Thank you for wandering these highlands with me over the past many days. It has been a pleasure to walk with you.
You will still find me here, maybe a little less frequently, but here.
I am going to turn and go north for a bit. See where Spirit leads me.
I look forward to more journeys together.
Peace.
Happy and joyous Easter! Our Lenten journey has ended, and we find ourselves in the light of Easter morning.
This journey began in the middle of the desert with a different kind of Ash Wednesday. As the sun breaks this Easter Day, new lessons of Resurrection shine through.
Jesus came and stood in their midst and said to them, "Peace be with you...As the Father has sent me, so I send you." ~John 20:20–21
Blessings and peace to you and your families! Enjoy this day!
The tomb is sealed. The waiting begins.
These hours are necessary. But necessary and easy are two very different things. Yet another time in our lives requiring patience. A virtue in thinning supply.
So often in life we plant seeds...of ideas, efforts, and good intentions. With the dirt barely covering, we begin searching for an immediate and predictable harvest.
So like the disciples are we. They followed a teacher and friend, but did not anticipate a Cross, a Death, and a burial.
Teach us Lord, as you did them, the lesson of the tomb. Help us to see that while we tend our seeds, we cannot control when or how the fruit of our efforts will grow. Show us again that patiently and lovingly tending the garden will make it, and us, ready for the Resurrection.
adapted from The Stations of the Cross, Station 14, by Denise Hemrich-Skomer and Fr. Joachim Tyrtania
These words begin John's telling of the Last Supper. In full knowledge of his impending death, Jesus loved. He loved his own.
Jesus' disciples were a band of average people with faults and doubts, needs and egos. The Gospel stories tell of their fears, misunderstandings, mistakes, and in the end, betrayals and denial. Yet still, he loved them to the end.
This speaks to me in two ways.
How do we love our own? Do we focus on the things that bother us? Do we allow judgment and expectation to cloud our interactions?
We don't know when our hour will come. If the past year has taught us anything, it's that life is precious and fleeting. Perhaps these words serve as a gentle reminder to view our own in this world through the lens of love.
I'd also like to think that we are part of this intention. Jesus loves us, his own, to the end. Not in spite of our faults, but because of them. We, like the disciples, are flawed. At times we struggle, we fail, we deny, we betray, but we keep trying. With faith, in hope, we start over each day with new opportunities to be our best in this world.
So on this Holy Thursday, take a moment to center yourself in love.
Love your own and know you are loved...to the end.
I often wonder why this story about Simon is included in three of the four Gospels. It's an oddly specific yet brief mention about a guy who just happened by. Why mention his name? What is the lesson that he brings?
While Jesus' crucifixion was the most famous in history, thousands upon thousands of people were crucified in ancient times. It was considered the most brutal and shameful way to die. For that reason, I imagine that crowds often gathered in a macabre kind of way. While they may have watched and jeered from the safety of a group, it is unlikely anyone wanted to be singled out or called by name. Being identified might make you vulnerable, or considered sympathetic to the accused.
But to be taken hold of and named would make you a witness. And this might be where our lesson lies.
Bearing witness means to acknowledge that something exists or is true. In psychology, it involves the sharing of traumatic experiences in an effort to provide healing.
More simply, bearing witness is to see and be seen.
It takes courage to be a witness. When we watch another person struggle we take on a share of the pain ourselves. This is felt even more strongly when we know and love the one who suffers. But there is also great honor in being a witness. To walk with someone and bear their cross for awhile is a gift of trust both given and received.
Simon may or may not have known Christ. But he forever carried the privilege of being witness to Jesus' final moments in this world.
There are so many hurting right now. The times in which we live make being present for one another harder and harder. Yet there has likely never been a point when the need to be seen has been greater.
