Monastic Life

"Lord, let my cry come to you; do not hide your face from me." 
Ant. 1, Morning Prayer

I really love the contemplative life.

I only arrived home on Saturday, and immediately missed the hours of community prayer, the chanted psalms, chanted prayers, and the flow of life in a religious community.

I loved the fact that no matter what we were doing, it was the ONLY thing I had to do at that given time. When we were praying, there was nothing else on my mind (except the icon, which, of course, was being prayed!). When we were at meals, I was content to be present there, and only there.

When I was working on my icon, I was wholly absorbed into the process, and pondering, as I wrote, the mystery of the Incarnation, the identity of Mary and of Christ. I was realizing my many faults and the very real process of trying to grow in holiness, yet constantly failing. I came to learn that even that is a work of beauty when touched by God's grace.

It seems to me that life was far more real, and more honest, than the life I am living now. I felt....free.

Even though I regularly pray the Liturgy of the Hours, I cannot do so at the same times every day, and so often when I go to pray my mind is on something I have to do next. I almost feel guilty for taking time out to pray and have to struggle hard against that temptation!

Last week, nearly every day it was my privilege to attend Mass in the Extraordinary Form. By the end of the week I was able to follow along, understood how to find my place in the missal, and found that I was far more focused and aware in that form of the Mass than I am when I attend Mass in the Ordinary Form (what many people call the "Novus Ordo" which is somewhat of a perjorative term.)

It was a bit jarring to go from a week of contemplative prayer, Latin chants, and the deep holiness of the Extraordinary Form to Mass in my home parish on Sunday complete with the narcissistic show tunes that tend to characterize (and wreck) the Ordinary Form. On Sunday I was distracted, I was irritated and found that I couldn't focus...because I didn't "have" to; I could understand everything clearly.

Last summer when I visited the Cistercians we talked about Latin; Sister observed that even though they often don't understand the words they are praying, they know the focus is God, and they realize that the Mass, and the prayers of the Liturgy of the Hours is so holy it has its own language. The Mass itself is so profound and mysterious that truly, on this side of the veil we are not MEANT to fully understand it.

We become sanctified by continually seeking the face of God, and, I have found, when things come too easily to us, it's very easy to think we understand everything, and therefore we stop seeking. So it is with Mass in the vernacular; I cannot focus because I have no REASON to focus. Nothing is mysterious; nothing draws me into the Mystery of Christ made present on the altar. I try to focus because I know what's going on, but in the Extraordinary Form, I am forced to look more deeply, to be more invested and in so being, to be more open to God.

I miss that.

I ache for that.

It was not a week of spiritual consolations by any means; most of my prayer life and Mass attendence is fairly dry. I desire to pray and I desire to attend Mass and enjoy doing so because I love God, but in all that I have written above, understand that none of it was about emotion or sentimentality.

Perhaps what I am trying to express is too far beyond words, although I suspect many of the faithful do understand and have the same interior sense.

Marriage to Christ

One of the things that came to me during prayer, and during Mass last week was, of course, the meaning of religious life. I considered the vows to be made, and how Our Lord courts his beloved, drawing her to Him in subtle ways. He is generous and does not withhold His generosity.

In prayer I pondered the vows of marriage, and the changes in life that must take place. If I were to marry, I would go to live with my husband, and his family would become my family. I would have a new circle of friends and acquaintances. I would have to get rid of many things, for they would not be needed or would be impractical in a new life. I would have to make sacrifices, and die to myself so as to offer myself more fully to the union to which I was called. My routine would change, my obligations would change.

So it is with religious life as well. All of that, and more.

I used to think about all the things I'd be "giving up", but in reflecting on the reality, it's not about giving anything up. It's about what is to be gained. If our hands are clinging to material things, they are not open  and able to cling to that which is eternal.

I want a life of prayer, a life of living intensely, a life of holiness.

I will never be satisfied with anything else.

"My heart is ready, O Lord, my heart is ready..." 

~ Ant. 1 Morning Prayer (Wednesday)

Adoro's Monastic Adventure: The Sequel

Many of you will recall my "Great Monastic Adventure" of last summer: my visits to three different religious communities. One Active, the other two Cloistered.

It's exactly one year later, and I'm going off again, this time for an adventure of a different kind. This time, I will be living, again, in a convent, joining a small community, attending Mass, prayer, meals...everything. And this time, I will also be learning iconography.

Have no fear; discernment is a big part of this visit, too, for, as I had "asked" once before, would it be possible for me to live this life for a week without taking it seriously and posing my deepest questions to God?  There will be a great deal of time in prayer, a great deal of time to inquire of Him what He is truly asking of me.

It's time to move on....

I am done with school, I know that I am in a job to which I am not called (but for a time), and I am ready to make a decision. A very big one. The decision from which every other decision in my life will flow from that point on.

Whether this next week will answer those questions or not, I don't know. One of the communities I visited last summer is actively trying to help me come out again, perhaps as soon as the end of July/Beginning of August, although I am not sure that God is calling me to go there again.  Whether I would like to or not is pretty much a moot point. Last year, I had an interior sense of KNOWING I was supposed to go there. This year, I have an interior sense of "I'd like to go visit again", but I am wrestling with it a great deal. One of the things I have learned without a doubt over the last year is that I do not like teaching children. It's not my gift, I don't enjoy it (those few times I've done it), I cannot relate to them in any meaningful way, and without a doubt, I do not want to be a teacher!  Unfortunately, the community in question is primarily teaching or nursing. I know also that I don't have the temperament for nursing, and as you just read...nor do I have the aptitude to teach children.

Please do not misunderstand;  I love children! And, it seems, they love me back.  But loving them does not necessarily translate into having the aptitude to teach.

To a degree, the SKILL of teaching can be learned. One can learn how to put together a lesson plan and activities and plan out a year's worth of curriculum. One can be lectured and shown how best to bring great concepts down to the varying age levels.

However, that knowledge dies in the implementation when the person responsible for carrying out has a brain that doesn't bend that way.

I have tried and I have tried and even coworkers have commented that it's obvious I can't connect with them. It simply isn't my gift and the very thought of having to do such a job day in and day out.... *shudder*

Discernment of Gifts and Talents

A big part of discernment is knowing both your strengths and weaknesses in all areas of your life.

What makes you happy? What gets you fired up? What do you enjoy doing? To whom do you best relate? What skills do you actually possess, and of those skills, which are truly talents and which are mechanical motions you have to go through just to get the job done? Are you an organizer, a leader, a background worker, a ham or a wallflower?

What do you know, innately, that you are called to?

I'm still in that process of sorting those things out, but thanks to my parish work, have actually been given the grace of greater self-knowledge.

I am not an organizer or a leader. Don't put me in charge of anything; I can't organize and lead my way out of a wet paper bag ripped open on both sides! (Don't laugh: it's true!)

I am a person who needs structure. I can work within structure and process. As a friend once said to me, "You just have to know exactly what your job is, and once you know that, everyone get out of your way and let you work!" Yes, yes...the years have borne out his observation time and time again! I may adapt things to fit the situation, but overall, I need structure or I am lost. Ergo:  I am not a creative person.

I am occasionally a ham, but more often a wallflower. I prefer silence and solitude to noise and crowds. I far prefer Gregorian Chant and Classical music to Praise and Worship and Heavy Metal. (I like Evanescence, though!).  I prefer to work in the background, out of the public eye, and let someone else stand in the limelight. While I can do public speaking and do enjoy it, I cringe at standing in the center of a crowd of people firing questions at me or telling me they need this and that and shoving documents and things into my hand while I stand rooted there, blinking in confusion.

I am happiest when I am writing, when I am praying, when I am walking my dog. I am happiest when working to bring back the lost souls, the generations of Catholics and others who have fallen away from God.

I know, without a doubt, that God has prepared me for a particular service to Him and to the Church. The Bishop, in his homily at our Graduation Mass, spoke to us about having a "zeal for souls"; his plea resonated with me. That is the call of the Saints, it is the mission of the Church.

There are others who can teach children. My focus is on their parents, their grandparents; those who were lost and slipped away in the confusion following Vatican II.

