Prayer and Action on Matters of Justice

Last Monday evening June and I attend a meeting of Building a United Interfaith Lexington through Direct Action (BUILD) at Immanuel Baptist Church in Lexington. Quite an event! For a full report, see "Putting heat on the city for affordable housing." Inasmuch as the co-chair of BUILD is Pastor Ron Luckey of Faith Lutheran Church, we were with him in prayer as we saw him work prophetically, confronting the Mayor Jim Newberry of Lexington on behalf of the poor. The mayor was told in no uncertain terms that even in these economically hard times (when we can provide millions for the 2010 World Equestrian Games!), it is a miscarriage of justice when "18 percent of Lexington's 48, 357 renter households spend more than half their gross household income on rent." When asked if he would find funding for the creation of affordable housing, the Mayor flatly said "No." That NO was greeted by an absolute silence as we Christians registered our dismay at the Mayor's lack of imaginative commitment. In response Pastor Luckey expressed his disapproval and enormous disappointment. "We expect a great deal more from our elected officials than what you have given us tonight," Pastor said. Undeterred, BUILD will continue to bear witness to the powers until justice for the poor is achieved. Newberry will hear from BUILD again!

This is exactly the kind of direct action that churches throughout our nation need to be doing in witness to their Lord who, as we heard two Sundays ago in John's Gospel, upturned the tables, not only to disrupt the commercialism of the temple but at the same time overturn the tables of the corrupting and powerful political machine at Jerusalem.

The one-hour BUILD program, attended by nearly 1300 Christians representing 21 churches, was well organized, powerful in its witness, and an encouragement to all who pray for and witness to the power of God. Within the Body of Christ and through the Church, God continues to love and help the poor and set the prisoners--in this case, prisoners of high rents!--free. Be sure to remember the poor, those who are oppressed economically, and all who support BUILD in your prayers.

March 25, The Annunication: Pregnant with the Messiah

Today is the Feast of the Annunciation in the Church's calendar. We celebrate the day when the Blessed Virgin Mary said Yes to God exactly nine months before Christmas, the Nativity of Jesus.

In every Evening Prayer we sing or say the Magnificat, the Song of Mary, as Luke preserves it in his Gospel. When we pray the Magnificat, we not only remember that Mary is the Theotokos, the Mother of God, but we also realize that each one of us is pregnant with the Son of God, who lives inside of each individual, in our hearts. Because Christ is in you and me, we want to see life with his eyes, listen to life with his ears, walk the sidewalks with his feet, and handle all of life with his hands. Seeing everyone and everything with the mind and heart of Christ allows us to grow into the fulness of his stature.

Tonight June and I will sing a special hymn, "For All the Faithful Women," 419 in Evangelical Lutheran Worship. It's sung to a lovely Finnish folk tune. Here's the first verse:

For all the faithful women
Who served in days of old,
To You shall thanks be given;
To all, their story told.
They served with strength and gladness
In tasks Your wisdom gave,
To You their lives bore witness,
Proclaimed Your power to save.

In each subsequent stanza we give thanks, one by one, sometimes two by two, to God for numerous faithful women whose life stories are told in the Bible. Miriam; Hannah; Ruth; Mary, the Mother of Our Lord; Martha and Mary; The Woman at the Well, Mary Magdalene, Dorcas, and Eunice and Lois.

Stanza 6, in which we give thanks for Mary, the Mother of Our Lord, sings this way:

We honor faithful Mary,

fair maiden, full of grace.

She bore the Christ, our brother,

who saved our human race.

May we, with her, surrender

ourselves to your command

and lay upon your altar

our gifts of heart and hand.

May all of you, with Mary, proclaim the greatness of the Lord today!

Published after Thomas Merton's death, The Inner Experience: Notes on Contemplation, ed. William H. Shannon (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 2003) is one of his most exciting and exacting set of reflections on contemplative living. Here is a typical passage:

The life of contemplation in action and purity of heart is, then, a life of great simplicity and inner liberty. One is not seeking anything special or demanding any particular satisfaction. One is content with what is. One does what is to be done, and the more concrete it is, the better. One is not worried about the results of what is done. One is content to have good motives and not be too anxious about making mistakes. In this way one can swim with the living stream of life and remain at every moment in contact with God, in the hiddenness and ordinariness of the present moment with its obvious task. (66)

It was with Merton's spirit that this afternoon I replaced the battery of the lawnmower, fixed one of its flat tires, and mowed a good bit of the yard. And I'm asking God that with Merton's kind of spirit I will go to Immanuel Baptist Church tonight to participate in a "Building a United Interfaith Lexington through Direct-Action" (BUILD) meeting, a city-wide ecumenical gathering anticipating over 1500 people gathered to meet with the mayor to require affordable housing for the city's poor.

By the way, the deacon at the Eucharist yesterday, after the pastor's final blessing, said: "Let us go in peace" and then added "and serve the poor." Great reminder! With a hearty response, the parishioners all cried out, "Thanks be to God!" Very Merton-ish!

Give me the strength that waits upon You in silence and peace. Give me humility in which alone is rest, and deliver me from pride which is the heaviest of burdens. And possess my whole heart and soul with the simplicity of love. Occupy my whole life with the one thought and the one desire of love, that I may love not for the sake of merit, not for the sake of perfection, not for the sake of virtue, not for the sake of sanctity, but for You alone.

Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation

When what you thought was faith was an illusion

In New Seeds of Contemplation (New York: New Directions Press, 1961), Thomas Merton warns us about confusing faith with feeling good about God and ourselves:

How many people are there in the world of today who have "lost their faith" along with the vain hopes and illusions of their childhood? What they called "faith" was just one among all the other illusions. They placed all their hope in a certain sense of spiritual peace, of comfort, of interior equilibrium, of self-respect. Then when they began to struggle with the real difficulties and burdens of mature life, when they became aware of their own weakness, they lost their peace, they let go of their precious self-respect, and it became impossible for them to "believe." That is to say it became impossible for them to comfort themselves, to reassure themselves, with the images and concepts they found reassuring in childhood.

Place no hope in the feeling of assurance, of spiritual comfort. You may well have to get along without this. Place no hope in the inspirational preachers of Christian sunshine, who are able to pick you up and set you back on your feet and make you feel good for three or four days-until you fold up and collapse into despair.

Over and over, again and again

The Church’s traditional Morning and Evening Prayers have two parts: those parts that we say over and over each morning and evening and those parts that change day by day—readings from the Bible. For example, this morning as we began our prayers, June and I said Psalm 95 (as always) and later prayed the Song of Zechariah, Luke 1.68-79 (as always). Inbetween those two “repeatables,” we will sing Psalms 95, 96, and 97 and then read to one another selected passages from Jeremiah and Paul’s Letter to the Romans as we work our way through God’s Word, day by day. So our prayers have two parts: the "same old, same old" and the new every day. (There is also a third part: our intercessions, praises, and thanksgivings, many of which are spontaneous in nature.)

