Within 10 minutes of opening David Whyte’s book Consolations: The Solace, Nourishment and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words it became my favorite book.....ever.....His work is distilled, stunningly beautiful, transcendent truth. In this book Whyte invites us to ponder the deeper meaning of simple, everyday words.
Memorial Day is a day to remember those who fought and died in our many wars. We also remember those who fought and survived, those who were willing to die for their country. Whyte’s piece entitled “Solace” seems apt….
“Solace is the art of asking the beautiful question, of ourselves, of our world or of one another, in fiercely difficult and un-beautiful moments. Solace is what we must look for when the mind cannot bear the pain, the loss or the suffering that eventually touches every life and every endeavor; when longing does not come to fruition in a form we can recognize, when people we know and love disappear, when hope must take a different form than the one we have shaped for it.
Solace is the beautiful, imaginative home we make where disappointment can go to be rehabilitated. When life does not in any way add up, we must turn to the part of us that has never wanted a life of simple calculation. Solace is found in allowing the body’s innate wisdom to come to the fore, the part of us that already knows it is mortal and must take its leave like everything else, and leading us, when the mind cannot bear what it is seeing or hearing, to the birdsong in the tree above our heads, even as we are being told of death, each note an essence of morning and mourning; of the current of a life moving on, but somehow, also, and most beautifully, carrying, bearing, and even celebrating the life we have just lost. A life we could not see or appreciate until it was taken from us. To be consoled is to be invited onto the terrible ground of beauty upon which our inevitable disappearance stands, to a voice that does not soothe falsely, but touches the epicenter of our pain or articulates the essence of our loss, and then emancipates us into both life and death as an equal birthright.
Solace is not an evasion, nor a cure for our suffering, nor a made up state of mind. Solace is a direct seeing and participation; a celebration of the beautiful coming and going, appearance and disappearance of which we have always been a part. Solace is not meant to be an answer, but an invitation, through the door of pain and difficulty, the depth of suffering and simultaneous beauty in the world that the strategic mind by itself cannot grasp nor make sense of.
To look for solace is to learn to ask fiercer and more exquisitely pointed questions, questions that reshape our identities and our bodies and our relation to others. Standing in loss but not overwhelmed by it, we become useful and generous and compassionate and even amusing companions for others. But solace also asks us very direct and forceful questions. Firstly, how will you bear the inevitable that is coming to you? And how will you endure it through the years? And above all, how will you shape a life equal to and as beautiful and as astonishing as a world that can birth you, bring you into the light and then just as you are beginning to understand it, take you away?”
‘Solace’ From CONSOLATIONS: The Solace, Nourishment and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words. © David Whyte & Many Rivers Press 2015
Saturday, May 27, 2017
Saturday, May 20, 2017
Crazy Catholic Questions #103: Mother's Day
A little story for Mother's Day....
“We are sitting at lunch when my daughter casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of starting a family. "We're taking a survey," she says, half-joking. "Do you think I should have a baby?"
"It will change your life," I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral.
"I know," she says, "no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous vacations...."
But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my daughter, trying to decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes. I want to tell her that the physical wounds of childbearing will heal, but that becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable.
I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without asking "What if that had been MY child?" That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her. That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die and feel a kind of fear she could never have even imagined before becoming a mother.
I feel I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for child care, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think of her baby's sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of her discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right.
I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself. That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give it up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years….not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.
I wish my daughter could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving. I want to describe to my daughter the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike. I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or a cat for the first time. I want her to taste the joy that is so real, it actually hurts.
My daughter's quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. "You'll never regret it," I finally say. Then I reach across the table, squeeze my daughter's hand and offer a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all of the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings. This blessed gift from God . . .that of being a Mother.”
“We are sitting at lunch when my daughter casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of starting a family. "We're taking a survey," she says, half-joking. "Do you think I should have a baby?"
"It will change your life," I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral.
"I know," she says, "no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous vacations...."
But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my daughter, trying to decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes. I want to tell her that the physical wounds of childbearing will heal, but that becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable.
