MH Moncton

THE CLOSING OF A HOME

by Doreen Rousseau

For a variety of reasons, it was decided by our directors to close our house in Moncton, a house which was in existence since June 24, 1978. Doreen has been the director of that house since 1987.

———-

I thank all of you who supported me with love, prayers, and phone calls during my last month in Moncton. It was a time of walking in faith and trust and of believing that the Lord and Our Lady would not abandon us.

The year during which we gradually closed MH Moncton was a time of deep graces and peace in the midst of much pain and dispossession. It was a time of much grieving—the grieving of the death of the house—a time when the friends of the house and I went through many emotions—denial, anger, acceptance, and finally peace.

It was a time of sharing each other’s pain. I was so concerned and aware of their pain that I hardly recognized my own, and it was the same with them. But as we accepted God’s will and said “yes” to it, this pain brought us closer to Him. Through it all, I learned that pain is not the end but the beginning of a deeper union with God.

One thing that made it easier for our friends was for me to give each of them some thing from our house. It was they who had given us these things in the first place, and having a little piece of MH in their homes has helped people to assuage the pain of separation.

Another thing that helped was the visit of Fr. Tom Zoeller from Combermere. He had been sent for a short time to be with me and to be available to our many friends in their time of sorrow. He brought light and peace and helped us to accept what the Lord was asking of us.

There were many “lasts”: the last Christmas, the last of Archbishop Donat’s yearly visits to bless the doors at Epiphany, Fr. Savio’s last poustinia, the last cenacle meeting and Scriptural rosary, the last visit to Jordon (a nursing home for Alzheimer patients), the last Tuesday day of adoration, the last time we followed each of the many Madonna House customs, and other lasts as well.

Fr. Bohan, our pastor, with the help of the parish council, gave me a potluck supper at the parish hall. About 130 of our friends came to say good-bye, and in the midst of the sadness, it was a time of rejoicing at what God had done through MH.

I had never felt so much love in one room. I was privileged to see how Madonna House and all those staff who who had been a part of this house were, and are, appreciated and loved by these beautiful people.

The last words of the evening, by our good friend Judy Sullivan, were directed to me and to all of the staff who have loved and served here. “You will be all right. And I think the best gift we can give you tonight is to tell you that we will be all right because you have shown us the deep love of God, and it has penetrated our very hearts and souls.”

The last Mass in our chapel on Easter Monday was overflowing with our close friends who came to say good-bye to God’s presence in our chapel. One characteristic of the friends of our house in Moncton is their love of the Blessed Sacrament. It is they, and not MH, who initiated two beautiful customs which took place in our chapel.

When someone was seriously sick or facing surgery, another person could organize a prayer day for him or her. For that day, all day, someone—and often more than one—would be praying before the Blessed Sacrament for that person.

The second custom was a weekly day of adoration to pray for priests, religious and vocations. Many would come on that day.

Besides this, every day at least three or four people would come to our chapel where the bishop had given permission for us to have exposition whenever it seemed appropriate. There before the Blessed Sacrament, people would bring their joys, pains, and prayers of intercession.

Archbishop Donat, former ordinary of our diocese and associate priest of MH, celebrated the last Mass in our chapel, and Fr. Savio Mazerolle, also an associate, concelebrated. It was awesome, and many tears of love and loss were shed.

In his homily, Archishop Donat said that when he was told the house was closing, he knew it was God’s will because the decision was made with much thought and prayer. Fr. Savio said that MH was a torch to bring the people and himself to God, and that now God was asking each of the people there to be a torch to bring others to God.

At the end of Mass when Fr. Savio blew out the sanctuary lamp, we were deeply affected. But we knew that, though the Lord was no longer in the tabernacle, he was powerfully present in each of our hearts.

Some of the MH customs and ways are being continued by our faithful friends. Judy Sullivan, for example, has opened “Friendship Gift Shop,” one very similar to the MH gift shop, a place where donated items and MH books and pamphlets are sold, and where people can drop in and talk.

So the pilgrimage to God continues. Though the house is closed, Madonna House will continue in the Moncton Diocese in the hearts of those it has touched.

Now I am in Combermere, and as I begin again, I hold on to these words: I am not living for myself but for the apostolate. My life is one of love and service, and I will love and serve best in whichever place God wants me to be.

BECOMING FULLY ALIVE

by Archbishop Joseph Raya

“The glory of God is a man (or woman) fully alive,” said St. Irenaeus in the second century. To be fully alive and vibrant is to be a sharer in the life of the Trinity and bathed in the goodness of God. For only God is good, said the Lord (Mk 10:18).

Theosis, or divinization, the union of our humanity with God, is a gift of God acquired through the sacraments. It is a long process, the struggle of a lifetime. It has no limit because it is a process leading to participation in the perfection of God.

And it is developed and maintained by asceticism, for first of all, we must be healed of our inner disorders. We cannot reach the fullness of our human capacities, we cannot be alert and fully alive, except through an incessant fight against the false ego. So our first step is to submit to discipline.

He who wants to follow me, said the Lord, let him deny himself and take up his cross every day and follow me (Lk 9:23).

Athletes train their bodies for outstanding achievements; artists seek the technical expertise they need to give form to their vision. Scholars, scientists, and students seek patiently the clear light of truth, and married couples, too, work together to create between themselves and with their families a mirror of the divine community.

Many others hunger, thirst, lust, even burn and shiver with a longing that only God can satisfy. But it is only through the discipline of tremendous amounts of effort and renunciation that we can we really achieve inner freedom and permit the likeness of God within us to emerge and reign in us.

We have to sell every security and every possession to buy the pearl of inestimable value (Mt 13:46).

Discipline is an inner drive of the will, a sap of life that runs through the fissures of our bodies and souls. It overcomes materiality and laziness and infuses us with freedom, vitality, and grace. Discipline is born out of an inner flame, out of a vision that consumes us to such an extent that it directs all our faculties toward making us creators, saints, artists, people truly alive.

