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Lent 2006

Finding Our Pathway

Recently, a new book found its way into our monastery, the title being Falling Into the Arms of God , by Megan Don. It is a meditative presentation of St. Teresa’s Interior Castle . The very title is inviting and soothing.

In the Collected Works of St. Teresa of Avila , St. Teresa is quoted as saying: “It is important to understand that God does not lead all by one path.” (Vol. II, 99 ) While this may be true, often the way is not clear. Also, we all know what it feels like to walk a path that is not really meant for us. We are unique, and so are our pathways.

We may question just how one actually goes about finding this unique path. It seems like Lent is a good time to ponder such a question. Have there been times when we have actually fled God down labyrinthine ways as we tried to search for a path we thought would be our fulfillment? On the other hand, we may be on the right path and not know it.

If we think about, there may be signs indicating which way to go. For example, let us take just one day, recently. Can we say that our responses to all that happened that particular day were connected to our inner source, to our inner God? Did we even take time to reflect on this?

When was the last time we actually experienced deep peace? Where there is true peace, there is God. Looking back over our lives, and tracing the patterns of peace, is also helpful. Then, too, there is that certain event that seemed to light a fire within us. It may have been a casual happening or just a simple statement by someone. Something within us resonated. We found ourselves thinking, ”That’s it! That’s really it.”

Strange as it may seem, vulnerability is also a part of our treasured path. In this, God walks with us. God wants to guide us, hold us and comfort us.

Sometimes, there really does not seem to be a sign that we are walking the path that is meant for us. Actually, it could feel like the opposite. We may feel just plain lost, and without a guide. Usually, this is only for a time, and not meant to be forever. During these moments, we are asked to be quiet and to trust. Even though we do not see the path ahead, God does see it, and will not let us down. Later, when we look back, we will see how everything fits together.

Sister Mary Jo Loebig, O.C.D.

January 2006

The Gift That Remains

There is a beautiful quote making its rounds these days. It goes like this:

When the song of the angels is stilled,

when the star in the sky is gone,

when kings and princes are home,

when shepherds are back with their flocks,

then the work of Christmas begins. Howard Thurman

We all know that hollow feeling inside of us when the decorations come down, and the carols are put away until another Christmas. We call it “Ordinary Time”. Here, at the Monastery, we keep Christmas to the very last moment.

From another perspective, I like to think that each Christmas gives us a new and special gift that we are to hold and cherish and allow to unfold after the formal season has come to a close. The writer of the First Letter of John, says, in effect, “Let what you have received and experienced remain in your heart.” So, in actuality, the real Christmas begins when the decorations come down.

The least we can do, then, is ask ourselves what this new gift might be? The gift could be as simple and direct as a new insight. The insight I received this Christmas is the realization that our true unique personalities are God-given and not something we ourselves put together.

The gift could be a new insight about God or about ourselves, or a new way to pray. It could be the gift of being shown how to let go of a worry, or the discovery of a hidden source of courage and determination. If we continue to meditate on this, we might find that we have been given the gift of letting go of our defenses, a renewed sense of trust, or a new way of going out to the brokenhearted near us.

In closing the season of Christmas, here at the Monastery, this was the blessing given at Evening Praise on the Feast of the Epiphany:

Gracious God, send your Spirit to bless each one of us individually and as

a group. Be with us as we journey onward, and give us signs that we are on the

right path.

Loving God, during the coming year, when we need it most, show us the star

that came to be on the day or night we were born. With great sincerity, we pray

that the light of this humble star might shine on those who need it most, bringing

them comfort and encouragement and a sense of the nearness of God.

Now that the angels have stopped singing, and the shepherds are back with their

flocks, and the kings are on their way home by a different route, be our God-With-Us

as we adventure forth with the gift you have given, the gift that remains. .

Sister Mary Jo Loebig, O.C.D.

