By Jamie, reposted from her blog Bloom Where You’re Planted.
I sat in my first job interview after leaving the convent. I remember clearly being asked, “What’s your five year plan?” by the financial lead of the organization. I mean this was a typical job interview question, but you may chuckle at the absurdity of the question if you asked a nun this question, which is what I was not too long prior. For a sister, your identity is in who you are, not what you do. As a religious, you are the bride of Christ. That is your identity.
In my monastery, you get assigned your new “job” every three years. You learn to have a peaceful acceptance of whatever it may be as the will of God, coming from the wisdom of the superiors. Even if you’re not too keen on the job, this is the daily obedience that you promise when you take vows. It comes with the lifestyle of a sister. For active sisters, these could mean moving to a whole new state for a teaching assignment every three years. For a cloistered sister, perhaps switching from your duties as the sacristan and helping with chapel ministries to the head cook for all the sisters. There is a detachment that is at first learned in religious life.
Detachment. Not a common word in our everyday lingo. What does it mean to you? It is very similar to St. Ignatius’ methods. A beautiful way of thinking of it is a desire to please God. A desire to focus on the things above not on the things below, no matter the consequences. It does not base questions on if you want or don’t want to do something. It is a detachment of self and the identity, job, salary, skills, etc. you held previously in the world to attach to the things above, to heavenly things. Pretty different from what we’re used to, huh?
For example, do you delight in your favorite ice cream? Of course. Do you jump for joy if given your least favorite ice cream? Why not? Sound like a crazy notion? The goal in this path of holiness as a religious is to be unattached from every human desire to only be attached to that of Christ and follow that which Christ lays before you. ‘Do I want this job?’ is not a question to be asked. ‘Does He want me to have this job?’ is a better question. If given prayerfully by your superiors, then yes, it is within His will and under the vow of obedience, you say yes. One sister once told me, “Stop thinking ‘Is this what I want?’ or ‘Is this what I think He wants?’ ” It is rather asking for a divine surrender to the Will of God. Trust. Jesus, I trust in Thee.
Saying ‘yes’ to Him and to this lifestyle is a daily dying to self. It is waking at 5 am everyday to join the sisters in chapel. It is rushing off to ring the bell 10 times per day to remind the sisters it is time for prayer, a meal, etc. because that is the task of the postulant. It is constantly watching your watch so you do not lead the sisters into the chapel late for their time of singing the Psalms in unison. Saying ‘yes’ is dusting the chapel three times a week since it is the task assigned to you. It is cleaning the bathrooms at the same time on Wednesdays with the novice mistress showing you spots you missed. It is watering the garden and pulling out weeds thinking that if your family saw you now they wouldn’t believe it!
Dying to self is receiving a package in the mail but asking for permission to keep it. You really desire to talk to a particular sister, but it is asking permission from your mistress to see if that is allowed. You want to speak during dinner prep but it is not the life or the call so you stay quiet. A sister needs a new glasses case and you would like to offer yours, but the exchange cannot go through you. The sister must speak to the novice mistress on your behalf to see if the exchange is allowed. Dying to self is getting up at 1:50 am three days a week to attend your middle of the night holy hour, losing sleep, but telling yourself it is worth it, to doze back to sleep until prayers a couple hours later.
You become like a child. Dying to self in little ways over and over. Making no decision for yourself. Every decision must be approved, run by your novice mistress. It is trust that He called you here and that He will give the grace of perseverance in each of these actions that keeps you going. You accept each little cross, rather, this different culture altogether, as a shedding of the old you and the growing pains of trying to live holiness in the radical way He has called you to. You see a transformation of yourself and see the secular version of yourself that once was being peeled away in this life you have chosen and that He humbly has given you if you wish to accept.
In the monastery I often wondered what it would look like to go back into the world for my first home visit, when I was usually immersed in the sanctity of perpetual adoration and song of praise, and how I would be able to handle the reverse culture shock. How would I go back to a world that was way too loud, sprinkled with evil, and try to live my life that had transformed so evidently? So here I was, applying for a secular job post monastery. So what did I answer the financial officer in my job interview for my five year plan? Thankfully, this was for a Catholic organization and someone else in the interview had left religious life long ago too. I remember collecting my thoughts and answering, “If you would have asked this question not too long ago I would have told you to be a religious sister, but now, my five year plan is to be a mom.”
