To Live a Vowed Life - Part I - Chosen

A spiritual journey is a strange thing. It rarely makes sense in the living of it. Occasionally, there will be some gift of the Spirit and you think, “Oh, I bet that was God.” You wander about and find yourself inexplicably loving a complete stranger that you see for a moment on the street or on the bus. If you’re very lucky or very smart, you think once again, “Oh, that was God doing that.”

Then, in church you hear words that you’ve heard hundreds, maybe thousands, of times, and they jolt you. Maybe it’s “The gifts of God for the people of God,” or “Heaven and earth are full of your glory.” But this time, the words stun you. Suddenly, the Eucharist is a massive treatise on theology, and creation screams with the presence of God.

Personally, I am not fond of explanations, neither about my life, nor about anyone’s. It’s as easy to say that God has a plan as it is to say that everything is random. Explanations don't help. Let’s just live into our faith and our beingness. 

About a year ago, I suddenly felt the need to find a way to go off and pray, to live for some days in silence and contemplation. I also felt the need to connect to someone or something beyond my parish (much as I love my parish). Although wanting a silent retreat was a normal desire for me and one I've fed variously throughout my life, this intense desire to become a part of a contemplative religious body was new.

With a search in (God’s gift of) Google, I found Julian House Monastery just one state away. I posted about that visit here. After four wonderful days there, I knew without a doubt that I wanted to affiliate with the Order of Julian of Norwich. I submitted a petition and after some months of discernment on their part and mine, and quite a bit of paperwork, I was received. My admission rite was performed on October 5^th of this year. My rector kindly recommended me, and three generous fellow parishioners sponsored me.

I have a medal that I wear around my neck. I may add the initials AOJN after my name. I have made vows of poverty, chastity, obedience and prayer.  I will be invited to the affiliates’ get-together, Julian Fest, in June. I am very, very happy.  People are happy for me. Probably it was God doing it.

Looking back over my life, my path, my journey, I can discern that this development makes sense for me, but I can just as easily see it as out of step with my experience. I could have easily ended up in a different church or no church, much less, in a religious Order. I could have had several husbands or none. I could have been some sophisticated literary person at a cocktail party or a selfless charity worker spending every weekend at a homeless shelter.  

The gift of this vocation is precious to me. I thank God for it every day. I know without a doubt that God is moving in my life every moment. This knowledge, however, simply assures me that God is moving in all our lives. What looks special from the outside, the medal, the letters, the vows, is really just my ordinary life now, just as a job in a coffee shop or a bank might be someone else’s ordinary life.

I resist the notion of God’s preference. God might have chosen Mary to be the mother of Christ, but does that mean that he loved her more than anyone else in Nazareth, or in the world? I don’t think so. God chose Abraham to be the father of millions, but did God actually esteem this man above any other? I cannot believe it. Just as I cannot believe that my call to a contemplative life proves that I am of a higher order in God’s, or anyone’s eyes. I don’t want to weigh the grace that I receive against anyone or anything.

My grandfather had favorites among his children. (My grandmother did not.) He played them off against each other all his life with predictable results: they never gave up snarling at each other. People would say he was playing God, but I don’t think God plays like that. It’s when we try to make sense of things, when we ascribe preferment to this or that person or this or that tribe that we lose sight of God. Life is not a game; only games are games. Winners and losers are for baseball and checkers and Monopoly. In life we are all winners.

God must love us all, magnificently and equally; we needn't jockey for favor. This is Julian’s teaching and I willingly admit her influence. Julian said that when God looks at us, all he sees is the brilliant beautiful beings he created. God sees us not as we see ourselves, nor as my grandfather saw his children. Is God blind to our sins? No. God sees the pain and sorrow that our sin causes and God feels every ounce of it. 

When I compose myself to say my prayers, when I study my vows, I know that these prayers, these vows, my life connect me to all of humanity. We are on level terms. We are all the apple of his eye.  

Next week I reflect on my vows. (Everyone is mad curious about my vows.)