Halfway Point!

Hard to believe, but we have already been here over two weeks--which means that in just two more weeks we'll be packing our bags!

Chatting on the rim of Lake Albano. Sister Maria (left) is
one of our "senior" African sisters, having already
celebrated her Silver Jubilee!

This first part of our General Chapter was especially devoted to getting to know the situation of our congregation around the world, and the situation of the world around us. We had reports from Mother General (largely encouraging) and the financial report (not so much), and then reports from each of the major superiors (basically, from each nation or group of nations in which we are present). This part blew me away.

We heard about what the sisters are doing in technologically advanced societies like Korea, where we have over 200 sisters (in a country the size of New Jersey); and in places like Portugal, where our sisters, although with a high median age, managed to reorganize their publishing efforts in such a way as to not only renew it completely, but change the face of Catholic publishing across the country at the same time by setting the bar so high. I learned that in Spain, there are numerous chains of Catholic bookstores run by Catholic publishing houses, and they are much frequented. Our young community in Madagascar, where we have only 15 sisters (if memory serves me; I left the report in the Chapter Hall), managed to publish the Bible in the local language--only the second edition of the Bible in Malagasy ever. (The first, translated in 1938, was long out of print; this is a new translation by a local scholar.) The sisters worked day and night, everyone involved: typing, proofreading, impaginating... They had to reprint the Bible just two months after the first copies arrived.

From top to bottom: the Bible in Malagasy, English (NAB
with African notes) and Urdu (by our Sisters in Pakistan).

Speaking of the Bible, our sisters in the Philippines were able to release a special edition of the Bible to distribute to the poor. They visited the parishes, gave workshops on the prayer form called "lectio divina"and led a prayer service in the homes where the Bible was presented, kissed by each member of the family who then promised to read it daily, and then enthroned in honor. That happened  75,000 times in homes, military bases and prisons.

Our next two days (up to today) offered more content, this time from experts in several fields: our "methodologist," Father Arnaiz (Marianist) gave a presentation on consecrated life and the challenges/opportunities of the present time; a professor (name escapes me) offered a powerful lecture on Baptism (this is the "sacrament" religious life expresses in a radical way); a young priest who recently made his vows in the "Institute of Jesus the Priest" (part of the Pauline Family) spoke for two hours on our Founder's thought related to the mission of evangelization. You would have thought that Father Forlai had been one of the Founder's early associates instead of a diocesan priest who only joined the Pauline Family four years ago. (I recorded the talk; tried to record the simultaneous translation, but the cable didn't do the trick.) Finally, we enjoyed a presentation on the connection of faith and digital communications from an official of the Italian Bishops' Conference communications office. (The Italian bishops made communications a priority long ago, and it shows.) You can read his talk here, if you read Italian. 

Tomorrow the gears shift as we climb the Lord's mountain to discern his will for us in greater detail.
As always, that prayer to the Holy Spirit is much appreciated!

John the Baptist and the bystanders

I don't know why it never crossed my radar before. I suppose it has something to do with the influence of the biblical movies and their depiction of the scene of today's Gospel: the beheading of John the Baptist. The focus tends to be on the "big three" players: the spineless King Herod, the scheming Herodias (simultaneously Herod's sister-in-law and consort), and the girl, manipulated and manipulating. Their extraordinarily dysfunctional family (even by today's standards!) leads to the noble prophet's head being displayed like a trophy. All, we're told, because Herod  had made some over-the-top promises and was reluctant to take them back "because of the guests."

This year I finally asked myself: how many guests were they? And why were all of them so passive? What if I had been at that dinner? Would I have looked away, hoping that someone--someone else--would say whatever needed to be said to change the terrible subject?

Is this audience-like passivity something that afflicts us today, too? Could the 21st century John count on you or me? 

Singing Nuns All Over the Place!

Following the Billboard-breaking success last year of the album of Advent music by the Benedictine nuns of Mary, Queen of Apostles (love that name!), the very smart folks at Montfort Music arranged not only for another Billboard-topping album with the Benedictines, but for yet another community to add to their roster of singing nuns. The Dominican Sisters of Mary, Mother of the Eucharist  just released "Mater Eucharistiae," which is currently at a very impressive #13 on Amazon's music chart.

Billboard breaker!

