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. 

 The Healing of a Boy with a Demon.

When they came to the disciples, they saw a large crowd around them and scribes arguing with them. Immediately on seeing him, the whole crowd was utterly amazed. They ran up to him and greeted him. He asked them, “What are you arguing about with them?” Someone from the crowd answered him, “Teacher, I have brought to you my son possessed by a mute spirit. Wherever it seizes him, it throws him down; he foams at the mouth, grinds his teeth, and becomes rigid. I asked your disciples to drive it out, but they were unable to do so.” He said to them in reply, “O faithless generation, how long will I be with you? How long will I endure you? Bring him to me.” They brought the boy to him. And when he saw him, the spirit immediately threw the boy into convulsions. As he fell to the ground, he began to roll around and foam at the mouth. Then he questioned his father, “How long has this been happening to him?” He replied, “Since childhood. It has often thrown him into fire and into water to kill him. But if you can do anything, have compassion on us and help us.” Jesus said to him, “‘If you can!’ Everything is possible to one who has faith.” Then the boy’s father cried out, “I do believe, help my unbelief!” Jesus, on seeing a crowd rapidly gathering, rebuked the unclean spirit and said to it, “Mute and deaf spirit, I command you: come out of him and never enter him again!” Shouting and throwing the boy into convulsions, it came out. He became like a corpse, which caused many to say, “He is dead!” But Jesus took him by the hand, raised him, and he stood up. When he entered the house, his disciples asked him in private, “Why could we not drive it out?”  He said to them, “This kind can only come out through prayer.”

The point to wonder about: 

I have faith, help my little faith

There is some missing context here needed to help flesh out the picture. The disciples were not able to drive out the unclean spirit despite having been deputized by Jesus for the task. Why? We are not told with any degree of clarity. The father comes to Jesus with desperate hope but without certainty. Who can blame him for his doubt? This has been a life-long battle for the father and up to that moment, nothing could be done to help save the boy. 

The man addresses Jesus asking for help if Jesus can do anything. Jesus rebukes all present, disciples, scribes and the father for the doubt expressed and the failure to help the boy. His clear message is that he can help, he can always help but only with help from God. 

The father responds to Jesus in an often quoted but enigmatic way. I believe, help my unbelief. 

It is a prayer I might choose to repeat myself. Often. I believe but is the faith I possess from my belied strong enough? No. Not even close. I gain some insight into the struggles of the disciples. They believed they could cast out the unclean spirit or they would not have even tried. They may have even used the same words Jesus used, "come out and never enter him again." Where they went wrong is they may have spoken as if they were God rather than speaking as messengers of God. Perhaps if they had said, "God, help us demand the unclean spirit "come out and never enter him again" they would have gotten the job done. When Jesus tells them “This kind can only come out through prayer” he clearly says as much.

What is the lesson for me? My faith is the size of a mustard seed and even though I believe and have faith, I can do nothing on my own. We rely always on God's loving intercession to do anything of value. As I look at the day ahead, I ask God to help as work on developing the course for CTK. 

I ask for him to help me to be kind and patient enough to offer the grace to others I so desperately need. 

I ask for him to be with me as I meet with my family for prayer and chat time. 

I ask for his blessings and help in Irish class. 

A prayer for today:

My beliefs and faith may motivate me to do the right things but God, I pray, help me to do them in your name for your service.

SEEL Preparation Week Day 4 - Mark 12 1-12

He (Jesus) began to speak to them in parables. “A man planted a vineyard, put a hedge around it, dug a wine press, and built a tower. Then he leased it to tenant farmers and left on a journey. At the proper time he sent a servant to the tenants to obtain from them some of the produce of the vineyard. But they seized him, beat him, and sent him away empty-handed. Again he sent them another servant. And that one they beat over the head and treated shamefully. He sent yet another whom they killed. So, too, many others; some they beat, others they killed. He had one other to send, a beloved son. He sent him to them last of all, thinking, ‘They will respect my son.’ But those tenants said to one another, ‘This is the heir. Come, let us kill him, and the inheritance will be ours.’ So they seized him and killed him and threw him out of the vineyard. What [then] will the owner of the vineyard do? He will come, put the tenants to death, and give the vineyard to others. Have you not read this scripture passage: The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone; by the Lord has this been done, and it is wonderful in our eyes’?” They were seeking to arrest him, but they feared the crowd, for they realized that he had addressed the parable to them. So they left him and went away.

The question to address in this passage is: "Christ comes to my lifeworld. Do I receive him?"

This is a puzzling question to address through the uncomfortable lens of this passage. Jesus when speaking to us often uses the Jewish habit of hyperbole to drive home a point. The first step this morning is for me to retell the story as it is revealed to me. A man creates a vineyard. The clear inference is to God's creation of, well, everything. The vineyard is rented to farmers and I am expected to see myself as part of the group. Rather than appreciating, honoring and responding to the owner, we, and I have to include myself here, abuse, reject and kill the representatives of the owner who is, of course, God. Finally, God sends his son, his beloved son and we kill him.

Buried at the end of the story is the owner's response to the outrageous behavior. He will come, kill the tenants, and give the vineyard to others. 

What does this mean for me? Do I choose to be among the ungrateful tenants? No, I do not but does that mean I am not still among their number? I don't know. I don't know if the choices I make, the things I do, and the way I behave will allow me to escape the fate of the tenants. It is not a decision I get to make. God reserves that privilege for himself. The best I can do is to pray I am given mercy I didn't earn rather than receive the justice I earned. 

Back to the question. Do I receive with open arms and gratitude or am I resentful and angry? My words say I welcome him. I intend to welcome him. I want to welcome him but are actions consistently welcoming or am I one of the ungrateful sometimes? I fear the answer puts me in a light I fear. 

On this sabbath morning, I receive him with gratitude as the morning overcomes the night. I build today on the rejected cornerstone and pray my faith will hold fast through unexpected currents of the day.