Week 2 - Day 7 "Messenger"

 “Messenger” by Mary Oliver

My work is loving the world.
Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird—
equal seekers of sweetness.
Here is the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.
Here the clam deep in the speckled sand.
Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?
Am I no longer young, and still half-perfect? Let me
keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,
which is mostly standing still and learning to be
astonished.
The phoebe, the delphinium.
The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture.
Which is mostly rejoicing, since all the ingredients are here,
which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart
and these body-clothes,
a mouth with which to give shouts of joy
to the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam,
telling them all, over and over, how it is
that we live forever.

As keen as I am about lyrical prose, it is a surprise to that many I am not a great lover of poetry, at least not to the extent that I will choose to just grab a book of poetry and dive in headfirst and come out of the other side deeply moved. Yes, of course, I have read and enjoyed poetry over the year but I prefer prose. Some of the poets said to be the best can be as opaque as a new moon night. Some things obvious to others are simply unknowable and beyond my ability to understand. 

The first Mary Oliver poem I remember reading was "Wild Geese." I was impressed and moved but I did not see or experience the depth of emotion and insight so many people have described. The irony comes from the fact that later in the day I read she had died the previous day. How strange that felt. There was e also a sense of loss for me when I first encountered John O'Donohue in March of 2008, less than two months after his passing during the night while in France. 

Since Mary wrote often using the same kind of emotional impact of nature and the world, I have taken the time to read and enjoy much of her work. This poem strikes me in a visceral way. I yearn to step right through the page into the world she illuminated with her words. I shall, in a way do just that. 

"My work is loving the world," she begins. Her beginning and my beginning are the same but I also add that I love the world our creator created for us to love. I start with an acknowledgment of a created world but the point is the same. My response to revelation is to love the world but the love does not start with me. Ancient Celts and the tribes of Judah also love the world and love the creator. Neither specifically name God in the sense we do today but the ancient's psalms referred to a creator they could not name. We begin with love. We might always start with love. 

My view has improved today. I can look out with a sense of wonder at the world. I, too, have sunflowers and hummingbirds in my world. The sunflowers have grown so abundantly they have nearly blocked the back door by growing over and beyond the walk and stair rails. The hummingbirds have dwindled as we slide toward fall and the birds who still visit are passersby from further north who stop at my feeders for a little sip of energy to nourish them for the great migration south. The blue plums are nearly gone but there are still some on the tree waiting to be discovered with patient search. 

Unfortunately, I must take a break from prayer today - I did not get up in time to finish the time I want to devote to prayer and study before leaving for town for an appointment with Luke. 8:15

2:43 I am no longer young, there is not even a smidgen of pretense left, and perfection has long ceased to be an imagined potential. Measurable progress is my best chance of seeing change but measurable regression is still a possibility some days. 

There is not just a sense of change caused by aging in her words but also a declaration of optimism. There is also a sense of ongoing purpose in the poem, aged or not the work is still there to be done. This work we do of standing around and embracing astonishment Is simple but not always easy. Sometimes the world beyond can cloud the eyes, muffle the ears and deaden the aroma of pine after a rain. 

Still, we are figures made of clay, set to dancing by the breath of life, eternal but changing. We are invited, lured into the world to live in wonder, in awe and, yes, astonishment. 

Week 2 - Day 6 Jeremiah 18 1-6

The Potter's Vessel.

This word came to Jeremiah from the LORD: Arise and go down to the potter’s house; there you will hear my word. I went down to the potter’s house and there he was, working at the wheel. Whenever the vessel of clay he was making turned out badly in his hand, he tried again, making another vessel of whatever sort he pleased. Then the word of the LORD came to me: Can I not do to you, house of Israel, as this potter has done?—oracle of the LORD. Indeed, like clay in the hand of the potter, so are you in my hand, house of Israel.

Again we experience a parallel between ancient Celtic Spirituality and the Hebrew Testament on creation imagery. The clay begins as dirt moistened and sculpted into shape either on a table or potter's wheel. Whether the creator creates a shape to animate into a living being or throws a pot to serve as a body to serve as the dwelling for a soul, we have a clear understanding we come from dirt and to dirt we shall return. 

The important observation I have about the thrown pot is that while pots can be similar, no two are identical. I was recently at a craft market and observed a collection of clay cups offered for sale by a potter. They were enough like to suggest they were a set of the same kind but when each cup was carefully examined, more and more differences between each cup could but seen. So it is with humans.

We can appear enough like to be identical as in the case of twins but we are all still unique, individually made even if we all come the same lump of clay. 

What runs through my mind now are the words from Psalm 139. We are wonderfully made. We are. Truly. Whether we have handles or not or fluted sides or not we all have the same purpose to know, love and serve our creator. 

Another thought comes from Meister Eckhart. If we have been created to be vessels, what we hold as contents in the pot that represent ourselves defines how we serve him. If we fill the pot with water or fluids of our own choosing, how can we still have room to hold the living water offered by Jesus to the Samaritan Women. Eckhart would have us literally empty ourselves of what we think we are so there would be room to accept what God offers us, to be in union with him. 

