On May 29th 2014, we explored the stages of grief and discussed healthy ways of coping with the pain experienced by those who have been in religious life and returned to the world. We sincerely hope you benefit from this video! May God bless you.
Even though I don’t know what your plan is, I know you’re making beauty from these ashes.
“Broken Hallelujah” by the Afters
Broken, Blessed, and Beautiful: Isn’t this the Paschal Mystery we proclaim? Isn’t this also how the stories of our lives are written?
As we continue to celebrate this Easter season and look to embody this message of hope in daily life, the Alleluia quiets, the joy dims, and life’s daily struggles often begin again to filter and obscure the light. The promise of Spring found in the garden on Easter morning can fade and seem far off come nightfall.
As each of us knows, the landscape of life can shift dramatically, leaving us feeling lost, broken, and discouraged. The friends of Jesus knew this well as it played out before their very eyes. The Paschal Mystery has seasons, as do our lives. Personally I’ve lived these seasons through religious life, single life, marriage, and motherhood. I’ve felt the effects of these shifting sands. The benefit of time and experience has led me to the sure knowledge: God is taking me at my word, as I’ve so often prayed Psalm 51, “Create in me a new heart, O Lord, renew in me a steadfast spirit.” Each season has its own particular challenges and joys, its own blessings and brokenness. While the details of our individual stories may vary, the Author remains the same. He is in ALL the details, the brokenness and the blessing. We are reminded that life is a journey: We are ALL works in progress, perfectly imperfect, forgiven, redeemed, and loved beyond measure by a Wounded Healer.
Luke’s Gospel tells the story of the Risen Lord’s appearance to the disciples on the Road to Emmaus (Luke 24:13-35). Aren’t we like the disciples who walked the Road to Emmaus? To them, and to us, words can barely convey the heartfelt pain, loss, and grief of the past few days. But Jesus walks with these disciples and listens without judgment to their outpouring of emotion, unrecognized, just as He walks with each of us, listens to each of us. We and these disciples are exactly where we need to be.
When they arrived at Emmaus, they invited him with these words, “Stay with us, for it is nearly evening!”
And it happened while he was with them at table, he took bread, said the blessing, broke it, and gave it to them. Their eyes were opened and they recognized him, but he vanished from their sight.
He may have vanished from their sight, but most certainly not from their hearts. This encounter would provide hope and encouragement as these disciples lived out their renewed faith and Easter hope.
May each one of us invite the Risen Lord to walk with us, to stay with us. May we invite Him to open our minds and our hearts, so we may recognize Him, beautiful and broken, in our current circumstances. He will feed our spirits and fill our hearts with blessing.
By Meg
Meg left community after 8 years of serving as a professed religious sister. Discernment and transition were challenging for her, but three years after returning to the world, Meg met her future husband, Mike, with whom she now has three children. At present, Meg is “rediscovering” her love for all things creative, writing poetry, visual arts, and living a healthy lifestyle. She is grateful for the opportunity to offer encouragement to those who have left religious life.
As many of you know, Pope Francis announced on July 5 that JP2 and Bl. John XXIII will soon be canonized.
I recently read a biography about the life of Pope John XXIII (Angelo Roncalli). The book was filled with beautiful and interesting stories about his life. One that struck me in a particular way was about his niece Enrica. She was in the convent for a little over a year, fell ill and had to withdraw. When he heard this, he wrote her a note, knowing that she was having difficulty being back in the world.
“My dear niece Enrica, a word for you alone. You have already shed enough tears. Shed no more but be happy and content in the Lord. If the Lord requires something else of you he will make his voice heard clearly and loudly. Holiness consists not in penances and extraordinary practices but in seeking in all things the Lord’s will, in obedience and humility.” (“I Will Be Called John” by Lawrence Elliott, page 156)
Enrica later said “his letter made it possible for me to accept myself.” I find the last part such a great reminder that God is calling us to holiness here and now. Many people think that one has to go to the convent/monastery/etc. in order to be holy. But if God has brought you back to the world (even if it’s for a short time), it is because this is part of the path to holiness for you.
St. Josemaria Escriva was a strong proponent of holiness in daily life, and that is the purpose of Opus Dei (which he founded). If you haven’t heard of it, I would encourage you to learn more!
If you are having a hard time adjusting, I would encourage you to ask the intercession of Bl. John XXIII, St. Josemaria Escriva and Leonie Martin.
Here is a newly approved prayer to Leonie:
Dear Leonie our Sister,
You have already intervened with God on our behalf,
and we would like to be able to pray to you officially,
so that many more might know you.
Come to the aid of parents who risk losing a child,
as you nearly died at a very young age.
Continue to uphold the families
where different generations have problems living together in peace.
Enlighten youth who question their future and hesitate to commit.
Show to all the way of prayer
which permits you to bear your limitations and your difficulties with confidence,
and to give yourself to others.
