Bit of an impasse

When asked to add a contribution to this blog, I worked on it for some hours yesterday, posted it, then deleted it. In the end, all that I'm really capable of contributing is the observation that the Monastic Immersion Program is a great opportunity for a person who is just beginning to explore the ideals and practices of monasticism. It is also a fruitful way for a person long familiar with those ideals to live more powerfully a contemplative vocation, whether or not that vocation is specifically to Benedictine monasticism. But I'm not a writer, and for anything worth saying the words I can find are too trite and too hackneyed to make a worthwhile and readable contribution to the blog. Elena is a writer, and I enjoy her contributions and appreciate her generosity in sharing her experiences. 
All the best,
Annon (another member of the 9-month Monastic Immersion Experience) 

On Labels

by Elena Coe

We are a couple classes into our program now, and we've begun to discuss what it means to be a monk. After all, we're all here to learn about being more monk-like, so it only makes sense to work out some kind of defining factors. Right?

Given the huge scope of mysticism and monastic life throughout religions and cultures, it is hard to specify too many particulars about what a monk does. But ultimately, the overarching defining factor of monastic devotion seems to be this: to seek relationship with god/the transcendent above all else. There are certainly elements of prayer, obedience, love, and humility that generally accompany that journey towards enlightenment or eternal life, but the primary motivation for those behaviors truly makes the difference.

This all gets me to wondering, however, about intentionality versus action. On the one hand, I could argue that anyone whose intention is to seek God above all else and self-defines as a monk is, in fact, a monk. The success of their journey may not matter much if we define the monk by the act of seeking rather than by the outcomes of the search. If that's the case, then could someone call themselves a monk even if they lived in ways most people would not define as monastic? Should people who are not practiced in righteousness and love still gain the title of being a monk simply because they make efforts to do so? And more importantly, what then separates a 'normal' pious or conscious person from a monk?

To me, as an artist and writer, I've often struggled with a similar problem of defining identity. What is a writer, after all? It is simply someone who writes? How much do you have to write to fall into the category of 'a writer'? Every day? Do you have to be published? Do you have to be good? Can I simply call myself a writer because I have the intention and skill to write?

Personally, I've come to my own conclusion that self-identification matters more than what categories the outer world places me in. With that in mind, I choose to make the distinction based on what I believe feeds my spirit and makes me feel more like myself. Being a writer fits me. I don't have to write every day or be published to know that I will always love to write and that the action of writing is an integral part of who I am.

As for monasticism... I don't know that I'm confident enough yet in my own definition of what a monk is to truly know whether I feel like one. Maybe the label is intimidating me because of all its broader connotations and historical associations. I remember when I was afraid to call myself a writer because I felt it was presumptuous. Eventually, I overcame that fear because I came to sense writing as an process instead of a destination. Intellectually, I believe the same thing about monasticism. So, perhaps it is only a matter of time before I realize that I can be more than a writer, a singer, an artist, a sister, a daughter, a student, a friend... But that I can also be a monk.

Another Batch in the Oven

by Elena Coe

Welcome to a new year of the long-term Monastic Immersion Experience! The nine-month program for 2013-2014 has three participants, and we are finally all here together at the Monastery of St. Gertrude, beginning our work, prayer, and classes. In other words, the ingredients have all come together into ooey-gooey delicious dough, and now we're popping into the oven. Who knows how it will all turn out, right? (I'm guessing pretty good.)

This blog is meant to be a place for the three of us to divulge our thoughts and experiences while in the program, and I hope that you may find some of it interesting. I feel like giving a little disclaimer about my personal faith journey might be prudent, since much of this blog will consist of musings and questions that will make a lot more sense in the context of my life. So, if you’re interested, please, read on!

Growing up in a non-religious household, I was never one to actively seek out church. My mom would sometimes take us to various protestant churches, but those events were so rare that I suspect I could tell you about each one. I never particularly disliked church—I especially enjoyed the goodies that were provided in the lobby out front after the service—but I never looked forward to it either. So when I found myself surrounded by religious friends in high school, I began to wonder what I might have been missing out on. There seemed to be such a comfort in the community of church, the ritual of prayer, and the love that often emanated from religious people. Intellectually, I still didn’t agree with religion, but I began to be fascinated by it.

