Benedictine Sisters of FL

Holy Name Monastery
Founded 1889

God

A Story from the Buddhist Religion

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First Reading  2 Kings 4:8-11,14-16a   Second Reading  Romans 6:3-4,8-11
Gospel Matthew 10:37-42

From the riches of the Buddhist religion we have this story:

A young widower, who loved his five-year-old son very much, was away on business, and bandits came, burned down his whole village, and took his son away. When the man returned, he saw the ruins and panicked. He took the charred corpse of an infant to be his own child, and he began to pull his hair and beat his chest, crying uncontrollably. He organized a cremation ceremony, collected the ashes, and put them in a very beautiful velvet pouch.  Working, sleeping, or eating, he always carried the bag of ashes with him. One day his real son escaped from the robbers and found his way home. He arrived at his father’s new cottage at midnight, and knocked at the door. You can imagine, at that time, the young father was still carrying the bag of ashes and crying. He asked, “Who is there?” And the child answered, “It’s me, Papa. Open the door, it’s your son.”

In his agitated state of mind the father thought that some mischievous boy was making fun of him, and he shouted at the child to go away, and continued to cry. The boy knocked again and again, but the father refused to let him in. Some time passed, and finally the child left. From that time on, father and son never saw one another.

You see, the Buddha said, “Sometimes you take something to be the truth. If you cling to it so much, when the truth comes in person and knocks on your door, you will not open it.”

Jesus said, “Those who welcome you also welcome me, and those who welcome me welcome the One who sent me.” But what does it mean to welcome Jesus. Perhaps we carry with us a velvet bag of ashes. Valuable yes, but they are the ashes of a childish love for Jesus. Those carefully held notions about who Jesus is will fail us if we cling so tightly that our knowledge and love cannot mature in age and grace.  Remember what St. Paul says: “When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I matured, I put away childish things.

In order to welcome Jesus, we just might have to lay aside our bag of ashes in order to move beyond our carefully held notions about who Jesus is.   Our storyteller today (Matthew) has Jesus giving his disciples some instructions about how they are to represent him.  He doesn’t baptize them first. He doesn’t have them memorize a creed. He doesn’t give them a vet’s manual so they can identify sheep from goats. He certainly doesn’t ask them about their age, culture, social circles, and gender preferences or why he should hire them. He doesn’t even give them the assurance of salvation.  In fact he tells them it’s not about them at all. He suggests they have to have a right attitude.  As important as family is, they need to understand that what Jesus represents is more important.  What he represents is even more important than life itself.  He tells them their task is to represent him and in doing so they represent the ONE who sent Him.

The whispered questions begin:  “Huh?  What do you mean? How do we that?  Do we wear special clothes?  Do we need a clerical collar?  Should we keep the Torah always within reach so we can quote it chapter and verse?”  Can’t you see Jesus shaking his head with a bemused smile?  “No, just welcome people into your lives. Welcome everyone, but especially welcome those no one else does. Don’t look so shocked.  Even if all you do is give them is a cup of water, you will find that most gratifying.”  “Is that all??!” they ask.

“That’s it.  Be hospitable and everything else will follow.”  Why did Jesus make hospitality the basis for his ministry?  Perhaps, because it is essential to building relationships.  It is the first step to overcoming fear, finding understanding, and giving respect.  Ultimately it is the foundation of bringing about a peaceful world. It is the source of harmony.

Jesus lived to change the world and change it, he did – one person at a time.  To this day Christ lives in. with and through us to change the world one person at a time. Each act of kindness, each word of welcome, each act of hospitality binds us together in love and moves the universe that much closer to peace. Not the fragile peace that the world gives; but the peace of God, that transcends selfishness, greed, hostility, prejudice, hatred and even war. Peace, which can begin with something as simple as a glass of water, a welcome, an act of hospitality.  If you doubt this, I challenge you to think of a time when you were shown unexpected hospitality that at least improved your day and may even have changed your life.

