six::thirty

Three Travelers

You three Travelers,
if you would,
come into my dwelling place.

Let me set a table for you.
My heart is calling me to serenade
you with my magnificat.

Though I don't find myself worthy
somehow these words escape
out of my mind, and I invite.

Please, return with your news
in one year,
this afternoon, this evening,

ever-return.

You three Travelers,
who span the desert
and breathe forth the sky,

stir the stars,
yet visit my tent,
my heart,

that place of my being,
that self I have not a word to call.
We sit at a table

with blue candlelight
to see anew and of old and inside,
into times and places not yet seen.

For these are dreams dreamed.
And if you would
let me travel with you,

you three Travelers,
or if needed,
have me stay

ready for your ever-return.

(The above icon is Andrei Rublev's Trinity. It is based on the three travelers in the Genesis 8 who visited Abraham. Abraham showed them hospitality and they said when they returned in a year, he would have a son by his wife Sarah, even in their old age. Rublev brilliantly takes this story and uses it to help us to glimpse with faith into the mystery of the Triune God.)

(Genesis 18:1-15, Luke 1:46-55, Matthew 8:5-17)

six::twentynine

Today my thoughts turn to the community of the saints, that arc that will weave throughout the tapestry of human history. It is the Solemnity of the Leaders of the Apostles, St. Peter and St. Paul. Two great, stubborn, yet humble minds speak to us even presently through the witness of the New Testament, even the Church. We can possibly see, then, why even today there is bickering among brothers and sisters in Christ; Peter and Paul did not always see eye to eye. Nonetheless, they both faithfully answered the call of the Lord, as painful as it may have been: Peter having to hear the threefold question from the risen Christ concerning his love; Paul with the thorn in his side. Yet this pain came after great heights. God revealed to Peter the divinity of Jesus so that he confessed it before the apostles, and he saw the Holy Transfiguration on the mountain. Paul was given vision upon vision to guide him, from the road to Damascus to his trip into Paradise where he heard things uttered that cannot be repeated.

We know this of our brothers, the apostles. What strikes me now is that, somehow, their experience is ours. We share in what they know, as mysterious as it is. And such is why we head their words: be humble, boast in our weakness, become disciplined. I wonder if their lives should appear so exotic to us, so disconnected from our current reality. The saints throughout the ages still speak. We can still hear them and know their stories. We can identify ourselves with them as we enter into the disciplines they practiced. We too are called saints, whether we are canonized or not. But this saintliness does not call upon us to boast or to be proud. We must become lowly. We must give up on those things we put our hope and trust in that are not Christ, that are not ordained by the Holy Spirit.

As I write these words, I cannot help but question: Who am I to be writing these things? Who the hell am I? I am an idiot and I am in fellowship with idiots. I say too many things that it is difficult to believe I have a right to say. I love people, and yet too often I am an asshole. Who am I to speak, to write, of being one with the saints, so un-saintly am I? Yet, I write for that is what I must do. It is with these words that I begin to see what is in me that ought not be. And perhaps it is with these words that others will see similarly, or hopefully, differently, for we all have been given different vision, yet we just might be looking for the same thing. I simply hope that I will learn to listen to the words of Peter and Paul, servants of Christ, pained and sorrowful and joyous servants.

[Note: The readings today are not from the USCCB. I took them from our Orthodox brothers and sisters. The site can be viewed here: http://www.bombaxo.com/greek.html]

six::twentyeight

Son of Abraham, I am. To the voice that lacks faith, I listen, even after hearing the voice of the faithful One. I sat at the foot of the mount and heard words of authority, words that humble and lift up, but now my "Lord, Lord" clangs, for a I walked away with my head hung low in shame.

Call me back, Lord. Let me no longer be put to shame. Remember your servant. Touch me with your Spirit that I may be whole, that I may walk by the words of the Son. Forgive me my lack of trust and deeds that cause others to not trust me.

(Genesis 16:1-12, 15-16, Psalm 106, Matthew 7:21-29)

six::twentyseven

I will come to believe that some sort of offspring is being made in me. Not the offspring that is another human life, thought so it may be someday, but the offspring that is life, that is right living, that allows me to bear the fruit of truth. Tired of false thoughts, false visions, false motives, I place myself before God who nurtures the good seeds planted.

I am weary. I have allowed the voices of less worthy speakers to enter my mind and disrupt any stillness and calm, the nectar of grace, that I was entering into. Voices that are heard by seeing eyes, or being in the presence of; I no longer want to listen.

