Category: Cloister of the Sisters of Mary Magdalene

A Picnic with Ants and a Grasshopper

On By MaryIn Choices we make, Cloister of the Sisters of Mary Magdalene, generosityLeave a comment

Summer lingered as a most welcome visitor among the good Sisters of Mary Magdalene. It is true that the convent is not air conditioned and peak summer humidity could render the inner rooms into steam baths some afternoons, but none the less, the bright sun and blue sky were a welcome invitation to celebration among the sisters. Even though October was edging its way onto the calendar, this day the sisters decided to evoke the memory summer as cause enough for a picnic. And so just after 6PM, they packed up salads and sandwiches and carried them out to the court yard where they gathered for supper and recreation.

 As they finished their food, Mother Magdalene smiled to herself as she said, “Having a picnic always makes me think about ants. Sisters, do any of you remember the story of the ants and the grasshopper?”

Sister Septimus, one of the older sisters, allowed that she could remember the story from her childhood. She said, “I believe that the ants worked hard all summer to store up enough food to carry them through the winter, while the grasshopper merrily hopped over the fields chirping and singing without a care in the world. Then when winter comes, the grasshopper finds herself without food and starving, even while the ants have plenty.”

“Yes, the very story” says Mother Magdalene. “The grasshopper begs the ants for some food. But the ants rebuke the grasshopper, ‘You sang all summer, why don’t you just dance your way through the  winter.’ So, Sisters, what do you think about the ants and the grasshopper? Who behaved wisely? Who acted well?”

Sister Beatrix, the new postulant at the cloister, thought for a moment before she replied, “My first thought is that the ants were correct. They were wise in storing food for the foreseeable time of need, and the grasshopper was foolish for not planning ahead. But, I’ve been here in the cloister long enough now to suspect that there is more to the story than this. What am I missing?”

Sister Septimus beamed. “You are a daughter after my own heart, dear Beatrix. Not so long ago, I would have whole heartedly agreed with your first analysis and declared that the end of the story. But recently I have come to more fully appreciate the importance and need for celebration in all of our lives. It is far too easy to dismiss the work and the contribution of the grasshopper. We need to joy of music for our lives to truly flourish. Without the grasshopper to remind us to pause and celebrate our lives would be dreary indeed. A touch of foolishness is the salt we need to flourish. Too much salt is not a good thing, but a touch brings out the fullness of flavor. Too much foolishness is not so good either, but a bit, well, laughter and song are the best medicine.”

Sister Visentia added, “I can’t believe that I am saying this, but  yet we do need to be aware of the virtues of hard work and the perils of improvidence, do we not? To work today is to eat tomorrow, yes? And, yet I can’t help but feel that the ants are just a bit greedy!”

“Indeed,” replied Mother Magdalene, “and don’t fail to notice that the industrious ant gathers the produce of others work in planting. We are all part of a larger community. Let us be a community of generosity From each according to her ability, to each according to her need. … I feel like someone else said that somewhere? Who might it have been.” Mother Magdalene mused.

And the Sisters enjoyed the waning light of the sun as it continued on its path behind the western hills.

24 hours to die, 24 hours to live

On By MaryIn Choices we make, Cloister of the Sisters of Mary Magdalene, growth into humanity, vision and perspectiveLeave a comment

Back at the cloister a new postulant has just entered the cloister. Sister Beatrix was bubbling over with joy and enthusiasm to begin her life as a Sister of Mary Magdalene. Her enthusiasm was infectious, although it was becoming a bit taxing to some of the more sedate sisters. Mother Magdalene was aware of the emerging tension when Sister Beatrix came in to meet with her for her formative spiritual guidance. Sister Beatrix had barely taken her seat when she began, “Reverend Mother, why does my mind wander around to forbidden places? Why am I so inclined to gossip when none of the other sisters do? Why do I feel such frustration and resentment for others instead of a sense of compassion for all sentient beings like Sister Visentia?”

Mother Magdalene smiled to herself, recognizing that she needed to take the situation in hand and help Sister Beatrix to slow down and to find her pace within the flow of the cloister. Mother Magdalene took a slow breath and thought she might take a bit of a risk with Beatrix. “Sister Beatrix, your questions are thoughtful, but, it seems to me that in 24 hours from now you will die.”

Sister Beatrix looked startled. She stood up and started to walk out of Mother Magdalene’s office.

Mother Magdalene asked, “Sister Beatrix, where are you going? You entered my office with such vitality and enthusiasm, and now you look so down hearted.”

Sister Beatrix replied, “But Reverend Mother, you just told me that I have but 24 hours to live. I must go and say my goodbyes to the other sisters before I die.”

“Ah, but there are 24 hours,” said Mother Magdalene, “sit, and we will talk a bit more.”

“Please Mother,” Sister Beatrix asked, “I must go and gather myself and say my goodbyes.”

Beatrix quickly left Mother Magdalene’s office and returned to her own room. Sister Bryda saw her crying, and softly knocked on the door. Beatrix wept as she told her what Reverend Mother had said. Then Beatrix asked to be left alone, and she wept into her pillow. Time quickly flew by with Beatrix weeping, pacing and weeping. Before she realized it, there were only 3 hours left. Death had not yet arrived, but Beatrix was all but dead as she lay on her bed waiting.

When there was only one hour was left, Mother Magdalene came to Sister Beatrix’s room and knocked on the door. She said, “Sister Beatrix, why are you lying on your bed with your eyes closed, crying. Death is still a whole hour away! An hour is 60 minutes – 3600 seconds – long. That is a lot of time. Get up, wash your face. Let us talk a bit.” 

