One of the most fulfilling experiences in my personal journey has been being accompanied. To be honest, it hasn’t always been easy for me to be vulnerable with others, or even with myself. I believe an important part of accompaniment is being able to get in touch with the most intimate parts of ourselves – the parts that we are sometimes afraid to see or acknowledge.
At the same time, this experience of accompaniment has taught me to be sensitive to God’s presence in my daily life, the delicacy of the breeze with which He sustains my life, where I face small and big decisions on this journey of becoming a sister.
Sometimes, in the midst of chaos, musical accompaniment helps us see the little lights that signal revival.
For me, being a spiritual companion has been a deep and sincere experience of sharing a sacred space. I must say that I have mostly accompanied women and survivors who have been through various traumatic experiences.
I know that this ministry of spiritual accompaniment expresses a special vocation in my profession as a religious, and especially as a Franciscan Missionary of Mary. Through my personal experience of consecration and the discernment of God’s presence in my life, I know that part of my personal vocation as a sister is to listen with all my heart and soul to my sisters and brothers and to bear witness to the mystery of God in each one of them.
Each time I begin a new accompaniment, I recognize the need to expose my feet (Exodus 3:5) as I am deeply conscious of the privilege of entering a sister or brother’s sacred space, knowing that I am only a humble witness to what God is doing and journeying with them.
In this sense, since spiritual accompaniment is always an encounter, and in my experience it often occurs between two women, I want to take the risk of thinking about an icon that represents this service for me. As Selena Jones writes in her book: Trauma and Grace: A Theology in a Divided WorldThe relationship between Elizabeth and Mary of Nazareth offers a powerful symbolism: we never know what happened between them, how they experienced the mystery of Jesus, or how they responded to all these events; we can only guess.
This is a beautiful relationship between two women. Cousin Elizabeth was a woman of experience, with a life full of joys and sorrows, suffering the pain of not being able to bear children, and with a deep faith that God would give her new life. Mary, on the other hand, was a young girl full of life and hope, who had experienced something so overwhelming she could not even comprehend, and who only knew that her life had changed forever (Luke 1:39-56).
They both had something to give to each other, and in that journey, God gave them both the possibility to begin to understand the mysteries of life.
Perhaps Elizabeth takes the time to read her life in the light of God, to whom, in God’s mercy, she has been given the possibility of becoming a mother, of carrying in her womb the life of a prophet, of putting her whole history together and playing her small part in the history of salvation. Mary, on the other hand, arrives alive after an extraordinary experience with God, but not fully understanding what has happened and trying to guess how her reaction will affect her life.
From my brief experience, I am beginning to see that the person seeking companionship is alive, experiencing both difficulty and beauty. She is simply trying to respond to God with her whole being and truth, trying to give meaning to her experience of pain and hurt. She is trying to understand the impossible that God is doing in her life (Luke 1:37), trusting God through the presence of a spiritual companion and taking the risk of exposing her vulnerability.
This is the most sacred moment, when Elizabeth understands that Mary has been seen and visited by God, and her silence is the best response, for in the face of such a mystery she had no choice but to allow Mary to sing the Magnificat and to reverently join in this beautiful prayer of thanksgiving.
Likewise, I can humbly say that I am a witness to the mystery of God in every person I attend to, past and present, whose healing presence in the spiritual space of attendance touches and heals us, each in a different and unique way.
According to Shelley Rambo, The psyche and trauma: A theology of survival. (2010), sometimes spiritual accompaniment is a space that also allows for the sharing of traumatic experiences, becoming a sacred and liminal space. According to Jones, this is where God’s grace is exercised, giving us the possibility of recognizing Jesus’ presence, a new presence.
At the 2024 International Congress of Spiritual Accompaniment and Dialogue, Jesuit Father Javier Meloni said that when people share their most painful experiences, feel listened to and welcomed in a safe space, they can feel God’s gentle touch. This comfort gives meaning to the experience, helps them to understand their pain, heals their hearts and forgives others and themselves.
I truly understand that this spiritual accompaniment service is a gift from God, and an experience that allows us to think deeply about God’s presence within each of us. At times, this service is a joyful encounter full of dreams and happiness, but at other times, it is a place where we share death, pain, and disconnection.
In recognizing this miracle, I understand that I can only be close to my brothers and sisters through my experiences of death, pain, rupture, and trauma that God has removed, healed, and transformed into a new rebirth, as well as through moments of joy and love, where I experience God’s unconditional love and allow it to flow through my body and soul to reach the person I am close to.
Perhaps through the service of spiritual accompaniment, God is allowing me to speak my own Magnificat as well, sharing all the faces, names, histories and miracles of the women He has placed in my heart through this beautiful sacramental and liminal space.
