Time Alive: Revolutionary Lent and Lazarus Sunday

In the 100 days of Lent/Easter/Pentecost, the focus is on theosis, that we have the love of God within us and are moving toward holiness.   How do we use this time?  What is our intention?  Christine  Valters Painter in her work speaks of sacred time, of connecting across time and space, that we always need to be mindful of kairos and not caught so caught up in chronos.

In recent weeks, with the onset of the Coronavirus Pandemic, many people are thinking about what the meaning of their lives is and how best to use their time while they are on lockdown at home.  Recently, on the show, Marketpla6ce on NPR, Kai Ryssdal asked the questions, "what is time?" and "does time mean anything'?  as he discussed the new normal, the ever changing Nasdaq and Dow Jones Industrial Average.  Perhaps this is a time to consider how much we live by the clock rather than by the sacred rhythm of Christ.  How much more time do we gain by rushing against time and by worrying about has come, or what might come?

Many times, it often seems that each and every one of us has our own idea of time.  The same folks are super on time for their work meetings, think that when you say to meet you at a restaurant at 6:30 p.m. that you mean 6:45 p.m. or 7 or even 7:15 p.m.  Some of us take personal offensive when some one is even one of two minutes late.  Some doctors' offices make you re-schedule your appointment if you are more than 15 minutes late.
 In this Sunday's Gospel, Martha thought that Jesus was late.  She believed that Lazarus would not have died if Jesus had been there.  Martha could not figure out why Jesus did not come four days earlier when she asked him to.  Yet when Jesus got there, he asked to be taken to the tomb and then at the tomb, Jesus rolled the stone away and called to Lazarus, "come out." When Lazarus came out, Jesus told the others present to unbind him and unroll the bandages.  Lazarus still had time to live.  I often wonder what Lazarus did with that time.

How do we understand time?  In these days of being in our houses and not going out, it is important for us to pay attention to kairos time and seek a new rhythm of life in God's timing not ours.  I have entitled this picture, "Time Alive" after a book written by Alexandra Stoddard, columnist, interior designer and inspirational speaker.   She writes, "when we spend time with someone, we should give the encounter 100 percent of our focused energy. When we're prepared--in mind, body and spirit--we'll be co-creators in a pleasant, meaningful exchange, experiencing the heart of time."

Are we giving God 100% of our attention?  Are we listening and co-creating or are we staying in the tomb keeping ourselves and others bound in old ways that no longer work?

I know for me I have found I feel most alive when I am writing but also when I am spending time with others especially one on one and yet somehow often myself having a half day go by without me doing anything renewing or life-giving.  My word for this year is wonder, so as I wonder, I need to wonder what  is being made anew and what I am re-claiming.

Adventures in Silence Day II at Gethsemani

Deciding, that I would try to pray the Liturgy of the Hours with the monks as often as possible I arose about 3:00 a.m. and then made my way quietly upstairs to the church and waited for Vigils to start.  It began at about 3:15 a.m.  After absorbing the richness of the liturgy, I returned to my room, set my alarm and went back to sleep until 5:30 a.m.  Lauds and Mass started at 5:45 a.m.  I knew I would be more attentive and be better able to enjoy the day by getting that extra two hours of sleep.  Again I awoke and headed up the stairs to the church and enter into prayer and Eucharist  before breakfast.  The simple rhythm of the day had begun.

After breakfast, I followed a group back up the steps for Terce, took a shower and went for a walk outside in the cemetery.   My walk brought about another mystery, a wondering about who all of these people were buried right outside the retreat center.  Many had large headstones and others by looking at the dates were older than the Abbey.   I then headed over to the visitors center/bookshop as I knew it would be closed on Sunday.  I enjoyed learning more about the history of the Cistercians and the founding of Gethsemani.  Then entered into the bookshop to buy fudge, honey and a book to take home with me.  As I wondered around the bookstore trying to choose a book with most people keeping silence like myself, I immersed myself in a shared solidarity with the Saints, the monks, and others who had left their mark on Christendom.  Many of the books in the store were written either by people knew of or featured someone who I had studied during my time at Oblate School of Theology.  Outside time and space, my soul accumulated more riches.

