A SMALL GIFT FOR YOUR CHRISTMAS LECTIO DIVINA

 

The birth of Christ our Savior at Christmas is a mystery that draws us into contemplation of the beloved Word Made Flesh.  However, as we all know, it is only a start, a first step into the mystery of God’s love that grows deeper and overflows with wonder as this holy season unfolds into a new year..

 Here is a small suggestion to inspire your prayer:

 Picture the scene of Christ in the manger surrounded by those who loved him – and that delightful ox and ass, which are borrowed from Isaiah 1 (a text not so complimentary to us who enjoy their presence in Christmas are!)   

Put the scene next to some of the statements Jesus made about himself and his work as an adult already plunged into his public ministry.  See what insights that juxtaposition leads you to!  (I’ve been doing this myself and have had some surprises—I wish the same to you! I’ve tucked in some examples in case you need a jump start! They’re pretty random, and spur-of-the-moment, but this reflection is one more pre-Christmas case of “finished is better than perfect”!)

Here are those  examples to start your reflection.  You probably have favorites you can add to the list for yourself.

 (These are all from the Gospel of John, which emphasizes that Jesus is, as the Nicene creed says, “God from God”.  The “I am” phrase always summons up the memory of Exodus 3, where the God who appears to Moses in the burning bush claims the name/title: “I am”.)

 I am the bread of life… (John 6:35)

 I am the Light of the world (John 8:12 …think of all those Christmas cards that depict the baby in the manger surrounded by light).

 I am the gate for the sheep (John 10:7 == the gate of the sheepfold, where the Shepherd leads us to safe refuge.)

 I am the good shepherd (John 10:10).  Think of the shepherds summoned to the Child in the crib the message of the angel. What would this image have said to them if they had lived long enough to hear it from the lips of the adult Jesus? What does it say to us, who read about the angel’s announcement to the shepherd during Christmas?

 I am the way (John 14:6)

 …to which he adds elsewhere, “unless you become like a little child, you cannot enter the kingdom of heaven” (see John 3).

 I am the truth (John 14:6)   In himself, God’s Word made flesh, Jesus reveals both the truth of who God is and the truth of who we were made to be.  See what happens when you set that idea against the nativity scene and Jesus’ later life.

 The list goes on and on in Johns’ gospel—the resurrection and the life (John 12), the vine (John 15), the very different king (John 19), and probably more that I have missed in John’s text but also elsewhere in the gospels.  Watch out!  If you do a bit of this exercise, they may pop up all over! 

Copyright 2021 Abbey of St. Walburga

The Advent "O" Antiphons: a Source for Lectio Divina

 The “O” antiphon have been sung before and after the Canticle of Mary (Magnificat)  at Evening Prayer since the seventh century (or so!) We at the Abbey chant the traditional Latin texts to their very ancient melody every year.  They are called "O" antiphons because each begins with "O"!

There is a reason to their order. The first letter of each title of Christ in Latin listed from last to first form an acrostic: E(mmanuel), R(ex), O(riens), C(lavis), R(adix), A(donai), Sapientia give us “ero cras,” which means “I will be there tomorrow”.  And, of course, the last one is sung on December 23. (Liturgically speaking the celebration of Christmas begins with Evening Prayer on December 24).

 The antiphons are very rich biblically saturated meditations on Jesus Christ, the savior whose birth we will celebrate on December 27.  I invite you to use them as sources for lectio divina this week. Pick one or two (or more!) favorites to memorize and carry with you whenever you need a word from Scripture to settle, center, or reconnect you to God.

 Below is the list in order, from this evening through December 23.  They are familiar as the verses of the hymn “O Come, O Come Emmanuel” and from the gospel acclamations at Mass, though in both cases the order is somewhat altered.

 A very blessed Advent and Christmas to all!

 December 17

O Wisdom of our God Most High,
guiding creation with power and love:
come to teach us the path of knowledge!

 December 18

O Leader of the House of Israel,
giver of the Law to Moses on Sinai:
come to rescue us with your mighty power!

 December 19

O Root of Jesse’s stem,
sign of God’s love for all his people:
come to save us without delay!

