"He came down with them..."

Here is contemporary artist Rick Ahlvers' Rembrandt-inspired painting of Christ Preaching. Both he and Rembrandt may have had Luke 6:17-19 in mind when setting out ~

17 He went down with them and stood on a level place. A large crowd of his disciples was there and a great number of people from all over Judea, from Jerusalem, and from the coast of Tyre and Sidon, 18 who had come to hear him and to be healed of their diseases. Those troubled by evil spirits were cured, 19 and the people all tried to touch him, because power was coming from him and healing them all. Luke 6:17-19

Verse 17: Maybe  you'll remember the previous scene where Jesus is up on the mountain and from there he chooses his twelve apostles. Now, he has come down from there to a level place. He "levels the playing field" we might say. Everyone is on the same level. There is no above and below. No dais. No podium or pulpit. No one-step-above anyone else. This is ultimately a heart place, isn't it? There's a lot of looking down in our world, and our country is not free of this flaw.

Furthermore,  we're told that a large crowd of disciples was there. We usually think disciple means follower. But that's too passive. A disciple is one who wants to learn. And this learning isn't a mind-affair, as if I have more teaching to stuff into my mind or another must-read book to get through. "You need to read this book; it'll set you straight." But rather, what does my heart need to learn from Christ? That's the question a disciple-wannabe asks.

Then Luke tells us where these folks are from: "all over Judea, from Jerusalem and the coast of Tyre and Sidon." In other words, there were all kinds of people from seemingly everywhere. Not just Jews. The gospel writer, Luke, isn't a AAA member or an ancient GPS — Jesus welcomes people from every inner geography.  

Verse 18: All that's needed is the desire to hear and to be healed. Jesus doesn't ask qualifying questions, but he knows human hearts where they are weak, or broken. "I'm heart sick," a grieved person might say. Not a few people (especially young ones) have given up  even stepping inside a Christian church because they dread being assessed, mentally hassled or queried. There is an epidemic of loneliness in our country — people feeling rejected, dismissed and judged. Maybe we should expand the sacrament of the Anointing of the Sick to explicitly include the heart-sick.

Verse 18 by extension: "Those troubled by evil spirits were cured." Why do we jump  to the words evil spirits? And how limited our understanding of evil spirits is.  How about putting the emphasis on the word troubled. "Those who were troubled were cured." Isn't that all of us? What troubled times we're living in — all the death, violence, anger, hate, exhaustive stress, addiction and compulsion? This is humankind in its deepest need of a cure.

Verse 19: The word "all" appears twice in this verse alone. Add "all over" from verse 17 and that makes three times. ALL. I saw a lawn sign the other day that read: "Wherever you are from, we want you to feel at home in this neighborhood."  There's a Mass hymn titled "All Are Welcome." Are they? Really? Do we have to agree about everything before we realize this ALL? God has a human heart, voice, face and touch in Jesus Christ. How is it that we have come to such a shrinking of this Christ — making his spiritual way into a battlefield of sniffing out sin and heresy? These three verses should shock us.

Oh Jesus, 

step down 

 into the level place of my heart-mind

 that you shock me

 into some new awareness,

 some change that alters me —

grows me up utterly.

This sounds like a dare, Jesus,

but I need to ask it of you,

if I am to be counted

 among the ones who call themselves

disciple.

Hope Restored ~ Read On! Listen in!

Someone sent this online article and I thought it has to be given the widest possible exposure. You can click on the lovely live-streamed concert with the charming introduction and plant-audience below. How creative! How life-valuing!

When Barcelona's Liceu opera opened on Monday for its first concert since mid-March, it did so to a full house — of plants.

The Gran Teatre del Liceu filled its 2,292 seats with plants for a performance by the UceLi Quartet, which it called a prelude to its 2020-2021 season. The string quartet serenaded its leafy audience with Giacomo Puccini's "Crisantemi" in a performance that was also made available to human listeners via live stream.  "After a strange, painful period, the creator, the Liceu's artistic director and the curator Blanca de la Torre offer us a different perspective for our return to activity, a perspective that brings us closer to something as essential as our relationship with nature," according to a release on the Liceu's website.