"The ultimate touchstone [of friendship] is witness, the privilege of having been seen by someone and the equal privilege of being granted the sight of the essence of another, to have walked with them and to have believed in them, and sometimes just to have accompanied them for however brief a span, on a journey impossible to accomplish alone." ~ David Whyte
Being still does not come naturally to me. I'm trying out my third meditation app. Perhaps it's me, not them.
The biggest hurdle is quieting my mind. I think that's a pretty common issue. My experience is not that unique. Many of the guided meditations I've used invite me to focus on my breath. This gets in my head and leads me to think about breathing.
What I've discovered is the more I think about breathing, the harder it is to breathe. I've almost hyperventilated by trying to breathe. Then today I heard a really profound but simple statement.
The body breathes.
You may be confused by my amazement at such an obvious and simple fact. But what a miracle! The body breathes whether you think about it or (and even more effectively) whether you don't.
Struggle is a by-product of overthinking. Ask any athlete who suddenly decides to focus on a swing or a pitch, a kick or a release. We end up with paralysis by analysis.
I think the same can be true in our faith life. We start the Lenten season with a list of ways we will transform our prayer life. We make intentions to change our habits and behaviors. We put a lot of focus on our own actions. Inevitably life happens and we get sidetracked. We lose steam and feel defeated.
The lesson here is we can't think our way into a better relationship with God. We can't fight our way into holiness. Habits and intentions are tools, and those practices certainly offer opportunities for growth. But in the end, the more we think about God, the harder it can be to feel and truly know God. In stillness, comes a profound insight.
Spirit breathes.
In us, through us, all the time...Spirit breathes. We have only to keep still.
Novelty is dependent on the perspective of the viewer. One can look out the same window everyday for a lifetime and see either an unchanging view or an unfolding story.
So how do you find the right mindset? By zooming out, you can observe the great shapes that define a space. The general landscape, the ups and downs, the lights and darks. This dualism of one extreme or the other is how we sense our boundaries and experience our limits.
But if we live only in the dark and light realm of vision, we will become bored, rigid, too hardened. We won't recognize the subtle nuance that softens an edge and shadows a corner.
In the middle are thousands, millions, billions of shades. One is not hard or soft, dark or light...but both.
This is a zooming in, where the form becomes unrecognizable from the texture that infuses it. The colors blend and bend and fuse to shades and hues unnamed. Here, in the minutia we learn that we are not one or the other but all and whole and one.
This is a wonderful place. This is a wonderful life. This is a wonderful day.
I have seen it many times and never. Let me bask in its beauty once and always.
Amen.
The Anointing at Bethany begins the Lectionary reading for Palm Sunday. It's a small story at the beginning of a very long Gospel. While I remember well the telling of Jesus' Passion and Death, I mostly recall this first scene as flickers of song from an Andrew Lloyd Weber musical.
Today, I notice the woman, her alabaster jar, and a costly spikenard perfume.
This woman, some consider Mary Magdalene, others Lazarus' sister, performed a ritual act. With precious oil she anointed Jesus' head and feet, defining her love and devotion. But the results of this act likely lingered far longer.
Still used today, spikenard is the root of an Indian plant that grows primarily in the Himalayan mountains. The oil derived from its root has been used for medicine, incense, and perfume. It has a long history of being highly valued. Spikenard was an expensive oil. The cost for the anointing described in this passage would be equivalent to around $12,000 today. A generous offering indeed.
But there is something even more interesting about this oil and its mention here. Spikenard has a strong scent. It clings to the skin and hair continuing to give its aroma long after it has been applied. Jesus tells his disciples that this woman has done a good thing for him.
She has done what she could do. She has anticipated anointing my body for burial ~Mark 14:8
The oil the woman used to anoint his head and feet would have lingered on Christ's skin for the next several days. As Jesus was arrested, as he was beaten, as he was crucified, and as he died, wisps of compassion from this moment would have overcome him. Each turn of his head, each fall to the ground a memory. A drop of balm for every step. A reminder he was loved, a comfort he was not alone.
