Daylight Dividends!

The advent of daylight savings means a LOSS (usually of sleep) for most of us. For some, however, it is a gain. With an extra hour of daylight, it means that we can recreate outside when the weather permits. Last night found a few sisters taking advantage of the extended daylight and the warm(er) air for a game of bocce.

Even harder than aiming at the pallino was the task of teaching our dogs, Nicholas and Gabriel, that we really don't want them chasing these balls. They are normally quite obedient, but the sight of four bipeds tossing around nine balls is enough to confuse them as to why we really don't want them chasing the balls (at least not until the round is scored!)

The green team narrowly stole a victory from the red team with a sneaky point-busting ball tossed by Sister Rose which kissed the pallino and broke up a big 3-point score for the red team. The setting sun ended the game with a 10-7 score. One could hardly tell from the laughing and (gentle) shouting which duo won and which did not ... it seems the only "losers" were the crestfallen canines.

"Walking, harmless games, music, instrumental or vocal, field sports, etc., are such entirely lawful recreations that they need no rules beyond those of ordinary discretion, which keep every thing within due limits of time, place, and degree. So again games of skill, which exercise and strengthen body or mind, such as tennis, rackets, running at the ring, chess, and the like, are in themselves both lawful and good."

St. Francis de Sales

From the Archives

Those of you who have visited our campus, will note that Founders' Hall is named after the three founding sisters of our community. The classrooms on the second floor all begin with "McDermott" after the honored memory of our dear Sister Mary Francis McDermott.

Sister Mary Frances McDermott, nee Maria Corballis, was born in Dublin, Ireland ca1750. Her father was a learned man who made certain this youngest daughter received a good education. She had a vivacious disposition, but she was also studious, pious, and known for her compassion to the poor. Her oldest sister was a nun in the order of the Presentation of the Blessed Virgin in Dublin; there were also two brothers with similarly sparkling personalities who died young.

Sister's parents both died in 1774 when she was 24 years old. Two years later she married Martin McDermott, who encouraged her work with the poor. They were a pious couple who responded to need and distress so freely that friends warned them they would ruin themselves through giving. They lived by the maxims of the gospel, however, and gave freely of the abundance with which the Lord had blessed them while considering themselves only stewards of those gifts.

Two years after their marriage, Roman Catholics were so persecuted in Ireland that they sailed for America, settling in Philadelphia where they soon became known for piety and charity. Martin McDermott died in 1793 of the yellow fever that was ravaging Philadelphia. They had no children, and soon McDermott declared her intention to enter religious life. Her spiritual director was the most Reverend Leonard Neale, who was in the process of establishing a nunnery under the rule of the Visitation. She resolved to join the other two ladies who were beginning this with him, but because of the many obstacles they encountered, she had to remain in the world longer than she had hoped. Finally, in June of 1799 the two ladies were sent to Georgetown, Rev. Neale followed soon after, and McDermott was invited to come a few months later. On her arrival in Georgetown she was able to relieve their many needs considerably. Her dowry of $3,000 paid for their first house, and she also donated many necessary items such as furniture and silver plate.

These three ladies comprised the community for a long time; no one yet had had the courage to enter with them because of their poverty. Also, because of the French Revolution and the ensuing Napoleonic Wars, religious life had been banned in Europe and the monasteries dispersed, so there was no possibility of sending for anyone. Gradually they took on pupils and built Visitation into a well-respected school. Sister's good education, thanks to her father, was vital to this endeavor. When the community was officially accepted as a Visitation monastery, Sister made her solemn profession. Her lively faith manifested itself in a tender devotion to the Blessed Virgin and to St. Joseph, whom she frequently called upon along with other favorites saints Teresa of Avila, Peter of Alcantara, John of the Cross, and Francis Borgia. One of her favorite occupations during her last years was making small, tastefully adorned boxes to hold relics.

The nun who wrote McDermott's biography said she contributed to the education of "many of us," yet sometimes her zeal meant she became over-anxious for the girls' welfare. She had a good heart, though, and quickly acknowledged it humbly whenever she let this intensity get the better of her. Naturally of a robust constitution, she remained healthy until her final two years, during which she suffered brief, frequent bouts of illness. In early June 1820 she developed dropsy, an inflammation of the limbs now known as edema, and it caused her much suffering. Several times she tearfully asked pardon either for the trouble caused by her sickness or for her previous tendency to excitability, and she styled herself a great sinner when she spoke movingly of God's goodness toward sinners. She received the last sacraments from Fr. Clorivière in the presence of the whole community, after which she survived only three days, speaking often of eternity and God. She died in tranquility on October 26, 1820, at the age of 70.

Corporal Works of Mercy Revisited

Today's first reading from Tobit puts before us the corporal work of mercy known as burying the dead. Christians seeking to perform corporal works of mercy may, at times, feel limited by their circumstances if they are unable to go out to visit the sick or imprisoned, etc. Without diminishing the value of performing one of these noble tasks, perhaps there are ways in which we, daily, may perform these acts in a spiritual way. And in doing so, we can keep the fire of devotion -- and desire -- burning in our hearts until we have an opportunity to perform these acts physically.

We may not have direct access to help feed and to give drink to those who need it. We can, however, be attentive to those who are starving for attention and who are parched -- whose spirits are dried up -- in need of a kind word or a loving touch to restore hope to their hearts. We can feed those who are hungry for the things of God with the promise of prayer; we can feed those who are hungry for loving attention with a moment or two of our time as we listen to their troubles or inquire about their day.

Perhaps we are aware of a colleague at work or a classmate at school who is especially vulnerable. Perhaps he does not seem to fit in and appears to be painfully aware of it. We may clothe the nakedness of his vulnerability by going out of our way to include him in conversations or casual gatherings at work. Maybe someone in our parish is naked because rumors -- be they true or false -- have begun to circulate about her personal life. We can clothe her in her nakedness by reaching out and demonstrating by our actions that we are unaffected by the unkind words which have fallen from the nasty bird of gossip.

Few of us are able to open our doors to the homeless and provide the shelter that they need. Many of us may be able to help support agencies which provide these services, but all of us can provide protection from the "bad weather" which comes upon our friends and family members from time to time. Perhaps one of our students is experiencing a painful situation at home; we can listen and offer a loving space in which she can feel safe to talk about it. Maybe a coworker has just been let go; instead of allowing the awkwardness of the situation to keep us apart, we can protect him from the cold night of shame or humiliation by reaching out and offering to help him make contacts and update his resume.

Visiting the sick and imprisoned can be done in person or by a thoughtful greeting sent in the mail, over email or by other means. A spiritual bouquet is a beautiful way to give a gift to someone who is sick or imprisoned. We can also visit those whose prisons are not Lovelace's stone walls and iron bars. Perhaps we have a classmate who is in an abusive relationship or who suffers from addiction. These situations can be as confining and painful as a physical experience of incarceration. We can "visit" those among us who are imprisoned by their circumstances by offering our company, our friendship and our moral support.

It is usually a sad day when we have the opportunity to participate in the corporal work of mercy described in today's first reading. Burying the dead, however, is a gesture of respect for the earthly body that housed an eternal soul. We can show respect to the souls of the deceased by how we speak of them. If someone is bringing to light the shortcomings of a deceased friend or family member, we might find a gentle way to balance the remark or to overshadow it by recalling the virtues of the deceased. In doing so, we protect the reputation of one who is unable to defend himself.

