The Prayer of St. Ephrem

        

             Easter season is almost over. Lent is past tense. But, the Prayer of Saint Ephrem has continued to be part of my prayer throughout. In Lent, I just read it at first. After a time, certain phrases began to stand out. Their rich meaning came out as I began a phrase by phrase meditation. Some of the phrases mentioning faults applied but, where they didn’t, I substituted faults that are mine. Prayer began to happen. The phrase that got me started was: “God of my life.” The power and richness of this phrase still stops me before I can go on to the rest of the prayer.

Here is the Prayer of Saint Ephrem.

God of my life,

do not give me a spirit of laziness

or idle curiosity,

or ambition or empty talk.

Instead, grant to me, your servant,

a spirit of self-control and humility,

of patience and love.

Yes, O God,

enable me to see my own failings,

and not to judge my brother or sister,

for you alone are blessed unto the ages of ages. Amen.

          Saint Ephrem was a Syrian deacon, doctor of the Church who was born in 306. He wrote a wide variety of hymns, poems, and sermons in verse, as well as prose biblical exegesis. These were works of practical theology for the edification of the Church in troubled times. Ephrem’s works witness to an early form of Christianity in which Western ideas take little part. He has been called the most significant of all of the fathers of the Syriac-speaking Church tradition. He died ministering to victims of the plague on June 9, 373. (Wikipedia)

            Saint Benedict (RB 49) says that each day of the monastic life should have the character of Lent. Then, he wisely adds “…but few have the strength for this.” I belong to those who do not, or would not have the strength for all of life to be Lent.

Prayer is a need at all times. The Prayer of Saint Ephrem need not be used only as a Lenten practice. It is worth time in quiet prayer in any season. I recommend it.
Sr. Kathleen Ryan, OSB

Lift them up in prayer

     If all things were equal I should be writing about the beautiful spring day here, The birds are singing; the sun is shining and it is in a word--glorious. 

     But all things are not equal. I just received an update from my friend whose 35-year old daughter-in-law is moving into the final stages of brain cancer. Her husband and parents have been told that there is nothing more that can be done--no chemo, no electrodes, no wildly unusual drug trial. She will continue to get worse and lose all her faculties. She will need Hospice soon. 

     Nicki has always been a kind, fun-loving and energetic person. For seven years she has battled the glioma multiforme which is now taking her personality and life from her. She and Dan have been married about five years. They knew that the cancer could come back but they wanted to be married as long as they could. Their wedding was a huge celebration, befitting their life and hope. In the past couple months Nicki has lost some of her vision, some of her hearing and her energy. She has valiantly tried to carry on, even though she had to quit work when she could no longer drive. Now she needs help with every daily task. She has 24-hour care at home. 

     I ask any of you who read our blogs to add Nicki and Dan to your prayers. Pray for their strength in these days. No one knows if she will live for weeks or months. We worry about Dan when she is gone. He loves her so intensely and has been totally devoted to her for these years. 

     We hold them in love and ask God's blessings on all that they do. Thank you for listening and praying with me. Sr. Nancy Kordenbrock, OSB

The Kentucky Derby and the Benedictine Sisters of St. Walburg Monastery

            The running of the Kentucky Derby is now a world-wide sports event. But back in May, 1875 the running of the first Kentucky Derby attracted little attention. A crowd of only 10,000 watched the thoroughbreds race at Churchill Downs.

            Back in Covington, Kentucky do you think the Benedictine community on 12^th Street was even aware of the Derby in 1875, that it was the beginning of the most prestigious event in racing history? On Derby day did its members sip mint juleps, whiskey sours or drink cherished beers? Did they talk about which horses would win, place and show?

            The answer, of course, is NO to all of the above.

            At that time, however, the community was running a race of its own. It began at the starting gate in August, 1859, when 4 sisters were “biting at the bit” ready to charge forward. Here’s what that small community accomplished in the 15 years, 9 months between 1859 and 1875.

    The sisters’ membership grew from 4 to 37.

    The sisters established independent foundations in Indiana and Louisiana.

    The sisters built a monastery and later added a wing.

    The sisters bought two more lots on 12^th Street.

    The sisters opened St. Walburg Academy.

    The sisters obtained a Charter of Incorporation. (And later the annual Corporation meeting would be established for the first Saturday of May—the same day as the Derby.)

    The sisters purchased a 38 ¼ acre farm on Horsebranch Rd.

    The sisters accepted the charge of girls at the newly established St. John Orphan Home.           

    The sisters provided teachers for St. Joseph School and St. Walburg Academy in Covington, Kentucky and St. Boniface School in New Orleans, Louisiana.

            A pretty impressive record for so short a time! And the community on 12^th Street was still running strong when the Derby horses crossed the finish in 1875. And the community continues running strong. It knows no finish line, no blanket of roses. It just keeps running to meet never-ending challenges, staying a nose ahead and relishing the excitement of the race.

            And, for sure, at the running of the 139^th Kentucky Derby the Benedictine Sisters of St. Walburg Monastery will be enjoying the traditional communal singing of My Old Kentucky Home, watching the race together on TV, enjoying party food and being surprised by which horse actually wins!

         Sr. Archivist, OSB

Reflecting on the Past

            St. Walburg Monastery saw four sisters go to their eternal reward between Dec. 20, 2012 and March 7, 2013. For a while it seemed weekends and Mondays were reserved for funerals. The loss of good friends, older and younger, can make one increasingly aware of many things. For me one message was “get rid of stuff!” I have begun. To date much has been committed to the shredder but one rediscovered envelope touched my heart with memories.