I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without asking "What if that had been MY child?" That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her. That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die and feel a kind of fear she could never have even imagined before becoming a mother.
I feel I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for child care, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think of her baby's sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of her discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right.
I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself. That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give it up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years….not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.
I wish my daughter could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving. I want to describe to my daughter the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike. I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or a cat for the first time. I want her to taste the joy that is so real, it actually hurts.
My daughter's quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. "You'll never regret it," I finally say. Then I reach across the table, squeeze my daughter's hand and offer a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all of the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings. This blessed gift from God . . .that of being a Mother.”
Written by Dale Hanson Bourke
Saturday, May 13, 2017
Crazy Catholic Question #102: God is love
Why does Jesus say he will be with us when “2 or 3 of us gather” – isn’t God present when I pray alone too?
Jesus often stressed the deep significance of community and his wish for all those who follow him to “be one.” Of course God is with us when we pray as an individual, but something essential to our growth happens in community that is a non-negotiable component of our faith. But why?
First, as Michael Himes so brilliantly points out in his fabulous 90-page, power-packed, itty-bitty book entitled The Mystery of Faith “Christianity is not a series of conclusions that any one of us could have reached by simply sitting down and thinking about them very seriously and carefully for a long time. Christianity is a report, a Gospel, ‘good news’ that requires that someone bring the news to us.”
Secondly, ALL of us are made in God’s image: this is one of our most ancient and foundational beliefs. Also very ancient and foundational, is our belief that God is a community of persons in equal and loving relationship. This is the essence and significance of our doctrine of the Trinity. God, in and of God’s self, is a community, and we are made in God’s image. Our scriptures tell us that God IS Love. God IS the kind of love the ancient Greeks called agape; perfect self-gift. God is the stuff between us, that holds us together. In other words, God is a relationship among persons (the Doctrine of the Trinity in a nutshell). So when Jesus said that he would be present when 2 or 3 gathered, it was not because he was some kind of diva who needs a minimum audience in order to show up. Rather when 2 or 3 are gathered together in true mutual love (agape) in genuine care and concern for one another, Jesus will be discovered in what happens among them….for THIS is God.
“Being community” reveals important things about God’s nature and our calling that cannot be revealed anywhere else. Though it is hard sometimes to find God in the messiness of our shared life as family, church, etc. with all our conflicts and awkwardness, nonetheless Jesus tells us that is precisely where we need to look. We discover and draw nearer to God in and through our relationships with one another.
Jesus says people will know we are his disciples not by the way we love God, but by the way we love one another. God is not the object of love. God IS the love that exists among Jesus’ disciples…among us. The highest experience of God’s presence is in community. God is revealed primarily in the “WE” not the “ME.”
Jesus instructed us to follow him not to worship him. Jesus’ mission was to guide us to God; to true agape, self-giving love of one another. Just imagine what would happen if we all “followed” Jesus in this way; if we all put each other’s needs before our own, if we actively promoted that which connects us rather than what separates us, if we all lived the radical inclusion and compassion that Jesus modeled for us. God would be incarnate…embodied…Perhaps this is what is meant by the “second coming of Christ”; Christ truly arriving, anew in each of our hearts so we can better live the love that is God. An ambitious mission indeed. No small dream.
Send your Crazy Catholic Questions to Lisa Brown at dre@ctredeemer.org.
Jesus often stressed the deep significance of community and his wish for all those who follow him to “be one.” Of course God is with us when we pray as an individual, but something essential to our growth happens in community that is a non-negotiable component of our faith. But why?
First, as Michael Himes so brilliantly points out in his fabulous 90-page, power-packed, itty-bitty book entitled The Mystery of Faith “Christianity is not a series of conclusions that any one of us could have reached by simply sitting down and thinking about them very seriously and carefully for a long time. Christianity is a report, a Gospel, ‘good news’ that requires that someone bring the news to us.”