If some of us don't go after those generations, their children now will be as lost as they. Our society is becoming more and more antagonistic towards religion. In the meantime, those lost generations are becoming more and more ambivalent and lukewarm, choosing neither this nor that, preferring a smattering of "whatever feels good".

I've seen too many Catholics at "ecumenical" events quite literally apologizing for "still being Catholic".

Too many who claim to be Catholic haven't even the foggiest idea what it means, why they stay, why they even claim the title.

That's the crowd God has called me to serve, and I know I am not alone in this.

What that means for my Vocational Discernment?  I don't yet know. But I do know that it indicates one thing:   I am not called to be an elementary teacher, or even a middle school teacher.

I am called to reach out to adults; for now, those who ask for help. Just last week I sat down with a friend, a teacher, from work. She needed help with a theology class she is taking this summer. The time with her FLEW by, and I was absolutely overjoyed to explain and help her understand a particular prayer of a Saint about which she had to write a paper. It was an absolute JOY to assist her!

Occasionally, because of my blog, people write to me and ask questions about Catholicism. Some of them are Catholic themselves, others are not and are just looking for information. I love answering those questions, helping them find other resources, helping them, hopefully, come closer to God.

That's what I'm called to. That is my passion.

So, tomorrow I head out to the next chapter and even as I learn a new skill, I will be living the monastic life once again, with my big question to God:   "What now?"

Maybe this time He'll answer. I'm ready to make a decision.

** ** **

Previous convent/ monastery experiences can be found at the links below. Interestingly enough, most of them have proven to be among my most popular posts; they continue to receive a lot of hits by people using search terms relating to discernment, convents, and monastic life.

Life in the Convent
The Bells of Temptation
Kissing the Cross
Advancing the Quest
Cistercian Retreat
Monastic Silence
Entering the Silence
Epiphany

Epiphany

Psalmody
Ant. 1  When will I come to the end of my pilgrimage and enter the presence of God?

Even when I think the journey is over, I find that God has not given up on me.  Even when I've long given up on myself, God sends messengers in the form of angels, homilies, friends and prayer to call me again to Himself, to rouse me to battle on and seek Him in my Vocation...whatever it is.

I wrote only a few days ago that I'm certain I am NOT called to religious life, and the last time I met with my SD, he commented that I seemed at peace with the idea.  I hesitated, though, in responding.

No, I'm not totally at peace with that idea. I know that there is something more, and in the end, I told him I think I'm just in some strange limbo. Neither here nor there, just....existing. Trying to focus on what I know and needing to work on holiness in the present moment.

The problem is that I'm so weary from this journey. I'm so tired of seeking that I'm ready to lie down and go to sleep, accept where I am and just go on from there. I'm ready to accept that I'll be single forever, and that my Vocation is one of perpetual pilgrimage, wondering if I should take private vows to that effect and be done with it.

This weekend, though, we suffered experienced the transferred Solemnity of the Epiphany, and at my home parish, the Pastor gave an incredible homily about the Magi, about their journey and about how we should learn from them. The journey is hard, but their eyes were on the goal.  Father called us all to keep our eyes on the goal, and not to give up just because it seems at times that the journey never ends. He cited weariness, he cited trials and difficulties, delays and roadblocks. And then he called us all onward, to continue that journey because to find Christ under the star, to adore Him, is the goal of us all for eternity. He waits for us, He awaits our gifts, not just of what is needed...but the free gift of ourselves.

As Father spoke, nearly every word cut right through me. He didn't know I was there. He wasn't speaking to me or intending to be speaking in terms of Vocation.  Yet...that's what he was doing.  As I listened to his homily, I couldn't help but see the parallels between the journeying Magi and my own search, the search that seems to go on into eternity. First waiting, and then, upon recognition of the star, that there really IS a goal, to travel the long and dangerous route to get there.

No, Father wasn't talking to me personally...but the Holy Spirit was, and He isn't one to leave me alone.  Later that day I saw that another priest had delivered the same message, although a bit more specific (I'm hoping he posts the text; all I have is an allusion to it.)

I left Mass a bit shaken, realizing it ISN'T over, God HASN'T forgotten about me, and hasn't abandoned me.

At that same Mass I pondered Marriage again, wondering if I was wrong. All I know is that the Single life isn't fulfilling. I need something more, am called to something more and the way I'm living it now isn't "it".  Yes, I've spoken of being single as a Vocation, and it can be...when it is committed and consecrated in some way. For now I'm still floating. As I've called myself before, I'm a dangling participle, hanging out with a question mark.

I thought about a guy I met recently, and even as I considered wanting to know him better, I thought, and tried to push it away,  "But I want to belong to Jesus."

During Mass on Sunday, during the Offertory, I thought about Marriage, about that guy and considered yet again that I KNOW I am not called to marriage.  To be clear, I LOVE men, I think men are great, I'm attracted to men and sometimes lose about 100 IQ points in their presence, but I have absolutely no desire to have children and don't feel a bit "pushed" by the "biological clock" so many women cite.  I cannot see myself as a mother, I cannot see myself raising children, I cannot see myself married even without children. The very idea is preposterous to me.

Every time I read scripture, praying the psalms of the  Liturgy of the Hours I realize I want God alone. I want to come to the end of this journey, and I want Him to be waiting at the end of it.

If I picture my wedding, in my mind's eye I don't see a groom and a fitted gold ring, but I see the Cross, I see a priest, and I see a ring that is a crown of thorns.  I see the eternal wedding, of the Lamb and the Church and I know that nothing but God will ever satisfy me.  I want to die to the world in order to die in sacrifice and rise with my Beloved, I want to do as His Mother commanded at the Wedding at Cana:   everything He tells me. And I want to spend my life in Adoration of Him, for why would ANYONE ever want to be out of His sight?

This morning I knelt before a Nativity in a church to pray Morning Prayer, contemplating the Incarnation, the wood of the cradle and the wood of the Cross, the Adoration of the Magi...and death to myself.

Ant. 1  When will I come to the end of my pilgrimage and enter the presence of God?

Psalm 42

Longing for the Lord's presence in his Temple

Let all who thirst come; let all who desire it, drink from the life-giving water (Revelation 22:17).

Like the deer that yearns

for running streams,

so my souls is yearning

for you, my God

My soul is thirsting for God,

the God of my life;

when can I enter and see

the face of God?

My tears have become my bread,

by night, by day,

as I hear it said all the day long:

"Where is your God?"

These things will I remember 

as I pour out my soul....

Why are you cast down, my soul,

why groan within me?

Hope in God; I will praise him still

my savior and my God.

My soul is cast down within me

as I think of you...

Deep is calling on deep,

in the roar of waters:

your torrents and all your waves

swept over me.

By day the Lord will send  

his loving kindness;

by night I will sing to him

prais the God of my life.

I will say to God, my rock:

"Why have you forgotten me?

Why do I go mourning

oppressed by the foe?"

Why are you cast down, my soul,

why groan within me?

Hope in God; I will praise him still

my savior and my God.

Ant. When will I come to the end of my pilgrimage and enter the presence of God?

 Tonight, during Evening Prayer, I prayed on:

Ant. 2.  The Bridegroom is here; go out and welcome him.

Psalm 45, II

Listen O daughter, give ear to my words:

forget your own people and your father's house.

So will the king desire your beauty:

he is your lord, pay homage to him.

The daughter of the king is clothed with splendor,

her robes embroidered with pearls set in gold.

She is led to the king with her maiden companions.

They are escorted amid gladness and joy;

they pass within the palace of the king.

Sons shall be yours in place of your fathers:

you will make them princes over all the earth...

Ant.  The Bridegroom is here; go out and welcome him.

Canticle:  Ephesians 1:3-10

God our Savior

Praised be the God and Father

of our Lord Jesus Christ

who has bestowed on us in Christ

every spiritual blessing in the heavens.

God chose us in him

before the world began

to be holy 

and blameless in his sight.

He predestined us

to be his adopted sons through Jesus Christ,

such was his will and pleasure,

that all might praise the glorious favor

he has bestowed on us in his beloved. 

I have spent so much time and energy running away from Him.  I don't know my Vocation, I can't say that I am being called by Him to be His Bride, yet I likewise cannot rest where I am, for my journey is not complete.  Like the Magi I must continue on this quest, recognizing the light of Christ and knowing I have a choice:  to follow it or to walk away.

