What do you know?

I participate in an online (and sometimes in person) community known as Emergent Village. EV has gone through several configurations over the year, but basically it is a community in which to have conversations about Christianity in a postmodern context – the practice, exploration and even rejection of the faith.

Anyone who has been a part of Emergent Village knows that it has its share of conflict and frustrations because of all the different personalities and intentions that gather at the table.

As an experimental practice to try to open up a space for conversation where people are coming at scripture from different backgrounds (and may be moving in different directions with their faith), we are trying to engage scripture passages from a lectionary with a few “simple” questions:

1) What encourages you about this passage? (gives you hope, inspires you to act, makes you feel peace or joy, etc.)

2) What disturbs you about this passage? (frustrates or confuses you, makes you angry or sad, etc.)

3) What questions does this passage raise? What would you like to explore more?

That’s it. We want to practice reading scripture as a community, in a way that is not mining for rules or feigning certainty, but rather as an honest reading where we feel safe to be vulnerable. We want to say what makes us angry, what doesn’t seem to add up. We want to say what brings us joy and fills us with hope. We want to express our questions and maybe even explore them more together.

This may be a practice you want to try in your own scripture reading or in your local community. I hope that it can encourage and enrich you, particularly if scripture has become something you avoid out of expectations that have been placed on you. 

Live Everything

“But if the truth is to be told, let us not leave out any part…”
– Life is Hard, Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros




"…be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer."
– Letters to a Young Poet, Rainer Maria Rilke

“We don’t live or become real if nothing ever happens to us.”
– Madeleine L’Engle




“Real isn't how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.”

“Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit.

“Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real you don't mind being hurt.”

“Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,' he asked, 'or bit by bit?”

“It doesn't happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand.”
– The Velveteen Rabbit, Margery Williams

modeling listening

"The Christian helper needs to realize that he or she is not only watching and promoting spiritual growth in the other, but necessarily also earnestly pursuing it in his or her own life. This is not only because we do God's work effectively in the measure that we are united to him, but also because we can hardly ask others to do what we will not take the trouble to do ourselves. Jesus never did. And any kind of helping is so largely a matter of modeling. One thinks of the words of Emerson: 'What you are thunders so loud I cannot hear what you are saying.' Yet even where our words are concerned, we affect others more sometimes by offhand or incidental remarks than we do by our most careful and concerned discourses. The quality of our offhand remarks is largely determined by the quality of our lives.”

~ Thomas N. Hart, The Art of Christian Listening

Rooted & Established in Love

So, I knew going into the Anglican experience I wanted some prayer beads. I mean, Rebekah had some lovely ones she just received from Amanda at Love is a Seed, and Heather has me all prayer bead inspired since she’s been researching different variations. I’ve made a rosary for my Catholic father in the past, and some strings of remembrance prayer beads for my mom and aunts recently when my grandfather passed away.

My father’s piece was made with a patron saints medal of his I’ve had since I was a child, and I used green glass beads, Celtic knot spacers and a Celtic cross. I loved that medal, but never felt appropriate wearing it, seeing as the back was inscribed with “I am Catholic, in case of emergency notify a priest.” I was very pleased with how it turned out and thought about making a similar one for myself, but never did.

For my mother and aunts, I did a simple five bead strand with an acorn charm at the end. The beads were turquoise and the acorn a copper color, both elements that remind me of my grandfather. The acorn was a symbol that had come to mean much to them as they sat vigil bedside of their father, and I wanted that to signify that these beads were for them to hold and touch and pray in memory of him.

As soon as I decided I wanted a set of prayer beads for this liturgical year, it didn’t take me long to select my beads. What was harder was choosing the drop. Yes, I know a cross is the logical and traditional choice, but I have a quirky hang up about a “cross-centered” life. Besides, anyone who’s heard me teach will tell you I like post-resurrection Jesus best, but a loaf of bread just seemed to lack the pizazz needed for a focal piece. I needed something that would be meaningful to me, meaningful to how the story of scripture speaks to me, meaningful to my life in the Spirit.

A tree.

That’s it! It’s perfect! A yin-yang symbol of my Christian walk if there ever was one. Shadow and light. Doubt and faith. Hesitation and trust.

I actually wear a tree on my finger already, and I love to tell the story of how my philosophy professor once demanded I no longer ask questions about the tree in the garden – not that he didn’t want me to ask questions, he just wanted me to move on to something else. But that damn tree plagues me to this day (that’s a post for another day, probably along with further explanation of the cross-centered hullabaloo).

