Search

Being Benedictine

Living SoulFully as an Oblate of St. Benedict

Open Search

Hysterics and Hail Marys: Holding the Hand of Fear

A month before my birthday, I wasn’t sure I was going to have another one. 

Lately, I have been contemplating aging and dying more than usual. Turning 60 feels different than turning any other age before it. I take seriously the advice from The Rule of St. Benedict to “Keep death daily before your eyes,” but most often I heed it by how I live my daily life. I try not to dwell on the actual dying part. But this year is different.  

Less than a week before he turned 60, a long-time friend suddenly passed away. He went to bed not feeling well and didn’t wake up. Colin and I would share birthday greetings every year, even if we hadn’t seen each other in a while. Now that will never happen again.

I have spent the few months since his passing considering how quickly life can change, how we are never promised another day. As grateful as I am for each new day, I can still be filled with fear at the idea of dying.

And that was my state of mind when, after breakfast on a Tuesday morning, my throat felt unusual, like I hadn’t swallowed something completely. I asked my husband, Joe, to look at it before I joined a Zoom meeting.

“Looks okay,” he said, so I drank some water and filled my mug with coffee and prepared to begin. Less than ten minutes into the meeting, my eyes started to itch. I realized I was experiencing a health emergency when I looked in a mirror—in real time, I could see my eyes swelling and closing. (Remember The Incredible Hulk? That transformation is what came to mind as I watched my eyes and face change shape.)

On a hurried internet search, my symptoms indicated “anaphylaxis: a sudden, severe, and potentially life-threatening allergic reaction.”  I had never experienced anything like this, so I knew I needed emergency care, and fast. I told Joe something serious was happening, and we needed to go RIGHT NOW. Worry and anxiety are not new to me, but I experienced panic and fear as I never had.

“I am so scared,” I said.

On the way to urgent care, between hysterics and Hail Marys, I could only think of dying and not wanting to, and that we needed to hurry, knowing things can happen so quickly. After my husband dropped me off near the door, I cut the long line, crying for help. Within minutes, I was given my first injection of epinephrine and instructed to get to the emergency department.

“I am so scared.”

When we arrived at the ED, I was escorted past other waiting patients, hooked up to IVs, given a second EpiPen injection, and had blood tests. Several doctors, specialists, and nurses came in and out.

“I am so scared,” I told Joe, for perhaps the hundredth time.

Doctors recommended that I be admitted to the hospital to be monitored. If I had a rebound reaction and couldn’t swallow, I would be put on a ventilator.

“I am so scared,” I kept saying.

Joe told me I’d be okay, to think positively, to stay calm- perhaps excellent advice when I am in my right mind. But I was hysterical. I screamed, “Colin probably thought he was going to be okay too! Things happen; people die!”  Colin certainly didn’t think he would die the night his blood sugar was low. How could Joe tell me I’m going to be okay? Sometimes things aren’t okay. Sometimes people die.

Continue reading “Hysterics and Hail Marys: Holding the Hand of Fear” →
1

Wood: A Symbol for Five Years of Marriage

Symbols and rituals mark special anniversaries just as smells and bells evoke the sacred in the liturgy. Both are invitations to celebration.

Our daughter, Jessica, married her Prince Charming, John Holland, in a fairytale, storybook wedding on July 17, 2021, five (?!#?) years ago. It feels more like two, but I’ve realized that no matter how many years ago I thought something was, I should simply double it. When Jessica was little (which seems like just a minute ago), she said she wanted to be a princess when she grew up—so Prince Charming found his perfect match as well. And we gained a son.

We gathered—John and Jessica’s community, their friends and family—to support and bless their marriage. Hearts and flowers, vows and wedding rings, first kisses and champagne toasts were the symbols and rituals of the day.

Medieval traditions marked twenty-five and fifty-year anniversaries with silver and gold, metals of great value. As anniversary celebrations became more common in the Victorian era, materials of increasing strength and durability were assigned to the years of a couple’s marriage. Last year, my husband, Joe, and I celebrated forty years of marriage, our Ruby Anniversary.

Wood, the symbol for a five-year marriage, represents the roots Jessica and John planted together on their wedding day. Like a tree, a marriage that celebrates five years has weathered some challenges, becoming stronger and more resilient. Wood, as a living, breathing part of creation, reflects how a marriage must constantly evolve, grow, and expand to be more fruitful through the years. Indeed, marriage is between the two who professed their love and stability, but their community also plays a role.