Sister Beatrix sat up and said, “Mother, why should we talk now? Please may I just die peacefully?”

“Oh, Beatrix my child, there is still time and our talk will be concluded before your final time arrives.”

So, Beatrix pulled herself together, washed her face, and sat waiting for Mother Magdalene to speak.

Mother Magdalene asked Beatrix, “Now, my daughter, in the past 24 hours, have you gossiped about anyone?” 

“How could I gossip? I was only thinking about death?!” replied Sister Beatrix.

“In the past 24 hours, did your mind wander?  

“How could it, I could only think of my imminent death” said Sister Beatrix.

 “In the past 24 hours, where you frustrated with others?” 

“Oh Reverend Mother, not at all, I was only thinking about death.” 

Finally Mother Magdalene said, “Dear Beatrix, I really don’t know when anyone will die. I do know that we all have to die some time. But understanding the ultimate truth – that every living creature must die – can be very liberating and enlightening. All the questions you posed to me have been answered by yourself because of the awareness of death that you experienced during the past 24 hours. The difference between you and the other sisters is that you were aware of death for hours; the other sisters here have been practicing that awareness for I have been aware for years. Be patient with yourself. Cherish the moments, spend your hours thoughtfully and with compassionate awareness.” 

“You know, Mother Magdalene,” Sister Beatrix murmured thoughtfully, “this reminds me of one of my mother’s favorite quotes, I think she said it was from someone named Gwen Brooks. Mom would often say to us when we complained that something was impossible, she would say, ‘You are alive until you are dead. Ten minutes before you are dead, you are alive. You could save the world in ten minutes.’ I guess mom and Gwen Brooks knew something!”

“Indeed.” Mother Magdalene thought outloud, “indeed.”

Why did god (the gods, the goddess) make you? As a servant? As a chip off the old block? Or to search for your better half?

On By MaryIn Cloister of the Sisters of Mary Magdalene, cosmology, vision and perspectiveLeave a comment

Why did God make you? Every Roman Catholic of a certain age, who grew up with the Baltimore Catechism, knows the unquestionable answer to that question: “to know, love and serve him in this world, and to be happy with him in the next.” Of course that is the answer, the one, true, only possible answer. Or is it? I wonder what our good friends, the Sisters of Mary Magdalene might have to say as they contemplate why God (god, the goddess, the gods) made us.

It’s been a while since we visited the cloister, so come with me, and let’s have a peek at what the sisters are up to . . . 

Since Hurricane Sandy even as the sisters continue to clean and repair the grounds, life seemed to be settling back into a more normal convent routine, at least for the moment. Each morning the sisters rise at 5AM to greet the sun; at 6 they gather for prayers and liturgies; at 8 they break their fast in a silent communal meal together, followed by manual work, liturgical prayers, and dinner at noon. The afternoons are a combination of work, spiritual reading and prayer; followed by a light supper at 6PM. Evenings include quiet time, recreation, prayer, discussion and reflection on their readings, and meetings with spiritual mentors. Most of the good sisters find their way to sleep by about 10 PM. They are reclaiming stability and comfort in the routine and strength in the discipline. And life indeed goes on.

As we look in on the Sisters their Spiritual readings focus on creation stories across traditions. Beginning with the Hebrew scriptures that are the foundation of their own tradition, and they read the second chapter of Genesis: Adam was created by his Maker. The story notes that Adam was charged with keeping a garden. That was his job, in service to his maker. But, Adam soon became lonely. His Creator wanted Adam to be happy, and so he resumed creation and brought into being every bird of the air and every beast of the field, and brought them to Adam to see and to name.  Yet, none of these creatures gave Adam delight. The Creator then caused a deep sleep to come upon Adam. While Adam slept, the Creator took a rib from Adam’s side and created woman. When Adam beheld her, he said, “This at last is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh.” And he felt happiness and joy in the relatedness of human community. And things unfolded from there.

Because our sisters are committed to honoring the memory and spirit of Mary Magdalene their spiritual mother, they looked further to the creation story from the Upanishads of India. There they read that before the beginning of time, when the universe was nothing but the Self, the Self looked around, saw that there was nothing but the Self, and shouted, “It is I!” and the concept “I” arose. And when the Self became aware if itself as an ‘I’, ego arose, and it was afraid. But it reasoned, thinking, since there is no one here but myself, what is there to fear? And fear left.

But, the self still lacked delight, and wished for another. So, it swelled and split in two, becoming male and female. The male embraced the female, and from that embrace, the human race arose. But the female thought, how can he unite with me, who am of his own substance? And so she hid.  She became a cow, he became a bull and united with her, and from that union cattle arose. She then became a mare and he a stallion . . .  and so one, down to the ants.

Then the self realized, “I am creation; for I have poured forth all of this. And there arose the concept of ‘creation.’

Some of the sisters found this version of the creation story a bit disturbing, but they continued in their reading and reflection.

Next they looked a bit closer to home, and sought the wisdom of the Greeks, reading from Plato’s Symposium. There they examined a creation story that begins with the human race already in existence, but with three distinct human races: one entirely male, whose residence was the sun; one entirely female, who dwelt on the earth; and the third, half male and half female conjoined together, who dwelt on the moon. These beings were as large as two humans of today. They each had four hands and four feet, sides and backs forming a circle, one head with two faces.  The gods of those peoples and times became afraid of the strength of these humans, and so Zeus and Apollo cut them in two, “like apples halved for pickling.” But, those divided parts, each desiring the other, came together and embraced, and would have perished of hunger had the gods not set them far apart. 

