Third Friday of Advent - December 21, 2018

The Open Space

Luke 1:39-45


In Luke 1:36, the angel Gabriel seeks to convince a hesitant Mary that she indeed will have a child. As one of his corroborating claims, he tells Mary that her cousin Elizabeth is expecting a child even at her advanced age.

In those days, then, after the encounter with Gabriel, Mary hurries to see Elizabeth. Both women are in awkward places . . . Elizabeth as an aging mother-to-be . . . and Mary as a too-young, too-virgin mother-to-be. No doubt both were joyful, but also more than a bit concerned about their situations. Together they could support and comfort each other, as well as share their joy. Few others would understand their strange predicaments and few would be sympathetic to their situations.

Their meeting, though, includes a surprising confirmation of God's work. When Elizabeth hears Mary's greeting, the child within her leaps in recognition and joy. Perhaps the greeting was the typical Hebrew, "shalom."

But it may as well have been the ancient "namaste" . . . "the Divine living in me greets the Divine living in you."

Theotokos (God-bearer) icons often depict Mary holding Jesus. Some depict Jesus in Mary's womb. This icon, based on the Visitation of Mary to Elizabeth, depicts the new life within the wombs of both women. Both bear new life.

In 1965, Thomas Merton wrote about the deepest, most interior and hidden center within each of us. He called it le point vierge, literally "the virgin point." But the French phrase might better be translated the open center or the waiting space. This open space at our core is where we are most deeply and intimately connected to God, where none of our usual humanness selfishness litters, but where we are completely open to God . . . that place within us which only God can access, available only to God.

This is what Merton says:

Again, that expression, le point vierge, (I cannot translate it) comes in here. At the center of our being is a point of nothingness which is untouched by sin and by illusion, a point of pure truth, a point or spark which belongs entirely to God, which is never at our disposal, from which God disposes of our lives, which is inaccessible to the fantasies of our own mind or the brutalities of our own will. This little point of nothingness and of absolute poverty is the pure glory of God in us. It is so to speak His name written in us, as our poverty, as our indigence, as our dependence, as our sonship. It is like a diamond, blazing with the invisible light of heaven. It is in everybody, and if we could see it we would see these billions of points of light coming together in the face and blaze of a sun that would make all the darkness and cruelty of life vanish completely. . . . I have no program for this seeing. It is only given. But the gate of heaven is everywhere.
[Thomas Merton, Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander, (New York: Image, 1965), 158.]

It seems to me that these two women knew well le point vierge and that they each said their, "Yes!" to it.

As the Christian mystics have reminded us through the centuries, "Like recognizes like." The new life within Elizabeth recognizes the new life in Mary . . . and the life Mary bears recognizes the life Elizabeth bears.


For Reflection:

** Perhaps today you would greet Mary with the words of the Christian mystic, Hildegard of Bingen:

Mary, ground of all being,
Greetings!
Greetings to you lovely and loving Mother!
You birthed to earth your Son.
You birthed the Son of God from heaven
by breathing the Spirit of God.

** What within you leaps when Mary enters the room? Ponder that image for a moment.

** In what concrete way are you theotokos (a bearer of God) this Advent?

Third Thursday of Advent - December 20, 2018

Let It Be

Psalm 24
Isaiah 7:10-14
Luke 1:26-38


Luke 1:26-38 may be my favorite story in all of scripture. I never tire of reading it. I'll point out two things that stir me this Advent as I listen to the story yet again.

First, Gabriel announces to Mary that she is the "graced one" and that "God is with her." The usual translation, "favored one" misleads us. The idea of "favor" implies that some are not favored. The Greek word used twice in the passage is the root word for "grace."

Mary is the graced one. I have heard sermons about how beautiful Mary was, how innocent, how childlike . . . all products of fertile contemporary imaginations. In fact, some within the Christian tradition have built elaborate theological systems around Mary's sinlessness and virtue, suggesting this is why God chose her.

I'm not saying any of those things are untrue; however, if any of these imagined virtues become the basis for God choosing her, then this is not longer grace. It becomes merit and earning.

Grace is God's bestowal of God's self upon the world, with no regard for who deserves and who doesn't deserve. In fact, in the economy of grace, there is no such thing as deserving or undeserving.

(If it is God and grace you are talking about, you cannot even say, "God comes to the least deserving." There is no category of deserving or undeserving with God . . . only imperfect people who need to return to their grounding in God.)