This is not intended to suggest that we may dispense ourselves from seeking opportunities to perform corporal works of mercy. Rather, it is merely an invitation to seek new ways of performing these acts of charity. In addition, we can always unite ourselves to those who are directly engaged in these works by praying for them and those whom they serve. We will never know how many good works go undone or unfinished because there was no one to pray for their success; we can never underestimate the importance of praying for those who perform these corporal works of mercy.

"It is always a work of love to join with others and take part in their good works. And although it may be possible that you can use equally profitable devotions by yourself as in common with others . . . nevertheless God is more glorified when we unite with our brethren and neighbors and join our offering to theirs."

St. Francis de Sales

Another Archive Article!

Catharine Clare Agnes Lancaster was born into a wealthy English family ca1785, and she had six brothers and one sister; she was the youngest daughter and the third child. She was considered thoughtful and unworldly. Her sister often reproached her, calling her foolish and even stupid, and due to her natural meekness she generally received this in silence. If she did answer it would only be to say "I cannot help it."

That older sister desired to marry an equally wealthy man, but her parents refused because he was Protestant, although otherwise he would have been a fine match. Independently, and in opposition to them, she "bound herself to this man for life," a monastery euphemism for a Protestant marriage not recognized by Catholics. She continued to practice her Catholic faith until her death just a little over a year later in 1808. This tragedy inspired the younger, surviving sister to wish to "bid adieu to this deceiving world" by entering our monastery, although her grieving parents asked her to remain at home. They were worried because she was used to a certain level of domestic comfort, and religious life demanded certain austerities, so she stayed at home.

About three years later her mother died, and she remained with her afflicted father who suffered from what was known as apoplexy, probably some sort of stroke. For three years she "shared in both his confinement and in his sufferings." Although she continued to long for consecrated life, she was not free of family obligations for the next eight years, even after he died in 1810. When not busy with her father she performed acts of charity including visiting the sick, ornamenting churches, reading spiritual books (especially the lives of the saints to whom she was so devoted), and various other "pious exercises." After her father's death she had control of her own time, and she liberally shared her inheritance with the sick and needy, traveling with her servant to bring whatever was needed. She was also known for excellent taste and for sewing skills, and so was able to richly serve her church, where she was a voluntary sacristan.

She still aspired to religious life, and came to this monastery on June 1, 1818. She was so weak at that time that she spent a great portion of her probation in the infirmary, and it was not until her reception to the habit on July 2 (then the great festival of our order, although the date has been changed to May 31 on the new Roman calendar) that she began to recover her health and spirits. She began her novitiate joyfully, and even though her novice mistress was several years younger than she was, she was strictly submissive, never resisting obedience and sharing her interior thoughts with candor and simplicity as is recommended by our holy rules. She was honest without reservation about her many temptations and trials, and at the same time she expressed her gratitude to God for having called her to a religious life.

"She was a person of few words, and never related anything that would cause disunion or trouble. Her actions clearly proved that she considered her sisters as her superiors, for no sooner was she requested to do this or that, than she complied without any will or apparent thought but that of obedience." During her novitiate she was made assistant to the sacristan, and she held this office for most of the last two years of her life. She also helped care for boarding students, and even as her health faltered she continued this work until ten days before her death. When it was clear she had to leave the school, she agreed with her usual sweetness and a smile, but everyone knew she might not return.

On the tenth day of her confinement her pain became so excruciating that she was given a painkiller. This deranged her in a manner from which she did not recover, and it prevented her from receiving the Viaticum, though she had received holy communion four days before the festival of the Assumption of Our Lady. She always had a particular devotion to the holy Virgin Mother of God and St. Joseph, and she always placed herself under their singular protection; when she had been in the world she said daily the Little Office of the Blessed Mother. Due to her delirium it was only possible to administer the holy extreme unction. A few hours later she quietly passed "from the rank of choir sister to the peace of the children of God." This was August 19, 1820, and she was 35 years old, having been professed for 13 months and 17 days.

An Evening with a Saint and Some Angels

On Friday evening some lovely ladies from the Court of Our Lady of Good Counsel, Catholic Daughters of the Americas of Georgetown University made an evening of reflection here on campus. We listened to some spiritual lessons from the life of St. Jane de Chantal, colored some magic scratch angels, made some paper-bag mailboxes, enjoyed some great food, joined the monastery community for Compline and had some quiet time before the Blessed Sacrament. Among the highlights was the "Guess that Gospel Passage" game ... where we had two winners who were able to name the Gospel passage from which the title "Our Lady of Good Counsel" is derived. Check out our photo album on Facebook to see more pictures from Friday evening. Below, one of the "Holy Hoyas" shows off her mailbox and her angel.

Nun Run

It's a long way from Atlanta, Georgia but the St. Thomas Apostle Life Teen group that arrived here on Monday was bright-eyed and enthusiastic for the first leg of their six-day, four-stop nun run. Pictured above are the valiant youth ministers and their four angels gathered in the novitiate lounge after a question-and-answer session with our postulants and a couple of sisters.

The delightful gang arrived in time for Vespers. They enjoyed a supper of soup and wraps with homemade cookies for dessert. After Night Prayer the group gathered in the novitiate lounge and watched "A Season of Restoration" about our 1993 fire. Questions, answers, and lots and lots of laughs followed the movie. We enjoyed our time with the St. Thomas pilgrims and we hope they come visit on their next trip through DC!

Quite a Find: the Foundress!

As we continue our series of archival accounts, we share here a brief account of the life of the Foundress of our monastery, Alice Lalor.

Alice ("Allie") Lalor was born in Ireland during the era when penal laws prevented Catholics from attending school. When she made her Confirmation, she made a vow to give her life Christ; her spiritual director urged her to devote her energies to establishing a Catholic school for girls. Her family immigrated to the United States when she was 16, in 1794. She left her home country promising to return when she was of age.

Soon she met the Rev. Leonard Neale, who convinced her that she was called to work in the U.S. They began a school in Philadelphia, but when yellow fever ravaged that city, her companions in the enterprise all died it had to close. In 1799 she joined Neale, who had been appointed President of Georgetown University (then just a small school), in Georgetown to try again. She and her two companions were known by the neighbors as the "pious ladies," and they established an Academy and a Benevolent School for orphans. Neale had initially allowed the women to make simple vows, but they took formal vows as Visitation Sisters in 1816, and Alice was renamed Mother Teresa Josephine Lalor. During her lifetime, Visitation began to expand throughout the country. As she lay dying in 1846, she joked with the sisters who were leaving to make a foundation in Frederick not to wait for her funeral. She did not want her approaching death to slow down God's work.

At some point, when the sisters renewed their vows, Alice mistakenly vowed herself to "Poverty, Charity and Obedience." Ever after, she was conscious of that fourth promise, keeping her vow of charity as faithfully as she kept the first three. She was noted for her cheerfulness, kindness, her charity -- especially in her speech, humility and sense of humor. She died September 9, 1846. She spoke so little of herself that we do not know her date of birth.

Treasures from a Different ARK-hive

Recently we've been posting highlights from our archives. In light of today's first reading, we have two humorous pieces to share. Perhaps some of our readers received this first ditty in an email; it seems to have been in circulation for some time. This particular version of the "modern ark" story is from appleseeds, a Franciscan website.

