Contemplative Horizon

Reflection for Feast of St. Alphonsus

2015-08-01T13:40:00.000-04:00

Medicine for All

The scripture readings for this solemnity honoring St. Alphonsus de Liguori are so fitting. From Isaiah; “… He has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to captives, and release to prisoners; to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor…” And from The Gospel of Matthew; “…He saw the crowds; he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.” These embody Alphonsus’ inspiration received during time of retreat in the rural hillside settlements beyond Naples. While one could fairly trip over priests on the streets of Naples no one came to the remote villages to minister to simple souls. This inspiration was to become the guide for Redemptorists, an anthem of service to the poor and most abandoned.

It is beyond me to understand how this inspiration morphed into a Redemptorist reputation some of us still remember, those parish missions preaching hellfire and brimstone. However that may have come to be, today we can offer praise and thanksgiving to God for the fruits of post-Vatican II renewal in the Redemptorist Congregation and its return to preaching the true message of Alphonsus.

Alphonsian spirituality had three legs, the crib, the cross and the Eucharist, each one supporting its preeminent platform – God’s supreme love. Each leg is the expression of that love; the crib of the Incarnation, the cross of the ultimate sacrifice and the Eucharist as the love gift that keeps on giving. Alphonsus spoke of God not as Lord or King or Father but rather as friend, brother, mother, spouse, and lover. His God, the God he begs you and I to love and trust as our intimate companion, is a God insanely in love with us. This is the God he called “Iddio Pazzo” the crazy God, the crazy God of love, who is insanely in love with us. He wrote, “Heaven for God is the human heart.”

But here is another thing that is hard to understand. This preacher of God’s love, this theologian who bucked the popular tide of rigorism and Jansenism, who opposed sterile legalism because, according to him such rigor was never the true teaching of the Church; this was a man who was plagued all his very long life of 91 years by a sometimes crippling scrupulosity. He ran through spiritual directors. The successful ones had to forbid him to even think of not celebrating Mass because he questioned his worthiness to do so. In the matter of his inspiration to create a new congregation to serve the most abandoned he went from one person to another with his self-doubt and uncertainty. Maria Celeste’s enthusiasm and sense of right direction for her own foundation and strong encouragement for his seems to have moved him at long last into decisive mode.

All his life Alphonsus bore the weight of high expectations from both his father’s military bearing and his mother’s thorough piety. He never ceased to be hard on himself. He even made private vows never to waste time and to persevere in his vocation. The antidote for his scrupulosity was meditation on the lover God, Iddio Pazzo, who expressed infinite love in the mystery of the Incarnation, the sacrifice of the Cross and gift of the Eucharist. Alphonsus allowed himself to bathe in the warm waters of that meditation. And it would seem that part of his treatment was to turn his whole life into an effort to communicate that love to the world. The antidote for his addiction became a gift to be poured out for others; not merely in the form of good deeds but in the effort to guide people into their own acceptance of and growing relationship with the God who is pure love.

I ask myself, “Can I, like Alphonsus, turn what the God of love speaks to me in my own struggles, into gift for others? Can we apply God’s medicine received in our struggles to the healing of others even as we continue to endure personal challenges?

I can never be perfect. Alphonsus was never perfect. He was a holy genius who must have been a trial to live with. But he wrote instructions to others to see to it that brothers had their treats and he walked the Stations of the Cross bare foot in the hallway so as not to disturb his sleeping confreres. He worried about them during their missions and welcomed them home. He warned them not to be highflootin’ in their preaching and railed against those who would deprive people of Holy Communion. He took money from diocesan coffers to buy food for the poor during a time of famine. He must have been so proud of his son in the congregation, Fr. Bernard Haring who said, “The heart of moral life is charity to one’s neighbor.”

Alphonsus de Liguori shared the medicine he found for his soul with all who would listen to his mission preaching, those who would read his 110 books. He shared the medicine which was the infinite love and mercy of God. This Doctor of the Church, dispensed medicine in the hospital which is that Church, the healing, forgiving, merciful hospital spoken of by Pope Francis. In this regard, Alphonsus is a theologian for our times, inspiration and guide for the Year of Mercy.

Can we pray with Alphonsus:

My God and my all, I will resist you no longer. I will leave all to be all yours. I will no longer live for myself… Your claims on my love are too great. My only desire is to love you now and forever. My love, my hope, my courage, my comfort; give me strength to be faithful to you. .. O love of my soul, I offer myself completely to you to satisfy the desire which you have to be united with me… Give me strength to think of you, to desire you, to seek you, my beloved and only good.

Prep Reading for Those Nuturing Children

2015-07-05T11:32:00.000-04:00

A Book Review:

The Road to Character
by David Brooks

In the last year I have often posted links to David Brooks' New York Times columns in its Op-Ed pages and gushed on my Facebook Page, "I think I love this man." Such an unlikely romance. Not only am I a contemplative nun but his politics and mine would seem naturally to fall into opposite camps. The obvious reasons for this unlikelihood can be found in the Wikikpedia mini David Brooks bio on Wikipedia. The odd attraction is due to my absolute amazement that his columns concerning discipline, humility, forgiveness, character, human values appear where they do and come from what seems to be a very reflective soul. These essays are sprinkled between more typical political commentary. Judging from comments from readers it would seem that these are not topics very attractive in what often seems to be a consumerist, self-centered, driven, amoral culture. Brooks writes about another value system. And the system to which him points is an ethical, humanist, communitarian and, if I dare say, a spiritual one.

Another factor pointing to our mis-match is that David Brooks is the politically conservative voice on National Public Radio and PBS News Hour. But I have come to respect his brand of Republicanism which is reasoned, open, informed and well-considered.

His recent book "The Road to Character" has been very well-received but is not without criticism. The critics call it preachy and judgmental. They seem uncomfortable with the spirituality that oozes out around the sides of Brooks' columns but generally is not specific stated. Reading the Wikipedia bio indicates that Brooks, evidently raised as a secular Jew, has also been well-exposed to Protestant and Catholic tradition.

This is a book for anyone who is nurturing children and young people: parents, grandparents (aunts and uncles too), teachers, scout leaders, Sunday school teachers, education pundits, the designers of Common Core, school board members, and taxpayers who are supporting our public schools. In other words this is a book for those who are concerned about the development of a responsible citizenry.

The book is composed of chapters covering key features of character each illustrated by the biography of a well-known personality.

The Summoned Self (sense of vocation) - Frances Perkins first women Cabinet member Secretary of Labor during the FDR administration

Self-Conquest - Dwight David Eisenhower - General and President

Struggle - Dorothy Day - founder Catholic Worker Movement

Self-Mastery - George C. Marshall - General, Secretary of State

Dignity - A. Philip Randolph and Bayard Rustin - Leaders in the Civil Rights Movement

Love - George Eliot - author

Ordered Love - Augustine of Hippo - Bishop and saint

Self-Examination - Samuel Johnson - Author and philosopher

The book concludes with chapter length overview of our society's move into the age of the "selfie', the shift from the communal, neighborhood, family centered being one of a group attitude to hat declares boldly, "Me first."

This is not the screed of the "Tiger Mother". This book calls back to reality; the reality that life naturally has hardships, disappointments, failures and pain as well as joy, relationship, achievement, fun and success. It reminds that part of nurturing children is to help them deal with the negative experiences. To try to deprive them of negative experiences is both impossible and at a same time a real disservice. The second great point is that we will always be part of a community - family, workplace, organization, church, neighborhood, country and the entire world. Therefore, from the very beginning, part of a child's default mechanism development has to be consideration of the consequences of individual acts on those with whom she shares a home, with whom he goes to school, with whom they create a democracy, with whom they share the planet.

This is assigned reading if you love kids.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Brooks_(journalist)

A Message for All 'Good Church People': The Truth About Racism

2015-06-24T20:47:00.000-04:00

Mother Emmanuel A.M.E. Zion Church
Charleston, South Carolina
June, 2015

Say what you will about Facebook, but beyond the joy of connecting so easily with family and friends I have made the most interesting new associations, had my creativity inspired, and been informed by some really good thinking via this means of social networking.

Reverend Jarrett Banks, pastor of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) in Farmville, North Carolina published the following essay on his blog earlier this week. Although he writes with a southern perspective each of his five points issues a very important challenge to churches north of the Mason-Dixon Line and across the spectrum of Christian denominations. With his permission I have posted it here because it is vital that we all consider the elements of racism that still poison our society (not to mention our hearts) as we continue to try to live as followers of Jesus Christ in an increasingly multi-racial and multi-cultural nation.

I cannot close without adding that while I agree with current efforts to remove the Confederate 'stars and bars' battle flag from public grounds in various states and municipalities, I worry that this may be serving as a proxy argument, a distraction, from the gun issue. With the President of the United States and victims of gun violence I ask, "When we will we wake up to the extreme need for greater gun control in our country?"

Charleston Wake-Up Call: Five Thoughts

by Reverend Jarrett Banks

I have heard many people call the massacre in Charleston a wake-up call for our country. I believe it is specifically a wake-up call for predominately white churches in our country. As a pastor of a predominately white church in the South, here are five thoughts that have been awakened in me:

1. We must wake up to the reality that racism is not only a wound from our country’s past, but it is a deadly virus that still plagues us today. White preachers, including myself, have been often afraid to use the “r-word” from our pulpits for fear of “stirring things up,” as if we might reignite some fire that was put out in the 1960’s, or at least by 2008, when we elected our first black president. We must wake up and boldly preach against racism, in all of its current manifestations that are ablaze today: personal racism; systemic racism; and the subtle racism that is prevalent in the workplace, in the marketplace and even in the church, for Jesus could not have been more clear when he said: “Love your neighbor as yourself.

2. We must wake up to the reality that preaching and working against racism is not “being political,” but it is being “Christian.” When voting districts are re-drawn to limit poor black votes or when laws are created that make it more difficult for poor black people to vote, we must stand up and boldly proclaim the message of Jesus who came to announce “good news to the poor.”

3. We must wake up to the reality that hatred in this country is being defended by church folks who are calling it “religious freedom.” In the United States of America, where we believe all people are created equally, religious freedom never means the freedom to discriminate. Slave-owners used the same religious-freedom arguments in the nineteenth century to support slavery. Today, we do not tolerate people who want to own slaves, nor should we tolerate anyone or respect the views if anyone who wants to discriminate.

