Luke 1:57-66
When it was time for Elizabeth to have her baby, she gave birth to a son. Her neighbors and relatives heard that the Lord had shown her great mercy, and they shared her joy.
On the eighth day they came to circumcise the child, and they were going to name him after his father Zechariah, but his mother spoke up and said, “No! He is to be called John.”
They said to her, “There is no one among your relatives who has that name.”
Then they made signs to his father, to find out what he would like to name the child. He asked for a writing tablet, and to everyone’s astonishment he wrote, “His name is John.” Immediately his mouth was opened and his tongue set free, and he began to speak, praising God. All the neighbors were filled with awe, and throughout the hill country of Judea people were talking about all these things. Everyone who heard this wondered about it, asking, “What then is this child going to be?” For the Lord’s hand was with him.
• The nativity of Jesus includes the story of the son born to Elizabeth and Zechariah. This miraculous birth – the one who would be known as John the Baptizer – gives much attention to the name of this newborn. His mother and father both independently confirm that his name will be “John.”
• Elizabeth and Zechariah lived in a day when names conferred an identity upon a child and shaped that little human’s destiny. Today, we are much more likely to take names from the world of entertainment or sports.
• How do you feel about the name given you at birth? Does your name fit you? Does it say something about your destiny? Have you researched the meaning of your given name to know its origins?
• I believe we each carry another deeper, more personal, God-given name within us. Part of our life’s spiritual journey is discovering the name God has given to us, for that name reflects our true inner being and say something about the spirit in which we were created to live life. Do you have any sense of what your name might be? What life-experiences confirm your hunch?
• I also believe we only learn this name across a lifetime, as the richness and fullness of who we are in connection with God becomes known to us. This is the work of the spiritual journey, a journey into becoming the people we were created to be.
• And it is helpful to recognize that not only do you have this inner “name,” but that every other person on the planet has a God-given name. How might you honor the God-given name of those around you? Those you meet today? Those you see in the run of life, but don’t know?
Showing posts with label spirituality. Show all posts
Showing posts with label spirituality. Show all posts
Monday, December 23, 2019
Wednesday, December 18, 2019
Third Wednesday of Advent - December 18, 2019
Isaiah 45:5-8, 18, 21-25
I am the LORD, and there is no other;
besides me there is no god.
I arm you, though you do not know me,
so that they may know, from the rising of the sun
and from the west, that there is no one besides me;
I am the LORD, and there is no other.
I form light and create darkness,
I make weal and create woe;
I the LORD do all these things.
Shower, O heavens, from above,
and let the skies rain down righteousness;
let the earth open, that salvation may spring up,[b]
and let it cause righteousness to sprout up also;
I the LORD have created it.
For thus says the LORD,
who created the heavens
(he is God!),
who formed the earth and made it
(he established it;
he did not create it a chaos,
he formed it to be inhabited!):
I am the LORD, and there is no other.
Declare and present your case;
let them take counsel together!
Who told this long ago?
Who declared it of old?
Was it not I, the LORD?
There is no other god besides me,
a righteous God and a Savior;
there is no one besides me.
Turn to me and be saved,
all the ends of the earth!
For I am God, and there is no other.
By myself I have sworn,
from my mouth has gone forth in righteousness
a word that shall not return:
“To me every knee shall bow,
every tongue shall swear.”
Only in the LORD, it shall be said of me,
are righteousness and strength;
all who were incensed against him
shall come to him and be ashamed.
In the LORD all the offspring of Israel
shall triumph and glory.
• In 587 B.C.E., the Babylonians defeated Judah and took most of the people into captivity, moving them from their homeland to Babylon. Those who were left in Judah lived in a land that was decimated, with all the structures of society destroyed. The Exile is one of the defining moments in the history of God’s covenant people.
• But about 50 years later, the Israelites celebrated the arrival of the Persian king, Cyrus, who defeated the Babylonians and allowed the Jews to return home. Though he was not a God-follower, Cyrus was celebrated as “Yahweh’s anointed” (see Isa. 45:1). This chapter in Isaiah is about the rise of Cyrus, and Yahweh’s instructions to him via the prophet.
• Several times throughout the chapter, the prophet writes of Yahweh, “There is no other god besides me.” It is the recurring theme of the entire chapter. Find the ways this idea is expressed several times in the verses above.
• Think about that phrase in terms of your life: “There is no other god besides me.”
o What do those words mean to you? Think of them not so much in a theological or analytical sense, but in a practical, real-life sense.
o In what ways do you bump up against “other gods” in the world?
o What are the “other gods” with which you personally struggle?
o What competes with Yahweh in your life?
I am the LORD, and there is no other;
besides me there is no god.
I arm you, though you do not know me,
so that they may know, from the rising of the sun
and from the west, that there is no one besides me;
I am the LORD, and there is no other.
I form light and create darkness,
I make weal and create woe;
I the LORD do all these things.
Shower, O heavens, from above,
and let the skies rain down righteousness;
let the earth open, that salvation may spring up,[b]
and let it cause righteousness to sprout up also;
I the LORD have created it.
For thus says the LORD,
who created the heavens
(he is God!),
who formed the earth and made it
(he established it;
he did not create it a chaos,
he formed it to be inhabited!):
I am the LORD, and there is no other.
Declare and present your case;
let them take counsel together!
Who told this long ago?
Who declared it of old?
Was it not I, the LORD?
There is no other god besides me,
a righteous God and a Savior;
there is no one besides me.
Turn to me and be saved,
all the ends of the earth!
For I am God, and there is no other.
By myself I have sworn,
from my mouth has gone forth in righteousness
a word that shall not return:
“To me every knee shall bow,
every tongue shall swear.”
Only in the LORD, it shall be said of me,
are righteousness and strength;
all who were incensed against him
shall come to him and be ashamed.
In the LORD all the offspring of Israel
shall triumph and glory.
• In 587 B.C.E., the Babylonians defeated Judah and took most of the people into captivity, moving them from their homeland to Babylon. Those who were left in Judah lived in a land that was decimated, with all the structures of society destroyed. The Exile is one of the defining moments in the history of God’s covenant people.
• But about 50 years later, the Israelites celebrated the arrival of the Persian king, Cyrus, who defeated the Babylonians and allowed the Jews to return home. Though he was not a God-follower, Cyrus was celebrated as “Yahweh’s anointed” (see Isa. 45:1). This chapter in Isaiah is about the rise of Cyrus, and Yahweh’s instructions to him via the prophet.
• Several times throughout the chapter, the prophet writes of Yahweh, “There is no other god besides me.” It is the recurring theme of the entire chapter. Find the ways this idea is expressed several times in the verses above.
• Think about that phrase in terms of your life: “There is no other god besides me.”
o What do those words mean to you? Think of them not so much in a theological or analytical sense, but in a practical, real-life sense.
o In what ways do you bump up against “other gods” in the world?
o What are the “other gods” with which you personally struggle?
o What competes with Yahweh in your life?
Tuesday, December 17, 2019
Third Tuesday of Advent - December 17, 2019
Matthew 21:28-32
“What do you think? There was a man who had two sons. He went to the first and said, ‘Son, go and work today in the vineyard.’
“‘I will not,’ he answered, but later he changed his mind and went.
“Then the father went to the other son and said the same thing. He answered, ‘I will, sir,’ but he did not go.
“Which of the two did what his father wanted?”
“The first,” they answered.
Jesus said to them, “Truly I tell you, the tax collectors and the prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God ahead of you. For John came to you to show you the way of righteousness, and you did not believe him, but the tax collectors and the prostitutes did. And even after you saw this, you did not repent and believe him."
• Something feels deceptive in the misdirection of the second son, who says, “I will go” but then never goes. Perhaps he fully intended to go, but then was distracted by other things that came up. More likely, though, he never intended to go and only wanted to appease his father.
• We live in what some have called a “post-truth world,” where we advance “alternative facts,” where we can say whatever we want – true or not – in order to create our own reality.
