Some time ago, a friend passed on a quote from the German Catholic priest Johann Baptist Metz (1928-2019), who stated that “Our self-acceptance is the basis of the Christian creed.” He described it as “accepting the chalice of our existence” and for some reason, this image struck me and has stuck with me.

I grew up in a low church environment, so chalice was not a familiar term or object, but there was the cup of the Eucharist and the cup Jesus spoke about when in Gethsemane he prayed, “if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; yet, not as I will, but as you will,” by which he meant his approaching death. The word chalice, with its roots in both drinking cup and cup of a flower, has a more evocative sound and larger scope for me than cup. When I think of the chalice of my existence it means the whole business of being me, not only whatever pain there’s been, but everything of past, present, and future. The tasks at hand, the particular aloneness of new widowhood, the particular losses and joys in aging, my relationships, my work.

Metz went on to say:

You shall lovingly accept the humanity entrusted to you! You shall be obedient to your destiny! You shall not continually try to escape it! You shall be true to yourself! You shall embrace yourself!

One afternoon during my writing retreat at St. Peter’s Abbey this summer, our small band of writers needed a break so we drove into nearby Humboldt to check out the thrift store. There was nothing I needed and the book section, except for dozens of Danielle Steele novels, was sparse. As I wandered around, waiting for the others, a chalice in white and blue (perhaps my favourite colour) caught my eye. It’s clearly mass-manufactured, certainly nothing uniquely handcrafted, but just the day before I had mentioned the “chalice of our existence” quote to one of my new friends, and here was a chalice, humble and ordinary, for the grand and entirely affordable price of $2. I knew it was for me!

Now it stands in my kitchen, reminding me in those moments when I’m tempted to dissatisfaction, of accepting all that belongs. And now and then, I drink something out of it too, either bracing or sweet.