Back to the Edge of My Knowing

I once dreamed I was in an urban neighborhood at dusk, making my way across back yards crammed with people. The yards were narrow strips of land belonging to detached rowhouses standing side by side. Everyone appeared to be waiting for something; perhaps a baseball game, or fireworks on the fourth of July. Sounds of traffic surrounded us all.

My trek from yard to yard was halted when I reached a building extending farther back than the others. It looked like any other building, but I knew it was a church. There was an entrance facing me; a small, humble, very plain side door. I opened it and stepped inside.

The interior was larger than I expected. Dark, cool, with walls and floors of deep reds and browns.  Every surface gleamed with a warm patina, like stones worn smooth during years of prayer.

The overall sense was of a cavern, one lit only with candles. Small clusters of burning white tapers kept vigil along the long walls.

By now it was dark outside, and I knew the people were still out there, still packed in, still noisy, still waiting. From inside, however, I could no longer hear them. There were no more sounds of traffic. I knew only silence, and subtle scents of incense and beeswax, and a gently growing awareness of someone here, on the edge of my knowing.

I had thought I was alone, all by myself in this silent church. Yet now I knew an unseen sense of Presence.

He was in this place; of course He was.  I'd only needed to come away for a moment from the noise, so I could hear Him. I needed to be where His silence filled the air.

He had been waiting for me to stop and listen.

He had been waiting all along.

"I have a secret dwelling place, a sanctuary closed to the world and occupied by God alone, where I can always say 'O my God! I belong to You!' Neither afflictions, nor tempests, nor the clamour of the world, can tear me away from this secret abode, from this hidden Sanctuary where I can always converse with God, in a mysterious friendship which is the beginning of Heaven." (The Living Pyx of Jesus, Pelligrini, 1941, p. 95) 

'To be with God it is not necessary to be always in church. We may make a chapel of our heart, whereto to escape from time to time to talk with Him quietly, humbly and lovingly.... Begin then; perhaps He is waiting for a single generous resolution.' (Brother Lawrence)

'We are, each of us, a Living Cathedral. Each is his own chapel. And provided we are in a state of grace, God lives and dwells within us… we must live and act as if we were dwelling in a church in the presence of the Tabernacle.” (The Living Pyx of Jesus) 

This is a slightly edited repost from our archives. It is linked to Reconciled to You and Theology is a Verb for 'It's Worth Revisiting.'   
 

Photo: Kitaev Hermitage. Click here for full attribution.

Holy in the Midst

'Live on the divine Eucharist, like the Hebrews did on the manna. 

Your soul can be entirely dedicated to the Eucharist, 

and very holy in the midst of your work and contacts with the world' 

St. Peter Julian Eymard

Prayer on the March

'A little lifting up of the heart suffices; a little remembrance of God, an interior act of adoration, even though made on the march and with sword in hand, are prayers which, short though they may be, are nevertheless very pleasing to God... 

Let him then think of God as much as possible so that he will gradually become accustomed to this little but holy exercise; no one will notice it and nothing is easier than to repeat often during the day these little acts of interior adoration.'

Brother Lawrence, The Practice of the Presence of God

Cloistered at the Carnival

I once had a dream about a carnival.  Specifically, I dreamed I was living in a little house on carnival grounds. It was night, but the light streaming in through my windows was bright and garish. It flashed bursts of purple and white and blue and yellow, ceaselessly, across walls and floors and faces.

There were other people in the house, sitting quietly in my little living room. The faces around were serene and still. I knew we were praying.

It was a "staying" sort of dream, the kind you carry with you throughout the day and perhaps long after. I felt it captured much of the essence of my life as a cloistered heart.

Like the house in my dream, my life is encircled by "the carnival." I don't have to look far to see the truth of this, although I often forget it. I live surrounded by so many things that don't really matter in the long run... things that carry the atmosphere of carnival.... the chase after fun, self-indulgence, riches, entertainment, pleasure, the pursuit of what pleases me-me-me. Yes, that last sentence contains redundancies; and yes, the carnival does as well. Like a wheel spinning round and round going nowhere, the carnival spins back to self and I and me and mine and what I can get out of life.

It's tough not to get caught up in the carnival.  After all, there is much in it that can be legitimately enjoyed. But oh, how easy it is to let the clamor and excitement, the music and neon, the magic and illusion take my focus off what really matters!  It is a constant struggle.

How to live in the carnival while not being part of it?  Perhaps, for me, a clue lies within the dream.   I am to remain in that little house of prayer, in the cloister of God's will, wherever I may go.  I am to keep the light of prayer lit within it, for that will illuminate the shadows and reveal the Truth of God.

