Feast of the Transfiguration and the Story of the Invisible Gorilla (Reprised)

Transfiguration by Lewis Bowman

Have you ever been walking along a well-known road and suddenly had a bed of flowers take on a vividness which takes your breath away? Similarly, have you ever been walking along or sitting quietly outside when a breeze rustles some leaves above your head and you were struck by an image of the Spirit moving through the world? I have had both happen, and, in the face of God's constant presence, what is in some ways more striking is how infrequent such peak moments are.

Scientists tell us we see only a fraction of what goes on all around us. It depends upon our expectations. In an experiment with six volunteers divided into two teams in either white or black shirts, observers were asked to concentrate on the number of passes of a basketball that occurred as players wove in and out around one another. In the midst of this activity a woman in a gorilla suit strolls through, stands there for a moment, thumps her chest, and moves on. At the end of the experiment observers were asked two questions: 1) how many passes were there, and 2) did you see the gorilla? Fewer than 50% saw the gorilla. Expectations drive perception and can produce blindness. Even more shocking, these scientists tell us that even when we are confronted with the truth we are more likely to insist on our own "knowledge" and justify decisions we have made on the basis of blindness and ignorance. We routinely overestimate our own knowledge and fail to see how much we really do NOT know.

For the past two weeks we have been reading the central chapter of Matthew's Gospel --- the chapter that stands right smack in the middle of his version of the Good News. It is Matt's collection of Jesus' parables --- the stories Jesus tells to help break us open and free us from the common expectations, perspectives, and wisdom we hang onto so securely so that we might commit to the Kingdom of God and the vision of reality it involves. Throughout this collection of parables Jesus takes the common, too-well-known, often underestimated and unappreciated bits of reality which are right at the heart of his hearers' lives. He uses them to reveal the extraordinary God who is also right there in front of his hearers. Stories of tiny seeds, apparently completely invisible once they have been tossed about by a prodigal sower, clay made into works of great artistry and function, weeds and wheat which reveal a discerning love and judgment which involves the careful and sensitive harvesting of the true and genuine --- all of these and more have given us the space and time to suspend our usual ways of seeing and empower us to adopt the new eyes and hearts of those who dwell within the Kingdom of God.

It was the recognition of the unique authority with which Jesus taught, the power of his parables in particular which shifted the focus from the stories to the storyteller in the Gospel passage we heard last Friday. Jesus' family and neighbors did not miss the unique nature of Jesus' parables; these parables differ in kind from anything in Jewish literature and had a singular power which went beyond the usual significant power of narrative. They saw this clearly. But they also refused to believe the God who revealed himself in the commonplace reality they saw right in front of them. Despite the authority they could not deny they chose to see only the one they expected to see; they decided they saw only the son of Mary, the son of Joseph and "took offense at him." Their minds and hearts were closed to who Jesus really was and the God he revealed. Similarly, Jesus' disciples too could not really accept an anointed one who would have to suffer and die. Peter especially refuses to accept this.

It is in the face of these situations that we hear today's Gospel of the Transfiguration. Jesus takes Peter, James, and John up on a mountain apart. He takes them away from the world they know (or believe they know) so well, away from peers, away from their ordinary perspective, and he invites them to see who he really is. In the Gospel of Luke Jesus' is at prayer --- attending to the most fundamental relationship of his life --- when the Transfiguration occurs. Matthew does not structure his account in the same way. Instead he shows Jesus as the one whose life is a profound dialogue with God's law and prophets, who is in fact the culmination and fulfillment of the Law and the Prophets, the culmination of the Divine-Human dialogue we call covenant. He is God-with-us in the unexpected and even unacceptable place. This is what the disciples see --- not so much a foretelling of Jesus' future glory as the reality which stands right in front of them --- if only they had the eyes to see.

For most of us, such an event would freeze us in our tracks with awe. But not Peter! He outlines a project to reprise the Feast of Tabernacles right here and now. In this story Peter reminds me some of those folks (myself included!) who want so desperately to hang onto amazing prayer experiences --- but in doing so, fail to appreciate them fully or live from them! He is, in some ways, a kind of lovable but misguided buffoon ready to build booths for Moses, Elijah and Jesus, consistent with his tradition while neglecting the newness and personal challenge of what has been revealed. In some way Matt does not spell out explicitly, Peter has still missed the point. And in the midst of Peter's well-meaning activism comes God's voice, "This is my beloved Son. Listen to him!" In my reflection on this reading this last weekend, I heard something more: "Peter! Sit down! Shut up! This is my beloved Son! Listen to him!!!"

The lesson could not be clearer, I think. In this day where the Church is conflicted and some authority seems incredible, we must take the time to see what is right in front of us. We must listen to the One who comes to us in the Scriptures and Sacraments, the One who speaks to us through Bishops and all believers. We must really be the People of God, the "hearers of the Word" who know how to listen and are obedient in the way God summons us to be. This is true whether we are God's lowliest hermit or one of the Vicars of Christ who govern our dioceses and college of Bishops. Genuine authority coupled with true obedience empowers new life, new vision, new perspectives and reverence for the ordinary reality God makes Sacramental. There is a humility involved in all of this. It is the humility of the truly wise, the truly knowing person. We must be able to recognize how very little we see, how unwilling we are to be converted to the perspective of the Kingdom, how easily we justify our blindness and deafness with our supposed knowledge, and how even our well-intentioned activism can prevent us from seeing and hearing the unexpected, sometimes scandalous God standing there right in the middle of our reality.

Update: Letter from Dominican Sisters in/of Iraq

Dominican Sisters in better days (2013)

Dear Sisters, Brothers, and Friends,

Thank you for journeying with us through prayers and support in the past few months. It really is a time of peril and we are hoping that a miracle from God will end all that. So far, 510 families have been displaced from Mosul. Some were fortunate to leave before the deadline ISIS set as they were able to take their belongings with them. However, 160 families of them left Mosul with only their clothes on; everything they had was taken away from them.

These families are in so much need of help and support. People in Christian towns that received these refugees opened their homes to provide shelters and food for them, as much as they could. People are strongly willing to help, but the fact that they did not have their salaries for two months (June- July) makes it extremely difficult for them to offer more. As the salaries of government employees in areas under ISIS control are being suspended. Additionally, because of the present situation in Mosul and the whole province (of Nineveh) the economy of the state is suffering, which naturally affects everyone. Since the tension started in Mosul, many people lost their jobs as 99% of jobs stopped, which means there is hardly any money to be used let alone loaning to those who are in need. This is not only in the province of Nineveh, but also in Erbil. Moreover, all Christians in the plain of Nineveh have not received their food supplement, which the government used to provide via the smart ration card. This is causing a crisis not only for the refugees, but also for the residents in the area.

However, the church is calling people to open their homes for refugees as there are some families staying in Church’s halls with limited space and public services in Nineveh plain. But in Karakosh, residents and churches are collaborating. Residents are welcoming refugees in their homes and churches are providing for them; therefore, refugees prefer to come to Karakosh. Additionally, the church, with the help of Christian endowment, is planning to provide caravans as kind of accommodations for the time being. This project, however, seems to take longer time than expected.

As you perhaps know, concerning the situation in Mosul, the Islamic State has a policy in governing the city. After displacing the Christians, they started their policy concerning the holy places that angered people. So far, the churches are under their control; crosses have been taken off. But we are not sure about the extent of the damaged done in them. In addition to that, a few mosques have been affected, too. The ISIS destroyed two mosques with their shrines last week: the mosque of Prophet Sheeth (Seth) and the mosque of the Prophet Younis, or Jonah, said to be the burial place of Jonah. The militants claim that such mosques have become places for apostasy, not prayer. This was really too painful for all people as Jonah’s shrine was considered as a monument. Also, it was a historical place as it was built on an old church. Destroying such places is a destruction of our heritage and legacy.

Besides, ISIS is setting some rules that even Mosul residents cannot tolerate. Like forcing young people to join them, preventing women to go out, and enforcing the strict interpretation of Islamic law.