He won't let me walk away. He won't let me forget, He won't leave me in "peace"...

Through His persistence, and the unwitting encouragement of my Pastor,  I choose to follow and see where that star of Bethlehem leads....
****


Holy Spirit Sister in Adoration photo source

Perpetual Pilgrim Awaiting the Dawn

O Sapientia
O Adonai...
O Radix Jesse...
O Clavis David...
O Oriens......
O Rex Gentium...
O Emmanuel.....

We await the coming of our Savior, waiting to celebrate His birth even as we continue in our own time to await the Second Coming.  

But that is not all. Some of us still await the purpose of our lives, even as we try to live it out as best we can with what we have.  Given this and my incertitude, I have to confess that I'm still looking at religious communities, trying to find out if there's one I haven't discovered. Today I looked again at the Trappists (Cistercians of Strict Observance) given how my taste of monasticism has so taken hold of me and awakened my very soul.

Just as Mary pondered things in her heart, so do I, although without nearly so much depth, without nearly so much silence, without nearly so much holiness.

We recognize in the Church three Vocations, formally:  the Priesthood, Religious Life, and Marriage.

Two of those require Sacraments:  Holy Orders and Matrimony.  Those require supernatural authority and supernatural grace, whereas Religious Life is not gained through a Sacrament because it has all the needed grace from Baptism and Confirmation.  God alone is sufficient, for He is the sole object.

Then we have the Single Life, which some argue is a Vocation unto itself. In a way, it can be, for we have Consecrated Virgins and we have Hermits; but those are a form of Religious Life, not the Single state.

The reality is that the Single Life is not in and of itself a recognizable Vocation. Especially in our culture of commitment avoidance, we cannot give into the temptation to call it such just because there are so many singles.  To do so is to endorse what is so prevalent in our time;  the refusal of the individual soul to inquire of God what He has called them into being to BE.

There are a thousand reasons for being single, but every one is anecdotal, not objective Unlike the Married, Religious or Priestly Vocations, there is no one to ENDORSE with any authority the "call" to be single  for Christ.  Sure, I can cite LOTS of single men and women who live holy lives, but can any of us actually stand in the place of judgment and authoritatively say that those people were NOT called to some recognized Vocation?  Can we? Especially if the Church of which we are a part and look to for guidance has not done so?

Vocational Discernment is the Hardest Thing You Will Ever Do

I've written of this before and really am not free to tell individual stories for fear they would be recognized, but I learned a great deal last summer of the reality of Discernment...and that for some, it DOESN'T end.  I know of a Sister who had made her Final Profession and ended up leaving her congregation when things went south....far, far south.  She didn't leave her vows, but sought only God's will, landing in a cloister where she was greatly aided by those dear nuns, only to find that wasn't her place, either. She struggled, wondering if she should write to Rome for a dispensation from her Vows, but didn't want to do that. At long last, she found her community and although when I knew her she was still in formation there, this Religious of 20-something years (ie in her 40's, having been in religious life since her teens) seemed to have finally found her Home.

I met another who had entered the community of religious that had taught her in school, only to face a major betrayal LONG after having made her final vows.  She was forcibly ousted, was never told why but went, and finally found her true home.

Through speaking with many Sisters, I learned this is common. It's not just common for someone to be a postulant or aspirant or novice in one place and leave only to try a few more: it's fairly common for some to find, even after perpetual vows that they are NOT where God intends!

This knowledge really didn't help me in my discernment, to be perfectly honest. As it is I have problems with trust, but the information obtained this summer made me realize that even if I DO find what I think is "the place" for me, I may face that same kind of total betrayal.

Or, of course, as I think now, I'm not called to it at all.

Certainly, though, my heart goes out to all of those dear Sisters who have discerned so sincerely and found themselves out in the cold with the Infant Jesus.

Perpetual Pilgrim

I have written many times of how I feel like a perpetual pilgrim.  I haven't had a proper "home" since I was 10 and we lost our home to foreclosure, had to lose many of our things, and in fact, I recall even losing the privacy I'd taken for granted for so long.  Instead of having my own room, I had to share a room with my Mom in a tiny apartment. Instead of enjoying the expanse of a huge acre lot with a little grove of trees to feed my imagination, we had a postage stamp of a yard on the edge of one of the busiest streets in town...yet another new experience.

That apartment was never "home" to me. It was where we lived, and I was embarrassed to live there. Of course we all adapted, but having had our own space once, well, it's hard not to see the world in those terms anymore.

Two weeks after I graduated from high school, Mom was hospitalized for 3 months then sent to live in a half-way house for another 9 or so. We lost the apartment and were, officially, without a formal address.

When I came "home" for Christmas that December, I split my time between friends and relatives, trying not to be a bother to anyone. When I came "home" on weekends to work, or on Easter, or that following summer on break, I tried to make sure I was as invisible and out of the way as possible. After all, I didn't want to be anyone's problem.

Even when Mom got her own apartment, it was hers alone and I couldn't formally, by law, live there because of the reason for her housing.  It was only another place to crash for the night. It was never "home".

When I graduated college, I found myself in the Cities, moving from place to place, year to year, lease to lease.  I purchased my town home in 2003 or so and even then, when I signed the papers I knew this was more like a long-term temporary place. This isn't "home". It's a place to crash for awhile.

Even as I laid down the cash to bind the deal, I realized that this box I keep my stuff in is transitional, not permanent.

Eternal Pilgrimage

A couple years ago, when I visited my friends in Ohio, my eyes were opened.  I knew that my REAL home, at least on this earth, is the Mass.  It is only at Mass that I can really let go of everything and be present for God, knowing I am dependent upon HIM for everything.

It doesn't matter WHERE  I go to Mass....because Mass is transcendent. It is the past, present, and future. It is all times, all places. It belongs to God and therefore it is eternity.

Mass is the ONLY place in this world where I KNOW without a doubt, that I belong.

It is the only place where I am myself, fully, unequivocally, without reserve...because none of us can be other than that in the presence of God.

That July, I GOT it.  I understood what it means to be a Pilgrim here on this earth, homeless, in true spiritual poverty.

Our lives are not about material possessions and in many ways I think it's ridiculous to claim any political or national affiliation.  We Catholics far transcend by our very Baptism and Confirmation the governmental structures that try to lay claim to our lives, our attitudes and our spirits.

It is WE who, if we were to really live up to what we have been given, would be laying claim to the government and exerting God's authority for the proper good of ALL!

The Letter to Diognetus, a document I've posted many times, more and more becomes my anthem.  Here is a powerful excerpt:

They live in the flesh, but they are not governed by the desires of the flesh. They pass their days upon earth, but they are citizens of heaven. Obedient to the laws, they yet live on a level that transcends the law. Christians love all men, but all men persecute them. Condemned because they are not understood, they are put to death, but raised to life again. They live in poverty, but enrich many; they are totally destitute, but possess an abundance of everything. They suffer dishonor, but that is their glory. They are defamed, but vindicated. A blessing is their answer to abuse, deference their response to insult. For the good they do they receive the punishment of malefactors, but even then they, rejoice, as though receiving the gift of life.

Today in complete jest while lamenting yet another pair of cheap boots wrecked (they have holes in the sole) I suggested to friends that maybe I have a new Vocation, one unrecognized but maybe I am called to formalize it.

Maybe I should found the Order of the Discalced Pilgrims of the Holy Sacrifice.

Who are we?  Men and Women who realize we are called to be Pilgrims on this earth, Single men and women who WANT to commit ourselves to Our Lord but don't seem to be called into the Priesthood or Marriage, and can't seem to find our home in Religious Life either. Yet we know we are not called to just be "single".

God did not bring us into this world to just hang out as bachelors and bachelorettes.

All I know is that I am God's own Pilgrim Daughter, still homeless, apparently shoeless, and no resolution in sight. I am perpetually cast upon the sacred shores of God's Divine Providence.

If I have any identity at all, even though I've never been on a recognizable pilgrimage, I realize that my very existence is the only pilgrimage that is necessary.  As I seek my place in this world, I have the next as my goal, knowing that whenever I need to come home, all I must do is attend the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass.