The plants came from local nurseries and will be donated along with a certificate from the artist to 2,292 health care professionals, specifically at the Hospital Clínic of Barcelona.

Organizers wrote that they wanted to recognize the work of health care providers, who have served "on the toughest front in a battle unprecedented for our generations."

Spain ended its national state of emergency on Sunday, lifting a lockdown that had been in place for three months. According to the country's phased-in reopening plan, establishments such as theaters and cinemas can operate with capacity restrictions. The venue's statement addressed this gradual return to a new normal.

"[The Liceu] welcomes and leads a highly symbolic act that defends the value of art, music and nature as a letter of introduction to our return to activity," it read.

Give yourself a Sunday rest ~ take a break from the money wheel, the shopping wheel, the running errands wheel, the cleaning wheel, and listen to Puccini's music. Imagine sitting in all this green!

Intercessions ~ Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

In a time of chaos and divisive ugliness,/ we ask for our nation to again be God-blessed,/ teeming with people of all kinds/ living in harmony and peace./ We pray to the Lord.

As Pope Francis has added the title: Mother of Migrants to Mary's Litany of Loreto,/ may we grow in knowledge/ and sensitivity to the desperate plight of the many who are fleeing for their lives around the world./ We pray to the Lord.

More than 126,000 Americans have died of Coronavirus./ Many states are experiencing spikes in the number of cases,/ hospitalizations and deaths./ Still, there are people,/ cavalier in refusing the simplest requests to help spread the disease./ May we learn to care for one another./ We pray to the Lord.

For the safety of all during the summer hurricane and fire season./ For those who are struggling to keep businesses open,/ for the furloughed and unemployed./ For those who are standing on food pantry lines/ and for all who are helping./ We pray to the Lord.

We pray for our families,/ friends,/ neighbours and colleagues,/ mindful of the ones who are having a hard time of it these days,/ who need to be strengthened in the face of difficult challenges./ We pray to the Lord.

The global threat used to be acid rain,/ now it is plastic rain — rain containing large amounts of micro-plastic,/ as billions of tons of plastic garbage decompose,/ filling the oceans,/ waterways,/ the animals/ and now/ even the rain and the forests and farmland where it falls./ May we learn God's wisdom./ We pray to the Lord.

Praising on the path...

This is magnolia grandiflora (great flowering magnolia). It is blooming now, a magnificent forty or fifty foot tree nearby. The newer leaves are a glossy, bright green. But it's the flowers that are the real draw. The petals are thick and snow white. The edges, curled so the rain collects and beads inside. The fragrance is similar to gardenia, but lighter.

I visit the splendid tree everyday — a kind of pilgrimage — just to look. My whole face fits inside the huge bloom. I am one with the little pollinator insects that are hanging around, the breeze that lifts the branch a moment then falls, the song sparrow singing over my right shoulder while I take it all in. 

While St. Francis of Assisi lived in the West 1182-1226, the Persian mystical poet, Rumi,  lived contemporaneously 1207-1273. Rumi wrote:

"Your depression is connected to your insolence and refusal to praise. Whoever feels himself walking on the path and refuses to praise — that man or  woman steals from others everyday - is a shoplifter! The sun became full of light when it got hold of itself. Angels only began shining when they achieved discipline. The sun goes out whenever the cloud of non-praising comes. The moment the foolish angel felt the arrogant lack of respect, he heard the door close."

But what's the praise? It isn't so simple as a memorized prayer — someone else's words. Infact, it needn't be words at all. The praise is simply the being there: non-grasping, aware, grateful, ready, wide-eyed, even hushed. The insolence Rumi speaks of is that cheeky sense of entitlement which can afflict us — the ignorant ingratitude, the rudeness which ignores or misses the marvel that's right here, right now.

Mary's (and our) Mystical Participation in the Holy Trinity

Roses are perhaps the most popular flower — surely the best known flower, the most loved flower. The Litany of Loreto calls Mary, Mystical Rose. For Catholics, mystical doesn't mean faraway, out of reach rose, but rose so close, we might well miss the meaning. Before the Protestant Reformation, the rose was called Mary's Mystical Participation in the Holy Trinity. That's a mouthful.

