Lectio Divina — Memorial of Saint Monica
Theme: expect
1. Lectio — What is God saying to me?
> “…for at an hour you do not expect, the Son of Man will come.”
— Matthew 24:44
Jesus tells me to stay awake because I do not know when the Lord will come. The danger is not simply that I might fail to expect the end of my earthly life. I can also become so accustomed to things as they are that I cease to expect Christ to interrupt them now.
Perhaps that is the greater danger for me: lowering my expectations of what conversion can accomplish.
Saint Monica refused to do that. Year after year she prayed for Augustine when there seemed little reason to expect anything to change. She could not force his conversion. She could not control him. She could pray, persevere, love, and remain attentive to what God might do.
And God did what Monica hoped for—but not according to a timetable she controlled.
So I ask myself:
Have I stopped expecting Christ to transform me because I have become too comfortable expecting things to remain as they are?
2. Meditatio — What is God saying to my life?
Here at The Glenn, what do I really expect of myself?
Have I quietly resigned myself to believing that the most that can reasonably be expected of me is superficial rhetoric, sporadic philanthropy, and perfunctory expressions of concern for creation? I can speak about climate change, ecological conversion, renewable energy, regenerative agriculture, responsible consumption and care for our common home—and still arrange my life around the assumption that very little should actually have to change.
That is a remarkably comfortable expectation.
I can even make my concern for creation into another form of rhetoric: something I write about rather than something that changes how I live.
And when genuine change presents itself—with inconvenience, expense, sacrifice, uncertainty or criticism—I can dismiss it as impractical, romantic or burdensome. I can begin asking what is reasonable to expect rather than what love requires.
Yet Jesus tells me precisely not to become comfortable with what I expect.
The Son of Man comes at the unexpected hour.
Perhaps he also comes through the unexpected opportunity to change something at The Glenn. Perhaps he comes through a problem I would rather circumvent, through another person’s criticism, through a new technology, through the needs of creation, or simply through the uncomfortable realization that yesterday’s good intentions have not become today’s actions.
Saint Monica teaches me something important here. She did not confuse perseverance with passivity. She remained faithful when she could not see the result.
That challenges me. Ecological conversion cannot depend upon whether I can immediately see the result either.
I plant a tree whose shade I may never enjoy.
I improve soil whose health will benefit someone after me.
I conserve resources I could easily consume.
I make changes whose effects may seem insignificant.
I do these things because Christian hope teaches me to expect more than what I can presently see.
3. Oratio — What do I want to say to God?
Lord Jesus, free me from expecting too little of your grace and too little of myself.
Through the prayers of Saint Monica, give me her perseverance: patient enough to wait, courageous enough to change, and faithful enough to keep hoping when results remain unseen.
Keep me awake for your unexpected coming.
Amen.
4. Contemplatio — What word will I rest in?
Expect.
Magnifica humanitas turns today’s word from my little corner of creation toward the life of the Church.
I cannot ask what transformation I expect at The Glenn without also asking what transformation I expect within the Church.
If I expect ecclesial justice to amount only to good intentions, carefully worded statements and occasional expressions of regret, then I have again lowered my expectations.
Justice demands something concrete.
It means listening to those harmed by spiritual, institutional, sexual, economic and power-based abuse. It means acknowledging what happened rather than protecting an appearance of tranquility. It means reparation where possible. It means changing structures so that the same harm is less likely to happen again. And it means transparency and accountability in the exercise of authority.
Saint Monica waited years for Augustine’s conversion, but she never concluded that conversion was impossible.
Neither should I.
I should not expect perfection from the Church, because the Church is composed of sinners like me. But neither should I use human sinfulness as an excuse to expect injustice to continue indefinitely.
The Holy Spirit makes conversion possible.
That applies to me.
That applies to The Glenn.
And that applies to the Church.
Jesus tells me that he will come when I do not expect him. Perhaps my task today is therefore not to predict his arrival but to prepare a place for him—to live, work, pray, steward creation and participate in the Church as though genuine conversion really can happen.
Saint Monica spent years standing before what appeared impossible.
Then came an hour she had long prayed for but could never schedule.
Augustine changed.
So today I will resist the temptation to ask, “What can reasonably be expected?”
Instead I will ask:
If I truly expect the Holy Spirit to act, what must I be willing to change when he does?
Memorial of Saint Monica
