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bless, Carmelite, compassion, Doctor of the Church, endurance, eyes, God, good, John Michael Talbot, love of God, ministries, mysticism, patience, religious education, Roman Catholic Church, spiritual practice, St. Teresa of Avila, The Sophia Center for Spirituality
Today is the feast of Teresa of Avila. Because it is Sunday, always a “first class feast,” we don’t hear about Teresa this year. I find it difficult to let it go by, however, without some mention of this woman who is one of only four women thus far in the history of the Roman Catholic Church to achieve the title of “Doctor of the Church.” Sister Teresa was a mystic, but also very active, tireless in her work of reforming the Carmelite order of nuns in the 1500’s in the most rigorous – some thought too extreme – way. Her writings were extensive and her spiritual practice was constant, although for many years she suffered many physical illnesses and a deprivation of any spiritual consolation. She never despaired, even in the face of investigation by the Inquisition, and her writings are considered one of the great treasures of Christian mysticism.
My personal experience of the gift of Teresa’s influence is twofold. When I was 16 years old and considering entering the convent, I received a “holy card” inscribed with a piece of advice written by Teresa. For over 50 years I have held it close and shared it with people I thought would benefit from hearing it. I say it gratefully again today in the translation in which I received it:
Let nothing disturb you, nothing frighten you. All things are passing; God never changes. Patient endurance attains all things. The one who possesses God lacks nothing. God alone suffices.
Many years later, I heard a song by John Michael Talbot whose lyrics are attributed to Teresa, but not found in her writings. I offer it often when speaking to people who work in religious education or other ministries – and lately use it in any situation where I want to emphasize to people how important we are in bringing the love of God to others. Please take a moment to consider it as a word to you today.
Christ has no body now but yours; no hands, no feet on earth but yours. Yours are the eyes through which He looks compassion on this world. Yours are the feet with which He walks to do good. Yours are the hands with which He blesses all the world. Yours are the hands, yours are the feet, yours are the eyes. You are his body. Christ has no body now on earth but yours.
The prayer we know as “The Lord’s Prayer” or the “Our Father” can be found in two of the four canonical gospels – Matthew and Luke – and, although translations vary, the wording of the two is virtually the same. What differs are the verses that follow. Luke, chapter 11, gives an example of what Jesus meant by telling a story. Today we have Matthew’s version which tells people how they are to act when doing spiritual practice – not looking gloomy and neglecting their appearance so people know they are fasting, etc. (That always makes me smile as I know how easy it is to moan to let others know when I am in pain from some small injury or distress…). I noticed something in between Matthew’s directives this morning, however, that surprised me and made me wonder if I will ever have a new thought that doesn’t touch on our relationships in today’s world situation. (See the past few entries of this blog.)
One of the best outcomes of my practice of centering prayer is the certainty that I have become less judgmental of persons and situations than I was 11 years ago when I began the practice in earnest. There are definitely times when I still jump to conclusions but that happens less often than in my earlier life. This morning I was reminded of this gift – and of the fact that I still have a long way to go before claiming “perfection” in this area. It came from a humorous story in Alan Cohen’s book, A Deep Breath of Life, and was entitled “The Pig of God.” I hope you enjoy it and find the message as important as I do. You may have heard it before but it’s worth a second look (or a third or fourth…) so pay close attention.
Today I’m meeting with Cheryl, my co-facilitator of our summer series on Jan Phillips book, No Ordinary Time. Jan’s workshop with us was so inspiring that Cheryl thought it a good idea to keep that awakening going and it seems that others – myself being the most enthusiastic – agree. (Check the “
Sometimes my thoughts have a strange way of coming together. Often two or more unrelated things give me a basis for conclusion that make me scratch my head and say, “Where did that come from?” Today is one of those days – a serendipitous collision of a passing thought with the morning lectionary reading that may or may not “work” in the world outside my mind. Here goes:
Yesterday I was able to meet with my monthly “spiritual practices circle” for the first time this year. It was a lovely way to spend a slice of the day and a renewal of my conviction about the importance of deep listening and conversation. I was taken back to that privileged time this morning as I read some of Meg Wheatley’s comments in her book, Turning to One Another. Her point is something to remember in the complex and tumultuous times in which we live. I offer her words as a reflection that may open us in new ways in our interactions with others today – or any day.
I was just looking at some intercessory prayers for liturgies and was reminded of a common practices in our local Catholic Church (and many others, I’m sure). After the formally written intentions are spoken at Sunday liturgy the reader always asks, For what else shall we pray? and individuals in the congregation shout out their needs.
I’m thinking this morning about something I heard last night while watching the Olympic men’s synchronized diving competition. One of the commentators mentioned that the dive just completed had taken 2.7 seconds to execute. Yes, that dive from a height of 30 meters that included at least two – or probably three – somersaults and maybe a twist before reaching and knifing through the water head first in a vertical position that caused very little splash took less than three seconds. Oh, and it was done by two men whose movements mirrored one another nearly – if not totally – perfectly.