Sometimes a pot can become broken so what we have placed inside it will drain away. We can no longer hold either ourselves or God and cannot do so until the potter repairs us. His hands can reshape the clay to where it can again hold life even if we appear differently that we did before being broken. Appearance is of no matter. That we can serve the purpose of the potter does matter. It is everything to the same broad expense defined by God when he tells us to call him "I am." He just is. There is no way to describe the full picture of a painting with no frame.

Week 2 - Day 5 Sunday Psalm 33

 Week 2 - Day 5 Sunday Psalm 33

Our soul waits for the LORD, he is our help and shield. For in him our hearts rejoice; in his holy name we trust. May your mercy, LORD, be upon us; as we put our hope in you.

I am more at peace today, not peaceful, mind you, but more at peace. I am still distracted and on edge. I long for silence, true exterior silence but it is not possible. The scratching of a pen on paper, and the clicking of the mouse and keyboard all seem disruptive and unwarranted. Other noises, sipping coffee, the cat eating and drinking all nudge from reaching a point of contemplation. Quiet has now settled around me but I am still wary, guarded for other sounds that may intrude on solitude.

Moving inside because of the chill in the morning is proving more difficult to adjust to than I would have expected. Natural sounds don't concern me and I can tune out the constant rumble of the distant traffic. Intermittent noises are what cause me issues. I know from reading and experience there is a difference between exterior and interior silence. Being able to immerse in interior silence is a gift that is elusive for me and sometimes completely unobtainable. To experience interior silence is the goal, to be able to accept the invitation to quiet spaces of the depth of being by the holy spirit but the battle between exterior and interior soundlessness renews in me from time to time. 

I ache to be able to be filled with gratitude at the sounds and activities around me. I am grateful for a wife who invites me into her prayer space, delights in sipping coffee in her way,

feeds me and tends to the kitchen, washes my clothes, and offers me her best. I hope for acceptance of the little stuff with no importance that I might offer loving appreciation for all that is done. I desire gratitude for a little cat who also delights in our presence, who is never more content than to be able to eat when we are nearby. There must be a way, there has to be a way to achieve a sense of appreciation of what is around me. Lord help me. 

My soul waits for the gift of tolerance who is my help and shield on this sabbath morning. I look up and away into the light of the sky but I cannot get there. I put on the noise noise-canceling headphones but by now I am rattled enough to not be able to settle in with the presence of birds, the sight of the cottonwood tree leaves fading from dense green to prepare for the coming of winter. 

This battle is not new. It has raged since the beginning of my movement to reflection, contemplation and meditation. It is likely the dark one who stirs up the angst and blocks my concentration. I trust that making the decision to turn toward holiness is the correct one and that slow progress is a hallmark of many spiritual journeys, perhaps all such journeys. My soul waits for you, Lord. In you I trust. 

Week 2 - Day 4 Saturday Romans 8 18:25

 Saturday, September 24, 2022

Destiny of Glory

I consider that the sufferings of this present time are as nothing compared with the glory to be revealed for us. For creation awaits with eager expectation the revelation of the children of God; for creation was made subject to futility, not of its own accord but because of the one who subjected it, in hope that creation itself would be set free from slavery to corruption and share in the glorious freedom of the children of God. We know that all creation is groaning in labor pains even until now; and not only that, but we ourselves, who have first fruits of the Spirit, we also groan within ourselves as we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. For in hope we were saved. Now hope that sees for itself is not hope. For who hopes for what one sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait with endurance.

The gift of reflection and insight does not easily come this morning. Little noises distract me. The cat talking about her need to be outside. Lori luxuriously sipping coffee. Even the clacking of the keyboard as I type all ripples the little mill pond of calm I so appreciate in the morning. I don't know why today is different but it is sometimes that way. As an alcoholic, even one years into recovery, restlessness, irritability, and discontentment loom up like a sudden tidal wave rushing in toward the shore of my being. Why? The sky is clear but for some clouds in the east. Earlier, there was color in the dawn for the first time in what seems like eons. Morning is morning as morning should be. I should look forward to the promises of the day. The Grizzly game. Good company. Time with Father Michael. Perfect weather and yet there is a sense of mourning, of desolation and disconsolation. I don't like it, I don't want it, it does me no good but I have to work through it, preferably without causing harm to myself and to those who matter most. She who matters most.

I find the reading opaque. I always have because beyond the first sentence, there does not seem to be one single clear and cogent point. What Paul is sharing is undoubtedly insightful and important, but I struggle immensely. So today, even at a low point, I will take off my shoes

and wade into the chaos.

The first sentence which declares the suffering of the present time is nothing compared to what is coming is the offer of hope, of consolation. Paul suffered greatly, even unimaginably, from the physical and mental torture and abuse. Of that there is abundant proof so as I sit here with my big little woes, I feel somewhat chastened but not really relieved. The feeders are empty this morning and the little finches peck vainly for what crumbs remain. I will refill the feeders and renew the hope of my little birds. 

Still, I am reminded that I have been in this place of demoralization countless times in the past, although less frequently since I renewed my devotion to study and prayer, and if I am patient and seek to find bits of gratitude, I will recover. This moment is nothing in the greater plan of God, it is just another moment of suffering that I must give to God so that it might have a purpose and not just be another moment of disruption. 

