Christine Valters Paintner's Blog, page 40

Monk in the World Guest Post: Julie Ferraro

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission to the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Julie Ferraro’s reflection “As Observer and Participant.”

Over the course of 30 years, I’ve visited many Benedictine monasteries – as well as Trappist – across the United States. From the first time I stood in the chapel at Our Lady of Grace in Beech Grove, Indiana, praying with the Sisters using inclusive language, I’ve been “hooked” by the way St. Benedict’s balanced approach to life is manifested in this modern era.

Since June, 2021, with COVID-19 causing all sorts of disruptions around the world, I’ve had the good fortune of working with a community of Benedictine Sisters, sharing their lives and spirituality via still photography, video and the written word on social media, the internet and in print.

In addition to being on the scene for events such as profession of vows, the Triduum and Easter, jubilees of as many as 75 years in religious life, I share the noonday meal with the Sisters, listening to their stories, their insights, their jokes. I’ve sat in on a class covering the history of how Benedictine women came to America in the 1850s and spread out to serve the people and evolve monasticism according to the needs of the locales where they settled.

My position as an employee, combined with being an Oblate, gives me unique access to the activities within the monastery. Some mornings, I climb to the loft above the choir chapel, snapping pictures of the Sisters at prayer. When one of the Sisters whips up a birthday cake, brownies or pecan pies in the small kitchen, I not only get to smell the delightful aromas, but capture the acts of kindness digitally.

Almost on a daily basis, a serenade of organ music wafts along the corridor, providing a pleasant background to editing video, or laying out the periodicals the Sisters publish.

For the most part, except when I drive the few miles to my apartment – and, even then, mostly – I practice a simple monastic lifestyle not unlike the Sisters themselves. Benedictine women religious today, I’ve observed – even those past the commonly-accepted “retirement age” – perform multiple duties as part of ministries that vary far beyond just teaching or nursing. So, too, when not at my paid job, I volunteer my skills to support other groups within the Benedictine family. These tasks can involve proofreading articles to uploading retreats on social media, creating graphics or updating websites.

When it comes to mirroring the Benedictines at prayer, sources include the internet or the more traditional print mode. The Erie (Pennsylvania) Benedictines, for instance, offer their five-week psalter for sale via the Benetvision website. The standard Liturgy of the Hours used by many in the Catholic Church, has its own mobile app these days, as well – more than one, actually, depending on which version is preferred. 

Sitting quietly in a comfortable living room chair, sources for lectio divina are available by typing the words into any number of search engines. For me, reflections written by the Sisters and shared with the community on special feast days and during the liturgical seasons augment my own reflections, enriching my spiritual journey to no end. I don’t merely get to format them for inclusion on the website’s Prayer page, I get to ingest and savor them like a special treat on a holiday.

Capturing the extra-special moments through the view finder of my cameras – a new Oblate signing their paperwork at the ambo, the prioress affirming the promises with her own hand; a woman in initial formation slicing a portion of meat for one of her elders during a Holy Thursday seder; hands with a talent for carpentry lovingly assembling a wooden urn to hold a Sister’s cremains – is a spark for my own prayer that can’t really be equated to any other using the written or spoken word. 

A casual observer might notice that my posture isn’t “properly” prayerful during solemn liturgies. My head isn’t bowed, because my eyes are focusing on ways to preserve that transcendent moment for posterity. My fingers aren’t entwined; they encircle the lens – regular or telephoto – ready to zoom in on a poignant facial expression or eloquent gesture that, when people see it, will convey the truth of Benedictine hospitality, spirituality, charism, without needing a complex explanation.

As for many monastics, my work is directly linked to my soul’s own quest, and that quest inspires my work. To say I consider myself lucky to have been hired for this job is to sell the Holy Spirit short. In all my travels through life, the inspiration to submit my resume, to visit a certain monastery, to make the acquaintance of a particular religious, has provided link after link in what has been a profound, delightful and extensive journey. 

I agree with those who purport there are no coincidences, when one keeps eyes and ears open to see and hear what the divine wishes to show us – and respond accordingly!

Julie A. Ferraro is a mother, grandmother and has been a writer for 50 years, as well as a journalist for more than three decades. She is a Benedictine Oblate and lends her skills to supporting many projects within the Benedictine family.

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Healing the Wounds of Spiritual Abuse + New Dancing Monk Icon ~ A Love Note from Your Online Abbess

Dearest monks, artists, and pilgrims,

This Saturday, August 20th, Wisdom Council member and friend Dr. Jamie Marich is leading a retreat on Healing the Wounds of Spiritual Abuse. Jamie is the founder of the Institute for Creative Mindfulness, the practice of Dancing Mindfulness, and has presented this creative movement in many of our programs. For this retreat Jamie combines faith and scholarship with her expertise in trauma therapy and creative mindfulness as a modality for healing. Read on for Jamie’s reflection on healing the wounds of spiritual abuse.

***

On the very week in 2015 when marriage equality for LGBTQ+ individuals became the law of the land in the United States, I happened to be offering a 2-day fundamentals of trauma continuing education course in suburban Virginia. I lead my students through a rather typical discussion on the expanded definition of trauma that therapists like me now use. Trauma is more than just “post-traumatic stress disorder” that we read about in the diagnostic and statistical manual. The English word “trauma” comes from the Greek word meaning wound, and in its most basic sense, when we talk about working with trauma as professionals, we are referencing any unhealed human wound—physical, emotional, sexual, verbal, financial, and yes, spiritual. Spiritual trauma and spiritual abuse are very real forms of wounding experienced by people around the world. After establishing this definition I ask my students to give examples of the ways in which people are wounded, and people are becoming more comfortable about naming spiritual wounding or abuse of various kinds when I ask for examples. Such wounding is especially pervasive for people who identify as lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, or as any marginalized person due to sexuality or gender.