Discipline sustains and increases love and the fascination for perfection and makes it faithful, patient, and more enduring.

Discipline makes permanent the hope that is in us. (It is only the most intense saints who experience the exalted reaches of hope.)

It is hope and discipline and love that keep us alert. They drive the saint into solitude, the musician into the studio, the ballet dancer or athlete to hard hours of exercise, and the husband and wife to face each other and their daily chores.

All human seekers of perfection—be they hockey players, scientists, saints, artists, entertainers, husbands or wives —must forget themselves and carry their cross each day.

Rather than let circumstances rule our lives, we must give our days shape and purpose. To carry the cross each day is to transform the raw materials of life and make them beautiful.

Early rising, care of the body, punctuality, fasting, abstinence, faithfulness to studio exercises and home chores: these are the many daily and hourly crosses one has to bear in order to realize one’s own uniqueness as a person.

Then when the enslaving ego is vanquished and the conflicting desires are harmonized, God is mirrored in the soul, and we become our real selves, free and refreshed.

Saints, writers, athletes, artists, lovers, and scientists are—ultimately—fired with the same flame and the same vision. The flame is God, and the vision is the radiance of the face of God, for God is the origin of all inspiration and all perfection.

So even when the artist, the lover, the poet, the scientist, or the athlete cannot name him, God uses their quest for perfection, for all are stamped with a halo of glory and honor because God inhabits them with a special intensity.

Scientists are in the presence of God because they are touched by the truth of God; artists and athletes are in the presence of God because they are enraptured by the beauty of God in form, sound, color, or motion. And saints are in the presence of God because they allow themselves to be caught up by the love of God.

St. Gregory of Nyssa teaches that holiness is nothing else but the unquenchable thirst for God sought in the perfection of our human endeavors. That is why the human soul cannot find repose except in the infinite reality of God.

If we allow our vision to be transformed by the Gospel, our eyes become so focused and our hearts so attuned that we recognize God in every way he chooses to reveal himself to his creation—in the arts, in the sciences, in the joy of living, as well as in the contemplations of his face. The joy of seeing God thus expressed in the variety of human endeavor amazes our hearts and stirs us to sigh in admiration of his goodness.

When the ballet dancer defies the laws of materiality and gravity, when the singer or entertainer can stand alone and bring joy to many, when a husband and wife can find paradise in each other, and when religious men and women bathe their bodies in peace and harmony, we can experience God and burst out in glorification of his goodness. This is why the Lord said in the Gospel, Let your light shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father who is in heaven (Mt 5:16).

This is a Christian vision and understanding of asceticism as inspired by the Incarnation and the presence of God in our flesh.

Adapted from Abundance of Love, pp. 107-115, available from MH Publications.

MH Russia

WITH THE POPE IN UKRAINE

by Catherine Lesage

This past spring, two of the staff of MH Magadan in Russia, Catherine Lesage and Trudy Moessner, spent two and a half months in St. Petersburg studying Russian, a time which was followed by two months of pilgrimage in Russia and Lithuania. Ukraine was not originally part of the itinerary.

———-

“Arise. Go! Pilgrim into the pain and joy, into the cross, with the pope as he makes his historic visit to Ukraine.” These words came in a letter to Trudy and me in Lithuania as we were preparing to leave for Moscow. They were from Jean Fox, our director general.

Trudy and I had already talked about the possibility of going to Ukraine for the pope’s visit. But because of a couple of other events happening close to that time, we decided that, unless God clearly indicated otherwise, we would not go.

Now God had now made it definitely clear! When it also became clear that Trudy would not be able to go, it was decided that I would join a pilgrimage group organized by the cathedral parish in Moscow.

The first sign I had that Our Lady was taking care of the details of the trip happened at the Ukrainian Embassy in Moscow where I had gone to apply for a visa. A “personal reason visa” was the only kind I would be able to get, and for that I needed an address of people I would be staying with while in Ukraine. But I knew no one there.

Moreover, it was necessary for me to put in the application that day. Feeling a sense of urgency, I sat at the table trying to calm down and figure out what to do next.

Time was passing. I started to fill out the application. I was hoping that somehow the question asking for an address would just disappear or something!

When I reached that question, I remembered the conversation I had had the night before with Marie Javora, the director of our house in Magadan. Marie had told me that Jean had said that the pope was walking in faith into this visit, that she really wanted a member of MH to be present, and that I just had to leave everything in the hands of Our Lady.

So I prayed, saying to Our Lady that since she wanted me to go, she would have to help me now!

Just at that moment a young man approached me and, seeing my MH cross, asked me if I was a member of a community. It turned out that he was a Catholic priest, a Slovakian who belonged to the Moscow diocese. When I told him about my difficulty, he proceeded to help me, step by step, fill out the application. For the address in Kiev that I needed, he gave me the address of the bishop there!

Our Lady was certainly arranging things!

And so it was that, ten days later, I found myself boarding a bus filled with 45 other pilgrims varying in age (from 17 to 70), in nationality (Russians, Poles, and Ukrainians) and even religion. (There was at least one Orthodox person.)

The trip, which was to have taken 18 hours, took 24. For one thing, because our bus had been rented from Byelorussia, there were complications and we were detained two hours at the border.

Needless to say, when we arrived at the homes of the families who were billeting us, we were all ready for a night’s rest. But we had Mass and supper and visited with them, and it was almost midnight by the time we got to bed.

The next morning after about five hours sleep and Mass and breakfast, we were all hoping to go to Kiev to do some sight-seeing. But because of poor organization we wasted time trying to decide where to go and what to do. Plus, the city was closed down because the pope was due to arrive that day.

The first good news came when we found out where we were to be seated for the papal Mass and visit—right in the front center stall, just behind the dignitaries and religious. It was absolutely the closest place to the altar, and everyone was delighted.