Verse 22 finds new meaning. All creation, and that includes me, is groaning in labor pains as we are being born into the completion of a full union between the created with the creator. I am not alone. We all suffer the pains and pangs during the wait. To look at someone in deep misery and pain and to think that I am not as bad off as them does not offer me comfort. A comparison of suffering between one person and another is pointless. It minimizes the truth that suffering is suffering and that without purpose for the suffering there is no hope of acceptance of the suffering as being something to strengthen us, give us endurance, and point us toward the hope of the redemption of our bodies. 

As I come to the end of the prayer point, I can't point to a sudden lifting of the weight of my mood or to a sudden awareness of a brilliant beam of thought that chases away the darkness, and I am instantly brought into a state of gladness. It does not work that way even though I have tried over and over again to secure that result. 

What I pray for as consolation in this hour of desolation is that hope will seep back into the dark hole I am dwelling in and motivate me to grasp little bits of gratitude where I can find them and shed this horsehair shirt I put on in my sleep last night. I wonder if forgotten dark dreams set the stage for a play written by the dark one as I woke this morning. Indeed, most assuredly that is the case.

Lord, be with me as I seek your peace even as I wince from the noise of dishes being clattered around in the kitchen. 

Week 2 - Day 3 Friday Genesis 2 1:9

Friday, September 23, 2022

7:58 AM

This is the story of the heavens and the earth at their creation. When the LORD God made the earth and the heavens—there was no field shrub on earth and no grass of the field had sprouted, for the LORD God had sent no rain upon the earth and there was no man to till the ground, but a stream* was welling up out of the earth and watering all the surface of the ground—then the LORD God formed the man out of the dust of the ground and blew into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being.

God formed the man out of dust… 

This reading calls me closer to the Celtic understanding of the origin of humans, we were fashioned out of clay, which is, of course, nothing more than dust moistened enough to be formed. God blew air into the nostrils of the man and man came to life. What happened next? By Celtic tradition, the clay figures danced and became living beings.

As this second creation story continued, God created all living things and brought them to the man to name. This shines a brilliant light of illumination on a particularly important, critical, in fact, the concept of what it means to name something, it makes the first difference between knowing
and unknowing. It is a basic of human emotion and being that we fear what we do not know. We can't accurately predict if something is dangerous or safe, if it is poisonous or nurturing if we don't know what it is. When we gain enough to name something, we begin to know it, to fathom purpose and intent and, finally, the ability to accept, reject, protect or destroy what we have named. The last step is once we name something, we can control it, tame it, use it and have dominion over it.

This is why God refused to allow the first humans to give him a name. He could not allow us to begin the inexorable process of naming, knowing and controlling until his plan for us was fully revealed to us when we heard the WORD spoken by his son. We know enough now to understand we will never fully know God in a way that might give us dominion. It is a relief to lay down the burden of being driven to know, name and have dominion over God, who is and always will be a mystery to us. 

Week 2 - Day 2 Thursday Psalm 104 vs 19

 You made the moon to mark the seasons, the sun that knows the hour of its setting.

This is the first day of fall. Yesterday marked the halfway point of the journey of the sun from the longest to the shortest day on Winter Solstice. The day dawns in grayness, a quarter inch of rain has fallen so far today and its cool wetness announces the heat of summer has passed and we can longer expect to see growth in the green and colorful things around us but, rather, a drying preparation for winter. Green will give way to brown and tan but also to the spectacular shades of yellow, orange and red. Walking in the aspens and tamaracks in the hills and down the maple tree-lined streets by the university will give us a palette of colors so intense we are always surprised by what we see. 

Psalm 104 is an extended, beautiful psalm of praise of God for the spectacular world we have been gifted. Verse 19 is just one of 35 but it offers some insight to note on this time of the threshold of summer to winter. Today, like most of the world, we measure our days based on the calendar of the sun. Seasons are marked by the passage of the earth around the sun. Summer solstice and winter solstice are the longest and shortest days and the Equinox mark the halfway points of the movement toward the longest and shortest days.  We celebrate the threshold of an old year from to a new one on a day just after the winter solstice when it is possible to conclusively understand the journey from short to long has begun. 

Jews, however, operate under a different calendar that recognizes both the sun and moon as being integrated into measuring and marking the passage of days from one month to the next, from season to season and from the end of one year to the beginning of the next. The calendar of months, however, is based upon a lunar cycle rather than a solunar 12 months in each year model. Today is September 22, 2022 with the year being arbitrarily assigned to what was thought to be the year of the birth of Jesus. Ironically, they got the calculation wrong so the year should be 2027 or 2028. 

Today, however, the Hebrew calendar is 26 Elul 5782 with a starting point in the year 3761 BC which is the commonly accepted date of the creation of the earth. The Jewish new year, Rosh HaShanah falls on the day of the first new moon following the fall equinox. This year that day begins at sunset on 9/25. 

As I review what I have written so far, there does not seem to be much in the way of scriptural reflection. I went down a factual history rabbit hole. That is going to happen to me from time to time because I can be totally amazed at how different peoples observe the passage of time. The point of all this, however, is to embrace the awareness is we live in a created world that operates according to a schedule God established that relies upon the sun which rules the day and the moon which shines the night. The coming and going of the days are marked by the coming and going of the moon and we can take awe in that measurement even if we operate under a different way of measuring in which we watch the moon but measure by the light day. 