I want to listen to the Voice of Promise, even if it means entering the desert or an unknown land, warding off the carnivorous birds of the air so that I might enter into a vision I am meant to see.

Forgive me. Forgive me. Bring light to my eyes, for they look so dark and empty. Bring calm to my heart, and serenity to my spirit. Lord, let me taste the fruit of goodness again.

(Genesis 15:1-12, 17-18, Psalm 105, Matthew 7:15-20)

six::twentysix

What pearls do I cast and what wide gates do I pass through? Which lands to I venture to which merely appear to provide what I need, but soon they will be turned to salt? May I no longer throw away the blessings received, nor walk down expansive roads for their borders are cliffs from which their is no return.

I am tired. I have forgotten the source of my strength and relied on caffeine. Now my eyes want to close and I want to rest without much labor. But there is much work I could do, work that is not work for work's sake but so much more. What is the hindrance? What is stalling the return to a narrow path, a way taken by few?

Oh, inside, cease your bickering. You know what I right for you to do; listen. Be still. Be not deceitful or cunning or charming. Be loving. Be chaste. Be what you expect of others, and learn to stop expecting at the same time, but be giving. Rest if you need, to return to the place you were, yet be ready to journey. Be ready to love and not with sentiment or words or simply work, but with yourself in the place of the other you meet and already have known. Listen in silence.

(Genesis 13:2, 5-18, Psalm 15, Matthew 7:6, 12-14)

six::twentyfive

"Do not judge." I have never been good at following this commandment. Sometimes it is as if the log in my eye tells me it's really a telescope through which I see things up-close and clearly; really it is on fire. I will also forget the times when folks have helped me to locate the problems with my sight.

Once you have clear vision not judging becomes positive; it's no longer a matter of not doing something. You might finally learn to say affirmative things. I'm not good at saying thanks to others. I'm often blind to others' goodness. The log in my eye causes me to only look at myself, and not necessarily in a critical way, the way I ought to look at myself. For this reason, I need others to make known to me my faults.

I want to be a self-reflective person, not self-interested. I want to encourage others to do good, not forget to acknowledge when they do. How long will this take? How long until I walk as one who has entered the land of promise, the land of abundance, milk and honey, unending kindness?

Forgive me, Father, for my sight is sinful. I am in need of your grace, in need of your kindness. Make me into one who is able to live with and for others, even when I am alone and feeling abandoned and forgotten. You call us to remember. Keep me in the presence of the Holy Spirit, that I may live out the words of the Son, Jesus Christ, both whom live and reign with you forever and unto all ages. Amen.

(Genesis 12:1-9, Psalm 33, Matthew 7:15)

six::twentyfour

What does God say at the moment of our birth? I doubt it is possible to know. I am moved, however, to think of what is going on around us. From birth, many things are being said, are being set up for us. We have our parents. Some have only one--some will be passed onto others. We are placed into a world and a country which will one day soon call us to believe in it, to pledge out allegiance to it. Oh, but aren't we born into something much more? We are born into the image of God. Each new person, each old person, an icon of the living presence of God, a spectacle of God's imagination. But we forget this image, and we deny its power and we lose the gift to see the beauty of ourselves and others. God, though speaks us all into existence. We must slow ourselves down and listen, listen to the Word by the hearing of our spirits. We may not hear those first words spoken to us by God as we were brought out the the womb, but God continues to speak and is always calling us to listen.

(Zechariah 12:10-11, 13:1, Psalm 63, Galatians 3:26-29, Luke 9:18-24)

six::twentythree

Strength and weakness. Paradoxical. Complementary.
God and mammon. Mutually exclusive. Contradictory.

This is not to make life appear to be some sort of equation or game of comparison. But perhaps it is meant to get us thinking about trust. Mammon and strength fail us; we will find out we're not as strong as we think and mammon will always try to take everything from us. But God and weakness do not fail. If we go on assuming, sincerely, our weakness, we will often discover strengths we did not know existed, reservoirs of help. Further, God is a great provider; all we need he will provide. We must simply learn to be content. This is not simply to be accepting of whatever comes our way, for it is more than possible that injustice will darken our doors and such is not something that we will roll over for. Faith overcomes injustice for it defers to God, the maker of justice, the sustainer of all that is good. And, yet, we can be content in the face of injustice having this knowledge that God has overcome it. This is a source of strength when we are weak.