Grace is the Farmer scattering seed on the entire field, broadcasting it wildly, freely, wastefully, and extravagantly, without regard for the state of the field . . . whether the soil is rocky, weed-filled, hard-pan, or tilled. (Mark 4:1-8)

So yes, Mary is graced and God is with her. But this isn't an announcement of something new. Rather, these words remind Mary -- and us -- of what is true always and everywhere. The words of grace and God's presence are true just as much of you and me as they are true of Mary. For this reason, the Christian spiritual life is not about acquiring something new, but about seeing, opening up, and receiving what God has already said and done . . . seeing ourselves as graced and knowing always that God is with us.

Second, Mary's response to Gabriel's announcement is simple acceptance, a quiet "Yes!" . . . "Let it be to me as you have said."

In my imagination, I often wonder if Gabriel visited other Galilean girls with the same greeting, only to be told, "No, I won't do it." Mary said "Yes."

"Let it be" is not a statement of resignation. Rather, the words declare an openness to join in and to partner with God in this world-altering event. They signify Mary's willingness to go to a place she had never been before, to explore whatever lay beyond the bounds of her imagination, and to trust God. She willingly steps into the unknown with God.

For decades I assumed that Sir Paul McCartney's "Let It Be" remembered this Mary, the mother of Jesus.

When I find myself in times of trouble,
Mother Mary comforts me;
Speaking words of wisdom:
Let it be.

Only recently I heard Sir Paul say in an interview that "Mother Mary" was his own mother. She died when he was young, and in a time when he was particularly despondent over her death, she appeared to him one night in a dream to comfort him. "Let it be," she said.

"Let it be in me" . . . that's pretty good counsel, whether from Mary, mother of Jesus . . . or Mary, mother of Sir Paul.


For Reflection:

** Hear the message Gabriel spoke to Mary as if the angel spoke it over you: "Behold, graced one; God is with you." Meditate on those words as you hear them spoken into you.

** In what ways do you need to say to God today, "Let it be in me as you have said"? Consider one or two specific areas of your life right now. If you are honestly able to speak these words to God, do so.

Second Friday of Advent - December 14, 2018

Growing Up

Isaiah 48:17-19
Matthew 11:16-19


In early childhood, we are faced with the developmental task of moving from self-interest and an egocentric worldview in which everything and every person resolves our self, to a more expansive worldview in which we are invited to play with others, respect others, and cooperate with others in order to achieve shared goals. In short, we are invited into a worldview in which we do not insist on getting our own way; rather, we find ourselves in a complex web of relationships in which we must cooperate and often give up our own preferences for the greater good. As infants accustomed to the total attention of others, we grow into early childhood which invites us to mature from crying out for attention, toward a sense of shared living, cooperation, and compassion toward others.

It is never an easy developmental transition. If you have ever engaged in a conversation with an 8-year old who already knows everything, and will not budge to your years of wisdom, you know what I mean. We have a hard time letting go of our egocentric vision in which we know what is best, have all the answers, and expect others to orbit around us. Sadly, some adults have never emerged from this self-referenced developmental stage. (You know some adults who are ALWAYS right, don't you?? Who never fail to have a story that tops yours?? Who insist on having the last word??)

In order to do life well, in a manner that is healthy for self and life-giving for others, we must cultivate -- among other things -- a teachable spirit. Contemplative spirituality usually calls this "openness" and "receptivity" In our spiritual practice, we return regularly to that which helps cultivate an open and receptive spirit within us. We know there is much we do not yet know, since each of us exists in a state of becoming. We are becoming the person and people God created us to be.

Today's readings touch on this teachable spirit. In Isaiah, God says,

"I am the Lord your God,
who teaches you what is best for you,
who directs you in the way you should go." (Isa. 48:17)

In other words, "Do you trust God to teach you what is best for you?"
"Do you trust God to lead you in the way you should go?"
"Can you put aside your own egocentric concerns and begin to see life though a wider lens?"

In Matthew 11, Jesus compares the masses of people to children who are stuck in early-stage egocentrism. These adults, acting like petulant 6 year olds who do not get their way, are akin to spoiled children who say, "We played a song for you, but you didn't dance the way we wanted you to dance" . . . "we sang a song for you, but you didn't tell us how much you liked it" . . . "we performed for you, but you weren't paying attention to us!"