One participant, a very conservative Catholic, got especially squirrelly with me. She protested, stating that it’s also wounding for people to be persecuted against for their religious beliefs. I publicly agreed with her that yes, in some people’s stories, being persecuted against for what they believe can cause them harm. Persecution against Jewish people throughout history strikes me as the most pervasive example of this phenomenon. Yet especially in modern America, many of the same people who claim to be “persecuted against” are highly discriminatory against LGBTQ+ folks, individuals who are marginalized due to their race and/or ethnicity, and others who believe differently than them. And in my voracious study of scripture and scholarship in which I’ve engaged as part of my own healing, I do not see any case for being horrible to people who are different than you as being necessary for worshipping or believing in the God (or Jesus) of your understanding. 

The participant came up to me privately over break and said, “I see what you’re saying, but wouldn’t you agree overall that church and faith has done more good for the world than not?”

I took a breath, trying to find the most diplomatic way to respond. Because no, I do not believe that institutionalized religion has created more good in the world than harm. And even the softer brand of “spiritual not religious” teachings that are more popular these days because of people’s frustration with religion can cause their own share of harm. I say all these things as someone who, despite my own experiences with spiritual abuse from both Catholic and Evangelic corners of my family, remains a person of faith. I am not even anti-religion. I still maintain a largely Catholic identity (albeit a very liberal flavor of it), and have been known to answer the question, “What religion are you?,” with the cheeky yet relevant response of, “I am all religions.” Because I see common threads in them all—the beautiful and the ugly, the nourishing and the depleting. And all of them reflect some aspect of me, a very emotionally sensitive, deeply feeling kid who has longed to connect to something greater than herself since those early days of listening to hymns from folk choir at the parish in northeast Ohio where I first encountered a church.

The summary definition of spiritual abuse that I offer to my students, clients, and people who work with me is that spiritual abuse is when God—or some other spiritual or religious construct—is used as the weapon to control or to demean an individual or a group. A power differential is typically assumed when abuse exists, so the parent/child, pastoral figure/congregant, guru/disciple, or politician-dictator/citizen are common dynamics where we see spiritual abuse exist. Like many forms of abuse, some of you may fully relate to what is written in this piece and are crying out, “Me too!,” whereas others may be wondering, “Hmm, does this apply to me? After all, yes, I was hurt by something connected to church but it wasn’t as bad as others had it, and I still got a lot of beautiful things from church (or other spiritual/religious container).” 

Trauma means wound and wounds can come in various forms, shapes, and sizes. In whatever way you may have experienced wounding from God, church, or anything spiritual/religious, your wounds are valid and are deserving of care and attention. You may find that your healing journey requires you to care for yourself like a survivor of any other trauma would—by seeking professional therapy and other healing arts. And part of your healing experience may prompt you to find other expressions of faith that are more nourishing, authentic, and reparative to you. I know that the Abbey of the Arts is one of the places where I find this reparative nourishment! On the other hand, your healing may also ask you to take a pause from anything spiritual or religious right now. Like with any form of trauma healing, you must walk your own road in determining how you can best heal, yet please know that if you’ve ever wondered whether or not your spiritual wounds are a valid form of trauma, they most definitely are. You are not walking this road alone. 

***

We are so excited to welcome Jamie to lead this retreat for us. You can register here. In addition, Yoga with Melinda returns this Thursday to celebrate summer’s abundance. 

New dancing monk icon: Meister Eckhart

We are also sharing another of our new dancing monk icons in the series – you will find Meister Eckhart above. He was a 13th-14th century German mystic who preached a powerful path of stripping away all that we think we know of God to come to an encounter with the divine presence. Even though he was primarily an apophatic (way of unknowing) mystic who preached in cities, he saw the Holy in all of creation: “Apprehend God in all things, for God is in all things. Every single creature is full of God and is a book about God. . . If I spent enough time with the tiniest creature–even a caterpillar–I would never have to prepare a sermon.”

With great and growing love,

Christine

Christine Valters Paintner, PhD, REACE

Dancing Monk Icon by Marcy Hall

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Monk in the World Gust Post: Rachel Grandey

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission to the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Rachel Grandey’s reflecion “As kingfishers catch fire.”

Birdwatching never used to be a spiritual practice for me. As a child on family hikes I grew bored when my parents took out their binoculars, and frustrated if we stopped to watch any but the most dramatic birds. Life was all about reaching the next horizon as quickly as possible. Despite this, glimpses of special birds – Peregrine Falcons, Golden Eagles, Nightjars – etched themselves onto my earliest memories. Like holy experiences, such sightings always had power to stop me momentarily in my tracks. Over the past two years, this link back to the safety and delight of childhood has formed part of a new trajectory towards the growing discipline of adulthood. 

During the first half of the pandemic I spent a year with my parents in the UK, soaking in the British seasons and landscapes like layers on an oystershell. When it was finally time to return to South East Asia, where I’ve been living since 2013, leaving felt almost too hard to bear. Suddenly birds became a lifeline connecting me to the people and places I missed. Swiftlets enthralled me with the promise of freedom during my two-week quarantine on arrival. Later, a Shrike in the litter-stricken gutter cocked his head as if amused by my wonder: a little masked highwayman robbing me of the dirty street, pillaging my heart of its meagre hoard of petty longing. Leaving me just myself: far from the rubbish I no longer noticed, winging through air.

Cycling to a nearby urban marshland became my daily discipline and joy: an attempt to glimpse through and beyond the mundanity of the city – and my own impoverished spirit – into something of God’s movement there. It allowed me to embrace lament – for the ravaged, digger-scarred wasteland soon to become a leisure park- but it never allowed me to wallow in grief. A tiny jewelled Kingfisher reminded me that nature’s resilience flourishes through the messiness of humanity. If the birds could thrive here then so could I.

