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apostles, Come follow me, Jesus, Luke, Mount of Beatitudes, prompt, Sea of Galilee, St. Andrew, The Sophia Center for Spirituality
Today is the feast of St. Andrew, chronicled in the gospel of Luke as one of “The Twelve” – those first named people to hear the call of Christ to follow him. When I read that text from Luke 4, I often wish for more. It’s rather difficult to think of fishermen, schooled in their trade and living what was probably a stable, familiar life, putting down their nets at that very short and rather cryptic directive (“Come, follow me!”) with a willingness to do whatever it took to respond. Wasn’t there more conversation? Didn’t they ask about where Jesus came from and where they were going? About what his “offer” meant? At least some of them had families. Were they being asked to abandon those loved ones? For what?
Today when I read the lines and had the same curiosity, I was flung back in spirit to the Mount of the Beatitudes, one of my favorite places visited on my trip to Israel in 2015. From that most beautiful, peaceful, holy hill I saw at a bit of a distance the Sea of Galilee, spread out like a welcoming blanket over the land below. There was even a boat with one or two tiny dots of what were probably fishermen occupying the small craft. How I wished to be one of those people, taken back in time to the moment when Jesus first appeared on the scene. Something stirred in me, akin perhaps to the feelings of those first responders, that made my heart say “YES” without thought of consequence or even of meaning. Holy places can have that effect sometimes. I find, however, that the response must be made on a daily basis – and sometimes even moment to moment. I suspect that Andrew and the others with him came to know that truth, but it seemed that the deal was sealed at that first encounter.
We all come to God in our own time, in our own way, with God’s own impetus or prompt. We may be born into a tradition, as I was, or have an experience that is so overwhelming as to leave us wanting more, but always – if we are to persevere – the fires have to be stoked on a regular basis.
We are here in New Hampshire with just such a purpose. It is well begun. The 18 of us, sitting in a circle last night, began a search together for a new certainty of that fire of love that will surely help us to pass on something of the spark that holds us on the path to a deepening sense of the presence of God in and among us.
The circle awaits. May God be praised by our willingness!
I had the privilege once of meeting Oren Lyon, the Native American “Faithkeeper” of the Onondaga Nation who lives just south of the city of Syracuse, New York about 80 miles from my home. I was pleasantly surprised that Alan Cohen wrote today about the role of “Faithkeeper” as it is embodied by Oren Lyon and others like him. This person in the tribe consistently holds the higher vision, having been designated to be the voice of hope, an inspiration to remember the bigger picture when others forget it. Cohen remarks that “each of us needs to be a Faithkeeper. When others around us go into fear or confusion, we serve best by remembering the light and holding peace.” When in the presence of Oren Lyon, it was easy to sense what this means and why he holds such a designation for his people.
I had a conversation recently with someone who had received word that an old friend had died. They had lost touch some years ago, primarily perhaps because this younger woman was not able to allow what she saw as competition for the “best friend” designation in the relationship. We spoke of the sad and destructive power of jealousy. I was reminded of the conversation this morning by Meg Wheatley as I opened to a page on the subject of jealousy from her book, Perseverance. I thought it a worthy topic for reflection since the subtlety of its appearance can cause great harm if we don’t pay attention to our feelings and recognize the need to cultivate its opposite: generosity. Here’s what she says:
Today I sit staring at a blank page, feeling a bit empty, as happens sometimes on the Monday after an important holiday. While I was not counted in the millions of people who took to the road or the sky over the weekend to be with faraway relatives or friends (the return trip perhaps not concluded yet), the Thanksgiving holiday just concluded seemed to me to hold more energy than usual in the wishes of “Happy Thanksgiving!” shared sincerely among friends and strangers alike. Maybe we needed some distraction from all the distress of our country and the world that made us try harder to find the joy of sharing. Maybe it was just the slowing down and relaxing together that pervaded our household. Whatever the source, I feel the need to regroup today so that I will live consciously throughout the wonderful season of Advent leading to Christmas. As the world turns from another beginning to a conclusion marked by the calendar of feasting and celebrations, I am heartened and challenged by Thomas Merton’s words to wake up and get about this new day.
I just spent about a half hour reading on the internet about sheep. I never got past the basic information about things like their color (some are very dark brown while most are white), life expectancy (10 – 12 years), amazing peripheral vision (270-320 degrees) which allows them to see behind them, two sets of teeth, excellent hearing and scent glands in front of their eyes and between their toes!!
Yesterday afternoon the sun was so inviting that I decided to go for a walk. I was pleasantly surprised at the mildness of the breeze but still grateful for the layers of clothing I had decided to wear. There were no cars at the golf course next to our land and the path onto the 10th hole – close to the road – called me to abandon the street and walk the quieter path down to the river. The grass had been well tended so that it looked like a gigantic blanket of still vibrant green decorated only with numerous pine cones dropped in areas inhabited by the gigantic evergreen trees. I walked along the river and it seemed the river was keeping in step with me; we were definitely going in the same direction. The silence was profound and calming. I stopped often on my way back along the winding paths meant for the golf carts to listen to the silence and pay homage to the towering trees…
Santa Claus arrived with a flourish yesterday at the culmination of the Thanksgiving Day parade in NY City. He was quite animated, bouncing and waving in all directions to announce that the run-up to Christmas had begun. Although Hallmark movies had been filling the airwaves with Christmas carols since sometime in October, now it’s official and very serious. The internet is awash with advertisements for all kinds of amazing discounts on products and services. I heard on the national news last night that even airline ticket prices are slashed “for a limited time.” What began as a day-long opportunity for deep price reductions on the day after Thanksgiving has been running for a week already, but is still named, ironically, Black Friday.
This morning I have a stream of gratitude moving through my consciousness, flowing like a mountain stream, bubbling up with images of people, places and events that have created the collage of my life in the past year. At the same time, it’s as if there is a camera clicking in me to set those experiences in place on the canvas of 2017. Because I’m writing about it, the whole experience has become like a freeze-frame of a film and won’t start moving again until I turn back from this explanation to the experience inside me. At that point I suspect what will happen is akin to the result of a bucket of water thrown onto the canvas – or perhaps the “fade” button on a movie camera being pressed – so everything melds together into a heartfelt sensation of grateful love.
Here’s a word from St. Catherine of Siena, in translation by Daniel Ladinsky. It would be wonderful if those of us who are disappointed in any physical features that we have inherited are not of our liking. Hooray for all those content with their looks!
The gospel this morning tells Luke’s version of the encounter Jesus had with a blind man. I am always struck in the healing stories when Jesus asks the desire of the person he meets who is in need. I never doubt that he can see that condition in the person, so either he is looking for a statement of faith or he wants to be sure of the depth of the person’s intention or desire to be healed. Although life might be easier for the man if he gets his sight, there may be new responsibilities attached to the healing as well. Maybe he will have to find a job, rather than sitting by the side of the road begging. Certainly he will need to become attentive to people who are in need of help with certain life tasks because of infirmities. Who better since he has been there himself?
The Sophia Center for Spirituality 