Email etiquette, babies!

Hi everyone! Last call to register for Tuesday’s VIRTUAL class with General Assembly on email etiquette. I designed this class before the pandemic began, and it was highly relevant then - and even more so now as we all state at our screens and try to be polite via email.

BEST NEWS OF ALL: I have a special discount code you can use for a whopping 50% off. Visit the registration page and use code EmailEtiquette_50 to bop off that 50%. That means this class is only $28!

Details: Tuesday, May 19, 6:30 pm

Register for this class to learn the do’s and don’ts of writing effective, positive, proactive email communication. Learn simple steps to guide your tone and professionalism when emailing, and learn when it’s time to move the conversation offline and face to face.

Takeaways:

• The difference between writing professional and personal emails

• The advantage of being a proactive emailer

• When to use exclamation marks

• How to effectively find and set a meeting time with multiple parties via email

• The golden rule: never complain, never explain (in email writing, and in life!) And more!

Register today!

A reflection for the 6th Sunday of Easter

It is already the 6th Sunday of Easter.

Fr. John Langlois, OP, writes a reflection each Sunday that goes out over the Dominicans’ listserv. You can see the full text of today’s reflection/sermon here. It is about how over the course of Easter, the readings move from a focus on the physical acts after the Resurrection of Jesus, to the manner in which God’s spirit dwells in all of us as a result.

Here is the part that got me: Fr. Langlois asks, “…we can wonder to ourselves if this new life within us is for real. It can be difficult at times to believe that Christ is alive in us, and that the Holy Spirit is at work in our life. In fact, we seem to be repeatedly confronted with evidence to the contrary. If this indwelling of God within us is for real, then why do we still struggle with sinful desires? Why do we continue to sin, or seem unable to grow in virtue?”

I just counted it up, and I am about to enter week 10 of quarantine. That’s 68 days, as of today. Sadly, it has not felt much like Easter (though I know, Easter is not a feeling) and I do think the longer I spend away from the sacraments and the ability to attend church, the easier it is to despair. I am reminded that despair is a sin.

Fr. Langlois responds with this:

Well, first of all, it’s true that the point of God’s dwelling within us is to make us holy, to transform us more and more into his likeness from within. But it’s also true that this is a work he brings about over the course of time, and is largely hidden from our eyes. And actually, one of the signs of his presence within is our deeper perception and awareness of the extent of our sinfulness. It is precisely because of his presence and work within us that our minds and hearts are enlightened to see sinful habits that we didn’t see before! That’s why it often seems like we’re regressing. And this also explains how many of the great saints rightly thought of themselves as great sinners, because the more God dwells in us, the more we see how imperfect and un-holy we are! This deeper awareness of our sinfulness is a sign of progress, not regression.

“Largely hidden from our eyes,” and, “That’s why it often seems like we are regressing.”

This week I led a (virtual) book discussion on Fr. Jacques Phillipe’s Interior Freedom. It is a small book, but every sentence contains a universe of meaning worth re-reading and exploring. A point he makes is that our desire to know why God works the way He does is an indication of not only a lack of trust, but an indication of a desire for power. Now if you know me, you know I like to understand the why, so the times in life when I don’t - and they are many! More often than not! - I am frustrated. I find the only way to any sense of peace is to lift these instances up to God, instead (which usually looks ungraciously like, “Fine, God, have it your way.” And then, “Okay, enough time has passed. How about now, God?”).

So I like Fr. Langlois’s point, that much of what God does for and in us is hidden. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist; that doesn’t mean it isn’t real. As he says, it takes place “over the course of time.” Perhaps I will never see or understand it.

So, he says, God dwells within us. God dwells within us, even still, and He is among us, even still. This “season”, as our evangelical brethren say, is no doubt one of the hardest many of us will endure in our lifetimes. And in the darkness that exists, perhaps it is easier for sin to enter in, or simply it is easier for us to see. The thing to remember, and what I took away from this reflection, is that it does not mean God is any less present. I may have to try extra hard to believe Christ dwells within me, but it doesn’t make it any less true than at any other time in my life, whether I can see, believe and understand it, or now.

He ends with: “The more we believe in Christ’s indwelling and allow him to live his life in us, the more we will experience the new life he offers us here and now.”

Here is a river flowing very fast now

I received a copy of a reflection given by Sr. Joanna Burley, OSB, prioress at the Benedictine Sisters of Virginia in Bristow, VA. She gave the reflection on one of the community’s “Silent Sundays,” which I gather is something (maybe like a retreat) the community holds periodically.

In the reflection, Sr. Joanna calls her sisters to look at their “monastic heart,” especially the ways their monastic community is providing safety and support during the pandemic. She shared a letter - more like a poem - written by the Elders of the Hopi Nation that I really like:

Here is a river flowing now very fast.
It is so great and swift that there are those who will be afraid,
who will try to hold on to he shore.
They are being torn apart, and will suffer greatly.
Know that the river has its destination.
The elders say we must let go of the shore.
Push off into the middle of the river, and keep our heads above water.
And I say as well, see who is there with you, and celebrate.

Necessary disclaimer: I have tried to find the origins or context of this poem and have turned up nothing reliable. So I am not endorsing any context here, especially if it is political; just the meaning.

Anyway, the image of a fast-running river feels perfect for our time. It is hard to keep up with what is happening, how quickly life has changed, even what we know we can believe. And we are in it, and moving, for better or worse, and very quickly.

This phrase: know that the river has its destination. What a reminder. In other words, God knows what he is about. This is a phase or a season, and it is not meaningless. There is an end; there will be resolution. This is all moving toward something.

To let go of the shore: stop fighting. Go with the flow. Accept life for what it is. Easier said than done.

See who is there with you, and celebrate. Maybe this is the easiest thing, as we all have the constellation of family and friends we have been speaking with and checking in with over the past few weeks. Have any of your relationships changed as a result of what we’re going through? Did some friendships rise or become surprisingly prominent? Did others you thought you could rely on fall through? Are you celebrating, together? Maybe alone?

It is not on me to say, okay, God, we have all learned the lesson. Whatever it is. Time to ease up on us here. (I wish I could do that with any difficult thing I endure.) I am not sure I know what the lesson is, anyway. I suspect there is more than one, and it varies by individual. We have probably all learned to, at the very least, slow down. But if we have learned the lessons of facing reality for what is and letting go, well, there’s that.