Greetings from St. Mary’s College in South Bend, Indiana. Or, more specifically, the Inn at St. Mary’s, a beautiful hotel on the edge of campus where I’ve been staying since Sunday. I’m here all week giving talks on The Saint John’s Bible as part of a conference with keynote speaker Sandra Schneiders, IHM.
After a day of travel on Sunday, and a little walking around to see Notre Dame’s campus, and doing my own talk Monday morning then attending talks in the morning and afternoon, I have basically moved into the hotel and stayed there. My neuropathy is quite intense, but I feel very clear-headed and not fatigued like I have in the past. Still, I haven’t been able to attend sessions other than my own, and the energy it would take to get to and then navigate the social situation of the dining hall has been beyond me. Instead, when my parents were here Sunday to help me get set up, we bought some food at Whole Foods and I’ve been eating in the room. It helps that the hotel provides a full hot breakfast, and I have eaten twice at the hotel restaurant, once with Sister Sandra and once on my own.
Every day I am picked up at the hotel at 1 p.m. (as S. Sandra is dropped off) and taken to the venue– which is about 2 blocks from the hotel. I facilitate a discussion with the conference participants from 1:30-2:45 p.m. Then I am driven back to the hotel.
It’s a little surreal.
And yet, on Tuesday when I pushed a bit to get up and dressed and attend the liturgy and S. Sandra’s talk, it was clear I needed to pace myself. I got a ride back at the 10 a.m. break and took a nap. I am ready for another nap come 3:30.
So now in the morning I have my breakfast, then take a bath. I work on my slides a bit and then take a nap from 11-12. I eat lunch and I’m good to go at 1. When I get back I put on my comfortable dress, take off my turban, and here I am.
The topic of the conference is the Resurrection in the Gospel of John, from her book: Jesus Risen in Our Midst. It offers a reading of John 20 that might help 21st century Christians with a healthy skepticism about physical bodies rising from the dead to better understand the mystery of the Resurrection and the meaning of Christ’s appearances (in a glorified body) to Mary Magdalene and the other apostles after the crucifixion.
It is not an easy read. But also, I had thought it might have specific significance for me at this time. The basic premise is that Jesus (in all his fullness) is not his human body. God became flesh and lived among us. Jesus was also resurrected– this is a major tenant of our faith (along with the resurrection of the faithful). And the Resurrection must be for a purpose (after the Crucifixion conquers death and reconciles us to God).
There’s too much to get into here (too much, really, for even a 4-day conference). But the discussion focuses in large part on the glorified body of Christ risen from the tomb and with the apostles for 40 days before Christ’s Ascension into heaven. The gift of the Holy Spirit, but also the apostles understanding of the nature of Christ, of the temple destroyed and rebuilt in three days, of the New Covenant. And, ultimately, the witness of the Body of Christ, the Church and all believers.
week 15 selfie in South Bend
And Jesus Christ is not his mortal body. Perhaps I can understand that in a different way right now. Because I draw on my eyebrows and put on my presenter clothes and tie up my favorite turban and look in the mirror and think: “Who is this?” Earlier in treatment, I have recognized myself, my face. But this week, I look strange to myself. I can’t feel my hands and feet and I’m unsteady. I see an altered person in the mirror.
And yet, from 1-2:30 p.m., talking about a project I know so well, or even in my room here, resting and reading and eating food from the fridge, when I am speaking or thinking or having dinner with Sister Sandra– I am myself. I am not out in the world the way I have been, and I know for the next few months I will be in this circumscribed world in a different way than even the first twelve weeks. But I am here. Greetings from South Bend. Wish you were here.
Flying over Indiana
POWERFUL post Susan. Beyond the intellect. In the THICK of it. We are listening. You’ve got our attention…
I as worried the post itself was too “thick.” Three more treatments to go– and yes, very much feeling the full brunt of what is happening. And talking with a group of 120 nuns each afternoon about the eternal moment, the end of death, the meaning of the Incarnation and the Resurrection– powerful stuff.
You go girl! Very impressive. I’m proud of you.
It has been so wonderful being at this amazing conference with 3 excellent presenters. Susan, you are a true delight!! Your comments on the illustrations of the St. John’s Bible have been scholarly, insightful, prayerful, and sometimes humorous. You are the very definition of “down-to-earth” and maybe that goes with living on a farm! Thank you for being able to work and rest and take care of yourself wisely so that all 150 or so of us can learn from the best!! I hope this week will be a healing experience in body and soul for you.
Wow, Susan. You are so strong. I see you in those photos. The same thoughtful wonderful person I knew so many years ago. Hope you are having a great week.
Your post brought this poem to mind Susan, so I offer it. Thank you for your beautiful reflection. Gilly
Food for Risen Bodies – VI
(Abeja blanca zumbas – ebria de miel – en mi alma.
-Pablo Neruda)
No longer ravenous, they smoke
and sip. Some carry tables out
to get a feel for sun on skin again.
More words are coming back,
so there’s a lot of naming.
Old ones still hold good – oak,
brook, crab, sycamore – but more
are needed now. They mull
potential titles for these new
white bees, as sharp as stars
against the ivories of cherry
or magnolia. Word gets round
the bees were new creations
made in honour of a poet,
so they wait for him to choose.
He’s in no hurry, cups them
in his hands, weighs up the tenor
of their hum. The sun brings colour
to the diners’ sallow skins.
Although these bodies were not
theirs before, there are resemblances,
and flesh retains a memory
even beyond death, so every
lover’s touch, each blow or cut
is rendered into echo not the hand,
the lips, the neck. Some fall silent,
while their own phenomenology
is mapped across them.
Others look astonished,
expecting their new skin to be
a blank sheet, but the man
who went ahead to find a route
for them came back with wounds
intact and palpable. No pain,
but a record nontheless, a history
of love and war in blank tattoos.
Michael Symmons Roberts (Corpus, 61)
Thank you, Gilly. I didn’t know this poem and will read it many times. Perfect.
“Although these bodies were not
theirs before, there are resemblances,
and flesh retains a memory
even beyond death, so every
lover’s touch, each blow or cut
is rendered into echo not the hand,
the lips, the neck.”