 December 20

O Key of David,
opening the gates of God’s eternal Kingdom:
come and free the prisoners of darkness!

 December 21

O Radiant Dawn,
splendor of eternal light, sun of justice:
come and shine on those who dwell in darkness and in the
shadow of death.

 December 22

O King of all nations and keystone of the Church:
come and save man, whom you formed from the dust!

 December 23

 O Emmanuel, our King and Giver of Law:

come to save us, Lord our God!

Copyright 2021 Abbey of St. Walburga

Advent: the Season of Hope?

(Apologies! I inadvertently failed to hit the "publish" button on this one when I posted it on December 4!  Those of you who are Abbey oblates received a copy by e-mail.)

Advent, as we all know, is the season of hope—and how badly we need that hope these days, but how hard it is to come by!

St. Benedict does not speak of Advent, which was an innovation not yet widely observed in his day, but he does speak of hope.  He might look with a wry eye on the endless solutions to endless problems that spring up in the media daily.  He proposed only one solution to the dark temptations to despair that for us may come such current events as COVID and school violence and financial distress, and for him and his monks from waves of invading barbarian forces and harsh clashes among Christians and the ever-present struggle with everything that would tempt them away from their commitment to live the Rule: “Place your hope in God alone” (RB 4:41). 

He did not mean to sit back amid clouds of incense and wait for God to do something while we  recite psalms and think pious thoughts.  St. Benedict taught an eminently practical feet-on-the-ground wisdom.  What he really meant was to live in all sorts of small, unspectacular ways toward the goal for which we hope.  He defined that goal for Benedictines with an eye on the far horizon beyond which lies the fulfillment of all our hopes:  “Let [us] prefer nothing whatever to Christ, and may he bring us all together to everlasting life” (RB 72:11-12).

 In the context of the Rule, this hope requires all sorts of small steps to reach that day.  He spells them out in detail in RB 4, “On the Tools of Good Works.”  Don’t kill anybody, at least not on purpose—and elsewhere he spells out when it is acceptable to smack someone and when not.  Don’t pamper yourself—even as you look up yet another recipe for cranberry sauce or pecan pie.  Don’t take that one-too-many glass of wine.  Don’t lie to anyone.  The list goes on for seventy-eight pithy verses under the general heading of “First of all, love the Lord God with your whole heart, your whole soul and all your strength, and love your neighbor as yourself” (RB 4:1-2).  He spells out more details throughout the rest of the Rule, from the tough challenges of obedience, silence, and humility to the zillion ways in which love of God and neighbor are expressed in practice—all with the goal of reaching that final moment when “[Christ] brings us together to everlasting life.”

 As we all know, it takes some work to translate this sixth century guide to good behavior within the monastery into real-life practice both in and outside the monastery in this Year of Our Lord 2021.  Directives for hygiene and healthy eating, for example, are simply no longer acceptable.  We don’t have to do everything during daylight because the only form of artificial light is unreliable oil lamps.  We can do our lectio and pray our Hours from books conveniently printed and bound. 

 But St. Benedict’s wisdom is timeless:  look for Christ always and everywhere, keep your feet on the ground and forget about pie-in-the-sky, build God’s reign by building strong networks of mutual love wherever you can—and, his clincher, the last of the tools of good works, “never lose hope in God’s mercy” (RB 4:74).  No matter what bad news knocks on the door, no matter how great the temptation to save-yourself-and-let-God-look-out-for-the rest, no matter how dark the winter night, keep the light of Christ burning in your heart, encourage one another—AND NEVER LOSE HOPE IN GOD’S MERCY BECAUSE GOD’S MERCY NEVER LOSES SIGHT OF US.. 

 

©2021 Abbey of St. Walburga

 

Company!

