Spring/Summer 2008 - Mount St. Scholastica

BENEDICTINES
LXI: 1 2008: SPRING/SUMMER
“Creating space for others is a hallmark of hospitality.
Elders are to create space for others to come into their
lives to minister to them, to relate to them. to learn from
them. Likewise welcoming communities create spaces for
elders to thrive in their midst . . . In a society which too
often ignores elders or pushes them away from active
involvement in various aspects of familial and social life,
monastic communities are witnesses to the communal
enrichment that follows when elders find their space in the
heart of the community. “
--Raymond Studzinski, p. 9
I think that no matter how old or infirm I
may become, I will always plant a large
garden in the spring. Who can resist the
feelings of hope and joy that one gets
from participating in nature's rebirth?
— Edward Giobbi
CONTENTS
Editorial
Barbara Mayer, OSB
4
A Practical Monastic Theology of Aging
Raymond Studzinski, OSB
6
Living Mindfully
Macrina Wiederkehr, OSB
24
Putting on the Subprioress’s Hat
Susan Marie Lindstrom, OSB
30
A Unique Expression of the Benedictine Life
Sr. Barbara Hazzard and
Sr. Barbara Mayer, OSB
36
Ellen Porter, OSB
Ellen Porter, OSB
Diana Seago, OSB
22
22
23
Joan Chittister, OSB
Philip Roderick
Dennis Okholm
Solrunn Nes
40
41
42
44
Poetry:
Wild Places
Morning Praise
Conversations on a Wall
Book Reviews:
In Search of Belief
Beloved: Henry Nouwen in Conversation
Monk Habits for Everyday People
The Uncreated Light
Editor: Barbara Mayer, OSB; Associate Editor: Paula Howard, OSB; Poetry Editor:
Diana Seago, OSB; Layout: Richard Brummel, Obl. OSB; Circulation: Grace Malaney, OSB; Mailers: Barbara Conroy, OSB, Barbara Smith, OSB.
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BENEDICTINES
Making the Most of the Time
We Have
ransitions are a difficult time for most people. Especially difficult is the transition from active ministry to retirement or at
least refocusing. Women and men religious are not exempt
from feelings of disorientation, uncertainty and fear of the unknown that
come with transitions. Aging is one of the hardest. Most of us are used to
having responsibilities and being productive. Even though we welcome
more time for prayer and leisure, it takes a while to get used to the idea of
no longer working full-time and perhaps experiencing less energy and
increased health problems. It may be a time to become more contemplative in our prayer and vision, and to learn “the art of pausing.”
Raymond Studzinski, OSB, in his article on “A Practical Monastic
Theology of Aging” addresses the experience of aging and diminishment
with insight and candor. He helps us see that these situations can be opportunities to become “more hospitable, more humble, more dedicated to
ritual, more given to song, and more Eucharistic.” He views aging as a
time of ongoing conversion, an opportunity to become more honest and
realistic about our interdependence on one another and our dependence
on God. It is another way to become counter-cultural in a society that
does everything possible to deny aging from Botox injections to the media glorification of youth. Monastics can be role models for experiencing
aging as a natural part of life and developing rituals, music and celebrations that will make us “passionate for God and all God’s people.”
I
n her new book Seven Sacred Pauses, Macrina Wiederkehr, OSB,
reflects on the need to become conscious of the mystical elements of
our lives. In a selection from the book titled “Living Mindfully,” she
encourages us to take time to pause during the day to “breathe in gratitude and compassion for yourself; breathe out love and encouragement
for your coworkers, friends and family members.” Although the Benedictine tradition honors the sacredness of work, she believes our work
4
should improve the quality of life and not squeeze life out of us. Sister
Macrina shows us how to see ourselves as artists, bringing grace and
beauty to our world.
Those in positions of leadership such as the subprioress have many
demands on their time and Sr. Susan Marie Lindstrom explores the many
roles she plays in her article, “Putting on the Subprioress’s Hat.” Although she realizes that the role of the subprioress has never been clearly
defined, she observes that the subprioress’s duties are as varied as our
communities, and that she must wear many hats. In order to be effective,
she has to be comfortable with what Sr. Ruth Fox calls “fuzzy thinking,”
the ability to adjust and adapt to changing times and needs in order to
preserve peace and love in the community.
A
nd during these changing times, a little known group called the
Hesed Community in Oakland, Calif., focuses on living a more
contemplative lifestyle. Begun by Sr. Barbara Hazzard in 1983,
the community of about 75 gathers regularly to “nurture the contemplative part of people’s lives so that the rest of their lives will be more
meaningful, more connected to the Godlife within and around them.”
They take time out of their busy lives to pray, share lectio, and sit in silence.
This medley of voices calls us to look more closely at transitions and
the times we live in to discover the gifts they offer. They also challenge
us to be open to new ways of looking at our Benedictine way of life and
to be open to surprises. I recently heard someone say, “I don’t have to be
wrong for you to be right.” The truth is bigger than our limited minds can
comprehend and we need to ponder, study, and stretch ourselves. By
navigating the many transitions in our lives, we get ourselves ready for
the final transition into the Great Unknown where we will find the God
we have sought all our days.
Barbara Mayer, OSB
Editor
5
A Practical Monastic Theology
of Aging
by Raymond Studzinski, OSB
Father Raymond urges us to see aging not only as a passage,
but also as a gift. He offers a practical theology to "navigate
the difficult terrain of aging and diminishing communities."
6
Amma Syncletica said: “In the beginning there are a great many battles and
a good deal of suffering for those who
are advancing towards God and afterwards, ineffable joy. It is like those who
wish to light a fire; at first they are
choked by the smoke and cry, and by
this means obtain what they seek: so we
also must kindle the divine fire in ourselves through tears and hard work.”1
T
his saying from Amma Syncletica
indicates a gift that awaits us as we
age. The monastic life is difficult at
first, but long practice brings joy. From her
Life written in the fifth century we know that
in her 80th year Syncletica experienced severe physical trials but persevered to the end,
graced finally with visions of the reward that
awaited her.2 We are indeed fortunate to
have within our monastic tradition wonderful
testimony such as this to both the spiritual
possibilities and the challenges which aging
brings.
Aging is both a gift and yet a difficult
passage further complicated by the particular
cultural milieu we live in. It challenges us
both individually and as communities. We
have, however, within the monastic tradition
the wisdom of these desert elders, as well as
monastic rules and commentaries and other
reflections of long experienced monastic
women and men to draw on for guidance.
This library of sources together with the
Scriptures and past and present theological
reflection needs to be tapped to equip us with
the answers, the perspectives, the practices
that will facilitate our passage.
In what follows I want to explore with
you what I am calling a “practical monastic
theology of aging.” Some might quibble
with that designation because in one sense
monastic theology is always practical, that is,
related to experience and not abstract. But
calling it practical underscores the fact that
our interest here is in what can offer us guidance from our theological and monastic tradition as we navigate the difficult terrain of aging and diminishing communities. At the
same time practical theology pays special attention to the situation in which we find ourselves in our own American cultural context.3
What perspective does our tradition suggest
we take as we look at our situation of aging
members and diminishing communities?
Ongoing Conversion
I
t should not be surprising that one perspective that quickly emerges is that of
conversion. This, of course, is close to
the heart of what we are about as monastics.
We have committed ourselves to a lifelong
process of change and transformation as we
live out the monastic life. Thomas Merton
once wisely observed that while we have
strength for one or two serious conversions,
we often balk at the future ones that come our
way. Yet they are precisely the needed
changes that will set us free.4
Does not our situation as aging people
and as aging and sometimes diminishing communities call for still more conversion? Both
Raymond Studzinski, OSB, Ph.D., a
monk of St. Meinrad Archabbey in Indiana, is an associate professor in the
School of Theology and Religious Studies at The Catholic University of America, Washington, DC, where he teaches
courses on religious development and
spirituality.
7
BENEDICTINES
as individuals and as communities, we are
called to leave behind certain old attitudes
and approaches and embrace new ways of
thinking and acting to respond to what our
new situation is asking of us. Some of these
changes require us to recommit ourselves to
some of our basic monastic postures but now
with special reference to the situations of
aging and diminishment. I want to describe
under familiar headings the type of individuals and communities which our new circumstances are pressing us to become even more
completely than we have so far. I hope to
say a few things then about our becoming
more hospitable, more humble, more dedicated to ritual, more given to song, and more
Eucharistic.
Hospitality to Self
I
n the Dialogues of St. Gregory the Great,
St. Benedict in his cave receives a visitor
who has brought him food. The visitor
says, “Well now, let us eat, for today is
Easter.” To which Benedict responds, “I
know that it is Easter, because I have been
granted the blessing of seeing you.”5 Welcoming is a fundamental monastic attitude
and it is very much related to the Paschal
tonality of a life where the Risen Christ encounters us in many places. One welcomes
not only guests but life itself, knowing that in
such encounters one meets Christ.6
But the experience of welcoming aging
tests us and can be like receiving an unexpected and unwanted guest. Like the sudden
appearance of that guest, we find ourselves
conscious of, perhaps embarrassed about, the
condition of our house or in this case our
very self. Being a gracious host or hostess
requires that we be comfortable in our own
space. Erik Erikson talked about people in
the senior years as having integrity or feeling
8
whole.7 Elders who have integrity have accepted their lives with their ups and downs
and the people who populated them without a
wish that things would have been different
and with a sense that it all has a meaning.
Hence, these souls are comfortable with any
guest, including aging dropping in on them
and looking around. They are people who
feel they have something to serve, to give,
most especially they have something to teach
about what is possible in grace. For these
individuals aging comes as a blessing, a gift,
rather than as a burden or a curse. They seize
the opportunity to serve in new ways, even if
Elders who have integrity have
accepted their lives with their ups
and downs and the people who
populated them without a wish that
things would have been different
and with a sense that it all has a
meaning.
these different avenues are less grand than
what they had formerly done.
T
o be hospitable is to be vulnerable.
Guests might knock over and break
treasured antiques. To welcome aging
is to open oneself to such a guest, indeed to a
robber. Valuable things, treasured skills disappear and we feel diminished. To be hospitable in such circumstances is a challenge. In
the monastic tradition, there is the life of St.
Meinrad, which recounts how the hermit joyfully received people whom he knew intended him harm, even offering them food
and drink.8 This martyr of hospitality is a
witness to the fundamental Christian truth
that through death comes life, through loss
comes gain. Stolen goods include all sorts of
things, even something like time. Elders find
A PRACTICAL MONASTIC THEOLOGY OF AGING
years, months, days snatched away from
them, and as a result time is in short supply.
But with that loss may come the wonderful
gift of being able to live more fully in the
present moment. Loss, though painful, can be
liberating. Poverty of spirit, letting go of
those many things we are safeguarding,
brings greater openness to self and others and
the Other.
