Bizarre Yet Beautiful ... Reprise

A couple of weeks ago, I posted a prayer poem on the blog titled "Bizarre Yet Beautiful."  Yesterday, after a very powerful (and well timed) session with my spiritual director where I reflected on the bizarre and beautiful movement of the Spirit in my life these days, I took the time to check out the Rene Magritte exhibit at the Art Institute of Chicago.  The title of the traveling exhibit is Magritte: The Mystery of the Ordinary. As a surrealist, Magritte was deeply in touch, I think, with the bizarre yet beautiful aspects of life. Thankfully for us, he was able to capture this aspect of the human experience on canvas. I bought a small version of the painting at the right, depicted on a button (the kind you can pin to your clothing). The painting itself is called "L'homme au chapeau melon." 

I was really touched by the painting, because you see part of my ongoing discernment process has been recognizing and befriending my own limitations. This has been especially true during the past few months. As I mentioned a while back on the blog, I have been invited to discern my willingness to serve in elected leadership for my congregation (both bizarre, given my time in community, and beautiful, given my love of my community and belief in our future).  

I received my invitations to enter into this discernment process just before I spent 3 weeks at vocation director summer school, where we learned about psycho-sexual integration and behavioral assessment. While the focus was on assessing and screening potential candidates, there was also a bit of introspection and inner work involved.  As a result, I came to the discernment weekend having befriended (again) many of my own limitations and "prickly points" within the context of my discernment process. They are very real ... I, like most if not all people,  carry my life experiences, baggage, and personal challenges with me along this journey we call life. Hopefully as we become more self aware and engage fully in the work of life and relationships, our rough edges become softer and those prickly aspects of our personalities cause less and less damage to ourselves and others. Nevertheless, through much of this time of leadership discernment, my limitations have been front and center. Replace the dove in the picture with a prickly cactus and you'd get the idea!! It's hard to see the forest for the cactus, if you catch my drift.

One very real blessing of the weekend retreat I spent with the other Sisters discerning openness to serve in leadership, and the days since, has been a real experience of the promise of peace. We are all better than our worst selves, and community helps us to grow together in truth and love into our best selves. As our CSJP Constitutions say: "As we live our vows each day we trust that Christ's blessing promised to peacemakers will sustain us, knowing that God working in us will accomplish more than we can ask or imagine."

This painting by Magritte, with a dove blocking the man's face (instead of a prickly cactus!) is a reminder to me of the promise of peace.

Please join me in praying for the ten women, including myself, who decided after the discernment weekend to leave our names in the mix of nominees for elected leadership. Our General Chapter takes place September 5-16 in Seattle, with the elections taking place in a spirit of discernment and prayer towards the end of that time.  As one CSJP friend mentioned in an email, it says wonders for our community that we have such a powerful and prayerful group of women open to congregation leadership at this crucial time in our history. No matter which women will make up the final mix of leaders, leadership of our community will be in good hands, good minds, and good hearts. God is so very good ... mischievous and surprising at times, but very good.

In the words of our Chapter prayer:

Come Holy Spirit,
refresh and renew us,
draw us deeply into your love,
soften our hearts,
rouse our spirits,
open us to all that the 
Congregation Chapter may entail.
St. Joseph, dreamer
and practical one,
help us live our dreams into reality.
May the whole of creation
rejoice in God's justice
and live in God's peace.
We pray with confidence
and faith.
Amen.

Retreat Day in the City Part One - Art

I decided that I needed to take some time to just be with God today ... in the City.  I haven't had a chance to explore Chicago much since I arrived this summer, and one of my favorite ways to be present to God is to be silent with my camera in the midst of the hustle and bustle of life.

I started out my day at the Art Institute of Chicago. I bought a student membership as my Christmas present to myself, so I can go back whenever the mood and free time coincide over the next year.  That gave me some freedom to just go where the spirit moved me today, rather than feeling like I had to see the entire museum in order to make my admission fee worthwhile.

So I visited the Chagall windows ....

I spent some time with Klee ....

And of course Seurat ...

I also found myself serenaded by one of the security guards who told me that her favorite painting (at least in that particular gallery) was The Feast in the House of Peter by El Greco.

