current reflections...
Pentecost 2008
A New Heart and a New Spirit
When Sunday is mentioned, most people think of this as the day one goes to church. On other days, we say our prayers, if we have time, and if we are not too tired. Interestingly enough, Meister Eckhart tells us that whatever we are in church we should be the rest of our days.
As Pentecost comes upon us, we are reminded that all of us have an inner sanctuary, to which we can go anytime. It is a quiet and holy place, a Divine Center, where a candle is always burning. It is a sort of home, where there is peace and quiet in the midst of our ever-demanding life. Some of us even have a special spot in our homes where it is easier to enter this inner sanctuary, a special chair or a window.
The inner chapel is also the home of the Spirit, who speaks to us. In this sacred spot, whether we feel holy or not, we become aware of the fact that our hearts are always seeking God. This same Spirit, who could also be called “the sheltering nearness of God”, will never leave us and is closest to us when we are in need. Furthermore the Spirit comes to help us accept ourselves and to be with us as we attempt to face life bravely with all its beauty and agony, and to say yes to whatever may come. This Spirit of God sees our own goodness and builds upon it.
As mentioned in the Liturgy of Pentecost, the Spirit is given to us as a Comforter, a Gentle Rest whenever we are tired, a Solace in our tears and as a God who wants to heal us. In the Book of Ezekiel (36:26-27), we hear God saying with great tenderness: “I will give you a new heart and place a new spirit within you. Furthermore, I will put my spirit within you.” It would appear that all God wants from us is to say yes to this tenderness.
Easter 2008
Easter In The Heart
One of my favorite quotes through the years has been that of Blaise Pascal: “The heart has its reasons which reason does not know.” On my own, I used to take the liberty of changing it to “The heart has its seasons.” However, recently, I have come to know that, indeed, the heart does have its reasons. I also believe that it is good for us to listen to our hearts.
These days, after a long and challenging winter, I have been meditating on what the heart may be saying. I like to think that every season has its gift. Poet David Whyte, in his poem, Sweet Darkness, writes that there are some things we can only see in the dark. This is encouraging. It seems like it is a good thing to bring forth the gift of the winter, before hastening too quickly into the wonders and beauty of a much awaited spring.
Winter was a good teacher for me. It taught me how to yield. I had a chance to yield when the weather changed my plans, often. I learned to yield when the lights went out, and the light of my life became a candle or flashlight. It also taught me the flip side of things. When the snow covered the trees, bushes and our land, and the sun came out, the beauty was breathtaking, even when I thought we had had enough snow. It was still very beautiful. I remembered the winters when we longed for such a scene. And now, I look forward to the Risen Life of spring. I also pray to meet the Risen Lord. I want to be open should this occur.
So, what are some of the deeper “reasons” and messages of the heart? Sometimes, when I open a book at random, the words that meet me end up being a gift. Recently, in our People’s Companion to the Breviary, I chanced upon a selection by John English, S.J. In a very unusual way, English discusses the meaning of spiritual consolation. Could anything be nicer than Easter consolation?
The writer goes on to say what spiritual consolation is. Spiritual consolation means being drawn toward God who knows us and loves us. Furthermore, when we come to the point where we accept, and take as our own, our unique personal histories, we receive a new experience of spiritual consolation. I do wonder how many of us embrace our own unique personal histories, and see these histories as gift and as a story of God.
This new experience helps us when we come to making decisions. We ask ourselves, “Does the decision before me really fit who I am, and who I am called to be? And, when I look back, will this decision be in harmony with my own unique personal history as God sees it?” With this approach, one comes to a God-given awareness that our personal histories are meaningful and that they are an expression of God’s loving Presence within us.
Sister Mary Jo Loebig, O.C.D
January
2008
The Less Traveled Road
Sometimes, I am courageous enough to page through an old folder containing articles I wrote almost ten years ago. Do I still believe what I wrote then? Has life changed? If the article were written by another author, would I even read it? Along this line, for some reason, periodically, I find myself going back to an article written several years ago, having to do with sidewalks. In fact, it could be entitled The Sidewalks of My Life.
The initial inspiration for the article came from a summer of study at one of our schools of higher learning. Going from class to class, I was struck by the lay-out of the sidewalks. The lay-out was anything but neat and pristine. I suppose one could even say that often there were short cuts from here to there. Upon inquiring, I was told that the authorities waited for paths to be formed naturally, before permanent sidewalks were laid. After that, students were expected to use the sidewalks and not cut across the grass. There was a penalty attached to the latter.
Through the years, I have come to know that we all have our sidewalks, our paths, our ways of living and responding to life. Perhaps, the Lenten season, soon to be upon us, is a good time to take a look at these paths and to study them. It would appear that many of these paths were convenient and came natural to us, due to life's situations and our own personalities. Up until now, these paths may have served us well. Still, we know that God's call always comes anew.
As I ponder this aspect of life, I am wondering if there is a new path God might be asking of us. Possibly, it is a new way of seeing life or what it means to accept the human vocation. It could be that there is an old and familiar path God might be asking us to leave, a faithful path that has done its work.
Many of us are acquainted with the well-known poem of Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken. Again and again, I have found it helpful to pray with this poem. Quietly and interiorly, I place myself at the point where the two roads converge and, like Frost, I look down the two paths as far as I can see. Frost chose the second road, the one less traveled and the one that seemed to want for wear. As the poem goes, this choice made all the difference in his life. Frost told himself that he would keep the first path for another day, knowing full well that he would never be returning this way, again. We seldom do in cases like this.
Probably, the greatest act of love and valor in all of this is trusting that God will show us which new way to go and then walk with us.
Sister Mary Jo Loebig, O.C.D
Advent
2007
To Shine Like The Stars
As I look back on my life, it seems like it has taken me a long time to realize that all the women in our family are, or have been, teachers, with one of our group being a teacher assistant. This includes our mother. Here was a woman who was fond of quoting Scripture, as well as poetry.
One of her quotes that has stayed with me through the years is a saying from the book of Daniel (Dan 12:3): “Those who lead others on to justice shall shine like the stars for all eternity.” Before I entered Carmel, I sometimes assisted at Mass in a chapel that had a choir loft. With great ease, I was able to study the art work in the ceiling. It was full of stars. In holy distraction, I used to wonder which star was mine. For some reason, I have always felt that the quote referred to those who lead others on to goodness of life. One may ask how a person goes about doing this.
I recall a retreat I made some years ago. While reflecting, I realized that I actually do see the goodness in others, and that this goodness is a source of inspiration. I also realized that, at that time, I was not accustomed to acknowledging this goodness, verbally. I just saw it, recognized it, and went on with the task at hand. Now, however, things have changed. I know that seeing goodness in others enables one to see more goodness. Maybe, as human beings we are created to have this happen.
As I meditate further on this Scripture passage, I am inclined to think of the quote as asking us to lead others to discover their own personal and unique goodness. We all have it. Wouldn't it be wonderful if this approach were to spread all over the world?
In Chicken Soup For the Soul , there is a story about a mother with several children who had come upon hard times. As a result, there was not enough money for Christmas gifts. In place of purchasing gifts, the family agreed to write on little slips of paper what they liked most about each other. When they "unwrapped" their gifts on Christmas morning, the youngest child was heard to say, "Gee, Mom, I didn't know they liked me that much!"
Sister Mary Jo Loebig, O.C.D