Benedictine Sisters of FL

Holy Name Monastery
Founded 1889

Jesus

Words can also have an equally powerful ability to bring about healing and reconciliation… something we all need to keep in mind.

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Today we are with Jesus when he meets a distraught woman with a special needs child.  Maybe you have seen her, too, at the local Publix or Walmart or you might remember the parent of a child in your school, or a child-relative in your family or you’ve seen her trying to shop at Daystar.  This is a mixed breed woman; a foreigner.  Her family has disowned her.  And when she told her boyfriend she was pregnant he fled.

Somehow this courageous woman has survived as a single mother. But, when her daughter began having seizures, gossipy opinions surface: “She deserves what she gets. See what happens when you make the kind of decisions she’s made.”  On top of that she is a woman in a society in which women have no real value or standing.  To make matters worse she’s a screamer with a crazy kid.  Now, she is out of options.

But, she’s heard that a Jewish miracle-worker is passing through the area.  He’s reported to have authority over demons.  She’s tried appealing to all the pagan gods of her culture, but none answered her plea.  Maybe, just maybe, this Jesus is the answer to her prayers.

The woman approaches Jesus, requesting that he heal her demon-possessed daughter.  At first Jesus says nothing.  It appears he is ignoring her.  The disciples ask Jesus to send her away, and Jesus seems to agree, remarking that he was sent to minister to the Jews alone.

But she’s already endured a series of obstacles that would threaten the best of us.  She’s jumped social hurtles to ask a favor of Jesus and she will not be deterred.

She persists, paying homage to Jesus, and yet again Jesus denies her request.  She can’t believe what her hears – is he being rude to her?  Did he really refer to her using a Jewish word of derision for Gentiles, “dog.”  But the woman cleverly turns Jesus’ own words against him.  Only then does Jesus grant her request and heal her daughter.

So, let’s consider why Jesus would lead this mother through a humbling process for pursuing her request.  He stays in conversation with her but seems harsh.  Could it be Jesus used this encounter to help her develop a deep courageous faith that would sustain her for the rest of her life not just this one-time healing?

She is tenacious in her pleading.  With the odds stacked against her, she pushes forward.  When she gets knocked down by life’s circumstances and criticism, she gets back up.  When others told her to quit, to get lost because she was wasting Jesus’ time, she continued to keep Jesus attention.

Notice she referred to Jesus as Lord, acknowledging that He is worthy of praise.  Don’t miss the lesson that she praised Jesus in the midst of her pain.  She is obviously a very humble woman.  Perhaps Jesus had her in mind when he spoke the beatitude “Blessed are the meek, they will inherit the earth.”  Never confuse humility with weakness. Pride would have been offended by the “dog” comment.  Pride would have returned insult for insult, and pride would have gone away empty; without a miracle; without a healthy, whole child.

It’s a nice story but what does it teach us?  Lessons in skilled, reverent, peaceful confrontation; tenacity, humility and focus on the important matter for winning a hearing with a happy outcome.

The past couple of weeks the world has been on edge, at the escalating acts of violence and the war of words between the North Korean regime and President Trump.  The spiraling verbal threats may be the result of mounting public frustration with the lack of solutions to a serious problem but a frightened world cannot dismiss the situation as mere venting of empty words.  Indeed, the harsh language appears to be increasing in the intensity of potential danger of a rash move being made by one side or the other.  The world has seen too many incidents to ignore or downplay words that have had the power to do real damage.  The old adage “sticks and stones may break your bones but words can never hurt you” has long been proven a false premise.  But words can also have an equally powerful ability to bring about healing and reconciliation… something we all need to keep in mind.

Let us remember also in our intentions this weekend the people who are waiting in terror for Monday’s total solar eclipse.  Thousands are gathering for the once in a life time event but others view it as a harbinger of doom.

Heeding the example of the Canaanite woman we must come to stand before God, united in our plea for an end of racism in our country and for peace in our world, for calmness to conquer brashness, humility to counter pride and tenacity to win out over discouragement.

There is a tale told about former President Andrew Jackson.  His childhood friends were reminiscing about their childhood with Andy and expressing surprise at how successful he’d become considering all his flaws – he wasn’t as smart as some and many were stronger.  They recalled how the class bully would throw Andy three out of four times when they wrestled.  A listener asked: “What happened on the fourth time?”

Andy’s friend spoke up: “I guess that was Andy’s secret. He just wouldn’t stay throwed.”

