transformation

The Season of Transformation

I have been thinking about transformation lately.

I guess that's not surprising, Spring is slowly making its way into our formerly frozen New England landscape. Change is all around us. I've recently had the opportunity to be with grieving folks; I offered programs for two different groups at Connecticut retreat centers. People arrive with broken hearts, with a desire to stop the sadness. After learning a bit more about the Land of Loss, they leave with a willingness to let grief guide them through the difficult terrain. Some speak of a desire "to live in healing more consciously." Again, transformation is taking place.

I'm experiencing transformation in my own heart as well. I've loosened my grip on expectations, opening myself to new ways of being. It's ironic though, the path isn't completely new to me; it's as if I'm settling into a more authentic version of myself. The "big change" that I've been resisting is more of a refinement. The Sculptor has smoothed away unneeded stone, letting beauty be revealed.

Why do we resist the changes that appear in our lives? Of course, we all have our own stories, our unique reactions. As human beings, though, we often share a defensive response to the demands of life's revisions. We try to push it all away. But the death of a loved one, for example, does not let us avoid life's call to change. Neither, on a much smaller scale, does a broken leg or an illness. And so, we try to learn from the crisis and grieve the loss. We honor what was, we pray for what is and trust what will be. Transformation does not happen in an instant, it’s a process of opening to mystery.

As we walk within the mystery of the Easter season, we follow a sacred letting go. We heard Jesus’ story of transformation and look at our own lives. Can we open our hearts and shout Hosanna at the arrival of Love? Will we share community with others, loving them as they are? Can we confront the emptiness found in the absence of love, however that experience comes to us? And, when our hearts are ready, will we say "yes....Yes....YES!" to the fruits of new life that are bursting from within?

What does our own path of transformation look like?

Alleluia!

Lisa Irish, MEd, MA, BCC, ministered as a chaplain for the Hospital of Saint Raphael and Yale New-Haven Hospital, where she ran a bereavement program and supported patients, families and staff in hospital and long-term care. Her years as a Mercy Associate have led to a commitment to Mercy by the Sea and to her ministry in retreat and spiritual direction. Lisa’s first book, Grieving with a Grateful Heart by Abbey Press was published in 2016. Her newest book, Grieving – the Sacred Art was published by Skylight Paths Publishing in 2018 and is available in the Mercy by the Sea bookstore. To learn more about Lisa and her work, visit her website.

A Call to "Rebuild My Church"

This week the monarch butterflies have returned to Mercy by the Sea, the result of a remarkable feat of nature, a complete transformation of one being into another totally new being. I marvel at the creativity and diversity of God as manifested in the various life forms on this sacred Mercy by the Sea property.

Also this week the need for another kind of transformation came to light with the release of the 900-page Pennsylvania Grand Jury report. Repeatedly I have been asked about this and how I deal with it. I think people expect me to say that my faith has been shaken or that I can’t go to church anymore or something like that. We all know that the abuse of a child is a serious, immoral and illegal act. What is most troubling to me is not the individual act, disturbing as that is. Rather it is the systemic nature of the problem that is most unsettling: That this act, on the most vulnerable among us, was apparently widespread — and at times accepted or at least tolerated — a secret culture of sex and sin by those who made moral declarations for others. The call that Saint Francis of Assisi heard hundreds of years ago to “rebuild my church” nags at me.

In the Same Boat...in the Airport

Recently I attended a meeting of the leaders of Mercy retreat houses in the U.S. where the conversation focused on what people need today and how Mercy retreat houses can fill those needs. Everyone spoke deeply about the good people who show up at our doors looking for something — perhaps silence, a re-connection with themselves or God, or a trained and listening ear. I was inspired by the conversation and realized I was not alone in this unique ministry. We agreed to collaborate and cooperate with one another for the common good, to share our ideas and knowledge, and to continue to work together.