Late Medieval paintings often show Mary sitting inside the Holy Trinity — the Father and the Son placing a crown on Mary's head, the Spirit with wings spread, floating above. Carl Jung considered the 1950 declaration of Mary's Assumption to be the most important religious event of the 20th century — that Mary's Assumption, and her taking her place within the Trinity, restored the feminine aspect to God's inner life. Some even suggest that Mary's stepping into the Trinity turned God's inner life into a more complete quaternity.  

We don't need to dissect that. Sufficient here to think about the rose itself. The roses pictured here are bunching. Not like the hybridized, forced, long stem, single roses we pay big money for at Valentines Day. These more wild roses are abundant and kind of overflowing — like Mary's yes! and the fullness of her life lived in nearness to Christ. And that after all, is what Christianity is supposed to be, isn't it? Not a dogma book, not an ethical system, but a fragrant encounter with the living person of Jesus Christ, who patterns for me my own life, lived abundantly, uniquely and beautifully.

But notice as well — at the far right, bottom half of the photo, there is a spent rose. The petals have faded and fallen off, making room for the newer opening buds. To live that abundant Christ-life: "I have come that they may have life, and have it in all its fullness." John 10:10 something old has to be allowed to fade off or drop away. What might that mean? From time to time, do I hear myself saying, "I used to think that way, but I don't anymore." "I used to act that way, but I don't anymore." 

What a pity — a life lived religiously, that doesn't change and evolve — that's lived like everyone else.

Intercessions ~ Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time

This weekend the nation observes Father's Day./ We pray for young people who are without the guidance,/ protection and care of a father./ For fathers who grieve for their families trapped in poverty or war./ We pray to the Lord.

Wednesday is the Feast of the Birth of St. John the Baptist./ With Pope Francis/ we pray to see every child as a holy child,/ to be welcomed,/ loved and protected./We pray to the Lord.

May we not become careless or indifferent to the coronavirus pandemic/ as cases and deaths spike in many places./ We pray for the sick/ and those who remain dedicated to their healing and comforting./ We pray to the Lord.

The nation bears a deep and sinful stain in its story of slavery./ Many Americans are ignorant of that story./ As we witness its effects even to today,/ we pray to grow in knowledge,/ which yields humility,/ repentance,/ and conversion to justice./ We pray to the Lord.

We pray for June's graduates:/ may they not be self-pitying at the loss of their ceremonies,/ but turn instead to thoughts of how to serve others who are finding life difficult these days./ We pray to the Lord.

For the President of the United States and world leaders everywhere to be blessed with gifts of maturity,/ self-restraint,/ decency,/ humility and intelligence./ We pray to the Lord.

"Let us try..."

"Let us try what love will do."

William Penn

These words of the seventeenth century, British American Colonist, William Penn, sound like something Jesus would have said. We might imagine he placed the emphasis on the word try. Is there some sense of desperation to the invitation? We have tried invasion and war. We have tried consumerism, exploitation and wealth-garnering, yet we remain unhappy and unfulfilled ~ "Let us try what love will do." Notice that love does something. It isn't a lifeless sentiment. Love is active — it makes good happen for the other. Love yields self interest for the benefit of the other.

William Penn was one of the founding Quakers, who are one of what are called peace churches. There are only a few of them. I imagine Jesus, who said to Peter in the violent night time garden, "Put away the sword," would be dismayed. 

I remember years ago, when I was a curate, there was a weeping cherry tree outside the rectory front door. I peaked under the branches one morning and discovered a lovely nesting dove hidden in the branches. Then the lawn company guys came through with roaring mowers and blowers, all on a time table, having thirty lawns to mow before the end of the day. So this story is ultimately about money.

And while part of the team drove around furiously, another worker moved from tree to tree with a tank of insect killing poison strapped to himself, blasting the stuff over, under and around every tree. I called to him, "There's a dove's nest in the tree." He waved me off and yelled over the roar, "Oh they're like rats; they're everywhere." 

What's wrong with us that we've come to this utter violent disregard for living things? Mind you, the poison goes into the ground which is a food source for other birds, and under the ground is  often our water source (hence the term ground water). Ultimately this violence to a nesting bird is violence to ourselves.

"Let us try what love will do."