She sang a song to me by her favorite gospel singer, "Alabaster Box" by Cece Winans. She then explained to me how in the painting, she thinks Peter is complaining that she wasted the expensive perfume on Jesus, but Peter doesn't know the transformation that the love of Jesus created in her.  It was an unexpected, unsolicited yet lovely moment in the museum.

On my way out of the museum, I stopped to take a photo of one of the festive lions standing guard.

Super Jesus Reprise

Many years ago I wrote a somewhat sacriligious yet written in love blog post about the super hero like qualities of Jesus.  Here's a snippet:

He can walk on water.
He can heal the sick and bring the dead back from life.
He can walk through walls and into locked rooms.
He can bring peace where there is none, and pretty much anything else you can imagine.
'Cause he's Super Jesus.

I even used the create your own South Park character tool to make my own image of Super Jesus. I'll copy him below:

I was reminded about this silly God moment when I spotted the following painting hanging on the wall in the Atrium of the Catholic Theological Union.

Can you see the similarity? Except his super hero symbol, fittingly, has been transformed into the Sacred Heart.  Cool, although perhaps not the desired effect.

Retreat Notes: Peace, Love & Play

On Monday, I woke up feeling incredibly grateful for God's love in my life.  The day before had been full of so many blessings, I was ready for whatever the next day held.  In the morning, I took a walk on the beach.  The sun was shining, the waves were playfully crashing into the rocks, and the birds seemed to be playing a gliding game.  Play was the name of the day it seemed.

On my return walk, I noticed some great shells, stones and driftwood.  First a few in the shapes of doves (if you squinted imaginatively!).  Then some that looked more reliably like hearts.  And then a mixture of both.  "Peace & Love" by Fountains of Wayne started playing in my head.  So I collected them, headed back to my little rented cottage, and made this playful video prayer reflection: Peace & Love Dance Party, featuring my little friends that I found on the beach, dancing on my kitchen bar stool.

Sometimes when you pray, God is inviting you to play.  That's my wisdom of the moment.  Enjoy!

Two Takes on Emmaus

I love the Easter Season! For those not in the know, Easter doesn't end on the day the bunny brings the chocolate. Easter - the liturgical season - just starts then. We have such amazing readings during this season. Like today's Gospel ... the Road to Emmaus. Today I thought I'd share two different takes on the story that I find fruitful for prayer and reflection.

Take One
This icon by Sister Marie Paul, OSB of the Mount of Olives Monastery, Jerusalem (1990). I was first introduced to the idea that one of the disciples who met Jesus on the Road to Emmaus may have been a woman by my old spiritual director. This icon gives an image to that tradition. It's become a favorite source of prayer for me at Easter time. (Learn more/order the icon here)

The “Road to Emmaus” Icon by Sister Marie Paul OSB
of the Mount of Olives Monastery, Jerusalem (1990)

Take Two
This poem by Denise Levertov (from The Stream & The Sapphire) based on this painting by Velazquez

The Servant-Girl at Emmaus

(A Painting by Velazquez)

She listens, listens, holding

her breath. Surely that voice

is his – the one

who had looked at her, once, across the crowd,

as no one ever had looked?

Had seen her? Had spoken as if to her?

Surely those hands were his,

taking the platter of bread from hers just now?

Hands he’d laid on the dying and made them well?

Surely that face -- ?

The man they’d crucified for sedition and blasphemy.

The man whose body disappeared from its tomb.

The man it was rumored now some women had seen this

morning, alive?

Those who had brought this stranger home to their table

don’t recognize yet with whom they sit.

But she, in the kitchen, absently touching

the winejug she’s to take in,

a young Black servant intently listening,

swings round and sees

the light around him

and is sure.

Happy Easter Wednesday!

hands of the potter

About 6 years ago my very good friend Nicole invited me to take a pottery class at her local suburban community center. I've always considered myself a little crafty, and decided to take her up on the invitation. It turned out that there were only 3 of us in the class, so we got a lot of personalized instruction from John the pottery guy (as I like to call him). He was a bit of a character, but a good teacher. Unfortunately, I it seems am not a potter. Crafty yes. Potter no.