It was not the secular answer most job interviews expect, in a world where job ranking, salary, and working up are emphasized. I said this with complete uncertainty of the road ahead. I had chosen to leave the monastery, I reminded myself. The pangs of ‘Did I fail?’ or ‘Did I leave what was my call because I could not handle the difficulties?’ rang strong in my ears. The uncertainty of the future and the possibility of the disappointment of who I was preparing to espouse echoed loudly. Trust. A level of trust I had never known before is what leaving the monastic way of life entailed to the core.
I pray this helps those understand the way of life a bit better and gives accompaniment to my sisters who also discerned out. Christ’s peace.
By Christina M. Sorrentino
“He who knows how to forgive prepares for himself many graces from God. As often as I look upon the cross, so often will I forgive with all my heart.” (St. Faustina, Diary, 390)
Forgiveness is a tremendous challenge when it often seems that by offering pardon to another we are surrendering to a loss of justice. But the reality is that forgiveness does not diminish justice, it leaves it to God. We are assured by our Christian faith that there will be retribution, where God will reward the righteous with remunerative justice, and with His response of wrath against man’s sin He will inflict penalties upon the ones who choose by their own free will to remain far away from Him, which will be His retributive justice.
It was seven months ago that I made the conscious decision to forgive. I knew that forgiveness was the only way to allow the grace of God to heal my wounded heart, mind, and soul. It was not instantaneous though, and it took my heart awhile to catch up with my head. I struggled with the incredible hurt and pain that one individual, the woman who was supposed to be my “spiritual mother” inflicted upon me, especially since she admitted during the very last time that I saw her to committing the wrongdoings on purpose and for no particular reason.
My whole world was spun upside down and the vocation that meant everything to me was taken away because one person chose to become an instrument of the devil instead of an instrument of the Holy Spirit. With her head down and eyes looking downward gazing towards the floor she begged me for my forgiveness and to pray for her. At that moment forgiving her and praying for her was the hardest thing that I had ever had to do. But as soon as the words left her lips to ask me the question I immediately chose to forgive her, and to continue to pray for her as I had always done prior to my departure at the convent.
I questioned her sincerity at first in truly being repentant for what she had done to me, but ultimately decided that it was not for me to decide because God knew the disposition of her heart. And I hoped that one day she would be able to accept God’s forgiveness for what she had done, so that she could find peace just as I had found peace in forgiving her. I wanted her to be able to accept the love and mercy that I knew God was waiting to offer her in the Sacrament of Confession. Forgiveness truly sets us free.
We know the Parable of the Unforgiving Servant where the Master forgives his servant for a large debt, but then the servant refuses to forgive a small debt of his fellow servant. The Master then rebukes the first servant, and throws him in prison until his large debt would be paid in total, which would actually be beyond his lifespan. The first servant lacked great humility when he punished his fellow servant, and acted as if he had never been forgiven himself. If we do not find in our hearts to forgive those who have sinned against us, how can we then expect our Heavenly Father to be merciful and to forgive us? (Matthew 18:21-35)
When we refuse to forgive another we become a slave to the sin of pride, and lose our freedom to have peace within our hearts. Anger, bitterness, and resentment can take control over our heart, mind, and soul, and permitting such feelings to take up residence within us rents the space within our heart that is for Christ alone. If we allow these emotions to become the master of our thoughts, words, and actions then we prevent ourselves from being able to heal from the hurt and suffering, and to find peace. God desires for us to have peace, and to not spend the rest of our lives as a prisoner of pride.
“Today I decided to forgive you. Not because you apologized, or because you acknowledged the pain that you caused me, but because my soul deserves peace.” (Najwa Zebian)
How can we control our natural emotions and prevent ourselves from having the tendency to lash out or retaliate against those who have trespassed against us? We need to act on a supernatural level by allowing the graces of the Holy Spirit to work within us, and place our “littleness” before God. By placing ourselves at the feet of Jesus we can surrender our pride and imitate Christ’s example of mercy and Love. As Christ hung from the Cross painfully laboring his last breaths with blood dripping from His sacred wounds He spoke the words, “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.” (Luke 23:34) Having been forgiven by the Lord in His mercy and Love, can we then lower ourselves, and be humble enough to do the same and forgive another?