For us, perhaps a lesson. Share with abandon. Offer mercy, comfort, compassion, concern. Don't tally the costs. Do what you can do. Anticipate the needs of another.
Our actions linger, often in ways we could not know and will never fully understand.
Tomorrow is Palm Sunday, the start of Holy Week. During these days, we walk with Jesus through the final moments of his life on earth. Each year, I try to find new and different ways to approach this time.
It occurred to me that this will be our second journey through a Holy Week in this pandemic. Last year we had just taken our first steps. This year we are miles beyond with still a distance to go. So what would I have wanted to tell the me of 2020 on the day before Palm Sunday? What wisdom from this year would I give?
My advice would be simple...notice.
In the aftermath of big life events, whether tragic or joyful, I believe we share a nearly universal response--I wish I had paid attention. I wish I had noticed all that was happening around me.
For this Holy Week, I invite you to notice.
Key in on a word or phrase in Scripture that has never struck you before. Slow your steps and recognize the particular color of the sky or the smell of the budding trees. Listen for the emotion in a friend's voice. Feel the texture of a loved one's hand. Savor the taste of your daily meals. Rest in the quiet of morning before dawn.
In whatever way this word speaks to you in your life this week, notice.
I am enough.
Some very wise friends of mine have made this their mantra. If you knew them, you might be surprised that they would need to say these words aloud. To mark the phrase as a real and present reminder. Why? Because these friends are amazing. And yet, they still need to be reminded that they are enough.
I don't think they are unique in this need. In fact, I imagine that many of us suffer from a kind of imposter syndrome. We struggle in our work, our relationships, our own private thoughts to believe that who we are is enough.
Perhaps this is a by-product of our consumer culture. Maybe it's some deeply planted seed that stems from generations of thought. It could be social pressures or family trauma. Perhaps it's all of these and none of these at the same time.
What we have decided, my friends and I, is that we may not be able to root out the cause but we can most definitely influence the effect.
We build each other up. We give witness to one another's pain and we celebrate one another's joy. We don't try to solve problems as much as honor that the burden exists. Mostly, we remind one another, again and again, that each of us is enough.
If you need to hear it today, let me be that friend for you.
You. Are. Enough.
This struck me.
It's interesting, in a sad kind of way, that kindness has to be singled out as a skill. Even more upsetting is that it's a skill not commonly valued. I'm aware of the well-known adages about nice people finishing last and the need to be ruthless to get ahead. Still it baffles me that a behavior taught and rewarded in Kindergarten is not prized past the age of 25. While the article did focus on the benefits kindness can bring to the workplace, the tag line read, "Take the counterintuitive approach to business success."
This got me thinking about the power of kindness. In recent years, a kindness movement has swept around the world. Nonprofits provide free educational materials on kindness, while researchers and doctors study its effects on our mood and overall health. The results show that being kind makes us happier, decreases our blood pressure, lowers cortisol and increases our self-esteem, empathy, and compassion.
Kindess isn't a soft skill, it's a super power!
I believe being kind has been minimized because it's often considered weak. On the contrary, being kind takes courage. Kindness involves being vulnerable. Being kind means leaving the safety and security of self to seek a genuine connection with someone else. It leaves us open to misunderstanding and rejection.
But our bravery comes with a reward of its own. Kindness is contagious. Scientists note that kindness creates a kind of ripple effect spreading outward. Our small gesture may impact others far removed in ways we will never fully know.
Not bad for a soft skill not generally prized. Seems to me it deserves a blue ribbon!
In a world where you can be anything...be kind. ~Unknown
*Sabin, Sara. "Kindness can get you ahead." Chicago Tribune. 22 March 2021, Section 2, p.1.
I love to hear people tell me their stories. What makes them who they are? What experiences brought them to this particular place in time and space? Who are the people in their family? What trials did they encounter? No matter the situation, I have never been bored by another's life story, even when they themselves believed it to be unremarkable.
