The Power of a Smile

The Power of a Smile

When my kiddos were young, the local YMCA was a saving grace. My four daughters, ages four and under, loved playing in the childcare area almost as much as I loved a chance to pee uninterrupted. My mom-friends also belonged to the Y, so it was as much a playdate for me as it was for the kids.

At the YMCA, I learned that I do actually enjoy working out when it’s not a mandatory school class. I took various group classes that met my social needs and allowed me to try new exercises with no pressure or obligation. I remember especially fondly that if it weren’t for the YMCA, I may not have showered at all when my husband traveled for work. My twins are cute, but I couldn’t take my eyes off them for a minute!

Naturally, when I learned that my husband’s job was moving us to a new state, one of the first things I searched for was if our new town had a YMCA. To my great relief, it did. I’m fairly sure the girls and I trekked over there to become members on our second day there.

But everything was wrong with the new Y. My kids were scared of the new childcare area because they didn’t know the staff yet. They didn’t offer my favorite exercise classes. The cardio room was separate from the weights room, and both felt cramped: the building was regularly crowded, and my preferred machines weren’t available; I had to sign up for a turn on the cardio equipment and could only do thirty minutes at a time.

The worst part was how unfriendly everyone was, from the staff to my fellow patrons. I didn’t know anyone, and no one talked to me. Aside from a quick greeting as I dropped off my kids in the childcare area, I wouldn’t speak to a single person. I distinctly remember feeling profoundly alone while surrounded by people. They just weren’t my people.

One day, while I moped around the YMCA, bemoaning how I didn’t have any friends or even get a friendly smile, I realized the fault was mine. I recognized that from the moment I put the car in park, I hung my head and only looked at the ground. It was no wonder no one ever smiled at me. I didn’t give a single person I passed the opportunity.

At that moment, something changed in me. I decided to not be the reason for my own misery. I decided to lift my head, look everyone I passed in the eye, and smile. The most amazing thing happened: people smiled back.

I felt less alone from that day forward, not because I immediately made friends (which, I’m sad to report, didn’t happen overnight) but because I was connecting with other human beings. God created us in His image and likeness, and He created us for relationships. We aren’t meant to go through this life alone.

I learned some valuable lessons from that experience, the most notable being that I am responsible for my behavior. I can’t begrudge the unfriendliness of others when I don’t make the effort myself; something as small and simple as a smile can make a huge difference.

When I walk around looking people in the eyes and smiling, my soul is transformed. Even if I’m struggling and my life isn’t as simple and easy as I’d like, when I smile, I allow the joy that Christ offers to penetrate into my heart. What’s more, my smile is returned more often than not with a smile from a stranger’s face, further filling my soul with happiness.

These days, I don’t have to think about it: I’m always smiling. I love looking at other people and greeting them warmly. Each person I pass is a fellow creation of God, and I am blessed to be in her or his company. My kids often comment on how friendly I am—I get a chance to remind them that every person we pass has dignity and worth, regardless of her or his outward appearance. In this small, simple way, I get to share Christ’s joy with others.

If you’re feeling down or isolated, the most powerful tool you have requires only a few muscles in your face. It’s guaranteed to make you feel better, and chances are, your joy will spill into the strangers you pass. All you have to do is smile.

©Maria Riley 2024

Stumble onto a Forgotten Priest’s Homilies, and Wind Up in a Successfully Reflective Lent

Ever feel like you’ve failed Lent? You enter the season ambitiously on Ash Wednesday, receiving the smudged cross on your forehead, determined to read through the New Testament or Exodus at a measured pace, only to get stuck on a confusing passage and give up … for now.

A local parish offers an evening Bible study, but when the day comes, you’re too exhausted from work. Maybe next week, you think, but then the six weeks go by and you’ve missed the whole thing. You try online reflections, but you just breeze through them over morning coffee. You chastise yourself for being undisciplined or for refusing to take your spiritual life seriously. But maybe you’re putting too much pressure on yourself. A more relaxed approach, such as leisurely readings by a forgotten, but once beloved priest could deepen your faith, self-reflection, and ultimately your relationship with God.

Fr. Ronald Knox is little known to 21st Century Americans in favor of other popular English converts such as St. John Henry Newman and GK Chesterton, but in his time, Fr. Knox was regarded as one of the most influential and prolific Catholics of the past century. He is a contemporary of Chesterton and an Oxford neighbor of CS Lewis, and February 17 marks the 136th anniversary of his birth. Raised in the Anglican tradition, even becoming an Anglican minister, the good father followed in his country’s stead, not because he believed it was the perfect way, but because he wanted to bring the Church of England back to Rome. When he realized his ambition was futile, he converted to Catholicism at the still tender age of 29.

Fr. Knox was much sought after as a speaker, preacher, and retreat facilitator for his way of bringing depth to simple concepts and simplicity to the profound. His self-deprecating humor, orthodox theology, and insight into the human condition found its way into countless published homilies, broadcasts on the BBC, and even detective novels. He is also highly respected for his English translation of the Bible, known as the Knox Bible.

