Too Deep for Words

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body of Christ, crucifixion, Good Friday, lament, pain, silence, sorrow, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

Today, sorrow and lament fill the praying world as ritual attempts in word and song and sometimes even gesture to reach the depth of pain that is recalled to us from across the ages as “the scandal of the cross,” the suffering and death of Jesus. If awake enough, we see this suffering repeated again and again in our own time and know it as a vivid manifestation of the pain body of Christ. In that way it becomes our pain as well since we are not separate but merely different cells in that very real and present body.

There is nothing we can say that approaches the profundity of that truth, that mystery. There is only silence…

 

 

 

 

 

High Holy Days

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breaking bread, christians, crucifixion, God, Holy Thursday, Jews, love, mercy, Passover, Peace, Seder, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, unity

This morning I’m feeling a sense of expectancy. The trees are silent outside – unmoving – as if they also know the call to stand up and be ready. It is the time of “High Holy Days” for Jews and Christians alike, an opportunity to bring the past into the present by remembering and recounting our religious heritage. For Christians the Scriptures of this week have moved from the triumphant entry of Jesus into Jerusalem this past Sunday, soon to be followed by ignominy of the crucifixion and burial of Jesus, commemorated tomorrow in a stark ritual. The history of the Jews, stretching back so much further, recalls the exodus of Israelite slaves from Egypt, saved by God’s “passing over” of the houses of Israelites during the tenth plague that killed all of the first-born children of the Egyptians. Passover also stretches over a week, this year from tomorrow evening, March 30, to April 7.

Tonight, we Christians will listen to the story of Jesus sharing the Seder meal with his friends. At that meal, Jesus was celebrating his lineage, hearing the same stories that our Jewish friends will hear tomorrow night at their Seder and that we will hear at our Easter Vigil service on Saturday night. The significance of this confluence of celebrations is powerful, I think, for those of us who long for peace and unity in the world. Our root belief in a God who is faithful to the covenant made first with Abraham should be the bedrock of relationship. We Christians, the younger branch of the Judeo-Christian family, hold Jesus, a faithful Jew throughout his life, as our Messiah – the one who teaches us about the nature of God – the same God worshipped by our ancestors, the Hebrews.

Let us join our hearts and minds in celebration of what joins us and pray together for the peace that the world cannot give but which we find in the love and mercy of God.

 

 

 

 

 

Between the Times

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Acts of the Apostles, Ascension, crucifixion, Father, fear, John, Lectionary, Pentecost, pray, resurrection, Son, Spirit of God, The Great Commission, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

The lectionary readings for this seventh Sunday of Easter find us between an ending and a new beginning and we, in the same manner as the disciples, need to be willing to sit in this empty space, reflecting on what has been and waiting for the movement of the Spirit to call us once again to a courageous future.

In the first reading (Acts 1: 12-14) we find the apostles trudging back to Jerusalem after having received “the Great Commission” from Jesus. He had finished his mission and passed on to them what was now theirs to do: to go out to the world and teach what he had first taught them. So today they are together again as they were after the Crucifixion and Resurrection of Jesus. Was it the same “upper room” where they had huddled in fear for their lives? What were they feeling now? Fearful still, perhaps, without the certainty now that they would be safe going forward. Bereft, most likely, because they were again without the presence of Jesus for their strength. But at least they were together in the company of those who had experienced Jesus in what we would certainly call a privileged way. And together they were praying for the Spirit of God to come and reveal to them the manner in which they were to fulfill their mission.

In the gospel for today we have a glimpse of this ending from the perspective of Jesus. John’s Gospel (17: 1-11) could seem like a son reporting to his father his completion of a project – for school, maybe – by recounting all the steps he had taken and how successful the whole enterprise had been. This scene, however, was much more. Jesus was just on the cusp of leaving those he loved, that small band of followers who had listened to him, learned from him, supported him and sometimes disappointed him, but loved him enough to stay with him through death to new life. His care for and pride in these beloved ones is clear in his recounting to God. Consider your feelings if you had overheard Jesus saying to God: They belonged to you and you gave them to me, and they have kept your word…I pray for them. What a validation of their discipleship! Moreover, these lines seem to express a deep tenderness in which Jesus holds those he called his friends.