We decided to try to enter the city. I’m not sure why, but this required a police escort. It was late by the time we arrived.

There were no signs, flags, posters, or anything else to welcome the pope. According to a newspaper I’d read, the visit was being met, especially in Kiev, with indifference or hostility; and it’s possible that the Catholic Church had decided to forgo signs and decorations so as not to increase the hostility.

A Polish person from the group remarked on the contrast between this and his visit to Poland where everything was decorated and festive.

Some of the main streets were blocked off. Though no one could tell us what time the pope was expected to drive through, we stayed at an intersection hoping to see him. We didn’t. We had also tried to visit St. Sophia, a beautiful cathedral, but it was locked.

That night, we had about two hours sleep. Then at midnight we set out for the half-hour walk to the local church where our bus was parked. The sky was clear and filled with stars—a promise of beautiful weather. Not surprisingly traffic was heavy, and the bus trip, which normally would have taken an hour at the most, took three. And once again we had a police escort.

We arrived at a wide open field where numerous buses were already parked at about 5 AM. People took some time to have a little breakfast or to catch a few winks. The atmosphere was peaceful and quiet.

Then we made our way on a five-kilometer walk to where the liturgy was to be celebrated. Clouds, thick and heavy with rain, began to gather. Then as we walked we were blessed with a wonderful sight—a rainbow, the sign of the covenant God made with the Jewish people, the sign of his promise kept.

A rainbow has appeared before at major turning points in my life, and is, for me as for a lot of people, a blessing from heaven saying, “I am with you, and what I have put in the depths of your heart I bring to fruition in my own time, in my own way. Take courage.”

I once again remembered Marie’s words and brought all the intentions of MH and especially MH in Russia in prayer to this historic liturgy.

Security was tight. Everyone in our stall and those around it had to go through a check with a metal detector, a procedure which obviously slowed down the flow of people. We certainly had not come too early.

I had only gratitude in my heart as we waited for the liturgy to begin. The field appeared to be full, and there were people from throughout Russia and the Eastern Bloc, but I couldn’t even venture a guess as to the number of people. Most of us stood the whole time.

People had been practicing, and when the popemobile entered the area, they sang, “Ukraine welcomes you, Papa. You are Peter. We love you, Papa.” Our group carried a banner saying, “We wait for you in Moscow.”

People were attentive and prayerful for the whole celebration, but I found the response low-key and the atmosphere heavy with the pain of division between the Catholics and the Orthodox that the Holy Father was carrying.

Though I couldn’t understand what the pope was saying—people said he spoke perfect Ukrainian—I was often moved to tears when he spoke. The reality of his walk in faith, despite so much adversity, was quite striking, and you could feel his pain and his burden.

(His first words when he arrived at the airport were ones seeking forgiveness and reconciliation.)

At one point during the liturgy, there was a little mist and rain, but people chose to get a little wet rather than to obstruct their view with umbrellas.

At the end the pope addressed various nations in their native tongues. He didn’t leave the way he had come, and so we didn’t see him again.

Then as we made our way back to the bus, the clouds opened into a downpour.

Once again, the Lord in his goodness gave a sign that heaven would continue to bring its blessing. This time it was a vivid double rainbow, a rainbow that, in fact, accompanied us for a good part of our journey back to Russia.

In this papal visit, seeds were sown. Though there is little fruit to see now, there is in my heart a sense of expectancy, a sense that this visit will have ramifications, ramifications that may only be evident in years to come.

As for me, though the pilgrimage was rigorous, the blessings outweighed everything. I am very grateful to have been sent there.

MC REGINA

BEAUTY IN THE CITY

by Veronica Wanchena

As we were all sitting around one Sunday afternoon, stressed out after a harried week, we put on the TV. We never put on the TV.

And there was Tiger Woods. Pretty soon everybody in the house, all the staff, were sitting around watching Tiger Woods win the Fourth Masters in golf. And it was an experience of watching someone live the sacrament of the present moment. Such concentrated focus! Such self-control in the minutest detail! And the closer he got to his goal, the more often he got down on his knees. It was a magnificent experience just to watch him! Even after it was over, we all just sat there in silence.

Then Charlie said, “Veronica, do you think we could control our nerves like that man does?” “I don’t know,” I answered, “but this is why he wins the Masters.”

If we could live, even a little bit, that interior self-possession, we too would win a prize, a wreath that will never wither (1 Cor 9:25).

———-

Doreen, one of the staff, decided that one of things she would do while she’s here is to learn to play classical guitar. And because it takes a lot of discipline, that is a real asceticism. You don’t just strum, strum, strum. All your fingers go at once and you have to be very focused. So she practices and practices and practices.

Already her music is bringing beauty into a place that can feel so ugly. The dumpsters are spilling over, there’s graffiti on the walls, and people are throwing up on the streets. And the sounds you hear in the inner city are some of the most horrible I have ever heard in my life. But in the midst of the screaming of children and the sorrow and fighting of the men, there’s Doreen. “Plink, plink, plink. Plink, plink, plink.”

For all of us, Doreen’s playing has become a call to remember that beauty will save the world; and that even if our minds are in hell and what we see looks like hell, there is joy to be found. And it is a reminder that we are called to bring that joy and beauty to help transform the screams of children.

MH Ottawa

WE KNEW TOO LITTLE

by Arlene Becker

Just in case anyone thinks we never have anything to do with men—being that only women staff this MH—it ain’t true! In the past year, we’ve racked up lots of encounters with the male of the species.

Last year our landlord, without forewarning, decided to sell “our” house, which forced us to move or buy. This put us in a new situation, and God’s will pointed towards purchase.

The ensuing help of many, many benefactors confirmed this. Thank you! Now the possessors of the house and a large mortgage, we, being our own landlord, have faced a lot of maintenance. Hence the increased contact with men.

