My Word: Reverence

New Year's words are proliferating across the internet.  Various bloggers suggest that one choose a word, or offer to do the choosing - a word to serve as a guide, a focus, a call back to priorities, for the year ahead. 

I'm joining the swell of movement and offering my congregation "star words"  (thanks to Marci Glass) on Sunday ~ I think. The stars were cut out and the "Star Gazing" (think: magi) sermon planned when I tumbled down the steps last week.  The new sermon, "Stars in the Desert" (think: magi, John the Baptist, Jesus' baptism, and the desert fathers and mothers, so often asked for "a word" by those who sought their wisdom), is well under way. I guess if I am delayed another week (which tonight seems highly likely) I can work stars into "Come and See."

Last year my word, chosen by me, was Serenity.  I ended up with a stained glass window hanging of my word, and a relatively calm couple of months of discernment as I switched churches and walked through a doorway into a new realm of unexpected challenges.

This year, I sought a word that would help me to look outward, to listen, observe and respond more gently ~ albeit also more firmly.  The word I chose was Reverence.   An Ignatian word.

Spiritual Director Emeritus frequently speaks about "attention,  reverence, and devotion" as hallmarks of Ignatian spirituality. I've blogged about them at least once.  I discarded the first and last fairly easily as I considered words for this particular year.  I'm a short ways down the road on attention, and I did not want a word that I might interpret to demand more in the way of work, effort, discipline, intervention.  I'm kind of ok there as well.

But reverence?  An attitude, an approach, a willingness to calmly honor who or what presents itself to you. 

That could use some work, and might enrich my movement through this world as well.  A year of this, as the spiritual director who first did it for me describes it:

"Reverence is giving acceptance to, cherishing the differences of, holding in awe the uniqueness of another reality. So, before you judge or assess or respond, give yourself time to esteem and to accept what is there in the other."

My word: Reverence.  First object of reverence: a body and life considerably slowed due to a broken ankle.

When Things Happen

The Director of my Clinical Pastoral Education program (known as CPE ~ that training ground for pastors in which we encounter Real People in Crisis, usually in medical settings, for the purpose not so much of learning to care for them as for learning to know and care for ourselves) ( possibly a dubious enterprise, but that's another post) was fond of raising the issue of the relationship between physical and spiritual ailments, and between life crises and health.

 

I'm not sure what to make of the various theories about body-spirit connections. In some matters, the relationship seems obvious. In others, not so much.  I'm sure the examples are well known to you.

 

That said, as I ponder the book which Michelle sent to me (previous post), I find myself wondering, with ample time this week to wonder, about my own rather dramatic juxtapositions of late.  What's this journey been revealing?  What do I carry?

 

I started seminary nearly seven years ago, brimming with energy and optimism, and a year later my son died of suicide. 

 

I was called to a church after a year's wait and, in catching up on health care so that I could give my undivided attention to our official beginning together, was diagnosed with breast cancer.

 

I was called to a new church two years later and, with a congregation taking a new and positive deep breath of hope for the future, slipped down my front steps onto a fractured ankle.

 

I carry a half-filled urn of ashes (we've been some places), a long and ugly scar, and now a plate and some pins.

 

I'm not depressed at all.  Don't read despair into these words; it's not there.  And it's not as if I could make any big changes in my life; these days I can barely hop to the bathroom.

 

But I am VERY curious.  Mystified.  I have young seminary classmates, and some not so young, who in the three/four years since we were in school have acquired spouses, children, first homes, major trips, and even more confidence in God than they brought with them to school.  And, ok, to be honest, my own life was pretty spectacular at 35.   And I could write a gratitude post for the last few years a mile long.

 

But seriously, why do all these things keep happening?  And what's with the timing?!

Journeys of Simplicity ~ Book Contemplation

 

My friend Michelle sent me this beautiful little book which arrived yesterday afternoon, a delightful compendium of short bios and, on the facing pages, quotes from a range of writers and others about the "things they carried" on their journeys.  Some of them I am familiar with, some not at all.  It reminds me of Tim O'Brien's Vietnam book and essay of the same name, The Things They Carried, which I once used as the jumping off point for a blog post on the things we carry in grief  ~ things being less tangible than not.

You might see the humor in Thoreau's (he of Walden Pond simplicity ~ of sorts) list for a 12-day canoe trip into the Maine woods: 166 pounds of stuff, "enough to nearly swamp the canoe when they launched it."

My favorites so far:

For Basho's Great Walk, Basho being a 17th century Buddhist wanderer and poet, a short list of items, ending with

"discomfort and vexation
all the way"

and also

a list of the contents of Father Zossima's cell (from The Brothers Karamazov),

Bilbo's list of what he takes as he sets out for a walk, including what he forgets,

and the "Baggage for the Arctic Tern's 22,000 Mile Migration."  The facing page is empty.

Quite a wonderful little book.

New Year Interrupted

After a bleh few days between Christmas and New Year's Day, I woke up on January 2 full of energy.  By 7:30, I was ready to go, with clutter picked up, laundry in, cat in carrier, and car moved out front for trip to the vet ~ and I slipped and tumbled down our six or so concrete steps, landing in a bizarre position in the snow.  The cat and I sat there for awhile, she meowing and me dazed and wondering what and how to do next.  I managed to creep to the car and get us in, thinking that with the damage all on my left side, I could still go to the vet's. I pulled into the street and quickly realized that the level of pain I was experiencing precluded any such goal. 