C
reating space for others is a hallmark
of hospitality. Elders are to create
space for others to come into their
lives to minister to them, to relate to them, to
learn from them. Likewise welcoming communities create the spaces for elders to thrive
in their midst. The Rule of Benedict reminds
us of the care which “above and before all
else” is to be shown to the sick, the elders
and children.9 In a society which too often
ignores elders or pushes them away from
With the advance of years, the call to elders and to communities is to become even
more hospitable, willing to make space for
and welcome even that demanding and often
unwanted guest called aging who requires us
to do things differently and who challenges us
to find new ways to serve.
Humility
J
ohn Cassian notes that pride often
plagues elders. In The Monastic Institutes, he observes: “Other vices gradually decline and disappear as time passes . . .
but in this case long life, unless it is marked
by ceaseless effort and wise discernment, is
not only no cure, but even leads to piling up
new occasions for conceit.” 10 The Pachomian
With the advance of years, the call
to elders and to communities is to
become even more hospitable,
willing to make space for and
welcome even that demanding and
often unwanted guest called aging
who requires us to do things
differently and who challenges us
to find new ways to serve.
active involvement in various aspects of familial and social life, monastic communities
are witnesses to the communal enrichment
that follows when elders find their space in
the heart of the community.
Chronicles, also part of the monastic tradition,
describe one way pride is manifest among
elders. According to the account, Pachomius
invited a relatively younger monk to speak to
the community. The elders, however, did not
want to listen to him. When asked why not,
they replied: “Because you have made a boy
teacher of us, a large group of old men and of
brothers.” They are told that pride was behind
their refusal and then hear: “It was not Theodore [the younger monk] whom you left when
9
BENEDICTINES
you went away, but you fled from the word
of God and you fell away from the Holy
Spirit.”11 Certainly pride can be a pitfall for
contemporary elders; pride for us is often a
flight from the truth of our condition as aging
selves and a disdainful dismissal of other
people, their help, and their wisdom.
S
uch refusal to accept help and one’s
own limitations is brilliantly set forth
in Margaret Laurence’s novel The
Stone Angel. Hagar Shipley, the central character in the novel, is a 90-year-old widow
who experiences isolation resulting from her
pride and refusal to accept dependence. She
resents the encroachments of age and is in no
way ready to admit her limitations. “Bless
me or not, Lord, just as you please,” she
thinks, “for I’ll not beg.”12 At the end of the
novel, as her life draws to a close, she fights
off the nurse who is trying to help her hold a
glass of water but reflects: “I only defeat myself by not accepting her. I know this – I
know it very well. But I can’t help it – it’s
my nature. I’ll drink from this glass, or spill
it, just as I choose. I’ll not countenance anyone else’s holding it for me.” 13 Letting go of
her prideful stance seems impossible to her.
Contemporary culture reinforces the
sense that as adults we must stand alone, we
must be autonomous. It encourages us to flee
dependency. Yet as it does that, we find ourselves fleeing from a basic truth of our human condition – we are people who are dependent on God and one another. We cannot
go it alone. Facing and accepting the limitations which come with aging leads us once
again to appropriate this fundamental truth.
Rather than own our connectedness and need
for assistance we cling at times to our own
sense of omnipotence. Resistance to our will
from intractable forces provokes our rage.
With a therapeutic culture telling us that everything can be fixed, we go forth, sometimes
10
in the face of serious, even terminal illness,
with naïve optimism quite different from
Christian hope. We thrive on tales of people
getting better, stories in which every illness is
transitory.
Or at the other extreme, our grandiosity
leads us to despair because we sense that if
we can do nothing to ameliorate our situation,
then we are left to living with no answer and
no future – for everything is in our hands or
Contemporary culture
reinforces the sense that as
adults we must stand alone,
we must be autonomous. It
encourages us to flee
dependency.
medicine’s. There is nowhere else to look.14
Quite different to all this is the vision we find
put forth in Chapter 7 of the Rule of Benedict.
“Let [them] recall that [they are] always seen
by God in heaven, that [their] actions everywhere are in God’s sight and are reported by
angels at every hour.”15 Accepting our basic
dependency brings us into the awareness that
we are never alone, that an all-gracious God
regards us.
H
umility, a truthful recognition of who
we are before God, also comes into
prominence as aging leads us to deal
with shame. A line that stands out for me
from Ronald Blythe’s The View in Winter:
Reflections on Old Age, a compilation of material gathered from interviews of elders in the
United Kingdom, is the remark of a farmer’s
wife who said quite starkly: “We are ashamed
of being old.”16 Such shame has roots in our
culture’s heavy emphasis on youthful beauty
and continuous productivity. The farmer’s
wife continues: “When you are in the com-
A PRACTICAL MONASTIC THEOLOGY OF AGING
pany of other people you like to think you are
the younger. And they say, ‘You’re looking
well!’ and you feel so glad and conceited. To
the female mind it is entirely different – the
appearance, you know.”17 Actually, today it
seems not much different with the male mind.
Culture, the media have made us all desirous
of looking perpetually young and of moving
through life as though we are “Energizer bunnies.” Wisdom of accumulated years, grey
Loss, though painful, can be
liberating. Poverty of spirit,
letting go of those many things
we are safeguarding, brings
greater openness to self and
others and the Other.
hair, peaceful serenity are all discounted in a
society which seems to value only youth and
the latest technologies.
S
ome have pointed out that even those
working to counteract ageism – that
pernicious prejudice against elders
who are seen in light of a negative stereotype
as unproductive, inflexible, and disengaged –
end up also creating a false impression of
aging and elders. The negative stereotype is
gone but the new one suggests that “old people now are (or should be) healthy, sexually
active, engaged, productive, and self-reliant –
in other words, young.”18 Thank God for
those desert elders who rejoiced in their elder
status and did not clamor to be young again.
Humility means recognizing one’s lasting
value in God’s sight, a value not determined
by how productive we are or how youthful
we may appear. Communities facilitate such
recognition as they treasure the elders in their
midst and reject society’s false standards.
Ongoing conversion in connection with
aging means staying grounded in who we are
both as people incredibly loved by our God
and also as people who have lost some of the
beauty, the youth, the productivity which the
world prizes. Conversion means rejoicing as
a truthful and realistic community in our interdependence on one another and dependence on God.
Power of Rituals
M
onastic life is replete with all sorts
of rituals and one thing such rituals
do is remind us who we are before
God. They have, in other words, a formative
and transformative effect and build us up.
They serve as an antidote to the poisonous
pedagogy of our culture with its overemphasis on youth, productivity and doing. They do
not need to be explained; they have their impact without that. Something happens to us as
we carry them out and that is invaluable. In
Eudora Welty’s short story “The Worn Path,”
old Phoenix Jackson makes her way to town
from her home deep in the country on an errand to secure medicine for her sick grandson, a trip she has made like clockwork before. She receives the medicine as usual from
The Eucharist, as we remember
the one who died out of love for
us, should make us passionate,
passionate for God and all God’s
people and ready to feast with
them all.
the doctor and then makes her way back
home. She is absolutely dedicated to her task
even though in her advanced years it takes a
11
BENEDICTINES
lot out of her. She stumbles and falls, deals
with all sorts of obstacles, but she gets there.
In Welty’s story, when she arrives at the doctor’s office, she forgets why she has traveled
so far until the nurse asks her about her
grandson. “He isn’t dead, is he?” Eventually
Phoenix replies, “My little grandson is just
the same, and I forgot it in the coming.”19
The conversion which illness
and aging require is made easier
through the affirmation and
connection with God and others
which ritual brings about.
and of ‘remembering’ with the skin. Our
deepest motives and memories are buried in
feet that remember even when the mind ‘for
a dumbfounded moment’ forgets. Ritual is
itself ‘a worn path’ that puts flesh on the
‘deep-grained habit of love’.”21
Ritual’s importance in our lives and the
lives of elders has roots in our early life experience. Years ago Erik Erikson wrote about
the ritualizations that accompany us as we
develop and which put us in touch with a
presence that transcends us.22 He drew attention to the greeting ritual that happens when-
W
elty wrote in an essay that one
question she was most often asked
by students and teachers who have
read the story is: “Is Phoenix Jackson’s
grandson really dead?” In response she observes it doesn’t really make any difference if
the grandson is alive or dead because the
story is really about the journey. “The real
dramatic force of a story depends on the
strength of the emotion that has set it going.
What gives any such content to ‘A Worn
Path’ is not its circumstances but its subject:
the deep-grained habit of love.” Expanding
on that habit, she writes: “The habit of love
cuts through confusion and stumbles or contrives its way out of difficulty, it remembers
the way even when it forgets, for a dumbfounded moment, its reason for being. The
path is the thing that matters.”20 For Phoenix
the ritual of making that journey sustains her.
N
athan Mitchell, commenting on how
Welty’s story of this journey communicates what happens in ritual
experience, observes: “Ritual is ‘done by
heart;’ it is a way of ‘thinking’ with the body
12
ever parent and baby are reunited after a period of separation. It often involves the parent
holding the infant and gazing lovingly at it as
he or she calls the infant by name. Here, Erikson claims, we have an experience of the sacred, the sense of a hallowed presence where
we find ourselves affirmed in the core of our
being. He argues that as we grow up we are
being prepared to be ritualizers ourselves,
having been so wonderfully nurtured through
ritual experiences. No wonder ritual is treasured by elders such as Phoenix Jackson. It
touches us sometimes in a wordless way and
works on us even when our minds cannot
process very much at all.
A PRACTICAL MONASTIC THEOLOGY OF AGING
There is growing testimony to ritual’s
power even with people who have experienced significant memory loss. A very striking illustration of such power comes in the
neurologist Oliver Sacks’ description of a 49year-old male patient he worked with who
was afflicted with Korsakov’s Syndrome, the
inability to remember recent events. This patient had fairly vivid memories of what happened some 30 years ago, but could not recall
what happened just a couple of minutes ago.
Sacks, realizing that there was not much that
could be done medically to improve this
man’s situation, searched for other ways in
which he might touch this man and better his
life. He seemed to Sacks a lost soul, a man
who walked about in profound sadness and
aloneness.
H
owever, one of the religious women,
who worked in the home where this
patient was residing directed Sacks’
attention to the patient’s behavior at Mass.
Sacks watched him in chapel and wrote: “I
watched him kneel and take the Sacrament on
his tongue, and could not doubt the fullness
and totality of Communion, the perfect alignment of his spirit with the spirit of the
Mass . . . There was no forgetting, no Korsakov’s then . . . for he was no longer at the
mercy of a faulty and fallible mechanism –
that of meaningless sequences and memory
traces – but was absorbed in an act, an act of
his whole being.”23
we may need to remind ourselves, and here
Sacks’ case helps, is that ritual works even
when we think it may not. Touching, anointing, eating and drinking speak to us through
our bodies, our senses, and the message of
love they communicate is powerful indeed.