Men volunteers have painted, caulked, put in windows, put on aluminum fascia and soffits, etc., etc., etc. The salesmen with whom we discussed repair estimates number a grand total of twelve. Official consultants with whom we dialogued about repairs: four. And, as of yesterday, the total number of paid workmen reached 16. The arm chair consultations were countless.

Four gentlemen have acted as advisers for our begging, and another very good gentleman assisted us as mediator between our lawyer and landlord. Then, of course, there were the lawyer and the landlord. Also, going further abroad, our begging for money brought us in contact with at least twenty priests in parishes.

We two women now feel qualified to write a self-help book. The title would be: Women Who Know Too Little. What we have learned can be boiled down to the following:

1. Don’t hire anyone you don’t have a rapport with.

2. Remember that the salesman for the contract is frequently very pleasant but he is not going to be the one doing the insulating, plastering, or whatever. He is only the middle man, and you’ll probably never see him again unless he drops by for your check.

3. Pray a lot. Invoke every saint and holy angel you can think of.

4. Get three estimates even though you really like the very first salesman and think he can’t be topped.

5. Don’t lash yourself after making bad decisions. Let God forgive you.

6. Pick up the pieces (and that will include quite a bit of debris). Try not to be too picky about the results, remembering that you don’t really know how hard it is to obtain the perfect bead from a caulking gun.

7. Keep in mind that time does heal and bring perspective. (We can barely remember the unnecessary hole that was poked in the wall.)

8. Be cheerful, even though you’ve never met this workman before and he is about to do a job that will cost a lot of money.

9. Reward good workmanship with a thank-you note and a loaf of homemade bread.

10. Never stop thanking God that no one got maimed, blinded, poisoned, or electrocuted, including yourself.

11. Always remember with gratitude Gerry who worked fifteen hours straight in the freezing cold with peace and resignation and, in the fifteenth hour, without a word, walked down three flights of stairs to his truck and back up three flights to put on a window mechanism from his own stock when it wasn’t his responsibility, saving us numerous phone calls and red tape.

12. And never forget that the necessary forgiveness of the workmen in your life just about equals your necessary repentance.

Nazareth Today

MAKING ONE SMALL CHANGE

by Fr. Tom Zoeller

What does it take to change the readings at one of our Sunday liturgies here in Combermere? I found out this past Lent.

Jamie Rogers, one of our guests then, a young man who had had no religious upbringing, told me that he had been in the Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults (R.C.I.A.) at St. Joan of Arc Parish in Toronto but had not been baptized. He asked if he could do it here.

After listening to him a few times as his spiritual director, I could see he was sincere, and I agreed to walk with him through the steps to baptism.

So, at a ceremony at the Mass of the First Sunday of Lent, Jamie was enrolled as “an elect,” that is, one called and chosen by God—and ratified by the local church—to be baptized Catholic. The baptism was to take place at the Easter Vigil.

Usually the next step in the RCIA Program is the scrutinies, the rites for uncovering and healing what is weak and sinful and strengthening what is good and upright in the candidate.

Combermere is a busy place at the best of times, and Lent is no exception. So would the three scrutinies be one more thing and just too much? I had to find out.

And so began my journey!

First I went to Fr. David May. He, along with Maria Victoria Fausto, and Michael Fagan, were coordinating the daily activities of Madonna House. Would he ask at their weekly meeting about having the three scrutinies? He did, and the answer came back an enthusiastic “yes!”

My next step was to ask Fr. Louis Labrecque, celebrant at the Mass of the first scrutiny, if it was alright with him if we changed the readings. Even though the Sunday liturgy was already less than a week away, he said this was no problem.

Okay, now what?

Then I went to Fr. Bob Pelton, responsible for things liturgical at Madonna House. I told him that Michael, Maria Victoria, and Fr. David thought it was a great idea to have the three scrutinies. And could we do the first one on the Third Sunday of Lent, the second on the weekday liturgy I would be celebrating, and the third on the Fifth Sunday?

Are you finding this complicated? Just wait.

“Fr. Bob,” I asked next. “How about using Year A readings instead of Year C?” Again a “yes.”

(Year A readings from John’s Gospel fit the journey of one moving toward baptism at Easter. In Cycle A on the Third Sunday, Jesus meets the woman at the well and promises her the life-giving water, leading to eternal life. On the Fourth, Jesus, the Light of the world, gives sight to a man born blind. On the Fifth, Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead.]

So the scrutinies and different readings were “a go,” and my next step was to let the right people know.)

The first person I needed to tell was Cheryl Ann, our schola director. By the time I reached her, she had already started preparing music for the Year C readings. The psalm response had been especially hard, and now she would have change it along with the other songs. She said she could do this.

I knew I had to tell the sacristan, Viva LeBlanc, because she has to mark the Sunday readings in the lectionary.

But unless Cheryl Ann had told me, I would never have thought to let the librarians know. They record the Sunday homily and, if they don’t know the right readings, they will give the wrong Scripture references in the introduction to the tape.

At some point as the week was drawing to a close, I finally remembered to go back to Fr. Louis and tell him the readings were changed.

I’d gone through six steps already, seven if you count Fr. Louis twice. But I was not finished yet.

I still had to tell Jamie. He was in Toronto for a few days as all this was happening. My last word to him as he was leaving had been, “We might have one scrutiny.” Now, to his surprise, we, and he, were having three.

Then, since the whole community is involved and walks and prays with the person to be baptized, I needed to tell them as well.

So one morning at breakfast just before Mary Davis gave us her daily world news report, I made an announcement that, beginning this coming Sunday, we would be doing the scrutinies. And because many people read and meditate on the Sunday readings during the week, I told them that we would be doing the readings from Year A.

I was pretty proud of myself that I had covered all the bases —until breakfast one morning. I was telling those at the table how amazed I was at how many people and steps I had to go through to get the Sunday readings changed.

Then Karen Maskiew, one of the leaders of the liturgy class for guests, piped up, “You forgot to tell the liturgy group. We just went through Year C readings with the class.”