The Madonna's Juniper Bush ~ Mary's Flight and Our Maturation

This photo was taken of a Juniper bush planted in a huge cement pot outside a bank on a city street. Isn't it lovely? The berries (which I recently  learned are technically called cones) are just forming. As they mature they will turn a deeper and richer blue. There's meaning there for us.

The juniper, of which there are many kinds, is one of the plants telling of events along the road to Egypt, when the Holy Family ran ahead to safety from jealous King Herod's threats and menace. Herod, a weak, corrupted and insecure leader, afraid of losing power, even to a baby. Pathetic, heh?

The Medieval legend goes that while fleeing (how some Christians feel no compassion for the ones who must flee today, is beyond me) Mary looked for a place to hide with her infant. Just then the prickly juniper opened itself and the Holy Mother stepped into the tree's cavity, surrounded by softness. Herod's hunter-soldiers passed the hiding place unawares. The story is lovely of course, creating an atmosphere of love and welcome around Jesus and Mary. But I'm interested in those light blue cones forming on the bush.

They are immature fruit, meaning, they are in a state of becoming and evolving. They are not there yet. Perhaps they are images of our own state of being. Are we ever really there? Not really, and that's okay. I want to learn to be content with the gradual becoming or ripening of my life —like berries, fruit and cones developing over time.

It seems to me that if I think I've arrived, that every everything about me is a done deal — then I've stopped living. So, are there latent talents I've not explored, creative changes that are waiting for expression? Is there some new heart-sensitivity that hopes for an awakening? What is there for me to learn yet about how to be a really alive human person? 

A young nurse wrote recently that she had watched the video of George Floyd's death a number of times, asking about her own emotion and what it might have led her to had she witnessed it in person. She was able to identify the moment when Mr. Floyd surrendered to death. She asked, "Would I have yelled out, 'I'm a nurse, let me assess him!'"

Another friend wrote, "Now is the waiting time — that the virus will disappear and our lives may return slowly to normal breathing, our fears disappeared and we may get out of our caves."

The light blue of the juniper cones are in their process, their becoming, their ripening. Each day is just where they belong along the way to fullness. How do you understand this for yourself? This is the spiritual way or path — no less than Mary's many journeys from Nazareth to Bethlehem, and Bethlehem to Egypt and back, and to Cana and Galilee, to Calvary and Easter. 

One pastor said recently, "It's no longer enough to be 'not racist'; one must be anti-racist." What about that ripening? That evolving? Some white folks are starting to get it now. Some.

Intercessions ~ Feast of the Body and Blood of Christ

This Feast of the Body and Blood of Christ is a Feast of Unity./ In times of great division and animosity,/ may we become the unifying and healing food we eat./ We pray to the Lord.

The Eucharistic food we receive at Mass,/ in truth is the Body and Blood of Christ./ But this reality of Christ is also encountered in the poor and the vulnerable who inhabit this earth./ May we recognize deeply this other sacred presence./ We pray to the Lord.

As churches open and congregations gather again for worship,/ may we take nothing for granted./ May our attention to one another and to God's word,/ with the joy and intensity of our prayer and singing,/ give evidence of this appreciation./ We pray to the Lord.

As our nation suffers great pain,/ division and violence,/ may we embrace some act of repentance for the great sin of our historical racism,/ and become the more perfect union our founders envisioned./ For the heart-conversion of those who hate human diversity./  We pray to the Lord.

May the President of the United States/ and every elected official/ be a source of unity,/ and never a source of division,/ which weakens and demoralizes the people./ We pray to the Lord.

We pray for those who remain sick/ or who have been newly diagnosed./ For those who care for them at home or in hospitals./ For businesses which are trying to open again./ For those who remain unemployed./ We pray to the Lord.

We join Pope Francis in his prayer for the more than 400,000 persons who have died of  the Coronavirus./ We pray as well for the those who mourn them as family,/ friends,/ neighbors and colleagues./ We pray to the Lord.

Lily of the Valley ~ Mary's Tears

Before the Protestant Reformation, this low-growing plant, Lily of the Valley, was known as Mary's Tears. Notice the small bell-shaped flowers lining the stems, forming a kind of stream. It is a lovely and tender demonstration of heaven's concern for us in our destructive sin, vulnerability and terrible error. But our joys too - tears of joy.

