Sr. Mary Gemma with Tavien, a young woman from Seaford Town, Jamaica

Tavien's niece and nephew: Lisandre and Leon

"As contemplatives in the world, we esteem the value of prayer in itself for love of God and give ourselves wholeheartedly to the mission of Christ through the spiritual and corporal works of mercy" (Constitutions #1).

Works of Mercy: Praying for the Living and the Dead

One of those works of mercy, a spiritual work of mercy, is to pray for the living and the dead.

Right now two of our sisters are having what we call a "hermitage experience", a more concentrated time of silence, solitude, contemplative work, and prayer.  In these two weeks after Christmas they are each praying for a special intention.

Sr. Agnes Therese is praying for peace throughout the world while Sr. Teresa is offering her prayer, work, and fasting for those who do not know or believe in God's mercy and for those for whom God's heart breaks.

Prayer and intercession are considered one of our main ministries and it is a gift for us to be able to life up to the Lord the dying, deceased, addicted, lost, priests, and families, and to pray for peace and reconciliation, and for a culture of life and the list goes on and on.

The two-week "hermitage experience" is but a taste of an aspect of our way of life that we are not yet fully living.  In the next couple of years, we hope to have 2-3 sisters begin living in a hermitage setting where they will live in a house together and more fully embrace the contemplative life.

"By embracing a more intense living of our prayer and penance, we seek to offer ourselves as a sacrifice of praise and adoration of God who is supremely loved, and to offer ourselves as a sacrifice of love and intercession for all of God's people" (Constitutions #62).

Last Christmas I had the incredible gift of doing my own "hermitage experience".

During those two weeks I offered my work, prayers, and other daily activities for the intention of those who are in darkness- that they would come to know the light of Christ.  I prayed especially for those who, in their own woundedness and brokenness (because of past hurts), can't even imagine a God who loves them.

Throughout my time, the Lord allowed my to see His faithfulness and goodness.  Through scripture, the Liturgy of the Hours, the Mass and many other ways, God spoke to my heart and showed me over and over again that He was answering my prayers and accepting the small offering of my simple, hidden work.

A couple of weeks later many of the sisters, myself included, watched The Lord of the Rings: the Return of the King.  If you have seen this movie you know there are many, many scenes portraying the powers of light versus the powers of darkness, but I was struck by one scene in particular and everything in me wanted to yell,

"PAUSE IT! Stop right here!  Let's just sit and pray with this!"

Faramir and his men are retreating from Osgiliath.  A dark shadow of clouds cover them and Nazguls are picking them off by the claw full as they ride to the protection of Minas Tirith.  Gandalf, the White Rider, rides out on his white horse to meet them.

As he approaches the impending darkness and retreating men he extends his staff and a powerful light radiates from it.

The entire scene changes.  The music/sounds go from the Nazguls screaming to what sounds like elves singing.

Immediately the Nazguls turn and flee from the light.  Gandalf then joins Faramir and his men and they all return to Minas Tirith safely.


I felt like I was watching, right there on the screen, what God had been doing in the people I had been praying for during my time in the hermitage!  

As I prayed for those who were in darkness God was sending his Holy Spirit (the light coming from Gandalf's staff) to enlighten their hearts and to disperse the evil that had been covering and pursuing them.  Jesus was bringing them under his protection, just as Gandalf brought his protection by his presence of riding to them and with them.

I also saw just how powerful the kingdom of light really is in relation to the enemy.  

The Nazgul are giant in comparison to the men, their screams deafening, and their claws sharp; yet when faced with the seemingly weak light from Gandalf's staff they flee immediately and go back to the darkness from where they came.

The devil seems big and brutal but he doesn't stand a chance against God's kingdom- God is always victorious!  The light wins over the darkness!

The Lord did not have to show me how he was hearing and answering my prayers and offerings during my "hermitage experience" but he chose to and as it all unfolded my faith was buoyed.

I began to pray with a more bold confidence as I lifted up people and situations to him because whether he shows me or not I know he is hearing my prayers and answering them according to his will.  As he does with all of our prayers!

May we all grow in prayer and intercession for the living and deceased!
-Sr. Sophia Grace Huschka, T.O.R.