 

As Benedictines, we belong to the great company of listeners.  These are they who listen to God “with the ear of the heart” (cf. RB Prologue 1).   They are not only Benedictines, of course.  On November 1, the Church at large celebrates the memory of all saints, all those holy people who are gathered now in God’s presence in heaven.  Some of their names we know, many we don’t.  Some of them we have known personally, many we have not.  But they are a great glad crowd who still keep an eye on us, who are called to join them one day.  On November 13, we at the Abbey celebrate a particular group within the great crowd of saints:  all Benedictine saints.  Of course all holy oblates who have run the course and dwell now on God’s holy mountain (RB Prologue 23) are among them!  Again, some of them we have known, lived with, and love; some we have not.  It is comforting to know that each of us has a place reserved for us among them, with our names spelled out in gold, or so I like to imagine.  For all those who have gone before us, Benedictines or not, saints or saints-still-in-the making, we can be very grateful.  For those still on the way, we can and should pray.

 At the Abbey, after supper every night, we read the names of all of the deceased Sisters of our own monastery and the other monasteries who make up what is called the Federation of Benedictine Monasteries of Nuns, including our motherhouse, the Abbey of St. Walburg in Germany—whose Abbess many of you knew when she was Sister Hildegard of this house and oblate director.  We read their names on the anniversary of their deaths, and we pray for them.  But the nuns of this house and of the Federation are not the only names in the book.  We also read the names of all of our oblates who have died on this day, whom we remember also with joy and gratitude.  If we live as faithful listeners, you and I can hope that our names, too, will be read out on the anniversary of our death, and that future generations will remember and pray for us. 

 This November, let us all remember the listeners who have gone before us and remember the last words they heard as they stood on the threshold of death where we will one day stand:  “Come, you who are blessed by my Father. Inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world” (Matt 25:34).

 Let us pray with them; let us pray for them who have not yet  fully completed that crossing; and let us pray for one another as we walk together on the way, that we may all listen faithfully as they did and be gathered into the great company of saints in the world to come.  Amen!

Copyright 2021 Abbey of St. Walburga

Humility, Gospel-Style

Today’s Mass gospel (Luke 14: 7-11) is a lesson in etiquette worthy of Miss Manners.  Jesus spells out how to behave when invited to a wedding banquet (or, presumably, any other fancy occasion).  You’ve heard his advice:  in a nutshell, he says don’t seat yourself in the place of honor!  What if the host has invited someone more important than you!  He will ask you to move down.  How embarrassing!  Much better to sit in the lowest place so the host may invite you up to a more important place.  Think how good that will make you look to the other guests!

There’s a good bit of humor hidden in this lesson.  As he often does, Jesus appeals to a concern for one’s social reputation.  (Honor was highly esteemed in his culture). Taking the place of honor will make you look bad; taking a lower place and being invited to a higher place will make you look good.  Hardly a noble motive, is it?  But oh so recognizable! Memories of similar social faux-pas, our own or someone else’s, might make us laugh or blush when we hear the story!  There’s more.  Jesus’ adds another humorous note.  He says, when advising choosing the lowest place, that the host may then invite you to come higher. It makes me chuckle to think of someone (not me, of course) sanctimoniously and perhaps a bit ostentatiously taking the lowest seat in order to enjoy the prestige of being invited to take a higher one—only to discover that no such invitation is forthcoming.! 

 Being able to laugh at oneself is an aspect of humility that St. Benedict does not address in the Rule (RB 7), but he does tell us not to take ourselves too seriously, socially or otherwise.  His instructions regarding community rank may seem irrelevant if you don’t live in a monastery. The hierarchy of rank might have had more social importance for a European monastery of the old style, but it is not of much interest in monastery like ours, where no one cares about the usual claims for prestige:  high social birth, family wealth, education or a prestigious career before entering the community.  One of the great gifts of our community is that the diversity of our work means that we know that there are always Sisters who will be better than we are at the kind of work we’ve been assigned, but we might be better than someone else in some other kinds of tasks.  For us, rank is really just a tidy way of organizing community processions and meals.  

What is really important in St. Benedict’s eyes is not how much we can claim prestige among others but how seriously we take ourselves for whatever reason.  (And sometimes, as we all know, the reason may really be laughable!  I will not give you examples—they would be too embarrassing.  Well, one example, largely fictional, is that Sister So-and-So pins her veil straighter than Sister So-and-So.  There is democracy as well as humility in the fact that where you may have “bad hair” days, all of us have “bad veil” days from time to time!)