One collection of his homilies that might elude a mainstream audience is his title, The Priestly Life. Originally published in 1958 and re-released in 2023 by Cluny Media, this compilation of 16 retreat talks addressed to priests could just as easily be called The Saintly Life because it speaks to the saintliness we are all called to live. With the wisdom of a compassionate confessor, Fr. Knox, who seems to know what’s inside the flawed heart that yearns to be whole, begins with the Alpha and Omega framed in Biblical history, then gently leads the reader (or listener, originally) to realize his sinful nature, bringing him to humility and repentance. Catholic theologian and author John Janaro quotes Evelyn Waugh’s in a 2021 essay, calling the priest and his ministry an “apostolate of laughter and the love of friends” (Janaro).

His chapters in The Priestly Life address so many of the “No, not me” sins: sloth, apathy, grumbling and complaining, blaming. In “Murmuring,” he engages the reader with a compelling story of the Israelites venting and complaining about Moses and God. You read along, nodding and chuckling, amazed how much they sound like your co-workers. He goes on to explain why the grumbling, a “very difficult sin to avoid,” is a three-fold sin against God, neighbor, and self and realize, “That’s me!” and feel an urgency to go to Confession.

“Part of the reason why God put you into the world was to exercise the patience of others by your defects; think of that sometimes when you are going to bed” (pg. 81).

He speaks to his brother priests in “Accidie” about a “tepidity” of spiritual life. “What I mind about is not so much that I seem to get so little out of my religion, but that I seem to put so little into it. Or perhaps I should put it this way: what I mind about is that I should mind so little” (pg. 90). He also addresses a type of malaise, of going through the motions. The scenarios sound much like ruts that most everyone, at some point and in honest moments, experiences in marriage, work, and life in general. “All of the savour has gone out of his priesthood; he sometimes thinks, even out of his religion. Was he, perhaps, not meant to be a priest … is it possible that he has made a mistake?” (pg. 89).

Fr. Knox, in other chapters, addresses perseverance, death and obedience. In his piece on the Blessed Mother, he eschews “Mariology” and sounds more like a loyal knight honoring his heroine queen. While each chapter serves as retreat on its own, they also impart an appreciation into a priest’s very human life by which we might gain more compassion and understanding of a demanding and sacrificial choice, Wouldn’t that help make a successful Lent?


Copyright 2024 Mary McWilliams

Knox, Ronald. The Priestly Life. 2023. Cluny Media. Providence, Rhode Island.
Janaro, John. Monsignor Ronald Knox. 2021. Magnificat. Catholic Education Resource Center.
Photo Credits: Keegan Houser and Eduardo Braga

Finding Treasures in Pockets of Time

 

Finding Treasures in Pockets of Time

When I run into other moms at church, in the neighborhood, or at the grocery store, I find that I am having the same conversation over and over. I say, “Hi! How are you?” and she replies, “Busy!” and then delves into her litany of appointments and tasks that fill her schedule, and I reply in kind by agreeing and sharing my own over-scheduled obligations. We end our rushed conversation and run off to get something else done.

Sometimes there are things in our lives that we need to purge. It may not always be easy to remove it, but often, we are aware of the things that consume our time and give us nothing in return. I find, in my life, those things are typically self-centered, and when I choose to live the way Christ wants me to, I am given the strength to remove those things that take up too much of my life.

As mothers, though, so much of our life is spent in service to others. We are chefs, nurses, house cleaners, and chauffeurs, not to mention boo-boo kissers, story time tellers, snuggle buddies, and behavior correctors. Then our mother-in-law comes to visit, and we must be the perfect hostesses. The list goes on indefinitely, but the hours in the day do not.

How do we find time for Christ when we are pulled in so many different directions? It is especially difficult when these many different directions are for good things for our families. From time to time, I have found myself wishing for the seemingly simple life of a nun, especially when I am craving time and intimacy with our Lord but finding the demands of my vocation of motherhood to be standing in my way. But then I remember the beautiful gift of my calling, and I have worked to grow in my relationship with Christ within the demands of my schedule.

I rarely have large blocks of time, but I am regularly gifted with what I call “pockets of time” throughout the day. I have five minutes here or there, often while I am waiting for something, that I used to spend scrolling on my phone or otherwise distracting myself. Now, I try to be purposeful with these pockets of time and turn to God in prayer, even if I don’t have time to read the daily readings or journal in my Bible study workbook.

I used to get stuck in my growth toward Jesus because if I didn’t have 20–30 minutes to sit down, read, pray, and reflect, I wouldn’t do anything at all. Then, by the end of the day, I would feel like a failure because my spiritual time was just something else that I didn’t get done today (along with a shower or getting that laundry from a week ago folded). Somewhere along the way, I realized that God never gave me a set of expectations for how and when I have to pray. That came from my own unrealistic expectations, compounded by comparing myself to other women who seem to have it all together in their faith journeys.

Now, instead of dedicating 20–30 minutes to God in the morning, I turn to Him for a minute or two 20—30 times per day. Before I get out of bed in the morning, I say hello to the Lord, offer my day to Him, and ask Him to show me His will. When I begin a household chore, I offer it for someone in need. I pray for a moment before I start a workout, thanking God for the gift of my body, the temple which houses my soul and the Holy Spirit. I have learned that just a few moments is all it takes to recenter my day and draw closer to Christ.