One night after I arrived at class and pulled my latest project off the shelf of pieces that had been fired in the kiln, I felt John the pottery guy peering over my shoulder. "Hmmmm," he said. "Your pieces are very .... [insert very long pause] organic." I've always thought it was very kind of John the pottery guy to pull that generic adjective out of his repertoire. It could be a compliment, or it could be an accurate description of the lump of clay that I had carefully formed into, well, a lump of clay.

There is one piece that I kept from that class. It sits on my desk and holds my assorted pens, pencils, etc... It's theoretically a flower pot, and it pretty much looks like a flower pot. But the reason it looks like a flower pot is that even though my hands were in direct contact with the clay while it was on the wheel, John the pottery guy was really in the driver's seat. His hands were on my hands as he tried to help me turn the lump of clay into something other than a lump of clay.

I thought of this whole foray into the world of pottery this morning as I read today's first reading from Jeremiah:

I went down to the potter's house and there he was,
working at the wheel.
Whenever the object of clay which he was making
turned out badly in his hand,
he tried again,
making of the clay another object of whatever sort he pleased.

I have a whole new appreciation for what is being said here. For one thing, this is one good potter, being able to "make of the clay another object of whatever sort he pleased"! One thing I forgot to mention is that as I was making organic lumps of clay through great effort, my friend Nicole was fashioning beautiful pieces out of her lumps of clay. Beautiful, functional, and begging you to use them. So I know that it is possible ... just not easy. It takes something more, an artistic heart and vision, faith and trust, hope ... kind of like life.

So, when I read these words ...

Then the word of the LORD came to me:
Can I not do to you, house of Israel,
as this potter has done? says the LORD.
Indeed, like clay in the hand of the potter,
so are you in my hand, house of Israel.

I think more of potters like Nicole and another friend CoCo who fashion beautiful and useful things out of their lumps of clay, rather than organic potters like myself. I also think of people like John the pottery guy who help people like me craft beautiful and useful things out of lumps of clay with support, guidance and much effort. If God the creator is like the potter, maybe the Holy Spirit is like the instructor. And Jesus, being fully human as well as fully divine, must know what it's like to work with (or sometimes feel like) a lump of clay.

Those are my random thoughts about the Scripture this morning. What are yours?

And Jesus Said

Our Lady of Sorrows

I will admit that I do not know much about the marian feasts on our liturgical calendar, although it seems there are many. It's not that I don't have a connection to Mary and our marian tradition, it's just that it's not the main focus of my spirituality. My mother, on the other hand, had a deep relationship with Mary. Perhaps it was the bond of motherhood. Perhaps it was coming of age in the era she did ... I think she was even May Queen. And Mary of course was her confirmation name, which was also functionally her middle name as her parent's hadn't given her a middle name.

In any case, today is the Feast of Our Lady of Sorrows. I am reminded of this day 3 years ago, which was also the first day that I was responsible for morning prayer in the Novitiate House. We'd just arrived a few days earlier, and my first day on the schedule was Our Lady of Sorrows. I found this icon of Mary somewhere on the internet, which spoke volumes to me then. It still does.

The feast of Our Lady of Sorrows originated in 1413. Her sorrows of course originated much earlier. Traditionally of course they refer to her "Seven Sorrows:" the prohpecy of Simeon, the flight into Egypt, losing Jesus for 3 days, the Way of the Cross, the Cruxifiction, the Descent from the Cross and the Burial. Perhaps that accounts for my mother's devotion and the general universality of Mary for people. She was a mother who wondered about her son's future, found herself homeless, lost track of her son, saw him walk down a trecherous path, watched him suffer die and be buried. That's realy humanity.

Our sorrows continue, of course. I can't help but imagine Mary in the icon sorrowful for our troubled world which has also lost its way. The many who are homeless. Those who walk down trecherous paths, suffer, die and are buried. War, violence, poverty abound. The mother of Jesus, mother of God, carries that sorrow with us. Somehow, that makes it different. We join her in her sorrow, she joins us in ours. Together, it's easier to manage and see our way to the hope and promise that is always there, but often hard to see.

Those are my thoughts this night.

