pathway
Thursday, May 6, 2010
"The Gospel of Grab"
Isn't that a great phrase?
It was coined by David Brown, Canon of Durham Cathedral. It appears in regard of course, to the personal self-indulgent lust for things, toys as well as status.
In the on going struggle to "simplify, simplify" it gives a graphic and powerful title to the cycle of madness in which we allow ourselves to be caught.
Canon Brown is speaking of the writings of the apostle Paul. Notwithstanding the 'reformation message' of the justification by faith alone, the heart of Paul's message, he writes, is that the root of all sin is self-centeredness. "Pride is the worst fault as it cuts us off from a sense of dependency on others, and thus essentially upon God."
Pride. Self-centeredness. The cult of Me. Things. Here is our problem, the problem, my problem. Ouch!
Certainly no new thoughts here. Just for today a refreshed awareness and reminder to choose the right gospel by which to rule our lives.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Spiritual Spring and Gertrude
A Spring garden is a wonder of spiritual teaching and thought. Spring, I think, is the best of times. Plants that have hunkered down dully with the cold of winter begin to awaken, to stretch out with fresh growth. They flourish forth taking their place becoming a proper garden. This growth can almost be felt in the air, it for certain brings a fresh fragrance to it.
So with us. There are seasons of the soul. There are the dark wintry times when the soul is shapeless, lifeless, dull. Then something and Someone awaken us once again. Soft rains fall. The sun shines. Growth begins again.
Gertrude of Helfia, 1256-1302, was a German Benedictine mystic. Not a 'saint' in the canonized way of things, yet a woman of spirit, of influence and deep devotion. She loved lists. These she made for herself in order to keep the steps of her pilgrimage properly directed.
She begins one such list, a prayer really, with "Dear Jesus, make me perfect in fearing you. Make me pleasing to you in humility of spirit...in purity of my heart, in the guarding of my senses, in the holiness of life...." She continues with a specific request for every aspect of her life that her life may be just that, a pleasing life of holiness.
"so that the thorn bush of my heart may be converted
So with us. There are seasons of the soul. There are the dark wintry times when the soul is shapeless, lifeless, dull. Then something and Someone awaken us once again. Soft rains fall. The sun shines. Growth begins again.
Gertrude of Helfia, 1256-1302, was a German Benedictine mystic. Not a 'saint' in the canonized way of things, yet a woman of spirit, of influence and deep devotion. She loved lists. These she made for herself in order to keep the steps of her pilgrimage properly directed.
She begins one such list, a prayer really, with "Dear Jesus, make me perfect in fearing you. Make me pleasing to you in humility of spirit...in purity of my heart, in the guarding of my senses, in the holiness of life...." She continues with a specific request for every aspect of her life that her life may be just that, a pleasing life of holiness.
It is in her closing thoughts that all these become Spring echos "...in the blessed consummation of your cherishing-love":
"so that the thorn bush of my heart may be converted
into a paradise of all virtues
and a red berry bush of total perfection,
as if it were a field blessed by the Lord,
full of all peace, holiness and devotion."
This Spring, it is my desire to remember Gertrude as I watch the fruit ripen, the color change on my garden's currant bush remembering the goal to be 'a red berry bush...blessed by my Lord, full of all peace, holiness and devotion.'
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Courage, Pilgrim
Some of us are by nature, not so much shy as fearful (that would be me!) So when the teacher challenged us on Sunday with defining 'witness' and 'testimony' the feeling came over me that 'we're in for it now'.
We were reminded of what we know, that in the Greek a 'witness' comes from the same root word as 'martyr'. Witness is risk
In the English dictionary along with the obvious meanings of giving witness to a fact or truth, it emphasises that this profession is to be done openly. Hebrew adds "to say again and again". Once is not enough, it seems. It is continuous action.
Peter and John stood accused by the Sandhedrin. They were told to "speak no more in That Name". Their answer given sums it all up neatly: "we are unable not to speak of the things which we have seen and heard". (Acts. 4) And this after they had received not just the warning and threats but also contempt.
It was said of John Knox "He feared God so much that he never feared the face of any man."
Martin Luther concluding his defence before the Church hierarchy stated "Here I stand. I can do no other." Another time when the papal envoy threatened Martin that in the end he would be deserted by all his supporters. "Where will you be then?" the envoy asked. "Then as now," Luther answered, "in the hands of God."
When Peter and John were once again among with their band of brothers, prayer was offered. In that we have our simple guidelines. They set before themselves the remembrance of their Lord and His triumph. They prayed for courage knowing full well their continued witness could mean martyrdom. And the result was the promise and comfort of the Spirit Himself.