Secondly, ALL of us are made in God’s image: this is one of our most ancient and foundational beliefs. Also very ancient and foundational, is our belief that God is a community of persons in equal and loving relationship. This is the essence and significance of our doctrine of the Trinity. God, in and of God’s self, is a community, and we are made in God’s image. Our scriptures tell us that God IS Love. God IS the kind of love the ancient Greeks called agape; perfect self-gift. God is the stuff between us, that holds us together. In other words, God is a relationship among persons (the Doctrine of the Trinity in a nutshell). So when Jesus said that he would be present when 2 or 3 gathered, it was not because he was some kind of diva who needs a minimum audience in order to show up. Rather when 2 or 3 are gathered together in true mutual love (agape) in genuine care and concern for one another, Jesus will be discovered in what happens among them….for THIS is God.
“Being community” reveals important things about God’s nature and our calling that cannot be revealed anywhere else. Though it is hard sometimes to find God in the messiness of our shared life as family, church, etc. with all our conflicts and awkwardness, nonetheless Jesus tells us that is precisely where we need to look. We discover and draw nearer to God in and through our relationships with one another.
Jesus says people will know we are his disciples not by the way we love God, but by the way we love one another. God is not the object of love. God IS the love that exists among Jesus’ disciples…among us. The highest experience of God’s presence is in community. God is revealed primarily in the “WE” not the “ME.”
Jesus instructed us to follow him not to worship him. Jesus’ mission was to guide us to God; to true agape, self-giving love of one another. Just imagine what would happen if we all “followed” Jesus in this way; if we all put each other’s needs before our own, if we actively promoted that which connects us rather than what separates us, if we all lived the radical inclusion and compassion that Jesus modeled for us. God would be incarnate…embodied…Perhaps this is what is meant by the “second coming of Christ”; Christ truly arriving, anew in each of our hearts so we can better live the love that is God. An ambitious mission indeed. No small dream.
Send your Crazy Catholic Questions to Lisa Brown at dre@ctredeemer.org.
Saturday, May 6, 2017
Reflection from Good Shepherd Sunday
Listen to the audio HERE and/or read below...
Good morning. As many of you know, the Good Shepherd is the central parable of our children’s programming here at CTR. The contemplative, Montessori-style instruction we use is actually called the Catechesis of the Good Shepherd. So, as you might imagine, I’ve heard this lesson a time or two.
We gather in our atrium, which is the prepared sacred space for the children, and invite them to slowly and prayerfully ponder what Jesus meant when he called himself the Good Shepherd. We ask them, what do you think a good shepherd does? And they respond with things like: he takes his sheep to good places to eat, keeps them safe, leads them to beautiful places to rest. And though I have been virtually enveloped by this lesson for the past three, I’m not sure I ever really heard it, personally, until this week.
A wolf or a shepherd, yes, but never a sheep. Sheep are stupid and docile and easily manipulated.
I want to make my own choices and go my own way. Even, it should be noted, if those choices and that way is killing me.
The Truth About Sheep is that sometimes we are rebellious – we are the ones who stay as far to the edge of the flock as possible so we can try and pretend we are free agents. Our insistence that we aren’t like other sheep keeps us from the one thing we really want which is to belong and feel safe
but it is the complete lack of belonging and feeling safe-ness that keeps us at arm’s length, appearing aloof, always poised to cut and run should things get too intimate.
The Truth About Sheep is that we want nothing more than to belong and yet never felt we have OR we have felt a part of something for awhile and then not a part of something so quickly that it doesn’t feel like it even counted." (Bolz-Weber)
Here’s a bit of my own riff on her premise…
The Truth About Sheep is that sometimes we are hard of hearing because the pace of our daily life is not conducive to listening for the Shepherd…we hear his voice only in passing because we are never still. We are the sheep who are so busy, our calendars are so packed, our stress level is so high that we are in an almost constant state of fight or flight.
We are so distracted by our noisy beeping screens, that even when we hear the shepherd call out to us, it sounds very distant, so faint that is easily dismissed as something we just imagined, because we never just stop…and get quiet so we can really listen.