The best part about approaching my prayer life in this way is how my spiritual life has deepened and grown. Previously, once I had completed my morning prayer time and reflection, I would check the “Time for God” box and then go on with my day. Now, by regularly recentering myself and refocusing on God many times throughout the day, I am able to let Him work in me and through me all day long. It is such a gift that God has helped transform my life so that my entire day has become a prayer.

© Maria Riley 2024

Navigating through darkness to the Season of Light

Navigating through darkness to the Season of Light

My peace I leave with you, my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give it to you. Do not let your hearts be troubled or afraid.
—John 14:27

The Lord spoke these words to disciples before the crucifixion. By the end of the discourse, it would be understandable that their anxiety was rising. He concluded: “I have told you this so that you might have peace in me. In the world you will have trouble, but take courage, I have conquered the world” (John 17:33). He knew what the earthly powers planned for them as his followers, and they needed to be reminded that no matter what the world dished out, his was not simply a better way, but the best way. He also sent this message before his birth. In reflecting upon the readings throughout Advent, we can quell the turbulent stirrings rousted during the holidays.

Living in the world is a hard contact sport, and only a fool would play a rough game without proper conditioning and back-up. Yet so many go through life without the support that faith gives. Our society has record numbers of people living with anxiety and depression, and plummeting numbers in church attendance and religious affiliation. The culture is identified by the disturbingly accepted phrase, “post-Christian society.”

Even believers can be shadowed by the unrest that balloons during the Advent and Christmas seasons. The constant pressure to spend, eat, socialize, and “be of good cheer” causes angst for many, even those who enjoy the hustle and bustle. The Devil, that slobbering, panting mongrel of darkness, dispatches four of his best henchmen to squeeze the vulnerable. These days, that applies to most of us. Anxiety, Panic, Fear, and Depression are among his supreme lieutenants because they are excellent collaborators of opportunism. He recruits limitless holiday help to brew botheration through the urgent and endless “best sale of the year” deals, the “get it or forget it” Christmas lists, and social engagements (or lack thereof).

For others, the season stirs up grief over deep loss. The reasons for the unease outnumber the people experiencing them. The pace of keeping up with the season triggers everything from dread to disappointment to despondency. It’s enough to make Santa’s elves want the holiday season to be done. How sad to want such a beloved and beautiful time—Advent and Christmas—to be over with a big sigh of relief. For the beast of the underworld, it’s pure delight, like fresh, bloody meat.

Scripture is always the balm for sufferings of the world, but the readings this Advent—including those from morning and evening prayer and daily Mass—penetrate the fog that can become ever so dense. We began Advent with the command to “watch.” Listen also to the messages of the season. Perhaps commit to memory a passage to push out the anxiety whenever it begins to bubble. “I will listen for what God, the Lord has to say; surely he will speak of peace to his people and the faithful” (Psalm 85:9).

During Advent, we encounter the faceless and the nameless that Jesus healed, proving that God sees us all—no matter how invisible we may feel—and wants to make us whole. “Great crowds came to him, having with them the lame, the blind, and many others. They placed them at his feet, and he cured them” (Matthew 15:30). Matthew recounts in 9:36: “At the sight of the crowds, his heart was moved with pity for them because they were troubled and abandoned, like sheep without a shepherd.” He even healed those not physically present as we hear the centurion’s pleas for his suffering, paralyzed servant (cf. Matthew 8:5-13).

We meet people this month who, with great trials, embraced the rays of the Son. December 13 is the feast of the fourth century martyr, St. Lucy, whose name means light. She chose a hideous torture that blinded her because she would not betray her Savior. Isaiah 40:29 fortifies us: “He gives power to the faint, abundant strength to the weak.” The following day, December 14, we remember St. John of the Cross who, more than five centuries later, continues to enlighten with his Dark Night of the Soul.

The Advent readings are a treasury of fortitude to battle distress: “… you shall no longer weep; He will be most gracious to you when you cry out; as soon as he hears, he will answer you” (Isaiah 30:19). And others: Psalm 121:5, 7-8; Isaiah 25:8; Wisdom 18:14-16; Song of Songs 2:10-11 to name a few. Throughout Advent, God sends us messages of hope and encouragement. We are assured in Philippians 4:6-7: “Have no anxiety at all, but in everything by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, make your requests known to God. Then the peace of God that surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.”

Peace be with you.


Copyright 2023 Mary McWilliams

Feature Image by Rúben Gál from Pixabay
Image by Ri Butov from Pixabay

A Wonka Way of Life

A Wonka Way of Life

I love board games. I especially love them now that my kids have graduated from Candyland to (slightly) more advanced and strategic games. I find that playing board games with my kids is the easiest way for me to have them off screen time without them driving me insane or physically accosting each other. (Yes, my girls look adorable, but they’re feisty.)

Our current family favorite is Willy Wonka’s The Golden Ticket Game. Essentially, you play as one of the five children from the film, and collect Willy Wonka Bars through various actions. At the end of the game, when all the pretend candy bars have been collected, the players look inside their Wonka Bars to discover if they have won one of the coveted Golden Tickets. At least one player is left without a Golden Ticket, more if someone is lucky enough to have found more than one ticket in his or her own stock pile of candy bars.

