The Celtic Monk

2011 was jam packed with many opportunities to use my gifts, talents and abilities in ministry. I was priveleged to continue ten months of the year at First Naples preaching and teaching with amazing colleagues in ministry. My opportunities to enter into spiritual direction relationships continued to grow. In June I returned to St. John's Abbey, and then was blessed with a trip to Ireland for some personal retreat and the World Community of Christian Meditation annual conference. The last quarter of the year brought the opportunity for a change of venue for parish ministry closer to home. The chance to preach each week has been a blessing combined with my continued priority for spiritual direction. I've had to cut back on the weekly 100 mile trip for the meditation group which has been an important part of Peace River Spirituality Center since 2009. These changes have given me pause to evaluate not only my gifts but also what makes my heart sing. I'

Last Sunday was World Communion Sunday. The church I'm serving, First Presbyterian of Naples celebrated the day with music of diverse cultures. It was as if we, sitting in our uni-ethnic congregation, stretched out our hands a little further into the rainbow of the worlds peoples. World Communion Sunday was also the debut of FPC's new quartet who are an exercise in diversity itself. Three long-time section leaders who'd been with the choir for many, many years retired to greener pastures this summer. The diversity comes in as the age of their three replacements, added together, is likely less than the age of one of the senior retirees. Don't mis-understand. I'm not being ageist. It's simply a huge difference that's hard to miss. Their youthful voices, youthful style, youthful attitudes, youthful demeanor could be startling. However, they've entered with such grace to fill shoes that were beloved, and they're doing it like ducks take to water. [see

I’m feeling a little torn, as we approach this weekend and the Remembrance of what has come to be known simply as 9/11. Many newscasts and some radio stations have broadcast or rebroadcast stories of that terrifying and tragic day all week. It was sad then, it is sad now. There's nothing that can change what happened, or bring back those we lost, or erase the scar from the wound on our national conscience. And so we grieve together, again, these 10 years later. But in my little corner of the world, we’ve been working hard this week to plan RALLY DAY for the children of our church. Rally Day is the day our Sunday school classes begin again in earnest. We’ve ordered curriculum… shined and polished classroom spaces…lined up teachers. This Sunday, September 11th, is a day to celebrate the lives of little ones who are just beginning to grow into the love and likeness of a Gracious God; most of them were not even alive when the Twin Towers fell. I’m sure there were babies born on 9/1

LAURENCE FREEMAN, OSB - DIRECTOR OF THE WORLD COMMUNITY FOR CHRISTIAN MEDITATION Have you ever met one of your heroes? I'm not talking about someone who saved your life, or won the game, but someone who you've admired from afar. Maybe it's an author or a public figure who you've grown to respect more than simply admire. Who are these people who loom large in your life? Laurence Freeman (above) has been a hero of mine for some time. Over the past three years, I've read everythng he's written on Christian meditation and have listened to CD's of talks he's given around the world. He was chosen as the spiritual guide for WCCM, after the death of its founder,Fr.John Main. While in Cork at the pre- conference retreat of WCCM, I had the opportunity to listen to six presentations by Laurence and the photo above was taken by a Canadian participant as I was talking to him following one of the sessions. Freeman's topic was living in times of crisis. Looking

It's hard to believe that my time here is over. It has been a wonderful journey from a variety of perspectives. I'll have much to unpack spiritually, emotionally and intellectually long after the suitcases have been returned to the attic. In reality, I cannot do justice to the graces I've received in one final pilgrimage blog; but I can let your know some of the things that will continue to work deep inside me in the weeks and months, likely years ahead. Right now they're no more than a list of words. In reality they are the raw ingredients of what I've learned about myself, the Church, and God that I hope will become a magnficent feast. So here's just an appetizer of what's filling me and calling me as I return home: BEAUTY --God gives us glimpses of Himself each day, do we look for Him. PEACE --Not as the world gives. WELCOME --As in, how can we be more welcoming to others. RADICAL UNITY --Each person breathing is made in the Image of God; how can we act l