We just keep moving…because our culture has told us that action and accomplishment are better than rest….That doing something – anything- is better than doing nothing. We are the sheep who are slow in recognizing that observing the Sabbath, taking a day of rest, is not a suggestion or an option that God gives us, but rather it’s a commandment. One of the big ten. Right up there with thou shalt not kill.
We are the sheep who are unable to lead our children to good nourishment or teach them how to distinguish the shepherd’s voice among all the other voices clamoring for their attention because we have lost the ancient habit and ability to stop, rest and listen.
We are the sheep who need our Sabbath rest so we can remember what is beautiful and sacred; we need to light candles, sing songs, tell stories, eat, nap, and make love. We need to let our work lie fallow, so our souls can be restored and we can once again be available to the insights and creativity that arise only in stillness, "knowing that when we act from a place of deep rest, we are more capable of right understanding, right action and right effort.” (Muller, Sabbath)
We are the sheep who can’t hear the shepherd because his voice is drown out or mistaken for the incessant scolding of our inner critic who tells us we should be thinner or smarter, or our house should be cleaner, or we should have done this or that so we could be as talented, strong, successful as all the other sheep.
One of the main principles of CGS is that Christ is the only teacher in the atrium. Which means that we catechist’s are receiving guidance from God right along with the children, and very often through the children, during our time together.
I’ve only recently become aware that (during the lesson) whenever the kids respond “the Good Shepherd leads his sheep to lie down and rest in green pastures” a feeling of both skepticism and deep longing comes over me, like a wave. There is some warped cultural or parent tape that plays in me that says if “I’m happy then I’m not working hard enough.” The quiet time in the atrium with the children, moving at their pace, has shown me that that voice is not of God…
Now those were my words. But this next part is a paraphrase from Pastor Nadia (some of it’s mine, but most of it's hers, so I'm just marking the whole thing as a quote), because quite simply it can’t be said any better. She just nails the landing here, and it’s a work of art that I don’t want to mess up or spoil…I just want to share it…because for me it is as clear as the Shepherd’s voice gets….
She says, on our better days “we can really shine as sheep. We are the sheep who do unbelievably tender and kind things for our fellow flockmates. We show them where the best grass is, we nudge them with our noses helping them stand back up when they fall. We bind each others wounds…we care for those who are sick. We celebrate, cry and mourn with one another. We are the sheep who love and listen to the Good Shepherd and are so often our very best selves.
We are defiant, needy, compassionate, stingy, tender, vain, anxious and courageous. We are all of these sheep. And it’s ok. There is nothing wrong with any of it, because it is the truth. And Jesus said the truth will set us free. There is nothing wrong with the fact that I am a sheep of God’s keeping and that you are sheep of God’s keeping.
Because here’s The Truth About The Shepherd –The Shepherd never mentions the type of quality of sheep he demands. The shepherd never holds auditions. The shepherd never provides protection and love and concern for his sheep based on how the sheep look or feel or behave…
The Truth About The Shepherd is that despite all of this, we are known, we are loved and we are called by name. We know the voice. It is always there, breaking through our insecurities and fear of wolves, it is within the clamor of our noisy, busy lives and defends us against the harsh murmurs of our inner critic. The voice of the one who lays down his life for us ….who pours out his boundless love for his imperfect and smelly sheep…..is always right there saying:
You belong to me..." (Bolz-Weber)
Good morning. As many of you know, the Good Shepherd is the central parable of our children’s programming here at CTR. The contemplative, Montessori-style instruction we use is actually called the Catechesis of the Good Shepherd. So, as you might imagine, I’ve heard this lesson a time or two.
We gather in our atrium, which is the prepared sacred space for the children, and invite them to slowly and prayerfully ponder what Jesus meant when he called himself the Good Shepherd. We ask them, what do you think a good shepherd does? And they respond with things like: he takes his sheep to good places to eat, keeps them safe, leads them to beautiful places to rest. And though I have been virtually enveloped by this lesson for the past three, I’m not sure I ever really heard it, personally, until this week.