4. We must wake up to the reality that “the oppression of Christians” in this nation and the “war on Christmas” that we hear about every December has been manufactured by folks who loathe what makes our country great, that is our cultural, ethnic, religious and racial diversity. We need to also preach from our pulpits that it is this diversity that makes us look most like the portrait of heaven we find in the book of Revelation: “After this I looked, and there was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb” (7:9). We must wake up to boldly voice our opposition to the purveyors of fear who are calling on people to bear even more arms “to take our country back.” Furthermore, we must wake up and tell the folks in our pews to please shut up, when they start reminiscing about going back to the good old days of the 1950’s when we had prayer in school. We need to be able to say: “You know, I have many of black friends, and I have never once heard them talk about wanting to go back to 1950.”

5. We must wake up to the reality that the most segregated hours in our country occur on Sunday mornings. We must find ways to build bridges to bridge the gaps that we have created that prevent us from worshipping and serving together. To stand against racism, hatred and violence, to stand for social justice and equality for all, and to persuasively speak truth to power, we must do it side by side, hand in hand, as one body, one Church, serving one Lord.

Rev. Banks posts to his blog www.jarrettbanks.wordpress.com

Good Friday Reflection

2015-04-03T19:39:00.000-04:00

Visualizing Nicodemus

Today I served as narrator for the Passion of Christ according to the Gospel of John read during our Good Friday Liturgy. I have been privileged to present this dramatic story many times and have heard it read every Good Friday for over 60 years. In this case I volunteered for the task because I know that in trying to read in a clear and meaningful way, allowing my voice to reflect when able the tension, emotion or import of a scene, leads me deeper into the story and can become an occasion of grace.

We are blessed to have a very scholarly local pastor who is gifting us with his reflections on the presentation of human encounters with Jesus in the Gospel of John. The first focused on Nicodemus who came in the safety of night to see Jesus and ask questions. Our discussion centered on the inherited faith of this Pharisee, his motivations and his fear. We hear little afterward about Nicodemus and any possible changes of heart until the Passion narrative. Here it seems that Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus, likely onlookers at the crucifixion, conferenced over their need to do something and assigned each other specific tasks. Joseph would approach Pilate and ask for the body of Jesus and Nicodemus would obtain the traditional spices to be inserted into the burial cloth wrapped around it. Although he visited under cover of night when Jesus was alive he could hardly carry one hundred pounds of spices through the streets and remain an invisible Jesus sympathizer.

Today, as I read the few words concerning Nicodemus' compassionate bravery an image of him flashed through my mind; the image created by Michelangelo in an unfinished Pieta begun in the last years of his life. I saw it in Florence 55 years ago. Here is what Wikipedia has to say about it:

The Deposition (also called the Florence Pietà, the Bandini Pietà or The Lamentation over the Dead Christ) is a marble sculpture by the Italian High Renaissance master Michelangelo. The sculpture, on which Michelangelo worked between 1547 and 1553, depicts four figures – the dead body of Jesus Christ, newly taken down from the Cross, Nicodemus(or possibly Joseph of Arimathea), Mary Magdalene and the Virgin Mary. The sculpture is housed in the Museo dell'Opera del Duomoin Florence.[The Duomo is the Cathedral of Florence.]

According to Vasari [biographer of Italian Renaissance artists], Michelangelo made the Florence Pietà to decorate his tomb in Santa Maria Maggiore in Rome. Vasari noted that Michelangelo began to work on the sculpture around the age of 72. Without commission, Michelangelo worked tirelessly into the night with just a single candle to illuminate his work. Vasari wrote that he began to work on this piece to amuse his mind and to keep his body healthy.

After 8 years of working on the piece, Michelangelo would go on and attempt to destroy the work in a fit of frustration. This marked the end of Michelangelo’s work on the piece and from there the piece found itself in the hands of Francesco Bandini who hired an apprentice sculptor by the name of Tiberius Calcagni to restore the work to its current composition. Since its inception, the piece has been plagued by ambiguities and never ending interpretations, with no straightforward answers available.

The face of Nicodemus under the hood is considered to be a self-portrait of Michelangelo himself.

It is interesting to think about Michelangelo in his last years contemplating his life, anticipating his death, and choosing to immortalize himself in the face of this character. I can imagine him facing in memory his flawed character and his failures in faith but also his last clinging to the suffering Jesus; Jesus who in his humanity also died. In this Pieta Michelangelo is the frightened onlooker brought to faith and completely humbled by what he has witnessed.

In the split second of accessing the image of Nicodemus as I read into a microphone there came the grace to know that I am Nicodemus in this story. We are all Nicodemus; all onlookers standing on the stony soil of Golgotha, having a hard time absorbing the shock of being witnesses. We are all Nicodemus in our regrets, in remembering our flaws of character, our failures in standing up for truth and justice, our fear of what others might say about us. We are pitiful. But we cannot just go away under the weight of our self-recriminations. We especially cannot do that today because we know the end of the story.

Instead we can, like Nicodemus, accepting who and what we are and the mistakes that have been made, choose to move in a new direction, chose to make ourselves useful. We can choose to remember and act upon the words of Jesus that we heard just yesterday in the Liturgy of the Lord's Supper. "Do you realize what I have done for you?.....I have given you a model to follow, so that as I have done for you, you should also do."

2015-03-20T20:36:00.002-04:00

This tribute was first published here in 2012.

Death of an Urban Saint

Athalie “Betty” Elizabeth Wimbish, was familiar to residents of uptown Kingston, New York as a local presence from the early1940s to the early 80s; a women of color dressed entirely in black daily making her way from her home on Prospect Street or from St. Joseph’s Church on to London’s Clothing Store at the intersection of Wall and North Front Street where she was employed for thirty-three years. To those who did not know her history she was just “Black Betty”. Betty died at Ferncliff Nursing Home on Good Friday, April 6, 20012 at the age of 95.

She was born on August 4, 1916 at 100 Gage Street, Kingston,

Kingston High School 1934

the daughter of Andrew and Blanche Elizabeth Wimbish and grand-daughter of Hannah “Hattie” Jackson Betty spoke proudly of the African slave heritage of her father combined with the African, Spanish and Dutch ancestry of her grandmother. She recalled that in her childhood a Dutch dialect could still be heard in Kingston. Athalie Wimbish graduated from Kingston High School in 1934. There she wrote interviews for “Dame Rumor” and played basketball. The year book indicated that she was college bound and spoke of missionary work in Africa.

Her childhood was spent in Albany Avenue mansions where her grandmother and mother served as housekeepers and her father as driver and handler of carriage horses. One employer was owner of the Fuller Shirt Factory. In these settings and as a precocious child of mixed race she was exposed to a variety of educational influences. Her grandmother provided religious formation at both St. John’s Episcopal Church on Albany Avenue and the AME Zion Church on Franklin Street.

Following graduation from high school Betty Wimbish ventured to the Big Apple where although disappointed in her effort pursue a nursing education she experienced the excitement of the Harlem Renaissance and later her first trip to Europe. Early in the 1940s she returned to Kingston to care for her mother and grandmother, working first at Montgomery Wards where she replaced her mother as elevator operator. Beginning in 1943, she fulfilled many tasks for London’s, including inventory, accounts receivable, shipping aid packages to Stanley London’s relatives in Europe and providing secretarial assistance to Mrs. London who was President of Hadassah, a Jewish organization for women. During this time, London’s was the only white owned business that would hire Black teenagers. Betty spoke of them as “my boys” and took these youngsters under her wing as a woman of color guiding them in the requirements of a responsible working life. Some remained in contact with her for years. The London family was always concerned for Betty’s welfare and that of her family. After her retirement they provided a security system for her home and continued to send ‘pension’ funds.

First attracted to the Catholic faith during her time in New York City, she was received into the Church in the 1940s at St. Mary’s Church in Kingston which was very welcoming to people of color. After being rejected in an effort to become a Catholic sister because of her race, she made a decision to serve the Church in every other way possible; as catechist at St. Mary’s; as prayer support to any number of priests including Rev. Daniel Egan known as the “Junkie Priest” who was one of the first to draw attention to the need for drug addiction treatment; as participant in the ecumenical efforts of the Franciscan Friars of the Atonement at Graymoor, Garrison, NY, and as a tireless fund-raiser for overseas missions. She was a member of a world-wide mission tour in 1965 which included stops in Hawaii, Japan, India and the Holy Land. In India she sat on the dais during Mass celebrated by Pope Paul VI.

Around the time of her conversion to Catholicism Ms. Wimbish made a life choice, a preference for personal poverty and simplicity motivated by her deep faith and supported by a lifetime of contemplative prayer. By the 1970s she had assumed this persona to such a degree that she became known only as “Black Betty”, dressed always in black from head to toe with a kerchief or beret covering her head at all times. She was readily recognized on uptown streets as she walked to and from daily Mass and on to work. For more recent residents of the city she merely seemed to be a local character, the woman in black who swept the floors at London’s clothing store.

After retirement in 1976, she became an urban hermit, praying constantly, serving as confidant and aide to the poor and as a conduit of funds she received from more fortunate friends. Agnes Scott Smith, now deceased, who taught at Kingston High School, described her as “quietly pious, an enigma who became a nun without going into the convent.” By 1985 Betty’s daily hikes from Prospect Street to St. Joseph’s became too arduous so a few parishioners began to visit her weekly to bring her spiritual food in Holy Communion and also fresh fruits and vegetables for bodily nourishment. A number also kept her supplied with donations which she, a keen judge of character and need, would pass on to others of all shades of color who came to the door seeking guidance or material assistance. The women who prayed with her came to know her sanctity first hand. Some even came to know her secrets and her wisdom.

With time her memory of the present failed. Yet, memories of the past never faded. She claimed to know the skeletons in many Kingston closets at all locations on the color spectrum. She spoke of attending as a child a ceremony at the Kingston Academy and of arriving late at Kingston High School and being rushed to class by Kate Walton for whom the field house is named. She spoke of being appalled at Jim Crow Laws in the south when visiting her father’s family. For those who took the time to know her she was a knowledgeable and well-read world traveler. In the end, she became an urban saint, a hermit in the midst of the city, praying constantly.