And the Lord spoke to Noah and said: "In six months I’m going to make it rain until the whole earth is covered with water and all the evil people are destroyed. But I want to save a few good people, and two of every kind of living thing on the planet. I am ordering you to build Me an Ark." And in a flash of lightning He delivered the specifications for an Ark."OK," said Noah, trembling in fear and fumbling with the blueprints."Six months, and it starts to rain," thundered the Lord. "You’d better have the Ark completed, or learn how to swim for a very long time."And six months passed. The skies began to cloud up and rain began to fall. The Lord saw that Noah was sitting in his front yard, weeping. And there was no Ark."Noah," shouted the Lord, "where is My Ark?"A lightning bolt crashed into the ground next to Noah. "Lord, please forgive me!" begged Noah. "I did my best. But there were big problems. First I had to get a building permit for the Ark construction project, and your plans didn’t meet code. So I had to hire an engineer to redraw the plans. Then I got into a big fight over whether or not the Ark needed a fire sprinkler system. My neighbors objected claiming I was violating zoning by building the Ark in my front yard, so I had to get a variance from the city planning commission..Then I had a big problem getting enough wood for the Ark because there was a ban on cutting trees to save the Spotted Owl. I had to convince U.S. Fish and Wildlife that I needed the wood to save the owls. But they wouldn’t let me catch any owls. So no owls. Then the carpenters formed a union and went out on strike. I had to negotiate a settlement with the National labor Relations Board before anyone would pick up a saw or a hammer. Now we have 16 carpenters going on the boat, and still no owls.Then I started gathering up animals, and got sued by an animal rights group. They objected to me taking only two of each kind. Just when I got the suit dismissed, EPA notified me that I couldn’t complete the Ark without filing an environmental impact statement on your proposed flood. They didn’t take kindly to the idea that they had no jurisdiction over the conduct of a Supreme Being.Then the Army Corps of Engineers wanted a map of the proposed new flood plan. I sent them a globe. Right now I’m still trying to resolve a complaint from the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission over how many immigrants I’m supposed to hire, the IRS has seized all my assets claiming I’m trying to avoid paying taxes by leaving the country, and I just got a notice from the state about owing some kind of use tax. I really don’t think I can finish your Ark for at least another five years," Noah wailed.The sky began to clear. The sun began to shine. A rainbow arched across the sky. Noah looked up and smiled. "You mean you’re not going to destroy the earth?" Noah asked, hopefully."Wrong!" thundered the Lord. "But being Lord of the Universe has its advantages. I fully intend to smite the Earth, but with something far worse than a flood. Something Man invented himself—GOVERNMENT!"

The second ARK-hive treasure is this children's song. There are several versions of this available but the animation on this particular version is sweet. Enjoy!

Archive Installment

As we continue our historical series, we share some biographical information about our Sister Elizabeth Augustina Greenwell.

This sister, who was born c1786, had a more difficult childhood than most. She fell when she was 18 months old and broke her arm and leg. Doctors removed a bone from each limb, causing them to grow out of proportion to the rest of her body, and she remained lame all her life. The monastery sisters later deemed this disfigurement a blessing in disguise, however, for they credited it with preserving her innocence in childhood. Unlike the other sisters, who always seemed to be more pious than the other children in their youth, this sister's piety developed only as she became older.

She became known for charity to the poor and the sick, and for getting up to pray every morning at 4 a.m. (typical in the monastery but not in private life). Before she entered she did not enjoy worldly pleasures as much as her sisters did, preferring to be alone or spending her time working for the Church. She went to confession and was allowed to take communion every eight days, a rare privilege in that era, making her an example of piety in the world.

She petitioned to enter this monastery, was admitted, and received the white veil from our founder, Archbishop Leonard Neale. She had a sweet, easy temper and obliging ways, and she carefully concealed her extreme weakness and pain, participating in all the duties of the community as much as she was able. She was given the rank of choir sister, meaning she was educated and could read or recite Latin to chant the Divine Office.

She contracted tuberculosis that caused incontinence, and faintness, and she coughed up blood. She moved to the infirmary of the monastery where she remained for the rest of her life. During her last six weeks she was short of breath and could not even lie down. Too much sitting caused dropsy in her feet and legs. All of this she bore with great patience, expressing her gratitude to others for the smallest services. As she grew worse she asked for the entire community to assemble in the infirmary, and she begged their pardon for all her failings. She received the Viaticum, and she often called upon God during her suffering. She was in extreme pain, but exhorted herself to patience by saying, "My spouse suffered more for me." She also asked the infirmarian to speak and read to her of Christ's sufferings.

She died on April 14, 1820 at age 34.

A Little Biblical Humor

As the football season ends and spring training for baseball is on the horizon, we thought we'd share a little joke. Today's first reading is the punch line for a little Biblical humor. Do enjoy a chuckle and share it with your friends.

Q: How can we know for sure that baseball is really God's favorite sport?

A: There is a common mistranslation of the first verse of Genesis and it has occluded the true translation: "In the BIG INNING when God created . . ."

Dirty Feet

Most of us, upon entering a house or a building, find a moment to wipe our shoes on a welcome mat or other convenient carpet. This is a polite gesture. We are careful not to bring the dirt, dust mud (dirty snow and blue salt-crystals) into a clean space. Do we do the same with our hearts?

In today's Gospel, when the Lord instructs his disciples to shake the dust from their feet as a witness against those who rejected them, we might consider adopting the same practice. For when we have experienced the anger or negativity of another, if we do not "shake the dust" from our feet -- and our hearts -- we will have more than dirty feet with which to contend. A careful guard of our hearts can save us from being wounded -- and from wounding others -- on account of the negativity or anger we have experienced in the words or actions of another.

Sometimes we offer ourselves to someone in an act of kindness; perhaps we anticipated a need or perceive an oversight. Love of our neighbor propels us to act generously. It can be painful when our act of charity is unwelcome. Like germs, negativity is also contagious. We can catch a cold by not washing the germs from our hands; we can become uncharacteristically negative by not washing the negativity from our hearts. We may not, of our nature, be inclined to discuss the shortcomings of our colleagues or neighbors but when we spend time with those who are so inclined we may not even notice this odious little habit growing in our heart like a silent cancer. Let us keep careful watch over our hearts (and our feet) so that we may keep them clean. Blessed are the clean of heart for they shall see God. And they shall see Him everywhere!

"There is no clock, however good, that does not need to be continually wound up . . . any one who really cares for his heart's devotion will wind it up to God night and morning, and examine its condition, correcting and improving it . . . . And just as the clockmaker applies a delicate oil to all the wheels and springs of a clock, so that it may work properly and be less liable to rust, so the devout soul ... will lubricate his heart with the Sacraments of Confession and the Eucharist. These exercises will repair the waste caused by time, will kindle your heart, revive your good resolutions, and cause the graces of your mind to flourish anew."

St. Francis de Sales

Archive Treasures Continue!

The last sister professed by Archbishop Leonard Neale before his death was Sister Mary of Jesus Mattingly, who was born in 1784 in St. Mary's county, Maryland. She was somewhat worldly in her youth, but after attending a retreat when she was 22 or 23, she concluded that earthly pursuits were empty, and began working toward the sanctification of her soul by various exercises of devotion. She could do this only as far as her health would permit, however, because she had been of "a weak constitution" since childhood. After several years of perseverance practicing the devout life, she wanted to enter a religious order, but her relatives were opposed. Her father objected particularly, as there was another young daughter at home. She loved her father very much, and over time her prayers and constant entreaties prevailed and he consented at last, but he wept about it. She was sympathetic, but at the same time she also worried that he might revoke his consent, so she came eagerly to our monastery to ask admittance. This was readily granted, for the Sisters knew her merits, and several of them had known her even before they had entered religious life.