We can ask the Holy Spirit to give us strength, and look to the saints as models of forgiveness. St. John Vianney once said, “The saints have no hatred, no bitterness; they forgive everything, and think they deserve much more for their offenses against God.” The martyrdom of St. Stephen teaches us to forgive in his last words before death, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit… Lord, do not hold this sin against them!” (Acts 7:59-60) The child virgin and martyr, St. Maria Goretti, before taking her last breath, forgave her assailant, Alessandro Serenelli, after he stabbed her fourteen times and mortally wounded her. St. Ignatius of Loyola in the bitter cold of winter walked one hundred miles to care for a sick man who only a short time prior to his illness stole from him. Another Saint whom we often turn to for intercession to help us with forgiveness is St. Pio of Pietrelcelina, who suffered immensely at the hands of his superiors and even Vatican officials, who believed him to be a fraud.
We need to allow the light of Christ to radiate from the depth of our souls, and like the beautiful Saints before us, we can unite our hurt and pain to the suffering of Jesus on the Cross. Christ can heal our wounds, if we let Him, by transforming them into a fountain of love poured out like a libation for the sanctification of poor sinners. It is by love alone that we will be able to forgive those who have left us with these scars. The gateway of our hearts will become open to receive peace as we are set free from the yoke of bondage – the self-prison that we create for ourselves when we are held captive by our own pride – if we choose forgiveness. Corrie Ten Boom, a Christian who helped to hide Jewish refugees during the Holocaust, once said, “Forgiveness is the key that unlocks the door of resentment and the handcuffs of hatred. It is a power that breaks the chains of bitterness and the shackles of selfishness.”
Image of Saint Faustina with the Divine Mercy used under Creative Commons license. Attribution: Phancamellia245, CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0>, via Wikimedia Commons.
An Advent reflection by Emma.
As I watched Disney’s Frozen II I felt, at some level, understood. Some friends who saw the movie also noticed themes that resonate very much with what it is like to discern religious life, or to have a friend who is discerning religious life. The below is less of a review and more of a spiritual exploration of a few of those themes through soundtrack lyrics paired with scripture. To those who may feel a little frozen in their discernment journey after having left the monastery, I hope these reflections help you to see that you are not alone – that others are frozen too – and that there is hope, for indeed “We know that in everything God works for good with those who love him” (Romans 8:28)
I’ve had my adventure, I don’t need something new
I’m afraid of what I’m risking if I follow you
Into the unknown
“Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” Matthew 14:28
Elsa rules peacefully rules over Arendelle in the company of her dear sister Anna and friends. She already had an adventure of self-knowledge, self-acceptance, and sisterly love, yet there is still more to be learned and growth to be had. She still doesn’t understand why she has cryokinetic powers and is simultaneously longing for a life where having such a gift makes sense, but that might mean leaving behind her tranquil, easy-going life… again.
Similarly, many of us who have been in religious life may feel like we have already had our adventure. We already made the sacrifice. We left home behind and followed Jesus out onto the water. We followed the calling with everything we had, and everything the Spirit was willing to give us. We grew in self-knowledge and matured in other ways through living religious life.
And now we’re back.
It’s too easy to think that I have already had the adventure of religious life and I don’t need anything new. It is hard to listen and discern when I’m not sure if I trust those movements in my heart anymore. It is be hard to consider risking everything… again. Yet I do have the qualities of a contemplative soul and desire to find a place where those gifts fit in. I am different. Not many people would be willing to leave family, friends, career, and everything else to wake up before 5 am every day and never again be able to choose what’s for breakfast. Of course, the secret is that underneath the sacrifice is a deep love and longing for God – a spousal love.
And so the call remains… to something. I remain confident that Jesus is calling me to consecrated life, yet the context remains unclear. So I try to trust. And ask Jesus to bid me come to Him on the water if indeed He is the one who is calling.
And with the dawn, what comes then?
When it’s clear that everything will never be the same again.
Then I’ll make the choice to hear that voice
And do the next right thing.
“But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they went to the tomb, taking the spices which they had prepared.” Luke 24:1
Another theme that appears in Frozen II is grief. This is definitely an emotion that I felt after leaving the monastery, especially toward the sister I was. Each sister is so unique in the way she loves God and the way she loves the other sisters, and the way she is loved by God and is loved by the other sisters. The fact that I left means that there will never be a sister in that monastery who is like that. Indeed, when a sister leaves the monastery or convent, things will never be the same again, and I remember wondering what is on the other side of grieving that loss.