You might ask, “Why do we say some things the same way every single day?” That’s a good question. Perhaps something of an answer can be found in a story Anne Lamont retells in her disarming Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith:

There’s a lovely Hasidic story of a rabbi who always told his people that if they studied the Torah, it would put Scripture on their hearts. One of them asked: “Why on our hearts, and not in them?” The rabbi answered, “Only God can put Scripture inside. But reading sacred text can put it on your hearts, and then when your hearts break, the holy words will fall inside. (73)

The rabbi is right. Reading sacred texts until you know them by heart really does allow the holy words to fall inside us when we really need them. I have found this falling happens in two ways. First, there are times when I want to pray Morning Prayer, but for whatever reason I may not have my prayerbook with me. Nevertheless, because I have sung Psalm 95 and the Song of Zechariah over and over again, I have them memorized and can sing them whenever I need them, sometimes when taking a morning walk, sometimes when driving, sometimes when standing in line at a grocery store. Even without my prayerbook, I can pray in the morning. But second, and equally important, when life crashes down on me (as it often has and does), God's morning songs and canticles, lying as on my heart, frequently and miraculously fall into my heart when I desperately need them. In other words, at times in my dark places, the morning Songs sing themselves to me. People have often said that this sort of singing also happens to those who say the Jesus Prayer over and over. God has fortified me with his word when I need for him to talk to me.

Billy Graham in his old age said that he wished that he had memorized more of Scripture so that he could lean upon God’s holy words in his later years. Saying the same words in Morning and Evening Prayer, over and over, again and again, is a big step in that direction.

So don’t be afraid of saying God’s word, the same holy word over and over. When you need His words, they will tumble down into your heart.

Image Source: Russian icon of Zechariah, holding a scroll containing the opening words of the Benedictus (18th century, Kizhi Monastery, Russia).

An Irish Friendship Wish

This morning my daughter Amy sent me this wish, and I'd like to pass it on to you!

May there always be work for your hands to do;

May your purse always hold a coin or two;

May the sun always shine on your windowpane;

May a rainbow be certain to follow each rain;

May the hand of a friend always be near you;

May God fill your heart with gladness to cheer you.

When we were at the monatery several weeks ago, we noticed that in the mountains of eastern Kentucky, at the end of February, the daffodils were already blooming. When I return to Richmond, however, it took at least ten more days for the daffodils in my garden to nose their way out of the ground, spring up and then wave their yellow blossoms as a grand "hello" to the sun. So it was yesterday, working in the garden, that I stooped low to take this picture and share with you these harbingers of spring (along with the pussy willows). And, of course, while looking that them, I couldn't but remember Wordsworth's lovely poem.

"Daffodils" (1804)

William Wordsworth (1770-1850).

I WANDER'D lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretch'd in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

March 17: St. Patrick's Day

When we were in Ireland last year, six of us were able to visit The National Cathedral and Collegiate Church of Saint Patrick in Dublin and Saint Patrick's Church of Ireland Cathedral in Armagh, both dedicated to the memory of St. Patrick, whose festival day we celebrate tomorrow. As Daniel B. Clendenin reminds us, "recovering reliable historical information about many of the saints is difficult if not impossible, and Saint Patrick (c. 390–461) is no exception. Born in Scotland, Patrick was imprisoned and taken to Ireland when he was about sixteen years old. He retuned to Scotland, only to have a dream in which the people of Ireland called out to him, “we beg you, holy youth, to come and walk among us once again.” He did return, and although the details are obscure and the legends are large, he wandered and ministered in Ireland for over thirty years, converting the nation."

When you rise from your bed tomorrow and go to your prayers, you may wish to include "The Prayer of St. Patrick" as part of your Daily Office:

I arise today

Through a mighty strength,

the invocation of the Trinity,

Through a belief in the Threeness,

Through confession of the Oneness

Of the Creator of creation.

I arise today

Through the strength of Christ's birth and His baptism,

Through the strength of His crucifixion and His burial,

Through the strength of His resurrection and His ascension,

Through the strength of His descent for the judgment of doom.

I arise today

Through the strength of the love of cherubim,

In obedience of angels,

In service of archangels,

In the hope of resurrection to meet with reward,

In the prayers of patriarchs,

In preachings of the apostles,

In faiths of confessors,

In innocence of virgins,

In deeds of righteous men.

I arise today

Through the strength of heaven;

Light of the sun,

Splendor of fire,

Speed of lightning,

Swiftness of the wind,

Depth of the sea,

Stability of the earth,

Firmness of the rock.

I arise today

Through God's strength to pilot me;

God's might to uphold me,

God's wisdom to guide me,

God's eye to look before me,

God's ear to hear me,

God's word to speak for me,

God's hand to guard me,

God's way to lie before me,

God's shield to protect me,

God's hosts to save me

From snares of the devil,

From temptations of vices,

From every one who desires me ill,

Afar and anear,

Alone or in a multitude.

I summon today all these powers between me and evil,

Against every cruel merciless power that opposes my body and soul,

Against incantations of false prophets,

Against black laws of pagandom,

Against false laws of heretics,

Against craft of idolatry,

Against spells of [men and ] women and smiths and wizards,

Against every knowledge that corrupts man's body and soul.

Christ shield me today Against poison, against burning,

Against drowning, against wounding,

So that reward may come to me in abundance.

Christ with me,

Christ before me,

Christ behind me,

Christ in me,

Christ beneath me,

Christ above me,

Christ on my right,

Christ on my left,

Christ when I lie down,

Christ when I sit down,

Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,

Christ in the mouth of every man who speaks of me,

Christ in the eye that sees me,

Christ in the ear that hears me.

I arise today

Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,

Through a belief in the Threeness,

Through a confession of the Oneness

Of the Creator of creation.

Since becoming an oblate, I more or less thought my prayer life would some become easier, more dedicated, more focused. That's not happened. I'm reminded of this little story told in Desert Wisdom: Sayings from the Desert Fathers [ed. Yushi Nomura (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1982)] about the Desert Elder Agathon:

The brothers asked Abba Agathon: Father, which of the virtues of our way of life demands the greatest effort? He said to them: Forgive me, but there is no effort comparable to prayer to God. In fact, whenever you want to pray, hostile demons try to interrupt you. Of course they know that nothing but prayer to God entangles them. Certainly when you undertake any other good work, and persevere in it, you obtain rest. But prayer is a battle all the way to the last breath. (103)

For me "the hostile demons" come in a variety of ways: old habits that linger on into my later years: procrastination, a second glass of wine when I really don't need it, an annual March ennui, the low grey clouds, rot-gut eating, low-grade headaches. Some are minor demons, at least one major, but all hostile nonetheless. I can say the morning office with some profit, but withhout any semblence of intensity. The only real thing I continue to know during these past few days is that I'm aware that prayer is hard work. Agathon is right. No one ought to have any delusions about how hard it is to pray. It doesn't come naturally. God must help us.

Praying and working in Haiti / Dr. King's Photographs

In January a group of thirteen Lutherans and Methodists went to Haiti. Dr. Joe King on the University of Kentucky medical faculty worked as our photographer, and he's invited you to see his "Haiti Slideshow." Travel to http://photoking.zenfolio.com/p290900660, use the password mesi (that's Creole for "Thank you"), be our companion as we fly down to Port au Prince, stay a while at the Village of Hope, and then take off for the mountain village of Ranquitte, where we built a small home for a Haitian family in desperate need of shelter. You'll enjoy the trip.