I follow a few pastor’s on-line, many who are women, and listen to their weekly sermons via podcasts. One of my favorites is Nadia Bolz-Weber who started this little ELCA Lutheran church in Colorado. The other night I listened to her brilliant sermon and I heard the Good Shepherd calling in her words…
She entitled her reflection “The Truth About Sheep: A Sermon by Someone Who Doesn’t Know Anything About Sheep But Knows a Little About Humans and Only a Tiny Bit About God But is going to Take a Shot At This Anyhow.”
When she spoke the opening line of her sermon, I involuntarily took in a sharp, short breath, feeling unexpectedly exposed because she spoke aloud something that I think about every single time I hear this lesson in the atrium with the kids…and I always feel a little ashamed and afraid that I’m going to be revealed as a fraud for thinking it…she says….
“The Truth About Sheep is that I don’t want to be one.
She entitled her reflection “The Truth About Sheep: A Sermon by Someone Who Doesn’t Know Anything About Sheep But Knows a Little About Humans and Only a Tiny Bit About God But is going to Take a Shot At This Anyhow.”
When she spoke the opening line of her sermon, I involuntarily took in a sharp, short breath, feeling unexpectedly exposed because she spoke aloud something that I think about every single time I hear this lesson in the atrium with the kids…and I always feel a little ashamed and afraid that I’m going to be revealed as a fraud for thinking it…she says….
“The Truth About Sheep is that I don’t want to be one.
A wolf or a shepherd, yes, but never a sheep. Sheep are stupid and docile and easily manipulated.
I want to make my own choices and go my own way. Even, it should be noted, if those choices and that way is killing me.
The Truth About Sheep is that sometimes we are rebellious – we are the ones who stay as far to the edge of the flock as possible so we can try and pretend we are free agents. Our insistence that we aren’t like other sheep keeps us from the one thing we really want which is to belong and feel safe
but it is the complete lack of belonging and feeling safe-ness that keeps us at arm’s length, appearing aloof, always poised to cut and run should things get too intimate.
The Truth About Sheep is that we want nothing more than to belong and yet never felt we have OR we have felt a part of something for awhile and then not a part of something so quickly that it doesn’t feel like it even counted." (Bolz-Weber)
Here’s a bit of my own riff on her premise…
The Truth About Sheep is that sometimes we are hard of hearing because the pace of our daily life is not conducive to listening for the Shepherd…we hear his voice only in passing because we are never still. We are the sheep who are so busy, our calendars are so packed, our stress level is so high that we are in an almost constant state of fight or flight.
We are so distracted by our noisy beeping screens, that even when we hear the shepherd call out to us, it sounds very distant, so faint that is easily dismissed as something we just imagined, because we never just stop…and get quiet so we can really listen.
We just keep moving…because our culture has told us that action and accomplishment are better than rest….That doing something – anything- is better than doing nothing. We are the sheep who are slow in recognizing that observing the Sabbath, taking a day of rest, is not a suggestion or an option that God gives us, but rather it’s a commandment. One of the big ten. Right up there with thou shalt not kill.
We are the sheep who are unable to lead our children to good nourishment or teach them how to distinguish the shepherd’s voice among all the other voices clamoring for their attention because we have lost the ancient habit and ability to stop, rest and listen.
We are the sheep who need our Sabbath rest so we can remember what is beautiful and sacred; we need to light candles, sing songs, tell stories, eat, nap, and make love. We need to let our work lie fallow, so our souls can be restored and we can once again be available to the insights and creativity that arise only in stillness, "knowing that when we act from a place of deep rest, we are more capable of right understanding, right action and right effort.” (Muller, Sabbath)
We are the sheep who can’t hear the shepherd because his voice is drown out or mistaken for the incessant scolding of our inner critic who tells us we should be thinner or smarter, or our house should be cleaner, or we should have done this or that so we could be as talented, strong, successful as all the other sheep.
One of the main principles of CGS is that Christ is the only teacher in the atrium. Which means that we catechist’s are receiving guidance from God right along with the children, and very often through the children, during our time together.