When I was deciding on a university, my first impulse was to rule out religiously-affiliated schools entirely, convinced that I would be judged and left out by a community so focused on something I wasn’t a part of. But somehow, through a combination of serendipity and practicality, I ended up deciding to attend Seattle University, a Jesuit school in Seattle’s hippest neighborhood, Capitol Hill. Admittedly, as far as Catholic schools go, Seattle U is not strict about its religious aspects. In fact, the faith of my school became one of my favorite things to talk about because it was so incredibly open-minded and open-ended in its practice. I began to see faith and spirituality differently through the variety of expressions I witnessed every day on my campus. Singing choral music, in particular, brought me closer to religion than I had ever been before. Additionally, working on retreats through my campus ministry gave me an increasingly vivid idea of the potential of my own spirituality. But still, I didn’t consider becoming Catholic—or any religion. And, I still rarely attended any church services.

So when it came time for me to decide what to do after college, with a double major in English and Digital Design and very little certainty about how I wanted to “set the world on fire” (thanks, Jesuits), I found myself called to a period of exploration.

Exploration can, of course, mean a lot of different things, and there are certainly a multitude of areas I want to explore while I’m young, able-bodied, and relatively free-spirited. But after finding the Monastic Immersion Experience and considering it for a year, I felt like my spiritual journey might be the perfect first step in this exploratory time. If faith could be my rock, as it is for so many, I would rather start to find my footing before venturing out into the rest of my exploration. I also knew I could use some healing and refocusing after the crazy whirlwind that is the urban college student experience.

Now, I’m almost a month into my stay at the Monastery of St. Gertrude, and I am already learning and experiencing beautiful things. Given how much I do not know, I am not surprised. So, go easy on me. I am sure to mix up terms once or twice, and I most certainly will come to conclusions that millions of people have already reached. But, my hope is that I may be able to express my unique journey in a way that inspires or touches even those who have long since walked the road I’ve just started.

Peering Beyond the Prayer Book: Epilogue

So what have I learned? After nine months of living, praying, and working at a monastery, what does it all mean?

Was it worth it?

To answer all of these questions, it may be best to start at the beginning. By beginning I mean the application that I sent to Sr. Teresa to apply for the monastic immersion program. I found the file again through my work, and it has been interesting listening to my self from one year ago and saying, “Ha, if only you knew what was coming!” One of the most important pieces looking at my application today was when I was asked to describe my greatest hope for my volunteer experience (in twenty words or less). I wrote, “To be confident in myself as well as my relationship with God, spending time in silence and prayer.” Well friends, I have spent more time in silence than I would have liked and lots of time in prayer, but what is more striking to me is the first part of my hope, that I was looking for self-confidence and to feel secure in my relationship with God.

In reflecting on my experience, self-confidence occurred almost immediately. The first few days after my arrival left me unexpectedly anxious. I was terribly nervous and unsure of how to act, what to wear, or where to go. Living among 40 women much older than I made me feel a bit like an alien from another planet, and suddenly I did not know what was “acceptable.”

Suddenly, a voice of reason.

I arrived in the midst of an artist-in-residence program and as a birthday treat they invited me to come with them to Taco Tuesday at the local Pub & Grub (no trip to the Monastery is complete without such a visit). Over drinks and tacos, one of the artists told me, “You know, it’s so great that you can just be yourself here.” Immediately, my fears vanished. She was right. I could and can only be myself; I cannot be anyone else. I can only be Sarah in all my multi-faceted, sparkling, fluorescent self. I vowed then to be completely myself, and if there were problems with that, I would deal with them when they happened.

There were problems.

While I felt much, much better by being myself, not everyone was pleased at my presence here at the monastery. It was as much a growing experience for me being here as it was for the sisters, some of whom more than once have shushed me if I have gotten “out of hand.” There has been frequent confusion over which rooms I can and cannot go in. There are many comments about my youthful energy as constantly run up and down the stairs, and I am sure no one will miss my incessant “flip-flop, flip-flop” up and down the halls. Nevertheless through it all, I have continuously reflected on my behavior and actions. If there is something I did that was inappropriate or unacceptable, then I would apologize. If I have behaved respectfully and courteously, then this helps me to see my boundaries. What is my stuff and what is someone else’s has been a recurring theme for me, and I have had much practice noting when I am projecting onto others and when someone else is projecting onto me.