Current hit

Newest arrival

Meanwhile, back "home" in Boston, another album of singing nuns has just been recorded, though the mixing (of the various voices and instruments) has yet to be done. The sisters in the Daughters of St Paul Choir concluded this summer's recording project on Saturday:

Who's missing from the picture? That's right. Yours truly.

Featuring very different styles of music than the above three albums, this yet-to-be-named album (think more inspirational pop than Gregorian chant) focuses especially on songs of encouragement and hope. It will be a good album to offer people who are undergoing extreme suffering or sorrow, even if they have no particular religious faith, or are somewhat alienated from the Church. I was able to record one song on this album, a duet with Sister Julia; leaving for Italy meant leaving this particular project behind: a real sacrifice for me! Look for this release sometime next year.

Fittingly, the recording project was closed with an Hour of Adoration held in the studio itself, with the Divine Master enthroned on the grand piano.

I think this picture sums up the attraction of the current "singing nuns" phenomenon: the voices you hear on all these albums are lifted up in prayer even as the microphones pick them up. There is no separation between the "ora" and "labora" here. The singing itself is an expression of prayer, making the album a kind of portal to prayer, especially for people who have forgotten how to do it. And really, even people alienated from organized religion can find comfort in hearing the voices that are lifted up in prayer for them.

About our sisters here

There are 67 of us participating in this General (i.e., international; all-inclusive) Chapter meeting; together we represent 51 nations where the Daughters of St Paul currently have communities or apostolic centers.

Even though we come from all over the place, the official language of the meeting is Italian, which quite a few of us can understand, especially since we have begun to have the course of preparation for final vows in Rome. But our native languages include (besides Italian, Spanish, French, English, Portuguese):

• Japanese
• Korean (one of the Koreans also speaks Polish)
• Kiluba
• Tagalog
• Punjaby (this sister also speaks Urdu)
• Swahili 
• Malayalam
• Malagasy
• Cebuano

Plus, one of the Italian sisters speaks Chinese (she has lived in Taiwan for decades).

The median age of the group is about 60, putting me (much to my surprise) among the younger sisters. The youngest sister here, an Italian, is 37; the eldest, coming from Spain, is 78.

Among the statistics we were given, I thought it was especially interesting to see that one of the nations that has been enjoying the greatest blessings in terms of vocations is perhaps the one least likely to come to mind: our sisters in Pakistan are (and have been for the past several years) in the "top ten" nations in terms of the number of young women in formation. Here in the U.S. we are happy to be welcoming three new postulants this September (for others, college debt remains an obstacle--a serious, but common issue).

You can get the news bulletins and more photos on the official site, but here's yesterday's picture of the day:

The view of the Chapter Hall from the Korean translation booth.

The Lord's Day (but not a day off!)

It's the Lord's Day! Not that we have a day off from the work of the Chapter, however.... In fact, while most of our communities enjoy a bit of extra rest, our community Mass here was the same as always, 7:15. This time, however, something was a bit different.

It started with the sound effects. Outside, a strong blowing wind hinted of a new Pentecost (I'm certainly praying for a similar outcome!); the rumble of thunder started. (I began to be distracted by thoughts of my computer, plugged into the outlet without a surge protector and downloading an enormous file.) Rain. More thunder, to the point that it was drowning out the voice of the priest, microphone or no microphone. When it came time for the Offertory, the real drama started. All the lights in the main part of the chapel went out. Only the sanctuary remained dimly lit. The priest calmly raised the bread. I zipped out of my pew and ran to unplug the computer (I was not the only one!) while the sister-sacristan lit a few extra candles so Father could see the prayers in the altar missal. Really, it was quite striking. But it wasn't over.

The "Holy, Holy, Holy" was punctuated with the return of the lights, row by row. "Holy, Holy, Holy!" "Plink!" went the first row of fluorescent lights. "Heaven and earth are full of your glory!" "Plink, Plink!" Two more rows. "Blessed is He who comes in the Name of the Lord!" "Plink!" "Hosanna in the Highest!" "Plink!"

As the Eucharistic Prayer continued, the roar outside grew stronger, and the sound of the rain hitting the ground two stories beneath us became more marked. That this wasn't just rain became obvious when a hailstone the size of a marble ricocheted off the shoulder of the General Counselor two pews ahead of me. Although only a few of the chapel windows open, and even barely (they open at a 40° angle facing downward), hail was popping all over the place. By the time for the Sign of Peace, we could only exchange chuckles. 

