Thoughts in the Airport...

Winter trees,
with barren arms stretching toward heaven,
silent witnesses to my grief,
gentle friends who say nothing,
but stand tall.

Christmas will come no matter what, they whisper,
though soldiers return home for the holidays wrapped in cedar,
and State Troopers bring news of an accident on the Interstate.
It will come as an elder dies alone,
an unpaid utility bill sitting on the kitchen table.
It will come as an ER doctor calls the “time of death,”
while carols are piped into the hospital cafeteria.
And, Christmas will come though someone I love
is dying a good “hospice death,”
blessing the world with each remaining breath,
creating still, a community,
from those who will rejoice for her as she flies free,
but will mourn for ourselves when she is gone.

I have never had such a Christmas,
never found myself in the company of the sorrowful,
for whom the possibility of a “Merry Christmas,” feels slim.
But we who grieve now are not alone.
We are connected by the thread of sadness,
by the sorrow that goes with the gift of loving well.

The One who will "wipe away every tear,"
needs no Advent invitation.
He has already come,
and is already, wherever we must go,
“God with us,”
Prince of peace,
Emmanuel.

A Poem...

There are moments when I fall in love with the world.
A patch of morning sunlight dancing across the floor,
the shadow of swaying branches,
stealing my attention from the beauty of the light,
as if seen for the first time,

I wonder how You made such a sight.
There are moments when I fall in love with the world.
And in those moments,
I know You are near.

A different kind of "New Year"...

Sunday began the holy season of Advent and the new liturgical year. ADVENT is a journey toward the stable. The manger scene is the source of our hope. It is evidence of the WORD’s unprecedented leap into human flesh in the stillness of one winter night.
ADVENT challenges us to contemplate His coming in new ways. The risen Christ is already among us and comes to us in the other – the poor, the children, the outcast, and the people who come into our lives each day.
ADVENT challenges us to contemplate His future coming when Christ will “draw all things to Himself.” I day we must not fear, but look forward to with joy.
ADVENT is my favorite liturgical season. I love everything about it – the wreath, the music, the colors, and yes – even the waiting. ADVENT makes waiting holy.

May GOD bless YOUR Advent waiting...with hope, joy and soul-cleansing prayer.

- Sister Vicki

We give you thanks, O God...

Thanksgiving means late sleep and a long, leisurely breakfast!

Sister Henry Marie slices LOTS of turkey...and I get the pies!

Greg Evans, Obl.SB, is the official King of Brine.

Nearly a dozen of us are involved in preparing the feast. Sisters Denise, Heny Marie, Connie Ruth and Mary, smile for the camera. (photos: Sister Charlotte Lange, OSB)

The most beautiful moment is the Midday Prayer we have at table. Sister Cecilia always chooses beautiful readings and prayers for the day. And we sing!

A New Kind of King...

This morning I had the immeasurable joy of sharing Sunday Eucharist with my Dad. His parish in Charleston, SC, is "Christ Our King," so what a wonder to be with him for their patronal feast!

A king...hmmm. Doesn't feel right, does it? The One who washed feet and opened his arms on the cross was clearly servant. King? Pilate asked him the same question long ago. And, as usual, JESUS managed to answer the question by NOT answering the question. "You say that I am." This title is in keeping with the paradoxical nature of our faith. For us, strength is found in weakness. Our GOD has wept and bled and died. And, death, itself, holds no fear for us who have already died with him in Baptism. Confusing? Yes. But that's OK. To the world the cross still seems humiliating - a sign of failure. But, today, and everyday, it is , for us, a symbol of victory. This "king" has won our freedom from fear. This "king" has been "victim" and now reigns in his glory, at the Father's right hand. This "king" demands no tax from weary peasants. This "king" has prepared a banquet to which we are all invited. Our home is not here. We are citizens of heaven, and in heaven, we will finally be with him who won our hearts with self-giving love. That's a king I can get behind. That's a kingdom I long to see.

Blessings and love to you all...

- Sister Vicki

Happy Feast!