The Greeks teach us that the lesson of this story is that human nature was originally one and we were a whole, and the desire and pursuit of the whole is called love – according to its three kinds. Oh, my! As you can imagine, this third version really caused some distress for some of the sisters with its implicit affirmation of same sex love as a normal aspect of human being. And, yet, even in their distress they are hardy, stalwart souls. And so they persisted in their reflections.

Mother Magdalene turned to Sister Visentia, and asked her for her thoughts. Visentia smiled a bit, and said, “Well, Mother, you know, I’ve also been reading Joseph Campbell recently. And, if I remember correctly, it seems that in our traditional reading from Hebrew Scriptures, Adam, as the being whose rib was used to create woman, is the created servant, and the goal then is to become engaged in a relationship with the other, even while serving the creator. While in the version from India, it is the creator who is split into parts. And so each creature should experience and realize in life their very identity with that Being, we are each made from, made of the creator – thou art that! In the Greek version, we are left to search for our other half, while at the same time being careful not to offend the gods. These are three very different ways to think about the meaning and purpose of our lives! What very different versions of truth!”

Then, Sister Bryda chimed in, “and what different paths to justice and respect for dignity! Are we servants of a divine creator? Are we in search of relationship and our better half? Or are we each a chip off the old block, the Creator’s very self?”

At that Mother Magdalene smiled and observed, “Well, Sister Bryda, you may not realize the depth of your own wisdom. The answer is actually all three. One dimension of social space is a path of awe, the path that leads to transcendence and divinity – where we explore the vastness of all that is as you put it, a chip off the old block. That is the most neglected dimension of social space in the world at large. In our world here in the cloister, it is the most revered dimension. Another dimension is relatedness and closeness, finding authentic connections with others, and yes, in the secular world, searching for you better half. That is a dimension we have chosen to redefine somewhat within this cloister as we set aside the search for a particular half in the search for a stronger common community. And indeed there is a third dimension to social space, the dimension of hierarchy, of servant and master, of above and below, and of justice and fairness, perhaps the dimension that is most contentious in the world around us. Each dimension is necessary for a full, whole and healthy well being. The challenge is keeping them all in balance.”

Through all of this Sister Septimus looked perplexed, then thoughtful. After a few moments of silence, she spoke, “So, three dimensions of social space: awe/divinity, closeness/relatedness and hierarchy/justice. So, God made us to know him or her or them in awe, to serve him, her or them; or perhaps to work for fairness and to build a world where dignity is indeed respected.”

“Or all of the above.” Observed Mother Magdalene as the left the refectory for the chapel and evensong.

Keeping the R in Celebrate

On By MaryIn Cloister of the Sisters of Mary Magdalene, happiness, music of life, vision and perspective1 Comment

When we last looked in on the good Sisters of Mary Magdalene they had just returned to their Cloister after the tempestuous winds of Storm Sandy.

Sandy left the grounds of the cloister were badly battered. Trees had been uprooted and tossed about wildly and wantonly. Tree limbs crashed through windows, and other windows were blow out. The wind and the rain wreaked havoc in the rooms where the windows were broken through.  Outer building were lifted off their foundations and tossed about like so much jetsam and flotsam. The cloisters buildings and grounds were a sad sight to sore eyes for even the most awakened of hearts.

And the good Sisters returned to this, took up their cloths, tools and prayers and began the work of cleaning and restoring their home the cloister to its pristine ascetic aesthetic.  Mother Magdalene organized the Sisters into work teams with rotating captains for each team, following the best in feminist team building principles.

Sister Bryda continued to walk the property looking for artifacts that might have been blown about by the winds, up righting statuary where she could, marking project that needed more heft, flagging areas that were safety hazards.

Sister Visentia moved through the buildings and gathered the  damaged and broken setting it to be repaired by the sisters during the coming cold months.

Sister Septimus collected the damaged documents from the archives, immediately setting to clean and repair them before the dirt and mud could mar them beyond restoration.  Sister Septimus took to her task with a care, persistence and gentleness that even she had never known in herself. She found a deep and abiding sense of peace as she caressed and cleans the ancient documents that found their home in the cloisters library. Ah, the library and its once beautiful stained glass windows.  The windows were now gone, and all that was stained in the library were the books and the papers. And Sister Septimus worked on, collecting, sorting and cleaning.

For days and weeks Sister Septimus worked methodically and meticulously at cleaning and restoring book after book, document after document. And in the evenings during refectory, she asked Mother Magdalene for permission to read “People of the Book” by Geraldine Brooks. Mother Magdalene thought this an odd choice, but Sister Septimus rarely sought to read lay literature. So, Mother Magdalene granted her request, but inquired gently of Sister Septimus about her interest in the book. The right side of Sister Septimus mouth turned ever so slightly in the direction of a smile, and Septimus allowed as how she feels an empathy with Hannah Heath, the book conservator who is the central character in the book. “reading about her dogged determination there, somehow just  helps me to keep going here. I know its fiction, but it just nurtures my heart and my work” said Sister Septimus. And Mother Magdalene smiled and nodded, “indeed” was all she said in return.

