Faith Quotient

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faith, Greeks, ministry, Passion, St. Paul, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

The speech of Paul in chapter 17 of the Act of the Apostles that appears in today’s lectionary readings is a pivotal moment in his ministry. If read aloud, one can hear the power and conviction of belief in Paul’s words and imagine how the the Greeks of Athens must have been moved by him. He was not giving them a lecture about his personal belief to inform them. Rather he was telling them what they had been missing in their lives and how this God was the one they were looking for, even if unknowingly. Most likely Paul had no written text but spoke from his heart, no microphone but rather just his passion for Christ to strengthen his message. And even now twenty centuries later people like me are moved by his words and his delivery. Imagining I am speaking to a crowd of people who are seeking some deep and meaningful reason for what is unknown yet calling them in a deep way – a more personal God to believe in, I put my heart totally in the words below as I speak out my faith.

You Athenians, I see that in every respect you are very religious. For as I walked around looking carefully at your shrines, I even discovered an altar inscribed “To an Unknown God.” What therefore you unknowingly worship, I proclaim to you! The God who made the world and all that it in it, the Lord of heaven and earth, does not dwell in sanctuaries made by human hands, nor is served by human hands because of needing anything. Rather it is this God who gives to everyone life and breath and everything…so that people might seek God, even perhaps grope and find God, though indeed this God is not far from any one of us, for it is in this God that we live and move and have our being.

Can you hear it? Can you feel it? Would you be able to move anyone to desire to know more from you about your belief? How strong is your faith after all?

Joining Forces

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bonding together, Holy Week, Jesus, light of the world, Palm Sunday, Passion, spiritual mystery, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

Today is Passion/Palm Sunday, when across the world people turn inward to consider the events of this cataclysmic week in the life of Jesus. Before beginning to consider what to write this morning, I “surfed” a bit on the internet where everything called me to consciousness of the enormity of the weeklong event that is just beginning.

I have always had difficulty considering the swiftness of change in the events from the triumphal entry of Jesus into Jerusalem to the crucifixion. Lately, however, with all the violence in the world that seems to erupt sometimes from nowhere, I have come to recognize the vagaries of human behavior and to accept that kind of bubbling up of change in emotional reaction in crowds. This year I have a sense of something shifting in myself and elsewhere in a different direction. The number of groups and organizations that are arising across the world for good purpose is increasing and the messages of such entities seem to be more and more similar, thus creating recognition, if not yet bonding together, for the benefit of the world both spiritually and materially (which at a certain level cannot remain separate).

For Christians it is the following of Jesus that moves us toward our neighbor in spreading light in the world. There is no better time to consider this truth and our part in it than this week. One of my stops this morning on the worldwide web was the site of The Episcopal Society of St. John the Evangelist where a quote from one of their recently deceased monks, Br. Eldridge Pendleton, captured my sense of what is afoot. He said the following:

Make no mistake about it. The events of Holy Week and Easter are not merely annual reenactments of the tragic events of the life of an important historical personage. This is spiritual mystery on its deepest and most cosmic scale.

May we all open ourselves to the power of this week and move toward oneness for redemption of the world.

Respite

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Bethany, Celtic Treasure, companionship, healing, Holy Week, inner quiet, J. Philip Newell, Jerusalem, journey, Passion, respite, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

John’s gospel for today (12:1-11) always signals for me a pause in the frenetic events of Holy Week. Yesterday there was the uproarious crowd as Jesus entered Jerusalem and beginning on Thursday the intensity of the Passion commences, not to subside until the next waiting period at the tomb. It feels this morning like watching the ocean waves in slow motion – building, crashing, subsiding and then building again to a crisis point – but in between, a space of silence and repose.

Jesus is in Bethany now, likely the most welcoming place he knows, where he is cared for with good food, soothing massage and the companionship of dear friends Lazarus, Martha and Mary. In my mind’s eye, I always imagine his mother at the table as well. How could she not be with him now?

It seems to me that we ought to spend these “in-between” days in inner quiet and attention – in whatever ways we are able, given that our “normal life” of work and family responsibilities likely continues. As a prayer to guide us, I offer J. Philip Newell’s words.