Forgive me, Lord, for writing so plainly. I find it difficult this morning to write with great feeling or conviction. And so, now, with as much sincerity as I can muster, I ask that you would provide for me contentedness in the midst of my lull, strength in the face of my numbness, grace in place of my doubt. Come Holy Spirit, giver of life, dress me like a day lily on the side of a Tennessee road.

2 Corinthians 12:1-10, Psalm 34, Matthew 6:24-34)

six::twentytwo

To boast. Oh, how it seems I love to. I'm usually unaware when it begins, but then, I notice, and I backtrack, and I begin an awkward silence. Perhaps I do have things boast about, to be proud of, moments and mindsets. But often these days I find myself boasting out of turn, out of place, under my breath. Boasting so often comes when we begin to compare ourselves with others, and we attempt to differentiate. And this is a root of division, a seed of contention, and when the flower blooms its petals seep poison. Such is why humility is a virtue.

Humility doesn't simply downplay accomplishments; it defers them to God and others. It recognizes limits and accepts boundaries, and yet miraculously it overcomes obstacles and topples pride. Humility allows our spiritual eyes to see, those lamps to our being. To boast in ourselves is to invite darkness, for we bring clouds overhead and block out the sources of light. But humility sets us free from fear of failure and allows us to walk with a newborn,s confidence; we can always go to our knees.

Let me no longer boast of myself, Lord, but only of the weakness you have granted me. Soften my heart and give me words to tell of you graciousness.

(2 Corinthians 11:18, 21-30, Psalm 34, Matthew 6:19-23)

six::twentyone

Allow me to be foolish if it means that I am kind. Let me seem too accepting if it means I know how to forgive.

I may appear to be simple, but, please, do not assume I am unaware.

Perhaps, I'm not all that simple to begin with, for kindness is a courage that requires a grace difficult to describe, an openness not learned naturally.

Smooth talk and flashy presentation may hold the attention for a while, but they will not last. Instead, they will simply lead astray and prove to impede you from focusing on the good.

My words may be simple, but, please, realize that it is good to look for embedded and deeper meaning, though you wouldn't want to drive yourself mad doing so.

So, pray when you listen to anyone. See and hear with ears and eyes trained by the Spirit, attuned to the stillness that rests deep within every living thing. Then, we will not be led into temptation. Then we will not speak with unnecessary words nor will our words cost others unnecessary grief. No, we will work gracefully, beautifully towards a life of mutual kindness and acceptance.

My words may seem simple and idealistic, but, please, do not assume they are shallow or thoughtless.

...

God, if I am meant to be your servant, please simplify me. Allow me to be transparent so that you may be seen. Fasten me to your children, not so tight that we cannot breath, but close enough that we may share in the dance you are teaching us. May we learn the humility of the Son, the true God who did not count Deity as something to Lord over humanity, but instead sought friendship with the lowly. Gracious light of God, shine. Guide me by the Spirit of truth, which leads me to worship in truth, to walk in truth, to love in truth, in all humility, Lord, that I may be one with truth.

2 Corinthians 11:1-11, Psalm 111, Matthew 6:7-15)

six::twenty

What is happiness? It must be more than a smile or a feeling possessed. It must be more than a lack of sadness. Might sadness even accompany happiness in this life? Such would be so not because sadness is a foil or an opposite, for happiness is a mean, the middle way. No, true happiness is accompanied by sadness because happiness draws out mercy and kindness, and such virtues recognize when they are in the presence of someone lacking their movement. Happiness allows a person to be alone and content, for their inner-life is peaceful, even when sadness grips it. Happiness is ever aware of abundance and yet knows that it is entirely dependent on God. Happiness does not produce itself; it must be sown and harvested. The person who is happy will be content alone and among others, at all times living both inside and outside of their self. Happiness reflects the life of the Triune God, the super-abundant community of unified deity, three yet one, entirely at peace, flowing in a beautiful dance, complete in Itself yet overflowing into creative activity, even humanity.

Lord, I do desire to know your happiness, your joy. Yet, I sense that your happiness will be accompanied by a joyful sadness, a lifestyle of mercy. Help me to touch others with your love. Instill in me the ability to be at peace when I am alone and when I am in the company of your beloved humanity, a community from which I never part. Merciful God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, guide me into life, into happiness, into compassion, into the person I am meant to be.

