How blessed I am to be writing to you in early August from a small cottage in Maine. It is
surrounded by woods, but still close enough to the ocean so that from the porch where I
am sitting, I can hear the crash of the surf faintly—if I am very still.
The fact that I can only hear the ocean if I am still recalls to me what St. Clare teaches us
about prayer. Our spiritual mother delved deeply into contemplative prayer, certainly during
her many years as a cloistered nun, but apparently even early in her life. Her ability to
cultivate deep quiet so as to listen and to look—as she would say, into the “mirror” of
Christ crucified—also allowed her to understand deeply the will of God for her life.
The path that God willed for St. Clare was by no means expected or conventional. In fact,
at the time it was shocking. The young Clare left a wealthy, aristocratic family with a high
status in the walled city of Assisi to join an upstart religious group living in the wilds outside
the walls, headed by a young man with less education and a lower social status than
Clare—our dear St. Francis. Even years later, when both Francis and Clare had won the
respect and regard of all, Clare continued to buck social and religious conventions of her
time. She gently but firmly refused the imposition of a rule written by male clerics for her
sisters. Eventually, just before her death, she became the first woman in history to have
her own religious rule approved by the pope.
St. Clare’s spiritual teachings, as well as the example of her life, have much to tell us if we
can still ourselves enough to listen. I look forward to seeing you on August 15 to discuss