Luke 8: 1-3 ~ Jesus Journeying with the Twelve and a Number of Women

 

I like this picture. Six women follow travel along with Jesus. Their names are written above their heads, but I can't make it out. Doesn't matter. They could be the myrrh-bearers of Easter Morning. They could be the women mentioned in the gospel verses here. Two women in the second group hold crosses, which traditionally signifies they are martyrs. Perhaps they are some of the early women martyrs known as the Virgin Martyrs. Many of their names are mentioned in the First Eucharist Prayer — the young girls who said, "No, I will not call the emperor my God; Christ alone has my loyalty." But I especially like the many hued streaks of horizontal sky. It all suggests movement — a great going forward.  Even the little tree seems to quiver with life and something of a desire to go along with Christ.

1 After this he went journeying from town to town and village to village, proclaiming the good news of the kingdom of God. 2 With him were the Twelve and a number of women who had been set free from evil spirits and infirmities. 3 Mary, known as Mary of Magdala, from whom seven devils had come out, Joanna, the wife of Chuza a steward of Herod's, Susanna, and many others. These women provided for them out of their own resources. Luke 8:1-3

Verse 1: We can speak of enduring a hard time as living from one moment to the next. We can describe a busy day as going from one errand to another. Seniors tell of a week going from one doctor to the next.  Even a scattered or distracted mind goes from this to that. These three verses begin with Jesus journeying from one town to another, one village to another.. I like the use of journeying, which conveys a sense of purpose and even adventure. Jesus wasn't going for a stroll.

Verse 2:  Notice Jesus is not traveling alone but with his twelve apostles. There are also a group of women all of whom have a story. They've got some serious baggage. Don't we all? Luke uses some pretty strong language. He says these women were freed of "evil spirits." He's not saying they were possessed but surely in the grip of some affliction. We might think today of addictions, anxieties, wrong choices, wrong life-turns. depression, cynicism. Whatever the "devils" were, these followers were made infirm (sick) by it. Lots of people have poor, even dangerous, mental health. We aren't' attending to it in our country. We're all vulnerable. There are even places where mentally or emotionally unwell priests and nuns go for help. 

Verse 3: Mary of Magdala was not the gospel woman caught in adultery. The Gospel never says that. Nor does it ever say she was a prostitute. How unfair is that! So, what do we know about Mary of Magdala? Somewhere along the long history-way a number of un-named Gospel women got conflated into one, with the name "Mary Magdalen." This verse (3) tells us she was a disciple who was inwardly freed by her association with Jesus. The verse says Mary of Magdala was freed of seven devils. Seven ! Yikes! Seven is a biblical number which means wholly, completely, a whole lot, totally. We might say, "Poor Mary, she was a mess." But all the more, what a recovery! Later we'll be told she was the first Easter witness. She will be called equal to the apostles. 

And who is this Joanna? It's also said of her she had been healed of infirmities. Could the infirmity or sickness have been physical? Of course, the ancient world knew nothing of biological sickness. We live in the time of covid — still trying to figure out viruses. At any rate, do you have your own inner or outer healing story to tell?

Joanna was apparently a noble woman married to Chuza who was part of Herod's household. Appointed by Rome, Herod Antipas ruled Galilee. Chuza seems to have been significant enough that his name endures. Put simply: Joanna was helpful. She is listed as one of the myrrh-bearing women of Easter morning Luke 24:1-12.  These women didn't expect the Resurrection, rather, they were returning to the tomb at dawn to finish cleaning the body of Jesus' body which had been buried hurriedly on Friday late afternoon. What a remarkable self-gift. Women are the ones who more often than not have to clean up the mess men have made and left behind. Anyway, that's how we come to know her — she was helpful. Here in verse 3 we're told again of the generosity which made it possible for Jesus and his men friends to travel. Get it — she paid for the room and board of the men who are squabbling over "Who's first?"  Funny, but also kind of pathetic. I would have liked to sit with Joanna, listening to her tell of her experiences and insights. 