I’ve only recently become aware that (during the lesson) whenever the kids respond “the Good Shepherd leads his sheep to lie down and rest in green pastures” a feeling of both skepticism and deep longing comes over me, like a wave. There is some warped cultural or parent tape that plays in me that says if “I’m happy then I’m not working hard enough.” The quiet time in the atrium with the children, moving at their pace, has shown me that that voice is not of God…
Now those were my words. But this next part is a paraphrase from Pastor Nadia (some of it’s mine, but most of it's hers, so I'm just marking the whole thing as a quote), because quite simply it can’t be said any better. She just nails the landing here, and it’s a work of art that I don’t want to mess up or spoil…I just want to share it…because for me it is as clear as the Shepherd’s voice gets….
She says, on our better days “we can really shine as sheep. We are the sheep who do unbelievably tender and kind things for our fellow flockmates. We show them where the best grass is, we nudge them with our noses helping them stand back up when they fall. We bind each others wounds…we care for those who are sick. We celebrate, cry and mourn with one another. We are the sheep who love and listen to the Good Shepherd and are so often our very best selves.
We are defiant, needy, compassionate, stingy, tender, vain, anxious and courageous. We are all of these sheep. And it’s ok. There is nothing wrong with any of it, because it is the truth. And Jesus said the truth will set us free. There is nothing wrong with the fact that I am a sheep of God’s keeping and that you are sheep of God’s keeping.
The Truth Of Who We Are and our fragile need to belong is nothing to be ashamed of. We are all these kinds of sheep because these kinds of sheep are all there are. When we wander off and try and get our needs met through all the wrong ways –and allow others to be our shepherd – and when we are dumb and let the wolves in - and when we do all the other things sheep just do, it doesn’t mean we are not worthy to have a good shepherd, it just makes it all that much better news that we have a good shepherd.
And the shepherd loves this mess of sheep – The shepherd lays down his life for just these kinds of sheep – which means that the shepherd’s care and love is not contingent on the sheep being the right kind.
And the shepherd loves this mess of sheep – The shepherd lays down his life for just these kinds of sheep – which means that the shepherd’s care and love is not contingent on the sheep being the right kind.
Because here’s The Truth About The Shepherd –The Shepherd never mentions the type of quality of sheep he demands. The shepherd never holds auditions. The shepherd never provides protection and love and concern for his sheep based on how the sheep look or feel or behave…
The Truth About The Shepherd is that despite all of this, we are known, we are loved and we are called by name. We know the voice. It is always there, breaking through our insecurities and fear of wolves, it is within the clamor of our noisy, busy lives and defends us against the harsh murmurs of our inner critic. The voice of the one who lays down his life for us ….who pours out his boundless love for his imperfect and smelly sheep…..is always right there saying:
You belong to me..." (Bolz-Weber)
Crazy Catholic Question #101: Sabbath
I’m looking for a very practical, easy-to-read, “where the rubber hits the road” kind of book that could enrich the spiritual life of my busy family. Any recommendations?
There are only a handful of books that have arrived in my hands at the right time and have perfectly addressed the set of circumstances that I found myself wrestling with at the moment. One such book is Wayne Muller’s Sabbath; a thoughtful gift from a friend last spring that only made it to my bedside table through a series of strange coincidences at….precisely…the…perfect…moment. Muller’s wise work has had a significant impact on my thinking and has brought about real and, so far, lastly change for me and my family. Here is an excerpt:
“There is astounding wisdom in the traditional Jewish Sabbath, that it begins precisely at sundown, whether that comes at a wintry 4:30PM or late on a summer evening. Sabbath is not dependent upon our readiness to stop. We do not stop when we are finished. We do not stop when we complete our phone calls, finish our project, get through this stack of messages, or get out this report that is due tomorrow. We stop because it is time to stop.
Sabbath requires surrender. If we only stop when we are finished with all of our work, we will never stop – because our work is never completely done. With every accomplishment there arises a new responsibility. Every swept floor invites another sweeping, every child bathed invites another bathing. When all life moves in such cycles, what is ever finished? If we refuse to rest until we are finished, we will never rest until we die. Sabbath dissolves the artificial urgency of our days, because it liberates us from the need to be finished.
