Lent Begins

 I think my time at last night's Ash Wednesday prayer station may be one of my favorite recent ministry moments.  My community worships in a historic chapel on the campus of a larger sister congregation. The chapel is a small and unadorned building, but the beautiful acoustics makes one forget that the walls are bare and the benches have no cushions. The church who rents this space to us hosts an Ash Wednesday service in the chapel, and some of our members often attend.  When it came time for the imposition of ashes, I had been asked to be at the prayer station, and I happily accepted. I love praying with those I know, and those I don't. 

One beautiful young woman came to me for a blessing. In her arms was a small baby with beautiful dark eyes that looked right at me. I smiled at him and he smiled back. I placed my hand on his heart and lifted a prayer of gratitude for this young child. He just wanted to chew on my finger. With everything that is going on in our nation it would have been easy to pray a prayer of concern. However, worry did not surface for a second, only joy.  I am still smiling this morning.   

After everyone who wanted to take part had received their ashes, anointing oil, or a prayer (or all of the above as I encouraged them to do because these are strange times), the pastors paused and faced the congregation for the benediction. It was humbling to see the people sit quietly, most with ashes on their forehead. In that moment, I felt the unity that continues to hold us. We are not alone.     

As I drove home, I thought of Jesus and Mary. I have seen one, just one, drawing of the adult Jesus laughing in a small church in San Jose. I cannot remember ever seeing a picture of Mary smiling, but less laughing.  Maybe we need to let the Beloved Ones lighten up a bit. 

Blessings on your noble journey.  Make room for your beautiful soul. Chat with a baby when you can, but make sure to listen. These little ones are coming into our world with much wisdom to share.    

   

"The spiritual journey involves going beyond hope and fear, stepping into unknown territory, continually moving forward. The most important aspect of being on the spiritual path may be to just keep moving...
Rather than indulge or reject our experience, we can somehow let the energy of the emotion, the quality of what we're feeling pierce us to the heart. This is a noble way to live. It’s the path of compassion - the path of cultivating human bravery and kindheartedness."        

Pema Chodron 

     

 image: Coyote Hills Regional Park, 2025      

     

In the Neighborhood

 In anticipation of the February 28 boycott followed by Lent, I decided it was time to renew my library card. I rarely shop in large outlets, but I am quite reliant on Amazon for books and other items. So, I have placed a moratorium on buying new books until after Easter. I have several beautifully written books on hand waiting to be read, and I look forward to immersing myself in them. 

 On my way to the library I made a couple of stops. At my first one, I saw a woman I had not seen in quite some time. She apologized for looking so frazzled. She had been out of the country for a month or so, tending to a sister who is seriously ill. As I listened, I found myself growing quite still as she told me of her fear and sorrow as she struggled to accept that her younger sister, who physically lives a long way from her, is dying.   

As our time came to a close, I touched her arm and said, "Remember, life is eternal." Suddenly, it was as if she had stepped into a beautiful light. She had come home to her body. We hugged, said our good-byes, and wished one another well.  

I then went on to the produce market and the library. I needed to renew my library card which I learned had expired in 2019. I had a book in mind that I wanted to take a look at, but obviously it had been a long time since I had been in a library. I could not even remember how to even find a specific book. A woman kindly volunteered to help me, and then a young man guided me through the checkout process which had changed considerably since the last time I was there. Yet, I eventually walked out with not just one book, but three. I also walked out pondering how quickly young people seem to be moving these days, even at the produce market. It is tempting to feel inadequate, but if I moved that quickly, I might have missed a story that very much needed to be listened to. I am well past the time of needing to be efficient.   

I have recently enrolled in a tai chi class designed for those of us with arthritis. It is held at the senior center, and the first time I walked through those doors it was as if I was experiencing a silent rite of passage. Yet, despite the lack of fanfare, I am finding those I am learning with to be quite heroic in the quest to regain balance and some fluidity of movement. My life is changing, no question. However, I also think my experiences are deepening. Technological advances have their place, but so do we. May we not underestimate the strength that can be found in community and connection, despite what some politicians want us to believe. 

My thanks to the Salt Project for this morning's poem. My thanks to all of you.     