Let us take some time in these days between the feasts of the Ascension and Pentecost to sit in this space of emptiness, preparing for a renewed outpouring of the Spirit in our lives and remembering that Jesus promises to us as he did his disciples: I am with you always, until the end of the age.

Power in Simplicity

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Augeries of Innocence, celebrate, chants, Christianity, cross, crucifixion, eternity, Good Friday, Great Vigil of Easter, Jesus, resolve, Sacred Scripture, silence, suffering, surrender, taize, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, transformation, William Blake, willingness

I had never read the entirety of William Blake’s poem, Augeries of Innocence, until just now but the first lines, so familiar, came to me as I sat to write about my experience of last evening – the second step on my Triduum journey. I chose to participate in a service that comes from the monks of Taize, an ecumenical community in a tiny village in France. The prayer is steeped in silence, punctuated by repetitive chants and occasional readings from Sacred Scripture or the writings of early Christianity. Having experienced and led many services in the manner of Taize, it was an easy decision for me to make that my formal prayer for Good Friday.

Blake’s poem begins: To see the world in a grain of sand and heaven in a wild flower   Hold infinity in your hand and eternity in an hour. Entering into a darkened church with two Sisters from my community, having greeted the music director at the door, was a fitting beginning to this hour of prayer. When I see Jan, the organist, I am always thrown back to images of him, a seven-year-old boy, practicing at the piano in his home while a group of us rolled meatballs with his Italian mother for a school fundraiser. How has he become such a virtuoso, now a man with his own grown children, in the proverbial “blink of an eye?”

We sing a repeated refrain: All you who pass this way, look at me, while Jan describes in verse the sufferings of Jesus on the cross. The music rises and falls while I alternately close my eyes and open to the images of the large wooden cross at the foot of the sanctuary and the painting of the crucifixion scene over the altar, the only lighted spot in the church. After more emotionally stunning music and a long period of silence, I watch my 82-year old friend of 45 years pull herself up out of her seat next to me to join the procession of people on their way to kiss or touch the cross. Seeing it as holy, they bend in gratitude for the willingness of Jesus to take on the sins of the world. Watching my friend struggle up the aisle, I see that same willingness. After falling three times over the past year, sustaining permanent injury to her back, she is now a witness to the power of her resolve not to give up on life. I weep for the loss of her younger self, all the while knowing that now is her inner reward.

All of the elements of this service come together in reflection on the power of what is happening to Jesus as we sing the hymn that recognizes the transformation that is afoot. O Christe Domine Jesu, O Christe Domine Jesu…we chant. My eyes travel up to the archway above the crucifixion scene where the Christ is seated in the glory of heaven, having passed through death to resurrection. “He was known to be of human estate,” Paul writes, “and it was thus that he humbled himself, obediently accepting even death, death on a cross. Because of this, God highly exalted him…”  As that quotation flashed into my mind, I knew something that I had never seen as clearly, something I can only describe as the efficacy and transforming power of willingness to surrender everything for the life of the world. And in that moment, that surrender, the Jesus of history – the suffering servant – was also the Christ of my faith. Time was erased. Jan was both that young boy struggling with his musical scales and this accomplished musician, playing for God. Florence was both the dynamic high school biology teacher loved by her students and the struggling octogenarian determined to live as fully as possible in praise of God’s goodness to her.

Today is the waiting day, a day to hold the eternity of last night in my hand, reflecting on how willing I am to be transformed in response to what I now know, so that when I go tonight to re-enact the Great Vigil of Easter, I will truly be able to celebrate – with all my companion travelers – the joy and mystery of resurrection.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Palm Sunday

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bad news, betrayal, crucifixion, death, faithfulness, Good News, Holy Week, Isaiah, Jerusalem, Luke, Palm Sunday, Philippians, praise, psalm 22, surrender, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, torture, trust

We have often heard the adage: “Good news, bad news – who knows!” The caution in this statement is about holding out until the end, when the final conclusion allows an informed assessment of whether the situation under consideration is, in fact, good or bad news.