Then in 2021 another upheaval, another move. And a Sparrow singing beyond the bars of another quarantine-cage. One among billions – unwondrous – yet capable of song, and a hopping-forth across rooftops with sunlight glinting bronze off burnished wings. Later I emerged into wintry woodland near my new town, all eyes and ears for magic. Chirps tinkled to the needle carpet like snowflakes. Japanese Great Tits, like their British cousins, pine-cone sized vortices that flitted away each time I reached out to probe through the perpendicular fir-frond prison to the other side: home.

Birdwatching takes time, commitment, dedication. Navigating new geographies meant relearning skills I thought I had already mastered: becoming incompetent again. There are frustrations as I stumble to identify birds I see and hear, groping through white noise for a plumb-line that sways bewilderingly like a sapling in the wind. The contours of each precipice inking into understanding the promise of a new pilgrimage. So I practise patience: waiting for the birds to sate themselves in song, savouring each sudden burst of colour for the gift it is. Unnameable, unknowable, dropped from the dappling canopy like manna to feed my soul. The forest, trees illuminated with dew like fairylights, is a womb where the clamour of the world is muted and I am nourished by connection with God. It is a chapel where rays of light break through leaves’ stained-glass windows and morning mist rises like incense. 

The practice of birdwatching can birth contemplation, but also action. On a pockmarked beach I saw a man collecting shorebirds that had broken their flight on his mist-net. For $1, all I had with me, I asked to buy one to release; he scooped a bird out of its cage, like a rib from living clay, and gently placed it in my hands. For a moment it didn’t know it was free, before it skimmed off low over the sand, trilling out its call as it rejoined others in their light-spun liberty. When I held the Pratincole I felt I would have given anything to redeem it: for it to return where it belonged, to be itself in the environment for which it was created. Having seen it free, there was space only for elation. Vulnerable yet vital, this creature gave me a fresh insight into God’s heart – His joy in our freedom, and in our fragile, faltering flight.

More than anything, watching birds is an act of wonder and witness: a glimpse of a future restoration. One morning a hidden Barn Owl swooped out of a tree directly towards me. In the few seconds when it was in my sight, its silence drowned out all the other noises, leaving a still forest filled with hush. I hadn’t been looking out for it or expecting it: it was simply there before me. I cannot plan or predict what birds I will see or when, can’t store them or dig them up like old bones. There is no guarantee that I will see any bird twice. So I must learn to appreciate ‘enough’ in the everyday. It’s not always about looking for something new, but rather about acknowledging what is there: the strong silent presence of a Spirit of peace winging its way in muted colours through a world filled with noise; comfort and awe in the shadow of its wings.

Rachel Grandey, originally from North East England, studied literature, linguistics and anthropology before moving to South East Asia to teach English. She enjoys sea-gazing, bird-watching, tea-drinking and forest-exploring. Her poetry has been published in Vita Poetica, Agape Review, Amethyst Review and Paper Dragon. She is on social media as @RachelGrandey.

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St. Ignatius of Loyola and the Contemplative Path ~ A Love Note from Your Online Abbess

Dearest monks, artists, and pilgrims,

I am excited that we have been adding to our dancing monk icon series! We had paused for a while but now the creative juices and inspiration is flowing again and Marcy is hard at work. I am not sure when or if cards will be available (we are doing a special limited set of the 10 new cards for our Sustainers Circle supporters), but Marcy will make these available as prints as always. 

I wanted to introduce Ignatius of Loyola first because his spirituality had a significant impact on me in my early years of discovering the mystical and contemplative path. 

I attended a Jesuit college for my undergraduate studies – Fordham in New York City. I went to study philosophy and French but what I discovered was a vibrant service program rooted in the Jesuit commitment to social justice along with meaningful liturgies which helped to cultivate a spirit of mysticism in action. 

After college I joined the Jesuit Volunteer Corps which brought me from NYC to Sacramento, California where I lived in a house with five other women and worked at a group home for emotionally disturbed teenagers. I also met John who grew up in Sacramento and ended up spending the next several years there working in the group home, in a shelter for women and children, at a Newman Center for Catholic young adult ministry, and then teaching theology at a Christian Brothers High School and  working in campus ministry leading retreats and liturgies. During this time I was commuting to Berkeley to attend the Jesuit School of Theology to get my Masters degree in Systematic Theology. 

When I was accepted into the PhD program for Christian Spirituality at the Graduate Theological Union in Berkeley, John and I moved to the bay area. It was my first year in the doctoral program that we also decided to participate in Ignatius’ Spiritual Exercises in Everyday Life at the Mercy Center in Burlingame. As a lover of the imagination and its power to reveal truth, I loved this experience. Originally created as a 30-day retreat, Ignatius had the foresight to also write an annotation that it could be spread out over time if someone was not able to go away for a month and leave behind their responsibilities. 

Later in Seattle I moved through the Exercises in daily life a second time with the SEEL program there in discernment about whether to be a spiritual director in their program. I ultimately discerned that was not where God was calling me to direct my energy but I did work for three years coordinating programs for the Ignatian Spirituality Center. 

So Ignatius of Loyola has had significant impact on my life and prayer life over the years. I draw on many aspects of Ignatian teaching about the spiritual journey and different practices he teaches like the Examen prayer and prayer of the imagination. 

Our Lift Every Voice book club selection for August is The Spiritual Work of Racial Justice: A Month of Meditations with Ignatius of Loyola by Patrick Saint-Jean, S.J. I absolutely loved this book and the way Patrick so astutely wove in racial justice awareness and work through the journey of the Spiritual Exercises. For anyone not familiar with the Spiritual Exercises, it is essentially a journey through the gospels and an intimate encounter with Jesus in those stories through the power of prayer of the imagination. 