"HOW FAR FROM THE TREE OF RED-HAIRED KATIE" If you've sent me an email since I've been gone, you've received a poem about my pilgrimage that contains the line above. Katie Walsh McDonough, my dad's mother emmigrated from Castlebar, in County Mayo on the western coast of Ireland. I don't know if her sister, Auntie Lily, accompanied her or they reunited here. Auntie Lily never married. Katie Walsh married Tom McDonough, Sr. and had three children: Mary Catherine, Lill and Thomas McDonough, Jr.-my dad. I grew up knowing I was Irish. While having an awareness of my mother's family background (German)it wasn't the bigger part of our identity. Maybe it was because our name was McDonough. Maybe it was because my mother converted from Lutheran to Catholic. Don't ask me how exactly it was communicated that Irish was the identity we claimed, I really can't say. Maybe it was because Grandma Katie and Auntie Lily never lost their brog

I began to call this post Bronagh's Miracle, but then I considered my audience~a bunch of mostly Protestant folks, many Presbyterians, with a few Catholics in the mix~Bronagh's Miracle seemed a little strong. But I'm already ahead of myself. Let me begin at the beginning. After the daily celebration of the Eucharist, I left the sanctuary of Holy Cross and headed down the tiny two lane road that then leads downhill for 1.5 miles into the town of Rostrevor. I looked at the road before me and thought it looked rather level for at least a while... so I walked in the few inches of weeds off the road. Emboldened with this little bit of success, I decided to walk down a little further. If there was a car coming towards me, I crossed the road to the other side... when I heard one behind me, I did the same thing. There are no city noises here -- so I can hear a car a mile away. I don't know exactly when I decided that I would walk all the way down to the Old Kibr

Dublin is a beautiful city full of restaurants, young people and coffee shops on every corner amid stunning old architecture, monuments and memorials. The ethos of the city center with its museums, schools, hospitals and banks is eclectic and could be taken as a miniature Chicago or New York. On Friday I boarded a bus heading an hour north and don't ask me where it began to change, but Northern Ireland NI (the northernmost 1/4) and the Republic of Ireland the 3/4 of the south--though on the same piece of land are miles apart in more ways than one. My travel book tells me there is a Protestant majority in NI and a Catholic majority in the south. I am old enough to remember their bloody feuds. In Dublin the currency that came out of the ATM was the Euro while here it is British pound Sterling. The hustle and bustle of the city gave way to grazing land, trees, and frams as far as the eye can see. There was no noticable border to be crossed of the official sort. But the cross

"Let all guests who arrive be received like Christ, for He is going to say, "I came as a guest, and you received Me" (Matt. 25:35). And to all let due honor be shown,especially to the domestics of the faith and to pilgrims." Before I'd read the selection of the Rule of Benedict assigned to today, I'd already had my walking tour of the center of Dublin. On a sunny day, much warmer than I had any reason to hope, I hopped a train from the airport into the city. What caught my attenion all along the way, and then in the city proper was the way the Irish decorate their front doors in a way that shouts both welcome and invitation. Most homes along my route were what we'd call a brick Georgian style; a square box shape, usually two stories, with a door flat against the front of the house. I began to notice right away that many folks had painted their door a bright primary red, yellow or blue with a white trim. Whether or not the door was painted, others had h

I'm within hours of beginning my journey to Ireland but in many ways it began long ago. I don't really remember the first time I recognized a desire to travel there, but it was as a child. In my teen years, my aunt and uncle traveled there with my grandmother, taking her back to County Mayo where she was reared and I remember thinking: "I'll go there one day." As recently as 2006, I flew over the country on my way to Tel Aviv. The pilot interrupted the darkness of that flight by pointing out the Emerald Isle to those of us on the left side of the plane. I woke up for only a few minutes but remember thinking "I'll be back." So here it is. My first four days will be spent in Northern Ireland (NI) in County Down and the small town of Rostrevor. There, five Benedictine monks established a monastery as an ecumenical witness in 1998. They have welcomed me for these first days of my trip. I learned this week that the monks website has a webcam of t