Now the day has calmed down considerably (and so have we, after getting a major report about our international finances!). When we meet again this afternoon, may the Spirit of Pentecost guide us according to God's vision for our communities and mission. There are bishops all over the world asking us to come to their diocese, to their country... whole new language groups that we have yet to serve. What should be the next good step?

Ariccia, one week in

Well, the first thing to note is that I now know how to spell the name of the locale. One "r" two "c's."

My spot in the Chapter Hall; you can see the buttons behind my name card
(the audio dials are for the simultaneous translation, offered in English,
Korean and Japanese); each seat also has a microphone from which a delegate
can address the whole assembly.

Today we were introduced to the apparatus we will use in voting. Since the facility is typically used by religious orders, the electronic voting buttons are marked not in Italian or English, but with abbreviations of the Latin. And not for "yes" or "no," either: The choices are "placet" (it is pleasing), "non placet" (it is not pleasing), "abstentio" (vote withheld/abstain) and "iuxta modem" ("sort of").

After a week here (mostly spent on retreat, though, Lord have mercy, I fudged a bit), the rhythm we've gotten accustomed to is starting to change. Even the weather is changing, as if on cue! I wonder how that is going to affect our evening sunset photos. (Every day after supper we all seem to have the same pattern of going to watch--and photograph--the sunset behind Castel Gondolfo.)

There are other things to take pictures of, naturally. Here's the welcoming statue of the Divine Master at the front gate:



I'm probably not going to have time to do more than send a twitter update or two from now until we get a break (a Year of Faith pilgrimage is being planned!), so you're on your own to remember to pray the occasional "Come Holy Spirit" for our proceedings here, which are meant to guide the entire worldwide congregation over the next six years!

Today's Saint

Pope St Pius X is in some ways a "godfather" to the Pauline Family. He died on August 20, 1914, the

Statue of St. Pius X in St Raymond Cathedral
(Joliet, IL)

day Blessed Alberione's printing school (the inaugural stage of the Pauline Family) opened its doors.

A few days before the canonization of Pius X (May, 1954), Father Alberione reminisced: "When, against all human expectations, Pius X was elected Supreme Pontiff, a highly experienced priest full of wisdom and above all of great virtue commented: 'This election was a miracle: it certainly proceeded from the Holy Spirit; let us prepare ourselves to see in this pontificate a reawakening of prayerfulness and of the Christian spirit.' And so it was."

Alberione himself had been greatly influenced by this Pope, who was a country boy like himself. Pius was elected in 1903, a significant year for Alberione, then a seminarian (he later wrote that during this particular school year he received a special insight that his life's work would be focused on the spread of the Gospel). When the Pope reversed the ruling that forbade Italian Catholics from participating in elections (a leftover from the days of Garibaldi),  Father Alberione was appointed by his bishop to visit the parishes in his region to explain how one could be a faithful Catholic and an active citizen of the young nation at the same time. The great Pope appeared, Alberione wrote, as a true image of the Divine Master in the midst of the flock (kind of reminds me of Pope Francis!). His tomb is under one of the side altars in St Peter's Basilica. Hopefully, I'll be able to pay him a little visit before I leave the Eternal City!

Looking at 100

In today's Mass readings, Gideon--the least gifted member of the least significant household in the tribe of Manasseh--is chosen to deliver the people from marauders. He pleads his case, but the call is only confirmed by God, who says, "I will be with you." And in the Gospel, Jesus reminds the disciples that "many who are first will be last, and many who are last will be first."

In some ways, it's hard to see today's saint in those readings. Bernard was a charismatic leader of men before he was even a grown man. When he left his family and joined the monastery, the young ladies of the town went into mourning, and not just for the loss of the attractive young Bernard, but because he brought his whole circle of friends into the monastery with him!

You wouldn't necessarily associate the feast of St Bernard (the monk) with the Pauline Family, but on this day in 1914, the Founder blessed the first little house and print-shop that were the "acorn" of the great tree (in Italian, "alberone") that was about to germinate. That means that today opens our centennial of foundation.