In How to Live: What the Rule of St. Benedict Teaches Us About Happiness, Meaning and Community, Judith Valente writes that a monastic community is “a place where people agree to link arms, support one another, and help each other grow.”

John and Jessica’s community “linked arms” with them to help plan and celebrate their wedding day. Both dads and John’s brother shared a toast, the mothers gave a blessing, and a family friend was the officiant. Their guests were a part of the ceremony as well—

Continue reading “Wood: A Symbol for Five Years of Marriage” →
0

July 11–My Birthday & The Feast of St. Benedict

St. Benedict is pretty special to me for a few reasons.

July 11, the Feast of St. Benedict, is also my birthday. (And oops, I was having so much fun celebrating my 60th birthday that I forgot to share this post.) Although I could not be more delighted to have St. Benedict as my patron saint, I must admit that I was pretty disappointed when I first discovered it.

I believe in birthday weeks, celebrations, having fun, and the Rule of St. Benedict!

My parents had given me an illustrated book of the “Lives of the Saints” for my Confirmation. As any nine-year-old would do, I immediately looked to see who the saint was for July 11, my birthday. A lovely woman saint with a beautiful name, I had hoped. Perhaps Elizabeth or Mary, Theresa or Christine (my confirmation name) would be my special saint.

Instead, I saw an illustration of a man with a dark hood, a scary-looking bird, some sort of walking cane, and an unusual name that I had only associated with Benedict Arnold, a famous American traitor.

July 11, St. Benedict, Abbot, it said.

I had never heard of St. Benedict and surely did not know what an Abbot was. Through the years, I returned to these pages often, thinking that I should have some connection with this man, my patron saint.

Fast forward 26 years. Married, a mother of a seven-year-old daughter, a high school teacher, and a club sponsor, I had a full, busy, and satisfying life, yet also a longing for silence. An advertisement for a contemplative prayer retreat in our local newspaper caught my eye. It promised an “oasis of peace” at a retreat house in the cornfields of Nebraska called St. Benedict Center.

And then I remember St. Benedict. My saint.

Continue reading “July 11–My Birthday & The Feast of St. Benedict” →
0

Independence Day: Childhood Memories of the Bicentennial Year

Joy is an act of spiritual and political resistance. Childhood memories of joy: the 4th grade, a one-room schoolhouse, a New Jersey pen pal, and 4th of July fireworks!

In 1976, when the United States celebrated its Bicentennial Year, I had just finished the fourth grade. I will never forget that school year and the following summer. My family moved from the north side of town to the south side, and I was anxious about starting at a new school in the fall. I turned ten, a coveted double-digit age, and everyone was alive with the Spirit of ’76.

The fourth grade was a big deal in Nebraska. Students learned about Nebraska history and attended a school day in a one-room schoolhouse, just like the “olden days”—bonnets for the girls, suspenders for the boys, slate boards, dunce caps, and more. We also learned about the American Revolution and participated in the Bicentennial Correspondence*, a pen pal project that encouraged students to connect with peers in other parts of the country. I remember the excitement when Denise from Paterson, New Jersey, responded to my letter. We continued to write to each other throughout our school years.

And, of course, every child (and plenty of adults) eagerly anticipated the grand finale, the Independence Day fireworks celebration. As daylight fades and darkness falls, whether at the end of one’s driveway, on a small-town baseball diamond, or in a city park, scintillating sparks soaring through the skies, crackling explosions, and brilliant bursts of light have become the pinnacle of any Fourth of July celebration.

Fireworks can evoke a variety of feelings—from excitement, pride, and awe to anxiety, fear, and disbelief. I enjoy the displays but abhor the loud sounds. I think of shuddering dogs hiding under beds and the trauma that many veterans experience, a vivid reminder of war. I consider how much money is spent on fireworks that could be used in so many ways to help others. Feeling conflicted, I watch and wonder. For this moment, I hold the tension between light and dark, beauty and terror.

Continue reading “Independence Day: Childhood Memories of the Bicentennial Year” →
1

Images of Faith: The Sacred Heart of Jesus and My Grandma

Images are so powerful. They tap into the pool of memories, both personal and universal, that are deep within us. One image can be understood in so many ways—for different people, faiths, and cultures, or for the same person over time.

