The snow had stopped by the time we gathered in the Motherhouse library for Saturday morning yoga. It was a quiet and cold winter morning, but the sun streamed through the windows and filled the room. I relaxed into my seat as I joined the guided breathing exercises, followed by gentle stretching. The instructor invited us to stand behind our chairs with our hands gripping the backrest. We lifted ourselves onto our toes and moved our gaze from left to right, then let go of the chair and flapped our arms like we were splashing in a pool. “Let yourself wobble,” our instructor urged us as we explored these new movements and sensations. In order to improve our balance, she explained, we needed to let ourselves get off-balance.
My long weekend at the Motherhouse helped strengthen my sense of balance, though I encountered challenges along the way. Widespread snow swept through Ohio the day before I was scheduled to leave for Youngstown, and Cleveland was in the midst of a lake effect snow warning. I watched the snow continue to pile up outside my window and worried whether I could make the trip. Sister Norma was on her way to daily mass when I made the decision to drive to Youngstown, and she assured me that she would be praying for a safe journey. Those prayers were answered, and I pulled up the Motherhouse driveway an hour later, grateful to find far less snow than I’d left behind in Cleveland.
That evening, visiting actress and playwright Terri Bays was performing a one-woman play about Sister Joan Chittister. The audience was a diverse mix of Humility of Mary nuns as well as Ursuline Sisters and Associates, and I found a seat among some familiar faces. The one-woman play was not a linear narrative, but much like my yoga practice, it inspired a more complex sense of balance. Bays alternated between the two sides of the stage to alternate between the intersecting stories of her mother and Sister Joan. The early scars of injustice and abuse became transformed through faith. And ultimately forgiveness, according to Sister Joan, is when love equals pain.
Joan Chittister is a Benedictine nun, but I heard hints of Saint Angela’s call to live courageously as women of faith in Sister Joan’s story. It set the tone for my weekend with the Ursulines, which included a Lenten retreat about the Gospel of John. “The coming of Christ truly changed the world--and our lives,” Sister Lisa Marie explained as she guided us through the retreat. We learned about the brutality of ancient Rome. We learned how the vertical Roman hierarchy was challenged by Christ’s preaching of a much more horizontal world order, one based on service. His love encompassed those who followed him and those who persecuted him. It knocked the world off-balance and restored balance all at once.
In order to improve our balance, we need to let ourselves get off-balance. And in order to expand our capacity to love, we need to love the people who are most difficult to love.
Lent is traditionally a time when we realign our spiritual balance and challenge ourselves to grow in Christ’s love. We abstain from meat on Fridays. We fast on holy days. We empty ourselves, just as the baptismal and holy water fonts are emptied.
This year amidst the Coronavirus outbreak, our routines have been even more visibly disrupted. General Superior Sister Mary McCormick wrote in the Spring 2020 Ursuline newsletter: “We are just days away from Easter. And the Lenten fast that has been imposed on us--a fast from social gatherings, a fast from freedom of movement, and a fast from the Eucharist and other sacraments and church rituals—will continue for some weeks.” On Easter morning, our family gathered around the radio and listened to the mass as it was broadcast from the cathedral. Later that day, we wished my grandpa a Happy Easter through the window of his room at the nursing home. It didn’t feel like a holiday.
Where can the peace and promise of Easter be found, if not in the usual places? I continued to pray my daily devotional, and the reflection on the Second Sunday of Easter resonated with our current situation:
That evening, visiting actress and playwright Terri Bays was performing a one-woman play about Sister Joan Chittister. The audience was a diverse mix of Humility of Mary nuns as well as Ursuline Sisters and Associates, and I found a seat among some familiar faces. The one-woman play was not a linear narrative, but much like my yoga practice, it inspired a more complex sense of balance. Bays alternated between the two sides of the stage to alternate between the intersecting stories of her mother and Sister Joan. The early scars of injustice and abuse became transformed through faith. And ultimately forgiveness, according to Sister Joan, is when love equals pain.
Joan Chittister is a Benedictine nun, but I heard hints of Saint Angela’s call to live courageously as women of faith in Sister Joan’s story. It set the tone for my weekend with the Ursulines, which included a Lenten retreat about the Gospel of John. “The coming of Christ truly changed the world--and our lives,” Sister Lisa Marie explained as she guided us through the retreat. We learned about the brutality of ancient Rome. We learned how the vertical Roman hierarchy was challenged by Christ’s preaching of a much more horizontal world order, one based on service. His love encompassed those who followed him and those who persecuted him. It knocked the world off-balance and restored balance all at once.
In order to improve our balance, we need to let ourselves get off-balance. And in order to expand our capacity to love, we need to love the people who are most difficult to love.
Lent is traditionally a time when we realign our spiritual balance and challenge ourselves to grow in Christ’s love. We abstain from meat on Fridays. We fast on holy days. We empty ourselves, just as the baptismal and holy water fonts are emptied.
This year amidst the Coronavirus outbreak, our routines have been even more visibly disrupted. General Superior Sister Mary McCormick wrote in the Spring 2020 Ursuline newsletter: “We are just days away from Easter. And the Lenten fast that has been imposed on us--a fast from social gatherings, a fast from freedom of movement, and a fast from the Eucharist and other sacraments and church rituals—will continue for some weeks.” On Easter morning, our family gathered around the radio and listened to the mass as it was broadcast from the cathedral. Later that day, we wished my grandpa a Happy Easter through the window of his room at the nursing home. It didn’t feel like a holiday.
Where can the peace and promise of Easter be found, if not in the usual places? I continued to pray my daily devotional, and the reflection on the Second Sunday of Easter resonated with our current situation:
“We tend to think of the ‘Bread of Life’ as the Eucharist. But in our tradition, it refers to both the Scriptures and the Eucharist. This may come as a surprise to some because of the apparent emphasis the Catholic Church places on the Eucharist. However, traditional Catholic theology considers each, in its own way, the ‘real presence.’ To pray the Scriptures is to eat with the Lord.”
The peace and the promise I was seeking was already here with me, even in the middle of the storm.
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