He says that antiracism work is essential to becoming who God calls us to be and the sin that Ignatius describes in Week One of the Exercises is the sin of division, encompassing both personal and social sin.  For Week Three which reflects on Jesus’ journey to the cross, Patrick describes the excruciating history of lynchings in America and how Jesus calls us to really see the pain, suffering, and often agony of persons of color, to let it change us. 

While the book calls us to lament and examine our own limitations, it is also an invitation to greater love and grace. He describes the Jesuit mystic Teilhard de Chardin’s understanding of love: “he believed it was a practical, hardworking energy we experience in our everyday life. It is the Breath of God that feeds the entire Body of Christ, the human community. Love is not something sentimental or abstract, said Teilhard, but rather it is the power that moves us toward our true fulfilment and identity in Christ.”

The journey of antiracism is one that needs to be rooted in love’s impetus and guidance, as well as in magis, a Latin word used by Jesuits to describe the greater good and the fullness of life we are called to create for all people. 

Listen to our conversation with Patrick about the book and order a copy for yourself. We have reflection questions at the web page to guide your reading and integration. 

This pathway of mystical love is also at the foundation of a new 10-month series we are offering called The Mystical Heart: Love as a Creative Force. You can sign up for the whole series of monthly retreats and get reflection questions between sessions as well as a facilitated forum for conversation. Or you can register for the retreats individually, choosing the ones that speak most to your heart. We begin with Hildegard of Bingen on her feast day of September 17th. I am delighted to be co-leading that program with Betsey Beckman. If you attended our retreat for her last year, this year’s content will be all new as we will be focusing on her teachings about love. 

With great and growing love,

Christine

Christine Valters Paintner, PhD, REACE

PS – I was interviewed for  podcast interview on Birthing the Holy, my book on Mary and the sacred feminine. 

Dancing Monk Icon © 

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Lift Every Voice: Contemplative Writers of Color – August Video Discussion and Book Group Materials Now Available

Join Abbey of the Arts for a monthly conversation on how increasing our diversity of perspectives on contemplative practice can enrich our understanding and experience of the Christian mystical tradition. 

Christine Valters Paintner is joined by author Claudia Love Mair for a series of video conversations. Each month they take up a new book by or about a voice of color. The community is invited to purchase and read the books in advance and participate actively in this journey of deepening, discovery, and transformation. 

Click here to view this month’s video discussion along with questions for reflection.

This month’s selection is The Spiritual Work of Racial Justice: A Month of Meditations with Ignatius of Loyola by Patrick Saint-Jean, S.J.

The Spiritual Work of Racial Justice uses Ignatius’s Spiritual Exercises as a framework for discussing the spiritual challenges of antiracism. Each of the Exercise’s four weeks are applied in practical ways to the work of antiracism, combining history, present-day events and data, the life and teaching of Ignatius, prayer, and guidance for personal reflection and journaling. An excellent resource for both group study and personal meditation. Patrick Saint-Jean, S.J., PsyD, currently teaches in the psychology department at Creighton University in Omaha, Nebraska, where he is also a psychotherapist. He enjoys jazz, traveling, and learning new languages; and he plays the guitar, harmonica, and drums. He also likes a cup of hot water in the morning.

Join our Lift Every Voice Facebook Group for more engagement and discussion.

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Monk in the World Guest Post: Jamie Marich

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission to the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Wisdom Council member Jamie Marich’s reflection and poem on healing spiritual wounds. Jamie will be leading a mini-retreat on Healing the Wounds of Spiritual Abuse on Saturday, August 20th.

Several years ago during my own trauma therapy, the memory that I share about in this poem came rolling back for me as I worked through the wounds of my own spiritual abuse–specifically experienced for me as growing up with one Catholic parent and one Evangelical Protestant parent. Like many of my healing processes, going to the expressive arts helped me to further understand the impact of this experience on my life and spiritual growth. May you also embrace what wisdom means for you as you heal the myriad ways that other people and institutions may have tried to snuff it out of you.

A Reading From the Book of Wisdom

“Like gold in the furnace he tried them,
And like a sacrificial burnt offering he accepted them.”
-Wisdom 3:6

When you grow up in a house divided
There are two Bibles—Catholic and Protestant
Like Northern Ireland
On the westside of Youngstown, Ohio

When my beloved grandmother left the body,
The family asked me to read at her funeral
“Give me the second, the New Testament”
We agree on that one

On that morning, the priest assigned me the first.
Sight reading was the easy part, yet
My body shuddered as I approached the ambo
And there it was—a reading from the book of Wisdom

Instead of celebrating her—I froze
“Dad’s not going to like this”
“I’ll be in big trouble”
That’s not in his Bible

I was used to doing many things in freeze by then
So I carried on
Passing off my panic as grief
Another moment in my dissociated life

The Book of Wisdom urges us
To seek righteousness
And love that place where
Knowledge meets experience

No wonder we’re so afraid of it
And go to war over it
And slaughter the spirits of innocent children
Leaving a host of holy wounds in need of tending

May I spend the rest of my life
Declaring treasures from the Book of Wisdom—
All the books of wisdom—
With the fullness of my voice I lost that day

The voice found me—I am no longer a scared little girl
Afraid of getting in trouble
I am a woman with a heart on fire
And a thirst for knowledge that can never be quenched

May my fiery heart, my thirsty soul
My questioning mind and my listening body
Lead me on the path of wisdom
Unifying me with divine love

Jamie Marich, Ph.D., LPCC-S, LICDC-CS, REAT, RYT-500, RMT travels internationally speaking on topics related to EMDR therapy, trauma, addiction, expressive arts, LGBTQ issues, spirituality and mindfulness while maintaining a private practice in her home base of Warren, OH. Jamie is also the developer of the Dancing Mindfulness expressive arts practice. Jamie is the author of several books including Dancing Mindfulness: A Creative Path to Healing and Transformation (2015, with foreword by Christine Valters Paintner) and Process Not Perfection: Expressive Arts Solutions for Trauma Recovery released in 2019, heavily influenced by the growth she has experienced through her study with Abbey of the Arts! Her latest release is a revised and expanded edition of Trauma and the 12 Steps: An Inclusive Guide to Recovery (North Atlantic Books, 2020).