• Spirituality has to do with living in connection with the Really Real, discovering the truth about God, ourselves, others, and the world in a way that makes a difference in how we engage life. All of us live in some state of deception all the time (we don’t perceive things as they are, but as we would like them to be), but to be intentionally deceptive is a stumbling block to ourselves and others in the quest to live true with God.
• Be aware of your words today . . . your “yes” and your “no” . . . your promises and your claims . . . your opinions stated as facts and your beliefs stated as absolute reality. Simply go through the day conscious of your words.
• At the end of the day, do a quick review of your words, your conversations, your online exchanges. What did you actually say today? And did your words line up with the person you hope to become in God? Bring whatever you learn into your prayer.
“What do you think? There was a man who had two sons. He went to the first and said, ‘Son, go and work today in the vineyard.’
“‘I will not,’ he answered, but later he changed his mind and went.
“Then the father went to the other son and said the same thing. He answered, ‘I will, sir,’ but he did not go.
“Which of the two did what his father wanted?”
“The first,” they answered.
Jesus said to them, “Truly I tell you, the tax collectors and the prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God ahead of you. For John came to you to show you the way of righteousness, and you did not believe him, but the tax collectors and the prostitutes did. And even after you saw this, you did not repent and believe him."
• Something feels deceptive in the misdirection of the second son, who says, “I will go” but then never goes. Perhaps he fully intended to go, but then was distracted by other things that came up. More likely, though, he never intended to go and only wanted to appease his father.
• We live in what some have called a “post-truth world,” where we advance “alternative facts,” where we can say whatever we want – true or not – in order to create our own reality.
• Spirituality has to do with living in connection with the Really Real, discovering the truth about God, ourselves, others, and the world in a way that makes a difference in how we engage life. All of us live in some state of deception all the time (we don’t perceive things as they are, but as we would like them to be), but to be intentionally deceptive is a stumbling block to ourselves and others in the quest to live true with God.
• Be aware of your words today . . . your “yes” and your “no” . . . your promises and your claims . . . your opinions stated as facts and your beliefs stated as absolute reality. Simply go through the day conscious of your words.
• At the end of the day, do a quick review of your words, your conversations, your online exchanges. What did you actually say today? And did your words line up with the person you hope to become in God? Bring whatever you learn into your prayer.
Monday, December 16, 2019
Third Monday of Advent - December 16, 2019
Matthew 21:23-27
When he entered the temple, the chief priests and the elders of the people came to him as he was teaching, and said, “By what authority are you doing these things, and who gave you this authority?” Jesus said to them, “I will also ask you one question; if you tell me the answer, then I will also tell you by what authority I do these things. Did the baptism of John come from heaven, or was it of human origin?” And they argued with one another, “If we say, ‘From heaven,’ he will say to us, ‘Why then did you not believe him?’ But if we say, ‘Of human origin,’ we are afraid of the crowd; for all regard John as a prophet.” So they answered Jesus, “We do not know.” And he said to them, “Neither will I tell you by what authority I am doing these things.”
• People who are caught up in hierarchies, ranks, and differentiating people (by any number of criteria) tend to overplay authority. They tend to love outer authority. “Who said you could do that?” Or, “You can’t touch THAT!” Or, “No one gave you permission.” Outer authority always originates from some power outside. Someone may grant it, or they may withhold it.
• Inner authority, on the other hand, is something you know to be true from the inside of yourself. Spirit touches spirit . . . God’s Spirit confirming to your spirit a thing's veracity. You don’t need an outside agent to tell you it’s true or right or wise. You know from your own inside.
• Jesus had both kinds of authority. His outer authority came from his Father. But he also had inner authority. He didn’t need the religious leaders and legal authorities to tell him what was right and wrong. He knew truth from the inside.
• Think of a time you knew from within yourself that something was true, even when it flew in the face of what those around you were saying. What courage did you have in your inner authority? Did you have anyone in your life at that time who could affirm your inner wisdom?
When he entered the temple, the chief priests and the elders of the people came to him as he was teaching, and said, “By what authority are you doing these things, and who gave you this authority?” Jesus said to them, “I will also ask you one question; if you tell me the answer, then I will also tell you by what authority I do these things. Did the baptism of John come from heaven, or was it of human origin?” And they argued with one another, “If we say, ‘From heaven,’ he will say to us, ‘Why then did you not believe him?’ But if we say, ‘Of human origin,’ we are afraid of the crowd; for all regard John as a prophet.” So they answered Jesus, “We do not know.” And he said to them, “Neither will I tell you by what authority I am doing these things.”
• People who are caught up in hierarchies, ranks, and differentiating people (by any number of criteria) tend to overplay authority. They tend to love outer authority. “Who said you could do that?” Or, “You can’t touch THAT!” Or, “No one gave you permission.” Outer authority always originates from some power outside. Someone may grant it, or they may withhold it.
• Inner authority, on the other hand, is something you know to be true from the inside of yourself. Spirit touches spirit . . . God’s Spirit confirming to your spirit a thing's veracity. You don’t need an outside agent to tell you it’s true or right or wise. You know from your own inside.
• Jesus had both kinds of authority. His outer authority came from his Father. But he also had inner authority. He didn’t need the religious leaders and legal authorities to tell him what was right and wrong. He knew truth from the inside.
• Think of a time you knew from within yourself that something was true, even when it flew in the face of what those around you were saying. What courage did you have in your inner authority? Did you have anyone in your life at that time who could affirm your inner wisdom?
Saturday, December 14, 2019
Second Saturday of Advent - December 14, 2019
Matthew 17:9-13
As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus ordered them, “Tell no one about the vision until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.” And the disciples asked him, “Why, then, do the scribes say that Elijah must come first?” He replied, “Elijah is indeed coming and will restore all things; but I tell you that Elijah has already come, and they did not recognize him, but they did to him whatever they pleased. So also the Son of Man is about to suffer at their hands.” Then the disciples understood that he was speaking to them about John the Baptist.
• This dialogue comes directly after the Transfiguration experience, where Jesus takes Peter, James, and John up the mountain. There Moses and Elijah appear on the mountain with Jesus. The disciples react with both awe and fear. But in the aftermath of the experience, they don’t ask about what they have just seen; rather, they question Jesus about Elijah. The Elijah figure in the ministry of Jesus is John the Baptizer, the one-who-comes-before and prepares the path for Jesus.
• What people, things, or events in your life prepared you for your first encounters with Jesus?
• What people, things, or events in your life prepared you for your deeper, more interior spiritual journey?
As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus ordered them, “Tell no one about the vision until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.” And the disciples asked him, “Why, then, do the scribes say that Elijah must come first?” He replied, “Elijah is indeed coming and will restore all things; but I tell you that Elijah has already come, and they did not recognize him, but they did to him whatever they pleased. So also the Son of Man is about to suffer at their hands.” Then the disciples understood that he was speaking to them about John the Baptist.
• This dialogue comes directly after the Transfiguration experience, where Jesus takes Peter, James, and John up the mountain. There Moses and Elijah appear on the mountain with Jesus. The disciples react with both awe and fear. But in the aftermath of the experience, they don’t ask about what they have just seen; rather, they question Jesus about Elijah. The Elijah figure in the ministry of Jesus is John the Baptizer, the one-who-comes-before and prepares the path for Jesus.
• What people, things, or events in your life prepared you for your first encounters with Jesus?
• What people, things, or events in your life prepared you for your deeper, more interior spiritual journey?
Monday, December 24, 2018
Christmas Day - December 25, 2018
The Cave of the Heart
Luke 2:1-20
I wrote this meditation several years ago during Advent. It came out of an experience of prayer as I prayed with the Spiritual Exercises of Ignatius of Loyola. In this meditation on the birth of Jesus, the writer described his birthplace as a cave dug into the side of a hill just below Bethlehem. Before reading those words, I had a mental image of the birthplace of Jesus, a stable scene behind an inn.