Christmas 2005

To Know With the Heart

It just comes. We don't even ask for it. During Advent, it increases. We notice that other people have it, too. We call it the “Christmas Spirit,” that warm and gentle affect that comes upon us, envelops us, around this time of year.

Not too long ago, I attended a lecture, in which the speaker (on video) briefly addressed the different charisms of Religious Orders. He pointed out that each group brings to the world a unique wisdom of God. For example, with St. Francis of Assisi , it was the deep and certain poverty of God within us that brings about an unsurpassed joy, richness and inner freedom. St. Benedict brought to the world many different wisdoms, one being that of monastic peace and inner harmony and the effect these have on the human spirit. Being a Dominican himself, Fr. Timothy Radcliffe pointed out that, for Dominicans, the wisdom they bring to the world is that of the unknowable God. This was the first time I had heard it said so clearly that God is unknowable.

John McKenzie, in his Dictionary of the Bible , tells us that the Israelites of old only “knew” with their heart. Their language did not even have a word, as we do in English, conveying the idea of “knowing” with the mind or intellect. For them, to know was to experience. They believed that, gradually, experience leads to acceptance, and that acceptance leads to action. Furthermore, for the Israelite, to know was to have a felt experience. In reading this, I realized that Christmas is an affair of the heart. That's why we are visited with the Christmas spirit at this time of year. Although we cannot know God as such, we can experience God, (even God's absence when that happens.) All of this is difficult to put into words. Actually, the same kind of phenomenon happens with other people. We experience them, and the experience leads to relationship. The beautiful thing about all this is that God also desires to have a felt experience of us. This is what happens at Christmas.

Usually at Christmastime, we are not even aware that the felt experience of being known by God is upon us. However, because of this, most of us do find it easier to love at this time. As Dante says, “Here comes a Love that will make all our other loves possible.” And, because of this Love, we get drawn into relationship. What is more, the Christmas spirit has a gentle strength. It seems to pervade the most unlikely places.

I recall that some years ago, for some strange reason, on December 24, I had to take the monastery car in to have it repaired. It was even difficult to find a place that was open for this kind of thing. Finally, I found one. It was on Middle Road . A rough and tumble sort of fellow was on deck to take care of my difficulty. All the while that he was working, I found myself thinking: “Why in the world is this happening the day before Christmas?” As I prepared to write out the check, the man looked me straight in the eye and said, “No charge. It's Christmas!” I couldn't believe it. I think of this story every Christmas.

Sister Mary Jo Loebig, O.C.D.

September 2005

The Inexpressible Closeness of God

I have found that spending time in a waiting room is not so bad after all. It is especially life-giving if one takes one's own reading material along. There is a sort of paraliturgy that seems to overtake me as I prepare to leave the house. Hurriedly, I find a book that will, more or less, fit into my purse. (It occurs to me that I usually end up selecting the same kind of reading material each time.) Out of respect for books in general, I usually put a rubber band around the book to safeguard its pages. Who knows, I may be on my way to encountering God.

Lately, my waiting room excursions have brought me into the writings of Karl Rahner, S.J. Many times, what I read follows me home, sometimes even into the days that follow. Fr. Rahner addresses the on-going activity of God within us. Most people are acquainted with the idea of God dwelling within, even though this Presence may be viewed as somewhat static. St. Teresa of Avila speaks of the sun in the interior of the soul from which a brilliant light proceeds. Teresa, herself, was often in conversation with the One, dwelling within. St. John of the Cross, in his Dark Night , sets out on his inward journey with no other light to guide him except the light that burned within. Carl Jung speaks of the heaven, whole and unbroken, within all of us. However, there is another aspect to all of this. As creatures, we not only stay in existence because of God's continuing creation, but this same God is actually quite active within us. Should we say busy?