Hospitality it turns out is at the heart of our faith.  A Christian, a Benedictine, is simply someone who is hospitable.  The truth is, whoever gives a cup of cold water to one of the world’s poor ones, also welcomes Christ, and those who welcome Christ welcome the One who sent Christ.  So it shall be among us who promise to “commit ourselves and our resources to respond with the compassion of Christ to the physical, spiritual, social and emotional hungers of the people of God.”

~ Reflection by Sister Roberta Bailey, OSB, Prioress
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God at our Calling

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First Reading  Jeremiah 20:10-13    Second Reading  Romans 5:12-15
Gospel Matthew 10:26-33

In this Gospel passage, we rejoin Jesus during the first year of His public ministry.  Jesus directs the disciples to keep their focus on God.  He reminds them that those who can harm the body do not have ultimate power; God does.  Persecution and suffering may not be avoided or prevented but Jesus’ reassures us that God is always and forever at our call to care for us and protect us.

Jesus uses a simple, mind-opening analogy to illustrate his point.  His listeners knew that the cheapest life in the market was a small bird of the field, perhaps a sparrow.  Yet, God’s providential care knows even when this smallest of birds dies.  He is using here a rabbinic argument technique which compares a light matter to a heavy one. His idea here is to overcome fear and encourage the disciples, and us, to trust God.

From the moment we are born, we know fear – we squall at the change in our environment.  The startle reflex is tested in a baby’s first pediatrician’s visit.  Separation anxiety develops by 6 months and may raise its ugly head later in life feelings of abandonment.  Over time we may grow to fear even those who are closest to us.

Jesus recognizes that fear may cause failure on our part.  Jesus’ disciples, and we, courageously leave the security of home and family to follow a dream. As faithful followers of our “summons” to His call, may inevitably put us on a collision course with the allurements of the world. Jesus is starkly realistic about the threats we will face, at the same time he builds the case for why we should not let fear win out or hinder our ministry.

We see in the Gospels, how on the one hand, the disciples are granted remarkable powers to heal the sick, exorcise demons, cleanse lepers, even to raise the dead. But at the same time, Jesus denies the disciples money, extra clothes, or a staff to aid in climbing the ups and downs of life or to protect themselves from wolves.  He even denies them a pair of sandals to shield their feet from rocks and stones, or if they travel the fields in Florida, sandspurs.  They are to undertake their mission in complete vulnerability and dependence on God with an awareness that they go as “sheep in the midst of wolves.”

We know their stories: they faced arrests and beatings, hatred and persecution and opposition even from family members.

With great care and compassion Jesus names aloud the suffering to be endured and its causes.  This is the first step in freeing them from the tenacious grip of fear.  Benedict knew this, didn’t he?  Remember what he says about receiving newcomers (chapter 58).  Do not grant newcomers an easy entry … test the spirits, let them keep persistently knocking at the door four or five days … they should be clearly told the things of everyday living in community; all the hardships and difficulties that will lead to God … she, the newcomer, must be aware of what the Rule requires so that she may know what she is entering.”

It is clear in Jesus’ conversation with his disciples that the most important element in the sharing of the warnings and the loving reassurance lies in the integral relationship between the disciples and Jesus.  And, between Benedict and the novice .. and it should be evident between our community and the Seeker.

Just as Jesus modeled the way for his disciple, we make a commitment to the newcomer, and to each other, to model Benedictine living.   An example: A young boy, out for a walk with his father on a cold winter day, was scared to cross a frozen pond … afraid of falling through the ice. But then his Father offered to lead the way.  Now the boy didn’t hesitate to go across the ice. The ice hadn’t become less frightening, but he was able to follow his father, trusting his father wouldn’t lead him to harm. He followed his father without fear across the ice.   Jesus leads us; we lead each other; and we each help lead our Seekers.

As we sing in the Suscipe: “Upon me, O Lord, as you have promised, and I shall live, and do not disappoint me in my hope.”