Visit Jamie’s website here>>

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Lughnasa and Gathering the Fruits ~ A Love Note from Your Online Abbess

Dearest monks, artists, and pilgrims

Lughnasa (pronounced Loo-nassah) is one of the ancient Celtic feasts celebrated on August 1st marking the time of the beginning of the harvest and the gathering in. It is said to honor the Celtic sun-god Lugh who was an ally to the farmer in the struggle for food. With the Summer Solstice six weeks before, you can start to really feel the shortening of the days in August in Ireland. There is a subtle shift in the light and the air that leans towards autumn’s crispness and cooler days.  The energy in the world is changing.

Autumn and winter are my favorite seasons so I love this time of just beginning to really feel the darkness growing. The doorway to mystery is beginning to open. In the mystical tradition of Christianity, darkness is seen as a rich time of incubation and rest. The fullness of summer’s growth has reached its peak and is now starting to wane and you can begin to see the signs of nature moving toward her own storing up of energies for the journey inward which the seasons ahead will invite.

Lughnasa is a time to gather in and to reap what has been sown. The other side of the wheel from Lughnasa is Imbolc, February 1st (which is being celebrated in the southern hemisphere now), when the very first signs of spring started to rumble awake on the earth. In these last six months, we have seen a cycle of flourishing and fecundity, both around us and perhaps also within our hearts as well. What are you gathering in? What have been the fruits of your labor these last months?

At Abbey of the Arts we tend to work and think in academic years rather than calendar years. Summer is a time of both rest as well as dreaming into and planning for the new year beginning in August and September. We have a wonderful harvest to share with you. We are piling the banquet tables high with the sweet fruits of opportunity to gather together in contemplative prayer or on retreat. We adore being on a pilgrimage of the heart with you, deepening always into the possibilities transformation offers to us, and by extension our world. 

We will be continuing our monthly yoga classes with Melinda (starting again later this month), as well as our monthly contemplative prayer services (which will return in October) and we are adding a new Taize-inspired sacred chant service led by Simon de Voil (also starting in October). 

On August 20th, Wisdom Council member Jamie Marich is leading a mini-retreat on healing the wounds of spiritual abuse and Wisdom Council member Polly Paton-Brown is leading a retreat on poppet-making September 10th. 

We are very excited to be offering a new monthly program of mini-retreats on the Christian mystics called The Mystical Heart: Love as a Creative Force. You can register for all 10 retreats (September through June) or you can sign up for individual retreats. This series was inspired by the challenging events of our times and a desire to help root us in love as a foundational reality and creative force in the world for transformation. 

We hope you might consider joining our Sustainers Circle. We offer many programs at no cost to this community as well as scholarships to help support participation in what we do for all who desire. This past spring we released the third week of our Prayer Cycle series audio podcasts on the theme of Mary and the sacred feminine. During this coming year we will be working on the video podcasts for that as well as the fourth week of our Prayer Cycle on the theme of honoring angels, saints, and ancestors. We are in the process of gathering a collection of songs for a curated album of beautiful music and will then write the prayers to create the morning and evening services. The Sustainers Circle has four different levels and is wonderful for those of you who have a regular commitment to what we do and love to participate in our various programs. If you have the financial ability to support us in this way, know of our deepest gratitude for sharing your abundance with us so we can share freely with others regardless of ability to pay. 

As we enter this season of harvest in the northern hemisphere, I invite you to consider what fruits you are gathering in your own life. What have been the experiences in the last few months that have left a sweetness, a sense of holy direction? 

We hope you will consider gathering with us to pray and retreat together, to celebrate the beauty that radiates through this aching and luminous world. 

With great and growing love,

Christine

Christine Valters Paintner, PhD, REACE

Image © Christine Valters Paintner

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Sabbath Rest for Abbey of the Arts ~ A Love Note from Your Online Abbess

Dearest monks, artists, and pilgrims,

Every summer we try to step back from this wonderful work and take a bit of time off for planning, dreaming, and resting. Sabbath is one of the profound gifts of a generous and abundant divine presence who says that work is good and rest is necessary.

We are so grateful for all the ways this community supports our work in the world and we are eager to listen more deeply in the coming weeks to what new things want to be birthed through the Abbey in the coming year.

We will be taking a break from our weekly love notes and daily quotes and questions starting tomorrow and will return on Sunday, July 31st with more Abbey goodness. You are still welcome to email us (or register for programs) we might just be a bit slower to respond than usual.

Theologian Walter Brueggemann has a brilliant little book titled Sabbath as Resistance. He describes the origins of the practice of Sabbath in the story of the Exodus in which the Israelites are freed from endless productivity and relentless labor into a way of being where rest is essential and we reject our slavery to perpetual doing. 

The God who is revealed in this story is completely unlike any they have known before, a God committed to relationship and rest. It is worth imagining for a moment the revolutionary power of this revelation and how strange the Israelites seemed to other cultures in their radical commitment to a day of rest each week as an act of resistance to the endless systems of anxiety. Everyone rested, no matter what gender or social class, because God saw that as very good. 