People in towns around Mosul are afraid that ISIS would extend their control after the Muslim Feast holidays. This period of Muslim feast was a kind of intermission, but no one knows what to expect next. In fact, they have already started. The ISIS are extending their controlled zone. Yesterday (Aug 3) there were encounters between ISIS and Pashmerga outside of Mosul to the north. Meanwhile, the central government is attacking the ISIS  in Mosul. Most of Christians in towns of Batnaya and Telkaif have left their homes because they are very close to Mosul. The situation in Karkush is in the present time is calm. But this causes fear and horror among Christians and that’s why some families from Karkush are leaving to Kurdistan, some have plans to leave the country, and some are staying. This in any case weakens Christians' feeling of belonging to the country.

We are surprised that some countries of the world are silent about what is happening. We hoped that there would be stronger international approach toward Iraq, and Christians in Iraq in general.

As for us as community, our sisters in Batnaya and Telkaif had to leave the town with 99% of people who left because of violence outside the town. We have had our annual retreat on the 20^th of July. That gave us opportunity to pray for Iraq and our Christian community during this time of peril.

Dominican Sisters of Saint Catherine of Siena –Iraq.

August 4^th 2014

A Contemplative Moment: The Silence of Solitude

The Silence of Solitude

"Solitude has nothing to do with existential neurosis, but is rather a creative search for the flame of love that burns in God's heart. . . .What occupies the center. . .is the existential solitude of God himself. This is what the human heart wants to absorb and this is where it wants to rest. The eremitic solitude is in no case a fruitless and spiritually empty isolation, a cold indifference toward people and the world, or a selfish passiveness. Just the opposite, it is a space of redemption, full of spiritual life and meant to accept and change any human distress, sorrow, or fear."

Fr Cornelius Wencel, Er Cam: The Eremitic Life

Followup to Questions about the Value vs the Utility of Eremitical Vocations

Dear Sister your last post on the diocesan eremitical vocation was very positive compared to what I wrote you about [two weeks ago]. (cf, On Maintaining the Distinction between Utility and Value) I am guessing you would disagree with this [included] take on your vocation as well. Could you comment? I believe the immediate context is that this person has petitioned her diocese for canonical status and had not received a response yet (this was written several years ago and she wrote them [her diocese] a couple of months prior to this post). S/he says the vocation need not be credible and is for "good-for-nothings".

[[The hermit vocation is a veritable non-entity in the views of most, of nearly all, even in the Church. Yes, it is written in the Catechism, there is a Canon Law that is applicable, there are saints who have hermit status, and there are a minutia of canonically approved, known hermits in the world. But the remaining souls who are called to the life are veritable non-entities in the non-entity status of their vocation. It is such a non-entity that a response to a request is long in coming, if it ever arrives in the post. An appointment to discuss the vocation, is not of much consequence or importance to the degree that it keeps being put off until "sometime". Yes, we can talk about it "sometime". Now, this may to some in the vocation seem like an insult or a negativity. It is not! It only verifies all the more the vocation for what it is: non-entity status. A hermit's life is so hidden, so undefinable, so inconsequential, so non-this and non-that as to be nothing and worthy of only good-for-nothings.]]

Certainly it is true that this vocation is little known and little understood in today's Church. That is one of the reasons some diocesan hermits have blogs. It is also true that the vocation is counter-cultural and stands in opposition to many of the ways our world measures productivity and status. Hermits, at least among those who do not know them personally, may be thought to be folks who have failed at life, dislike people, are pathologically introspective and many other similar stereotypes. However, the post you are citing from is written by someone waiting for word from her diocese on whether they will work with her to discern a vocation to diocesan eremitical life. The idea that the vocation is undefinable and inconsequential is certainly a misrepresentation which someone petitioning her diocese for admission to canonical standing should not make. Further, she seems upset that she has not gotten a fairly immediate response to her request to do so (she has gotten a response but it seems not to be permission to make vows). In any case, I don't think she is speaking about the counter cultural nature of the vocation itself; rather I think she is feeling dismissed by the diocese and may be being ironic (and perhaps hyperbolic) in this response. (In other words she may be guilty of dealing with disappointment by throwing the baby out with the bathwater, so to speak.)

 I say that because it is sometimes hard to wait for a diocese's response to one's initial request to be considered in this way. However, presumably this difficulty stems from the fact that one really understands that the diocesan eremitical vocation is a significant one and genuinely believes one is called to it by God. It is awfully hard to believe someone who felt the vocation is worthy only of "good-for-nothings" would desire canonical standing or seek to live such an ecclesial vocation. For that matter it is hard to understand why the Church would esteem or VALUE such a vocation enough to recognize and govern it canonically or in this way link it to public rights and obligations as a witness to the work of the Holy Spirit. In fact, the difficulty in getting oneself professed is ordinarily a sign of the value and esteem with which the Church regards this vocation. Only in a handful of situations has it been tied to members of the hierarchy's denigration of the vocation. It does seem to me that this person is speaking of being treated by her diocese like a "good-for-nothing" because they are not responding to her query quickly enough to suit her or because she is "only" a lay hermit. It's a bit hard to tell from this passage if she believes canonical vocations are esteemed while lay eremitical vocations are not. For that reason I checked the post and found the following passage which clarifies a bit more what she is actually saying. She continues:

[[It is the life and work of a slave to a servant. There is no need to rise up in ire, to take offense, to counter that there is worth and value and to try to make the world, even the Catholic world see and understand and validate the vocation. There is no reason to "fight" for status, canonical or non-canonical, either one. There is no need for a support team to encourage sticking with trying to be made "credible" in the eyes of anyone on earth. What is the point? This is not part of the vocation, for the vocation itself is hidden in God through dying into nothingness. The status is thus as a non-entity which is no status at all. And this is a positive.]]

I may have answered a similar question several years ago and what I wrote just a few days ago on the distinction between utility and value and the importance of maintaining that certainly reiterated my disagreement with the exaggerated conclusions arrived at in the cited post. First, canonical standing is not about status in the common sense of prestige or social privilege. As I have written many times here, it is about standing in law as well as in the consecrated state of life, both of which are linked to public rights and obligations the Church entrusts to the person; the person assumes these in the act of professing vows and accepting consecration in the hands of her Bishop. Since it is both a new and an ancient vocation which had effectively died out in the Western Church, it is appropriate that diocesan hermits make this vocation known --- not least so it can be understood and witness in ways which are important to the Church and world. In other words, it is an important way of living and the Church recognizes that by linking it to profession and consecration. Lay eremitical vocations are also of great value; their counter-cultural nature coupled with the fact that they witness generally to the call of all the Baptized to assiduous prayer and genuine holiness is striking.

Secondly, while I agree that perseverance and patience are both necessary, one must recognize that canonical standing IS part of the vocation of the solitary consecrated hermit and is not extraneous to it. When one enters the consecrated state of life that state of life is constituted by the rights and obligations one embraces and is entrusted with. Thus, as I have noted before, while one can never change the fact that one has been consecrated, while consecration per se can never be dispensed, one can leave the consecrated state of life. Unless one decides one is not truly called to this one petitions for admission to vows and participates in a mutual discernment process because one feels called by God to embrace an ecclesial vocation. It is true that if a diocese has never professed a diocesan hermit before, or if they have not had suitable candidates they will seek to be very sure the person petitioning has clear signs of maturity and sufficient experience of eremitical solitude to be professed. The process can be a long one and, again, requires perseverance but generally people (candidate and diocesan curia) work together in a way which is relatively transparent even as it tests the candidate and her patience, her sense of eremitical call whether or not canonical standing is in her future, her ability to deal with uncertainty in solitude, etc.

It is also true, however, that diocesan personnel can certainly receive a petition from someone they almost immediately and clearly feel is not suited to this life and does not have such a vocation. In such cases the diocese may seek to find a pastoral and sensitive way to share their conclusion; this too can take time and give the impression that they are not being completely transparent or are dragging their feet. Sometimes a diocese will say, "Continue living as you are living now" in order that the fruits of that way of living can become more evident in time. In such cases they are usually open to reconsidering a petition in several years. Sometimes they will say pretty immediately, "We believe you should be more involved in your parish," or, "this does not seem to us to be the best way of using your God-given gifts," or even, "eremitical solitude seems to be unhealthy for you!" I suppose one way of rationalizing such rejections is to tell oneself the diocese does not understand or value the eremitical vocation but generally my experience is that dioceses DO value this vocation and seek to profess those with clear vocations who are both healthy, genuinely happy, and show signs that eremitical solitude is the context in which they have most clearly matured spiritually and personally.