~Reflection by Sister Roberta Bailey, OSB, Prioress

 

 

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We are Commissioned…

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First Reading  Acts of the Apostles 1:1-11  Second Reading  Ephesians 1:17-23
Gospel Matthew 28:16-20

When someone commands you to do something, it is all on you.  You will either succeed or fail, but no matter how it turns out, it’s on you.  Even the consideration of whether you have the capacity to do it doesn’t necessarily factor into the equation.  You have been commanded, and now you must obey, sink or swim.

But being commissioned to do something, that’s different.  When you are commissioned you are not merely commanded but also equipped, empowered, and given the necessary authority to accomplish your duty.  Police officers and leaders in the military, for instance, are given many commands over the course of their careers, but before those commands come, they are commissioned into their offices – that is, invested with the necessary authority and support to accomplish their mission.

In life, maybe we’re most aware of this happening in religious life in community – we are often asked to do something that seems impossible.  It may be presented as if it is intended to be a request but it comes across as a command, certainly not a commission since it does not include a package of skills to complete the task.   Benedict in his Rule describes how the monk should respond when asked to perform what for them may seem an impossible task.  He apparently decided to include these directives after some time of living with the various characters who joined the ranks of community.  Chapter 68 is in the portion of the Rule thought to be a collection of after-thoughts.   It’s like “oh, and by the way, after what I said about obedience in Chapter 5, it could happen that: “A Sister may be assigned a burdensome task or something she cannot do. If so, she should, with complete gentleness and obedience, accept the order given her.   Should she see, however, that the weight of the burden is altogether too much for her strength, then she should choose the appropriate moment and explain patiently to the superior the reasons why she cannot perform the task.  This she ought to do without pride, obstinacy or refusal.  If after the explanation the superior is still determined to hold to her original order, then the junior must recognize that this is best for her. Trusting in God’s help, she must in love obey.”

We sing about the scene in today’s Gospel in the one of our hymns: “Lord, you gave the great commission … with the spirit’s gifts empowering us, for the work of ministry.”  The disciples, and we, are being entrusted and enabled to continue Jesus’ own work – to share the news of God’s love in word and deed.  And, not only that, but to invite those who receive it to be co-workers in bringing the kingdom to fruition. .

To be effective it takes willing teachers as well as willing pupils.  More than that, it takes disciples as well as students – pupils may be just there, students are open to learning – absorbing and putting into practice.  Everything we do in life initially begins with being directly or indirectly taught.  Children raised in environments where there is inadequate attention, care and interaction, suffer failure to thrive and many die at a young age.  We come into this world ready and willing to learn.  God gave us the power of reasoning that we might learn.  God sent us into this world to learn his will for our lives so that we might influence others to recognize God’s glory.  Remember the 2nd question in the Baltimore catechism?  “Why did God make you?  God made me to know, love and serve Him in this world and to be happy with him forever in the next.”

We are commissioned both as individuals and as a community.  Thus, we are accountable as individuals and as community.  Benedict places much of the burden of responsibility on the prioress.  However notice the role of mutual obedience in our lives … each one to each other.

If we are com-missioned then we have a mission.  But, it’s easy to lose sight of our mission.  We can get excited about proposed projects, ministerial opportunities, and personal pursuits.   New projects may have appeal but if they do not reflect our mission as Benedictine Sisters of FL, they are not for us.  Or, we need to discern and then endorse a new statement of mission.

This little story – maybe true – illustrates the principle of accountability – “inspect what you expect.”

The story goes: a young soldier was deployed for a minimum of a year.  When he left, his fiancé gave him a harmonica. Strange gift – but she said, “I want you to learn to play this: it will help to keep your mind off the war and the girls.”

He wrote to her often and told her that he was faithfully practicing his harmonica every evening.

After a year she met him at the airport, he grabbed her to kiss her and she pushed back and said, “Wait before you kiss me, I want to hear you play the harmonica.”