Peace

Chicago

I spent the day at the Art Institute of Chicago. It's been about 9 years since I was there ... they've built a new wing! I also discovered a new to me painting by Maurce Denis, Easter Mystery. It's the story of the three women going to the tomb after Easter Sunday. If you look in the middle of the picture, you'll see my favorite part is the disembodied hand offering the Eucharist to the white robed folks. Very interesting!

community

I spent this afternoon driving a shuttle from our upper parking lot to our Peace & Spirituality Center for Sister Julie's art show. Julie is an amazingly gifted artist. Over the years she's ministered as a teacher and with the Native American community, but she is also an artist. Last year the community gave her the resources to take a sabbatical and focus on her artwork. This weekend, her art was for display and sale - with all the proceeds to benefit the CSJP community. Sisters & Associates volunteered their time - to drive the shuttle, greet guests, process the sales, offer coffee, bake cookies, etc... Not to mention all the time and energy that went into getting the paintings matted and framed, publicity, making cards from her artwork, setting up the displays, etc...

I can't help but be reminded of this whole community effort when I read Sunday's first reading from the Acts of the Apostles:

The community of believers was of one heart and mind, and no one claimed that any of their possessions was their own, but they had everything in common. With great power the apostles bore witness to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus, and great favor was accorded them all. There was no needy person among them, for those who owned property or houses would sell them, bring the proceeds of the sale, and put them at the feet of the apostles, and they were distributed to each according to need.

This, my friends, is community. And lucky me, I get to be a part of it!

Art Show

If you live in the Seattle area and are looking for something to do this weekend, why not come to St Mary-on-the-Lake for an Art Show and Sale featuring the works of Sister Julie Codd, CSJP. Sister Julie is a very talented water color artist. It would also be a great opportunity to check out our new Peace & Spirituality Center.

Saturday, April 18, 10 a.m to 4 p.m.
& Sunday, April 19, 1 p.m. to 4 p.m.

All proceeds from the art sale will go to
The Sisters of St. Joseph of Peace


1663 Killarney Way
Bellevue, Washington 98004
(see directions on our website)

3 Takes on Emmaus

I love the Easter Season! For those not in the know, Easter doesn't end on the day the bunny brings the chocolate. Easter - the liturgical season - just starts then. We have such amazing readings during this season. Like today's Gospel ... the Road to Emmaus. Today I thought I'd share three different takes on the story for your reflection (and mine!).

Take One
This icon by Sister Marie Paul, OSB of the Mount of Olives Monastery, Jerusalem (1990). I was first introduced to the idea that one of the disciples who met Jesus on the Road to Emmaus may have been a woman by my old spiritual director. This icon gives an image to that tradition. It's become a favorite source of prayer for me at Easter time. (Learn more/order the icon here)

The “Road to Emmaus” Icon by Sister Marie Paul OSB
of the Mount of Olives Monastery, Jerusalem (1990)

Take Two
This poem by Denise Levertov (from The Stream & The Sapphire) based on this painting by Velazquez

The Servant-Girl at Emmaus

(A Painting by Velazquez)

She listens, listens, holding

her breath. Surely that voice

is his – the one

who had looked at her, once, across the crowd,

as no one ever had looked?

Had seen her? Had spoken as if to her?

Surely those hands were his,

taking the platter of bread from hers just now?

Hands he’d laid on the dying and made them well?

Surely that face -- ?

The man they’d crucified for sedition and blasphemy.

The man whose body disappeared from its tomb.

The man it was rumored now some women had seen this

morning, alive?

Those who had brought this stranger home to their table

don’t recognize yet with whom they sit.

But she, in the kitchen, absently touching

the winejug she’s to take in,

a young Black servant intently listening,

swings round and sees

the light around him

and is sure.

Take Three
As I shared earlier this week, younger women religious are reflecting on the Easter Season readings at the Giving Voice website. Check out Sister Lisa Buscher's take on the story.

Happy Reflecting! Feel free to share any thoughts in the comment box.

Happy Easter!

Christ is Risen! Thanks be to God! Alleluia!
Wishing You a Happy Easter!