To return to my original hope for my volunteer experience, I also hoped “for greater confidence in my relationship with God.” What a strange thing to hope for, in retrospect. My relationship with God is even more complicated and my spirituality has undergone great change. The most notable change occurred when I was assisting Sr. Teresa during a retreat. While much of the information she was sharing I had already heard countless times because of various classes, one part was brand-new: Balance. While the struggle for balance has been a theme in my life for many years, this was my first time truly looking at what balance means to me. We went through ideas of Benedictine balance (not very balanced), balance as most people would like it (each commitment being equal to every other commitment), and the new balance (not the shoe brand). Teresa’s slide for The New Balance asked just three questions:

Is God part of your life or is God your life?

Is prayer something you do or is prayer an attitude of life?

Is faith what you believe or how you live your life?

In these three questions, my spirituality and understanding of my faith has exploded into a realm of possibility. Moving beyond compartmentalizing, these questions have invited me to do what I already knew: to live fully and completely as I am. I am living my faith by being fully who I am, aware of God’s permeation in everything and everyone, and living in gratefulness and thanksgiving.

Now, while this all sounds interesting, this in no way means that I can definitively say, “Yes, I do that.” I cannot honestly say that God is my life, my attitude is prayer, or that I am truly living my faith always.

But I’m trying.

This is my faith journey, to strive towards these understandings of God, prayer, and faith as my life. Will I ever get there? Perhaps not, but that hardly seems to be the point.

There is a story of an elder monk who is asked by a novice, “So what is it you all do here at the monastery?” The elder monk replies, “We fall down, and we get up. We fall down, and we get up.” The point, in my opinion, is that I continue to get up and try again.

It seems apropos that I end my blog with the same idea that started it: peering beyond my prayer book. Over time, my curiosity has drifted from the people… to a leaf. From where I sit, there is a single leaf that can be seen, presumably attached to a creeping vine. Every prayer time I check to see if my leaf is still there, and through everything, even the craziest weather (like hail and snow in May), the leaf is still there. Over time, I have come to realize that I identify myself with that leaf. At times when I am ready to leave because of the latest ridiculous event, I find myself hoping that the leaf will fly away, away from here and free to soar. At other times, I find myself hoping the leaf will still be there, firmly rooted and connected at a time when I especially need my own rooted and groundedness. One such time occurred at the demise of one of the sisters. Maybe the tenacity of my leaf reflects my own tenacity. I was asked once in the midst of a very difficult time why I stayed. After thinking briefly, I responded that I had made a commitment. I committed to my time here at the Monastery, and I felt that there was still more for me to learn here.

There have been days that I feel like I am living in the middle of “Freaking-Cottonwood- Idaho,” but then there are other days that I am struck by something beautiful that it puts me at a loss for words. Some days I am being told off about something I did or did not do and other days I am laughing over a great story someone told. There have been days that I felt utterly alone and days that I felt perfectly at ease. Through all the drama, chaos, homesickness (mine, not theirs) and menopause (theirs, not mine), something has really changed in me.

Some soul work has truly occurred, and I am so much happier for it.

I have experienced quite a lot of awe-inspiring events over the last few months. Some I was excited to witness, such as Sr. Katie making her solemn profession or a new affiliate and oblates. Some events I would have rather not experienced, namely the funerals of Sr. Mary Bernard and Sr. Emagene. When people ask me how my time has been, my first response has always been, “It’s been an adventure!” In more ways than I can name, it truly has been an adventure, equivalent in my mind to the great life-changing adventures heard about in stories. Yet unlike those tales, this adventure is but one of many and this story is not over yet.

Thanks everyone!

Peering Beyond the Prayer Book: Getting to Know the Kelleys

Two of the people most dedicated and devoted to the Monastery of St. Gertrude are not vowed Benedictine sisters, but are instead a married couple living nearby. Fred and Jeannette Kelley have devoted themselves to continuously volunteering and serving at the Monastery in every way they can. While they might seem like an unlikely pair from looking at them, the love they have for each other is clearly evident, and just as evident is their love for the community at the Monastery of St. Gertrude.