On the 10th anniversary of that foundation, Blessed Alberione was already overseeing four groups of followers: the priests, seminarians and aspirants of the Society of St. Paul, the sisters and aspirants of

the Daughters of St. Paul (indistinguishable in their dress from any other soberly-attired young woman of the locale), the first few sisters of the Pious Disciples of the Divine Master in their simple monastic style habits, and a cadre of associates (priests and lay) who collaborated in the spirit of St. Paul--the Pauline Cooperators. (This last group was the only one at the time to have any kind of official status in the Church.) The family went by the collective name "St. Paul" and they already numbered in the hundreds. They had undertaken a huge building project which included a massive church, and Alberione was foretelling the day when trains would pull up to their loading dock to pick up shipments of the Gospel, destined for all over the world.

And yet on that day, he commented: "People talk about 'admiration'; what is most admirable is what you don't see: the vocations and hidden sacrifices of the cooperators. But this is not a human work; it is what God has done in his love. It is the will of God that guides and rules, and everything is done for God alone. Take away the will of God, and even humanly speaking, you take away all the fruitfulness and vitality; there would be nothing but aridity left everywhere."

On another occasion he put it a little differently: "Everything comes from God; everything leads us to the Magnificat."

Brushing up my Italian (and other things)

It's taking a few days to get my Italian brain on. I still want to say "hi" instead of "ciao" or "buon giorno," and automatically say "thanks" instead of "grazie." But there's more! I learned something new today. Not an Italian word, but an Italian custom. When they give you a cloth napkin at the dinner table, it is only meant to catch crumbs on your lap. Under no circumstances do you touch it to your lips, to wipe away that errant drop of spaghetti sauce, or to your fingers if a smidge of butter should get on them. Use the tiny paper napkins in the dispenser if you intend to make a mess.

This is where I learned that valuable lesson: at the Casa Divin Maestro (Divine Master Retreat House) in Arricia, just about a mile across Lake Albano from Castel Gandolfo, where Pope Francis celebrated Mass today (small consolation to the people of the village, who have to deal with the fact that the Pope is not spending the summer at this summer residence). You can see the Papal residence (and its observatory) on the left side of the image if you click on it. I wish I had a clearer shot for you, but I won't have a lot of free time once our retreat starts--tomorrow morning. (Didn't I just make my retreat in July? Yes, I did, but that was for me. This one is for the work of the Chapter, which is on behalf of every Daughter of St. Paul, and every person we are sent to (approximately 7.2 billion).)

Yes, retreat starts tomorrow so I must go offline, after just getting Internet access in my room! A room, interestingly enough, with door-sized windows that are the only source of ventilation, but which, being on the ground floor, can admit visitors much larger than the mosquitoes which are currently plaguing me. I'm not sure what I'm going to do about feeling safe enough to sleep.

You can follow the action on the website of the General Chapter, which will include photos, summaries of the talks and (I'm sure) other interesting things. Maybe you can even share some of the material through your Facebook or Twitter posts! Who knows: vocations could come from this very meeting!

Here we are after this morning's opening Mass in the chapel
of Blessed James Alberione's tomb. 

Thanks in advance for the prayers. Please include one of my former teachers in the convent, Sister Susan Helen Wallace (a prolific Pauline author), who is approaching the most important meeting of her life.

Assumption Day

The Apostles at Mary's empty tomb;
from St. Hedwig's Church,
Chicago

"A rose by any other name would smell as sweet," Shakespeare wrote. And today's feast is also known by another name: the Churches in the East speak of Mary's "Dormition."

While the Western "Assumption" highlights Mary's being "taken up," the Eastern term hints at a gentleness and ease that does not characterize our human feelings toward death. The dogma of the Assumption (which was only defined in 1950) doesn't even speak of "death" in Mary's case, leaving it to the theologians to worry about. 

The interesting thing is that, ancient legends notwithstanding (in them it is pretty clear that Mary died), the Church in East and West is unanimous in declaring that Mary, who was so close to Christ in his death on the Cross, experiences even now, in an utterly unique way, the "likeness to his Resurrection"that every other child of Adam and Eve must wait for at the end of time.

"On a day like this, the feast of the Assumption, Heaven seems very near. Our Lady, body and soul in heaven; our Lord, body and soul in Heaven--it makes Heaven a reality for us earthbound creatures" Dorothy Day (in a 1961 letter to Thomas Merton).

As you read this, our "General Chapter" has begun with the invocation of the Holy Spirit. Please keep our worldwide Pauline assembly and its deliberations in your prayers!