Tears of joy at a baby's birth.

Tears of joy at a being given a particularly sensitive gift.

Tears of joy witnessing acts of great generosity or courage.

Tears of joy seeing or hearing beauty that moves us emotionally.

Tears of joy and gratitude at surviving an accident, sickness or surgery.

Tears of joy at having achieved some personal success or victory.

But I'm also thinking of George Floyd — who while he was face down on the pavement, his hands bound behind his back, a man's knee on his neck and the knees of other men pressed against his back, restricting his lungs, after calling out for his mother, still addressed his killer, courteously, "I can't breathe, officer." That's a scene for streaming tears. In the days following, some white folks re-enacted his death mockingly. That's a scene for tears too.

Some Christians don't make the connections — Jesus was bound in the garden and in prison, rendering him powerless. Jesus was mocked. Jesus was surrounded by complicit onlookers. Jesus called to his Mother, who stood under the cross, the instrument of his execution. Jesus died by suffocation. Mary's Tears ~ Our Tears.

Intercessions ~ Trinity Sunday

In God's inner life there is friendship,/ community,/ relationship./ May we live Trinitarian lives,/ embracing this divine-human way./ We pray to the Lord.

At the start of June we pray for those who celebrate birthdays,/ anniversaries and other days of remembrance,/ asking for them,/ good health,/ safety and peace./ We pray to the Lord.

June is also the month of the Sacred Heart of Jesus./ May we not simply admire a picture on the wall,/ but have our own Christ-heart renewed,/ which is a heart of compassion and inclusivity./ We pray to the Lord.

This week our president held up a bible for all to see./ We pray for all Christian leaders,/ to embrace the healing,/ unifying words and deeds of Jesus/ which are found in that book./ We pray to the Lord.

We pray for our country/ which is suffering through the covid pandemic,/ historic unemployment and civil unrest/ following the terrible death of George Floyd./ We asks for the healing of our national soul./ We pray to the Lord.

For the victims of hate and violence./ For those who abuse power and dominate others./ For mourners and those who are aggrieved in their poverty./ Could God be asking for us to undertake a national examination of conscience?/ We pray to the Lord.

Even the dandelion speaks of Mary ~ Her Bitter Sorrow

A number of plants are named for the Bethlehem manger,  imagining Joseph collecting grasses and plants that were dried to place in the Holy Child's crib. Pennyroyal, Rue, Thyme, Lavender and Rosemary are called the manger herbs. Dandelion is another of those plants — once called Mary's Bitter Sorrow. 

Dandelions are often thought of as a weed — a plant that grows where we don't want it to grow. But all the plants spring from God's imagination, and so we might more kindly refer to dandelion as simply a native plant. Americans spend huge amounts of money on chemicals to destroy dandelions. Mind you, those chemicals poison the food some birds (like robins) eat. Lawn chemicals also eventually find their way into streams, ponds, lakes and aquifers. Not good.

Maybe dandelion was called Mary's Bitter Sorrow because its leaves taste bitter. In our time, the word bitter has a negative connotation. A bitter person is angry or resentful. We might say, "The terrible divorce left her bitter."  But bitter sorrow can mean a suffering that's brought about by a deep personal hurt. What did Mary know about her Child's future? Did she already carry a prescient sorrow or hurt?

Lots of mothers carry sorrows. Perhaps pondering the roadside dandelion - Mary's Bitter Sorrow - we might pray. "Examine me, Lord, and try me; O test my heart and my mind..."  Psalm 26:2. When God looks into my heart and mind, I want him to see that it cares for more than just myself.

The bitter sorrow of women
  who miscarry,
  whose child is stillborn. 

The mother who gives birth to her child
   while she is fleeing war, famine or disaster.

The mother who is alone, abandoned,
   even by the child's father.

The mother who is overwhelmed with poverty,
   who is forced to give a child away.

The mother who fears for her child's safety in a gun-soaked nation,
  who hopes for her children to be spared addiction and violence,
  who sorrows after an abortion,
  who is separated from her children,
  whose child is handicapped, weak, failing or chronically sick.