Sr. Teresa and Jeannette

Originally introduced to many of the sisters through church programs, they eventually became oblates, two of the first eight to ever do so with this community. An oblate is a lay member of the community who follows the Rule of St. Benedict insofar as their state in life allows including men or women, married or single. Over time, Benedictine spirituality became even more entrenched in their lives and thus, when the time came to retire, moving to Cottonwood to be closer to the Monastery became the logical choice. Since then Fred is a regular volunteer at the Historical Museum on campus and enjoys helping the kitchen staff by washing pots and pans (which I can attest is also a tremendous help to everyone else). Jeannette can be regularly found answering the phone and listening intently to everyone who needs her. She also co-coordinates the Oblate community with Sr. Teresa Jackson, a job that never seems to slow. In these ways and more, the Kelleys are giving back to a community that gives them so much.

Sr. Mary and Fred

Fred at one point when we were talking remarked that he always wanted a sister. Today he has about 50 of them through the relationships he has found here. Jeannette too has appreciated being with the sisters and feels hopeful about the future of the community. The oblate community will also help further the monastery, creating a foundation of support for the sisters' future. Maybe other oblates will follow suit, move nearby and assist like the Kelleys have done. Indeed, stranger things have occurred because of the “Benedictine magnetism” as Fred describes it. For Jeannette, the prayer and spiritual support from both the monastery and the oblates has become her favorite aspect of her involvement.

For myself, I have met many of the oblates, and have come to know how great they are as a group and as individuals. Because of this, I am categorically interested in my own potential commitment to a community someday. Being a vowed religious does not seem to be the call for me, but the possibility of living completely as I am and living my faith in the best way that I can (as the oblates do) seems to be the invitation for me.

The ultimate test of a place, in my opinion, is through the image of roots. The Kelleys have found such deep roots in Cottonwood and at the Monastery that they could not imagine being anywhere else. As I reflect on my time here as it comes to a close, I know they are right. If I had this year to live over, I cannot imagine being anywhere else.

Peering Beyond the Prayer Book: Talking with Sr. Teresa

When I first considered coming to Idaho after living on the East coast my entire life, I began polling everyone I knew by asking them, “What’s in Idaho?” All I knew was that there was a Benedictine monastery named the Monastery of St. Gertrude, and one of the sisters there was a Sr. Teresa. She quickly became Sr. Teresa of Idaho, in order for me to distinguish her from a Sr. Theresa that I worked with, and thus became the first of many of the St. Gertrude community to receive a nickname from me. While the process of a ten-month monastic immersion has certainly been a learning experience for both of us, it became important to me to understand what Teresa does other than answering my incessant, random questions.

Upon her entrance to the Monastery, Teresa began working with the retreat ministry, later becoming involved with the oblate community. Over time, she has also become the director for vocations as well as for live-in volunteers, eventually becoming known as the membership director. The title of membership director seems less specific, which is precisely for this reason that Teresa favors it. Membership, according to Teresa, can be a vocations interest as a vowed religious sister, but it also includes the oblates, volunteers, and monastic immersioners. This allows for her to listen more deeply to where each individual might feel the most at home in regards to all the different possibilities. Of course, her experience as a spiritual director also plays a big part in this process. This can be the best and most challenging aspect of her job. Teresa’s favorite part of all that she does is getting to know people on their spiritual journeys, listening and sharing knowledge at a depth that is rare in most other situations. This same aspect however, can provide a great challenge for Teresa. If, in the listening, it seems for any number of reasons that it will not be a good fit for someone to come to the Monastery, she is then challenged to articulate this understanding to the person, a task often easier said than done. Nevertheless, Teresa continues her work to attract solid, healthy and committed members of all kinds, for her belief is that these members will be the future. Religious life of all kinds is dwindling, as is most clearly evident with the numerous shortages of priests as of late. Vocations are not what they used to be, and the growth of any community will require an acceptance of nontraditional members. In this time of transition, Teresa is hopeful for what will come in the future, but it will take creativity and transformation for a bright future to occur.

Enjoying a well deserved milkshake break with some volunteers
(Sr. Teresa is on the left side, center)

Teresa is most certainly undergoing her own transformation as a part of the community at the Monastery of St. Gertrude. By giving up her autonomy, she has become transformed from an “I” to a “we;” from being “alone” to being “all of us.” The community, as she describes it, allows her to do more and become more than she ever could on her own. A naturally quiet and solitary person, the challenges of living with so many people do arise often, and it is through reflection that the transformation occurs for Sr. Teresa to be in her own words, “remade in the image of Christ.”