(2 Corinthians 9:6-11, Psalm 112, Matthew 6:1-6, 16-18)

six::nineteen

What is the Father's perfection, that perfection we are called by Christ to participate in? Who am I to say anything about perfection, that mysterious internal life of the Godhead? And I am to be perfect? And yet, perfection seems to be an activity, and outpouring of the internal life. The Father's perfection has been revealed in Christ, who truly did those things that mark perfection, loving enemies, greeting the outcast. God's perfection is marked by earthly poverty, the poverty Christ lived. Poverty allows one to rely upon the Father, and the Father will pour out abundantly the Spirit, the seal of participation with God. For I am no one to say anything about perfection, about the mysterious interiors of the dance of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, and yet the Spirit rests upon me, the fulfillment of Christ's words rest on my heart, the will of the Father beckons me to seek and follow. My internal life must be transformed in order that perfection, the outward activity of my transfigured soul, might be experienced. This is participation with the Godhead: poverty and glory, service and abundance, persecution and protection.

Praise the Lord, my soul. Meditate upon God's perfection and be humbled. Look upon the love of the Father, the life of Christ, and movement of the Holy Spirit, and be transformed, transfigured into the likeness of God.

(2 Corinthians 8:1-9, Psalm 146, Matthew 5:42-48)

six::eighteen

Life lived well is life lived in paradox. To do good will bring one bring one ill will. To love, one will be hated. The world says it is fine for us to acquire and keep for ourselves whatever we can lay our hands on, but the blessed life leads us to hand over our possessions, for nothing belongs to us; all is a gift.

"If I tell you I am lying, am I telling the truth?"

Something is wrong is this world, yet the right can be found even in the wrong, for light shines through the darkness. The darkness itself is found out by light, trying to escape the rays of goodness. Let us know the truth. Let us know the light. Let us overcome the darkness in which we tried to hide. Let us enter into hardship and ascesis, into vigils and fasts, into the power of the Holy Spirit which humbles us. Let us embrace the paradox of faith and love and life lived well.

(2 Corinthians 6:1-10, Psalm 98, Matthew 5:38-42)

six::seventeen

Complicity often seems to be our only option when we begin to really consider the world on a large scale. We may disagree with some things that go on in business dealings and foreign policy, but really, what can we do? We can do little things, but these seem pointless; they won't change the world. Well, maybe we're not complicit, nor are we apathetic. We certainly are trapped. What can free us from the bondage we find ourselves in? First, what is our bondage? Are we willing and able to name our captors? Are they us? Are they powers? Are they the hands that feed us? Perhaps, instead of being trapped, we're simply ignorant, sometimes willingly so, sometimes due to more sinister things. I'm tempted to begin to look deeper into the ties that bind, yet as I continue to ponder our state, I am reminded that there are things to live for not simply against. Perhaps life is not a battle; such is a metaphor that the powers of violence would have us use for everything. Life is and should be a unity, a blessed coalescence of Creator and created, a graceful harmonizing of spiritual and enfleshed beauty. Once we can see what life positively is, we can see that the lesser life, the life of bondage and servitude to unjust powers is surmountable, we can overcome it. We can see the life of Christ, the life of peace, the life of love, where sin is overthrown, and forgiveness is lived out. True life is through the life of Christ, the life that is victory over death, victory over the powers, the nullification of injustice and lack of peace. This life is participatory, not complicit. We are gathered in and empowered by God to live well.

Lord, I hope I am not wrong, but if I am, teach me your truth.

(2 Samuel 12:7-10, 13, Psalm 32, Galatians 2:16, 19-21, Luke 7:36-8:3)

six::sixteen

To live no longer for myself, but for Christ and Christ in others. Such ought to be the way I live. Such is the life of reconciliation. The one who has been reconciled and is reconciling keeps the joys and sorrows of others in their own heart, learning to, like Christ, share in the other's life. Such a work is difficult, naturally sorrowful, yet that life will in the end bring joy.

I want to hurt with those who hurt. I want to rejoice with those who rejoice. I want to experience the wonder such that Mary experienced when she found her son, Jesus, sitting in the Temple answering the questions of the teachers of the law. Here, frustration turns to contemplation. Contemplation leads to graceful activity of the soul. The entire person is reoriented to the world, made to be able to see beauty and truth, though certainly able to see the ugly and bad (that non-existence given weight by thoughts and actions), yet then address that incompleteness and work towards making it whole.

Gracious God, grant me eyes to see aright, a heart to feel. Shape my sensitivities into the likeness of Christ.