And the work continued. One day weeks into the repair and restoration, Mother Magdalene heard Sister Septimus weeping. She went to her at once, and found her holding the original charter of the cloister, written in the hand of their founding collective, signed by the first Mother Magdalene, and subsequently copied in the hand of each of the following Mothers. Sister Septimus silently pointed to the line in the rules of community life, the line that called on the sisters to lead their lives as ‘celibate’ women.  “Oh, mother, what have we done to each other!” she wept.

Mother Magdalene, looked at Sister Septimus with confusion and then began to weep herself as she read the original document herself – for the first time. It was the practice of each new Mother Magdalene to read and recopy the document from the hand of her predecessor; the prior documents were archived and stored for perpetual safe keeping. As Sister Septimus and Mother Magdalene stood weeping and holding the original charter document both of them saw that one of the successor Mother Magdalene’s had miswritten — she left out the ‘r’ and wrote celibate; but the original rule of community life did not challenge the sisters to live their lives as ‘celibate’ women, rather it called on them to CELEBRATE.

Mother Magdalene and Sister Septimus looked each other deeply in the eye, and with their full open hearts they determined and pledged that from this day forward as it was in the beginning, the Cloister of the Sisters of Mary Magdalene would be women who celebrate.

And what does all of this have to do with justice and respect for the dignity of all beings? Only that we are called to openly accept all – to accept everyone (including our selves) – fully into our hearts just as they are, just as we are. It is not the distance of celibacy that marks the path to holiness. It is the open hearted loving embrace of celebration that leads to wholeness, and through celebration of the wholeness of each of us, of all of us, we will walk the path to respect for our dignity and to lives of fairness and justice. So (along with Three Dog Night — the band named for those nights SO cold you needed three dogs in bed with you to keep warm 😉 along with Three Dog Night let your heart and soul sing) … celebrate, celebrate! Dance to the music — of love and life!

Good By to Sister Ludwika & The story of the mustard seed

On By MaryIn Cloister of the Sisters of Mary Magdalene, compassion, Death and Grieving1 Comment

Hurricane Sandy has passed, the east coast is recovering, and the Sisters of Mary Magdalene have decided that it is time to return to the cloister. They are concerned for Sister Ludwika’s wellbeing and they are also concerned about the condition of the cloister buildings. So, they convince their neighbors, the Sisters of the Loose Habit to drive them back to the cloister. As they arrived at the cloister grounds they immediately knew that Sister Ludwika was in trouble.  The winds and rains of Sandy had utterly altered the landscape. Trees were tumbled like so many twigs. Buildings were off their foundations and some were tossed and tumbled like doll houses in the aftermath of a child’s temper tantrum. But, where was Ludwika? Surely even she would have had sought safety somewhere – but where in all of this devastation and chaos?

 Then the sisters heard Sister Bryda gasp as she sobbed Sister Ludwika’s name. And the community knew that Ludwika had been found, and that she had left them to meet her maker. “Blessed Mary Magdalene protect her soul” as one, the prayer was on the lips of each of the sisters.

 Mother Magdalene quickly found Sister Bryda cradling the remains of Sister Ludwika’s body. It had been a few days since the storm wrecked its havoc and claimed Ludwika. Time and their feral neighbors had not been kind to Ludwika’s remains. Taking it all in was too much for Bryda. Mother Magdalene quickly understood that Bryda was on the edge of hysteria and shock. Mother Magdalene gathered the young sister into her arms, separating her from Ludwika’s remains. Sister Bryda was inconsolable, “We should have insisted. We should have made her come with us to higher ground.”

 “Ah, Bryda. You more than any of us know Ludwika. No one made her do anything. If we had bound her and dragged her with us, she would have found a way to return her to this place were she found and knew her peace. No one – not even I as Mother Superior of this Cloister – no one told Ludwika what to do if she did not already want to do it. By now, I expect she has met our patron, Mary Magdalene and her great love, the Carpenter. Now we must find our peace with her passing.”

 “But, Mother, her faith was so great, why did her faith not protect her?”

 “Bryda, we will all miss Ludwika. We will all grieve her passing. And, we will celebrate her life and her passage into the eternal. It is for all of us one day to die and to pass into the nextness of our creation. Bryda, in your heart you know these things.”

 “But, Mother, Lazarus was brought back to life after many days in the tomb. Why not Ludwika? We could all pray? Why her? Why now? When her faith was so strong.”

 “Bryda, let me tell you a story I once heard at the feet of  Chogyam Trungpa Rimpoche. It is the story of a young mother, Kisa Gotami  . . .

Kisa was happily married to a wonderful man, and together they had a young son who was just learning to walk. Her life was full, and she was happier than she had ever dreamt might be possible. Then one day her son was out playing and he was bitten by a poisonous insect. The infant died in his mother’s arms. And, as you can imagine her grief was without measure. She was completely and utterly inconsolable. Being a devout woman, she sought out the village wise man and asked who might heal her son. What prayers could be said?

The wise man told her there was only one who might effect a healing, it was the Buddha himself. Undaunted, Kisa sought out the Buddha, and invoked his aid. The Buddha took pity on the young woman and told her that she must bring him a mustard seed in order for his to heal her son. Kisa’s eyes lit up, and hope grew in her heart. A mustard seed! Certainly she could secure a simple mustard seed. Ah, but the Buddha said, this must be a special seed. You must receive the seed as a gift from the house where no one has lost a loved one to death.

