Inhabiting the Unknowing

"Here’s what I’ve learned: God is with me. God is not just watching from above. God will not decide whether I live or die by how often I pray. God is with me the most when I am at my most lonely and afraid. God will be there for my son. When I call for help, I feel God’s presence in calm and peace. As God tells the reader in Isaiah 45:7 (KJV): “I form the light, and create darkness: I make peace, and create evil: I the Lord do all these things.” I interpret these enigmatic words not to mean that God literally created and gave me my cancer, but that God is in all things, both the light and darkness, the peace and the evil. Where evil exists, God does not absent God-self." 

Ana Silver

article in Christian Century by Elizabeth Palmer 

8/7/18    

 

I came across Ana Silver's writing while perusing "Christian Century" online. I was unfamiliar with this poet who  passed away in August at the age of 49.  This is lovely, insightful writing, but truthfully I found the passage from Isaiah unsettling. Does God create evil?   Despite the claim recently made by a patient I met in a skilled nursing this week that the King James translation is the most accurate of all translations, there are other worthy translations. The NRSV reads: "I form light and create darkness, I make weal and woe."  Yes, I had to look up weal, and it means prosperity or well-being.  So, according to Isaiah, it seems God is willing to claim it all:  light, darkness, wellness, and woe.   God is casting no thing and no one aside. 

 

I know the temptation to simply pluck out the most uplifting passages of the Bible and let the rest go.  While at times comforting words are needed, sometimes we do need to ponder the more difficult or troubling parts because we, too, are being called to hold light, darkness, wellness, and woe.  Yes, it is hard to not give light and goodness preferential treatment.  Most of us do want to feel good, but sometimes that is just not possible.        

 

Isaiah 45:18-19 has me also thinking about chaos, and that maybe chaos does not really exist: that there is an order to everything. It could be that when our vision and understanding fall short, what we think we are seeing and experiencing is chaos, but really what we are experiencing is the inability to see over our current horizon.  Maybe we are called to "unknow" or "un-label" our assumptions (which often cause us to be feel separate and afraid), and simply learn to be present even when we do not understand - to be present with that which we cannot name.   

    

 "For thus says the LORD, 

who created the heavens

(he is God!), 

who formed the earth and made it

(he established it; 

he did not create it a chaos, 

he formed it to be inhabited!): 

I am the LORD, and there is no other. 

I did not speak in secret, 

in a land of darkness: 

I did not say to the offspring of Jacob, 

"Seek me in chaos." 

I the LORD speak the truth, 

I declare what is right."     

 

 I actually find this passage comforting; it implies that while there is an order that I may not understand, I can trust it. Yes, the Bible can be enigmatic, however, Jesus was very clear about loving God, and loving our neighbors as ourselves.  This is our project, and it is enough for a lifetime.  We must remember that despite the mystery that is God, Jesus called God, "Abba", one of his heart and his soul, and one he spent much time with. Such intimacy is possible, even in the presence of the unknowable.  

   

 Jesus and Isaiah remind me that we have been created to inhabit this life - all of it, no picking and choosing what we think are the best parts, because in every moment, every inch of the journey, there God is.  It is a journey to love. Blessed be.

     

  

Psalm 127

I am taking comfort in this Psalm this morning.   

 

Unless the Lord builds the house, 

it will not endure for long. 

Unless the Lord guards the country, 

it will not be safe from danger. 

Vainly you keep toiling and planning

and worrying about tomorrow. 

He gives joy to those who love him 

and blesses them with his peace.       

      

Psalm 127, A Book of Psalms, Stephen Mitchell 

   

A Hidden Thereness

On Sunday afternoon, shortly after a call to Tyler telling him I was stopping by the store on my way home,  my phone battery died.  I was surprised, but then I had not been keeping an eye on it. I am not very good with making phone calls, especially just to sit and chat, so when the screen went dark my first concern was not of a missed call, but of this photograph. Would it be lost? I then felt some regret that I had not sent it that morning. Yet, after a short period of continued darkness, the phone did charge. Nothing was lost, but something was gained, but that something is difficult to describe. It was simply a moment when what I was expecting to see was not there, at least in a way I could experience.  That moment with its emptiness/non-emptiness seems worth savoring: a brief time of remembering that neither God nor our souls can be boxed in by our expectations, however much we want to bend us both into those narrow corners.  

 

Pictures of lilies are quite common this time of year, so I do recognize that I am not sharing something rare. However, the colors still astound me year after year. Therefore, this morning I send this to you with gratitude.      