Since they were itty bitty, I’ve never let my kids win at games. (Okay, maybe I skew the game a little bit, but I’ve never completely thrown one.) I believe that learning how to deal with losing is an absolutely fundamental skill that our kids need to learn as early as possible. We have a little song that the loser sings to the winner after a game, which goes, “You won, you won, but I had a lot of fun.” Then the winner has to clean up the game so there’s a tiny bit of retribution.

The original Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory movie from 1971 still gets regular viewing around our house too. (The anticipation is already growing for the Willy Wonka origins story releasing later this fall.) In the original film, we meet the eccentric Willy Wonka, who lives in a realm that seems contrary to the rest of the world. His jovial spirit and quirky mannerisms can seem enticing and confusing at the same time. He delivers countless iconic lines; my favorite one is when, after he says that they have so little to do with so much time, he exclaims, “Wait. Strike that. Reverse it.”

I feel like Jesus says that to me too in my call to Christianity. He says, “The world is doing X, but you need to strike that and reverse it.”

The American cancel-culture is infectious these days. When a person makes a single mistake, we are not only permitted but encouraged to cut them out of our lives permanently. This goes for celebrities and family members alike. If someone doesn’t agree with our religious or political views, we simply unfollow and block all communication. If someone hurts us, we self-medicate with booze instead of searching for true peace through forgiveness. We justify and excuse our actions because the rest of the world behaves that way too.

As Christians, we are called to live an upside-down, Willy-Wonka-type life. Where others refuse to forgive, we are called to love all the more deeply. Where others seek worldly recognition, we are called to work lovingly from the shadows. Where others seek riches, we are called to generously share all that we have been given. When the world says, “Do X,” we have to wait, strike that, and reverse it.

© Maria Riley 2023

Photo License: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/deed.en

The Five Cs of a Good Confession

The Five Cs of a Good Confession

Nothing warms my heart more than a long line for Confession. I love when other sinners respond to God’s call to repent. I find it especially beautiful when our parish has penance services during Advent and Lent, and our church is filled with priests and lines and lines of sorrowful Catholics seeking God’s endless forgiveness and mercy. As we near the beginning of our Advent season of preparing for the coming of Jesus, it’s time to start preparing our hearts for repentance.

The Sacrament of Confession begins long before you enter the confessional. It starts when you complete your examination of conscience. There are many options available for you to use, and I personally use a woman’s one based on the seven deadly sins. I have also seen some based on the Ten Commandments or focused on motherhood.

Regardless of which examination of conscience you use, be sure to spend time in prayer, and slowly and thoroughly think about everything you have done and everything you have failed to do. Once you properly examine your soul and let the Holy Spirit bring to mind the sins you need to confess, it’s time to go before the priest.

I recently learned about the 5 Cs of Confession on a podcast by Father Mike Schmitz, and I find them helpful as I prepare for the sacrament. Hopefully, you’ve had the chance to receive the Sacrament of Reconciliation recently. If you haven’t, remember that as Catholics we are obligated to receive this sacrament at least once a year (but it is so much more fruitful when you go more often!). Whether you make it to Confession weekly or haven’t been in years, keep these 5 Cs in mind to have the best Confession possible.

  1. Clear

When confessing, speak clearly and specifically. The priest needs to both be able to hear what you are saying and also understand the exact nature of your wrongs. Avoid mumbling or talking about your sin in vague terms. This is our time to openly bring our sins to God in anticipation of His endless mercy.

  1. Concise

We’ve all been sitting there in line for Confession and found ourselves watching the clock tick on and on and on. The truth is that Confession is a time for confessing, not for story telling. If you find that your Confessions go on for a while or that you feel like you have more to say, I encourage you to make an appointment to visit with your priest instead of using the limited Confessional time. If he is not available, seek the ear of a friend or find professional help from a counselor or a spiritual director.

  1. Concrete

Confession is not a time for abstract thoughts or partial admittances. You shouldn’t say things like, “I might have hurt my husband’s feelings,” or, “I sort of yelled at a coworker.” To make an honest Confession, truly acknowledge your sins and state them concretely.

You also need to be wary of our human tendency to justify our sins by bringing the sins of others into our time in the confessional. While pertinent context is appropriate, don’t attempt to minimize your sin by highlighting someone else’s. If you find yourself saying something like, “She did this horrible thing to me first, so of course I retaliated by . . . ,” you need to pray for the Holy Spirit to help you focus exclusively on your own transgressions.

  1. Complete

A good confession includes an honest sharing of all of your sins, not just the ones you feel comfortable sharing out loud. If a sin is honestly forgotten during your Confession, you are still forgiven. If, however, you intentionally do not speak a specific sin out loud, that sin is not forgiven. I find it helpful to write my sins on a piece of paper to bring with me so I don’t accidentally forget any of them. I especially love ripping up the paper afterward and throwing it in the trash, knowing that those sins are gone forever!

  1. Contrition

This is the real heart of Confession—and the most important part. We have to be truly sorry for our sins in order to fully receive the forgiveness and mercy that the Lord longs to pour out to us. If you find yourself struggling with contrition, either because you love your sin or because you feel justified by the circumstances, pray to God that He will change your heart.

