Hiatus

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COVID19, Easter season, hold on, hope, quiet ourselves, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

Dear Friends,

This has been a strange Lent into Eastertide. We are still in the season of Covid and in many ways are locked down. That reality seems both physical and spiritual sometimes. How many of us celebrated the rituals of Holy Week in our own living rooms? Happily, the wonders of technology were the gifts that allowed us to see, if not to reach out and touch, those we love and those with whom we share faith.

Are you one of the millions of Americans who have been vaccinated? (I am halfway there, thanks to Pfizer and the brilliance of the scientists who have concocted the vaccine.) We have lost many people during the past several months in our families and communities and yet we hope. The Scriptures for today call us to quiet ourselves and search for the fire in our spirits that will reinvigorate our ability to persevere. Look around outside. See the greening that is happening and the flowers appearing to give us hope. Everything is saying,”Hold on! Hold on!”

I ask you that for this ministry. The Sophia Center continues to be patient and to prepare for a new cycle of spiritual growth. We ask only that you “hold on” with us, choosing perhaps to join in the book studies and/or Lunch with the Psalms until such time as we can meet in person once again. I ask for your prayer as I offer mine to you each day.

Lovingly,
Sister Lois

Not Just a Day…

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Easter season, heart space, meditation, retreat, self-forgiveness, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

I was on a zoom call at 7:00 this morning, signed in with about 30 people interested in following the liturgical season of Easter – rather than just thinking of Easter as a day. It really is 50 days, taking us all the way to Pentecost – but who is still thinking of Easter on Memorial Day? (Hopefully some of us will still be there!)

With my friend Bill Redfield at the helm of the Zoom Ship, I trust we will all persevere with what Bill promises will be a practicum as well as a retreat. This morning – and three more times this week (for slow learners or those who feel that repetition is good for the soul) – Bill led us through a meditation practice that got us into our “heart space” in order that we might consider, or rather perhaps experience, self-forgiveness. Surprisingly, I found out in the small group portion of the call that I am not the only person who has a greater capacity for forgiving others than for forgiving myself. “Why is that so?” we asked ourselves and each other.

I’m hoping that by the end of the week I will have some answers, or even just acceptance of that reality and a new willingness to let it go. If you have an interest in joining us, visit William Redfield Virtual Easter Retreat and Practicum for more information. You’ll be very welcome!

Easter People

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Easter season, fresh day, Joyce Rupp, Prayer Seeds, prepare, readiness, receive, shining love of God, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

Today is a new day – an Easter Day. We have finished with the 40 days of Lent and now look forward to the 50 days of Easter. I always need to remind myself that the Easter season is that long – all the way to Pentecost – and that we are called to be “Easter people,’ shining the love of God through Christ each and every day. Joyce Rupp is a cheerleader, reminding us that every day can be the best one so far, if we choose it to be. Here’s what she says this morning with the gusto that I must choose to move into my day.

Unscripted. This day. My day. A fresh day. Waiting. Ready to be opened. Holding more than what is expected. No matter the lengthly list of have-to-do, don’t-want-to-do. Enter with a readiness to receive, to appreciate. Prepare for a full plunge instead of a toe-in-the-water. (Prayer Seeds, p. 154)

Now that sounds like someone who has embraced the Resurrection and willingness to move forward in life each day – one day at a time. “Count me in, Joyce,” I say, with a smile.

Out of the Depths

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Ancient Songs Sung Anew, despair, Easter season, familiar, forgiveness, impact, Lent, Lynn Bauman, mercy, practices, prayers, presence, Psalm 30, responsibility, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

My first thoughts on this fifth Sunday of Lent centered around my relatively low level of attention for what (in my experience anyway) was always called “the holy season of Lent.” I do not disparage that title; more Christians are likely aware of religious practice during these six weeks than at any other time in the year. It makes me wonder, however, why the fervor doesn’t often last throughout the fifty days of the Easter season. Perhaps we find it easier to do penance than to rejoice! If so, what does that have to say about our image of God? But I digress…

The tenor of my offerings over these last weeks comes, I think, from my conviction that although reminders of special times are important, it is our everyday devotion that will move us toward God, sort of a “one step at a time” approach, and I sometimes think that we become so familiar with certain prayers or practices that they can lose the impact of their meaning for us. Take Psalm 30, for instance. I can recite the whole thing and recognize that we are being called to repentance by the psalmist’s cry, but sometimes it sounds so dire – as if I am the worst sinner in the universe – that I refuse the import of what can be gained by reflection on the meaning and stop at the part about my guilt, thereby missing the resolution in the last verses. I miss both my responsibility to repair relationship and God’s willingness to allow it to happen. Maybe it’s because the psalmist is talking about the relationship of the nation of Israel to God rather than my person. Thus, I come to my point. I find in Lynn Bauman’s translation of Psalm 30 a recognition both of my responsibility for my unworthy actions and an acknowledgment of God’s willingness to hear my longing for the benevolent embrace of forgiveness and love. It only takes the effort of silence to recognize the possibility. Listen to this text below with your heart wide open.

Lord, I am calling to you again, from the depths; in this place of despair hear my voice. Listen, listen, if you will, for I am crying. If you were to note everything, all missteps and offenses, none of us could stand before you uncondemned. But always, always you forgive, and make us whole again, and so we stand in awe before you, waiting. My whole being waits for you, my God, listening for your presence. I long to hear your voice again, speaking. So like a watchman who anticipates the crack of dawn, my heart waits for the first-light of your word. Listen, listen, wait in silence listening for the One from whom all-mercy flows, who is the secret source of our redemption, and the healing of the wounds our sins have caused. (Ancient Songs Sung Anew, p. 334)