One day, I will finally go to my true Home, hopefully having accomplished whatever it is God would have me do in this life.

This Advent, I await the revelation of my Vocation just as I await the Second Coming of Christ. I wait, knowing that I am a mere pilgrim, dependent upon God for all things, grateful for our Dearest Lord and Savior, seeking, above all, the pilgrimage into His Most Sacred Heart...for eternity.

I hope, that, when I die, if I can afford it, the following epitaph will be etched into my tombstone:

A Pilgrim No Longer:  I'm Home.

If we do not live our lives (our pilgrimage) on earth with our final end in mind, it is guaranteed we will never find it...for we will never find Him.

Antiphon 3 from LOH:   "When the Son of Man comes to earth, do you think he will find faith in men's hearts?"  

O Radiant Dawn, splendor of eternal light, sun of justice: come, shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death.

I am nothing but a Pilgrim awaiting the Dawn...

Preparing the Way for the Lord

One of the things that has impacted me the most in the past year was my visit to the Cistercian Monastery last summer.  There was a part of me that didn't want to go, dreaded the retreat, yet I went because I had committed to it.  As I wrote upon my return, the silence of the monastery allowed God into my soul in a way I had not experienced before.  He called me into the desert precisely so that I could hear him and be present with him without all the distractions of the world.

I find that I often long for that solitude and silence, the regulated time for prayer, and the restriction of my activities to either Sacred Scripture or The Cistercian Way (outside of the Liturgy of the Hours.) 

That retreat was not filled with consolations and good feelings. But it was characterized by a sense of peacefulness I'd never found anywhere else.  That is not to say it is where God has called me;  just the opposite. It was while I was there that He helped me to understand that He was making no demand, was not demanding that I "make a decision", only that I come into a deeper relationship with Him. When I'd first arrived, every fibre of my being was screaming, "I'm not ready!" And so gently and quietly Our Lord said to me in the solitude of the chapel, "I know. That's why you're here."

Ever since that blessed retreat, I have often looked at the picture on the cover of the Cistercian vocation booklet.  I have remembered fondly the little room (not properly a "cell") I was in in the guest quarters.  I recall how at night I looked up to see how the nightlight and things around it caused the light to project the shape of a dove upon the ceiling, as if the Holy Spirit hovered directly above me as I slept. 

All this should not be taken to mean that I have a Cistercian Vocation...far from it! At this time, I actually believe I do not have a religious Vocation at all.

Preparation for Christ

Advent is supposed to be a time of preparation, of introspection, of readying ourselves for the coming Savior. We are to think about death, judgment, heaven and hell even as we celebrate the birth of our Savior.

Yet because of classes and finals and the craziness of work, I really haven't had the time to retreat into this time of preparation. Even when I DO have the time, I find that I quickly become engaged in other distractions. It hit me hard this morning that what I really need is to "get away" from all of these things. I feel like I'm being pulled into pieces by all the demands upon me, especially those which I have caused and place upon my self. 

It is because of this that I have made a decision to close comments on the blog, probably until Christmas.  I find that as I receive comments, I "feel" I need to respond in a timely manner, even if perhaps I'd rather sit down and finish reading some book.  Sometimes the combox discussions can be lengthy and can lead on and on, and usually I welcome this. In fact, I STILL do. However, perhaps it would be best to simply "shut down" for awhile.

I may, and will probably continue posting, but will not be allowing comments. Please know that I do welcome email, which is linked on my profile. I ask only that if you do send one with regard to either an ongoing discussion or a new post, realize I may not choose to respond at all, or if I do, it may not be timely.

Retreat

In the interim of what remains of Advent, I am thinking I am going to attempt a "retreat in place".  While I can't completely divorce myself from all the distractions of my life, I can eliminate a few, I can cut down on others, and hopefully this will force me to spend more time in prayer, more time in real solitude, more time, recalling that God desires union with us all, and I haven't been doing my part to allow Him to rest in me.   I have not been working on the Vocation we all share by baptism:  the Vocation to Holiness.

I look forward to spending more time in absolute silence, without the self-inflicted "demands" of the blog to distract me from something far more important than my own piddly writings and tenacious opinions.

Again, comments will be closed but feel free to email me. I will respond as I can.

Have a blessed Advent and may your hearts also be prepared to receive our Divine Savior!

Monastic Silence

Over the next couple days, I fell more into the monastery schedule, becoming accustomed to the hours of prayer, the hours of solitude with Our Lord, and in spite of actually sleeping well, I still napped a little each afternoon.

Although on Friday, my first full day, I was not able to pray or read anything, Saturday I did pick up the Bible and read from the Old Testament. Even before my retreat, I'd been drawn for some reason to read the books of Judith and Esther, and found that once again, I had to read them. Several times, in fact.

I found the prayer of Judith to be especially poignant: "Oh Lord, have mercy on me! I am all alone and have no one but you!"

The fullness of Judith's humanity was lived out through her true feminity. She knew who she was and threw herself with abandon into the depths of the Father's mercy and providence. That book has so many Christological themes it would be well worth an in-depth study. As it is, some of my musings on her story came into full fruition while on the retreat and I'll write separately about that.

Through prayer, through discussions with the Sisters, through random scripture readings, different themes began to develop in the course of the days, bringing in some ways, a sense of clarity. The Holy Spirit was present and made himself known in many ways.

I saw my time there as a precious gift of love from God himself. In every moment, He knew what I needed and provided it. Maybe one of the most beautiful aspects of the visit was the nearly absolute void of emotion. There was no "mountaintop" experience. There were no deep valleys such as I'd experienced on my first discernment retreat. It was a desert. Nothing more, nothing less. If you've ever been on the high desert on a perfectly clear night...sounds travel for miles.

It was that clarity that allowed me to hear the voice of God. He wasn't far away or impersonal. He was as present as my own heartbeat.

Somewhere in there, although I can't say that I'm called to it,I fell in love with monasticism, grasping an intuitive understanding of it if not a fully theological one (although I have that, as well.) I knew that this is what drew me to visit the Cistercians, this is something God wanted me to see and experience, to the degree possible. Even though I was not allowed to enter the enclosure, having visited an active community, and through my own questions, I knew what was going on behind those doors. They were living their life, keeping house, doing chores, and praying. When I waited for Sister to come to the parlor to meet me, I heard some discussions on topics being discussed by the community for the purpose of study. I heard a lot of laughter, and in passing the silent nuns whenever they moved about outside the cloister, I saw bright smiles and joyful eyes.

Monasticism is beautiful in its simplicity, its holiness and its reality. It is a life that is fully human.

Previously, I'd believed that the Cistercians were extremely austere, although, now having visited them, I no longer have that impression. Austerity, certainly, is a factor in all religious life, and in some communities or Orders more so than in others. Yet it is always present for it is a required ingredient for anyone seeking holiness and to draw closer to God.

There is something about the stillness of the Cistercian monastery, though, the spiritual desert into which I was drawn as well, that made me see beyond intellect or emotion what this was really all about.

Although I've described it before, I return to the image of the chapel; the simple lines, spartan decorations, and the effect of which that draws one wholly to God. That's not to say the Saints are not present, too, for one Sister spoke of conversations with her Saints as she moved from one task to another. In a way, this makes absolute sense. When one lives closely with others, why would one need photos or pictures to remind you of them? We keep photos of our loved ones in places not graced by their presence. When we are with them, we have no need to pull their likeness out of our pockets.

While there, when I looked at the bare altar, I saw, pure and simple, the Cross. The blood of the martyrs, the altar of oblation. To make such a total offering of oneself is to become more like God and to act in a way more in union with Christ who set Himself as the example to follow in His complete act of Redemption.

One of the Sisters explained to me, joyfully, the community prayer where they truly lose their own identities in order to take on that of the Church. The Latin prayers go back to Medieval times, 900 years of the same melodies, the same words, a living offering of praise and sacrifice to God. As they pray, they pray for us all, standing between the world and eternity in an act of intercession. They live each day dying to themselves in order to become fully human, fully living for God.

Who are these nuns? Who are the people called to monasticism?

