Sealed From The Light

I sealed my eyes, clasped your hand with sinew so resolute
I would not keel.

I couldn’t see, didn’t believe I could find my own way
in the blinding light.

My grip tired. My eyes craved dawn. I let loose the ligature,
unlatched my eyes.

My urgency was not to see, not trail beyond where I stood,
but unravel in my own Being.

I stand as myself next to you, equal, warmed and gentled
from Within, well equipped for the free fall.

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Author’s Note:

I marvel at my ridiculous dependence, over a half-century, upon a carefully constructed lectionary to tell me the Story. A Story offered that is only a piece of a very large and luscious meal.

Yes, it is my own undoing, or laziness, or fear. I didn’t push myself early enough to overcome it, to be brave in, or to free myself to look back and forward, to question. Somehow I needed to learn to trust the Voice Inside.

I learned the hard way, or maybe it was just a longer route. I was growing my wings stronger. I didn’t understand that they could be built during the free fall.

Even so, I need to release the guilt, the shame, the self-condemnation. There is no time for that.

Moving on.

On Friday I started my day with Street Psalms‘ reflection of Sunday’s gospel reading in their Word From Below weekly reflection, Brigand’s of the Lord. It is always good stuff. Oh, the thieves on both sides of the cross – “gang members.” I encourage you to read it. But I wasn’t seeing clearly enough yet.

Nadia Bolz-Weber‘s quote from a review of her new book about the meaning of the Cross and sinners, fell right into my lap. It was another way to understand Fr. Scott’s Celtic Conversation asking us what it means to be blessed and how that works with the crucified Christ. And still, I wasn’t satisfied.

So, I began again. I reread the 1st and 2nd readings and the Psalm responses. Then I read all of Psalm 33 in the ESV and then in the Message. I usually don’t use the Message for the Psalms, but yesterday wouldn’t let me rest until I did.

In a last attempt I went back to the Gospel of Mark in the Message, but this time I didn’t stop at the end of the chosen lectionary verse 45 where I was told to STOP. I read to the end of the chapter. Then I went back and read what came before.

I am learning to let go of finding the “right” or “only” way. I realize that I can use experience, wisdom, and knowledge of others to help me see. But in the end, I must stand alone on my own feet, open my eyes and ears, and let the free fall continue to build my wings even greater.

How does this relate to the readings?

Simply, it is not my place to put myself in or request a seat of judgment. I must see that Jesus is not about judgment.

I must see our Holy One from within, seeing the Light in what I can do, am called to do, been given the gifts to do. Do you see?

And remember the root command – love one another.

There is no room for judges here, only lovers.

Little by Little

If I don’t still myself I can’t welcome the birds. It is
against the backdrop of silence I hear them. Little by

little their being unfurls. First the loudest, closet to
my ear. When I release into you, relax in your arms,

beauty erupts. Flap of wing, flash and whirr, a trill
between two lovers. I hear. I don’t need to see. But

I must welcome silence first. Little by little
I become One with your Incarnation.

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Author’s Note:

Sorry, but this note is a bit long.

I go to a retreat house several times a year. Sacred Heart Jesuit Retreat House is a silent house, unless there is a group retreat where the participants are encouraged to share in their workshop. However, they are still required to keep silent in the rest of the house, as well as on the grounds outside. Being that this is new for most, whispered conversations, stolen giggles or phone calls home can ring through the house without the suspects suspecting anything. One does not realize how expertly silence carries sound. I don’t mind. I understand.

But this weekend there are no groups. There are only ten of us and the silence is luscious.

Except for the birds. Oh, the birds.

I have never heard such a choir in my life. It has continued through day, except for an occasional pause allowing them to listen, along with us, to the thunderstorms.

My poem came from my wide reading so far this weekend.

Nadia Bolz Weber‘s homily at the 2015 Festival of Homiletics regarding Jesus instructing his disciples to become-child like is refreshing. Also, I so welcome her choice of referring to God as God, not Him or even Her. Thank you.

Also, informing this poem is a group that is new to me. Street Psalms makes a home in Denver and my pastor, Scott Jenkins, works with them. This quote from their e-mail scripture lesson spoke volumes to me. It is adapted from their book, Geography of Grace: Doing Theology from Below, Chapter 4, by Kris Rocke and Joel Van Dyke

“The Apostle Paul uses another metaphor to unpack the incarnation in  Ephesians 2:10. “For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which he prepared in advance for us to do.” The Greek word here for workmanship is poiema. For Paul, the incarnation means that “we are God’s poetry” to the world. God is speaking poetry to us and through us to the world.

It is our distinct privilege to be in community with people in hard places who live as God’s poetry in this world enfleshed in human form. Raising up poets to incarnate God’s gospel song to lost, disenfranchised, and marginalized people is a vital enterprise.”

I cannot live my spiritual life without my home base. This weekend I am reading Eknath Eswaran‘s A More Ardent Fire, bringing me back to the basics of passage meditation and discovering the path to the Way of Love and the Way of Knowing. Thanks to my meditation partner, Kathleen Gorman, for this brilliant suggestion.

Finally, I am memorizing a new passage for mediation. Who would think that this would tie everything together – even using some of the same terminology spread throughout my reading – as it was chosen first before the other readings came to me.

Ah, yes. Synchronicity.

St. Teresa of Avila:

Her heart if full of joy in love
for in the Lord her mind is still
She has renounced all selfish attachments
and draws abiding joy and strength
from the One Within.
She lives not for herself, but lives
to serve the Lord of Love in all,
and swims the sea of life
breasting its rough waves joyfully.

Here are some photos of birdies I snapped on my walks.

I don't know birds, but this one was lovely.

I don’t know birds, but this one was lovely.

Look closely. Little green hummingbird walking with me.

Look closely. Little green hummingbird walking with me.

This tiny little one was so precious, not bold in color But the song was glorious.

This tiny little one was so precious, not bold in color. But the song was glorious.

 

At first I thought he was imagining himself a bird. Then I noticed he was just looking t himself in the clouds.

At first I thought he was imagining himself a bird. Then I noticed he was just looking at himself in the clouds. His little paw is balancing himself on the tree limb.