Tags
Alleluia, Bill Redfield, chanting, common experience, Easter, morning prayer, movement prayer, presence, silence, strangers, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, virtual retreat
“Today is a day for a new hymn!”
That’s a line from a long ago poem that I read somewhere and liked the sentiment enough to pen my own feeble attempt at poetry as response. A lot of life has passed since then. I have changed, of course, as there is no life without that reality, but the quote seems apt for this Easter morning. One could say that it might fit each day if we were paying attention.
The run-up to the Easter feast has been more than just a calendar notation this year, to be sure. I was more or less able to be present to a “virtual retreat” all week, a genius idea and amazingly successful creation of my friend and colleague, Bill Redfield. There were morning prayer services each day that included silence, chanting, movement prayer to stirring music and short readings, in addition to a reflective session for the evening. There was a “conference” for the day with probing questions as well. All of this had been recorded ahead of time and added to the whole each day on the internet, enabling participants to come to prayer as their schedule allowed, knowing that there were others around the country and the world who were adding to the communal consciousness. It was a different, quite effective way of participation.
The most amazing part of this experience, however, came at 4:00 EDT every afternoon when as many of us as were able clicked onto a ZOOM call where Bill introduced a topic and then sent us to a virtual “breakout room” to share with one or two other participants. The common experience was instant comfort and generally deep sharing with people who will never again be strangers to us. In 15-20 minutes each time we touched into deep topics and feelings about the Holy Week and Easter experience from a Wisdom perspective. There were only 30 to 50 people each day – of the many more participants – whose schedules allowed this miracle, but the sharing was extraordinary and seemed to shout that each of the days was a time for “a new hymn.” The technology is there and as a person who sits on the fringe of the technological age it was a glorious turn-around that I fully embraced.
Last night I worshiped in a church where I sat in the midst of over 100 people I could not name and a few cherished friends but the experience of my retreat created in me the recognition that in that prayer together there were no strangers because of the enthusiasm of our corporate prayer. We were all there for the same purpose and offered our energy and our voices to the conviction that Jesus had risen not only 2000 years ago in a place far away but also in Endicott, NY in our very present experience. If we stay awake, we might just continue to live into that presence each day with our sisters and brothers near and far.
So I shout “Alleluia!” to a world brought closer kinder this Easter Day. Blessings to all!
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.
It is said that “old habits die hard.” I was aware of that in a small way during the days of retreat from which I returned yesterday. Each morning when I awoke to the sounds of silence one of my first thoughts was of my daily writing task. Since I had announced the 5-day hiatus, I was able with just a grateful breath to simply turn toward the silence and enter the day where the only speaking was in sessions of prayer & reflection on the mystical practices of Sufism. What became the most obvious truth for me swirled around and into every hour of the day in the words of the chant: Wherever I turn, there is the face of God.
Just a few words this morning as I prepare to travel to New Hampshire for five days of retreat with a brilliant spiritual teacher half my age. If you haven’t met Rev. Matthew Wright, I urge you to look him up on the internet at 
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.
I believe that I understand at this moment what Thomas Merton wrote at dawn on a day a half-century ago about waking up. It is totally silent inside my house; everyone is sleeping still or again. (The coffee is made so someone was up before sunrise.) Outside is a different story. The mourning doves punctuate the conversation that is constant and loud – some would say cacophonous – among all the other birds large and small. And through it all the rooster reigns, splitting the silence with a voice that carries to the river and back again calling us all to wakefulness. “It is like the first morning of the world,” Merton writes, “when Adam, at the sweet voice of Wisdom, awoke from nonentity and knew her…” Only in silence, I think, is it possible to have such an experience. And so I will dress and go into the day, carrying with me the pure sounds of praise in the natural world, hoping to know the wakefulness that is available to me this day.
We have arrived. “It is the first day”, the saying goes, “of the rest of our lives.” It is the first day of April, the month when we expect great flowerings – in our weather, our gardens and, hopefully, our life. We have survived the winter, some with great stress and destruction, and though it seems to be hanging on, we need to remember that the resistance of Mother Earth can be as strong as our own when it comes to change.
Today, sorrow and lament fill the praying world as ritual attempts in word and song and sometimes even gesture to reach the depth of pain that is recalled to us from across the ages as “the scandal of the cross,” the suffering and death of Jesus. If awake enough, we see this suffering repeated again and again in our own time and know it as a vivid manifestation of the pain body of Christ. In that way it becomes our pain as well since we are not separate but merely different cells in that very real and present body.