It is worth further imagining the ways that each of us is enslaved by the current culture and system of perpetual overwork and exhaustion, of busyness and relentless doing. We may have our freedom on some levels, but how many of us choose to exercise that in favor of our own nourishment and replenishment? 

I love that after their escape from slavery, Miriam and the other women dance in celebration because a new story has emerged. In the scripture text one of my favorite details is that they carried their tambourines with them in their flight from Egypt. In the mad rush to flee death and destruction, one of the essentials they carried with them were their musical instruments, what allows them to revel and dance. 

We are sharing one of our newest dance videos above for the song “Holy Holy Holy” by Karen Drucker. My dear friend and teaching partner Betsey Beckman was inspired by the song to film this piece at St. Gregory of Nyssa Episcopal Church in San Francisco with two other beautiful dancers. The video was originally created for our Lent retreat on Honoring Angels, Saints, and Ancestors but we felt inspired to share the joy with you here. Our longer-term vision is that the song will be on our next album (yes, we are already working away on it!) and be part of a fourth week of our Prayer Cycle series. 

St. Gregory of Nyssa church has their own set of dancing monk icons encircling their community and accompanied by the power of the dancers the song comes to life in new ways. “I am/You are/We are holy, holy holy. Spirit Divine, come to me, feeling love, healing me. Open my heart, allow me to see, beauty and love, that lives in me.”

Part of how we do this is to set down our tasks, our deadlines, our notifications, our meetings, all of our doing. We embrace the spaciousness and lavish gift of rest in a culture that prefers to have us exhausted. We celebrate that we were made for this and in our restoration we live fully into the holiness we already embody. 

Consider taking five minutes for a holy pause, a time of sacred rest, and breathe into the images offered in this song and dance. As the “holy, holy, holy” repeats see all parts of yourself saying yes to the sacredness of your being. That you need do nothing to be worthy, you are already a radiant light breaking through. Create space to shine brightly. 

May the gift of Sabbath rest be yours in the days ahead.

With great and growing love,

Christine

Christine Valters Paintner, PhD, REACE

Video © The Dancing Word

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Monk in the World Guest Post: Natalie Salminen

I am delighted to share a beautiful submission to our Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Natalie Salminen’s reflection on creativity, faith, and painting the liturgy of the hours.

I was exhausted in every sense of the word. As a mother to three, foster parent, visual artist, pastor’s wife, school volunteer, and small business owner, I was struggling to keep up with life’s daily demands. In the midst of this busy season, I longed to be true to my artistic practice,  knowing well the power of creativity to heal and align. My husband and I decided to open up a brick and mortar art studio and poetry showroom, naming it Studio Haiku. Though this felt like the right decision, at the time there was no denying I was dwelling in a very weary place. 

 Unfortunately my artistic practice had become a series of what I had deemed “difficult births.” The creative energy was present, but the joy and celebration in the arrival of completed work had been waning. I felt relief and a deep gratitude for a fleeting moment, but soon the labor pains began again with the next project. I had not scheduled any downtime or intentional rest between deadlines. So many labor pains, and less and less energy to draw from as time went on.  I cried out to the Spirit for relief, but would inevitably press forward without pause. Another project, another body of work…and so the cycle continued. I longed for rest. 

In an effort to paint without the pressure of performance or outcome, I arranged a painting trip to Mexico in the fall of 2018. I thought this might be a path towards the rest I was seeking. I had been working with a gallery in the Baja peninsula in the southern town of San José del Cabo since 2014, and over the years had planned each trip around a solo show or a workshop that I would be teaching. This time however, I wanted the trip to be about painting for the joy of it – no deadlines, no expectations. Nothing required of me. I imagined myself painting, relaxing, and enjoying the beauty of Mexico. I would later deliver whatever paintings I had completed to the gallery. It sounded simple to me, restful. No grueling labor pains or difficult births required.

That did not happen. 

Much of my work centers around encaustic, a beeswax and damar resin medium, which entails painting layers upon layers of pigmented beeswax medium on a birch panel in an effort to build up the surface of the painting. So to prepare for my easy-going week of painting in Mexico, I readied and primed seven large panels with many, many layers of encaustic medium in an effort to finish what can be for me the most time consuming component of the encaustic process. After I had completed most of the under painting, I had the panels shipped to Mexico, where I would later bring the paintings to completion.  

Upon my Baja arrival, I met the gallery owner to discuss what I would be delivering to her at the end of my ten day trip. She excitedly told me that the timing of my visit could not have been more perfect, as many of her gallery clients were currently in the area. She immediately asked if I would be open to having a formal solo show. I knew that meant producing a cohesive body of work, having a formal opening, presenting my work with an accompanied artist’s talk, all by opening night.  As she laid out her plan, I felt a “yes” rise up from within me. What was happening? In an out-of-body moment, I agreed to do the show.

Back at the studio, I quickly condemned myself for agreeing to what seemed to be the stark opposite of what I had come to Mexico for in the first place. Frustrated with myself and my weak constitution, I had nothing to do but begin painting.  I painted day and night, nearly eighteen hours a day. As I continued to build up the layers of paint, I trusted that something thematic would emerge, as my usual process rarely includes contriving an image beforehand. The pressure was mounting as I reminded myself that I had just committed to showing a cohesive body of work in ten days time. I wasn’t sure how everything would to tie together, and of course my artist’s talk would derive from the theme, so working on that element would also have to wait. I prayed, I prayed, I prayed. Painting and praying. Painting and praying. Praying and soon enough, tears.  

It was just three days before opening night and still no theme, no central subject. No cohesive imagery that I could see. I had been translating the Japanese sewing art of sashiko into many of the paintings through a drawing process, but pursuing the subject of Japanese pattern work as the theme did not settle with me, as much as I tried. I began to feel intense panic and fear settle into my being. I cried out to God, “Why is this happening to me? Why did I say yes to this? I thought I would be able to finally rest! To paint without pressure. Now I’m so tired and anxious and my back is against the wall. Why did I say yes to this??” I berated myself. What was I to do now?

