Arkansas Online

Simple sisters

Steve Straessle Steve Straessle is the principal of Little Rock Catholic High School for Boys. You can reach him at sstraessle@lrchs.org. Find him on Twitter @steve_straessle. “The Strenuous Life” appears every other Saturday.

There is a sweetness to their singing. It’s different in a way that I’d call angelic, though that’s too easy.

A single bell tolled above the Carmelite Monastery marking the start of Mass one Sunday morning, a sound that echoed off the nearby UALR campus across University Avenue. Then the nuns filled their chapel with the chords of a hymn.

Sweet and kind but strong. That’s what it sounded like. The chapel is made of wood balanced by the strength of terrazzo floors. It’s simple–a quality that will always remain the best part of faith no matter how far religions may travel from their roots.

It’s obvious these Carmelite nuns are working hard to get back to a sense of those

33 years Christ spent on

Earth. Folks like them find their foundations in the atmosphere of goodness so beautifully described within the Beatitudes. You know, the blessed are the poor in spirit, blessed are the merciful, blessed are those persecuted because of righteousness Sermon on the Mount.

In this age it’s troubling, however, that others seem to pile layer upon layer of humanity on this simple message.

It’s natural that the centuries would leave behind some baggage, but when the message becomes so fully entangled in the politics of man that abuse, war, and an actual rejection of the message occurs, well, it’s time to seek simplicity again.

Such is the history of the human touch. In our search for clarity, we often confuse acrobatics for real movement forward. That’s where simplicity is most valuable.

This concept seems more tangible in these days between Thanksgiving and the New Year, these days that families gather and churches overflow. It’s because the calendar year is coming to a close and we’re reveling in that period sandwiched between holidays, I guess.

What will it become for us? Shall we hold on to the past or illuminate the coming future?

The last year has been an experience of violence and beauty, deception and dignity. It is indeed the arc of humankind. We find ourselves cast into one of two groups: those who stare into the mud or those who lift their heads to view the stars.

Simply, there is no absolution in the past. Absolution does not reside in the days gone by, but in the days that lie before us. That’s the true promise of this season in which we currently reside.

That’s the simple message delivered full.

Now, we may choose to ignore it and wrap ourselves in the material and enlarge the ranks of the misled. We could watch our faith become weaponized by those who see it only for powerful gain. Even worse, we could hear nothing, do nothing, be nothing and commit the ultimate sin of bystanders. Or.

Or we could listen for that hymn rising through the ceiling boards of the monastery and feel those words landing on our souls like the light touch of snow. The imprint may disappear quickly, but we know the words descended and left a mark, small and fading as it may be.

That touch is simplicity’s reminder, that nagging feeling that we know better and want to be better.

That’s what the coming days of Christmas are for—not to be torn by the grasp of regret but to hold aloft our heads and focus our eyes on the path before us. The rest is background noise, static meant to disrupt and confuse.

If nothing else, this should be the season of simplicity: the season in which family bonds are tightened, faith becomes pure, and we recommit to the holy work of community.

Living in Arkansas gives us a leg up on understanding these mysteries of life. We maintain a tinge of the frontier spirit along with a dash of innovation and an appreciation of the outdoors. We Arkansans easily find ourselves in tune with the symphonies of nature.

Among Little Rock’s great but mostly unseen gifts is the Carmelite Monastery with its congregation of nuns fully given to spiritually impacting the community in which they reside. Their energy is palpable—enlivening and calming all at once.

It reminds me of the river that passes through our state in that it’s similar to the faith that fills the lives of the Carmelites. It’s always flowing. It’s always life-giving. It moves like that hymn did on bended air.

Maybe, one day, the message that is always described as mystery will be realized as logical, normal, plain to see.

Maybe, one day, we’ll realize it’s simple.

Voices

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2022-11-26T08:00:00.0000000Z

2022-11-26T08:00:00.0000000Z

https://edition.arkansasonline.com/article/282140705389585

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