Thealogical Lady: A Blog

Spirit Whispers: Mother

6/30/2014

When Paul writes to the church at Thessalonica, he compares the ministry of himself and his fellow leaders to that of a mother.

But we were gentle among you, like a nursing mother tenderly caring for her own children. So deeply do we care for you that we are determined to share with you not only the gospel of God but also our own selves, because you have become very dear to us.
-Thessalonians 2:7b-8

This ministry is one of gentleness, of refreshment, of steady abiding-with that overflows with love. He regards the members of the Thessalonian church as very dear.

Belonging now to a church in which the vocations of women to ordained ministry are recognized and fully accepted, I find fresh meaning in this. In this passage, Paul is unafraid of comparing himself and other leaders to devoted women. In recommending himself to the Thessalonian church, he embraces a maternal image. In mothering, goodness may be found. In mothering, loyalty may be found. In mothering, unfettered love may be found. In mothering, all the nourishment a young one needs may be found.

To be a gracious, loving, effective, Godly minister, in this passage, is to be a mother.

I am grateful to be part of a church that embraces the title of "Mother" for its female priestly ministers. When I consider the call I hear to priestly ministry, considering it in terms of mothering enriches it beyond what any book on priesthood might say. Mothering is something I get. Mothering implies total commitment, total love, and totally deep joy--even in the midst of difficulties and trials. I would give anything for my children, including my life.

Isn't this what the high priest, Jesus the Christ, does?

Spirit Whispers: Unworthy

6/27/2014

Through my silence practice every morning this week, my life has grown very quiet, and I'm noticing a new tone in my discernment about priestly call.

My failings and faults have surfaced with a most poignant sting. I've started questioning the call I'm hearing. I've dared the call I hear to change, to go away.

The funny (read: frustrating) part is that even as I've allowed myself to feel anxiety and doubt and worry during these silences, the call I hear hasn't wavered.

I hear this call even though I'm not perfect, not the best fit, not the holiest person, not the most balanced person, not the cookie cutter candidate.

As I continue to hear this call, I acknowledge that the outcome of all this discernment is irrelevant. My listening--my obedience--is the only thing that matters to the one I call God.

Will I continue to offer over my whole heart, no matter what outcome that offering brings forth?

Spirit Whispers: Come and listen to me

6/21/2014

I began a spiritual practice of silence this morning--ten minutes, first thing after getting the baby her morning milk, eyes closed, hands and body open to receive.

One thing I received was the final phrase from a Taizé song: "Come and listen to me." I couldn't remember in that moment what song it came from--all I could remember were those words. Without context, the words took new shape. Was God bidding? Was I bidding? Was someone else bidding?

I realized that all three were doing the bidding.

My heart turned then toward the fruits of the Spirit, and then to spiritual and corporal works of mercy. As my silence ended, I wondered whether there were opportunities available to volunteer in local hospices and prisons--to listen, to be present, to abide in what is difficult and deeply transforming.

I found out that there are abundant hospice volunteer opportunities in the Valley of the Sun. I found far less when I was looking for volunteer opportunities for prison ministry, at least from within an Episcopal or interfaith context. I asked for help on Facebook and got information from two of the leaders from my parish, one of whom pointed me to a notice on the Trinity Cathedral website that Bishop Kirk Smith is planning a summit for those involved in or interested in prison ministry within the Episcopal Diocese of Arizona.

Coincidence? Spirit stirring in open hearts for the common good?

Spirit Whispers: Sister

6/20/2014

My 3-year old is fond of calling me Sister Kate. She's also fond of running through the line-up of our family names.

Just now she said, "Sister Kate, Sister Miriam, Sister Daddy, Sister Mommy!"

I think she's onto an insight about what a title like "Sister" can signify, but I'll wait till she's older to ask about it.

Do you remember when Sister Act came out in the early 1990's? I loved that movie. It was the movie that made me love Whoopi Goldberg. It was amazing to see a film about "my people" told from the perspective of such a quirky religious outsider.

In what ways does donning a religious habit, living the religious life, and taking the title of "Sister" change me? In what ways does my wearing of the habit, living of the life, and using the title of "Sister" change what others think of religious life?

Spirit Whispers: Sister Thea

6/19/2014

Sister Thea Bowman was a Franciscan Sister of Perpetual Adoration, and she changed the face of the African-American Roman Catholic Church.