Peering Beyond the Prayer Book: Conversing with Krista Green

“Change is good.” How many can actually say this sentence honestly, without sarcasm or clenched teeth? I know that in my own life, the changes that have occurred have been necessary and ultimately good for me, but that does not help me in the midst of the transition, when all I want is to curl up under the covers in my bed and wait for it all to be over. When those days occur, I look to one person here in particular: Krista Green, one of two lay employees working at Spirit Center.

After moving back to her hometown of Grangeville, Krista was contacted by Mary Schmidt, the administrator of Spirit Center. Mary was in need of an assistant, and because of Krista’s previous work experience, she thought Krista was exactly the person for the job. Because she loves to support others, Krista has truly found her niche at the Spirit Center by taking care of the tedious and yet necessary tasks that need to be done. Some examples of this work would be proofreading and taking care of the never ending mailings. One of her primary responsibilities is marketing and she is considered the main writer and photographer for the retreat facility. She also maintains Spirit Center’s Facebook presence. In these ways and more, she truly embodies Benedictine hospitality, helping everyone to feel “warm and fuzzy.” In my own experience, I have gone to Krista more than once about my latest conundrum, ultimately resulting in some of the most profound conversations I have ever had, and I certainly feel warm and fuzzy by being near her.

As the future of the Monastery of St. Gertrude becomes even more uncertain with dwindling vocations, employees and volunteers will be even more critical in the daily functioning of monastic life. Krista has truly felt blessed by her work with the Benedictine community here at St. Gertrude’s, feeling part of the communal mission in making the world a better place. One special gift she brings to this community is her perspective from outside the monastery. Although not a Benedictine sister, Krista has implemented many aspects of the Benedictine way to her own life. She has been affected by her work, and lives a richer and simpler life because of it. As it says in a quote posted on her office wall, “It’s never too late to become a better version of yourself,” and this is the challenge Krista tries to meet every day, and her actions encourage me to see in what ways I too can “become a better version of myself.”

Peering Beyond the Prayer Book: Sitting with Sr. Sue Ellen

While I was assisting with a retreat this past week, when referring to my help and support the mantra became: “Everyone needs a Sarah!” When reflecting on Sr. Sue Ellen, it seems that this statement still applies – everyone needs a Sue Ellen. Assisting nearly everyone in one way or another, this Benedictine sister helps everything to run smoothly. After retiring from teaching catechism, Sue Ellen was asked to assist in a multitude of areas, most notably with administration and in the development office. Through these two areas, she keeps track of all the birthdays, anniversaries, and other important events and keeps everyone informed of various announcements. Outside of these areas, Sue Ellen helps in the book store and serves on various committees, one of which focuses on relationships with extended members (oblates, benefactors, monastery friends, etc.). Most certainly, maintaining relationships with everyone in these ways is one demonstration of hospitality, a key value of Benedictine spirituality. It is no surprise to me that Sue Ellen is so intimately connected with people after saying that the development office contains her most and least favorite jobs, her favorite simply being the life that the development office has with its remarkable staff. Her least favorite? Sealing envelopes.

Sue Ellen has gained much through being part of this monastic community. She speaks fondly of a time when she was growing up and she prayed to have a sister. “Boy, was my prayer answered!” she says with a laugh. Her religious sisters have become her family, and though not without challenges, she has grown in love for her sisters, inheriting numerous “in-laws,” as she describes the families of the other sisters. While this is a good life to live, there is very real concern about where this community will be in five or ten years. When confronted with this question, Sue Ellen imagines this community will look very different, shifting towards more collaborative effort in conjunction with volunteers and oblates. There is a desire for spirituality, Sue Ellen says, but it does not seem to be lived in the same way as in the past. Some of the sisters here speak of entering the monastery at the very young age of 13 with a dozen or so other girls. In more recent years, however, vocations have slowed down significantly to barely a trickle, suggestive of our shifting world. It is now in times of such uncertainty that the relationships that Sue Ellen diligently maintains becomes of the utmost importance.

Today we celebrate Palm Sunday, during which the Gospel tells of Jesus’ passion and death. Recently I was struck by Simon’s role to help Jesus carry his cross, even at times carrying it for him. This relationship is, in my opinion, what we are all asked to do. Not only are we are responsible for carrying our own crosses, but now and then we are asked to help someone else with their cross. We are challenged to help the most vulnerable of our society, coming together as a global family; brothers and sisters in Christ, if you will. I believe that Sue Ellen has tapped into a fundamental idea in our world: that we all are asked to assist one another. We are not only helping with things that have fallen through the cracks, but we are working together to reunite our world so that there are no longer any cracks, no more separation or division. And one way to do so, as Sr. Sue Ellen demonstrates, is simply by staying connected; staying in touch.