And Betty would admit to having the humor of a rapscallion. Upon bidding her goodbye, a guest could teasingly say, “Now, be good.” To which she would reply, “Now don’t you threaten me!” But her last words were always, “God bless you.”

I visited Betty once a week for over ten years. We laughed, prayed, spoke of the local news, shared memories and stories, spoke of our troubles and consoled each other. Betty generously introduced me to the Black, African American, sensibility. Her personal history was a revelation and inspiration to faith, perseverance, love of family and personal sacrifice. She taught me such expressions as "The blacker the berry the sweeter the juice" and "What's bred in the bone cannot be beaten out of the flesh." To know her was a privilege, an unforgettable privilege.

Announcing a Debut

2015-03-12T19:23:00.005-04:00

This new online presence of

news and opinion from sisters and nuns

has published an essay of mine entitled

A Contemplative Antidote to Gridlock?

Let me know what you think.

Global Sisters Report
a project of the National Catholic Reporter

Christmas Letter 2014

2014-12-28T18:39:00.003-05:00

Blessed Christmas Season and Happy New Year to ALL

Posted here to enable Facebook accessibility to FB Friends.
No pictures because BlogSpot is suffering a picture loading hiccup.
Check FB for pics.

Dear Ones,

This is sent with the hope that you and your families and communities are enjoying these special days; that they have enriched your relationships, extended your love and made memories for a lifetime. As I begin to write and look back on this year I am amazed at the amount and variety of events that have transpired; all the challenges, all the joys, all the new experiences (some that I would not trade at all and others that I could have easily done without). Where does the time go and how does life get so complicated?

Late in 2013 we welcomed Matilda Anne Pleva, daughter of Teresa and Andrew, into the world. She appears above back in October with her adoring cousin Nicholas, son of Kim and Jonathan, and now almost 11 years old. Here he is in another picture with his brother Benjamin who just celebrated his 8^thbirthday. Jonathan and family moved from Waterbury, CT to Chelmsford, MA to which he was transferred as a Boy Scout Council Executive. Theirs is a very busy family.

Now little Matilda has a new cousin who arrived on November 1, 2014, Harrison Cooper Pleva, son of Heidi and Matthew. He is just adorable and I can’t wait to get my hands on him again. Heidi and Matthew also juggle a great deal in their lives with regular jobs and their shop “Art Riot” on John Street in Kingston. Matt’s tour de force this year was painting an outdoor mural (35 x 65ft.) depicting historic Kingston and the Old Dutch Church. Hard on the heels of Harrison’s birth came the installation of another holiday window designed by Matt for the Blue Cashew shop in Rhinebeck.

Teresa and Andrew are about to close on purchase of a house whose history will be a blessing to them. In a few weeks they will moved into 41 Lafayette Avenue, Kingston just 2 blocks from the house in which Andrew grew up and where Matthew and family live now. Everyone really wanted to be near each other and create family for the children. The 1920s vintage house belonged for over 50 years to a couple who were pillars of the church and most generous souls so a loving spirit will surround them there. The house which was very well maintained has an extra bedroom and full bath on the first floor, a wrap-around porch, three 2^nd floor bedrooms and a walk-up attic with some finished space and built-in cedar closet. The new life and new homes are answers to prayer and a call to gratitude at the end of this year.

There were challenges too during which the appeal to God was for the gifts of wisdom and compassion. In May my mother who was being treated for pneumonia fell during the night in her assisted living bedroom. She got a bad gash on her head and lay in a pool of blood for a long time. Nothing was broken but she required hospitalization for a week and then nursing home placement to recoup from the fall and the pneumonia. So I searched for a better choice than the 3 other nursing homes she has spent time in during the last 2 years. We settled on Putnam Ridge in Brewster, NY about a 35 minute drive from me and an hour less in travel time then to Tuxedo for my sister living in Connecticut. Rose was still heavily involved in the task of selling my parents’ house. That was accomplished in July.

When my mother went to the nursing home she just wanted to be left alone to sleep and had to be fed at meals. We assured the staff that she was walking independently the day before her fall and would come back to life. By the middle of July she had indeed become herself but all agreed she could no longer live safely in assisted living. So Putnam Ridge has become her permanent home.

No sooner was the decision made than we learned that her brother, my Uncle Joseph Milazzo age 82, had collapsed in a laundromat in Margate, FL near his home. I flew down on July, 26. His condition was very poor and it was clear that he could not live alone any longer. I worked furiously to get necessary legal documents created, organize his papers, put his condo into some order, dispose of a great deal and supervise his care as he went from hospital to nursing home, back to hospital and then back to nursing home in the space of 2 weeks. Since he was too ill to travel on a commercial plane and I was unable to stay in Florida permanently, we decided to fly him to NY via private air ambulance jet and place him in the nursing home with my mother. They enjoyed a loving reunion in mid-August. But his condition continued to deteriorate. Although we knew his condition was poor we were surprised by his sudden death on October 3^rd. He now rests in St. John’s Cemetery in Queens where his mother was buried in 1932 when he was just 3 months old. My uncle worked hard all of his life as a master carpet mechanic. He never married; he lived well but not extravagantly. He played the market and later settled into reliable investments. As generous as he was in life he could be as generous in death. At this time both my sister and I are dealing with all the responsibilities which follow upon the deaths of both my uncle my father. We have learned a great deal; everything is very complicated even with the aid of lawyers and accountants.

My mother is being well taken care of but the sight of her in the Memory Wing of the nursing home among patients with similar dementia symptoms and many others so much farther along the way in their gradual total departure from reality is often difficult to bare. I remind myself that her manner indicates that she is nothing but content and feeling safe. She walks with a walker but is getting even slower. She does not remember that her brother was there and she rarely asks about my father. We worry only about falls and pneumonia.

For years I have not traveled too much with exception of trip to Ireland in 2011. This year brought trips to Sioux Falls, SD in January to transfer our sewing business to another community; to Indianapolis, IN for an Association of Contemplative Sisters leadership meeting; to Florida during the summer; and to St. Louis in September for ACS national meeting. While these were all lovely experiences I find air travel very uncomfortable and arduous.

A month before the trip to Florida I had hip surgery to correct some unanticipated problems after hip replacement in 2010 – residual pain from a muscle rubbing against the artificial hip joint and also a bone spur beneath it. Surgery at NYU Hospital for Joint Diseases was a great experience – just a 2 day stay.

Our community continues to live the blessing of sharing a monastery with the Carmelite nuns. In May we moved our three sisters from assisted living in Mt. Vernon, NY to the infirmary (Lourdes Health Care) of the School Sisters of Notre Dame in Wilton CT. Sr. Mary had begun to experience seriously declining health. We supported her through a number of hospitalizations both before and after the move to Wilton. Our much beloved sister passed into the arms of God on December 9. So at this writing, as we decorate for Christmas, we are still processing the loss of our sister. In February, we had supported the Carmelites in their loss of Sr. Michael Ann, a very dear and wise person who was the first prioress of the union of three Carmelite communities which came together here in 1998.

Each day I seem to be playing catch up with the list of things to do; paper work and phone calls for family matters, secretarial work for the community, household chores, managing our various sites on the internet (see links below), writing for blogs and other publications, knitting for our on-line shop and for the new babies in my life. But distractions abound and other things come along to take precedence. I try to visit my mother once a week. When I can I find time to do the writing I am drawn to – opinion or memoire pieces that I publish to my blog, an essay for our Order’s international publication, and lately meaningful obituaries.

So often I find myself moving into default mode and thinking I should call Dad and Mom about some article I have seen that would interest them; share a story about the new ones in the family; tell them about something wonderful I found among my uncle’s things; ask for a recipe or practical advice; or seek philosophical discussion of the fate of our world. Then I face the fact that none of this is possible any longer. I have passed into the mode of being the one who receives those calls from my own children who want to share an achievement, recount the vagaries of the home buying experience these days, tell of a child’s new stage of development, or ask about advisable treatment for childhood illness. All very gratifying, but also reminding of years passing all too quickly. Another reminder came in the death of my father’s best friend, Vito Capuco of Annapolis, MD in September. They met at City College in 1948. As I moved among his dear family and their many friends at wake and funeral the memories came in almost overwhelming waves.

I look forward to the year 2015 which will include some travel, time to do some things pushed aside for too long. It will include celebration of our Sr. Lydia’s 50^th jubilee of vows; Jonathan running in the Boston Marathon in a fundraising effort on behalf of a charity which emerged from the Newtown tragedy; Teresa and Andrew moving into their new home.

Have been praying for all of you throughout the Advent Season, our Christmas Novena and these days of the solemn feast of the Incarnation. I am drawn particularly to the needs of long married couples experiencing the challenges of ageing, the suffering of refugees and those enduring violence of any kind, as well as the fate of our planet.

Thank you for the gift you are to me and for the continuing relationship which is only blessing. Best wishes to you and yours for the coming year. Stay in touch. It means so much.

May God bless us all.
With the assurance of prayers and with much love,

Hildegard

E-mail: hpleva@gmail.com

Personal Blog: MonasticMusingsOSsR.blogspot.com

Facebook Page: www.facebook.com/HildegardPleva

Community Website and Blog: http:/www.RedNuns.org
Community Facebook Page: www.facebook.com/RedNunsEsopus
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Well Done Good and Faithful Servant

2014-12-19T21:08:00.002-05:00

Obituary Tribute to
Sister Mary McCaffrey

1927 - 2014

“I have found heaven on earth, since heaven
is God, and God is in my soul. My mission
in heaven will be to draw souls, helping
them to go out of themselves to cling to God.”
Elizabeth of the Trinity, OCD

Sister Mary Teresa McCaffrey of the Redemptoristine community residing in the Monastery of the Incarnation, Beacon, NY, died on December 9, 2014 at Lourdes Health Care Center, infirmary of the School Sisters of Notre Dame in Wilton, CT at the age of 87 years following a lengthy illness. Sister Mary was the first of four children born to Teresa Alice Taylor and Daniel Joseph McCaffrey on October 6, 1927 in Brooklyn, NY. She is survived by her brothers Daniel and Gerard (Barbara) and a sister Kathleen (John Janny), twelve nieces and nephews, their fifteen children and eight nuns who shared vowed life with her in the Order of the Most Holy Redeemer.