But the tree is not just something that raises questions for me (like, why DID Jesus curse that poor fig tree?), but also a beautiful symbol of life in the Spirit. The tree is a symbol of a rooted, abiding life – a life that bears the fruit of the Spirit, the same fruit that has nourished us, we offer to others. I think of family trees, and the genealogy of Jesus, the women and men whose stories come together to form the body of Christ, and the stories those of us grafted in bring. The trees will clap their hands with the joyful song of creation when redemption is fulfilled (I suspect they already are).

With my design plans set on the back burner to simmer, I slid into the back of St. Michael’s sanctuary on the first Sunday of Advent, and quickly spotted friends to sit with. I settled in, and gazed forward toward the altar. My eyes were immediately drawn behind the altar, beyond the center of the room, to the looming focal piece of the space – a large picture window, opening up the sanctuary to the beauty outside.

Trees.

And I realized, in that moment, that I will spend this journey not only experiencing the liturgical seasons within the sanctuary, but watching nature’s seasons change the trees just beyond. Every time I take the elements among this gathering of the body, it will be kneeling near trees that are journeying through their yearly process of renewal, of change, of death and burial and resurrection, of ordinary days before it all starts again.

The sermon (homily? I’ve got to get the terminology down…) focused on the life that exists in the transitions, the growth that occurs during those times we feel least in control of our lives. (Here’s a link to one of the stories that was shared: http://www.earthstewards.org/ESN-Trapeze.asp)

It was inspired by the Gospel reading of Luke 21:25-36:
“Look at the fig tree and all the trees; as soon as they sprout leaves you can see for yourselves and know that summer is already near. So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that the kingdom of God is near.”

The kingdom that was and is and is to come, the kingdom that Jesus proclaimed, is evident in the changing of the seasons: death and resurrection, suffering and reconciliation, uncertainty and wisdom.

Changing seasons can leave us feeling unsettled, like we can’t see the forest for the trees (see what I did there?). But when we can keep our focus on the big picture story, we know that changing seasons is part of nature, it’s part of the story of creation, it happens… and it happens again… and it happens again. Each time we transition through a cycle of life, we grow, we strengthen, we renew.

We experience resurrection, again and again and again – to new life, and new experiences, and new perspectives. Every time we’re convince we have God figured out, we see his plan for our lives clearly, change enters in, and the Creator asks us once again to open our hands, to open our hearts, and to release. We release our grip of control, and we raise our hands to hopeful trust.

And we wait.

We wait for new birth. We wait for new growth. We wait for the beauty of redemption.

We wait with trepidation, and the angels whisper “Do not fear.”

We wait with eager anticipation.

We wait with uncertainty.

We wait with hope.

We wait.

Ash Wednesday: Invitation to Abide

For Lent this year, I am committing to a practice of abiding, of spending intentional time resting with and listening to the Lord. I will be using Macrina Wiederkehr’s wonderful new book, Abide: Keeping Vigil with the Word of God, as my guide.

I will not necessarily be sharing reflections of my time on a daily basis, as I do not want the activity of posting to become my focus. However, the times spent prayerful listening will undoubtedly spill over onto the blog. What I do want to be sure to share are some notes from the book’s introduction, to give you a taste of the meditations included therein.

Sister Macrina lays out the following path of lectio divina (sacred reading as prayer):

~ Wait in silence

~ Read contemplatively

~ Listen obediently

~ Pray as the Holy Spirit leads

~ Abide

Of this final step, we are told:

This is a beautiful moment spent in pure contemplative presence with the Beloved. This is love. “Remain in me, as I remain in you” (John 15:4). “Be still and know that I am God” (Ps 46:10, NRSV). Dwell. Remain in love. ABIDE.

We are invited to see this process as a pilgrimage of sorts, with each pause for reflection as a holy space.

Finally, we are invited to carry our vigil with us as we move about our day:

Be open to God’s Word blossoming everywhere. Walk with awareness through forests, parks, and gardens, along the seashore, or down a busy city street. The Word of God is near you. Climb a mountain and the Word will meet you. Move mindfully through your daily work tasks – the Word is at your fingertips. Celebrate the Eucharist with a community of struggling believers. You will be enfolded into God’s Creative Word.

I am looking forward to leaning into the 40 reflections and prayers in this little book as we move slowly, steadily from the solemnity of Ash Wednesday to the celebration of Easter.

Preparing for Lent - 3 of 3

Finally, we come to the “Be” of “Be Here Now” – our orientation toward our creator, the invitation to abide, to be still, to cease striving, the practice of resting and listening.