Today, the harvest full moon is behind us and on 9/25 we will have a new moon. November 23 will be the date of the first new moon after the mid-way point between fall and winter which will be the formal date of Samhain, the Celtic New Year. For today, however, all of these facts are interesting but what is important beyond all discussion is being mindful of who created the earth out of chaos and set the stars and moon in motion. What is more important of all is the understanding that I was also created from chaos. We all were and our creation is continuing just as the calendar we use to mark our days continues. Wonder is what feels my soul this morning. No wonder as the word for pondering but wonder as in awe. Wonder-filled, awe-filled is the creation that we are in and that is for us. 

Week 2 - Day 1 Wednesday Psalm 8

For the leader; “upon the gittith." A psalm of David.

LORD, our Lord, how awesome is your name through all the earth! I will sing of your majesty above the heavens with the mouths of babes and infants. You have established a bulwark against your foes, to silence enemy and avenger. When I see your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and stars that you set in place— What is man that you are mindful of him, and a son of man that you care for him? Yet you have made him little less than a god, crowned him with glory and honor. You have given him rule over the works of your hands, put all things at his feet:  All sheep and oxen, even the beasts of the field, The birds of the air, the fish of the sea, and whatever swims the paths of the seas. O LORD, our Lord, how awesome is your name through all the earth!

Today it has been a struggle to focus on prayer. Too many interruptions, too little focus. I settle in to listen to Ceol Sona to help me settle into a prayerful space. I prefer silence but I prefer contemplative music to the sounds of life and people around me. It is not yet warm enough to work outside so here I will sit and gaze out my window to the world space that is mine to inhabit. 

His name is awesome throughout all of the earth. From the expanse of the Burren of Ireland to the top of Mt. McKinley, to the depths of the Grand Canyon, to the vastness of the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans. Not just in those places but also in soaring forests of the rain of the Olympic Peninsula, the sweeping north prairies. His awesomeness reaches from the sky to the tips of the Bitterroot and Pintler mountains down the mountain sides into creeks and into the Big Hole River, from there on to the Jefferson, from there downstream to the Three Forks where the Missouri begins and then to where it joins with the Mississippi to mysteriously and ponderously flows past New Orleans to the Gulf. His awesome is not just in nature but there are also towering skyscrapers in New York, the immensity of Los Angeles,

the charm of Bar Harbor and the deep history of Boston. These are just some of the places where my eyes have seen the awesome. There are more, more than I can imagine any more than I can fathom the expansiveness of space.

I marvel and cherish the memory of all that I have seen, touched, smelled, heard, felt and experienced. More than I deserve but for the tender mercy of a loving creator. There is all of that to be mindful of but what holds my faze and attention this afternoon is just one towering Cottonwood tree out of the many that surround me. As yet there is no color showing but dryness in the rustling of the leaves in the gentle breeze blowing. There leaves more numerous than I could being to imagine, countless branches both living and dead. Earlier squirrels stopped raiding my feeder long enough to chase each through the branches back and forth and up and down leaving huge limbs bouncing and swaying from them landing on them at high speed. 

Meister Eckhart said that if we could genuinely imagine all there was to know about a tree, we do not need God, we would be God because only God can take in everything contained in just one tree. I will appreciate what I can grasp but not contemplate further.  To do so would be to enter into mystery not from a sense of awe and wonder but from an intention to possess what cannot be held in the human mind. We are so gifted to be so loved and given so much. Gratitude seeps in and floods around me. We are nothing but yet are elevated to be in his image. How wonderful. How unknowable. How awesome. 

Week 1 - Day 7 Tuesday Psalm 139 PT. 4 Verses 15

 My bones are not hidden from you, When I was being made in secret, fashioned in the depths of the earth.

This passage was not my first choice today. When I took a moment to prepare for the hour of prayer this morning, I was first moved to consider the invitation to probe, to search for errant ways so he could help me re-direct my course. When I sat down now to reflect, I found myself reconsidering what calls to me. This is not a surprise. I tend to overthink everything and this tendency has complicated life and irritated people for decades now.

What bubbled up as the referencing fashioned in the depths of the earth. I previously assumed the depths of the earth really pointed to the mother's womb rather than a literal reference to the earth. I have recently been focused on a study of Celtic Christian Spirituality and the close connection, integration, in fact of humankind into the earth so to be made in secret in the depths of the earth takes on a new dimension. 

The most influential author I have ever encountered is the late poet, author, spiritualist, theologian, native Irish speaker and priest John O'Donohue. The offer of the book "Anam Cara",  meaning soul friend, in 2009 allowed me to immerse myself in a revolutionary way of looking at humanity and the world. I never understood that spirituality existed before humans were created or was present with us at the time of creation. The Holy Spirit did not come along later after the saving mission of Christ. It was there when God created the earth. It was there as revelation come to view. It was there in the stories of Abraham, Moses, John the Baptist, Jesus and then the disciples. 

O'Donohue reminds us we were created out of clay, fashioned from the elements of the earth but our spirits and our bodies came together. Seeing ourselves as creatures of clay allows us to use words like fluency, geography and landscape to view our existence and journey. As figures of clay, we dance to the melody of the spirit. Existence is not mundane or intended to be dull and boring. 

The Psalm allows for all of that flow through the course of our life from what existed before our knowledge, what we know today and what will be revealed as we flow downstream to where we arrive where all three streams meet and become one. 