Right now I’m reading several books at one time. One is a book on discernment –a very good book I may add; another on Ireland and the Celts; the third on meditation and contemplative prayer. The conflagration of the three has brought me to broach the subject of how to use a discerning heart (or even the spiritual gift of discernment) as I pray for others. It names a struggle I face in my own prayer life: Do I pray for someone in a specific way because they asked me to… or do I take that person, their needs, wants, desires to God and seek God’s best for them? Do I pray that their will be done… or that God’s will be done in their lives. Sometimes as I pray for something specific that someone has asked, I’m led away from their request and find myself asking God to use their circumstances, need, situation, longing, even illness or grief to bring them closer to Him and His desire for their lives – even if it means they don’t receive what they want right now. At those time

In Kilbroney Valley in Northern Ireland are ruins of a church, a holy well, a shrine and a graveyard which legend and lore relate to Saint Bronagh. As the story goes, Bronagh and her brother each founded a religious community in that region. Her brother becoming a bishop, Bronagh's ministry was taking care of the sailors whose shipwrecks caused them to wash ashore. When her brother was near death, he gave his sister his crozier (a bishops or abbots staff-and symbol of their office). She is one of very few women saints to be pictured with this symbol.[Look closely at her window to the left.] In the 9th century after a violent storm caused a tree to crash through a building in Kilbroney, a bell was found on the ground. [See the bell in Bronagh's other hand]. It's believed that during penal days, this relic of the life of Bronagh was sealed in the buildings wall to preserve it from destruction. Today, the restored bell is displayed in the Catholic Church is Rostrevor. Kilbr

Last evening at the Service of Saturday Vigils I spoke my final vows as an Oblate of Saint John's Abbey, in Collegeville, Minnesota. After my fellow candidates and I answered the appropriate I do's the Abbot's turned to the monks and asked them if they intend to welcome us into their community. With their affirmation, the Abbot handed each of us a copy of our vows and invited us to the altar individually, where the director of the Oblates Fr. Michael Kwatera stood with a pen at ready. We signed our vows as an act of worship. After the service, we gathered for a banquet of celebration. My thoughts this weekend have been about divine serendipity. The choices that led to this night did not have this moment as a goal-rather I feel I was being drawn to it by an invisible hand. Surely I listened and was open, but the events were like crossing a swiftly running stream by jumping from one rock to another. I wasn't looking to the other side as much as just looking for the sures

Greetings and peace to you from St. John's Abbey, and the annual Oblate Retreat in Collegeville, Minnesota. As you know, I'm here for an ending and beginning. Late this afternoon 50 or so monks, 70 oblates and numerous family and friends will gather in the Abbey Church, for the Vigil of Sunday with the Rite of Final Oblation. At that worship service, I will end my time as an oblate candidate which began in September of 2009 and be received by this community as one of their own. In the opening conference last evening, the short list of folks making their final oblation was read and we were greeted by the gathered community. While oblates have traditionally been lay people who desire to affiliate with a particular monastery the list read told a different story for the 21st century oblate. Rev. Dr. Teresa Roberts, Rev. Dr. Kathleen Weller, Rev. Dr. Steve Arnold. Hmmmm. When the social time began, those of us who will make our vows today sought out one another where we learned th

With the Fourth of July right around the corner, my thoughts turn to this national holiday marked by hot dogs, cook outs, fireworks and lasagna. Lasagne? Well yes. Several times durng my childhood my family made their way to East St. Louis, Illinois, where we would spend the holiday weekend with friends, the Sperry's. Often, their daughter Denise (who was my age) and I would walk into town or make our way to the river's edge where we'd sit talking while throwing stones into the water. All the while back at the house chairs and tables would be hauled outside for the crowd who'd come for supper. There were bottles of pop in an avalanche of ice which filled a galvanized tub in the backyard. Snacks of chips-n-dip and watermelon abounded as we awaited the slow-cooked lasagne for which Mrs. Sperry(Willie)was famous. It seemed that every year more and more folks found their way to that backyard and the lasagne! After much laughter and too much food everyone chipped in to ge