There is a very fine line between appropriate self-esteem and inflated self-esteem.  Jesus’ amusing little etiquette lesson suggests that we would do well to look at ourselves in that mirror.  Our response is a clue:  gratitude for our gifts, whatever they may be, and glad respect for the gifts of others.  Another clue is whether or not we can laugh at ourselves when we begin to resemble a peacock flaunting inarguably gorgeous plumage—and totally unaware that the plumage is all gift! There is no place for peacocks in Benedictine life!

 Humility is truth, so they say.  Jesus is the truth, by his own claim (John 14:6).  We sometimes read that as some sort of dogmatic truth, but it is really much more than that.  Jesus is God’s truth revealed in human flesh, but he is also our truth.  He is the only authentic image of what humanity was meant to be and has once more bccome in him.  That’s the only mirror we ought to consult when we want to see how good we look!

 

©2021 Abbey of St. Walburga

 

A Commercial:  the annual Abbey Calendar for 2022 will be available in the Gift Shop by next week, or so we hope.  It features stunning pictures of the tapestries that hang in the Abbey Church.  They were woven for us by Frau Walburga, OSB, at our motherhouse in Germany for our chapel in Boulder in the early 1960’s.  Woven of hand-dyed and handspun wool, they depict the “Mysteries of Mary,” something like but not quite identical to the mysteries of the rosary.  It also gives the days of the Church’s liturgical days and seasons, together with the liturgical calendar of the Order of St. Benedict, as these calendars are observed at the Abbey. 

 This year’s calendar is larger and more substantial than last year’s It is made of glossy cardboard rather than paper, since we got complaints about how easily last year’s paper calendars tore.  I’m afraid the price has consequently gone up to $19.95.  As you know, this is an annual fundraiser for us, a bit more important to the Abbey economy as COVID and all its variants continue to limit the accommodations in our retreat house. 

 You can order a calendar from the Abbey Gift Shop, either by telephoning us at 97-472-0612 or by ordering online at giftshop@walburga.org.

 

Thanks so much!

Seek Peace!

  

In the Prologue, St. Benedict quotes Psalm 34: let peace be your quest and aim (Psalm 34:15).  I prefer the Grail translation: “Seek after peace, and pursue it.”  One reason is that it is simply more familiar.  It’s the translation we at the Abbey pray in the Divine Office.  But there is another reason.  Hidden within St. Benedict’s injunction to seek peace is his great theme:  “prefer nothing whatever to Christ” (RB 72:11).  

The prophet Micah helps us to make the link: “he shall be peace” ( Micah 5:4).  The context clarifies that, for us Christian readers, “he” is none other than Christ himself:  “He shall take his place as shepherd by the strength of the LORD, by the majestic name of the LORD, his God;… for now his greatness shall reach to the ends of the earth:  he shall be peace” (Micah 5:3-4, emphasis added).  St. Paul adds: “he is our peace, he who made both one and broke down the dividing wall of enmity, through his flesh, abolishing the law with its commandments and legal claims, that he might create in himself one new person in place of the two, thus establishing peace, and might reconcile both with God, in one body, through the cross, (Ephesians 2:14-16).

St. Gregory of Nyssa, one of the great Christian teachers of the fourth century, enriches this idea: “Since we think of Christ as our peace, we may call ourselves true Christians only if our lives express Christ by our own peace. As the Apostle says: He has put enmity to death. We must never allow it to be rekindled in us in any way but must declare that it is absolutely dead. Gloriously has God slain enmity, in order to save us; may we never risk the life of our souls by being resentful or by bearing grudges. We must not awaken that enmity or call it back to life by our wickedness, for it is better left dead.

No, since we possess Christ who is peace, we must put an end to this enmity and live as we believe he lived. He broke down the separating wall, uniting what was divided, bringing about peace by reconciling in his single person those who disagreed. In the same way, we must be reconciled not only with those who attack us from outside, but also with those who stir up dissension within; flesh then will no longer be opposed to the spirit, nor the spirit to the flesh. Once we subject the wisdom of the flesh to God's law, we shall be re-created as one single man at peace. Then, having become one instead of two, we shall have peace within ourselves.

