Posts from the ‘spirituality’ Category
St. Teresa of Avila
Today is the Feast of St. Teresa of Avila (1515-1582). She was a Doctor of the Church, also a mystic and writer – and truly a practical, down-to-earth woman who saw into the heart of God, and truly made a difference in her world. Teresa reformed the Carmelite Order during the very difficult pass in the Catholic Church of the Spanish Inquisition.
Through it all, she kept her marvelous sense of humor. Once, after being thrown from a carriage into the mud, she said to God, “If this is how you treat your friends, it’s no wonder you have so few of them.” She was serious about her spiritual practices and being observant to, what we would call, strict religious practices. Nonetheless, she enjoyed life to the fullest, and encouraged her sisters to do the same. One wonderful story tells how Teresa danced on the table during recreation!
Perhaps it was the beauty of the Spanish countryside that gave her such a sense of passion and the joy of God.
Field of poppies in Spain. Might Teresa have feasted her eyes on these?
Teresa wrote:
Let nothing trouble you, let nothing frighten you.
All things are passing; God never changes.
Patience obtains all things.
The one who possesses God lacks nothing:
God alone suffices.
Did she learn this from the poppies?
Jubilee Farm Labyrinth
View of rocks at the center of the labyrinth at Jubilee Farm.
Before our meetings (of the Dominican Sisters Conference) began at the Motherhouse of the Dominican Sisters of Springfield, I had the opportunity to visit Jubilee Farm, which is a Center for Ecology and Spirituality, sponsored by the sisters. After I had taken the hiking paths I looked for the labyrinth. I couldn’t spot it anywhere! I expected to see one much like the ones at Mercy Center, Burlingame and Grace Cathedral, San Francisco, and having seen the one in Chartres Cathedral in France.
This labyrinth’s path was cut through a circle of wildflowers. So when I finally asked someone where it was, I was surprised that he simply pointed out an area in the near distance of tall, leggy, bright yellow flowers swaying in the breeze.
The experience of walking this type of labyrinth was very different than walking a path marked by rocks, bricks, or even dyed into a carpet. And while walking this path I made some discoveries:
- Sometimes the path doesn’t always look the way you expect. So be persistent in order to find it.
- When you have trouble finding the path, don’t be afraid to ask for directions.
- There are many beautiful butterflies along the way . It is important to stop along the way and take it all in.
- You can see a long way off here. And here amidst the wildflowers no one would even know that you were traveling along a path if they saw you from a distance.
- Someday you might see someone who looks like they’re just standing amidst wildflowers, but they might really be on a path.
- There are people that keep the path clear so that others can walk it.
- Amidst the tremendous variety of butterflies danger lurks! Wasps!
- Different kinds of labyrinths teach us different lessons, and they are usually the ones we need.
I enjoyed this labyrinth, and because I couldn’t see the path laid out before me as I have on the ones that are marked by stone or brick, I found that it felt more like a labyrinth than any labyrinth I’d ever walked before. I couldn’t see the way out until I got there.
Saint Thérèse de Lisieux
Today, October 1st, is the Feast of Saint Thérèse de Lisieux, so I simply quote her.
I understood that every flower created by Him is beautiful, that the brilliance of the rose and the whiteness of the lily do not lessen the perfume of the violet or the sweet simplicity of the daisy. I understood that if all the lowly flowers wished to be roses, nature would no longer be enameled with lovely hues. And so it is in the world of souls, Our lord’s living garden.
― Saint Thérèse de Lisieux
Ash Wednesday Thoughts
I never thought my Ash Wednesday reflection would begin with the Los Angeles Times, but it has. Tim Rutten quotes Cardinal Mahoney this morning:
According to the calendar, Ash Wednesday occurs [today] and we begin another Lent,” he writes. “Except for this year. Lent actually began in 2007 for many thousands of families all across the Archdiocese of Los Angeles, and we have been in a long and protracted season of Lent ever since. . .
In prior years when life and our financial security were far more predictable, Lent meant that we could choose which special sacrifices we wanted to undertake — but just for six weeks, until Easter Sunday. And then back to normal. But now we have a new reality: We aren’t choosing our sacrifices this year, they have chosen us. And they aren’t just for six weeks; they have been our burden for over 75 weeks now with no sign of relief in sight.
I’m sure I could never express Ash Wednesday thoughts any better than this. Certainly, all of our citizens who are unemployed and face layoffs are praying in the words of the prophet Joel, “Spare, O LORD, your people, and make not your heritage a reproach, with the nations ruling over them! Why should they say among the peoples, ‘Where is their God?’” (Joel 2:17-18)
And so, as I refrain from taking a second helping, or piece of cake, or my favorite selection of See’s candy, I would like to keep in mind those people who do not have the luxury of refraining from anything. As I head out this day on the long drive from San Francisco to Southern California ( a trek down Highway 5 that many might consider penitential), may I keep in mind those who are enslaved and imprisoned in sexual trafficking and do not have the luxury of freedom of movement.