Soon lunchtime came.  Allan and I had been told and it was also written to posted signs to be on time for meals because the monks wash the dishes.  Every time I read this I thought about how generous the monks were being in their hospitality allowing us to be in their home while still keeping to their schedule and remaining cloistered. I took part in Sext following lunch and then I met Allan outside.  I had decided so I could take longer walks and spend a bit of time with him that I would skip one of the prayer times each day thus today skipping None. This time as we walked behind the retreat center we encountered the graves of some of the monks marked with simple crosses.  As I walked, I stumbled onto Merton's tombstone who is right next to Dom James Fox, the Abbot with whom Merton often clashed.  As walked around, I saw the grave of Father Matthew Kelty and then the grave of Brother Patrick Hart, still with fresh dirt, having only recently passed away.  All of the graves bore witness to the commitment of the monks to live in community at Abbey of Gethsemani, I thought about how the monks did not choose their graves sites which moved me to reflect on how the rest of us may get to buried who we are buried next to and where that none of us any knowledge of who will be in heaven next to us or even with us.  We could be beside the person who has been a thorn in our sides throughout our lives.

We spent some more time walking the trails and then time for vespers.  After Vespers then dinner, after dinner conference by Father Carlos, then Compline followed by bedtime.  I stopped in the library and wandered through the books making my way to periodicals and journals.  The stack of Cistercian Studies Quarterly Journals caught my eye. I had never seen print copies before but had referenced CSQ articles for my thesis. I flipped through some of the most recent copies and noticed a book review by someone that I have gotten to know through Facebook from the Emerging Scholars for Study of Christian Spirituality group.  I decided to take that copy to my room for my bedtime reading. I had bought the book, Zen and the Birds of Appetite by Thomas Merton in the bookstore but had it in my bag to save for home. 

Another day of soaking up the silence, sensing the links between the ancient and the present, experiencing the richness of connection through articles, books, nature and tombstones.  Allan and I enjoyed sitting at lunch and dinner in front of the windows watching the birds at the feeders in the garden, a shared joy even in the silence. 

Adventures in Silence: Abbey of Gethsemani

Nearly twenty-five years ago I visited the Abbey, attended Vespers and bought a copy of  Seven Storey Mountain, Merton's autobiography. Since then my life has ebbed and flowed with Merton reading other books and then not touching them for awhile.  Most recently  in the summer of 2015, I had the privilege of taking a two week summer intensive on Thomas Merton taught by Merton Scholar, Michael Higgins, Ph.D.  And now finally on March 6 of this year I achieved one of my bucket list goals  visiting the retreat house at Gethsemani.

Located outside of New Haven, Kentucky, the Abbey provides a quiet respite away from the world complete with natural trails and plenty of places just to sit listening to the birds.   My husband, Allan and  I arrived around 5 p.m. and with dinner being at 6 p.m.  We headed straight up to our rooms and while there are double rooms, Allan and I each had our own room.  I had a room with its own private bath and Allan stayed in a room in older section in which there was a common bathroom.  Signs provided us with information on maintaining silence, where to go and where we could talk.  The first night Allan and I ate dinner in the talking dining room so we could converse and figure things out.  It took some sign language to figure out where to go/how to get our dinner and what to do when we were finished.

When I first arrived I shut off my phone, detoxing from the noise of the world and yet the noise in my mind blared loudly.  Every move I made,  I felt like a spectacle.  My mind kept going to my lack of my poise and wondering what other people thought when I bumped a table or dropped my fork.  Somehow, the Spirit broke through, beginning with Father Carlos' talk on Friday night.  During the talk he used the phrase, "Jesus meets us in our humanity."  As a part of this concept, he mentioned being gentle on ourselves and on others when we forget the silence and find ourselves talking.  It convicted me of my exterior rather than an interior focus.  I need did not need to perfect but rather let me my humanity be where I experienced Jesus.