When you put the 5 Cs into practice for regular trips to the confessional, your spiritual life and relationship with God will grow and blossom in unexpected ways!

Copyright © Maria Riley 2023

Fall into Pieces or Peace in a Storm?

Fall into Pieces or Peace in a Storm?

When you face the storms of life, which do you cling to—pieces or peace? We’re all going to face adversity—life’s storms and earthquakes: illness, being “the other,” not fitting in… But how are you going to react? Fall to pieces? Or slide into peace?

Two stories come to mind.

Elijah was on the run. He’d wiped out all the false prophets of Jezebel, the queen of the land, and she was out for blood—his blood. Elijah realized he was doomed and ran for the desert. No one on earth could save him, so he laid down and prayed for death.

Fast forward.

Forty days later, Elijah was in a cave when God asked him, “What are you doing here? Go stand on the mountain [don’t hide in a cave] and watch me pass by.” Elijah saw all the worst things of life go by: wind, tornadoes, lightning, storms, earthquakes, fires. But God wasn’t in them. No. It wasn’t until Elijah heard the quiet, peace-filled, almost inner whisper and focused on it, that he realized he was in the presence of God.

Jump to the New Testament and Jesus walking on water. Jesus had faced a very long day. He had preached to thousands, fed them with only five loaves and two fish, healed them, expelled demons, and was pooped by the end of it! He sent his followers across the water to the next port of call while he recharged his batteries by praying alone. The disciples, like Elijah, grumpily faced great winds, storms, and lightning. Then, they saw Jesus, as if a ghost, walking perfectly calm on the water toward them, saying, “Don’t be afraid.”

Peter, pure reactionist, challenges Jesus and asks to join Him. Jesus calmly says, “Come.” Peter, now focused on Jesus, does exactly that. He hops out of the boat, not thinking, just reacting to Jesus’s call, and begins to walk on the water. When Peter’s focus on Jesus wanes, the storm, the lightning, the wind, and the inconceivable fact that he was walking on water overtake Peter, and he begins to sink back into his perceived reality, the crashing waves of unimportant things.

These stories are perfect for you and me today! What wind, storms, lightning, earthquakes, and fires do we face every day? Deadlines, family drama, self-made situations that eat our brains and spirits? People who “have it in for us.” Knowing “I should do this and that, but I just don’t feel like it.” Noticing a lump, discoloration on your skin, or little aches and pains you didn’t have before. These are the things we allow to take away our focus on what’s important. Listening to God’s whisper, listening to Jesus’s “Come.”

What did Elijah and Jesus do? They found time alone. They took time to pray, be quiet, and be alone with God. What did God do? He replied, “Be not afraid. I’m here. I got you. Now get outta the boat, focus on me… and walk on water!”

So, what will you choose? To fall to pieces or to find peace? The choice is yours.

Copyright 2023 Ben Bongers

Just A Little Bit

Just A Little Bit

My default mode is all-or-nothing. Do I want to volunteer at church? I’m gonna sign up for everything and do it all. Do I feel overwhelmed about keeping memories for the kids? No one gets a baby book at all. Do I want to lose weight? I track every single calorie and work out for two hours, five days a week. Am I struggling to find time to write while the kids are home for the summer? I should just quit writing altogether.

What I love about the all-or-nothing mentality is that when I put it in writing like this, I can clearly see the absurdity of my logic. Yet, when I’m in my moments of being overwhelmed, quitting completely feels like not only a rational option, but the only viable one.

I’ve developed many different strategies for combating this all-or-nothing mentality, including prayer, taking deliberate personal time, and talking to a friend who is currently more rational than I am. But sometimes the best defense is a good offense, and I’ve been working on reminding myself that even if I can only accomplish a little bit, that still has value.

The reality for me is that during the summer, when my four daughters are home all day, I won’t be gifted with large blocks of time for writing. Thirty minutes, first thing in the morning may be all I get one day, and that is still better than not writing at all. I don’t have the luxury (nor endurance) for two-hour workouts anymore, yet twenty minutes on the elliptical still beats sitting on the couch all day.

Ever since I made a pilgrimage to Fatima in November of 2022, my heart has longed to move to Portugal. I’m telling y’all—all-or-nothing. I felt so much peace and so close to God while I was there that I want to uproot the whole family and move to a country where we don’t speak a single word of the native language.

One of my favorite heavenly friends, Saint Thérèse of Lisieux reminds me every day (through my garden flag) to bloom where I’m planted. It’s possible God wants me in Fatima one day, but I know that today is not that day. My kids are struggling enough with a move within the continental U.S., and I can’t imagine if we took them to a whole new country without explicit direction from God.

Yet my heart longs for that pilgrimage feeling, so in my growing attempt to do just a little bit, I planned something slightly smaller than a move to Portugal. This past weekend, my family went on our first ever mini-pilgrimage. We have visited churches while traveling before, but we’ve never set out with the sole purpose of growing closer to Christ through experiencing a holy site right here, close(ish) to home.