She was no fool.  She knew that the man’s love would be reflected in what he did. If he’d done what he’d promised – she’d know it by his actions.

So, too, does God know by our actions how sincere, how faithful we are to our God-given personal mission, and our community commitments.

~Reflection by Sister Roberta Bailey, OSB, Prioress

 

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“I am in my Father and you are in me and I in you”

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First Reading  Acts of the Apostles 8:5-8,14-17    Second Reading  1 Peter 3:15-18
Gospel John 14:15-21

Today’s Gospel is a continuation of the selection read last weekend.  The Gospel selections all this week have built on the same theme: faith in Jesus’ word, impending separation with a promise of an abiding presence.  You’ll recall that Jesus is speaking to his disciples at their last supper together … and given the length of his discourse, it must have been a LONG, many-course supper. He reassures them that even though he will leave them, he will not abandon them. He contrasts his impending departure with the permanence of the gift of the Holy Spirit:  “On that day you will realize that I am in my Father and you are in me and I in you.”

When a lifetime friend moves far away we can reassure one another that we’ll stay in touch but we also probably agree: “It’s just not going to be the same.” This may have been the feeling of the disciples.  Jesus is saying his goodbye. He is preparing those closest to him, whom he loves and who love him, for his departure. Not just a farewell before going on a short trip, when they will see one another again in a few weeks or months, but a more permanent farewell. He is preparing them for the shock of his violent death and the collapse of their plans for the future. Everything is about to change for them. “It’s just not going to be the same.”

Unbeknown to them at the supper where Jesus is speaking, a few days after his crucifixion Jesus would rise from the dead and they would see him again, at least for a short time. Then, after that, it will be all different: they would see him no longer. They wouldn’t have him physically there with them when they needed to ask for advice as problems arose; or feel his comforting and healing touch when they hurt, or when someone they loved was sick; or hear his voice, speaking words of forgiveness when they needed to be freed from guilt.

Jesus was sensitive to the sense of loss they were about to endure. He was telling them quite clearly, “It’s just not going to be the same.”  He knew they couldn’t make it on their own.   Their human courage, like ours, just wouldn’t be enough – they’d need continued support to spread Jesus’ message after he was gone.

So, Jesus makes a FANTASTIC, and unbelievable promise:  He is going to the Father and he will send the Holy Spirit to guide them as they face new challenges.  There’ll be new issues and suffering for what they believe but they will become aware of Jesus’ abiding presence even though they cannot physically see, hear, or touch him.

We may be 2000 years away from those disciples around the table with Jesus that night; but we too have experienced loss and need. We have said many goodbyes to family and community members.  We’ve experienced big changes in our lives (even if we did not know life before Vatican II)   There have been times when we’ve needed to be strong ourselves and for others: times of grave illness, worry over a troubled or addicted loved one, sorrow over a broken relationship or an uncertain future..

Those are the times when we’ve known:  “It’s just not going to be the same.” And it wasn’t.  God sends us curved balls when we least expect it.  But, like a skilled ball player we can still hit a home run.  God gives us the strength to stay faithful; the wisdom to maneuver life’s many twists and turns.

Our duty, our challenge, then, is to believe, to trust that we have the Spirit with us – in Word, the Eucharist, in each other – to believe Jesus has kept his promise to give us the gift of the Spirit – an abiding, permanent dwelling with each of us – Or, as Jesus said, the “Advocate” – a word that means counselor, consoler and mediator – the divine energy that binds us together with one another, and all to God.

A wise person shared this truism: in life we’re either entering difficulty, going through it, or coming out of it.   There are points along the journey when the way forward is unclear – when all we know for certain is: “it’s not going to be the same.”

This prayer written by Thomas Merton, speaks to me when all I do know is: “it’s not going to be the same.”

“My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it. Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.”