     

What We Need Is Here

Geese appear high over us,

pass, and the sky closes. Abandon,
as in love or sleep, holds
them to their way, clear
in the ancient faith: what we need
is here. And we pray, not
for new earth or heaven, but to be
quiet in heart, and in eye,
clear. What we need is here.    

 

Wendell Berry      

      

image: "Yes, There Is a Bee There"  San Leandro, July 2024

The Morning Collect

  I continue to make my way through Robert Benson's book In Constant Prayer. This morning I have been reading about a prayer form known as a collect. When I first read this book years ago, I was not interested in a prayer practice that included keeping part or all of the daily Divine Office. However, I seem to be needing more routine and ritual now. Maybe it is my age. Maybe it is because the beginning of the Lenten journey is close. Maybe it is the slow realization that most, if not all of my strategies developed for finding shortcuts rather than for deepening discipline (I believe this is what Jesus would call the narrow gate), have not resulted in a particularly sustaining harvest. Probably all of the above and more. 

Regardless, this prayer stirs my heart and I am grateful that my heart can still be stirred. This morning I am reminded that I never address God as "Almighty". Why? I really cannot say. It is probably time to figure out why.  I recently had a dream where a gentle male figure kept telling me that there is one more thing he needed me to do. In the dream I argued with him partly because I was getting ready to board a plane. However, he quietly repeated himself several times. I finally softened, and I sat down to listen. I am awaiting further instructions, and so I "stretch out my hands"*, and learn to pray.     

  

"Deliver us, Almighty God, from the service of self alone: 

That we may do the work You have given us to do, 

in truth and beauty, and for the common good; 

for the sake of the One Who comes among us 

as one who serves, 

the One Who lives and reigns with You and the Holy Spirit, 

one God, now and forever. Amen."    

 

Image: San Leandro, February, 2023

 

*Psalm 143:6

On Dry Ground

 Those of you who receive my weekly SpiritCare meditations have already seen the bulk of this post, so please excuse the duplication. However, Psalm 143 is staying with me, and I feel the need to share this a little more widely. I am cleaning out my bookcases (a slower process has never existed), and I came across Robert Benson's fine book, In Constant Prayer. In it he mentions a writing practice of rewriting what you wrote the day before to help launch you into a new day of writing. In a way, that is what I am doing here. In the February 15 entry of The Rule of St. Benedict, Sister Joan mentions that on Saturdays Psalm 43 is to be read. I think Psalm 43 will be one of the daily lynchpins for my Lenten journey. Three times a day I will pray and offer up these small and rather wrinkled hands of mine to the Holy One. Three times a day I will lift my hands to God. That is what I am doing now. 

I do not yet have a photograph for Psalm 143. Perhaps one will be revealed in the new few weeks. Yet, I do like the one attached. It reminds me that my prayers are already being answered.

"I stretch out my hands to you; 

my whole being is like dry dirt, 

thirsting for you." 

Psalm 143:6, Common English Bible   

    

Meditation: 

On Wednesday, February 22, Christians around the world will begin the Great Lenten Journey. Some will start by attending an Ash Wednesday service, where they may hear the words, "You are from dust and to dust you will return." Others may hear, "Repent, and believe the Gospels." I remember one year going to an afternoon service yearning to hear the words that would remind me of my physical mortality. I was tired and seeking respite. Instead, I was given a packet of seeds and was told something about butterflies. I was not yet ready to hear of an upcoming sprouting of wings. I needed to hear the words about the ground of my being.

I have been sitting with this Psalm of David this morning. As is often the case with David, he was feeling under siege, and was afraid. He, too, was probably tired. He tells God that he is feeling weak, and for David that probably was a frightening idea. David then pours out his heart and tells God that he is stretching out both hands. Here he is confessing that he has no weapon, no shield. His only hope lies in this tremendous thirst to know God. He must trust that God is listening, and will reach back in return.  

I believe there is a strong connection between our hands and our hearts. When I envision David reaching out with both hands to God, I see him as being fully engaged with the heartfelt cry of his heart. If you are wondering what to do for a prayer practice, I suggest that you begin the morning with holding out both hands to God, and repeating David's words, or speaking your own. Silence is perfectly acceptable as well. We can also pray our prayer quietly before we undertake a task, or we are about to eat or drink. Let us practice dedicating all our actions to God. I also suggest finishing our prayer by putting our hands together, bowing slightly, and praying "Thy will be done." 