Worshipping communities use existing rituals
or create new ones to reach out to members
who sometimes seem beyond their grasp.24
Communal Rituals
I
remember how struck I was many years
ago when I researched medieval monastic
rites surrounding death and dying. What
amazed me is how rituals involving the community punctuated the whole process from
the person’s entrance into the infirmary until
the very end. If the sick person’s condition
allowed it, according to some monastic customaries, there was a rite of admission to the
infirmary which included the infirm individual asking forgiveness of the superior and
community members for any wrongs commit-
Of course, we don’t need to hear a lot of
testimony to ritual’s power for we know it
from our own experience. Those ritual moments when we lay hands on a sick or elderly
community member impact us as well as the
person receiving the gesture. The warm embrace in a gesture of peace we give to those
who have made their permanent commitment
as part of our community assures them and us
of how we value our interconnections. What
13
BENEDICTINES
ted, and they in turn asked for forgiveness for
any wrongs they did to the ailing member;
then the kiss of peace was exchanged. As the
infirm person’s condition got worse but consciousness remained, the Passion of the Lord
was read. The sick person nearing death was
not left alone and, when the senses slipped
away, the community members were to pray
the psalms until the end.25
These psalms may very well have been
sung and perhaps accompanied by some instrument. The Chalice of Repose Project initiated by Therese Schroeder-Sheker promotes
the use of music as part of the palliative care
offered the dying and takes its inspiration
from the medieval monastic practices for
comforting the terminally ill such as those
found at Cluny.26
Culture, the media have
made us all desirous of
looking perpetually young
and of moving through life
as though we are
“Energizer bunnies.”
R
eligious rituals for all of us, but perhaps especially for elders, are reminders of God’s love for us and of
our value before God’s eyes, a value which is
not dependent on our physical beauty, productivity, or even on whether we are in possession of all our faculties. As anthropologists and monastic writers have pointed out,
monastic rites shape and form within us a
humble, obedient self aware of personal sinfulness and limitations but also mindful of
the mercy of God and that we stand at the
very center of God’s attention.27 Rituals encode this awareness within our flesh and so
are a source of hope for young and old alike.
14
Personal and communal rituals are
life-sustaining for elders. Conversion in the
senior years calls for a recommitment to those
rituals which keep elders in touch with that
real presence which grounds all life. Rituals
are wonderful traveling companions as we
make the journey of life. They help center us
on God and reject cultural idols. The conversion which illness and aging require is made
easier through the affirmation and connection
with God and others which ritual brings
about. Communities in dealing with the chal-
lenges of aging are called to recognize the
power of ritual, give renewed attention to it,
and possibly come up with creative rituals to
meet elders’ needs.
Learning to Sing
O
ne of the Brothers Grimm fairy tales
called “The Bremen Town Musician”
recounts how four animals, a donkey,
dog, cat, and rooster, have been cast aside
because they have outlived their usefulness.
These four decide to band together and become musicians in the town of Bremen. On
their way to the town they see a house which
is quite literally a den of thieves. The animals
put their heads together to plot how to drive
out the thieves and have the house for themselves. They arrange themselves with the don-
A PRACTICAL MONASTIC THEOLOGY OF AGING
key on the bottom, the dog standing on its
back, the cat on the dog’s back, and the
rooster on top. When one of them gave the
signal, “they started making their music: the
donkey brayed, the dog barked, the cat meowed, and the rooster crowed.” They then
came crashing into the house through a window and drove out the robbers. An attempt
by the thieves to retake the house is similarly
thwarted.28
The tale is clearly about finding a new
role in life when old ones are discarded. The
challenge now is finding one’s own voice
and blending with others. The tale mirrors
the life of many elders within our communities and our society who have to plot a new
course for themselves, but it also can direct
our attention to the role that music can play
especially for religious elders in reassuring
I may as well hold out a while longer.” She
does allow him to pray though, and then sud-
Touching, anointing, eating
and drinking speak to us
through our bodies, our
senses, and the message of
love they communicate is
powerful indeed.
denly remembers something. She asks him if
he knows the hymn that starts out, “All people
that on earth do dwell.” He asks if she wants
to hear it and she replies she does. Then he
tells her that it’s usually sung. “Well, sing it,
then,” she says to him. He is flustered for a
moment but then sings to her:
All people that on earth do dwell,
Sing to the Lord with joyful voice,
Him serve with mirth, His praise forth tell;
Come ye before Him and rejoice.
Hagar reflects to herself: “I would
have wished it. This knowing comes upon me
so forcefully, so shatteringly, and with such a
bitterness as I have never felt before. I
must have always wanted that – simply to
rejoice. How is it I never could?”30 The singing touches her and brings her to see a truth
deep inside herself. Music, the singing, open
her in a way nothing else has.
them and helping them to reframe their experience. In one sense, we are all musicians
on our way to Bremen.29
H
agar Shipley, the widow in Laurence’s The Stone Angel, has her own
encounter with music and it is salutary. Her daughter-in-law brings along a minister, a Mr. Troy, to visit Hagar in the hospital. He had visited Hagar at home once before at the daughter-in-law’s request. Mr.
Troy asks Hagar if she would like to pray.
Her reply is brusque: “I’ve held out this long.
M
usic, singing does indeed have
power not only to open us to things
but also to sustain us and bring us
to overflow with praise. It touches our entire
being and unites us with others with whom we
share the song, the musical experience.31 The
Letter to the Ephesians calls us to sing, to
make melody:
And do not get drunk on wine, in which lies
debauchery, but be filled with the Spirit, addressing one another in psalms and hymns
15
BENEDICTINES
and spiritual songs, singing and playing to
the Lord in your hearts, giving thanks always
and for everything in the name of our Lord
Jesus Christ to God the Father. (5:18 NAB)
This text encourages us to address one
another in song, face to face, and to recognize with one another the source of all blessing in God. We are called not only in our
senior years but throughout our lives to be
“singing selves.”32 Singing psalms and other
songs helps us to own our true condition
much as Hagar did. Such singing permeates
our monastic life and draws us together.
nity even as it helps us to reframe our painful
experience in the light of Resurrection hope.
Often the message communicated is that
you are not alone, others walk with you, together we await the liberation which is to
come. Singing a spiritual such as “There is a
God’s remembering gives us
identity; it is God’s saving activity
toward us. In the Eucharist we are
remembering God’s great act of
remembering, the One who will
never forget us even if we forget
God.
Balm in Gilead” sustained African-American
slaves with a promise of healing as they made
their passage through suffering. Thus they
kept despair at bay and nurtured hope. Elders
need to discover their own songs which buoy
them up and bring them into the tranquil waters of God’s everlasting love. As Mr. Troy
experienced, singing their song can be an incredible act of ministry to them.
Polyphonic Communities
W
e know from experience that some
music works better than others
and generations respond differently. Elders may resonate with one style and
younger members with another. What is
needed, according to two commentators, is
music “shaped by cruciform joy, music capable of embracing our deepest fears and our
highest hopes, our most intense griefs as well
as our most focused triumphs.”33 Aging and
illness can isolate us, but music, hymn texts,
rituals can integrate us back into the commu-
16
The question remains as to how to blend
all these voices together into an integrated
community of young and old. The goal, of
course, is to produce some wonderful polyphony with all these voices. The wisdom of elders may perhaps give them a sense of how to
blend in to the larger group and together produce beautiful music.
D
ietrich Bonhoeffer is one person who
made good use of musical analogies.
In his Letters and Papers from
Prison, he writes about polyphony, cantus
firmus, and counterpoint. “There is always the
danger that intense love may cause one to lose
A PRACTICAL MONASTIC THEOLOGY OF AGING
what I might call the polyphony of life. What
I mean is that God wants us to love him eternally with our whole hearts – not in such a
way as to injure or weaken our earthly love,
but to provide a kind of cantus firmus to
which the other melodies of life provide the
counterpoint.”34 Bonhoeffer is pointing out
Feasting Communities
O
ften when the Eucharist is mentioned
with reference to the experience of
aging, what is emphasized is the type
of remembering which goes on in this liturgical rite. Anamnesis is the technical term for
the liturgical remembering in which the event
remembered is actually made present and the
benefits experienced here and now. One connection with aging is that the remembering
elders do in their own lives can empower
them now as they recall gracious and significant events of their past.
Furthermore, as elders recall the past what
can result is a thanksgiving for the presence
and action of God in their lives. As they
how the love of God and the love of neighbor
come together to form the polyphony. Surely
the polyphony also comes from bringing together the highs of joy and the lows of suffering of the many members who make up
the community and from the attunement of
each of us to these different voices as we
sing the resurrection hymn.
Conversion in the senior years in a sense
can mean changing careers from worker to
singer. The challenge for elders is discovering their own distinctive voice and how best
to use it. A further challenge is learning to
harmonize with others in one’s new role.
Communities need to make sure the voices of
the elders are heard and are allowed to blend
with others to create the community’s polyphony. There is a place for both songs of
lament and songs of joy in any community.
Of course, plenty of opportunity for singing
is always found around the Table of the
Lord.
Elders need to discover their own
songs which buoy them up and
bring them into the tranquil waters
of God’s everlasting love.
process their memories, they find deeper
meaning in their lives and hence much for
which to be grateful. The lives of elders, in
other words, become more Eucharistic as they
focus on and recall God’s goodness to them.
All this can certainly be true. It also underscores the value of the service elders render to
the community through their memories. By
faithfully transmitting their past to us they are
enriching us with their own personal treasure
and giving us also something to be thankful
for.35
Perhaps it is the prevalence of memory
disorders among some of the aging that has
sensitized us to a more profound connection
between Eucharist and the experience of
17
BENEDICTINES
growing old. For with the loss of memory the
very self of the elder seems to dissolve.
Those elders are especially appreciated who
have lots of memories to share; but what
about those who no longer have access to
their past and consequently less or nothing to
share? What comes into prominence now is
not our remembering but God’s remembering
of us which is at the very heart of the paschal
mystery.36 God’s remembering gives us identity; it is God’s saving activity toward us. In
the Eucharist we are remembering God’s
great act of remembering, the One who will
never forget us even if we forget God.
remember is to act, is to follow the worn
path.37
As God remembers us, so we remember
those who have gone before us, that vast
communion of saints. Because God remembers, they live on and we are part with them
of that great throng moving toward final fulfillment. Realizing how God’s remembering
is life-sustaining gives us hope even though
we must pass through death. Elders and all of
us need to realize that we do not die alone;
the saints come to meet us. And so we sing:
“Saints of God, come to their aid! Hasten to
meet them, angels of the Lord!”
T
he Eucharist is when we remember
God’s remembering us and so we recall the story of Jesus, the pioneer of
our salvation. Elders and all of us read our
personal stories in the light of his story. Pain,
suffering, death are understood differently in
light of his breaking the bonds of death. Conversion is in fact letting the Sacred Story, the
Gospel story, collide with our personal stories
and letting that Sacred Story reshape our
As God remembers us, so we remember those who have gone before us, that vast communion of
saints. Because God remembers,
they live on and we are part with
them of that great throng moving
toward final fulfillment.
