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Daniel Ladinsky, light, love, Love Poems From God; Twelve Voices from the East and West, pray, quiet, soul, St. John of the Cross, The Sophia Center for Spirituality
On this feast of John of the Cross, great 16th century mystic and Doctor of the Church I offer two short poetic “words,” translated by Daniel Ladinsky in his book, Love Poems from God: Twelve Sacred Voices from the East and West. Savor them as you will…
“My soul is a candle that burned away the veil; only the glorious duties of light I now have.”
“You might quiet the whole world for a second if you pray. And if you love, if you really love, our guns will wilt.”
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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.
For today, a post as short as yesterday’s entry was long. From J. Philip Newell, a prayer:
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.”
I smiled when I just looked at the title for my last blog entry (“What Time Is It?”), in part because I am in a different time zone than usual. Although Minnesota is only one hour behind the Northeast, and because all my electronic devices correct themselves without help from me, I might not notice the inner disturbance that occurs when visiting a location like California (3 hours difference) or a European country (6 or 7 hours difference). There is a subtle adjustment to be made, however. I have been up and thinking for over an hour and here it’s only 6:10am.
We know only two things about St. Matthew whose feast we celebrate today. First, we know him as a tax collector and secondly that he responded to the call of Jesus who approached him with the command: “Follow me,” and later was credited with the Gospel that bears his name. In the time of Jesus, tax collectors were not beloved members of society. It seems that, once again, Jesus was trying to make an important point by calling Matthew to be a disciple – a call that Matthew was unlikely to accept in the unquestioning way that he did. He was making some money, after all, and his job was likely secure. But Matthew got up from his customs post and seems to have never questioned the motives of Jesus or his own response. Clearly, others questioned however! “Why does the teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?” they boldly said – not thinking of any transgressions they themselves might have committed. Jesus was clear in his response to these queries. “I desire mercy, not sacrifice. I did not come to call the righteous but sinners.”
The readings for today are all about transgressions and the need for forgiveness, from Ezekiel to the word of Jesus about the need to forgive 70 X 7 times. Synchronistically, John Philip Newell has a Prayer of Awareness for Thursday morning in his book, Praying with the Earth. Simple and short, it is sufficient for my reflection for this day.
St. Clare of Assisi, whom we celebrate today, was a great example of the adage “Behind every good man, there is a good woman.” While he did not see her often, St. Francis counted on her holiness and wisdom to shore up his determination in times of doubt and difficulty. Clare was a clear mirror of the presence of God for Francis and for those women who followed her to the convent of San Damiano, and he was the same for her. She was a woman of great strength and perseverance who believed that she was the one who knew best what should be written in a rule for women in a religious order. Although she easily accepted the rule that Francis has written in the early days, after the death of Francis she continued for 27 years to submit a revised rule to bishops and popes until she finally received and signed a constitutional document of her own two days before her death on August 11, 1253.
At the retreat center where I am privileged to live, we are in the midst of our “high season.” Every weekend we welcome people of diverse beliefs and religious traditions who come seeking to deepen the spiritual content of their lives. Thus, the simple but appropriate name of this place: The Spiritual Center. It is not only those who come as participants to the programs we offer who are changed in some way or newly committed to spiritual practice. The presenters and we ourselves know the value of what is transacted here, most often in the brief space of a weekend.
Everything is so still this morning. It reminds me of the line in Paul’s Letter to the Romans where he says that “all creation is on tiptoe, waiting for the children of God to come into their own.” That image is my favorite translation because it is so visual but also because it implies for me an intense use of both ears and eyes. We won’t see it if we have our eyes closed and we won’t hear it if we’re not really listening. Even if all of our five outer senses are engaged, there needs to be an interior readiness for the in-breaking of God’s presence. I’ve come to the conclusion that it is an incremental thing, sparked either by our own silence or by a communal encounter of recognition. Deeper than silence, the stillness becomes palpable and we know something that we didn’t know before – indescribable but deeply true. Again it is John Philip Newell whose prayer suffices for this morning.