Kisa went from house to house in her village. At each home she would ask for a mustard seed, and in each home it was given to her freely and generously with great kindness and compassion. When she asked if anyone they loved had died in that home, each family responded with sadness, saying ‘the living are few, but the dead are many. Our grief is as full as the river Ganges.’ There was no home in her village where someone had not died in it.

And Kisa was overcome with hopelessness and sat down and wept. And she thought about her experiences and the task that the Buddha had set for her. ‘He is man of compassion,’ she thought, ‘there is a lesson here for me.’ And she discovered and experienced the universality of grief and of death. ‘If we love, we will grieve. If we live, we will die,’ the realization came to her – as it must come to each of us. She touched the ground, looked up to the stars and released the isolation of her anguish into the common suffering of all those in her village who had shared their pain with her.”

Mother Magdalene sighed deeply, cradled Sister Bryda in her arms for a few minutes more as she softly said, “Bryda, pain is ubiquitous, but suffering is optional. Rilke once said that our greatest fears are like dragons guarding our most precious treasures. We have lost Ludwika. Now we are confronted with the dragon of our grief at her loss. It is up to us, alone and together to confront and engage that dragon to claim the treasures beyond that grief. Let’s walk that road together, in community.

And, as we walk, let us pray the great prayer from the heart sutra: Gate, Gate, Paragate, Para Sam gate y Bodhi swaha … gone, gone, they are all gone to the other shore.

It is good to remember now our evening meditation: Life and death are indeed grave matters. All things pass quickly away and so each of us must be completely alert: Never neglectful, never indulgent.  We have borrowed this meditation from our Zen brothers and sisters for good reason. May we continue to honor it well, with deep thought and compassionate action even as we remember Sister Ludwika.”

And Sister Bryda shed a more peaceful tear as her she let go of Ludwika’s body and touched her memories of their days together. “Ah, Mother Magdalene,” Bryda said, “she is indeed gone to the other shore.” And they both wept even as they smiled at the aptness of the prayer.

In memory of my mother, Celia (January 1, 1925 – October 25, 2012), and all our mothers, families and friends who have gone before us. May they rest in peace. May we all find the treasure beyond the dragon of our grief.

Sister Ludwika Hurricane Sandy and faith versus action

On By MaryIn Cloister of the Sisters of Mary Magdalene, growth into humanity, laughter1 Comment

Back at the cloister of the good Sisters of Mary Magdalene in Flemington, word went around that Hurricane Sandy was coming and the sisters should prepare to evacuate since the South Branch of the Raritan was expected to reach catastrophic flood levels. The sisters had never received such a challenge before, and some of them interpreted the warning as a test of their faith. As you might expect, there was a small group (a very small group, maybe two or three) of sisters who proclaimed their unwavering faith, and said they would weather the storm in the cloister, trusting in God and their faith to keep them well. The other sisters methodically brought inside anything that could be moved, pack up a bag each and relocated to higher and drier ground.

And the winds began, and the rain came.

As the wind and rain were beginning, a state police officer came by in a patrol car, and offered to drive them to safety. Our friend Sister Septimus, the pragmatist, thought for a moment, and got in the vehicle urging the others to join her. The two remaining sisters looked askance at her and the state trooper, and proclaimed their faith and trust in God, saying, “God will protect us. We will stay here. Firm in our faith we will be fine.”

And the wind and the rain increase in intensity and strength. The night wore on and just after midnight, driving through two feet of flood water, a volunteer fire fighter drove up in a humvee and offered to take the two sisters to safety at the shelter that had been opened near the public library. The sisters looked at each other, and Sister Bryda told Sister Ludwika that she was going to go to the shelter. Sister Ludwika laughed at Bryda, and told her that her trust in the Lord could not be shaken by a little water and some wind. Sister Ludwika said she would remain strong in her faith. She was staying even if she would stay alone.

And the wind and the rain howled through the night. Just after midnight Mother Magdalene herself, the sister superior of the cloister returned in a borrowed SUV and entreated Sister Ludwika to come with her to a safer location. Ludwika refused, again inveighing against the failure of faith of the other sisters, and proclaiming that her faith would shine like a beacon to them all. And so, Mother Magdalene left Ludwika to her own private vigil.

As the night wore on, Sister Ludwika became ever more resolute in her vigil, her faith growing ever stronger even as the winds howled, and the rain waters engorged the normally quiescent South Branch of the Raritan River. As the winds raged, the cottage that Sister Ludwika had chosen for her shelter was lifted off its foundation by the winds and tossed like so much flotsam into the raging waters of the Raritan. The cottage and its contents – including Sister Ludwika – were tossed by the raging waters and batter along the river banks. Early that morning before sunrise, Sister Ludwika met her maker.

Upon arriving at the Pearly Gates (which Ludwika thought to herself were not quite as pearlescent as she had expected), Sister Ludwika saw a ragged looking fellow wearing a contractors’ tool belt. Since no one else was around to greet her, she approached him, introduced herself, and asked who he was. He smiled, and said that he had been was waiting for her. “I am Jesus” he said simply.

“Oh, my God!” Ludwika said, and blushed.

He smiled and said, “Yes.”

Then Ludwika’s anger got the best of her, and she burst out, “but why did you fail me? Why did you not save me after all my years of prayers and my unwavering faith in you! How could you let me down when I needed you the most?”