“The Lord of hosts is with us: the God of Jacob is our stronghold.” (Ps 46:4)

Happy Gaudete Sunday! This third Sunday of Advent the Church invites us to rejoice with her as we continue to approach the celebration of God coming among us. The celebration of the Liturgy is a bit more festive, and children everywhere rejoice as we finally get to light the pink candle on the Advent wreath!

As I was reflecting on the beautiful Scriptures for today, I was struck by a simple theme: God is with us. I know that by this time in Advent the phrase has become so familiar that we (or at least I) have a temptation to gloss over it. But I think that would be a mistake. Because as I reflected further, I was also struck by what the Scriptures do not tell us in union with that line: nowhere connected with this promise of the Lord being with us is the promise that all our troubles will be erased, or that difficult situations will be eradicated, or that what we found difficult yesterday will be made easy today. We are simply told, “He is with us.”

Twice in today’s first reading for Mass we are reminded to sing joyfully and fear not, because “the Lord is in your midst.”

He tells us that He has removed the judgment against us…He has taken it upon Himself.

He tells us to not fear misfortune and not to be discouraged. Why? Because He is with us. The misfortunes will still persist, this side of heaven, and yet we are still called to rejoice. Because He is with us.

I know that sometimes I fall victim to thinking that once I really entrust everything to the Lord, and trust Him with all my heart, the external situations, especially the difficult, ones, will change. But Christ never promises that to us – yet He does promise to be with us, and that makes all the difference. Oftentimes it is these very situations – the ones I wish were different or that the Lord would take away – that the Lord uses to keep me close to Him, aware of the earth-shattering reality that He is Emmanuel…God-with-us.

This truth of Him being with us brought me to another place in Scripture where we hear this uttered: a town of Galilee called Nazareth, where we meet a virgin betrothed to a man named Joseph, of the house of David. The angel says to Mary, “Hail, favored one! The Lord is with you.” In this encounter, Mary is also reminded of the singular presence of God with her, and invited to make a gift of herself to Him in a way that no other human has or will. She is invited to rejoice in the Lord’s presence with her, and to invite Him in to dwell even more intimately within her very womb. As she makes this act of trust and abandonment, she does not know all the answers, or how everything will turn out. She is not promised that all her troubles will go away, that everyone will understand her, and that life will be easy. But she is told to rejoice at the Lord’s presence with her, and as she makes this gift of self to her Lord, He comes to dwell with her…and because of this, He now dwells with each and every one of us.

As we reflect on Christ’s presence with us, we have two options as to how we respond. We can respond in a similar manner to Peter’s initial reaction at the overwhelming presence of Christ’s mercy, and in pride want Him to leave us to do it ourselves: “Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.” I know that many times this is my response: in my prideful presumption of self-sufficiency, I want to solve my problems myself, and run away from the uncomfortable and humbling experience of having to accept help from the Lord, or from other people. However, as I know from repeated experience, this does not end well. But the Lord is relentless in His love, and promises that He will not go away; He pursues us more passionately than we can ever pursue Him.

As we embark upon this second half of Advent, may our response to Emmanuel, God-with-us, be that of the free, total, faithful, and fruitful response of our Lady, who knew that all she had was gift: “He has looked with favor upon his handmaid’s lowliness…The Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is His name.” She knew and rejoiced in her littleness!

Come, Lord Jesus, and be with us in our littleness, in our brokenness, and in those situations that are difficult and less than ideal. Into those very places, come with your strong and healing presence, and may we have the courage to rejoice that you are with us there. May we rest in the truth of your promise that you rejoice over us with gladness, renew us in your love, and sing joyfully over us as a Bridegroom rejoices in His bride.

-Sr. Anna Rose Ciarrone

Like me, you might be overwhelmed at all the hubbub on the Year of Mercy, which begins today. All the plans, documents, suggestions, reflections, actions, initiatives ... and then there's those Spiritual and Corporal Works of Mercy! There's 14 of them!

In her book, One Thousand Gifts,Ann Voskamp sets out on a quest for “the fullest life,” a life of daily gratitude to God. She keeps a journal in which she records memorable and mundane miracles she stumbles upon each day – the way a plate of freshly shredded cheese looks in the sunshine or a brilliant harvest moon hanging over a field.