Now that we live in Kansas, we are only about two hours away from Gower, MO, the home of the Benedictines of Mary, Queen of the Apostles. This may sound familiar, as this is the place where the body of their foundress, Sister Wilhilmena Lancaster, has been discovered as “incorrupt.”

Her body was not embalmed, and she was laid in only a simple, wooden coffin. Yet after four years in the ground, her body and habit remain intact. A case for sainthood has not even been opened yet, since it hasn’t been five years since her death.  The nuns of the abbey excavated her remains to move her to the newly completed St. Joseph’s Shrine, fully expecting to find only bones to inter. I can only imagine the reactions of her fellow sisters when they made that discovery!

Since we were going to be in Missouri, we decided to also stop by the nearby town of Conception, which is the home of an abbey of Benedictine monks, a seminary, and the Basilica of the Immaculate Conception. We left home on Sunday afternoon after Mass with our regular parish and visited the stunning basilica (including cookies baked by monks!) before getting to the hotel. Then on Monday we went to the other abbey and celebrated the traditional Latin Mass with the Benedictines of Mary, Queen of the Apostles and saw the body of Sr. Wilhelmina.

And that was it (ok, then we stopped at Sam’s Club on the way home because, you know, real life). We were out of our house for barely more than 24 hours, and it was one of the best family trips we’ve ever taken. The mini-pilgrimage was long enough to feel spiritual and fulfilling, and gratifying that I’m doing right by these kids that God has entrusted to my care. The mini-pilgrimage was short enough that my kids weren’t biting each others’ heads off and completely sucking my joy dry.

A little bit was enough. A little bit was beautiful and rewarding. I’m gonna keep trying to do just a little bit each day.

 

Maria Riley 2023

Hope and Resilience

Hope and Resilience

Only Divine Providence could have woven such a tale. I can just offer you a sketchy map, and a few further clues. But we’re all a part of it. You’ll find your way.

This story opens in the mid-1800’s, with an English nobleman who collected American tree specimens to forest his Irish estate across the Atlantic Ocean. It encounters White Russians fleeing persecution following the communist revolution in 1917. It continues into the 1920’s, with an ambitious Irish diplomatic attaché in Paris; and a devastating family tragedy in Ireland.

Our tale emerged again in a small Swiss town in 1957, when a Protestant housewife received an indelible message in prayer from an Eastern Orthodox Catholic Saint.

But perhaps the most interesting plot twist occurred in the late 1940’s or early 1950’s, when a group of Irish schoolboys discovered dusty 15th-century religious icons while searching for treasure in a 19th-century reproduction-Gothic castle.

For me, it began on a recent March morning when a massive herd of glossy cattle crossed the road in front of our tour bus for more than fifteen minutes on their way to pasture. These cows dwell at Glenstal Abbey near Murroe, County Limerick, in the ancient Munster region of Ireland. (1)

Assisted by their dedicated local lay-oblate community, the Benedictine monks at Glenstal administer a substantial farm; a nationally-accredited Roman Catholic boarding school; and a conference center that offers retreats, spiritual consultations, and pilgrimages to individuals and groups of different faiths from around the world. A major inspiration for many pilgrimages to Glenstal Abbey is its unique collection of rare Eastern Orthodox prayer icons. These icons are displayed in a custom-built underground chapel beneath the main church.

In the Eastern Orthodox faith tradition, iconography is regarded as a particular kind of worship and a specific religious vocation. Although drawing and painting are involved, icons are always referred to as “written,” not made. The most important stages in their writing are the trained religious artists’ disciplines, fasting and prayer. Orthodox believers do not “look at” their icons; they present themselves before them, so that the saints can communicate with human beings on earth through the windows of their eyes.

The White Russians eventually found their way to Paris, France. Many families at that time were trapped in an economic depression that gripped continental Europe as well as North America. Too often, they were forced to part with their most precious possessions in order to support their families. For the Russian émigrés, that meant selling their family icons.

It seems that a diplomatic attaché for the Irish government, stationed in Paris, was happy to assist with the disposition of religious art works. The monks at Glenstal Abbey believe that this is how their Russian Orthodox icons were transferred to Roman Catholic Ireland.

At some point the icons landed at the castle forested with North American trees, once owned by the Barrington family. When their daughter was killed by Irish freedom fighters in 1921, the family returned to England. A local priest, Monsignor James Ryan, purchased Glenstal Castle in 1926 and donated it to the Benedictine Order, to found an abbey and school in the Archdiocese of Cashel. Glenstal Priory was inaugurated in January of 1928; the abbey boys’ school was established four years later in 1932. (2)

But following the turmoil of World War II, by the early 1950’s the Orthodox icons’ presence at Glenstal Abbey had been almost forgotten. Inquisitive schoolboys, digging through nooks and crannies, apparently came upon them stored somewhere in the castle. The Russian Orthodox saints traveled across a Roman Catholic campus in children’s hands, to decorate dorm room walls or to lie hidden under beds as secret prayer talismans.

Back on the continent, in 1957 the small-town wife of a Reformed Church pastor began to see saints and angels, including Mother Mary, beckoning to her from Roman Catholic churches in central Switzerland. Eventually, Joa Bolendas entered these churches to pray.