(2 Corinthians 5:14-21, Psalm 103, Matthew 5:33-37)

six::fifteen

(The Solemnity of the Sacred Heart of Jesus Christ)

Sacred heart, be the heart of my heart.
My parts, not yet entirely worn
since born, they have undergone
types of transformation.
Would I be able to number the changes?
O, heart, that you would be steadfast!
That you would listen to the calm
voice of care and love
and graceful guidance.

Heart of God, gathering heart,
shepherding heart, heart beyond nations,
beyond individuals and lover of people.
incomplete to be made whole.
Your heart sets tables,
invites all to a beautiful feast
in your home, lit no longer with candles
or spent energy, but the light of your heart,
a beacon, a beam, a sustained explosion of light.
And me, a guest?
Yes, and join me,
friends and unknown enemies made
a chorus and company of goodness
and virtue, an assembly of blessed hearts.

Deuteronomy 7:6-11, Psalm 103, 1 John 4:7-16, Matthew 11:25-30)

six::fourteen

We are being transformed. This life is not about maintaining some image of our own making (though we are able to do that), but it is about allowing the image of God to be made real in us. The Spirit gives us the vision necessary to to look upon God's glory, though not all will see. Experiencing a vision of God will forever change us; it requires transformation to begin with. We ought to seek continually the glory of God, the face of Jesus Christ, the true image of enlightened humanity. We ought to forever learn the presence of the Spirit, the source of freedom. As we more fully experience and live with and through the Spirit, kindness and truth, justice and peace will become fuller realities in us. Violent anger within and division among our brothers and sisters will be able to pass away, for we will see the glory of God in the other's face. Ours will be a peace that is serenity within and understand towards others. The character of God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, is unity, the fullness of light and love. Life with the Spirit, in the Son, draws us into the mysterious life of God, our greatest hope.

How is it, Lord, that you call us out of darkness? Your brilliant light, your mysterious presence and life humble and glorify. Take away the things that would deny me the ability to enter into life lived with and through and in you. As I seek your face, help me to see it in others. May my anger inside subside, allowing an internal peace and a peace between me and others. In this truth is lived and love is known.

(2 Corinthians 3:15-4:1, 3-6. Psalm 85, Matthew 5:20-26)

six::thirteen

Is there a law now, or is there no law? Today, Jesus and Paul seem to come to a crossroads. The promised Spirit Paul says has overthrown the law, but Christ lifts up the letter. No letter shall pass, Christ proclaims. The glorious letter is death, Paul decries. What then is it? How can the fading be called to endure? The law is not God, still the Word spoke it and proclaimed it, who then is Paul to set it aside, if that is what he was doing? I wonder if the life of the Spirit is a new law. Do all realities have certain laws and orders? I imagine the life lived fully in the Spirit to be one of pure freedom. I also think of the law of Moses as an attempt at freedom, a way of overcoming the disparities of the world, though it was incomplete. The life of the Spirit, then, would fulfill the law, for it does what the law was unable to completely do: provide perfect freedom.

Gracious God, I'm not sure what do do with all of this talk of law and freedom. I can only bumble around with words right now, attempting to find my way, find your way. Grant my mind freedom to search your mysteries, to see the ways you would have me live, in order that I might more faithfully serve you. Seal me with the Holy Spirit, that giver of life, that fresh breath of air, that taste of the glorious life to be lived now and to come in eternity. Grant this through Christ, the fulfillment of the letter, the redeemer of all the created order. Amen.

(2 Corinthians 3:4-11, Psalm 99, Matthew 5:17-19)

six::twelve

It would be wonderful to be around people who always spoke with a "yes," to be able to entirely trust their every word. The flakiness of others rubs off on you, and you begin to produce your own flakes. I'm tired of not being able to trust myself with every word I say, for I fear the meaning may change with time. Such is what happens when you offer your words and your heart to another, that heart that has been sealed with the Spirit. Can it even be offered to another? It is a Spirit that leads us into selflessness. It is a Spirit that leads us into truth. I suppose then we can rightly offer ourselves to another, but it must be done in the Spirit. If not, the flakes begin to fall, the "yes" is confused, and to trust yourself becomes a far off possibility.

