May 11, 2014 |
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.
Apr 6, 2014 |
Sacrificing sacrifice. At first it sounds like a contradiction. After all, if a person who, having resolved to give up sweets for Lent, justifies eating a bowl of ice cream by saying that she is offering up the sacrifice of not avoiding desserts, it sounds silly. It sounds like the person is either looking for some kind of loophole, or maybe that whatever they decided to sacrifice in the first place just isn’t a big deal to them.
But could there be situations where having to give up the sacrifice we had anticipated making in fact costs us more interiorly than the original sacrifice would have? I think that for someone who has left the convent, this can frequently be the case.
The Song at the Scaffold, a novella written by German author Gertrud von Le Fort, is a fictionalized story using many historical facts about the Carmelite Martyrs of Compiègne. When, during the course of the French Revolution, the Civil Constitution of the Clergy commanded that all monasteries be suppressed, these brave nuns refused to obey, and ultimately were executed. Certain quotes from this novella give insight into what is really at work when a woman discerns that she is called to leave religious life.
When the French government began its persecution of priests and religious, one of the nuns in this convent, Sister Marie of the Incarnation, was filled with an ardent desire to offer her life to God in martyrdom. In her zeal, she even persuaded the other nuns to have a similar desire. Full of fervor, they made a vow to offer their lives in order to save France. However, as the events of the story unfold, Sister Marie is the only one of the nuns of the monastery who was not put to death. How devastated she must have been! The author of the story tells us:
Now, my friend, comes the real sacrifice of this great soul. We see Sister Marie of the Incarnation approaching it and disappearing into it as through a dark gate, disappearing entirely. This sacrifice has no proud name. No one admired her for it, noted it down, or even observed it. Yet she too sacrificed unto death, effacing the significance of a whole lifetime: she sacrificed sacrifice. (Von Le Fort, Gertrud. The Song at the Scaffold. New York: Sheed & Ward, 1993. Print. Pg. 69, emphasis in the original)
It is certainly no small thing to make the type of consecration that these Sisters made, and it shows Sister Marie’s generosity and nobility of spirit that she desired the grace of martyrdom so fervently. Surely it would have been a great and beautiful thing and given God much glory if Sister Marie had died a martyr’s death. However, God was calling her to make a different sacrifice; one that was even harder for her.
I doubt anyone will disagree that entering religious life, notwithstanding its great beauty, entails a good deal of sacrifice. You give up marriage, having children, being able to see and communicate with your family and friends as much as you might like, the freedom to decide your daily schedule, a career, and many other things. Daily living of religious life also brings with it many crosses, some small and some larger. Going into it, you were aware of this, and yet you embraced this new life with joy because Jesus, the one you love above all, was asking it of you. You pledged yourself completely to Him.
Then the time came, however it happened, that it became clear that it was not God’s will for you to remain in the convent. For many, if not all, it was probably a very hard time: I know it was for me! But know that in asking you to leave the convent, God was not rejecting the offering of yourself that you made to Him. Rather, God was asking of you a different sacrifice: a sacrifice that meant giving up some of the deepest desires of your heart. There was nothing wrong with your desire to give yourself completely to God through religious life: far from it! God still desires your total gift of self, but now in a different way.
Entering religious life is a visible, notable sacrifice, one that frequently draws the admiration of others. Even people who aren’t particularly religious might recognize, to some degree at least, the beauty of religious life. Not so with leaving. To an outside observer, it can perhaps look as though a woman who has left religious life is giving up, or, alternatively, that she is finally “coming to her senses” and getting back her “freedom.” They may not realize that for some, leaving the convent is a huge sacrifice: perhaps even greater than the sacrifices involved in entering in the first place.
The decision to leave the convent can indeed be a sacrifice with “no proud name, one that [n]o one admire[s], note[s] down, or even observe[s]. A sacrifice that no one knows, sees, or understands” save God alone, the loving God who sees what is hidden in the depths of your heart. He is so intimately united with you that not only does He know what you are experiencing, He has experienced it all Himself.