 

 I would love to hear how your practice is going. Blessings on your journey. 

  

Prayer:  

"Tell me of your faithful love come morning time,

because I trust you. 

Show me the way I should go, 

because I offer my life up to you."  

Psalm 143:8        

     

Cutting Brambles, Bearing Fruit

 Cut brambles long enough, 

Sprout after sprout, 

And the lotus will bloom 

of its own accord: 

Already waiting in the clearing, 

The single image of light. 

The day you see this, 

That day you will become it.    

 

 Sun-Bu-er (1124-?)     

  

I suppose I first came across this poem when I was in seminary, but I do not remember.   It recently returned to my mind in a discussion with my Qigong instructor.  While Sun-Bu-er was Taoist, not Christian, her poem seems appropriate for the Lenten journey.   I always have a sense of God waiting for us.  While our paths are sometimes filled with thorny brambles, with intent we can  make our way.   Jesus, too, spoke of pruning:  "I am the true vine, and my Father is the vineyard keeper. He removes any of my branches that don't produce fruit, and he trims any branch that produces fruit so that it will produce even more fruit (John 15:1)."  

  

That clearing is where all can recognize that we are one.       

  

If you would like to join me for  Lenten Meditation, drop me a note and I will send you the link.  Two times will be offered:  Tuesdays at 2:30 and Wednesdays at 7:00 p.m. , beginning February 23.  We will settle in with a short reading, sit 20 minutes in silence, and then have a few minutes of discussion and prayer.   You are welcome to join anytime.      

  

Love and Blessings on your journey,  

Sue Ann   

    

image:  San Leandro, February 2020 

A Lenten Primer

I love the phrase, "beautiful boundaries."  Too often, our boundaries frustrate us because we misunderstand the deep meaning of freedom.  The freedom that God offers us is the freedom to simply be.  Our quest to do everything is not freedom, but rather the opposite.  Ultimately, we find ourselves bound too tightly by our ego's hunger, with no room for love.  Lent allows us to practice releasing what is keeping us from a fuller life in God, and hopefully this is not just a once a year project.  God calls us to be who we are, where we are.  A potter cannot create something beautiful and meaningful when the clay keeps jumping around the room.  The vessel will never hold.     

"We can't do everything. In our fast-paced, technology-driven, hyper-connected times, it's increasingly apparent that we can't do everything that comes our way, even if it appeals to us. There is simply too much. We must become 'masters of determination' who skillfully wield the inner sword of discernment to cut away non-essentials in order to focus on essentials. As we live full lives, it's easy to say yes to too many opportunities and not make appropriate boundaries.  Pretty soon our lives are full, but not necessarily full of what truly matters to us. Truly fulfilled living requires us to continually and clearly discern our 'yes' and our 'no' - the beautiful boundaries that support focusing on what is ours to do and letting go of what is not."   

Ellen Grace O'Brian, The Jewel of Abundance, Finding Prosperity through the Ancient Wisdom of Yoga

  

"Let your yes mean yes, and your no mean no."    

Jesus, Matthew 5:37

  

photograph:  San Leandro, February 2020   

 

Holy Week Begins

I dreamed last night of trying to find someone 

to help me re-learn how to knit.  

A friend was with me; 

she was trying to learn something else.  

The room was crowded with teachers 

of various sorts and trades.  

When I met someone I thought could teach me, 

the knitting that I had started 

dissolved in my hand. 

"I must set my face to the wind and scatter my handful of seeds. It is no big thing to scatter seeds, but I must have courage to keep facing the wind."  

 Arab proverb as quoted by Sister Joan Chittister 

 The Radical Christian Life, A Year with Saint Benedict     

  

photograph: San Leandro, April, 2019 

  

Preparations

I have  often viewed my soul 

as a large illuminated pearl 

in the center of my being. 

Julian's vision is larger. 

She viewed the 

soul as a city - a kingdom 

where Jesus sits, 

magnificantly clothed.   

   

I hear the words: 

"In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. 

If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? 

And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, 

so that where I am, there you may be also. 

And you know the way to the place where I am going."*   

  

We do know the way.