When you cannot trust yourself, when you are far from a healthy self-knowledge, how can you expect to be a fruitful person, or salty and light-filled as the Jesus says the people of the Kingdom are? You don't trust yourself due to something inherently trustworthy in you. Hence, doing all things in the Spirit. To trust another is to see the image of God in them, to find that point where you are both one, in origin, in a state of grace. Such vision is made possible and sustained by that Spirit which the Father has anointed you with. It is a mysterious grace that the Holy Spirit, the very being of God, has come to dwell in the people of God. Even in these days when I am not ever-aware of that Presence, I should allow its thought to comfort me, to draw me toward God and toward that type of self-knowledge that flavors the world and sheds light in the dark places.

(2 Corinthians 1:18-22, Psalm 119, Matthew 5:13-16)

six::eleven

“Blessed are the poor in spirit,
for theirs is the Kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are they who mourn,
for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek,
for they will inherit the land.
Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
for they will be satisfied.
Blessed are the merciful,
for they will be shown mercy.
Blessed are the clean of heart,
for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers,
for they will be called children of God.
Blessed are they who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness,
for theirs is the Kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are you when they insult you and persecute you
and utter every kind of evil against you falsely because of me.
Rejoice and be glad,
for your reward will be great in heaven.
Thus they persecuted the prophets who were before you.”

Am I blessed for any of these things? I believe it is possible, but at the same time, am I in a place to be able to be able to say so? Most notable to me is that I don't feel that I am receiving the prophet's reward; I merely struggle internally, often with my inability to express myself in important moments. I suppose this is why practice is important, and reflection. Reflection can be like mourning, for one must face those things in oneself that are lamentable. And how I lament the lack of hunger and thirst for righteousness in my appetite.

Amidst of all this disquiet in my soul, I find myself recognizing that better ways are truly possible. I have seen others rise up around me, and in the past, even myself. I have never known life to be a smooth progression from one good time to another. Has anyone? I still have hope that good things will come, even in this life. I may yet be given good words to speak and write, and they shall come at the right time. Perhaps it is the waiting, as painful as it is, that is preparing me for the reception of my call, a call given to all who listen to Christ speak upon that mountain, even in the desert.

Be quiet, O my spirit. Be at rest, for your work is coming, and is even present now in the still silence.

(2 Corinthians 1:1-7, Psalm 34, Matthew 5:1-12)

six::ten

Baskets full
Or am I a fool?
Speaking of provision,
I see the fruits.
With walls and air conditioning
I see the fruits.
Or am I a fool?

(1 Kings 17:17-24, Psalm 30, Galatians 1:11-19, Luke 7:11-17)

six::nine

May our prayers be short and simple. We use excess amounts of words to cover the shallow recess of our spiritual vocabulary. Simplicity of speech is a greater offering than verbosity. Action and loving care is worth many more volumes than prayers spoken to be heard.

And yet, pray. Pray with all of your being, emptying your hopes and fears before God, praising God with everything. In this, words will become simple and love will become possible.

(Tobit 12:1, 5-15, 20, Tobit 13:2, 6-8, Mark 12:38-44)

six::eight

Oh, that I could see again. May a messenger come my way to bring healing and to make whole my incomplete ways. I falter without being able to see it. I may know some correct ways to speak of things, but to live out simple joy is a discipline that I apparently run from.

May I learn to rightly welcome people into my life and maintain the friendships I have come to cherish. I want to be fair and just, kind and loving. I want my soul to praise and rejoice in the Lord. Be cleansed, O my soul, and patiently prepare to receive a new direction, or the one always intended.

(Tobit 11:5-17, Psalm 146, Mark 12:35-37)

six::seven

(A Homily for the Celebration of the Eucharist)

The fear and the love of the Lord produce union. Fearing God focuses our intentions, our direction toward the will of the Lord. The love we have for God, a love empowered by the Holy Spirit, brings about union in our persons, choreographing a beautiful, improvised dance between our heart, soul, mind and strength. All of our parts are brought into harmony and wholeness. We then, like Tobias (though, certainly his cultural inheritance and practice appears odd to us), will learn to seek our direction not out of lust or pride or jealousy, but with noble purpose. We shall be wed to the Kingdom. We shall love our neighbor as ourself, seeing Christ in them, the same image of God that is in us.

At this table we learn fear and love. We see Christ's heart in his sacrifice, his commending of his spirit to the Father, his unity of will, and his broken strength. And we see him raised in glory. Here, again, the Holy Spirit comes among us, bringing us together in the likeness of the love experienced in the Trinity. We are made whole in ourselves, and even more whole as we are united with one another in the sharing of the body and blood of Christ. So, let us seek and pray to be brought further into the fear and love of God, to experience union in ourselves, with one another, and, above all, with the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, One God forever and ever. Amen.