A
s God remembers us, so we are to
remember God and one another. This
remembering is not so much conjuring up of mental images of God or of one
another, but rather it is remembering with
one’s body much as Phoenix Jackson remembered her grandson through her action even
though she had forgotten him in her mind. To
18
own. Elders begin to recognize the stranger
who has been traveling with them on the road
of life as the Lord. They recall how he explained things to them and made their hearts
glow with love. They know he lives because
they recognize him now in the breaking of
the bread. Their conversion now gives them
A PRACTICAL MONASTIC THEOLOGY OF AGING
eyes of faith to see and recognize his presence.
Because in the Eucharist we remember
God’s remembering, we can live differently,
boldly, courageously. In James Joyce’s short
story ”The Dead” in his Dubliners, a husband
is despondent as he realizes his wife was
thinking not of him as she heard a love song
but of a young man who died out of love for
her many years before. This man risked his
life and lost it out of love for her. The husband reflects: “Better pass boldly into that
other world, in the full glory of some passion,
than fade and wither dismally with age.”38
The Eucharist, as we remember the one t
who died out of love for us, should make us
passionate, passionate for God and all God’s
people and ready to feast with them all. Elders may find themselves even more passionate, on fire, for that feast, that communion, as
they draw closer to it. One elder saw that as a
fitting goal of monastic life.
Abbot Lot came to Abbot Joseph and said:
Father, according as I am able, I keep my
little rule, and my little fast, my prayer, meditation and contemplative silence; and according as I am able I strive to cleanse my heart
of thoughts: now what more should I do? The
elder rose up in reply and stretched out his
hands to heaven, and his fingers became like
ten lamps of fire. He said: Why not be totally
changed into fire?39
Reprinted with permission from Monastic
Liturgy Forum Newsletter, Vol. 19, No.1
(Autumn 2007).
ENDNOTES
1
The Sayings of the Desert Fathers: The Alphabetical Collection, trans. Benedicta Ward
(Kalamazoo, Mich.: Cistercian Publications,
1975), 193.
2
Pseudo-Athanasius, The Life of the Blessed and
Holy Syncletica, Part 1, The Translation (Toronto:
Pergrina Publishing, 2001), 64-68; see also
Roberta C. Bondi, “Smoke, Tears, and Fire: Spirituality and Aging,” in Reflections on Aging and
Spiritual Growth, ed. Andrew J. Weaver, Harold
G. Koenig, and Phyllis C. Roe (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1998), 21-27 where Bondi makes reference to Syncletica and her saying.
3
On practical theology, see Derrel Watkins, ed.,
Practical Theology for Aging (Binghamton, NY:
Haworth Press, 2003); Terry A. Veling, Practical
Theology: “On Earth As It Is In
Heaven” (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 2005); and Don
S. Browning, A Fundamental Practical Theology:
Descriptive and Strategic Proposals
(Minneapolis, Fortress, 1991).
4
See the letter by Thomas Merton published in
Informations Catholiques Internationales (April
1973) cited in J. Paquier, “Experience and
Conversion,” The Way 17 (1977): 121.
5
Gregory the Great, Dialogues, Book II: Saint
Benedict, 2:6-7, trans. Myra l. Uhlfelder
(Indianapolis: Bobs-Merrill, 1967), 6.
6
See the reflections of Kathleen Norris on Benedictine hospitality and aging: “It’s a Sweet Life”
in Reflections on Aging and Spiritual Growth, 103
-108.
7
See Erik H. Erikson, The Life Cycle Completed,
Extended Version with new chapters by Joan M.
Erikson ( New York: W W. Norton, 1997).
8
The Life and Death of St. Meinrad the Hermit,
trans. Guy Mansini (St. Meinrad, Ind.: Abbey
Press, 1999), 33-41.
9
RB, Chaps. 36 & 37.
10
The Monastic Institutes, XI, 8, trans. Jerome
Bertram (London: Saint Austin Press, 1999), 166.
19
BENEDICTINES
11
Pachomian Koinonia, Vol. 2, Pachomian
Chronicles and Rules, trans. Armand Veilleux,
Cistercian Studies Series 46 (Kalamazoo, Mich.:
Cistercian Publications, 1981), 21.
12
(Toronto: McClelland and Stewart-Bantam,
1964), 274.
13
Laurence, The Stone Angel, 275.
14
See Keith G. Meador and Shaun C. Henson,
“Growing Old in a Therapeutic Culture,” in
Growing Old in Christ, ed. Stanley Hauerwas,
Carole Bailey Stoneking, Keith G. Meador, and
David Cloutier (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans,
2003), 90-111.
15
24
See, for example, Dayle A. Friedman, “An Anchor amidst Anomie: Ritual and Aging,” in Aging,
Spirituality, and Religion: A Handbook, vol. 2, ed.
Melvin A. Kimble and Susan H. McFadden
(Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2003), 134-144;
Malcolm Goldsmith, “When Words Are No
Longer Necessary: The Gift of Ritual,” in Aging,
Spirituality and Pastoral Care: A Multi-National
Perspective, ed. Elizabeth MacKinlay, James W.
Ellor, and Stephen Pickard (New York: Haworth
Press, 2001), 139-150; and Eileen Shamy, A
Guide to the Spiritual Dimension of Care for People with Alzheimer’s Disease and Related Dementia: More than Body, Brain and Breath (London:
Jessica Kingsley Publishers, 2003), esp. chap. 4,
“Worship for People with Alzheimer’s Disease
and Related Dementias,” 93-119.
7:13.
25
16
(New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1979),
179.
17
Ibid.
18
Carole Bailey Stoneking, “Modernity: The Social Construction of Aging,” in Growing Old in
Christ, 84.
19
The Collected Stories of Eudora Welty (New
York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1980), 148. I
am indebted to Nathan Mitchell’s use of this story
in Meeting Mystery (Maryknoll: Orbis, 2006), 110
-112 for directing my attention to it.
20
Eudora Welty, “Is Phoenix Jackson’s Grandson
Really Dead?” Critical Inquiry 1, no. 1 (Sept
1974): 221.
21
Mitchell, Meeting Mystery, 112.
22
See Erik H. Erikson, Toys and Reasons: Stages
in the Ritualization of Experience (New York: W.
W. Norton, 1977).
23
Oliver Sacks, The Man Who Mistook His Wife
for a Hat and Other Clinical Tales (New York:
Harper & Row, 1987), 37-38.
20
See Louis Gougaud, Anciennes coutumes claustrales, Moines et monasteres 8 (Vienne: Abbaye
Saint-Martin de Ligugé, 1930), chap. 7. “Le mort
du moine,” 69-95; Lanfranc, The Monastic Constitutions of Lanfranc, ed. and trans. David
Knowles (London: Thomas Nelson, 1951), 120131; Bernard of Cluny, A Medieval Latin Death
Ritual: The Monastic Customaries of Bernard and
Ulrich of Cluny, trans. Frederick S. Paxton
(Missoula, Mont.: St. Dunstan’s Press); and David
N. Power, ”Commendation of the Dying and the
Reading of the Passion,” in Rule of Prayer Rule of
Faith: Essays in Honor of Aidan Kavanagh,
O.S.B., ed. Nathan Mitchell and John F. BaldovinCollegeville, Minn.: Liturgical Press, 1986), 281302.
26
See Therese Schroeder-Sheker, “Music for the
Dying,” Journal of Holistic Nursing 12, no. 1
(1994): 83-99.
27
See , for example, Talal Asad, Genealogies of
Religion: Discipline and Reasons of Power in
Christianity and Islam (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins
University Press, 1993). Esp. chap 3, “Pain and
Truth in Medieval Christian Ritual,” and chap. 4,
“On Discipline and Humility in Medieval Christian Monasticism”; and Michael Casey, Truthful
Living: Saint Benedict’s Teaching on Humility
(Petersham, Mass.: St. Bede’s Publications, 1999).
A PRACTICAL MONASTIC THEOLOGY OF AGING
28
Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm, The Annotated
Brothers Grimm, ed. and trans. Maria Tatar (New
York: W. W. Norton, 2004), 150-155.
29
See Patricia Beattie Jung, “Differences among the
Elderly: Who Is on the Road to Bremen?” in
Growing Old in Christ, 112-128. I am indebted to
this essay for directing my attention to this fairy
tale.
30
See Susan Pendleton Jones and L. Gregory Jones,
“Worship, the Eucharist, Baptism, and Aging, in
Growing Old in Christ, 193-195.
32
See David F. Ford, Self and Salvation: Being
Transformed (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1999), 107- 127.
34
See Therese M. Lysaught, “Memory, Funerals, and the Communion of Saints: Growing
Old and Practices of Remembering,” in Growing Old in
Christ, 267-273.
36
See David Keck, Forgetting Whose We Are:
Alzheimer’s Disease and the Love of God
(Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1996).
Laurence, The Stone Angel, 260-261.
31
33
35
Jones and Jones, 195
Letters and Papers from Prison, rev. ed., trans.
Reginald Fuller et al. (New York: Macmillan,
1967), 150-151.
37
See ibid., 279-294.
38
James Joyce, “The Dead,” in The Dubliners
(New York Modern Library, 1969), 223.
39
The Wisdom of the Desert: Sayings from the
Desert Fathers of the Fourth Century, trans.
Thomas Merton (New York: New Directions,
1960), 50.
21
Wild Places
Until recently
I have found God only
in wild places:
while surfing Pacific waves
an eye open for dolphin or whale;
scrambling through granite bowls
the Sierra carved by glacial ice;
or walking desert arroyos
keeping watch for snake and cougar.
God is god of astounding vision,
of harmonies spawned in windy corners,
of the fragrance of white sage.
But in these last years,
confined by the inner city,
I find another kind of wild space:
drug dealers cruising,
beckoning young women,
prostitutes willing to sacrifice their souls
for the next temporary dose of heaven;
garden plots torn up, tomatoes flung
like ready-made grenades;
and occasionally wild flowers pushing up
through sidewalk cracks.
I begin to see God’s finger prints.
Now, early in the morning
before the sun finds its path to my window
I take up fine blank paper and pen
and stare into the wild places of my soul.
God has followed me even here.
22
Morning Praise
Saturday morning
we gather in chapel
a motley group of three.
We hesitate, glance around us.
Are we enough to pray —
two or three clustered together?
Beyond the window
the dogwood erupts with blossoms
pink and white
on one grafted tree.
How could we not sing?
Ellen Porter, OSB
Erie, Pa.
Conversations on a Wall
Leave, you say,
this safe, dark crypt?
Here, invisible are
the torn wrappings,
the rotting flesh,
the timid heart,
and the huge stone
that weighs it down,
crushing the lifeblood from me
like grapes in a winepress.
No Lazarus am I,
stirred to courage
simply by the shout
of a Messiah.
Where is the hand
that will lead me
to light?
Coax me into resurrection,
quickly,
before this crypt
becomes my home.
Diana Seago, OSB
Atchison, Kan.