Like the Canaanite woman and Andy, if life circumstances throw you down, don’t stay “throwed.”  You’ve heard it said that Benedictine community life is a series of beginnings.  Like a daruma doll, those weighted-bottom Japanese good-luck dolls, we just keep bouncing upright – as one author put is: we fall down and we get up.  Or as the saying goes: seven times down; eight times up.  So let us stand firm in praying for peace that we may hear the same response Jesus gave to the Canaanite woman: “Great is your faith!  Let it be done for you as you wish.”

~Reflection by Sister Roberta Bailey, OSB, Prioress
20th Sunday in Ordinary Time,
1st Reading Isaiah 56:1, 6-7,
2nd Reading Romans 11:13-15; 29-32,
Gospel Matthew 15:21-28
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Don’t Just Do Something…

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Peter’s reaction to Jesus’ Transfiguration reminds me of the story of a young seminarian on summer duty in a parish who walked into the sanctuary of the church and saw Jesus Himself praying at the altar. He alerts the pastor, who alerts the bishop. The bishop tells the pastor that he will have to report this to Pope Francis at the Vatican, and he will call him right back. The phone rings shortly afterward, and the pastor asks what the Pope advised. The bishop replies, “The Pope said — look busy!”

That seems to be Peter’s first impulse at the Transfiguration.  The vision is so awesome and powerful an experience that Peter wants to do anything rather than deal with it. He can hardly believe that right here all in one place at the same time he has Jesus, Moses, and Elijah conversing!   Rather than embrace the moment and bow low in homage he volunteers to go back down to find materials for tents and to haul them back up to the top of the mountain.

We do this sometimes, don’t we?  Our life in the monastery has many blessings, but a distraction-free environment is not one of them. With the intention to spend time in Lectio, we find ourselves being distracted by the impulse to do something useful, anything when we feel the Spirit invading our hearts. Anything from reading more litanies to performing a favor for someone else or cleaning my room.  Anything rather than just be and experience that special closeness with God. It’s a weird kind of defense mechanism; we look for ways to avoid that total intimacy with God, even when we think and say that we desire nothing more.  From previous experiences we’ve learned that, as CS Lewis writes: “There’s such a thing as getting more than we bargained for!” and that scares us. As Father David put it recently, we need to just Waste time with God.

Peter’s impulse to look for something to do isn’t to say that all work is bad. We are called to do our fair share to support our community and to put our God-given gifts to use.  But, at times we substitute busy-ness in our lives to avoid prayer – all the while knowing full well that only through prayer can we be formed in communion with God.  We must conquer the temptation to flee in fright when God finds us.  There is an old saying that applies here: when the Lord speaks to you, don’t just do something … stand there, or sit there, and follow Benedict’s opening word to his followers:  listen.

However we might interpret the impulsiveness of Peter, it is notable that in Matthew’s version of the story (remember he wasn’t there) the voice from heaven actually interrupts Peter, cutting him off in order to pronounce Jesus blessed and then to command the attention of the disciples. Whatever Peter — or we — may have been thinking there is only one thing necessary: to listen to Jesus, the Father’s beloved One.

We can all identify with the apostles because in our mountain-top experiences of joy and consolation we also want to stay. We want them to go on forever. And then in the moments of trial, like the apostles at Jesus’ trial, we want to flee. We tend to forget that our Lord did not promise us a rose garden, but a garden of olives and a crown of thorns. “If anyone will come after me let them pick up their cross daily and follow me.”  Having been to the top of the mountain we know that “nothing can separate us from the love of God made visible in Christ Jesus.”

This evening the closing rite will include Carol’s commitment as a resident volunteer.  All of us have had mountain top experiences and can testify to their importance in our lives.  For Carol, I suspect this may be a mountain-top moment.  There is something awe-inspiring about mountains: clean and crisp air and a panoramic view that raises our minds and hearts to God.   But all of us know that we have to go back down the mountain, to the valley of our everyday lives.  At both places, at the mountain top or in the valley and all those places and times in between, Jesus is there, reaching out to raise us up be our best selves.

At her blessing Carol will be given a copy of our MISSION, VISION, CORPORATE COMMITMENT and CORE VALUES STATEMENT.  It seems like a good time to remind ourselves of what we’ve said in these statements, so a copy is here available for you if you’d like one.