(Thomas Merton, Thoughts on Solitude, 1956)

~Reflection by Sister Roberta Bailey, OSB, Prioress

 

 

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Message of His Holiness Pope Francis

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[An adaptation of excerpts from] Pope Francis’

MESSAGE FOR THE 54th WORLD DAY OF PRAYER FOR VOCATIONS

Sunday, May 7, 2017

 

In the last few years, we have considered two aspects of the Christian vocation: the summons to “go out from ourselves” to hear the Lord’s voice, and the importance of the ecclesial community as the privileged place where God’s call is born, nourished and expressed.

Now, on this 54th World Day of Prayer for Vocations, I would like to reflect on the missionary dimension of our Christian calling. Those drawn by God’s voice and determined to follow Jesus soon discover within themselves an irrepressible desire to bring the Good News to their brothers and sisters through proclamation and the service of charity.

Commitment to mission is not something added on to the Christian life as a kind of decoration, but is instead an essential element of faith itself. A relationship with the Lord entails being sent out into the world as prophets of his word and witnesses of his love.

In the depths of their hearts, all disciples hear this divine voice bidding them to “go about,” as Jesus did, “doing good and healing all.”

To be a missionary disciple means to share actively in the mission of Christ. Jesus himself described that mission in the synagogue of Nazareth in these words: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, and to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” This is also our mission: to be anointed by the Spirit, and to go out to our brothers and sisters in order to proclaim the word and to be for them a means of salvation.

Our mission might appear to be mere utopian illusion or at least something beyond our reach. Yet if we contemplate the risen Jesus walking alongside the disciples of Emmaus, we can be filled with new confidence. Jesus transformed the disciples’ discouragement. He made their hearts burn within them, and he opened their eyes by proclaiming the word and breaking the bread. In the same way, we do not bear the burden of mission alone.  We come to realize, even amid weariness and misunderstanding, that “Jesus walks with us, speaks to us, breathes with us, works with us”.

The seed of the Kingdom, however tiny, unseen and at times insignificant, silently continues to grow, thanks to God’s tireless activity.  God surpasses all our expectations and constantly surprises us by his generosity. He makes our efforts bear fruit beyond all human calculation.

With this confidence born of the Gospel, we become open to the silent working of the Spirit. There can be no promotion of vocations apart from constant contemplative prayer.  Our life needs to be nourished by attentive listening to God’s word and, above all, by the cultivation of a personal relationship with the Lord in the Eucharist, our privileged encounter with God.

I wish heartily to encourage this kind of profound friendship with the Lord, above all for the sake of imploring from on high new vocations to the priesthood and the consecrated life. I ask parish communities, associations and the many prayer groups present in the Church, not to yield to discouragement but to continue praying that the Lord will send workers to his harvest.

Dear brothers and sisters, today too, we can regain fervor in preaching the Gospel and we can encourage young people in particular to take up the path of Christian discipleship. Despite a widespread sense that the faith is listless or reduced to mere “duties to discharge,” our young people desire to discover the perennial attraction of Jesus, to be challenged by his words and actions, and to cherish the ideal that he holds out: a life that is fully human, happy to spend itself in love.

Mary Most Holy, the Mother of our Savior, had the courage to embrace this ideal, placing her youth and her enthusiasm in God’s hands. Through her intercession, may we be granted that same openness of heart, that same readiness to respond, “Here I am,” to the Lord’s call, and that same joy in setting out, like her, to proclaim him to the whole world.

~Reflection by Sister Roberta Bailey, OSB, Prioress
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“Not the Kind of Perfect the Ninjas or Superman Display”

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First Reading  Acts of the Apostles 2:42-47   Second Reading   1 Peter 1:3-9
Gospel  John 20:19-31     Weekly Intention

The Frailty of Easter  Based in part on a reflection by John Slattery  (adapted)

We humans are a comparatively slow maturing and short-lived species. The average life-span in the United States hovers between 75 and 80.  The age of the earth, on the other hand, is around 4,500,000,000 years.  The age of the universe is around 13,800,000,000 years.  You and I inhabit just a small bit of that time, the tiniest morsel of space time lived out on a relatively small planet that orbits an average size star.  Our star, the Sun, is one of trillions upon trillions of stars, and our planet is one of trillions in the known universe.  But it’s ok.

