Seesaw

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joy, kindness, pity, psalm 90, refuge, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

The psalm from today’s lectionary readings (PS 90) reads like a letter to God from someone who understands well the lifetime of earth’s inhabitants. And actually, if read in its entirety, it seems like a seesaw, each end going up and down in turn…

The psalm refrain, repeated every 2 or 3 verses, offers hope to readers, reminding us that in every age, O Lord, you have been our refuge…while peppered throughout the verses are pleadings for God’s favor as it seems we have yet to learn God’s ways. We hear: Teach us to number our days aright that we may gain wisdom of heart. And then, surprisingly, I think, something that speaks clearly to our present situation, Return, O Lord! How long? Have pity on your servants! But then again, the hope…

Fill us at daybreak with your kindness, that we may shout with joy and gladness all our days. And may the gracious care of the Lord our God be ours; prosper the work of our hands for us! We breathe in our trust…in every age.

Make It Personal!

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blind, examination of consciousness, faith, Jesus, Luke, pity, question, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

There are so many ways to learn from the Scriptures. We can usually find literal meaning in the passages we read. Sometimes it is also really easy to see more than a literal meaning to the gospel stories. Today is a good example of that. (LK 18: 35-43)

When Jesus approaches the city of Jericho, he hears someone calling, “Jesus of Nazareth, have pity on me!” We already know that this man is blind, sitting on the roadside begging. (Could we be the blind man? Are we sometimes blind to what’s going on? Do we ever ask those around us for help?) Even though people try to get him to stop yelling, he keeps calling out for pity. (How persevering are we in our prayer?) Jesus has the man brought to him and asks the important question: “What do you want me to do for you?” (Would you be ready for the question? Would you dare to ask for something or would you just say as many of us often do: “Oh, I’m okay…I don’t want to bother you…”) The man was brave enough to acknowledge what was wrong with him: “Please let me see,” he said. (Are we willing to ask God for what we need, even if it exposes some weakness or sinful behavior?)

The reward for honesty about ourselves is clear in this story. Jesus answers immediately: “Have sight!” and it’s clear that it is the man’s faith in the power of Jesus to heal that allows the healing. (What is your faith quotient these days? Are you sure that if you have faith you will get what you need? Would you be willing in your request to believe that God knows better than you do what you need and what will be good for you?)

I like this way of approaching the gospels and see it as an examination of consciousness because I really have to be awake if I’m going to get to the depth of meaning in my search. This story was easy to interpret. It’s the answers to the questions, however, that take time and honest digging. Are you willing to give it a try?

Mercy Within Mercy Within Mercy…

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broken heart, disdain, his mercy endures forever, Joan Chittister, justice, legalism, merciful, mercy, openness, pity, psalm 136, rejection, show mercy, The Monastic Way, The Sign of Jonas, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, Thomas Merton, understanding

This morning as I read Psalm 136, I recalled that I used to find it tedious in its repetition (every other line!) of the refrain, God’s mercy endures forever. In speaking of God’s action for the Israelites, it can become a singsong recording of their history: God led them through the wilderness, for his mercy endures forever; and made their land a heritage, for his mercy endures forever…and freed us from our foes, for his mercy endures forever… It was easy in our communal prayer to lose consciousness of the meaning of what we were saying (sometimes not really praying). It was when I first heard the definition of mercy as “fierce bonding love” rather than God’s willingness to “take pity on us” that my sense of what was happening in that psalm began to take on the deeper meaning of a real and lasting relationship with a beloved people.

That reminder was enhanced by a serendipitous discovery of the January 2008 issue of The Monastic Way that I found stuck in a book next to my chair this morning. I hadn’t intended to talk about mercy this morning – desiring something that would match the intensity of feeling in our country in the wake of the hateful demonstrations of the week. When I saw Joan Chittister’s monthly reflection pamphlet, however, I knew it was the perfect theme. If we are to become a mirror of God’s work in the world, we cannot ignore the quality of mercy. Some of Sister Chittister’s daily thoughts were the following:

• We pray for mercy; we expect mercy. What we find difficult to do is to be merciful to those in need of it. Or as George Eliot says, “We hand folks over to God’s mercy, and show none ourselves.”
• The great spiritual question is not whether or not this person, this situation deserves mercy. It’s about whether or not we ourselves are capable of showing it.
• The major holy-making moment in our own lives may be when we receive the mercy we know we do not deserve. Then, we may never again substitute disdain for understanding, rejection for openness, legalism for justice. “I think perhaps it is a better world,” Helen Waddell writes, “if one has a broken heart. Then one is quick to recognize it, elsewhere.”