According to one of Bolendas’ accounts, St. Nicholas appeared to her and said, “This is the testimony of an early Saint of the Russian Orthodox Church.” In their encounters, St. Nicholas showed her images of icons that he said were “missing.” He told her that these icons were important for the future of the world and must be found. St. Nicholas thought that the icons he sought were somewhere in Ireland.

Bolendas’ nephew by marriage, John Hill, a graduate of Glenstal Abbey School, was in residence at that time in the C. G. Jung Institute of Zurich. Acting as a family member and not in his professional capacity, John began to accompany his wife’s aunt to church. He observed her in ecstatic prayer (3).

Joa Bolendas was described by all who knew her as “a strong woman,” and “a thoroughly practical person.” John himself watched her come out of prayer visions and briskly proceed to a nearby shop. There she would haggle with the butcher for his best cut of meat at the lowest price, to cook for her family’s dinner. John Hill deemed her fully grounded in reality.

He had a vague recollection of “those icons we used to play with at Glenstal as boys.” The matter seemed worthy of investigation. John called his old friend Mark Patrick Hederman, a monk, writer, teacher and administrator for the same abbey school where they both grew up.

In 1976, John and his wife Anne-Marie, with a photographer selected by Joa Bolendas, traveled back to Glenstal Abbey to examine whatever icons they might be able to find there.

Photographs of the icons they located in a thorough search of abbey and school were shown to Joa after they returned to Switzerland. She confirmed them as the same images St. Nicholas had revealed to her in visions. The saint then requested through Joa that the Benedictine brothers at Glenstal “build a chapel at their abbey to preserve them.”

All of the saints and angels who spoke with Joa over many years conveyed the same essential message. Whether explicitly or implicitly, the thrust of these revelations was always the importance of unity among mankind. If the chapel was built at Glenstal, St. Nicholas told her, “Unity will follow for Germany and Ireland.”

When Brother Patrick first presented a multi-million-dollar bid he’d received from a local contractor, the proposal to build a free-standing icon chapel on the abbey grounds was firmly rejected by the Glenstal monastic community.

Over time, however, the Benedictine brothers eventually developed a consensus. If Brother Patrick could find a way to build this chapel in the unused dirt cellar under the abbey church, they might be willing to help support it.

A third Glenstal Abbey School classmate, Jeremy Williams, had grown up to become one of Ireland’s leading architects. Patrick called Jeremy to the abbey for a consult. The aesthetic they both envisioned was a smaller version of the chapel at St. Sophia Church in Istanbul.

Their design was ultimately built in Glenstal Abbey’s church cellar to house the Russian icons, as well as an equally-precious donated collection of Greek Orthodox icons.

Their cement contractor in Cologne, Germany, who ground real stone for use in the colored-concrete chapel floor, provided the abbey with hefty discounts. In return the monastic community granted permission for the contractor to use an image of the finished chapel in promotional materials.

Before construction even began, while the abbey team was still examining the underground structure, a man no one had ever seen before walked in.

He said, “I know what you’re doing here! I know how to do it! No one else must touch it!”

With the monks’ permission, he spent the night alone, “inside the black box,” for inspiration. That ‘stranger’ turned out to be a local man, the brilliant and idiosyncratic Irish artist James Scanlon, who created luminous stained-glass medallions to anchor and illuminate a portion of the chapel ceiling vault.

Even the cows offered up their own fair share of the chapel costs, in cream and butter. Dairy sales from the farm help to support all of the spiritual and educational programs offered at Glenstal Abbey.

The finished icon chapel opened on April 10, 1988, with ancient musical tones and choral chants. These were researched as well as performed by Irish composer Michael O’Sullivan, with Rev. Nóirín Ní Riain, Ph.D. as liturgical cantor. (4)

Just nineteen months later, on November 9, 1989, the Berlin wall that had divided Germany for more than five decades fell to the ground. On 10 April, 1998, the tenth anniversary of the chapel’s consecration, Good Friday Agreements brought peace to Northern Ireland, putting an end to physical interreligious violence there.

This evidence is anecdotal, of course. Private devotions are treated as optional, not obligatory, in our Roman Catholic church. Still, the discerning monks of Glenstal Abbey visit their icon chapel every day, at the same time, to pray for healing in our world. This devotion is performed in addition to their traditional Benedictine charism, ora et labora, a daily rhythm of work and prayer in the Liturgy of the Hours.

If nothing else, the length and breadth of this history illustrate that dark times of many different kinds have always besieged humanity. The haunting eyes of early saints in the Glenstal Abbey chapel continue to regard contemporary pilgrims with eternal compassion.

Glenstal Abbey will celebrate the icon chapel’s 35th anniversary on April 10, 2023.

Should you, yourself, feel called to reflect on how a group of 1950’s Irish schoolboys ‘just happened’ to be in the right places, at the right times, prepared with the exact adult skills to provide every resource required to incarnate this chapel … Please join in prayers for unity and peace on Easter Monday.

 “Drive away the darkness that surrounds us,

Shed onto us the mantle of your light.

Help us to know your will,

And give us the courage to do it.” (5)

 Amen.

