Receiving

 This year during Lent  I returned to the practice of reading a daily entry from Sister Joan Chittister's book, The Rule of Benedict, and I have continued the practice. I am grateful for her ability to interpret Benedict's sixth century Rule for us today.  Like much of the book, part of this morning's passage seems worth pondering before the busyness of the day takes over.    

"Benedict makes two points clearly: First we are capable of choosing for God in life. We are not trapped by an essential weakness that makes God knowable but not possible. Second, we are more than the body. Choosing God means having to concentrate on nourishing the soul rather than on sating the flesh, not because the flesh is bad but because the flesh is not enough to make the human fully human. To give ourselves entirely to the pleasures of the body may close us to beauties known only to the soul. 

Humility lies in knowing who we are and what our lives are meant to garner. The irony of humility is that, if we have it, we know we are made for greatness, we are made for God (Chapter 7, Humility).   

Yesterday afternoon Tyler and I went to the South Bay to have an early dinner with friends. When we left their home, it was not quite dark, but we could see the moon. As I drove up 880, I was struck by the clouds, the moon, and the golden light that seemed to linger. It was as if the inevitable movement into darkness had been paused just a little longer to give us mortals a chance to look up and savor the light. I admit that finding peace and awe on 880 is a rare thing for me. Yet, this morning when I think of those minutes, I believe I was given a gift. I cannot recreate those moments because I did not create them to begin with. However, I can learn to pay attention to the nudge to look up and around, knowing that there are times when the heavens are revealed in flowers, moon, clouds, and stars. They, and we, are more.     

  

image: San Leandro, May 2023 

Eastertide

I love envisioning the Easter season as a living tide that sweeps us up into the arms of the vast ocean of God's love and carries us to a new shore. To be able to allow ourselves to be so vulnerable and so free requires both nothing from us and everything.  

I am enjoying being able to preach in a small chapel again. The San Lorenzo Church sold our large church property a couple of months ago and we are settling into a much smaller space in an historic chapel on the Eden UCC campus in Hayward. It is a building that is very much alive. Our tech requirements for our hybrid service take up a lot of room, but we and the building are adjusting. I know some of the people who had a long history with the San Lorenzo church building are still mourning the move, but I am grateful that when we welcome guests, we are not trying to make them feel comfortable in a cavernous building. God is calling and holding us close, and we must get used to that intimacy. 

I often return to Sister Joan Chittister's book, The Liturgical Year, The Spiraling Adventure of the Spiritual Life. In her chapter entitled "Easter Vigil, Easter Sunday" she writes:

 

"We are not, we know now with stunning awareness, made for this world alone. There is more to us than this. Life is about more than simply surviving. It is about reaching across the black void to the very reason for which we have come. We are here to grow to full spiritual stature, 'a little less than the angels' the psalmist calls it (Psalm 8:6)."

   

Blessings on your Eastertide journey. May you know, with "stunning awareness" that you are held. 

  

Rev. Sue Ann    

 

   

image: San Leandro, January 2023 

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        

     

Practice

"Prayer...is obviously not a routine activity. It is a journey into life, the struggles and its glories." 

I am returning to the daily practice of reading a portion of St. Joan Chittister's The Rule of St. Benedict, Insights for the Ages. I plan on continuing this practice at least through Lent. I confess I have already peaked ahead to the February 16 reading, and I was so struck by these two sentences that I think they will guide me through Lent, and beyond. 

Certainly, we each have our own ways of praying. Yet, these prayer journeys are not just personal. They are also collective. The more aware we become of the universality of prayer, the more we can be nourished in the common ground of all creation. Let us listen and consciously join in. Perhaps then, we can sing with the flowers. 

   

So, what did I take away from the  reading of February 14?  Well, for one thing, a sense of being rerooted in the commitment of coming together every Sunday to worship, whether we worship in a church, temple, in a field, or on Zoom: 

"Sunday Lauds in the monastic liturgy is a soul-splitting commitment to go on. The point is that every life needs points along the way that enable us to rise about the petty daily problems, the overwhelming tragedies of our lives and begin again, whatever our circumstances, full of confidence, not because we know ourselves to be faithful, but because God is." 

  

God is. Amen.   

  

Love and Blessings on your journey, 

Rev. Sue Ann 

      

image: San Leandro, February, 2023