Image: Pastor Larry Bollinger, Director of the Village of Hope, with two children from the Little Children of Jesus Orphanage in Port au Prince, the capital of Haiti.

Photos of our visit to the monastery

Danielle just sent us a note saying that she's posted pictures of our recent winter weekend at the Mt. Tabor Benedictine Monastery. The photo to your left nicely shows you the small labyrinth near Sister Judy's workshop; far back in the picture is St. Joseph's house, our place of lodging for the weekend. To see more photographs, visit her album on Facebook . Thanks, Danielle for the sharing!

The tables go crashing! The whip stings! The money rolls on the floor!

The Gospel for this coming Sunday is a "they-ought-to-have-put-Jesus-under arrest" story, worth reading every day this week as we prepare for the Third Sunday in Lent.

Often called "the cleansing of the temple" to make it sound acceptable for third-graders in Sunday School classes or the Priscilla Club in the local parish, John 2.13-22 is better described as a story about the crashing, wrecking, liquidation, shattering (anything from that anticeptic cleansing!) of the Grand Temple, the Jerusalem "megachurch." Cleansing, after all, makes it sound as though Jesus took a dish cloth and cleaned off some dirty counters. Jesus did not "clean" the temple. He smashed it up, toppled tables, and "let all hell loose," as Daniel B. Clendenin accurately describes the chaos:

Incensed at the sacrilege of it all, Jesus improvised a whip, thrashed the animals from the temple, scattered the coffers of the money changers, and overturned their tables: "How dare you turn my Father's house into a market!"

Strong stuff! Strong enough to want me to take down and throw right out the parish windows all the church's sanitized parlor pictures of Jesus by Warner Sallman! Over a half billion copies have been printed since 1940! Isn't he just adorable? I'll bet he bought that tunic in the temple boutique and no doubt had his hair done in the narthex salon. No wonder we misunderstand Jesus so badly. Bad art, bad theology!

Wondering how in the world the Church's pastors will be preaching on the story, I'll be musing over John's story of Jesus demolishing the Grand Temple in the coming days and will certainly listen carefully next Sunday to my pastor's sermon (he'll need some guts to preach on it). May God bless him with indignation and a vision of Jesus that deserves telling.

Andy becomes at oblate at Mt. Tabor Benedictine Monastery

Although I posted this on Your Family Blog, I'm posting it again here where it also seems appropriate:

On Sunday, March 1, during Morning Prayer with the Benedictine sisters of Mt. Tabor Monastery, I was received into the community as an oblate. Having studied the Rule of St. Benedict intensely for more than a year, I promised to support the Benedictine community with my prayers and a way of life that would give glory to God, especially as that glory is manifested by a life of hospitality, the special mission of Mt. Tabor Monastery. With June, Harry Smiley, and Danielle and Stan Brown, and all the sisters supporting me with their prayers, I'm looking forward to a renewed prayer life and the rededication of my life to obedience to the Gospel.

Image: The Medal of St. Benedict

Among the many ways we pray, we frequently place ourselves before God, giving thanks for his mercies, praising him for his compassion, interceding for our families, neighbors, government, the poor--laying before God a wide range of concerns, the labors of our hearts and minds. Some pray fixed-hour prayers each morning, each evening; some practice centering prayer, the "prayer of the heart." Some practice lectio divina or make frequent use of the Jesus Prayer. But no matter how we pray, in all honesty, we are often aware that our prayers are now and again unnecessarily restricted in the breadth of their concerns. With something like a "checklist" or with petitions associated with a litany, we might well be wearing blinders that reduce what Paul calls "the mind of Christ," narrowing our concerns to a little of "this" and some of "that." Lacking the imagination to see "bigly" before God, we settle for small praying, comfortable praying, unimaginative praying.

The Church, however, gives us resources to widen, expand, and deepened the way we prayer. If you find yourself knowingly repetitive (boring yourself and God perhaps?) and restricted in thoughtful praying, I urge you to visit World in Prayer and take the time to read, investigate, download, and perhaps print and place in your prayerbook what you find at World in Prayer. You will be surprised at the care with which your Christian brothers and sisters have opened themselves to new avenues of concern, new venues of focus, and new appreciations for what God is doing, what we need to do, and how these two fundamentals may come together in our lives, in our prayers. Go ahead: take a look as how others are looking at prayer.

Image Source

The The Merton Institute sent me two quotations from Thomas Merton's Jounrals yesterday. As I read them, I thought to myself, "Well, Andy, haven't we all had days like these?" Here's what Merton said to himself (and to us):

In the afternoon I went out to the old horse barn with the Book of Proverbs and indeed the whole Bible, and I was wandering around in the hayloft, where there is a big gap in the roof. One of the rotting floorboards gave way under me and I nearly feel through. Afterwards I sat and looked out at the hills and the gray clouds and couldn't read anything. When the flies got too bad, I wandered across the bare pasture and sat over by the enclosure wall, perched on the edge of a ruined bathtub that has been placed there for the horses to drink out of. A pipe comes through the wall and plenty of water flows into the bathtub from a spring somewhere in the woods, and I couldn't read there either. I just listened to the clean water flowing and looked at the wreckage of the horsebarn on top of the bare knoll in front of me and remained drugged with happiness and with prayer.

Thomas Merton. Entering the Silence, Journals Volume 1. Ed., Jonathan Montaldo (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1997), 363.

A Thought for the Day

Morning after morning I try to study the 6th chapter of St. John, and it is too great. I cannot study it. I simply sit still and try to breathe. (Entering the Silence, 364.)

Image: a photograph of an old barn that Tom Merton took with his 35 mm camera

Amma Syncletica on Starting the Fire

When a few of us were on retreat at Mt. Tabor Benedictine monastery, we were lucky enough to find a wood-burning stove in St. Joseph's House, our lodgings for the weekend. It being a tad chilly, we decided to start a fire in the stove. After rumpling up some newspapers, covering them with some dried-kindling branches, and completing our stacking with some fair-sized logs, we lit our matches. We soon discovered that the chimney was not quite warm enough to allow an updraft of smoke; instead, a good bit of smoke came puffing out of the stove door. Then—wouldn’t you know it! The fire-alarm went off, and Harry had to pull the battery out to shut off the noise. However, upon closing the stove door, the chimney finally got warm enough to accept the smoke, and sure enough, we soon had a good fire burning, warming us all toasty-roasty.

That little experience reminded me a story in Yushi Nomura’s Desert Wisdom: Sayings from the Desert Fathers, wherein I once read that

Amma Syncletica said: In the beginning, there is struggle and a lot of work for those who come near to God. But after that, there is indescribable joy. It is just like building a fire--at first it's smoky and your eyes water, but later you get the desired result. Thus we ought to light the divine fire in ourselves with tears and effort. (26)

Amma Syncletica, one of the few desert mothers whose saying have been preserved for us, is right. When we first begin to practice silent, wordless, and imageless prayer (in addition to our Morning and Evening Prayers), we may well experience considerable difficulty. At first our thoughts and mental pictures seem to overwhelm us; it’s as though we are fighting great battalions of mental and emotional barriers in order to enter the Great Peace. But after a while—especially when we lay our thoughts and images aside with a gentle word expressing our intention to be with God—then, slowly but surely, developing peace comes and eventually we settle into "indescribable joy," as Amma Syncletica puts it. Yes, it takes some effort, but it’s “the most non-violent effort possible,” as Thomas Keating likes to remind us. Eventually the fire catches on and burns, the smoke goes up and away, and we are in the warmth of God's Presence.

