Bring to Bloom
this Arid Place
by Pau
Paulette Skiba, BVM
Virgin Mary of Mount Carmel
Whom in ancient prophecy
God revealed to Saint Elias
By an oriental sea
Rise again on God’s creation
Bring to bloom this arid place
With the white cloud of your beauty
And the rainfall of your grace . . .
These words of Sister Mariam of the Holy Spirit,
OCD (Jessica Powers) as they were set to music by Rafael
Bird, BVM are etched in the hearts of BVMs, associates
and friends. Wrapped in Carmelite symbols, this prayer
to Mary has a deeply interior focus. “Bring to bloom
this arid place” refers first of all to “our soul’s most secret
place” where in “sacred silence” God dwells.
BVM spirituality from the beginning has drawn from
diverse spiritual traditions, so to see this influence of the
Carmelite tradition on the imagination of the congregation is no surprise. BVM Foundress Mary Frances Clarke
had a deeply contemplative and even mystical inclination. This is reflected in early accounts of her profound
sense of communion when receiving the Eucharist in the
privacy of her room. These narratives articulate, in the
language of her day, that her life of service flowed from
her close friendship with Christ.
Like any text that we live with over years, these words
can unfold in new ways—even while remaining tethered
to the mystery of the incarnation born of Mary’s “yes”
which we participate in today.
“Bring to bloom this arid place.” This gentle plea can
become a cry on behalf of a suffering world that moves
us from solitude into solidarity. After marching in Selma,
Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel said, “I felt my legs were
praying.” Praying stirs us.
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S A L T MAGAZINE
The connection between prayer and ministry is beautifully stated by Pope Francis in Evangelii Gaudium:
How good it is for us to contemplate the closeness
he (Jesus) . . . shows to everyone! If he speaks to
someone, he looks into their eyes with deep love
and concern, “Jesus looking upon him, loved him”
(Mk 10:46-52) . . . We see how accessible he is, as
he draws near the blind man (cf. Mk 10:21) . . .
We see his sensitivity in allowing a . . . woman to
anoint his feet (cf. Lk 7:36-50) and in receiving
Nicodemus by night (cf. Jn 3:1-15). Moved by his
example, we want to enter fully into the fabric of
society, sharing the lives of all, listening to their
concerns, helping them materially and spiritually
in their needs, rejoicing with those who rejoice,
weeping with those who weep; arm in arm with
others, we are committed to building a new world.
But we do not do so from a sense of obligation,
not as a burdensome duty, but as the result of a
personal decision which brings us joy and gives
meaning to our lives (EV #269).
This is the “joy of the Gospel.” I recognize it when my
students return from service experiences and exclaim: “I
received more than I gave!” Surely Jesus’ disciples said the
same thing when they debriefed from their travels.
“Bring to bloom to this arid place” then, can also be a
humble request to our neighbor. For when we reach out
in compassion are not our hearts transformed by those we
meet? In such encounters the lines between inward and
outward; contemplation and action; giver and receiver
dissolve. Blooming comes in unexpected ways. Grace
rains down upon each praying step.
About the author: Paulette Skiba, BVM, Ph.D., is professor of
religious studies at Clarke University in Dubuque, Iowa.