I had finished five paintings. I could see no common thread between them apart from each painting containing natural elements of the Baja landscape. Five paintings were not enough for a full show and I knew it. But how could I pull them together and add more work in just a few days? How would I talk about them? Where was my theme? All I could think about was how scared I felt with the threat of failure and embarrassment looming near, and how physically tired I was from all the late nights. My thinking was clouded by the stress and shame.

All I wanted to do was rest. I wanted to lay my tired body and heart down and not get up. In an effort to refocus, I walked out of the studio with my books and journal, found a chair in the sun overlooking the Sea of Cortez and crumpled into a teary ball. I was so frustrated with myself. I opened a book I was working through, entitled The Artist’s Rule, by Christine Valters Paintner. I turned to the chapter “Sacred Rhythms for Creative Renewal” which began with a quote from Linda Leonard, reading, 

“A major obstacle to creativity is in wanting to be in the peak season of growth and generation at all times…but if we see the soul’s journey as cyclical, like the seasons…then we can accept the reality that periods of despair or fallowness are like winter – a resting time that offers us a period of creative hibernation, purification and regeneration that prepares us for the births of spring.”

The words stung. The chapter was all about creating space for rest and renewal. I rolled my eyes bitterly and thought, “This isn’t helping me right now! I don’t have time to rest. I already know I need it, but I am in panic mode!” 

I read on and a quote from J. Phillip Newell became another uncomfortable exposure of my weakened heart.

 “If we fail to establish regular practices of stillness and rest, our creativity will be either exhausted or shallow. Our countenance, instead of reflecting a vitality of fresh creative energy that is sustained by the restorative depths of stillness, will be listless or frenetic. This is as true collectively as it is individually, and applies as much to human creativity as it does to the earth’s fruitfulness. Creativity without rest, and productivity without renewal, leads to an exhaustion of our inner resources.”

 I cringed as I read. Oh, how I could relate. The chapter expounded on prescriptives for resting in God and creating space for pause throughout the day. One such recommendation by Valters Paintner was, “…the ancient tradition of praying the Liturgy of the Hours, with its seven holy pauses.” I read on to understand that this ancient call to pray and praise seven times throughout the day is based on Psalms 119:164. The Liturgy of the Hours begins in the pre-dark dawn and ends in the dark of night. It is a rhythm of pausing, connection and a gratuitous invitation to rest in God’s presence throughout the day. 

 My mind was contemplating the invitation, but still threatened by my immediate circumstances. I continued to read from the author’s wisdom, “Creativity depends on waning times for restoration…In cultivating our creativity, times of rest are essential. Pushing ourselves to the edge of exhaustion does not nurture the creative process in the long run.”  

“Very funny!” I said angrily to God. “I’ve been telling you how tired I am, and now you’re again inviting me to rest and that’s the last thing I have time for right now! Why did I say yes to this?? I am up against the wall, I am panicking, I have no idea how to pull this all together, and I I have two days to do it in. I NEED YOU. I need you to show up for me right now. I know I need to rest and be still, but I don’t know how to actually do that right now.” I was conflicted. I was blaming myself for getting into a tight spot once again, a bad habit for which I didn’t know how to break. But I still had enough hope and belief in God’s goodness to ask Him to make a way for me. He had shown up for me before, and I believed he would do it again. I tried to push aside the crippling worry and continued to pray for a way to be made.

 I walked back into my studio and surveyed the five paintings I had thus far completed. What I saw before me brought me to my knees. Unseen by me until that very moment, each painting was of a different time of day. I was undone. I’m not exactly sure how to communicate what transpired in my heart at that moment, but I quickly realized that I was on pure and holy ground. The scales fell. God had been there all along, supporting me in my deep unrest.Immanuel. Unbeknownst to me, we had been painting The Liturgy of the Hours together.

There before me was Vigils:Pre-Dawn. a painting of a dark and starry sky, with just enough light to see a field of green grasses beginning to awaken beneath it. There was Lauds:Dawn with it’s sunrise pink sky being pierced by a sliver of gold-leafed sun, rising over the Sea of Cortez. Sext: Noon stood finished as well, donning a beautiful Japanese-red sun, hanging high-noon and full over the bright and active sea. The piece that would become Vespers: Evening had a twilight sky already painted in, complete with a glimpse of the moon at the top of the painting and a small, matching slice of sun at the bottom. This magical in-between time had been painted so particularly that I gasped. I also had finished what would become Compline:Night. A starscape and a warm, glowing moon rose quietly above the lush flora of Mexico. It met my eyes with growing astonishment. Each of the five completed 

paintings fit perfectly into the set times for the Liturgy of the Hours. Before I had read about the Liturgy of the Hours, these five paintings had come to completion.

 The two other times for prayer, None: Afternoon and Terce: Morning, were left for me complete. Although I would need to pull an all-nighter in order to complete the series, I went forward to paint with the most exuberant and holy glee anyone could ever imagine. I would no longer be creating out of exhaustion and anxiousness, but from a place of miracle. I could rest, knowing God was at my creative helm. My panic was replaced by amazement, as I leaned into the co-creation I had just witnessed. The God of the Universe had met me. Met me in my need. Met me in my weakness. He had soothed my anxious heart in the most tangible way, with the most miraculous and generous gift.

The show’s theme was clearly Liturgy of the Hours – seven large paintings to reflect the seven holy pauses. The experience made the most extraordinary artist talk on opening night, as I told the gallery attendants just exactly what had happened. On a warm Baja night, the invitation to rest was before each of us – profound and holy, a visible manifestation of the miraculous power of a loving God, who meets us generously in our time of need. 