23
Living Mindfully
By Macrina Wiederkehr, OSB
Sister Macrina challenges us to pause during the day to remember the
presence of God and the sacredness of each moment. She invites us to
listen to the "tapping of the heart."
24
The mysticism of everyday life is the
deepest mysticism of all.
-Jürgen Moltmann
T
here are times when ordinary experiences that have been part of our lives
day after day suddenly speak to us with
such a radiant force it seems as though they
are miracles. In his spiritual autobiography
The Gold String, Bede Griffiths describes an
evening walk when he was taken by surprise
in a way that had never happened to him before. This experience significantly changed his
life, drawing him into a more mindful way of
living. As he walked alone at dusk, the birds
were singing in full chorus, the hawthorn trees
were bursting with bloom, the fading sun was
casting color across the fields. As everything
grew still and the veil of darkness began to
cover the earth, he paints a picture of his feelings with these words:
I remember now the feeling of awe which
came over me. I felt inclined to kneel on
the ground, as though I had been standing
in the presence of an angel; and I hardly
dared to look on the face of the sky, because it seemed as though it was but a veil
before the face of God.
Listening to the description of this ordinary yet mystical experience, I can hear my
friend Paula D’Arcy saying, “Everything in
the universe breathes for God. It does not matter what name is given to this Presence.” The
truth of her words resonates deep in the
ground of my being.
The mystical possibilities of every moment are revealed to us in our intentional
pauses. There are, of course, times when we
are startled into pausing because grace takes
hold of us in an unexpectedly profound man-
ner as it did for Bede Griffiths on his evening
walk. Suddenly we see the aura, the holy
light, exuding from all things. More often,
though, we need to practice living in such a
way that our pauses become treasured anointings in the midst of our work. If we practice
living mindfully, we slowly begin to see the
holiness of so many things that remain hidden when we choose to rush through the
hours, striking tasks from the list of things we
must accomplish before day’s end. It will be
a happy moment when we remember to add
the wise act of pausing to our to-do lists.
T
his pause can be as simple as standing
attentively before a flowering plant or
listening to the frogs in the pond. Perhaps we can stop for a cleansing breath:
Breathe in the spirit of the hour; breathe in
Macrina Wiederkehr, OSB, is a member of
the Benedictine Sisters of St. Scholastica in
Ft. Smith, Ark. She is the author of six previous books including A Tree Full of Angels and The Circle of Life (co-authored
with Joyce Rupp). She travels widely to
offer retreats and conferences.
25
BENEDICTINES
gratitude and compassion for yourself; breathe
out love and encouragement for your coworkers, friends, family members. Your pause may
be an awakening stretch, or sitting quietly and
remembering your name. If you can learn the
in stone. Pausing may seem like an unnecessary interruption, serving only to get us off
schedule.
Everything in the universe
breathes for God. It does not
matter what name is given to this
Presence.
art of pausing, your work will prosper and be
blessed. Ask yourself: Is it possible to be less
busy and still productive? Is it possible to look
at work as a ministry rather than just a means
of employment? Or, could it be that in order to
bring my best self into my workspace, I need
to change my attitude about my work? Perhaps
the answer to these questions depends on how
efficient we can become in remembering to
take breathing spells at these special hours of
the day. Can we remember to pause? Throughout the hours of the day, whenever you feel
stressed and overwhelmed, instead of pushing
yourself to work harder and faster, remember
to pause.
A
s a monastic in our modern world, I,
too, struggle with the need to help
make a living for my community; yet
implanted in the monastic heart is the desire to
learn how to make a life rather than just a living. We are to seek God in all situations. The
busyness that is so much a part of our lives can
take its toll on us if we do not learn how to
balance work, prayer, and leisure. The practice
of pausing throughout the day in order to get in
touch with the soul has deep roots in monastic
life. It is not easy to step aside from our work,
take a cleansing breath, and ask ourselves soul
questions. Most of us don’t like to disrupt our
agenda. We often have schedules that seem set
26
Breathing Spells
Y
ou may have heard the story about
some Westerners who hired a few
bushmen guides to help them travel
through the Kalahari Desert. Not being used to
moving at the pace their employers were expecting, the bushmen suddenly sat down to
rest, and no amount of persuasion could induce
them to continue the journey until they were
If you can learn the art of pausing,
your work will prosper and be
blessed.
ready. The reason for this much needed rest,
the bushmen explained, was that they had to
wait for their souls to catch up. Stories come to
us when we need them, and it is my hunch that
this is a story we need today. Indigenous peoples often have an innate awareness of the
need to honor the natural pace and rhythm of
their beings. They seem able to pick up sig-
LIVING MINDFULLY
nals drawing them into a stance of obedient
listening. The bushman of the Kalahari called
this ancient knowing “the tapping of the
heart.”
M
any of us can relate to this story.
We, too, can remember moments
where we have heard the tapping of
the heart. Listening to that deep inner voice of
the soul and honoring the call to take care of
ourselves can become a way of life. Most of us
are in desperate need of breathing spells for the
soul. Our days are frenetic – filled with activity. Although some of this activity is nourish-
have to do? If we do not have healthy work
patterns, then the tendency when someone tries
to get us out of our workaholic mode is to look
busy, talk about our busyness, and recite the
mantra, “I don’t have time.”
A
ll too often in today’s corporate world
the workaholic is revered and esteemed. Some employees wanting to
climb the corporate ladder vie with coworkers
The busyness that is so much a part of
our lives can take its toll on us if we
do not learn how to balance work,
prayer, and leisure.
to see who can come in first and/or leave the
office last. The game is a ruse, stealing personal time away from the individual. Unfortunately, a heart attack is often the wake-up call
to slow down and reevaluate what is essential
in life.
ing and replenishing, much of it is draining and
numbing. All of this takes a toll on the soul.
Our conversations often center around how
busy we are, and phrases such as “I don’t have
time” become a frequent part of our dialogue.
We find ourselves multitasking just to go
through the day with some sense of accomplishment.
In regard to all this busyness in our lives,
however, I would like to offer an encouraging
word. Since most of us are actually busy doing
good things, could it be that how we approach
our work is the issue rather than how much we
How can we learn to open our hearts to
simple grace-filled experiences, such as the
one Bede Griffiths spoke of above? How can
we become more aware of the yearning in our
hearts for the healing balm of solitude? You
don’t have to be a monastic to experience these
grace-filled moments. These moments are
available every day. They are offered to the
workaholic just as frequently as to the mindful
person. It is all a matter of living with open
eyes and sometimes a rearrangement of our
values.
W
e belong to this earth, and the work
we do is ultimately for the purpose
of making our world a better place
in which to live. When we begin our day, most
of us probably do not approach our work with
the awareness and belief that we are artists involved in continuing the work of creation.
From the most sublime to the most menial,
27
BENEDICTINES
work is creativity. If we could truly believe
this, many things might change in our workplaces and in our world at large. It is not necessarily our work that is the problem; it is our
inability to be a loving companion to our work.
deeper purpose behind every assigned task, a
purpose that goes far beyond just completing
the job. When I wash dishes in our community,
I try to be purposefully conscious of the fact
that I am not washing dishes just to get them
done. Getting finished ought not to be my goal
The Indian poet Kahlil Gibran suggests
that our work is our love made visible. The
way we approach our work is vital to our happiness and the good we are going to be able to
do as artists and co-creators with God. The
attitude with which we approach our work determines whether or not our work will become
a love made visible.
Most of us are in desperate need of
breathing spells for the soul.
Sacredness of Work
because, you see, if this is the case, then I miss
the experience of washing the dishes. This is
all part of living mindfully.
T
I
From whom must we seek permission to
work mindfully, heartfully, soulfully? This is a
subtle question. The permission we need may
be from our very own selves.
With beautiful simplicity and humility, the
artist claims there is no secret. When he received this assignment, he put his entire being
into the work, guarding his spirit from any sort
of trivia that would take his mind away from
the task at hand. He fasted so as to have a pure
and single heart to bring to the work. In his
mind’s eye he constantly beheld the perfect
bell stand holding the bell that would call people to work or to prayer.
he Benedictine tradition has always
tried to honor the sacredness of work.
Work is a service for the benefit of the
entire world. It is easy for us to lose sight of
this truth. The competition and aggressiveness
of the workplace can make it difficult for us to
find the sacred aspect of work. Workplaces can
become brutal machines squeezing every
ounce of mindful reflection out of our systems.
Yet from the simplest forms of labor to the
most sublime, all work is for the purpose of
improving the quality of life. Our work enables
us to bring grace and beauty to our world. For
this reason we need to learn how to work from
the heart.
Even monastics are in danger of losing the
vision of the sacredness of work. It is difficult
for individuals to understand that there is a
28
n The Way of Chang Tzu, edited and compiled by Thomas Merton, a marvelous
story is told via the poem “The Woodcarver.” In this poem a master woodcarver is
commissioned to carve a bell stand for the high
court. Upon viewing the completion of the
woodcarver’s exquisite piece of art, the prince
of Lu wants to understand the secret of this
marvelous masterpiece.
In claiming that there was no special secret, the woodcarver was suggesting that the
perfection of the bell stand was due to the loving dedication and undivided attention given to
LIVING MINDFULLY
the task. We all have the potential to give ourselves wholeheartedly to whatever it is we
must do. This is the gift of mindfulness. Each
of us can learn to guard our hearts from trivia
as we watch the work of our hands become a
blessing.
Yet from the simplest forms of
labor to the most sublime, all
work is for the purpose of
improving the quality of life.
Our work enables us to bring
grace and beauty to our world.
own inner call. A bell will not necessarily peal
out for you in your workplace. You must learn
to listen for the tapping of the heart. In some
workplaces this will be easier than others.
Corporate America will probably not bless
you for taking care of yourself. The bottom
line is production. Without that, there is no
company. No one really cares what you did for
them yesterday. The big question is: What are
you going to do for me today? Thus the mania
begins. It perpetuates itself, producing a
stressed, violent society. It is impossible to be
mindful when you are going ninety miles per
hour.
Daily Practice
T
he fact that the woodcarver was carving
a bell stand is particularly significant
for our meditation on the hours.
Throughout the ages bells have been used to
call peoples of all religious beliefs to significant tasks, especially to the work of prayer.
When the bell peals out its melodious music,
something awakens in us – the reverberation
connects us to an ancient longing. It is a longing to be united to the Holy Source from which
all things have emerged.
With practice we can learn to live as vessels of devotion, containers out of which we
pour forth loving service to others. When I
hear the bell, I pray for the grace to put aside
the work I am doing. In listening to the bell, I
am actually listening to an invitation for union
with the Beloved. In answering the bell, I am
proclaiming by my actions that there is an even
greater Love than the loving service I am performing.
