To be Consoled, or to Console?

By Sr. Iliana

As Jesus hung on the cross in utter anguish, struggling for every breath, He turned to the thief crucified to His right and said, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise” (Lk 23:43). These words suddenly had deeper meaning for me when I found myself one day struggling to breathe in an emergency room. If any of you have ever struggled to breathe, you know the anxiety that this produces. I do admit I felt pretty anxious. I soon realized that I felt lonely, too, as if I had been abandoned. I hadn’t actually been abandoned, but that is how it felt. Due to a series of unforeseen events, I was there alone. The nurse who was caring for me was truly a dear, but she was a stranger to me, and I desired my loved ones to be there. Even though I knew in my mind that there was no need for them to come, my heart still desired for them to come. This is a very normal human reaction! When we’re suffering, we want to be consoled by our loved ones. We even want this when we’re not suffering. The first thing I do when I’m in a large crowd is scan the room for someone I know.

Jesus was actually abandoned by His friends. Of His twelve disciples, only John came to the foot of the cross. Peter denied Him, Judas betrayed Him, and all the others fled in sheer terror. Though His Mother was there, and a few women at a distance, His intimate friends abandoned Him as He foretold. Jesus must have felt truly abandoned. Jesus is fully human and He desires consolation just as we do.

Yet in the moment that all of humanity would most desire to be consoled, Jesus turns to the stranger at His side – the thief who had been mocking Him just moments before – and He consoles. He says, “Today you will be with me in paradise,” as if to say: “You are now as close to Me as possible. You are now a saint. You are about to be face to face with your Father who loves you. Between us is the most intimate friendship, the most intimate love.” He takes the stranger and brings him into intimate relationship with Himself, the same relationship He desires for each of us. Whereas I desired my intimate friends, Jesus makes the stranger His intimate friend.

When I was in the emergency room, I eventually stopped feeling sorry for myself, and began to talk to Kaitlyn, my nurse. She asked me to pray for her, and I was profoundly moved by our encounter. I even wondered if Jesus had allowed me to be sick just so that I could be there with Kaitlyn in that moment. Kaitlyn was a consolation to me. Imagine how much more Jesus was consoled to see the salvation of the thief at His side. The Lord wants to take us out of mere feelings and into true communion with Himself, so that in the moment of our utter darkness we can see the hand of God and be consoled – not because the darkness has now passed, but even in the midst of the darkness. The thief was still nailed to the cross in anguish when He received the greatest consolation of all – the promise of eternal life. As we face the trials of our life, as we pick up our crosses and follow Him, let us join St. Francis in praying, “Grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console.”

"For the sake of the joy that was set before Him He endured the cross"

Happy Feast of St. Anthony of the Desert and First Sunday of the Triodion: the Sunday of the Publican & the Pharisee! 

Newsletter Reflection 2 of 6

A Reflection from Mother Cecilia about her Profession on Nov. 8

After our profession, Sr. Iliana commented to me, “At the beginning of the profession you were very serious, but at a certain point you were suddenly smiley and didn’t stop smiling!”  I knew exactly what she was talking about.  As I stood before the bishop and responded to each of his questions, “Yes, Master, with God’s help,” I felt the weight of these life-long promises I was making.  Then the bishop began to read to us the catechesis that follows his questions. These instructions, too, are very serious.  But then the bishop said the following words, and everything changed in my heart:

“Always be sensible and mature, ever inspired by the vision of the good things of eternity, which are the desire of everyone who lives for God.  Think of the martyrs and all the holy ones who have pleased God since the world began; think of their sweat and labor, of the blood they shed, and how they obtained these eternal riches only through death.  Endure difficulties as a loyal soldier of Christ, for because of us He became poor, and dwelt in our midst so that we might share the riches of His Kingdom.” 

At that moment, God held out the Kingdom to me. I understood its immense joy, both in the next life and in this life, for “the Kingdom of God is within you” (Lk 17:21). I wanted to give everything—my whole life and my whole being—to receive this Kingdom. I wanted to sacrifice everything to live for this Kingdom, not only for myself but in order to draw the whole world into it as well.  I wanted to give myself totally to the One who was offering Himself to me. I did, as best as I could, and I was filled with incredible joy.

It is monastic tradition to remain in the monastery chapel for five days after the profession, “resting from all work, except reading, and abiding in spiritual contemplation and mental prayer.”  When this profound experience of union with my Bridegroom was completed, the first piece of news I heard was about the attacks in Paris.  For the first time in my life, it occurred to me that I might be called to be a “red” martyr—to literally shed my blood for Jesus.  I realized that the “white” martyrdom of monastic life is training for that.  Each day as we “die” to ourselves in the little moments, setting aside our own wills and desires for love of God and others, we are preparing to give the bigger offering of our lives.

When I came out of my five-day retreat, or “honeymoon,” I also experienced another reality: I really felt like a mother!  I instantly received a great motherly concern and tender love for every person, all of whom are my spiritual children.  Monastic life makes even more sense to me from the vantage point of a mother.  A mother sets herself aside for her children. She “dies daily” (1 Cor 15:31) for them, and this is her great joy.

Martyrs and mothers teach me so much, but it is ultimately Jesus, my Bridegroom, who will help me to die for the sake of the Kingdom of Heaven.  Just as God held out the Kingdom to me during my profession, the writer of the letter to the Hebrews says, “For the sake of the joy that was set before Him He endured the cross…” (12:2). Jesus’ infinite love compelled Him to run to the cross, and it is only by transforming me into this love that I will be able to be the offering of love that I vowed to be.