We were created in secret. No, I was created in secret, as were we all. He knows me, he knows us. With creation, he set us free to merge into all creation without ever losing a sense of who we are. His children. I am his created child dwelling as I am today in his creation. 

Wow. That blows my mind. 

Week 1 - Day 6 - Sunday Psalm 139 11-12

If I say, “Surely darkness shall hide me, and night shall be my light” Darkness is not dark for you, and night shines as the day. Darkness and light are but one. 

Two days of summer left until fall begins. Comes now the dawn but it is already just after 7:00 AM. The sky is clear, again but the temperature is down to forty-three. It is wet on the deck and grass from the light rain we had last night. The air smells clean. Fall marks the halfway point of the length of the day yielding to the length of the night. My mood today is peaceful, reflective and tinged with gratitude. I see a bright day full of good things coming but sometimes even good things mount up to cause me to feel stress and fatigue. 

At a point in my late thirties, I began to sink into the darkness of depression following the loss of two children and the death of my much-loved father-in-law. I have written pages and pages about the beginning, progression and remission of my depression and how it tore at the corners of my life to where there was little left in the middle to recognize. How it happened and why it happened don't seem to be important questions to answer this morning. Not now as the brightening day paints over the shadows with color. 

Still, verses 11 and 12 strike me despite having read past them multiple times this week. I can testify to the truth of the psalmist's lyrics. I was in the dark and felt compelled to remain in darkness. I went into the darkness alone but I did not stay there because God followed me there and reminded me of his presence through pen points of light that burst past the shuttered and closed windows and doors. Eventually, I sought the comfort of the light, to feel its brightness against my closed eyes and its warmth on my face. Day by day, I opened more windows and then the day came when I stepped out into the light and walked away from the dark cabin of despair. 

I have returned to the cabin from time to time and looked through the doorway into the darkest corners. The security of the darkness attracted and tempted me enough that I stepped through the threshold inside but I never moved out of the sunlight into the beckoning shadows. I know there will be times in the future when I will find myself standing at the door of the cabin looking in. I pray to remember that there is nowhere to hide inside.  God will follow me inside.

As I pray further, I embrace the understanding I was never alone in the darkness. God was already there. He was with me at all times waiting for me to respond to his love and to find purpose and joy in living by his plan. 

I might never think I have learned and come to understand all, but I cannot achieve that end. None of us can. God is in the darkness and in the light. All that matters is to remember we are his no matter where we go. The companion meditation on Isaiah 47 1 rises to be my closing prayer. I do not choose fear today, I have been redeemed, he has called me by name and I am his. Amen

Week 1 - Day 5 - Sunday - Psalm 139 pt. 2

You formed my inmost being; you knit me in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am wonderfully made; wonderful are your works! My very self you know.

I praise you because I am wonderfully made…

Really? Can that be true or is that something that does not relate to me? The psalmist is wonderfully made, or so he says, but maybe I should not be too quick to assume I can share in the claim. Except there is this. In the first creation story of Genesis, God, at the end of each of the first five days looked at his work for the day and proclaimed, "it was good." On the sixth day after he created humanity, he said, "It was VERY good." Not just good but very good. His work that day was even better than what he had accomplished before, at least from his perspective.  

Why? I can't say I have ever read anything from more accomplished theologians to answer the question, perhaps because there is no real question there. Still, I want to be able to look in the creation narrative for the sixth day where we find, in verse 27: 

God created mankind in his image; in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.

If God made us in his own image, then logic states we must be made to be wonderful. He is, after all, beyond all description so if he made us, he made us wonderfully. I find assurance I can share in the prayer of the psalmist be he a king or a lowly shepherd that we are wonderfully made. 

Another thought, Jesus prayed the Psalms during the course of human life and now we pray the psalms with him in the liturgy of the hours or whenever we pray the Psalms. He could say nothing else because he was wonderfully made and so we can share in the same wonder. 

So there is my rationale for being to believe I am wonderfully made, as are we all. Whether I believe it or can genuinely live it is another. I fear that taking the notion seriously might cause havoc since ego is a grave issue for me. I pretend one thing and act that one thing but in my inner being, I am not wonderful. I have done all less than stellar things not just in the past but maybe today. While we may be wonderfully made, what we make of our gift is another. 

I am turning away from this prayer to take up another, a new psalm of my own. I praise the creation around me, the birds, trees, grass, the fish in the nearby water but most of all, the wonder of the people who pass by to walk along the river with dogs, each other, or even by themselves. We are wonderfully made because we were made to be part of something bigger than us which is wonderful. God, help me to live in wonder today.

Week 1 - Day 4 - Saturday Matthew 6 25-34

Lillies of the Field

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat [or drink], or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds in the sky; they do not sow or reap, they gather nothing into barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are not you more important than they?  Can any of you by worrying add a single moment to your life span? Why are you anxious about clothes? Learn from the way the wild flowers grow. They do not work or spin. But I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was clothed like one of them. If God so clothes the grass of the field, which grows today and is thrown into the oven tomorrow, will he not much more provide for you, O you of little faith? So do not worry and say, ‘What are we to eat?’ or ‘What are we to drink?’ or ‘What are we to wear?’ All these things the pagans seek. Your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first the kingdom [of God] and his righteousness, and all these things will be given you besides. Do not worry about tomorrow; tomorrow will take care of itself. Sufficient for a day is its own evil.

