Where have all the hermits gone?

Today the Church celebrates Saint Antony of Egypt – the “first” desert-dweller. Though many were ahead of him in seeking a solitary way of life, Antony pushed the literal boundaries of what it meant to go apart. While his contemporaries isolated themselves on the margins of civilization, Antony went out – way out – into the desolate reaches. Antony went beyond what was “safe” to truly seek GOD in solitude and silence. Out near the tombs where the dead were laid to rest, Antony began his pursuit of holiness – and news of his success turned a reform movement into a way of life.

Where have all the hermits gone? Certainly, a rhetorical question but beneath it lies a real concern. I suspect there are hermits among us in the monastery – women who might feel the tug of solitude on their hearts yet remain in community because the days of the hermit have passed. But have they? The Camaldolese and Carthusians certainly give witness to the opposite. In Europe these marginal monastic communities continue to support the solitary search for GOD. There are a few foundations here in America, but by and large, most monastics find themselves living the cenobitic life – in community, under a rule and a prioress. Saint Benedict believed that the common life was a necessary preparation for the hermit. Only after many years in community would a monastic be granted permission to live apart.

Do I feel called to be a hermit? No way. Anyone who really knows me could assure the truth of that emphatic denial. But, I do suspect that there are hermit-hearts within most monasteries. I know of a community in MN that granted a sister permission to live as a hermit. Sister Jeremy Hall, OSB, lived in a trailer deep in the forest for twenty years. Like Antony she was not afforded total solitude. People came to see her, to seek her wisdom and receive a good word. Perhaps, Sister Jeremy’s story will give courage to those who feel ready for the spiritual work of solitude. Where have all the hermits gone? They are closer than we think.

Blessings and love to you all...

- Sister Vicki

Hearing things...

I love the story in today’s First Reading. The prophet, Eli, is awakened by young Samuel. The boy has heard his name called not once or twice, but three times. It isn’t until the third disruption of his sleep that Eli realizes what’s happening. The child is hearing his name, but is it the Holy One of Israel who is calling to him. Eli instructs the boy to return to bed. He tells Samuel that if he hears his name again, he should say, “Speak, Lord, your servant is listening.”

We all struggle to hear the voice of GOD. Sometimes, we can’t tune in because there are so many other “voices” competing for our attention. Sometimes, we hear the voice but can’t quite be sure to whom it belongs. We question ourselves, feeling unworthy of GOD’s time and attention. That’s when a spiritual companion can be so helpful. When we can accept that we’ve heard the voice of GOD, we accept that GOD dwells within us – speaks from the depths of the human heart. If we are made in the image and likeness of GOD, as the writers of Genesis assert, then some part of us “knows” some part of GOD. There is a bond between Creator and creature that has been ultimately sanctified in the Incarnation - in the Word becoming flesh.

We hear lots of “voices.” What keeps us from hearing the voice of GOD call us by name? What holds us back from praying as Samuel did? From asking GOD to “speak?” My limited experience tells me that if we ask, we will receive. We need only to trust that we are so loved.

"Little Christmas"...

In many countries January 6th, Feast of the Epiphany, is even BIGGER than December 25th! In Puerto Rico it is called, "Tres Reyes" - the Three Kings. In Roma the Creche is still the center of attention at the Vatican. In the Eastern Churches the feast is celebrated today, not on the previous Sunday - a custom we've adopted in the West. Today, in many parts of the world, gifts are exchanged in keeping with the gold, frankincense and myrrh.

What gift have I to offer Him today? Those gifts were so wonderous and royal. Mine don't feel quite as shiny today. Maybe, all He wants is my heart. Yes, I think so. My heart...your heart...the perfect gift!

Blessings and love to you all...

- Sister Vicki

"Life is changed..."

Dear Friends,
Join me in thanking GOD for the gentle, peaceful death of my aunt, Rosemary Ix Morgan. Death came at around 7 AM on New Year's day - three days shy of her 75th birthday. Rosemary is my father’s only sister, my only aunt by blood. She is beloved wife to Earl and mother to my three cousins. I am happy for my Aunt Rosemary. She is free of a body that was riddled with cancer. She is free to become part of the GOD she sought with such passion her whole life. She is free to receive GOD’s love – full-force, unleaded and without limit or condition. My soul says, "You go girl!"

I kissed her “goodbye” on December 11th. My community enabled me to go to MA and sit by her side for a few days. We got to say important things to each other. I listened…cried a bit and touched her gently. Rosemary introduced me to her soul-friends – women who have shared the journey with her. I found them delightful, faith-filled and fearless in their loving. I guess the biggest gift of that visit – apart from physical presence – was coming to accept her death as the grandest moment of her spiritual journey. Rosemary was ready – excited even – at the prospect of becoming part of the Mystery.

Perhaps, in the telling of this story, you can begin to understand the special place Rosemary had in my life. From the time I was a little girl, I was drawn to her. I thought, then, that she was MORE beautiful than Judy Garland. Her contagious laughter and free-spirit made her a stand-out in our family. (I don't believe in "black sheep." Her otherness was gift - especially to me.) Aunt Rosemary "got me" and loved me as-is. What a gift! As I grew to adulthood, we became good friends – soul-friends, I think. Though her spiritual quest took her to many faiths, she affirmed my desire to enter the monastery and came to celebrate my Perpetual Monastic Profession. Her presence was a huge part of my joy that day.

