Statio

In the September 2020 issue of Mundi Medicina, an email newsletter from Holy Cross Monastery, Rev. Matthew Wright writes:

"In monastic terminology, statio can refer to both a place and a practice.  The Latin word literally means "station" or "position"; over time, it came to signify a monastic community's gathering briefly before worship, or the space through which one transitions into worship. . . . It is, essentially, a transition point, a holy pause."

While the word "statio" is new for me, I have been practicing this holy pause for over a decade. At the beginning of each spiritual direction conversation I invite the two of us to have a few minutes of silence together.  If the person has traveled to meet with me, this provides a time to fully arrive and for us to become more present to each other.  Even in this time of virtual conversations, being together in silence allows me to refocus myself to our being together.

The members of the Benedictine monastery who lived in Whitby Abbey in England probably included times of statio as a regular part of their life together.  When I took this photograph of the ruins a few years ago, I was unaware of our common practice.  Yet, wandering through those stones on a foggy day, I frequently paused to look and feel something of the holiness of that place.

Rev. Wright quotes from Wisdom Distilled from the Daily by Joan Chittister:

"The practice of statio is meant to center us and make us conscious of what we're about to do and make us present to the God who is present to us.  Statio is the desire to do consciously what I might otherwise do mechanically.  Statio is the virtue of presence."

The "virtue of presence" is especially important for these days and times.  It is very tempting to escape from the chaos, insecurity, fear and anxiety around and within me.  It is hard to stay present to what is going on within rather than to push it away or deny its power over me.  Yet by putting up that barrier within, I also put up a barrier to be aware of the presence of the Holy One.  I close out the One who I need more than anything else.

As I continue to follow the Rule of Life of the Northumbria Community, remembering to pause and practice statio opens up my ability to be Available and Vulnerable for others as well as myself.

Expressions of Faith

 

During these anxious times, when current events are crashing around me, I think of this picture.  In front are the remaining walls from an old mill on the Turnback Creek in Dade County, Missouri. Those walls hold a calm, still pool of water, while the river water cascades wildly and noisily behind.  I want to be like that quiet pool, separated from external clamor.  Sometimes, for a short time, I can find that place of internal peacefulness.  But I cannot hold onto it for long.

The chaotic voices often become strongest when I am afraid to go to bed because I know they will keep me awake or wake up in the middle of the night.  That is when I turn to the Evening Prayer Office written by the Northumbria Community.  There is a section of the liturgy called Expressions of Faith.  It is a paradoxical contrast of feelings such as weakness, anxiousness, and being unsafe challenged by the promises of choosing to believe that God provides strength, peace, and safety.  Read through them for yourself.

Lord, You have always given
bread for the coming day;
and though I am poor,
today I believe.

Lord, You have always given
strength for the coming day;
and though I am weak,
today I believe.

Lord, You have always given
peace for the coming day;
and though of anxious heart,
today I believe.

Lord, You have always kept
me safe in trials;
and now, tried as I am,
today I believe.

Lord, You have always marked
the road for the coming day;
and though it may be hidden,
today I believe.

Lord, You have always lightened
this darkness of mine;
and though the night is here,
today I believe.

Lord, You have always spoken
when time was ripe;
and though you be silent now,
today I believe.

I know that remembering those promises doesn't make the bad feelings go away;  claiming that "today I believe" is often done with a shaky and uncertain voice.  But committing to believe gives me strength while acknowledging my pain and uncertainty.