Thirdly, while the vocation is one of essential "hiddenness from the eyes of men"  neither Canon 603 nor the CCC speak of dying into nothingness. Of course there is a significant dimension of dying to self (meaning the false or ego self!) but one does NOT become a non-entity in the process; one embraces anew the incredibly significant status of daughter or son of God in Christ (and brother or sister to all others) just as one did in Baptism and therefore comes to represent a vocation which has significant value for men and women living in the 21 C! Not least hermits proclaim the Gospel of Jesus Christ and the life and meaning which he brings to even the least and most lonely of us. It is a rich life, a joy filled one of profound (and incredibly paradoxical) relatedness to all of creation which would be meaningful simply because God calls one to it! Even so, it is significant to others and MUST be credible to others (no matter how paradoxical or counter cultural such credibility is)  because it is a proclamation of the Gospel and the redemption connected with that. The God it witnesses to must be the God of Jesus Christ who redeems the most death-dealing or isolating circumstances human beings know.

I have known (usually -- though not only -- through their writing) several so-called hermits that were either no such thing or, at best, were pretty disedifying examples of the vocation. While all of us struggle at times to live our lives well and with integrity, and while none of us are likely paragons (Merton warns about believing hermits should be perfect examples of their vocation), there are those who justify isolation or an inability (or refusal!) to take part in normal society because of mental illness, spiritual and personal eccentricity (or outright weirdness!), misanthropy, judgmentalism, individualism, self-centeredness, etc, by applying the term "hermit." But in some of these cases the impression they give in adopting the term is that solitude is really nothing more than isolation, that the only real joy found in the eremitical life is that of suffering and struggle, that the spirituality appropriate to such a vocation is some sort of pseudo-mystical misery willed by a sadistic God who may reward such pain with occasional "consolations", and that attempts to find or worship God in the ordinary world of time and space is "unspiritual". As far as I can see there is nothing of the good news of Jesus Christ in any of this and nothing credible much less exemplary therefore in such lives.

I am sorry when persons are not admitted to profession as a diocesan hermit or even to an extended period of discern-ment with their diocese; I know the pain it occasions. But at the same time I am sorrier still when those with no true vocation call themselves hermits (much less Catholic Hermits) and give scandal by living a life which is far from healthy and thus, even farther from being Christian or genuinely eremitical. Because diocesan eremitical life is an ecclesial vocation this means it must witness to the Gospel of God in Christ in the name of the Church. Standing in law, credibility, even "approval" by the hierarchy of the Church and those who benefit from the witness given are a necessary part of this vocation and its accountability to God and God's Church --- essential hiddenness notwithstanding. After all, credibility is part of ANY Christian vocation; we live our lives in response to this call so that others "may believe in Him whom you have sent." (John 6:30) If our lives and vocations lack credibility in the profound sense of imaging God's redemption, especially in the midst of suffering, then they are not Christian; they are not of God.  It seems to me, that the pious language of "being nothing" aside, only one who fails to understand the true nature, value, and responsibility of such calls could suggest otherwise.

Why Does Jesus teach in Parables? Some Notes on Matt's Introduction to Jesus' Parables

[[Dear Sister, [last week] we heard the disciples ask Jesus why he taught in parables and the answer was very difficult for me. He seemed to say that he spoke in parables because to some (disciples!) it had been given to hear but to others (non disciples!) it had not been given to hear. He then says that some have dull hearts lest they turn and Jesus would heal them. He finishes this off by saying to those who have even more will be given and to those who have not even that which they have will be taken away from them. Is this really the Gospel? Did Jesus really tell parables to PREVENT people from hearing the Good News and being saved? I don't think that is a Jesus I either do or can believe in.]]

The Paradoxical and Ironic nature of the Introduction: Neutrality is not Possible

When I read this introduction to Jesus' parables in Matthew I tend to wonder how many really destructive visions of Christianity have been nourished by a mishearing of it. I remember when I was an undergraduate and my major professor read this text to us looking for us to make sense of it. I was astounded by what I was hearing. (How could JESUS say such a terrible thing to the really poor?!) But I also had the sense that if I could hear it rightly I would understand something more about the Gospel as well as Jesus' parables themselves. The first thing we should recognize perhaps is that Jesus parables are really dangerous pieces of narrative. They are capable of overturning everything we see or hear or think we understand while they provide us with a counter-cultural reality which fulfills our every desire. If we really hear them nothing will be left unchanged. If we do not hear them rightly they might seem to justify some of the very worst elitism and other attitudes so prevalent today in both our world and in our Church! In other words, they can either open our hearts or cause a hardening of them. What they do not allow for I think is neutrality.

As you noted in your question, the introduction to the chapter begins with the disciples asking Jesus why he teaches in parables and he responds, [[To you it has been given to know the secrets of the Kingdom of Heaven, but to them it has not been given. For to the one who has more shall be given, and he will have an abundance, but from the one who has not, even that which he has shall be taken away. That is why I speak to them in parables, because seeing they do not see, and hearing they do not hear, nor do they understand. ]] Jesus then concludes with the prophecy from Isaiah and calls the disciples blessed for they have eyes to see, ears to hear, and have understood. How are we supposed to hear this? How do we usually hear it? Does anything change in the process of Jesus ' introduction? After all, remember that what a parable does by definition is throw down beside one another two perspectives on reality. The first will be familiar, the second will conflict with that and therefore it will disorient us; it will throw us off balance. We regain our balance only by choosing to stand with both feet in one perspective or the other. This introduction to the chapter of parables actually works the same way.

The Common Misreading of the Text:

I believe the way we usually hear this text represents the common, familiar perspective Jesus wants us to leave behind. Thus, we are apt to hear the passage cited above as punitive and as one which supports an us versus them or elect vs non-elect perspective. When Jesus says, [[This is why I speak to them in parables, because seeing they do not see, and hearing they do not hear, nor do they understand.]] we are apt to hear him saying his own teaching in parables is a way of punishing those who simply couldn't get it and applauding those elect ones who did! It is a way of strengthening the line drawn between insiders and outsiders, making the division sharper and more binding. Because it is the disciples being played off against those who have seen but not really seen, heard but not really heard, etc, this reading becomes almost automatic. Often we strengthen this reading by treating "to you it has been given" versus "but to them it has not been given" as referring to a foregone Divine determination or even predestination: God has chosen the disciples but these others have not been chosen. Instead, I think Jesus is pointing out that some have come to a graced acceptance of a gift in contrast to others who have not YET done so.


I say this for a couple of reasons. First, the facile division of reality into the easily identifiable ""haves and have nots" is not really the way Jesus usually works. His message is never about strengthening the wall between the elect and the non-elect, the elite and the hoi-poloi, the chosen people and the non-chosen. Instead it is about breaking it down, subverting it, turning it on its head. Secondly, it is never all that clear when dealing with Jesus' message who has "gotten it" and who has not. No, Jesus is more subtle, more sly and more "cunning" than this. When we remember how it is Jesus' parables work and how powerful and paradoxical they are we may begin to sense that perhaps the joke (though it will turn out to be a wonderful joke!) is on us.

First we need to recall that Jesus' parables create sacred spaces in which individuals can leave a lot of their personal baggage, preconceptions, and biases behind, enter the story, meet God face to face so to speak, and make a choice for faith or unfaith; they can choose the vision of reality appropriate to the status quo ("the world") or they can reject this and choose the vision appropriate to the Kingdom of God. In other words, Jesus tells parables not to keep people locked out of the Kingdom but to welcome them INTO it! He proclaims his message in parables BECAUSE the supposed clarity of plain speech we all prefer (e.g., a kind of theological or doctrinal explanation) simply does not have the power of story. Jesus speaks in parables precisely because folks have not really seen, not really heard or understood, and because it is his vocation, his calling or "job", his mission to heal them of this and empower them to truly see, hear, and understand. In other words, Jesus teaches in parables not to punish or exclude, but as a way of healing and including!