Sr. Joan Chittister in Illuminated Life says that "silence is that place just before the voice of God. It is the void in which God and I meet in the center of my soul."

I once had something of an gentle argument with a teacher of philosophy as to whether you not silence can be heard. He said, "No': I said, "Yes." Now I suppose in the strictest sense of the word silence, you can't hear it if you take a reductionist point of view. After all, for a sound to be possible, there needs to be a sound-receptor: at least a human ear or something like an ear, perhaps some mechanical radar-receiver probing the universe, picking up the vibrations of the universe as they make their way to our earth. If there's no ear, there's no silence. So, I suppose, in times before life evolved far enough to have ears, before we were smart enough to invent instruments that detect sound vibrations, there was in fact no sound--unless you allow that the Most Holy Trinity, who creates sound, also listens to the sounds of his creation.

But apart from the "receptor-needed" debate, I am convinced that you can hear silence even without ears, even if you are stone deaf. From experience in quite solid silence (the silence of a cave interior, for example) you can mentally anticipate sound and so mark off and "box up" silence so as to experience and listen to silence in all its deepness. After all, just as I surely "hear" the four-beat "rest" or silence between two musical notes when listening to a symphany, I also hear a Great Silence when it comes along. But more importantly, I am also aware that in silence God genuinely manages to let us hear him (sometimes loudly). In silence we can hear God because, as St. John of the Cross says, "silence is the first language of God." Paradoxically, God speaks with silence. This is not to say that silence is God's only language. Certainly not. But before the Holy One speaks--especially in prophetic voices, in our thinking, in our consciences, and in our awareness of other people, and especially in Jesus--God enjoys speaking, chanting, and singing his silence and asks us to join him in his soundless sabbath resting.

When Christians take special care to enter God's silence, not only do we enjoy the benefits of living in God's first language, but at the same time we provide ourselves with an environment that gives God the oppportunity to surprise us when he does in fact speak. This is why many of us appreciate what has come to be known as a "contemplative Eucharist." When we gather together for a contemplative Eucharist, upon entering the room, we see people simply sitting or kneeling; they are breathing, thinking, praying, and waiting in silence. Some are quietly placing book marks or ribbons in their hymnals. Others are simply looking at the altar, icons, paintings, and other works on art in the sanctuary. Hardly anyone chats or carries on a conversation. Then, at the right time, the pastor or priest enters in silence and sits down to join everyone in the Great Quietness. After a while the Eucharist begins and words begin to be spoken. More silence is gathered up after the reading of lessons as quiet people sit, stand, and kneel, often to enjoy God's silent Presence. After the sermon, there is more silence. Throughout the Holy Communion, the sanctuary is again and again wrapped in silence.

What happens with so much silence is that God comes to us so that we can hear him with more awareness, both in the quietness, in spoken words, and in the reception of Jesus' body and blood in the Eucharist. The welcome silence is the open rest between our words and actions so that we listen more attentively and watch more carefully.

The gift of such silence encouages us to open ourselves to more and more silence in our daily lives. Perhaps to the practice of centering prayer. And more and more silence in our daily lives encourages us to gather together on Sunday to share God's first language as a community. Just so the silence accompanies us as God speaks his sometimes frightening, but always gracious Word. It's really quite a miracle.

Back from the Monastery / Now read this!

I 've been back from Mt. Tabor Monastery for a hour or so, and of course one of the first things I did was go to the post box, get the mail, and read it. Always eager to get The Messenger of Faith Lutheran Church (my parish newsleter), I immediately began reading and was stunned, delighted, proud, and astonished while pushing myself through my pastor's monthly encouragement. I'd like for you to read it here (and please read it before you go on!)

Now that I've taken a good second look at Pastor Luckey's words, written "in the disruptive peace of Easter," I'm eager--with you!--to see what I can do to join up with God who stands

defiant and belligerent over any human institution that causes death, be they predatory payday lenders, religious leaders who club gays and lesbians with a heavy Bible, or ambitious politicians who curry favor with the powerful while ignoring the cries of the most vulnerable in their cities (and one might add: in the mountain hollers].

I'm therefore going to take seriously my pastor's urgings. Having already submitted my 2008 tax information to someone who knows how to squeeze every ounce of legitimate deduction possibile, I hope within a few days to find out how much of a refund I will get. And, trust me, a sizeable portion of that refund will find its way to my parish and its support of "Habitat for Humanity, Mission Lexington's healthcare programs, and my Pastor's Discretionary Fund which financially assists people in times of emergency [especially the poor in Haiti]."

If you are a member of my parish, I encourage you to do something similar. And if you're not a member of my parish, I urge you to support financially your church (or some other agency), provided your money goes to undo those who cause harm to the poor or somehow actually helps the poor directly. In fact, I would encourage you not to give to anyone who uses the money to benefit their own institution (no self-aggrandizing building projects, please!); give only to those people who, in turn, help the poor and provide help for those suffering from injustice. If you want to help and are not a member of my parish, I recommend Food for the Poor, Mt Tabor Monastery, or Christian Flights International. You can trust my parish, Food for the Poor, Mt. Tabor Monastery, or Christian Flights International to squeeze your dollars hard and long to help the poor and fight injustice.

Within our small group, a number of us (in addition to praying the Church's Morning and Evening Prayers) practice Centering Prayer and make suggestions to one another that will help us sit quietly before God in patient silence. Yesterday a friend sent me this quotation from Timothy Jones' The Art of Prayer: A Simple Guide (New York: Ballantine Books, 1997); it's worth sharing.

I also try to remember that much of advance in prayer has to do with waiting. Waiting is not the same as being passive. It is not doing nothing. It is readying ourselves for something more. "Be still before theLord and wait patiently for him," Psalm 37 tells us. Sometimes we need to say to ourselves: "Don't just do something; sit there." Our goal in prayer is not to make things happen on our timetable; it is to allow God to come to us. We cannot orchestrate his coming any more than we can force someone to love us. Gentle awareness of God comes as a mutual presence between two parties who come in loving expectation. My stillness in God's presence is away to be ready. (50-51)

Ash Wednesday, the First Day of Lent

Tomorrow, February 25, is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent. If you need help in determining what you can do to give shape to your Lenten discipline this year, visit Connecting Worship and Daily Living in Lent or Spirit Home, where you can find more suggestions.

The Prayer for Ash Wednesday

Gracious God, out of your love and mercy you breathed into dust the breath of life, creating us to serve you and our neighbors. Call forth our prayers and acts of kindness, and strengthen us to face our mortality with confidence in the mercy of your Son, Jesus Christ and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen

These websites, updated and lightly edited from Spirit Home, can help you better understand Lent from a variety of Christian traditions. If you want to learn more about Lent, visit each link.