I encourage you, wherever you find yourself, to do the next right thing. Perhaps the next right thing is spending a few minutes in prayer. Perhaps it is reaching out to a friend or priest for guidance. Perhaps it is going to Mass or Adoration. Perhaps it is simply finding enough motivation to go for a walk. The next right thing may not seem particularly remarkable, but each step taken out of love for Jesus is heroic. I encourage you, like Mary Magdalene and the other Mary, to go to the tomb. Because if you do, you will find the Resurrection – it just might not be right away though. Things will never be the same again, and that’s okay.
I’m dying to meet you
It’s your turn
Are you the one I’ve been looking for
All of my life?
I’m ready to learn
“Jesus said to her, ‘Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?'” John 20:15
I’ll refrain from commenting on the context of this song so as to avoid spoilers, yet I wanted to include it because of how it mirrors contemplative prayer so well (note: the full song does contain spoilers). More than anything else after having left religious life, I needed to re-encounter the God I fell in love with. I needed to know that I was still loved by Jesus, when my emotions after leaving the monastery had me feeling rejected and abandoned. I found much healing here through praying in a way described by a bishop. His prayer in difficult moments was, “Lord show me how you are good here. Lord I want to see you in this situation” and he assures that when we pray in this way “God always comes through. And I mean always.” Through this prayer I was asking Jesus to show Himself, which is at the heart of the cry of a contemplative soul. I wanted to learn how he loved me through the difficult moments. I wanted to see how He was living His mysteries within my own life. I wanted to see God. As I began to pray in this way, moments of great suffering turned into moments of great intimacy with Jesus, and I’ve grown much in understading who I am to Him and who He is to me.
Where the north wind meets the sea
There’s a mother full of memory
Come, my darling, homeward bound.
When all is lost, then all is found.
“And Mary kept all these thing, pondering them in her heart.” Luke 2:19
This opening song of the film actually makes quite a beautiful Marian hymn. Mary, our mother, is full of memory. She watches over us and ponders moments of our lives in her heart. As St. Mary of Jesus Crucified says, “Mary counts your steps.” We have a mother who cares for us. Loves us. Nurtures us. Heals us. This Advent, I invite us to ask Mary to lend us her heart. I invite us to ask her to permit us to see as she sees. To feel as she feels. To know as she knows. To hear as she hears. To love as she loves. To ponder as she ponders. We have a Mother who is counting our steps to our eternal home, where truly all that we long for will be found.
By Rebecca Pawloski
The first time I heard the word Beguine was in undergrad theology at the Lateran University in Rome. I was assisting our venerable professor of Church history with his microphone at the break between lessons. He asked me, “Chi siete?” in Italian “Who are you (both)” while motioning to my place in the classroom, and to my friend Sara who was sitting there chatting with the Roman seminarians—as one does during the break. I understood he was asking what community Sara and I belonged to, which was a normal enough question. In our class of 70-some students there were over 30 ecclesial entities represented. Another professor had once asked me the same question on the very first day of class, and I had answered that my community was the Holy Catholic Church. When he looked confused, I responded that I hoped it was his community as well. He was embarrassed as my classmates laughed. I amended my ways and learned to simply say, begrudgingly, “lay woman”, when it came time to announce allegiances at the start of each new course.
So I told the good Prof. Mario Sensi, “I am a laywoman with monastic tendencies”.
He gestured to Sara, “Both of you?”
I said, “Yes”. I explained, in brief, that we would have done something else, each been part of some group, but that discerning a community is complicated to do after undertaking studies. So, well, at least we try to pray the liturgy of the hours and live celibacy for the Kingdom. Prof. Sensi became very excited and gestured with his hands in the air “You’re Beguines! BEGUINES!” I assured him he was mistaken, and that I had never heard of that community. He smiled and said, “You will learn”. And, indeed, three years later when he taught his new course Mulieres in Ecclesia on Beguines, I was signed up for the adventure. Sara planned the field trip for our STL class to visit the houses of Beguines dating from the 13th to the 15th centuries in central Italy. But I would not yet identify with the Beguines.
Sara and I had met because a priest who was close to each of us had put us in contact and encouraged us to go to Rome to study theology. This priest had spoken to each of us about his plans to found a community; however, I had just recently departed from a new community that had canonical problems and I was wary of new things. At the same time, I had a conviction I should continue my path in the Church and had a deep desire to study theology. Sara had survived cancer and had decided she wanted to live life radically. She had already spent some time discerning whether or not to set out on the path towards consecrated life. We met up in Rome. The priest who connected us did not continue in his idea to found a community. This was well for us, because as we studied, a new community lost its appeal and the older forms of consecrated life seemed to grant deeper rootedness.