Earlier in The Song at the Scaffold, there is a scene where Mother Teresa, the monastery’s Prioress, is informing the Sisters of the government’s decree forbidding religious to make their vows:
Then she read the decree. You, my daughters, she said to the two novices, because of this cruel law, will offer up your perpetual vows to His Majesty by sacrificing the joy of pronouncing them solemnly. For it is not important to realize our own aims, even though they may be the most worthy, but to fulfill the will of God. Do not therefore rebel against this decree, my dear novices, but neither should you try to repress your sorrow by sheer force of will. Embrace your disappointment and it is justifiable in complete love of God, and you will be obeying the spirit of our order. You will be Carmelites in the full sense of the word at the very time that the world does not permit you to be Carmelites. (pgs. 34-35)
This quote really gets to the heart of the matter. Think about it: Why did you enter the convent in the first place? Wasn’t it because you thought that this was God’s will for you? And why did you leave? Was it not because you realized that God was asking you to do something different? In both cases, you were seeking God’s will. Without question, the desire we had or have for religious life is a good and holy desire. However, what matters ultimately is that we are striving to do God’s will. Thus, so long as we are seeking God’s will, we should be at peace.
Nevertheless, I think Mother Prioress makes a good point in saying that this disappointment we may experience is “justifiable” and that we shouldn’t “try to repress [our] sorrow by sheer force of the will.” I think it’s quite natural and normal to go through a certain grieving when we have to give up such beautiful, long-cherished desires. Yet that sorrow is part of the cross that Jesus is now asking us to bear. Each one of us, by our Baptism, is called to be a “bride of Christ.” Some Christians are called to live out this identity in a particularly striking way by means of religious life, but each one of us, without exception, is called to a spousal union with Christ. The cross is an integral part of this union. So by asking you to leave the convent, Jesus is by no means rejecting you as His spouse. Rather, He is indicating that He wants you to live out this spiritual union in a different way.
And isn’t that what it really means to be a religious, that you are seeking to conform your will entirely to God’s, even when it is difficult? After all, that is why you took the vow of obedience, or were preparing to take it, because you wanted to always be sure that you were doing the will of your Beloved. Truly, to paraphrase Mother Prioress, you will be the bride of Christ in the full sense of the word at the very time that you do not externally appear to be the bride of Christ. This “sacrificed sacrifice,” made with love, is something very beautiful and precious to God. This cross you are carrying is His gift to help you become more and more like Jesus as He prayed to His Father, “Not My will, but Yours be done.”
By Teresita
Mar 15, 2014 |
The first signs of spring have finally arrived and people are getting excited. In the Northern regions it is warmer and the snow is melting. We can see the ground again! But yet, it’s a rather ugly time if you really think about it.
For those of you who don’t live in places like this, let me explain. The snow melts and everything gets wet. Not a “fresh spring rain” kind of wet. Nope. Everything is muddy and messy. The sidewalks and streets have pools of water. The grass is brown and flat. The dead leaves from Autumn are clogging the drains in the street. What is left of the snow is black and brown and gross looking as it melts and uncovers all of the trash, old newspapers, pieces of the road, etc. hidden underneath. Animals killed on the highway and pushed off by the snowplows are suddenly lying out in the open. And all of this is half rotten because it has been slowly decomposing. I also forgot to mention that we had a few terrible ice storms this winter too. So all of the trees that fell down are still lying about because no one was really able to clean it up when it happened. Basically messy broken-ness is everywhere!
If you look at it with a critical eye, this is a terrible and unsightly scene.
And yet, most people are really happy about it!
Strangers in the elevator tell you how excited they are about the weather changing. The people you walk past seem to smile more and look hopeful. Your co-workers start making vacation plans. Kids can start playing outside with their bikes. It’s amazing!
Why do people react this way? It is irrational! Yet it makes perfect sense if you have hope and you know where this time of transition is leading us: summer!
God helped me realize today that this is very similar to what is going on in my soul, particularly during times of spiritual growth and transition. The more we attempt to follow Jesus and try to, “be perfect, just as your heavenly Father is perfect” (Mt 5:48), the more we see the vile and unpleasant parts of ourselves. It can be so discouraging! For that reason we need to keep the end goal in mind: perfect union with God in Heaven.
Satan loves to tempt us to despair when something revolting may be uncovered by Lent, changes in our life, etc. So what can we do to fight back? Sharing our struggles with a trusted friend and/or a spiritual director is always a good choice. Often they can have a more realistic perspective than the one experiencing the struggle. Another is to combat the lie with the truth. “Lord, I know it seems as though I am regressing spiritually. But help me to know that you are with me as I am being purified.”
Finally, try to think of the hope we feel during the transition from winter to spring. Though it can seem disgusting, we are heading to something beautiful. God bless you!
By Pinkie
Jan 21, 2014 |
“Take, O Lord, and receive all my liberty, my memory, my understanding, and my entire will. Whatever I have or hold Thou has given me; I restore it all to Thee, and surrender it wholly to be governed by Thy will. Give me only Thy love and Thy grace, and I am rich enough to ask for nothing more.”