"And when our soul realizes this, 

it becomes like the one it beholds 

and grace quietly unites it 

to God in peace." *        

    

  

Biblical text :John 14:2-4.  

*All Will Be Well, compiled by Richard Chilson 

photograph: San Leandro, April 2019  

   

Home

In the dream 

I am standing in a small house 

whose walls, without a doubt 

need some paint.  

The drapes need cleaning; 

There is patching 

that needs to be done. 

But it has lovely arched 

doorways, 

some crosses here and there 

and windows that let in 

a gentle light. 

In the dream 

Tyler is there and 

I sense we could 

 paint those walls 

and tend to  

what needs 

tending.  

 

There is another man 

in the house who tells 

me whom to call so 

I can begin painting. 

As the phone is ringing 

I realize I do not know 

where I am.  That is, 

I do not know where the 

house is.

  

He seems unconcerned 

even when I hurredly 

give an  address

only to  realize that 

is where I lived 

years ago. 

I think that I 

cannot be there now.   

 He laughs 

and tells me it is okay. 

  

The certainty 

that you are home 

even when you 

do not know exactly 

where that is.  

 

This morning I smile. 

   

say, April 2019 

the pastel was done maybe a couple of years ago.

  

    

    

Day 2 The Brink of Not Death

Last night we sat and talked 

of heaven and hell 

but mostly of life in between.

We laughed because 

we were together  

with stories to be shared.

  

I wondered if perhaps 

we were sitting at Julian's window, 

a small place 

dedicated only to love.  

I shall hold this reminder   

that we are always  

on the brink of not death, 

learning and daring to love.   

say, april 2, 2019

photograph, Palo Alto April 2019   

This dark window is not  how I envision Julian's window, but I do love the flowers.  I am reminded of a recent dream where I saw a friend standing at a window that was not clear.  I have a sense that there is more to be revealed.   

   

   

National Poetry Month

April begins 

Lent continues 

Easter beckons 

Always     

    

   

 

photograph:  Oakland, 2017

A Prayer for Today

Julian of Norwich believed God and Christ to be courteous.  I woke from a dream this morning where there was a copper pipe in the middle of a room.  At the top of this upright pipe was a bowl.  Water flowed into the bowl and people were coming to gently wash their hands and faces.  Although no water was being spilled, I  wondered if the constantly flowing water was wasteful.  Then I realized that the water had been changed to a flame.  I then understood that the source of fire and water are the same and cannot be controlled.     

 

Courteous God, 

be the foundation of my being. 

May I sit in your true rest, 

stand in you in sure strength, 

and be rooted in you in endless love?

Reveal yourself more to me 

so that I may know my true nature better 

and act as I truly am.    

 

All Will Be Well 

compiled by Richard Chilson   

 

  

photograph: Mountain View, Spring 2019

Wellness, part 2

All shall be well, and
All manner of thing shall be well
When the tongues of flame are in-folded
Into the crowned knot of fire
And the fire and rose are one.

T.S. Elliot, "Four Quartets (Little Gidding)"
as quoted in Julian's Gospel 
Veronica Mary Rolf
photograph: San Leandro, June 2018    

  

Wellness

Julian's revelation of "All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner things shall be well"  does sound simplistic. However,  I have come to believe this encouragement takes a great deal of courage to live into. It is both an invitation to live fully in trust, and a prayer that we can lean on. It is a reminder that the love and light of the living Christ cannot be extinguished, regardless of what we try to do to it.  

Julian was born in Norwich in 1342.  It has been helpful for me to be reminded that this time in England was mostly miserable. Famine, plague, war, and fear ruled, and much  of that despair, including the stench of dead, decaying, burned, and  beheaded bodies would pass right by her window. Yet, she learned to trust that what was also being revealed to her was eternal Divine Love. As illogical as it seemed, and yes, she struggled with it, she learned to trust the truth and depth of this statement.  She came to understand that "when God 'looks' at humanity, God 'sees' Jesus Christ (Veronica Mary Rolf, An Explorer's Guide to Julian of Norwich, p. 134)."  Jesus' blood is our own. We are that loved. 