I avoided this gospel passage when it was first presented as a focal point because it makes me uncomfortable. This morning I have come to accept that in the spiritual development world, it is imperative to investigate what causes pause and to not always settle in with what causes comfort. Reluctantly I settle in to look more closely at why I would choose to bypass this passage.

The simple answer is Jesus asks us to not worry about mundane things like food and clothing. Indeed, why should I worry about them? There has never been a time when I lacked for either. I have never known true hunger or lacked what I needed to be comfortable and appropriately distressed. These things have always been available, always. 

My anxiety about food, clothing or any other needed items ranging from bandages to phone charging cords is that I have to do without them or not had enough of the right kind of things. There have been times when I did not bring enough food or ran out of something I wanted or thought I needed. I failed to bring enough water to drink or needed a raincoat and did not have one. That causes a worrier like me to worry. At times, the worry consumes me. 

There was a time a few years ago when I was obsessed with what are called bug-out bags, backpacks and duffle bags filled with essential items like flashlights, matches, whistles, space blankets and note pads and pencils. Why? Because I lived in an area prone to earthquakes and there had recently been a small quake? Did I gather up enough weapons and ammo to defend us for days? From what did we need defending? I finally found a way to flip on a light switch and expose that whole fiasco for what it truly was - irrational. Still, I have little kits of emergency items buried away in my vehicles, luggage and sports packs. The curious, and sobering, realization is I have never used any of them, at least not that I can recall right now. Still, I worry. 

I am a source of amusement for my friends and companions. They laugh at my preparation. They laugh until they need a bandage or extra shirt but by the time the next adventure comes around, they will have forgotten but I will not. I might bring two extra coats or cans of tuna. Just in case. 

There is one phrase that convicts me, "O you of little faith." I have to ask myself if the accusation is true. After consideration, my answer is yes, in part, but also no, in part. As I sit and watch the sun slide up over the hills to shine through broken clouds, I can state with absolute certainty there is a God. I know he exists. I know of us his love even if I can't capture the dimensions of it. I know that because of my knowledge I have hope of joining the resurrected. I know those whom I love who also know God will also have hope they will join me and those who have gone before. I know these things. 

What I don’t know is whether I will bring the right combination of clothes on our trip today. I don't know if I am going to run out of peaches, a fruit I am currently obsessed with eating. I don't if our tomatoes will start ripening so we can enjoy them before the fall freeze comes. These things cause me to hesitate, to not relax, and just look around me to enjoy the solitude. 

My Benedictine spirituality guides me. It causes me to take stock of how things are and to focus on what is needed at any given moment. I am shown examples of how to tend the garden, seek food, and dress appropriately that are very simple, very focused and all done for his glory and gratitude for what we are not only able to receive but what we accomplish with his help. 

As the temperatures warm this morning multitude of birds will visit my feeders. They will gorge themselves with foods to help them be strong enough to migrate or simply remain here through the lean times to come. They don't seem to worry about it. They come to visit and if the feeders have the foods they eat, they will hang around and feed. If the feeders are empty they, simply search elsewhere. Of course, they will demand that I do my job. Yesterday a flicker landed on the table where I was writing and yacked at me until refilled the feeders including his favorite suet.  

The challenge for me today is to simplify what I want to just what I truly need and let the rest go. It is about becoming less, needing less, wanting less, and finding joy in the minimal. 

Good luck with that I say to myself. I promise to try and to have faith and trust in trivial things and not just matters of ultimate concern. 

Week 1 - Day 3 - Friday Psalm 23

The Divine Shepherd

A Psalm of David.

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside still waters; he restores my soul. He leads me in right paths for his name’s sake. Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and your staff— they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord my whole life long.

As dawn slips on a cool summer morning, the psalm hits home. The day promises to be cool but nearly perfect at 73 degrees. There are some gray clouds racing across the sky in rush to greet the sun somewhere to the east. Flickers sing a squeeze box song in the trees beyond the creek and chickadees chickadee their music from the lilacs. A bucolic setting, serene but for the rush of traffic on Highway 93 lying to the west more than a mile away. The negative aspect of hearing aids is that even though I can hear the whispers of nature better but the roar of traffic is much loader. On a calm still morning, the traffic sounds awfully close. 

Psalm 23 should have its own label. Rather than being a praise psalm, it should simply be a peaceful psalm or a pastoral one. I learned the psalm by heart as a child in Methodist Sunday school using the King James version of the bible so often used in the early 60s before the RSV pushed it to the side. Ask me today to recite the psalm and this is what will come out:

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

This is one example of a passage of scripture that should be left in the king's English of the 17th century. After reading both the NAB and the KJS versions, what drifts in front of my eyes are the images of a rod and staff. I think of the Bishop's crozier, the rod of Moses and the processional crucifix found at the St. Mary's Mission chapel which had been shaped out of a shepherd's crook. 

A downy woodpecker has arrived to peck at the wooden pole from which the suet is hung. He is very tame and he allows me to approach close enough I could reach out and touch him. I don't do so, however, I don't want him to be concerned at all. I want him to remain unafraid. 

Is fear drawing me close to the image of the shepherd's tools used to protect himself and his flock? I there something lurking beyond my awareness that causes me to find comfort in the image of protection? There is nothing threatening me that would cause me to use a staff. My apprehension is not physical it is emotional. 