Sister Thea was a woman who led with joy, story, music, and a sharp intellect. She was a woman who had the power to speak prophetically against injustice in ways that would soften the hearts of even old white bishops--again and again. Her power was the power to tell a story, to preach without a fourth wall, to engage others at the level of senses and emotion and experience.

She died from cancer a couple of weeks before I turned eight years old. It was another twenty years before I knew who she was.

When I make my solemn profession as a Benedictine Canon next spring, I plan to take Sister Thea's name as my religious name. I see in Sister Thea a bright, strong, gentle, humble, magnetic leader who could tear down any Jericho walls with the dulcimer sounds of her story-telling-and-transforming voice.

Do I have the courage to be more than I am? Do I have the humility to let go of my own weighty importance so I can fly with the wild, light Spirit in whom I put my trust and hopes?

Spirit Whispers: Listen

6/18/2014

How does one listen anyway?

Take a deep breath.

Let silence envelop your entire awareness.

Be still.

How long is it before your thoughts quiet?

How long is it before you stop tracking how long it's been?

What is it like to sit, to wait, to let God play midwife to your pregnant silence?

How does this midwife move around you? Does she move at all? Does she clasp your hand? Does she sit back in a seat next to you and murmur words of encouragement? Does she simply wait with you, occasionally placing a hand on your swollen belly for signs of what is to come?

What needs to be tended at this moment? What needs to be waited on? What needs the midwife's gentle, firm, skillful assurance?

What will you bear forth from your listening?

Spirit Whispers: Speak up

6/17/2014

If you've never had the experience of participating in a spiritual discernment committee, I invite you to consider it.

After my fifth (and final) meeting with my discernment committee for priesthood yesterday evening, my committee confirmed that they heard my call to priesthood. And that's not even the extraordinary part.

The extraordinary part is that, as I prayed yesterday before my meeting, I prayed for total surrender to God's will, and for the faithfulness not to run if that will was something my ego didn't like. My total surrender granted me total, deep, quieting peace.

The extraordinary part is that, having let go of my attachment to the outcome of my discernment process, I happened to read (during evening prayer) the story in Matthew about the disciples who wanted to know why they couldn't heal the sick on their own when Jesus so easily could. Jesus told them it was because they lacked faith, and that if they had faith even the size of a mustard seed, mountains would move for them. And I realized at that moment that my mustard seed faith was what had moved the mountain of my ego in order to make a straight path for Spirit to enter and dwell deep within my heart.

The extraordinary part is that, despite having a clear sense of call when I walked into the process, my sense of call widened and deepened and became more rooted as the dialogue went on.

The extraordinary part is that, especially in the final two meetings, as I listened to the challenging questions of my committee members, I perceived Spirit doing the asking. And as I offered my vulnerable, open-hearted answers, I perceived Spirit speaking through me. (It's fair to say that I've never experienced God's voice speaking to me so powerfully as I have in my discernment committee meetings, and for a Benedictine who hears God speaking to her through liturgy and scripture and encounters with others all the time, that's saying a lot.)

The extraordinary part is that, despite my Enneagram-three-personality-type's desire to manage a situation in such a way that the outcome is "positive," I was required to relinquish my ability to do that in order to speak plainly and truthfully. I was painfully aware that my deep honesty could at any moment result in the humiliation of my ego, and I spoke anyway. In that total risk of my ego, I realized it was not my ego that spoke, but Spirit.

When I walked out of my meeting last night, I had no idea what my committee members had heard. I didn't know what they would say. My three-ish ability to anticipate the outcome of the process failed me spectacularly. And I perceived in my failure the possibility of God's success--success in finding a way to make use of the quirky instrument that I am.

My committee is passing me on to the next steps of the discernment process, steps that will be challenging in their own ways. What my committee heard may not be confirmed by the next folks I encounter in the discernment process. But what happens next is not my concern.

The most important piece to emerge for me from this discernment process is the profound recognition that my heart--my whole heart--belongs to the one I call God. Whatever comes, I know that I will be faithful to the path God has prepared for me. I won't turn away. This is God's gig, and I am God's beautiful, imperfect instrument.

What song(s) will God choose to play through me for the uplifting, healing, and reconciling of her creation?

Spirit Whispers: Let it go

6/16/2014

I've been pondering the role my ego has to play in keeping me from fulfilling my call, and I've realized over the last week that it could make or break it.

