I rarely read for entertainment. My nose is usually buried in a book of some sort and most often the book is one which is academic or spiritual in nature. If I’m not reading a book, I’m reading an article or searching for a book or an article. Lately, I’ve been doing a lot of traveling and while I have some very nice spiritual books to read, somehow or other I have landed upon a series of books that have me enthralled.
Last I saw my spiritual advisor I complained about feeling overwhelmed. I mentioned that I had been ardently trying to read something in Polish in the evening to improve my Polish skills. I decided that in the evening before bed I would lay aside academic or serious reading in Polish and try something light. He laughed and suggested I try reading something light in my native language. My spiritual director is also an academic who speaks multiple languages and knows that sometimes we can get carried away, feeling somewhat lazy or guilty in reading something that isn’t geared toward our academic pursuits or spiritual development. However, he made the suggestion and feeling bound to follow his direction, I decided to pick up G.K. Chesterton’s Fr. Brown Mysteries.
In the past few years, I have abandoned reading physical books and started reading in electronic form. It makes traveling with books more convenient and even though I enjoy holding a book in my hand I have more access electronically and at times it is much more affordable. This has led to being open to information gathering by whatever browser I’m using or electronic store in which I am shopping. While I’m not too enthused at the prospect of artificial intelligence and whatever information-gathering technology leads to knowing my reading patterns, I was delighted that after I finished Fr. Brown somehow through my reading device Veronica Black’s Sister Joan Mysteries came to my attention. I’ve already read the first six in the series and have started the seventh. I’m also starting to feel sad that there are only four left to read!
I’ve often felt that spirituality and my spiritual growth ought only to come from strictly spiritual books. That, of course, is flat wrong but I can’t help it if I have deep seeded old ideas that thwart me at every turn. Luckily, in my surrender to the suggestions of my spiritual director I have been taken by surprise. God has a way of sneaking in and speaking to me when I least expect it.
I couldn’t tell you for certain what it is about Sister Joan that has captured my heart. She is quite an ordinary individual. Quite a matter of fact with a wonderful sense of humor. She is not the ‘smartest man in the room’ by any stretch, she is not overly observant or intellectual. She is, for all intents and purposes just an ordinary woman who answered the call to become a nun. I realize that I am writing about Sister Joan as if she were a real person. But somehow, she has snaked her way into my subconscious and become a small voice popping up from time to time.
The spiritual premises that have arisen from this series of books have been, for me, something quite remarkable. As I walk through my day, I find that little irritations and annoyances crop up accompanied by the voice of Sister Joan chastising herself for not being charitable. Sister Joan has a way of adding to her list of flaws to be confessed, a list of flaws that I find myself to have.
She keeps a journal of her spiritual development, things are done poorly, things to be confessed and I find myself thinking, well, that’s not a bad idea. She also lives a very scheduled life that leaves me craving the regular and mundane. A regular routine and simple meals.
However, as I read the novels, I ask myself, does Sister Joan ever shower? And if she does, do they have hot water? The convent they live in is not heated except for the infirmary and kitchen. This reminded me of one of the monks at the seminary I attended. He told us the story of how he’d been interested in joining a monastery that was obedient to a simple way of life. No electricity, heating, or indoor plumbing. He said he found that he did not fit in this particular way of living and when he returned home the first thing he did was take a hot shower until the hot water ran out. I remember becoming aware of the fact that not all are called to holiness in the same way. This week our hot water heater broke, and I tried taking a cold shower, thought of Sister Joan and the sacrifices some of our spiritual brothers and sisters make in order to be closer to God, and was grateful that instead of being irritated about not having hot water I was instead brought to a place of gratitude that it would only be a temporary inconvenience.
As I read the novels, I am also stuck by the feelings so well described when Sister Joan is in turmoil. How she seeks the Eucharist and the sweet silent peace that comes when praying before the Sacrament. And as I read my heart yearns for the experience.
I also find that there seems to be a great deal of crime in Cornwall! Oh no! Sister Joan has tumbled into another mystery again!
This article isn’t about a particular author or book. It’s about the lulling subtle quality of spirituality that sometimes can be brought forth through fiction. I’m somewhat rigorous in my spiritual practices, which my spiritual director is constantly pointing out. Often I feel that if a reading is not deeply spiritual (of course here it must be understood that my idea of ‘deeply spiritual’ may be askew) then it’s of little value.
As I wrote last month, I’m in a period of spiritual desolation. My creativity and sensitivity, including my motivation toward spiritual matters, are muted. But somehow God always seems to find a way in. It is up to me to be open to this, which is, at times, somewhat difficult. I have very set old ideas that block me from a new experience with my creator. These old ideas are so firmly rooted that I have absolutely no idea that they are actually old ideas! I only recognize them when they become problematic.
I remember one time in particular; I was having a very difficult time. I couldn’t tell you exactly what the problem was, but I was sitting before the Eucharist, weeping. I was in the basement of the retreat house at Mt. Angel where the adoration room used to be. As I sat crying, I heard clearly “Just go outside.” It was as if God was saying, “Look! It doesn’t have to be so formal. There is no need to add suffering to your suffering! Get up! Get off your knees! Stop tormenting yourself! Go and enjoy the beauty of nature! The beauty that I have created just for you.”
I got up, went out, and sat on the hill overlooking the valley. It was a warm spring evening. I remember feeling such calm and peace wash over me and recalled the words of my then spiritual director: “Tears are the simplest form of prayer.”
While I know that God is everywhere I sometimes think I put him in a box. Literally, the box (tabernacle) in the sanctuary. And while the real presence is indeed there in the tabernacle, God is not limited to that space. It is the same with fiction. God is not only present in the spiritual writings of the Church Fathers. He is not contained to Scripture. God can speak to me in the “still quiet voice” (1 Kings 19:12) of a story. And this is what has happened through Veronica Black’s work. A gentle reminder to go rest at the alter before the Sacrament. The repetitive call to keep note of my small faults. To confess on a regular basis. To eat simple meals more often. To enter into relationships keeping in mind that the one with God is in fact the more precious. These are the gentle reminders that have been brought simply by following the direction of my spiritual guide. Listening to the intuitive thought that nudged me to purchase the books. And allowing myself to become absorbed, for a short while, in the delights of a story not my own.
And while I still patiently sit through my desolate time, I can feel the gentle breeze of silent peace that comes only from God. The gentle whisper of uplifting inspiration that is a release from the downward pull of the world. In this soft small release, I can have moments of precious contact with the warmth of love that surrounds me at all times, even if I don’t recognize it. This fictional work has awakened the call to the Eucharist. A constant small reminder to sit in adoration. And while this is not some intense or grand spiritual awakening, it is what is needed at this time.
God, allow me to be open to your ever-loving voice. To follow the small inspirations you lay before me. To trust in your quiet presence and to continue to follow my heart to your presence wherever that may lead. Amen.