(This is a photograph of a stained glass window at
Holy Name Parish in Ketchikan, Alaska)

Wisdom Week

I'm back from a wonderful week of retreat at Wisdom House (a ministry of the Daughters of Wisdom located in the Berkshire Hills of Connecticut). My director was great, the grounds were beautiful, my room had 3 beds (just like Goldilocks - I chose the double bed of course!), but most of all it was such a graced experience to spend a week of quiet time with God.

There was also a pool which I found in my first few hours there last Sunday. As I lay floating in the water with my face to the sky, I felt this deep invitation to float into the heart of God.

Towards the ends of my stay I found this poem by Denise Levertov in a book of prayers in the book store at the retreat center. I couldn't believe how it captures the invitation and experience I had this week.

As swimmers dare
to lie face to the sky
and water bears them,
as hawks rest upon air
and air sustains them,
so would I learn to attain
freefall, and float
into Creator Spirit’s deep embrace,
knowing no effort earns
that all surrounding grace.

So I am home, my bloggy friends. Rested, renewed, and aware of the amazing power and presence of God's love in my life and in the world.

(The picture is from the new installations of windows in the Wisdom House Chapel called "Sophia's Garden. They are by Hugh O'Donnell and are absolutely breathtaking!)

Stories of horror, stories of hope

I mentioned in my last post that there's something about hearing a story told in its original context and place. That is certainly true of this story - a story of horror but ultimately of hope. Last Monday our delegation took a boat ride on Lake Suchitlan (actually a reservoir created when they damed the Rio Lempa and flooded the people's farm land).

Our destination was the site of the 1983 Copapayo Massacre - the original place. And our story tellers were a survivor of the massacre and a leader of the community who was spared by not being in the wrong place at the wrong time - hence the context. The man in the picture is Rogelio. He was 10 years old in 1983. Behind his left shoulder is a white cross on the hill marking the site of the massacre.

The people of Copapayo had been struggling to survive and organizing for better conditions for years. In the state of war that was El Salvador during those years, their organizing was met with violence on the part of the military. Many of the men had left the community to fight with the guerillas, leaving mostly women, children and the elderly in the town. On November 3, 1983 a group of these remaining villagers cautiously returned home, having previously evacuated the town to avoid confrontation with the military. They had sent scouts to see if the army had left and they thought they had. Unfortunately they were mistaken and when the army saw them they came down the hill and opened fire.

Some survived by hiding under the lily pads that were growing in the lake. Others that survived the original attack were taken on a forced death march. Rogelio survived both the shooting at the lake and the forced death march, although he saw his mother and sister killed. 142 civilians died in the Copapayo Massacre, killed by the US trained Atlacatl Battalion. As Rogelio told us the story, he looked at his hands and the ground beneath his feet. I couldn't help but be reminded that I was 11 years old in 1983, which made me a year older than Rogelio. What would it have been like to witness such savagery at that age?

We were also joined by Mercedes on our trip to the lake. She and her husband are from Copapayo, but they had fled farther in the original evacuation and did not return in those first boats and thus were spared. Her son now works at the Centro for Arte para La Paz where we stayed in Suchitoto. She shared much of the background and context for those dark days saying something to the effect that the story needs to be told so such things never happen again. By the end of her sharing, she was quite emotional. Audrey, one of our Associates from England, was so moved she held Mercedes in a long embrace. Someone commented later that this was the very picture of the Visitation of Mary & Elizabeth.

Later we went to El Sitio Cencinero, a repopulation village across the lake where many from Copapayo resettled after spending 3 plus years in Honduras as refugees. There we saw homes, a beautiful church, and a school. We also saw children playing and reading at the library. My prayer then and now was something like, "Please God they do not ever see such savagery and inhumanity in their lives."

In El Sitio we also saw a mural that tells the story of the Copapayo Massacre. I'm including the panels of the mural below:

The beautiful village before, then the massacre, then the names of the dead on 2 panels, and then .... hope. A peace dove, a rising sun, crops behind planted. How beautiful that their response, their hope, their prayer is life. Return, rebuild, replant. There's a lesson there.

Sacred Heart

Today is the Solemnity of the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus. Truth be told, the Sacred Heart was never really an image that did much for me.