When Jesus and the disciples were walking back down the mountain, Jesus charged them not to tell the vision to anyone until he had been raised from the dead.  Well, Carol, Jesus has been raised from the dead and ascended to his Father, so you are welcome – and we’d even encourage – to tell the vision to anyone that seems like a suitable candidate to be a volunteer or affiliate with the Benedictine Sisters of Florida.

~Reflection by Sister Roberta Bailey, OSB, Prioress
First Reading:  Daniel 7:9–10,13–14      Second Reading:  2 Peter 1:16–19
Gospel: Matthew 17:1–9
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Patches of Dirt or Fertile Soil

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First Reading  Wisdom 12:13,16-19                    Second Reading  Romans 8:26-27

Gospel (short form)  Matthew 13:24-30

Jesus’ parables aren’t meant to test our human intelligence.  They are moments of grace to ply open our heart’s willingness to surrender to, and be enveloped in, the always surprising generosity of God.

Here on our property, when we look out the window and behold the life cycle of the hay field or blueberry patch, we see first-hand in nature what Jesus is talking about.  He extends the lesson applying it to the human heart.  He reminds us here that there are folks whose hearts are like cement.  It does not matter how much or how often seed is poured on these souls.  Fertilize it, water it – nothing will cause those seeds to take root and sprout.  Listen to church and TV sermons 24/7, they remain unfazed.

Do you remember times you were like this …  not always … but a time or two when you just didn’t want to hear what God might have to say?

In contrast to the hardened-soil person, the shallow-soil person is hyper-responsive to God’s word—but only for a wee tiny time.  Like during a revival or summer retreat.  Don’t be one of these temporary ‘all in’ folks gobbling up every word and reading every book suggested by the retreat director.  But, sometimes the seed eventually sinks in and bursts through the pavement.  And right away, birds or insects snatch the new growth and it never comes to fruition.  It can’t survive the heat of the give and take of daily community life.

When were you like this?  Maybe in the novitiate … or the time in high school when the class made the senior retreat?  God was SO real to you … but God’s voice grew more faint as the days went by?

Then, there is a third type of soil – a thorny type – so tightly entangled with “thorns” that their thorns have become their identity.  Jesus calls these thorns “the cares of the world and the deceitfulness of riches.” Matthew says these people are caught up in anxiety and get choked on the lure of the riches of the world that tug and yank at their minds and hearts until the seed suffocates, rendering them spiritually barren.

When was this the case in your life?  Times when you were just too distracted to cultivate God’s word …  when several days went by without a space for Lectio or healthy self-care – when “thorny” remarks and obstinate behavior was your default mode?  That’s when God planted a general sense of dissatisfaction in the garden of your soul.

Oh, but how gratifying it must be to Jesus when He finds “good soil people” – when we share the time God has given us to meditate on the Word, let it penetrate and bear fruit – then we hold fast to the word making it our own.  Thus we grow more Christ-like over time by absorbing and practicing the precepts of Benedict.  Over the years, as the seeds continue to take root and blossom, the fruits and gifts of the Spirit flourish.  As one author describes Benedictine life: they fall down, and they get up … and fall down and they get up … as they ascend the ladder of humility.

We come not only to know, but to believe deep in our hearts that God can change hard, shallow, compromised patches of dirt into fertile garden soil.  As we read in Ezekiel: “And I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you.  And I will remove the heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.”

Many of us have, or have had, gardens.  And all of us–whether we’re gardeners with a green thumb, or thumbs with only a tinge of green, or only a “wishful” thumb – or a thumb that only knows how to operate a TV remote or a computer mouse — all of us know the principle of planting: when we put a seed in the ground, we expect a plant to appear …  some may even think it will sprout with a flower already on it J . We also know that not all seeds will produce full-grown plants. They just don’t, for a variety of reason.

We don’t have to ever have plowed fields for forty cents a day in order to know the different landscapes of which Jesus speaks. We know the beaten path of our own lives.   We’ve stumbled through the rocky patches of life.  We have been scratched and cut by the thorns of life.  But we have planted our roots deep in the sacred soil of life that feeds and grows us to become a harvest – whether it’s a thirty, sixty or a hundredfold – who’s counting?! – it’s all a harvest!  Given the right conditions apple seeds do become apples.  Mango seeds become mangoes.  God’s seeds become what we allow them to become.

Paraphrasing the words from Deuteronomy, we ask: “let the soil of my heart hear the words of Your mouth.  May Your instruction soak in like the rain and Your word permeate like the dew; like a gentle rain upon the grass and like a shower upon the crops.”