Secondly we need to remember that Jesus' parables disorient and off-foot us when the perspective of the Kingdom is thrown down beside that of our everyday world. We have assumed in hearing Jesus' explanation of his method of teaching that we are the insiders, the disciples, and that only those "others" haven't really "gotten it"; but what if we are wrong in precisely this belief?? What if in some ways Jesus is ironically baiting a trap (a trap designed ultimately to transform, heal, and save us) and we fall right into it as we enter his story??!! There is paradox here and when we begin to see that, then perhaps we have truly begun to see, hear and understand rightly! What we must realize is that in in speaking as he does Jesus has drawn us in in a way which will allow us to be convicted and converted as well! No one listening to a parable can remain a disinterested listener or observer and assume Jesus is merely telling the story to (or about!) "others;" the same is true of Jesus' explanation on why he teaches this way. If we thought we were the insiders we may learn that we have only barely entered the Kingdom --- or that we have not really done so at all! What seems straightforward turns out to disorient, open us to question ourselves, and  empowers us to embrace a new way of seeing, hearing, and understanding.

. . .Lest they See, hear, or understand and I would heal them

Other pieces of this introduction are as easily misunderstood because of our tendency to easily adopt an us versus them perspective (with ourselves as the chosen, the disciples, and others as the outsiders of course!). One of these is reading verse 15 as though it says "I teach them in parables lest they see, hear and understand (so that) I will heal them." But the text does not say this! It says instead, ". . their hearts have grown dull. . . LEST THEY see, hear, and understand and I would heal them." In other words they have made a choice for a closed, dull heart rather than an open and responsive one; their hearts, for whatever reasons, are dulled or hardened LEST they see and hear and understand. They resist healing. They are, by definition, 'worldly.' This situation prevents them from seeing, hearing, or understanding rightly. Even so, Jesus' teaching in parables has the power to soften the hearts of those who would otherwise reject him. Still, this introduction regarding why Jesus teaches in parables focuses on the power of parable and Jesus' compassion in teaching as he does.

To Those Who have, even more shall be given; to those who have not, even what they have shall be taken from them:

This saying of course ordinarily strikes us as completely unfair. The rich get richer, the poor get poorer. This is the way of the world and it is certainly disappointing, even disillusioning, to hear Jesus speaking this way! But how is it heard by those who see, hear, and understand rightly? How is it heard by the Blessed (Happy) who have entered the Kingdom of heaven and share its perspective on reality? Well, in a general sense probably something like this: [[ Those who have opened their hearts and minds to a different way of seeing and understanding will come to see and understand even more; those who have closed their hearts and minds to the eternal Kingdom of God will lose even the little they actually have.]]

But remember too that Jesus is speaking now to the disciples who have heard and seen and understood to SOME degree, but not completely. They have come to participate in the Kingdom Jesus inaugurates to SOME extent, but not completely. This introduction to the way he teaches and all of his parables are addressed to THEM as much as to anyone else because he teaches everyone in parables. It asks his disciples to let go of an us vs them attitude they all-too-readily adopt --- which is the reason of course, they fall into Jesus' little trap! Thus Jesus' comment should probably also be heard as, saying, "I teach in parables because they have not seen, heard or understood, but let's be clear --- I teach you in parables too! What do you suppose THAT means?" (Matthew reiterates the conclusion when he has Jesus EXPLAIN the parable of the sower to his disciples in the next pericope: the disciples are as much outsiders as insiders!) Further, we should probably hear Jesus saying,  "If you continue to hearken to my Word, continue to see rightly and understand, if you continue to relinquish the perspectives of the world which is so profoundly part of who you are, then you will come to participate in the Kingdom of heaven even more abundantly. If you do not, then even the little you have will be taken from you."

Jesus Teaches Everyone in Parables!

To reiterate, it is not so much that Jesus teaches some in parables while others he speaks to more plainly (though I agree there is some truth to the idea that Jesus' parables were coded speech which protected both him and his disciples from the powers seeking to destroy him.) The greater (and ironic) truth however is that Jesus characteristically taught EVERYONE in parables and that those whose hearts and minds are open in the ways of the Kingdom are not puzzled by Jesus' parables. Happy indeed those who are NOT confounded by Jesus' parables! Thus, when someone says to one of us who live a form of discipleship, "The Kingdom is like a pearl of great price" we are not baffled at all. We know EXACTLY what this means; we understand what it means to go and sell all, buy the field and claim the pearl as our own. We know what it means to stumble onto something that will change our entire lives and to do so as we walk through the ordinary settings of our lives. But for those who have never experienced the grace of God in this way, or what it means to find the one thing we have yearned for our entire lives and to let go of everything else so we may claim that one thing, this parable makes little sense. For outsiders Jesus' parables are riddles --- an original sense of the term "mashal" from which parable also gets its name; but for those who are already "hearers of the Word" they are plain and incredibly powerful speech!

A Summary of the Questions Raised in Matt's Introduction

I suppose the question then is how do we hear these parables and the fact that Jesus regularly teaches in them? Do they confirm us in an "us versus them" world of elect and non-elect or do they confirm that Jesus speaks to all of us in the same powerful way so that we may ALL be able to see, hear, and understand the ways of the Kingdom of God? Do we see Jesus as attempting to screen out the unworthy, those "predestined" to fulfill some terrible prophecy, or do we see him as the one who seeks to include ALL of the marginalized (that is ALL of us) and to fulfill the will of God by changing the situation the prophet saw commonly occurring in front of him? Do we see others as the marginalized and non-elect, or do we recognize that but for the grace and power of Jesus' stories we too would be among those who grasp at the ultimately worthless and will lose even the little we have? Are we among those for whom Jesus' parables are a kind of confusing trap or are we among those who find that even in catching us unaware they provide us an expansive sacred space where we may be truly free?

The introduction to Matthew's chapter on Jesus' parables allows us to entertain all of these questions before we move on to hear the parables themselves. It readies us for the same kind of decision that the parables themselves allow for; this means we encounter the parables as those who are more and less already part of the Kingdom or as those who stand outside it --- but it also helps us to know that if (and to whatever extent) these language events of Jesus' confound us, if (and to whatever extent) they are riddles to us rather than plain speaking, then we stand outside the Kingdom of heaven. Not least this introduction seems to me to remind us that the dividing line between insiders and outsiders is not so clear as we commonly think it to be; after all if we see others as outsiders it may be because that is where we stand ourselves! In other words, the whole insider/outsider way of thinking may be one we are being asked to reconsider! It is the very perspective Jesus may be trying to get us to relinquish.

Pretty humbling stuff, isn't it? This too reminds us of the ways Jesus' parables themselves serve to disorient and reorient! To walk away from his stories feeling a little confused about who is who and who stands where seems to me to be a salutary thing! It means our hearts have been softened, our minds have been opened, and we are more ready than we were before to accept the Kingdom of Jesus. It is entirely appropriate to find Matt's introduction to this unique and powerful form of literature doing something similar.

Lauras: On hermits and Community

[[ Dear Sister, I have one question. Why are colonies of hermits called lauras. How can hermits live in colonies and still be hermits?]]

Thanks, good questions. The term laura comes from the Latin word for pathways or paths. A colony of hermits usually consists of individual hermitages, each fairly isolated from the others whether architecturally, by geography, etc. These individual hermitages are linked to one another by paths (including by cloisters) and as well to the central Church or chapel. I think it is particularly telling that such colonies are named after the external reality which links all the hermits and makes of each hermitage or "cell" an integral part of a local church or living organism. This makes clear that hermits are always part of a larger body; their lives are lives of communion, first with God and through God with one another and the whole of Creation. No hermit is ever truly alone. They are always alone with God for others --- and quite often, with others as well. Certainly they live their vocations in the heart of the Church.

In colonies, of course, the lion's share of the hermit's life is spent alone with God. Hermits in lauras come together for Mass, for occasional meals and some celebrations of the Liturgy of the Hours. They may also join once a week or so in a long walk or other recreation. As I have written here a number of times solitude, including eremitical solitude does not refer simply to physical isolation from others, but to a form of communion with God lived for the sake of others in the heart of the Church. This means it is supported solitude which contributes to life in the Church. While it is not the same as cenobitical life in community, and while it means aloneness with God, neither is it in conflict with some degree of community.

The Camaldolese, for instance refer to it as "living together alone." For the diocesan or "solitary" hermit who does not ordinarily have other hermits to live in a colony with, her primary community will be her parish and though she spends the majority of her time alone with God, she may also see folks at Mass several times a week, meet with a couple of clients during the week, and interact briefly with folks at the grocery store, drug store, etc. What defines her life however is aloneness with God lived for the sake of others in the heart of the Church and this remains true whether she sees one person in a month or several people in a week, or whether her only companions during this time are the people she reads, or the Communion of Saints and pilgrim ecclesial community in which she prays as an integral part.