In looking back, sometimes, we might find ourselves saying: “How did I ever make it through that ordeal?” It seems like the more important question is: “What was God doing within me at the time? Fr, Rahner attributes this activity to the abiding Spirit of God. With the coming of Jesus, we experience the “human face” of God. But with the coming of the Spirit, we experience the “inexpressible closeness of God”, to use an expression coined by Jurgen Moltmann. God is interiorly present, not as a static Presence, but as a profound dynamic Presence, a Presence that takes us beyond where we are to a place where we become something more than we are. How many of us have ever thought of such an activity going on within us? What is more, this dynamic activity of God generally leads to something new.

Such thinking prompts me to believe that maybe some of our disappointments, or plans that have gone awry, are not really the setbacks they seem to be, but are, instead, the embracing “inexpressible closeness of God” bringing us to something new and beautiful in ourselves, something that has been there in secret all along.

Sister Mary Jo Loebig, O.C.D.

July 2005

The Way Of Carmel

Is Carmel really for everyone? Before we address this, perhaps we should discuss a related question, namely: What is Carmel?

As we return to these questions, the same response seems to emerge. Carmel is a deep longing for God and a believing that this longing can be satisfied even in this life. Many spiritual writers feel that this longing is part of our identity as human beings. They tell us that when we become entangled with life’s trivia, it is this longing that brings us back to center. Furthermore, we know from experience that this longing grows stronger with delay.

However, there are other aspects of Carmel. The Way of Carmel brings us face to face with all that is deeply human. The one who walks this particular way must be willing to embrace the sufferings, hopes and longings of all humanity as his or her own.

The beauty of Carmel is that it leads us to real joy and brings us to an awareness of our own goodness. It also teaches us how to weather the storm.

If Carmel is a longing for God, and all that such a longing entails, then indeed, Carmel is for everyone.

I will lead you into the land of Carmel, and there

I will speak tenderly to your heart.

Sister Mary Jo Loebig, O.C.D.

PENTECOST 2005

Pentecost and Our Innermost Heart

    Is it even possible to grasp the meaning of this day? Every once in awhile, I recall something that happened to me way back when I was a very young Sister. I was going up the stairs to the choir loft coming back from Communion one day, when I became aware of the fact that I – or someone – was singing a song inside of me. It was a new experience. This must be what they mean by the Spirit praying within us, I thought.

    Fr. Rahner points out that Pentecost is the day on which the innermost heart of the all-holy God becomes the center of our own hearts and every part of our human reality. We receive from God not merely a gift, but the very gift, who is God. God gives God to us. And, we call that gift the Holy Spirit. The message of Pentecost, then, is that God is our God. These are glad tidings. Not only this, but the Spirit is the seal that stamps us as belonging entirely to God.

    The only nightfall we will ever experience from this time on is not accepting God into our very being. This Spirit comes to join our own person and personality, and enlivens and strengthens whatever natural gifts that came to us at birth. And when we pray, all we need do is quietly and humbly listen to what the Spirit may be praying within us.

    Every year, on Pentecost day, the Spirit comes to us in a new way. This year, I find myself praying the prayer of St. Augustine:

“Late have I loved you, O Beauty ever ancient and ever new. Late have I loved you.

Behold, you were within me, and I was outside, and there I sought you. You were with

me, and I did not know it. You called out to me and broke open my deafness. You shone

upon me and scattered my blindness. You breathed fragrance, and I drew in breath.

Now, I pant for you.

You touched me, O God, and I have been translated into your peace.”

Sister Mary Jo Loebig, O.C.D.

Easter 2005

A New Experience of God

    At the end of a long narrow corridor here in the monastery, and not far from our mail table, there is a rather large bulletin board. On it are posted all the prayer requests that come by phone or mail. Even though it is a very large board, frequently, we are not able to find just a wee little space for one more request. It is our custom to pray for these requests not only at Mass but at Morning and Evening Prayer as well.

    As I pass this board these days, I become acutely aware of the suffering and the need of God’s people. I find myself praying that all these people, and situations, will be touched by the light of Easter. Somehow, I must believe that the Risen One is at the Heart of the World and that all of us, as a result, have a new and secret inner strength. Certainly, this is what is meant by the words: “ The Lord is truly risen,” with the accent being on the word “truly”.

