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The door was slightly ajar. I knocked lightly and softly called into the room, not wanting to disturb her if she was resting. “Who is it?” she asked. I entered fully into the room, but knowing that her poor eye sight would prevent her from recognizing me, I announced my identity, “It’s Annie.” “Oh Annie!” she exclaimed, as she threw her head back and the widest smile spread across her face. “I am so happy it’s you!”
This describes the opening scene of any (of my many) visits to S. Annina Morgan, a beloved Sister of Charity who went home to God earlier this year after 102 years of faithful discipleship on this earth. The visit would continue with S. Annina inquiring about everything happening in my life, and the two of us delighting in each other’s presence. I always felt like I was someone special after a visit with Annina. After her death, many stories were shared, and it turns out my experience of Annina was not unique. She had a way of making everyone who encountered her feel like someone special. How did she do it? I believe Annina knew what it meant to be real presence.
The door was slightly ajar. I knocked lightly and softly called into the room, not wanting to disturb her if she was resting. “Who is it?” she asked. I entered fully into the room, but knowing that her poor eye sight would prevent her from recognizing me, I announced my identity, “It’s Annie.” “Oh Annie!” she exclaimed, as she threw her head back and the widest smile spread across her face. “I am so happy it’s you!”
This describes the opening scene of any (of my many) visits to S. Annina Morgan, a beloved Sister of Charity who went home to God earlier this year after 102 years of faithful discipleship on this earth. The visit would continue with S. Annina inquiring about everything happening in my life, and the two of us delighting in each other’s presence. I always felt like I was someone special after a visit with Annina. After her death, many stories were shared, and it turns out my experience of Annina was not unique. She had a way of making everyone who encountered her feel like someone special. How did she do it? I believe Annina knew what it meant to be real presence.
My memories of S. Annina re-surfaced in my heart recently
after returning home from my annual retreat; a week of sacred solitude in the peaceful
woods of Nerinx, Kentucky. I can best
describe my week as an experience of, and a call to be, real presence. Although I was physically alone most of the
time, I was very aware of the Trinity as my divine retreat companions. At times I imaged three distinct persons with
physical features; and at other times I imaged more of a vibe or energy – like the
way it feels when you are in a bustling kitchen with family or friends preparing
for a special meal. The sound of
chatter, laughter and clinking glasses; the aroma of delicious food; and the
feeling of joy and belonging while experiencing table fellowship. I find it fitting that Andrei Rublev’s icon The Trinity depicts the divine community
as gathered around a table – real presence to each another.
The Trinity is one of my favorite images of God – God’s very
existence is community. The power of community is that the whole
is greater than the sum of its’ parts.
That is because something more is creating between the individual parts: relationship. It is one thing (and an important thing) to recognize
Christ in everyone we meet; but when our presence to the other is real, we help to create a fuller image
of God by the relationship between us.
As Catholics, we proclaim and embrace the Real Presence of Christ in the
Eucharist. When we commit to becoming
what we receive, it means more than just being Christ alone in the world;
rather it is a commitment to being Christ in relationship to others, to become
real presence in the world.
I live with three other Sisters of Charity in the
neighborhood of East Price Hill on the west side of Cincinnati. It is a neighborhood both rich in diversity,
and in need of a little extra love and care.
We were thrilled to move into the neighborhood, but after a few months
we began to ask ourselves, ‘How can we be a more positive presence in this
neighborhood?’ – after my retreat experience I think I would re-word the
question, ‘How can we be a more real
presence in this neighborhood?’
Inspired by the concept of the Little Free Library, we decided to
install a House of Prayer at the base of our driveway. With the construction skills of my dad, and the
wood burning artistry of one of our sisters, we have a beautiful little house
along our heavily-traveled sidewalk where folks are invited to write their
prayer requests. After its installation,
we waited and wondered, would anyone write?
Within the first 24 hours the first request came, ‘please pray for my
grandma’. Every day since, the prayers
have continued, ranging from prayers of gratitude, to pleas of desperation for
freedom from drug addiction. We continue
to be awed by the willingness of our neighbors to be vulnerable and to share
their most intimate prayers with us.
Each day we collect the little slips of paper out of the pray house and
read them aloud during our community morning prayer. It has helped us to become more aware of the
real presence of real people in our neighborhood. We hope that our neighbors are more aware of
the real presence of our prayers for them.
God is more than the Spirit dwelling within us; God is also the relationship that we create between us. May we be Real Presence in the world.
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| "The Trinity" by Andrei Rublev |
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| Me with S. Annina after I professed my first vows |
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| Visitation House Community after installation of our prayer house |
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| Prayer requests from our neighbors |