  

What Is It That You Seek?

 

I think I am both 

rock and journey

ground and dreams

a darkening landscape 

a moonlit sky 

a bird on a wing 

a fallen leaf 

a footprint; 

 

but who I really am is you. 

   

  SAY, late July, 2018   

Habitation

For about a week, I have been experiencing some curious interruptions such as having my thumb caught in a heavy gate latch. Astoundingly painful, but nothing was broken. However, there for a couple of days I could not grasp anything with my dominate hand. I think that set off a chain of small events as I had to alter some plans, and generally slow down. Then last week, I arrived at a community all set to hold a Bible study and discussion only to discover an exercise class going on.  While scheduling snafus do happen, this one surprised me because  the receptionist called me the day before to confirm my time. She was on the phone, but paused a moment to confirm that the class was indeed going on (yes, that made me smile) and then went back to her conversation.  I knew the Activity Director was out of the country, so I decided to simply wait a few minutes and read my emails. About 20 minutes later, she came over to me and asked if I could wait about a half hour more. I declined that invitation saying I had another a service to lead and that I would see them next month.   

 

As I was walking to the second service, I mulled all this over, and asked God what was going on. No clear answer emerged at that moment, but as I placed my hand on the door to the memory care activity room, a question arose. What if every twist, turn, and delay was simply leading up to this moment? I opened the door to discover one of my favorite families in attendance. The mother lives in the care community. She is quiet and withdrawn, until it is time for her to take Communion. Then, her inner light begins to shine once more. She will always take my hand and give me a blessing. The daughter not only visits her mother regularly, she tends to her husband who was in a serious car wreck. He lives at home. He must use a wheelchair, and can speak very little. Yet, he is very engaged and so yearns for conversation. I can sometimes decipher what he is trying to say, but often I need Sarah to help interpret. That day, her two brothers were there as well, and they always add another level of liveliness.  They sing. They thank Jesus loud and often. The whole family takes delight in worship because they take delight in the One they call their Lord. I also think they are genuinely grateful for this ministry that simply tries to show up in love. They respond to it because that is the world they inhabit. I told them the next time they have a family reunion I want an invitation.  I am not so much envisioning a reunion but rather a white tent revival.  

 

The interruptions and delays that I have been experiencing are nothing compared to what is going on as the fires burn north of here.  Yet, learning to accept and live into whatever interruptions are before us is a spiritual practice. It is those moments that nourish patience, resilience, and faith. We learn that no matter what, God is with us. This is the world we really inhabit, whether we find ourselves in the midst of destruction and despair, or just simply needing to pause and let that presence be known once more.

    

  

Trust in the Lord and do good; 

then you will dwell in the land 

and find safe pasture. 

Find your delight in the Lord, 

who grants your heart's desire.  

 

Commit your way to the Lord;

if you trust, then God will act, 

and make your righteousness 

shine like the light, 

your justice like the noonday sun.   

 

Psalm 37:3-6

The Ecumenical Grail Psalter 

  

 

Monasteries

When I first met Paul, I was fairly certain that he would not be taking Communion. He sits very still in his wheelchair with his head slightly bent, never looking up. His skin is pale; not a sickly pale, but the paleness of one who seldom spent time in the sun. His hair is white, and while he does not seem to be one of the old old, he is clearly not robust. Yet, he always has a slight smile on his face. 

  

 Regardless of whatever assumptions I may hastily make, I do always ask if one would like Communion.  Here is where Paul continues to surprise me. He still does not look up, and the smile stays on his face. He nods a yes, and then quietly speaks the only words I have ever heard him utter: "Thank you, Jesus."   

Those words linger. Even when our lives seemingly become small, those three words of gratitude can keep our hearts ever expanding.  I recently came across some writing of Teresa de Cartagena, a 15th century Cistercian nun who in her work, "On Eternal Health," wrote of the "convent of the infirm."  She knew that convent well because she eventually became deaf, and was often dismissed as being inconsequential by the church leaders of her day. I believe many of those who are frail would benefit from a Christ (or whatever their faith tradition) centered place of healing and being.  In too many communities, attention is pulled away from any spiritual needs with continual coaxings to be happy and to take part in various activities and distractions. Of course, none of that is without merit, but there needs to be a balance.  Bingo has its place, but spiritual hunger cannot be fed by anything but a deepening sense of God in our lives. Most of us need to experience this deepening with others.  We have a responsibility to those in long-term care to try to see that those needs are met.         