Jesus meets us in our humanity.  This phrase stayed with me after the conference as I followed others to the church for Compline.  This is the final set of prayers before the great silence sets in.  At 8 p.m.  I followed others and realized that the monks are going to bed and thought about other unpacking I needed to do.
Friday had come to an end, my silence became my disciplineexcept for when something needed speech and would last until Monday morning.  I observed  myself quieting down and soaking up the silence.

Praying Compline with the monks, listening to them chanting the Psalms and joining when appropriate soothed my soul.   I found myself walking my own new path and an ancient path simultaneously.  I became one with all of the monks who had followed the Rule of St. Benedict since its inception in the sixth century.  What a gift the monks were giving us by letting us participate with them by creating space for us in their church where for many decades outsiders did not enter with any regularity.

Monk in the World 2014

When I first began my journey of being a monk in the world in January 2012, I really had no idea what it would mean for me.   At first I thought, it would mean living a highly disciplined life and adopting a strict schedule.  No this is not what it meant for me.  For me being a monk in the world meant jumping in and taking risks.  Taking the Way of the Monk, Path of an Artist class through the Abbey was first my huge risk.  I had not done any art for a very long time and did not believe that I had an artistic bone in my body.  As the class unfolded, my own creativity emerged and then I began to see how being a monk in the world meant being the one the Divine created me to be.  As I have let loose my creative self, I have learned that there is no right or wrong as long as I live my life honestly and intentionally.  However in the midst of raising a daughter; keeping my relationship with my spouse going, caring for two cats and trying to earn some money through p/t work; I often find that I am easily distracted.  I get lost in the whirlwind and lose my balance. I am breaking the habit of trying so hard and now let the Spirit take over my priorities, which makes even the chores I dislike easier.  However for the Spirit to take over I have to do my part.

For me living as a monk in the world requires finding some time everyday to be silent; to read and to do something creative.  Again, there is no magic formula; however, I cannot do my part unless I accept who I am and stop comparing myself for others.  Due to my bipolar illness, it is difficult for me to carry out the same disciplines at the same time every day.  However, as I receive the gift of divine love; I am more able to accept myself and accept that for right now I am not one of those monks who sit in a chair everyday at the same time for twenty minutes.  My connections with God are always different but contain the same elements of silence, reading and creativity in some form every day or else I lose my balance.  Somehow, though Jesus is always there pick me up and help me start again.

The gifts I have to offer others are presence and time.  I offer a contemplative presence to life through slowly down and by giving others my undivided attention.  God has bestowed a mind upon me for remembering details, which I use to make my prayers for more specific.  I listen intentionally and with integrity.  I keep confidences and encourage others on their spiritual journeys.  When I am doing these things and am doing them in a way to honor the Divine then my spirit is at peace.

Living into my calling and being a monk in the world continues to take on a shape of its own.  It is not my shape but the Divine creating in me.   During this year alone, I have shed at least five involvements that I recognized were detrimental to me staying honest and intentional.   It is a continual of journey of trust because somehow my old insecurities always come back.  I wonder what other people will think or if anyone will like me anymore.  Yet none of this really matters.  Letting Jesus take my burdens and allowing the Divine Mother to comfort me help me to lower my expectations for my earthly community.

For me the dance is one of celebrating the ordinary and of letting the L's be my guide: leaning, letting, limiting, learning and living all in love.  I do not be need to be a super monk and stop to pray every day seven times a day but I do need to honor the sacred rhythm that has been given to me.

My creativity continues to emerge in unexpected ways.  Many things are new; but some are old and just needed to be uncovered.  My gifts of writing and listening had been stuffed for many years by own views of not seeing them as valuable and my not being talented enough.  Yet as I live as a monk in the world; these gifts continue to blossom.  There are still many unknowns in my life but letting the Spirit be my guide makes it less scary.   I am excited about how 2014 will unfold and what adventures will come my way. 