Oh well, I tried. But perfect communication is beyond the scope of any human being and any community. Only in the Trinity, the perfect community, is communication perfect.

“Why was Catherine so insistent upon communication, and why do we work so hard at it at Madonna House?” asked Theresa Girard at lunch one day as I shared this story and my amazement at how much communication one change took.

“Ours is an individualistic society,” I told her. “We are taught early on to take care of ourselves and not to worry about others. How opposite to the Gospel and belonging to the Body of Christ, belonging to each other, being our brother’s keeper, seeing and responding to the needs of our sister!”

(((((((

PS. Jamie was baptized James, confirmed, and received Christ in the Eucharist for the first time at our Easter Vigil. The community had carried him prayerfully in its communal heart the forty days of Lent, was there with him 100%, and blessed him on his way as the water poured over his head. Throughout his journey to baptism and at the baptism itself, he experienced community. So all the work of communicating was worth it!

A GOD OF SURPRISES

by Sr. Mary Elizabeth of the Trinity, OCD

I was one of the wide-eyed working guests at the Madonna House Summer Program in 1999. Often we listened to MH members courageously share with us their personal stories which revealed ways God used to touch and enter their lives. Now I am drawn to share my story.

It is a tribute to our God who is a God of surprises and mystery, and yet who is my Unchanging One in a world of changes and uncertainty.

In 1993, at age 19, bright-eyed and bursting with the enthusiasm and vitality of youth, I left my beloved home and family to enter a strictly enclosed Carmelite monastery. Filled with intense desire to commit my life to the Lord, I soon settled in very happily with my fifteen religious sisters.

There, firm in my conviction that this was to be my home forever, I made my first vows. Little did I realize that seven years later, on the threshold of my solemn final vows, God would reveal an alternative to the path I was preparing to follow.

Suddenly my life was at a crossroad. In brief, due to a lack of young vocations, the monastery I had entered was forced to close.

So, lost and bewildered, I found myself on the brink of the New Millennium, not only seeking a vocation and a personal identity, but also a new home in which to live out my commitment as a spouse of Christ. It was a “Good Friday” experience.

I now empathize with all those who struggle restlessly to discern and grasp “God’s will for their life.” So many possibilities, “but Lord, what would you have me do?” If only I could get find a wise and holy person with a direct line to God who could offer me the answer!

In childlike trust I consulted a religious who was aware of my crisis. “Go to Madonna House in Canada” she told me. Without delay I obediently contacted MH and asked if I might stay for a while for the purpose of vocational discernment.

My folks were worried sick. After having been enclosed within a monastery for seven years, I was about to travel on my own 5,800 km from my native England.

But I was determined to do whatever it cost to find God’s will. So on July 16th, the feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel, with very little baggage and street sense, I boarded a plane to Toronto and landed on the soil of beautiful Canada.

There a new chapter and remarkable adventure began to unfold. Downtown Toronto was overwhelming—noise, traffic, and people! Delicate, forlorn, and exhausted, I dragged my luggage over busy sidewalks. I felt so lost and afraid.

The room I had booked in a women’s guest house was small and bare, with bars on the window—just like a Carmelite cell. But, because of the noise of nightlife outside, plus the loneliness and feeling of abandonment inside my heart, I couldn’t sleep. Terrified, I could only lay still and say, “O Mary, I trust thee.”

Next day, I boarded a bus to Combermere. Met at the end of a five-hour journey by someone with a welcoming English accent, I was taken to St. Germaine’s, the dormitory for women guests.

O dear! The idea of sharing a dormitory for three months with a crowd of strangers had not previously sunk in. Accustomed to my own cell—with privacy and space to be alone —here I was thrown into “communal living,” and with women from every nation imaginable. For that summer we welcomed guests from all parts of the US, Canada, Europe, and Brazil.

Our house mother pointed out my bed; hanging on the wall above was a picture of St. Thérèse of Lisieux, a Carmelite. I felt it was one of those little touches of Divine Love that serves to nudge the heart and whisper, “Be not afraid, I am with you.”

My first work assignment was the laundry. The laundry is a great place to start. You get to learn the names of everyone very quickly when you sort their dirty clothes and fold their clean ones every day. You get to know that the green stripy shirt is “Chris” and the polka dot dress “Mary.”

But I learned a lot more, for the laundry teaches deep, spiritual values beyond the caring for soiled linens.

Doing “the little things exceedingly well out of love”gives one a grand perspective, gives ordinary things a supernatural dimension. Each sock paired up with its partner in a spirit of faith becomes transformed into a grace. This little act of love has eternal and redemptive power.

How? Because when one unites oneself to the will of God in everything one does, each little action becomes one with the divine will and there-fore sacramental. It fleshes out what we say in the Lord’s prayer: “thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.”

This is mind-blowing, really, because it means that fold-ing hankies is just as impor- tant as folding sacred altar linen. It means the dreaded pile of ironing can be a way of re-storing and forming the king-dom of God here and now.

“Little acts of love … charm the heart of Christ,” said St. Thérèse. One only has to walk into the Madonna House dining room to observe this “little way” of love in action. The immediate impression is of order—such order and tidiness. Everything has its proper place, which is wonderful to see.

We live in a world of instability, uncertainty, and change, but in Madonna House one begins to sense some underlying restoration of order.

One of the greatest joys for me at MH was this regularity and order. Despite much confusion and unrest in my heart, the gentle rhythm of the schedule breathed into me a sense of security and certainty which led me to peace.

And for the Holy Spirit to work, it is vital that we begin to order our lives in peace. This means quieting ourselves to be open and receptive to his voice and creating a space within to listen and to pray.

After the laundry I was assigned to the farm to assist the cook. Again I learned many valuable lessons from ordinary, daily events and from the precious people I had the opportunity to work with. Gradually I began to feel confident that my small contributions to the smooth running of the kitchen was restoring something within me.