Christian vocation is paradoxical. Without releasing my attachment to the desire to succeed, I won't succeed. Without releasing my attachment to being an outstanding Christian role model, I won't be one. Without releasing my attachment to having things go the way I think God's planning them, I may interfere with God's plans.

Christian vocation requires a release of ego and all its attachments and wants. Christian vocation requires nothing more or less than for me to become an open, ready vessel of extraordinary capability, so God can work God's wonders through me.

Spirit Whispers: Audience Participation Time

6/14/2014

As I read Nicola Griffith's Hild, among several other books that I'm reading concurrently, I wonder how many other worlds have been waiting for me to inhabit them with my imagination.

I invite you to share in a comment below the one book (complete with author's name and any other information you'd like to share) that has most transformed you/your worldview.

I'll start the list with a comment of my own.

Spirit Whispers: Vulnerability

6/13/2014

This morning I took one of those silly little online quizzes that a friend of mine posted on Facebook. This one was called, "What Emotion Are You Guided By?"I knew it would only be ten or twelve questions, and I knew that it would either tell me what I wanted to hear or be way off (and either outcome was equally likely), but I have discovered that asking a question--even in an online quiz--can only yield more to think about.

So I took the quiz. Its answer? Vulnerability.

Two things strike me: 1) Vulnerability isn't precisely an emotion, so I wasn't expecting that as a possible answer; and 2) now that I think about it, a number of people who have journeyed with me in recent months have pointed to my increasing vulnerability and what a vital part of me that is.

Don't hurry, it says. Keep your tender soul alive for as long as possible, it says. Being vulnerable is not a negative thing.

The trouble with vulnerability is that a vulnerable person is always in a position to be hurt--this truth comes to me from too much experience. Nevertheless, throughout the last seven or so months, I have aimed to become as vulnerable as I have ever been. Vulnerability doesn't just make it possible to be hurt; vulnerability makes it possible to heal. Vulnerability makes it possible to be honest. Vulnerability makes it possible to let one's ego go. Vulnerability makes it possible for Spirit to make a rich dwelling for herself in one's midst.

As a person of faith, and particularly as a Benedictine Canon, I find that many of my former desires have fallen away to make room for this one great desire: to love and serve God and my neighbor (as Jesus did, and as Spirit inspires me to do).

I can't predict the future. I don't know exactly what that love and service will look like in advance. I can't control any of it. I can only listen with the ear of my heart and respond. Vulnerability keeps my own voice from overtaking God's. Vulnerability makes the impossible possible.

Total vulnerability means that, no matter how my ego may feel about it, my whole heart is in God's hands, for better or worse.

Will I keep faith when I am thrown into the pit and later sold into slavery like Joseph? Will I keep faith when my family and my life are destroyed like Job's? Will I keep faith when I'm asked to stand up to Pharaoh like Moses? Will I keep faith when I meet my dead Lord in the garden like Mary? Will I keep faith when I realize that my role is to decrease like John? In what difficult and extraordinary situations will I find myself saying to God, "Here I am, I have come to do your will"?

And when I find myself as Pharaoh's most trusted advisor like Joseph, and when I find myself radically trusting God despite all my loss like Job, and when I perform unforeseen wonders through God's power like Moses, and when I run off to proclaim that God lives like Mary, and when I proclaim the one I love to be greater than I am like John, will my life's purpose find its completion and unbridled joy in God saying to me, "Well done, good and faithful servant"?

Spirit Whispers: Signs and Wonders

6/12/2014

Part of my spiritual practice includes lectio divina, or sacred reading. I read a few verses from scripture at a time and ponder them in order to hear God's voice speaking through them.

Today I read in the second chapter of the Gospel according to Luke, "This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger."

It's so familiar from Christmastime that its oddness almost escapes notice.

Why would God's sign to the world be a just-born infant wrapped up like the dead, laid in a feeding trough for large animals?

Why would a bunch of sheep-herders run at the chance to see this so-called sign?

If you don't know that this child is destined from his birth for death, the mummy look doesn't make sense. If you don't know that by losing his life, this child will become food for all who hunger, this doesn't make sense.

How can this bizarre telling of a child's birth make any sense without knowing the whole story that is to come?

What signs and wonders does God leave for me to see that I don't yet understand? How do I develop the imagination to see what they could mean and to strive for what God is setting in motion?

