In these trying times, it is wonderful to read stories about pubic heroes in our society. No doubt, they have always been doing heroic work, but when things are normal, most folks don’t take time to recognize what might be called “ordinary heroism.” Of course, there are the physicians, nurses and countless other health care workers. But just as importantly are the quiet heroes and heroines. We count those who are janitors, cleaning people, trash haulers, truckers and everyone still doing their part to make life possible and, for some of us, relatively easy. It makes complaining about no sports seem infantile!
It is a rather odd time for me personally. For most of my life, I have been the kind of person who would be at the front of the line for helping in ways that made me impervious to potential danger. Some of it probably was due to the arrogance of youth and my own invincibility. Some of it, I hope, would be the Quaker tendency to be committed to service and care for all folks, regardless of status, etc. But I have aged over the decades. I know in my head that it has happened, but my spirit remains young and sometimes I think my maturity has lagged my chronology!
Now I am tempted to go do something and my two daughters---professionals, mothers and caring women in their own right---yell at me and make me stay home. That is probably why I call it house arrest---otherwise known as social distancing. I don’t have a bracelet on my ankle, but somehow they seem to know when I am tempted to do something. I appreciate their love and concern and have to laugh knowing they grew into the adults I hoped they would.
Not everyone is as fortunate as I am. At least, I know and am grateful. Perhaps I can find a way to give back---not in the same way, but in a way that somehow helps some folks. I am quite willing to say that personally there is some grace in all this. Grace is always a gift. One never deserves grace. Theologically, I claim God is a gracious God. But I also know that people can be instruments of grace. I have been an instrument of grace for people. And certainly, many have been gracious workers in my life. And I know all we can say in the face of grace is thank you.
It was this theme of grace that I hit upon while reading an article on Catholic nuns. I suppose that is not surprising, but it is instructive nevertheless. I read an article about how the pandemic affects religious communities around the world. It is heart wrenching to read stories of nursing homes and elderly care facilities and learn how destructive the virus can be. They are like petri dishes of disaster. An elderly population with underlying health issues living in close proximity to one another waves a red flag.
Religious communities bear some resemblance to this demographic. Most communities are older---often with aged nuns in their midst. How are they doing? My favorite story came from the Benet Hill Monastery in Colorado Springs. I don’t know one thing about this group. I have been in Colorado Springs and had no clue it was there. I would have visited.
This is how Sister Clare Carr, the prioress, describes the plight of the times. She is sad to be cut off from the larger Colorado Springs community. But she noted, a pleasant outcome “has been a quieter day-to-day life for the 22 sisters at the monastery.” That makes me smile. It is a way of saying that life sucks, but the pain is tolerable! Then she adds, almost with tongue-in-cheek, “It’s difficult. We’re a pretty active crowd. To have our wings clipped is not easy.” I have to pause and try to imagine a nun with clipped wings. Maybe she has angels in mind!
Then I came to the punch line for me. Sr Clare notes, “There’s a grace in this…We’re not running around so much. We’re really talking to each other.” I felt like Sr Clare just offered me a monastic secret. That secret is only a secret for those of us who don’t know what we are doing naturally miss. This is especially true in this secular world of ours. There is a grace in this. If I don’t have eyes to see grace, then typically I miss it when it is right in front of me. And if I really do sense that I have been gifted (graced), then I misinterpret it to something like being lucky. Grace and luck are not the same thing.
What Sr Clare encourages me to do is develop my eyes so that I can see “there’s a grace in this.” It is true for this pandemic and will be true even when things become more normal. Because of my view of who God is, there always will be grace. And some people are instruments of the Spirit and they, too, will always be bringers of grace. I am sure grace comes in many shapes, colors and angles.
There are too many ways to develop eyes of grace, but let me mention only a couple. One big one to prepare to see grace and to say thank you is to get over ourselves. This means to check our ego. Be more careful of the egotistical ways we approach life and others. Quit being pushy and become softer. Open up and don’t tense up. The other way to develop these eyes is at the other end. Don’t be totally down on yourself. Quit expecting the worst. Refuse to be a doormat anymore. You don’t have to become an optimist, but give up a little of the pessimism. Allow yourself to be open to grace and it will be given.