Sister Mary first entered religious life in 1947 in the Congregation of the Sisters of St. Joseph of Brentwood, Long Island. After professing vows in 1949 as Sr. Teresa Miriam she was placed in charge of large classes of little boys in the parish schools of Our Lady of Perpetual Help and St. Mary, Mother of Jesus in Brooklyn. During 12 years with the Josephites she obtained a BA degree from St. John’s University.

Responding to a call within a call, she entered the contemplative monastic order of the Redemptoristine Nuns, located in Esopus, NY, in 1959. In humble obedience and with great courage she became a novice for the second time joining a young community creating a new monastic foundation on the grounds of Mt. St. Alphonsus Redemptorist Major Seminary. There she professed Solemn Vows in 1961 as Sr. Mary Teresa of the Holy Family.

By middle age Sr. Mary was enduring ever increasing physical infirmity. Yet she remained faithful in devotion to God, her contemplative vocation and personal devotion to the Holy Eucharist. Always available to her community, she served as Council Secretary for numerous terms, presided over the monastery library and gave willing ear and wise guidance to many new members. The lay associates of the monastery also benefitted from her direction. On behalf of many friends and benefactors she exercised the apostolate of the pen in generous correspondence. Sr. Mary rejoiced in her experience of over 70 years association with the Redemptorist Congregation; as a child in their parish, a teacher in their schools, and as neighbor to their seminary in Esopus. She influenced many young boys considering the priesthood and later became friend, confidant, informal spiritual director or prayer partner to many Redemptorist priests and brothers. Throughout her life she was a golden thread woven into the fabric of her family where she remained a source of unity and wisdom and a model of faith and prayer.

Funeral arrangements are under the direction of the Halvey Funeral Home (www.halveyfh.com). The community will receive visitors at the Monastery of the Incarnation, 89 Hiddenbrooke Drive, Beacon NY on Monday, December 15 from 2 to 4 pm and from 7 to 8:30pm. A Vigil Service will begin at 7:30pm. Mass of the Resurrection will be offered on Tuesday, December 16 at 11:00am in the Monastery chapel. Burial will be at Mt. St. Alphonsus Cemetery (grounds of The Mount Academy) Route 9W, Esopus, NY at 2:30pm. In lieu of flowers it is suggested that donations be made to Lourdes Health Care Center, 345 Belden Hill Rd., Wilton, CT 06897 in support of their compassionate care for senior sisters.

Make Friends with a Cane

2014-11-06T07:14:00.002-05:00

"Please, do make friends with a cane."

Around the age of 55 my knees began to give me trouble. That did not fly with my profession as librarian and teacher in middle school. Two arthroscopic knee surgeries (roto-rooter jobs cleaning out debris cause by osteoarthritis) bought me a bit more time. In the process I made friends with a cane. By the age of 61 the friendship served me well while recuperating from double knee replacement surgery. I am happy for this friendship, especially when I see disasters waiting to happen all around me.

On November 2 and 3 the New York Times ran two articles on fall risk for the elderly: "Bracing for the Falls of an Aging Nation" and "A Tiny Stumble, a Life Upended" both by Katie Hafner". These are worth reading and sharing with older friends and family. Denial reigns. The statistical risks are frightening; the complications from falls are innumerable. Yet, as the articles report, safety measures like life alert pendants, canes and walkers are resisted, often to disastrous end. When my mother, already in dementia, was 88 I told her she really needed to use a cane. Her response, "Oh no, I don't want to look like an old lady." I told her, "You already are an old lady!" When walking aides are introduced after dementia sets in it is difficult to master the habit of using them. Not habituated to reaching for her walker, my mother rose one night in assisted living to use the bathroom. Just standing beside her bed she lost her balance, fell and gashed her head on the bedside table. She lay on the floor for hours bleeding profusely. Although no bone was broken and the gash required only 6 stitches she remained in the hospital for 5 days, required time in a nursing home and is now a permanent resident there. There is something to be said for getting used to using a cane or walker while you can still master the process.

This message may seem a bit premature for me and my peers but not so. We may not need one all the time but can certainly use the assistance of a cane when conditions are treacherous - hiking in the woods, long tourist walks in unknown territory, icy conditions.

It pays to have one handy, have it sized correctly and know how to use it properly. At the age of 64 a tall healthy male friend of mine slipped on ice outdoors. He was not found for half an hour. He had dislocated his shoulder, damaged his knee and done terrible nerve damage. Two surgeries later after nine months in a nursing facility, living on narcotic painkillers and completely separated from his normal life of independent travel and teaching all over the world he is finally getting his life back. But his body will never be the same.

So pick out something useful but elegant. Keep it handy. Don't be too afraid or too proud, or like my mother too vain to use it. And know that people are very nice to those using a cane. This is especially true while traveling by air which has become an almost intolerably uncomfortable process. Ultimately it can be your best friend.

All Souls' Day Reflection

2014-11-02T19:18:00.000-05:00

A Gift of Presence

for the Digital Age

Reflection presented at

All Soul's Day Prayer Service Concert

St. Joseph's Church, Kingston, NY

11/2/14

We have so much in common today. We have all come to remember and celebrate those who have gone before us. Although we come in different stages of grief, with different flavors of remembering, our interior questions are probably quite similar. “How can I handle this? Where do I go from here?” The fortunate among us may have had a wise soul or a spiritual guide offering a willing ear. These treasures, like my spiritual director, share our sorrow and tears. They remind us that Jesus who wept at the death of his friend Lazarus is a companion in our sadness and grief. But then my spiritual director, as all good directors should do, asked the big questions. “And what is God saying to you in all of this? What opportunity is God asking you to find in your grief?”

Bereavement is an experience of the loss of a presence in our lives; a presence that may have been influential, someone involved in our lives, available and responsive. However, it is also possible that we are grieving not only the loss of a person but also regretting the opportunities we missed to enhance our relationship with that person while still alive.

Since we experience so keenly now the absence of a presence in our lives; since we may regret lost opportunities to be present, to be in meaningful relationship with the one who is gone; could it be that our loving God is inviting us to a new awareness of the quality of our own presence in the lives of others? Can this invitation be translated into a quality of presence that makes us better listeners, more generous with our time, more compassionate in response, and much less the masterful know it all problem-solver?

Jesus was generous with his presence, so generous that he had time to see, really see people, even to seeing into their hearts. While in the midst of crowds he was attentive and he noticed. He noticed the tax collector Matthew bent over his coins. He noticed Zachaeus who had scrambled up a tree to get a better view. In both he saw a generosity of heart invisible to others. He felt the hand of the sick woman touch his cloak in the press of the crowd; stopped his forward momentum and took the time to praise her faith and provide the cure she sought. And when an unnamed woman approached him during a feast at Bethany he accepted her gestures of devotion even when others objected. He allowed her to anoint his body with fragrant perfume and with his words memorialized forever the depth of her love.

Speaking of feasts – the Gospels indicate that Jesus liked dinning with his friends. He liked to linger at table, hearing their questions and responding to them with homey yet instructive stories. His presence was gift.

As Christians we are asked to imitate Jesus in all things. In our sense of loss is a seed, the seed for growth in Jesus’ quality of attentiveness to others. It is an invitation to grow into a more radical form of personal availability, of listening, of presence than has been our ordinary habit. This is a contemplative attitude toward relationship. It is a Jesus attitude. It also happens to be a very timely antidote to an explosion of communication without depth or feeling experienced this digital age. We find ourselves participating in a frenzy of communication. I am as guilty as anyone – busily at work as webmaster, Facebook page organizer, blog poster, e-mail user and most recently trying to master the I-Phone. I would not give them up. These digital tools can be used to spread the Gospel Word, to work more efficiently, to just keep in touch. But texts, e-mail, tweets, blogs and Instagrams cannot provide an arm around the shoulder, a listening ear, a gift of quality time in family or with friends. Digital communication does not allow for reading the expression on a face, the tremor in the voice, or the body language that speaks in silence. This is the very quality of the one on one human presence, face to face, in the now that we miss in grief for our loved one and what we may wishing we had offered in the past.

Consider the invitation that God may have wrapped up in your loss. Consider the invitation to a more loving quality of attention, awareness, and availability in all of your daily interactions. These may come at the kitchen table, in the line at the supermarket, at the next soccer game, or when all you hear is the sound of the TV and everyone’s head is bent over one device or another. It is a very timely appeal in our current technological age. This is the stuff of which our spiritual lives are made. Our response may be the finest tribute we offer in memory of our loved one, the quality of whose presence made such a difference in our life.

Halloween Remembered

2014-11-01T17:21:00.000-04:00

Am reading a very interesting book entitled The Vanishing Neighbor: The Transformation of the American Community by Marc J. Dunkelman, New York: Norton, 2014. This essay speaks of the quality of community that is lacking in many places these days. This Halloween memory is vivid for all who knew the Schultz family in Kingston, NY.

Mr. Shultz

Early every morning, except for the last few months, he walked past my house headed for the bakery and a copy of the New York Times. Rejecting jogging sneakers and shorts, he wore all-purpose leather shoes with khaki work pants and favored the layered look topped by a worn plaid shirt. A rumpled tan fishing hat completed the look of a man prepared for some woodland adventure. His once tall lanky frame now somewhat bent from academic pursuits maintained a steady unaffected stride. He was Mr. Shultz. I never got to know him better than that because he lived a few blocks away. He was just Mr. Shultz whose house my sons and I had visited once a year on each of twenty Halloweens in response to the offer of cider and doughnuts for any trick-or-treater, young or old, who needed a place to catch his breath, hide from ghosts and goblins, or duck barrages of shaving cream.