• Creighton University's Collaborative Ministry Lenten site.
• CRI Institute's Lenten seasonal page (Protestant) by Dennis Bratcher.
• Ken Collins' Lenten pages.
• The intergenerational Generations in Faith Together (GIFT), from Faith Inkubators, which can be started in a Lenten seasonal form.
• Annette LaPlaca's Christian Parenting article on ways for parents to share this season as a family with your children.
• A search for Lent-related Blogs. (For some, a blog acts as a sounding-board on creating a different edge to Lenten practices. Others do a Lenten blog-journal, a natural blend of blog and devotional journal. These will develop as the Lenten season leads on, so check in once a week.)
• An Orthodox Lenten Triodion, called the season "The Great Lent," the season of the bright sadness.
• Roman Catholic Lent (Quadragesima) information on American Catholic, and the Catholic Encyclopedia at New Advent. These reflect a more-or-less standard Catholic view of Lent.
• Andrew Santella on Protestants doing Lent.
• Orthodox theological writer Alexander Schmemann on the Great Lent, posted by Seth Earl.
• worship.ca's Lent / Easter Resources. Especially helpful for worship services.
• Lenten reflections from St. Elizabeth Church in Melville NY.
• The Work of the People, Travis Reed's visual Lenten liturgies.

On the Eve of the Transfiguration

Tomorrow June and I will listen to St. Mark telling us about the Transfiguration of Jesus. Here’s what Mark will say:

Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and John, and led them up a high mountain apart, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his clothes became dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them. And there appeared to them Elijah with Moses, who were talking with Jesus. Then Peter said to Jesus, "Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah." He did not know what to say, for they were terrified. Then a cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud there came a voice, "This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!" Suddenly when they looked around, they saw no one with them any more, but only Jesus. As they were coming down the mountain, he ordered them to tell no one about what they had seen, until after the Son of Man had risen from the dead. So they kept the matter to themselves, questioning what this rising from the dead could mean.

Mark’s telling of the event is remarkable, especially for the way he honestly lets us know how the disciples respond to what they see and hear. Take Peter’s reaction. Stunned and quite blown away by the way things are going, he can barely contain himself; his enthusiam boundless, he blurts out: “Rabbi, this is a great moment!”

I hope that sometime in your life you’ve had a moment like that. One time in front of the Oklahoma State Univeristy Library, I experienced something like God’s “tazar,” an extended moment that exposed me to “no time and no space,” an experience close to whatever God might experience of Himself. At least it seemed to me. It came suddenly. Stayed a moment or so. And went suddenly. I wish it could have lasted a lifetime.

More usually, however, my mountain-top experiences tend to come within an especially beautiful liturgy when the Eucharist is celebrated with special care among friends and loved ones, both here on earth and in heaven. During the singing of a notably beautiful hymn, for example, something (maybe the Holy Spirit) comes over me and I get choked up, bowled over almost, so that I can barely sing. I feel tears welling up, and taking deep breaths, I find it difficult to calm myself. Strangely enough, once I’ve blown my nose, and returned to the more normal way of things, at such times I wish I could have captured whatever its was that overwhelmed me.

At other times I’ve found myself racing with a camera to catch and make permanent something that has caught my eye. How I’ve wished for the Ansel Adams’ moment, and when it has arrives (at least to my imagination), I work feverishly to capture all of it on a print I’ll be glad to exhibit anywhere.

Whenever the Holy, the Lovely, the Beautiful, and the Good takes us aback, we often want to capture the moment. So with Peter. “Let’s catch the moment,” he implores. “Let’s build three skene--the Greek word Mark uses to translate Peter's Aramaic term. Skene! What are the skene that he plans to have everyone to build? The word can mean a "tent" or "temporary shelter." It can mean "tabernacle" as a worship place (the dwelling place of God in the Hebrew Scriptures). It can mean a "house" -- a permanent dwelling place. Why would these three need houses? Perhaps he wants to "house" the event so that it will last forever.

One pastor has diagnosed Peter as having an "edifice complex." He wants to encase, rope off, pin down, and create something of a museum so that the excitement—good, holy, beautiful, and stunning as it is—lasts as long as possible. Not a few pastors have a strong desire to memorialize that they consider their astonishingly wonderful ministry in a building that will last for centuries.

God, however, often opts (both for himself and for us) to have things otherwise. In Christ God tells us that it’s best not to endorse such probamatically egocentric desires. It’s better not to stake down the tent. It's better to pack it up, shove it in the backpack, trudge down the mountain, and go where the action is more palpably intense. It's better to get back to where others truly need our help, better to lose ourselves in service to the genuinely poor, better to follow Christ into the alleys, prisons, and hovels of the marginalized. Having seen something of the splendor, we’ll more truly be astonished at the real glory, the glory of the Radiant Light fading away on the cross, then flickering and eventually going out. For the time being, Easter can wait. On this coming Ash Wednesday, of course we will remember that the Son shines. He is, after all, "God of God, Light of Light, very God of very God," as we say the Creed. But we'll also "listen" to Him as the Voice commands and importantly put grey ashes on our foreheads and head out the doors and down the steps with the Suffering Servant to where the real re/construction takes place.

Yes, the liturgy during tomorrow's Feast of Transfiguration will be incredibly lovely, beautiful, and good. We will see Jesus for who he is, "of the Father begotten." But that's not all of who he is. He is the Glory of the cross. That vision lies ahead of us. Within seventy-two hours. With the beginning of Lent.

Yet this first, momentarily: the Liturgy of the Transfiguration with the shining Jesus.

Next Sunday: The Transfiguration of Jesus / I I

As you may have guessed, I appreciate the Church’s use of icons. Grateful the my prayerbook contains numerous (albeit black and white) reproductions of famous icons, along with extended commentaries, I thought you might enjoy learning about The Icon of the Transfiguration. I think I’m correct in saying that what follows has been written by Frederick J. Schumacher, the editor of the four-volume set I use for Morning and Evening Prayers.

In the book of Exodus (33.20-22) the Lord says to Moses: “You cannot see my face; for man shall not see me and live. Behold, there is a place by me where you shall stand upon the rock; and while my glory passes by I will put you in a cleft of the rock, and I will cover you with my hand until I have passed by.

Irenaeus (130-200), commenting on these verses explained:

Two things are thus indicated: that it is impossible for man to see God, but secondly that through the wisdom of God, man shall see him in the last times standing upon the rock; that is, in His coming as a man. For this reason the Lord conversed with Moses face to face on the top of the mountain [of Transfiguration] in the company of Elijah, as the gospels relate, thus fulfilling the ancient promise. (Against Heresies, IV, Chapter 20)

When St. Catherine’s Monastery was built at the foot of Mt. Sinai in the sixth century, one of the fist images of the transfiguration was created, and this icon in the Orthodox tradition has remain basically the same ever since.

The icon portrays the gospel accounts of the fulfillment of what Moses and Elijah on Mt. Horeb (Mt. Sinai) did not see (Matthew 17.1-8; Mark 9.2-8; Luke 9.28-36). Here Christ stands on the top of the mountain (according to tradition, Mt. Tabor) in the middle of a perfect circle (mandorla), symbolic of the transcendent God. In the center of the third inner circle sometimes there is a star, but here rays of light represent the “luminous cloud” once seen on Horeb, symbolic of the Holy Spirit and the source of divine light (Exodus 24.15-18; 34.5). The light of God’s glory transfigures Christ, the Word made flesh, as the light of God shines through him. In the words of Gregory Palamas (1269-1359),

The Father by his voice bore witness to His beloved Son; the Holy Spirit, shining with Him in the bright cloud, indicated that the Son possesses with the Father the light, which is One like all that belongs to Their richness (Homily 34).