Jesus looked at her with a mixture of compassion and frustration. “Ludwika, dear, I did reach out to protect and save you. I sent the state police, the fire department and Mother Magdalene. I sent you a car, a Humvee, and an SUV! What did you want a Chariot of Fire? Your prayers may propose, but up here we are the ones to dispose! Indeed, praise the Lord, and pass the ammunition. Not that I am advocating fighting (since you can be kind of literal, Ludwika) but it really is about developing your god given skills and abilities and building communities of love and interdependence. It is not faith versus action, it is faith and action.”

(the heart of this story is a bit of an old chestnut that often centers on a man of faith caught in a tree as flood waters swirl around him. I hope you enjoy my version.)

Finding Sister Visentia and the story of the empty stomach

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When we last saw Sister Visentia she was dangling off the edge of a cliff near the South Branch of the Raritan River. She had been chased over the cliff by a mother bear. As she came to the edge of the cliff, she grabbed onto a vine thinking she would find a way to the bottom – only to see a snarling pack of coyotes below. It was about then that she looked more carefully at the vine that was her life line, and she noticed two things: a luscious strawberry, and some mice gnawing on the vine.  Out Sister Visentia being who she was, she plucked the strawberry with her free hand and deeply savored its sweetness. And the “Family of Bears” blog entry ended there.

 What transpired just as we left the scene is that a young man flying an ultra-light aircraft happened by just at that moment. He noticed Visentia dangling from the vine and took stock of her situation. Just as he flew by, Sister Visentia saw him and recognized the pilot as the young man she had saved from drowning earlier in the summer. She waved and called out to him, but he just flew by. Sister Visentia’s hopes rose and were dashed in the same quick instant. She knew that he saw her dangling there. How could he just fly off and leave her there. He must have recognized her; she certainly recognized and remembered him. How could he forget someone who had saved his life? How could he abandon someone who had saved his life!?!  But he was gone and that was all there was to it. Nothing had changed; she had to remember to focus on the sweetness of the strawberry. She wanted her last thoughts to be ones of joy and appreciation. She really did want that.

 And then she thought she heard the sound of the ultra-light getting louder. She looked out and didn’t see it. But, then she looked down and saw the ultra light flying ridiculously close to the ground. What was he doing? Then she realized he was buzzing the coyotes and chasing them off. And as she looked down she noticed that the ultra-light had only one seat. There he was herding the  pack of coyotes off away from the bottom of the cliff. One problem removed. But it was still a very tall cliff, and the vine was just about at breaking point.

 With the coast clear for a landing, Sister Visentia started to look around in more earnest for a pathway to the bottom. There were a few scrub bushes below her, maybe they would break her fall. Just as a plan began to take shape in her mind, the vine gave way, and the base of the cliff came rushing towards her.

 “Tuck and roll.” Visentia heard a man’s voice call out to her.

 Reflexively she tucked into a fetal position, protecting her face and front and she let herself roll down the face of the cliff. Eventually, after the longest couple of minutes of her life, Visentia felt her tumbling halted by strong, careful hands. She looked up from the ground into the eyes of the man she had saved from drowning only weeks before.

 “Good afternoon, Sister. Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Javier de Esperar. I believe that I owe you my thanks for saving my life? I apologize for not thanking you properly earlier, but I – well, I did not think that I was dressed properly for the occasion. But perhaps now our accounts are somewhat in balance?”

 Sister Visentia collected herself. She gathered her thoughts, straightened her limbs and robes, and struggled to stand up, even as she smiled, “Well, indeed. You are quite welcome, and I am most grateful, Javier. I am delighted to see you again. Twice in one summer it seems that I have tested my vows and both times with you.”

 Visentia winced and moaned as she tried to stand up. Javier looked crestfallen. “Sister, I trust these innocent transgressions of your vows should not cause you such grave pain?”

 “Ah, Javier, my new friend, it is not the condition of my vows that are the source of my pain. It is the condition of my arm. I am afraid that I have broken it.”

 Javier looked more carefully at Sister Visentia’s arm, asked her if he might touch it, and then very quickly before she could respond, he took her arm in both his hands and pulled and twisted it in one smooth, if painful, movement. Visentia started, yelped, and then looked relieved. “what?”

 “I am a chiropractor.” Javier responded before she could finish her question. “You dislocated your shoulder in the tumble. It should be fine now. But you may want to baby it a little for the next few days. Sister, may I ask you a question?” and without waiting for her response, Javier continued, “I must admit that I was flying over the area looking to see if I could find you. I indeed wanted to thank you properly for saving my life the other day. When I first saw you, you were not alone. What happened to the other sister who was walking with you? How could she have run off and left you alone with that mother bear chasing you? What is wrong with that woman? Has she no sense of care or community?”

