us.  Supper was simple fare but the real food we shared was our presence to each other during this tragedy.   It was a sign to me of what the 'body of Christ' is about.

Jesus gave himself as food to share his Divine Life and Love and to strengthen us on the journey...I am convinced that is what enabled those monks to speak of forgiveness after those shocking events 10 years ago.  I know I was strengthened by the witness to forgive a most terrible crime.  

The Call of the Wild

Whew!  I returned from our monastery in Tucson on Friday after an enjoyable Monastic Experience attended by 9 women.  We covered the topics of discernment, how to do lectio divina, Eucharistic Adoration, skills needed for community living, mindfulness, how to pray the Jesus Prayer and we listened to vocation stories from 4 different sisters.  They also got to help in our Liturgical Vestment Department (no sewing skills necessary!) and help seal popcorn bags for our new work Prayerfully Popped.

One of the women asked the very important questions : "Just what is a 'call'?  How do you know you have one?"  In other words, what does it look, smell, hear and taste like?   As we listened to the vocation stories, it was clear the details of the 'call' were different for each one but there were similarities also.  A call can start out as a 'voice' or idea in your head that seems to come from out of nowhere.  (yes, some people do hear 'voices' and they aren't crazy!)  It can also be the thought or feeling that something is missing in your current life situation...but it may be murky as to what that something is.  Someone may ask you, "Have you ever thought about being a sister?";  and then that question starts to haunt you.  Some people 'know' as a kid that they want to be a religious and as they grow up it doesn't go away.   My own experience was hearing a 'voice' that would NOT go away as much as I wanted it to. (I probably did ask myself at one point if I was crazy or not, I suppose some people would still question that :)

If a call is authentic, one of the primary factors is that 'it' doesn't go away.  Another one is that God opens up the doors for you to follow it.  God doesn't call us to things that aren't possible.  For example, someone may feel called to religious life but have physical or mental health issues that won't allow them to enter a community.  For them the 'call' isn't to canonical religious life but God is probably calling them to some sort of deepening of their spiritual life.  The call is also authentic if after initial hesitation, you actually reach a point where you want to do it.  God doesn't call us to places where we will be miserable.

Lest you think it was all work and no play, on Saturday night we played the dice game "Left, Center, Right" (can be bought for $5 at you local Wal-Mart) for the chance to win some gift certificates to our gift shop.  Everybody gets 3 tokens in this game and you roll 3 dice which determines whether you get to keep a token, have to give one  to the person on your left and/or to your right or have to put a token in the center where no one gets it.  The last one with a token left wins the game.  It's amazing how 3 little dice can bring out a competitive streak and a strong range of emotions in typically calm people.  I have reached the conclusion that the best way to get to know a person is to play a  game with them, their true colors usually emerge.

Sr. Lucia, one of our more wiry sisters, challenged everyone to a limbo contest on Memorial Day afternoon.  She had about about 6 takers.  If I were a Chinese acrobat I might have been one of them but I opted to chronicle the event with my camera lest I need to visit a chiropractor the next day.   My back hurt just watching these women as the bar got lower and lower and lower.
Luckily, no one got hurt!!!...I think.

Where the wind blows

What a great feast Pentecost is!   It is one of my favorite because of the wonderful music that was written for our Vespers office monasterypodcast.com and because I love the imagery given to us by scripture of what the Spirit is like:  fire, dove, wind.   My favorite is the ‘wind’ image.  Sometimes if I am sitting somewhere and a random breeze happens to touch my face out of the blue, I wonder if that’s my guardian angel brushing his/her wing on my skin or I wonder if it is the Spirit drawing me back into the Sacred Presence.   I also love feeling the power in storm winds as they blow through.  Sometimes the wind blows so hard in Clyde, MO that I can lean forward into it and not fall down.   So breezes and winds can remind me of God’s presence.  

The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going.  John 3:8

In discernment, we have to let the Spirit blow where he will, just like the wind that is mentioned in the above scripture quote.  The Spirit will be gentle at times and perhaps like a storm wind when trying to get our attention.   Sometimes you just have to duck and cover!  We can’t control the wind or the Spirit so we might as well just go along for the ride.    