For the first time in my life, I saw the birthplace as something other than that old scene I had envisioned for decades. I saw the hillside cave in such vivid detail that not only did the birth of Christ come alive for me, but I also envisioned the cave as a place in my heart.
This guided meditation comes from that prayer experience. The cave became more than a place Christ as born 2,000 years ago. The cave became an image for that part of my heart where the conceiving and birthing work of God continues to happen within me.
If you choose to use the meditation for prayer or meditation, read it slowly. Pause as needed, shut your eyes for a few minutes, and let God's Spirit lead you. The goal is not to get through the exercise quickly, but to linger with the parts of the prayer that seem to have substance for you. And don't be afraid to use your imagination, what some have called, "holy imagination." In other words, don't censor where your soul wants to lead you. Take in the experience. Let it happen.
Joyous Christmas to you!
I sit still and settle into prayer. . . . I consciously take several deep breaths, each one slower and deeper than the one before.
As much as possible, I lay aside the things that preoccupy my mind and distract me. I want to become aware of God, who is present to me at this very moment.
In my imagination I see a small Middle Eastern town on a hilltop, crowded with people who are bustling about and tending to important business . . . Some people are eating or drinking . . . others are talking on the streets . . . while others are buying or selling in the marketplace. I notice the seriousness with which these people are tending to their affairs. The rush of activity is obvious.
I allow my gaze to move outside the confines of the little town . . . down a hillside, to a small grotto dug into the earth.
It is the kind of place created to shelter animals from the elements of weather . . . but in this shallow “cave” are a man and woman, along with several animals. I take a moment to let my mind shape this scene for me.
The young woman is in labor and the man is assisting her with childbirth. I let my imagination fill in the details of the scene . . . what happens . . . what is spoken . . . where I am in the cave.
Perhaps I talk to this holy family, or just stand aside and watch, or maybe I take the place of one of the animals. I ask God to help me understand the significance of this event of which I am a part. I stay with this scene in the hillside cave as long as I’m able.
At some point I realize that there is also a cave in my heart . . . It may seem as if I live most of my life on the streets of activity and in the marketplaces of busyness, but there is within my heart a cave.
This cave is an interior space where the really important things in my life are conceived and given birth. . . . Conception and birth do not happen on busy street-corners, but in the privacy and hiddenness of the cave. . . . I notice where that cave is within me.
I may find that much of my life is spent on busy streets and in crowded marketplaces. How might I ask God to help me spend more time in the cave? If I can ask God for more "cave-time," what might God say back to me?
Then I ask God to help me see what is being conceived in my heart . . . what is being brought to birth within that cave of my heart. I ask God for the grace to find a life-giving rhythm that includes time in this quiet, interior cave . . . and time on the streets engaging daily life, people, and events. . . . I talk to God about both the busy streets of my life, and the hidden caves of my heart. I make this my prayer.
When I feel like my prayer has completed, I say the Lord’s Prayer as a way of bringing the prayer time to an end.
Luke 2:1-20
I wrote this meditation several years ago during Advent. It came out of an experience of prayer as I prayed with the Spiritual Exercises of Ignatius of Loyola. In this meditation on the birth of Jesus, the writer described his birthplace as a cave dug into the side of a hill just below Bethlehem. Before reading those words, I had a mental image of the birthplace of Jesus, a stable scene behind an inn.
For the first time in my life, I saw the birthplace as something other than that old scene I had envisioned for decades. I saw the hillside cave in such vivid detail that not only did the birth of Christ come alive for me, but I also envisioned the cave as a place in my heart.
This guided meditation comes from that prayer experience. The cave became more than a place Christ as born 2,000 years ago. The cave became an image for that part of my heart where the conceiving and birthing work of God continues to happen within me.
If you choose to use the meditation for prayer or meditation, read it slowly. Pause as needed, shut your eyes for a few minutes, and let God's Spirit lead you. The goal is not to get through the exercise quickly, but to linger with the parts of the prayer that seem to have substance for you. And don't be afraid to use your imagination, what some have called, "holy imagination." In other words, don't censor where your soul wants to lead you. Take in the experience. Let it happen.
Joyous Christmas to you!
I sit still and settle into prayer. . . . I consciously take several deep breaths, each one slower and deeper than the one before.
As much as possible, I lay aside the things that preoccupy my mind and distract me. I want to become aware of God, who is present to me at this very moment.
In my imagination I see a small Middle Eastern town on a hilltop, crowded with people who are bustling about and tending to important business . . . Some people are eating or drinking . . . others are talking on the streets . . . while others are buying or selling in the marketplace. I notice the seriousness with which these people are tending to their affairs. The rush of activity is obvious.
I allow my gaze to move outside the confines of the little town . . . down a hillside, to a small grotto dug into the earth.
It is the kind of place created to shelter animals from the elements of weather . . . but in this shallow “cave” are a man and woman, along with several animals. I take a moment to let my mind shape this scene for me.
The young woman is in labor and the man is assisting her with childbirth. I let my imagination fill in the details of the scene . . . what happens . . . what is spoken . . . where I am in the cave.
Perhaps I talk to this holy family, or just stand aside and watch, or maybe I take the place of one of the animals. I ask God to help me understand the significance of this event of which I am a part. I stay with this scene in the hillside cave as long as I’m able.
At some point I realize that there is also a cave in my heart . . . It may seem as if I live most of my life on the streets of activity and in the marketplaces of busyness, but there is within my heart a cave.
This cave is an interior space where the really important things in my life are conceived and given birth. . . . Conception and birth do not happen on busy street-corners, but in the privacy and hiddenness of the cave. . . . I notice where that cave is within me.
I may find that much of my life is spent on busy streets and in crowded marketplaces. How might I ask God to help me spend more time in the cave? If I can ask God for more "cave-time," what might God say back to me?
Then I ask God to help me see what is being conceived in my heart . . . what is being brought to birth within that cave of my heart. I ask God for the grace to find a life-giving rhythm that includes time in this quiet, interior cave . . . and time on the streets engaging daily life, people, and events. . . . I talk to God about both the busy streets of my life, and the hidden caves of my heart. I make this my prayer.
When I feel like my prayer has completed, I say the Lord’s Prayer as a way of bringing the prayer time to an end.
Friday, December 14, 2018
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.
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.
Monday, December 10, 2018
Second Monday of Advent - December 10, 2018
Participating in Kindness and Compassion
Isaiah 35:1-10
Luke 5:17-26
Again today, a common theme bridges the Old Testament lesson to the Gospel.
Isaiah 35 anticipates a time when God will cause the dry land to be fruitful, when the feeble will be strong, when the blind will see, when the deaf will hear, and when streams will gush through the desert.
The Gospel reading in Luke 5 points us to a day when the prophecy is fulfilled. A paralyzed man is carried to Jesus by friends who creatively drop him on his mat into the presence of Jesus through a hole in the roof. The crowds were large and the four persons carrying the mat could not navigate the throngs; yet, they found a way to act with kindness and compassion on behalf of the lame man.
While the story moves on toward a larger point of contention -- the religious leaders who object to Jesus healing the man by means of forgiveness -- we dare not miss the obvious. Not only is the kingdom of God (life which is lived with God at the Center) present in Jesus, but there are also those who come alongside Jesus, necessary participants in the compassionate, kind, and healing work Jesus is about. Those who carry the man on the mat join in the saving work of Jesus, whether they know it or not.
The hope of Advent is not that Jesus will come in order to free us to sit and watch him set the world aright.
The hope of Advent is you and I actively participating in God's work in the world through common acts of mercy, compassion, kindness, and self-giving.
Not only is Jesus mystically present in the world. He is also present in the world through you and me. Together, we join him as a sign of the kingdom's presence.
For Reflection:
1. Spend time in the Gospel story, Luke 5:17-26, among the different characters. For example, meditate on the story as the person on the mat . . . then as the friends who carry the mat . . . then as the religious people who object to Jesus' healing and forgiving . . . even as Jesus. Be careful not to analyze the story, but rather allow yourself to feel and sense along with the different persons in the narrative.