Normal people, like any of us. Normal people who heard the call of God to come away with Him into the desert as an offering of love, not just for him, but for the world. They live a hidden life and in so doing, live more fully and more powerfully than most of us will EVER be able to do.

It's a life of grace, a hard life involving the surrender of one's will (although not one's intellect as so many mistakenly imagine), and a life which is a clear way to perfection for those who are called and who answer freely. It is a life of freedom, a sign of contradiction to the world that would seek viciously to destroy it (and in fact, this has been attempted many times throughout history).

Yet it survives. They survive, fully living, ceaseless in prayer, ceaseless in praise and honor to God.

I will always have a soft spot for the Cistercians in general, and, in particular this community as welll as the Dominican community I visited earlier, and a love and respect for monasticism thanks to the dear Sisters who welcomed me and gave me their time and advice this summer.

My own discernment goes on, and I'll not reveal anything further than this. For just as these nuns live a life hidden from the world, so my own discernment lives, hidden within my own private personal cloister where God and I communicate unceasingly.

Such is the reality for anyone in discernment. Even when we don't listen, God never ceases to speak.

*

Entering the Silence

I woke up on Friday morning, my first full day at the monastery, grateful for the pure silence and the scent of farmfields that surround their land.

As I did not attend Matins, I was in the chapel at 5:30 am, preparing for Lauds in the darkness beneath the choir. I looked towards the altar and crucifix, asking God, "Is this where I'm supposed to be? Why am I here? What am I doing? Do I have a Vocation at all?"

I thought of all the people in my life wanting an answer, wanting to know if I'm going to, in my mother's words, "join a convent", and all the people all around me who keep telling me, "You have to make a decision!"

Every fibre of my being was screaming, "NO! I'm not ready!"

And as I prayed in the profound darkness of that morning, I didn't hear God make any demands upon me at all. The only thing I knew was His patient presence, and a sense that He wasn't asking anything of me at all. I considered the insight from the night before, to rest in passivity, waiting for Him. And slowly, all that anxiety began to ebb away.

I heard the nuns enter the choir above me, the soft ding/thump of the bell, and the sound from the pitch pipe to cue the plaintive tones of the nun beginning the chanted Latin prayers.

And from there, the Cistercian desert enclosed me within my own private cloister. It didn't matter if my questions weren't answered, because God wasn't offering answers. He was offering something else, something that required I let go of myself if I was to open my hands to receive what He had for me.

In that surrender, I found I couldn't even pray.

Since I could not directly participate in the Latin psalter, I prayed from my breviary, yet could not recall what I was praying. Nothing stood out. They were just words. All I was doing was saying words. When I tried to pray in any other way, there were no words, nothing. So all I did when I completed each of the Hours throughout the day, was profess my love to Jesus, because it was the only prayer I could muster.

And that, without emotion, without sentiment, just the bare truth.

It was a disconcerting day, one that maybe is a day for "detox". In my dryness, I couldn't even read. I picked up the Bible but it was meaningless. I wrote a little in my notebook, but the words were forced. Otherwise, the only thing I could do was sit or walk and then sit again, and think.

It wasn't that I really even missed my normal distractions. It was nice to be without them, but I didn't really know how to exist without some kind of direction. I was supposed to be praying or reading, and I could do neither. It was shocking to me to realize that, here I was, perfectly boring and God wanted to be with me? Why?!

At least I could think, though, and my thoughts wandered back to the previous evening. I realized that perhaps I was there because, unlike all the other seeming "spiritual giants" around me, I am a God's remedial student. There are people who are very in tune with God and seem to "get it" immediately. That's not to say they don't work at it, but in comparison, I know I'm really struggling. Studying theology helps, but it's kinda hard to study oneself into simplicity. I'm laboring and laboring and "not getting it" and so God in His infinite wisdom and patience, called me out of the classroom, into the hallway, not to say, "Jump now!" but rather, "Wait for me, you have no idea what you're doing and you're not ready yet!"

I realized that God had more to say to me. He's, even now, laying a foundation, and that morning when I met with Sr. A. for the first time, all of this was, in a way, confirmed.

One of the first things she said to me in our meeting was that I should just be open to God and follow where He leads. She said that only He knew why I was there; whether because I was supposed to enter the monastery or for some other reason. He had a plan. Sister said that the time is NEVER wasted, and usually, both they and the person visiting benefit in some way. She said that she loves to see how God is working in people's lives and how He brought them to visit their monastery, and so with this initial conversation I was able to relax, realizing that the pressure to make ANY decision was simply not present.

All of the pressure was on God, which is actually the way He likes it. As Sister said, when it's time to jump off the cliff, He'll give the push at just the right moment.

Throughout that day as I shed all the residue from my life, I became conscious of the eternal presence of God. It was active, even in the deep dryness, and it reminded me once again that prayer isn't about "feeling" but is really the perfect center of being.

Thus, even as I felt a part of myself dying and falling away, I knew that truly, I was beginning to live in a way I never had before, and I realized this through almost a clinical detachment that would have amused me if the silence had not been so deafening.

*

Cistercian Retreat

As I drove through the bluff country of Southwestern Wisconsin en route to the Cistercian monastery, I almost wanted to stop...anywhere...to delay my arrival. I didn't really know what to expect. It seemed I had to go through so much more just to visit than I'd had to do for the other two communities, yet somehow it seemed fitting. Still, it was daunting and I couldn't believe God hadn't slammed this door, preventing this trip.

My route took me in and out of rain clouds as I drove the long hours of Wisconsin until I finally turned off the freeway to head straight south, into the valley and into sunshine.

The monastery is a humble place, marked by a sign at the corner of their lot, and as I pulled up, the bell was ringing for None. I hesitated to ring the bell, at the front entrance, but realized that I didn't even know how long prayer would last, or whether the chapel bell signalled the beginning of prayer or a call to prayer within a certain time.

Sister came to greet me immediately and showed me to my quarters, outside the enclosure but tucked away in a safe place within the confines of the monastery. She handed me a schedule, gave me a tour of the areas I'd be frequenting, and gave an explanation of where to meet Sr. A. the next morning. As it seemed, I was basically on my own. As Sister left to finish prayer, she told me that I could take a walk down the road if I wished for it was a safe area and the weather was nice.

It was a bit unsettling to suddenly be left "alone" just outside the enclosure to the monastery, knowing only the hours of prayer, supper, and when to rise the next day. Sr. A. had left a note that I should not plan to attend Matins until after we'd met once. The Guest Mistress had explained to me that because it was so early (4:00 am) and still dark, if I did attend someone would have to come get me at the enclosure door and lead me through the monastery rather than allow me to walk outside and enter through the public entrance of the chapel.

God Wastes No Time

That first evening, after Vespers as I sat eating my small supper in solitude, I asked God why I was there. Would my questions be answered? Was all of this for nothing? What was I doing on a monastic retreat? What had drawn me here?

I considered the chapel, which in true Cistercian spirit was quite spare and devoid of decoration. There are no stained glass windows. The statues of Joseph and Mary were in the back of the chapel, although a picture of Our Lady of Guadalupe graced the wall behind the altar and to the side of the large crucifix, which of course hung front and center.

The altar itself was raised on three steps, and composed of simple stained wood. The Presider's chair was set directly behind the altar against the wall, and the tabernacle rested on a shelf of the same wood in the corner, veiled, and marked in the traditional manner with a red candle. In a chapel so sparse, one's eye is naturally drawn to the shocking red glow of the light signifying the presence of Christ.

I asked myself if I could ever get used to such a spartan chapel? The Cistercian spirituality, even having read about it, seemed somewhat vague to me, although I could sense intuitively that in that simplicity there was great depth.

Yet, I wondered about all my devotions, and the presence of those devotions in other religious orders and communities. I asked God about it, praying as I ate.

"Don't worry about all that."

I felt chastized. I knew that, for some reason, God had drawn me to visit this monastery, and I had to let go of my own attachments in order to allow Him to speak to me. I knew that the Angels and Saints were present with me, whether they were represented by statues, paintings, or icons or not. I came here to be with God, and THAT was what was important.

And on the heels of the gentle chastizement and my brief musings came that still small voice, even more tenderly yet more powerfully: "When have you ever let God just be with you?"