Easter is all about smallness.   That’s why we are drawn to reading and re-reading the Easter accounts in the Gospels each year.  Despite the ocean of books, songs, sermons, and lectures written about Easter or on Easter-themes, our Scripture includes just four small stories about this Jesus who rose from the dead.  The combined resurrection stories encompass about 3500 words–the equivalent of about 15 pages, the length of an average term paper.

Jesus’ resurrection was such a humble thing.  There were no angel trumpeters or singers in the skies. It was more like the story in Psalm 119 that we prayed yesterday morning: “Without a word, without a sound, without a voice being heard, the message fills all the earth, resounding to the ends of the universe.”    First, Jesus surprised Mary in the garden.  She told a few other women,  then they told a few men and soon Jesus appeared to them.  He spoke about peace, about the Spirit of God, about hope.  He showed his wounds.  He ate some food and then he drifted up into the clouds.  He didn’t march on Rome or lead a rebellion against the priests who brought him to Pilate.  After his resurrection He didn’t heal anyone else or preach to vast crowds as He had done previously.  He didn’t cast out any more demons, trade barbs with rabbis, or visit the Temple.  The resurrection, in many ways, was quiet.

It challenges us to read that Jesus showed his followers his wounds.  “See,” he seems to say, “a broken body is not made whole by erasing the imperfections.  Feel this hole in my side,” he says to Thomas and to each of us.   “See, I have sanctified what the world calls spoiled.  A broken body is made whole not by removing the scars but by embracing the permanence of the wounds.”

We like this small and quiet resurrection where Jesus is not the definition of a contemporary superhero.  He doesn’t return triumphant and knock Pilate off his throne, bringing God’s wrath on the vicious Roman Empire.  He appears to his friends, simply showing his wounds and talking about love and peace.

This story today of Thomas illustrates our Christian experience. We are called to believe without seeing.    In fact, all Christians after the first witnesses have been called to believe without seeing. Thus, we sing “without seeing you, we love you; without seeing you, we believe.”  Thomas’ doubt is hardly surprising; the news of Jesus’ appearance was incredible to the disciples who had seen him crucified and buried. Thomas’ human nature compelled him to want hard evidence that the Jesus, who appeared to the disciples after his death, was indeed the same Jesus who had been crucified. Thomas is given the opportunity to act on that desire. He is our witness that Jesus is truly raised from the dead.  With him we proclaim: “We’ve been told, we’ve seen his face, and heard his voice alive in our hearts.”

Jesus wants us to be perfect, but not the kind of perfect that Ninjas or Superman display.  Jesus wants us to be perfect “as our heavenly Father is perfect.”  God’s perfection and the message of Jesus’ Resurrection calls us an unconditional embrace of frailty, pain, and brokenness.

It is an embrace that calls us to resist all forms of violence, power, and hatred.  There is growing acknowledgement of that fact that TV and video game violence, like second-hand smoke affects one’s lungs, permanently affects our brains.  Many families refuse to allow TV violence, fictionalized or news reports, to invade their living spaces.  Jesus did not arm his apostles with weapons for revenge — he armed them with prayer and baptized them in a spirit of hope and forgiveness.

We are surrounded today with so much sadness and fear and anger.  We who live in a peaceful community rejoice in the security and sanctity that empowers us to extend open arms in hospitality to those in the world who yearn for that same privilege.

At the end of our Gospel selection we read, “Jesus did many other signs that are not written in this book.  But these ARE written that you may come to believe …and through this belief you may have life in Jesus’ name.

We join the psalmist in singing: By the Lord has this been done; it is wonderful in our eyes.  This is the day the Lord has made; let us be glad and rejoice in it.”

~Reflection by Sister Roberta Bailey, OSB, Prioress
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