2. Make a pledge to some small acts of mercy and kindness this Advent as a way of joining Jesus in the kingdom's coming.
Isaiah 35:1-10
Luke 5:17-26
Again today, a common theme bridges the Old Testament lesson to the Gospel.
Isaiah 35 anticipates a time when God will cause the dry land to be fruitful, when the feeble will be strong, when the blind will see, when the deaf will hear, and when streams will gush through the desert.
The Gospel reading in Luke 5 points us to a day when the prophecy is fulfilled. A paralyzed man is carried to Jesus by friends who creatively drop him on his mat into the presence of Jesus through a hole in the roof. The crowds were large and the four persons carrying the mat could not navigate the throngs; yet, they found a way to act with kindness and compassion on behalf of the lame man.
While the story moves on toward a larger point of contention -- the religious leaders who object to Jesus healing the man by means of forgiveness -- we dare not miss the obvious. Not only is the kingdom of God (life which is lived with God at the Center) present in Jesus, but there are also those who come alongside Jesus, necessary participants in the compassionate, kind, and healing work Jesus is about. Those who carry the man on the mat join in the saving work of Jesus, whether they know it or not.
The hope of Advent is not that Jesus will come in order to free us to sit and watch him set the world aright.
The hope of Advent is you and I actively participating in God's work in the world through common acts of mercy, compassion, kindness, and self-giving.
Not only is Jesus mystically present in the world. He is also present in the world through you and me. Together, we join him as a sign of the kingdom's presence.
For Reflection:
1. Spend time in the Gospel story, Luke 5:17-26, among the different characters. For example, meditate on the story as the person on the mat . . . then as the friends who carry the mat . . . then as the religious people who object to Jesus' healing and forgiving . . . even as Jesus. Be careful not to analyze the story, but rather allow yourself to feel and sense along with the different persons in the narrative.
2. Make a pledge to some small acts of mercy and kindness this Advent as a way of joining Jesus in the kingdom's coming.
Friday, December 7, 2018
First Friday of Advent - December 7, 2018
Do You Believe . . .?
Isaiah 29:17-24
Matthew 9:27-31
During the first week of Advent, a lone candle stands against the darkness . . . a solitary symbol of hope and light.
Advent reminds us time and time again that the darkness surrounding us is not the only reality of life. In our spiritual deafness, we will hear and in our spiritual blindness we will see. Hope comes even as we wait.
Isaiah says,
"In that day the deaf will hear
the words of the scroll,
and out of gloom and darkness
the eyes of the blind will see." (Is. 29:18)
What Isaiah speaks as prophecy, Matthew answers from the life of Jesus.
Isaiah prophecies that out of gloom and darkness the eyes of the blind will see. Matthew tells us that two blind men seeking mercy receive their sight from Jesus.
For many, the world seems darker, gloomier, more divided than ever. Some of us struggle to see light, blinded by pervasive hatred, by conflict, by chasms that grow deeper by the day.
In the Advent texts, we are the blind, the deaf, those wondering if light has abandoned us.
Pablo Neruda was a Chilean poet and politician who wrote these words several decades ago in days of global tension over nuclear proliferation:
I am fighting for that ubiquitous, widespread, inexhaustible goodness. . . . I still have absolute faith in human destiny, a clearer and clearer conviction that we are approaching a great common tenderness. I write knowing that the danger of the bomb hangs over all our heads, a nuclear catastrophe that would leave no one, nothing on this earth. Well, that does not alter my hope. At this critical moment, in this flicker of anguish, we know that the true light will enter those eyes that are vigilant. We shall all understand one another. We shall advance together. And this hope cannot be crushed. (Quoted in Megan McKenna, Advent, Christmas and Epiphany, pp. 36-37)
Neruda's days were no more explosive than our times today. Hope creeps toward us.
The story of the two blind men in Matthew 9 turns on this question Jesus asks: "Do you believe I am able to do this?" Do you believe I can change darkness to light? Do you believe you'll see hope again? Do you believe against all evidence to the contrary?
This is an Advent text because it fulfills the prophecy of Isaiah.
It is also an Advent text because the two who are blind walk in darkness, needing sight, hoping for light.
What about you?
Do you believe you will see light again?
Do you believe God can cause light to overcome darkness?
Do you believe God is somehow at work in the world, even though your eyes may be blind to God's light-work?
For Reflection:
Today, hear Jesus ask you, "Do you believe I am able to do this?"
Answer as honestly as possible. Speak your answer . . . or write it. Allow Jesus' question to lead you into prayerful conversation with him.
Isaiah 29:17-24
Matthew 9:27-31
During the first week of Advent, a lone candle stands against the darkness . . . a solitary symbol of hope and light.
Advent reminds us time and time again that the darkness surrounding us is not the only reality of life. In our spiritual deafness, we will hear and in our spiritual blindness we will see. Hope comes even as we wait.
Isaiah says,
"In that day the deaf will hear
the words of the scroll,
and out of gloom and darkness
the eyes of the blind will see." (Is. 29:18)
What Isaiah speaks as prophecy, Matthew answers from the life of Jesus.
Isaiah prophecies that out of gloom and darkness the eyes of the blind will see. Matthew tells us that two blind men seeking mercy receive their sight from Jesus.
For many, the world seems darker, gloomier, more divided than ever. Some of us struggle to see light, blinded by pervasive hatred, by conflict, by chasms that grow deeper by the day.
In the Advent texts, we are the blind, the deaf, those wondering if light has abandoned us.
Pablo Neruda was a Chilean poet and politician who wrote these words several decades ago in days of global tension over nuclear proliferation:
I am fighting for that ubiquitous, widespread, inexhaustible goodness. . . . I still have absolute faith in human destiny, a clearer and clearer conviction that we are approaching a great common tenderness. I write knowing that the danger of the bomb hangs over all our heads, a nuclear catastrophe that would leave no one, nothing on this earth. Well, that does not alter my hope. At this critical moment, in this flicker of anguish, we know that the true light will enter those eyes that are vigilant. We shall all understand one another. We shall advance together. And this hope cannot be crushed. (Quoted in Megan McKenna, Advent, Christmas and Epiphany, pp. 36-37)
Neruda's days were no more explosive than our times today. Hope creeps toward us.
The story of the two blind men in Matthew 9 turns on this question Jesus asks: "Do you believe I am able to do this?" Do you believe I can change darkness to light? Do you believe you'll see hope again? Do you believe against all evidence to the contrary?
This is an Advent text because it fulfills the prophecy of Isaiah.
It is also an Advent text because the two who are blind walk in darkness, needing sight, hoping for light.
What about you?
Do you believe you will see light again?
Do you believe God can cause light to overcome darkness?
Do you believe God is somehow at work in the world, even though your eyes may be blind to God's light-work?
For Reflection:
Today, hear Jesus ask you, "Do you believe I am able to do this?"
Answer as honestly as possible. Speak your answer . . . or write it. Allow Jesus' question to lead you into prayerful conversation with him.
Thursday, December 6, 2018
First Thurday of Advent - December 6, 2018
Hearing the Word
Isaiah 26:1-6
Matthew 7:21-27
“These words I speak to you are not incidental additions to your life, homeowner improvements to your standard of living. They are foundational words, words to build a life on. If you work these words into your life, you are like a smart carpenter who built his house on solid rock. . . ." (Matt. 7:24, The Message)
25 years ago, I did all sorts of things with the words spoken by Jesus. I studied them, memorized them, took seminary classes to illumine them, read books about them, taught them, preached sermons about them, quoted them. . . . I became skilled at handling the words, but much less skilled, to use the phrase in The Message, at "working these words into my life."
Jesus calls some ways of handling his words, "building a house on sand."
He calls other ways of handling his words, "building a house on solid rock."
Building a house in Jesus' wisdom saying is metaphor for building a life. In truth, God is present both in the house/life with a sand foundation and in the house/life with a foundation of rock. God is not limited by our wisdom and skill -- or lack thereof -- in building a life. Thus, what may be lacking in the house built on sand is our simple awareness that God is already in the house. Lacking that awareness, we allow ourselves to be thrown around by storms and windy weather, when acknowledging God in the house would immediately give us a solid foundation on which to stand.