Living mindfully is not an option for those
who want to live healthy lives. Healthy living
necessitates finding a balance between work,
prayer, and leisure. Integration of these three is
difficult but not impossible. Daily practice is
needed, as well as, perhaps, waking up to our
Even if you aren’t part of the big corporate
machine, living mindfully is always a challenge. No matter what your work entails –
housework, laundry, personal contacts, business meetings, preparing for workshops, yard
work, writing, composing, teaching, cooking,
raising children, (fill in your own labor of
love) – realize that you are an artist. In some
small way you are continuing the work of creation. Remember to pause.
From the most sublime to the most
menial, work is creativity. If we could
truly believe this, many things might
change in our workplaces and in our
world at large.
Reprinted with permission from Seven Sacred
Pauses (Sorin Books, Notre Dame, Ind.), 2008.
29
Putting on the Subprioress’s Hat
By Susan Marie Lindstrom, OSB
The job description for a subprioress is as varied as each Benedictine
monastery. Sr. Susan Marie explores the subprioress's need for multitasking and the ability to adapt to a rapidly changing environment.
30
I
magine offering hospitality to a visitor
completely unfamiliar with monastic life.
As you sit together for dinner, various
sisters stop by to welcome the guest. After
introducing each, you explain their role or
ministry within the community. “That’s our
prioress, the sister who serves as our leader.
Perhaps you’ve seen movies where this sister
was referred to as the Mother Superior. The
prioress, according to the Rule of Benedict,
takes the place of Christ and is responsible
for the spiritual well-being of the community. This is our infirmarian, who supervises
the care of our elderly and/or sick sisters.
This is one of our kitchen servers, or table
waiters. She helps set out and put away the
meals, and will call us to the serving table.”
All is going well until the subprioress is introduced. What exactly does a subprioress
do? What is her role in the community?
Sister Aquinata Böckmann, OSB, fielding
questions during a series of lectures in 2002,
pointed out that the heart of Chapter 65, the
real task of the prior, was contained in Benedict’s admonition that the abbot make all decisions in order to preserve peace and love.
The prior, in carrying out the will of the abbot, is actually called to do the same. 2 Anyone with a family knows that it is no small
task to preserve peace and love within a small
group of related individuals. It might be even
more difficult in a large community of individuals who initially are strangers to one an-
Role of Prior
C
hapter 65 of the Rule speaks of the
role of the prior. In the context of the
entire Rule, chapter 65 stands out as
one of the more harsh chapters. It is obvious
that Benedict is uncomfortable with the role,
preferring the shared leadership of deaneries.
Benedict is concerned that a prior may become power-hungry, which is unacceptable
in Benedict’s orderly world. Worse still, abbot and prior might pursue conflicting policies, resulting in a division of loyalties
among the community members.1 Benedict
affords the prior no personal power; he is
expected to fill in for and support the abbot.
Benedict is all too aware that having a prior
opens the community to danger if the prior
harbors any personal ambitions about leading
the community. Threats to the unity of the
community also arise when the bishop appoints the prior rather than the abbot himself
choosing the monk who would assume the
role.
other. Intentionally or unintentionally, our
humanness often leads to dissension, discord,
murmuring or conflict. To preserve peace and
love requires attention not only to the spiritual, but to the practicalities of group living.
When prayer happens on a regular schedule,
when chores are done, when tools and furnishings are cared for, when communication
Susan Marie Lindstrom, OSB, is a member
of Our lady of Grace Monastery, Beech
Grove, Ind. She teaches religion at Bishop
Chatard High School in Indianapolis. She
made final monastic profession last year.
31
BENEDICTINES
is clear and timely, when members feel valued, community seems to function at its best.
F
rom the earliest days in the Church,
there has been a struggle to minister to
both the spiritual and physical needs of
the community. In the Acts of the Apostles,
Peter, who has been handed the keys of the
kingdom, is concerned with the integrity of
the early Christian community, with the
health of their souls and their ability to bring
the message to the ends of the earth, to spread
the Gospel as Jesus had commanded them to
do. It is a formidable task, one that cannot
receive proper attention while Peter is also
called upon to provide food, shelter and jobs
for community members. Peter, the spiritual
leader, appoints James as temporal leader.
James’ authority is not his own; it is granted
him by Peter. Peter can be about the care of
souls while James handles the temporal concerns of the newly formed community.
Father Terrence Kardong acknowledges
that in the sixth century most monastic authors (but not the Master) use the term prior
to mean the second in charge to the Abbot.
By the Middle Ages, the prior had come to be
the temporal administrator in the abbey. 3 In
most women’s monasteries today, a similar
pattern emerges; the subprioress’s responsibilities include attending to a variety of tem-
To preserve peace and love,
the subprioress may find
herself acting as a mediator
between discontented sisters
or intervening in a situation
that has the potential to be
blown out of proportion and
cause significant harm.
32
poral needs, as entrusted to her by the prioress. The role of the subprioress has never
been clearly defined; it is as varied as our
communities. Often a prioress will appoint a
subprioress who has gifts and abilities that
complement her own, and someone she
knows the community will be able to work
with, trust and respect. While all monastics
are called to live with humility, none more so
than the subprioress, who recognizes that any
When prayer happens on a regular
schedule, when chores are done,
when tools and furnishings are
cared for, when communication is
clear and timely, when members
feel valued, community seems to
function at its best.
authority she has comes from the prioress and
is embraced for the well-being of the entire
community.
One Perspective
O
ne of the few substantial writings on
the subprioress comes from Ruth
Fox, OSB, who has served in leadership positions within her community and federation. She found the earliest mention of the
role in the 1950 Constitutions of the Congregation of St. Gertrude where the subprioress
is admonished “to watch over the regular discipline and to inform the prioress concerning
those matters which, with regard to discipline, she thinks ought to be pointed out.”
The current constitutions of the Benedictine
Federations say little more. They state that
the subprioress should carry out what is assigned to her, do nothing beyond the prioress’s wishes and keep the Rule, exactly what
PUTTING ON THE SUBRIORESS’S HAT
Benedict stated in chapter 65. 4 Sister Ruth
also presented Martha of Bethany as the
scriptural role model for the subprioress.
Martha has a relationship with Jesus; she is
able to extend hospitality, offer her service at
the table, challenge and question Jesus, and
share her insights with him. Martha knows
her giftedness and encourages others to use
their gifts. As she watches Mary anoint Jesus’
feet, she supports her sister, aware that such
presence and action is Mary’s calling, and not
her own.5
tantly, to adjust accordingly for the preservation of peace and love in the community.”7
The preservation of peace and love is
facilitated by attention to the ordinary components of daily monastic living. While the duties of a subprioress are as unique as each of
our houses, there are no doubt some commonalities in the tasks with which they are
entrusted. The subprioress who embraces
“fuzzy thinking” will be called upon to wear
a variety of hats.
Variety of Hats
Hardhat: Peace and love are preserved by
building community, building a sense of connectedness, and by the smooth running of the
daily tasks/schedule of the monastery. The
subprioress is constantly visiting and inspecting the site, seeing that the laborers are happy
and productive. She supervises everything
Sister Ruth also points out that the subprioress needs to be comfortable with what
she calls “fuzzy thinking.” This is defined as
being able to read data and adjust accordingly
to accept degrees of reality.6 The role of the
subprioress is often in flux, changing as the
size of the community shifts, as new ministries are undertaken or old ones are relinquished, as strategic planning requires building new structures or letting go of property,
or as aging and illness impact the vitality of
the community. “A subprioress needs to
adapt to her prioress, to sense her good and
bad habits, her strengths and weaknesses, her
preferences and needs, and then, most impor-
Often a prioress will appoint a
subprioress who has gifts and
abilities that complement her
own, and someone she knows
the community will be able to
work with, trust and respect.
from car scheduling to household chores, and
often oversees the hiring and firing of lay
staff members. The job of the subprioress
often includes responsibility for the routine
maintenance and upkeep of the building. If
the community is a machine, the subprioress
knows its inner workings and carries the
tools necessary to make minor adjustments
and repairs.
Safari Hat: A prioress with a vision often
relies on the subprioress to help implement it.
33
BENEDICTINES
This can be anything from a new schedule
that facilitates community life to a renewed
attention to monastic practices. The subprioress must be willing to blaze new paths, to
clear out those that have become overgrown
due to neglect or misuse, to guide the community into uncharted territory such as a
change in corporate ministry or facility use.
The preservation of peace and
love is facilitated by attention to
the ordinary components of
daily monastic living.
ion through memos, notes, phone calls, signs
or e-mail.
Party hat: When people have time to nurture
relationships in community, it becomes
much easier to preserve love and peace. The
subprioress is often called upon to create opportunities for the community to come together formally and informally, for service
such as doing a big fall cleaning or simply to
socialize and catch up with each other. The
energy and enthusiasm of the subprioress will
often spark that of the others in the house.
She models for others the courage to explore
the depths and jungles of life with a sense of
adventure rather than fear.
Visor: Old-fashioned casino dealers were
often depicted wearing visors. The subprioress helps the community to play the hand
they have been dealt, whether it is an abundance of new members, the loss of buildings
or ministries, diminishment by illness or
death, or the changing of a tradition. She reminds the community that prayer, luck and
risk often work together, producing a variety
of results. God always holds the deck, and
new cards will eventually come our way.
Reporter’s hat: Remember the old movies
where the press always showed up in their
distinctive hats, notepads and pens in hand,
ready for a story? Good communication is
key to preserving peace and love. The subprioress often serves as the one who filters
the details, sharing with the community what
is both essential and helpful to hear and
know. She works to a deadline, passing on
information in a timely and appropriate fash-
34
Fire fighter’s helmet: As in any group, there
will always be fires to extinguish, or perhaps
just smoldering embers that still need to be
doused. To preserve peace and love, the subprioress may find herself acting as a mediator
between discontented sisters or intervening in
a situation that has the potential to be blown
out of proportion and cause significant harm.
She may need to pour water on the dissension
fueled by murmuring. There is always a risk
in responding to a fire alarm, but it is a risk
the subprioress is willing to take in her efforts
to maintain peace within the community.
Tour Guide: While few tour guides actually
wear a hat, most carry some sort of flag or
wand that helps the tour group stay together.
PUTTING ON THE SUBRIORESS’S HAT
More importantly, the tour guide reminds the
tourists, “We’re walking.” The subprioress
develops a sense of the rhythm of the community and knows when to allow them to
stop and ponder and when to encourage them
to move forward. Her reverence for the ups
and downs of the journey allows her sisters to
walk as pilgrims rather than as tourists, as
those who are called to view the journey
through the eyes of God.
called holy before you really are, but first be
holy that you may more truly be called so.”
The subprioress, who remembers that her call
to life and to monastic life comes from God,
will be able to entrust herself and her efforts
to God, running on the path of God’s commands, her heart overflowing with the inexpressible delight of love.
ENDNOTES
While all monastics are called to
live with humility, none more so
than the subprioress who
recognizes that any authority she
has comes from the prioress and
is embraced for the well-being of
the entire community.
1
Terrence Kardong, OSB. Benedict’s Rule: A
Translation and Commentary. (Collegeville,
Minn.: The Liturgical Press, 1996) p.544.