Here is a link to the Abbey of the Arts: https://abbeyofthearts.com/about/about-the-abbey/

Monk in the World 2018, Finding and Extending Hospitality in the Midst of Death

Having committed myself to be a Monk in the World for the past seven years, I have found that at various times, parts of the manifesto are harder to carry out than others.  I like living by the cycle of seasonal liturgical rhythms and for the most part, enjoy a less hurried life. However, as spring began earlier this year and Lent was ending, I found myself being swept into a polar vortex beyond my control.  All of my plans of decompressing from my thesis, journeying through Holy Week and practicing Resurrection turned upside down.

In the Monk Manifesto, the second commitment reads:  "I commit to radical acts of hospitality by welcoming the stranger both without and within. I recognize that when I make space inside my heart for the unclaimed parts of myself, I cultivate compassion and the ability to accept those places in others."  There is nothing like death to challenge your abilities to offer hospitality and stretch the limits of your compassion.

Receiving a middle of the night phone call that my mother-in-law had died thwarted my husband and me into full-throttled travel mode.  We spent time cancelling and re-arranging appointments. Then we had to make travel arrangements, find a cat sitter, and pack etc. etc.  Even all of those well-laid out plans spoiled when the airlines cancelled our flight due to weather, and we had to drive through the night to PA to make it in time for the funeral.  Driving and stopping to switch drivers, depleted my energy, limiting my ability even to be patient, let alone extend compassion.

Soon after an extremely short rest, my being felt thrust into swirling emotions and swarming people overrode my circuitry. I could barely extend hospitality to the stranger within my own soul.  I called a friend and walked under an umbrella in the rain.  Sadness bubbled up as the house seemed too quiet without all of the TVs blaring and as the cupboards stood empty, I thought of how this ended an era, my visits to 11 Marion Circle the place where I first met my husband's family would be no more.  Radical acts of hospitality did come from friends and extended family who brought food and listened to us talk about Evelyn.

However, for the other within the part of myself, I did not recognize and could barely muster the energy to extend any kindness to, radical acts of hospitality came from those who had gone before.  The moment I seated myself down in the pew, and the funeral liturgy began, I found myself enveloped by the communion of saints, both those venerated by the church and those who had been gone before in humble, devout service without recognition.  Solace came from the recitation of the Divine Liturgy of St. John of Chrysostom, a liturgy in continuous use since the sixth century.  As I took in the Stained-glass windows and meditated on the icons, when my heart became too full to concentrate on the liturgy, the Saints took over.  The ritual, tradition and experience of those who went before me sustained me. The words, the prayers, the chants and the sacrament combined to fill my senses and give my spirit language for the unspeakable.  I felt united with those who worshipped in this spot over the past 150 years.  I thought about what my in-law's wedding was like, my husband's christening and the funeral for my father-in-law all held in that same church. Later as I lit candles for my mother-in-law, for all of our family and several others, I absorbed the light knowing that the Light, the place of God within me did not ever disappear.

The Light, the place of God, upheld me in the waiting and the wondering of what was to come.  Finally, we arrived at the cemetery, the same cemetery where her parents and grandparents occupied graves.  We went into the chapel again to hear the liturgy of old recited and then stood in front of the casket as the priest recited those infamous words, "…from dust you came and to dust you shall return."

In this combination of the ancient and the modern, my heart created space and claimed the confused, frustrated, grieving and lost parts of myself.  In receiving this gift, I found the ability to care for the others around me and to allow myself to rest knowing that all of us were apart of a larger community, an ongoing continuous community made up of past and present, of living and dead, of the known and unknown.

Originally posted as part of the Monk of the World column on Abbey of the Arts website, 02/26/20

Here is the link to my first blog post for Monk in the World: https://livingintomycalling.blogspot.com/2020/03/monk-in-world-2014.html

Learn more about the Abbey and being a Monk in the World by following this link: https://abbeyofthearts.com/about/monk-manifesto/

Revolutionary Lent - There and Back Again

Somehow between Sundays 3 and 4,  Nicodemus offering a voice of tradition to consider during a time and Christ offering living water for the woman at the well,  the Spirit has shifted my heart, mind and soul into a new direction. The old focus was not wrong just that this shift fits better with these strange times of the Corona Virus and social distancing. 

