Be Content!

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A Search for Solitude, be content, deepening, storms, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, Thomas Merton

The birds are very noisy this morning. Most likely they are glad the tumult of the night is over and are making sure that they have all survived it. I am told that the thunder and lightning was quite serious but know it only by hearsay. I am amazed that I slept through all the clock-stopping noise and electricity! I have to wonder whether I should be relieved to have missed it or embarrassed that I was not awake to what could have been quite dangerous – even a tornado, perhaps.

As I muse about the possibility that my spirit may be as inured to danger as my sleeping body, I consider the words of Thomas Merton from “A Search for Solitude,” p.70.* The staccato of the thoughts before the closing statement could be a wake-up call as much as the concluding statement is an examination of consciousness. But the deeper meaning calls to a determination, a choice toward God and to peace.

Be content, be content. We are the Body of Christ. We have found Him, He has found us. We are in Him, He is in us. There is nothing further to look for, except for the deepening of this life we already possess. Be content.

*Thomas Merton: A Book of Hours – Kathleen Deignan, ed.

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In Times Of Trouble

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doubt, God's mercy, God's presence, Jesus, Matthew, storms, suffering, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, walk on water

Sometimes it seems hard to believe that we are strong enough to withstand the difficulties that plague us. I’m thinking this morning of the raging fires in California as well as all the people I know who are suffering from trauma or illness from which there seems to be no way out. At these times we might be challenged to go on by sayings like “Cast your cares upon the Lord for he cares for you.” Once in awhile, however, when everything seems so dire, it feels as if God is on vacation, and we wonder if we will survive.

In the gospel this morning (MT 14:22-36) Jesus has sent his disciples to the other side of the Sea of Galilee at the end of a session with a large crowd. He stays behind for some alone time with God up on a mountain. His prayer is interrupted when a storm comes up and he knows that the disciples are in trouble because the wind is against the boat so they can’t go forward. Rather they’re being tossed around and in danger of capsizing. So that they may believe in his power to save them, he appears walking on the water toward the boat. (Stop for a moment and think how you would react to seeing him coming at a time like that.) They thought he was a ghost so he announced himself and told them not to be afraid. Peter wants to be sure so he says, “Lord, if it is really you, command me to come to you on the water.” (Be careful what you ask for!) Jesus says, simply, “Come.” Peter gets out of the boat and starts walking but when his rational mind kicks in he begins to sink and cries out, “Lord, save me!” Of course, Jesus stretches out his hand, catches Peter and they both get into the boat as the wind dies down. “Why did you doubt?” Jesus asks.

When our particular crisis passes, or when the fires die down and neighbor appears to help neighbor, we often wonder why we doubted God’s presence, God’s mercy. But here we are, just simple (or maybe sort of complex) human beings, struggling to make sense of things that sometimes seem too great to shoulder. My sense is that God knows that and loves us all the more for our willingness to call out, “Save me, Lord! I’m drowning!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Close Call

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alertness, brothers, calmed, fears, gratitude, Jan Phillips, lightning, safety, sisters, solidarity, storms, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, thunder, tornado, weather, wind

I often speak about the beauty and my good fortune of living in the Northeast region of the United States. Over the past few years my appreciation for this gift has grown as has my compassion for those who live in increasingly dangerous weather climates. Whether it be tornado, mud slide, forest fire or other damaging condition, we have seemed untouched, except for two floods in the last 43 years that caused damage but no loss of life. Last evening we got a taste of what it feels like to experience the likely possibility of a tornado.

It began in the afternoon when the warnings were announced on the media and in the palpable sense of danger when I stepped outside. I understand a little now how the animals feel when the impulse to move to higher or otherwise safer ground embedded in their being clicks on. It was as if a subtle pressure was leaning against my body and an alertness took over my mind. Then there was the inner call to get home, the place of safety, to ride out the storm together. Reports kept coming of damages in places to our south and west as we closed windows, moved outside furniture from the deck to the ground, turned off computers and unplugged everything else in the house. Then we waited.

I had worried in anticipation about two things: first that the roof would blow off the house and secondly that a branch of our huge, ancient maple trees would crash into the house. As soon as we made the preparations, however, my fears were calmed, as if being together was enough to remind me that we would be able to withstand anything the storm could do.