Mr. and Mrs. Shultz rearranged the cherry and oak antiques and Chinese porcelains in their living room each All Hallows Eve. After covering half of the room with painters tarps, they placed indestructible wrought iron furniture at the periphery of the protected area and set out long maple benches laden with bowls of doughnuts and cool, refreshing cider. Family and friends gathered to view the costume parade from the intact end of the room while sipping an evening cocktail. Mrs. Shultz ladled out cider. Mr. Shultz extended a warm greeting at the door. The only requirement for visitors was that each sign the guest book where attendance could be verified and compared to statistics kept since 1946. Could that first Halloween open house have been a joyous celebration of long-awaited peace, a welcome to those boys who returned from war along with Mr. Shultz, or a tribute to the memory of past trick-or-treaters who did not come home? I never asked.

Two days ago, Mrs. Shultz died at the age of seventy-five. A detailed obituary in the daily paper mentioned the Halloween open houses. Its straight forward narrative filled out the character of Mrs. Shultz beyond that of hostess feigning fright at diminutive ghosts and admiring awe for dainty fairies. She had graduated from Vassar, raised four children, founded the Boys’ Club, managed a business, sat on numerous boards, and loved Mr. Shultz for over fifty-three years. It seemed fitting to pay our respects to Mr. Shultz on this occasion out of sync with the annual round but in memory of that Halloween hostess and accomplished woman.

At Carr’s Funeral home, a daughter greeted us. We explained that we had been Halloween visitors. She replied, “Isn’t it wonderful that the paper included that in the obituary. Of course, my father wrote it.” Turning from another conversation, Mr. Shultz took my hand in immediate recognition and acknowledged my son. “We’ve come in memory of Halloween, “ I said. “Oh, I’m so glad. Wasn’t it great of them to put it in the paper. Did you sign the book?” We nodded. My son said, “I should have written that we came because of Halloween.” “Oh, please do that,” said Mr. Shultz, “we’d love it.” He continued to hold my hand as another daughter approached saying, “I see that Kermit the Frog has arrived.” My son and I marveled at her memory. We chattered in a highly self-conscious struggle to express the heartfelt. Mr. Shultz seemed a little more bent, pale and lost. Our hands had parted as he spoke of not knowing what to do about Halloween. I told him that the obituary was beautiful and that his wife’s achievements had impressed me so. Unexpectedly my eyes filled with tears and my lips quivered a bit as I praised her accomplishments and devotion. Mr. Shultz’s face began to glow, his features becoming more animated. As we said our “good-byes”, he expressed his gratitude for Halloween visitors. I took his hand to shake in parting, a final gesture of sympathy for the loss of his wife. He raised it to his lips and kissed it. With eyes steadfastly focused on mine, he said, “Thank you”, appreciating me for appreciating her.

Hildegard Pleva

1995

Family Context for the Boomer

2014-10-16T08:06:00.000-04:00

The Oreo Generation

Long ago a promise was made here to attend to the Boomer experience; to reflect upon the relationship of this generation, a generation in or entering retirement, to the slice of population born before them, the younger generations that follow them, as well as the social and cultural reality in which they live.

The image of a sandwich has been used as metaphor for the experience of this generation in between. I prefer the image of the famed Oreo cookie. What is the experience of being the filler in this generational alignment while surrounded by a contextual smorgasbord including technological revolution, economic shift, constant war, realities of aging, global warming, the ebola virus, etc., etc., etc.?

Why propose the image of the Oreo? The filler in an Oreo does not rest between two yielding slices of soft bread. The filler attempts to meld two unyielding firm and demanding cookies. In addition, its sweetness is to soften the more blunt flavor of chocolate striving to assert itself.

This is a vision of the Boomer reality experienced by many these days. Many are trying to be lovingly, responsibly and appropriately in relationship with the generation that came before us (parents and other older relatives or friends) and the generation which came from us, now our adult children. As in the Oreo cookie, we either take on or have cast upon us the task of supporting or holding together this generational mix. And like the cookie filler we are to be a sweet, pliable, and present and wise element of the structure.

Most recent posts touched upon the cause of world peace, issues in the Church, history, social commentary and more. However, the events of my personal life in last five months call me to ponder this Oreo phenomenon. As Boomer well into the last years of my life the experience of the Oreo filler is mine. The most recent episodes follow all too rapidly on the heels of placing my mother in an assisted living facility, supporting Hospice care for my father in his home, experiencing his death, selling the family home and dealing with the collections of their life time.

Future posts will tell the story in more detail. The story is presented at least in part as a cautionary tale for the Boomer and for the generations that surround them. But here I will merely post the remembrance/obituary piece I wrote two weeks ago upon the death of my mother's brother.

In Remembrance of Joseph Milazzo

Joseph Milazzo peacefully slipped away in the morning of October 3, 2014 at Putnam Ridge Nursing Home, Brewster, NY following a brief but serious illness. He was 82 years old. Following a physical collapse in Florida on July 20^th and hospitalization, he was moved to Brewster on August 13, 2014.

Joseph was born on December 1, 1931 in Brooklyn, NY. His parents were Rosalia Galante and Frank Milazzo, both natives of Castellammare del Golfo, Sicily. He is survived by his older sister, Matilda Nimke, widow of Helmut Eric Nimke. Matilda now resides at Putnam Ridge Nursing Home. He also leaves his nieces Sister Hildegard Pleva, OSsR of Beacon, NY and Commander Rosalinda Hasselbacher, US Navy Nurse Corps Ret., of Shelton, CT as well as four grand-nephews Jonathan, Matthew and Andrew Pleva and Erich Hasselbacher, their spouses and five great-grand nieces and nephews.

It has been arranged with Halvey Funeral Home, 24 Willow St., Beacon, NY 12508, that the family will gather at the funeral home at 10:30am on Wednesday, October 8, 2014. At 11am there will be a brief prayer service at which Fr. Richard Smith, pastor of St. Joachim and St. John’s Parish in Beacon will preside. Immediately following we will proceed to St. John's Cemetery, 80-01 Metropolitan Ave., Middle Village, NY 11379) in Queens. Uncle Joe will be buried in the grave of his mother who died in 1932 at the age of 29 just three months after his birth. There is something very touching in this reunion of the two of them.

My Uncle and all his Brooklyn buddies who I remember from my growing up years are in many ways like characters from a Damon Runyon story but with a Sicilian/Brooklyn accent. My Uncle began life in the Depression with many strikes again him so he was not what I call a 'straight line kid.' Did not finish high school; went from one unskilled job to another; was drafted during the Korean War and served in Germany. He did get a GED and finally, through a friend of my parents, began a job working as an apprentice in the carpet trade. Slowly and with much hard work he rose through the Union ranks and became a skilled carpet mechanic with the ability to lay intricate designs in wall to wall carpeting. He would come home and talk about doing work for the likes of Claudette Colbert and Lena Horne. After his retirement he took on the pattern of a snow bird, living in Brooklyn during the late spring and summer months and returning to his condo in Margate, Florida to enjoy being on the beach with his many friends every day. He eventually took up permanent residence in Margate.

He was only 15 years older than my sister and I so he was the young gay blade who taught us how to dance the cha-cha and how to let the man lead on the dance floor. When my sister went off to St. Vincent's Nursing School in Greenwich Village in 1968 it was an awful neighborhood and he knew that sooner or later she would be out and about in a threatening neighborhood and meeting with friends at the local hangouts. She recently shared that before she left for nursing school Uncle Joe said that if she ever had a problem or got into a fix she did not want to drag her parents into she just had to call him and he would be there. This was the type of presence he offered in the family.

He had a beautiful girl friend before he was drafted and kept to his death an album of all their pictures while dating. I believe he received a "Dear John letter" from her while he was in the Army and it broke his heart. He always had a woman in his life, women he could bring home, but he never married.

He worked very hard, enjoyed life, loved good food and had many friends. But he saved money and played the market. When he knew the market had gotten beyond him he placed his money in wise investments. So his generous gifts in life will be matched by bequests in death leaving a legacy which will enrich the lives of those he loved.

He was known as "Joey Blue Eyes". He was a generous friend, treated his ladies with dignity and respect as a gentleman. He loved his sister and her husband, my parents, and called them from Florida every Saturday. And he loved his nieces and their children.

After his collapse on July 20^th of this year, even in his dismay at his deteriorating condition in hospital and nursing home, he remained concerned about others and grateful for care. He was always inquiring as to what or where I had eaten and if I was a feeling comfortable in his condo and finding everything I needed.

We did everything we could for him but something else was winning the race and finally he just slipped away.

I see now that the act of writing has been the creation of a more intimate obituary than is usual. I share it with you to give a sense of the man.

There will not be a Mass because he was only a weddings and funerals type of church-goer. But he was good and loved by God and conquered many demons in his life, I am sure. And "now he knows." The prayers offered at the funeral home and cemetery will be as much for those he leaves behind as they are for him as his ‘awareness’ expands to all eternity.

Meeting Sr. Theresa Kane, RSM

2014-10-15T12:13:00.002-04:00

Sr. Theresa Kane, RSM

Archdiocesan Council of Women Religious (ACWR)
October 14, 2014, Sparkill, NY

Presentation

The Years of Consecrated Lives:

Comments Upon Advent of Papal Declaration

for the Year of Consecrated Life

Sr. Theresa Kane is currently teaching at Mercy College in Dobbs Ferry, NY. She resides at Marian Woods, an assisted living facility for women religious. In 1978 she was appointed to deliver words of welcome to Pope John Paul II at the Basilica of the Immaculate Conception in Washington, D.C. At the time she was serving as president of the Leadership Conference of Women Religious (LCWR).The event received world-wide media coverage. In her remarks she raised the topic of issues pertinent to women including reference to consideration of access by women to all of the ministerial roles in the Church including ordained priesthood. Her remarks were startling and brought on a storm of response on all sides of the issue. Below appear my notes of her remarks at the ACWR meeting.

Quoting retired Bishop Hubbard (Diocese of Albany) Sr. Teresa spoke of consecrated religious life as an expression of “evangelical daring”. Upon reflection she moved from the singular form of the year’s title to the plural form “years of consecrated life”. Prior to her famed remarks to Pope John Paul II in 1978, the United Nations had declared the first UN “Year of the Woman”. Thus consideration of the dedication and possibilities of women’s lives is many years old.

The presentation as outlined was to include the topics of genesis of the word “consecrated”; how “consecration is to be understood in current conversation”; and important implications for consecrated life including the Second Vatican Council, the role of laity, and the consequences of consecrated life.