H. G. Wells said: "The trouble with so many people is that the voice of their neighbours sounds louder in their ears than the voice of God."
Fear or courage? That would be the bottom line.
Once again fellow pilgrims, we have our challenge for This Day so head up, shoulders back....
We were reminded of what we know, that in the Greek a 'witness' comes from the same root word as 'martyr'. Witness is risk
In the English dictionary along with the obvious meanings of giving witness to a fact or truth, it emphasises that this profession is to be done openly. Hebrew adds "to say again and again". Once is not enough, it seems. It is continuous action.
Peter and John stood accused by the Sandhedrin. They were told to "speak no more in That Name". Their answer given sums it all up neatly: "we are unable not to speak of the things which we have seen and heard". (Acts. 4) And this after they had received not just the warning and threats but also contempt.
It was said of John Knox "He feared God so much that he never feared the face of any man."
Martin Luther concluding his defence before the Church hierarchy stated "Here I stand. I can do no other." Another time when the papal envoy threatened Martin that in the end he would be deserted by all his supporters. "Where will you be then?" the envoy asked. "Then as now," Luther answered, "in the hands of God."
When Peter and John were once again among with their band of brothers, prayer was offered. In that we have our simple guidelines. They set before themselves the remembrance of their Lord and His triumph. They prayed for courage knowing full well their continued witness could mean martyrdom. And the result was the promise and comfort of the Spirit Himself.
H. G. Wells said: "The trouble with so many people is that the voice of their neighbours sounds louder in their ears than the voice of God."
Fear or courage? That would be the bottom line.
Once again fellow pilgrims, we have our challenge for This Day so head up, shoulders back....
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Truth Weaving
There are times when different pens, each with a different voice state the same Truth or connecting truths. These come together in the mind each reinforcing the other.
After their glorious adventure on the ship The Dawn Treader, Lucy and Edmund come face to face once again with Aslan in the form of the Lamb. The children want to continue on from this thrilling adventure to the next. But Aslan, while assuring them that He will continue showing them Himself, sends them back to their own country, not even Narnia, but where their real home is.
Little Much Afraid, in Hinds Feet in High Places, after traveling with The Shepherd to the High Places must return to the Valley of sadness where real life is lived. Like the Pevensie children, she does have her pocket of pebbles turned jewels, i.e. memories of experienced blessed and redeemed by Aslan/The Shepherd.
After His resurrection, we find as reported by Luke in the book of Acts, the Lord appearing and then disappearing over a period of six weeks. During this time He is teaching his disciples and helping them to grow accustomed to the idea that He is with them, and will be with them whether visible or not.
Then these same men witness from a hill 'a cloud receiving Him out of their sight'.
They saw, and with the seeing came the knowing with certainty that death had been conquered.
They knew beyond doubt that their beloved Jesus [Aslan, Shepherd] was truly the Son of God.
And it was for them to return to their 'real world' with what they had witnessed. Luke states very clearly that they "returned to Jerusalem with great joy", not sadness at the let-down, but JOY.
There was no date given when they could follow and so be once again in His presence. But as Aslan told Lucy "..I will not tell you how long or short the way will be; only that it lies across a river. But do not fear that, for I am the great Bridge Builder...."
Thomas Cranmer sums it up nicely in his collect for Ascension Day:
After their glorious adventure on the ship The Dawn Treader, Lucy and Edmund come face to face once again with Aslan in the form of the Lamb. The children want to continue on from this thrilling adventure to the next. But Aslan, while assuring them that He will continue showing them Himself, sends them back to their own country, not even Narnia, but where their real home is.
Little Much Afraid, in Hinds Feet in High Places, after traveling with The Shepherd to the High Places must return to the Valley of sadness where real life is lived. Like the Pevensie children, she does have her pocket of pebbles turned jewels, i.e. memories of experienced blessed and redeemed by Aslan/The Shepherd.
After His resurrection, we find as reported by Luke in the book of Acts, the Lord appearing and then disappearing over a period of six weeks. During this time He is teaching his disciples and helping them to grow accustomed to the idea that He is with them, and will be with them whether visible or not.
Then these same men witness from a hill 'a cloud receiving Him out of their sight'.
They saw, and with the seeing came the knowing with certainty that death had been conquered.
They knew beyond doubt that their beloved Jesus [Aslan, Shepherd] was truly the Son of God.
And it was for them to return to their 'real world' with what they had witnessed. Luke states very clearly that they "returned to Jerusalem with great joy", not sadness at the let-down, but JOY.