This is a first, friends. I am writing a blog at 30,000 feet! I can't believe there is Wi-Fi in the sky! (And, it's less expensive than the Wi-Fi in the airport. Amazing...) I am en route to Charleston, SC. Although I am from NJ, my entire immediate family has relocated to Charleston. (Long story, but the short of it is a one-stop family visit for the nun in the family. Sweet...) I don't know what it is about airplanes, but I seem to say my best prayers on the runway. So much to be grateful for...so much love in my life. GOD is so good...

I decided at 5 AM this morning, that I couldn't leave town without blogging about yesterday - the Feast of Saint Gertrude. Gertrude the Great, of Helfta, was a Benedictine mystic who lived in the 13th century. She was brilliant, highly educated for a woman of her time and given great community responsibilities early in her life as a sister. At the age of 26 she experienced a period of profound inner darkness. (Today, we'd probably diagnosis it as a depression.) It was into that darkness that Christ came to her. Her visions were numerous and vivid. Gertrude is one of the first saints to tell us of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. She saw it...and the wounds on his hands and brow. Saint Gertrude recorded these intense experiences of the glorified Savior. hey belong to the Church now - a sign of Christ's abiding love and compassion for us, a glimmer of what we shall be when we enter His glory.

Ok...I love Gertrude, can you tell? I also love her because she is the patroness of the finest Catholic girls' school in the Commonwealth - Saint Gertrude High School. Benedictines - female and male - generally name their institutions after a great monastic saint. For young women of faith pursuing knowledge, Saint Gertrude is the perfect model. To celebrate her feast day - the day Gertrude entered eternal life - the entire school community gathers for a special liturgy. Many sisters come down from the monastery for this great celebration. Each year a sister gives a reflection on the feast. This year Sister Charlotte Lange, OSB, talked to our students. She told a wonderful story about the mysterious abduction of a statue from SGHS - not so much a mystery when the boys school is just two blocks away. Sister Charlotte talked about the importance of giving of ourselves in community. Sister talked about the service projects undertaken by the students at SGHS and emphasized why the girls do them. "It's not about getting into college. It's about living the Gospel." Woven into her reflection were the suprising details of the statue's return - on November 16th - the Feast of Saint Gertrude! Whoa!

After our prayer we clear the chairs, and have a party. Ok... it's really more than a party. It's a total FEAST. Our girls consumed nearly a dozen HUGE homemade cakes - baked by the sisters with love. Pinatas were appropriately bludgeoned until they rendered the goodies. And, we dance. Yup. The students and teachers and sisters dance for joy. All this in 90 minutes!

Kyrie Eleison...

Last night the Commonwealth of Virginia executed John Allen Muhammad. I remember how he frightened us seven years ago when the media called him, “the sniper.” What he and his young friend did changed lives forever – tore at the very fabric of the human heart. There was death and grief and terror. The pair took ten lives in VA, MD and DC. The closest shooting to our monastery - the crime for which Mr. Muhammad was executed - was 6 miles away in nearby Manassas. Those were terrible days… I remember some sisters would no longer go into town. We parked buses in front of our elementary school to shield the children from the dense woods that surround our property. They were kept inside all day until the madness stopped.

Now, seven years later, the man responsible for these horrors is dead. The local paper has given the front page to the details of the execution. Why do we care what the man was wearing? That his heart stopped at 9:11 PM? I don’t understand why we do it – execute people. There is an old folk song that asks: “Why do we kill people who are killing people to show that killing people is wrong?” That question has never left me. Our Church has spoken clearly against the death penalty - that it be used only if there is no other way to secure the safety of the people. This stance is a logical extension of the sacredness of all human life “from the womb to the tomb.” It would seem that “you shall not kill” applies to the innocent as well as the guilty. Two-thousand years ago an innocent man was executed by the government. He hung between two criminals – one hard as stone and the other ready to seek forgiveness. He died with them…and for them both. He died so that death would no longer hold us hostage. In the absence of that fear, we are capable of great love. Death is a natural doorway – not a punishment. May GOD forgive John Allen Muhammad for killing those ten precious people and may GOD forgive us for killing him.

Blessings and love to you all...
- Sister Vicki