Exploration of the origins and use of the term consecration:

· consecration of the host at Eucharist

· consecration of holy ground (cemeteries)

· consecration of bishops

· consecration of religious

· consecration of couples at marriage

· consecration at ordination for priesthood

· consecration in sacraments and blessings (baptism, holy buildings, virginity)

Consecration comes with a blessing. It is the vehicle of covenant resulting in mutual blessing.

Recent history regarding the Apostolic Visitation of congregations of women religious in the United States instituted by the Congregation for Institutes of Consecrated Life and Societies of Apostolic Life (CICLSAL) was reviewed and it was suggested that declaration of the “Year of Consecrated Life” was an effort on the part of CICLSAL to quietly put that controversy to rest.

Second Vatican Council

The Council did not spring full blown out of the mind of Pope John XXIII. It came from a vision and a spirit of anticipation among scholars and theologians beginning in the 1930s and 1940s. The Council engendered new emphasis on religious ecumenism, religious freedom, participation of the laity as expressed in “Lumen Gentium”, a Council document, and the concept of community replacing the prevalent concept of institution. Where ‘institution’ has features of organization, structure, systems, management, purpose and, in terms of the Church, leadership by a pyramid of hierarchy. In contrast, the concept of ‘community’ presents a discipleship of equals, a spirit of liberalism and the notion that the entire community is consecrated.

Laity

Lay people are 90% of the Church community. The movement from the tradition institutional concept to that of community declared a new dignity of inclusion for the vast majority of the People of God.

Consequences of Religious Consecration

The consequences of living a life of religious consecration are a Gospel way of living, service to those most in need and a quality of prophecy.

1. Gospel Way of Living – Consecrated religious life is a valid Spirit-driven life style that does not have its origins in an institution but is lived in parallel to an institution. Since consecrated life is Spirit-driven it can often be in tension with systems of religion especially in areas of business and governance because it is a radical departure from the standard values of society and culture. These values include ownership. Wealth, independence, and lives not determined in an autonomous fashion. The communal stress in consecrated life is a Spirit-driven mystery following the Gospel way of life which requires:

* prayer, solitude and contemplation

* community

* service

2. Apostolic Service – Service to the poor within the context of the belief that “the poor are to be agents of their own destiny” to overcome oppression by both the Church and the government. Choices for ministry reflect a “preferential option for the poor”.

3. Prophecy – Requires contemplation, the courage of one’s convictions, and development of conscience followed by respect for the primacy of personal conscience in discernment.

In this way we atone; we become ‘at one’ with ourselves, in relationship with others, with all of humankind and with all of creation.

2014-08-31T11:21:00.000-04:00

Caryll Houselander
1901 - 1954

A Prayer for Our Time

British author so stunning with spiritual insight Caryll Houselander is best known for her book "The Reed of God", a meditation on Mary the mother of Jesus. The title is metaphor for Mary's willingness to allow God to work Divine Will in and through her being.

Less well known in the United States other works are rooted in her experience of the horrors of the London Blitz during World War II. Our monastic library (no longer with us to my great dismay) held some of these gems. Among them I found her little book "The Comforting of Christ". In just the title we are invited to consider such a strange notion; the idea that we human beings can comfort the suffering Christ. Think about that one.

At the end of this precious book Houselander placed a lengthy prayer entitled " A Meditation on the Mass of Reparation". Beautiful in its poetic phrasing the prayer never fails to open my heart. Over and over again I have been drawn to the section that speaks of the moment when the priest adds a drop of water to the chalice of wine. I share this section here because while its content was born in the mist of Britain's darkest hour its appropriateness in our time is so poignant. After reading of the horrors reported in the New York Times on a daily basis, I am present at Mass with this prayer before me.

"Receive the tears of the world, in the drop of water in the Chalice; receive the tears of the old mothers who weep in the ruins of their homes, rifled nests of the little birds that were once their sons; receive the tears of frightened children, of homesick children. Receive the privileged tears of those who can weep for contrition; receive the tears that are not shed, that are hard as salt-water frozen in hearts that can weep no more; that ache in the throats of those who have no more tears to shed. Receive, O God, from my hands, who am not worthy to breathe the air He breathes, the tears of Christ in the Chalice of our salvation, the tears of the Infant in Bethlehem, the tears of the little foreign Child in Egypt, the tears shed over Jerusalem, the tears shed over Lazarus...O God, we offer Thee the tears of Christ in the tears of the world: "We offer Thee the Chalice of Salvation, humbly begging Thy mercy that it may ascend to Thee for our salvation and for that of the whole world."

More History from World War II Letters

2014-08-31T10:44:00.000-04:00

Helmut Eric Nimke - 1944

The limits of time - only 24 hours in each day - do not allow for concentrated effort in completely processing the cache of letters written by my mother and father during WWII. Therefore my reportage concerning what they reveal is a bit strung out here. But I know there are readers who look forward to reading more.

Just found this post in draft form stashed in the "files" of this blog. Just can't let it go to waste even if there is little I can add at this time. The letter above seems to have been a joint communication by men in my father's squadron who are dismayed by the injustices they observe in Meridian, Mississippi. Bear in mind that 10 years later Meridian would be at the epicenter of the Civil Rights Movement.

Below are two enclosures from the letters. They are followed by a letter in which justice issues are spoken of yet again.

2014-08-24T11:07:00.000-04:00

Church and New Document Governing Nuns

In April 2014 CICLSAL - The Vatican Congregation for Institutes of Consecrated Life and Societies of Apostolic Life sent a questionnaire to the monasteries of contemplative women ("cloistered monasteries") requesting their response to an attached questionnaire. In 2008 the Congregation held a Plenary Assembly concerned with "The Monastic Life and Its Meaning in the Church and the World Today". Currently ecclesial legislation regarding monasteries of nuns is governed by the Apostolic Constitution entitled "Sponsa Christi" promulgated in 1950 by Pope Pius XII.

To inform the work of the Congregation in preparing a new document a questionnaire was sent out with a return date of September 2014. The new document is to be promulgated during the Year of Consecrated Life which begins Advent, November 30, 2014 and will end on February 2, 2016, the World Day for Consecrated Life.

The essay below is my own general response which has come out of our community deliberations in response to the questionnaire.

Answer the Call:

General Response to Questionnaire

from

Congregation for Institutes of Consecrated Life

and Societies of Apostolic Life

Sr. Hildegard Pleva, OSsR

In concert with the desires of Pope Francis, the Congregation for Institutes of Consecrated Life and Societies of Apostolic Life has been directed to prepare a proposal for a new apostolic constitution for monasteries of nuns, a successor to Sponsa Christi promulgated in 1955 by Pope Pius XII. It is possible to discern within this directive an invitation offered by our loving God. A call can be heard; a call issued to our Church which, having entered the 3^rd millennium, is invited to affirm the dignity of all women created in the image and likeness of God and particularly women of our faith baptized into the Paschal Mystery of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus the Christ who is priest, prophet and king.

In formulation of the proposed Papal document, the first of its kind in the 21^st century, the Congregation, cognizant of current theology and scripture interpretation with regard to women as well as the cultural and societal norms of our period in history, can be attentive to the signs of our times. Recognizing the import of these factors, the new document should assert the dignity of women, render respect, declare trust and, by its stipulations, affirm the full equality of women in the Church and society, both secular and ecclesial.

The regulations concerning Papal Enclosure were first promulgated over 1,000 years ago. Analysis by historians has revealed that these regulations and their periodic reiteration in a variety of documents were rooted primarily in the political, economic and cultural context of times long passed; more rooted in constructs and circumstances long passed than in any purely spiritual value. To this day anachronistic provisions are draped with the cloth of spirituality.

Just as apostolic congregations of women are largely self-determining in the manner in which they live out their vows and fulfill their stated active apostolic purpose to serve the needs of the people of God, women in solemn vows and committed to the apostolic work of prayer, should be similarly self-determining of the manner in which they remain committed to and exercise their vowed ministry. In this way their dignity and equality in the ecclesial setting would be affirmed.

In the matter of interaction with the world at large and the ways in which modern technology can present a challenge to contemplative life, contemplative women, in accord with the philosophy described here, should be paid the respect and trust that their dignity and equality merit. They have the ability to self-manage the circumstances of their lives and the availability of new technologies in a manner that supports contemplation, corporate prayer, and community life in accord with their varied charisms while remaining focused upon the apostolic work of prayer for our Church and our world. The current technological challenge is not a new species of development. In the 16^th century there was the appearance of the printing press. The 19^th century brought with it the telegraph and telephone. In the 20^th century we dealt with the advent of the automobile, television and mass media. All of these the challenges were weathered as this question was answered, “How can we use this development to foster faith, prayer and community (local as well as international) but not allow it to destroy the focus of our charism and crumble the enclosure of our hearts?” Contemplative women can be trusted today to answer the same question with great integrity and to respond appropriately to current technological developments in computer sciences, the ability to access to the Internet and the availability of social media.

The document under consideration can express this trust in allowing mature women who are committed to their vows and the person of Jesus to formulate the question over and over as the times demand and to continue to live lives centered on Jesus, pledged to Gospel values and determined to preserve contemplative life dedicated to the apostolic work of prayer.

2014-06-18T19:56:00.002-04:00

Why is Our Public Discourse Lacking in Civility?

Listened to a great discussion about this topic on Albany Public Radio WAMC today, the last in a series focusing this issue. It was terrific and got me thinking. So I just had to leave a comment on their website www.wamc.org. Now I share it with you.

I am so very grateful to all at WAMC for thoughtful presentations concerning current pressing issues in such thorough and thought provoking ways and also for so often providing just plain fun.

Caught snippets of the series on civil discourse and only today was I able to listen to an entire panel discussion. It was a deliciously high level of discourse; an antidote to the prevalence of incivility today. By the time I got my ideas together Joe stopped announcing the telephone number so I lost my chance to add my two cents worth to the Roundtable discussion. So here goes.

As the panelists offered, there is more to this issue than meets the eye. Fear is usually at the root of anger and violence. Insecurity is rampant in the populace. But there are a few other points I would like to raise.