There was no date given when they could follow and so be once again in His presence. But as Aslan told Lucy "..I will not tell you how long or short the way will be; only that it lies across a river. But do not fear that, for I am the great Bridge Builder...."
Thomas Cranmer sums it up nicely in his collect for Ascension Day:
Grant we beseech thee, almighty God,
that like as we do believe thy only begotten son our Lord
ascended into the heavens;
so we may also in heart and mind thither ascend,
and with Him continually dwell,
who liveth and reigneth with thee
and the Holy Ghost, one world without end.
Christ's absence is connected with our present. We may dwell with Him in heart and mind in our Now until such a time as we are brought from our country into His Country.
Like the disciples of old, may we tread the tedious streets of our present Jerusalem -this day- with Joy.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Neighbors, Old And New
Life has taught me that neighbors come in many forms. There are noisy neighbors, slovenly neighbors, rude and grumpy neighbors and those you never see from one week to the next.
Once in a great while a neighbor moves in that turns out to be the sort of which story books tell. For two years or so we have been blessed with this later sort.
In fact, this neighbor exceeds all the rules of goodness. This kindly person is youngish, having been retired from the work force through a cruel on-the-job accident. This event left him limited and in constant pain. However, one would never guess. He is always full of good cheer.
He is always active keeping his side of the fence tidy, with fishing and assorted projects.
When out in the garden he, just like the stories run, comes to the fence for a chat about the day. He has handed over the fence gifts from tools to make gardening on my side easier, to bread fresh from the oven and fish freshly caught.
Most recently he presented me with a charming bird house of his own crafting. I come from a long line of bird watchers. The Folks in their declining years not only had feeders, all sorts, but kept a daily journal of visitors to these. Yet, I've never had a bird house of my own.
Delighted, the house was hung high, hopefully out of harms way. Enter: New Neighbors.
There is much excitement in the garden as Spring renters have arrived! First time, Mister sat in the nearby apple tree chirping warnings. The expectant Mother entered the 'door', took measurements and considered furnishing choices I think. As of yesterday, setting up housekeeping has begun. The caution that is taken is quite amazing. These are savvy birds. They must know there is a cat presence in this garden. Yet the little mother arrived with the first bit of fluff in her beak, sat on the clothes line looking around then darted in.
All this may seem uncommonly dull to you, Dear Reader, but I am thrilled to have my own resident birds in my very own bird house with the heart on its door.
Such additions to the neighborhood are delightful indeed. The new neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Bird, remind me that we have a common Heavenly Father Who watches over all our comings and goings. Perhaps in time we can convince the lovely Giving Neighbor of this fact.
Once in a great while a neighbor moves in that turns out to be the sort of which story books tell. For two years or so we have been blessed with this later sort.
In fact, this neighbor exceeds all the rules of goodness. This kindly person is youngish, having been retired from the work force through a cruel on-the-job accident. This event left him limited and in constant pain. However, one would never guess. He is always full of good cheer.
He is always active keeping his side of the fence tidy, with fishing and assorted projects.
When out in the garden he, just like the stories run, comes to the fence for a chat about the day. He has handed over the fence gifts from tools to make gardening on my side easier, to bread fresh from the oven and fish freshly caught.
Most recently he presented me with a charming bird house of his own crafting. I come from a long line of bird watchers. The Folks in their declining years not only had feeders, all sorts, but kept a daily journal of visitors to these. Yet, I've never had a bird house of my own.
Delighted, the house was hung high, hopefully out of harms way. Enter: New Neighbors.
There is much excitement in the garden as Spring renters have arrived! First time, Mister sat in the nearby apple tree chirping warnings. The expectant Mother entered the 'door', took measurements and considered furnishing choices I think. As of yesterday, setting up housekeeping has begun. The caution that is taken is quite amazing. These are savvy birds. They must know there is a cat presence in this garden. Yet the little mother arrived with the first bit of fluff in her beak, sat on the clothes line looking around then darted in.
All this may seem uncommonly dull to you, Dear Reader, but I am thrilled to have my own resident birds in my very own bird house with the heart on its door.
Such additions to the neighborhood are delightful indeed. The new neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Bird, remind me that we have a common Heavenly Father Who watches over all our comings and goings. Perhaps in time we can convince the lovely Giving Neighbor of this fact.
