The last few weeks have been a
whirlwind of activity at the CDN: orientation for
next year’s novices and directors, the wrapping up of Intercommunity
Novitiate gatherings and Aquinas Institute coursework, Megan McElroy’s
Doctor of Ministry graduation (congratulations, Megan!), ordinations of
some of our Dominican brothers (congratulations, brothers!) and now end-of-year cleaning, packing, and organizing before the four of us
depart St Louis.
After so many full days, my
co-novice Gina and I were more than ready for a week of directed silent retreat
at the Mercy Retreat and Conference Center. Retreat allowed me a chance to rest, reground,
and reflect on the journey of these past ten months as a canonical novice. Amid the call of barred owls and singing of
robins as I walked the nature trails or sat in the Blessed Sacrament chapel in centering prayer, I sensed a knitting together of experiences since my reception last August. I reread my journals from
these months and traced the graces and struggles of this intensive period of Dominican
formation.
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“Discernment is God’s gradual
revelation of who we are to ourselves,” was a line I came across in my journal,
spoken by an Intercommunity Novitiate presenter. Of all the definitions of discernment I’ve
seen since entering religious life, this one feels most true to my
experience.
Unlike our sisters who were novices
sixty or seventy years ago, canonical novitiate for us is focused primarily on
inner work and integration. Topics covered
include transitions, communication, conflict, love and intimacy, family
dynamics, personality theory, boundaries in personal and ministerial
relationships, and community living. All
the material is intended as grist for the mill in our question of call, intended
not just for the head but also the heart and gut.
“If you want to give yourself to
God, you should know who that self is,” said another ICN speaker as he
challenged us to deep inner diving. Such
a hard, honest look at the self – this revelation by God to us of ourselves -
led a young nun friend to quip her canonical year was like “getting cut up into
a bunch of little pieces and letting God sew me back together.” Though we aren’t employed this year, canonical
novitiate - though grace-filled - is not a relaxing sabbatical or a spiritual
vacation. At our first reflection day, Fr Don Goergen,
OP said, “there is rarely a pain-free grace.”
Taking a “long, loving look at the real” – at least for me – has meant
wrestling with my behaviors, attitudes, and assumptions in humbling and uncomfortable ways. Not just the class content but also the inner movements that come in silent prayer, the
probing questions of my directors, and the day-to-day elbow-rubbing of
community life all pushed me toward greater self-awareness – and not without
growing pains. In speaking of the
honesty and transparency needed to write memoir, Mary Karr said that
“writing a memoir is like knocking yourself out with your own fist.” Perhaps Karr’s words apply to the deep inner
work of canonical year.
Eleven months ago, shortly before
entering the novitiate, I participated in a ten-day workshop at the
Collegeville Institute “Revision, Christian Spirituality, and the Writing Life” with Lauren Winner. In between
joining the Benedictine monks for Mass and the Divine Office, I workshopped
book-length manuscripts with eleven other Christian authors in the north woods
of Minnesota. We read and reread, wrote
and rewrote, offering each other kind yet frank feedback on where dialogue felt
forced or flat, where prose sang or lagged, where characters felt believable or
clichéd, where narrative stalled or moved too quickly, and what wasn’t on the
page that needed to be. Paragraphs or
full pages were slashed, opening and closing sentences were rewritten, plot
lines were turned in new directions. Red pens in hand, we journeyed through the
sacred ground of each other’s manuscripts with the questions: what am I trying to say, why am saying it,
and how can I say it more honestly?
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| The writers/revisers of the Collegeville Institute workshop, June 2017 |
As I look back, the revision
workshop was a providential lead-in to canonical year. Revision is the most apt metaphor for
my year of discernment and formation.
Think of the etymology of the word: re
(again), visio (to see). Revision is the willingness to look unblinking
and squarely at where I have been and all that has brought me to this point, in
the light of faith. I have come to
believe we inhabit stories we create or inherit from our families, culture, and
communities. These stories explain who
we perceive ourselves to be in relation to God and others, give a frame for
understanding past and present relationships and experiences, and justify our
thoughts, actions, and choices. Generally
we don’t know the stories we live out of; they reside below consciousness. They are often outdated and no longer useful,
if not downright irrational and damaging (ouch!). Perhaps at least a part of what continual
conversion (that is, cooperation with the God who reveals us to ourselves)
means is a willingness to uncover these stories, get curious about how they
function, and become willing to revise them.
This hard, ongoing work of revision
to integrate and grow in self-awareness seems particularly necessary for
Religious who, as Pope Francis says, are to be “experts in communion.” Especially as a fledgling member of the Order
of Preachers - where preaching is not what we do but who we are - this call to
authenticity, though difficult, feels necessary. To claim veritas
(truth) as a motto includes, I think, deepening in truth about myself with
my strengths and weaknesses, my blessedness and brokenness, my wounds of the
past and hopes for the future.
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| An image from the Sinsinawa Dominican motherhouse featuring our Dominican motto veritas. |
As a canonical novice I’ve not only
set about exploring and revising my own stories, but also finding resonance in
a widening circles of stories: the narratives of our founder Fr Samuel
Mazzuchelli, generations of Sinsinawa Dominican Sisters, St Dominic, St Catherine,
and, of course, the life of Christ – especially the Paschal mystery. Becoming Dominican is a lifelong communal
venture which includes, I have come to believe, discovering and deepening into where
I am held in this expanse of stories.
On a recent reflection day, Gina
closed our prayer with the Francesca Battistelli song “Write your story on my heart” which names God as “Author of my hope.”
The song includes the lines “I’m an empty page/ I’m an open book/ write
your story on my heart.” As I have traced this year’s process and the revisions to which I’ve been
drawn by God’s revelation, the song reminds me – from the first scribble to the final draft – the individual and collective journey of
transformation is God’s work, and the story is held in hands far bigger than
mine.
As we move into our final weeks
here at the Collaborative Dominican Novitiate, please know of our deep
gratitude for your prayers and support in our deep diving into Dominican life
this year.
