Finding God in All Things: Everyday Theology
Reflections From My Window
by Christine Doman, CSJ
(September, 2002)
The bright California sun reflects off the gray/brown San Bernardino Mountains as the Sana Ana winds have blown the L.A. Smog, trapped in the valley, over the mountains and we enjoy the blue sky again. Winter has come. The money tree outside my patio is completely bald; a lesson about, “poor in spirit.” The brown money leaves drift over the ledge saying something about poverty and fleeting security. The seedlings scatter on the porch making an untidy mess. Nature sends another reminder about the shaky economy and insecurity. I recall the words from Galilee about the option for the permanently poor in my path as part of society. These are the ones who have a right to expect something from me. It is the charity of the Gospel. How do I work for justice for families who are forced to sell their children so that other family members have food to survive another day or week?
I realize how much I miss the leafy green cathedral which covers the patio most of the year providing in some way a false security from the cries of the poor. A small hummingbird flutters with speed and elegance of grace across the patio. No flowers here to sap sweet secor. What can I do in the meantime? Such a tiny creation teaching about endless anxiety that I let trap me while seeking wholeness, peace and meaning in life. Where have all the flowers gone? Are only days of terrorism and injustice left to rack the peoples of the earth? Where are the strong sunflowers headed out in rich deep golden fields orchestrated in the blowing winds of Kansas? We, as sisters of St. Joseph, keep asking ourselves about the “how” to respond to liberation of the needy. This enters my prayer each day. To my surprise, in contrast to the tiny hummingbird, a large hawk swoops down and crouches in the bough of a tree. Now I only gaze at the beak and tail feathers from this angle. How can such a large bird fit so snugly in the arms of the tree? It is so large in life, yet so secure in nature’s bench. God has such a sense of humor in nature. Love and compassion surely bring some sweet joy to those suffering from nations’ greed.
When I first came to Highland, late in the summer, I dearly missed the sweet warbles of the cardinals and songs of the meadowlarks. The long stretch of summer heat blasted out until mid October and dehydrated even the sweet songs of the birds. Even the clouds disappeared. I longed for the variety and cirrus clouds of the Kansas sky. When the smog and fog hung for long periods in the sky, I searched my memory for the azure New Mexico sky so uncannily clear with sun, so bright that on an early morning walk one is almost blinded by the beauty of it all.
Nature’s beauty and decaying constantly burst in and out of my daily life enriching and captivating the life-death cycle of mother earth and the Christian tradition. Now crystal caps the mountains and turns rosy cheeked smiles in the early morning sunrise as I drive the freeway to school. Lent looms ever closer on the calendar bringing rich traditions of festivity and fasting into the cycle of prayer and promise.
Beyond my window entering into the everyday world where the dear neighbor interacts with me, there continues the struggle of everyday life. Violence has no captive audience in New York as it roams everywhere. Two weeks before Christmas, three students of our school family lost relatives in violent murders, one of which was a double murder. Gunshots and sirens are weekly occurrences in the community where sacred life is at risk every minute. One elderly lady shared with me after Mass that she walks every morning for exercise. One day she felt the presence of someone behind her, closing in. She simply turned around and said to the apparently drugged young man, “I want you to know that God is watching.” He disappeared at the next corner. So strong her conviction and acknowledgment of the presence of God. It was simply amazing.
Some days I spend at Mary’s Table, which is a soup kitchen and place of rest and cleaning up in the downtown area of San Bernardino. Volunteers come from many counties and church groups to prepare and serve street people or folks down on luck. I watch young men and women, older folks and young families with little children with dirty faces and clothes. They accept the plate of food and join together for another hot meal. Some express gratitude and know everyone serving on the line while others are reluctant to talk. The women volunteers spur them on with joy-filled love and compassion. One man wears four teardrops on his cheek. I learn later these are marks of murder. Yet, he is served with care like all those who come through the line. The lady volunteers search out the people who may want to make use of the shower facilities now available through the generous donation of a friend of the complex. The ladies walk out with one of the women in line and offers her a bath and clean clothes. But she refuses them. Later, the women approach the director, an elderly priest, and ask him to talk to the woman. She informs the priest that she lives on the street and the only way she can protect herself from rape is to live in this destitute condition. She is left alone. God is in our midst in compassion.
San Bernardino County is the largest county in the U.S. and has a high rate of poverty and crime. There are several large prison systems in the state and in this area. One system operates only for the criminally insane and others operate for women. The bishops of California are working to promote better conditions in the prison systems, to provide spiritual help in all prisons. There are few priests or sisters who are available for this ministry today. The bishop of San Bernardino has invited sisters of every community to give some Sunday to visiting one of the women’s prisons in this area. The council for religious and social justice office set up visitation schedules where prayer and short visits happen on a weekly basis. Last year one of the Sisters of St. Joseph from Carondolet was instrumental in working with the LCWR (Leadership Conference of Women Religious) to help finance an awning for the women’s prison in Chino. It was the first donation of its kind and was warmly received. Up to that time, the women had to stand in the open courtyard in heat, rain or cold to receive meals. Lack of good health care is one grave need in the women’s prisons. There is an unending ministry in this societal arena.
God’s presence in nature, humanity and the earth bring hope. Good and evil, just and unjust events, all intertwine into a world of love, suffering, pain, and joy each day. I believe some peace is given and known, even for a fleeting minute, some place on earth each day. I pray that those struggling on the journey will be blest by a companion of love even if only heard in the silent prayer of a faithfilled person.
If I listen quietly enough in the silence, in the nothingness, I can hear the birds sing and all will be well, not perfect, but well. I hear it in my heart and I pray that the fabric of love will be stretched again to be totally given to the body of Christ; “Holy reminder, touching and healing, the face of the earth.”