A flicker lands on the feeder across from me, no more than 6 feet away. He is not afraid either. He is used to my presence here and seems to be curiously watching me write. He flits still closer and continues to watch me. The cat mews as if she were warning me of great danger from the birds which visit this morning. The cat represents danger. She would pounce on many of the visitors but perhaps not the flicker that is nearly her size. 

The notion of fear crosses my mind again. Am I frightened of something even on this peaceful morning settled deep into solitude? I think of the conflict between Lori and me the last two days. My irrational irritation flared up momentarily when I returned home. What irritated me is unimportant because it was unimportant. I was not hostile or angry. I did not flare up and start a shouting match. I simply bristled but it was enough to provoke her sense of fear of what I might do next, that I might explode with anger. I did not. I was not even close to blowing up. 

It is a fact there is something deep inside of me that flares up even though it is unwanted. I am like many other people especially alcoholics who have a hair trigger irritation point that is uncovered for no apparent reason with no warning or known trigger. I work hard to avoid it. I try to look for symptoms that may be observed before to the event so I can learn to avoid or extinguish the spark before it flames. I have made progress but it is a fact, an incredibly sad but certain fact, that I will never be able to erase the potential for unwarranted anger. At my age and with all of the effort I have exerted and my profound desire, I still have not been able to overcome this character defect. I want to, I need to but I cannot make it happen.

What comes next is guarded anger from Lori, a wariness born of living with something wild and unpredictable. The discussion comes about the need to keep it from happening and this is followed by the promise to not have it ever happen again but it is not a promise I can keep despite everything in my being wanting to make it happen. The emotional turmoil will continue throughout the day and into the next and, on this occasion, into the third day. 

Like Paul, I have prayed for the thorn to be removed but I can't even tell what the thorn is or what it represents. I can't explain why the irritation is so tightly focused on Lori but it is and it causes someone who should be my rod and staff of comfort and protection is instead in need of comfort and protection myself. 

The rod and the staff do not cause me fear nor do they bring me comfort, they simply cause me to examine the fear that is at the root of all my defects. As I end I have not arrived at a point of relief, only continued edginess that more conflict might be coming today but I do not sense it as yet. It is good I will be away for the day; it will allow us to cool. I will stay here in the green pastures of plenty and see if gratitude will offer me the still waters I need to find peace. 

There is no blue sky this morning, no sun has come up over the trees, and the clouds are too thick even though they are not threatening. It is just a gray day but there is a promise of sun. There is a splash of color in the cottonwood on the northeast corner of the yard, a clear signal summer is ending quickly. 

Lord, make me lie down in a green pasture this morning that I might become the shepherd made in your image I so desire to become. 

SEEL Week 1 Day - Psalm 139

 The All-knowing and Ever-present God 

For the leader. A psalm of David. 

LORD, you have probed me, you know me: you know when I sit and stand; you understand my thoughts from afar. You sift through my travels and my rest; with all my ways you are familiar.  Even before a word is on my tongue, LORD, you know it all.  Behind and before you encircle me and rest your hand upon me.  Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, far too lofty for me to reach.

"You encircle me and rest your hand upon me." 

Number 139 is a Psalm I turn to often when I struggle with who I am, was, or might be. Doubt fills me often and seems to be my default position in life. Doubt and fear, twin dragons to scorch my thoughts and daydreams as I look to a future that is far from certain because the knowledge of what is to come is certainly unknown. This Psalm speaks to the pointlessness of doubt and fear. We are known through and through, nothing is hidden from the only whom we truly need to rely upon. 

In recent years I have met those who dislike this passage. They are frightened by the prospect of having their deepest secrets revealed as if they matter to a creator who reaches out to us with forgiveness. Consider the prodigal son. The father was not concerned with having his son ask for forgiveness. The son did not even speak before the father showered grace on him. I understand the concern about being completely known. I harbor fear about showing my deepest being to others even though I have experienced the gifts of acceptance and love from those to whom I have opened up the darkest of places. We all share the burden of carrying things we don't want to reveal even if each of us has our own individual and peculiar shame and guilt over things done or undone. 

The word encircle rises up this morning as I pray the Psalm. It has not been a focus from prior praying which I find curious because of the significance "encircle" has for me and for many. The Celtic Christian spirituality tradition includes a huge dependence on the idea of God encircling us with his love and protection. St. Patrick prays about God being above us, below us, behind us, in front of us and beside us, both left and right. The image of being at the core of giant spheres like the sun or the moon and being totally surrounded by God in all 360 degrees of existence consoles me. 

I am, in my deepest being, a man of fear. I rely upon many tools to rise and face the day every day but faith in God is the source of all of those tools. If God is in all places then I must be in all places because God is in me and I am in God. God knows me and knows what I need to be where he takes me. It is for me to understand that and to trust. Oh, how difficult that is. To trust. 

In the past few days, the intense heat of summer has faded away and we are sliding into the fall with increasing speed. I do not see the color of the leaves changing in this piece of creation I inhabit while waiting for resurrection. I am reminded change happens as has been established through the endless and unfathomable expense of time that means nothing to the one who protects us. Smoke smudges the view of things beyond a few hundred feet but I know the mountains exist even if they are unseen today because I have seen them before. Likewise, if today I feel alone and concerned, I know I am not alone and that I am encircled with love and by love because I have experienced God's consolation often in the past. I have hope. I have faith. I trust I am loved. For now, that is enough. 