Peering Beyond the Prayer Book: Sitting with Sr. Carol Ann

It is Mary Oliver in her poem, “The Summer Day,” that said, “What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” For Sr. Carol Ann, it seems that she is continuing to spend her life learning and growing – both in her ministries and herself personally. When Carol Ann returned to the Monastery building in ’89 after working in parishes, she essentially was handed a hodgepodge of tasks to keep busy with during her year home. Now 24 years later, each of her ministries has grown into more than anyone had imagined. Among her primary responsibilities is her coordination of the Social Justice Department and Committee. What started in a file box of accumulated mail has become a thriving part of the monastic community as well as in the greater and even global community. Carol Ann has also taken on the responsibilities as Forest Land Manager, her favorite job, and has become the Certified Operator for the Water System at the Monastery, a job that comes with a lot of pressure (no pun intended). Furthermore, Carol Ann assists in leading the music for the Eucharist celebrations. Needless to say, Carol Ann has filled in with what has been needed, and found her own passions in the process.

While Carol Ann originally came with a background in math and science, her ministry work right from the start has filled different needs. One such need has turned into a great passion, that being the stewardship of the land. In Benedictine-fashion, the question initially arose out of discussion of the best means to care for the land entrusted to the monastic community (1,400 acres, to be more precise). It was clear more knowledge was needed, and at a forest diseases workshop, Carol Ann rediscovered her love for the forest. Since then, she has participated in innumerous workshops, presentations, and educational workshops, and I have yet to have the opportunity to learn first-hand from Carol Ann, Master Forest Steward. It is in this field especially that Carol Ann recognizes both her sacrifices and her gains by becoming a Benedictine sister. Certainly the knowledge and educational opportunities have been some of the most prominent gains, yet this has come at the cost of creating a family. Through two battles with breast cancer, it was more acute to Carol Ann how she sacrificed the unwavering support and love from a potential husband. This did not come into consciousness at the age of 13 when she entered, but today it is quite clear what a significant sacrifice this has been. Even so, Carol Ann has made numerous friends through her forestry work and her other ministries. In my experience, she has lovingly chided me on my clothing color choices. Nevertheless, when I see that faint smile over my latest antic, it is then that I truly see the care that Carol Ann takes with all of creation, including me and my bright green shoes.

The care and hospitality of all creation is one way Carol Ann lives the community mission statement, which says, “Healing Hospitality. Grateful Simplicity. Creative Peacemaking.” Simply put, Carol Ann shared her philosophy as “Care for everything as if it were the sacred vessels of the altar.” To care for everything in such a way takes more effort than just one person can provide. Carol Ann has reminded me that we all need other people, and this community is no exception. As the mean age of this monastic community continues to increase, in order to continue to thrive there will need to be a new acceptance of limits. Part of this will be through the assistance of volunteers, oblates, and staff members, but part of it will also be to trust in God’s will, according to Carol Ann. All of these experiences have continued opportunities for growth, for as Carol Ann has put it, “We won’t stop growing until 10 minutes after we’re dead.” And this, to answer Mary Oliver’s question, is what Sr. Carol Ann is doing with her one wild and precious life.

Peering Beyond the Prayer Book: Resolutions

Reason number 40 why it is great to be Catholic: Multiple chances each year to be a better person. Within the sacred calendar, Advent and Lent are both times of reflection and introspection, ultimately in preparation for the coming Christmas and Holy Week celebrations respectively. In the secular calendar, we make resolutions at the New Year, for a new school year, and we even have our resolution of things to do before we die, nicknamed as a “bucket list.” We continuously make resolutions as a means to help ourselves in some way, ultimately striving to become a better person. Here we are yet again at a recent time of resolution-making during this Lenten season.