(Tobit 6:10-11, 7:1, 9-17, 8:4-9, Psalm 128, Mark 12:28-34)

six::six

Last night while showing a friend a book about a grouping of Orthodox monasteries in the Meteora region of Greece, I found a postcard with the icon of the Transfiguration of Christ. It has been a while since I have been so excited to find an object. This icon and the story it depicts has captured my imagination for the past several months since I've been studying Eastern Christian theology. It is one of the central events of the life of Christ where Jesus' divinity is revealed, his glorified body. The disciples are frightened when they see him and afterward Jesus tells them to wait to tell what they've seen. What was so striking to me about finding the postcard was that I purchased it nearly three years ago before I had any knowledge at all about icons or the significance of the Transfiguration to Eastern theology, and yet that was the icon I wanted to remember having seen. It drew me close then, it draws me closer now.

I've been thinking of a way to relate this occasion with today's lectionary readings (http://www.usccb.org/nab/060607.shtml). The story in Tobit is one of people wanting to die rather than face their shame, calling out for God's mercy. God hears their cry and brings healing to their lives. Seeing the glorified Christ calls us to reevaluate our lives, to cry out for mercy, for we recognize how short we fall. And yet, it is that magnificent Christ that hears our pleas and comes to comfort us in our afflictions, to redeem us from our shame, and yes, to transfigure us and draw us near along with the Holy Spirit into the mysteries of God. With eyes of faith we see the promise of resurrection and we see that we worship the God of the living, and that life lived is full.

(Tobit 3:1-11, 16-17, Psalm 25, Mark 12:18-27)

six::five

To be faithful to the other is to place one's life before the other with a full knowledge that the other may take it away. Or so it may seem. Such it is if one lives in relation to others without any concept of reciprocity, and instead with lesser forms of relationship in mind such as that of use or simple pleasure. Faithfulness among friends builds trust. Certainly, the element of vulnerability exists in any relationship, any striving towards a life of love and service together, yet one should be able to choose to make oneself vulnerable, and such is possible only with openness on the part of the other. I don't think my initial definition of faithfulness is at all correct. If anything, it is a lesser form of devotion, a sick kind of attachment that survives only when one is blinded to the image of God in oneself.

Who is it that deserves our full devotion? The One who whose devotion is seen throughout the Creation, lighting the darkness, giving breath even to trees and birds, and empowering and humbling the appointed caretakers. All sorts of Caesars, their images meticulously and brazenly placed all around us, ask us to give ourselves to them, taxing our last resources. Caesars are idols of power, of pleasure, of envy, of possession, of property. But it is only God that we can truly devote ourselves to; God promises fold upon fold back in return. Yet, we do not give to God in order to receive. We already have received in full. God has already practiced the fullness of kenosis, the fullness of emptying, in Christ. The Logos came into the world of the logoi, the Word that spoke among the words spoken. We logoi belong to the Logos not to other logoi that become Caesars and idols. In silent devotion, in the presence and power of the Holy Spirit, then, we pray, which is to listen with the ears and eyes of our heart set at attention to the Word, the true Image of God. As we focus we learn faithfulness, and we will learn how to be rightly vulnerable, truly friendly, with full knowledge of ourselves and how we can and should relate to the other.

(Tobit 2:9-14, Psalm 122, Mark 12:13-17)

six::four

The prophet lives in the face of extinction. He or she walks anywhere upon the earth with the recognition that any gate entered may be the last. Yet, each step is taken with hope for each step finds its foundation upon the Word. Few want to hear the Word or to live a life guided by the Spirit, yet the prophet speaks and lives in faith knowing the penetrating power of the Word that will cut to the heart.

I want to be foolish like a prophet, faithfully foolish. I don't know what else to rightly want at the moment.

(Tobit 1:3, 2:1-8, Psalm 112, Mark 1:1-12)

six::three

"I was his delight day by day,
playing before him all the while,
playing on the surface of his earth;
and I found delight in the human race."

When we peer into the mysterious Trinity will we be able to comprehend anything? I have heard the Trinity described as Godhead dancing, like an eternal contra dance or a ballet. I can imagine the beauty beheld would still any words that might pour forth, and fill any perceived voids lingering in one's heart. Wisdom is described in the Book of Proverbs as the first born of creation, and she says that she played on the earth before God, delighting herself in humanity. Playing. Wisdom sounds youthful. Should we not be a delight before God as she is?