A healthy spirituality that gives life to the world is rooted in humility, and it is teachable -- open and receptive It is not self-centered, and is not stuck in its own ideas. It is growing, becoming, always open to the next place God is taking it.

In the 4th and 5th centuries, pilgrims went to the deserts of Egypt and the Near East, seeking the wisdom of the Desert Mothers and Fathers. Tradition says that seekers would arrive at the cave or cell of a Desert Father or Desert Mother and simply say, "Abba (or Amma), give me a word." The Fathers and Mothers would then offer a saying or a teaching story to the seeker. Whatever the Abba or Amma spoke, the seeker humbly received as a word from God, then went off to work that word into their lives, sometimes over the course of many years.

Another story tells about a seeker who came to see the Persian mystic, Rumi. The seeker traveled a long distance, and upon arrival bowed before Rumi and begged, "Master, will you teach me?" After a long silence, Rumi answered, "That all depends. Are you ready to learn from me?"


For Reflection:

Notice the scripture, story, or idea that most stirs your heart today. Bring that stirring into your prayer. Pray with it. Journal with it. Allow God to speak to you through it.

Tuesday of the First Week of Advent -- November 29, 2011

Luke 10:21 - 24

At that time Jesus, full of joy through the Holy Spirit, said, “I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little children. Yes, Father, for this was your good pleasure.

“All things have been committed to me by my Father. No one knows who the Son is except the Father, and no one knows who the Father is except the Son and those to whom the Son chooses to reveal him.”

Then he turned to his disciples and said privately, “Blessed are the eyes that see what you see. For I tell you that many prophets and kings wanted to see what you see but did not see it, and to hear what you hear but did not hear it.”


I think of the times when I've seen or heard something that seemed fresh or new to me . . . something that seemed like a brand new insight, a new awakening, or a deeper connection to something I had been longing for.

Often in the aftermath, I realize that the awareness or the awakening had been knocking at my door for a long time, and that I had merely been asleep every other time it had appeared at my door. It was not a matter of the slowness of God's revelation, but a matter of my inability (or unwillingness) to listen or to see.

I have come to see that the world is alive with God, "charged with the grandeur of God," as Hopkins said. But my capacity to see is distorted or stunted or in some way deficient. So time after time, I have to be invited to see and to hear. My lens gets foggy, dusty, and I must clean out the system in order to fully participate in what may already be there.

The desire to see and the longing to hear is not enough. I have to put myself in a position to see and to hear. I have to ask God to help me cultivate in my heart an openness, to be trained in attentiveness, so that when God speaks or shows, I am able to hear or see.

When I am able to hear and see, then I can respond.

The Second Friday of Advent -- December 10, 2010

Matthew 11:16 - 19

“To what can I compare this generation? They are like children sitting in the marketplaces and calling out to others:

“‘We played the pipe for you,
and you did not dance;
we sang a dirge,
and you did not mourn.’

For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, ‘He has a demon.’ The Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Here is a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners.’ But wisdom is proved right by her actions.”


I talked to a group of public school teachers and administrators today about prayer. They meet weekly to support each other and to share the spiritual journey. They were interested in the method of prayer I offered in Fingerprints on Every Moment.

At the end of our time together, they said, "We want to use your book as an Advent resource. What would you suggest we do through Advent?"

Good question. I suggested a couple of things for the movement toward the birth of Christ. This is some of what I said to them.

First, I suggest using some Advent resource regularly that encourages prayer and reflection. Whether you use Fingerprints on Every Moment or some other resource, find a regular time to spend praying with the resource. The combination of the consistent resource and the consistent time will serve as a regular marker. This daily time will root you and give a structured pattern to your day. You'll find yourself looking forward to the time, which may come early in the morning, during a break at work, or at the end of the day before bed.

In using a resource this way, you are actually establishing a rhythm for life that includes intentional times for prayer and reflection. Over time you'll find that your prayer and reflection -- when you are making conscious contact with God -- spills over into the rest of your life. Those mile-markers signify where you are and hold you steady for the in-between times.

If you use Fingerprints on Every Moment or some other Scripture resource, I suggest an exercise for putting the words of the Bible in your own words. When you feel drawn to a particular phrase or verse, write it out across the top of the page, then try to find as many ways as possible to put the verse in your own words. Notice your own words and images that make it to the page. Pay attention to what you've listed. You'll notice that some of your inner wisdom will emerge, what I would call your soul. You may be surprised at what you see. I suspect that you'll find that you know more than you know.