During Lent, the continuous question one might hear is, “What are you giving up for Lent?” The idea of atonement and preparation for Easter seems to have been boiled down into not eating meat on Fridays and choosing not to eat candy. For me, something seems to be missing if this is what the tradition is about. In contrast, let me reflect on the beginning of Lent, Ash Wednesday. A paradox seems to occur between the Gospel reading and the Ash Wednesday ceremony. In the reading (Matthew 6:1-6, 16-18), Jesus warns the disciples repeatedly against proclaiming of their “righteous deeds, almsgiving, prayer or fasting,” advocating instead for the reward that comes from “the Father who sees what is hidden.” The paradox arises when, as soon as this reading is read, each individual is marked with an ashen cross on their forehead, a quite prominent display of one’s “piety.” The purpose is not to be ostentatious, however, but instead to be a simple reminder of mortality. Commonly, the phrase that accompanies this symbol is, “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” representative of the belief of creation from and our return to ashes in death. Never before has this message been so clearly evident for me as it has this year.

A rose is now what  I see when I peer beyond the prayer book.

Less than 24 hours after our Ash Wednesday ceremony, Sr. Mary Bernard Leiser died suddenly from a stroke. If the symbolism was not enough, the fragility and mortality of our lives has just been made clear with this loss, and the hole of shock and pain is only just barely beginning to heal. I still imagine seeing her in the halls or with her yellow rubber gloves scrubbing dishes before everyone else has arrived. If I had known what was coming, would I have done things differently? Said something more meaningful? Ultimately, though, is the reality that nothing that is past can be changed, and our resolutions are a means to change our future. Resolutions are our ways to continually reflect on our lives, implementing changes for growth and self-discovery.

My favorite hymn on Ash Wednesday is “Ashes” by Tom Conry because of the beautiful Lenten invitation as described in the lyrics. The following lines are the first two verses of this hymn:

We rise again from ashes,
from the good we’ve failed to do.
We rise again from ashes,
to create ourselves anew.
If all our world is ashes,
then must our lives be true,
an offering of ashes, an offering to you.

We offer you our failures,
we offer you attempts,
the gifts not fully given,
the dreams not fully dreamt.
Give our stumblings direction,
give our visions wider view,
an offering of ashes, an offering to you.

Although there is no real refrain, the one line that continuously returns at the end of each of the four verses is, “an offering of ashes, an offering to you.” Essentially, I believe this is what we are each called to during Lent: to give an offering of ‘ashes’ to God. The composer goes on to describe what “an offering of ashes” is in the second verse, listing “failures… attempts… gifts not fully given… dreams not fully dreamt.” In stark contrast to many Biblical stories that refer to offerings as prized possessions, it seems that “an offering of ashes” would be aspects of ourselves that which we might be ashamed. Whenever we share anything of ourselves, more often than not we attempt to only share the best of ourselves. Recently, I have interviewed with several graduate schools, and this situation demands me to only share and highlight my greatest attributes. I found myself highly aware of those aspects of my personality that would be some of my greatest assets during the interview: being cordial, friendly, polite, articulate, and confident. This would not be a time to intimately discuss my fears, apprehensions and self-doubts.

While it may seem petty to compare a school interview to God, this seems the best way to highlight the distinction of God’s compassion. If we can humble ourselves enough to share our failings, faults, and attempts, we are instantly being more real than any offering of monetary wealth. To close, one of my Lenten resolutions is to give “an offering of ashes,” to be honest and mindful of myself and what I do. In doing so, I hope that I may truly “rise again from ashes to create [myself] anew.”

Peering Beyond the Prayer Book: The Call

There are certainly no prairies in New York.

Over the course of my time here at the Monastery of St. Gertrude’s, I have repeatedly heard that to seek God alone above all else is a call to monasticism. While I have spent time pondering this thought, I have also been in the process of applying to graduate schools, not for anything based in religion or theology but instead for musicology. How is it that a prospective music professor from Upstate New York ends up at a monastery in the middle of nowhere, thousands of miles away from her friends and family? The only answer I can honestly give is that I was called. I do not mean that God or anything like that picked up the telephone, dialed my number, and left me a voicemail saying that I should go to Idaho; nothing quite that dramatic. I do, however, believe there is something that draws you, me, and all of us to certain things in our lives. That may be the voice of God, but in more secular terms, I believe it is simply this desire to be part of something greater than our selves.

What sparked this idea for me originally came from answering the question of why I was here. Many guests I have met have asked if I am interested in becoming a nun. While evidence would make this a logical conclusion, I find myself firmly saying, “No.” When reflecting on my reasoning, why I don’t want to be a nun, it seems that as much as there is a call to religious life, so do I feel called away from religious life. The call, for me, is to something else, somewhere else.