It is pretty easy to despair.  Sin and evil can still be found in great plenitude, and there seems to be much work to be done, and undone.  Yet, trusting that all will be well can give us strength for whatever earthly and mundane task God gives us.  God does not need us to strive to be great or heroic. God needs us to believe that the way to divine wholeness and unity can be found.  It is always being revealed if we learn to look. 

So let us rejoice even further 

that we dwell within God. 

For our spirits are made to be  

God's resting place, 

and our spirits' rest is in God who is unmade. 

   

All Will Be Well 

compiled by Richard Chilson 
photograph:  the humble geranium. Mountain View, March 2019

  

 

Rebuilding

"Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, 

and your labor for that which does not satisfy?"  

Isaiah 55:2   

   

San Francisco Theological Seminary has been sending some very thoughtful devotions this Lenten season.  I share part of this morning's reading.  I find it a beautiful reminder of why we exist.  Please let your soul shine today; I shall try to do the same.  My gratitude to Rev. Yolanda Norton for her sharing this morning.

  

"God’s presence should remind us of our missions in life. We are meant to do more than survive, we are meant to thrive. In our thriving we should draw people to the table. We should feed them physically and spiritually; we should listen to them and hear God’s presence in their voice. It is difficult work to step outside of ourselves in times of crisis. It is challenging not only to see something meaningful, but more importantly to create something meaningful after despair. Yet this is the holy and prophetic task. 
 The prophet’s words remind me of the Rev. Dr Katie Geneva Cannon. She often said, “do the work your soul must have.”    

  Rev. Yolanda M. Norton 

SFTS Assistant Professor of Old Testament    

    

In Season

"By contrast, the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. There is no law against such things (Galatians 5:22). "  

I was grateful to see this short piece of scripture in my emails this morning . I have always found in thought-provoking that Paul does not say fruits, but rather fruit. There is no choosing what sweetness we think might best serve our nutritional needs of the day. There is no picking the gift of love without filling our harvest baskets with the rest.  This is how we are called to live, and this path is how we can "work for the good of all (6:10)," wherever our journey leads.   

   

"Imagine these together, working for the healing of the world."  

All Will be Well,  compiled by Richard Chilson 

    

    

Words of the Day

In my Lenten travels with Julian of Norwich, two words continue to surface: contrition and courteous.  Contrition is a state of remorse.  This state, while not neccesarily a pleasant place to be, is essential to healthy relationships, as is courtesy. Julian believed God and Christ to be courteous. Both ever present, but coming to us only when invited.  There are some beautiful paintings inspired by the passage from Revelations 3:20:  "Behold! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with that person, and they with me."   Most modern translations do not include the word behold, but it, too, is a beautiful word implying much more than the passing glance we too often utilize as we move through our lives.  When we behold something, gazing at it tenderly, we are indeed opening the door to God's ever present love. 

   

Yesterday found me in Pleasant Hill at a day long meeting.  During the lunch break, I felt the need to clear my head and heart. The sunshine beckoned, and I took a walk.  I was surprised to come across a street called Julian Way, and I felt the need to explore. It turned out to be a street filled with large contemporary houses that held little interest for me. Feeling some disappointment, I turned around to return to the meeting.  I then noticed a beautiful rosemary bush glistening in the sun.  It was filled with blossoms, pollen, and honey bees.  Such an encouraging sight to behold.  Julian Way did hold a gift for me. 

Julian lived in a troublesome time that included the plague, The Hundred Years War, and the burning of those considered heretics.  Here I find strength, as we, too, must find our way in our own troubling times of discord, violence, ignorance, and destruction. Times that call for contrition, even when so little of it can be found.  Julian learned to trust her visions of Divine Love even in the midst of all that seemed so wrong.  We, too, are called to do the same. How else can healing be ushered in?   

  

I leave you with a prayer from All Will Be Well compiled by Richard Chilson.  I have been sitting with it for a couple of days now, grateful for the Lenten call to linger.  

Courteous Lord Jesus, 

help us to acknowledge and accept 

all our failings, sins, and weaknesses, 

trusting that you use them to our good 

and through them draw us closer to you. 

May our contrition make us clean, 

may our compassion make us ready, 

and may our longing for you make us worthy. 

At all times, preserve us in the knowledge 

that your peace and love abide always in us, 

living and working, even when we have 

no feeling of peace or love.