The old, wise Sabbath says: Stop now. As the sun touches the horizon, take the hand off the plow, put down the phone, let the pen rest on the paper, turn off the computer, leave the mop in the bucket and the car in the drive. There is not room for negotiation, no time to be seduced by the urgency of our responsibilities. We stop because there are forces larger than we that take care of the universe, and while our efforts are important, necessary, and useful, they are not (nor are we) indispensable. The galaxy will somehow manage without us for this hour, this day, and so we are invited – nay, commanded – to relax, and enjoy our relative unimportance, our humble place at the table in a very large world. The deep wisdom embedded in creation will take care of things for a while….”
In honor of this “Good Shepherd Sunday” here is Psalm 23 reworded a bit by Leslie F. Brandt:
The Lord is my constant companion.
There is no need God cannot fill.
Whether life’s course for me points to the mountaintop of glorious ecstasy,
Or to the valley of human suffering,
God is at my side.
God is ever present with me.
God is close behind me when I tread the dark street of danger,
God will never leave me.
There are only a handful of books that have arrived in my hands at the right time and have perfectly addressed the set of circumstances that I found myself wrestling with at the moment. One such book is Wayne Muller’s Sabbath; a thoughtful gift from a friend last spring that only made it to my bedside table through a series of strange coincidences at….precisely…the…perfect…moment. Muller’s wise work has had a significant impact on my thinking and has brought about real and, so far, lastly change for me and my family. Here is an excerpt:
“There is astounding wisdom in the traditional Jewish Sabbath, that it begins precisely at sundown, whether that comes at a wintry 4:30PM or late on a summer evening. Sabbath is not dependent upon our readiness to stop. We do not stop when we are finished. We do not stop when we complete our phone calls, finish our project, get through this stack of messages, or get out this report that is due tomorrow. We stop because it is time to stop.
Sabbath requires surrender. If we only stop when we are finished with all of our work, we will never stop – because our work is never completely done. With every accomplishment there arises a new responsibility. Every swept floor invites another sweeping, every child bathed invites another bathing. When all life moves in such cycles, what is ever finished? If we refuse to rest until we are finished, we will never rest until we die. Sabbath dissolves the artificial urgency of our days, because it liberates us from the need to be finished.
The old, wise Sabbath says: Stop now. As the sun touches the horizon, take the hand off the plow, put down the phone, let the pen rest on the paper, turn off the computer, leave the mop in the bucket and the car in the drive. There is not room for negotiation, no time to be seduced by the urgency of our responsibilities. We stop because there are forces larger than we that take care of the universe, and while our efforts are important, necessary, and useful, they are not (nor are we) indispensable. The galaxy will somehow manage without us for this hour, this day, and so we are invited – nay, commanded – to relax, and enjoy our relative unimportance, our humble place at the table in a very large world. The deep wisdom embedded in creation will take care of things for a while….”
In honor of this “Good Shepherd Sunday” here is Psalm 23 reworded a bit by Leslie F. Brandt:
The Lord is my constant companion.
There is no need God cannot fill.
Whether life’s course for me points to the mountaintop of glorious ecstasy,
Or to the valley of human suffering,
God is at my side.
God is ever present with me.
God is close behind me when I tread the dark street of danger,
God will never leave me.
When the pain is severe, God is near to comfort me.
When the burden is heavy, God is there to lean upon.
When depression darkens my soul, God touches me with eternal joy.
When I feel empty and alone, God fills my aching vacuum with power.
My security is in God’s promise to be near me always, and in the knowledge
That God will never let me go.
Submitted by Lisa Brown, dre@ctredeemer.org
When the burden is heavy, God is there to lean upon.
When depression darkens my soul, God touches me with eternal joy.
When I feel empty and alone, God fills my aching vacuum with power.
My security is in God’s promise to be near me always, and in the knowledge
That God will never let me go.
Submitted by Lisa Brown, dre@ctredeemer.org
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