Lord, if such is your will,
deign to accord us the grace that we ask of you
through the intercession of your servant Leonie,
and inscribe her among the number of the venerable of your Church.
Through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.
Imprimatur: March 25, 2012
Jean-Claude Boulanger
Bishop of Bayeux-Lisieux
By Pinkie
I spent 10 years as a convert in Judaism and 5 years as an immigrant in Israel. Then I left it all. But 10 years of my life, the most formative years of my life, were still all bound up in Judaism and the Jewish homeland. When I “made yeridah” (“went down” from Israel, returning to the US), I returned to West Virginia. In West Virginia, nobody cared where I’d been or what I’d done or what I’d been through.
It was lonely. I needed to process it all: all my experiences, all my changing beliefs, all my transforming self. But when you go away for a long time and return, all people want to do is update you on what you “missed.” It was true: America had changed a lot in the time I was overseas. But I honestly could not have cared less about that at the time. I needed someone to listen. For a long time. And I just could not find anyone who was interested in hearing about Israel and my conversions and all my confusion about God and turbulent feelings about Jews for hours and hours and hours. You know how when someone comes back from a trip to Europe and all they talk about is Europe? And everyone starts to complain, annoyed, “All she ever wants to talk about is Europe!” That was me. So in order not to be annoying, or to be perceived as the snob who wanted to rub in everyone’s faces how much time she’d spent overseas, I just kept it all to myself. Real lonely-like.
On top of needing to talk about what I had been through, there was what I was going through at the time: what cultural scholars call “re-enculturation,” the process of readjusting to one’s native culture after being away from it for a long time. No one but another West Virginian who had converted to Judaism and immigrated to Israel and returned to West Virginia at exactly the same times as me could understand what I was experiencing. And how many of those are there?
One. So far as I’m aware.
Double the loneliness.
Then there was the fact of all the stereotypes and misconceptions people have about life in Israel. A typical conversation went like this:
“Oh my gosh! Erin! I haven’t seen you in, like, ages! Where have you been?! What have you done?”
“Well, I converted to Judaism and immigrated to Israel. I just got back.”
“Whoa, that’s intense. [Enter stereotype:] Was it really scary there?”
“No.” (It was really hard for me to keep my patience at this point.)
“I mean, what about all the bombings and the missiles and the war and stuff? Wasn’t that, like, really intense?” (Yes, I know what you meant!)
“No. People go on with life. It’s not like it appears on CNN.”
“Oh. Well, hey, we’re going over to so-and-so’s house tonight for a bonfire.”
And that was it. That was the end of their interest. Despite the constant tidal wave of emotions and thoughts churning inside me, I felt reduced, on the outside, to a 10-second myth-debunker. That’s all people wanted to know. From my side, it felt like they weren’t interested in me. Because I had so much I needed to say. So much I needed someone to listen to.
I imagine that leaving the convent is a lot like this. Especially if you were there for a long time. Especially considering all the misconceptions people have about being a sister. Especially if you’re in a place that’s not heavily Catholic.
Honestly, I’m not sure how I got through that period of my life. I know that not having anyone to listen to me forced me to turn to God. We worked it out, “processed everything” together, on our own. And I guess that’s the way it should have been. After all, my travels were spiritual travels (much like yours, I presume), and though being around a bunch of people who don’t understand or aren’t interested can make me feel like I traveled “that road and this one” very much alone, the truth is that I was never alone. I had a Fellow Traveler. And He was always interested. He always understood. He was always willing to listen. Even for hours and hours and hours.
It can become really easy to get bitter at other people’s lack of interest in where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing and what you’ve been going through all these years. It took me over a year to finally find some compassion for them. Because I was so wrapped up in myself, trying to process what had happened to me, what was happening to me, it took me that long to see things from their perspective: Just like my life had gone on in Israel, so had theirs in my absence. I couldn’t just show up again and dump 10 years of spiritual and cultural turmoil on them. It was, as they said, too intense.”
After about four years, I finally met someone who was interested in hearing the whole story. The weird thing was, when the opportunity arose for me to spill it all, I was the one who gave the Cliff’s Notes version. It just felt odd at that point to talk about it for hours and hours. Because at that point, I had finally gotten past it all. I had processed everything that needed to be processed, expressed everything that needed to be expressed. But I’d done it slowly, over time, with my Fellow Traveler, rather than in one great big sudden dramatic dump with someone who wouldn’t have been able to understand anyway. I think it worked out better that way. More naturally, at least.
If you have someone who is willing to let you dump it all out on them, consider yourself hugely blessed. If you don’t, and you really need one, this ministry is for you. Reach out to your fellow former-sisters in the Comment boxes. Share your experiences, and be willing to listen, too.
But if none of those things is an option for you, then know that, as time goes on, you’ll work it all out anyway. Slowly, over time, with your Fellow Traveler. Until one day, it will just feel strange to make such a big deal out of it. Because life will have gone on.
By J.E. Sigler.
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