She edified everyone during her time in the novitiate by demonstrating submission to her director and the other superiors by her exact observance of the rule. She made her vows on May 8, 1817, becoming the last religious personally professed by Archbishop Leonard Neale, who died just over a month later.

She was known for her amiability, and although she restrained her natural vivacity in an appropriate manner, it was part of her character. She loved the sisters so much that she frequently said that she could perceive no fault in them. Although she was quite intelligent and could have handled any office of the house except that of Assistant Superior, her delicate health kept her in her status of associate sister. (Note: Associate Sisters were not obliged to recite the Divine Office sung in Latin in the choir, which occupied at least two hours in a sister's day. That prayer was replaced with more simple devotions such as the Rosary which could be prayed anywhere.)

She developed tuberculosis (then known as "consumption," and the same ailment that took Sister Mary Charity McAtee and many other sisters.) She was so ill that she never enjoyed a day's health. She took to her bed, an although she was failing, when the last sacraments were administered she received them with "lively devotion." She was indifferent to her own state and confident in God throughout her last moments. She retained her faculties until the last, making "acts and ejaculations" to God and calling on Our Lady and her other patron saints to assist her. When someone asked if she were resigned to die, she answered, "I desire nothing more, since such is the will of God." A few minutes later, "she yielded her happy soul to the hands of Him who created it. It was the evening of the 17th of April, 1818." She was 33 years old.

Media Mania

Just when some of us may feel as though there is an information overload and privation of privacy in the digital age in which we are living, an encouraging word from His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI comes our way. On Monday, as we celebrated the Solemnity of St. Francis de Sales and participated in the events of the March for Life, some of us were delighted to stumble upon this message for the 45th World Communications Day.

Many of us are only too familiar with the ways in which the boundless possibilities of the information age have served as a conduit for less-than-virtuous pursuits. From cyber-bullying and cyber-stalking to pornography and libel: we are well-acquainted with the "moving violations" along the information superhighway.

It is not without caution that Pope Benedict encourages the use of media for networking but it is a caution which we would do well to heed: one can never replace the tenderness of human contact, face to face encounters and live conversations with a computer screen and gradually slip into a state of isolation. That being said, we are encouraged to use the ever-evolving media to spread the Gospel message in new ways and to spread the hope of Christianity beyond our own -- often limited -- spheres of influence.

It is no accident that this message, prepared to be delivered on 5 June 2011 was issued on the day when we honor St. Francis de Sales. It is amusing to consider just what media tools St. Francis de Sales would use, were he alive today. We might be able listen to his homilies through podcast or perhaps we might subscribe to his blog. He would probably entertain spiritual questions and give advice over email. He might even carry a blackberry or iPhone when he travels so as to keep in touch with the many people who sought his advice. Perhaps he would have his own cafe press site with t-shirts and bumper stickers that say, "Be who you are and be that well" ... and mugs that read "There is nothing so strong as true gentleness and nothing so gentle as true strength." It is hard to imagine how exactly how this sharp mind and tender spirit would navigate today's digital age but one can safely bet that he would be making good use of the tools available to him, as suggested to us by Pope Benedict.

Archival Addition

Our next installment from the monastery archives takes us to the early part of the 19th century:

Sister Sophia Simplicia King was born in 1803 in Georgetown. Just as was noted in the lives of some of the other sisters, she was inclined to piety even from an early age. She was known for great "charity and liberality" that manifested itself in giving alms to the poor even when she was young; she seems to have come from a well-to-do family that made possible such generosity.

At age 15 she came to our academy and immediately impressed everyone, especially her teachers, with her amiable disposition. Until 1910 children were not allowed to make their first communion until they were a good bit older than they are now, usually their younger teens. She was prepared with "much fervour" for her first communion. She was an excellent student, and when she wasn't doing her schoolwork she was engaged in spiritual reading, "holy conversations," or prayer.

She soon expressed interest in becoming a religious, but her parents objected strenuously. She was the youngest child, they doted on her, and they knew she had many talents. However, she continued with her entreaties until they finally relented, and she entered our monastery in late July 1818. She received the habit on August 28, the feast day of St. Augustine.

Her most distinguishing characteristics were docility and exactness, although the latter quality could vex her to the point of scrupulosity. She only troubled herself, however, not others. She became ill during the subsequent year, causing her profession of vows to be delayed. By September 1819 she was worse, and the sisters knew she might not recover. Her parents asked that she be allowed to return to them, and she agreed to this. She continued to decline; the last sacraments were administered, and she died just a few days later on October 7, 1819. She was at her parents' home, but at our request and theirs as well, she was buried here. She was 17 years old.

The Mistake of the Pharisees

Today's Gospel recounts an exchange between the Pharisees and Our Lord which has a lot more to do with the heart of the men involved than with the heads of grain they were picking. A closer -- and more compassionate -- look at the Pharisees may help us to mine a spiritual lesson from the account. It is easy to dismiss the Pharisees we encounter in the Gospel as being obsessed with the details of Jewish law.

Consider, for a moment, the track record of the chosen people. A cursory check of the Old Testament reveals a pattern of broken promises. Each generation had its own struggle being faithful to the covenant with Yahweh. In the second century BC a group of men known to us as the Maccabees rebelled against what had a become a "watered down" expression of the Jewish religion. Part of their zeal manifested itself in a return to a faithful observance of the customs of their religion. They felt keenly the many infidelities of their ancestors (and their contemporaries) and they sought to reclaim the practices of their faith. If one were to consider the Pharisees to be the spiritual descendants of these courageous men we meet in the Old Testament, their fixation with a painstaking observance of the letter of the law becomes more understandable. Understandable: yes. Appropriate: no.

How often can we slip into the mindset of the Pharisees? Perhaps we do so inadvertently because we are of a temperament which has a proclivity for being rule-oriented or perhaps we do so because we are seeking to avoid a more appropriate -- but sometimes difficult or inconvenient -- response in a given situation. Most of us understand that it is disrespectful to talk in Church. By our body language and posture, we may communicate that we are preparing ourselves while we wait for Mass to begin. A neighbor whose company we find tiresome approaches us and makes light conversation. On the one hand, we may know that it is disrespectful to talk in Church; on the other hand, however, if we really examine our hearts, the respect that we may strive to show to the presence of Christ reserved in the Blessed Sacrament is the same respect that we owe to his little one who has approached us for a word of comfort or welcome. It may be "right" to refrain from talking in Church but, in this case, it is "wrong" to ignore the child of God who is at our side.

The Pharisees were so focused on the letter of the law that they overlooked the spirit in which it was written. Let us not make the same mistake. Rather than seeing this as an invitation not to follow civil or religious laws, we can see this as an invitation to follow the Lord and to understand spirit behind the law. A loving response toward that irksome neighbor who approaches us in Church would fulfill the law ... to overflowing; it would fulfill the law with a response worthy of the One who poured Himself out for us. A cold response -- as we seek a perfect posture of solemnity in Church -- would find us a seat among the Pharisees: perfect in observance but lacking in love. Let it never be that our following of the law allows us to stray from the path of following the Lord.

"The supreme law of the Church is the salvation of souls."

Canon 1752

More from the Treasure Trove!

As we dig through our archives, we uncover many interesting tidbits about our early sisters. Here, thanks to our trusty assistant in the archives, we share a biographical sketch from an 1817 letter written by Archbishop Leonard Neale, to the Superior of Annecy, the first Visitation community, founded in 1610.