I also encourage carrying a particular prayer through the season. I'm carrying a breath prayer from Fingerprints on Every Moment through Advent, taken from Psalm 24. My breath prayer is:

Open up, you door of my heart;
Swing wide, you long-closed gates.

It is the prayer I keep on my heart all through the day, reminding me to stay open to God's coming and God's appearing. It reminds me to be aware of things that lie outside my normal field of vision, the "all-things-are-possible" of God.

You don't need to take up my breath prayer. Choose your own. Notice a phrase in the Psalms or from the prophet Isaiah and pull it out for use as a prayer to carry in your awareness through the day.

In a similar way, I suggest taking up a gesture that symbolizes openness to God and awareness of God's presence. The gesture may be something as simple as opening your hands palms-up, touching your heart, or making the sign of the cross. The gesture expresses our intention to be open to God and keeps us mindful that we are continually present to God. The gesture itself does not keep our spirit open to God, but serves as an active reminder of our desire to be open.

One final thing I said to the teachers. . . . There are times when we each lose the peace or the awareness or the conscious sense of God's presence that comes from prayer or meditation or a corporate worship experience. In a moment of chaos at work or home we lose touch with the breath prayer or the gesture that represents our desire for God. What do we do then?

My best suggestion is, "Don't judge it." That is, don't beat yourself up for having lost the immediate sense of God's presence, or for losing your cool, or for the hastily spoken words. You and I are human, not yet complete. We will stumble. The important movement is not to be perfect and never stumble, but to stop judging ourselves as failures or successes.

We are making our way with God through this holy season as best we can.

The First Thursday of Advent -- December 2, 2010

Isaiah 26:1 - 6

In that day this song will be sung in the land of Judah:
We have a strong city;
God makes salvation
its walls and ramparts.
Open the gates
that the righteous nation may enter,
the nation that keeps faith.
You will keep in perfect peace
those whose minds are steadfast,
because they trust in you.
Trust in the LORD forever,
for the LORD, the LORD, is the Rock eternal.
He humbles those who dwell on high,
he lays the lofty city low;
he levels it to the ground
and casts it down to the dust.
Feet trample it down—
the feet of the oppressed,
the footsteps of the poor.


The imagery of "gate" is familiar to the Bible. In a culture where city walls and fortresses were common, gates provided access . . . a way in and a way out.

We should expect, then, that gates carry an important spiritual connotation. They represent thresholds where we transition from one place to another. They are liminal spaces where important transitions take place and God-experience is heightened. They either provide or prohibit access, depending on whether they are opened or closed . . . and depending on whether you pass through or not.

So when the prophet Isaiah images God and God's goodness as a walled city -- Jerusalem, set on a hill, the holy mount -- he must also say a word about the gates which allow access to God. "Open the gates," he pleads in 26:2. He invites access to God for those who would step through the narrow opening.

The Advent text I've taken for my own prayer for these weeks is similar to Isaiah 26:2. It is a line repeated twice in Psalm 24:7 - 10:

"Lift up your heads, O you gates;
be lifted up, you ancient doors,
that the King of glory may come in."

This is the promise of Advent, that for persons who open their gates and throw open the doors of their lives, God comes. It matters little that Jesus was born 2,000 years ago if you have closed off your heart to his love and healing. That Christ continues to be embodied in our world today is of little consequence if you close yourself to that reality. The Christmas season becomes another opportunity to be with family, to stress about gifts and to be over-committed.

A most basic Advent posture is the stance of openness. In the language of Isaiah and the psalmist, that means throwing open the gates of our lives so the King of glory may come in.

A few years ago, as I brought Psalm 24 into my own prayer, I struggled with these verses. "Lift up your heads, O you gates; be lifted up you ancient doors." I wondered what these words meant for me. I ended up translating the words with this idea:

"Open up, you door of my heart;
Swing wide, you long-closed gates."


I included Psalm 24 in Fingerprints on Every Moment, largely for those lines and their meaning for Advent.

Now those words have become my breath prayer for this Advent, the prayer that I carry moment by moment as I receive breath and then as I release my breath into the world. The words speak of my desire to have an open heart. They remind me to loosen the gate of my heart when I begin to close down or tighten up. When I shut out the all-things-are-possible of God, my very breath reminds me to open my heart and hands and soul to receive.

So I exhale: "Open up, you door of my heart."
Then I inhale: "Swing wide, you long-closed gates."

I breathe and I pray.