Maybe I'm called to live in the bustling city of Denver

This concept of the call was confirmed for me during a recent trip to Denver. One opportunity I had while there was to visit a potential school and meet the musicology faculty. After giving the “nutshell” version of what I have been doing since my undergraduate graduation, one of the professors commented about how the call to musicology seems similar to the call to monasticism. Immediately, the parallel use of “the call” resonated with me, attesting to the truth of the draw for each of us as individuals. What draws me to musicology, I believe, is the same draw to religious life; the same draw that an allergist, a mechanic, a trapeze artist, a zookeeper, etc. all feel towards their ultimate career goals. When I brought up this subject with a friend, he reminded me that this call is not limited to career choice. We are called in our lives, throughout our whole life. I can speak to my own experience of the call I felt at different points in my life. As a child, my call was to do well in school, respect my parents, and play nice with my brother and sister. My college career was answering the call to study music. After college, I felt called to a year of service, and now I have been called here to Cottonwood, ID. My friends have been called to other things, such as the armed forces, marriage, or parenthood. We are all responding to this call in whatever ways we can, ultimately answering the call of God or whatever higher power to live fully; to truly become who we already are.

"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I, / I took the one less traveled by, / and that has made all the difference." - from Robert Frost's "The Road Not Taken"

So this time I leave you with a question (or several questions). What is your call? Where and to what are you being called? How are you answering your call?

A post-script thought: The last time I saw my boyfriend, when he was handing me my things, he slipped me a card that said, “Through you, God’s love is shown.” Maybe I really am seeking God above all else.

Peering Beyond the Prayer Book: A Day in the Life with Sr. Carlotta Maria

 In Dr. Seuss’s book, The Lorax, the main character is advised that, “Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It’s not.” The story itself is a cautionary tale against greed and selfishness, and an invitation to care for all of creation. It is this care of creation that is exactly what Sr. Carlotta is doing here at the Monastery of St. Gertrude.

A bird's eye view of Sr. Carlotta's handiwork

No matter what time of the year it is, Carlotta cares for many examples of creation in the monastery and on the grounds. At this time, her day begins early with shoveling and snow blowing the many paths and driveways around the Monastery. In other seasons, Carlotta will spend many hours tending to the gardens and the bounty that is produced. Throughout the year, she also takes part in maintaining and assisting with the numerous computers and televisions, and has also taken on the responsibility of creating the Nature’s Gifts products. Originally, Carlotta assisted Sr. Theresa Dvorak with the Nature’s Gifts line and now is the primary producer of the items that are available in the gift shop. Carlotta’s work with Nature’s Gifts has become her favorite job, keeping her busy all year long with production and teaching classes and retreats. Carlotta has reconnected with her love of the Earth in many ways here, and even if it means pulling a few (or a lot of) weeds, her effort is beneficial to us all.

Sr. Carlotta hard at work making more Healing Salve

While Carlotta has gained many things by being here at the Monastery of St. Gertrude, she has found it difficult to be away from her family. Nevertheless, the impact that she has on the community and guests is undeniable, and people have returned speaking of the difference she had made. Indeed, even the smallest gesture has had enormous influence, and I can certainly attest to this. One day while wandering the hill behind the Monastery building, Carlotta came across me and showed me some of her paths. Later she would speak of her time on the hill as renewing, and I believe that is what I experienced with her that day: a renewal from a shared appreciation of the splendor of creation. 

Being part of this monastic community has encouraged Carlotta to continue to grow and care for herself as well. This has included healthier eating habits and uncovering some hidden skills and talents, such as an interest in painting with watercolors. Eventually, she hopes to give back by creating a children’s book. Carlotta is also forward thinking in her perspective of where her ministries can go in the future. Essentially, Carlotta hopes to see more of everything in the future: more people, more retreats, more Nature’s Gifts products, and a wider variety of produce in the gardens. None of these expansions will be possible without help, however, such as the currently unanswered prayer of topsoil for the gardens. Together, we can all help to care for one another and all of creation. In our own ways, we are all invited to “care a whole awful lot,” in order to make our world a better place. The best way, in my opinion, is to start right here, wherever we are. For Sr. Carlotta, that is right here on these grounds at the Monastery of St. Gertrude in Cottonwood, Idaho.