Here we are again. It is a new beginning. The year 2020 that was supposed to bring us clear vision (20/20, of course) seems a spectacular failure in hindsight. It seems a collective nightmare to most Americans. We wonder why the pandemic still has such a hold on us, why there is such division still, so much disregard for the common good. I look at myself and lament my fatigue, lassitude and lack of motivation. Then I look at my prayer corner and wonder when I will regain the will to sit there. How can the “Just sitting” of centering prayer take so much effort? (Clue: It’s the letting go that accompanies the sitting that is the difficult part.)
The “breakdown” year is behind me. What is staring me in the face is a big sign in my mind’s eye. It says: DISCIPLINE! A picture flashes after that frame. It is Jesus gathering the children to sit with him – even on his lap. He is saying “Let the little children come to me.” And suddenly I want to be right there, folded in his arms like a child who hears that sentence and feels his arms around me for the confidence to sit with him.
May we find that confidence to approach this scene and sit today – or visit a church or sing a hymn or approach the throne of God. Whatever works to begin this new year with desire, conviction…discipline, born of love (no matter our slow start) will surely bring us back to our best selves where Christ is waiting in joy.
In the “good old days” when I was young and eager – especially in the novitiate, but also in the convent at my first teaching assignment where I lived in a group of 21 Sisters – life was very structured and predictable. The “horarium” (schedule) of the days was built around times of prayer, teaching school, meals and community sharing time – known in the novitiate at least as “recreation,” a.k.a. the hour after supper when we relaxed and talked to one another while knitting or listening to music or some such simple activity before preparing schoolwork for the next day. Saturdays were set aside for cleaning and other charges (read: household tasks) or meetings and the occasional planning time for community celebration days.
Psalm 25 is clearly one in which we can see that the psalmist has an ongoing relationship with God. This morning, in an alternative translation of the psalm, I got the notion that God needed reminding of the responsibility of mutuality in that relationship. The lectionary only gives verses 4-8 for our consideration but I want to introduce the text with verse one because it made me smile (as in a parent saying to children who are acting up in some way: “Don’t make me come up there…”). The psalmist begins by reminding God: To you I surrender up my soul, O God. In you I place my deepest trust. May I not regret this wanton act of love; may it never be defeated by some foe.
