The best gift to a grieving person is a listening ear and heart. An ear to hear the words of grief and loneliness. A heart to help bear the love that gathers as a lump in the throat, as a sea pouring from the eyes. As I lead grief support groups and meet persons in a funeral home as a greeter, I hope I have that kind of ear and heart.
I encourage other religious sisters to consider such ministries. There are lots of things that consecrated religious do: teach, nurse, help migrants, and minister in foreign missions, hospitality kitchens, and courtrooms. As sisters grow older, some of these jobs are beyond their physical capabilities. But every religious sister (and religious brother and senior-status priest) has dozens of possibilities that require other ways to walk along with God’s People on our common journey. Inside each retired religious is spiritual energy. (I know some who are real dynamos!) It’s that spiritual energy that people need to tap. But these sisters don’t wait to be asked. They’re walking with others in their grief. They’re sharing wisdom with youth. They’re sharing insights about teaching, caring, aiding from their own lived experiences. Above all, they pray. In a word, they fulfill their title as “sister.” They walk side by side with the People of God—even from their wheelchair or bed. Sisters have spent their lives reading, reflecting, storing wise nuggets. Treasure them, cherish them, let them be your sister. It’s what they do best.
Memory is such a gift! Can you imagine always needing to re-learn the multiplication tables, state capitals, and the Our Father? Memory serves me very well as I recall July 2021 when my sister and I toured the national parks of Colorado and Utah. I’m not one to take many photos, but I did collect brochures and purchased a couple souvenirs with my favorite scenic views—just in case my memory needed a nudge.
We started in Rocky Mountain National Park, and the Rockies became our traveling companion for the week. Could anyone ever tire of the grand landscapes of deep, sheer-sided canyons and high rock towers? The gorges carved by the Colorado River found an equal depth in my heart and memory. Plateaus were wonders upon which the sky and my hopes rested. The names of rock formations could not have been more poetic or practical: Pipe Organ, Kissing Couple, Sentinel Spire and Praying Hands. My favorite was Balanced Rock, a 600-ton boulder perched on an unbelievably small pedestal. (I didn’t stand under it very long!) Short hikes down canyons excited my pioneering spirit. My sister’s and my favorite trek occurred 12,000 feet above sea level. “The hills are alive with the sound of. . .” heavy breathing from tourists hailing from flat Ohio. The tour catered to persons in their 60s and 70s, as the sights swung between walking and sitting. Our favorite sitting expedition involved a ride on the Durango & Silverton Narrow Gauge Railroad. Unlike its use in 1881, we did not discover silver and gold.
History buffs that we are, we crossed the time warp between the 21st century and the first century when people came to Mesa Verde. We were amazed at the ingenious “housing development” of the Ancestral Pueblo people living in cliffs during the 12th century.
As I re-live my vacation I will be very grateful for the gift of memory.
A highlight of the summer for most Sisters of Notre Dame is the celebration of Sisters’ jubilees. Once there was a study done about longevity, and it found that consecrated religious tend to be a group with long lives. This year’s jubilarians attest to longevity in religious life as one sister celebrates 75 years as an SND. Two others observe 70 years of service in the Lord’s vineyard. Three boast of 65 years, seven 60 years, one 50 years, and one 40 years. (I am referring to those hailing from northwest Ohio and not the entire national province.) Ever since I was a novice, I have to smile at the names given for the length of years, even though they match wedding anniversaries: Jubilee of Joy (75), Jubilee of Grace (70), Iron Jubilee (65), Diamond Jubilee (60), Golden Jubilee (50), and Ruby Jubilee (40). What about 80? That’s called Jubilee of Peace. What a beautiful title for those living over 29,000 days of vowed poverty, chastity, and obedience! Maybe called “peace” because the Bridegroom is coming. They will go out to meet Christ the Lord.
Occasionally I just walk between the stacks in a library rather than ordering a book online. The most recent book that jumped out at me was The Betrayal of Anne Frank: A Cold Case Investigation. On August 4, 1944, Anne Frank and her family were found in the Annex. They were placed in the last transport to leave Camp Westerbork for the Auschwitz concentration camp in Poland. Fortunately for the world, Anne’s diary and papers were saved, but how much richer the world would have been had Anne’s life been spared.
All wars come at great cost to lives, as well as war’s effects on every aspect of society—education, economy, research, environment, and all else. It’s hard to imagine what would have been had Anne lived. How many other books would have enriched our lives? This senseless loss of her life continues to be multiplied by the thousands in every war. We can’t imagine the heights to which our world would have come had everyone lived to his or her potential.
Thank you to those readers who have worked to save one more life through your monetary donations to end disease, to build wells, to repair homes, to support Doctors Without Borders, to contribute to Heifer International, and much more, because you believe in “what could have been.”