In June, the Catholic Church observes a special devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus. Whenever I see an image of the Sacred Heart of Jesus pop up in my social media feed or in a spiritual setting, memories of my grandma come flooding back.

She had a framed image of the Sacred Heart between her living room and her kitchen. As a young child, I remember wondering why the heart had fire and blood on it…and, quite honestly, I was a little afraid of the image. I never asked about it, and she never said anything either. Same with the rosary on her nightstand (pictured below). Or the prayer cards on her dresser. But I remember them. Those images communicated a deep faith in Catholicism and belief in and devotion to Jesus that I intuitively knew she had.

rosary

We didn’t talk much about faith, but she always encouraged her sons, their wives, and grandchildren to go to church, and she was so proud when I received my First Communion and Holy Confirmation. Her faith in God was important to her, but she didn’t need many words to convey it.

Communion Confirmation

So often, words can narrow an experience, while images can broaden our understanding and invite new insights. Words are road signs to an understanding or experience, but it is through images, with their universal and archetypal qualities, that we make connections. Images stand the test of time, linking generations and reaching across cultures.

In Why We Need Fairytales Now, a Wonder Cabinet podcast interview, author Sharon Blackie shares how images are a gateway to wonder. “Images come to us with a moral claim. They reveal themselves to us, and they nag at us, and they gnaw away at us, and they will not let us go… it is the beauty of image…It has its own process of becoming.”

No doubt, words help us understand, articulate, and explain, but as I age and grow, I find that words that used to be sufficient to express my beliefs need to be reimagined. My understanding of God and others has evolved with new experiences and insights. I like searching for, writing, and finding words that resonate with me—that give me the feeling that YES, that’s IT!! THAT’S what I believe, THAT’S how I feel! I love words. I love to write them, and I love to read them.

But increasingly, it’s images that take me to a place of connectedness with God, a place that is beyond words. Images can be a path to contemplative prayer. Images connect to the essence of what I believe, as words simply attempt to clarify or define, but always fall short. Images take me into the Presence, the Mystery of Christ.

grandma collage
Helen Theresa Raiter Blazek, November 16, 1914 – June 16, 1984

Meditating upon an image, such as the Sacred Heart of Jesus, allows the image to penetrate our entire being. We open our hearts to hearing what God is saying at this moment, with an image. We let the Holy Spirit bring us heart understanding rather than just intellectual understanding (flashback to memorizing catechism questions for my Holy Confirmation!) The Sacred Heart of Jesus reaches beyond the mind into our body and spirit. Christ’s infinite love surrounds, permeates, and emanates. The mystery of Christ becomes its fullest expression.

What images of your faith have resonated with you through the years? How was faith communicated through the generations in your family? Share in the comments.

May you have a Blessed Feast of the Sacred Heart of Jesus.

© Jodi Blazek Gehr, Being Benedictine Blogger

0

Every Day is Happy Mother’s Day!

“You got your girl!” my husband exclaimed.

Wrapped up in the frenzy of labor, I had all but forgotten that the baby I was going to deliver (hopefully sooner rather than later) even had a gender. Despite having 25 hours of labor, I was so exhilarated with having accomplished the feat of bringing this baby to the outside of my body that I felt like I could have run a marathon. It was a surreal moment, time outside of time. I will never forget this sacred moment of birthing a daughter.

“There should be a song for women to sing at this moment, or a prayer to recite. But perhaps there is none because there are no words strong enough to name that moment. Like every mother since the first mother, I was overcome and bereft, elated and ravaged. I had crossed over from girlhood. I beheld myself as an infant in my mother’s arms, and caught a glimpse of my own death. I wept without knowing whether I rejoiced or mourned.”—Anita Diamant, The Red Tent

That baby girl, Jessica Morgan, will be 32 years old in July, and I am still singing a song of elation. Certainly, the adult Jessica years are different from the first words, first steps, kindergarten-to-teenager-in-the-blink-of-an-eye years, but her becoming is still beautiful to behold, no matter her age.

It has been ten years since she graduated from college and moved out of state—from Nebraska to Washington, D.C., and then to Madison, Wisconsin, for graduate school. There, she fell in love with John, got married, and gave us a kind-hearted, hilarious, intelligent, perfect-for-our-family son-in-law. It has been a joy to watch her grow in her marriage and career as a health care policy advisor.