Bella Roma!

I spent the whole day in the city yesterday (walked my feet off); and (don't tell the Italian sisters) I didn't even eat--unless you count the granola bar I had brought from the States and nibbled in St Peter's Square and the gelato I had mid-afternoon over by St Mary Major. But it was a great day, and I have the pictures to prove it!

When I first got into the Vatican neighborhood, I had some errands to run. Picked up a bag of 100 miraculous medals for Pope Francis to bless when he (and I) return to the city in September, plus two simple reliquaries (one for the relic of the Founder, which I have had in a plastic case for ten years now), and the other for the relic of Blessed Francis Seelos, the Redemptorist priest so beloved of New Orleans (Dad had gotten it from the doctor who was involved in the canonization process; Mom carried it everywhere in a dilapidated Jiffy bag so she could bless people in need, and I got it after Mom had been blessed with it daily for three weeks). Errands accomplished, I went my way, camera in hand:
Around noon, I set my sights on St. Mary Major. I wanted to take advantage of the fact that my bus ticket would be valid for another 19 minutes, and figured my best bet was to aim for a basilica I knew would be open during the Roman nap time, and that was still in walking distance from St Peter's (or at least from the bus stop). As I debated whether to wait for a bus or take the Metro (a few more blocks away), I heard an American voice: "Hey, are you a Daughter of St. Paul?!" A group of young men from New Mexico (whom I presumed to be seminarians) was boarding the bus; one jumped back off to have his picture taken with me. He turned out to be a big fan of Sister Helena and of the "spoken word priest," Father Pontifex.

At St Mary Major, I started off in the Adoration chapel, a real sanctuary in the Basilica (off limits to tourists). Only after some time with Jesus in that quiet spot did I sport the camera and eager gaze of a tourist myself.

Salus Populi Romano 

The great apse (taken with just the (little) available light.

With all the art on the apse and walls, you don't want to miss the floors! 

The baptismal font has its own ornate grate.

I love this shot! It is as if the person carved into the door is peering longingly into the great church.



The grandiose tabernacle is in a chapel of its own, behind a grate with a 
grapevine motif. Click around to see more details.

I also stopped at the Forum (with a stop at the closed-for-riposo Mamartine Prison): click inside the image for a different view of Rome:


Tomorrow our work in the General Chapter begins, and that means no more sightseeing (or blogging) for a while. Please keep us in your prayers!

Rome!

I arrived in Rome yesterday, late in the morning, having suffered only one mishap along the way: I left
my Kindle on the plane in Dublin, and didn't realize it until I had boarded the plane for Rome almost an hour later. Despite notifying the flight attendant even before the Roman flight departed, and subsequently filling out an online form with Aer Lingus (and pestering them all day on Twitter), there has been no sighting of the erstwhile e-reader. I can do without it--I brought an iPad and can download the books and other documents I was counting on using (but the iPad is really hard on the eyes for extensive reading)--it's just... So I am resolved never to use an electronic device on a plane again. I just get too distracted in the deplaning process! (Last year I left a special orthopedic-type cushion on a United flight. Same story.)

Today, hopefully!

Arriving at the Generalate (our international HQ) for pranzo (the sacred midday meal), I was greeted by many familiar faces: the sisters with whom I lived during the year and a half I worked for the Vatican's Jubilee Internet Office, and also sisters who had passed through the United States for meetings or school. I also met some sisters for the first time, and have committed myself to learning their names: Sister Pelagie (PEH-la-JHEE) from Congo; Sister Shalimar from the Philippines...

Having not slept soundly since Saturday night, I was able to go to bed at a normal Roman hour last night and wake up only a little late. (I hope to "catch" a Mass today in the Eternal City itself; currently I am just inside the city limits, about four miles from St. Peter's.)  Meanwhile (don't be jealous) free cappuccinos, all day long.

With this Ring...

58 years ago today.

Here you see Jim placing the ring on Winnie's finger. Father Twelmeyer, SJ, witnesses, as does Winnie's brother. 

Here you see the ring:

But wait, that's two rings, right?

Wrong.

My sister Jane did not know the secret of Mom's "alliance" (*best pronounced the French way: AH-lee-AWWCE) ring. Organizing Mom's jewelry, she found the ring and put it aside. The light fell on a tiny hole, and as my sister investigated, the ring split apart. She was frantic. "I broke Mom's wedding ring!" she told me over the phone. It split into two rings, and I can't get it back together!