Original Russian Icon “The Healing Christ” in the Glenstal Abbey Icon Chapel Photo by Margaret Zacharias, taken with permission from Don Mark Patrick Hederman

 

Featured Image: Collection of Original Eastern Orthodox Icons in the Glenstal Abbey Chapel Photo by Margaret Zacharias, taken with permission from Don Mark Patrick Hederman The “Angel of Silence” can be seen at lower right.

Notes:

  1. https://glenstal.com/abbey/
  2. A more detailed history of Glenstal Abbey, and exposition about the educational philosophy of the secondary-level boy’s school, may be found in former Headmaster Mark Patrick Hederman’s book:

 The Boy in the Bubble: Education as Personal Relationship

 https://www.amazon.com/Boy-Bubble-Education-Personal-Relationship/dp/1847304052/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1680133263&sr=8-1

  1. The full story of Joa Bolendas’ visionary prayer experiences may be found in her books:

So That You May Be One

https://www.amazon.com/s?k=Joa+Bolendas+That+You+Be+One&crid=1RFFTDTLMZBLJ&sprefix=joa+bolendas+that+you+be+one%2Caps%2C155&ref=nb_sb_noss

Alive in God’s World

https://www.amazon.com/Alive-Gods-World-Described-Bolendas/dp/097010975X/ref=sr_1_1?crid=Q8W6BZWU4KAG&keywords=Joa+Bolendas+Alive+In+God%27s+World&qid=1679641031&sprefix=joa+bolendas+alive+in+god%27s+world%2Caps%2C144&sr=8-1.

  1. Recordings of the early Christian music that accompanied the consecration of Glenstal Abbey’s icon chapel may be found here:

 Vox De Nube

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09S3F6YQ1/ref=sr_1_2?crid=3RR326YJQLC6A&keywords=vox+di+nube&qid=1679728636&sprefix=vox+de+nube%2Caps%2C142&sr=8-2

  1. One prayer given in a dream to Don Mark Patrick Hederman, now Abbot emeritus of Glenstal Abbey.

This article was prepared with help and permission from Don Mark Patrick Hederman and John Hill.

Any errors of fact or interpretation are the sole responsibility of the author. 

© Copyright 2023 by Margaret King Zacharias, Ph.D.

 

The Path Late Taken

The Path Late Taken

Thy word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.”  Psalm 119:105

I am one of those people who let life happen to me rather than setting an intentional course for my life.  But it is never too late to learn. As I look back over the years, I now see where turning to God for guidance through prayer and scripture at a young age might have led me to different destinations. No regrets. I wandered where I did and in the process of getting lost and finding my way back, I learned ask for and seek God’s light on all my paths. He is the lamp by which I write.

I have been writing since childhood. When high school rolled around, like most kids, I considered what I might want to do with my life. Journalism sounded appealing as I joined the school newspaper, but so did Library Science – a means to be immersed in a world of books. I thought about majoring in English.

It turned out; I became a nurse. My parents advised I’d always be able to find work. The manager at my first job said I would make a great nurse. I had two partial scholarships: one to Rosary College in Chicago where there was a library science program and one to Barry College in Miami where I had every intention on majoring in English. When an uncle told me Chicago was so cold in the winter, students walked through underground tunnels to get to classes, I swayed toward staying in Florida with the sun and beaches. The safe path.

At orientation, along with the crowd of freshmen being directed to meeting rooms, “English majors over here,” “Nursing majors, this way.”  I heard the voices of people I loved and respected and headed in the direction for Nursing.  It was the early seventies when there was a glut of teachers and jobs were hard to find.  The hasty detour.

In that split second decision, at age seventeen, I set the course for my life over the next twenty or so years. I lost sight of a few important road signs.  Number one, I loved words. Would I love tending to the human body and its maladies as much? I forgot about an impressionable moment in senior advanced English creative writing class with the editor of The Liguorian, a popular Catholic magazine.

The priest who talked with our class about writing, did so with a smelly brown cigar, wafting smoke into my brain pushing out any ability to hear or comprehend what he was saying.  I vividly remember after more than fifty years the growing ash at the tip of his cigar, teetering, clearly close to dropping on the linoleum floor.  Did he not notice? Didn’t anyone notice?  Were they so engrossed in his lecture or so not bothered by the odor that they ignored the possibility of a soon-to-be- scorched floor or possibly even a fire?

Behind him the jalousie windows were closed.  I couldn’t wait any longer and politely got up and turned the handle on the glass louvers, pointing out that now he could tap his cigar outside.  Oh, the fresh air! I forgave his odorous affront when he promptly told the class, “Now there is a good writer.”  Why did I not remember his statement during freshman orientation day? Again, no regrets, just a reminder to myself to look for the lamp to light my way.

So here I am more than fifty years later, writing. The path between college and retirement included stops as a Navy nurse and a long stint in the insurance industry with small detours down the creative writing alley. As retirement draws near, I’m paying closer attention to the road signs leading me to my dream of being a writer. As for that priest, I don’t remember anymore the smell of his cigar or even one word of his lecture, but I cling tightly to his singular statement, “Now there’s a good writer.” I’ll leave it to you to decide if I’m a good one or not. It’s never too late.

Copyright 2022 by Paula Veloso Babadi

Catholic Writers' GuildAI
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