2
Aquinata Böckmann, OSB. Lectures at
Lisle, Illinois, 2002. Taken from class notes.
3
Kardong. p.543.
4
Sun hat: The subprioress, aware of the demands of her position, needs to make time for
herself, to relax and enjoy moments of leisure, time in nature, opportunities for prayer.
In doing so, she renews herself and models
holy leisure for her sisters in community.
Ruth Fox, OSB. “For the Preservation of
Peace and Love.” This was a talk given in
January 1995 at the gathering of subprioresses in Beech Grove, Indiana. It was later
printed in Benedictines.
5
Ibid.
6
Ibid.
7
Ibid.
T
he subprioress’s role is as diverse as
each of our communities. In fulfilling
her mission and carrying out her ministry, she will be called to handle many people and many needs, putting on whatever hat
the situation might require. The hat that is
most important, however, is that which was
placed on her head from the moment God
first called her name: the halo. Above all else,
the subprioress is called to holiness. To preserve peace and love, one must strive to live
the Rule and the Gospel with integrity. As
Benedict reminds us: “Do not aspire to be
35
A Unique Expression
of Benedictine Life
By Sr. Barbara Hazzard and Sr. Barbara Mayer, OSB
The Hesed community strives to incorporate contemplative prayer
into a busy lifestyle. Its spirituality is distinctly Benedictine, yet its
members are not monastics in the traditional sense.
36
M
ost people think of Benedictine
monasteries as places where monks
or nuns live in community, pray the
Divine Office in choir, and perform some kind
of internal or external ministry. However, there
is a unique Benedictine community dedicated
to the practice and teaching of Christian meditation located in Oakland, Calif. Called the
Hesed Community, it has only one full-time
resident, Sr. Barbara Hazzard, who has been
living there for the past 26 years, ministering
to the spiritual needs of those who come to
pray.
The idea for such a community began in
the early 1980s when people who came to Sr.
Barbara for spiritual direction began asking
where they could go to nurture the contemplative part of their lives. In 1982, Sr. Barbara
read Letters from the Heart by John Main,
OSB, which describes his vision of a new way
of living contemplatively with silent meditation as the basic element. The bishop of Montreal had requested that Fr. John come to start a
Christian Meditation Community in Montreal
near McGill University to attract students who
were then joining the Hare Krishnas and the
Moonies. Sr. Barbara wrote to Fr. John, but he
passed away that year. A few months later, Fr.
Laurence Freeman responded to her letter, inviting her to visit the Benedictine Priory in
Montreal.
O
n her visit, during the summer of
1983, Sr. Barbara had a conversation
with Fr. Jean Leclercq, OSB, from
Clairvaux Abbey in Luxembourg, who was
also visiting the priory. Sr. Barbara, who was
on a leave of absence from her religious community, told him of her desire to establish a
community focused on ministering to people’s
contemplative needs. He encouraged her to go
back and start one, saying, “If God wants it, it
will flourish.”
“I returned to my home in Oakland, turned
the downstairs family room into a meditation
room, converted the small adjacent room into a
chapel, and posted a schedule of times for
meditation at Newman Hall in Berkeley where
I was working,” Sister Barbara said. “In November of 1984, after being dispensed from
my vows, in dialogue with the bishop and in
the presence of my spiritual director and two
couples from the Hesed Community, I pronounced private vows. A few weeks later, Fr.
Laurence Freeman came from Montreal to receive our first oblate novices.”
Barbara Hazzard, OSB, has been the director of Hesed Community in Oakland,
Calif., for the past 26 years. She is a spiritual director and director of Benedictine
oblates. Barbara Mayer, OSB, is editor of
Benedictines magazine.
37
BENEDICTINES
T
here are three ways to belong to the
Hesed Community: as Benedictine
oblates, who undergo two to three
years of preparation as oblate-novices before
making public promises to live the values of
Benedictine spirituality and to try to meditate
on a daily basis; family brothers and sisters,
who live in various parts of the world and wish
to be formally recognized as members of the
community; and those who come to pray on a
regular basis and support the community in a
variety of ways. There are about 25 members
in each group. Sr. Barbara’s vision was not to
have a resident community but to have those
committed to Hesed feel that they are the community.
ties include a community celebration twice a
year where new members are recognized, a
women’s reflection group twice a month, an
oblate meeting once a month, and a silent
weekend retreat once a year. The board of directors meets once a month. Spiritual direction
is also available. The schedule is posted on the
Hesed Web site at
www.hesedcommunity.org.
Hesed is a Hebrew word that is most often
translated as meaning “God’s loving kindness.” The purpose of the Hesed Community,
according to Sr. Barbara, is to “nurture the
contemplative part of people’s lives so that the
rest of their lives will be more meaningful,
more connected to the Godlife within and
around them.” Sr. Barbara sees God’s blessing
in several ways. Hesed has never ended the
year in the red, their rent has not been raised
The purpose of Hesed is to "nurture
the contemplative part of people's
lives so that the rest of their lives will
be more meaningful, more connected
to the God-life within and around
them."
for the last 12 years, and several oblates are
now leading meditation groups in various parts
of northern California.
Each week there are six opportunities for
meditation at Hesed: three mornings, two late
afternoons, and one evening. The afternoons
include a Communion service; the evening
gathering includes lectio. Other regular activi-
38
Another blessing is their affiliation with
St. Benedict’s Monastery and St. John’s Abbey
in Minnesota. Abbot John Klassen from St.
John’s has led the annual retreat weekend for
Hesed, as have a number of sisters from St.
Benedict’s. Several years ago, a group from
Hesed spent a week at St. Benedict’s, where
they were welcomed warmly. Other visitors
and supporters include Sr. Joan Chittister, Br.
David Steindl-Rast, Fr. Bede Griffiths, and Sr.
Donald Corcoran, all of whom have written
and spoken widely on Benedictine spirituality.
A UNIQUE EXPRESSION OF BENEDICTINE LIFE
A
ccording to Sr. Mary Reuter, OSB,
former prioress of St. Benedict’s
Monastery, their association with Hesed is informal. St. Benedict’s provides a con-
currently serving as the liaison with the Hesed
Community.
H
esed is part of the World Community
for Christian Meditation, a group of
national communities and emerging
communities in over 100 countries, begun by
Fr. Laurence Freeman in 1991. This is an ecumenical association dedicated to dialogue both
with Christian churches and other faiths.
tact person who sends the Hesed Community
helpful information regarding Benedictine formation, and the monastery provides Hesed
members some conferences on monastic life
and Benedictine spirituality. Some sisters from
St. Benedict’s have lent their presence at a few
celebrations, presentations, etc., at Hesed, and
several members from Hesed have participated
in retreats at St. Benedict’s.
Sr. Ephrem Hollermann, OSB, from St.
Benedict’s Monastery, who recently directed a
retreat at Hesed, said that many of the retreatants have been members of Hesed at various levels from its beginning. “They wish to be
more intentional about increasing their understanding of Benedictine values and about discerning which of those values can be best
adapted to this new form of urban community,” she said. She believes they are well
known by their surrounding neighbors in Oakland, and have a good number of “walk-ins” in
search of spiritual direction and a place to
pray. Sr. Hélène Mercier of St. Benedict’s is
39
BENEDICTINES
Book Reviews
IN SEARCH OF BELIEF. By Joan Chittister, OSB, Liguori/Triumph, Liguori,
Missouri, 2006, 216 pages, $15.95.
In her book In Search of Belief Joan
Chittister gives us 27 chapters, each based
on a phrase of the Apostles Creed. They
are not mundane reflections, but thoughtprovoking and deeply profound capsules of
insight into her journey through the Creed.
Each meditation is interwoven with a
story that paints a picture for us of her personal experiences and often, of her childhood, her parental guidance, and the school
and college influences that shaped her life.
Always they show the growth and development of the author and the early appearances of the staunch convictions of her
faith and her ability to stand up against
teacher, bishop, or church when she felt
the foundation of her trust and truth
shaken.
gods of my own making: money, power,
prestige, approval, things. Without God,
we are simply “sand flowing through a
corruptible hour glass”(20). And she
searches for that God without ceasing . . .
in the pools of poverty, in the confusing
circumstances of life, in the grand “miracle
of human goodness.” She declares she
sees the face of God in the faces of those
who love her (52).
Chittister’s use of words and phrases is
a lesson in the artistic palette of language.
Sometimes one finds oneself so startled by
her choice of expression and remarks that
one stops to drink in the beauty of the
word painting. One thing is certain: readers
will never again blithely dash through the
Creed after perusing In Search of Belief.
The book finds lots of problems with
language. She is uncomfortable with the
phrase “Son of God.” She points to the
first written document of a Eucharistic service of the third century in which Jesus is
not called “Son of God” but “Child of
God.” That promises that she too, a
woman, was made for glory, that she too
can become what she was made to be out
of the substance of divinity (73).
There is no hard evidence that there is
or is not a God. Belief in God can be a
“yes” or “no.” But there is a price to pay
for the choice. Not to believe in God, Chittister says, is to believe only in myself and
what I see around me. This is to worship
There are other aspects that the author
finds problematic. These problems center
on the role of women. The Virgin Mary
was not forced into the role she was to play
in the incarnation. She was given a choice.
She made up her mind outside the law,
40
BOOK REVIEWS
alone, independent of keepers or guides.
“She risked everything to do what she
knew her God requested of her, whatever
its cost socially, publicly, spiritually.”
Chittister gives reasons to think that the
Church needs to associate with this role of
Mary in dealing with the role of women in
general. Instead, women are asked to cook
church dinners but not to be diocesan consultants; they are asked to be Sunday
school teachers but not theologians (95).
the Creed complacently, without thought.
Joan Chittister kindles fire in its dry formulations, setting them ablaze with renewed meanings, making each phrase light
the way to profound meditation. Read it at
your peril.”
The chapter on “Jesus suffered” is the
most impressive in the book. In this meditation she has no ax to grind, only a search
for the truth of Jesus’ suffering. She begins
by narrating the sufferings of her own
time. War had brought on disaster after
disaster: the millions of Jews exterminated,
people starving, loss of jobs, victims of the
polio epidemic.
BELOVED: Henri Nouwen in Conversation. By Philip Roderick. William B.
Eerdmans Publishing Company. Grand
Rapids, Michigan, 2007, 52 pages, $20.00.
The suffering of Jesus, she says, could
be the most important segment of the
Creed for it teaches us that Jesus was really
human and that he died to atone for sins
that could not be atoned for by a man equal
to the one who sinned (102). “God wanted
to provide a model of the God-life in our
midst which a world immersed in greed,
competition, oppression and institutionalism could not accept. Jesus suffered at the
wish of people. To say ‘I believe that Jesus
suffered’ is to say ‘I believe that suffering
is not too high a price to pay for this God
who is our God.’”(106).