Only on my visit home did we fully probe the ring's secret--with the help of some jewelry dip and a little scrub-brush. The inscription you might expect on a wedding ring is within the ring itself. Not clear in the picture, it reads: 8-13-55 on one loop, and then  TO  W.A.S. FROM Y.B.A.T.   

W.A.S. is clearly (to us, anyway), Winifred Ann Stiegler, but Dad's initials were J.T.F. And yet on many of the anniversary cards, birthday cards, and little cards you get in a bouquet of flowers (and Mom kept them all, believe me), the signature in Dad's handwriting was YBA. (He must have dropped the T somewhere down the years, but kept the essential part.)

The meaning of this endearment was never revealed to us--not for our lack of effort! My best guess is along the lines of "your biggest admirer" (admittedly, a "T" would have a hard time fitting this); do you have any ideas?

This summer, my siblings entrusted me with Mom's ring, which I am free to wear (since our community receives not a ring at profession, but a crucifix and the emblem of the Congregation). During my time in Rome, the ring is in safekeeping in Boston. But there's a proviso to my keeping the ring: it is only in my safekeeping. Upon my death, they want the "alliance" to return to the family.

Vow Day!

Today was the big day for two of our novices, and I have the pictures (and some video) to prove it.

Yesterday the pair received the habit, but only today
(and even then only right before the Mass) could they don it. For most of the sisters, our first glimpse came during the entrance procession.

There was still one more revelation: what name would they go by? In our congregation, the norm is to keep one's baptismal name (since this sacrament initiates us into the covenant that the religious life is meant to live more intensely), and then add a new one (as a sign of entering upon a new stage in one's relationship with God).

 Let me just say it out clearly.

 I'm jealous.

 Both of our newly professed sisters have names that resound for a total of five syllables. Sister Laura Fidelis. Sister Jacqueline Jean-Marie. I have been professed for 35 years, and never had more than two: Sister Anne Joan. And I only go by that name in the convent. After being called variations on Angela, Angelina, Anne Jo-anne, Anna Jo… I (reluctantly) dropped the Joan part in non-DSP-settings. So most of the time, I get only one syllable, and these newbies start off with five.

 The "name reveal" isn't even a formal part of the ceremony of vows (it used to be); as that part of the Mass begins, the novice director simply calls each sister by her new name (pronounced with great solemnity, it must be said, since she knows we are all straining to hear!); the sister responds: "Here I am, Lord," and things just go ahead from there with the celebrant asking the sisters (in a way that deliberately echoes the baptismal rite) what they ask of God and the Church; if they are willing to follow the Lord in a life of chastity, poverty and obedience… and then each sister pronounces the formula, vowing to live chaste, poor and obedient for one year. They will, with the grace of God, renew those vows each year for five years before using the formula that says, "for all my life." But that "life" part is already intended from the get-go: "Looking forward to the day when I can consecrate myself to You forever…"

Since Sr Jacqueline Jean-Marie (the "Jean" part is for John the Baptist) hails from Kenya, there was a huge Kenyan contingent at the Mass, and they handled the Offertory procession. What a procession it was!

A choir, accompanied only by drums and a kind of shimmering rain of seeds within a reed-covered frame, sang in unison as dancers (in their Sunday best) stepped their way gracefully up the center aisle. Just before the children who carried the bread and wine for Mass, there were four women who bore woven bags filled with food. The long handles of the bags wrapped across the top of the bearer's head, while she held on tight and continued to step right, then left, all the way to the sanctuary.

Meeting the priest at the step, she turned completely around as the priest grasped the handles and lifted the burden to place it before the altar. There was no missing the point: this was an offering of one's substance, made joyfully, and made life-giving.

 At Communion, Sister Laura's brother sat at the piano, and with accompaniment of viola, organ and a set of drums, sang of God's unfailing faithfulness.

Following Mass there was time for photographs; I took pictures of the picture-taking, too. Naturally, a meal followed! And then it really got interesting. 