This reminds me of a quote attributed to St. Hildegard - “I am a feather on the breath of God."

This is a lovely image if I imagine a soft summer breeze gently moving the feather (me) along. 

A strong wind blowing me along doesn't seem so bad either, I'm more afraid of the time of no breeze when the feather is just laying there...stuck.  

We can feel stuck in discernment and in our spiritual journey.  Keeping vigil for the wind to blow again is the only thing we can do.  Perhaps just laying there can allow us to take a closer look around us instead of rushing on to the next thing.  

The wind blows where it pleases... (and when it pleases!)

What's behind door #1?

It is time for our Summer Monastic Experience once again so I headed to our monastery in Tucson, Arizona on Monday for this vocation event.  Wanting to travel as cheaply as I could, I had to fly EAST out of Kansas City in order to reach my destination in the SOUTHWEST.  (I'm sure some of you have also experienced the intelligent logic that goes into these cheaply offered airline routes)  My route took me to lovely O'Hare airport in Chicago where after a 1 1/2 hour delay due to mechanical problems, I finally boarded a plane to Tucson landing around 12:30am (Clyde, Missouri time).  The community here was kind enough to excuse me from Vigils and Lauds the next morning,  We Benedictines do have a heart!

It has been over 100 degrees here the past couple of days so in order to get some exercise in without succumbing to heat stroke, I got up at 5am Wednesday morning to take a good 45 minute walk down 3rd street towards the University of Arizona.   This is a fairly quiet road because traffic is somewhat limited and the houses are quaint with southwest architecture and many beautiful desert plants.  Of all things, I am most intrigued by the doors I see on these houses.  These are not your ordinary white or brown doors you see in the Midwest but come in bright blues, greens, reds, etc.  Doors symbolize for me the unknown and mystery.  When I see an interesting door, it makes me want to open it up to see what's beyond.   If the door is interesting, surely the inside is too...doors can also be FRIGHTENING and sadly doors can be shut in our faces.

Over the years I have been told by a couple of vocation prospects that when they came to the monastery to visit for the first time, they were afraid to come in so they sat out in the parking lot for awhile debating whether or not to go up the stairs and knock on the front door or turn around and go home.  Or some have been known to pull into the parking lot and pull right out again and go drive around the neighborhood before working up the courage to knock.  This does not surprise me  because I was the same way when I first started visiting religious communities.  I visited a cloistered Carmelite community and rang the bell and waited.  As I stood there I said to myself, "This is crazy, I can just leave now and they will never know who I was!"  (I did in fact stay and visit after the door was answered, and it wasn't as frightening as I thought it would be :)

Fears are normal when considering religious life.  In fact, anyone who doesn't have any fears is a little suspect.  Crossing the threshold into religious life is a big undertaking and should stir up a little fear and trembling.
We may need to pray for the courage to just go up to the door and knock.

 Knocking is free after all.  And if Jesus comes knocking on YOUR door, make sure you answer it!   

 

Nuns and Kids

I had the great pleasure of driving back up to the plains of Nebraska again this last weekend to attend the high school graduation of my nephew Greg.   My two brothers both had 4 kids apiece and managed to pretty much space them out every 2 years.   Thus I have been heading back to Elgin, NE every other year in May since 2004 to join the family in kicking another 18 year old Starman out of the nest.  

Having chosen to be celibate, (or rather being chosen by God to be celibate), I have not experienced the joys of motherhood.   Thanks to my brothers, though, I have experienced the joys of aunt-hood.  I was the type of aunt who when I walked into the house, bedlam usually ensued.  I would chase the little kids around the house, get them all stirred up and screaming...just in time for bed!  And perhaps an accidental bruise was acquired from running into a wall or a piece of furniture in all the excitement.  Thank God kids get over those things quickly! As they got older, I would take them out on adventures such as canoeing.  My sister-in-law would tell me before our trips, “Just bring them back alive, Ruth.”