So, at the time Prof. Sensi was teaching his course on Beguines, Sara and I were networking with the Ordo Virginum (OCV) in Rome, an ancient ordo, or order, of women each consecrated by a bishop to live virginity for the Kingdom in relationship to the local Church. We were both attending the monthly meetings at the Roman Seminary, together with other women who had invited us, an event where both Consecrated Virgins and those who were interested in their ways of life met for formation sessions. For me, OCV was not entirely a good fit, first of all because I do not have a stable sense of calling to a particular diocese and also have a desire to continue in academia with all its uncertainties. However, there are many things I like about OCV: for example, its focus on living continence for the Kingdom as a charism in itself. I like the diversity of women in the ordo, the strong local identity and the lack of a complex relationship with a founder-figure—things I had also admired about the spirituality of the diocesan priests with whom I had studied.
Ordo Virginum, though it may resolve the question of one’s identity and way of belonging in the Church, does not resolve the physiological questions fundamental to human life, namely the need for food and shelter. Women generally do not receive a stipend for participation in sacraments to guarantee sustenance by prayer. And so, as the fundamental needs became more pressing, the idea of OCV became less immediate.
But, back to the Beguines. “Beguine” is the name given to a vast array of women who organized their lives and livelihood around the Church without (at first) any formal approval. It turns out the Beguines had first of all mastered a secular economic model for women to participate in ecclesial life while maintaining their independence, and this as early as the 12th century. If they shared a common life (and some did not), there was mutual support to live in continence for the Kingdom, but also freedom to leave the lifestyle at any time. Celibacy was an important requirement for being a Beguine, but permanent vows were not pronounced. This was not always celebrated and was even sometimes condemned by members of the hierarchy. In fact, if anything, the nominative “Beguine” was pejorative and even today is used by Italians to denote a professional Church Lady who doesn’t do much else, even though the Beguine movement has many saints associated with it.
For me the Beguines became closer as I took time to do a long retreat after I finished my STL. It was a good moment in life to stop and take stock of direction. I wrote down all the possibilities on a paper in a sort of flow chart of life options (this is not a specific Ignatian Retreat “task”, but my own way of working). I colored in yellow the way where I found some light. I found myself right where I was in academia, living celibacy for the Kingdom as I could, and happy to do so in free association with others on a similar path. In short, I found I was a Beguine and not really looking for another way to be.
I’ve written this little reflection “On becoming a Beguine” in dialog with Penny and Leonie’s Longing because of a shared vision we have that studying the Beguines can give consolation and a sense of identity to unmarried women who are living out their baptized and confirmed vocation while longing to feel more at home in the Church community. I hope Penny will not mind if I quote her as saying, “I think it will help a lot of women come to a new understanding of their place in the Church as laywomen living celibate lives for the Kingdom. Certainly, in my own life, I’ve drawn a lot of consolation from the ideals of the Beguines. It’s comforting to have a sense of belonging, of having a spiritual lineage, outside the formal monastic life.”
For me, acceptance of living in the identity of a Beguine has influenced my spiritual life by allowing me the freedom to do a few “experiments” in prayer. When a woman belongs to a well-defined spiritual tradition, her task is often to learn and grow in that community’s way of prayer without the freedom to try out different prayer styles. For many years the liturgy of the hours carried my prayer life, but now–although I love the liturgy as a way to pray with others–I’ve found my need for a more personal and meditative way of praying. I still look forward to praying the liturgy with others, but liturgy is certainly a different practice when one is alone for prayer.
I see this way of life as being a concrete living out of prophetic intuition. We understand the vocation of men to the priesthood as belonging to an “ordo”– the order of priests– which expands to include many different styles of sacerdotal lifestyle. By making an analogy, we could understand the women of every age who find themselves called to live intentional celibacy for the sake of the kingdom as part of a sort of “order of prophets” seeking with their lives to point to that love in Christ which surpasses death. The world, and sometimes even the Church, will not understand the witness of such women, but they understand each other. Psychologists tell us the sense of belonging to a group is one of our higher needs. Since grace builds on nature, we can talk about fulfilling a spiritual need to connect and identify with a group.
In my reflection on Beguines, I think it is important to recognize I am not alone. Sara is also studying what it means to be a Beguine. It is also important for us to recognize we are not the only ones seeking to root ourselves in this tradition. There are others out there already doing so. In the future, it could be good to think of a way to support each other. However, for the immediate present, I have to live out my calling to finish my doctoral dissertation in dogmatic theology at the Gregorian University. Then we will see where all this goes.