Ironically enough for whatever reason, instead of hearing about Nicodemus the monks Gospel reading was the Transfiguration . Once again, the Spirit spoke loudly to me to listen, listen to what you are being called to do.  I returned back home the next day in this place of listening again.  No one signed-up for my journaling workshop so I was forced to cancel.  Thus I went ahead and suspended my membership at the CO for the time being, because as much as I loved it being there, it  does not fit with my current projects.  As I made these decisions and other events cancelled, I find myself disappointed and depressed.  Yet as I arose out of this despair, I found myself knowing that this was to be a season of decluttering, of writing and of painting. 

The decluttering came first.  Papers in the living room and on my office floor that I had avoided dealing with for months began to be filed, shredded or recycled.  As the papers cleared,  I received an e-mail from a friend telling me, she had read my I guest blog post at Monk in the World, a column on the Abbey of the Arts website. A copy of this post will appear in a separate post following this one,  I had written this column months ago and had no idea it had even appeared.  My friend complimented my writing and said I need to be writing for pay,  The Spirit got my attention because this is not the first time that God has spoke through other people telling me

need to write.  However, I have failed to consistently heed this call. 

I recognized that with my space clean and my quiet at home, the time of writing has appeared.   Thus I return to my calling of listening and writing.  Listening as a spiritual director offering anyone two free sessions of spiritual direction via telephone or Zoom throughout this time of uncertainty.  As for the writing, I will be offering reflections here each day on my experience at Gethsemani and offering a related practice that can be done at home. 

I welcome your comments and reflections.  Thus here I am back at home,  heeding the Spirit's beckoning, writing and listening.  As we enter the Fifth Week of the 100 days, this Sunday's Gospel is Jesus' healing of the blind man.  Let us accept Christ's offering to make us see, healing our blindness that we may know how we are to live and serve in this world throughout this time of uncertainty.

Sacred Disruptions/Interruptions - an Epiphany

So the other day, as I drove to an appointment, I was listening to a talk on Thomas Merton and Henri Nouwen.  The speaker, Dr. Michael Higgins referred to Merton and Nouwen as, "sacred disrupters."
While Dr. Higgins had something different in mind, I can definitely say that they began a sacred disruption in my life.  Reading their works began my pursuit of the contemplative.  In their writings at a time when I felt misunderstood beyond measure I found comfort.  These two men, one a priest and another monk, both already decreased by the time I opened their books, captured my heart, mind and soul.  Merton and Nouwen possessed high intelligence, wrestled with their vocations and openly declared their shortcomings.  A seed began to germinate.  A movement toward the contemplative, a desire for more silence and solitude, less noise, less television and less people.  A slow process of becoming, with its many twists and turns, of moves and losses, of bad choices and addiction, of feeling completely lost but somehow I always returned to their writings, writings that grounded me and made me feel less alone because I took great comfort in knowing that they struggled too and that they too at times had felt alone.  What are my favorites?  Thomas Merton's, New Seeds of Contemplation and Henri Nouwen's,  Road to Daybreak. Both of them wrote their journals which have been published in various forms which I am continually drawn.

Fast forward to the present day, in the last several weeks the Abbott John Eudes Bamberger, passed away.  The same John Eudes Bamberger who translated, the Pratikos and Chapters on Prayer by Evagrius Ponticus in the early 1970s which I consulted for my master's thesis, also had relationships with Thomas Merton and Henri Nouwen.  I deeply regret not having e-mailed him to tell him about my thesis and how his work played a role in it.  Further still, I could have had the opportunity to meet him in person at an International Thomas Merton Society event if I had attended.  A full circle, a pursuit of vocation leading to connections between all of their writings and myself. 
Life is short so listening to those still small tuggings of the Spirit fails to be an option if I am truly a Christ-follower and do not want to miss out. 