Recently, I walked into a community dedicated to memory care. The home is kept clean and there is much natural light in the activity room that opens to a tidy garden patio. Some of the staff I have known for awhile, but I know there is a struggle with being understaffed (I have expressed concern about this more than once, so on that day I was assured that some new staff members were starting next week). However, for now the activity director is often pulled into other roles. When I walked into the activity room I discovered some residents sitting in front of a tv showing a dvd of Joel Osteen preaching to a packed stadium.  Despite his enormous popularity, the likelihood of his sermon having any meaning for those few gathered in that room was pretty much nil, although I must acknowledge this attempt to create some sort of worship space.  However, when a dementia patient experiences a lack of meaning, such disconnect can have a detrimental effect;  the residents simply disengage and move into even deeper isolation.  Fortunately, the pianist who joins me here is a teacher of music, and she is often effective in bringing at least some of the residents' focus back into the room, often with smiles, clapping, and laughter. Eventually several of us celebrated Communion, including one resident who came into the room just as I was leaving. She came up to me and began earnestly speaking. However, I could not understand her words. Fortunately, Sarah, a resident who is generally alert and articulate (I think of her as the mayor) said, "I think she wants Communion."  This was a little surprising to me as I did not have on my collar so my role was not readily recognizable. However, Sarah was right, and ultimately, Communion is what we all want.  We yearn for that connection with what is sacred and eternally alive within us, regardless of our physical and mental health. There Christ is, and I believe that is the monastery where Paul sits smiling.   

I will close with some of Sister Teresa's writing. While several centuries separate our theological understandings, I agree with her heart.  I love her reminder that God "never resents our crosses," but will always hold us and renew us as we journey.  A valuable message for us all, regardless of our age.        

"So let us forsake what forsakes us, and desire only him who desires us, and love only him who gives us these sufferings, so that we might abandon the world and love him who loves us. And that is, without a doubt, the true Father, the loving Father, the only one who never resents our crosses. It is he who heals our infirmities, who keeps us from stumbling and delivers us from danger, who will crown us with great mercies. He will bring our desires to good ends and will renew our youth like an eagle. So let us who are dying of hunger for bodily health in this foreign land search instead for him with fervent desire, for in him we will find true repose, in which our temporal, human sadness will become eternal, spiritual joy. But in the aforementioned things, patience should reign, for if patience does not rule the convent of the infirm, all our suffering will be fruitless."   

Sister Teresa Cartegena, "On Eternal Health,"  as published in Plough Weekly, July 19, 2018  

  

The Everywhere Temple

​"​For a number of reasons it takes time to come to the level of trust and stillness. First, it is just because it is an unfamiliar state to be in. We may feel intuitively drawn to it but also a little scared of it, as we do when we find ourselves in a new country without the local language and without bearings. The Cloud warns us that beginners in meditation easily mistake the spatial metaphors of ‘in’ or ‘up’ or ‘deep’. It insists that the spiritual work is not done in any particular place. “But to this you say, ‘Where then shall I be? By your reckoning I am to be nowhere!’ Exactly. In fact you have expressed it rather well, for I would indeed have you to be nowhere. Why? Because nowhere physically is everywhere spiritually.” (Chapter 68).

​  

​Father Laurence Freeman, OSB​

 

 

I ​am always grateful for Father Laurence's accessible meditations of the "The Cloud of Unknowing," written by an anonymous 14th century mystic. I have never been able to find my way into the book. I am also grateful for this post because it reminds me of an experience I had in a grocery store this week.  Tyler and I were anticipating having some friends over for dinner, so I stopped at a supermarket to pick the proverbial few things one always seems to need when cooking.  While there, I spotted some yellow spider mums, and their bright cheeriness found their way into my heart and shopping cart.  When I arrived at the check out counter, the young female cashier picked them up to check their price, but then she simply paused and gazed at them.  She spoke softly: "They are beautiful, aren't they?" She then handed them to another young woman who was kindly bagging my purchases.  She enthusiastically added, "Thank you for bringing these to us!"  We then had a sweet conversation about the color yellow.    

 

I found this brief interchange both enjoyable and interesting. These two young women work in close proximity to where the cut flowers are kept.  Yet, in the busyness of checking and bagging groceries, their inherently free ranging senses are held captive by the routine and expectations of customers, co-workers, management, and daily living. I wish I could say I never experience this short tether, but I do, and often. Fortunately, we are given these moments when our boundaries suddenly disappear and we are nowhere and everywhere. Color and light break through, and eternity is revealed once more.