Friday, April 23, 2010
April = Garden = England
"O to be in England now that April's there" was Mr. Browning's sentiment. The month wouldn't really matter to me. Gardens and England go together at all times in my mind. Some of my favorite authors are or were English gardeners. Among these, Beverly Nichols who was journalist and humorist as well as a sensible gardener. In more recent years, the late Rosemary Verey left a delightful written record. Prince Charles and his writings of his gardens at Highgrove are not only beautiful but inspiring. A "friendly" writer, a good-humored and practical man, one who has been on the cutting edge of the ecological greening movement. He may be royal but he is one fine plantsman and gardener as well.
As for the gardens themselves, don't offer me the formality of Blenheim and those formal parterres of the other grand estates. They are impressive to be sure with their tidy lines and sweeping designs. But they are cold. They have no soul. Give me the blowzy cottage gardens with no purpose other than to delight these senses.
Every Englishman is a gardener it seems. Even when there is but a wee strip of space between sidewalk and front door there is something potted or planted. Many stories up there are window boxes with bright blooms. And if possible, hollyhocks, always hollyhocks.
But today? I should enjoy strolling through William Cowper's gardens at Orchard Side, Olney. There is order in layout, yet fragrance and color are masters. The first garden is all flowers. The smaller one behind the fence is where herbs and vegetables grow. And the centerpiece of this is his charming little writing shed. It is white stucco, one door and 2 windows, one on each side directly opposite. Inside are two built-in benches facing each other. In the mind's eye you can see him, tablet and pen in hand, perhaps accompanied by one of his pet hares as lavender fragrances the air.
Another garden favorite is that of a friend, Lorna. Her front strip is all boisterous color of penstemons, lavender and such like. This is for the world to see as they walk by. But her private garden in back of the house is subtle. It seems at first look to be all greens. That is because of her love for tiny alpine varieties. Walking slowly and looking carefully is needful to catch the little color pops. Here food crops are grown as well. It is sanctuary, soothing and peaceful, much like the gardener herself.
My own garden spaces are a blend of these two, hopefully, though I have no charming writing shed or pet rabbits, alas. Also in my own there is a little bit of actual England. When the seeds were collected and pocketed I did not know it was illegal and vandalism of a most serious nature. Nor will there be an admitting from which gardens the seeds were collected lest the International Seed Police hunt me down. Yet the plants that grow from the ill-gotten gain delight me each year when they show off their colors. They are ever reminders of a trip of a lifetime. Perhaps by the time they bloom this year, I will have figured out how to photo and post.
In the meantime, it's into the Farmer Brown overalls and clogs. The weather is perfect for gardening this April day. Stop by later for tea, if you're in the neighborhood.
As for the gardens themselves, don't offer me the formality of Blenheim and those formal parterres of the other grand estates. They are impressive to be sure with their tidy lines and sweeping designs. But they are cold. They have no soul. Give me the blowzy cottage gardens with no purpose other than to delight these senses.
Every Englishman is a gardener it seems. Even when there is but a wee strip of space between sidewalk and front door there is something potted or planted. Many stories up there are window boxes with bright blooms. And if possible, hollyhocks, always hollyhocks.
But today? I should enjoy strolling through William Cowper's gardens at Orchard Side, Olney. There is order in layout, yet fragrance and color are masters. The first garden is all flowers. The smaller one behind the fence is where herbs and vegetables grow. And the centerpiece of this is his charming little writing shed. It is white stucco, one door and 2 windows, one on each side directly opposite. Inside are two built-in benches facing each other. In the mind's eye you can see him, tablet and pen in hand, perhaps accompanied by one of his pet hares as lavender fragrances the air.
Another garden favorite is that of a friend, Lorna. Her front strip is all boisterous color of penstemons, lavender and such like. This is for the world to see as they walk by. But her private garden in back of the house is subtle. It seems at first look to be all greens. That is because of her love for tiny alpine varieties. Walking slowly and looking carefully is needful to catch the little color pops. Here food crops are grown as well. It is sanctuary, soothing and peaceful, much like the gardener herself.
My own garden spaces are a blend of these two, hopefully, though I have no charming writing shed or pet rabbits, alas. Also in my own there is a little bit of actual England. When the seeds were collected and pocketed I did not know it was illegal and vandalism of a most serious nature. Nor will there be an admitting from which gardens the seeds were collected lest the International Seed Police hunt me down. Yet the plants that grow from the ill-gotten gain delight me each year when they show off their colors. They are ever reminders of a trip of a lifetime. Perhaps by the time they bloom this year, I will have figured out how to photo and post.