When everyone had eaten, and the desserts (including large Kenyan beignet) were out, people started singing. And then dancing. And ululating. Song after song in Swahili. One of the men near me said that a song I especially enjoyed was about bringing the Gospel, which is like a fire. There were postures, steps and hand movements for every song, and everyone knew them, even though the guests from the Kenyan community had actually come from many different Kenyan communities in the Northeast. I've been stationed with sisters of many different cultures, but never really had a chance to experience the cultures of Africa. Here it was, my introduction to Africa, in our convent refectory in New England.

Tomorrow I head for Rome, and an international experience of the Daughters of St. Paul (including our vibrant communities of southern Africa, East Africa and Francophone Africa). I'm already the richer!

Convent Tidbits

Down in the studio today, Sr Julia and I recorded the first song for the new album. It took us way longer than the three minute run time, but...it's done!

That's me in the back left; Sr Julia in the foreground.

For the past few days (and through tomorrow), we are getting extra help from Dreux Montegut, music director for the Cathedral of St. Louis in New Orleans (in case you couldn't tell); he's a voice teacher at Loyola University there, where once upon a time I majored in voice(not because of overwhelming  talent, but because I had decided to enter the convent at that point and just wanted to enjoy my final semester in college).

Tomorrow we have choir practice not for an album, but for the Mass of Religious Profession for two of the novices. Sister Jackie's parents came in from Kenya to be with her; her brother is already in the States, working on his doctoral dissertation. (Their sister was unable to get a visa; Dad said to just accept it as the  mysterious will of God: no wonder a religious vocation blossomed in that family!) Speaking of religious vocations, we got the news that another young woman has been accepted intoour  postulancy program! Entrance date is September 8. (The provincial commented at breakfast that there would have been others to join them but for outstanding college debt, which is the biggest obstacle to following a vocation--not just religious life, of course; plenty of young adults put off marriage because of debt...)

Also speaking of religious vocations, our postulants and their formator are spending a month in Mexico, learning Spanish up close and personal, and in general sharing the Pauline life of our Mexican community. Our province (USA and Anglophone Canada) is "twinned" with Mexico precisely so that we can exchange sisters and collaborate on projects without needing special permissions from Mother General in Rome (who probably has bigger things requiring her attention).

And still speaking of vocations (the discernment part), this week a group of young women will be joining us for a Discernment Week, a summer program that has among its graduates those two postulants (excuse me, "pre-novices") in Mexico. Pray for these "first time" St Paul discerners!

One more vocation tidbit: Sr Rose, our movie nun in Southern California (you might know her from her movie reviews in St. Anthony Messenger) sent me a very special package. Inside was...a plastic sewing kit (???) and, in the kind of little bag you would use for a wedding party favor, a beat-up metal thimble. The card explained it all. In 1978, a few months before I made first vows, our Sister Joan Mary Ravetto died of cancer. Sister Rose was given Sister Joan Mary's large black rosary, and her thimble. Sister Joan Mary's death was the first bereavement our community had suffered since 1948, and we didn't even have a place to bury her. This dear sister had been the novice director for many years, and was universally loved. (We had also had her help as an assistant novice director where our own formator attended a lengthy meeting in Rome, so I knew her, too.) When I made my vows, Mother Paula assigned my new name herself, adding "Joan" to my baptismal name, Anne.

So when Sister Rose opened her sewing kit last week and the thimble popped out, she figured it was a kind of sign that Sister Joan Mary (who had attended the crucial General Chapter right after Vatican II) wanted to attend the next General Chapter, too--with her namesake. I'll be keeping that special thimble with me as we sing the Veni Creator and enter into the Chapter work on August 15.

You'll be joining us in prayer, too, won't you?

Negative Cooties

Great readings for Mass today. I'm still amazed at how the readings speak to one another the way they do. And, of course, the challenge in daily prayer is to let those readings not just speak to one another, but to really speak to me!

In the first reading, the people in the desert succomb to what I call "negative cooties." You may call them something else (the AA groups speak of the same phenomenon as "stinking thinking"). I am particularly susceptible to these pessimistic or demoralizing insinuations: "It's not as good as it seems"; "Murphy's Law..."; "what else can go wrong?" You know the routine.

Sister Helena has an unusually strong resistance to this sort of thing, but once in a while she is a carrier, at least for me. And since our rooms are across a very narrow hall from each other, I envision those discouraging thoughts as scurrying across the linoleum into my room like so many roaches. Negative cooties.