I hope this is helpful.

On Maintaining the Distinction between Utility and Value

[[Dear Sister, do you consider yourself "useless"? I read a post by a privately professed hermit who speaks of her own life that way. She believes that "doing is useful" and "being is useless." She also divides things into "good useless" and "bad useless." I am not sure I understand what she is getting at. What you wrote about "prayer warriors" and using prayer as a worldly "productive" tool reminded me of this hermit's posts and what I thought she might be saying. I wondered if you consider prayer useless or if you think of yourself that way?]]

No, I don't think of either myself or my life and vocation in those terms. I know both monastics and hermits who do use the term "useless" in a metaphorical or hyperbolic way to make the point that our lives are of value in a completely countercultural way, but when discussing the matter they are therefore capable of and are usually careful to achieve much greater nuance I think. Perhaps the references to good and bad uselessness as well as the distinction between being and doing is this hermit's way of trying to nuance her usage in this matter. In the sense that my life is not particularly utilitarian and cannot be used by anyone to support capitalism, consumerism, or any number of other "isms" for instance it is literally "useless." However, to the degree it is one of the most valuable ways of living, one of the most vividly countercultural, and one of the most hopeful for those who are isolated because of illness, bereavement, or other circumstances which marginalize or make relatively "unproductive," it is both prophetic and extremely "useful" in today's world --- though not in this world's ordinary or defining terms.

I have written about this before. One of the posts is the following:  Why Isn't your Vocation Selfishness Personified? I encourage you to check it out and if it leaves you with questions or raises more for you please do get back to me. With regard to prayer per se, no, of course I don't believe prayer is useless, but I would tend not to see it in merely or even primarily utilitarian terms. When we pray we allow God to shape and heal us, to call and commission us in all the ways God desires --- and thus too, in the ways our world really needs. Prayer is the primary way in which we become God's own persons, persons who love and speak and act as God would speak in our broken world. Even more strongly put, prayer is the way we become mediators of God's life and activity in this world. There is nothing "useless" in that but at the same time neither is prayer merely some tool we pull out of our utility drawer in order to shape and modify things (including God!) to our own specifications.

One thing I probably should comment on here is the motivation behind speaking of either prayer or eremitical life in these terms. If one really feels one's life is a waste of some sort, if one struggles with chronic illness for instance and is left feeling that her gifts are unused and her life is defined in terms of neediness while being unable to give back, then that person has to be extremely careful in the way she hears and adopts this language of "uselessness." No true monastic or eremite believes her life is valueless or worthless; instead she knows it is of infinite value -- and more, that her life is mysterious in the same way God is mysterious. She lives that life as graced and empowered response to the call of God. Even if she cannot immediately see the value of it she will trust that it is of immense value and contributes to God's overarching creation narrative.

There is no need to even see prayer or eremitic life as "useful". Because they are responses to and mediators of God's presence in our world they need no justification at all. Still, they ARE of value in our world and are gifts to it in ways and to an extent many other things are not. When a hermit like Cornelius Wencel, Er Cam, speaks of the eremitical life needing no justification he is not in disagreement with me when I stress the charism of the eremitical life for the isolated and marginalized. Instead we are speaking of two different dimensions of our lives, the first that of utility and the second that of value. (We may also both be distinguishing between treating something as utilitarian and secondarily recognizing its usefulness.) In any case, the distinction between usefulness and value is a critical distinction in our world, a distinction we must always be careful to maintain, because to confuse these two realities is at the heart of so much destruction that occurs so routinely today.

When we treat persons in terms of mere utility we often lose sight of their true value and become guilty of dehumanization (including our own by the way) and even murder --- in all the ways that can occur. This is especially a problem in societies which are capitalistic and stress consumerism, productivity, etc, but it can also happen in forms of ministry or piety when people are treated as "assignments" or "problems to solve" and their essential sacredness and mystery are forgotten in the process. The same is true when we approach those we would call "friends" in terms of our own needs and it is often true in the exploitative and utilitarian way we often approach God's creation in general. Further, when we treat tools as having some kind of ultimate value (including technology of all sorts!) then we have crossed the line into idolatry and will also find we have become incapable of seeing the world in terms of more transcendent (and fundamental) value.

When Genesis reveals mankind as stewards of creation this reveals us as those within Creation who maintain a true sense of the distinction between mere utility and true value. More, I think it reveals human beings as those who subordinate utility to value and in so doing set an example of both sacrifice and selflessness. A culture geared to utility at the expense of value is, or will inevitably become, a compassionless culture of death. One that maintains the distinction between utility and value and the priority of the latter will be and remain a compassionate culture of life and light.

Update from the Dominican Sisters of Saint Catherine of Siena --- Iraq

Dominican Sisters in happier times (2013)

Dear sisters, brothers, and friends

We would like to update you on the situation here in Iraq, especially in the province of Nineveh. The two Chaldean Sisters (who belong to the Congregation of the Daughters of Mary Immaculate) and the three orphans were released on Monday, July 14^th.  The sisters told me that they were treated well. We thank God for their safety. However, their car was taken away with the valuable items they had with them, also the ISIS took the keys of their convent in Mosul. Moreover, the ISIS gave the sisters a message to inform the Patriarch and the bishops. The message is that the Christians have three choices:

·         To be converted into Islam

·         To pay Aljizya (pay tribute) to ISIS

·         To leave Mosul with only their clothes on.

Patriarch of the Chaldean Church Mar Louis Sako informed Christians of Mosul the message and via bishops and religious of Mosul and told them to leave the city as soon as they can; so they started leaving on July 16^th.

On July 18^th we were surprised to hear that the ISIS started taking possession of Christians’ belongings who were leaving the city; belongings included money, personal documents, passports, cars, and all valuable items. These families arrived to the Christian villages disheartened as the ISIS did not only took possession of their belongings, but also the properties of Christians and Muslim Shiites (their opponents). These properties were marked with a letter “N” for “Nazerene” to indicate Christian properties and “R” for “Rafidheen” which means rejecting to indicate Shi’i Muslims who are rejecting the ISIS control.

That generated fear and horror among the people of towns around Mosul especially the closest Christian towns like Karakosh and Talkef. Despite this, the Church in cooperation with locals in these and other villages is trying to provide places to live and food supply for the arriving refugees; despite the fact that these towns still lack water and electricity. People are cooperative in order to provide water -they are digging wells. As for electricity, the best we can get is six hours a day.  We ask your prayers for God’s protection in this time of crisis.

The violence is not only centred in Mosul. Along with Mosul in a nearby town called Tal Afar, which is mostly Muslim Shiites, the ISIS expanded their control and obliged people there to leave the town. They are staying at Khazir refugees’ camps.
  

We were informed that the coming days will be even more difficult. The central government is intensifying the random airstrike over Mosul. We will have our annual retreat this week, despite the hard situation, so that the convent might be a prayer place at this troubled time.

Dominican Sisters of Saint Catherine of Siena, Karakosh-Iraq

With Open Hearts and Empty Hands: Living from our truest Home

The Son of Man has no place to lay his head. We heard that reminder just a couple of weeks ago.  It is a poignant reminder of  the degree of exile and self-emptying required by the Christ Event and also, a poignant reminder of the situation of so many poor among us.

But for many of the rich this is also a poignant reminder of the situation in which they find themselves --- though I admit this is often harder to see clearly. After all, they have homes -- often several in various regions and climates -- and they do not want for warmth (or coolness) or food or medical care, or even a way to bury their dead as so many do today. Many may even be unaware that their own prosperity is often only achieved by taking away the little that the poor actually do have. Still, despite superficial comfort and security they have no way to lay down the burden of securing themselves, making themselves acceptable or successful, filling the deep emptinesses in their lives, or laying aside what has become their fruitless quest for something that nourishes their souls. Deep down they are hungry and insecure and that insecurity drives their own ambition for wealth and comfort. And so they continue the struggle to become richer at the expense of others, to shore up their own wealth and power bases, to legislate on their own behalf, and to administer the law in ways which are to their own advantage.

It is among this group of socially, and materially advantaged folks that the Pharisees in Friday's Gospel pericope stand as representatives. Having forgotten that 1) the Sabbath is created for man, not man for the Sabbath, and 2) that Law is meant to serve love and make mercy possible, the "sacrifice" they require, of course, is not their own; it is the oppressive sacrifice that leaves people hungry and homeless in a number of ways, but not least by depriving them of a place in God's own People and all that means.