Palm Sunday is the epitome of a good news/bad news story. We begin with Jesus riding a donkey into Jerusalem to jubilant chants of “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!” (LK 19: 28-40) and end with the crucifixion, death and burial of Jesus as Luke tells the story (LK 22:14-23:56). Admittedly there is some telescoping of the time frame as we know the incidents happened over several days rather than all at once, but it is nevertheless a stunning example of the vicissitudes of crowd mentality.

Reflecting on this Sunday’s readings one realizes that the need for the faithful to wait for “the rest of the story” is implicit at each step. Isaiah’s words (IS 50: 4-7) paint a fearful picture of what the servant suffers in trying to speak God’s word to the weary: beatings, plucking of his beard, buffets and spitting. The message to us, however, is in the last verse where the prophet witnesses to God’s faithfulness in all the violence he has endured. The Lord God is my help, he says, therefore I am not disgraced. I have set my face like flint, knowing I shall not be put to shame.

The refrain of the responsorial psalm (PS 22): My God, my God, why have you abandoned me could be interpreted as despair of the crucified Jesus. Not so! Jesus, who likely knew all 150 psalms by heart, knew the ending. Like Isaiah, he trusted that whatever happened, God was faithful and worthy of praise: I will proclaim your name to my brethren, the psalmist sings; in the midst of the assembly I will praise him. (vs.23)

Even as we focus on reciprocal fidelity as the linchpin of relationship between God and Jesus, we know that the suffering endured in the Paschal Mystery was monumental. From betrayal of friends to physical torture and death, Luke’s gospel reminds us that Jesus trusted God and poured himself out in love for our sake. It would behoove us to spend time with this text seeing anew each compassionate encounter on his path from the Last Supper to the cross.

Only the Letter to the Philippians speaks from a post-resurrection perspective today (PHIL 2:6-11). It is the willingness of Jesus to surrender everything that leads to his exaltation as Lord. But let us not be too hasty to reach the finish line. Let us rather take every step of this Holy Week with Jesus, trusting as he did that the Lord God is our help.

Zeal for God’s House

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crucifixion, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., God's house, Holy Week, Isaiah, Jesus, prophecy, prophets, psalm 69, zeal

In today’s first reading (Isaiah 50) the prophet speaks of all the suffering he has been willing to undergo in his vocation of prophecy. From “buffets and spitting” to violent death he is called to endure whatever comes from those who refuse the messages he [or she] is compelled to offer in the service of truth, the word of God. We know this from the prophets of our own time, mindful of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. as we just remembered the 50th anniversary of the Selma March. Jesus spoke the word of God in his very being and today Psalm 69 speaks of his motivation as he continues the journey toward crucifixion. It says: I have become an outcast to my brothers, a stranger to my mother’s sons, because zeal for your house consumes me.

The word zeal (from the Greek zelos) speaks loudly to me. It has many meanings. Among them are: passion, ardor, love, fervor, fire, avidity, devotion, enthusiasm, eagerness, keenness, gusto, vigor and intensity. Today I will carry it with me in all of its iterations, pondering the level of my zeal for “God’s house” and joining myself to the mind of Jesus as I move deeper into the experience of this Holy Week.

Kenosis

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centering prayer, control, crucifixion, emptied, Holy Week, Jesus, judgment, kenosis, Last Supper, letting go, meditation, paschal mystery, Paul, Philippians, prejudice, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

There is a concept in Paul’s letter to the Philippians that describes a path of spirituality that was the way of Jesus (PHIL 2:6-11). The Greek word kenosis means “emptying out” and as a theological principle calls us to empty ourselves of everything in order to be filled with God. In a practical way it means living simply so as not to be distracted by “things” as well as letting go of judgments and prejudices in order to move toward unity with all of creation and ultimately with God. Paul expresses it in the following way: Although he was in the form of God, Jesus did not deem equality with God as something to be grasped at. Rather he emptied himself being born in the likeness of humanity…