There it was. I was shocked nearly to tears on the spot. I earnestly pondered the question...and the reality.

God...wants to be with....me.

When have I ever let Him...be with ME?

I quickly finished my meal so that I could retire to my cell and spend time considering this gem that had come out of nowhere. I'd never considered God in these terms, exactly. I'd never really looked at the question and so I hadn't understood the implications.

For so long, I've been seeking God. Looking everywhere. Seeking Him out, His will for me, going to the chapel, to Mass, going to Him in prayer.

Of course I know that it is the Holy Spirit that inspires all prayer, for it is fully an action of God, and we do receive Jesus in the Sacraments. That seeking...that's a requirement. That's all part of it. It's action that we need to take.

But, it's possible to be too active. Suddenly I saw it. I'd been TOO active. Trying to take on too great a role in my relationship with Our Lord.

I had gone on the retreat in another act of trying to find God. But He spoke to me and explained as to a child that He didn't bring me there so I could seek Him; He brought me there so that He could be with me.

I realized then that my role was to be passive. Just as receiving the Sacrament of His Body and Blood on the tongue at Holy Communion was a perfectly passive action, so must I imitate that fully for three days. I could not reach out and take God into my hands, but rather, I had to surrender and allow Him to take me into His.

I had to put everything aside. I was away from all my distractions: no work, no dog, no phone, no computer, no music, no devotions. Only the Liturgy of the Hours, personal prayer, lectio divina, and silence, interrupted only by meals and meetings with those with whom my discernment would be discussed.

I had to learn to be still and know that He is God, and had something to offer if only I could, for once, passively receive Him.

It was humbling to realize that for so long I've been doing everything wrong, and yet, God used all of my errors to lead me into the desert where he could speak to me and open my eyes to realize the One Necessary Thing: He, and He alone.

And I was His willing captive.

*

Advancing the Quest

Sometime tomorrow morning, I will load up my car with a duffel bag and a backpack and drive off into the wilderness of...southwestern Wisconsin.

Ok, so I'm not that GREAT of an adventurer, so what?

It's not about the physical distance...at the heart of the search for God is how far we're willing to go spiritually, and whether we can die to ourselves enough to follow where He beckons.

I'm a little worried, though, about the practical parts of this trip; I think my car needs brakes and I'm hoping I won't need an entire expensive brake job when I get back. (I'm afraid of BOTH expenses, but brakes are kinda essential). More debt. And of course, ever since the engine rebuild in January to replace the craced cylinder head, I'm wondering about another engine breakdown as I travel alone in a state hours from the help of family and friends.

So...indeed, I go into the wilderness in a way maybe not many do, and there are no sojourners on such a pilgrimage who experience exactly the same thing, find the exact same trail or who can map it out for another.

Discernment is so deeply personal that only God knows the route, the signs, the pitfalls and the final destination to be found on this side of Heaven.

In some ways, I wish I was making this trip through the eyes of a curious author and had as my goal a sort of spiritual documentary. Of course, for my blog readers that's largely what I've provided, at least to your eyes and hearts.

However, it would be far more descriptive and detailed, with character sketches and expositions of the different spiritualities, devotions, and practices, etc. if this were truly of that documentary category.

Where I go, although my musings may contain parts of documentation sufficient for the idly curious, my focus isn't on the superficialites, but the depths that cannot be described in any words in any language. These retreats are a true search for meaning and vocation in the most fundamental of ways. I go to find God, to find out if this is what I was born to be, if I was brought into this world in order to enter the silence and prayer of the monastery for the salvation of souls. Am I to enter the heart of the Church, hidden but constantly beating and giving life to the other parts of this Mystical Body?

I don't know. I can't know, not unless I go to find out.

I've written before that I've always felt like a fish out of water. I've never "felt" like I belonged in this world or to it. I went through a period of time where I felt like I wasn't wanted anywhere, valuable to anyone. Sometimes I STILL read the scriptures and psalms that speak of the Father's house having many mansions, and doubt creeps into my soul.

"There's room?" I hesitantly ask. "For me?"

And I huddle outside, in many ways refusing to hear the answer, preferring the bitter cold of winter to the warm solace of the heartfire that constantly burns for those desiring to bring their own coal to the fire that is their source of life.

I have a little more courage now, though, having received heartfelt invitations of those who have seen the little coal that is burning through. If I don't do something with it, it will die. So I have responded to those invitations, embarking on a journey that has been filled with dark valleys and beautiful vistas....but none of those latter meant for me. Or maybe just not yet. I haven't yet found the summit.

The most subtle invitation came from my first visit, where first Mother, the General Superior, and one of the other foundresses, on the day that I left both told me that they had room for me there. I had a place, if I wanted it. The door was wide open to me, and remains so. The warmth of the hearth for my coal that will be left black and cold if I don't do something with it so as not to smother the heat.

Like a vocation, a coal is fragile, too. It can be smothered. It will always remain what it is, but without fulfilling its purpose, it remains in a state of potential and will never be completely consumed in the fire it was meant to enter into and become. Even if that coal's destination is to become a diamond, again it must be compressed and consumed in a different manner to become alight with a fire of a different kind.

I don't yet know where I belong, but it is comforting to know that there is a place for me, somewhere. No one has rejected me. In this quest for God, I honestly have found nothing but love in all directions.

I pray this next experience is a good one, too. Perhaps I will arrive and know immediately that it will never be my home. Yet don't we all visit beloved relatives and in so doing, take a bit of their own hearts with us when we depart?

Or will I arrive and in the next few days of silence, solitude, and discernment, will Jesus be revealed to me in a way never considered?

Will I find home? Clarity?

I don't know. But I go, and as I did before, I take you with me in prayer, too. No pilgrimage is ever undertaken alone. A true pilgrim takes the world on his shoulders; it's part of the job.

Please pray for me, too.

Adoro's Monastic Adventure Continued

God (and several generous human beings working for and with Him) has given me six weeks this summer to focus on discerning whether or not I have a Vocation to religious life.

As you know, so far no questions have been answered. Which, really, is fine, as my spiritual director assures me.

I worry because I'm not getting younger. Others think I should jump off a pecipice just because I'm not married, and others want me to be a nun or a sister because they have a romantic idea of monastic life (which is no more romantic than married life, actually.) And still others fall into other categories in their bet-taking as to what they think I should be doing and why.

So really, it is those few voices, who are the chosen designates, who are keeping me on track both to keep me from being too discouraged and to keep me from making a hasty decision much like a person who runs a red light and is flattened by a semi just because the guy behind them beeps in impatience.

We've all passed such accidents, haven't we?

This Thursday I'm going to make another pass at monastic life, this one really intense. The Cistercians of Common Observance pray 7 times per day in community, work in silence, study in silence, and seek God in solitude while living in community. It is their practice to rise at 3:40 am in order to begin praying Lauds at 4 am, so that while you sleep you can rest assured that people are praying...for you.

I'll be driving to this monastery, only a few hours away, and this week I received the instructions as to what to wear, what to bring, what not to bring and whatnot.

The process for even VISITING this community has been quite the experience! We've been in contact for months, I was required to read a book, "The Cistercian Way" by Andre Louf, and I now learn I have to bring it with me.

Unfortunately, I don't own it. I got it from the library, and as it was an order from another library system, it took them 3 weeks to get it to me. Thankfully I have a friend who is sending me his copy and hopefully it will be here in time!

The communities I just visited didn't require much for the visit: only an open heart to hear God. Certainly I'm sure other contact is required, but that was fulfilled long before my plane ticket was purchased.

The Cistercians, on the other hand, sent me a form for a recommendation to be completed by my Pastor or Spiritual Director and believe you me, they were asking some heavy questions! I wondered why they wanted this just for a "come and see" type of visit where I would not be admitted to the enclosure, but so be it. I turned over the form, and my SD filled it out and sent it on.

I also had to write an autobiography, and the one I wrote on my blog or for grad school wasn't appropriate as those had the wrong focus. In addition to the actual story of my life, they wanted a self-assement of strengths and weaknesses.