Being so close to the land and seeing the results of one’s labor not only creates a deep appreciation for God’s gifts, but it also helps one to better understand the Scriptures. The very examples Our Lord used to instruct the disciples—the stories about the farmer and sower, for example—become more real. And what a joy to work in a kitchen where every day the sacrifice of the Mass is offered in the chapel directly above as we prepared lunch!

In regards to living with both men and women and with people of different ages and cultures (after living community life in Carmel with only nuns), I profited. Sometimes I shared a table with such a diversity of persons that I could feel my mind expanding.

More and more I see that my time in Madonna House was necessary for my formation and growth, spiritually and psychologically.

Time is a great healer. Only now do I understand this truth. Blinded by my pride, I was slow to acknowledge that the reason I had been called to Combermere was to gain new sight and to see that I was carrying a broken heart. I had failed to see that the pain of losing all I held dear was not going to be healed by denial.

As I looked around me, I began to open my eyes and see other hurt and wounded persons. They also had hearts restless and hungry for love and truth. I began to see other Christs carrying the cross of failure and pain. Some carried a weight almost too heavy to bear. In poustinia, the word “compassion” began to make its home in me.

Then I began to see the power and mercy of God manifested in each soul. People crushed and bruised like grains of wheat were being transformed into beacons of light, hope, and strength for others.

Yes, Our Lady wanted me to learn this and to rest my wounded heart near her heart. Every morning as I watched the sunrise over the Madawaska River, I seemed to see Christ rising to new life in the hearts of my brothers and sisters: Christ risen with healing in his wings.

I make no exaggeration. No guest left Madonna House that summer without some precious gift to carry home. Perhaps simply the gift of welcome and acceptance.

I gained this lasting conviction. No matter how lost or wounded we find ourselves, we are not alone. We are a sister or brother to others and a child of Mary. We belong to a family of faith. United through baptism as children of God, we share a deep bond.

And during those three months at Madonna House, I received vocational discernment. Through patient prayer and sound spiritual direction, my vocation to Camel was strengthened and confirmed. I returned to England to enter a thriving Carmelite community and am now preparing for solemn vows this summer. Yahweh never takes back his gift or revokes his choice. My story is a testimony to his faithful love. How can I keep from singing!

Sister Mary Elizabeth made her final profession this past summer. All the staff of our house in England were present.

ONE MAN’S SCRAP - ANOTHER MAN’S GOLD

These last weeks of summer have brought us deeper into the gospel life our foundress, Catherine, envisioned for us. The teachings and activities of our summer program have grounded us in the sure knowledge that it is by incarnating love, that is, by doing every little thing as perfectly as we can, and by connecting it with God, that we live the Gospel.

Because of your generous support, we’ve been allowed the privilege of embracing and giving hospitality to many weary and burdened hearts. Grace has truly abounded among our visitors, both at our main house and at Cana Colony (our retreat-vacation place for families).

Now, as fall approaches, we are focusing our energies on harvesting our vegetables and processing them for the pantry and freezer.

Can you help to outfit our farmers for the harvest with work gloves, socks, and summer hats, and equip them with a garden hose and a wheelbarrow? They are extremely grateful for the wonderful rubber boots that arrived recently to replace their leaky ones, but since there is a large crew, they could use one or two more pairs.

Our cleaning department (actually we all do some cleaning) asks for bottle brushes for gallon jars and a good push broom.

Whatever the season, the office work remains fairly constant as we correspond with many people. There is an ongoing need for #10 and #8 envelopes and paper of all types. At the moment we are low on Scotch Tape. We are also looking for a paper shredder and a computer memory, 72 and 128 pin SIMMS.

Two years ago our archives began a special project: transferring Catherine’s talks to both compact disc and to professional audio. The equipment needed to do this-used and new-came to us through many people’s donations of equipment and money. The transfers done so far have already borne fruit—both by making Catherine’s talks more accessible and clear, and by helping to preserve them.

This year one key piece of equipment in this reformatting has repeatedly given us problems. This is the professional reel-to-reel machine on which we play the originals. Playing the original tape on pro audio equipment helps us get a better quality transfer of these talks.

And so we beg for another machine or help to get another one. Examples of professional reel-to-reel recorders are Studer A812 or A807, Revox A77 of B77. Otari, Ampex, and Teac are other good names. We especially need a machine that can play 1/4 track reels at 3.75 ips and 7.5 ips. but a 1/2 track at the higher speeds would be welcome too.

Perhaps you have worked with this kind of equipment or know someone who might have such recorders which they no longer use. Or maybe you see a bargain at an auction. If you want to double- check that what you are thinking of sending would be helpful, write or call our archivist (Bonnie) at 613-756-1766. On behalf of the many people who will be blessed by hearing these talks, we thank you!

Our crafts people are so happy to have the self-healing cutting board, epoxy and ink: THANK YOU! They ask for a paper cutter (13” or over) and a small light table.

Here’s a request from our music director for strings: guitar strings, both nylon and acoustic.

The balance of our needs this month are mostly in the department of health care. In Our Lady of Visitation, where our elderly members live, the caregivers would benefit from having a copy of Mosby’s Nurses’ Drug Handbook 2000 or 2001 if you can spare a copy. Or perhaps, you’d be able to help with these supplies: beanbag hot and cold pack, adult non-disposable incontinent supplies (large and extra large), and wall-mounted toothbrush holders.

In our regular nursing department, the nurses are grateful for the variety of over-the-counter medicines you continue to send so faithfully. Here are the ones most needed this month: cough drops, antihistamines, decongestants, and antacid/antiflatulants. Also vitamins D and E, calcium, and antibiotic ointment. They are still hoping someone would have a tabletop photocopier to send to help with their record keeping.

Before I close I want to ask you to keep our gift shop in mind. As I write this, it is still at the height of its season and will need re-stocking as we move into fall. Literally hundreds of missionaries are able to help the poor through the proceeds from the items you send to be sold. It is your generosity keeps us giving to them!