Centering prayer is a spiritual practice that has become important in my life as a means of imitation of this kenotic path of Jesus. This meditation practice is a prayer of intention where one sits for a period of time in silence (usually 20-30 minutes). The intention includes the gentle letting go of any thoughts that come during that time, not pushing them away but letting them go in order to return to God’s presence. It is simple but not easy, as our minds are continually in motion. I can attest, however, that over years of such practice there is, in the gesture of letting go of thoughts, a deeper letting go happening where one slowly becomes able to let go of judgments and prejudices and needing control of situations and relationships, etc. It does not mean becoming dispassionate and passive in life but rather more positive and accepting of all manner of experiences. It is, I believe, how Jesus could surrender to all that was asked of him, even to his death. It is how I hope to move toward each challenge that life offers for imitation of Christ. The rituals of the Paschal Mystery that we celebrate this week give us ample evidence of the kenotic actions of Jesus, from the washing of the disciples’ feet at the Last Supper to the Crucifixion – an example and opportunity not to be missed!

Sorrowful Mother

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crucifixion, Jesus, John, Luke, Mary Magdalene, Our Lady of Sorrows, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

This morning is the second in a pair of days when the readings lead us to reflection on the suffering surrounding the crucifixion of Jesus – but today the focus is on his mother, Mary of Nazareth. This feast of “Our Lady of Sorrows” reminds us that the incarnation did not simply affect the lives of those who became followers of Jesus. Jesus was part of a human family whose parents had to deal with a great deal of mystery in their lives, much of which we can only conjecture since the Scriptures tell us very little. If memory serves me, there are only 13 texts in the gospels that even mention Mary – many of them very brief. Sometimes I like to think of different moments in her life and how she must’ve dealt with what was unfolding as her son’s mission – which was also in a real sense hers. We can intuit her acceptance of God’s choice of her as we read the early chapters of Luke’s gospel. From the time she learned that she was pregnant to the visit to her kinswoman Elizabeth, she had grown from a small-town teenager to a woman who had come to realize that her life would not be simple or of her own choosing. This morning we read that “standing by the cross of Jesus were his mother and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene” (JN 19:25).This was, of course, the most tragic moment of her life, watching her innocent son tortured to death.

Mothers throughout history have suffered for their children in many situations and places. This morning my mind goes immediately to three mothers – two American and one British – whose innocent sons have recently been murdered in the worst type of violence imaginable. These mothers – and other, similarly grief-stricken women – will be the focus of my sorrow and my prayer today that such violence may soon be overcome and that the world’s nations will come to value peace over power and love over domination.

Letting Go

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centering prayer, crucifixion, human, humanity, letting go, Paul, Philippians, resurrection, suffering, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

The second reading for today, PHIL 2:6-11, has become very important to me in my spiritual practice of centering prayer. While I cannot even conceive of comparing my practice of letting go of thoughts as I sit quietly choosing to be in God’s presence to the reality of which Paul speaks, there is a connection. In his letter to the Philippians, Paul says that although Christ was by nature God, “he did not regard equality with God something to be grasped at. Rather he emptied himself of godliness” becoming human – like us in all things but sin. We know the story of where this led. Paul says that “he humbled himself even to death on a cross.” We also know that this was not the end of the story, but often we move right from the story of the Crucifixion to the Resurrection without even reflecting on the reality of the cruel suffering he endured.

Jesus gave up everything to become like us – FULLY human (or else how could we see his suffering and death as anything but a Passion Play?). His purpose in life was to manifest the fullness of humanity, to teach us that love is the ground of that fullness which will lead us to our ultimate unity in God. It is up to us, then, to model in our lives this willingness to give up everything in service to unconditional love.

It is through the letting go every day of attitudes, behaviors, desires and actions that separate us from our true nature that we come to know what Jesus was about here on earth. So I begin each morning by sitting – a simple (but not easy) practice of letting go of thoughts that interrupt my presence to God – in order to spend the day letting go of what does not serve the greater goal of union. Small steps, to be sure, but definitely worth the effort!