~Reflection by Roberta Bailey, OSB, Prioress
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Today’s Reflection

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First Reading: ZECHARIAH 9: 9-10
Second Reading: ROMANS 8: 9
Gospel: MATTHEW 11: 25-30

This Gospel is the same as that proclaimed on the Feast of the Sacred Heart.  Jesus offers rest to those “who labor and are burdened.”  Here’s the deal: if you will accept His “easy yoke” your burden will be light.  You did notice that Jesus says “Take my yoke upon you.”  It is a voluntary acceptance.  By declaring that his “yoke is easy” Jesus means that whatever God offers us is custom-made to fit exactly our individual needs and our abilities.  You know the story of the individual who asked God for a different cross.  So, Jesus took her to the storehouse of crosses where Sister examined every cross more than once.  When she finally chose one Jesus said, “My dear, that is the very cross I already gave you.”  Our cross will not fit on anyone else’s shoulders or heart.  It is mine alone and if I refuse it, the burden will stay abandoned with Jesus.

The second part of Jesus’ claim is: “My burden is light.”  Jesus does not mean that the burden is effortless to carry.  It does not mean we are foot-loose and fancy-free.  To be a disciple means to come under the discipline of a master.  It means voluntarily putting a yoke on one’s shoulders, and walking in a direction set by the master.  It just happens to be the direction that the master knows will lead to green pasture, refreshment, peace and true joy.  Jerome Kodell describes happiness as a gift from people and events outside ourselves.  Joy is a gift of the Spirit and is generated from within when we walk heart to heart with our God.  When oxen trudge ahead, they don’t necessarily see the pasture at the end of the trail.  All they see is a long, dusty road but that does not stop them.  Remember the beasts that toted our 3-story convent up the incline from San Antonio.  They plodded onward; the overseer knew the destination, but the animals did not.  The yoke, the burden that we take up in love is received from the hands of our loving God, placed on us in love and is meant to be carried in love for love makes even the heaviest burden light.  We only need to quiet down for a few moments in the green pasture of prayer and adoration to attune our heart once again to the voice of the Master.

Light burden – easy yoke!  You may reply that it sure doesn’t feel that way most of the time.  This could be for one of two reasons.  One: the yoke seems heavy because we are not allowing the Lord to help us carry the weight – remember Jesus let Simon help him with his cross.  Or it may seem heavy because we are not keeping God’s pace.  We could be dragging our heels or racing ahead.  Either way, we are chafing and straining.  A yoke is fashioned for a pair — for a team working together.  So we are not yoked alone to pull the plow solo but we are yoked together with Christ to work with Him using His strength.  Benedict challenges us in chapter 72 to lovingly carry each other’s burdens: “anticipate one another; patiently endure one another’s burdens, practice the most fervent love, tender charity chastely.”

The yoke chaffs when either member of the team tries to get ahead or lags on the job. – like when community members tug and pull against the group, when common practices are carelessly disregarded.  When conflicts are resolved, the yoke once again rests easy – the team, community members, walk side by side with the same aim in view – each lovingly regulating her step to keep pace with her sister.

A second reason the yoke may feel burdensome and cause weariness is that the yoke we are carrying is simply not the Lord’s yoke but one of our own choosing or one we have usurped from another.  There are many sources of tiredness, weariness, and fatigue.  Physical fatigue may be the most benign.  There is the fatigue that comes from stress, fatigue that comes from worry, fatigue that comes not only from worrying about the future, but also worrying about the past and fatigue that comes from trying to be perfect, to be something we are not.  Life’s greatest burden is not having too much to do, nor having too much to care about because some of the happiest folk are the busiest and those who care the most.  Rather, the greatest burden we have is our constant engagement with the trivial and the unimportant, with the temporary and the passing and with what is ultimately uncontrollable and unpredictable.

The issue in life is not whether we shall be burdened, but with what we shall be burdened.  The question is not “Shall we be yoked?” but “To what and with whom shall we be yoked?”  What we need, according to this wonderful gospel paradox, is a different yoke: the yoke of Christ.  Jesus is interested in lifting off our backs the burdens that drain us and suck the life out of us, so that we are freed to accept the burden he has prepared just for us – the yoke that is guaranteed to give us new life, new energy, new joy.  We are called, not only to find inner peace, refreshment and rest for ourselves, but also to live the kind of life through which others, too, may find God’s peace.  The solution is easy – as a popular saying goes: “Let go, let God.”

~Reflection by Sister Roberta Bailey, OSB, Prioress

 

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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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