In the introduction to her book “The Bully Pulpit: Theodore Roosevelt, William Howard Taft and the Golden Age of Journalism” Doris Kearns Goodwin wrote, “…the vitality of democracy…depends on popular knowledge of complex questions.” I would argue that there is very little of this type of knowledge present today. Admittedly, things are more complicated than ever and it is easy to remain unaware of unintended consequences of our acts and policies. However, the deterioration of public education, fewer college programs providing a broad liberal arts education and the mediocre quality of public media in general do not enrich our capacity to understand complex matters. This factor also contributes to low turnout at the polls.

Television programming is such a “vast wasteland” that reality TV has become the norm: the more dysfunctional, violent, and inane the better. Could it be that FOX News deliberately recreates the situation and mentality of reality TV just to match numbers on the agitation barometer? Social media, as I have heard Joe’s guests report, allow people of like mind to communicate so exclusively with one another that they do not ever have to engage in any kind of conversation with those who think differently. This contributes to their bunker mentality. The military image becomes apt when violent response erupts in discourse or, even worse, in shoot outs in our schools.

I have often thought that the trend toward fundamentalism of one kind or another which we have seen emerge all over the world, across nations, cultures and religions, is also the root of political polarization in our government. If so, and if I remember what eventually happened to Senator Joseph McCarthy, this too shall pass.

I am a contemplative nun living with 21 other woman in a monastery so I will close with this point. There is a movement out there in business, organizations, schools, etc., to learn and pursue something called contemplative decision-making. The key words are something like stop, look, talk, listen, reflect in silence, reconsider, talk and listen again. It takes a great deal of time but it works.

SALE! SALE! SALE!

2014-05-04T10:29:00.001-04:00

Please Note and Share Info

Seems like it has been one hurdle after another here at the monastery. We've closed our cape sewing business; continue making habits (many right now) for Redemptorist priests and brothers; had a full and beautiful Holy Week and Easter; offered a program about our foundress Maria Celeste just yesterday and now attempting to clear out commercial sewing business equipment AND profession art equipment and supplies no longer needed here.

So sorry to all my friends but posting the sale notices here is one other way I can publicize these events. Please, please please spread the word. Note that these lists include the URL for same ads on Craig's List where photographs of items can be seen. Many thanks.

Commercial Sewing Manufacture Equipment

Available for purchase and pick-up only on Saturday, May 10, 2014, 10am to 3pm in Beacon, NY.

1 custom made sewing table with large surface designed for a commercial machine. Measures 5 feet square. $150.00

4 commercial garment racks on wheels 6' long, 71" high, 19" wide. Optional fittings for wooden ball hook hangers (hangers included). $90.00 each

1 commercial garment rack same as above without extra fittings. $75.00

http://hudsonvalley.craigslist.org/bfs/4430127737.html

MANUFACTURING SEWING EQUIPMENT

Available only on Monday, May 3, 2014 from 10:30am to 12:30pm at Arnoff Storage, 1282 Dutchess Turnpike, Poughkeepsie, NY 12603

1 Singer Highspeed Commercial Sewing Machine #251-22 with original book and with custom made table 5' x 5' $350.00

1 - 5' x 5' custom made sewing table for factory machine (machine not included $150.00

1 large heavy duty rack for up to six rolls of up to 70" wide fabric (100 yard plus rolls) with safety lock wheels - $300.00

1 cutting table 10.5 feet long and 6.5 feet wide with collapsible legs - $150.00

1 rolling garment rack 73" long, 33" wide and 75" high - $75.00

http://hudsonvalley.craigslist.org/bfs/4444181178.html

Professional Art Equipment and Supplies

http://hudsonvalley.craigslist.org/art/4430169746.html.

Seerite Top Loading Opaque Projector (6x6) - $50.00

Light Box approx. 18" x 18" - $50.00

Metal cabinet on wheels - $50.00

Folding drawing table, heavy duty, top 28" x 42" - $75.00

Variety of new metal framing materials still in boxes

Two folding easels

Mounted and rolled canvas

Assorted pad paper for drawing water color and pastel

Assorted loose paper in large sheets - fine quality - water color, pastel and drawing

Assorted brushes

2014-03-25T17:28:00.001-04:00

In Memoriam:

Esther Higgins

Human Being Extraordinaire

There was absolutely nothing half-hearted about Esther Higgins. It seemed that she was constitutionally incapable of holding back in extension of her loving nature. We know that her beloved Martin, husband of over 50 years, might be able to give evidence to the contrary and perhaps her children too. There must have been moments of temper, frustration, and sadness. But her friends, neighbors, parish community, staff and most especially the students at Linden Avenue Middle School saw her only as the most generous, caring, hardworking, perpetually positive and frequently laughing person ever.

Large institutions - businesses, hospitals, and schools at every level - are often overwhelming and in spite of being service oriented entities can seem the very opposite for many individuals. Relief can come in the presence of a person, often not a professional, who by virtue of her humanity and personality, can provide the beating generous, sympathetic heart of the place. This is the person who can miraculously break the tension, restore confidence, heal crushed hearts, and remind one person at a time and face to face that they are good and valuable. This was Esther Higgins' role at Linden Avenue School. Thus Esther cannot simply be described as a school secretary or aide. Esther was a genius at educational facilitation. One could observe her defusing the temper and resentment of a student arriving at school within minutes of an upsetting incident at home. This spared some teacher the task of having to settle down a whole class if the fuse was still afire at first period bell. The guidance counselor had an informal assistant in Esther who in little but oh so meaningful ways could provide follow-up by a brief daily check in with a youngster who needed support and to know that somebody really cared. She was informal counsel, second mother, confidante, ego and self-confidence builder for students, and some adult staff members too. And the adults knew that she could be counted upon to facilitate a solution to any scheduling foul up, to find those missing supplies, to be there when needed. Principals could come and go but support staff such as Esther remained to provide continuity in their knowledge of how things really worked, what kids needed, and to be the smiling face and pleasant voice of the front office.

I met Esther in 1980. The fact that I had known Esther for a long time was always a surprise to Red Hook folk. Esther and I had a little secret between us. We both participated I in an At Home Retreat sponsored By Linwood Spiritual Center in Rhinebeck. We were 13 women meeting once a week for 13 weeks led by a religious sister and a married woman. We came as women of faith wanting to have that faith enriched. Esther and I both came with great pain weighing upon us. I was to learn of the recent death of her son Marty and she would learn of the creeping deterioration of my marriage. Women are relationship people and Esther was more so, even in the depth of her personal grief. She made a special trip to my Kingston home to gift my son with a copy of Shel Silverstine's book "The Giving Tree" to mark his First Communion. When Don Germaine introduced me to his office staff in 1990 Esther and I just looked at each other. The ties formed by our deeply shared experience years before shot between us with magnetic force. We knew lots about each other that was not public knowledge. We had a bond.

St. Francis of Assisi is said to have given this advice to his confreres. "Preach the Gospel. Use words if you must." In these terms Esther was the supreme teacher. She spoke of God as pure love. She acted as if it was her obligation to demonstrate that truth. While very devout, she did not preach with words. Her pulpit was any human situation in which she found herself. She exercised the priesthood of her baptism by befriending, helping, joking, listening, healing, laughing and, on many days, just plain working hard.

To write this is an inadequate redundancy. Those who never met Esther cannot really image this person and for those who did, my description is unnecessary. They were given the blessing of knowing Esther. My human heart has been sad these days and writing here has helped my grief. But my soul is rejoicing. Esther is in the embrace of God. She has the ear of God and will undoubtedly be offering what would be best for those she loved and left behind.

2014-03-23T10:50:00.000-04:00

In Stitches:
The Knitter's Life

Logo for www.Ravelry.com
A simply fabulous site for knitters -
the very best

Time to remind you that I am a constant knitter these days. I observed knitters from the beginning of my life. How I wish I could talk to those knitters today: my father's step-mother and the only Grandma I knew, my Aunt Mille who could knit on the subway in the rush hour with long needles tucked under her arms and my mother who is still with me but cannot remember the fabulous knitting she once enjoyed. I learned to knit at the age of ten. Attacked it seriously when I was in high school and more seriously in college. And the story goes on. Of course, I am still a quilter. But at this stage of the game I have realistically given up those other crafts that once consumed me (painting porcelain dolls, basket weaving, needlepoint, crewel, wax resist dyed Easter eggs and even macramé years ago). I guess it could be said that there are only a few crafts that I have been able to resist. One is weaving. I never had the money for it nor the space required for a good loom. But I do still spin when I can find the time.

Wool and synthetic blend bandana

silk and mohair lace scarf

Now I want to fill you in on what I have been doing lately. The work produces both the cutest little things for my baby grand-daughter and much more for our on-line monastery shop

www.etsy.com/shop/RedNunsRoberie .

The proceeds from the shop are used to support our senior sisters. All items are handmade by contemplative nuns in our monastery. The site currently includes a few hand quilted items and a hand painted icon depicting Jesus.

Silver grey lace shawl below is first attempt at BOO Designs shawl with beading. Yarn is Italian wool and silk blend. Light as a feather. This was achieved with a great deal of on-line assistance from the great people who populate www.Ravelry.com

2014-03-05T12:22:00.002-05:00

Ash Wednesday - 2014

A Fitting Sacrifice

Let a crushed heart and spirit
Mean as much as countless offerings...
Let this be our sacrifice today...
Our hearts are completely yours. Daniel3:39-41, ICEL Translation

Early Boomers like myself are easily brought back in memory to Ash Wednesdays of the distant past. I remember lengthy conversations among the numerous girls on my block in Brooklyn. We debated the comparative value of our planned Lenten sacrifices. The list could include: no gum, no candy, no TV, daily Mass, the Stations every week, total cooperation with and obedience to our parents. Perhaps this habit of picking a good Lenten sacrifice lingers with you too. I would like to suggest here that a good choice might be not to pick a practice at all. Is it really necessary to conjure a new something to do or a new something to give up? Is it possible that the most honest, heartfelt and generous practice would be to cultivate a new awareness and a new attitude toward what already makes our lives difficult? Could we practice the grace-filled art of giving new meaning to that which is difficult or painful, that which God has placed in our lives?

