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divine exchange, divisiveness, Flood, God's presence, Huston, Jan Phillips, Julian of Norwich, mysticism, No Ordinary Time, positive energy, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, trust, willingness, wisdom
Sometime in the recent past I became aware that real distress and pure joy can exist in me at the same moment. Yesterday I knew it at an even deeper level, not just as a theory in my mind but a felt sense in my heart. While carrying the devastation and suffering of the people in Texas to work with me, I was also aware of a growing excitement for what would be the culmination of our very fertile conversations sparked by the book, No Ordinary Time. I wasn’t happy that the series was over but rather immensely thankful for the growing trust and willingness of group members to share themselves as they recounted their experiences of the book.
Thirteen of us sat in circle at the noon hour and seven in the evening. As we listened, pondered and then added our own wisdom to what had been offered, I felt a melding of the heaviness of the floods and the buoyancy overflowing in me simply because of the presence of such extraordinary women around me. We were talking about the chapter entitled Mysticism and Oneness. Agreeing with the definition that mysticism is an unmediated experience of God’s presence, we shared snippets of our lives that proved the truth of our own simple mystical experiences. Interspersed with moments of recognition among us were references to the tragedy of the hurricane and the horror of the divisiveness that characterizes our country right now. At several junctures we noted our responsibility to raise the level of positive energy in whatever way we can in order that balance might be achieved. And then we were silent for a time.
In the end we moved around the circle in turn, taking the hands and looking into the eyes of each of these sisters of ours saying fervently, I honor the holiness in you. A simple sentence, growing in us over three months, that was indeed an expression of the oneness we had come to feel. And as I took my turn hearing and saying those words to each and all with total honesty, I held the wonder of this “divine exchange” as well as the pain of the world in the solidarity of our hands and knew the hope of Julian of Norwich, that all shall be well.
That place of “not-knowing” that I spoke of yesterday still holds me today as I think of the storm called Harvey that just won’t quit. How do people recover from that kind of devastation – both environmental and human? Even here, at almost the farthest northern point in our country away from those swirling waters and broken lives, I feel viscerally the distress and death. Physical death, the death of dreams, of possessions – all must reside inside any of us who have even seen the images on television and more likely if we know people living in Texas – and today in Louisiana. I have rarely felt the draw of depression on such a scale.
I was listening to a program last night on my computer about “re-writing our own life script.” During the call-in portion the speaker, John Newton, asked the caller how it would feel to live in a place of “not knowing.” What would that feel like? I found the question rather interesting because I didn’t react negatively to it! Usually my first thoughts upon waking in the morning find me running through my schedule for the day (after I am focused enough to even know what day it is!) in order to know how quickly I have to move, whether I have had enough sleep to meet the challenges of the day and how much of my incidental agenda I will be able to fit in between appointments and meetings or whatever has been previously scheduled.
Last night as I checked into the news of the day and saw the devastation that took the entire half-hour of the NBC Nightly News, I knew I ought to focus my words this morning on the terrible event that has been Hurricane Harvey. Ironically, Alan Cohen provided the words – from his book published in 1996! (Finding that publication date answered my question of why his entry for today in A Deep Breath of Life didn’t include the 9/11 attacks.) In his mention of Hurricane Iniki in Hawaii in 1992, the San Francisco earthquake of 1989 and even the 1969 Woodstock Music Festival in 1969 (because of the unexpected “invasion” of 500,000 people overnight in this small town), Cohen does not focus on the damage and distress but rather on the heroic efforts of so many people during and after those events. While not diminishing the unexpected devastation of people’s lives, he says the following:
In an alternate translation of Psalm 138, the psalmist speaks to me this morning with a powerful message of God’s presence in the universe and in my life. By it I am reminded that we are all invited to share the experience of God and to encourage one another in that sharing. Listen and see if you are similarly drawn in by the mandate in this song of praise and challenge.
Although Saturday can be a day to catch up on all sorts of mundane tasks and chores, occasionally I savor the opportunity for a bit of leisurely delving into reflection on something found in one of the many alluring books on my shelves. This morning I returned to Thomas Merton’s Book of Hours, noting that I had not visited with him – or mentioned him here – for quite some time. Rather than quotes from his various texts, Saturday’s entries in Kathleen Deignan’s book of Merton’s writings are all parts of his amazing prose poem, Hagia Sophia (Holy Wisdom).
Today is one of those times when inspiration is very easy to come by, just from about five minutes with the Scripture texts from the daily lectionary. See if you find the story from the Hebrew Scriptures consonant with the Christian gospel. To me it’s a “no brainer” with a most important shared theme.
The saint whose feast is celebrated today is known only as one mentioned in the list of the original twelve apostles; nothing else is known about him. The Franciscan media commentary says that we are confronted with the fact that we know almost nothing about most of the apostles. Bartholomew certainly fits that description. There’s even a question if Bartholomew is the man who was also known as Nathaniel, a man from Cana in Galilee who was summoned to Jesus by Philip. As Franciscan Father Don Miller points out, however, the unknown ones were also pillars of the new Israel whose 12 tribes now encompass the whole earth…bearing tradition from their firsthand experience by sharing the “good news” of Jesus throughout the known world.
It’s amazing what you can find when you start researching one little word like “fair.” We know it to be a noun and an adjective – with differing meanings, so it’s necessary to put it in context so that you know whether you’re talking about going to a carnival or watching the weather. I went to Merriam-Webster, the most trusted etymological source in my youth, just on a whim, and found 10 examples before I even moved to the nouns or added an “ly” to make it an adverb.
There was a very quick thunderstorm this morning at 5:30 outside my window: torrential rain and one blast of thunder and lightning. It was as if nature was washing away everything and readying the day to start afresh with life. It’s a perfect beginning for my day. All major events of my year (at least those I’m aware of) are finished, so it seems everything will be “back to normal” now, if such a thing truly exists! On my slow trek home yesterday through lovely terrain and many traffic slowdowns (not to mention a stop during the eclipse) I listened to a couple of “homemade” CD playlists that took me on a tour of earlier times in my life. It was a sweet remembering and an exercise in gratitude that tied the weekend up in a perfect conclusion.
The Sophia Center for Spirituality 