In this light stands Moses to the right with a book or the tablets of stone in one hand representing the law, and Elijah to the left representing the prophets. They both point to Christ, acknowledging that they have in Him seen the face of God, and that through His coming death and resurrection will begin the New Covenant foreshadowed in and prepared for by the law and the prophets. In Mark’s account of the event, when Father said, “This is my beloved Son, listen to him,” the disciples, depicted in the lower part of the mountain, no longer saw Moses and Elijah (9,7-8).

Looking at the three apostles, we see three rays of divine light, symbolic of the Trinity, coming from the circle and overwhelming them. To the right Peter appears to have just spoken to Jesus saying, “Lord, it is well that we are here; if you wish, I will make three booths here, one for you and one for Moses and one for Elijah” (Matthrew 17.4) when one of the three rays of light falls upon him and supporting himself with his left hand, he raises his right had to protect himself. It is Peter who would later preserve his recollection of the event itself: “We were with him on the holy mountain” (2 Peter 1.16-18). John in the center falls, turning his back to the light. It would be he who would pass the vision on in the words: “God is light and in him is no darkness at all” (I John 1.5). And James flees from the light in either a backward or downward fall.

Christ at the top of the rocks that form the mountain appears to be in composite continuity with the rocks of mountain, recalling Paul’s words, “the rock was Christ” (I Cor. 10.4). Christ is the mediator between God and all who look at this icon. Christ is the mountain, the absolute meeting place between God and His people.

The ancient iconographers began their writing (painting) of icons with the icon of the Transfiguration. It became a direct initiation into the divine light, revealed on Mt. Tabor, that they would need to express through all subsequent icons. Whether in an icon of a feast day or of a saint, the divine light of God was to be shining through the image so all who would look on the icon would behold the light and the beauty of the Triune God. To the fullest extend, the icon of the Transfiguration is bathed in sunlight of high noon where there are no shadows, as in the Kingdom of God itself. The icon of the Transfiguration is thus a foretaste of the future where God’s Kingdom is fulfilled and “there will be no need for sun or moon to shine upon it, for the glory9 of God is its light, and its lamp is the lamb” (Revelation 21.22-25; 22.5).

In the Orthodox tradition the significance of the light on Mt. Tabor is expressed in Matins:

Today on Tabor in manifestation of your Light, O Word, you are the unaltered Light from the Light of the unbegotten Father, and we have seen the Father as Light and the Spirit as Light, guiding with light the whole creation.

Image: The Icon of the Transfiguration

Next Sunday: The Transfiguration of Jesus / I

I’m looking forward to going to Faith Lutheran Church next Sunday, the Last Sunday after the Epiphany, the Sunday we celebrate as the Feast of the Transfiguration when we will listen to the story of Jesus’ glorified change in appearance on the mountain as Mark tells it in Chapter 9:

2 Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and John, and led them up a high mountain apart, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, 3 and his clothes became dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them. 4 And there appeared to them Elijah with Moses, who were talking with Jesus. 5 Then Peter said to Jesus, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” 6 He did not know what to say, for they were terrified. 7 Then a cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud there came a voice, “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!” 8 Suddenly when they looked around, they saw no one with them any more, but only Jesus.

9 As they were coming down the mountain, he ordered them to tell no one about what they had seen, until after the Son of Man had risen from the dead. 10 So they kept the matter to themselves, questioning what this rising from the dead could mean.

You must read this week’s Journey with Jesus wherein Daniel B. Clendenin asks us: Do we see the transfiguration of Jesus as a “beautiful lie" or an "eyewitness account"? As Clendenin looks over the various ways people try to make sense of the Transfiguration (I myself have experienced nearly all the numerous interpretive possibilities), he asks that "God save us from the safe middle ground of domesticating deism." Clendenin urges us to trudge up that steep mountain with Jesus and his threesome and there stand stunned, shocked, and terrified at who Jesus is.

Yesterday there were only two of us in our Sunday School class: just Harry and me. (Yes, it was quite small.) In preparation for our discussion both of us had read Chapter 10, “Annie Dillard: The Splendor of the Ordinary” in Philip Yancey’s Soul Survivor. Having read most of Dillard’s books over the past thirty years and remembering my pleasure in turning their pages, it came as no small surprise early this morning, when reading Daniel B. Clendenin’s previewing commentary on the Transfiguration of Jesus that he quotes this memorable passage from Dillard’s Teaching a Stone to Talk:

Does anyone have the foggiest idea of what sort of power we so blithely invoke? Or, as I suspect, does no one believe a word of it? The churches are children playing on the floor with their chemistry sets, mixing up a batch of TNT to kill a Sunday morning. It is madness to wear ladies' straw hats and velvet hats to church; we should all be wearing crash helmets! Ushers should issue life preservers and signal flares; they should lash us to our pews! For the sleeping God may awake someday and take offense, or the waking God may draw us to where we can never return.

It’s my prayer this morning that God will draw all of us “to where we can never return.” Bring your crash helmets.

Image: The Transfiguration of Jesus, The Saint John's Bible

Reflective Silence: A Part of Ordinary Prayer

A four-volume set of books, collectively known at the Philokalia, has attracted my attention for years. Sometime last week, reading in and around the first volume containing St. Hesychios’ “On Watchfulness and Holiness,” I found myself underlining this passage:

Each hour of the day we should note and weigh our actions and in the evening we should do what we can to free ourselves from the burden of them by means of repentance—if that is, we wish, with Christ’s help, to overcome wickedness. (124)

St. Hesychios’ advice is good. After supper in our Evening Prayers, after three or four minutes into Evening Prayer, after we have said or sung the Phos Hilarion, spoken a blessing upon each other, and joined together in saying a portion of Psalm 141, a small rubric in our prayerbook asks us to observe “Silence for meditation.”

While I suppose that as the day passes, we are aware, more or less, of how things have been going, the evening silence for meditation is an especially good time for summing up and reflecting on the day’s thoughts and actions. We don’t always observe a long silence (sometimes it’s very short), but most of the time we allow a minute or so to go by. During that silence we reflect on what has happened during the day.

This “summing up” allows us to explore and examine the more subtle forms of egotism to which we are constantly inclined. In contemplative language, our review of these egoistic activities alerts us as to how we have been constructing what Thomas Merton calls a “false self.”

Each of us knows how to construct a bogus, phony, cooked-up, and specious self; that is, we are experts in creating identifies intended to deceive others—and ourselves--as to who we really are. I, for example, am given to suggest that I’m a decent practicing Christian. Writing these sentences is right now a movement in that direction. For example, I like to read novels, poetry, and "Christian" literature. However, lots of times I am tempted to read so that I can underline a quotable passage, a temptation which professional academics find especially fetching. My false self is especially prone to the production of such presentations. I like to associate myself with famous Christians and other writers. In other words, surely you will recognize me by the company I keep. Just take a look at what I write.