 “Oh Javier, that was Sister Septimus, and I must admit she is her own kind of person. Indeed, she has gone off somewhere. But, Javier, let me tell you a bit of a story that helps me to understand and appreciate Sister Septimus. You are a medical man, so you may appreciate this story. My mother was a philosopher, and she use to tell me this tale often when I was frustrated with my sister when I was much younger.  Mom would remind me: ‘in the earliest days of the creation of humans, not all the body parts  worked together in harmony the way we find them to work in our own times. Each member of the body, each part had its own opinion and ideas of how to function and of how to relate to all the other parts.  Each body part thought it was the most important, that its way of working was the best method, and that its function was the most crucial in keeping the new humans alive and healthy.  A revolt was brewing among them.  The various body parts began to grumble and complain, and finally the focus settled on the stomach as a lazy bag that just sat in their midst and collected and enjoyed the fruits of their persistent, diligent work. They were angry and insulted that they all worked so hard, and the stomach just sat there taking it all in without effort or gratitude.   And so one day all of the other body parts colluded in a revolution. The hands would bring nothing to the mouth, the mouth would take in no food, the teeth refused to chew – they would reign in the stomach and give it nothing but hunger – the first hunger games you might say. But, soon enough, their dedication to punishing the stomach and teaching it the need for discipline and persistence brought starvation and weakness to each of the other body parts – they were wasting away.  Finally they realized that the work of the stomach was nothing insignificant, that indeed the stomach too gave back to the body. As a result, they realized that the work done by the stomach was no small matter, and that the food he consumed was no more than what he gave back to all the parts of the body in the through the digested food which nurtured them all through the blood, and which cleansed them through the intestines and so on.’  At that point in the story my Mom would smile, and remind me that we all have a part to play in the larger body of life. Sometimes that part is clear to see and sometimes it hidden from our view. But we must trust each other and help each other as best we can by living out the best that we can be, each of us being simply our selves, each of us playing our own part – because as Mom also used to say, all the other parts are already taken.”

Javier smiled at the story. “Your Mom was quite a woman.”

“She was indeed. Then, because she was a philosopher and didn’t quite know when to stop, Mom would remind us that tolerance is not enough. It was only when each of the body parts came to understand and celebrate each other in all of their differences and diversity that they call came to flourish.”

“Ah, indeed, she was a wise woman.” Javier concluded.

When to be practical

On By MaryIn alchemy, Cloister of the Sisters of Mary Magdalene, spiritual growth, stories for social changeLeave a comment

When to be Practical – A somewhat revised version of a Sufi Story by Mohammed Gwath Shattari 

 The good Sisters of Mary Magdalene were grieving the loss of Sister Visentia. Some of the sisters found themselves holding Sister Septimus culpable – for leaving Sister Visentia on her own with the bear chasing her, for not marshalling a search party of the other sisters sooner, and just because they just really liked Sister Visentia better (although none of the good sisters would admit this last reason). To help them deal with their grief and to heal their relationships, Sisters Bryda, Ludwika and Septimus decided to set off on a retreat together. For their retreat, they elected to hike the Appalachian Trail.  As they hiked the trail, the good Sisters discussed the importance of putting into practice everything they had learned in the cloister, and they committed themselves to helping each other sink their roots more deeply into a spiritual life of social justice.

Together the good sisters discussed the nuances of love and compassion, they talked about the golden rule, the platinum rule, about the importance of self love as a foundation for loving others well. They found themselves talking about Sister Visentia, her embodiment of all they cherished in the rule of Mary Magdalene. They found themselves chuckling at some of Sister Visentia’s odd little habits – the way she would poke out her lower lip when she was thinking and when she was pouting or sulking a bit. And the laugher helped to ease their loss. They walked and talked, and soon they we so engrossed in their thoughts and conversation that it was quite late at night when they realized that all they had with them was one piece of somewhat stale, hard bread.  And they concurrently realized that they were well along the most remote portion of the Appalachian Trail where they were not likely to encounter others and they would not come to a town for a few days more journey.

But, all in all the day had been a sweet one, and so the Sisters decided not to discuss who most should/would eat the bread; since they were pious women, they decided to leave the decision in the hands of the Mary Magdalene to patron saint of their order. They prayed that during the night their patron would inspire them with the wisdom to know who should eat the bread.

The following morning, the three women rose together at sunrise.

“This is my dream,” said the Sister Ludwika. “I was taken to places I had never visited before, and enjoyed the sort of peace and harmony I have sought in vain during my entire life on earth. In the midst of this paradise, our mother, Mary Magdalene said to me: “you are my chosen servant, you never sought pleasure, always renounced all things of this world. This hard, dry bread holds with the path you have chosen, and I choose you to partake of its sustenance.”

“That’s very strange,” said the Sister Bryda. “For in my dream, I saw my past of service and devotion to the sisters, to our order and to our patron Mary Magdalene. Our Patron spoke to me and affirmed my future role within our cloister. As I gazed at that which is to come, I heard our mother Mary Magdalene, saying: “You are in great need of food for I have called you to works of service that will require strength and energy.”

Then Sister Septimus said:”In my dream I saw nothing, went nowhere, and found no wise women. However, at a certain hour during the night, I suddenly woke up and was overcome with hunger. So I ate the bread.”

The other two were furious:”And why didn’t you wake us up and consult with us before making such a vital decision that effects us all!?”

“How could I?” Said Sister Septimus, “You were both so far away, talking with our mother, Mary Magdalene, and having such holy visions! Yesterday we discussed the importance of putting into practice all that we learn in the cloister. In my case, God acted quickly, and had me awake dying of hunger!”

 This story illustrates the need to nurture ourselves, and the importance and place of self care, as well as the dilemma of balancing self care and caring for others, and the ability to laugh at ourselves and with others.

An Allegory about Rescuing the Children in the Raritan River

On By MaryIn alchemy, Cloister of the Sisters of Mary Magdalene, social justice, stories for social change1 Comment

 Sister Septimus had been out walking with Sister Visentia in the woodlands surrounding their cloister, the convent of the good sisters of Mary Magdalene. When Sister Septimus came back into the cloister alone, a search party was organized to look for sister Visentia. Two of the sisters in the search party, Sisters Bryda and Ludwika soon found themselves walking along the banks of the Raritan River as they searched for Sister Visentia. 