"The Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head" is a description which should resonate universally with the experience of  every single person, the materially and socially rich and the materially and socially poor. After all, every person has known to some degree or another the same lack of peace and freedom, the same inability to lay down and truly rest that comes not only with the insecurity of poverty and enervation, but also with the insecurity of wealth and ambition. Many, whether materially rich or poor will have known the lack of peace that comes from feeling unloved and unlovable, from being different and perhaps disliked or even distrusted, from never ever feeling like they have belonged or can belong. Grief, our inability to really be in ultimate control of our lives and the struggle to hope in spite of loss, tragedy, cruelty and even the simple shortsightedness of others know no financial or material barriers. Illness, tragedy, death, and the yearnings and anguish they bring strike everyone in this life. In other words we all know the insecurity of sin and separation from God and the yearning for something else.

The Other Side of the Human Story:

But there is another side to the story of the Son of Man. Friday's Gospel also shows Jesus and his disciples tramping through grain fields talking, laughing, and --- like all the poor allowed in Jewish Law to glean from the margins of others' fields, taking what they need for the moment --- never mind that it is the Sabbath --- or perhaps precisely because it IS the Sabbath! For it seems to me that, Pharisees aside, this picture from Matthew's Gospel is precisely a picture of Sabbath rest in God's good creation.

Yes, it is also a portrait of Jesus' unique authority as mediator of the New Law and its higher ethic, but in my lectio today I mainly hear the notes of joy and self-confidence, the echoes of a freedom and sense of easy celebration Jesus and his disciples demonstrate in being together. The Son of Man has nowhere "to lay his head" and he and his disciples may be poor men alienated in some cases from their families and at odds with the civil and religious leadership of the day, but in this moment they are also at rest. They belong to God and to one another and we have the sense though they are hungry and homeless on one level, most profoundly they are more truly at home and want for nothing essential. They are genuinely free and so we see them simply and joyfully being themselves together in the power of God's love and the presence of the Lord of the Sabbath.

One of the realities which hermits are meant to live and witness to is called "the silence of solitude". It is a rich symbol that points above all to the peace that comes from Communion with God alone. The silence it speaks of is not merely the absence of external noise though it includes that. More importantly it is a silence which reflects a kind of inner quies that exists in the midst of the storm --- any personal storm, tragedy, loss, grief, etc --- when one is secure in God. This silence of solitude is the quies that comes from being secure in God's love; it allows one to feel "at home" wherever one goes. It is that essential well-being or shalom which is a function of the state of one's heart, not of external place or changing circumstances, the same, "being-at-homeness" that Jesus and his disciples manifest in tomorrow's Gospel.

A Personal Note:

(Not Stillsong Hermitage!!!)

This last week and a half, without preparation or warning the trees which provide a significant degree of quiet, shade, protection, and privacy for my hermitage were cut down. There will be more devastation to come -- and much of it is simply bureaucratic senselessness. The reasons given do not satisfy (no more than the Pharisees' legalisms convince in Friday's story!) and in the past few days I have found there is no part of my life, work, prayer, rest, or ministry that has been left unaffected by the changes --- especially by the loss of privacy and natural environment. It has been upsetting and promises to be more upsetting in the future.

But in my own story too there is something deeper than the sense of disruption, violation, grief, or the loss of place I am experiencing. For I too have found what rich and poor alike hunger for, what rich and poor alike really need most fundamentally. Because I know the God who loves me with an everlasting love, at the core of my life there is, in the midst of the storm, "the silence of solitude" and --- though not without some real challenge in the days and months ahead --- I will rest there in the company of God and glean what good and nourishment I can from and despite my surroundings.

The Real Point: Living from our Truest Home


Rich or poor, hermit or not, I think this is the challenge and struggle which faces each of us. We experience, sometimes more painfully and cruelly than others, what it means to have no place to lay our heads in this world, but we are invited in every case to know the deeper hospitality of God's own heart and to rest there. My prayer is that each of us, no matter the storms, tragedies, or other significant changes that also come our way, can find and reflect in our own lives something of the freedom and easy celebration that comes from being those who know Jesus as the Lord of the Sabbath first hand. I pray that I and all of us can find (or remain in) the sense of "quies", shalom, or "at-homeness" which allows us to walk through our world as pilgrims with both open hearts and empty hands --- just as Jesus and his first disciples did in Matthew's Gospel lection.

Sisters and Orphans Freed in Iraq!!

(Vatican Radio) Two nuns and three orphans under their care have been released in Iraq by kidnappers linked to ISIS, the Al Qaeda-inspired Sunni militant group also known as the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant. Speaking to AsiaNews, Chaldean Patriarch Mar Louis Raphael I Sako expressed relief that there was “finally good news” in the country where ISIS, under the banner of a new Islamic “caliphate,” has captured large swathes of territory from the Shia led government in Baghdad.

Sister Atur and Sister Miskinta and the three young people went missing 28 June. The two Chaldean nuns belonged to the Congregation of the Daughters of the Immaculate Mary. Together with their consoeurs, the sisters help run a family home for orphans and abandoned children in Mosul, near the Chaldean Archbishopric.

Patriarch Sako told Asia News that people in the city “contributed to their liberation.”

The sisters and young people, he added, had been held “in a house in Mosul but they were treated well, they were all together.  The sisters were afraid for the safety of the children, but there were no problems.”

The Chaldean Patriarch recounts that the sisters “spent the 17 days of prison praying for their liberation and for peace in Iraq.”  No money was exchanged for their release, but according to the church leader, the kidnappers took the nuns’ new pick-up truck.  He said the sisters are relieved and happy and have found refuge in Dohuk in Iraqi Kurdistan.

Feast of St Benedict: Hospitality as a Synonym for Mercy

When, while reflecting on Friday's readings two years ago, I told the story of the Nickel Mines massacre, I mainly focused on the theme of forgiveness and how it is that the Amish were capable of forgiving Roberts and also extending that forgiveness to his widow and larger family. When Matthew tells us not to worry about what we are to say in such crises because the Holy Spirit will  provide us with whatever that is, it reminded me of the Amish practice of forgiving routinely, consciously living from the Gospel, and thereby creating habits of the heart which do indeed enable them (and us) to speak and act as Christians empowered by the Holy Spirit in even such terrible situations. My point two years ago was that we are called as Christians to hand on the Gospel of reconciliation and the Amish show us vividly what that means.

But those daily readings have to do with more than just forgiving those who hurt us. Again and again references are made to a richer or broader concept than forgiveness as we ordinarily understand it. That broader concept, that reality is the mercy of God. As I reflected and meditated on these readings I was reminded once again of how inadequate our common notion of mercy actually is. Too often we see it as "letting someone off the hook" or as "the opposite (or at least the mitigation) of justice." Too often I have the impression we see mercy as a form of sentimentalism or weakness and we say that God's mercy must be balanced by his justice (or vice versa).  But Pope Francis, Walter Cardinal Kasper and others (including myself in some of the things I have written here) are clear that God's mercy is his justice. It is in being merciful that God sets things right and establishes a Kingdom (a Divine realm of sovereign empowerment) we can hardly imagine. Friday's readings along with the tragedy at Nickel Mines help us understand how that is the case.

Each of the readings speaks of forgiveness but they also convey the more expansive and challenging idea that when God is merciful it means that he gives us a place to belong, a place in his own life, a place where we are safe and free to be ourselves, a place which is free from fear and where vulnerability is not a dangerous to us but is an altogether (if still risky) human and normal reality.  When God forgives it means God extends his mercy to those who are sinners, those who are strangers or aliens, those who have offended him and injured those most precious to God (including themselves!). After all a sinner is one who quite literally has made herself alien to God, a stranger whom God does not know in that intimate Biblical sense of the term. In each of the readings there are references to being offered such a place, being made to be other than orphans or sinners, being shown compassion and having a place in God's own life.

In the Gospel lection Matt is dealing with a community being torn apart because of the new faith; it is a community in which the people are asked to continue to proclaim the Good News in the face of all opposition and to offer mercy and make neighbors and even family of strangers and aliens on a level which was not common otherwise. Both the Nickle Mines Amish and St Benedict, whose Feast day was yesterday, help us to understand this mercy in terms of doing justice and making the world a different place -- the world of neighbors, not aliens. The word that ties all three dimensions together, forgiveness, mercy as offering people a place to truly belong, as well as the stories of the Amish and St Benedict, is hospitality. What I came to see in reflecting on the readings, the original story of Nickle Mines and my own Benedictine Tradition is that hospitality and mercy stand as synonyms in the Christian Tradition.