            At my father’s death in 1990 his correspondence, including that from WWI, was given to my brother. In his correspondence was a letter written in French to my grandmother (as well as its translation) dated October 13, 1918 from the town of Pouille in France. My father was a Marine, wounded in action at Belleau Woods and carried a life-long limp. In those days the wounded were sent to the south of France and later my father told me many stories about that time—of a teacher, Emma Brault, her niece and nephew and treading the wine press. His stories revealed a great admiration and love for the French people. A translation of the letter to my grandmother follows:

                                                                                     13/10/1918

Dear Madame,

            I can’t find words to thank you enough. Instead I am offering you this letter which reflects my deep appreciation for what you have done for our country France.

            Your son came here and I learned to appreciate his feelings for our country. I also asked him to bring you these words of appreciation from us as a souvenir.

            Your act of goodwill, through your loved ones, who are sent here to help our country by sacrificing their lives can be very well seen here.

            The stakes are very high as we try to fight hard in order to maintain our independence. We hope that all this will lead to the end of our misery so we can once again see the peace. We are also hoping for the day that you can see the return of your loved one back home. Meanwhile I promise I’ll do my best so you son will feel at home while he is here in exile.

            You son, by smiling, is sending you also his endless regards. He wants you to be joyful. I would love to receive some news from your other beloved children only if this is not too much to ask. My parents also send you their best regards.         

Emma

            The Armistice ending WWI was signed on November 11, 1918.

            Later in 1940 when Germany occupied France, before the United States entered into World War II, I urged my father to write to the school teacher. He did and received a letter in return—in French. I took it to the French teacher at school who translated it for us. Although I lost that letter, I remember well that it was written by the Emma Brault that my father had spoken of. She told of her niece and nephew and the occupation.

            In these days of “small” wars all over the globe affecting friends and close relatives, these words of a woman of another time speak to the heart.

            Sr. Andrea Collopy, OSB

Conversatio and Conversation

      In preparation for a talk I gave to the faculty and staff at a Benedictine school, Woodside Priory School in California, I did some research on the Benedictine profession of conversatio. Conversatio morum is one of the three vows Benedictines profess. (The other two are obedience and stability.) The term conversatio has had many interpretations over the centuries and currently it is understood as fidelity to the monastic way of life.

     Whenever I type conversatio, my word processing program wants to change it to conversation and that seems to be more than linguistic programming. Brian Taylor, an Episcopalian priest, writes about Benedict’s Rule in his book, Spirituality for everyday living: an adaptation of the Rule of St. Benedict. He says that conversatio is at the root of growth in grace for all who seek God. Conversatio calls us to be open to the community and to be willing to be responsive to the “the judgment of God as expressed by other people.”

     Such a “take-a-deep-breath” thought! It was startling to me then as a firestorm of opinion blazed about recent events at Villa Madonna Academy. It remains startling to me whenever I find myself in conversation with anyone who holds a point of view different than mine and I want to dismiss that view. And it haunts me and halts me whenever I read about any church and/or political ideological point of view.

      Today I read an article about Bishop Robert Vasa in Santa Rosa, California, who had sent a letter to pastors and teachers in Catholic schools requiring that the teachers sign an addendum to their 2013-14 contracts. He consequently revoked that requirement saying among others things that he had failed to engage and consult the pastors of the diocese and overlooked “a proper engagement of the principals” and “erroneously chose a path of informing rather than mutual discernment.”  I was impressed by the action of conversatio in that statement. I wonder about the true conversation and humility it must have taken to write those words. Apparently Bishop Vasa heard the judgment of God expressed by other people.

     We engage in conversation in all aspects of our lives and if we are serious about conversatio, growing in grace as we seek God, we must be willing to be responsive to the judgment of God as expressed by other people. And how difficult that is.   Sr. Deborah Harmeling, OSB

             

Hidden Possibilities

     This month marks a year since my office has moved to the current location. I drive by a house which has a bush cut to look like an elephant. The whimsical touch in the midst of the ordinary makes me smile. It was green last year when I first took notice and then brown and bare through the winter. Today I drove by and it was a beautiful shade of yellow. Forsythia shaped like an elephant, what an unexpected surprise. It led me to ponder the hidden possibility in what we think we know but may have a different dimension we can or do not see initially (or even after long periods of time). As spring unfolds, I pray for openness to see the “splashes” of God’s presence in the midst of the mundane and familiar. 

      Sr. Kimberly Porter, OSB 

From Earworms to God’s Songs

           Have you ever had some song or fragment of one stick in your head and refuse to go away? I have, and I found out just the other day on National Public Radio that these things are common enough to have a name. Called earworms,* this radio article caught my attention because only a few days before I had been reflecting about one psalmist’s experience with musical memories.  

          In Ps.42 the writer says:  “… at night your song is with me, a prayer to the God of my life.” When I encountered this line, it evoked the memory that God often speaks to us at night, or in some moments of silence during the day if/when we step away from our frenetic activities. It suggested to me that these uninvited songs or other snippets taking up residence in my mind could carry insights from “the God of my life.” If I were to give them some extra attention, maybe these uninvited fragments would shed some light on my relationship with God, others, or even myself. Why this song? Why these words now? Is there something going on inside me that makes them particularly significant at this moment? 

            This Octave of Easter has brought another level of insight for me. During this time the liturgy tells stories of how the risen Christ often called individuals by name, people like Mary, Thomas, and others. Somehow these scripture texts reinforced what I’d been thinking about God’s voice in the musical or poetic fragments that sometimes inhabit my brain. They reminded me that if I pay some attention to these earworms, it’s quite possible, that like the psalmist, I may hear my own name and be called to an interior place I didn’t even know was waiting to be visited. 

            Next time you receive an earworm, try giving it some time and attention. Who knows, it might call your name and take you on an inner journey. What better time than Easter to try something new!

        Sr. Colleen Winston, OSB