Dear Friends,
On any given day our minds are bombarded by a multitude of information. Some information we take in consciously and some we are vaguely aware of and still others we do not consciously recognize unless or until someone or something points it out to us.
A few evenings ago, after a cloudy and rainy day, there was a break in the clouds 
to the west and I caught sight of an amazingly colorful sunset. We’ve all witnessed beautiful sunrises and sunsets, but do we really notice them? Do we interpret each one as unique? Do we marvel at the changing and deepening and fading of colors? Or does such a witness evoke an “Oh yea, just another sunset; happens every day” kind of response? A couple of days ago we awoke to snow on the ground – yes, snow. And this, after a few days of 70 degree weather! Again, what was our interpretation of this event of nature? A sigh of dismay (or disgust)? Or a prompt to ponder the ever changing and vacillating springtime weather in our area of the country? Last night when I took the dogs outside before heading to bed, I heard the sound of the peeping frogs singing loudly in the back pond – more information for my brain. Hearing this “noise” could have evoked in me a feeling of being annoyed that the quietness of rural life is now invaded by the sound of these frogs, which will only continue to grow louder and louder as spring progresses and summer begins. OR, as in my case, I rejoice that those frogs still inhabit the pond, are a vital link in nature’s ecosystem and delight in the sound of their joyful music.
And then there’s a meal – in many ways so very ordinary but containing more sensory input. After all, we eat meals every day! We’ve prepared the food, set the table, seated ourselves with others (or alone), perhaps recited from memory a traditional meal prayer and commence to eat. Sometimes we converse with our dining companion(s); sometimes we simply watch the news while eating. In many ways it's just an ordinary meal like so many others. Hmmm…is it?/does it have to be?
Luke’s gospel this weekend begins with the end of the Emmaus story (24:36); the story of the two disciples having their eyes opened – becoming aware of the presence of the Sacred One (Jesus) among them, as they sat at table, in the breaking of the bread. I wonder…is it not possible for us, here and now, also to partake in and share a sacred meal in our own homes? Can we allow ourselves to be really, fully aware, in mind and heart, of the food before us as gift and blessing? When we gather in our homes (or in a restaurant) is it possible to open our hearts (alone or together if we’re dining with others) and not only see the food set before us, but also invite the Sacred Provider to sit at table and dwell with and within us as we partake? When we reach for that roll in the basket can not we also have our eyes and hearts opened as we break the bread (before buttering it) and remember the words of Jesus as he took the bread, blessed, broke and shared it? Wow! An ordinary meal CAN indeed become a sacred remembrance, a holy meal -blessed, broken, given, shared.
I believe the key in all of this information input I’ve written here is to notice – to REALLY notice what is around and with us and to feel in the depths of our hearts that all we encounter and have is pure gift. Perhaps consciously inviting our Sacred Creator and Provider into the equation of our experiences and lives will open our eyes and hearts to truly begin to see how we and all of creation is wonderfully, delightfully made.
Peace on the Journey.
Dear Friends,
Last year I wrote often of the Eastern Bluebirds that took up residence in one of our birdhouses and tracked the progress and wonder of their time with us during the spring and summer months. Well, they’re back!!! It felt a little early because of the still cold weather, but one month ago, lo and behold, I caught a glimpse of something very familiar while going out to get the mail. It took off quickly toward the north side of the house so I rushed inside and went to the bedroom window. Sure enough, there he was...an Eastern bl
uebird perched in the tree by the little white birdhouse! Since that time both male and female bluebirds have been seen sparingly until two days ago. Last evening I watched intently as they perched on the tree by the birdhouse, fluttered down to the ground, took turns entering the birdhouse. They’re so busy; they’re so focused on building this year’s nest – getting their “house” ready. And they work so in unison with each other, this community of two.
Last weekend our grandson was here and injured his knee while driving his go-cart. After a trip to the emergency room, where he was examined and x-rays were taken, we returned home with instructions to use crutches, rest, and intermittently put ice on his knee. He and I did not make it to church on Easter. We followed the instructions given to us and kept ice on his knee – 20 minutes on; 20 minutes off. While we waited for grandpa to return from church, I pulled out two bibles: our grandson’s and mine, and we took turns reading Luke’s account of the resurrection (24:1-12) to each other. We then talked about what Easter means. There we were, the two of us, gathered together on the couch, breaking open the Word – a community of two in the presence of the Sacred.
The experience of these two separate occasions brought forth some ponderings on what it takes to be community. It occurs to me that community can take many forms and be comprised of many (or few) participants. What makes a community is not merely a bunch of people (or birds) being in the same place at the same time. Community is not merely a gathering of the like-minded (does something like that really exist?). Community is not even ruled or governed or presided over by someone, though some communities are. But that’s not an essential element of being community. True community is not ridden with power, control, arrogance, dominance, suppression, oppression, anger, superiority, guilt. Community is not about holding on to “what’s mine” but is about letting go and empowering the other to share their God-given talents. What is essential to true community is living and being with a sense of togetherness – caring for each other, working together for the good of the whole, meeting and accepting and valuing each other regardless of where we are on our life or faith path, and loving each other just as we are. It’s all about being “of one heart and mind” (Acts 4:32) no matter the “size” of the community. It’s all about Love.
