Essays

1. The pattern of all life

For 13 million years, since the Big Bang until now, death has been part of life. We know that, and as Christians we believe that death is the prelude to new life. We call it the Paschal Mystery. But what do these words, Paschal Mystery, mean, asks Good Samaritan Sister Patty Fawkner?
BY Patty Fawkner SGS
I’m a bush walker – have been for years. On the first morning of a recent summer holiday, I was keen to explore a coastal walk in a National Park.
The track began in the hinterland of beautiful, soldier-straight gums and then gently snaked down to a secluded bay. The weather was balmy, the turquoise ocean and honey-coloured sandstone rocks were picture perfect. How happy was I, until…
Until I had to scramble over the rocks. My spirit was willing, my experience impressive, but my body balked. I, who, à la Superwoman, was once able to leap tall obstacles in a single bound, who once climbed Mt Kilimanjaro, found that my clambering days were over – gone.
“You’re not as young as you used to be,” the rocks mocked me. Somehow, tediously, I managed to inch my way over the rocks to a stretch of sand, more suitable for a woman of my ilk to navigate.
I feel keenly the loss of my agility. “It happens to all of us,” a friend reminds me. She’s right. It happens every day. These daily ‘deaths’ are inscribed in life. I don’t get that promotion, I feel betrayed by my Church, I discover my darling child is on drugs, my hearing lessens, I am “de-friended”…
For 13 million years, since the Big Bang until now, death has been part of life. We know that, and as Christians we believe that death is the prelude to new life. We call it the Paschal Mystery. We celebrate the Paschal Mystery of Christ’s death and resurrection liturgically from Good Friday through Easter; we celebrate it in every Eucharist. It’s the central belief of the Christian faith.
But what do these words, Paschal Mystery, mean? What do they communicate? Are the words yet another example of religious language that alienates or is unintelligible to all, save a tiny religious elite?
Would talking about the Paschal Mystery pass any ‘pub test’? Methinks not. Yet, I have found one explanation of the Paschal Mystery which certainly speaks to me – even helping me come to terms with the grief I feel for the loss of any physical prowess I once enjoyed.
Canadian priest and author, Ronald Rolheiser’s best-selling book, The Holy Longing, has a chapter entitled “A Spirituality of the Paschal Mystery”. I read it years ago when I had a newly-minted theology degree under my belt. The book helped me understand the Paschal Mystery pattern of life in a richer way than many of the academic tomes I had been studying.
The Paschal Mystery, explains Rolheiser, doesn’t conclude at Easter. There are five key moments or events that form an organic process – that of Good Friday, Easter Sunday, the 40 days after Easter, Ascension and Pentecost. Rolheiser offers a colloquial rewording:
Good Friday: the loss of life – real death
Easter Sunday: the reception of new life
The 40 Days: a time for readjustment to the new and grieving the old
Ascension: letting go of the old and letting it bless you; the refusal to cling
Pentecost: the reception of new spirit for the new life that one is already living
Like Jesus, we too shall die, and, because of him, we are able to pray that our earthly life will also be transformed. Yet our own paschal mystery is not a once-off end-of-life experience. With eyes to see and faith to believe, it can be recognised as the pattern of all life.
The decline and deaths we endure – our Good Fridays – are many and varied. We suffer the loss of our youth, our dreams, our wholeness, the hopes we have for our family or community, the images we hold of God or our loved ones, and our trust in our institutions. No honeymoon lasts. Like an old fool I can cling to realities that have died, just like the caricature of the mid-lifer whose clothes and newly-acquired younger partner display a futile attempt to halt the ravages of time.
So focussed on our loss, we can miss noticing, let alone appreciating, the new life we have been given. We are like the disciples who failed to initially recognise the Risen Jesus on that Easter morning. “Don’t cling to me,” Jesus tells Mary Magdalene. In other words, don’t cling on to what I was. “See I am doing a new thing. Can you not see it?” (Isaiah 43:19).
The “40 Days”, Rolheiser suggests, is a period of grieving for what we have lost and adjusting to our new reality. Religious people can deny or repress this step by rushing to “spiritualise” the human experience, pasting over the ache and bewilderment of loss with pious platitudes such as, “God only takes those he [sic] loves”. Our culture, too, entices us with drugs, alcohol and every conceivable distraction to anaesthetise the pain of suffering and loss.
We need to grieve and to grieve well. We need to lament. The people of ancient Israel knew this; there are more psalms of lament – cries of anger, protest and doubt – in the Book of Psalms, than hymns of praise. Lament, it has been said, means to “taste the tears of God”. How then do we come together to communally taste the tears of God and taste the tears of children betrayed and abused while in the Church’s care? “Mourn, my people, mourn,” pleads Henri Nouwen. “Let your pain rise up in your heart and burst forth in you with sobs and cries… Mourn the way you were robbed of your innocence.”
Good grieving means not just coming to terms with what has died and gone, but allowing it to bless us. This is Rolheiser’s Ascension moment. To paraphrase Jesus: “It’s actually better for you that I go away. Yes, you’ll be sad, but your sadness will turn to joy. If I don’t go away, you won’t be able to receive my spirit. Don’t cling; I must ascend” (cf John 16:7; 20:17).
Good grieving allows me to experience the sorrow of my losses but also the pleasure of what I still have. Instead of being embittered by my ageing body, can I modify my expectations and goals and continue to enjoy the delight that a walk in the bush can give? Can I be grateful for what my body can do, rather than what it can’t do? I may not be able to scramble, but I can certainly stroll. And I can recall and allow the wonderful memories of all that my younger body experienced and enjoyed, to bless me for the life I’m living now.
I need a new spirit for my life with its constantly-changing circumstances. At this time of my life I know I need the spirit of graciousness, patience (still!) and courage. I need the grace to manage and accept the ‘unfixables’ of my body and within my life. I need the grace to resist playing the ‘if only game’. If only I was more mobile. If only I was more appreciated. If only I had made a different choice. If only…
All of us are in need of Pentecost to gift us with a new spirit and the particular graces to live the life we’re actually living now – a life different from the one we lived, say, one, ten, 20 or 60 years ago.
The Gospel is indeed Good News and God is indeed gracious. We see this in the post-Resurrection stories where Jesus graciously comes to each person as they need it – to a weeping Mary Magdalene, to two dispirited disciples walking to Emmaus, to a doubting Thomas, to a mortified Peter, and to hungry disciples after a night’s fishing.
During the coming Easter break, perhaps we could find a moment or two for some quiet reflection about our lives in all their changing circumstances. What is it that has died? What am I finding hard to let go of? What sprigs of new life can I perceive? And I do not have to do this alone.
The Paschal Mystery is the promise that our loving God enters into our lives, recognises our need and transforms our brokenness. Our gracious God is constantly doing a “new thing”, giving us the Spirit to live our life – not as it should be or could be – but as it is now. Amen!