Jessica’s wedding, 2021

There are years when Jessica and I cannot spend Mother’s Day together, but it matters little. Most days, we talk or text, and truly, it feels like every day is Mother’s Day, no matter where the other is. But Mother’s Day is always an opportunity to reflect on her growing-up years.

When Jessica was just a toddler, I created a bedtime prayer that I blessed her with each night. Some nights, in a hurry, it was shortened to “God bless Jessica’s mind, body, and spirit. Amen.” Still, it remains my prayer for Jessica as she continues to become, giving birth to herself over and over again, becoming more herself.

God bless Jessica’s mind so that she makes good decisions and choices.

God bless Jessica’s body so that she grows strong and healthy and safe.

God bless Jessica’s spirit so that she knows the love of God and others. Amen.”

(from Jessica Becoming)

Jessica becoming
Jessica Becoming, a special card for all the phases of Jessica’s life through high school, 2012.

There is nothing that could make my Mother’s Day any happier than knowing that my prayers have been, and are being, answered. Jessica has made good decisions; she is strong and healthy, and she knows the love of God and of others. She is becoming.

A Mother’s Blessing SoulCollage I created when Jessica graduated from college in 2016.

“Blessing Jessica, as my grown-up child, is a journey of becoming comfortable with the uncertainty and the many possibilities for her future, letting go slowly, surely, courageously. The blessing card is as much a reminder for me as it is for Jessica.” (from A Mother’s Blessing)

That sacred moment of birth continues into all the moments of becoming. This is all a mother desires—to know that her child is happy, at peace, learning, growing, working hard, loving well, and always becoming.

I journey with Jessica in her becoming. As she grows, I grow. It makes every day a Happy Mother’s Day.

© Jodi Blazek Gehr, Being Benedictine Blogger

1

Happy Birthday, Shero Joan Chittister!

Happy Birthday, Shero Joan Chittister!

Celebrating 90 years of life on April 26, 2026, Benedictine Sister Joan Chittister’s prophetic voice is a call to action in a polarized world.

I call her my Shero, but most people call her Sr. Joan Chittister. A Benedictine nun for over 70 years, a modern-day prophet, spirited and prolific writer, she has authored more than 50 books (many of which are on my bookshelves) and hundreds of articles. Her voice inspires, encourages, guides, heartens, and provokes in all the good ways.

Meeting Sr. Joan at the 4th World Congress of Benedictine Oblates in 2017 was a dream come true! I felt I could have talked with her forever, a real soul sister.

A woman with a heart on fire—Joan is unafraid to use her voice for justice, equality, inclusion, and peace. Joan’s energy, hope, resilience, and overall sassiness are an inspiration to me. She has served in a variety of leadership roles, including prioress of her monastery, President of the Leadership Conference of Women Religious, and President of the Federation of St. Scholastica, but it is her voice in the world that cannot be contained, bringing new ways to understand faith and spirituality and a woman’s place in it all.

As a leader of women, she is unapologetically outspoken on behalf of women’s causes. Of course, a strong woman’s voice seems to inevitably result in a controversy or two, but Joan is not shy about doubling down on her beliefs, even if it puts her at odds with the Vatican. For this, I love her so. She is courageous and convicted.

Having grown up in a Catholic diocese where doubt and certainly questions were not welcome, imagine the appeal of Chittister’s spiritual memoir, Called to Question. REALLY, I am also called to question? The answer: Yes, I am. Not only do I have permission, but I also have a role model. I, too, can and must ask questions, trust the answers, and use my voice—not without consequence, of course—with an unashamed, authentic spirituality open to deeper learning.

“It is a discouraging process sometimes to need to begin over and over again to complete the process of spiritual growth, which we tend to believe should be linear when it is, in fact, circular to the core,” Chittister writes in Called to Question.

Continue reading “Happy Birthday, Shero Joan Chittister!” →
1

The Right Book at the Right Time

Celebrating my love of books and synchronicity on World Book Day!

As both a bibliophile and a believer in synchronicity, I love it when the right book comes along at just the right time.

Whether at home or away, I always have a book, or ten, by my bedside and a couple of audiobooks in progress. I like to have choices.