Every life holds a lesson. Every story, a reason someone held as hope for another day. It is within these moments that we see the hand of God.
Sometimes faith may seem distant and formal. But God is not found only within the walls of a cathedral or the pages of a holy text. God is written in the hearts and lives of us all. By sharing our stories, we give witness.
Be willing to listen. Recognize the spark in another that moves and catches fire as they share with you their stories. This spark is Spirit.
Be ready to give reason for your hope. Your moments matter. For another, your story may be the witness of God they so desperately need.
Stories are light. Light is precious in a world so dark." ~Kate DiCamillo, The Tale of Despereaux
This verse seems written for our present moment. I feel the first few words in every cell of my being.
My patience is truly worn out by the journey.
So much is said to be on the cusp of change. News stories predict an end in sight. There are lights in the proverbial tunnels. But I'm still standing on the far end and squinting for that glow. My ability to keep calm in the midst of disappointment, distress, and suffering is understandably wearing thin.
"Waiting and hoping is a hard thing to do when you've already been waiting and hoping for almost as long as you can bear it." ~Jenny Nimmo, Charlie Bone and the Time TwisterScience tells us that patience is modifiable. We can build it like a muscle. Reframing situations to find a different way of seeing things, practicing mindfulness to ground ourselves, and being grateful are exercises to try.
But in this particular moment, standing empty and worn out, we could benefit by adding the spiritual aspect of patience to the equation.
Patience is one of the fruits of the Holy Spirit. It's a visible act, an observable behavior that results from allowing the grace of Spirit to be effective in us. In other words, we aren't in this patience thing alone.
Waiting with grace enables us to live in this world and still have hope. Spirit makes possible what is impossible on our own. So as we wind through what we hope will be the final days of this pandemic journey, consider asking yourself:
I hope you choose patience. Even when you are overwhelmed by unknowns. When someone cannot give you answers, when you begin to wonder why you're here, when you simply want to give up: be patient. ~Kirsten Robinson, Evergreen
Prayer, quiet, connection, generosity are a few we have named and explored.
Today we knock on another...gratitude.
Gratitude has long been known to have positive effects on our lives. Being thankful not only improves our mood, it actually improves our brain functioning. Grateful people are happier people.
Ironically, when things are going well and gratitude should come easily, we tend not to make it a habit. We absorb blessings barely aware of the life-giving nourishment they provide. It's often when hardship comes that we recognize our need. In our darkness, we look for light.
By seeking, we find awareness that life, in its many ups and downs, is a gift in itself. We come to discover that gifts are present within our struggles and pain.
How can we make gratitude a way of life?
Gratitude is action. It's naming blessings and saying thank you.
Gratitude is awareness. It's noticing gifts and feeling grateful.
Gratitude is being. It's living with intention and experiencing God's abundant generosity.
Gratitude is expectation. It's believing that even those people, places, and things which once blocked our path have purpose and meaning for our journey.
Fear and anxiety never totally leave us. But slowly they lose their domination as a deeper and more central experience begins to present itself. It is the experience of gratitude...Thus gratitude becomes a quality of our hearts that allows us to live joyfully and peacefully even though our struggles continue. ~Henri Nouwen
But...neither of those statements is really true. Even in my irritated, frustrated, sassy moments, I am completely and entirely myself.
I am human.
And so are you.
As humans, we have a range of emotions and moods. We have ups and downs. This admission is not an excuse to make those around us miserable. But it is valid and necessary to recognize that some minutes, hours, days, or more, we will likely be less than joyful.
The Gospel in today's Lectionary is beautifully instructive of this aspect of humanity. I often feel that we don't spend enough (or maybe any) time meditating on Christ's human side. After all, he was both human and divine.
In the story of Lazarus, Jesus experiences a range of emotions.
The one most often noted is expressed in the verse, And Jesus wept. This is deeply powerful. I have known this sadness and despair. In the loss of a loved one, the loss of a dream, the loss of an opportunity--I have wept.