Patty Fawkner

Good Samaritan Sister Patty Fawkner is an adult educator, writer and facilitator with formal tertiary qualifications in arts, education, theology and spirituality. Patty is interested in exploring what wisdom the Christian tradition has for contemporary issues. She has an abiding interest in questions of justice and spirituality. In September 2017, Patty was elected as Congregational Leader of the Sisters of the Good Samaritan at their 26th Chapter Gathering.

This article was first published in The Good Oil, the e-magazine of the Good Samaritan Sisters
Link:https://www.goodsams.org.au

2. Monks in Our Midst: Joan Chittister. “Let the Call be Heard.”

Address presented by Joan to the Fourth World Congress of Benedictine Oblates.

Rome. November 4-10,  2017.

See the full text of the address at:

3. Sister Joan Chittister

Published on Dec 4, 2012.

Sister Joan Chittister talks about new ideas in faith and contemporary science that are challenging the traditional hierarchical view of women’s place and role in society. She is a Benedictine Sister of Erie, Pennsylvania; an author of over forty-five books; and a founding member of The Global Peace Initiative of Women, a partner organization of the UN.

4. Lectio Divina.  (Fr. Luke Dysinger)

Accepting the Embrace of God:

The Ancient Art of Lectio Divina

By Fr. Luke Dysinger, O.S.B.

