Happy Day!

Dear Benedict

Today we celebrate the life of your twin sister, St Scholastica. Of course even as I write this I am making a whole host of assumptions about her, you and the story. Some wonder if she really existed, some wonder if she really was your twin sister and some wonder if she had a story of her own.

I’m a great one for wondering. It gets me by. I’ll go with Scholastica as sister and twin for the purposes of wondering. That tradition has it that she lived a monastic life and that her community used your Rule, as do so many still today. It would be obvious to any who knew me that I’d borrow St Scholastica’s cover story for the Mobile Chapel of which I’m the unconfined hermit.

Bambi, the Mobile Chapel of St Scholastica, in her winter coat, January 2021

The idea that both twin communities were following the same rule gives it a greater strength. It was being tried out and lived with in different circumstances. Although the scholar in me would like to have more words actually attributable to Scholastica, I think there are plenty in the Rule that are probably hers. You heard her and it would have influenced what you wrote. As I write to you I try to find a short title for the day, and I attribute that search to Scholastica: an urge to find a few words that resonate with contemporary life.

Bambi, the Mobile Chapel of St Scholastica, in Longdendale in the summer of 2020

I also learned that Scholastica is known as the patron saint of children with epilepsy. As one who worked with children who have epilepsy and their families for many years this is dear to me too.

From the remembered gospel: At the bottom of the mountain, Jesus meets a family of a boy who has seizures. This child’s father says to Jesus ‘I believe, help my unbelief!’ The mother is silent.

So today I once again think of all those silent through the ages, not necessarily by choice, but often by convention. I remember the silent unrecorded ones, those who’s words were not written down or remembered. I remember all those who have helped my unbelief.

Like Scholastica, may I follow The Way.

From a Friend of Scholastic and a Member of the Lay Community of St Benedict.

A Christmas Story for 2020

And in those days a decree was issued that put most people into tier 3, so Mary and Joseph couldn’t travel to their home town until they’d had two negative COVID tests five days apart. By the time the results had come through the transport system was heaving and social distancing was as far from reality it’s possible to get. The NHS was teetering on the
edge of collapse and they were lucky to find a vet and a barn on a celebrity farm, and Mary bought forth her first born son and laid him in a manger because the hospitality sector was still not fully open.

And there were some shepherds, keeping watch in the fields, still hoping a no deal Brexit could be avoided, and lo an angel of the Lord came down and said ‘Do not be afraid, for the good news is there will be a network of lorry parks in Kent. And this will be a sign to you, just off the M20, you will find the child lying in a manger.’

And suddenly the heavenly host were streaming ‘Glory to God in the High Street, peas in the food bank, and global goodwill to all.

Janet Lees, December 2020
A short break from letters to Benedict to bring you a seasonal story.
Leeds Christmas Market, not 2020

All sentient beings

I sniffed the air. I was testing it to decide whether to run or stay. The sharp smell of human sweat came through the trees towards me but I decide to stay hidden in the leaf littered hollow as it was a little way from the path.
A woman walked along holding a child tightly by the hand. She wasn’t looking for a small creature in the undergrowth. I’d made the right decision.
Before I was born I had decided as all must, in case you had forgotten. From the catalogue of all sentient beings where should my soul reside? I thought about it carefully. Some admired the human being, like the woman and child walking there. Others chose carnivores or creatures that could fly or swim. Me, I chose a small herbivore to be my sentient being. Excellent sense of smell and keen intelligence, good camouflage: I was at home in the leafy hollow. Of course I was also vulnerable to humans or carnivores or raptors gliding above me. But each creature had its vulnerabilities including those that looked or thought they were the strongest. In the forest I was well hidden and well fed. I could usually find a welcoming mud wallow for my comfort or amusement.
As I looked around the forest, knowing this was where I would grow up, I was content. When asked for my choice by the Almighty Creator, I had answered confidently, ‘Pig’.
Some had sniggered. Pig was not their idea of an attractive sentient being. But I was happy being a pig and, with all sentient brings, I lifted my snout and I praised God.

In our life and our believing
The love of God

JAL 29.01.2019