Yet, the world seems so somber, so morose. To look past the rain as something that gives life to vegetation is a lost discipline; we're simply jealous for blue skies that we're unlikely to enjoy when they make their appearance. Why should it not be this way, though, in a world that has forsaken the Holy Spirit, the unforgivable blaspheme? We have chosen to be unteachable, with closed ears and hearts, assuming our sorrows or bank accounts or positions of authority are ends in themselves. Oh, but the Holy Spirit has been sent! The fullness of Wisdom, a self-sacrificing God, has come to dwell in humanity's bosom. I wonder if Eve and Adam wandered about Eden with childlike wonder. The Eastern Church teaches that they were not created in some "unfallen" state; there was no fall, only childhood with a disastrous step into adulthood. What if humans are meant to play? To skip before God as Wisdom did upon the newly formed Earth? We have set up so many structures that true leisure seems a distant possibility, too many restrictive nurseries. Honestly, such wondering frightens me, for I too am trapped by this adult life. But, I'm hoping that as gray hairs appear so to will the youth that was either stolen or I unwittingly gave up.

Then, I will dance with the Trinity and skip upon the earth with Wisdom.

(Proverbs 8:22-36, Psalm, 117, Galatians 1:1-2, 6-10, Luke 7-1:10

six:two

Is wisdom something sought or a gift given? To claim wisdom seems to be one of the most unwise things one can do, and yet, if one is drawn to her, should not one seek her? In searching, yokes will be loosed, perhaps even some that were not known to be restrictive. Wisdom restricts, yet she also sets free. Wisdom is lovely. Folly is a bitch. Somehow they both converse, and to listen in on their dialog is a wonderful gift, for one sees oneself as in a mirror of possibility.

I want to love discipline, to kiss her. It would be wonderful to speak the truth with love in my heart, to be carefully translucent. Wonder is a virtue I have forgotten and hope to be remembered to me, to dwell in that which is fresh and life giving, pure and graceful. Then my words may be worth writing and speaking, and to listen would be a practice of great merit. In listening, I would hear the question being asked and respond well.

And these things I hope also for others, and I pray I would not be a hindrance to their quests.

(Sirach 51:12-20, Psalm 19, Mark 11:27-33)

six::one

Where is my faith that turns over mountains? Where is the anger that would bid me to cease improper transactions in my heart, exchanging lesser pleasures for gracious heights unknown? Is it simply distraction that plagues me and turns me to impropriety, or is it not the season for growth and I am in turn withering? And yet, I feel that the tides could turn. Depression sets in as a sign of light to come, and a remembrance of brightness behind, so it is a shadow cast that I am walking into as it shortens. I strive for an end that is to not be forgotten, even if my only progeny consists of words and the music I with others create. I am more thankful for paradox than I have come to know. I am more resolute than I should be allowed to be in myself. For I recognize how quickly foundations cease to be foundations, cracking up, in need of repair. I see that I need the Word to speak any true words. I know that I need to pray if I ever want to know anything, even my own heart. And so now, that good anger is sparked, and it is to be turned to a softness found only on the tops of trees and in the soil that supports the roots of produce.

(Sirach 44:1, 9-13, Psalm 149, Mark 11:11-26)

To Begin

I will begin with a poem. This past Sunday was Pentecost...

Pentecost

Do I need scorching wind
Or sweltering fire
To seer off these waiting layers of skin?

Brazen days
Brazen days

Oh, these ways I did not covet.
Passions accompany despair, and
Flirt with a still tongue
Kept quiet not by wisdom
But uneasy visions.

This tongue ought to be loosed,
And the towers of half-
Truths left incomplete,
With only cranes on the skyline
As reminders of meager days.

Somatic stress fostered by
Escaping to the hills
On quickened foot
Helps me to forget,
For a moment,
But I need to remember

The wind blows over the waters.
The face of the waters have forgotten,
Filled with waste,
Plastic and muck and metal,
They have lost their memory.

These thoughts must be redeemed
By the wind over the seas,
Roaring and shaking,
Fleshing even bones
And trace feelings.

It is not good to be alone.
It is fine to practice solitude,
But you must be ready,
Or you will be found haunted
By your emotions.

I have been waiting.
I know not what for,
Who.
That is not patience,
It is a ruse of hopes.

But I must be waiting
In a room consecrated
With silence and stale breath
For wind to move in, and give life
And language to
My scattered tongue
And weakened flesh.