All of this has been completed and sent, and in response, Sister sent me a list of instructions. I am to bring a Bible, a rosary, The Cistercian Way, the Liturgy of the Hours, toiletries, clothing proper to the outdoors and weather, and nothing else that logic doesn't dictate. I am asked to leave all other media at home (no problem! I don't have it anyway!)

I've been told I'll meet with her, the Prioress and the Novice Director, and alll will have read all correspondance between Sister and I, including my autobiography and reference from my SD, and they will keep it all in strict confidance. Comforting.

I feel like I'm under a microscope and I haven't felt like this since my law enforcement background. I'm still waiting to be told I have to meet with a background investigator from the CIA before my arrival at the monastery.

In speaking with others who also considered the Cistercians, they found the process so off-putting that they never continued and thus never visited. The Sister with whom I have been "speaking" explained that in the past they required the autobiography and recommendation with an application for entrance to the Order, they now require it at a 3 day visit.

By the way, they also define the 3 days; it wasn't by my request. They asked me to plan for five days, to include 3 full days there, 1 day for arrival and a day for travel home, and this, of course makes sense. I believe the monastery has hermitages for private retreatants and this kind of a schedule likely helps them keep things running at a proper pace during their busy guest season.

I wonder if my perseverance through this arduous application-to-visit process is maybe not as big of a deal for me because I've been through intense background investigations in the past? Both police and fire put me through my paces, sending me to intense physicals, psychologicals, physical tests, personal interviews, etc. I've been fingerprinted multiple times, my family and friends interviewed, my hometowns visited, employment records searched, etc etc etc. By comparison, this process is NOTHING!

It still seems invasive, yet I'm wi

lling to undergo it because something about the Cistercian Order has gotten my attention, has made me consider things more deeply, and that means I have to go.

So now, armed with my slight monastic experiences in an active community, a day and a half with my beloved Dominicans, now I prepare for the silence of an ancient Rule, one of austerity and early rising, something so contrary to my very being that it MUST be of God. Why? Because the idea of ME going there is totally insane.

Closing comments for obvious reasons. Thank you.

Kissing the Cross

A funny thing happened to me on the way to the convent; I got laryngitis. Actually, it hit me in the parlor while meeting with one of the Mothers just after my arrival. I'd been sick before I left and thought I was over it, but no, apparently not. And oddly enough, I didn't have a sore throat, I felt fine, just had a cough which wasn't even, at least initially, that bad!

Yes, yes, break out the jokes about how it was God's way of telling me to "shut up and listen", which really was an unnecessary message as I LOVED all the silences and sought them out whenever I could. As it was, though, that was the joke of the week with the Sisters and I was in on propagating it!

I think though, that God used it to impart to me a very different message. Not the harsh "shut up" but rather, a lesson in the Cross, in surrender, and embracing suffering.

Relics

The Novitiate at the convent had in their refrectory a relic of the True Cross, which I was invited to kiss while Mother K. was giving me the tour. At the time although my laryngitis hadn't fully manifested, I knew it was there and wasn't looking good. So my initial prayer as I kissed the Cross was that Our Lord, in His Mercy, would stave off this particular illness. I knew that the Sisters would be asking me questions, that I would have questions, and of course, I was mortified by the idea that upon my arrival in the convent I was sick! This was one of my nightmares!

I later learned there was another relic of the True Cross in a little shrine near the chapel, this one in a more ornate reliquary with a lit candle near it, and I often visited both relics and kissed them during my time there.

Yet it was on that first day and the following that, because of my unexpected and seeminly illogical illness, coupled with the grace of being able to kiss the Cross that made me meditate on that action, Our Lord's suffering...and what it meant.

A Kiss

What is a kiss but a sign of sincere love? It is intimate, it is intentional, it is physical, a motion that begins interiorly and is expressed exteriorly.

In kissing the relic of the True Cross, upon which Jesus hung in His act of Redemption, my kiss was intended to be an act of true love and devotion for Him, and in that, a recognition of His own love for me. I did not intend to be a Judas, offering a kiss in exchange for the blood money already held.

Later, in the chapel while I had some time to really meditate, I first spent some time praying that I wouldn't lose my voice, that God would remove this particular cross so that my week of discernment would be done in health and not this very inconvenient illness. And of course, my prayer was interrupted with a coughing jag. And even then I lamented my condition and begged even harder to be delivered from my suffering.

That's when it hit me; I had just kissed the Cross.

In contrition for my presumption, I gazed upon the crucifix that adorned the altar and took in our Savior twisted and contorted in torment, realizing that this is what He calls me to do as well. It is impossible to be united with Jesus without also being subject to suffering.

To kiss the Cross means that we love the Cross and we love Our Lord who died for us. To kiss the Cross is to love suffering. It is to love humility and mortification. The greatest act of love is imitation, therefore if we truly love Jesus, we must be willing to imitate Him...even unto His suffering and death.

My prayer then, was both arrogant and a betrayal. I kissed the Cross and asked for comfort. I made an act of love and then denied it by refusing to be conformed to the One I profess to love. Who am I to question the will of God, who cannot be taken by surprise and who KNEW I would suffer this illness through my retreat? I knew I should see it as a gift helping me to be more united to Him, and not an irritation that separated us.

It is my own actions, my own unwillingness to surrender to God's will that separates me from Him. Not a mere illness.

In fact, it was that illness that brought me face-to-face with Him and reminded me of the value and necessity of the Cross and the real meaning of love.

Upon this realization, I bowed my head, knowing God was with me, and said to Him, "Thy will be done. Not mine. Yours." In that moment, I embraced my suffering, which, as I've written, was not limited to the physical but became a spiritual struggle that never abated for a single moment.

From then on, each time I kissed the relics of the Cross, I made an act of surrender, resolving in my love of Jesus to also love the Cross and everything that comes with it. To embrace my sufferings if not in joy, then at least in acceptance and docility.

We are not given Crosses in order to chase us away from God, but rather to conform us more perfectly to Him, for we cannot find Him unless we are willing to be subject to His Passion.

We have to ask ourselves, each time we make the Sign of the Cross...do we mean what we pray? Do we understand what we are doing and how it must change us? Are we willing to imitate Christ only if it is comfortable to do so?

When we kiss the Cross, is our action a betrayal or a true act of devotion and love for Jesus?

*

"Those Who Know Cannot Explain. Those Who Don't Cannot Understand"

Remember "No Fear" shirts? The Mall of America used to have a "No Fear" store and I loved that place! It's where I found and purchased a t-shirt with the title phrase of this post. I wish I still had it.


I'd wear it every day just so I could point to it every time someone asks me a question about how my trip went and what my decision is.


Of course, everyone is assuming that I will enter religious life, and they can't seem to understand why I really can't discuss my retreat very much. So in order to perhaps explain a little, this post will answer some of that, only so that I can be left in peace and the curious among you can move on as well.


"Everyone Says..."


Everyone says that when you find where you belong you'll "know" it with every fibre of your being. Everyone I've spoken with found their convent or monastery or abbey or even seminary that way. They explain how they arrived and just knew it was Home.


And yes, that's beautiful, and for some it turns out to be a temporary home, for others, permanent. But it was clear that God wanted them there, and when they describe this experience, their eyes shine, even if they aren't at that particular place anymore.


I didn't approach my visit with an expectation of that, but rather just tried to stay open to what the Holy Spirit was desiring for me. I had two main questions, hoping to settle at least one of them:


1. Is God calling me to religious life?


2. If so, is this home?


Even though I've been writing about this for a long time, whether or not God is calling me to this has never been a settled question. It has been a mere reasonable suspicion, something I needed to find out before making any other life decisions. Everything for the rest of my life flows from an answer to that very big question.


The ten days of my discernment retreat with the two communities did not answer either question. I did not experience a single moment of actual "peace" that everyone describes. What I did experience was an interior agony of questions without answers.


I've written of the practical experience in the convent and the brief visit at the monastery outside of the enclosure, and yes, it was a good experience. I'm glad I went. I have no doubt that I was SUPPOSED to go, God was present, He spoke to me in many many ways and I was grateful for every moment with Him.


Exhaustion


Jesus revealed His own agony and suffering in totally new ways to me while I was there, and I will write a little about that in another post. He was with me completely, every bloody step, and sometimes hauling me along when I was ready to drop in my tracks.