The world is different now without her in it. The grief is intense. I am exhausted from the tears that keep on coming, even when I think I’m done. I feel the need to be quiet, to hunker down and be alone. But grace abounds. My sisters have been royal – so sensitive to the loss and holding our family in prayer. My aunt was a published poet which means I still have her words. Her three volumes are sitting on my nightstand along with letters and e-mails I’ve saved over the years. What a gift… I can "hear" her voice whenever I turn a page. Words were her paint on the canvas of an empty page. It was her art and her soul-work, I think. She was compelled to write from some place deep within. And what a poet she was! (OK... I'm a little bit biased.) I, too, seem to need words desperately. I can’t explain the clarity and comfort that come to me when I put one word in front of the other. It remains a gift in my life and a useful tool for the hard work of grief.

The Catholic Rite of Christian Burial includes a phrase love spoken by the priest. It is a solitary expression of our collective faith that in death, "life is changed not ended." I have never been more certain of this truth than I am today. But many lives have changed in her physical absence. In the days to come I will continue to connect with my uncle and my cousin. And I will pray for it is there that I feel Rosemary close…loving us all…proclaiming the faithful GOD who has called her to unspeakable joy. We have no words for what awaits us in glory. And, for the first time, our poet has no need of them.

Blessings and love to you all...

- Sister Vicki

"And the Word became flesh..."

At 11:30 PM on Christmas Eve, the sisters' schola began to sing. Each hymn reflected something of the mystery of GOD becoming flesh in JESUS. The caroling is our last preparation for the birth of our Savior in time. At the stroke of midnight the Chapel bell began to ring. "In the silence of night the Word leaped from heaven (Isaiah)." Then, the Christmas Proclamation was read. The Proclamation is an ancient text that situates the birth of Christ in human history. This year, youngest member in rank was asked to read it - a great honor. Flanked by two candle bearers, Karen stood in the center of the darkness - her face aglow with candlelight. At its conclusion every light in the Chapel is turned on - a symbolic reminder that the Word is light in our darkness. So beautiful!

In keeping with this idea, our dear friends, the Guldens, placed a hunded luminaries up and down our driveway. They burned bright as we tucked ourselves in around 2:30 and were still aglow when I woke at 6:30. Christmas morning came and many friends joined us for the morning Mass. After dinner at noon, most of us went to bed for a bit. I think we're still suffering a liturgical "hangover," but the beauty and joy of these days are so worth it. If you'd like to hear the schola sing, visit me on Facebook [Sister Vicki]. There are several short video clips.

Merry Christmas, dear friends...peace and love!

- Sister Vicki

The "crank factor"...

It's Christmas Eve. We are nearly ready to greet the Savior. The monastery has been buzzing for the last 24 hours. Somehow, in that time, we manage to decorate the entire house. A few "key players" are at the heart of the beauty in our community room: Sisters Henry Marie, Joan Ann, Mary Patricia. The Chapel is transformed by Sisters Laurence, Patricia Anne, Mary, Postulant Karen and several lay friends who return faithfully each year to climb the ladders and hang the ribbons. Sister Pat is busy with last minute details of Christmas dinner. Sister Cecilia is practicing with Sister Veronica in Chapel. Joanna, who has been living with us since August, is a choir director by training, so this year, the sisters' schola will have a conductor. The best part is that we sing from the heart. When we begin the carols at 11:30 PM, it will be prayer.

So...I'll bet you're wondering about the title of this blog. It actually came from Sister Veronica - used with permission, of course. We were hanging ribbons and greens on the front porch yesterday. I was telling Sister that I had encountered so many grim, frustrated people in town. The line at the local Post Office was positively silent and brooding. People stood with their heavy packages and fumed at the length of the line. Some just drifted off in silent resignation. It made me sad. The parking lots in town were no better. The remnant of the blizzard had covered many parking places and made visibility at corners quite challenging. Again, more "in-a-hurry" people beeped at one another or raced for places to park. Again, more sullen faces on the check-out lines. I wonder how good-hearted people can get so down with Christmas so close? Why do the pressures of the season choke off the possibility of joy? What is it about our preparations for the holiday that bog us down? What could we do differently next year to keep the great gift of Christ's coming in focus? How can we reduce the "crank factor" in ourselves or soothe it in others?

I don't have the answer. All I know is that Christmas comes in the heart and not in a box or an envelope. It will come whether or not we've found the "perfect gift" or not. It is the baby in the stable who is the perfect gift - Emmanuel - God with us. And His peace will be gift enough for all of us.

Blessings and love to you all...

- Sister Vicki

"Ice and snow; bless the Lord."

If you haven't already heard, the Mid-Atlantic states received anywhere from 12-24 inches of snow this weekend. That includes the Commonwealth of VA! It is an extraordinary happening for us...especially, we who live in Richmond. Snow in the south is always a small miracle. It was a beautiful storm. OK...it was beautiful AFTER I got out of the car!

I had the misfortune of being out in this blizzard Friday night. The storm began several hours earlier than predicted. I drove right into it going south on 95 at Fredricksburg. The drive from the monastery should have taken 2 hours. It took me 4 1/2! The last three miles of highway looks so deadly, I got off at an exit I didn't know and called the convent for help. [1-(800)-save-my-bacon!] Sister Charlotte knows the city better than anyone I know. She talked me home from Chamberlyne Avenue. When I pulled into the driveway at 9:30 PM, Sister Charlotte was standing in the snow, bundled up and ready to hug me. Sisters Denise and Connie Ruth were up, too. We had a little party to celebrate my survival. It was that bad!

So, today I am still feeling grateful...for having lived in MN where I learned to stay alive in a blizzard, for my Guardian Angel who must never get bored, and for the love of community which sustains me always - especially when I am lost and alone. How good this GOD is...how blessed I am to have all this love in my life.

Blessings and love to you all...

- Sister Vicki