In the Nickle Mines massacre the Amish offered forgiveness almost immediately and I told that story two years ago. But there was more to the story, more that I did not know until I read the book, Amish Grace. Forgiveness would have allowed the participants in that story to move forward without holding grudges. It would have allowed a more or less easy peace with the world of the "English" and especially with Robert's (the gunman's) wife, children, and larger family. But this was not sufficient for the Amish. They literally welcomed the gunman's family into their lives. Not only did they allow Robert's wife and mother to visit the victims regularly, but, as I may have noted, his Mother came weekly to the most badly injured child and read to her, sang to her and sometimes bathed her. Robert's parents held pool parties for the children and had teas for the parents. They were welcome in one another's homes. Indeed the Amish children were reported to have said to Robert's Mom, you haven't come to read or sing to us yet; when will you come and visit us? Everyone involved spoke of "the new normal" they had to get used to --- there was no going back to the way it was or pretending it had not happened! But additionally, they worked hard to create a "new normal" in which strangers became neighbors and neighbors became family. In short, they showed mercy as well as forgiveness and changed the nature of their world for everyone involved.

It is more than a little appropriate then that the Church asks us to revisit these readings and I choose to revisit this story on the feast of St Benedict. Benedictines know that hospitality is a key virtue and very high value in the Christian life. In the Rule of St Benedict we are reminded that everyone who comes to our door is to be treated as Christ. All monasteries have guesthouses and most do a wonderful job of accommodating guests as they would Christ himself. But hospitality is about more than providing someone a place to sleep or a seat and plate at our table. It is about learning to see the face of an individual in place of that of the stranger; it is about overcoming the stereotypes and bigotry that are parts of our own hearts and ways of seeing reality. It is about facing the fears within us that are triggered by our encounters with those who are different than we are and in so doing, making of the world a place which is truly more just and safer for everyone. To be merciful to another is to do the same. It is to allow them a place in our lives, yes, but even more it means to let them into our hearts.

When the young man asks Jesus, "Who is my neighbor?" Jesus doesn't point to any single group. Instead, he tells the story of the good Samaritan, the quintessential alien who cares for a man (an enemy) who has been mugged and who then ensures that "enemy's" future care at a local inn as well.  Neighbors, Jesus tells us in this way, are simply strangers we do not allow to remain strangers. They are strangers whom we allow to genuinely belong in our own lives and world, aliens we make at home. In Jesus' parable, the Samaritan makes a neighbor of a stranger while the religious leaders who are this man's neighbors treat him as an alien and make a stranger of him. The Samaritan makes of the world a place that is a bit safer and looks a bit different to the man who was mugged. Of course, it takes preparation and practice to do such dramatically compassionate acts. The Amish practice forgiveness and mercy/hospitality every day of their lives. In this regard at least, their hearts were readied in a significant way for the crisis that befell that awful day in Nickel Mines, PA. When Jesus/Matt tells the community not to worry about what they are to say on their own day of crisis he points to the Holy Spirit who will speak through them --- if, that is, their own hearts are readied as well.

My prayer this day is that each of us will look at the ways in which we fail to have mercy, fail to offer hospitality, fail to make a neighbor of the stranger, choose to remain aliens, or to treat others thusly and act in some way to change those things. For God, having mercy and offering a place in his own life is the same thing. It is in loving that God mercifully does justice and makes the world a hospitable place. May we draw these realities a little closer together in our own minds, hearts, and lives as well --- and may our world be made more merciful, more hospitable, and more just in the process. I also pray especially for those Dominican Sisters in Iraq who have made it their own mission to make neighbors of the stranger and to break down the stereotypes and walls of bigotry (especially religious bigotry!) that keep their world broken by alienation and hostility. May our own efforts at hospitality be the Christian response and counter movement and dynamic to hostility. (cf also The Homeless Jesus)

A Contemplative Moment: Love is not Coercive

“And because God's love [God's very Self] is uncoercive and treasures our freedom - if above all he wants us to love him, then we must be left free not to love him - we are free to resist it, deny it, crucify it finally, which we do again and again. This is our terrible freedom, which love refuses to overpower so that, in this, the greatest of all powers, God's power, is itself powerless.”

 

Frederick Buechner 



Radical Individualism vs Eremitical Life

[[Dear Sister Laurel, what is the difference between a radical individualist and a hermit according to Catholic teaching?]]

This is a question I have touched on many times in various posts, but not a direct question I have ever received before this. There are several posts which deal with the question  but see especially Why isn't Your Vocation Selfishness Personified?  and Eremitism or Exaggerated Individualism?  The essential answer to your question is found in the canon governing this life. This would constitute "Church teaching" in the sense your question means it. It reads ". . .[this vocation is lived] for the praise of God and the salvation of the world." 

There are many reasons for embracing solitude and all of them may benefit the one doing the embracing. Some of them are mainly or primarily meant for this and others are ONLY embraced for this reason. The vocation of the diocesan hermit (and any hermit living his or her life in the Name of the Church) differs in that it is, by definition, lived for the sake of others, first of all God, then others, and only then oneself. The hermit witnesses to a life lived with God as THE covenant partner; she witnesses to the completion or redemption of a covenantal life lived in and with God and she does so so that God might one day be all in all and others, especially those who might have been isolated by the circumstances of life, may be given hope for the redemption and transformation of these same lives. 

As I have noted before there is a great difference in living in a way which suits one (for instance, because one is a writer, an artist, or even someone gifted in religious experience, as well as for more negative reasons --- failure in relationships, chronic illness, inability to live in a complex contemporary world, etc) and living in a way which suits one BECAUSE it is a way of loving and serving God and others. Hermits embrace a desert vocation for this latter reason; the former reason (it suits her) is never enough to shape one's life or justify calling oneself a hermit in the Church's sense of this term; for that reason the Church does not tend to profess and consecrate people for such inadequate reasons.

Judgment as Missed Opportunity (Reprise)

In tomorrow's readings, there is one of the most chilling images of judgment I have ever read. No, there is nothing about God's anger, or the fires of hell, or other dramatic and apocalyptic images of such scenes we so often imagine. Instead there is a picture of opportunities lost, of a word unheard, a response ungiven, an apostle unrecognized, and the brief ritual of someone looking on and shaking the dust from her sandals while saying, "The Kingdom of God is at hand for you." How often does the worst judgment against us come in terms of our simple failure to recognize and respond in the present moment to the God who comes to us in this person proclaiming the very best news we could ever be offered?

I imagine a village (or a city) full of people going about their work, restless in all the usual ways people are restless, concerned in all the normal ways people are concerned in everyday life, busy in all the varied ways people will and must be busy. Most are completely unaware of the apostle who has shown up on their "doorstep" so-to-speak. They will never hear the words, "The Kingdom of God is at hand for you today!" and they will not even be aware as the apostle leaves again, having shaken the dust from her sandals! Yet in that moment of unawareness, that "non-moment," judgment has come and gone, and indeed, even Sodom will not be in as much trouble as the one who has simply missed God's overture on this day. It is so easy to picture --- it is so simple, so quiet, so routine, so unremarkable --- yet, it is a moment of judgment (the Greek word KRISIS, or decision, fits SO well here). The image chilled me deep down precisely because of this complete ordinariness.

Contemplative life --- something we are each called to, I believe --- is essentially one of dwelling in the present moment (this is almost a cliche today but most of the time I think people confuse it for being focused on today's agenda or today's "to-do" list!). But really, it means being obedient (attentive and responsive) to reality in all the ways we can, and with all the levels of our being. We are ALL called to be contemplatives in this sense of the word (that is, we are all called to this kind of obedience, this kind of "hearkening"). Sometimes our attention can be drawn away from the Word being spoken in our midst by activity, worries, other voices we DO attend to. Sometimes, we refuse to dwell in the present moment because we are disproportionately concerned with past injuries or future hopes --- our own bitterness over how things have unfolded in our lives, and our own frantic efforts to cause something to unfold in the way we envision it! Sometimes we are afraid of the Word (or the silence it requires to be heard), and we have distanced ourselves from it with activities full of their own noise (reading, TV, music, computer, etc). Most often, our own hearts are simply so full and noisy that the apostle (or the One she heralds!) walks through unnoticed, her peace remaining unshared, leaving unrecognized footprints and small drifts of sand as tacit testimony to the awesome judgment passed on us in this moment.