Most of our area is still without power this morning. Thunder, lightning and wind were certainly fierce but I have not heard if an actual tornado touched down. Once again I sit in gratitude for my life. Having experienced all the feelings of yesterday gives me a greater felt sense of solidarity for others whom I am more and more aware of naming my sisters and brothers. And again I hear Jan Phillips singing inside: Because the One I love lives inside you, I lean as close to you as I can…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Weather as Teacher

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be ready, letting go, reversal, snowfall, stay awake, storms, surprise, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, unexpected, weather, winter, wisdom

I was just thinking, as I waited for the coffee to be perked, how winter in the Northeast can be a “wisdom teacher” in the life-long challenge of letting go. Surrendering to God each day for whatever will come is something we need to able to do with little notice depending on how reliable our meteorologists are in their projections. Today and this coming weekend are good examples. Huge storms are sweeping across the country from west to east and everyone assumes we are in the path of something. What that is exactly and/or when it will arrive remains to be seen. It’s possible (although not looking probable) that all the work I did to prepare for a presentation on the Incarnation for this entire morning could be for naught, if the lovely soft snowfall of the moment increases in intensity any time soon. I’m also scheduled in two hours to call our presenter for tomorrow’s 5-hour retreat to discuss whether travel from two hours away later today will be counter-productive. Better safe than sorry might be the wise decision. And so it goes for the entire weekend.

We talk a lot in our locale about the wisdom of suspending programs in the winter. But how, these days, does one determine when that will be? We just had the warmest autumn season on record and joke about the fact (although not always thinking it so funny) that maybe we’ll be having snow in May next year. It has happened before! So what to do?? It seems the best course of action to plan with our eyes open to the possibility of the plan being changed with or without our cooperation. And it’s not just the weather. Events have a way of taking over our lives so we better be ready to be surprised, remembering that we are not in charge but also that all surprise is not bad or frustrating. Who doesn’t like a snow day now and then? How can we celebrate a few “free” hours? What might we learn in an unexpected moment of reversal?

So as the Scriptures say: Stay awake! Be ready, for you do not know the hour when the Lord is coming! Good advice. And whatever comes, try to have a good day!

 

 

 

 

 

Living Large

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cismic life, convergence, energies, heart, larger horizons, Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, preoccupations, receptive, scientist, spirituality, storms, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, theologioan, wake, Writing in a Time of War

I  found it difficult to go to sleep last night because of the noise, light and torrents of rain in the storm playing outside my window. Perhaps I should have put my attention there instead of on the fact that today would be a long and involved day for which I would need a long and restorative sleep. I should have remembered that lately I usually function quite fine with whatever amount of sleep I have and wake up when God (rather than my alarm) calls…a function of getting older, perhaps. It’s still raining outside but in a gentler, quieter way now. Hopefully the farmers will have received a little of what they have needed for a better harvest and some of the energies in the natural world will have been balanced out a bit for this new day.

These thoughts put me in mind of Pierre Teilhard de Chardin – a theologian and scientist whose life and work in the first half of the 20th century have lately found a resurgence in light of the convergence that is happening in science and spirituality. I must admit that his face smiling out from a book cover leaning against a bookcase to my left was also a goad for my reflection. So here’s a thought excerpted from Teilhard’s book, Writing in a Time of War, that might call us to the more today.

To live the cosmic life is to live dominated by the consciousness that one is an atom in the body of the mystical and cosmic Christ. The person who so lives dismisses as irrelevant a host of preoccupations that absorb the interest of other people. Such a person’s life is open to larger horizons and such a person’s heart is always more receptive.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Of Eyes and Ears

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ears truly listening, Exodus, eyes wide open, God, hearing, Jesus, lightning, messages, Moses, Mount Sinai, rain, seeing, storms, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, thunder

We’ve had a couple of powerful storms lately – high winds (tree branches down), thunder, lightning and heavy rain. We have not had the destruction that many places in our country have experienced but it certainly is enough to make sleep difficult in the night! These thoughts were occasioned on this peaceful, sunny morning by the reading from Exodus (19:1- 11, 16-20) where God came down to Mount Sinai in fire with the sound of a trumpet and made the mountain tremble with thunder while Moses was speaking to God and all of the Hebrew people watched in awe. The purpose for this powerful display was (as God had already told Moses three days before) so that the people would not only believe in God but in Moses as well.