    It occurs to me that we would see the touch of Easter in every event that happens to us, if only we would take time to reflect. From the first moment of the Resurrection, everything that could or would happen to us held, and still holds, within itself a hidden victory. The Risen One has come back to us in a new way.

    In a recent community newsletter, we spoke of the habits of eagles. When eagles see a storm coming, they fly above it and allow the winds to carry them. In the Letter to the Philippians (3:10), St Paul longs to know the Risen One and to experience the power of the Resurrection. We know from our own experience that Resurrection strength may come in various forms. It can even come as gentleness. There are times when we may be called to face things head on. At other times, we could be called to ride above the storm on wings of the wind.

    At any rate, after winter comes the spring, and with it Easter. It happens every year, and it happens in every life. (Rev. Joseph McCoy, S.M., adapted)

Sister Mary Jo Loebig, O.C.D.

March 2005

Mary Teresa Reflection

    On March 12, 2005, our Sister Mary Teresa Nies completed the last step of her journey on this good earth and was caught up into the waiting and warm embrace of God. Although our little Irish Australian Sister was only four feet, eleven and one-half inches tall, she had a great influence on all who knew her.

    In coming to Carmel, she said she wanted to give her life to God. One of her outstanding traits was her utter selflessness. Sister Mary Teresa was always there for others and generally felt she was not doing enough for God.

    The Carmelite Community of Eldridge has already begun to miss Sister greatly. This little Sister deeply loved life in all its aspects. At the Mass of the Resurrection, the Carmelite Community told her to gather up all her Irish mischief and to go forth into the arms of God. They also asked her to return and to spend her heaven doing good upon earth.

Sister Mary Jo Loebig, O.C.D.

Sr. Mary Teresa Nies, O.C.D.

Funeral Homily - March 16, 2005

St. Ann's Church; Long Grove

Rev. Edmond J. Dunn

Janurary 2005

A Constant Calling

    Early one morning, after the biggest blizzard (so far) of the season, I searched the bookshelf for a bit of inspiration for the day ahead, and chanced, again, upon Dag Hammarskjold’s Markings . There it was on page 205, a reflection too beautiful and too deep to shorten. It read:

“ I don’t know Who – or what – put the question. I don’t know when it was put. I don’t even remember answering. But at some moment, I did answer Yes to Someone – or Something – and from that hour I was certain that existence is meaningful and that, therefore, my life, in self-surrender, had a goal. From that moment I have known what it means ‘ not to look back,’ and ‘to take no thought of the morrow.’”

    I am impressed with the fact that Hammarskjold mentions that it is in self-surrender that our lives have a goal. I also think of my long-time close friend who was fond of saying that a vocation (no matter what that might be) is a constant calling, and not just a one-time event. The calling is there every day.

    Robert Frost talks about The Road Not Taken . Perhaps, it would be better to meditate on the road that, indeed, was taken. Strange as it may seem, we may find that it was not we who chose the road, but God. All along, Another has been arranging different events, pleasant and unpleasant, to form the road that would be the best for us and which would, ultimately, bring us deep peace and meaning. Looking back, we may come to see that this kindness on the part of God was one of our greatest gifts.

    There is no looking back, even if we want to, and there is no real need to worry about the morrow. The only important thing is the road before us.

Sister Mary Jo Loebig, O.C.D.

Christmas 2004

When Will I Know?

    I paid no attention to it. I was on a mission to buy shoes, and furthermore, just the right kind of shoes. However, in the midst of my engrossment, and encased in the shoe department, I felt a little tug from behind, from another reality. I continued with my research, however. Finally, the little tug carried with it a wee little voice. “Grandma, Grandma,” it said. I turned and saw behind me a beautiful little girl about three or four years old. She kept on tugging, a “Grandma, Grandma, “ with each tug. There was no accompanying adult near. I found myself saying, “O Honey, do you need a grandma? I’ll be your grandma.” However, within a few rather long minutes the child’s mother did emerge. “She calls everybody grandma,” the mother said. I knew better, of course. The child did feel that I would be a good grandma. The very thought of this was better than new shoes.