And now to a sacred interruption which totally altered my trajectory,  a little girl, said hello to me in Starbucks as I headed out the door having already spent a long while working on m y thesis.  However, I stopped and playfully introduced myself, meeting her friend and asking their ages.  Soon her mother and I began talking.  By the end of the conversation, we recognized a kindred spirit and agreed we need to talk again.  This encounter eventually led to three different encounters which led me to take the plunge and seek out becoming a member of the CO, a place where I could go and share cooperative office space.  On February 19, 2020 I officially joined the CO, four days before Transfiguration Sunday.   And somehow in that moment I knew I could not go back, similarly to Merton as he stood on the 4th and Walnut in Downtown, Louisville,  I experienced an epiphany. I needed to participate in the 100 day festival not skirt around but claim the renewal offered by the E arth and to participate in the call to being as Merton says, "Our True Self"  journeying with others desiring the same and becoming One with them regardless of theology or dogma. 

As the third week approaches, I leave you with these words that sit on my heart, touch the depth of my soul  and occupy a space in my mind,  "Nicodemus challenges, Jesus the Christ, 'How can these things be? the Christ answers,'You are the teacher of a deep spiritual tradition and yet you do not understand these things?" -
© Alexander John Shaia, 2020

Photo of me in April, 2015 at the site of Thomas Merton's Epiphany, where many of us attending the 2015 Spiritual Directors International Meeting tied a ribbon on the pole offering up our prayer for wisdom and guidance. 

2nd Sunday in Lent, Evagrius and relationships

Today I listened to the reading of the Gospel on temptation and attended a Sunday School discussing Jesus in the wilderness being tempted.  Yet my mind kept coming back to Evagrius and listening, to relationship and imprinting not memorizing the Bible but absorbing Jesus the Christ and his words into my life. Evagrius Ponticus the fourth century monk, I wrote my thesis about, took Christ's example of responding to the Devil with scripture as how we needed to respond to temptations or rather evil thoughts.  However, Evagrius was not focused on the memorization of scripture but on the imprinting of scripture on the heart, mind and soul.  He wrote a book containing scriptures to use against the various different kinds of evil thoughts and stressed to the monks the idea of meditating on scripture throughout work and play. 

From my thesis,
"Scripture clears the mind of distracting images and representations that it may understand the mysteries of God. The Holy Spirit inhabits the mind. According to Evagrius spiritual knowledge is the only knowledge needed. As the monk contemplates the mystery, God needs no form or shape or color or symbol. David Brakke writes, “As contemplation, the reading of scripture is a dynamic and fluid process, in which the distinctions between reader and text break down and the text becomes internalized within the monk’s intellect.”[1]

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[1] Brakke, “Reading the New Testament,” 290.

Evagrius viewed immersion in scripture not as a means to an end but rather to become part of and participate in the Holy Mystery.  For after all, isn't temptation my failure to connect with God, separation by my own choosing, rather than communicating with God and living into who I am created to be.  

The bottom line is relationships. Christ is all and in all, the great physician who has compassion on us and desires us to show compassion, patience and gentleness with others. 

 Evagrius writes, " Observe how the Physician of souls here corrects our incensive power through acts of compassion, purifies the intellect through prayer, and through fasting withers desire. By means of these virtues the new Adam is formed, made again according to the image of his Creator - an Adam in whom, thanks to dispassion, there is 'neither male nor female' and, thanks to singleness of faith, there is 'neither Greek nor Jew, circumcision nor uncircumcision, barbarian, Scythian, bond nor free; but Christ is all, and in all' (Gal. 3:28; Col. 3: 10:11)".^[1]

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[1] Ware. Kallistos, G.E.H. Palmer and Philip Sherrard, trans., The Philokalia, (Amazon, Kindle Edition, 2016), Kindle Locations 326-333, Kindle.

And the journey continues: 

 More clouds, sun and sky, more brightness and bloodiness, pain and healing, a journey towards holiness knowing that the Divine is in me and  I am being transformed.