My standard line to my brother when one of his little ones was throwing a temper tantrum was, “And THIS is why I’m celibate!”  But when they would smile their charming smiles and snuggle up with me, then it was harder to say celibacy is a good thing.

Celibacy is not an easy vow to live out.  Many women struggle with the thought of never having a husband and children.  Some struggle with it more than others.  The most difficult time for me was when I reached my late 30’s and was pondering final vows.  I heard the door clanging shut and had to ask myself, “Are you sure you can do this?”  

To be a successful celibate one HAS to have a deep, abiding relationship with Jesus Christ.   However, it can be hard to love someone without any skin.   When one is in a desert time of the spiritual journey and not experiencing God as near, then one just has to keep choosing it again and again.  I’ve observed many marriages where the romantic love has died away but the couples were continuing to choose to love each other instead of looking for greener pastures.   And let’s face it, greener pastures still have to be mowed!  Love, once the beautiful feelings disappear, really is a choice and an act of the will in hard times. 

I think I’m going to miss not being a grandmother more than not being a mother.   Grandmothers, from what I observe, seem to have more fun!   

Family Ties

After last week’s looonnnngggg meetings, I headed north to Omaha, Nebraska on Saturday to attend my brother John’s ordination to the permanent diaconate for the archdiocese.    I have 2 older brothers; Philip who is 6 years my elder and John who is 1 1/2 years older.     I ended up being the youngest and the only girl and I tell my brothers my parents stopped having children when they reached ‘perfection.’   Funny, they don't seem to agree with that...

As I sat in the pew at St. Cecilia’s Cathedral and watched my brother and 11 other men promise obedience to the bishop, completely prostrate themselves before the altar, receive the laying on of the hands and be vested with their stole and dalmatic, I realized what a blessing it has been to grow up in a faith-filled family.   I’m not sure if I, or my brother would have even heard a call and chosen to follow the consecrated path were it not for the faith that our parents instilled in us as we grew up.

Discerning a call to serve as a deacon involves not just the individual but their whole family.  John has a wife and 4 children ranging in age from 9 – 20.   I am sure each of those 12 men would have stated that without the support of their wives and family, they wouldn’t be standing up there to receive ordination.

Sadly, not all families are supportive of religious vocations.   Many of the young women I talk to struggle with their family not accepting their desire to pursue religious life.  Years ago when couples had large families there seemed to be no problem with 1 or 2 kids becoming a religious.  In today’s culture, when there are only 1 or 2 kids in the family, it seems to be harder for parent’s to encourage their children in a religious vocation.  If you are a parent it’s hard not to want grandchildren.   Parent’s DO want what is best for their kids and it can be hard for them to see a life of celibacy, poverty and obedience as being best for their child.   After all, who would REALLY choose that?

Women who have converted from another faith tradition or who are the only members of their families still a practicing Catholic, also have a hard time helping their families understand why they would want to do something as illogical as join a monastery!  It takes a great deal of courage to stand up against the often negative comments that are hurled their way.  One of our sisters who grew up Jewish and converted in her early 20’s had to go to the airport in New York alone when flying out to Missouri to enter because her family didn’t approve.    Tears can still come to her eyes when she tells that story.  One sister who grew up Baptist was disowned.

I have been told and observed this in my own time here that when families come to visit the monastery and meet the community and see their daughters as happy, fulfilled women, some of the doubts begin to slough off.  Maybe they still don’t understand and perhaps never will, but there does become more acceptance that this life isn’t so bad after all.  

Parents can’t live their children’s lives for them.  Many older women who call me say they had thought of religious life when they were younger but were talked out of it.   If you are a woman who struggles with family issues, remember this passage from Mark, chapter 3:  “When his relations heard of this, they set out to take charge of him; they said, “He is out of his mind.”  You are in good company!   All you can do is pray for grace and wait patiently.   If the call is authentic, it will overcome all things.

It would have been hard to think of my goofy brother when growing up as doing something like becoming a deacon.  But I suspect he would say the same thing about my becoming a Benedictine sister.  God's grace is certainly surprising...