In one of his journals, Thomas Merton wrote this:
I am content that these pages show me to be what I am, noisy, full of the racket of my imperfections and passions, and the wide open wounds left by my sins. Full of my own emptiness. Yet, ruined as my own house is, You live there!" (Merton, The Sign of Jonas.)
For Reflection:
1. Spend time today reflecting on Matthew 7:24 from The Message. Notice the words, phrases, or ideas that stand out to you. What do you hear God saying to you through these words, phrases, or ideas? What invitations from God do you sense?
2. Write your own "journal entry" in the style of Merton's entry above. How would you express your own sense of what Merton communicated in his short statement?
Isaiah 26:1-6
Matthew 7:21-27
“These words I speak to you are not incidental additions to your life, homeowner improvements to your standard of living. They are foundational words, words to build a life on. If you work these words into your life, you are like a smart carpenter who built his house on solid rock. . . ." (Matt. 7:24, The Message)
25 years ago, I did all sorts of things with the words spoken by Jesus. I studied them, memorized them, took seminary classes to illumine them, read books about them, taught them, preached sermons about them, quoted them. . . . I became skilled at handling the words, but much less skilled, to use the phrase in The Message, at "working these words into my life."
Jesus calls some ways of handling his words, "building a house on sand."
He calls other ways of handling his words, "building a house on solid rock."
Building a house in Jesus' wisdom saying is metaphor for building a life. In truth, God is present both in the house/life with a sand foundation and in the house/life with a foundation of rock. God is not limited by our wisdom and skill -- or lack thereof -- in building a life. Thus, what may be lacking in the house built on sand is our simple awareness that God is already in the house. Lacking that awareness, we allow ourselves to be thrown around by storms and windy weather, when acknowledging God in the house would immediately give us a solid foundation on which to stand.
In one of his journals, Thomas Merton wrote this:
I am content that these pages show me to be what I am, noisy, full of the racket of my imperfections and passions, and the wide open wounds left by my sins. Full of my own emptiness. Yet, ruined as my own house is, You live there!" (Merton, The Sign of Jonas.)
For Reflection:
1. Spend time today reflecting on Matthew 7:24 from The Message. Notice the words, phrases, or ideas that stand out to you. What do you hear God saying to you through these words, phrases, or ideas? What invitations from God do you sense?
2. Write your own "journal entry" in the style of Merton's entry above. How would you express your own sense of what Merton communicated in his short statement?
Wednesday, December 5, 2018
First Wednesday of Advent - December 5, 2018
Having Enough
Isaiah 25:6-10
Matthew 15:29-37
Isaiah 25 offers the image of a feast of rich food for all peoples, a banquet of aged wine, as a symbol of the coming "day of the Lord" at a table where everyone eats together.
The age of God's reign is often imaged in scripture as a feast, as a banquet at which all are fed, regardless of social class, race, gender, nationality, sexual orientation, or political persuasion. Everyone gathers at the table for a banquet. The poor and the rich are seated at the same table for God's feast, the finest meats, the best wines, enough for everyone, a table of plenty.
Whenever the Church offers a Eucharistic meal, the very act of Communion from a "common" table, she provides a miniature sign of this all-encompassing feast foreshadowed in scripture.
In the Gospel for today, Matthew describes the feast a bit differently than Isaiah. The feast is not opulence, but rather is simple sustenance for people who are hungry and in danger of "collapsing on the way." (For another time, you might consider this text with eyes beyond the literal . . . what is the true food of God that feeds people, sustaining us so that we don't "collapse on the way"?)
Many people have gathered, hungry, and in gathering resources to feed north of 4,000 people, some loaves and a few fish have been shared. It is not much, but it is enough.
Indeed, there is enough food to feed everyone, the story goes on to demonstrate. But what I have in my possession must be shared, not hoarded, not used as an instrument of social control. The food and resources at my disposal are not to be used in a way that holds power over those who have not. The bread must be brought together and shared for the common good.
The wonder here is not only the miracle of Jesus somehow causing bread and fish to multiply. The miracle is also the wonder of human sharing . . . the miracle of what happens within people when they take their grip off the resources they hold, and make those resources available for the common good . . . when we all share together, refusing to hold onto what we have -- either to punish the other, or to control them by what we have and they have-not -- so that everyone has enough.
Everyone is fed. There is plenty to go around. There are baskets of leftovers.
Perhaps Matthew is answering Isaiah, saying in effect that the day of the Lord is here already, right now, when people share what they have so that everyone has enough. It is not a feast of opulence, but it is enough, plenty for hungry people.
For Reflection:
What do you hold in your hand? Take inventory of what you have, the resources at your disposal. Everyone has something to share . . . material goods . . . time . . . expertise in some area . . . a willing spirit . . . compassion. What do you have to share so that others have enough? And how might you share this week?
Isaiah 25:6-10
Matthew 15:29-37
Isaiah 25 offers the image of a feast of rich food for all peoples, a banquet of aged wine, as a symbol of the coming "day of the Lord" at a table where everyone eats together.
The age of God's reign is often imaged in scripture as a feast, as a banquet at which all are fed, regardless of social class, race, gender, nationality, sexual orientation, or political persuasion. Everyone gathers at the table for a banquet. The poor and the rich are seated at the same table for God's feast, the finest meats, the best wines, enough for everyone, a table of plenty.
Whenever the Church offers a Eucharistic meal, the very act of Communion from a "common" table, she provides a miniature sign of this all-encompassing feast foreshadowed in scripture.
In the Gospel for today, Matthew describes the feast a bit differently than Isaiah. The feast is not opulence, but rather is simple sustenance for people who are hungry and in danger of "collapsing on the way." (For another time, you might consider this text with eyes beyond the literal . . . what is the true food of God that feeds people, sustaining us so that we don't "collapse on the way"?)
Many people have gathered, hungry, and in gathering resources to feed north of 4,000 people, some loaves and a few fish have been shared. It is not much, but it is enough.
Indeed, there is enough food to feed everyone, the story goes on to demonstrate. But what I have in my possession must be shared, not hoarded, not used as an instrument of social control. The food and resources at my disposal are not to be used in a way that holds power over those who have not. The bread must be brought together and shared for the common good.
The wonder here is not only the miracle of Jesus somehow causing bread and fish to multiply. The miracle is also the wonder of human sharing . . . the miracle of what happens within people when they take their grip off the resources they hold, and make those resources available for the common good . . . when we all share together, refusing to hold onto what we have -- either to punish the other, or to control them by what we have and they have-not -- so that everyone has enough.
Everyone is fed. There is plenty to go around. There are baskets of leftovers.
Perhaps Matthew is answering Isaiah, saying in effect that the day of the Lord is here already, right now, when people share what they have so that everyone has enough. It is not a feast of opulence, but it is enough, plenty for hungry people.
For Reflection:
What do you hold in your hand? Take inventory of what you have, the resources at your disposal. Everyone has something to share . . . material goods . . . time . . . expertise in some area . . . a willing spirit . . . compassion. What do you have to share so that others have enough? And how might you share this week?
Tuesday, December 4, 2018
First Tuesday of Advent - December 4, 2018
Beginning . . . Again
Isaiah 11:1-10
Luke 10:21-24
Isaiah's prophecy looks to a time when a "root will come up from the stump" of Jesse (King David's lineage) . . . "from his roots a Branch will bear fruit."
In something that looks final (a stump), something new will begin to appear.
Something small and hidden (roots) will be the beginning of fruit-bearing.
In Luke 10:21, the revelation is entrusted to children, to the unsophisticated, not to the learned. We all have to begin as children, in other words.
Today's readings make clear a basic spiritual truth: The first step of the spiritual life is to begin, and to begin where you are, not where you would like to be or where you have been in the past.
Begin here, not there.
Begin now, not then.