When she was ten years old, around the year 1813, Sister Charlotte Isidore McNantz arrived at the Monastery as a boarding student. She was amiable, and understood fully God's grace in placing her here. In addition to her general love of God she was singularly devoted to Mary. She was a precise child who heeded all the rules of the house, but she also had a sweet temper combined with two particular virtues that stood out above others: prudence, and discretion in her conversation. The sisters loved to hear her speak, and they respected her for demonstrating wisdom far beyond her years. She had a tendency towards unspecified physical mortification that she might have pursued to the point of great pain but she was also submissive to her director, who restrained her. Instead, she practices interior mortification so constantly that she could almost not be prevailed upon to interrupt it.

She petitioned to be admitted to the community, but her request was initially denied as they considered her "fruitfully ripe for heaven," perhaps a euphemism for spiritual growth combined with physical frailty. Ultimately she did prevail, however, for a final note mentions that she received the white veil on March 25, 1817, with the name of Sister Isidora, and she was permitted to make her vows on March 29.

Within days she suffered an undefined "pulmonary complaint" but rather than being frightened, she rejoiced that she would soon be united with Mary. She asked for and received the last sacraments during Holy Week with fervor and spiritual joy. She prayed to die on Good Friday, hoping to expire in the same hour that Christ died on Mount Calvary. Her strength rallied, however, so she then prayed that she would pass on the day of the Resurrection. This prayer was granted, and she died on Easter Sunday, April 6, 1817 at approximately 14 years of age. Her confessor asserted that she "preserved her baptismal innocence," meaning she never committed a mortal sin.

Sister is remembered for a postmortem miracle, for death did not disfigure her. Instead, it left her even more beautiful. She seemed in repose, with lovely, vermilion lips, and a body that retained its flexibility. This appearance was so remarkable that the next day her attendants called in two non-Catholic physicians who testified to her condition and asserted that medical principles could not explain it.

Sister appeared to Archbishop Leonard Neale while he was on his deathbed, to guide him to eternity.

Return to the Ordinary

With the celebration of the Baptism of the Lord, we conclude the Christmas season and return to the green hues of ordinary time. If we listen carefully to the Gospel, however, we can be sure that there is nothing ordinary about the days between the Christmas season and Lent.

Today's familiar account of Jesus calling the fisherman is a call to all of us. Jesus may not appear in person at our workplace -- as he showed up on the shores of the sea of Galilee -- but he may come to us in other ways and ask us to leave behind something and, with him, to seek other shores. Perhaps we have a bad habit that we have been meaning to break or maybe we have slipped into a pattern of behaving which is comfortable but unhealthy. From time to time we may come to realize that our response to that cranky neighbor or our avoidance of that annoying aunt is not exactly how we are called to follow Christ. Like the disciples who were called to leave their nets -- their familiar livelihood -- we are called to leave behind those things in our life which keep us from following Christ closely.

When we, like the disciples, are "mending our nets" and we find that we are suddenly beckoned by the voice of a friend, a family member, our conscience, a sentence in the Gospel, a passage in our spiritual reading, etc., let us stop and listen. Perhaps we are being called to leave behind something that has, over time, become an easy pattern of behavior. Listening to and participating in office gossip might have seemed a bit uncomfortable at first, but when left unexamined for long enough, it can become surprisingly comfortable. Standing on the shores of this "comfort zone" we may hear the Lord inviting us to leave behind the nets that can trap us in ways we might never expect. During these "ordinary days" let us listen extraordinarily carefully to the voice of the Lord, inviting us to follow Him ever more closely, each day.

"After you have made this self-examination, confer with some holy director as to your shortcomings and their remedies . . . and above all, place yourself in the Presence of God, and earnestly ask His Grace to confirm you and keep you steadfast in His Holy Love and Service."

St. Francis de Sales

More Treasures from the Archives

Our good friend -- and proprietor of "Down the Streetza Pizza" -- has provided us with another peek into the monastery archives for the second posting in our historical series.

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Sister Ann Stanislaus Fenwick was born in St. Mary's County, Maryland, in 1756. More studious and prayerful than other children, she was an early reader who recited her prayers from memory. Around age 18 she began to teach poor children, instructing them in reading, writing, arithmetic, sewing, and catechism. Although she was typically meek, she had such a strong devotion to and respect for priests that "no one would have dared speak against a priest in her presence."

Sister was what we now call plus-sized (in their words "uncommon large"), and this distressed her to the point of abjection. She sometimes endured comments from strangers, and when she rode to Church on Sundays the cart had to be pulled by oxen because her weight strained the standard carriage. This made it difficult to enter religious life as early as she wished, because she required special assistance.

She finally appealed to her spiritual director, Archbishop Leonard Neale, founder of our Monastery. Although it was years before she was allowed to enter, she had made herself useful by assisting Neale in every office. "Nothing," the sister-biographer wrote, "could disturb her or put her out of her temper: her motto was the will of God." She finally entered this monastery sometime around 1800 at age 43 or 44.

Her biographer was a young nun who had grown up at the school and remembered her as a motherly figure to all the students, especially those who became sisters. The nuns believed there was something supernatural about her, and they often asked her to pray for them, during which prayers she would be "as immovable as a statue." Once on retreat "she was favoured with the sight of the state of her soul," which the sisters later interpreted as insight into the time and manner of her death.

Sometime during or after 1814 she developed what was then known as dropsy, a condition causing retention of fluid. She could not lie down or move without assistance and she suffered greatly, though reportedly without complaint. The sisters believed intimate union with God gave her the ability to predict her 1816 death the day before it occurred. Although they tried to care continuously for her, she was accurate that she would die alone, for she slipped away when a sister left just for a few minutes to receive Holy Communion. She was 60 years old.

Return of the Christmas Ass

No, this isn't a joke. It's true. The nearest live donkey is, most likely, at the "kids farm" at the National Zoo up on Connecticut Avenue -- just three short miles away. The nearest "spiritual donkey" is, however, right here on 35th Street. We honor a Christmas custom in our monastery -- of which no sister seems to know the origin -- whereby we draw billets on Christmas Eve before supper. Each little card has on it a person or an item which (in the mind's eye of the author) would have been present at the birth of Our Lord. Some of the cards include The Blessed Virgin Mary, St. Joseph, the Angels, the Shepherd, the straw in the manger, the owner of the stable, the lamp in the stable, the manger itself, the ox and ... that famous card number 19, the ass. Each card has a spiritual message and a virtue to be cultivated. For those who may have missed this post a few years ago, we reprint here the spiritual message for the sister lucky enough to be the "Christmas Ass" this year.

No. 19

The Ass.

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THE ASS KNOWETH HIS MASTER'S CRIB

(Is., 1,8)

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At the court of the king JESUS you will have the office of the Ass, which a GOD permitted to be near His crib.

Offer yourself very humbly to this divine King, to be engaged in the most abject services, since you are incapable of sublime and elevated employments. Resign yourself to suffer and to be despised in imitation of Our Lord; say to Him with the prophet King that you are as a beast of burden before Him; as Him to give you the understanding of Christian truths with humility of mind and heart.

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Practice: Love to be unknown and reputed as nothing.

Aspiration: My Saviour, give me the treasure of Thy humility.