We stumble on the journey, O God. We lose heart along the way. We forget your promises and blame one another. Refresh us with the springs of your spirit in our souls and open our senses to your guiding presence that we may be part of the world’s healing this day, that we may be part of the world’s healing. (Celtic Treasure, p. 68)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Shock Treatment

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depth, face shine, give me a sign, glorify God, light, lightning, longing, Matthew, Passion, psalm 119, sadness, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, yearning

There are several references to light in today’s lectionary readings. Psalm 119 is both indirect and direct, calling on God to “let your face shine upon me,” while also saying to God that “the revelation of your words sheds light.” Jesus speaks very directly, telling his hearers (MT 6) “You are the light of the world” and then commanding them to “let your light shine before others” – not for personal gain, however, but to glorify God, the source of light.

I am occasionally not so fond of light shining on me – like this morning after less than 6 hours of sleep when the sun was already up over the mountain and calling me to open my eyes at 5:20AM. There was no way to hide from that light; covering my face under even a sheet in the sudden summery heat would have been suffocating. Facing the day seemed the more sane option.

One line in the Psalm response (119:131) was like a bolt of lightning ten minutes later and made my grudging start to the day worthwhile. I was not reading from any alternate, poetic or modern translation – just the USCCB* version – but the light of that line was clearly shocking me awake.  Just after the verse about God’s words shedding light, the psalm said this: I gasp with open mouth in my yearning for your commands. That’s a far cry from “Teach me, O Lord, your statutes…”

Yearning is defined as “a feeling of intense longing for something” with synonyms such as longing, craving, hankering, urge, ache…To yearn, the dictionary says, stresses the depth and passion of a desire, sometimes accompanied by sadness. The psalmist was obviously craving the light of God, love being the motivating force but the weight of the world perhaps dimming the path toward that light. It seems to me that a sense of distance from God crashed into the psalmist’s desire like a punch in the stomach that caused such a gasp of yearning. I can just hear the follow-on to that cry to God: Tell me what you want! or Where are You? I’m overcome with longing and searching. Just give me a sign! I’m guessing that just the experience of that gasping in the yearning would have awakened a new depth in relationship with God. And who would not be willing to experience that?

*United States Conference of Catholic Bishops

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sparks of Possibility

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abundance, capacity, context, fear, fire, igniting force, infinite, kindling, Passion, possibility, scarcity, spark, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, universe

Quotes from Pendle Hill: Today’s quote comes from The Art of Possibility by Rosamund Stone Zander and Benjamin Zander.

In the middle ages, when lighting a fire from scratch was an arduous process, people often carried about a metal box containing a smoldering cinder, kept alight throughout the day with little bits of kindling. This meant that a man could light a fire with ease wherever he went, because he always carried the spark. But our universe is alive with sparks. We have at our fingertips an infinite capacity to light a spark of possibility. Passion, rather than fear, is the igniting force. Abundance, rather than scarcity, is the context.

Recognition

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grace, grief, Jesus, John, kenosis, Mary Magdalene, Passion, relinquishment, restoration, resurrection, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, weeping

I’m always happy in the Easter season to hear the Sunday gospel readings repeated in the daily lectionary; it can help us to go deeper and maybe allow us to pick up nuances that have previously escaped our notice. Take for example this morning’s text from John 20:11-18 – my favorite of all.

Mary Magdalene has finally achieved her rightful place in the story of Jesus, especially in the events surrounding what we have come to call the Paschal Mystery – the events of Christ’s passion, death and resurrection. Her fidelity is clear as she is mentioned in all four gospels, not only as the one who appears at all these events – from the foot of the cross, through the burial, to the garden of the resurrection. And she is the one who announces to the other followers of Jesus that he has risen from the dead. We know all these things.

What catches my attention this morning (as it often does) is Mary’s state of heart in that garden. I try to put myself in her place: half crazy with grief at the horrible death of the one who has not only loved her but has virtually saved her life – turned it around and given her new meaning. That’s a lot to be thankful for, of course, but there is also the mutual deepening of their relationship over the time since they first met. So when she comes to anoint his body one more time and finds the whole scene disrupted, her mind cannot hold the possibility of grave snatchers or worse so she doesn’t recognize that the “guards” at the tomb are angels. (How did that happen? Where did the human guards go?) To compound her grief, no one will give her information about where he is; they all just keep asking why she’s weeping. Even Jesus, who must have been changed in a way that made her mistake him for the gardener, asks her the same question. (How could she not recognize him? How different might a resurrection body appear?)