Pause.

Breathe in slowly.

Breathe out slowly.

Let’s continue…

In John 15, we are not only invited to abide in Christ, we are informed that in order for the fruit of the spirit to grow from our lives, we must abide in Christ. The fruit of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control is germinated when our lives are rooted in God, when we slow down, allow ourselves to be still, and remember that there is a story bigger than ourselves and a power greater than our own.

When we find a rhythm of Sabbath in our lives, when we identify pockets of time (whether it be a quiet coffee break, a day set apart, or a sabbatical year) in which to release control to God and open our hearts to hear the spirit’s stirrings, we are reminded of who we are. We are a beloved creation, with unique gifts to share. We are also a limited creation, and we are not expected to do it all.

The poet Rilke writes,

I am, you anxious one.
Don’t you sense me, ready to break into being at your touch?
My murmurings surround you like shadowy wings.
Can’t you see me standing before you cloaked in stillness?
Hasn’t my longing ripened in you from the beginning as fruit ripens on a branch?

In Psalm 46, God speaks into the midst of chaos with the words: Be still and know that I am God. In a few retreats I have attended, this verse is used to draw us into a time of rest and quiet.

Be still and know that I am God.

Be still and know that I AM.

Be still and know.

Be still.

Be.


Our prayer exercise for the practice of being was an invitation to centering prayer. Taking your word from the lectio divina in the “Here” post, try sitting quietly in the presence of God, with nothing to share, nothing to ask, nothing to expect. If you find your mind starting to wander, simply repeat your word – silently, slowly, calmly – to draw you back to the moment. Rest in God’s presence. Be present. Abide.

Preparing for Lent - 2 of 3

In the previous post, we looked at the “Now” of “Be Here Now”- our orientation to time and our choice to practice forgiveness & trust over bitterness & anxiousness. Continuing our reverse trek, we will now look at the idea of being present “Here”.

Here is an orientation to place, to the space we currently inhabit, the community we are currently planted in, the circumstances that currently surround us. I associate it with terms such as stability, rootedness and connection.

When we think of Jeremiah 29, we most often think of verse 11 – God knows the plans he has for us, and they are big ones! The future’s so bright, we gotta wear shades! Let’s go get ’em! It’s all fine and dandy that our creator has plans to prosper his people, to give them hope and a future, but that doesn’t change the fact that from Adam to Abraham and beyond, God’s people have always had to endure the nitty-gritty of daily life, and the consequences of their choices. That’s why my favorite part of Jeremiah 29 is found earlier in the chapter, in verses 4-7:

This is what the LORD Almighty, the God of Israel, says to all those I carried into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon: “Build houses and settle down; plant gardens and eat what they produce. Marry and have sons and daughters; find wives for your sons and give your daughters in marriage, so that they too may have sons and daughters. Increase in number there; do not decrease. Also, seek the peace and prosperity of the city to which I have carried you into exile. Pray to the LORD for it, because if it prospers, you too will prosper.”

Once again, the Israelites have found themselves in a foreign land, not a place they want to be, not the place God wanted them to be, yet here they were. And rather than a baby in a basket, rather than plagues and a Passover, God tells them to settle down, to make a home, to plant themselves in this place. And that prosperity? It will be dependent on how much they participate in seeking peace and prosperity for this land of their exile.

In the movie Click, the main character finds himself at the end of his life, distraught because while he was trying to fast forward through the moments he found dull or difficult, he missed out on the moments that were sacred and beautiful. In much the same way, if we keep waiting for life to happen somewhere else, under different circumstances, WE MISS LIFE! Participating in life means we are willing to be vulnerable, allowing ourselves to be known beyond our masks. Participating in life means we take the chance of being hurt, and we take the chance of being loved. Participating in life means releasing our illusion of control and embracing it all – the boredom and the grief and the beauty and the joy and the bellyaching laughter.

Being rooted in a place, does not mean that we can never go elsewhere, but it does mean we do so intentionally. When we read about the Holy Spirit going with us in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the uttermost parts of the earth – some of us become very eager to jump to all of those uttermost parts. However, unless you choose one of those places, root yourself into community there, allow your walls to come down so that you can truly engage the people around you, you are not doing much for the peace and prosperity of that place, or the peace and prosperity of your own heart.

Mother Theresa famously said, “I want you to go and find the poor in your homes. Above all, your love has to start there. I want you to be concerned about your next door neighbor. Do you know who your neighbor is?” It can be very easy to go and serve in unfamiliar places where we only land for a short while, because it does not require much vulnerability on our parts. But if we really want to impact and be impacted by a community, we have to be fully present there, allow our walls and masks to fall to the ground, and settle down into daily life with one another.