Sometimes we would wish for such clear messages – with audio-visual effects from God, but it doesn’t happen that way. God’s messages are mostly more subtle than that so we have to really look and listen from the inside in order to understand. That’s the message of Jesus this morning about the crowds who don’t understand him when he speaks in parables. He says that they look but do not see and hear but do not listen or understand. He’s actually complimenting the disciples in the end saying, “But blessed are your eyes, because they see, and your ears, because they hear.” I think of how often I am so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I hear what others are saying but really don’t take it in; I’m not really listening.

May we all go today wherever we are called to go with eyes wide open and ears ready to truly listen so that God’s messages might get through to our hearts!

Stormy Weather

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calm the wind, faith, Israel, Jesus, Mark, Mount of the Beatitudes, psalm 107, Sea of Galilee, storms, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

One of my favorite memories of our February trip to Israel is our visit to the Mount of the Beatitudes. Looking out from that peaceful place down to the Sea of Galilee, I was reminded of many gospel stories of fishermen and their encounters with Jesus. At one moment I saw (and actually have a picture to prove it!) two boats in the distance, probably plying the same trade as in the days of Jesus. I thought then of the storm at sea, recounted in all the synoptic gospels – today in MK 4:35-41 – when Jesus showed his power in calming the wind. His challenge to the disciples that day after he had stilled the waters echoes down through history to us. “Why are you terrified? Do you not yet have faith?”

Each time I’m sitting by water, whether a quiet lake or a vast ocean, I think of the quote that I saw attached to a picture like the one I snapped in Israel. I saved it and learned this morning that it’s from Psalm 107: “He hushed the storm to a gentle breeze…and brought them to their desired haven.” That always reminds me that no matter the “storms” in my life I need only breathe into the conviction that God is with me and will see me through to the end.

Have a Little Faith

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calming the storm, faith, God's love, Jesus, Matthew, St. Frances Xavier Cabrini, storms

When I’m sitting in a plane that has just accelerated for take-off it is my practice to breathe a short prayer and then as a sort of “good luck charm” I add a line from my early convent days. One of the elderly Sisters would always add it as we prayed at the start of a trip in the car. St. Frances Xavier Cabrini, although born in Italy, was recognized as the first saint of the United States (not to be confused with Elizabeth Seton, the first American-born saint). At the end of our departure prayer, Sister Jean would pipe up with “Mother Cabrini, take care of us in the machinie.” I have a difficult time now not saying that at the beginning of each flight. It isn’t that I think that will keep the plane from crashing but rather reminds me of Jean and a custom of “real” prayer for safety that is part of my heritage. I would always say I am not afraid to fly. Quite the opposite! I love it! But I would have to admit of a bit of fluttering in my stomach the time we jettisoned most of the remaining fuel because the landing gear was being temperamental (the landing was fine) or on days of high winds when I see the land coming up to meet us on our approach. My faith in God is not shaken at times like these; it’s more my faith in the skill of the pilots and the weather that are at stake.

In today’s gospel (MT 8:23-27) the disciples are in the midst of a violent storm at sea and Jesus appears to be sleeping in the boat in spite of it being “swamped by waves.” They cry out to him to save them and when he responds he appears displeased that they lacked faith in him in a dangerous situation. The end of the section gives the clue that their experience of him is still rather new as they say in amazement (after he has calmed the storm): “What sort of man is this, whom even the winds and the sea obey?” I always think of this as rather ironic since they woke him asking him to save them and then are amazed when he does. In some senses I think we are better off since, although we do not have the physical presence of Jesus, the man, with us now in our lives, we do have the consciousness of the power of Christ to keep us safe – in whatever happens. We may even die as a result of a catastrophic event, but we can remain safe nevertheless, because our final goal is the direct presence of God. Thus, having faith transcends what happens to us physically and allows us to rest always in the knowledge that we are never outside of God’s concern and love.