My personal tendency towards egotistic actions (often known only to myself) Luther describes as homo curvatus in se, “the human turning in upon the self.” That is, as a human being, I like to turn my gaze (and, if possible, yours) upon myself. I’m the subtle object of my own (and hopefully your) fascination.

Homo curvatus in se. Here's how it works: although I don’t usually say so emphaticly, I’m personally convinced that my thinking is generally a little better than your thinking; my politics slightly more on target than yours; my spiritual life, especially when seen in the right light, is at least a tad better than most others. And, of course, my use of centemplative silence more productive than yours.

Homo curvatus in se among us humans is insideous. Dangerous. If left unchecked, it marginalizes and eventually discounts as unnecessary or nothing one’s True Self: Christ.

Consequently, although the curve or arch of one's life tends to head in one direction, we need to go in another direction. Curving, arching, and habitually swerving toward one’s self, we need to redirect ourselves—minds, hearts, strength, and soul--toward another destination: Christ.

Such redirection is called repentance. St. Hesychios suggests that "in the evening we should do what we can to free ourselves from the burden of them [that is, the recollection and exact personal location of curvatus in se] by means of repentance." Daily silence as a part of regular prayer allows for this interior examination of a developing false identity whose scaffolding needs deconstruction. Within daily "silence for meditation" we examine ourselves, locate our movements away from God, acknowledge our waywardness, open ourselves to God's grace, receive God's forgiveness , and move forward toward praising and thanking God for his healing mercies.

After the “silence for meditation” or reflection, our prayerbook, echoing images from Psalm 141, asks us to offer this prayer:

Let in incense of our repentant prayer ascend before you, O Lord, and let your loving kindness descend upon us, that with purified minds we may sing your praises with the Church on earth and the whole heavenly host, and may glorify you forever and ever.

It is then, after repenting for how we have damaged ourselves during the day and opening ourselves to God's grace, that we go on to sing the appointed psalms for the day. Reconstruction and healing follow as we enter the psalms in solidarity with Christ, solidarity with his earthly and heavenly Church, solidarity with our sisters and brothers around the world, and solidarity with the poor and those suffering from injustice. Now we can sing the psalms "with purified minds," glorifying God, trusting Him to help us make possible the kingdom of Jesus.

Image: For All the Saints, "Evening Prayer," Vol. 1, 498.

Something the Regular Practice of Contemplative Prayer Does

The regular practice of contemplative prayer initiates a healing process that might be called the "divine therapy." The level of deep rest accessed during the prayer periods loosens up the hardpan around the emotional weeds stored in the unconscious, of which the body seems to be the warehouse. The psyche begins to evacuate spontaneously the undigested emotional material of a lifetime, opening up new space forself-knowledge, freedom of choice, and the discovery of the divine presence within. As a consequence, a growing trust in God, a bondingwith the Divine Therapist, enables us to endure the process.

Keating, Thomas. Invitation to Love (New York: Continuum, 1996).

The Brick

A Benedictine friend sends this story for sharing:

A young and successful executive was traveling down a neighborhood street, going a bit too fast in his new Jaguar. He was watching for kids darting out from between parked cars and slowed downwhen he thought he saw something. As his car passed, no children appeared. Instead, a brick smashed into the Jag's side door! He slammed on the brakes and backed the Jag back tothe spot where the brick had been thrown. The angry driver then jumped out of the car, grabbed the nearest kid and pushed him up against a parked car shouting, "What was that all about and who are you? Just what the heck are you doing? That's a new car and that brick you threw is going to cost a lot of money. Why did you do it?"

The young boy was apologetic. "Please, mister . . . please, I'm sorry but I didn't know what else to do," he pleaded. "I threw the brick because no one else would stop . . . ." With tears dripping down his face and off his chin, the youth pointed to a spot just around a parked car. "It's my brother," he said. 0 "He rolled off the curb and fell out of his wheelchair and I can't lift him up."

Now sobbing, the boy asked the stunned executive, "Would you please help me get him back into his wheelchair? He's hurt and he's too heavy for me." Moved beyond words, the driver tried to swallow the rapidly swelling lump in his throat. He hurriedly lifted the handicapped boy back into the wheelchair, then took out a linen handkerchief and dabbed at the fresh scrapes and cuts. A quick look told him everything was going to be okay. "Thank you and may God bless you," the grateful child told the stranger. Too shook up for words, the man simply watched the boy! He pushed his wheelchair-bound brother down the sidewalk toward their home.

It was a long, slow walk back to the Jaguar. The damage was very noticeable, but the driver never bothered to repair the dented side door. He kept the dent there to remind him of this message: "Don't go through life so fast that someone has to throw a brick at you to get your attention!" God whispers in our souls and speaks to our hearts. Sometimes when we don't have time to listen, He has to throw a brick at us. It's our choice to listen or not.

Isn't February 25th--Ash Wednesday? Is it too early to get ready for Lent?

It surely is! In less than three weeks, after the imposition of ashes, you may well be walking out of church with a cross-like smudge of grey-black ashes on your forehead on February 25. That's when you begin your Lenten discipline.

I don't know about you, but as I get older, the whole business of doing a better job with my life seems to become more important. Paradoxically, as I learn to be more dependent on God's grace, the Holy Spirit urges me to be more creative and determined to put a God-pleasing life into practice. Lent is such a practice time.

Last night before going to sleep I was reading The Sayings of the Desert Fathers, an alphabetical collection of their short stories, and I came across these words by Anthony the Great:

Whoever hammers a lump of iron, first decides what he is going to make of it: a scythe, a sword, or an axe. Even so we ought to make up our minds what kind of virtue we want to forge or we labor in vain. (8)

Anthony's good advice, of course, can apply to the whole of our lives or in a smaller way, with a smaller lump of iron, to our Lenten forty-day window of time. Personally, I usually prefer to work with shorter time slots; they seem a lot more manageable. Many Lents ago, for example, I used to try and give up bad habits like smoking cigs (yep, forty years ago I puffed a pack or more of unfiltered Camels every day) or put off delightful habits like savoring a good glass of wine or beer. Sometimes I decided to add a decent habit to my life; one year I promised myself I'd walk or jog a mile or two every day. One year in February I jokingly announced that for Lent I was "giving up lawn-mowing." Those were the days--of Lent.

Lately, however, I find myself expanding my sense of things. No doubt my bigger vision has much to do with simply getting older. Who knows? Maybe I won’t even be around in forty days! Then too I may live to till I’m eighty. If I make it through the next ten years to a nursing home, I’m quite aware that, over the years, time will fly by awfully fast, nearly at the speed of light. Right now a year goes by, and it seems like two weeks. So maybe I’d better think of my Lenten discipline as “starting on Ash Wednesday and from now on, Andy!”

If you know me, you realize that I don’t like spur-on-the-moment decisions. O yes, I have to make them when June cries out, “Put on the brakes, you idiot!” But if at all possible, I prefer to weigh things in the balance and come to a decision after considerable musings. Applied to this year’s Lenten discipline, that means it’s really not too early to explore the possibilities as to whatever I do with my lump of iron as I get ready to bang on it.