Heinz Variety and Eyes of Faith

If a marketing company wanted to do a spotlight for today's Gospel, they could borrow the slogan from the 1980's Heinz ketchup advertisements: "Good things come to those who wait!" Perhaps no one in the history of mankind experienced this more profoundly than Simeon, whom we meet in today's Gospel. One can only glean, from today's Gospel account, that this man had a deep and personal relationship with God to have received a revelation that, before death, he would behold the Messiah.

It is probably not unreasonable to presume that many parents brought their children to the temple to be presented. Only a man with eyes of great faith would have been able to see the Triune God, veiled in the humanity of a fragile infant. And only a man deeply in touch with the Lord could have the keen discernment to recognize the carpenter's son as the Messiah.

We may not spend our days in a temple awaiting the fulfillment of a promise but we might consider that we live in the promise that Simeon awaited. The Lord is come. He was born in time, took on the frailty of our flesh, was crucified for our sins and has risen from the dead. The promise is fulfilled and we are heirs to this great patrimony.

As baptized Christians we believe that the Lord is present to us in our neighbors. As humans -- with clay feet -- most of us probably cannot help but to notice that some of our neighbors do a masterful job of hiding the Lord's presence by their countenance. Still, however, with hearts of faith, we know that the Lord is present to us in those who may annoy or irritate us. We are called to be like Simeon; we are called to see with eyes of faith and to recognize, in the frailty of our neighbors, the presence of the Lord. Let us ask the Lord for the grace to be attentive to his presence, as Simeon was, in the most unlikely of places.

"We are told to love one's neighbor as one's self. In token that we love him, we must not avoid being with him."

St. Francis de Sales

A "Technical" Christmas

Many readers will, no doubt, have already seen the very cleverly done video which depicts the Nativity using 21st century social media tools. One may well consider it a view of Christmas from a "technical" standpoint. What many may not realize, however, is that the very first Christmas day was also a highly "technical event" ... in the eyes of some.

In 325 at the Council of Niacea, the infamous Arian heresy was disputed and condemned. Arius, as well-intentioned as he was misguided, had proposed that Jesus was neither God nor man; he was, rather, somewhere in between: something akin to the demi-gods of the classical world. Arius used a "technical" term to describe Jesus: 'omoiousios, which means "to be like" or "to be similar." He asserted that Jesus was "similar in being" to God -- but not God. The Council Fathers, insisting that Jesus is truly God, countered with the term 'omoousios simply deleting the iota from Arius' term. This word means "the same as" -- as in "the same substance" or "the same being."

So, why all the fuss about a "technical," headache-provoking theological term on this happy and holy Christmas morning? Had it not been for the insight and perseverance of the Fathers of the Council of Niacea we would not be celebrating the Incarnation. One iota -- one little letter -- could have obscured this precious truth of our faith; it could have shattered all the Christmas balls on every tree and silenced all the "Glorias" which have been sung since that first Christmas night in Bethlehem. As we kneel before the creche today, let us whisper a prayer of thanksgiving for those heroic defenders of our faith who kept alive the legacy of this great mystery -- amid a very "technical" controversy -- 16 centuries before the advent of social media!

"God was united to our human nature by grace, as a vine to its elm, to make it in some sort participate in his fruit; but seeing this union undone by Adam's sin, he made another more close and pressing union in the Incarnation, whereby human nature remains forever joined in personal unity to the Divinity."

St. Francis de Sales

O Rex Gentium!

The "Great O" which we sing today contains the only phrase in an O Antiphon which is traced exclusively to the New Testament:

O King of the Nations, and their desire, the cornerstone, who makes both to be one: Come and save mankind, whom you formed from clay.

The phrase "who makes both to be one" appears to be a reference to St. Paul's letter to the Ephesians where he describes the reconciliation between the Jews and the Gentiles. That Christ came to bring salvation to all, not merely the people of Israel and their descendants, is indicated in this antiphon. Just as the previous antiphons show the clear relationship between the Old Testament covenant and Christ's fulfillment of that promise, this antiphon carries the fulfillment a step further as it is extended to those traditionally excluded from the promises made to the Israelites and their heirs.

As we intone this antiphon we draw ever closer to the manger in Bethlehem. Fellow travelers along the road ask us where we are going and we reply that the King awaits us. He does. The real question is, perhaps, do we believe that he is our King? Do we act as though he is the King of our hearts? Let us, these last days of Advent, make known that the desire of the nations is indeed the desire of our hearts. Let our actions and our words speak of him and let us invite others to journey with us as we approach the newborn King in the humble manger of our hearts where He is born anew each year.

Christmas Begins with an O!

Well, not really, but one could say that the Christmas season begins with an O. Seven of them, in fact. We know very little about these ancient antiphons which serve as a liturgical harbinger of the nativity of Our Lord. The little we do know, however, is as charming as it is fascinating: ledger books of ancient monasteries show large expenditures of money for items such as eggs, flour and other provisions beginning on the 17th of December. One can only imagine the feasting that accompanied these solemn days of preparation -- and celebration!

Today we sing the second of these Great "O" Antiphons:

O Adonai

O Lord, and Leader of the house of Israel, who appeared to Moses in the red fire of flame and gave him the law on Sinai: Come and redeem us with outstretched arm.

This antiphon takes the believer to the book of Exodus where God revealed Himself to Moses. The old covenant is ratified and the exchange between God and man is filled with imagery of fire and light. The fire which the Israelites saw atop the mountain was but a suggestion of the light that was to come in Christ. The second part of the antiphon, "come and redeem us with outstretched arm," is an echo of Yahweh's promise to Moses that "I will free you from the burdens which the Egyptians lay on you. I will release you from slavery to them, and with my arm outstretched and my strokes of power, I will deliver you" (Ex 6:6). The promise made to the people of Israel is seen in its fullness when it is considered in the light of Christ's redemptive death. As the people of Israel awaited freedom from their captors, so the Church awaits the birth of the Messiah.

The promise to be freed from one's captor may not seem relevant to most of us today. The temptations to become enslaved can be subtle. Sometimes we are tempted to make a "good thing" the center of our lives: be it our work, our ministry, our studies, a particular project, etc. It may seem impossible to be "tempted" by something good. When we replace Christ as the central focus of our life, however, we take a great risk of becoming a prisoner. This is not to suggest that we should not apply ourselves diligently to our work, our responsibilities, our studies -- and even our play. Indeed, we should! Whether we are religious men and women, parents with children, single Christians, etc., Christ is the end of all we do. He blesses all that we do in his name and for his glory -- it matters little whether it is sweeping a floor, changing a diaper or working at a desk. We are freed from becoming prisoners of our work, our responsibilities or our hobbies when we keep Christ at the center of all we do. We have only to let Him in when he comes, for he comes with arms outstretched.

"Trifling temptations . . . flit around one like flies or gnats, now settling on one's nose -- later stinging one's cheek -- it is wholly impossible altogether to free one's self from their importunity; the best resistance one can make is not to be fretted by them. All these things may worry one, but they cannot really harm us, so long as our wills are firmly resolved to serve God."

St. Francis de Sales

Jubilee Year Ends!

Last January we began our 400th Anniversary year complete with special Masses, celebrations, gatherings, pilgrimages, a decree from the Apostolic Penitentiary granting plenary indulgences, and untold graces for many who shared in this celebration. Although the jubilee year *technically* ended on Sunday 12 December, the anniversary of the death of St. Jane de Chantal, His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI is personally closing the jubilee with a Mass of Thanksgiving on Tuesday 14 December. By the time most patrons of our blog read this, he will have celebrated Mass for the community of Visitation sisters who are living in Vatican city as part of the jubilee celebration.

