I don’t claim to have much in common with religious sisters, as the Catholic Church calls them. I am not quite sure when I met my first nun or member of a religious order. Growing up in the part of rural Indiana from whence I came does not readily provide that opportunity. I am sure I at least saw a nun when I went to larger cities, like Indianapolis or Cincinnati, but nothing in my memory stands out. Even college days in North Carolina at a Quaker-affiliated college ensured that I had little to no connection with them.
No doubt, it was in graduate school in the Boston area. I actually had some young women in class with me who were members of a Catholic order. They were a blessing. They were mostly smarter than I was. They were kinder than I usually am. They were instruments of grace. But they never struck me as pious in that stylized sense that the word, piety, often suggests. They were really people---good friends, fun and funny.
I am sure ever since I have had an interest in what religious sisters have to say and can teach me. They have actually made commitments and lived out those commitments in ways I aspire to do, but usually fall short. I am intrigued by their lives and their ministries. In some ways I marvel at how they have managed a patriarchal, hierarchal church structure. So when a religious sister speaks, I listen.
One of the places I routinely find good stuff is in the Global Sisters Report that the National Catholic Reporter makes available. Recently, they added a new offering called Life, which is a forum for a sister to comment on her life and ministry. The one I want to share today comes from Mercy Sister, Marilyn Lacey. Sr. Marilyn is a teacher, author and worker with refugees. She founded and directs Mercy Beyond Borders. Her story is challenging.
Her story begins with a startling sentence. “At the age of 33, it dawned on me that down was the new up.” She tells us that she had committed her life to God much before that, but at 33 years of age, a new focus came. Before this, she had a “safe,” as she might describe it. She was a math teacher and was in control of life and her circumstances. I resonate with this state of being.
And then she says, “Then, merely by happenstance (or so it seemed), I volunteered one day to help newly arriving refugees.” She said it was like going down Alice’s rabbit hole. But something more came. It was “confusing, upside-down, peopled with strangers. There, I found my best self — and tremendous joy — as I left all that was familiar and moved halfway around the world to work in a refugee camp.” Down was beginning to become up.
Her description of new life sounds like maturing discipleship. She comments, “It was a world of tumult, violence and displacement where no one was safe and everyone riven by loss. I was now at the bottom, down in places I had never imagined with people whose languages and customs I did not understand. Control was a thing of the past.” Maybe it is because control is a spiritual issue with which I have reckoned that makes her story poignant for me. She helps me see---see the issue and see how we might mature. Go down to get up!
Her personal insight grabs me. She notes, “I was discovering that the secret to joy is not perfection or acclaim or upward mobility, but compassion and hiddenness and downward mobility. It lies in being with the least of our brethren. Yes, down was my new up.” Why not? Irony and paradox and all the rest, it seems. Life in the rabbit hole. It sounds a whole lot like the stuff that Jesus said. To the world it is nonsense. In the spirit world it is the only way to make sense.
I follow her words all the way to the end. And this is how she ends her reflection. “People sometimes ask me if that has been depressing. Far from it! The refugees have been my best teachers. Here's what I've learned.” She has learned, “None of my achievements or awards matter. We need to cross borders. We are all connected. We are all beloved of God. Unshakeable joy emerges at the edges of one's comfort zone. Down is the new up.”
This ending is full of wisdom. Ultimately, achievements and awards don’t matter. They are, but they don’t matter. People matter. This Jesus knew and taught. If there are borders, they must be crossed. We are all connected. We are all children of the Holy One. Everyone matters. We are beloved of God. Even if I cannot love everyone, God does. And it is up to me to grow up and learn to love like God.
I think Sr. Marilyn has it correctly. Joy---unspeakable joy---comes at the edges and margins. Being comfortable probably feels ok---maybe even good. But it is not where joy is found. Joy is found in love and in service.
I am glad to begin to learn that down is the new up.
No doubt, it was in graduate school in the Boston area. I actually had some young women in class with me who were members of a Catholic order. They were a blessing. They were mostly smarter than I was. They were kinder than I usually am. They were instruments of grace. But they never struck me as pious in that stylized sense that the word, piety, often suggests. They were really people---good friends, fun and funny.
I am sure ever since I have had an interest in what religious sisters have to say and can teach me. They have actually made commitments and lived out those commitments in ways I aspire to do, but usually fall short. I am intrigued by their lives and their ministries. In some ways I marvel at how they have managed a patriarchal, hierarchal church structure. So when a religious sister speaks, I listen.
One of the places I routinely find good stuff is in the Global Sisters Report that the National Catholic Reporter makes available. Recently, they added a new offering called Life, which is a forum for a sister to comment on her life and ministry. The one I want to share today comes from Mercy Sister, Marilyn Lacey. Sr. Marilyn is a teacher, author and worker with refugees. She founded and directs Mercy Beyond Borders. Her story is challenging.
Her story begins with a startling sentence. “At the age of 33, it dawned on me that down was the new up.” She tells us that she had committed her life to God much before that, but at 33 years of age, a new focus came. Before this, she had a “safe,” as she might describe it. She was a math teacher and was in control of life and her circumstances. I resonate with this state of being.
And then she says, “Then, merely by happenstance (or so it seemed), I volunteered one day to help newly arriving refugees.” She said it was like going down Alice’s rabbit hole. But something more came. It was “confusing, upside-down, peopled with strangers. There, I found my best self — and tremendous joy — as I left all that was familiar and moved halfway around the world to work in a refugee camp.” Down was beginning to become up.
Her description of new life sounds like maturing discipleship. She comments, “It was a world of tumult, violence and displacement where no one was safe and everyone riven by loss. I was now at the bottom, down in places I had never imagined with people whose languages and customs I did not understand. Control was a thing of the past.” Maybe it is because control is a spiritual issue with which I have reckoned that makes her story poignant for me. She helps me see---see the issue and see how we might mature. Go down to get up!
Her personal insight grabs me. She notes, “I was discovering that the secret to joy is not perfection or acclaim or upward mobility, but compassion and hiddenness and downward mobility. It lies in being with the least of our brethren. Yes, down was my new up.” Why not? Irony and paradox and all the rest, it seems. Life in the rabbit hole. It sounds a whole lot like the stuff that Jesus said. To the world it is nonsense. In the spirit world it is the only way to make sense.
I follow her words all the way to the end. And this is how she ends her reflection. “People sometimes ask me if that has been depressing. Far from it! The refugees have been my best teachers. Here's what I've learned.” She has learned, “None of my achievements or awards matter. We need to cross borders. We are all connected. We are all beloved of God. Unshakeable joy emerges at the edges of one's comfort zone. Down is the new up.”
This ending is full of wisdom. Ultimately, achievements and awards don’t matter. They are, but they don’t matter. People matter. This Jesus knew and taught. If there are borders, they must be crossed. We are all connected. We are all children of the Holy One. Everyone matters. We are beloved of God. Even if I cannot love everyone, God does. And it is up to me to grow up and learn to love like God.
I think Sr. Marilyn has it correctly. Joy---unspeakable joy---comes at the edges and margins. Being comfortable probably feels ok---maybe even good. But it is not where joy is found. Joy is found in love and in service.
I am glad to begin to learn that down is the new up.
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