—St. Ignatius of Loyola
On entering a convent, you surrender your life to God. On leaving a convent, even more so, you surrender your will as well. All of your plans, your desires, your hopes, your dreams, your struggles, your perseverance: these now seem completely pointless. You wonder if they meant anything at all.
The truth is: THEY DO!!!
What dearer things to your heart do you have to offer your Beloved than these? Only your will is fully yours; surrender that, and we have given Him everything!
It is hard to imagine that we could be happy while following a path that is different than what we originally wanted. But His path (this “road to Calvary” really), is your path to holiness, to Union with Him, which was the whole purpose of your having entered Religious Life in the first place!
What is Religious Life if not a gradual surrendering of our will in order to become conformed to His, and thus enter into complete union with Him? When He called you out of the convent, He desired to quicken that process. He did not wish to wait any longer to possess you entirely. Therefore, you are still called to this union; you are still called to give yourself entirely to Him; you are still His beloved Bride!
Now you have given Him your memories, understanding, your time, your work, your obedience, poverty, and chastity, your religious family, customs, and life: wait and see what He does with them, because He was the one who had given them to you for a time. You’ve grown, you’ve loved, you’ve surrendered; this is the image of His life on earth.
You are not as far as you think from living in a perfect imitation of Jesus’ life, which is the true “Religious Life.”
One word I must speak to You tonight,
In it is summed up in my heart’s prayer.
In it is my sorrow, joy, desires, love,
Gifts, pleasures, temptations, illness;
Ah, Jesus, everything!
I will not moan or groan at Your Hand,
Only Your will, my Jesus, is my own.
I have nothing to give, I am empty.
So take my whole soul, my yes,
My fiat.
by Rachel.
Oct 7, 2013 |
While in the convent, my class read Introduction to the Devout Life by St. Francis de Sales. I had read this book a few times in my life before the convent and I was excited to read it again. If you have never read it, it is one of those books where you notice so many “new” things each time you read it.
Because my class was reading it together, we discussed it at times during recreation. One of the parts that some of us had difficulty understanding discussed abjection. What exactly does abjection mean? If you look up “abject” in the dictionary it says:
- utterly wretched or hopeless
- miserable; forlorn; dejected
- indicating humiliation; submissive: an abject apology
- contemptible; despicable; servile: an abject liar
In this section St. Francis de Sales discusses accepting and even cherishing abjection. (If you want to read this section, you can read it here). I feel that the time after one leaves the religious life is a perfect time to put this into practice. But why do I say that?
When you live as a sister or nun in a religious community you are poor. You know that going in and you are happy about it! When people hear about what you are doing, they generally respect you for it. “Oh Sister, let me buy some food for you!” If your habit is getting a little tattered and stained, someone might offer to purchase material for you so you can make a new one. If you run out of gas because you are lost and don’t have money to buy more, it is probably pretty easy for a stranger to stop and fill up the tank for a woman in a religious habit. If someone spits on you in the subway, you’ll know it’s because you’re a woman religious and you can joyfully accept “all for Jesus!”
But what about when you return to the world? You are still poor. But it’s different. It’s abject poverty. When you go out wearing the same clothes every day because you only have one outfit, people might notice and judge you. If you run out of gas, will anyone stop and help you? If you can’t look quite “together” for your job interview, will you get the job? If someone sends a rude gesture in your direction for no apparent reason, how will you handle that?
St. Francis de Sales encourages us to use these situations as opportunities for growth. Sure, it’s easier said than done. But God allows every situation in our life for our sanctification. Even if we felt that being in the convent was our path to holiness, it isn’t right now because we are in the world. This isn’t easy to accept, but it is worth considering and taking to prayer. May God bless you!
by Jane F.
The first signs of spring have finally arrived and people are getting excited. In the Northern regions it is warmer and the snow is melting. We can see the ground again! But yet, it’s a rather ugly time if you really think about it.
“Take, O Lord, and receive all my liberty, my memory, my understanding, and my entire will. Whatever I have or hold Thou has given me; I restore it all to Thee, and surrender it wholly to be governed by Thy will. Give me only Thy love and Thy grace, and I am rich enough to ask for nothing more.”
While in the convent, my class read Introduction to the Devout Life by St. Francis de Sales. I had read this book a few times in my life before the convent and I was excited to read it again. If you have never read it, it is one of those books where you notice so many “new” things each time you read it.
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