Spirit Whispers: Yes

6/11/2014

Yes is hard to hear.

It's simpler to rest in the undemanding solitude of no than to accept another's yes.

No is quiet, empty, dark. No fuel filling, no attendant needing.

Yes is hard to hear. Yes is harder to say.

Yes is sacrifice and stumbling. Yes is work of constant mending. Yes is wick's body spending.

Yes is a shockwave, torn soft cobwebs atumble, stiff limbs bending.

Do I dare tap this heavy bell again, awaking it for another day's answer?

Yes, please.

Yes, yes, yes.

Spirit Whispers: A Pentecost-tide Theme

6/9/2014

My fourth priestly discernment meeting, which happened yesterday morning in between Pentecost liturgies, gives me goosebumps as I reflect on it. I realize that the questions I received were the questions of Spirit herself, that God was speaking through the voices of my five committee members (right there in Heidi Chapel) and I was being beckoned to answer God's questions from the depths of my vulnerable heart.

The whole of the Pentecost season (which, thanks to the influence of Latin in the Roman Church, we call "Ordinary Time") is a time of just this kind of discernment, of radical listening. My Pentecost theme for Thealogical Lady will be "Spirit Whispers," and here I will invite myself and my readers to cultivate the ability to hear what Spirit says. To listen, ob audire, is to be obedient. Obedience is one of the vows that I have made as a Benedictine Canon, and obedience--radical listening--is something to which all Christians are called by baptism. Listening is a path of wisdom for any mindful person, that she might hear something greater and wiser than her own solitary voice.

In reflecting on the Spirit-ed questions that emerged during my discernment meeting yesterday, clarity about my identity rose up. I am not merely Kate, responding to a diocesan priestly call; I am Sr. Kate, a vowed member of the Community of St. Mary of the Annunciation, responding to a religious priestly call. I wonder what further clarity will emerge from my next discernment meeting. In what ways will Spirit speak through the curiosity and concerns of my committee members? What will I hear, if I have ears to listen?

Easter: Day 49

6/7/2014

This morning my Benedictine brother, Chad-Joseph, is ordained as a transitional deacon in the Episcopal Diocese of Arizona at Trinity Cathedral in Phoenix.

As I reflect on my brother's call and ministry, I hear the music that God plays through his life, as God played the music of Jesus through Mary. He is a good and faithful servant; he empties his life so God's life might live in him, saying yes to the impossible as Mary did, protecting and up-lifting God's faithful servants without regard for his own image as Joseph did, becoming God's life-giving, light-imparting, nourishing presence in the world as Jesus did. I am one of many blessed witnesses to the working of God through Br. Chad-Joseph's life, because I am one of the many people who has looked at him and beheld God's gentle, undemanding, welcoming presence.

On this day when my brother receives the sacrament of Holy Orders, the Magnificat resonates in my heart.

John Michael Talbot, my favorite sacred singer from when I was a little girl, offers a Magnificat meditation that honors my brother's response to his call in a beautiful way:

Easter: Day 47

6/5/2014

For the last several weeks I've been doing some significant, solitary soul-searching. Being in discernment for the priesthood has raised a thousand questions in me, questions about the deepest longings of my heart and the shadowy motivations that accompany them.

I find that when the questions get too big and too hard, writing helps me face them. My novitiate journal and lectio divina journal have been two of my closest companions on this road. They are windows to my heart.

What other spiritual practices accompany me on my spiritual path? Which ones accompany me all the way to my center, the place where God's light burns brightly in me?

Heartbeats: Voices Against Oppression

6/3/2014

I am honored to announce that Heartbeats: Voices Against Oppression is now available for purchase. All profits made from this book will go to Not For Sale, an anti-human-trafficking organization that seeks to root out, stop, and prevent modern slavery.

This anthology of short stories is the fruit of an idea I had when I first heard about the mass kidnapping of over two hundred Nigerian schoolgirls in April 2014. I knew with a sinking heart that I lacked the means to go find and save those girls myself--but I could take one of my great gifts, writing, and transform it into a means to empower others (who are better-equipped than I am) to find and save them.

Kristen Duvall of Fey Publishing and Jax Goss of Solarwyrm Press helped me make this anthology a reality. The cover art of Luke Spooner and the provocative tales of many talented writers make this book a worthy addition to anyone's bookshelf. Each person who participated in this project did so for free so that all profits could go directly to Not for Sale.