Like a turtle in its shell, I can carry the cloister with me. I can live in a house of peace, in the midst of the carnival's neon glare.   

"The world with its seductions is passing away, but the man who does God's will endures forever."  (1 John 2:17)

This is a repost from our archives. Text not in quotes © Nancy Shuman.  
thecloisteredheart.org    

The Exact Right Address

Arriving for my first-ever retreat inside an actual monastery, I could not find the building. Nor could the friend who'd come with me, and who was doing the driving. We were at the right address, looking at the spot where the monastery should be, yet for the life of us we could not spot it. All of the buildings in the neighborhood looked, to us, the same. Most were rowhouses, standing shoulder to shoulder along the narrow city street.

There was no sign reading 'monastery' or 'convent.' Brick sidewalks stretched almost to the doorways. There were no front yards. The only monasteries I'd been to before this were miles away from towns, separated from the 'outer world' by fields or forests. Could we have been given the wrong address? I wondered.

Eventually we found an entrance to our destination and yes, here was the monastery - just a few feet from the street. It sat surrounded by cars, pedestrians, and lots and lots of noise. Its outside blended in perfectly with every other building.

'Their thoughts are fixed on God, not on the world; still less on the casual street that runs by their door.' wrote the Lathrops of this exact spot. 'A narrow strip of grass, railed in by a light iron fence, separates their dwelling from the sidewalk, and gives them an added safeguard in their retirement. All this is in accord with the aims of a community like that of the Visitation. Their object is … to prevent the intrusion of careless, worldly, noisy people, who may be inclined to invade the seclusion and sanctity of a life wholly ordered and consecrated to spiritual purposes. (A Story of Courage, p. 7)

'The countenance, then, if one may so describe it, of this building is calm, neutral, neither repelling nor inviting... it is in no way demonstrative. From a distance you cannot even distinguish it from other buildings. It does not dominate them. It does not tower up, or threaten, or warn you away...  It simply stands there, and waits..' 

As one striving to live 'cloistered in heart,' I look upon my life, even my body, as a 'monastery.' I can be a place where God is loved, served, lived for in the midst of the world. I do not stand out from people around me. I look like members of my family, dress like other women my age, talk like everyone else. No one passing me on the sidewalk would cry out 'why, look at that - there goes a walking monastery!' My prayers and babysteps toward holiness happen, in large part, right in the midst of everyday life.

Standing shoulder to shoulder with others, in the middle of the world all around me, I'm situated precisely where I need to be.

I am at the exact right address for a cloistered heart.

This is a repost from our archives. It is linked to Reconciled to You and Theology is a Verb for 'It's Worth Revisiting Wednesday.'





Photo at top: Georgetown Visitation DC, 2002, N Shuman 
Photo at bottom via Pixabay

theCloisteredHeart.org

The Grille Again (Again)

With all that's going on in the world these days, I would personally like to bury my face so firmly in the cloistered heart 'grille' that I'd wind up with criss-cross marks imprinted on my forehead.

Actually, I would prefer to hide deep inside cloister walls. But I cannot do that. I am called to face the world in its woundedness, seeing my little part of it and letting that little part (family, friends, acquaintances) see me.

I never (ever) want to face the world's confusion, seductions, dissension, anger, fear and distortions unless I do so through the grille.

What is "The Grille?" 

This is how we've previously described it:  

  

Sometimes I look at the world and feel unsettled.  Perhaps that’s why I’m so grateful to have grillwork. I am glad to be able to respond to world situations, the media, and various circumstances of life “through the grillwork of the will of God."

I do not have to guess what that will is. God has revealed it.  Scripture and the authentic teachings of the Church make up the bars of my "grille."

I compare this way of seeing to the view a nun might have of someone in her foyer.  Sister stands at the grille, looking out at whoever stands before her.  The foyer is a public part of the monastery, accessible to almost anyone.  In my monastery, I see the "foyer" as my mind.  I invite thoughts there by what I see and hear, but I have little control over what might come in uninvited.  If I turn on TV or walk into a store, all sorts of things push in.  Some are like salesmen in a monastery foyer, displaying catalogs of their wares.  “Have you worried about this today?” the thoughts ask. “Look at this new line of fears - tailor made just for YOU!”  

"God has not given me a spirit of fear, but of power, love and a sound mind.” (2 Timothy 1:7)  I ask God to impress this truth upon me. 

“But consider the pain you’ve been feeling!!” the thoughts insist.
"I consider the sufferings of the present to be as nothing compared with the glory to be revealed in us.” (Romans 8:18).  I recite this bar of my grille over and over.