Last Sunday and Monday, even part of Tuesday, I was on the edge of tears almost every single moment, so spiritually exhausted I wasn't sure I could carry on any further. Were it not for God's very real grace, I wouldn't have been able to continue on.


I've never experienced that kind of complete and total exhaustion. Some of it was due to the very regimented schedule. The fact that the schedule tired me surprised me, especially given the kind of work I've done juxtaposed with the simplicity of the work in the convent and all the quiet time in the chapel. It didn't seem to me that it would be possible to be so tired!


Yet I can't say I really slept that well there. The bed was uncomfortable, the pillow was industrial plastic, I wasn't adapted to the hours of sleep and waking, etc etc. Sleeping well wile travelling is a rarity for most people I think.


Put all this together along with the constant spiritual struggle, the very intense discernment I was experiencing and, well...it's pretty obvious a human being can only experience so much before collapse.


While I was with the Sisters of Charity, I didn't speak of this struggle. I couldn't. They were wonderful to me, offered great advice, and their clear invites to join them were sincere. I did tell Sr. H., my "Guardian Angel" that I still wasn't even sure I had a vocation at all, and she said nothing, probably knowing from her own years of experience how difficult it really is.


It actually caused a certain kind of interior agony when the General Superior told me in our meeting on my last day that she'd welcome my entrance, and another dear Mother came into the bakery on the morning that I left. She extended her own personal invitation and told me that if I wanted it, they had a place there for me. Now, this dear dear lady is one of the foundresses who suffered much for this American congregation, and even though she is bent over with osteoporosis, even though she can't look anyone directly in the face, I never saw her without a smile on her face and a twinkle in her eye. She even went into the kitchen to help the novices clean the dishes a few times!


Not knowing where I'm called, what I'm supposed to be doing, and yet receiving these invitations tore my heart in two and contributed even more to the intensity. And yet, I was joyful in the knowledge that they were so willing to give me a chance and welcome me into their home and community. And, especially given that I'm 35 and so many communities have shut their doors to me, well, it was especially meaningful to know that this door remains open.


I did receive an explanation on my weariness from Sr. MC when I visited the Dominican Monastery, and discussed it even further this morning when I met with my spiritual director. It is actually a great comfort to know that everyone experiences that and, in essence, I'm completely normal! This kind of intense discernment is very, very wearing on every level, and EVERYONE "crashes" at some point. I certainly did.


Ultimately


It's a bit frustrating that everyone in my life is asking me if my experience at the convent is "something I think I might want to do." Many people think the experience is akin to a job. It's not.


They can't understand why I can't give an answer. They can't understand why I can't really discuss it. They don't understand the intensity or the interior agony that is discernment. They can't understand; many people who are married never actually "discerned" marriage! (Oy, but that's a different topic and one I'm not going to touch!)


It really is a very lonely place to be, and yet, it's FILLED with God. Anything that causes this much suffering HAS to be a great gift.


But it's not something that can be revealed. I have my very short list of people who are privy to what's going on, and the cool thing about them is that they've been there and know what this is like, which means I don't have to describe very much.


I can talk to them and not have to explain why it's so hard. I can allude to the agonizing week I've had and don't have to define any specifics. They know that what goes on between a soul and God doesn't have words in any language. And yet, those who have been through this trial know it so well that they won't even ASK for an explanation.


A Personal Request to my readers:


People often read such posts and in their good will, find it hard to overcome the temptation to offer advice. Please don't try to offer me advice. As I said, the list of people privy to what's really going on is very very short and I NEED to keep it that way. I do not write of this struggle by way of a request for advice, and too much advice is overwhelming and often presumptuous. (I mean no offense by that!)


I considered closing comments up front, but there may be readers who want to share their own experiences. So, maybe I can say this: If you are tempted to want to offer advice or "fix me" in some way...duct tape your fingers to your chair or your desk or anything that keeps you away from the keyboard. Please and Thank You! :-)


If you have your own experience to share, or a practical question, random free association having nothing to do with anything (spam will be deleted...free association is OK...), etc....comment away! :-)


My hope is that this post satisfies those who are on the edge of their seat expecting the climax of some epic movie. Might as well settle in...the end is NOT near! I hope it also causes those who have been holding their breath at the announcement of my Profession to breathe again. I'd prefer that no one suffer on my account!


I will continue to write of my discernment and where it goes, as long as God wills. But for now I have a great deal to think and pray about and much to consider that I'd prefer never to discuss in an open forum.


Please continue praying for me, and all those in discernment, INCLUDING especially those who have entered religious life and haven't taken solemn vows. They are ALL in formation and without prayers, they'll never make it. (Pray for those who HAVE taken vows, too, they still need lots of help!).


The Nuns, Sisters, Brothers, Monks, Friars that you write to for prayers need prayers too. Never forget that. Pray for them without ceasing. They pray for you.


*** Comments are now closed. I posted a very simple request in bright red bold colors and it was subsequently ignored. ****

Dominicans!

Well, I've written of my experience with the Sisters of Charity, where I spent most of my time, but I also spent about a day and a half with the Dominican Nuns in Summit, New Jersey. (You'll remember them from their illustrious blog, MonialesOP).

I don't know how long I've been following their blog, and when I began to do so I certainly never imagined I would ever actually VISIT them! Just goes to show that God has plans we know nothing about until He springs them on us!

If you'll recall, I mentioned the train into Newark where I took a lengthy tour of the platform and stood out like a farm girl visiting a big city for the first time. (Ironic...I've lived in a large metro area for years and used to live in south Minneapolis where car chases, midnight gunshots and screams were a given!) Yet I was a fish out of water at Penn Station - Newark NJ. Amazing.

Sr. M., their extern, was there to pick me up, and seriously, what a dear, dear Sister she is! I found it amusing, though, that she led me into the guest quarters at the Monastery somewhat apologetically.

Now, mind you, I'd just spent a week sleeping on an industrial plastic mattress which was mostly worn out, and plastic pillow that made sleep nearly impossible.

I had expected that the quarters at the Dominican Monastery would be similar; dorm-style showers, a little cell with a bed, desk, and a sink, uncomfortable bed proper to poverty, etc.

So imagine my joy to find that the guest quarters were more suite than cell, including a desk, a table, a TV, a microwave, a refrigerator and more coffee than I'd seen in what felt like forever! (It was really the coffee that won me over). Oh, and the bed was SO comfortable! It was real, with a real pillow!

Maybe on second thought it was the comfy bed and pillow that won me over...hmmm...

I could not figure out why Sr. M was apologetic about this!

Anyway, Sr. M. told me that Sr. MC would be meeting me in the parlor in a couple hours, so I had time to get settled, visit the beautiful chapel, and pray for a bit. I missed most of the Divine Office at 3 pm (my mistake!), but made all the other Hours in my time there.

For those who aren't aware, the Dominicans in Summit are cloistered, so I was not able to enter the enclosure to have the same kind of experience as the one I had with the Sisters of Charity. In order to have that, I'd have to apply for aspirancy of 2-6 weeks.

Sr. MC and I sat in the parlor a great deal that day and the following, chatting about relevant and irrelevent things, and of course, got along famously. And true to what I'd expect from the Dominicans, I was given a couple books to read during my time there, for how can one ever visit a Dominican Monastery and NOT study? The very idea would be completely sacriligious!

It's unfortunate, but all I had there was one full day. I would have loved more time there in prayer, to follow along while they sang the prayer of the Church, to fall into the routine a bit more, and of course, have the solitude and time to contemplate the many questions which have arison on this trip.

On Thursday evening the Novices hung out with me for awhile and gave me some of their stories, which is always amazing. I love hearing how Our Lord speaks to others, how they came to enter the monastery or convent or abbey.

Our time was all too short, and of course, I continue to love the Dominicans. I was sad to leave on Friday morning. There is something about meeting people face to face, spending time with them, especially when our friendship is formed through our shared faith, that forges a bond in a short time.

I don't know if I'll be returning to either community; that is in God's hands. Naturally I'd LOVE to go back, but the question remains whether it's God's will, or my true desire.

Time will tell.