Four years later and I am often tempted to forget this extravagant miracle. (I understand the Israelites of old now more than ever). For me, the “exhaustion of inner resources” comes quickly when I draw from my own strength, create out of my own silo of being or dwell in false shame. Since that experience in the Baja, I discover daily that rest is trust. I can trust that I am co-creating with the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Rest is knowing that truly, my weaknesses make room for God’s glory.  I have learned that my weakness makes space for a miracle. That is a hard one to believe, but it is true. When I’m in the studio I remind myself that We are making things together and I can trust that. This postures me towards a restful spirit, because trust is rest; the doorway into true creative partnership with the Godhead.

This encounter also opened up the door for me to accept that my very own winter season was coming. God made a way and in the spring of 2020, just as the pandemic was unfurling, I closed my brick and mortar studio. It was a bittersweet necessity. I would take the next year off. I could “see the soul’s journey as cyclical, like the seasons” and was given much courage to embrace the fallowness that would soon arrive. Just before God would ask me to close the studio, I created a series of encaustic and Japanese paper vases that held dried winter flora, entitled Nature at Rest. It was a prophetic co-creation that made the closing of the studio less painful. I knew from those small sculptures that a fallow season was an essential part of life and quite beautiful in its own way.

 Here we are now in the spring of 2022 and this story continues to unfold. We’ve navigated two full years of pandemic living, and none has gone unscathed. Violence, tragedy, and the spirit of division lounge boastfully in our town squares. A nebulous unrest simmers, incessantly knocking at the door of our innermost being. We want this all to be over. We want a break. We want to rest. The scriptures tell us that Christ gives rest to those who are labored and weary. Is that not us? In my Mexican sea-side studio, God did not immediately give me the thing I thought I wanted. He instead turned my face to see His. It was the Who of rest, not the how. Once I saw that Christ was with me, in my humanness, in my weakness, deeply steeped in my particularities, rest ceased to be such a bitter struggle. My calendars and commitments look different now, as I desire to live under His banner of rest and nearness – powerful truths to  to ground our flailing hearts. Today, amidst the darkness of our times, that same Rest, which does not discriminate, is being offered to us. We need only turn our gaze.

View the Liturgy of the Hours Series.

Born in Duluth, Minnesota, Natalie Salminen Rude credits her years of travel, a deep appreciation for the natural world around her, esteem for community, and a genuine wonder threaded with intense curiosity for all that life holds – for having laid the foundation for a rich zest for life and the artistic process. In 2003 she received a BFA with honors from the University of Wisconsin, Superior. Although graduating with a concentration in painting, she also studied extensively in ceramics, textiles and sculpture. In 2004, she began working in encaustic. Encaustic has become for her a valued medium as it allows for physicality, creative mixed media additions, use of poetic text and ultimately a powerful employment of color; each being vital components of her personal aesthetic and process.

Natalie now resides near the shores of Lake Superior in Duluth after time spent in Europe, South America, the Middle East, Mexico and lastly Ontario, Canada, where she, her husband, and three children called home for four years. Working professionally in the arts since 2004, she maintains a studio, teaches encaustic workshops both locally and internationally, exhibits and facilitates discussions on spirituality and what it means to live as an artist within the context of commitment.

NatalieSalminen.com

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Prayer Cycle Day 7 Morning and Evening Prayer ~ A Love Note from Your Online Abbess

Dearest monks, artists, and pilgrims,

We conclude our release of the Birthing the Holy Prayer Cycle with an excerpt from Day 7 Evening Prayer honoring Mary, as Mirror of Justice. The video above is for the beautiful song Magnificat which we commissioned from our dear friend Simon de Voil. He created such a moving sung prayer. You are invited to pray with it in the audio podcast of the Prayer Cycle or with the images in the video above. Let this be a time of meditation on Mary’s desire and longing for justice in the world and how we might be empowered by her. 

We share the opening prayer and closing blessing from this prayer service to inspire you to connect with Mary as the Mirror of Justice, welcoming in the wisdom she has to offer to you this day. 

Opening Prayer

Mirror of Justice, you lift up all those on the margins; reflect the justice of Christ who redistributes power structures and gives amplification to the most vulnerable. You call us to solidarity with those who are in need and to remember that our own liberation is intimately entwined with the liberation of the whole human community and the whole natural world. With cries of lament for this hurting world we ask you, Mary, that in the midst of our holy birthing we too can be midwives of a new vision and new way of being that allows all beings to be nourished and to thrive.

Closing Blessing:

Holy Mary, Mirror of Justice,
you reflect back to us what is possible
in a world of corruption and suffering.
You hold the vision of a new creation,
your very being magnifies the Divine
and reveals a pathway of justice
where each person and being
is well nourished and loved.
Where everyone has more than enough,
an abundance for flourishing.
Where each one is cherished
for exactly who they are.
You call on us to care for those
who dwell on the edges,
to bring them to the center of our care.
You empower us to resist violence
in all its forms and to shower
this world with care and kindness.

You can listen to the audio podcasts for Day 7 Morning and Evening Prayer here. Morning Prayer honours Madonna Protectress.

I invite you to read a reflection celebrating the Summer Solstice in the Northern Hemisphere or the Winter Solstice in the Summer Hemisphere. 

Join Melinda this Thursday for a yoga class fostering community.

With great and growing love,

Christine

Christine Valters Paintner, PhD, REACE

Opening Prayer written by Christine Valters Paintner, arranged by Melinda Thomas

Closing Blessing written by Christine Valters Paintner from Birthing the Holy: Wisdom from Mary to Nurture Creativity and  Renewal used with permission from Ave Maria Press

Video © Abbey of the Arts and Morgan Creative

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