Most of the girls who were kidnapped in April 2014 are still missing. I invite you to be part of the effort to #bringbackourgirls by purchasing a copy of Heartbeats: Voices Against Oppression so that the folks from Not For Sale can help free them and all who are enslaved in our world today.

Buy the paperback here.

Buy the Kindle version here.

Spread the word by adding the book to your bookshelf on Goodreads here.

Thank you, from the bottom of my beating heart.

Easter: Day 44

6/2/2014

Dear Miri,

A year ago today, you changed the fate of the world by emerging from the darkness of my womb into the bright, bright world.

You've joined your daddy and sister and me on the wildest year of our family's life yet. So many things have changed! Let that lesson always be in your heart: things change, and if you keep moving, you'll find yourself in the most extraordinary places with the most extraordinary people doing the most extraordinary things.

Your eyes have always sparkled brilliantly--may your spirit always do the same.

Your legs and arms have been strong since you were growing inside me--may you always be brave and bold enough to show others what it means to be a graced, living body.

Your older sister is bodacious, but you remain engaged and interested in her presence--may you always cultivate curiosity rather than fear, and may you always turn to your sister when there is no one else your size to turn to.

Your parents love you with a great, big, bursting love--may you learn to love others the way we love you.

Your godmother will always be a gentle listener and confidant for you, just as she has always been your mother's--talk to her often so you can discover what it means to be a person wholly in love with the world.

Your daddy would throw himself in danger's path to save the life of another--learn to care as skillfully, boldly, and wholeheartedly as he does.

The ladies in your life are readers and writers--befriend words so you can stretch the limits of your world.

You have an enormous family circle, one that soars even beyond blood-ties--remember your family and call on them whenever need arises, because we will be there for you, whatever you need.

Sacred presence can be found anywhere for those with eyes to see, ears to hear, and hearts to love--may your eyes and ears and heart always remain open to the presence of Shekhinah.

And if you forget everything else, remember this: you have value just because you are, and no power in the heavens or on earth can ever take that from you.

I love you, Miriam-bub.

Mama Kate

Easter: Day 43

6/1/2014

For the last couple of days, I've written about my Benedictine Canon vows. Today I'll explore the vow of obedience.

Obedience was always the vow I resisted most when I was discerning the possibility of life as a Roman Catholic nun. The idea that I would ultimately have to submit to an authority outside of myself worried me. To use an example that actually came up in my discernment, if my heart's desire was to be a liturgist and my community/superior told me I had to do something other than prepare liturgy, what would I do? How would I be happy?

Obedience, as I understood it, was a stance of submission to the will (and whims) of the other. When I read about Joseph and his many brothers, and the trials Joseph endured while he waited for God to come around, I'm reminded of this stance of submission and I cringe. The psalmist's question, "How long?", is one that could be answered with "Forever." If one found oneself in the wrong community, a life of obedience could be one of misery.

What I discovered as I was discerning the possibility of becoming a nun was that I was being obedient to God--I was listening hard, and I was hearing God's voice through my worries. To be obedient to God is to pay attention to one's life. What is it in my life that brings deep, quenching joy? What brings me nerve-wracking restlessness? Paying attention to my life in all its particulars is a vital way in which I listen to God's call for my life.

In my novitiate as a Benedictine Canon, I dig through the hardened soil in my heart so I can make room for what God wishes to plant in me. In order to turn that hardened soil, I have to embody a stance not of blind submission, but profound openness--openness to be seen by myself, God, and others in all my facets, just as I am. Masks keep me from perceiving what God wishes for my life and keep the seeds already planted in me from budding; they keep my unique, God-given brilliance from shining in God's marvelous light.

To be obedient, in my case, is to notice what life as a Benedictine Canon life is like for me. If I were worried or doubtful or unhappy, obedience would mean paying attention to that worry, doubt, and unhappiness and being willing to seek their source. Being obedient as a Benedictine Canon means being willing to share my joys and fears with my Benedictine siblings, especially my superior. To take counsel with another is an act of utter trust, and it is a way of allowing God to speak through others what I may not yet be able to hear from God through myself.

What will I hear as I continue to listen to God in the presence of sacred others? What will spring forth from my heart as I loosen the soil that has been made tough and hard?