Now peace is defined as harmony among those who are divided. When, therefore, we end that civil war within our nature and cultivate peace within ourselves, we become peace. By this peace we demonstrate that the name of Christ, which we bear, is authentic and appropriate.” (Treatise on Christian Perfection, Office of Readings, Week 19 of Ordinary Time, Thursday).

We tend most often to think of peace as the reconciliation of all the “us vs. them” conflicts that beset our world and, to be honest, ourselves.  The daily news makes it difficult how sore a need this is, and how difficult to attain.  Since most of us are not called upon to make peace among warring nations or even warring factions in our own nation, we need to look closer to home at all whatever divides us from an “them” in our families, neighborhoods, workplaces and, sadly, even in our churches. 

But St. Gregory reminds us that there are divisions not only among us, but also within us, also crying out for reconciliation.  On both levels, outward and inward, the heart of reconciliation is living fully the life of the risen Christ into whom we have been baptized.  In seeking to live deeply in Christ, both socially and individually, we are indeed seeking Peace and pursuing it with all the means the Rule supplies in terms of prayer and relationships.

 St. Paul, St. Gregory, and St. Benedict were all realists.  They knew that seeking and finding peace is no easy task.  It is, in fact, a lifetime’s work.  But they all offer us tools, especially in prayer and in ways of living relationships ordered toward the ultimate unity that is the reign of God.  And we pray for that unity daily in the Lord’s Prayer for that very reason (RB 13:12-13).

 Peace be with you, and with us all!

©2021 Abbey of St. Walburga

Think Slow: Lectio Divina Revisited

Hurry, hurry, hurry!  Sometime it feels as if this is a shared mantra, driving many of us to get too much done in too short a time.  Even contemplative nuns face this pressure at times!  What is unfortunate is that it can creep into our practice of lectio as an unwelcome stranger cracking an invisible whip. 

 A better mantra would be: take your time, take your time, take your time—or rather take God’s time, which is rumored to open a door into eternity!  When it comes to the frequent choice between the tortoise and the hare, even the ancient Greek fabulist knew that wisdom put its money on the tortoise.  (If you don’t happen to have a copy of Aesop’s Fables in your library, you can download one for free at Project Gutenberg.  If this link does not work, just go to www.gutenberg.org.)

In a quirky book on the Liturgy of the Hours entitled Crossing: Reclaiming the Landscapes of Our Lives, English Benedictine monk Mark Barrett introduced me to the practice of slow reading by describing the experience of a World War II POW who had only one book available to him.  He disciplined himself to read very slowly to make the book last, but he discovered in the process that slow reading led him to deep reading, which was its own gift.  And I do mean slow reading, with much rereading and savoring.  With books abounding all around us, and all the books of our very large Bible available to us, we are under no deadline except the ones we give ourselves.  But reading to deadline, any deadline, works for our loss, not our gain.

  Consider taking a single psalm—perhaps one as short as Psalm 1 or Psalm 23—and putting it through a very patient inner juicer that seeks to extract every drop of meaning, every hint of reference to our real daily experience, every glimmer of insight into our relationships with those we love and those we don’t, every tiny invitation to pursue a connection with another phrase in a different psalm -- all with the patient inspiration of the Holy Spirit as our reading companion.  Consider setting a different kind of deadline:  I will NOT finish this psalm till the end of two weeks of daily lectio.  And be prepared to discover with surprise that two weeks aren’t quite long enough!  Suddenly a text  as long as the Beatitudes--with 100 stories of different people we know or have read about behind each one--seems like a six-month’s work!

 Each of has to find our own best pace, but the discipline of  “slow and steady wins the race,” as Aesop put it, is an invaluable tool for genuinely contemplative lectio. 

 Try it!  You might like it!  Or you might hate it, but if you don’t try, you’ll never know!   

 _____

Reference:

Mark Barrett, OSB. Crossing: Reclaiming the Landscapes of Our Lives.  Harrisburg PA: Morehouse Publishing, 2001.

 ©2021 Abbey of St. Walburga