SEEL Week 1 Day 1 - Isaiah 47

But now, thus says the LORD, who created you, Jacob, and formed you, Israel: Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name: you are mine. When you pass through waters, I will be with you; through rivers, you shall not be swept away. When you walk through fire, you shall not be burned, nor will flames consume you. For I, the LORD, am your God, the Holy One of Israel, your savior. I give Egypt as ransom for you, Ethiopia and Seba in exchange for you. Because you are precious in my eyes and honored, and I love you, I give people in return for you and nations in exchange for your life. Fear not, for I am with you; from the east I will bring back your offspring, from the west I will gather you. I will say to the north: Give them up! and to the south: Do not hold them! Bring back my sons from afar, and my daughters from the ends of the earth: All who are called by my name I created for my glory; I formed them, made them.

This wonderful passage has been frequently at the forefront of my thoughts. Earlier this week we watched some of the clips for The Chosen and the intensely inviting and stirring scene where Jesus embraces Mary Magdalen was seared into my heart and soul. Whatever your impression of the life of Mary before her conversion, there can be no misunderstanding of what happened between them. She was lost not just to the world but to herself and she had traveled to a place from which there is no return. There is no way for any human to return from where she traveled. Jesus could turn her around and he did just that. 

When Jesus said, "I have called you by name, you are mine" it was as if there were no actors present, only Jesus and a woman who needed to hear those words to be redeemed. I did not see actors playing a scene for film production. I saw Jesus and I saw Mary and I did not just see them; I was there in the moment. I could see the darkness beyond the firelight, smell the smoke of the fire and hear the background sounds and fire popping. From that moment to this I no longer felt like an observer but a participant, a recipient of God's assurance. 

There are no coincidences the first passage of the first day of the first week is not one of being called but, more importantly of being claimed. I need his reassurance as I descend into the mysterious mist cloaking the coming months. I have no reason to fear, no reason to doubt but, instead, I have every reason to respond to his calling into the deep of contemplation, mediation and expression. I have confidence I have been called into his service as a communicator and teacher of things etched in my heart and my mind brought to me by the Holy Spirit. 

SEEL Preparation Week - Day 6 - The Return of the Twelve and the Feeding of the Five Thousand.

Matthew 9 14-21 

When Jesus heard of it, he withdrew in a boat to a deserted place by himself. The crowds heard of this and followed him on foot from their towns. When he disembarked and saw the vast crowd, his heart was moved with pity for them, and he cured their sick. When it was evening, the disciples approached him and said, “This is a deserted place and it is already late; dismiss the crowds so that they can go to the villages and buy food for themselves.” [Jesus] said to them, “There is no need for them to go away; give them some food yourselves.” But they said to him, “Five loaves and two fish are all we have here.” Then he said, “Bring them here to me,” and he ordered the crowds to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish, and looking up to heaven, he said the blessing, broke the loaves and gave them to the disciples, who in turn gave them to the crowds. They all ate and were satisfied, and they picked up the fragments left over —twelve wicker baskets full. Those who ate were about five thousand men, not counting women and children. 

Focus:

Jesus feeds and heels all of the people.

This morning I was captured by the phrase "he said the blessing…" I wondered what prayer he would have said or if the style of prayer in first-century Israel had been lost. As is typical of me, I had to research to see if I could find the prayer Jesus prayed. I found the following prayer:

Barukh attah, Adonai Eloheynu, Melekh-ha’olam, haMotzi lechem min ha’aretz.

(Blessed are you, Lord our God, King of the universe, who brings forth bread from the earth)

The commentary suggested there had been no real change in the prayer between then and now and this would have been the most likely candidate. The beauty and imagery remain unchanged. Blessing the Lord activates the Holy Spirit so the blessing can travel from giver to receiver. We recognize his divinity and the scope of his influence. King of the universe pretty well covers the bases. It is true and correct to say he brings the wheat used to make the bread from the earth. We plant it, we care for it, we harvest it but the lifeforce that cracks open the wheat seed and touches the growth is all about God. We don't often stop to consider the mystery of life and how it flows from creation through today and then on until tomorrow. We just don't realize the full extent of the forces at work to simply germinate one kernel of grain or we would be bound to worship and praise him without stopping long enough to grind flour. I see a great similarity between the ordinary growth of wheat which happens because of unseen forces and the multiplication of the loaves by Jesus after using such a simple but perfect prayer of thanks. Both are miracles. The only difference is one is common and the other happens only once before we are given the eucharist. 

If this event of feeding the people foreshadows the eucharist, so too does the fact that "they all ate and were satisfied." Is that not happens when we receive the Eucharist? The smallest crumb changed into his body will satisfy our need to be with him completely even though it creates the desire to experience the eucharist again and again. 

The Lord blessed God, God blessed the lord and together with the holy spirit the three blessed to people. If only the disciples had recognized the full scope of what had happened on that day, they would have not doubted so much as a speck from that day on. 

I reflect back on the times recently when I received the eucharist. The blessing re-awakens and I feel satisfied but still hungry for more. The miracle awaits us at the altar. Thanks be to God.