After all, the Sister tells us, there is grace in this! Thank God and thank you.
It is a rather odd time for me personally. For most of my life, I have been the kind of person who would be at the front of the line for helping in ways that made me impervious to potential danger. Some of it probably was due to the arrogance of youth and my own invincibility. Some of it, I hope, would be the Quaker tendency to be committed to service and care for all folks, regardless of status, etc. But I have aged over the decades. I know in my head that it has happened, but my spirit remains young and sometimes I think my maturity has lagged my chronology!
Now I am tempted to go do something and my two daughters---professionals, mothers and caring women in their own right---yell at me and make me stay home. That is probably why I call it house arrest---otherwise known as social distancing. I don’t have a bracelet on my ankle, but somehow they seem to know when I am tempted to do something. I appreciate their love and concern and have to laugh knowing they grew into the adults I hoped they would.
Not everyone is as fortunate as I am. At least, I know and am grateful. Perhaps I can find a way to give back---not in the same way, but in a way that somehow helps some folks. I am quite willing to say that personally there is some grace in all this. Grace is always a gift. One never deserves grace. Theologically, I claim God is a gracious God. But I also know that people can be instruments of grace. I have been an instrument of grace for people. And certainly, many have been gracious workers in my life. And I know all we can say in the face of grace is thank you.
It was this theme of grace that I hit upon while reading an article on Catholic nuns. I suppose that is not surprising, but it is instructive nevertheless. I read an article about how the pandemic affects religious communities around the world. It is heart wrenching to read stories of nursing homes and elderly care facilities and learn how destructive the virus can be. They are like petri dishes of disaster. An elderly population with underlying health issues living in close proximity to one another waves a red flag.
Religious communities bear some resemblance to this demographic. Most communities are older---often with aged nuns in their midst. How are they doing? My favorite story came from the Benet Hill Monastery in Colorado Springs. I don’t know one thing about this group. I have been in Colorado Springs and had no clue it was there. I would have visited.
This is how Sister Clare Carr, the prioress, describes the plight of the times. She is sad to be cut off from the larger Colorado Springs community. But she noted, a pleasant outcome “has been a quieter day-to-day life for the 22 sisters at the monastery.” That makes me smile. It is a way of saying that life sucks, but the pain is tolerable! Then she adds, almost with tongue-in-cheek, “It’s difficult. We’re a pretty active crowd. To have our wings clipped is not easy.” I have to pause and try to imagine a nun with clipped wings. Maybe she has angels in mind!
Then I came to the punch line for me. Sr Clare notes, “There’s a grace in this…We’re not running around so much. We’re really talking to each other.” I felt like Sr Clare just offered me a monastic secret. That secret is only a secret for those of us who don’t know what we are doing naturally miss. This is especially true in this secular world of ours. There is a grace in this. If I don’t have eyes to see grace, then typically I miss it when it is right in front of me. And if I really do sense that I have been gifted (graced), then I misinterpret it to something like being lucky. Grace and luck are not the same thing.
What Sr Clare encourages me to do is develop my eyes so that I can see “there’s a grace in this.” It is true for this pandemic and will be true even when things become more normal. Because of my view of who God is, there always will be grace. And some people are instruments of the Spirit and they, too, will always be bringers of grace. I am sure grace comes in many shapes, colors and angles.
There are too many ways to develop eyes of grace, but let me mention only a couple. One big one to prepare to see grace and to say thank you is to get over ourselves. This means to check our ego. Be more careful of the egotistical ways we approach life and others. Quit being pushy and become softer. Open up and don’t tense up. The other way to develop these eyes is at the other end. Don’t be totally down on yourself. Quit expecting the worst. Refuse to be a doormat anymore. You don’t have to become an optimist, but give up a little of the pessimism. Allow yourself to be open to grace and it will be given.
After all, the Sister tells us, there is grace in this! Thank God and thank you.
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