The Process of Lectio Divina

A very ancient art, practiced at one time by all Christians, is the technique known as lectio divina—a slow, contemplative praying of the scripture1 which enables the Bible, the Word of God, to become a means of union with God. This ancient practice has been kept alive in the Christian treasures of Benedictine monastics and oblates. Together with the Liturgy and daily manual labor, time set aside in a special way for lectio divina enables us to discover in our daily life an underlying spiritual rhythm. Within this rhythm we discover an increasing ability to offer more of ourselves and our relationships to the Father, and to accept the embrace that God is continuously extending to us in the person of his Son Jesus Christ.

Lectio—reading/listening

The art of lectio divina begins with cultivating the ability to listen deeply, to hear “with the ears of our hearts” as St. Benedict encourages us in the Prologue to the Rule. When we read the Scriptures we should try to imitate the prophet Elijah. We should allow ourselves to become women and men who are able to listen for the still, small voice of God (1 Kings 19:12); the “faint murmuring sound” which is God’s word for us, God’s voice touching our hearts. This gentle listening is an “atunement” to the presence of God in that special part of God’s creation which is the Scriptures.

The cry of the prophets to ancient Israel was the joy-filled command to “Listen!” “Sh’ma Israel: Hear, O Israel!” In lectio divina we, too, heed that command and turn to the Scriptures, knowing that we must “hear”—listen—to the voice of God, which often speaks very softly. In order to hear someone speaking softly we must learn to be silent. We must learn to love silence. If we are constantly speaking or if we are surrounded with noise, we cannot hear gentle sounds. The practice of lectio divina, therefore, requires that we first quiet down to hear God’s word for us. This is the first step of lectio divina, appropriately called lectio—reading.

The reading or listening which is the first step in lectio divina is very different from the speed reading which modern Christians apply to newspapers, books, and even to the Bible. Lectio is reverential reading; listening both in a spirit of silence and of awe. We are listening for the still, small voice of God that will speak to us personally—not loudly, but intimately. In lectio, we read slowly, attentively, gently listening to hear a word or phrase that is God’s word for us this day.

Meditatio—meditation

Once we have found a word or a passage in the Scriptures which speaks to us in a personal way, we must take it in and “ruminate” on it. The image of the ruminant animal quietly chewing its cud was used in antiquity as a symbol of the Christian pondering the Word of God. Christians have always seen an icon of lectio divina in the Blessed Virgin Mary “pondering in her heart” what she saw and heard of Christ (Luke 2:19). For us today these images are a reminder that we must take in the word—that is, memorize it—and while gently repeating it to ourselves, allow it to interact with our thoughts, our hopes, our memories, our desires. This is the second step or stage in lectio divinameditatio. Through meditatio we allow God’s word to become his word for us, a word that touches us and affects us at our deepest levels.

Oratio—prayer

The third step in lectio divina is oratio—prayer: prayer understood both as dialog with God, that is, as loving conversation with the One who has invited us into His embrace; and as consecration, prayer as the priestly offering to God of parts of ourselves that we have not previously believed God wants. In this consecration-prayer we allow the word that we have taken in and on which we are pondering to touch and change our deepest selves. Just as a priest consecrates the elements of bread and wine at Eucharist, God invites us in lectio divina to hold up our most difficult and pain-filled experiences to Him, and to gently recite over them the healing word or phrase he has given us in our lectio and meditatio. In this oratio, this consecration-prayer, we allow our real selves to be touched and changed by the word of God.

Contemplatio—contemplation

Finally, we simply rest in the presence of the One who has used His word as a means of inviting us to accept His transforming embrace. No one who has ever been in love needs to be reminded that there are moments in loving relationships when words are unnecessary. It is the same in our relationship with God. Wordless, quiet rest in the presence of the One Who loves us has a name in the Christian tradition—contemplatio, contemplation. Once again we practice silence, letting go of our own words; this time simply enjoying the experience of being in the presence of God.


1[Or another good book, such as one you might find at the Christian Classics Ethereal Library, https://www.ccel.org/info/lectio.htm]

For more information: https://www.saintandrewsabbey.com/Lectio_Divina_s/267.htm

5. A Plea For Fishing.

By Ps John Drescher

Is a person a fisherman if year after year he never catches any fish?