I found the following quote this week and though I've already posted it to my Facebook page to share, it continues to haunt me (in a good way). "In this world, the emerging church needs cybermonks to act as spiritual guides. They blog their stories with image, narrative, and experience. They design websites to provide spiritual resources online. This is not a modern 'come to us because we have a great worship service...' it's a postmodern 'here are our spiritual resources, feel free to try-before-you-buy.' The cybermonk is a new missionary calling.” So much of what I've done as THE CELTIC MONK, PEACE RIVER SPIRITUALITY CENTER, and now PRESBYDICTINES and BENEDICTERIANS is just that; a calling to live out the much I've been given outside the confines of brick and mortar--most noticably absent, a steeple. In my blogs I open my spiritual experience warts and all for others to ponder or to use as a mirror. PRSC has been home to a weekly meditation grou

Since the 25th of April, I've flown 7,200 miles and spent 20 nights sleeping somewhere other than my own bed. I had great conversations with old friends, saw my grand-daughter dance in her first ballet recital, read Scripture in my niece's wedding, attended a 50th wedding anniversary party of an aunt and uncle, saw another niece's firstborn, and visited with many relatives who I haven't seen for 20 or more years. While the date for each of these events was out of my control, I did choose to attend each and every one. I knew as I made my airline reservations last January that the schedule would be grueling. I under-estimated the necessary 'recovery time' in between each opportunity. Oh my, I'm not 25 anymore! Now I know this never happens to you, but I've been home for almost 48 hours and I'm just now beginning to catch up to myself, to catch a glimpse of the me I know best; the self I live with 24/7; the self that dearly wanted to go to all those pla

It’s Thursday evening after dinner and before Compline which begins at 7:30. My Monday through Friday week at Gethsemane is coming to a close, and as always it has seemed like the shortest week of the year. This year, a spring cold snap has kept me from some of my usual outdoor rituals at the monastery. I didn’t walk the wooded path to the statues that depict the sleeping disciples and the praying Christ of the Garden of Gethsemane. Nor did we take our usual walking loops after Compline, around the long rectangle drive. Most years I spend a couple hours a day walking trails that I never laid eyes on this year. I missed those things. But they are not why I come here. This week I still joined the monks as they chanted their way through their readings from the Psalter. I still made my way to the talks Fr. Damien gives in the morning, just for retreatants. I still sat quietly in the sanctuary several times a day in prayer. I’ve been coming to this holy place for a very long time…longe

Arrived yesterday at the Humphries Terminaal, MSP airport. Friend/colleague John was on the ground and had rented a car... Peggy and John V would soon be landing then we'd together make our way the 75 miles west to St. Johns Abbey/University/ Guest House. It's a once a year reunion for us (the week after Easter) when sometimes up to nine of us gather to share the continuing stories of our lives and ministries since being ordained ('93-'94) This year it's a double-reunion for me as I'm able to make an extra trip up to St. John's-- where in early July I'll take my final vows as a Benedictine Oblate. But today, for the first time it feels as though my two communities...are merging. Gathered with these folks in this location - I'm able to talk about being "Presby-dictine" a called, ordained Presbyterian clergywoman and a Benedictine Oblate learning to incorporate the Rule of Benedict into my everyday life. I am sharing the ways in which this pl

"Real holiness doesn’t feel like holiness; it just feels like you’re dying. It feels like you’re losing it. And you are! You are losing the false self, which you foolishly thought was permanent, important, and you! You know God is doing it in you and with you, when you can even smile, and trust that what you lost is something you did not finally need anyway." - Richard Rohr I ran across the above quote from the Jesuit, Richard Rohr recently.  It was one of those moments when my whole body heaved a sigh of agreement and relief. My experience on this journey of faith is dotted with those moments he described. But its not only my experience.  My mind and heart are full of significant conversations with people on this path who some of the time feel like I'm losing it. I've been party to many conversations that begin: "I really need to tell you something" and end with: "thanks, because I really thought I was losing my mind." Over the years I'v