 

Thank God for cell phones!  A couple of hours later a friend had gotten me to an orthopedic surgeon, and Friday I had surgery for my broken ankle.  No weight bearing allowed, for perhaps as long as a month.  A 3:00 a.m. hour of pain this morning so severe that I thought we might have to call an ambulance to take me back to the hospital.  (And yes: I have a nerve block dripping continuously into my leg, plus Vicodin, plus Advil, and when the anesthesiologist calls today, I am going to have to ask her how long I can double the dosages.)

 

I have no idea yet what I am going to do about church, where I am not this morning, or my college teaching, which theoretically starts a week from tomorrow, or my many months anticipated week-long retreat at Georgetown University, planned for the first week of February.  I have no idea how I am going to wash my hair this week!

 

But my mind is clearing, so perhaps I'll start writing again.

The Year in Travels

New Year's in Toronto, where I got to meet a PFO friend and as a family we did some touristy stuff:

The College of Wooster (OH), where I helped direct a Busy Persons' Retreat:

 

Dearborn, thanks to an invitation to help with an Ecumenical Women's Lenten Retreat:

 

 

Wernersville (PA) Jesuit Center for my own retreat and a week-end led by Marty Laird, O.S.A., author of Into the Silent Land:

 

 

Washington, D.C. to lobby for suicide prevention legislation:

 

 

Providence (RI) to hang out with family:

 

 

and go to Waterfire:

 

 

and journey to Boston:

 

 

and spend a few days in Little Compton:

 

 

and one on Block Island:

 

 

Atlanta, to attend an Older Adult Ministries Conference and to remember Josh:

 

 

A pilgrimage to Chicago, ashes in hand, with meet-ups with a RevGal, another Loyola Press friend, and a classmate of Josh's:

 

 

A day in Columbus to witness Matt sworn in to the Ohio Bar:

 

 

A snowy family Thanksgiving in Jamestown (NY):

 

 

And a Christmas trip home to southern Ohio and the Catholic portion of my roots:

 

 

I was under the impression that I hadn't gotten to go anywhere this year!  I guess I meant that I didn't get to the beach in Florida, a situation which needs to be remedied asap.  But it seems that I got around.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cool Ursuline Stuff

We've been down in southern Ohio visiting my family for a couple of days.  Since a Great Controversy erupted this past fall among the alums of my Catholic boarding school over a new project to eliminate a dam and reclaim a creek on the nuns' property, I thought I'd go over and photograph the project so that I could post pictures on FB.

 

While I was there, I took some other photos on the campus.  The one below is a rendition, made by  a sister/artist/friend, of Julia Chatfield's placing of a cross in the wilderness when she and ten other sisters arrived from France in 1845:

The campus is located about 30 miles north of Cincinnati.  Some history (underlining is mine), for anyone who's interested in women's education, Catholic education, Catholic sisters, and a host of others topics, from the website of Cincinnati's Ursuline Academy:

"[In] 1474 . . .  Angela Merici was born in Desenzano, a small town in northern Italy. Early in her life Angela had a direct indication from the Holy Spirit that she would found, in Brescia, a company of women consecrated to the Lord. Angela established the Ursulines in 1535. It was the first non-cloistered community of women in the history of the church, and the first religious community for women begun by a woman. Inspired by Gospel challenges, Angela and her followers reached out to rich and poor alike with special concern for the development of a strong family life. A true educator, Angela empowered people to reach their full potential and to use their skills in service.

From their foundation in Italy, Ursuline communities were established all over Europe. They came to the "New World" via Canada in 1639. Ursulines established the very first religious community of women in the United States in New Orleans in 1727.

The Ursulines of Brown County were founded by another woman of vision and faith, Julia Chatfield. As an Ursuline of Bologne-sur-mer, her pioneer spirit enticed her to accept the invitation of Bishop John Purcell to come to the newly formed Cincinnati diocese in 1845. The Ursulines of Bologne-sur-mer and Beaulieu joined forces and sent Julia Chatfield and ten other nuns to St. Martin where the diocese had built a seminary and established a parish. The seminary was being moved back to Cincinnati and the sisters were given 400 acres of land to be used for educational purposes.

 

Sister Julia Chatfield became Ohio’s “pioneer nun” whose determination to establish education in the wilderness endures after 165 years. She was inducted into the Ohio Women’s Hall of Fame on June 5, 2001 in recognition of the accomplishments she achieved:

• In 1845 Sr. Julia answered a call to come to Ohio from France;
• Sr. Julia founded the Ursulines of Brown County in Ohio, a congregation of women religious that endures today;
• Sr. Julia established a resident school for young women incorporated in 1846 under the title St. Ursula Literary Institute. After 135 years, the school closed in 1981;
• Sr. Julia instilled her determination to promote education into her successors; for example:
  • 1896 – establishment of Ursuline Academy of Cincinnati, a college preparatory school for young women;
  • 1940s – Ursuline Sisters’ participation in elementary and secondary education in the Archdiocese of Cincinnati and beyond, in higher education, and adult education;
  • 1971 – Chatfield College – St. Martin and Cincinnati campuses serving Appalachian and inner city populations.

Some of the most important things I know about how to be a person, I learned from Ursuline nuns.  From the cemetery, a plaque listing those who came from France: women of faith and courage and determination.

Merry Christmas!

 

 

From our house (where Glinda, the Church Parking Lot Cat, has a starring role) to yours . . . May this be a day of light and joy!