    I feel that everyone needs a grandma, or at least a great aunt, or maybe just some kindly teacher who has gone ahead and blazed a trail. Way back, before Carmel became an established Order, there were townspeople who went to the desert thinking that they could get closer to God in that setting, away from the rush of the city. Not long after that, other townspeople came after them and knocked at the doors of their huts. “Tell us what you have learned about God,” they said. I thought of this, recently, when I had the opportunity to visit with my grandnephews one quiet evening. These are fine young men, who are now given the task to lead others to goodness, and who are just beginning to blaze a trail for others. Their questions are always so unique and special.

    This particular evening, I was reminded of a Hasidic tale in which the rabbi and his students were having a discussion as to when they would be able to tell when dawn had come. In usual style, the first two responses were not correct. “Is it dawn when I am able to distinguish between the sheep and the shepherd on the hill?” one said. “No,” said the rabbi. “Is it dawn when everything becomes quiet and there is a faint glow in the east?” asked the other. “No,” said the rabbi. The story closes with a word of wisdom from the rabbi, shedding light on one of the deeply hidden mysteries of life.

    At this time of year, a modern version of this tale would go something like this:

    The teacher asks: “When will you know it is Christmas?” The first student queries, “Will I know it is Christmas when I see a bright star in the sky and a candle in the window?” “No,” says the teacher. “Will I know it is Christmas when I awake and see the countryside covered with snow?” asks the second. “No,” says the teacher. Using the words of the rabbi, the teacher goes on to say, “You will know it is Christmas when you can look into the face of other human beings and you have enough light within yourself to recognize them as your brothers and sisters.” As Catherine McAuley so beautifully said, “In great mercy and love, God has given us one and another.”

Sister Mary Jo Loebig, O.C.D.

September 2004

Those Little Promptings



    It is said that C.G. Jung used to ask his clients what they were doing one hour before they came to see him. Like him, there are those who believe that if we examine one small fragment of our day, it pretty much demonstrates how we approach life in general. We could say that the dynamic of any event also reveals how uniquely God works within us. Somewhat related to this is what spiritual writers used to call actual grace, those little God-given promptings within to do this or that. We find ourselves saying, “It just came to me out of nowhere.”

    There is a story told of a young fellow who chose to work among God’s poor. One day, with duffle bag in hand, he hurriedly mounted a bus, that evidently had windows one could open. As he seated himself and caught his breath, he looked out the window only to see one of his shoes lying on the ground. Because of time and circumstance, there was no way he could retrieve it. With that, he opened his duffle bag, took out the other shoe and tossed it out the window, landing it next to its partner. That way, the finder would have a pair of shoes. It would appear that this one incident says much about this fellow’s approach to life in general. Obviously he had little time to reflect, and with that, acted spontaneously.

    Returning to the concept of actual grace, there certainly are times when, after much effort and searching, we find that we do not know what course to follow since there seems to be no obvious prompting present. Thomas Merton suggests that, when this happens, it is good to pause, wait in surrender, do nothing and allow intuition to act within us. At such times, dynamics from a bigger picture may enter in to help us and to give us clarity on the situation. At other times, the prompting may come in the guise of restlessness. Not intending to found anything new, it was restlessness that moved St. Teresa of Avila to found a new expression of Carmel, based on her own personal experience of God.

    Sometimes, we may feel called to take no action at all, to let things take care of themselves and to leave everything in the hands of God. This is also a grace. Truly, one can only surmise that such a contemplative love offering of trust and surrender must be very beautiful in the eyes of God and something that, in some way, benefits the world.

Sister Mary Jo Loebig, O.C.D.

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