Praying the Hours and Angels

 Praying the Hours and Angels

“We are always meeting deadlines; we are always running out of time. The message of following the monastic hours is to live daily with the real rhythms of the day. We learn to listen to the music of this moment. We learn to dance a little in our hearts, to open our inner gates a crack more, to hearken to the music of silence, the divine life breath of the universe.”

—David Steindl-Rast, O.S.B., in The Music of Silence: Entering the Sacred Space of Monastic Experience (HarperCollins, 1995).

The Music of Silence is an invitation to journey through the day by keeping the monastic hours in some manner. Each of the eight hours is prayerfully described by Brother David, often using the images of the Fra Angelico angels. 

I take this book off my shelf, and two cards drop out, both from deceased spiritual friends. The one from Nyna Keeton is an encouraging note about some of my writing. Another from Joanne Meadors is on a card from the San Marco Museum in Florence, Italy, depicting the Fra Angelico painting of the angel beating the drum from The Tabernacle of the Linaioli. The angels playing the harp and the trumpet are also on a card from another spiritual friend with whom I have lost contact. 

There is also a photograph of the musical “Fra Angelico Angels” on the altarpiece at the Pierce Chapel at Trinity Cathedral in Little Rock. I remember I went to Florence solely to see these angels. Also, between the book’s pages is a Forward Day by Day pamphlet about following the monastic hours. Our young son, John, picked it up from a tract rack when we visited Pat Murray and his family at All Saints Russellville when our children were growing up. John brought it to me and said, “Mom, I think you will like this.”

 This was my first introduction to the hours over thirty years ago. Years later, I would read so many of Phyllis Tickle’s writings about her experience with the monastic hours.

A book full of angels and memories, still being communicated from spiritual friends, many of whom I no longer physically see—calling me back to the spiritual life we shared.

Watch out for cards and notes you leave in books for unknown reasons. They may become messages from angels unaware, especially if they are brought to you by children.

Joanna. https://www.joannaseibert.com/

 

 

Love Never Dies Again

Love Never Dies Again

“But soon we shall die, and all memory of those five will have left the earth, and we ourselves shall be loved for a while and forgotten. But the love will have been enough; all those impulses of love return to the love that made them. Even memory is not necessary for love. There is a land of the living, and a land of the dead, and the bridge is love, the only survival, the only meaning.”—Thornton Wilder in The Bridge of San Luis Rey (HarperCollins, 1927), p. 107.

In his Foreword to The Bridge of San Luis Rey, Russell Banks reminds us that at the memorial service in New York for British victims of the attack on the World Trade Center, British Prime Minister Tony Blair read these closing sentences of Thornton Wilder’s novel. Of course, we hope that those we love will always feel our love throughout all eternity. But we also want to tell them about loved ones, such as our parents, siblings, and grandparents, that they may not have known.

Paul, in his first letter to the Corinthians, and Wilder, in this novel, both tell us that the best of love we have never dies. This is a mystery, but I know in my heart it is true.

February 12th was my mother’s one-hundredth and two birthday. We did not always appreciate each other, but I still feel her love today. My parents died before I was ordained a deacon and before the birth of any of our grandchildren. Though my parents are not physically here, their love still surrounds us.

All the people in the picture at my parents’ wedding at my grandparents’ home on Third Street are now dead, but I so often feel lifted up by their presence in prayer and love. I feel the love from that home. That dining room table is now in our dining room. There are days when I feel a love whose only source may be the God of love. Sometimes, I sense love from specific individuals who have died.

I think of the group of women with whom I have been reading books once a week for more years than I can count. After a recommendation from one of our members, Lisa Brandom, we read Wilder’s The Bridge of San Luis Rey on our literary journey. I feel the love of each of these women every time we meet. One friend reminded us she would keep coming, even if we only read the phone book.  

I now know I will feel their love in my heart for years to come, even after we can no longer meet.

Love is all we have to offer in this life that will be lasting. Love is all we will carry with us into the life of the resurrection. Love is the bridge between our earthly home and our life in the resurrection.

Joanna   https://www.joannaseibert.com/

 

Love Never Dies

Love Never Dies

“Love never dies.”—1 Corinthians 13:8.

I have heard this passage from 1 Corinthians about love many times, but when I heard it recently, directly from our friend Paul and our preacher Michael McCain, I could not keep back the tears. I have told grieving people that their love for and from their loved ones is still there and never dies.

I don’t understand it. It is a mystery. I look at pictures of my loved ones who have died, my brother and my grandparents, and I can feel their love as I send it to them.

Frederick Buechner and Henri Nouwen tell us that our bodies die, but our mutual love somehow returns to God and is kept for all eternity.

If you are a mystic, you have no difficulty understanding this. However, this may be a challenging concept for individuals who primarily rely on rational thinking.

Why did this passage move me that Sunday? As I grow older, I am often overwhelmed with how I will miss friends and family members when death separates us. Yet, I suddenly know in my heart that our love for each other is still there.

Our love for them is ongoing, as is their love for us. We will never be without that love. I believe that, in some mysterious way, this love never dies and is carried forward into eternity to transform ourselves, others, and the universe.

Today, I give thanks and share with you the love of friends who have died: my younger brother, Jimmy, my parents and grandparents, and friends, Phyllis, Kay, Hap, Rosemary, Pat, Karen, and Sally.