We sisters are extremely blessed to make an annual retreat of six full days. Counting arrival and departure days, that’s eight days. What do we do with all that time? Well, that’s partly up to the sister but mostly up to God—at least if we let God give us the direction, the companioning director, and the Bible or another spiritual book. (The word “director” is a misnomer, for the director is primarily a listener or a companion, someone who affirms or clarifies, for ultimately God is the director.)
A typical retreat day may seem to be either a waste of time or a gift of time when explained to someone who has never made a retreat. Our day is designedly simple and uncomplicated. We retreatants eat, sleep, pray, meet with the director or have a conference with other retreatants and the group’s director. Good weather may permit walking, swimming, biking, or gardening. As the body relaxes, so does the mind—usually. No worries. No job or ministry. No cooking and cleaning. No have-to’s.
With all this privileged leisure, to which the body is grateful and rejuvenated, what about the soul? Well, anything can happen, most of which we may not realize. But I like to go away with one big idea that can blow me away in my ministry, prayer, community life. This year I was attracted to Teilhard de Chardin’s evolutionary thought of attraction-connection-complexity-consciousness. All converges in Christ through his Incarnation. All things are now one.
O-n-e. A three-letter word to describe my big retreat idea. A three-letter word to describe reality. Oneness—to describe God and God’s Plan.
Memorial Day commemorates those Americans who have given their lives during war beginning with the Civil War. I hope that we will take a moment amid picnics and outings to pray for these many military personnel. I also hope we remember those whose lives have been lost in the conflict between Ukraine and Russia, as well as violence raging on every continent.
Perhaps make a visit to a cemetery part of your weekend. Phone or visit someone who has lost a close friend or relative in war. Ask a veteran to tell you about his or her reflections on Memorial. If you know someone in a care facility, because of war wounds, stop in for a visit.
During this late Easter Season we hear in the readings “Remain in Me.” The Risen Lord has appeared several times. Word is out that Jesus is truly alive. The time is ripe to tell the whole world. Mission trips have begun. “Let’s go!” So boats set sail, converts are brought to Christ in distant cities, concerns in the early Church are being solved. And in the midst of such fruitful activity, the disciples hear “Remain in Me.”
How did the disciples remain in Christ? Perhaps they set aside certain times to pray as Jesus had taught when he went aside to pray. Events necessitated prior prayer such as calling forth Mathias to take the place of Judas Iscariot. Prayers to the Holy Spirit directed the Council of Jerusalem. Was there anything else to let the disciples remain in Christ? Yes, Christ Himself. Their Friend and Master Jesus was always there—whether they were petitioning Him, converting Gentiles, eating, sleeping. That’s the same for us. We always “remain in Him.” No matter how aware or how distracted. We live in the blessed assurance that as children in the Womb of God we are cared for and loved unconditionally.
John’s Gospel states: “This is how all will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” A disciple is one who learns from his master, who imitates the master, and measures progress in the comparison. Others will know we are Christians by seeing in us the characteristics of Jesus Christ. The adjectives describing God, Who is Love, form the descriptive words for the disciple. When others see us, do they see compassion, forgiveness, healing, faithfulness, mercy, hope? Can others come to us for counsel and wisdom? Do we radiate joy and peace? Are we generous in acts of mercy? How much effort do we put into promoting justice and care for the environment? Will others see the face of Christ in our face? This will depend upon how much we have learned from the Master.
When I look at my feet, I think of my dad. He had long, thin toes. Mine are the same. You know the rhyme: “I’m a poet, and you should know it. My toes show it. They’re Longfellows.” My dad died nearly 20 years ago on May 14, an easy date to remember because it’s the feast of St. Mathias, Mathias being his middle name. It surprises me how many times I think of Dad—almost always at very mundane times like putting on my socks. Another mundane occasion involves putting on my necklace with the Notre Dame crucifix. Why? Because my first memory of Dad is the time he put a necklace on me before my picture was taken. Such little things connect Dad and me, but these incidents remind me of the connection I have with all who have gone before me, as well as everyone living now. The unity of the People of God united in God’s love astounds me. How blessed this reminder when I put my socks on!
Our hearts are disturbed by all the displaced persons in our world—those who have fled Ukraine, persons crossing rivers and seas to reach a shore in hope of freedom and safety, people in our town whose homes have burned. We are empathetic, yet many of us cannot remember what it’s like, for we have never experienced these things. Pope Francis has given us the phase “globalization of indifference,” a malady that so easily can characterize ourselves. We don’t want to be indifferent, but the experience of destitution or endangered lives is beyond our comprehension. How can we whose lives are so dissimilar remember what it’s like for such suffering people? We can’t, except for comparisons that pale when compared. We have all perhaps experienced feeling alone, that no one cares, that help will not be coming, that life is unfair. By reflecting upon our own needs at those times, we may be able to become more empathetic and compassionate. And in the process, we may be more open to contributing our service and aid. We may become more aware of the need for prayer and become the person the Gospel calls us to be. We become more open to the Holy Spirit, who is the Memory of the Church. With God we remember.