Henry David Thoreau wrote, “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.” We may not all have live lives of quiet desperation but each person has struggles, anxieties, compulsions, problems that weigh one down; pain, sorrow, grief, or illness in body, mind or spirit. Some live in constant danger or uncertainty or the persistent lack of some essential need whether it be remunerative work, money to pay the bills or unconditional love and personal regard. And some bear daily in their hearts a constant concern for a loved one whose illness is beyond their control to relieve or cure. The list of what may make life difficult, of what may be a constant cross, goes on and on. Even when we create our gratitude lists that very act acknowledges the shadow of what we cannot be grateful for, of what we must endure.

This morning Father Richard Smith, pastor of St. Joachim - St. John the Evangelist Parish here in Beacon, NY, retold the story of St. Francis of Assisi who heard a message from God saying, "Rebuild my Church." Francis took the words literally and set about the arduous work of physically rebuilding a church. Later he realized how his literal interpretation may have come from his own grandiosity. Rather than doing physical work with brick and mortar he was to embody in his behavior the proper attitude of the Church, the attitude of Jesus. He demonstrated this understanding when he met the leper on the road. This was a leper whom he had been taught was disgusting, repulsive and dangerous. This was the leper whom he saw frequently along the road and sought to avoid at all cost. But this time, upon seeing the leper on the road, he went to him and embraced him. Francis embraced the leper and kissed his wound.

Whatever the particulars of "quiet desperation" in our lives; what we already endure can be the locus of our Lenten sacrifice. We do not have to invent a penance of our own choosing. In the very inventing we express our egoistic need to be in control, to know better than God. By embracing the leper which is our own "quiet desperation" we embrace what, by the Will of God, is present in our daily reality. Instead of pushing it away, of fighting it and resenting it, we can touch it and examine it. We can prayerfully commit to a previously unreached level of acceptance, to greater self-awareness of our struggle. We may even be moved to the penitential practice of seeking help along the way.

Even if we have already accepted these "desperations", close examination can bring us to greater appreciation of the worthiness of our endurance, of its great value as an offering to God. Rather than making ourselves feel guilty because a better person would not have these struggles and burdens we can embrace them and acknowledge them as something beautiful for God.

In today's Gospel (Matthew 6:1-6,16-18) Jesus said, "When you pray, go to your inner room, close the door, and pray to your Father in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will repay you." What has been presented here is subject matter for your secret whispers in prayer; prayer that is talk of what is real, what is "fitting sacrifice" from the substance of your daily life. The last step is to unite it with the suffering Christ, totally rejected with his flesh nailed into the wood of the cross. To the suffering of this Jesus unite your own examined, accepted, and even embraced, "quiet desperations" for the salvation of the world.

Observations While Walking the Path of Grief

2013-12-19T08:55:00.001-05:00

This was their home

The holidays which came in a steady flow this fall repeatedly brought me back to the fall of 2012, the season which marked the beginning of the end of my parents' lives as they had known them together for 69 years. It is still shocking to think of all that has happened in this last year both in the family of my birth and in the family to which I committed myself 13 years ago. I will leave the list of occasions which brought me to both the heights and the depths of human experience to another reflection. I will focus on recent observation of a feature of human grieving.

alabaster vase
with carved stone flowers
5 inches high - Italy

I am thinking again of my parents and how their lives, as they knew them came to a screeching halt in October of last year when my mother, age 88 and experiencing dementia, was hospitalized for a week. This was followed by a month of recuperation and rehabilitation in a nursing home and then arranging for her to live in an assisted living facility in their town. My father was a devoted husband in every way. The quality of their relationship was recently described by a psychiatrist friend as a 'zipper marriage' - devotion to each other that had a shadow side of shutting others out. It was only my father's realization that he could no longer cope with the day to day reality of my mother's dementia as he experienced his own diminishment in strength and spoke of fully expecting his own death within the year. He died on April 17 at the age of 91 following two and half months of in-home Hospice care and one week in a Hospice residential facility.

I am thinking of how their way of life just seemed to explode in a manner of seconds. All of their carefully arranged routines, relationships, obligations, support systems could no longer suffice to maintain things as they had always been. This was crushing to my father.

upper frame - my sister and I
ages 7 and five
lower frame my sons and
my parents 1984

In what followed my father's death the beautiful objects, so lovingly, artistically arranged and maintained were propelled from their set order or place; off into the unknown universe; a diaspora of all that was their life. What had been an enduringly cohesive whole atomized, exploded, fractured into shards.

Before it all went beyond reach I grabbed at some of the shards, little precious objects that were fixtures in their home and present to me my whole life. A few appear here. There are others: my Dad's slide rules in their leather cases so often seen on his drafting table, the little leather bound boxed chess set no bigger than a small paperback book which he carried with him to the Pacific in WWII and brought back in a duffle crammed with every letter he had received from my mother, a pocket knife, a watercolor painted by my mother. Each item of little value except to me and perhaps, this is my hope, to my children and grandchildren after me.

silver sewing kit box from Italy - 3x4 inches

However I find that when I look upon them I mourn the loss of the whole. Each object in their home was placed in artful relationship to others, a grand collection in reflection of their lives. These objects, in isolation from the whole, seem to have lost something. It does come to me that the loss represented in these objects seemingly removed from the ground of their being is only a reflection of my sense of loss, of my having been propelled into a new way of being, a new stage of life. No longer in this world is there anyone who came before me. who remembers before me, who can tell the old stories. I am now the elder and that has been a bit of a shock. I feel the burden of holding the stories and the need to keep sharing them, especially with the little ones so that when they receive the gift of these precious objects they will know something of their meaning to those who loved them so dearly.

Helmut Eric Nimke with family
March, 2013

Christmas Novena Begins Today

2013-12-16T18:48:00.002-05:00

Novena Prayer

Adore, O my soul,

in the bosom of Mary

the only begotten

Son of God

who was made man

for love of you.

A Reflection for All Souls

2013-11-12T11:50:00.001-05:00

On Mourning Those Whose Faith was Weak

Reflection offered at the annual

All Souls Concert at St. Joseph's Church,

Kingston , NY - November 10, 2013

Many of us have been consoled in our grief by remembering the deep faith of the person no longer with us. We may have observed firsthand how the one we loved and respected was carried through the dying process by faith in a loving God. Or perhaps the sadness of the day of their departure or the day of their burial was eased by our imagining their joy as they entered into the embrace of the God whom they knew and loved.

But my words now are for those who grieve the loss of someone whose faith was not strong; whose faith was underdeveloped; whose faith was long ago jettisoned in the face of great pain, misfortune or disillusionment. Preparing their funerals and burial rites may have seemed a bit off kilter because we never really knew how they were with God.

It was this way with me when my father died last April. True to his utterly in control character and while he was in Hospice care at home, he planned everything. At his request he met with the funeral director and pastor of the Episcopal Church where he would be buried. He wrote his own obituary, wanted no church service, requested military honors and allowed for only a few words at the burial.

While not a member of Gereration X, he could have declared like some of them, “I am not religious but I am spiritual.” I believe my father was a deeply spiritual man. Were he not, how could he have been such a loving and faithful husband for almost 70 years, such a lover and connoisseur of music and art, such a steady reliable friend, or such a faithful citizen of the country of his adoption? He often asked me to pray for him. But he was a pragmatic man wary of all illusion.

Where did I find my consolation if I could not find it in the sure knowledge of his faith? Where can we find some peace when we lose someone whose faith had not matured, who seemed to have no faith, or who chose a spiritual path unlike our own? I found my peace in a passage of Scripture frequently read at funerals but little meditated upon:

The souls of the just are in the hand of God,
and no torment shall touch them.
They seemed, in the view of the foolish, to be dead;
and their passing away was thought an affliction
and their going forth from us, utter destruction.
But they are in peace.
For if before men, indeed, they be punished,
yet is their hope full of immortality;
chastised a little, they shall be greatly blessed,
because God tried them
and found them worthy of himself.
As gold in the furnace, he proved them,
and as sacrificial offerings he took them to himself.
In the time of their visitation they shall shine,
and shall dart about as sparks through stubble…

I read this passage and no longer wondered about the quality of the grand reunion of my father’s soul with his creator. In that reunion all has been revealed to him. Now he knows all about God, all those things he missed or questioned or puzzled about all his life. Now he knows utterly unconditional love.

Let our consolation be found in the image of God taking such souls to himself and transforming them into brilliant light. Where once their intellect or ignorance, their pride or their lack of self-worth, their self-centeredness or their frenzied busy-ness kept God at a distance or out of their realm altogether; now they have bridged the gap. All distance has been erased by union with God who knew their hearts as only God can know them. With this image before us we can say with comforting certainty, “Now they know.”

New Option for Your Holiday Shopping

2013-11-05T15:01:00.002-05:00

RedNuns Open

On-line Shop

RedNuns Roberie and Scriptorium

www.etsy.com/shop/rednunsroberie

Traditionally the roberie (French) is a very special room in a monastery;

the place where vestments are created and stored.

Today it is the sewing room; a place where creative ideas come to life.

About Our Shop

“We are contemplative monastic nuns creating handmade original needlework and graphic arts to support senior sisters in community. Featuring natural fibers; handspun yarn; traditional methods in quilting and writing sacred icons; recycled papers and attention to ethical manufacturing.” Specializing in knitted lace, hand quilting, traditional icons, original greeting cards.

Redemptoristine Nuns are members of a contemplative monastic international order. We recently went through a long period of dislocation and then relocation to our current home in Beacon, NY. Three of our senior sisters have come to need special care. This Etsy Shop endeavor is an effort to help in covering the considerable cost of their care. These sisters have been dedicated to prayer for the world for a combined 175 years. They deserve the best we can provide for them. Thank you for helping us in that effort buy patronizing our Etsy Shop – RedNuns Roberie.

The nuns creating items for RedNuns Roberie have been making beautiful things by hand since childhood. Our skills, styles and materials have changed over time. Our aim today is to feature handmade items with high quality natural fibers while giving attention to environmental issues and justice in manufacturing practices.

Thank you for visiting RedNuns Roberie. Be sure to click on any item of interest. A whole page of information will appear.

Purchases may be made with a major credit card or PayPal.