The most wonderful and telling moment in the whole drama is when Jesus simply says her name. When we are called by name, be it by a relative, a special friend or the person most closely related to us in love, it sounds different from any other time we hear it. Mary recognized Jesus at the sound of her own name. How thrilling that moment must have been! But that moment also had it’s price; the relationship has changed. The moment of restoration also becomes the moment of relinquishment. In order to experience the fullness of their connection, she must not cling to him. In the same manner that Jesus emptied himself to become human, he now resumes his place in the divinity of God and it is Mary who is called to reconcile the meaning of kenosis in her life now. Therein lies the fullness of the mystery of Easter, I think.

Just as Mary had to “let go” of Jesus in order to become the apostolic presence needed in her world, so we also must come to the maturity of faith that recognizes the depth of commitment called for by the Christian path in our day. It couldn’t have been easy for Mary to relinquish the Jesus that had brought her so far in order to gain the Christ whose divine fire was capturing her heart in a new way. Perhaps it is the repetition of the question, Why are you weeping? that is a clue to this “difficult grace” being offered to Mary and to us. If Mary were not ready for this jump in consciousness, she would, most likely, have dissolved in tears and missed the moment. We grieve our losses – some more tearfully than others – but are we willing to dry our tears so that we can see with new eyes what might be right in front of us? Can we identify our name as it is being called toward a new way of being? Can we let go of what might be holding us back (even if what has been in our lives has been good and meaningful) in order to take the next step toward the fullness of the Christ life?

Let us pray for the grace to see in new ways and then to let go into the heart of God.

The Passion of the Prophet

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courage, Herod, Jesus, Mark, mirror, no greater prophet ever lived, Passion, speak truth to power, St. John the Baptist, suffering, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

Today my Church calendar is titled “Memorial of the Passion of St. John the Baptist.” I believe the word passion here is used in two ways – primarily because John was innocent of any crime but prefigured the passion of Jesus by his suffering and death at the hands of his enemies. John was thrown in prison and subsequently beheaded for his willingness to speak truth to power, specifically in telling Herod it was unlawful for him to have his brother’s wife, Herodias (who then was the agent of his death in a scheme that Herod was too weak to resist – MK 6:17-29). Clearly John’s death was consistent with his life. He bursts onto the scene early in the gospels, coming from the desert clothed in animal skins and feeding on locusts and wild honey. His whole purpose, his passion, was to proclaim Jesus as “the one sent from God.” Jesus recognized him by saying that no greater prophet ever lived; he earned that title by being totally authentic in his entire life.

We also read in Scripture that a prophet is not generally accepted in his native place. The world still persecuting those who arise to call us to a more honest and truthful life. Our prophets are those who hold up a mirror, showing us what needs to be converted in society, and sometimes we fail to listen because transformation seems too difficult (“What can one person do?”) or we are too comfortable or too busy to be concerned. Today is a day to think about our willingness to change and not to dismiss the voices we hear calling us to more responsibility in our living. My question to myself is about the level of my passion for justice and my compassion for those who are suffering in my world. What am I called to do or be for them? What will it cost me? Where is my courage for speaking the truth?

Holding On

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disciples, Easter, faith, Jesus, Palm Sunday, Passion, resurrection, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

I’m feeling conflicted this morning. I know that we are moving swiftly toward the events of the most solemn week of the year for Christians – from Palm Sunday to the crucifixion and death of Jesus. It’s difficult for us to understand in a visceral way the pain impact of those events because we already know the end of the story, that is the Resurrection of Jesus that we celebrate on Easter Sunday. It’s a bit like looking out on a winter landscape with a temperature of 16F degrees when the calendar and all our sensibilities say it should be spring. (Sorry. I know I sound like a broken record but it’s been an unusually difficult winter.) We know the outcome – or at least have hope because of what history and past seasons have told us. Seeds breaking open lead to future flowering, just as the broken body of Jesus was raised from the dead into a transformed existence to which we are all called as well. The latter is more difficult to grasp because we have not seen the miracle with our own eyes as we have in nature each year.  Perhaps, however, for those of us living in this unforgiving winter, this year gives us an advantage; our expectations of the “end of the story” have been disappointed again and again as the cold continues to seep into our bones. How long will we wait? What is the level of our trust that spring will eventually come? Silly questions, I know – but the temptation to despair is real.

In whatever situation has caused that kind of feeling in our lives- if not the weather – let us sit in the uncertainty of not knowing the outcome. Maybe then we will understand what the disciples of Jesus were feeling as the mood of the crowds changed and the fate of Jesus became more uncertain day by day. Let us try to live the remaining days before Easter in the space of those who lived these events for the first time in history, conscious that, for them, it was faith that had to take them to resurrection and there was no precedent for that.