Monday, August 8, 2022
Memorial of Saint Dominic, Priest
           (click here to listen to or read today’s Scriptures)
My own cloud of Dominican sisters
A stormwind came from the north, a huge cloud with flashing fire enveloped in light, from the midst of which something gleamed like glowing metal. Within it were figures resembling four living creatures whose form was human. But each of them had four faces and four wings.
But I think of five living creatures.
Some of my best friends are Dominican spiritual directors in Springfield, Illinois. So when Memorial Day for Saint Dominic rolls around each year, they are who I think of: Sr. Barb, Sr. Melanie and Sr. Margaret Therese, as well as Sr. Anita and Sr. Sharon on Jubilee Farm. I don’t remember seeing them in their mostly unworn white habits and black scapulars, but in their street clothes, and their farm clothes. They look just like you and me.
But they don’t think like you and me. One of my favorite stories is about a disagreement, which ended after their facilitator sent them off to be alone and pray, here and there in the Springfield, IL motherhouse, for an hour. When they returned they came quickly to agreement. And this was not particularly unusual. Their prayer bears the fruit of peace.
He has lifted up the horn of his people. Be this his praise from all his faithful ones, all the people close to him.
Sr. Barb has a robust sense of humor, and patience beyond belief. When I told her I was visiting the Abbey of Gethsemani in central Kentucky, she said I had to visit the church near her undergraduate college in Springfield, KY, because it had the most awful Catholic art she had ever seen. I visited. She was right.
Sr. Melanie was my first spiritual director, trained with the Jesuits in Canada and living for years at Jubilee Farm. She sat with me in her rocking chair, she laughed at my bad jokes and introduced me to Matthew Fox, Marcus Borg, John Dominic Crossan and Ilia Delio, none of whom are considered standard Catholic fare, they are far too liberal. Worked for me. Fox’s Original Blessing gave me permission to see God’s blessing instead of God’s curse at the dawn of human life. His “Appendix B” at the back of that book rights my course year after year.
At Jubilee Farm, just a couple of miles from their house, Jack and Aly let Sr. Anita take them in hand and lead them into the alpaca barn. She helped them overcome their fear of petting those tall alpacas. She also let them collect eggs from the henhouse. We hiked down the hill to the labyrinth the sisters had cut into their pasture, and I admired their gorgeous garden. Not just a farmer, but also a potter and craftsman, Sr. Anita has two sales each year of her creations.
Long before Pope Francis published his second encyclical, Laudato Si (Praise Be to You) on ecology, climate change and the condition of the Earth, Sr. Sharon was talking about it. In 2008 she wrote, “The work of the preacher is not so much about healing Earth as it is about proclaiming the non-negotiable truth that unless Earth is healthy, we humans cannot be.” In lectures she gives around the country, the co-founder of Jubilee Farm does not waver on this point.
Like the rainbow which appears in the clouds on a rainy day was the splendor that surrounded him. Such was the vision of the likeness of the glory of the Lord.
I remember Sr. Margaret Therese best of all, because in December the year before she died, she and I shared children’s stories. Not just about Christmas, although that’s how we got started, sharing Christmas memories at the group meeting of spiritual directors that month. We brought goodies, and we told stories. Sr. Margaret, who always came in a wheelchair, made me laugh, as she did every month. Long before I decided we must be on the same spiritual wavelength. She talked about Patricia Polacco, children’s book author from Michigan, and her books Christmas Tapestry and Firetalking.
It was snowing outside the next day when we met with Sr. Margaret in the beautiful lobby of the Dominican motherhouse. I brought books, and she brought books. We drove home through the snow, and I checked out every Patricia Polacco book at the Urbana and Champaign libraries. In the months that followed we shared many books and many stories. Then she passed away, falling away into heaven, flying away, and I often miss her mischievous smile.
Jesus said to Simon, “Go to the sea, drop in a hook, and take the first fish that comes up. Open its mouth and you will find a coin worth twice the temple tax. Give that to the collectors, for me and for you.”
Watching, as perhaps she is at just this moment, I think Sr. Margaret is laughing.
(Ezekiel 1, Psalm 148, 2 Thessalonians 2, Matthew 17)
(posted at www.davesandel.net)
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