Twice Jesus is described as perturbed. Jesus was anxious, concerned, and troubled. I have known this unease, this fear and frustration. In the moments of not knowing, in the waiting, in the disappointments, in the unmet expectations--I have been perturbed.
Continually those gathered, including Lazarus' sisters, question Jesus and misunderstand him. His tone suggests a very human frustration. Do you believe this? Did I not tell you...? Even in his prayer, And Jesus raised his eyes and said, "Father, I thank you for hearing me. I know that you always hear me; but because of the crowd here I have said this, that they may believe that you sent me."* I have known this frustration. In the building of tensions, the shortness of deadlines, the interruptions, the miscommunications--I have been frustrated.
We can learn from Jesus' human nature. There is no shame in our sadness, our anxiety, or our frustrations. Denying these parts of ourselves only causes further dis-ease.
Let's embrace who we are...completely and entirely.
I am human.
And so are you.
*from John 11:33–44
When life gets hard, it's natural to feel the urge to run. Avoiding sorrow, grief, confrontation may seem like the best, if not the easiest response. But there is a dirty little secret that we must face when we choose to look the other way.
Denial is addictive.
Addiction of any kind invariably numbs us to pain, anger, confusion, and distress. Unfortunately, it also prevents us from fully feeling satisfaction and joy. Perhaps most disturbing, it dulls our minds making healing and truth-seeking more difficult, if not impossible.
The world has been ripe for denial this past year. The pandemic is only one of many social and cultural issues that demand our full attention. Now is not the time to feel only vaguely.
Now is the time to stay open.
Jesus did not avoid the suffering of the Garden. He returned to pray again and again, asking God to help him bear the burden that was to come.
We are approaching a tipping point. The coming days and weeks will invite us to put into action the lessons we have learned from the long days of isolation.
We can remain in denial, allowing ourselves to slip back into familiar habits and patterns of behavior.
Or we can enter fully into the mess with our hearts and minds open. By using our creativity, our intellect, our strength, and our faith, together we can seek out new ways to heal and grow.
Joy and sorrow both strike us at the core. Stay open to both.
I beg you to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer. ~Rainer Maria Rilke
But what if networking's greatest benefits were something else entirely?
Networking is not "What can I take from you?" or "What can you give me?" Networking is a genuine act of generosity built upon "What can I offer you?" ~Alaina G. Levine*
The best networking is an act of generosity. We don't need to have lots of possessions or money to be generous. To be truly generous requires a spirit of abundance. A belief that we are not in competition for goodness and kindness and compassion. Wanting the best for others, showing love and care, sharing freely our thoughts and talents does not mean there is less for us. In fact, quite the opposite is true.
Perhaps one of the bright lights from this pandemic will be the realization that we are better together, helping one another get through the day in whatever small but significant ways possible.
It takes courage to be generous. Generosity is an act of trust. Trust that God will provide. Trust that you will have enough and that you are enough.
Consider networking with generosity in mind. While receiving is wonderful, giving generously is life-changing.
Ask yourself today, what do I have to offer? Then trust that there will be enough.
"That's a truth as old as time. Because, like all the best things in life, the more you give, the more you have. That's true of trust and friendship, and it's true of peace." ~Rutger Bregman, Humankind
* "How to network during challenging times" Science Magazine, Sept. 8, 2020
Jesus invited.
Again and again he brought people together. He dined with outcasts, showed compassion for those that others judged unworthy.
Jesus received.
On more than one occasion, he was questioned about the company he kept. He was reprimanded and mocked. He taught by example.
Jesus welcomed.
He ministered through mercy. Jesus understood what it feels like to be abandoned.
Jesus welcomed all.
One of the most beautiful petitions I've ever heard goes like this, "We pray for those whose faith is known to God alone."
Does this not describe us all?
Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, [then] I will enter his house and dine with him, and he with me. ~Revelation 3:20