These “words” deserve some attention, I believe – perhaps even a little soul-searching. In summary, I offer the stated theme of this valuable reflection pamphlet printed on the cover page. It comes from Thomas Merton’s book, The Sign of Jonas, and offers what Joan Chittister calls a definition of God.

I have always overshadowed you with my mercy…Have you had sight of Me, My child? Mercy within mercy within mercy.

 

 

 

 

 

Rootedness

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Book of Psalms, Book of Revelation, determination, discerning heart, divisiveness, energy, enurance, grace, heart, inner work, Jesus, love, Luke, Lynn Bauman, meditation, Peace, pity, psalm 1, rootedness, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, wisdom

In Luke’s gospel account of Jesus with a blind man, it seems the lesson is that the man had to be clear about what it was he wanted in order for Jesus to heal him of his infirmity. We are at the beginning of a new season in the political life of our nation and need to be much clearer than we have been about what is possible and how we might effect the best possible outcome in the circumstances that exist now. I find it interesting that the first lectionary reading for today is the very beginning of the Book of Revelation and the response to that is the first in the Book of Psalms.  So we begin anew to deepen our intention, not only for endurance but for the love that has been assaulted in the events of the past year.

My pondering began with the following verses from the first reading. Grace and peace to you from the one who was and who is to come…Moreover, you have endurance and have suffered for my name, and you have not grown weary. Yet I hold this against you: you have lost the love you had at first. (REV 1:4, 2:2-4) I think about the divisiveness that has infected our country and I begin to examine my participation in its rhetoric. While I preach only love, I need to look deeply into my thoughts and feelings that sometimes can speak energetically as loudly as my words to prove a point, sometimes indicating a different message altogether.

Often at wisdom retreats we are guided in meditation to envision our energy going down from our feet through the ground to the very center of the world until we sense a rootedness and then draw up that energy into our heart. In the same way we image the energy reaching up high into the cosmos and again drawing down into our hearts. Thus we are stronger than before and as we do this exercise together, we know greater consciousness and possibility. Lynn Bauman’s translation of Psalm One called me today to this knowing. But the blessed ones grow strong as living trees, their roots sink deep and hidden beside flowing streams which come from you. And through life’s passing seasons they do not cease to bear a plenitude of fruit nor do they fade from giving shade of leaf that covers all with good. (Ps. 1:3)

All that having been said I am left with the question of Jesus to the blind man. It was not enough that this man was asking for pity; Jesus was likely to have been feeling that immediately upon hearing the man’s cry. What he wanted was determination and a discerning heart from the man about what was his intention for the future. Thus the question: What do you want me to do for you? We might consider that question deeply today, reflecting on the state of our hearts, to determine if we are ready and willing to follow through with the inner work involved in the intentional answer of: Please, let me see! (LK 18:41)

Tender Mercy

Tags

2016, faithful servant, Holy Year of Mercy, I am a sinner, lift my soul, love, misery, path of life, pity, Pope Francis, poverty, psalm 86, sinners, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, trust, wretchedness

Pope Francis has not only declared 2016 a “Holy Year of Mercy” but has opened up a vast well of meaning for a word that has often been seen as a synonym for pity and to describe our wretchedness as sinners. I hear and image Francis himself as God’s messenger and embodiment of the fullness of that term. In announcing to the world “I am a sinner,” Francis displays no fear or despair in that acknowledgment but always seems confident in his relationship with the God who is always willing to bring us back to a loving embrace. Psalm 86 exudes that confidence this morning, beginning with a call to God to incline your ear, O Lord and have mercy…Listen to my favorite translation (below) – for best effect, read aloud.

My God, stoop down to me, and putting close your ear, let me speak my poverty, my misery of life to you – and then, I beg you, whisper back your answer clear. I am your faithful servant and I trust you, Lord, to keep a watchful eye upon my path of life. Treat me with greatest mercy and most tender care, for you, my God, are all I have; there is no one else but you to whom I speak throughout the day. So I lift my soul to you that you would flood my heart with secret joy. For in your presence goodness flows as constant as a stream, forgiving me. This is the essence of your love for anyone who calls to you.