In today's first reading the people of Israel (or was it Judah?) have to be urged to recognize that today (this very moment, in fact) is Holy, and they are commanded to turn from their sadness to rejoice in the Lord. Eventhough it was the reading of the Law itself which reduced them to grief, they were not really hearing what was being said, or at least not ALL of what was being said. Repentance for sin, grieving for the past, amendment of purpose, and planning for the future are important, and the Word of God certainly occasions these, but with God's Word comes real rest as well, genuine joy. It is a Word which allows us to rest in IT, a word which makes a Sabbath of our busy lives, and a place to be ourselves when we have been, and often seem unable to create, any other. Of course, such rest can sometimes never come, the place we so yearn for can be lost to us because of the preoccupations of our minds and hearts, the Word spoken within us goes unheeded --- empty of issue, void --- and becomes instead a Word of judgment against us.

What I think the lections from today suggest is that as momentous as such judgment is, it happens routinely, moment by moment, and in mainly undramatic ways. And that is what is so very chilling for me in today's image of this. I can imagine being addressed tonight (or right now!): "The Kingdom of God was at hand for you today, Laurel, and you were simply too busy to listen, too preoccupied to attend to it, too full of your own thoughts and concerns, too caught up in what was "important" (or frightening, or disappointing, or exciting, etc.) to even notice! I sent an apostle to you today --- poor, [ordinary], in every way someone just like you --- and you never even saw her, much less gave her a hearing! Neither did you notice when she simply shook the dust from her sandals in judgment against you while still proclaiming the coming of My Kingdom for you!" More likely, despite the truth of all that, what I will hear when I FINALLY hearken is simply, "Laurel, I Love you!" (or just, "Laurel," said with unimaginable love) and there will be an accompanying sense of great (indeed, infinite!) patience along with an unabashed Divine joy that I have finally managed even this single moment of attention! It is the very same Word I more typically do not hear, the same word which turned to judgment on God's lips, in the face of my more usual deafness.

No, contemplative life (and I really am referring to all truly prayerful life) is not mainly about peak experiences, ecstasies, and awesome insights (though it may certainly be sprinkled with these). It is about being truly present to the present moment and the One who is its source. Neither is judgment awesome in its imagery of anger, fire, and destruction; it is terrifying in its ordinariness, its coming to pass within us without notice, without drama, even without appreciable affect --- except over time, as death, chaos, and meaninglessness replace life, order, and meaning. Indeed, in light of such ever-present judgment --- as the psalmist reminds us --- "If you, O Lord, mark iniquities, Lord, who could stand?"

Amish Grace: Clever as Serpents, Gentle as Doves (Reprised)

Two years ago I posted the following blog piece as a reflection on Friday's Gospel reading from Matthew. (It also will tie into  the Feast of St Benedict which falls on Friday this year.) I am reprising it here because this year (in the next day or two) I would like to look a little more closely at this thing we call mercy --- one of the most misunderstood words in the Christian lexicon! It is central to Friday's readings (or to Benedictine hospitality in honor of the feast!), and, of course, central to Pope Francis' program of evangelization and his conception of Church. (More about that in the next day or so!) I think that there are significant parts of the Amish story which illuminate the real meaning  and especially the real power of mercy as well as it illustrated the nature of genuine forgiveness or what it means to not be worried whether or not we will have the right things to say in times of crisis.

Amish Grace: Clever as Serpents, Gentle as Doves

The gospel for [Friday] is both challenging and consoling. In case you have not seen it yet, it is Matthew's account of Jesus' counsel about needing to be gentle as doves and shrewd as serpents in a situation which is literally tearing Matthew's community asunder. When (not if) people are brought before political and religious leaders Matthew reminds them of Jesus' teaching, "Do not worry about how you are to speak or what you are to say. You will be given at that moment what you are to say. For it will not be you that speak but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you." Jesus then tells them that Brother will hand over brother to death, and the father his child, children will rise up against parents and have them put to death. You will be hated by all because of my name (my powerful presence), but whoever endures to the end will be saved.

Now I have heard homilists and others trivialize what is being taught in this reading. One deacon I know (not in my parish!) once said he never prepared homilies because of this text; he preferred to allow the Holy Spirit to speak through him! Years ago I heard an undergraduate theology student try to use this text as a justification for his un-prepared presentation on the meaning of a text. It didn't go over very well. Nor should it. The readings from Hosea and the Psalms, but especially Psalm 51 reminds us that speaking rightly with the power of the Holy Spirit comes only after long experience of God's compassion and forgiveness. It is only God who can teach us wisdom in our inmost being, only God who can create a clean heart in us, only God who can put a steadfast spirit within us, only God who can open our lips so that our mouths may proclaim his praise. This doesn't happen in a day. It comes only after more extended time spent in the desert (for instance) listening to the Word of God, allowing it to become our story as well, grappling with the demons we find there while we come to terms with and really consolidate our identities as daughters and sons of God in Christ.

I recently heard a story that illustrates the dynamics of Matt's gospel. Though it is not a recent story (sometimes being a hermit means I don't hear these things when they happen), in it people are asked to confess their inmost hearts as they are brought face to face with a world which sometimes seeks to destroy them. Matthew describes this in his gospel. In such a confrontation Jesus asks us be simple as doves and shrewd as serpents. He asks us to have to have done the long, demanding heart work that prepares us to be prophets and mediators of the Holy Spirit --- people with a heart of compassion and forgiveness intimately acquainted with the mercy and love of God and committed to being one through whom God speaks to change the world and bring the Kingdom. This is not about not doing our homework or being presumptuous; it is about becoming the people Jesus sends with pure hearts and a shrewdness which disarms --- like turning the other cheek, walking the extra mile, and so forth would have done in Jesus' day. (cf Notes From Stillsong Hermitage: Clever as Serpents, Gentle as Doves)

The story is that of the Amish school massacre in Nickel Mines, PA. I would ask that you check out the following video as Bill Moyers tells the story. [[Released from anger and bitterness, but not from pain. Forgiveness is a journey. You need help from others. . .to not become a hostage to hostility.]]

The responses to the story, as Moyers notes, were diverse. Mainly people were awed, some thought such forgiveness could only be a kind of planned show and other suggested the church told the Amish to do this rather than accepting it as the natural expression of a deeply ingrained and authentic spirituality. Others who had failed to draw the important distinction between forgiveness and pardon or release from consequences, argued the forgiveness was undeserved, illegitimate, and imprudent. (cf Jacoby, "Undeserved Forgiveness." Jacoby has another, similar op ed article on Cardinal Bernadin's decision to minister to a serial killer when Bernadin had only 6 mos time left because of the cancer he struggled with.)

What Moyer's account indicates but is unable to detail sufficiently in the above brief video is the extent of the acts of forgiveness and the real reconciliation that occurred as the Robert's family were repeatedly visited by Amish and in turn came to assist with the injured children (who in fact asked why they had not yet visited their families!). (One child continues to be very severely disabled and Roberts' mother comes each week to read to her, sing to her, and sometimes bathe her. The Amish remark on the blessing her presence has been, and of course her ability to come has served similarly for her.) At every level Amish and English (especially Roberts' own family) worked to rebuild relationships and shared their mutual grief. Forgiveness, real forgiveness recreated a community that had been shattered by the killings. It was not naive and did not simply avoid or suppress emotions but it made the painful and healing process of moving forward into a "new normal" possible for everyone. The Amish had prepared, not for the tragedies themselves exactly, but for the hard work of reconciliation by long habits of the heart, as Bill Moyers affirmed. But the picture they also give us is one of people who are indeed simple as doves and shrewd as serpents --- just as Christians are called and empowered to be.

If you haven't read the book, Amish Grace, please do so. I admit I read it last night and was in tears practically the whole evening. I don't think I can remember another book or story that has so broken or broken open my own heart nor convinced me how elemental our desire and need for forgiveness or for being people who truly hand on the ministry of reconciliation we are called to be (2 Cor 5:17-21) really is.