Don't ever think of yourself as so advanced that you have no need to begin right here, right now. I've heard too many people through the years say, "I can't begin now . . . I'll begin when _______."
The only place from which you can begin is here. Now.
When a Benedictine monk was asked by a visitor what the monks did all day at the monastery, he replied, "We fall down and get up. Fall down and get up. Fall down and get up" (hence the title of John McQuiston's book on Benedictine spirituality, Always We Begin Again).
About the spiritual life, Thomas Merton wrote this: "One cannot begin to face the real difficulties of the life of prayer and meditation unless one is first perfectly content to be a beginner and really experience himself (sic) as one who knows little or nothing, and has a desperate need to learn the bare rudiments. Those who think they 'know' from the beginning will never, in fact, come to know anything. . . . We do not want to be beginners. But let us be convinced of the fact that we will never be anything else but beginners, all our life!" (Thomas Merton, Contemplative Prayer, pp. 36-37)
For Reflection:
1. Spend some time reflecting on what it means for you to be a beginner. How does that feel to you? What does it raise up within you? What part of you resists being a beginner? Sit with this as non-judgmentally as you can.
2. Take one of the quotes above (the Benedictine monk or the Merton quote) and sit with it. In whichever quote you choose, notice what ideas or lines speak to you. Also notice which ideas you resist. Bring both that which draws you and that which you resist into your prayer today.
Isaiah 11:1-10
Luke 10:21-24
Isaiah's prophecy looks to a time when a "root will come up from the stump" of Jesse (King David's lineage) . . . "from his roots a Branch will bear fruit."
In something that looks final (a stump), something new will begin to appear.
Something small and hidden (roots) will be the beginning of fruit-bearing.
In Luke 10:21, the revelation is entrusted to children, to the unsophisticated, not to the learned. We all have to begin as children, in other words.
Today's readings make clear a basic spiritual truth: The first step of the spiritual life is to begin, and to begin where you are, not where you would like to be or where you have been in the past.
Begin here, not there.
Begin now, not then.
Don't ever think of yourself as so advanced that you have no need to begin right here, right now. I've heard too many people through the years say, "I can't begin now . . . I'll begin when _______."
The only place from which you can begin is here. Now.
When a Benedictine monk was asked by a visitor what the monks did all day at the monastery, he replied, "We fall down and get up. Fall down and get up. Fall down and get up" (hence the title of John McQuiston's book on Benedictine spirituality, Always We Begin Again).
About the spiritual life, Thomas Merton wrote this: "One cannot begin to face the real difficulties of the life of prayer and meditation unless one is first perfectly content to be a beginner and really experience himself (sic) as one who knows little or nothing, and has a desperate need to learn the bare rudiments. Those who think they 'know' from the beginning will never, in fact, come to know anything. . . . We do not want to be beginners. But let us be convinced of the fact that we will never be anything else but beginners, all our life!" (Thomas Merton, Contemplative Prayer, pp. 36-37)
For Reflection:
1. Spend some time reflecting on what it means for you to be a beginner. How does that feel to you? What does it raise up within you? What part of you resists being a beginner? Sit with this as non-judgmentally as you can.
2. Take one of the quotes above (the Benedictine monk or the Merton quote) and sit with it. In whichever quote you choose, notice what ideas or lines speak to you. Also notice which ideas you resist. Bring both that which draws you and that which you resist into your prayer today.
Saturday, December 24, 2016
Shepherds: Connecting the Human with the Divine
The story around the Nativity of Jesus is both common and other-worldly, brimming with mystery that unites elements that sound, at the same time, familiar and unique.
The narrative includes elements that are extraordinary, signifying that this birth has cosmic consequences, that it is heavenly and bears the mark of God’s design. The signs of God’s activity are everywhere: angels appearing to a virgin . . . a mysterious, “spiritual” conception . . . an angel chorus singing over shepherds and sheep . . . a supernatural star guiding foreign mystics, who notice a new alignment in the celestial realm . . . dreams and visions sent by God and mediated by angels.
The Christmas story is also common and ordinary: a couple is expecting a child . . . a baby is born . . . a small town is bustling with crowds at census time . . . people are going about their normal work as this birth takes place, including sheep-herders who are tending their flocks of sheep in the countryside. This is everyday life.
So the story is a co-mingling of divinity and humanity, an intertwining of the heavenly and the earthly. This is especially true of the encounter of angels and shepherds in the field.
It is no accident that the angels and shepherds show up in the same story, at the same time in the Nativity. We must hold them together . . . our weakness, poverty, lack, and need (shepherds), held together with our goodness, beauty, and sense of being created in God’s image (angels), even “a little higher than the angels,” as the psalmist says.
Joan Chittister (in The Rule of Benedict: Insight for the Ages) says the rabbis teach that we each live out of two pockets. In one pocket there is a message that says, “You are the dust of the earth.” In the other pocket is a message that says, “For you the stars were made.”
To live out of only one pocket or the other is to live out of balance. If we only live out of the “dust” pocket, we are overwhelmed with our humanity, our poverty, our incompleteness, our brokenness. We get stuck in guilt and shame. In the context of the Nativity, I would call this the “shepherd pocket.”
If we only live out of our “stars” pocket, we are easily inflated, self-interested, egocentric, and full of ourselves. In the context of this story, I would call this the “angel pocket.”
Humility is not a shuffling, self-effacing, putting down of self. Humility is actually having an honest assessment of who you are . . . holding both of these pockets in balance . . . seeing both your strengths/gifts/abundance/angel in truth, AND seeing your weakness/shadow/poverty/shepherd in truth. Humility means to hold both simultaneously, without getting lost in either pocket. In that sense, humility is truly the meeting of humanity and divinity within every person.
I’m glad angels are in the story. I’m also glad shepherds are in the story. I need to find both of them within me.
For Reflection:
Spend a few minutes today on Christmas Eve to ponder the utter ordinariness of the Christmas story and its unfathomable mystery. See if you can hold both together, with space within you for both angels and shepherds.
Wednesday, December 21, 2016
Shepherds: Seeing Truthfully
A healthy spirituality, one that leads a person to become who they were created to be, includes the key component of “seeing.” And more, it is about seeing truly, seeing what is real.
It seems like that should be self-evident, but it’s not. For so much of our life, we value what we are told to value – to be a good citizen, or a good family member, or a valuable employee, etc. – as determined by culture, by the social norms that surround us.
For example, the common message that saturates Western culture is that you can be complete or full . . . if you work hard enough . . . or if you achieve enough . . . or if you set your mind to it . . . or if you buy the right kind of laundry detergent. . . . In fact, the deceit of consumerism is that happiness comes from accumulating things and that it is possible to be so full of things that you don’t need anything or anyone else.
Most of us realize this is hogwash, but we fall into the trap all over again every December . . . more and more gifts for loved one . . . more and more gadgets and gizmos to keep us entertained and up-to-date.
It takes long years – and a certain difficult courage – to see that illusion for what it is, to resist the pull of the world around us.
In my first post about the shepherds in the Nativity, I said that they were characterized by poverty, need, lack, and incompleteness. Vocationally, shepherds were day-laborers, with few possessions of their own, hired to tend the sheep who were owned by someone else. They lived on the margins of propriety and the underside of society.
I suggested that you and I touch the shepherd within us, as well, because all of us are impoverished in some way. None of us, no matter how loudly the commercials scream, can manage our way to fullness or completeness. There are no magic products that will fill our deepest needs for love, mercy, compassion, and kinship. In fact, fullness and completeness – self-sufficiency – is not even a reasonable goal.
For this reason, I said in that essay that touching and embracing our poverty and incompleteness is an essential starting place for a transforming spiritual journey. Before my life can be shaped in healing, life-giving ways, I have to face my own impoverishment, I have to acknowledge my need and lack.
Most all of the world’s religious traditions teach the need to recognize our own emptiness. In fact, most of the world’s traditions also emphasize a variety of spiritual practices whose intent is to help us clear inner space for God’s interior work.