Below is an excerpt from an English translation of the Pope's letter to the Superior of our Monastery of Annecy and entire Order, worldwide:

"During this year when the Order of the Visitation of Holy Mary is celebrating the fourth centenary of its foundation, I am happy to unite myself in thought and in prayer with the Visitation nuns throughout the world who are living a life of prayer and work in the spirit given to them by Saint Francis de Sales and Saint Jane de Chantal. . . . At the heart of the spirituality of the Visitation of Holy Mary is the seeking of holiness in one's daily occupations through gentleness and humility, simplicity and peace of heart and by doing 'all through love, nothing through constraint.' . . . This heritage given to you by your Holy Founders contains great significance for today's world where men and women feel more and more burdened as they cope with the crushing weight of self-fulfillment at any cost and with the hedonism which makes everyone, especially our young people, fragile and without defense. . . . Confiding to the intercession of the Virgin Mary and to that of Saint Francis de Sales and Saint Jane de Chantal, I send to each community, to each sister, and to all the persons who are in spiritual relation with you, a most cordial apostolic blessing."

Vatican City

Benedict XVI

A Peek into the Archives

We have a very special series to share with our readers. It is taken from the handwritten Book of Records Containing an Abridgement of the Lives and Deaths of the Members of this Community, located in our Monastery archives. The book contains 19 lives that we will post one at a time at the approximate pace of one per week. There is much more to say about each sister than can or should be recorded on this blog, but the series will offer a glimpse into the past. Our Sister Archivist is overseeing this project with a member of Georgetown University's faculty, who, although she will remain nameless, can easily be identified by the amazing homemade pizza (from down the "streetza") she provided for our September movie night.

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Sister Charity McAtee was born 1782 in Charles County, Maryland, to parents of modest means. There was a nearby Carmelite convent, but she encountered unspecified obstacles attempting to join that order and instead turned to the Visitation house in Georgetown. With her parents' consent she entered on July 23, 1809, age 27. After four years her health began to decline, and she developed consumption (today known as tuberculosis), dying at age 32 or 33 on April 2, 1815, the first Sunday after Easter. She retained the rank of lay sister, which meant she did domestic duties, cooking, cleaning, etc. in the monastery and school. She might possibly have assisted in the domestic care of the students. It also usually meant that she lacked even a basic education; confirmation of this can be found when the annual vow book is signed with an X instead of her name. These handwritten biographies by surviving sisters are characteristically florid, but if one reads between the lines, she seems to be praised particularly for evenness of disposition, modesty, submission, and deeming others superior to herself.

As a note, the convent where she did not enter was the Carmel of Port Tobacco, founded in 1790 in Charles County and now located in Baltimore. It was founded by Charles Neale, brother to two other famous Neales: Archbishop Leonard Neale who founded our monastery and school, and Francis Neale who founded Holy Trinity parish two blocks away from us. Their cousin was John Carroll, founder of Georgetown University.

Obstacle Removal Continues

If we might think of this most sacred season of Advent as a time of removing obstacles then today's Gospel offers us an inspiring example of this practice. The friends of the paralyzed man were not able to bring their lame companion to the Lord on account of the crowd. They went in the proverbial back door by lowering their friend through the roof and landing, as the Gospel tells us, in "the middle in front of Jesus."

How often do we feel at an impasse in a difficult situation? Perhaps we even feel paralyzed in some cases. Maybe we feel unable to respond in a loving way to someone who has hurt us; it may be the case that we feel unable to approach someone whom we have hurt, in order to apologize. Whatever our form of paralysis, let us follow the example of the "stretcher-carriers" in today's Gospel; let us go straight to Jesus to be healed. Let us put aside the obstacles that keep us from doing this: fear, busyness, preoccupation, etc., and let us run to the Lord.

We cannot, of ourselves, "get up and walk" when we have been injured and -- in some cases -- injured badly. We cannot "get up and walk" until we are healed. It is no different for our spiritual maladies. We cannot will ourselves to respond lovingly to one who has hurt us without the grace of God. We cannot ask for forgiveness when we have been wrong without the humility that comes from the Lord. So, let us take our wounds to "the middle in front of Jesus" and let us "go home glorifying God" because of His great mercy.

"The Lord will be as a healing balm to say and soothe our heart in time of spiritual sickness, --he will shield us from evil, and confirm that which is good in us, and when we fall through infirmity, he will avert the deadly nature of the evil, and raise us up again."

St. Francis de Sales

Happy 5th Birthday, Blog!

Yesterday, on 1 December 2010, "Live + Jesus" celebrated its 5th birthday in the Catholic blog-o-sphere. It's hard to believe but we've been "parishioners" at St. Blog's parish since 2005 when we decided to make the foray into the world of push-button publishing.

We weren't sure exactly how to feel about having a blog and we did not know exactly what we would say on our blog or what kinds of things we might share with our readers. In fact, we weren't even sure we would have many readers. Five years, 570 blog posts 105,000 visits and 165,000 page views later, we are quite happy we took the plunge and decided to share a little window into monastic life here on Thirty-Fifth Street.

In fact, we were delighted to discover that some little robot from outer space found our blog and actually thinks it is worth reading. We're not exactly sure how he heard about us, but we think his news report is OUT OF THIS WORLD! Do enjoy a 2-minute chuckle.

Setting Out on the Journey

As we begin this most sacred season of Advent, we may think of this season as a time to remove obstacles on our journey to the manger. Those of us who pray the Liturgy of the Hours will be spending a great deal of time with the prophet Isaiah during the Office of Readings. One may look at this book as one which calls us to embrace hope and to reject the temptation to give in to pride. Isaiah felt that the judgment and punishment which the Israelites brought upon themselves were due to Israel's and Judah's pride, made manifest in their desire to shape their own destiny instead of being faithful to Yahweh's covenant for them. Despite the gloom and doom of his words, Isaiah called the Israelites to wait in hope for the coming of a Messiah, the promised descendant of David's line.

His word still speaks to us today as it calls us to be vigilant in keeping our eyes and our hearts on the star as we set out on this four-week pilgrimage to the birthplace of our savior. Let us look carefully in our hearts and ask ourselves what obstacles might stand in the way as we journey to Bethlehem. Do we need to reconcile with someone at work, at home, at Church? Do we need to examine how we spend our time? Do we need to spend more time with the Lord, more time in prayer, more time with our family, with our friends? Do we need to be more patient with someone in our life? Let us find the obstacles, the detours and roadblocks and let us ask for the grace to negotiate them in a way which will help us to grow in grace as we approach the manger later this month.

"Our dear Savior and Master came to teach both the little and the great, the learned and the simple. Yet we almost always find Him among the poor and simple. How different is God's spirit from that of the world!"

St. Francis de Sales (Advent Sermon 1620)

Thanksgiving Leftovers

As most of us in America celebrate the secular holiday of Thanksgiving, we might profit from adding a Christian flavor to our holiday and to all the days that follow.

"Dedicate yourselves to thankfulness. Let the word of Christ, rich as it is, dwell in you" (Col 3:12).

It is a good practice to pause as we celebrate Thanksgiving and to give thanks for the many blessings we have received. It is a better, practice, however, to make sure that the "leftovers" last all year long. Long after the last turkey sandwich (with stuffing inside) has been eaten and the remains of the pumpkin pie enjoyed, we might do well to savor the spirit of Thanksgiving in our daily life. Let us keep before our eyes, a deep sense of the Lord's goodness to us in the many gifts we receive on a daily basis. Perhaps our Thanksgiving leftovers may last us the whole year through!

