Dear fellow traveler,
Warm greetings to you on the dusk of “Transfiguration Sunday” as the church year has it. Transfiguration comes from the greek “metamorphothe” and a transforming day it was indeed. Being down with another day care bug I thought it would be a good day to share some of my readings with you instead of writing myself. But before, let me start from the beginning:
As we embark on another week I want to first express my gratitude for your support and engagement over the last 3 months while I was moving our newsletter - with fear and trembling - to our new substack home.
One of the greatest gifts so far has been to feel more connected to our cloister family (e.g. via those wonderful conversations in the comment sections), and to get to know our readers better as well as to see this community grow and engage with each other. I can’t tell in words how much I appreciate to see your profile pictures (yes, you can do that now!), read your short bios or interest lists and get a sense for who you are.
I am humbled and grateful for each of you. And for all who chose to become sustaining members! Without you this new journey into authorship would not be possible! 🥰 As a token of gratitude we do have our Lenten solitude mini retreat coming up for sustaining members as well as our Passion-week Consolations with JS Bach 2024. More about this will follow in a separate invitation. Now:
What I am reading
I had meant to write an essay for you today. But soon I had to give in into another sick day, sent my family on an excursion and stayed in bed. I still kept trying hard to do what I had planned to do, until I came across the essay by chaplain and pastoral educator
describing her busy Ash Wednesday work in the hospital. Christine is a talented writer who illustrates her writings with short stories from her work which move my heart deeply.This is another beautiful thing I was not expecting when moving my writing to substack. That I myself would find so many wonderful writers here to sustain me on this journey! And so I allowed myself to be cared for today by leaning into reading instead of trying to craft a good piece of writing myself.
(1) Christine’s essay The Superbowl of Chaplaincy aka Ash Wednesday in the Hospital
made me cry and laugh at the same time. I had no idea how great the need in the hospital is to receive the ash cross, not only with patients but especially with staff. So Christine’s vivid and gracious description of the brief seconds she has with the busy medical staff lining up to receive the cross as soon as she enters the ward and before they must rush back to work broke my heart open.
I felt deeply grateful to all the people working shifts in hospitals (and whom I have needed in the last year more often than I had expected!) who are always confronted with the vulnerability and finitude of life, and their need to be consoled themselves. I am so glad for all of you who do this kind of work, being a helper or a helper of helpers and all who do any kind of caring work!
And though Christine was wondering about the drive through speed with which she had to sign ash crosses on so many foreheads I could see the heavens touching the earth while she was doing her work. Under her hands signing the cross was not only a ritual but it became alive for the many who stood in line to receive it:
“Every year, observing Ash Wednesday in the hospital, a place of life and death, has always had a deep poignancy in reminding people that we are dust and to dust we shall return. But this was even more significant on the Ash Wednesday of 2021. Months into the pandemic, when there was so much suffering and death, I found myself wanting to skip Ash Wednesday altogether. I thought we did not need the reminder that our time here is limited, as we had been steeped in that reality for almost a year. I really wanted to cancel. But I know there can be value in tradition, especially in the face of uncertainty, grief and chaos. And that year, many staff who I marked with ashes had tears streaming down their cheeks as I reminded them of their mortality, when they had been so keenly aware of it every day.”
As the sign is suppose to remind us of our mortality receiving it (just as reading about it) is in an odd way also consoling, as our mortality connects us with our humanity and our need to be seen as who we are in each moment of being alive.
This brings me right to the second reading I have for you today:
(2)
’s essay Ways of Seeing the Transfiguration. Can an Ancient Story Speak to the Modern World? centers around the deeply felt truth that transformation happens when we are seen fully, just as the felt Divine embrace (e.g. expressed by rituals like drawing the ash cross) will do. James, himself a Bishop and spiritual companion interested in the intersection of Christian mysticism and Jungian Psychology (yay!) now asks how Christ’s transfiguration story can be translated into our day to day life:“One way to bear witness to the dazzling light might just be engaging in a very human, down-to-earth practice of listening to another person. We've got an epidemic of loneliness out there. I can't help but wonder if one way to transfigure this world might be through listening ears and attentive eyes.”
Amen to this.
And 3) Meister Eckhart.
In his writings on Divine Consolation and on the noble person Meister Eckhart writes about the inner person at the heart of hearts of our being. He suggest six stages of inner deepening which are like shedding the outer layers of our self one by one. (Doesn’t that remind you of the last midweek blessing Cherishing what lies beneath and the vivid conversation it provoked?) Let’s see how Meister Eckhart says it:
“A human being has so many skins inside, covering the depths of the heart. We know so many things, but we don't know ourselves! Why, thirty or forty skins or hides, as thick and hard as an ox's or bear's, cover the soul. Go into your own ground and learn to know yourself there.”
― Meister Eckhart
I started to read into Meister Eckhart (again) when writing for our 12 Days of Christmas Contemplations. And I am looking forward to unpack this journey of the inner person as Meister Eckhart has it during this Lenten season with you.
Looking forward to journey with you through this Lenten season,
Almut
PS: If you can, leave a heart, a word or a line which resonated with you in the comments below or let us know which readings have moved your heart lately :-)
Thank you for reading, sharing and supporting Cloister Notes, a letter for dancing monks, weary pilgrims and wounded healers in the intersection of psychology, philosophy and spirituality. If you have been moved by what you read please consider becoming a sustaining member to make this labor of love possible and keep it accessible to all. Thank you, thank you.
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About Almut
Almut Furchert, Dr. phil., Dipl. Psych. is a German American scholar and practitioner, a psychologist turned philosopher turned writer, traveler, photographer, retreat leader and mother of a pre-schooler. She has taught and published on authors like Kierkegaard, Buber, Frankl, Yalom, Edith Stein, and Hildegard of Bingen. Almut is also a Benedictine Oblate and lives with her family in a little college town in MN.
In case you missed it:
Being seen as who we are and being listened to is peace work. We are all the heart of Christ. I look forward to your Lenten series!
Thank you for sharing yourself—who and how you are. It gives others permission to speak, some who have been silent too long. We all need to be heard and seen.