By the time some of you receive this our beautiful Ottawa Valley fall will be here with its multicolored leaves. Once again we thank you from our hearts for making possible a bountiful and glorious summer both for us and for our visitors. You are very present to us and you are ever in our prayers.

In O.L. of Combermere, Jean Fox

Notes from Far and Near

REGINA SK

“Did I walk here or cycle?” I asked myself as I came out of the Y.M.C.A. Then seeing the remnants of the cut-off lock on the ground, I knew the bike had been stolen.

The next day, while scanning the dining room and outside, Veronica saw one of the fellows who had just eaten in our soup kitchen, very drunk and trying to cycle away on our bike!

She sent out Charlie who retrieved the bike easily and was told by the man, “Arthur needs to get a better lock for his bike.”

Later the man who had taken the bike told me that if he had known it was my bike, he wouldn’t have stolen it! Nice fellow really, when he is sober.

Arthur Connick, Marian Centre Regina

WASHINGTON D.C.

The highlight of the past few months was the renewal of MH promises by Christina Milan and John Romanowsky. Fr. Sam Craig, an MH associate priest, was the celebrant, and in his homily he referred to MH as “the place where you know that you are loved.” He said that this knowledge has sustained him through the hard times of the past 25 years of his priesthood.

A surprise visit, almost a “visitation,” came in the form of Bishop Lodonu, the bishop of the diocese of our house in Ghana and also an MH associate, who astounded Angela (who has spent time in that house) with a phone call from nearby Maryland saying he was in the US and was coming to visit us “by all means.”.

We were very affirmed by the depth of his understanding and appreciation for our MH way of life and were also struck by his observations about America. On his visit to the Air and Space Museum, for example, he was encouraged by seeing children of all races and said that our pluralistic democracy is the model that the world is watching keenly and with hope for the future.

We see so much of the negative aspects of our culture that we are exporting globally that hearing what this African bishop had to say had a balancing effect on our view of things.

Our prayers for the US government takes place in a vortex which doesn’t seem to let up. Among other things, we’ve seen the transfer of power in the Senate—a transfer which has grave implications for the appointment of Supreme Court judges who might overturn Roe vs. Wade—and a new phase in dealing with the European and Russian governments.

We’ve also seen (not literally) the execution of Timothy McVeigh, which was horrifying. And yet the avalanche of prayers for mercy was palpable, and our pain was somehow assuaged when we learned that Timothy received the Last Rites.

In the midst of all that is happening here in the nation’s capital, we have regular days of recollection available for people. The theme these days is “doing little things well,” a theme that people seem very open to. And it’s convincing and convicting for us, too.

Rae Stanley, MH Washington

RALEIGH NC

Warm greetings to y’all from the South, the land of drippy summer days and pecan trees, where the verdant lushness of the city reminds me more of a garden than of a state capital and the scent of magnolia blossoms perfume the air.

I am a northerner in the South, a Canadian in the United States, and a Catholic in the Bible Belt. Here in North Carolina Catholics comprise only 3% of the population, a fact illustrated by the existence of only two dioceses and by what must be the smallest cathedral anywhere.

Yet after only a month here, I no long feel so conspicuous. The charm and warmth of southern hospitality has been a healing embrace.

Since I’ve been here, Theresa Davis has been in Combermere coordinating the summer program, and so there have only been two of us in the house—Carolyn and myself. For the most part, our lives have been filled with a quiet simplicity and a gentle rhythm of work and prayer. Yet despite this quietness, it sure feels like we have had a busy time, one with another new experience always around the corner.

I have been meeting one heart at a time after Mass, over lunch, at a conference, or wherever Our Lady sends us. Here we share in the lives of those around us from birth to death, through fear and uncertainty, and amidst joys and sorrows.

We are enjoying our C.S. Lewis book study on Monday nights and Bishop Gossman’s weekly visits to the house for Mass. And recent events include Carolyn’s participation in a performance of Eybler’s Requiem, attendance at the ordination of a longtime friend, and attendance at a national evangelization conference.

On June 10th, I renewed my MH promises at our parish church. Few realized what a work of divine grace it was that my knees held when I began,“For the glory of God…’ Though not many know me as yet, many friends of the house attended—a fact which is a reflection of their love for MH and for the many staff who have poured out their lives in loving service here over the years.

Theresa Girard, MH Raleigh

BRAZIL

You may have read about our energy crisis which currently has resulted in the rationing of hydro-electric power in Brazil. The government has asked that each household and business reduce its use by 20%. The response of the people, as reported in the media, is impressive as people do what they can to ration their personal use of energy.

We quickly learned that we don’t really need lights on during the day and very few after dark, which arrives at approximately 6 PM. Often we find ourselves gathered in the same room using only one light. This just might help us with that unity we are seeking.

Lena King, MH Brazil

Word Made Flesh

AWAKENED BY A TV AD

by Fr. Pat McNulty

The following is a meditation on Luke 16:19-31, the story of the rich man and Lazarus and the Gospel for September 30th, the 26th Sunday of Ordinary Time.

———-

When you read the gospel story about the rich man and Lazarus, I’m sure it doesn’t bring to your mind a cold bottle of Budweiser beer and a bowl of popcorn. And the only reason it brings such mundane images to my mind is because I had an experience with this particular gospel story which involved a cold Budweiser (that was before I came to Canada) and a bowl of popcorn.

Not too many years ago, after a very difficult week which seemed to have lasted for a whole year, I “crashed.” Back in those days, when I felt totally exhausted, the things that often helped restore me were a cold beer, a bowl of popcorn, a big bowl of popcorn, and some TV. (That was before I joined Madonna House.)

There’s not much on TV that I like to watch and/or waste my precious time on. However I do enjoy a good documentary. And I think that this particular time, I was watching a documentary on the making of the movie, Gone With The Wind.