In fact, in the Christian contemplative tradition, poverty is not a problem. It is a gift, a blessing to know that you don’t know everything you need to know . . . that you don’t have everything you need to have . . . that you don’t yet possess that which makes life complete . . . that there is more of God’s depth and height and breadth yet to experience.
The birth announcement to the poorest among us, the shepherds, is also an announcement to the poorest part of us, the aspect of our lives in which we are most lacking, most in need.
When I dare to acknowledge my poverty, and to name it, I am finally freed to hear the birth announcement about this little one who fills and shapes and reorders life, this Jesus who makes life whole again.
The shepherd within us recognizes, in humility, that we are humans with limitations and boundaries . . . that Jesus’ birth is for EVERY part of me . . . and that our poverty is simply the beginning point of a deep and intimate connection with God.
For Reflection:
Think about your expectations of Christmas . . . family and friends . . . gatherings and social events . . . schedules and timelines. Take a moment to consider what it would mean to be present to those people and in those settings with a deeper sense of your own poverty . . . where you didn’t have to know every answer . . . you didn’t have to give the perfect present . . . you didn’t have to get a certain gift that would complete your life.
Spend a moment considering what “spiritual poverty” would look like for you over the next few days as Christmas approaches.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
The Third Monday of Advent -- December 12, 2011
Matthew 21:23 - 27
Jesus entered the temple courts, and, while he was teaching, the chief priests and the elders of the people came to him. “By what authority are you doing these things?” they asked. “And who gave you this authority?”
Jesus replied, “I will also ask you one question. If you answer me, I will tell you by what authority I am doing these things. John’s baptism—where did it come from? Was it from heaven, or of human origin?”
They discussed it among themselves and said, “If we say, ‘From heaven,’ he will ask, ‘Then why didn’t you believe him?’ But if we say, ‘Of human origin’—we are afraid of the people, for they all hold that John was a prophet.”
So they answered Jesus, “We don’t know.”
Then he said, “Neither will I tell you by what authority I am doing these things."
I sometimes say to people that the longest journey they will ever take is the 16 inches from their head to their heart.
Of course, that's a metaphorical journey, but the point is that for those of us who spend a lot of time in our head thinking about, understanding, and figuring out, a life that involves the heart and soul can seem very foreign. In fact, many of us resist that life.
We are a society and generation that lives with the belief that having the right knowledge is the key to life. If you just know enough, or know the right things, you can succeed and get ahead. We measure people by how much they know. We formally give them titles, even add to their names: "Dr.", "Rev.", "Ph.D.", "Prof.", "J.D.", and so on.
We value formal education and use it to rank people, to place them in an appropriate slot in a tiered-system of worth.
I'm not against education or knowing.
I am against giving it ultimate authority in our world.
So in the text for today, at least these two things happened:
First, the chief priests and elders were completely given to games of the mind, figuring out and discussing who Jesus was and how he had the credentials to do what he was doing. These accusers -- really trying to entrap Jesus -- lived in a world where figuring things out, then debating or discussing them, was the norm for life. In that sense, they were very much like we are in the 21st century.
But Jesus resisted their head-games by proposing for them a question they could not answer, a riddle they could not solve.
Second, Jesus appeared on the scene without formal credentials. He had no authority in the traditional sense, no external validation -- degrees, positions, formal titles -- for who he was and what he was doing. His validation was internal, experiential, and these leaders who lived in a world of rank, status, and external validation had no frame of reference for this One who lived only with the internal validation of the Father.
The text challenges what I value.
The text challenges how I see people and relate to others by virtue of title and position.
The text affirms the inner authority that comes from experience and personal engagement with God.
I'm trying to make a 16-inch journey.
Jesus entered the temple courts, and, while he was teaching, the chief priests and the elders of the people came to him. “By what authority are you doing these things?” they asked. “And who gave you this authority?”
Jesus replied, “I will also ask you one question. If you answer me, I will tell you by what authority I am doing these things. John’s baptism—where did it come from? Was it from heaven, or of human origin?”
They discussed it among themselves and said, “If we say, ‘From heaven,’ he will ask, ‘Then why didn’t you believe him?’ But if we say, ‘Of human origin’—we are afraid of the people, for they all hold that John was a prophet.”
So they answered Jesus, “We don’t know.”
Then he said, “Neither will I tell you by what authority I am doing these things."
I sometimes say to people that the longest journey they will ever take is the 16 inches from their head to their heart.
Of course, that's a metaphorical journey, but the point is that for those of us who spend a lot of time in our head thinking about, understanding, and figuring out, a life that involves the heart and soul can seem very foreign. In fact, many of us resist that life.
We are a society and generation that lives with the belief that having the right knowledge is the key to life. If you just know enough, or know the right things, you can succeed and get ahead. We measure people by how much they know. We formally give them titles, even add to their names: "Dr.", "Rev.", "Ph.D.", "Prof.", "J.D.", and so on.
We value formal education and use it to rank people, to place them in an appropriate slot in a tiered-system of worth.
I'm not against education or knowing.
I am against giving it ultimate authority in our world.
So in the text for today, at least these two things happened:
First, the chief priests and elders were completely given to games of the mind, figuring out and discussing who Jesus was and how he had the credentials to do what he was doing. These accusers -- really trying to entrap Jesus -- lived in a world where figuring things out, then debating or discussing them, was the norm for life. In that sense, they were very much like we are in the 21st century.
But Jesus resisted their head-games by proposing for them a question they could not answer, a riddle they could not solve.
Second, Jesus appeared on the scene without formal credentials. He had no authority in the traditional sense, no external validation -- degrees, positions, formal titles -- for who he was and what he was doing. His validation was internal, experiential, and these leaders who lived in a world of rank, status, and external validation had no frame of reference for this One who lived only with the internal validation of the Father.
The text challenges what I value.
The text challenges how I see people and relate to others by virtue of title and position.
The text affirms the inner authority that comes from experience and personal engagement with God.
I'm trying to make a 16-inch journey.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
The Second Saturday of Advent -- December 10, 2011
Matthew 17:10 - 13
The disciples asked him, “Why then do the teachers of the law say that Elijah must come first?”
Jesus replied, “To be sure, Elijah comes and will restore all things. But I tell you, Elijah has already come, and they did not recognize him, but have done to him everything they wished. In the same way the Son of Man is going to suffer at their hands.” Then the disciples understood that he was talking to them about John the Baptist.
We are trained to see what we see. We see what we expect to see, or what we want to see. We miss subtle changes or shifts, sometimes things that have been right before our eyes for a long time.
A few years ago I read something Helen Keller shared. One line in particular stuck with me.
“Recently I was visited by a very good friend who had just returned from a long walk in the woods, and I asked her what she had observed. 'Nothing in particular,' she replied. I might have been incredulous had I not been accustomed to such responses, for long ago I became convinced that the seeing see little.”
"The seeing see little." That's the line.
"Elijah has already come, but they did not recognize him." Teaching about Messiah included the understanding that an "Elijah" would precede Messiah in order to prepare the way. John the Baptist was "Elijah" in the sense of preparing the way for Jesus, yet people did not recognize him. They missed him.
Spirituality is about seeing, recognizing, noticing. It begins with seeing what is evident before us. Certainly there are times when we might see invisible, subtle things, but we don't have to begin in that deep water. Begin by seeing what is already visible in you and around you. Begin by noticing what shows up on your doorstep, what manifests itself in your life-world.
You don't have to possess x-ray vision to see, or put on 3-D glasses. Just pay attention.
A sunset will catch your attention.
The flock of birds will call your name.
Suddenly one day you'll notice the specific words or attitude of a particular person who triggers your anger.
You'll recognize a piece of wisdom intended for you . . . after you've heard it five times from five different sources over a 24 hour period.
Begin there. Of course, there are other things, more subtle things, more invisible things to pay attention to. But you have to start somewhere.
Spiritual practices like prayer, spiritual reading, silence and solitude help us learn to see with our hearts.