I have dozens of books on my shelves that I want to re-read (and do) (and will), especially for planning retreats that I lead, and I have dozens waiting for just the right time to open. I have a To Be Read shelf on Goodreads that I add to daily (467 at last count). There is no chance in my lifetime that I will get them all read, but no matter. I find this advice wonderful:

“Think not of the books you’ve bought as a ‘to be read’ pile. Instead, think of your bookcase as a wine cellar. You collect books to read at the right time, the right place, and the right mood.” -Luc van Donkersgoed

Reading a good book can inspire, motivate, and encourage. A good book can take you to another world in your imagination, create or satisfy your curiosity, help you learn new information, or impart life lessons. A good book can make you wonder, help you solve a problem, and make you laugh or cry. A good book can challenge you, make you angry, make you happy, or help you understand. A good book is satisfying.

I have heard “the buying of more books than one can read is nothing less than the soul reaching toward infinity.”

–A. Edward Newton

I cannot get enough of books, and I am okay with that. For all of my days, I will reach towards the wonder of stories yet to be read, things to be learned, feelings to be felt. My soul reaches toward infinity…

Sharing a few reflections on books that have touched me (and so many more to come):

The Right Book at the Right Time: A Divine Encounter (The Red Bird by Paula D’Arcy)

A Journey with The Little Prince (The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry)

Atoms of Delight: A Pilgrimage to Iona (Atoms of Delight by Kenneth Steven)

The Book of Longings (The Book of Longings by Sue Monk Kidd)

Why I Teach (The Courage to Teach by Parker Palmer)

You Say I am Loved and That Is Enough (Made for Goodness by Desmond Tutu)

Home Is The Nicest Word There Is  (Soul of a Pilgrim by Christine Valters Paintner)

Naked Before God (Soul of a Pilgrim by Christine Valters Paintner)

The Soul of a Pilgrim: A Benedictine Pilgrimage, Part 1 (Soul of a Pilgrim by Christine Valters Paintner)

© Jodi Blazek Gehr, Being Benedictine Blogger

0

The Sower and The Seed

“It has been said that in recent decades we have been moving from the experience of authority to the authority of experience. More people are giving value to their own spiritual experience…(recognizing) the presence and unique whispers of God in our personal lives…” Tilden Edwards, Foreword, Saint Benedict on the Freeway

This is precisely what the practice of Lectio Divina, sacred reading, brings to one’s spiritual journey. We contemplate what we read, reflecting on the words or phrases that resonate, listening to the voice of God for insights and wisdom. It is a personal experience of what a text uniquely says to us. It can work for all great literature, poetry, scripture, and sacred writing.

As if through the lens of a kaleidoscope, with each turn one sees a slightly different message, a new perspective, another a-ha! Likely, you have heard The Parable of the Sower many times, but TODAY may bring something new to embrace. With return visits to a passage, we come to understand that we are always learning, drawing new insights based on where we are in our spiritual journey and season of life.

At the April 2026 Oblate meeting of Christ the King Priory, as is our monthly practice, we read and reflect on a scripture passage. The Parable of the Sower (Matthew 13:1-9) with readings from a new book selection, Saint Benedict on the Freeway, and The Rule of St. Benedict, Chapters 31-35, was the focus.

Matthew 13:1-9, The Parable of the Sower. On that day, Jesus went out of the house and sat down by the sea. Such large crowds gathered around him that he got onto a boat and sat down, and the whole crowd stood along the shore. And he spoke to them at length in parables, saying “A sower went out to sow. And as he sowed, some seed fell on the path, and birds came and ate it up. Some fell on rocky ground, where it had little soil. It sprang up at once because the soil was not deep, and when the sun rose it was scorched, and it withered for lack of roots. Some seed fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked it. But some seed fell on rich soil, and produced fruit, a hundred or sixty or thirtyfold.  Whoever has ears ought to hear.”

So often we interpret this story as a particular person being like the rocky ground, the rich soil, and so on, but the author of Saint Benedict on the Freeway: A Rule of Life for the 21st Century, Corinne Ware asks: “If I were to think of myself as having within me all the varieties of soils, in other words, of manifesting each of these varied responses to God, how then would I see myself as the subject of this parable?” We can read this parable, a short story intended to teach spiritual truths, in many ways.

Continue reading “The Sower and The Seed” →
0

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