In the last few weeks I’ve found myself in a strange position. I have begun so many sentences with the words: “There was a car accident…” The disclosing of a tragedy to someone is a difficult thing. The look of a dawning realization or the sound of a gasp has become the expected response. Yet, in the telling, the story doesn’t get any easier. It reminds me of the disciples who run into Jesus on the road to Emmaus. They don’t recognize him at first and are shocked that he doesn’t seem to know about the “terrible things” that have happened in Jerusalem. (Given the media attention around our sisters’ accident, I guess I think the whole world knows.) Just this morning a man came to the convent in Richmond to repair our A/C. He asked me, “Are the sisters at church this morning?” Soon, he realized that our sisters were THE sisters in the newspaper and on television for the past few weeks.
One of the things I love about the Emmaus narrative is how Jesus doesn’t rush to identify himself. He meets his friends were they are - lets them tell their story of pain and disappointment. Telling the story – though painful – does help us to shape every suffering into the Paschal Mystery. It has been crystal clear, though, from the beginning that the risen One has been walking with us. Christ has been with us in the many Benedictines who have joined their prayer with ours. He has been with us in the friends who’ve brought food to the monastery or sent donations in Sister Denise’s memory. Christ has been with us in the hundreds who came to the funeral or wrote cards of sympathy. Most especially, the risen One has been with us in the Liturgy of the Hours. Here, we have been held and comforted, challenged and transformed. We have never been alone on this road – not for one moment. In our dying and rising God’s power and glory are made known.
Blessings and love to you all...
- Sister Vicki