There were, of course, a number of commercials spread throughout the presentation. Though I didn’t pay much attention to them, somewhere in my subconscious one of them must have really hit home because that night I had a dream about it. And that dream led me into the heart of this gospel story.

I dreamed I was sitting in front of the TV with a cold Budweiser and a nice-sized bowl of popcorn when suddenly the screen went “live.” Someone who looked like Christ was standing off to the side, and a woman from some other country was in the center. She was pointing to me and crying out, “That’s him! That’s the one!”

It seemed so real that I may even have said out loud in my sleep, “That’s the one who what?”

But she just cried out again, “That’s him. He’s the one who was sitting there in front of the TV when they showed the picture of me and my baby who was dying of starvation. When he saw us he got up and left the room and came back with a beer and some popcorn and sat right back down as if he had not seen us at all. Now my baby is dead, and I hold him responsible.”

I was so shocked I couldn’t think of anything to say. And then Christ spoke, very gently but very sternly, “Well my friend, what have you to say for yourself?” I just looked at him and then at the emaciated woman holding what I presumed was her dead baby. I just kept looking and looking. I couldn’t say anything.

I tried to shut the dream off like I might have shut off the TV, but I couldn’t. All three of us just stood there in the dream-like silence looking at each other. (I have never seen such eyes as hers.) And then I woke up.

For a while I tried to do with the dream what I had obviously tried to do with that commercial on TV: hide it away somewhere in my subconscious. But it didn’t work.

Then the next day as I prepared for Mass, I was reading the Scripture readings for the day. And there it was: the story of Lazarus and the rich man. I knew the reading was about me and that poor woman. And I was terrified.

For weeks after that, I had someone watching that TV station for me and told him that, if or when that particular commercial about world hunger came on, I wanted it taped. I wanted to see it again.

And when I finally got a copy of it, I began, in some strange psycho-spiritual state, to watch it over and over. I didn’t know why. As a Catholic priest, I was already involved in “helping” the poor both personally and in pastoral ministry. So why did I just kept watching this “damning” commercial?

In any case, gradually a strange (holy) thing began to happen: I was losing my fear of poverty and of the poor. I never even knew I had such a fear.

I discovered that the lady in the ad was there, not to shame me or to deepen my sense of guilt but to open the eyes of my heart. And she was opening them, at this point, not to ask me to do something but just to look.

For, if I can’t or won’t look, I won’t see her. And if I don’t see her, I won’t really believe she is real. And if I don’t really believe she is real, I won’t open my heart.

And if I don’t open my heart to what I can see, my heart won’t change even if someone were to come back from the dead to warn me!

It would be nice and easy for me to say to everyone, and to myself, after hearing this gospel reading, “Now let’s go out and do something for the (quote) poor (unquote).”

Maybe you should. I don’t know. Surely many of you are doing something already. But what I suggest to each of us in the light of this gospel story is that we do the one thing which will, I believe, eventually change our hearts in depth: open our eyes and look.

Open our eyes and just look into the eyes of the poor.

Let us all stop and look into their humble eyes on the street, on the TV, wherever they are around us. Let us notice them! Let us really see them!

The poor are real! We Ch

And, as hard as it is for our modern North American culture to believe it, the poor are meant to teach us something toonamely, that we are poor. We are very, very poor but we can’t see it because we won’t look.

My brothers and sisters, let us not fear to look into the eyes of the poor even if we feel, at first, that there is nothing we can do.

The source of the sinful and damning behavior of the rich man in the gospel was not simply that he did not share with Lazarus from his abundance, but that he wouldn’t even recognize Lazarus’ very existence.

My sin was not the beer and popcorn or even the time before the TV. My sin was the same as the rich man’s in the gospel story.

And I didn’t even realize my heart was already that hard until a poor starving woman holding her dead child made her way first into my living room and finally into my heart.

Isn’t it amazing? God is so merciful and gentle with us that he can even use Budweiser and popcorn to get at our hard hearts!

Milestones

RECENT ASSIGNMENTS:

Julie Coxe, Combermere; Maria Cristina Coutinho, Belgium.

ANNIVERSARIES:

Archbp. Joseph Raya, 60th of his priesthood.

RECENT DEATHS:

Daniel Rabideau’s father, Earl; Helen Schreiner’s brother, Michael.

The Pope’s Corner

SEEKING THE FACE OF GOD

by Pope John Paul II

The following is an excerpt from a homily given in New Delhi, India, in February 1986.

———-

Human life on earth is a pilgrimage. We are all aware of being in transit in this world. Our lives begin and end. They start at birth and go on till the moment of death. We are transitory beings.

And on life’s pilgrimage religion helps us to live in such a way as to reach our true destination. We are constantly kept aware of the transitory nature of this life, which we know to be extremely important as the preparation for life eternal.

Our pilgrim faith directs us towards God and guides us in discharging those choices which will help us to win eternal life. So, every moment of our earthly pilgrimage is importantimportant as to its challenges, as to the choices we make.

In the revelation of the Old and New Covenants, we who live in the visible world amid temporal things are also deeply aware of God’s presence penetrating every aspect of our lives.

This living God is in fact our last and absolute bulwark amid all the trials and sufferings of earthly existence. We yearn to possess this God, once and for all, the moment we experience his presence. We strive to attain the vision of his face. In the words of the Psalmist: As the deer longs for flowing streams, so my soul longs for you, O God (Ps 42:1).

While we strive to know God, to see his face and experience his presence, God turns to us to reveal his own life to us.

The Second Vatican Council dwelt at length on the importance of God’s activities in the world, explaining that “with the divine revelation, God wished to manifest and communicate himself and his will’s eternal decrees with regard to the salvation of mankind.”

This notwithstanding, this merciful and loving God who communicates himself through revelation still remains an inscrutable mystery to us. And we, pilgrims of the Absolute, keep seeking the face of God throughout our lives. But at the end of the pilgrimage of faith, we reach the Father’s house, and being in this house means seeing God face to face.