Find a spiritual friend or a spiritual guide who sees just a bit more than you do, and invite them to help you pay attention. Or just hang out with them. Seeing doesn't happen by osmosis, but we do learn to see from those who are already seeing.
The disciples asked him, “Why then do the teachers of the law say that Elijah must come first?”
Jesus replied, “To be sure, Elijah comes and will restore all things. But I tell you, Elijah has already come, and they did not recognize him, but have done to him everything they wished. In the same way the Son of Man is going to suffer at their hands.” Then the disciples understood that he was talking to them about John the Baptist.
We are trained to see what we see. We see what we expect to see, or what we want to see. We miss subtle changes or shifts, sometimes things that have been right before our eyes for a long time.
A few years ago I read something Helen Keller shared. One line in particular stuck with me.
“Recently I was visited by a very good friend who had just returned from a long walk in the woods, and I asked her what she had observed. 'Nothing in particular,' she replied. I might have been incredulous had I not been accustomed to such responses, for long ago I became convinced that the seeing see little.”
"The seeing see little." That's the line.
"Elijah has already come, but they did not recognize him." Teaching about Messiah included the understanding that an "Elijah" would precede Messiah in order to prepare the way. John the Baptist was "Elijah" in the sense of preparing the way for Jesus, yet people did not recognize him. They missed him.
Spirituality is about seeing, recognizing, noticing. It begins with seeing what is evident before us. Certainly there are times when we might see invisible, subtle things, but we don't have to begin in that deep water. Begin by seeing what is already visible in you and around you. Begin by noticing what shows up on your doorstep, what manifests itself in your life-world.
You don't have to possess x-ray vision to see, or put on 3-D glasses. Just pay attention.
A sunset will catch your attention.
The flock of birds will call your name.
Suddenly one day you'll notice the specific words or attitude of a particular person who triggers your anger.
You'll recognize a piece of wisdom intended for you . . . after you've heard it five times from five different sources over a 24 hour period.
Begin there. Of course, there are other things, more subtle things, more invisible things to pay attention to. But you have to start somewhere.
Spiritual practices like prayer, spiritual reading, silence and solitude help us learn to see with our hearts.
Find a spiritual friend or a spiritual guide who sees just a bit more than you do, and invite them to help you pay attention. Or just hang out with them. Seeing doesn't happen by osmosis, but we do learn to see from those who are already seeing.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
The Second Wednesday of Advent -- December 7, 2011
Luke 1:26 - 38
In the sixth month of Elizabeth’s pregnancy, God sent the angel Gabriel to Nazareth, a town in Galilee, to a virgin pledged to be married to a man named Joseph, a descendant of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. The angel went to her and said, “Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you.”
Mary was greatly troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be. But the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary; you have found favor with God. You will conceive and give birth to a son, and you are to call him Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever; his kingdom will never end.”
“How will this be,” Mary asked the angel, “since I am a virgin?”
The angel answered, “The Holy Spirit will come on you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God. Even Elizabeth your relative is going to have a child in her old age, and she who was said to be unable to conceive is in her sixth month. For no word from God will ever fail.”
“I am the Lord’s servant,” Mary answered. “May it be to me according to your word.” Then the angel left her.
This passage draws me toward Mary in a couple of ways. For one, she is one who is graced, who is favored, not because of what she has done, but because of who God is.
That's how grace and favor tend to work, much to our dismay. So much of modern life is built upon what we deserve and what we earn that the notion of grace and favor are totally outside our understanding. Western Christians have a difficult struggle with authentic grace, because it completely eliminates anything that I do to merit or become worthy.
Real grace doesn't preach well in the Church, neither does it sell well, nor does it keep the "faithful" in line. It is too unpredictable, too loose . . . too much initiated from God's side.
But mostly today I'm drawn to verse 31, to the simple statement of Gabriel to Mary: "You will conceive and give birth to a son."
That is the promise of spiritual conception, not only for Mary but for every one of us. In fact, you could probably image the spiritual life as the ongoing process of conceiving and then giving birth to God's life within each one of us. At a very basic, foundational level, that's what life is about. God's life, God's work, God's indwelling is conceived within us . . . and then our lives become about how that life, work and indwelling are birthed in our own life-worlds.
How is God embodied within you and me?
How are our lives expressions of incarnation, as Christ dwells within us?
In the twentieth century, Thomas Merton found some old Advent sermons preached by Bernard of Clairvaux in the 12th century. Merton ran with Bernard's idea that there are three Advents of importance.
The first was the Advent of Christ into human history. This is the past event we remember and celebrate at Christmas.
The third Advent is the coming of Christ at the end of the age. This Advent is still in the future.
It is the second Advent that may be most crucial, according to Bernard and Merton, and it is also the Advent to which we give least attention. This middle Advent is the birth or coming of Christ into our lives and into our world at every moment. Christ is continually coming, constantly being conceived and birthed in our world. We may or may not see and participate in those conceptions and births, but nonetheless they are real and they are all around us.
Perhaps the most compelling invitation for us today would be to hear the invitation to conceive and give birth to Christ in our own life-worlds, to live into the reality of this current-day Advent as a time of God's breaking in, no less than God broke in centuries ago in Bethlehem, and no less than God will break into human history at some time in to future.
In the sixth month of Elizabeth’s pregnancy, God sent the angel Gabriel to Nazareth, a town in Galilee, to a virgin pledged to be married to a man named Joseph, a descendant of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. The angel went to her and said, “Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you.”
Mary was greatly troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be. But the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary; you have found favor with God. You will conceive and give birth to a son, and you are to call him Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever; his kingdom will never end.”
“How will this be,” Mary asked the angel, “since I am a virgin?”
The angel answered, “The Holy Spirit will come on you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God. Even Elizabeth your relative is going to have a child in her old age, and she who was said to be unable to conceive is in her sixth month. For no word from God will ever fail.”
“I am the Lord’s servant,” Mary answered. “May it be to me according to your word.” Then the angel left her.
This passage draws me toward Mary in a couple of ways. For one, she is one who is graced, who is favored, not because of what she has done, but because of who God is.
That's how grace and favor tend to work, much to our dismay. So much of modern life is built upon what we deserve and what we earn that the notion of grace and favor are totally outside our understanding. Western Christians have a difficult struggle with authentic grace, because it completely eliminates anything that I do to merit or become worthy.
Real grace doesn't preach well in the Church, neither does it sell well, nor does it keep the "faithful" in line. It is too unpredictable, too loose . . . too much initiated from God's side.
But mostly today I'm drawn to verse 31, to the simple statement of Gabriel to Mary: "You will conceive and give birth to a son."
That is the promise of spiritual conception, not only for Mary but for every one of us. In fact, you could probably image the spiritual life as the ongoing process of conceiving and then giving birth to God's life within each one of us. At a very basic, foundational level, that's what life is about. God's life, God's work, God's indwelling is conceived within us . . . and then our lives become about how that life, work and indwelling are birthed in our own life-worlds.
How is God embodied within you and me?
How are our lives expressions of incarnation, as Christ dwells within us?
In the twentieth century, Thomas Merton found some old Advent sermons preached by Bernard of Clairvaux in the 12th century. Merton ran with Bernard's idea that there are three Advents of importance.
The first was the Advent of Christ into human history. This is the past event we remember and celebrate at Christmas.
The third Advent is the coming of Christ at the end of the age. This Advent is still in the future.
It is the second Advent that may be most crucial, according to Bernard and Merton, and it is also the Advent to which we give least attention. This middle Advent is the birth or coming of Christ into our lives and into our world at every moment. Christ is continually coming, constantly being conceived and birthed in our world. We may or may not see and participate in those conceptions and births, but nonetheless they are real and they are all around us.
Perhaps the most compelling invitation for us today would be to hear the invitation to conceive and give birth to Christ in our own life-worlds, to live into the reality of this current-day Advent as a time of God's breaking in, no less than God broke in centuries ago in Bethlehem, and no less than God will break into human history at some time in to future.
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