The Pulitzer Prize-winning writer
Robert Keeler is quoted on the book
jacket: “This book is dangerous. Once you
have read it, you can never again mumble
Joachim Holthaus, OSB
Atchison, Kan.
In over 40 books previously written we
have read and reflected on Nouwen’s inner
journey. In Beloved (with its accompanying CD) we can read and hear an interview
with that renowned writer a few years before his death. Author Philip Roderick invites us to ponder and reflect on the answers as he, in quiet conversation, probes
the depth of Nouwen’s inner experience of
God.
In this interview Nouwen speaks to us
of the growth into the acceptance of being
the “Beloved” of God. In many gems of
wisdom, he urges us to move away from
busyness into accepted loneliness and solitude. This acceptance of loneliness and
moving into solitude, he assures us, will
bring us into a mystical awareness and a
knowing that we are the “beloved “of God.
Here we will learn the truth about ourselves. He stresses the importance of
“being” in the moment-to-moment aware41
BENEDICTINES
ness of God present within. He reminds us,
“You are created by a God who wants all
your attention and who wants to give you
all the love you need.” He tells us that in
solitude we are guided to listen to our heart
where we can hear the voice of God and
touch God’s communion with all people.
stripe might find – as Okholm did – the
charism of Benedictine monastic life worth
their time and attention.
Okholm is a Presbyterian minister, a
professor of theology at Azusa Pacific University in California, and a Benedictine
oblate of Blue Cloud Abbey in S.D. So his
He speaks of the importance of doing
“little things.” We have to continue saying,
“Yes” and seeking the more. We learn to
live in the “Now.” It is in solitude, community and silence that we are called through
faith into hope as “God’s Beloved.”
I found it reassuring to listen to his
stress on the movement into the mystical
life, the value of solitude, and the importance of living in the “Now.” It is a joy to
read his words and a rare gift of not only
reading his words but listening to his voice
on the CD.
Sheila Carroll, OSF
Atchison, Kan.
MONK HABITS FOR EVERYDAY
PEOPLE: Benedictine Spirituality for
Protestants. By Dennis Okholm. BrazosPress, 2007, 144 pages, $12.99.
Dennis Okholm’s opening chapter is
titled “What’s a Good (Protestant Evangelical) Boy Doin’ in a Monastery?” The
rest of his book answers not only that question, but many questions a non-Roman
Catholic Christian might voice regarding
monastic life historically and today . . . and
why Protestants of any denominational
42
questions and answers throughout the book
stem from a practiced faith, a properly
catholic education apart from his awareness of Benedict’s Rule, and a worthy
Benedictine balance of the two as he applies both to the experiences of his life.
In the Forward, Kathleen Norris
sketches a brief picture of the source that
monasteries, and monastic spirituality,
have become for spiritual renewal since
Vatican II – and not just for Catholics.
Thus, as Norris says, the monastic choirs
have acquired an ecumenical texture
“where Christians can enjoy what they
have in common – the psalms, the gospels,
BOOK REVIEWS
the Lord’s Prayer – and not worry too
much about what divides them.” In this
area she finds Okholm a superb guide with
“a fresh perspective”(8).
In the text proper, Okholm points to
Benedict as the superb guide for people
today, specifically Protestant people. And
he begins with himself, indicating that
Benedictine monasticism has enriched his
spirituality and his Christian life (19). This
he wants to share, most specifically with
“heirs of the Protestant Reformers . . . including those like [him] whose pedigree
includes Baptist and conservative evangelical strains”(20). He continues by indicating six reasons Benedictine spirituality
would prove beneficial to Protestants,
while simultaneously clearing up some
misconceptions Protestants have about monastic life.
Other chapters cover the usual subjects
relevant to Benedictine monasticism: the
monastic vows, the liturgy of the hours and
lectio, hospitality, humility, and balance.
He draws on Benedict’s Rule, and many of
the authoritative writings on the Rule.
Logically he also brings in writings by
authors Protestants would know well.
These citations strengthen Okholm’s
stance regarding the merits of Benedictine
spirituality today; they also highlight and
reinforce the areas all Christians have in
common.
Okholm has a readable style, and he
melds the quoted passages with stories
drawn, and lessons learned, from his own
life. Okholm also laces his text with Scrip-
tural passages: Scripture, upon which
Benedict draws heavily in his Rule and
upon which “Protestants rightly place
stress . . . as the ultimate authority in matters of faith and practice.”(30).
The one chapter which is the most academic and thus rather heavy reading Okholm titles “A Historical Afterword: Why
the Protestant Reformers opposed Monasticism.” Given the content, a reader might
wonder why it is not at the beginning; it is
worthwhile background, but since Okholm’s aim is a positive one: to “aid in the
sanctification of Protestant individuals by
offering bits of wisdom and [habitforming] strategies for growth gleaned
from the Benedictine tradition”(36), the
Afterword works better as an “Oh, and by
the way . . .”
The only thing that causes some headscratching for this reviewer is Okholm’s
frequent use of the term conversatio moralis when he speaks of the one of the three
monastic vows. He notes the value of
Benedictine Terrence Kardong’s exhaustive text on the Rule, yet there in the Latin,
the text reads morum suorum. Kardong, in
his notes on that chapter, speaks of conversatio morum, as do many other writers on
the Rule.
That aside, the book is blessed with
some fine notes. There is a brief section
with suggestions for practicing Benedictine
Spirituality, and another with a list of suggested readings. The latter is a sampling,
not an exhaustive list; but it provides a
worthy source for anyone interested in pursuing this subject.
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BENEDICTINES
In Chapter 72:11-12 of the Rule, Benedict says of his followers, “Let them prefer
nothing whatsoever to Christ, and may
Christ bring us all together to everlasting
life.” These words end the Rule and, as
Terrence Kardong says in Benedict’s Rule:
A Translation and Commentary (1996),
they end the Rule “on a dynamic note
[with] an image of pilgrimage. The Benedictine community should not be seen as a
static refuge, but rather as a column of
Christians on the road toward God [with]
Christ the pilgrim leader”(597). With gentle affirmation, Okholm indicates that sola
Christi “has always been a Protestant mantra”(37). His book succeeds in showing
Protestants that Benedictines are a lived
and living reminder of this quest, this jour-
ney where all Christians are being drawn
into a community of disciples of Christ, all
meant to be formed in Christ’s image (37).
Phyllis K. Thompson, Obl. OSB
Nanaimo, British Columbia
THE UNCREATED LIGHT. An Iconographical Study of the Transfiguration in
the Eastern Church. Solrunn Nes. Grand
Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 2007, 187
pages, $25.00
Two mosaics, two icons, and a manuscript illumination of the gospel mystery of
the Transfiguration are the central subject
matter of this book. The book engages the
reader at two levels, the visual and the
theological. It has something for the
browser, but much more for those who
study it.
The author, an art historian, presents
various art works depicting the Transfiguration in multiple colored plates, sometimes the full art work and sometimes also
selected detail. The first offering is the
sixth century apse mosaic of the Transfiguration from the Monastery of St. Catherine
at Mount Sinai in Egypt. The second is
also a sixth century Transfiguration mosaic, this one located in the apse of the
church of Sant Apollinare in Classe in Ravenna in Italy. The third presentation, in a
different medium and on a much smaller
scale, is an eleventh century manuscript
illumination of the Incarnation and Transfiguration, from medieval western Europe.
The fourth is a fifteenth century icon attributed to Theophane the Greek, evidently
done in connection with the restoration of
a Russian cathedral. For good measure the
author, herself an iconographer, includes
her own twentieth century icon of the
Transfiguration.
Some readers of this book will be
drawn to it for the sixteen plates alone. Be-
44
BOOK REVIEWS
yond the beauty of the visual, the content
of each art work is carefully explained in a
formal analysis of the composition. The
plates and their exposition might be gift
enough, for the visual itself is an invitation
to prayer. Other readers will venture into
the more complex depth of meaning to be
found in the spirituality and theology expressed in the art works. Nes offers this,
too, to her reader.
The Eastern Orthodox understanding of
the dogma of Transfiguration is carefully
set out to further enhance the meaning
available through the visual. Readers who
pursue the theological exposition will be
brought into conversations with great Orthodox theologians who connect the
worlds of icons and mystical experience.
The book probes the Orthodox understanding of theosis, a concept not immediately
familiar to many western Christians, including Catholics. But theosis, meaning
deification, is a part of the whole Church’s
spiritual and theological heritage, one
worth exploration and reflection.
The most celebrated formulation the
dogma of theosis can be found in the writ-
ing of the fourth century bishop Athanasius
of Alexandria, defender of orthodoxy, who
dared to teach that “God became man so
that man could become god . . .” The formulation can sound profoundly radical to
those whose spiritual understanding has
been formed under the dominant theological motif of human sinfulness characteristic of the western Church, namely, that the
Incarnation is motivated by God’s required
atonement for human sinfulness and human sinning. The two views are complementary points of entrance into the event
that is always mystery, the mystery of
Christ. The Orthodox path focuses on the
beauty of the divine gift, the beauty that
finds expression in “the uncreated light”
breaking through in the Transfiguration of
Christ’s body and in the mystical transformation of the saints.
Nes provides an appendix citing New
Testament texts and Orthodox liturgical
texts for meditation that speak of Transfiguration, as well as extensive citations of
patristic and medieval texts from Origin,
Gregory of Nazians and Gregory of Nyssa,
John Chrysostom, John Climacus and John
of Damascus, Symeon “the New Theologian” and Gregory Palamas.
There is richness in the book that offers
spiritual insight, both through the visual
and the conceptual. The benefits for the
reader, as always, will be in proportion to
the investment made in reflecting on the
book’s contents. It is a book to return to.
Mary Collins, OSB
Atchison, Kan.
45
BENEDICTINES
Book Reviewers
Joachim Holthaus, OSB, holds a doctorate
in Musicology from the University of
Southern California. A scholar in Gregorian Chant, she directed her community's
schola in a recording of chant. She was a
professor at Mount St. Scholastica College
and Benedictine College for over 30 years.
Marcia Ziska, OSB, is associate director of
Sophia Center, a retreat center in Atchison,
Kansas. She also coordinates the Conference of Benedictine Prioresses Rome program entitled “Deepening Monastic Roots:
A Renewal Experience for Englishspeaking Benedictine Women” held in
Rome each summer.
Sheila Carroll, OSF, is an adjunct staff
member of Sophia Center. She holds a
doctorate in ministry with an emphasis in
mysticism. She has worked in campus ministry and in giving retreats on the
mystics.
Phyllis Thompson is a Benedictine oblate
of Annunciation Monastery in Bismarck,
ND. Retired from university teaching in
Saskatchewan, she lives on Vancouver Island, Canada, and is often invited to give
talks, workshops, and retreats on Benedictine spirituality.
Mary Collins, OSB, holds a doctorate in
liturgy from The Catholic University of
America. She is Professor Emerita at
Catholic University and past prioress of
Mount St. Scholastica, Atchison, Kan.
46
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