“…But look at you!  You are weak and helpless!”   
“In Him Who is the source of my strength I have strength for everything.” (Philippians 4:13).

And on it goes.  Finding the view is not easy.  I try every day; I fail every day.  But with every “success,” it seems the grillwork grows stronger before me.  It is how God invites me to meet the world.  

"During this changeable life, one must preserve a steady and imperturbable evenness of spirit.  Although everything may change around us, we must keep the serene glance of our soul constantly turned to God. ” (St. Francis de Sales) 

© 2017 Nancy Shuman. 
thecloisteredheart.org    

Secret Whisperings

Painting: Auguste Bourotte

Being What We Are

 

 

 

 

 

Rx: This Name

'Does one of us feel sad? Let the Name of Jesus come into his heart...
And where is that man who, terrified and trembling before impending peril, has not been suddenly filled with courage and rid of fear by calling on the strength of that Name?
Where is the man who, tossed on the rolling seas of doubt, did not quickly find certitude by recourse to the clarity of Jesus's Name?
Was ever a man so discouraged, so beaten down by afflictions, to whom the sound of this Name did not bring new resolve?
In short, for all the ills and disorders to which flesh is heir, this Name is medicine.' 

St. Bernard of Clairvaux

Painting: Wilhelm Bernatzik, Vision of St. Bernard (detail)

We Come From Somewhere Else

'The false optimism,
the modern happiness,
tires us because it tells 
us we fit into this world.
The true happiness
is that we don't fit.
We come from
somewhere else.'

GK Chesterton














Painting: Dante Gabriel Rossetti, 1865

Who Has Forgotten God

'It is not our economics which have failed; it is man who has failed - man who has forgotten God. Hence no manner of economic or political readjustment can possibly save our civilization; we can be saved only by a renovation of the inner man, only by a purging of our hearts and souls; for only by seeking first the Kingdom of God and His justice will all the other things be added unto us.'

Fulton J. Sheen

Painting: Anders Zorn

In This Time of Preparation

‘Silence is so lacking in this world which is often too noisy,

which is not favorable to recollection and listening to the voice of God. 

In this time of preparation for Christmas, 

let us cultivate interior recollection, 

so as to receive and keep Jesus in our lives.’

Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI 

If You Knew He Worked Through Your Hands...

'How to find Christmas peace in a world of unrest? You cannot find peace on the outside but you can find peace on the inside, by letting God do to your soul what Mary let Him do to her body; namely, let Christ be formed in you.... 

'As He was physically formed in her, so He wills to be spiritually formed in you. If you knew He was seeing through your eyes, you would see in every fellowman a child of God. If you knew that He worked through your hands, they would bless all the day through.'

Bishop Fulton J. Sheen










Painting Gerhard Wilhelm von Reutern, 1843

Advent in Daily Life

'It is necessary to understand that the whole of our life must be an 'advent,' a vigilant awaiting of the final coming of Christ. 

'To predispose our mind to welcome the Lord who, as we say in the Creed, one day will come to judge the living and the dead, we must learn to recognize Him as present in the events of daily life. 

'Therefore, Advent is, so to speak, an intense training that directs us decisively toward Him Who already came, Who will come, and Who comes continuously.'

Pope St John Paul II

Painting: Jules Breton. The Weeders, 1868

Do We Seek A Savior?

"The question is: is the humanity of our time still waiting for a Savior? One has the feeling that many consider God as foreign to their own interests. Apparently, they do not need Him. They live as though He did not exist and, worse still, as though He were an 'obstacle' to remove in order to fulfill themselves. Even among believers - we are sure of it - some let themselves be attracted by enticing dreams and distracted by misleading doctrines that suggest deceptive shortcuts to happiness. Yet, despite its contradictions, worries and tragedies, it seeks a Savior and awaits, sometimes unconsciously, the coming of the Savior who renews the world and our life, the coming of Christ, the one true Redeemer of man and of the whole of man."

Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI

Painting: T F Simon, New York

Who Can Give You Peace?

Painting: Pawel Petrowitsch Tschistjakow

Cotton Candy

I cannot imagine how anyone truly desires the world. It's like being starved for protein and satisfying one's hunger with cotton candy, mistaking the synthetic taste for nourishment. 

One bite and the substance has disappeared, as if turned to air. But still we continue to eat, charmed by the sweet flavor that does nothing but deceive.









text © N Shuman, thecloisteredheart.org

How to be Transformed

In God We Trust

Pray Pray Pray