The Gospel, on the other hand, offers a completely different picture. If anyone had a right to discouragement, it was the Canaanite woman. Not only had her land been taken over by those people from the first reading (against all their nay-saying expectations), she was a Gentile woman with a troubled girl-child seeking a favor from a Jewish miracle worker who declared that he had only been sent to his own people. But she didn't grovel; didn't moan; didn't whimper.

 It is as if in both readings, God had been saying those words that are emblazoned by the tabernacle in our Pauline chapels: Do not fear; I am with you. In the Invitatory Psalm of the Liturgy of the Hours, God complains, "they do not know my ways." He had offered a message of love that the "princes" of the Twelve Tribes did not seem to notice. The Canaanite, on the other hand (like the lone Caleb in the first reading), responded to that message with a bold faith--the kind of faith that is a response to divine love. And Jesus (against his own human expectations) burst out in delight: "Woman, great is your faith!"

How can my faith delight the Lord today?

Hurricane Francis

Pope Francis' of-the-cuff comments on that plane ride to Rome last week are still providing a lot of editorial fodder. For National Catholic Reporter writer, Vaticanista John Allen, what we are seeing is a genuine revolution. (This reminds me of a comment I heard during the days surrounding the conclave: it seems that in the 2005 conclave, one senior cardinal commented, "I don't know why nobody's talking about Bergoglio. He'd change everything in three years.") No wonder everything Francis does seems to be newsworthy!
Monday's Boston Globe had an appreciative piece (which rather demonized Francis' two predecessors as if they had been the incarnations of negativity; he must have missed the part where Francis spoke of the "poison" of consumerism); the National Catholic Register offered an ironic take with "10 Quotes that Prove the Pope is a Liberal" (don't be like those pitiful commenters who failed to read anything but the headline and completely missed the punchline; this is worth reading all the way through!); and my friend Pat Gohn (author of Blessed, Beautiful and Bodacious: Celebrating the Gift of Catholic Womanhood) shared some insights with the Washington Post on the Pope's call for a "deeper theology of women in the Church."
What do you do to track this Hurricane Francis?

Romeward Bound

The past few weeks have certainly been interesting for us as Catholics--while I was visiting my family in New Orleans and Austin, I didn't have much opportunity for online interaction--in fact, I had a hard time keeping up with any of the World Youth Day events (so no plenary indulgence for me). So I guess it's a good thing I didn't write all enthusiastically about the 3 million people at last week's closing Mass; the more sober crowd counts are coming out now. "Only" about a million and a half people were actually at Copacabana beach to pray with Pope Francis and hear his message. Still wish I could have been in that number, even if only virtually.

These next few weeks ("few" as in "six or so") promise to be very interesting indeed. I am currently at the motherhouse, the first of the choir arrivals for the new recording project which begins on Tuesday. We don't have our music yet, but the overall thrust of the album will be along the lines of our last one, "There Can Be Miracles"--inspirational (but contemplative) pop style songs, of the sort you can find done by Andrea Boccelli or Susan Boyle. For two days, we'll also have a vocal coach: that's something I'm very grateful for!

Paul presenting St Praxedes to Christ;

From the Basilica of St Praxedes in Rome.

I won't be singing for long, though.  Saturday two of the novices are to make their first vows, so the album project will go on hold as we focus on the Mass and the Rite of Religious Profession. We already know where the two will be sent for their first assignments... either place I'd willingly go (hint, hint--in case the provincial superior is reading this). The day after the vows, I head for Rome and the "General Chapter" of the Daughters of St. Paul. I'm traveling alone this time (the four American delegates will converge one by one on the Eternal City), so I made my ticket on Aer Lingus; this way I change planes in Dublin--touching down for the first time on the olde sod my ancestors left in 1834.

While it's exciting (and how!) to be preparing for a trip to Rome (even if it means sitting through 4 solid weeks of meetings), an aspect of the Chapter that I am especially looking forward to is seeing our life and mission as it is lived in the non-Western world. With sisters in 51 countries, there is going to be a lot to learn, and to learn from.  It is also providential that this meeting will be so soon after Pope Francis' visit to World Youth Day: we can reflect together, in an international setting, on this experience and on the Holy Father's message, and incorporate it into our deliberations. (The first task at hand is electing a new Superior General to lead our congregation for the next six years: please pray for her in advance!)