In the meantime, it's into the Farmer Brown overalls and clogs. The weather is perfect for gardening this April day. Stop by later for tea, if you're in the neighborhood.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Imagery and St. Terese
Terese of Avila was born as Martin Luther nailed his 95 theses to the cathedral door. He of Germany, she of Spain. The Spanish inquisition occurred during her lifetime. That fact and the general tone of her country made her mystic faith a dangerous faith.
Terese was an influential, wise and no-nonsense woman. She has long been a personal favorite. So, Dear Reader you will kindly indulge me. Having returned to her writings as to a dear friend, I share some of her thoughts this day.
Terese saw things through imagery, in the same way our Lord taught. It has been stated that literary images affect us as they are the language of the soul.
The first image is that of The Journey, The Pilgrimage of the soul, remembering "we have here no continuing city." The purpose of all pilgrimage is the destination. In spiritual terms to come home to where we are intended to live, namely with God.
She speaks of the 'mansion' of the soul - the interior castle where His Majesty lives. 'His Majesty' is the title she most often gives to her Lord, which to me has such power, such reverence. (Contrast this image to today's "Jesus, my buddy" familiarity)
This interior castle of ours where the King lives is why we are called, yea verily, expected to learn, to adopt the manners and protocol of that court. This is godliness.
This is why Terese refers to disobedience as "plotting treason against the King"!
From the court we move into a closer relationship with His Majesty as we learn more of His ways and follow obediently. We move from the nearness of His presence to His friendship, then in time to betrothal and union with Him as his bride.
These concepts are somewhat startling to us as we plod along kicking the "world's toys and comforts from our pathway, or from our soul's living room floor". Yet there is nothing new here. We have heard these phrases our lifelong. Intimacy. The Bride of Christ. Certainly they present a shift of focus.
For Terese all was gained through prayer. To her it was not a duty, but a delight and indulgence. Prayer to her, was seen as water, the vital life in the physical life so in the spiritual. In the beginning of our pilgrimage we draw as with buckets from the well of water by meditation. Then it seen as receiving water direct from the spring or fountain via aqueduct or channel. Finally, it comes from the refreshing rains that saturate the soil of our entire being as we are one with His Majesty, our God and King.
Terese was a nun of the Carmelite Discalced. That means she walked barefoot. I love that image as well. Walking our pilgrimage barefoot seems most appropriate. What better way to feel the pain of toe stubbing when we walk carelessly? What better way to notice the condition of our heart's soil?
Joy to you this day, Fellow Pilgrim. Walk carefully.
Terese was an influential, wise and no-nonsense woman. She has long been a personal favorite. So, Dear Reader you will kindly indulge me. Having returned to her writings as to a dear friend, I share some of her thoughts this day.
Terese saw things through imagery, in the same way our Lord taught. It has been stated that literary images affect us as they are the language of the soul.
The first image is that of The Journey, The Pilgrimage of the soul, remembering "we have here no continuing city." The purpose of all pilgrimage is the destination. In spiritual terms to come home to where we are intended to live, namely with God.
She speaks of the 'mansion' of the soul - the interior castle where His Majesty lives. 'His Majesty' is the title she most often gives to her Lord, which to me has such power, such reverence. (Contrast this image to today's "Jesus, my buddy" familiarity)
This interior castle of ours where the King lives is why we are called, yea verily, expected to learn, to adopt the manners and protocol of that court. This is godliness.
This is why Terese refers to disobedience as "plotting treason against the King"!
From the court we move into a closer relationship with His Majesty as we learn more of His ways and follow obediently. We move from the nearness of His presence to His friendship, then in time to betrothal and union with Him as his bride.
These concepts are somewhat startling to us as we plod along kicking the "world's toys and comforts from our pathway, or from our soul's living room floor". Yet there is nothing new here. We have heard these phrases our lifelong. Intimacy. The Bride of Christ. Certainly they present a shift of focus.
For Terese all was gained through prayer. To her it was not a duty, but a delight and indulgence. Prayer to her, was seen as water, the vital life in the physical life so in the spiritual. In the beginning of our pilgrimage we draw as with buckets from the well of water by meditation. Then it seen as receiving water direct from the spring or fountain via aqueduct or channel. Finally, it comes from the refreshing rains that saturate the soil of our entire being as we are one with His Majesty, our God and King.
Terese was a nun of the Carmelite Discalced. That means she walked barefoot. I love that image as well. Walking our pilgrimage barefoot seems most appropriate. What better way to feel the pain of toe stubbing when we walk carelessly? What better way to notice the condition of our heart's soil?
Joy to you this day, Fellow Pilgrim. Walk carefully.
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