Today, you might say, I'm lighting the first in my forge and looking over my blacksmith tools. In the next few days I’ll be making some suggestions about shaping some lumps of iron, yours and mine. This afternoon, however, after considerable thought, I’ll simply share with you the plans I'm developing for my upcoming Lenten forgings. These forgings will have, I think, mostly to do with my environment and God’s creation. Shortly said: my forgings concern the care of the earth. To that end my Lenten discipline will include the following:

• a room by room assessment of my home to figure out what choices I can make to walk more lightly on the earth
• a “spring-time” re-examination as to my lawn practices and garden care
• an evaluation of my use of electricity and gasoline
• reconsiderations about my purchases of goods and food
• the making of a list of "creation-care" commitments I plan to embrace at home and wherever I travel
• a posting of these commitments on the refrigerator and car dashboard as daily reminders

These are my first scratchings about my 2008 Lenten discipline. I'll include these musings in my daily prayers. As I make my assessments, re-examinations, evaluations, lists, and postings, I'll share some of my discoveries with you soon.

Three Interviews with Thomas Keating

You may interested in watching and listening to the following three-part interview with Fr. Thomas Keating, recorded at the Garrison Institute in New York: Part One / Part Two / Part Three .

Three Mondays, Then to the Monastery at Mt. Tabor: February 27-March 1

Hello to all our Praying Daily friends!

As you may know, eight of us (by my last count) are planning to visit the Mt. Tabor Benedictine Monastery in Martin, KY, on Friday evening, February 27, returning early afternoon on Sunday, March 1.

If you have not visited this monastery of Benedictine sisters, do consider coming with us; it will be a very special blessing your life.

Last year in Advent we met two times to introduce ourselves to Centering Prayer. The response was warm and so encouraging!

Now it time to follow up. To prepare for our retreat, it will be helpful if we continue to support one another in Centering Prayer by coming over to my home on any or all of the following three Monday evenings:

February 9, 7:00 p.m.
February 16, 7:00 p.m.
February 23, 7:00 p.m.

At these times we will continue listening to Fr. Thomas Keating. Already we have heard Fr. Keating’s first talk, “The Method of Centering Prayer.” As we prepare for our retreat will move on to “The Psychology of Centering Prayer” and “Attitudes toward God.” As we did last time, after our discussion we'll send twenty minutes practicing Centering Prayer.

During our Monday evening meetings, we'll also travel arrangements for getting to and coming back from the monastery.

Don’t hesitate to come to these Monday evening meetings even if you did not make any of the Advent evenings. You are welcome to enter the practice of Centering Prayer at any time. Centering Prayer is a wonderful complement to Morning and Evening Prayers.

As we get ready for our retreat, some of you may have been able to read Keating’s Open Mind, Open Heart and practice Centering Prayer. If you want to read the book and need a copy, we can loan you one.

To make sure that my count is accurate for those of us who will be going to Mt. Tabor Monastery, I’d surely appreciate your sending me an email confirming your intension to go. I probably need to send Sister Judy, the prioress, a note sometime next week, after our Monday evening meeting, telling her exactly how many want to come.

Hope to see all of you on the upcoming Mondays!

In case you need them, here are directions to our home:

1. Go to Exit 87 (the intersection of I-75 and the EKU By-Pass)
2. Go west on Barnes Mill for 2.3 miles to Crutcher Pike, the first crossroad past The Corner Store.
3. Turn right onto Crutcher Pike.
4. Go .5 miles to Mule Shed Lane.
5. Turn left onto Mule Shed Lane.
6. Go .8 miles to Marengo Drive.
7. Turn left onto Marengo Drive. Go .3 miles to 281 Marengo Drive, the brick house on the crest of the hill after you enter the left-turning curve of Marengo Drive. We’ll leave the porch lights on for you!

IF FOR ANY REASON, YOU NEED A RIDE, CALL ME (859-626-8535) AND I’LL MAKE SURE A LIMO COMES TO YOUR DOOR TO PICK YOU UP! SERIOUSLY! CALL ME, AND SOMEONE WILL BE GLAD TO GIVE YOU A RIDE TO OUR HOME AND BACK TO YOUR HOME. WE WANT YOU TO BE WITH US.

More about the Desert Elders

As you know, I really like Dan Clendenin's weekly posting on Journey with Jesus, and this week's commentary is especially good; take a look and a read!

Remembering and Praying on the Presentation of our Lord Jesus Christ in the Temple, February 2

On February 2, our Christian Year calendars remind us that on Tuesday we remember and celebrate The Presentation of Our Lord Jesus Christ in the Temple.

On this day your prayerbook may well provide you with this beautiful collect:

Almighty and everliving God, we humbly pray that, as your only-begotten Son was this day presented in the temple, so we may be presented to you with pure and clean hearts by Jesus Christ Our Lord; who livings and reigns wit you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.

Celebrating the Saints: Devotional Readings for Saints’ Days tells us why the Church highlights this day in our calendar of sacred time:

This day marks the completion of forty days since the birth of Jesus, when Mary and Joseph took the child to the Temple in Jerusalem. The requirement in Levitical law was for Mary to be “cleansed,” the completion of her purification following the birth of a male child. Until that day, she could touch no holy thing nor enter the sanctuary. Yet on seeing the holy family, Simeon praised God and acclaimed the infant “the light to enlighten the nations,” and the prophet Anna gave thanks and proclaimed in the redeemer. The image of Christ as the light has led to the celebration of light countering the darkness, with candles often taking a central place in the observance of this festival.

You can read the story in Luke 2:22-40.

In an extended footnote, my Renovare Spiritual Formation Bible provides this commentary:

In modern society the elderly are rarely held in high esteem. They are shunted off to senior citizens' homes where they are cared for by professional staff rather than their own families. We seem to be saying their usefulness is past, and the increasing tolerance of euthanasia underscores that belief. This is not God's attitude. Simeon and Anna are the senior citizens of Luke's version of Jesus' birth, and they know and understand more than anyone else. Of all the people that Jerusalem's streets were teeming with the day that Jesus was named--the rich, the powerful, the young, the holy--only Simeon and Anna are given insight into who is being carried into the Temple courts in his parents' arms. In fact, they know more than Mary or Joseph, who are astonished at what Simeon says about Jesus. It is clear that God has placed great value on Anna and Simeon and that he does not think he is wasting the Holy Spirit on two seniors who have passed the prime of their lives.

So to all you grey- and white-haired (and bald-headed too!) senior citizens who have so graciously carried Jesus in your arms and sung your Nunc Dimittis, I thank you for your love of Christ and the songs I've heard you sing about God's mercy and love. If you're reading this, you know who you are; may God bless you.

The story of the presentation of Jesus and the purification of Mary is full of good news, so good that many Christians, using the church's "Night Prayer" or "Compline," sing or say the Song of Simeon (often referred to as the Nunc Dimittus, its Latin name) each evening before they go to bed.

If you wish look at beautiful paintings and icons celebrating the Presentation, listen to the Song of Simeon in Russian and watch the following video, The Canticle of St Symeon as set by Sergei Rakhmaninov for his "Vespers", opus 37:

And to see how more of your Christian sisters and brothers are remembering the Presentation, visit the following:

Feast of the Presentation of Our Lord
Feast of the Presentation of Our Lord Jesus Christ
The Presentation of Our Lord: Candlemas

The Presentation (Meeting) of Our Lord in the Temple