"Is it possible that I was loved, and loved so tenderly by my Savior, that He should have thought of me individually, and in all these details by which He has drawn me to Himself? With what love and gratitude ought I to use all He has given me?"

St. Francis de Sales

The Power of Prayer

We're pretty sure that if St. Francis de Sales were alive today he would be using the Internet to spread the Good News and to encourage his readers to grow in holiness. In some small way, we try to be worthy daughters of this great patron saint of journalists by sharing bits and pieces of his patrimony with you, our dear readers. The Internet does seem to be evolving into an effective means of aiding in the noble work of evangelization!

In addition to being a medium for spreading the Gospel (and, in our case, sharing tidbits of monastery life) the world of push-button publishing makes the global world much smaller. News travels faster; rumors and false-reports spread like wildfire; on account of the Internet maps, directions and weather reports are at our fingertips and the encyclopedia salesman has had to hang up his briefcase. One other advantage to this fast-paced new medium is the "ripple effect" (sometimes called "going viral" ... which sounds scary!) of one message, picture or video reaching the eyes -- and hearts -- of millions.

In an effort to help spread awareness of a special intention, we share here the special intention of a seminarian in need of prayers. Philip Johnson is a seminarian at St. Charles Borromeo in Philadelphia who is studying for the diocese of Raleigh, NC. He is currently undergoing chemotherapy for a brain tumor. Those who wish to join their prayers, are invited to take part in a Novena which will begin on 29 November and conclude on 8 December. Links to the Novena prayer (in English and Spanish) as well as a letter from his bishop asking for prayers can be found here. Do join in the prayer brigade; for where two or three are gathered . . .

The Tiny Tax Collector

Today's Gospel affords us both a spiritual and syntactical example.

First things first, the spiritual example is a charming one: a grown man, disliked by his own people because his job as tax collector implied that he colluded with the Roman authorities, climbs a tree to catch a glimpse of Jesus. One might not have difficulty imagining a teenager climbing a tree to see a rock star at an outdoor concert; the sight of a grown man scaling a tree with no indication of any concern for the opinions of those around him would surely have been the target of finger-pointing and head-turning.

We, too, should be unselfconscious when we seek the Lord in our daily life. Our quest may not take us up a sycamore tree, but it may take us some places which are equally precarious and similarly uncomfortable. When we encounter someone who treats us unkindly it is often difficult to reach out after we have been rejected or ignored. We may feel like walking in the opposite direction just so as not to have eye contact and risk feeling the discomfort of a cold stare. When we go out of our way to reach out to this distant neighbor, we are seeking out Christ. We, like the first-century tax collector in today's Gospel, sometimes have to behave in ways that will draw more attention that we might have wanted. We should not be surprised to overhear our colleagues say things like, "Why is she talking to him? He's always rude to everyone!" Or, we may fear that people will treat us differently if we begin to reach out to the local crosspatch. Let us not be concerned about how uncomfortable it can be to perch ourselves atop this tree of virtue. Rather, we should be emboldened by the knowledge that when we earnestly seek the Lord, we will see Him and He will come ever closer to us.

Our syntactical example is almost as charming as the image of the sycamore-scaling Zacchaeus and it speaks to the importance of identifying clearly the antecedents we use. The English translation of today's Gospel reads: "Now a man there named Zacchaeus, who was a chief tax collector and also a wealthy man, was seeking to see who Jesus was; but he could not see him because of the crowd, for he was short in stature." There is no indication in the passage of who "he" was who was short. Was it Jesus or Zacchaeus? English, not being an inflected language, lacks the ability to make this distinction. A cursory check of the Greek text, however, would reveal that the antecedent to the ambiguous "he" is, in fact, the diminutive tax collector. Without the original text to confirm the case of the pronoun, one might be left wondering.

"Blessed is the soul that seeks God alone. For she will find him everywhere and everywhere she will seek what she has found."

St. Jane de Chantal

Featured Film

November's all-night Adoration and movie night on the 19th will feature the1956 classic film, "Miracle of Marcelino." The 90-minute story features an orphan who is raised in a Spanish monastery where his puerile antics wreak havoc for the monks.

The little boy's insatiable curiosity and his mischievous ways pave the way for a life-changing encounter with the Lord. This touching film continues to charm viewers (and keep Kleenex in business.)

Adoration begins at 7pm in the Chapel and movie go-ers may gather in the front hall by 7.15 to head up to the Little Odeon for pizza and our featured film. Don't miss this enchanting story!

Locals who would like to attend, may RSVP to the FB event here; or, they may email us directly.

A Century in Review

Last Sunday, when many of our neighbors were out ringing doorbells, we were ringing in a new century. Our Sister Mary Raphael, about whom we wrote last week, celebrated her one hundredth birthday on Halloween. To honor our centenarian, the community performed a skit which highlighted events from sister's life: a fondness for map-reading, making washcloths for WWI soldiers, disciplining children, learning to dance and putting Mary Kay out of business with her very own wrinkle-busting exercises. The skit was written and directed by our Sister Archivist, costumed by our Sister Refectorian; it starred almost all 20 nuns, one postulant and our visiting retreatant. The opening song was penned by our Sister Organist and some of the more unusual (and un-monastic) props were procured thanks to our faithful friends and benefactors. We hope you enjoy a 5 minute visit to our recreation last Sunday evening.

Hoof Tracks

There is usually a mixed feeling of relief and frustration when, at long last, we find someone for whom we have been searching. We feel relieved because our search is over and we have been safely united with the object of our quest. We do, however, at times feel a surge of frustration: perhaps a misunderstanding or miscommunication necessitated the "search" in the first place; maybe we did not anticipate having to circle the airport 50 times before finding our party for pick-up; and dare we muse about how we ever managed to "find" people in the dark ages, before the advent of cell phones? Surely, most of us have experienced this angst-ridden relief at finding the person for whom we were looking.

We know for sure that there were no GPS tracking devices embedded in the hooves of the sheep we hear about in today's Gospel. The shepherd who left 99 sheep unattended did not have a ETA and a cheerful voice offering to "recalculate" every time he took a wrong turn in search of his wandering ungulate. One can only imagine the frustration in the heart of this good shepherd as he searched for his missing mammal. Of the many lessons and truths hidden in this parable, perhaps one of the most striking is the manner in which the lost sheep was treated. The searching shepherd -- if he felt any frustration -- did not show the least bit of annoyance. He does not merely pick up and carry home the lost sheep; rather, "he sets it on his shoulders with great joy."

We might expect a proud parent to set a child on his shoulders when the celebrated offspring has done something meritorious. Getting lost is hardly a behavior which parents seek to reinforce (with good reason!) Principles of good parenting aside, the lesson for us, perhaps, is the gentleness with which the straying sheep was treated. How easy it is to be unkind to those who have inconvenienced us. How quickly we can forget the mercies shown to us by the Lord! How do we treat those in our lives who have strayed: from us, from the Church, from virtue, from a spouse, from family? The next time we have an opportunity to show our frustration or unleash our vexation, let us ask for the grace to imitate the good shepherd in today's parable and, with joy, bend our shoulders to carry the burden of a lost soul.

"You will catch more flies with a spoonful of honey than a barrel of vinegar."

St. Francis de Sales