Tags
communion, Cynthia Bourgeault, hope, light, mystical hope, prayer, presence, present, sharing, silence, spirit, spiritual life, the body of hope, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, wisdom
Today I am privileged to spend the morning in reflection with seven people considering the topic of hope. Self-selected and always seeking to deepen their spiritual lives, these people are all known to me although not to one another. I never know exactly what will transpire at these brief encounters (just 3 hours of prayer, silence and sharing) but I am never disappointed. That is not to say that I do not have a carefully crafted agenda, but once I have prepared, I let go and see where the Spirit will take us. I smile when I think of that truth because it has not always been that way. Needing success eventually gives way to simply being present and trusting the willingness of the participants to hear something of merit and to offer their wisdom to the group.
Today I am certain such wisdom will shine throughout our time together as we speak of what Cynthia Bourgeault calls “mystical hope.” Cynthia describes one of the characteristics of such hope as follows. “It has something to do with presence – not a future good outcome, but the immediate experience of being met, held in communion, by something intimately at hand.”
I trust that will be true not only in the topical presentation but at the heart of our gathering itself. Why not join us in Spirit for this event? Your prayer, your silence and/or your good wishes – even after the event – could add to the power of presence in what Cynthia calls “the body of hope!” We welcome all comers!
Realization of shifting temperatures cannot be ignored this morning as I recognize that the first hard frost has settled in our back field. The skies are clear, however, as Sisters of St. Joseph begin to gather at our Motherhouse near Albany, NY for our annual “Community Weekend.” A homecoming of sorts, this event is second only in celebration to our Jubilee Day when we mark incremental anniversaries for individual Sisters of 25 to 80 (yes, sometimes 80) years of service and life together. The theme this event that begins this evening is “Who We Are Called To Be for the World Today.”
On this dreary Saturday morning it is clear that the earth has shifted into the season of Autumn. As the rain taps out a wake-up call on the roof, I wonder if we will see the usual splendor that accompanies October. Some say because of the hot, wet summer we had, the trees will not provide us with that gift this year. I always hold out hope though, and it will last in me for a few more days. For now, I am relaxed into morning by a prayer of John Philip Newell that expands the rhythms of time and the seasons into a God-like view.
St. Paul is “waxing eloquent” today in what may be his most famous and frequently quoted text of all: 1 COR 12:31-13:13. It is heard it so often at weddings that I sometimes wonder if we don’t just get as far as “Love is patient, love is kind…” and then let the words slide across our consciousness without really penetrating too deeply. Perhaps that’s too harsh a judgment on such an important moment, but I have often heard that “what is seldom is wonderful” and sometimes I know that I perk up and listen better to unfamiliar readings.
Yesterday I spent an uncommon amount of time (for me) on YouTube. I watched the eulogies of Barack Obama, Meghan McCain and George W. Bush during the funeral of Senator John McCain. All were quite different, as are the individuals themselves, but at a moment during the speech of former President Bush I was struck by a rising sensation that I can only express as “love of country.” It was clear to me that in moments of great import, small things no longer have any place. I have known this often in the past year during weather disasters and mass shootings, but this was in some way different. It struck at the heart of how we as Americans are able, perhaps, to agree in times of great division because we recognize what is important at the center of everything. We do not need to be perfect in order to be together; we just need to be willing. We have not reached 100% participation in this truth but yesterday allowed me a glimpse of possibility that has been sorely lacking for us as a country lately.
Just a question on this commemoration of the birth of John the Baptist: How am I announcing the good news of God’s on-going presence in our world especially when it seems so dark and devoid of hope? 
I was always envious of people who could quote Scripture with chapter and verse. I had my favorite passages – most of them short, like “God is Love” – but was usually only vaguely aware of where to find them in the Bible. The exception was Romans 12:12 (most likely because of the double 12) that reminded me to “base your happiness on your hope in Christ.”
Today my Church honors St. Matthias, a man who was mentioned only once in the Scriptures. The event was a momentous one for him and a lesson for people who live in consistent attention to their spiritual lives. The first lectionary reading today tells the story of how Matthias became the replacement for Judas in the band of apostles. (ACTS 1:15-26) He was one of the two nominees for the position because he had accompanied the apostles the whole time Jesus was with them “from the baptism of John to the day on which he was taken up,” having also been a witness to the Resurrection. He was clearly one of those folks who knew the value of staying close to the example and teachings of Jesus – without needing to be known as “one of the Twelve.”
This morning as I clicked on my usual first source for inspiration, the US Catholic Bishops’ listing of lectionary readings for the day, I read April 24, 2018 – Tuesday of the Fourth Week of Easter. I needed to go no further with that as a prompt. I thought of how quickly this year seems to be passing and was grateful that the daffodils have finally bloomed along the side of our house. It’s impossible to go by them without smiling; their bright yellow faces sing “Hello!” with such enthusiasm. At the same time I wondered how conscious I am each day of still celebrating the Easter feast. The readings from the Acts of the Apostles help, of course, as they are full of the vibrant stories of the first disciples and the remarkable happenings as they traveled around spreading the good news of Jesus. Today, in chapter 11, there is word of Barnabas, “a good man, filled with the Spirit and faith,” who was sent to Antioch where “a large number of people was added to the Lord.” As sort of a postscript to all the recounting there, the text ends with the monumental statement that “it was in Antioch that the disciples were first called Christians.”
For so many people I have encountered in so many places recently, life seems to be a continual walk in the dark. For Christians who are following the path of Lent, walking with Jesus ever closer to the events of what we call Holy Week, the heaviness of these days can be an opportunity even as we find our energy sapped by news of a world in deep turmoil. Another school shooting yesterday, panic in Austin, Texas over serial bomb explosions, wildly destructive coastal storms and personal tragedies or disappointments leave us wondering when and how it will all end. Will Easter bring us solace and the promise of new life?