For the past year-and-a-half, I've led a meditation group each Tuesday evening at Peace River Spirituality Center. We gather and listen to a short homily received electronically from the World Community of Christian Meditation. Next we spend 30 minutes together in silence. We close each evening with Compline,the same order of service prayed each night at The Abbey of Gethsemani. Our whole evening is just over an hour -- my favorite hour of the week. In the fall, I was able to offer a six week class on meditation at First Presbyterian Church of Naples. Because folks there had a wide-spread of experience in meditation, we began with half an hour of teaching which I prepared to bring us to some common understandings of meditation as Christian prayer. It was there, in the give and take of the teaching time, that someone first asked me if I ever use words to pray. A very fair question. Surely I write prayers for liturgy most weeks -- the prayer of adoration to begin the service, a p

My husband is a pharmacist. He's practiced long enough that he can look at most pills and within a few seconds tell you what it is, the strengths its available in, what its used for and many known side effects. He also is diligent about his continuing education and has, over the years, picked up on the nuances of the 'name brand' vs 'generic' battles. He fills many of our personal prescriptions with generics. For only a very few drugs does he go the extra mile to fill with name brands. While making a presentation to a community group--he fielded questions about the differences between specific drugs. He knows which generics are manufactured in the same factory... only going into a different bottle at the end of the line - and which ones are perhaps made somewhere else and perhaps not as identical as they could be. It always amazes folks to hear about such things. Yet in daily practice, he finds that some folks will pay sometimes 100% more for a name brand, rath

For Lent of 2010, my discipline was to rise early in the morning and make my way through the Gospel of John. My purpose was two fold as I hoped it would be both a spiritual practice, and that what I'd commit to paper would become a devotional on the Gospel of John that others could use. During the past year, my faithful friend Connie, took my early morning scribble notes and entered them into the computer. I went back over the material to add and edit -- format and add prayers. Then it was off to 'real' editing. It's been a labor of love on so many levels. But how to publish it - that became the question. As time became short, electronic publishing seemed the best option. So below, please find the reading for today. If you'd like to get a full week of daily readings and reflections, you can go to the link for the Peace River Spirituality website: If you click on THE GOSPEL OF JOHN on the prayer page, seven daily readings in Word format will open. So that I don

This week I was asked to vote for or against a document which opened with this affirmation: "The good news of the Gospel is that the triune God—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—creates, redeems, sustains, rules, and transforms all things and all people." This opening sentence spoke to me of the sovereignty of God. I've been out of seminary for quite a long time, so perhaps my ideas on the doctrine of the sovereignty of God are no longer theologically precise. And maybe you feel the same way, so let me run this by you. I've always thought that Matthew 5:45 "for God causes His sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous" spoke to the sovereignty of God. It doesn't matter if you're a saint or a sinner [BTW: all saints are sinners] God's sovereign will and way is over ALL - whether you acknowledge God or not. God is God. God is sovereign over the righteous and the unrighteous. As our debate ensued, there a

No surprise to those who know me,I'm a voracious reader. I prefer reading to most things that take up our time. I prefer reading to movies and television...to soduko and crossword puzzles...to facebook and farmville... to Hearts and Solitare. You get the picture. Years ago I had an ongoing conversation with a friend about the kinds of things I read; much of which I consumed as fodder for the next thing I would write. It was for me one of those uncomfortable seasons of discernment about my very being. Am I more than what I do professionally? Is there room for a small percentage of reading material for "me" and not for "Rev. Dr." I don't think that conversation ever came to a conclusion. I didn't start reading trashy novels to compensate for the many volumes of theology and religious history! I did begin to read more poetry. That conversation bubbled back up to a conscious level as I looked at the book on the glass coffee table, marked by a creased pa

I was tidying up my blog today, attempting to tie up some loose ends, starting the New Year fresh. And this is the embarassing part... on December 30th of 2009 I began a blog called INTENTIONS which never got any farther than a title and date -- a year old draft about intentions. The irony of it all. An intended blog that never saw the light of day. An intention, postponed. Surely I don't remember now what I wanted to say a year ago. I don't know if I had a good intention for 2010 to share -- or whether it occured to me that something(else) I intended to do in 2009 never came to fruition. I suppose that's the thing about intentions... they're never about now. Their about an imagined future whether it's 5 minutes, 5 weeks, or 5 months in the future. I intend to... How do you fill in the blank? Do you have intentions for 2011? One of my dad's favorite quotes was: the road to hell is paved with good intentions. It was right up there with: never put off until