But during these past nine months, the Sacred Heart has grown on me. In prayer, in dreams, in statues, paintings and icons that seem to pop up around every corner, the Sacred Heart has been a recurring theme of this year. As my spiritual director said to me as she helped me with a "D'oh" moment, perhaps that's something I should pay attention to. I have been (paying attention) but it's on such a heart level (no pun intended) that I can't really put into words the powerful experiences I've had this year around the Sacred Heart.

This particular icon is by Robert Lentz. It's quite different from the standard depiction of the Sacred Heart (where a happy Jesus points to his exposed heart). I first saw this icon during a workshop at our Intercommunity Novitiate program earlier this year. The presenter asked each of us to pick an icon that spoke to us and to spend some time in prayer. I picked this one without even realizing it depicted the Sacred Heart! As I wrote in my journal at the time:

"I prayed with an icon of the Sacred Heart by Robert Lentz, but it is a Sacred Heart like none I've seen before. No groovy Jesus pointing to his valentine shaped heart, but Jesus as an earthy Mayan burning with love and passion for the entire universe. Something cracked and it was as if I finally got it. God's love for, through and in all, everything, me. Jesus, the son, like the sun, bringing the light and fire of his passion to the universe. Wow."

There's a description of this icon by Robert Lentz on the Trinity Stores website (where you can buy a copy in a variety of forms ) which gives some insight into what he intended:

The Sacred Heart, or the heart of Christ, has been a familiar image in the Catholic Church for several centuries. In the seventeenth century, Margaret May, a French mystic had a vision of the Christ revealing his heart to her. Ever since then, religious artists have struggled to depict what she saw.

In the first half of the twentieth century, another French mystic, Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, raised the image of the Sacred Heart to more cosmic dimensions. Teilhard was a Jesuit priest and a paleontologist whose life work was doing research on the origins of the human race -- a research which lifted his soul to mystical heights. For Teilhard, the Christ was a divine fire that was capable of penetrating everything -- bringing all creation ever closer to God. In his personal journal he wrote, "Heart of Jesus, Heart of Evolution," and "the Sacred Heart is the Center of Christ, who centers all on himself."

In Popol Vuh, the ancient Mayan account of creation, the Creator of all is called "Heart of the Heavens, Heart of the Earth." The Mayan image is similar to Teilhard’s. This icon combines both images -- a Mayan Christ bursts from the blazing heart of the cosmos, carrying his flame reaching out drawing all into his creative fire.

at the last supper

We finished our workshop on the Theology of the Liturgy of the Eucharist at our Intercommunity Novitiate program. Our presenter gave us lots of food for thought - no pun intended! For part of his presentation he used a booklet of essays on the Eucharist put out in 2000 by the Archdiocese of Detroit called Living Christ's Presence. The booklet includes tons of artwork with a eucharistic theme, including these two gems which spurred great discussions in our small groups.


The first is the Sacrament of the Last Supper by Salvador Dali, 1955. The second is The Last Supper by Andy Warhol, 1986.

If you look closely at the Dali (and you can't tell it from this digital version), Jesus looks a lot like Brad Pitt. Honestly. Our table decided that this painting was more of a post-ressurection celebration of the eucharist. The bread is already broken, the participants look like priests or deacons and don't seem to be paying attention to Jesus. And he has an ethereal see-through quality. It has an Emmaus type of feel ... the know him in the breaking of the bread.

The second painting caused more debate. Does it highlight the commodification of the eucharist? Is Jesus the "Big C"? Is he for sale (6.99) or is that the cost of salvation? Do the motorcycles represent our fast pace or a journey? What about the owl and the eagle? Wisdom? Evangelization? Is it just pop art, without any of these meanings?

I was surprised to learn in our discussions that Warhol was indeed a Catholic and daily mass goer. A bit of web sleuthing confirmed this ...

Warhol continued to use imagery that had personal significance to him. Many of these images were spiritual ones, influenced by the Catholicism that permeates Warhol's art. Despite reports that he went to church almost daily, some doubt the credibility of Warhol's faith and even consider his work anti-Christian. Warhol's life was, admittedly, filled with contradictions. He was always trying to protect his true intentions, especially regarding his Catholicism. Many of Warhol's friends did not know of his religious life until after his death.

Interesting .... It is truly amazing how many artistic representations there are of the Last Supper.