The day before all of this there had been torrential rains across all of Hunterdon County, so the river was much higher than usual. This day the typically serene South Branch of the Raritan was swollen to the tops of its banks, the waters were thundering by and all in all the river looked unusually treacherous! As they peered over the banks of the river hoping that they would not see Sister Visentia in such a dangerous location, to their shock and horror, they saw a toddler bobbing in the river thrashing and struggling to keep her head above water.

Sister Bryda immediately slipped out of her cowl, scapular and tunic and dove into the river. She reached the young girl just as the child was about to go under for the third time and handed her out to Sister Ludwika. Ludwika wrapped the child in Sister Bryda’s scapular to cover her and warm her, and was ready to help Sister Bryda out of the water when they both saw another child up river a bit, and struggling. So, Sister Bryda swam up to the child, caught him and handed him up to Sister Ludwika.

Again just a Bryda was about to ask Sister Ludwika for a hand to get herself out of the river, they both hear a pair of children calling for help. Of course Bryda could not let them drown, so back into the cold, torrential river she swam. It was feeling to her that the water was getting progressively colder, and the current faster and deeper. But, these were young children, she just could not let any harm come to them.  So back after them she went.

And, yes, just as she was handing the last child to Sister Ludwika, Ludwika pointed upstream again – more children!  Sister Ludwika was horrified, and she could see that Sister Bryda was near exhaustion. So, Ludwika quickly helped Bryda out of the water and jumped in herself to continue the rescue operation. This went on for a while, and now both Sisters were passed exhaustion and barely able to move.

Sister Ludwika crawled out of the river, and rasped to Sister Bryda, “Someone must be throwing children into the river! I’ve got to go and stop them.”

“But, Ludwika, you can’t leave me here alone. It is taking both of us to get these children out of the water. We can’t just let them drown, and I can’t do this alone.” Sister Bryda gasped.

“Bryda, if I don’t stop whoever is throwing these children into the water, we will both be too exhausted to be any good to anyone.” countered Ludwika. And, with that she turned her back on Bryda and the toddlers, and started to walk upstream to find out who was throwing the children in the river, and to stop them.  It was one of the hardest decisions Ludwika had ever made.

Sister Ludwika’s intention was prevention, but her action looked (and felt) like abandonment. Efforts for change are risky. The outcomes are rarely clear and certain. To those doing the more immediate work of addressing and repairing the harms caused by injustices, energy and resources committed to long term goals can feel like a depletion of much needed emergency resources. To those committed to longer term social change strategies targeting social change to bring about the alchemy of social justice, emergency triage work can feel short sighted. Truth be told, both are necessary. We need to heal the wounds of injustice – we need to pull the children from the river. We need to contain the consequences of injustice – we need to ensure that the children we pull from the river are loved and fed and we need to see that they don’t catch pneumonia. And, we need to build a world where fairness and respect for human dignity are the norm – we need to prevent more children from being thrown into the river. And all of that takes a village.

(versions of this story are common among community organizers. some folks attirbute early renditions of it to Saul Alinsky.)

A family of bears, a pack of coyote and the strawberry: delight in the present moment

On By MaryIn alchemy, Cloister of the Sisters of Mary Magdalene, spiritual growthLeave a comment

Parts of New Jersey really do justify its label as the ‘garden state’. Out in Hunterdon County where I live, there are still acres and acres of farms and forests. And, increasingly there have been sightings of black bears. For the most part, bears will retreat at loud noises. So, if you are walking in the woods and you carry bells with you, you should be safe. A major exception to this is if the bear is a mother bear with young cubs. Then all bets are off, and the mother will defend her cubs from anything she perceives as a remotely possible threat – and that includes any human silly enough to be in her line of sight or her range of smell. Be forewarned.

Those of you who have been regularly following justalchemy stories will remember the cloistered convent of the good sisters of Saint Mary Magdalene which is tucked in a corner of  rural Hunterdon County. Well, one day two of the good sisters were out for a walk along a forest trail near the convent and they came across a mother bear and two of her cubs.  The sisters both saw the bear family at the same time, and together they broke their vow of silence and whispered to each other, “RUN!”

As you read this, you may find yourself wondering how fast you have to run to outdistance a bear? Common wisdom says, just a bit faster than the other person with you.

And, so Sister Septimus fairly quickly outdistanced Sister Visentia and made it safely back to the doors of the cloister.

Sister Visentia was a bit more Rubenesque than Sister Septimus, and so she lagged behind in the sprint for safety. Soon enough she found herself on the edge of a cliff overlooking a quarry. Just as she was about to despair, Sister Visentia notice a honeysuckle vine draped over the edge. She very quickly wrapped the vine around her arm and leg and lowered herself over the edge of the cliff. And just in time too as the mother bear was in close pursuit!  

There she was dangling precariously over the edge, calculating how long the vine is and how deep the cliff was when Sister Visentia heard a coyote pack snarling below her. As she lifted her eyes to the heavens and began to take some calming breaths, Sister remembered her mantra and meditation practices. Just then Sister Visentia also noticed the mice who were gnawing at the vine that was suspending her between the bear and the coyotes. She deeply inhaled and exhaled. She looked to her left and noticed a wild strawberry plant with a deep red berry on it. Reaching out with her left hand, she plucked it, tasted it, and her last thought was a prayer of gratitude and appreciation for the wonderful sweetness of the delicious strawberry.

Viktor Frankl reminds us that there is always hope if we are but open to noticing it. Remember to celebrate the joy and delight of the present moment!