(Prof. Mario Sensi passed away May 25, 2015. His exhaustive study illuminating the role of mystic women in Church history continues to bring insight to many.)
Image from https://pul.academia.edu/MarioSensi.
The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not want;
he makes me lie down in green pastures.
He leads me beside still waters;
he restores my soul.
Those are difficult words to pray when life has taken on the characteristics of a desert.
There are still moments when I miss the “green pastures” and “still waters” of religious life. There are still moments when I miss the hours set aside for prayer, simplicity of our cell, the laughter and smiles of the community, the folds of our habit, the quiet and simple work, the Stations of the Cross leading to the cemetery, the rattle of our side beads, the bells… Now there is even more that has been taken away due to the pandemic. So much more. I miss being able to pray with others. In person. In a Church. I miss being able to enter a Church. I miss going to Mass. I miss the Eucharist.
Yet I shall not want.
Jesus, the good shepherd, is the shepherd of my soul. He is mine, and I am His. That is what is important. That is all I need. Even when so much as been taken away, Jesus remains and He alone is enough. Although He has bound Himself to the Sacraments, He is not bound by them. He will continue to nourish my soul somehow and in some way. He will continue to lead me on the path of righteousness the Father has marked out for me from all eternity. He continues to come to me, and I can find rest and restoration in Him. Even here. In this desert. Even now. In the midst of the challenges and uncertainty.
Jesus is the green pasture. Jesus is the still water. Jesus is the restoration of my soul.
He always has been, and He always will be. And He cannot be taken away from me.
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I fear no evil; for you are with me;
your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
What has struck me most in the Gospel readings lately is how often Jesus seeks someone out and goes to them. “Jesus heard that they had cast him out, and having found him…” (John 9:35). “Jesus himself drew near and went with them.” (Luke 24:15) “she turned around and saw Jesus” (John 20:14).
How fitting it is that we should see Jesus seeking out His sheep in the days when He walked among us. “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.” (John 10:11). Jesus laying down His life is not confined to one moment 2,000 years ago. The burning love that made the sacrifice of Calvary possible is still alive here and now. Jesus lays down His life for His sheep in the little things and the big things. No act is too small for love. He who hung upon the cross for me will not abandon me in the bitter valley.
When St. Therese found herself in the midst of darkness, she found herself turning not to the cry, “My God, My God, why have you abandoned me?” but rather, “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil; for you are with me.” Jesus is the Good Shepherd. He will not abandon me.
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil, my cup overflows.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life;
and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.
At first the verse “You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies” seems nonsensical. Why would the good shepherd prepare a feast in the presence of enemies? Wouldn’t far away from the enemies be better? Yet in doing so, Jesus shows His true mastery over that which causes distress. So often I just want the difficult and unpleasant parts of life to just go away. Jesus shows His true power not through eliminating the difficulty, but rather through inviting me to feast in the midst of the difficulty and uncertainty. This harkens back to Isaiah 11:6 with “…the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them.” To be at peace in the midst of tranquility is expected. To be at peace in the midst of tribulation and distress is a gift. A gift that Jesus invites us to receive each day.
In the end, we are all on pilgrimage to our heavenly homeland. “I am the good shepherd,” Jesus says; “I know my own and my own know me, as the Father knows me and I know the Father” (John 10 14-15). Jesus knows us. We are not anonymous to Him, the creator and shaper of our hearts. He knows our rising and our resting. He knows the path that will lead us home to eternity with Him. Some of us will spend the pilgrimage in convents and monasteries which are like little vestibules of heaven. Others of us will spend this pilgrimage reflecting the love of the Trinity through the Sacrament of marriage. Others of us will spend this pilgrimage living the mystery of Nazareth through the seeming ordinariness of our life. Many and fleeting are the paths that we take. One and eternal is the destination. May our steps always remain homeward bound. May our gaze always remain fixed on Jesus.
Jesus is the Good Shepherd.
I am His sheep.
Jesus is the Good Shepherd.
I shall not want.
Jesus is the Good Shepherd.
I find rest in Him.
Jesus is the Good Shepherd.
I am never alone.
Jesus is the Good Shepherd.
I trust in Him.
Jesus is the Good Shepherd.
I shall not fear.
Jesus is the Good Shepherd.
I am homeward bound.