The natural reaction to beauty, to all the good things in our lives, is gratitude. But as her practice of thanksgiving becomes habitual, Ann begins to wonder – what are all the other moments? The moments that are painful, the times when we feel more keenly that life is loss.

How do we reconcile these two very different experiences of God? Who really is God anyway? How can He truly be good? It seems so often that He takes away what is good—in sickness and death, in separation, poverty and suffering.

How can we possibly continue to give thanks when life hurts?

I love words and their meanings and relationships. You might know this, but the Greek word for thanksgiving, as Ann discovers, is eucharisteo.Whoa. That just added a whole other dimension to this.

Throughout the Gospels, Jesus stops to “give thanks” before breaking bread with his disciples and the crowds. He gives eucharisteo.What can the Eucharist teach us about giving thanks to God?

Before the Eucharistic sacrifice is offered in the Mass, the priest prays a simple prayer while lifting up first the bread and then the wine: “Blessed are you, Lord God of all creation, for through your goodness we have received the bread we offer you … the wine we offer you.”

I’ve always been a little uncomfortable with authority figures.

Strange though that may sound coming from someone
vowed to obedience, it’s the truth. I guess there’s part of me that has a really hard time trusting the good will or competence of those in authority. Though I’ve been aware of this for a while, it has become abundantly clear since I began the 19th annotation of the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius a few months ago, where one is “on retreat” for several months, going through Ignatius’30 day retreat while remaining in the world.

In the Exercises, you spend a fair bit of time praying about sin – the nature of sin, the sin of the angels, the sin of Adam, and your own sins. As I went through the various meditations, I was stunned to realize that all these sins are profoundly related to one another. This is due to the fact that they are all ultimately rebellions, uprisings against our first beginning and final end, God. I was grieved by the ways I have rebelled against God (and still do so!) in my own life, and felt sorry for my sins in a whole new way, on a deeper level than ever before.

Following this time, the retreatant makes a famous meditation, usually referred to as “The Call of the King”, where you place yourself imaginatively in two scenarios. The first is that of a subject to an earthly king – a good king – who hears the call of his king to join him in bringing all lands into subjection to Christian rule. This king tells his subjects that he will share with them both the hardships of the campaign and its victory and ensuing glory. It is clear as you pray that only a fool or coward (an “unworthy knight”) would refuse to serve under such a king with such a glorious enterprise.

Next, you replace this good king with Jesus Christ, the King of kings. He calls each person to join him in sufferings and trials as he goes about the work of subjecting all things and people to his authority. The upshot of this invitation is similar: who would turn away from such a request? Who could fail to serve such a good king?

I was surprised as I began to pray with this meditation, because it left me cold and fearful. I saw the beauty of Christ and his goodness. I longed to be part of his work, to share his life and sufferings and death. But I was afraid to offer myself to him because I felt I would disappoint him. After all, I had only days before come to a deeper awareness of my sinfulness and untrustworthiness. So I protested when I heard Christ’s call, “Are you sure you want me to be part of your army, Lord? I am not so good, you see. I will probably betray you, disappoint you, and let you down.”

After a week of prayer where I kept coming to this point of the meditation and hitting this wall, I met with my retreat director – who told me to pray with it for another week! I felt, in part, like I had received a jail sentence and was doomed to spend another hour each day for another week feeling awkward and inadequate and embarrassed before the King I loved but could not serve. But as she gave me this assignment, my director said something really important. “Remember to ask the Lord how he sees you in this. What we see and what he sees are often two very different pictures.”

So I returned to the meditation. And I realized that I was uncomfortable with the whole first part of the meditation, focusing on the call of the earthly king. My heart was protesting the whole time, “there is no such king!” Not knowing what to do about this, I continued to the second part, the call of Christ the King. And suddenly, like a clarion call, it was as if Christ stood before me, looked me in the eye, and spoke straight to my heart, “I am the real deal! I am what I appear to be! You can trust me!” So I returned his gaze and asked him, again, if he wanted me to serve him, knowing what I was. Could he use me, the proud? Could he use me, the self-righteous? Could he use me, the lazy? My vices and inadequacies seemed like such an impediment – why would Christ want me?