May the things that I refrain from serve to make me more mindful of others. And may mindfulness become a practice that stays with me beyond Ash Wednesday, and well beyond Lent.
A Poem – Ephphatha!
When I read the Gospel reading for today, Mark 7:31-37, I was reminded of this poem that I wrote on April 30, 1995, when I was in the novitiate.
Who can hear what is not spoken,
the cry that never parts lips,
the secret, un-whispered desires
never uttered, never stammered?
Who, but one who listens deeply?
Listens deeply and hears.
Hears the hunger of the crowds for true bread,
the searching heart of Zaccheus atop a sycamore,
the desperation of a Canaanite mother, willing to be……
….dog.
Yes, one who listens deeply
hears the lonely heart of a woman at a well,
hears the trembling fear of one grown weak from loss of blood.
Yes, one who listens deeply
hears the cry of the poor,
hears one’s own voice deep within,
hears the very heartbeat of God.
Yes, there is one who…
but for me
It all takes too much time!
this listening business.
(bus-i-ness
a still, quiet kind of busy-ness)
Listen in prayer.
Listen in conversation.
Listen to the footsteps of birds in flight.
Take time. Pay attention.
Allow God’s voice to sift through a screen of distractions.
“I vow obedience means I promise to pray.” (Carrol)
Attend to the multiple faces,
the many voices,
the reaching hands of God.
What might happen?
…if I did.
Listen (on purpose) I mean. Pay attention.
Would hearing improve?
…ears be opened?
Ephphatha!
Have I, too, been deaf since birth?
…had ears to hear?
Could my heart be opened?
Ephphatha!
They want me to do what?
(don’t let them become they)
Ephphatha!
“It’ll take you and a good wrestling team
to get me to be open to that!”
EPHPHATHA!
Yes, be open.
(even if it takes wrestling with a god)
To allow myself to be surprised at
where, when, how
God’s voice is heard.
In the wisdom of creation,
in the inspired words of Scripture,
in the life and teachings of Jesus,
in the accumulated wisdom of the…tradition,
in the word and example of [others],
in the voices that speak to us of the needs of our world,
and in the directives of…legitimate authority.
(Constitutions of the Dominican Sisters of San Rafael)
And then to
respond.
Whole heartedly, unreservedly,
(is that possible?) without measure.
Joyfully! (that too?)
Not looking back after putting hand to plow.
Without complaint (not me!),
Without longing for what could have been,
what once was (yet grieving the loss).
In Ecclesiastes it is said,
Whatever your hand finds to do,do it with all of your might. (Eccl. 9:10)
No cosmic scavenger hunt, this.
And Paul,
Whatever you do, do it heartily as to the Lord alone and not for those you serve,
knowing that of the Lord you shall receive the reward of the inheritance, for you serve the Lord Christ.
(Col. 3:23-24)
Listen (deeply)
Hear (openly)
Respond (generously)
Walking into a New Year
As long as I have been in St. Dominic’s parish in San Francisco, about 13 years now, we have received Epiphany packets so that we can bless and chalk our doors. We write the letters C, M, B, suggesting the names of Caspar, Melchior, and Balthazar – the names of the Magi, as well as the first letters of the words “Cristus Mansionem Bendicat” – “May Christ bless this dwelling.” I like to think that it is not only a blessing of our homes, but also a blessing upon our comings and our goings, since that is what a doorway symbolizes. It also is a symbol of hospitality, as it is the place at which we welcome our guests. And as we stand in the doorway of 2009, it is where we welcome this new year.
I am reminded of the Jewish practice of attaching a mezuzah to the doorpost. In doing this, the Jews remember God’s protection of their ancestors at the time of the great Exodus from the land of Egypt, as well as God’s protection and faithfulness on their long and difficult journey. Doorways hold much meaning.
Now our Epiphany blessing is a short liturgy in which we mark these doorways, as we ask God’s blessing upon those who live in the home within or visit throughout the coming year. So of course we would do this as we begin each New Year. I think it is especially fitting that we bless our homes in this way on the Feast of the Epiphany, or for that matter, anytime in January. For, do you know where we get the name, January? Well, we get it from the name of a Roman god, Janus.
Now Janus was the god of beginnings and endings – the god of gates, doors and doorways. Fitting, don’t you think? Who could have planned this little bit of serendipity? There is a bust of him in the Vatican Museum, and he has two faces, one is looking forward, and the other is looking backwards. So while he is gazing into the new – the future, at the same time he is looking back into the past.
And isn’t that exactly what we do at the beginning of a New Year? We look forward and backward . . . . with a mixture of emotions. We can look at the year behind us and remember the things that brought us joy as well as sadness. And we look forward into the unknown . . . with guesses and projections . . . . with hopes as well as fears. For we do not know what lies ahead.
I walk through this doorway into the New Year with the hope that my sisters and I will remain true to our vocation as Dominicans who preach through their lives as well as their words – and that our lives reflect the words we speak. Moreover, I hope to be faithful to this blog this year! May we have a peace-filled 2009.