The prayer exercise we practiced in conjunction with the discussion of being “here” was a lectio divina reading of Psalm 37:1-9. Sit with the passage and ask the Lord to speak to you about what it looks like to settle down into a place. Read slowly through the passage and get an overview of the verses. Pause, and let it sink in. Read slowly through it another time, and pay attention for a word that stands out to you. Read slowly through it a third time, and listen for your word in context. Sit with that word for a time, and allow the Lord to plant it in your heart.

Preparing for Lent - 1 of 3

Several weeks ago I had the privilege of talking about the importance of being present in the reality of our lives. Last week I read the introduction to Macrina Wiederkehr's Abide: Keeping Vigil with the Word of God, and realized the 40 reflections would make a wonderful Lenten practice. So, I thought I would rehash some of my notes on presence in the days leading up to Lent, and give a brief introduction to Sister Macrina's book on Ash Wednesday. I hope these reflections will benefit your journey, as well. The practice of presence, of abiding, is not one I have down, but rather one I have committed to developing this year.

When thinking about the importance of presence, of dwelling with God in the reality of my life, I can't help but settle on the phrase "Be Here Now". And, while I know that the beginning is a very good place to start, I chose to begin at the end: NOW.

Now is an orientation to time, to the present, wedged between what has been and what will be. Now is a place where we choose to experience life as it presents itself. When we choose to live stuck in the past, we choose to live in bitterness over things we miss, things that hurt us, things we never accomplished - we have the illusion that by holding on to these things we some how have control over them or can change what happened. Similarly, when we choose to live focused on the future, we choose to live in anxiousness over what may or may not happen - we have the illusion that by staying focused on the maybe-but-not-yet that we can control those things before they ever come to be.

Matthew 6:25-34 has been one of my favorite passages since youth group days - long before I truly understood the significance: do not worry... can anyone by worrying add an hour to their life... do not worry about tomorrow, tomorrow will worry about itself... each day has enough trouble of its own.

Each day has enough trouble of its own.

Exodus records the story of the Israelite journey from slavery in Egypt to the promised land, a journey that was much longer than it had to be. The Lord was present with Israel, freeing them from Egypt, making a way through the sea, guiding them through the desert with a cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night, yet despite God's presence and provision, it still took the Israelites 40 years of wandering around the wilderness before they reached their not-so-distant destination. Why? Bitterness and anxiousness.

The Lord promised to provide bread and meat daily for the people as they progressed on their journey: The people are to go out each day and gather enough for that day. Yet the Israelites were bitter, fondly remembering the food they ate in captivity, lamenting the simplicity and perhaps strangeness of the food that was being provided for them daily. They were also anxious, concerned about if there truly would be enough food the next day, what the new land would really be like, what it would truly take to inhabit.

Each day has enough provision of its own.

Elijah had a bitterness/anxiousness episode of his own in the wilderness. After being miraculously provided with food by a poor widow, after having a part in bringing that woman's son back to life, after an amazing experience displaying the presence of God before the prophets of Baal on Mt. Carmel, Elijah found out Jezebel was angry and wanted him dead, so he fled. God was continuously present and doing miracles all around him, but one angry woman and the prophet was spent. Exhausted and afraid, the weary prophet finds himself in the wilderness, with God once again providing him with food & drink. God was present with Elijah as a still, small voice. Twice the Lord asked, "What are you doing here Elijah?" Twice Elijah lamented,
“I have been very zealous for the LORD God Almighty. The Israelites have rejected your covenant, torn down your altars, and put your prophets to death with the sword. I am the only one left, and now they are trying to kill me too.” Elijah was bitter. Bitter that he had done everything right, and yet his life was being threatened. Elijah was also anxious about what may happen should Jezebel get her way - despite how God had provided for him all along his journey.

Choosing to live in the present is a practice of choosing forgiveness & trust over bitterness & anxiousness. It is a practice of choosing to live in the only moment we truly have any control over, the here-and-now, and the control we have is that of being willing to forgive what has happened and being willing to trust God in what will come.

A prayer exercise that is helpful to keeping your spirit in the now is a daily prayer of examen. A time where you intentionally reflect on your day, offering thanksgiving and repentance where necessary, releasing bitterness and anxiousness where you find it, and preparing yourself to be fully present with Christ in the day ahead - to allow both its trouble and its provision to be enough.