Now it came to pass that a group existed who called themselves fishermen. And yes, there were many fish in the waters all around. In fact the whole area was surrounded by streams and lakes filled with fish. And the fish were hungry.

Week after week, month after month, and year after year these who called themselves fishermen met in meetings and talked about their call to fish, the abundance of fish, and how they might go about fishing. Year after year they carefully defined what fishing means, defended fishing as an occupation, and declared that fishing is always to be a primary task of fishermen.

Continually they searched for new and better methods of fishing and for new and better definitions of fishing. Further they said, “The fishing industry exists by fishing as fire exists by burning” They loved slogans such as ”Fishing is the task of every fisherman”, “Every fisherman is a fisher” and ”A fisherman’s outpost for every fisherman’s club”. They sponsored special meetings called ”Fisherman’s Campaigns” and “Month for Fishermen to Fish”. They sponsored costly nationwide and worldwide congresses to discuss fishing and to promote fishing and hear about all the ways of fishing such as the new fishing equipment, fish calls, and whether any new bait was discovered. These fishermen built large, beautiful buildings called Fishing Headquarters. The plea was that everyone should be a fisherman and every fisherman should fish. One thing they didnt do however, they didn’t fish.

In addition to meeting regularly, they organized a board to send out fishermen to other places where there were many fish. All the fishermen seemed to agree that what is needed is a board which could challenge fishermen to be faithful in fishing. The board was formed by those who had the great vision and courage to speak about fishing, to define fishing, and to promote the idea of fishing in faraway streams and lakes where many other fish of different colours lived. Also the board hired staff and appointed committees and held many meetings to defyne fishing, to defend fishing, and to decide what new streams should be thought about. But the staff and committee members did not fish.

Large, elaborate, and expensive training centers were built whose original and primary purpose was to teach fishermen how to fish. Over the years courses were offered on the needs of fish, the nature of fish, where to find fish, the psychological reactions of fish, and how to approach and feed fish. Those who taught had doctorates in fishology. But the teachers did not fish. They only taught fishing. Year after year, after tedious training, many were graduated and were given fishing licenses. They were sent to do full-time fishing, some to distant waters which were filled with fish. Year after year they declared that fishing is always to be a primary task of fishermen.

Some spent much study and travel to learn the history of fishing and to see faraway places where the founding fathers did great fishing in the centuries past. They lauded the faithful fishermen of years before who handed down the idea of fishing.

Further, the fishermen built large printing houses to publish fishing guides. Presses were kept busy day and night to produce materials solely devoted to fishing methods, equipment, and programs to arrange and to encourage meetings to talk about fishing. A speakers bureau was also provided to schedule special speakers on the subject of fishing.

Many who felt the call to be fishermen responded. They were commissioned and sent to fish. But like the fishermen back home they never fished. Like the fishermen back home they engaged in all kinds of other occupations. They built power plants to pump water for fish and tractors to plow new waterways.

They made all kinds of equipment to travel here and there to look at fish hatcheries. Some also said they wanted to be part of the fishing party, but they felt called to furnish fishing equipment. Others felt their job was to relate to the fish in a good way so the fish would know the difference between good and bad fishermen. Others felt that simply letting the fish know they were nice, land-loving neighbors and how loving and kind they were was enough.

After one stirring  meeting on “The Necessity for Fishing”, one young fellow left the meeting and went fishing. The next day he reported he had caught two outstanding fish. He was honored for his excellent catch and scheduled to visit all the big meetings possible to tell how he did it. So he quit his fishing in order to have time to tell about the experience to the other fishermen. He was also placed on the Fishermen’s General Board as a person having considerable experience.

Now it’s true that many of the fishermen sacrificed and put up with all kinds of difficulties. Some lived near the water and bore the smell of dead fish every day. They received the ridicule of some who made fun of their fishermen’s clubs and the fact that they claimed to be fishermen yet never fished. They wondered about those who felt it was of little use to attend the weekly meetings to talk about fishing. After all, were they not following the Master who said, “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men?”

Imagine how hurt some were when one day a person suggested that those who didn’t catch fish were really not fishermen, no matter how much they claimed to be. Yet it did sound correct. Is a person a fisherman if year after year he never catches a fish? Is one following if he isn’t fishing?


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