Peace on the Journey
Dear Friends,
For those who celebrate…Happy Easter! The long forty days of Lent and the three days known as the Triduum, the Christian remembrance of the last days of Jesus’ life on earth are over. And in the process, or progression through our observance of this liturgical season, we have most likely journeyed in our own way according to our custom and our lived experience of times past. Some of us may have taken this time to journey inward to discover how the Sacred One is present in our lives and how we can become more in tune and attuned to the movements of the Sacred all around us. We have waited for today, perhaps with anticipation, and rightly so. It is the day of yet another both/and: it is the day we look toward new life and it is the day we find nothing – an empty tomb. And we rejoice at each part of this both/and.
All four gospels tell us that women (various women depending on which gospel one consults) go to the tomb where Jesus had been laid following his death. And in each gospel the tomb is found empty – the women find nothing. We read accounts of the women going back to the disciples to inform them of what they have seen…and they were not believed. It is the women (in most of the gospels) who first came to realize Jesus had risen. Scripture scholars call this the proof of embarrassment. They tell us the fact that this witnessing by women is even contained in the gospels is one of the proofs that Jesus had in fact risen from the dead because in that day and age, women were considered unreliable sources. Thus, admitting the womens' witness as truth and including it in oral tradition (the telling of the story) and eventually in written form would would go against and be an embarassment to the "norm" of society at that time in history. In many respects and in many parts of our world, even our own to various degrees, not much has changed – women are often not (or are seldom) valued as equals with their male counterparts or are viewed as unreliable sources of information and wisdom. I suggest these gospel women demonstrated great faith and belief (as do a great many women in our present day). They witnessed the tomb, even this empty tomb, where “nothing” was found, as a womb – as a place where a most radical way of living and believing and faith was born anew; a place of rebirth and new life; a place of hope revealed.
Throughout Lent we may have taken the leap into the depths of our soul to ponder and reflect on a great many things: how we live, how we can better become who our Creator intends us to be, and/or how we can better live in relationship with the Sacred, with others and with all of creation. We may have done this willingly, tentatively, or begrudgingly, but we did it all the same while looking forward to the day – this day – when we would emerge having completed our journey. Oh how we fool ourselves! Our journey is not complete! This is a life-long journey, this path of discovering and moving, yes, back and forth, toward spiritual wholeness and peace. And today we discover that though we have made progress on our journey, we are continually called to empty ourselves – to rid ourselves of all our illusions of grandeur and arrogance and superiority and control in order to be who we are intended to be…the Beloved – just as the tomb was emptied. Perhaps in doing so, it will lead us back to the concept of dying to self in order to move toward new life.
May we rejoice in the promise and fulfillment of new life we celebrate on this Easter day and may we embrace the nothing - the women’s excited and even the fearful accounts of finding the empty tomb. Both/And.
Peace on the journey.
Dear Friends, It pretty much goes without saying, this week in the Christian liturgical calendar marks Holy Week – the week where, beginning with Palm (or Passion) Sunday, we focus on the events surrounding the death of Jesus. We read and hear about the last supper with his disciples, the anointing of his feet, his washing the feet of his disciples as an example of servant leadership, his agony in the garden, his betrayal by Judas, his arrest, his “trial”, his condemnation, his journey to Golgotha, and his death by crucifixion. Through all this we are so intimately focused on the cross; on Jesus’ death. And we may have been told that we attain salvation through Jesus’ death. Now, I am not denying this, yet I wonder… I wonder if there's more...Our early Christian ancestors focused most on Jesus’ life and healing ministry and teachings rather than on his death or the cross…until the fourth century…until Constantine. Legend has it Constantine, before invading Italy, saw a blazing cross in the sky with the words “in this sign you will be the victor” and he literally took that as confirmation of impending victory. Constantine did conquer Italy, the final territory of his vast Western empire. Thus, because of Constantine, began Christianity’s love affair with the cross even to the point of another legend that has Constantine’s mother claiming to find the actual crucifixion cross, even to the point of the dark times of Christianity during the brutal and murderous crusades. I wonder… Is it possible the earliest, pre-Constantine Christians knew and lived something we may have forgotten or perhaps dismiss particularly during this final week of Lent? Could it be in their remembering at table, the telling of the stories of Jesus’ life and works and in the breaking of the bread and the sharing of the cup, in their house churches the salvation offered to all focused intimately on the unconditionally loving act of God breaking into the world in human form and the compassionate, inclusive ways Jesus was present throughout his life? Could it be that throughout the ages we have been taught more about the “value” of suffering and death than of joy life and love? All this is not an either/or proposition. No, it’s a both/and. Suffering and death have much to teach us. To watch someone suffer and/or die, or to be the one suffering, can teach us how to do so with dignity and grace. It can teach us about helplessness and that there are times in life when we are not in control. It can also teach us how to become compassionate care givers and grateful care receivers. It can teach us about empathy and being present and holy silence and spiritual healing. It can teach us about having faith - that even if or when no one is there we are not alone, for the Sacred One is our constant companion. It can teach us about what really matters. It can teach us about life – our own, others’ and all created life. It can teach us about love and the deep and constant love of the One who loved us first - the One who broke into the world to live among us in human form, the One who dwells with us intimately woven in the very fabric of our lives. And yet, these are not only the lessons of suffering or of death...these are also lessons of life and love. Both/And. Peace on the Journey
to the west and I caught sight of an amazingly colorful sunset. We’ve all witnessed beautiful sunrises and sunsets, but do we really notice them? Do we interpret each one as unique? Do we marvel at the changing and deepening and fading of colors? Or does such a witness evoke an “Oh yea, just another sunset; happens every day” kind of response? 