Notice the sentence tells us there were many others — meaning, many others who were like Joanna. Why do they need to be named? They are US after all, aren't they? And especially the nameless or low-profiled women throughout history to today. The best sermon I ever heard was a Good Friday sermon preached by a woman in a packed church. What fresh and sensitive insights she brought to that day. But soon after, all possibility of hearing from women in a pulpit was forbidden. I can't help but think we are cheating ourselves.

Psalm 151 ~ An Alphabet Psalm of Spring Praises

I suggested in Tuesday's post that we can all compose our own psalm. So I did just that. I used the alphabet as a kind of infrastructure and the sights and sounds of spring as my theme. But while I'm calling it a psalm, I don't use the words God or Lord or even praise. I simply hold all of this in my heart as I stand in the Spring's God-given day.  Saint Kateri Tekakwitha prayed more with her eyes (nose and ears) than with her mouth. 

"My heart overflows with a goodly theme as I sing my ode to the king." Psalm 45:1

April means to open ~ new consciousness.

Berries ~ and gratitude for those who through aching labor pick them for me.

Cardinal ~ not the prelate, but the elegant garden songster.

Dogwood ~ a white, wide-armed, bird-welcoming one grew outside my church.

English Daisies ~ cottage garden fantasy.

Fawns and lambs, cubs and kits, hatchlings and calves.

Goldfinch stitching heaven and earth in undulating flight.

Hummingbird whose appearing always comes as surprise.

Iris ~ garden grown or stylized, medieval symbol of Our Lady.

Junco ~ dark-eyed, slate colored, white-winged avian.

King of Marigolds from Africa *

Leaf mold ~ nature's gift for the lightening of my soil.

Migratory birds ~ Have you some intelligence you'd rather keep to yourselves?

Nozzle ~ spray or wide-angle, mist or piercing jet.

Open branching every tree. *

Passionflower hinting at Christ's bright wounds.

Quince barely budded. *

Rain ~ soft as the Irish say.

Silencing scent of damask rose.

Tea-kettle, tea-kettle, tea-kettle tea ~ Carolina Wren's all day song.

Ukraine ~  may the happiness of Spring return to you.

Viburnum for butterflies, bees and birds.

Worms fill the ground with air.

Xylem ~ summoning water up from roots.

Yellow-fevered Dandy Lions. *

Zinnia ~ color-pop, charm and joy.

* Indicates the collaborative gift of my soul sister.

Intercessions ~ Seventh Sunday of Easter

 

It is Memorial Day weekend./ In the third millennium,/ how is it that human beings are still fighting wars like this - leaving young soldiers dead/ and countless innocent civilians/ many children and vulnerable adults among them./ We ask the war dead to intercede before God on our behalf,/ that we would be saved from our own worst impulses./ We pray to the Lord.

This Ukrainian mother with her little daughter are on a bus hoping to drive to safety./ Ukraine,/ yet again "the land of blood."/ Let  us not forget them/ and the battlefield of diabolical madness despoiling their nation./ We cannot imagine./ We pray to the Lord.

Tuesday is the Feast of the Visitation of the Blessed Virgin Mary,/ young Mary hurries to tell her elder relative, Elizabeth, of her pregnancy./ May we join her in celebrating the wonders God works in our lives,/ giving thanks to God for every lovely and good experience or encounter./ We pray to the Lord.

May the young children who receive their First Communion this month remain pure of heart./ May their families help them to grow in faith, hope and charity./ We pray to the Lord.

Covid cases are on the increase again in many places./ We pray for the sick and for those who generously give of themselves to care for them./ May we be wise in safeguarding ourselves and those around us/ as covid and other viruses threaten our health./ We pray to the Lord.

This Tuesday nineteen children and two adults were murdered in an elementary school in Ulvalde, Texas./ Another massacre./ The nation is covered with shame/ as this happens nowhere else in the world./ We hold this painful sadness in our hearts./ Pray for those who hold power and do nothing to help./  Could it be that there is big money to be made off of guns?/ Or could it be that they simply don't  care?/ We pray to the Lord.

*  "For the love of money is the root of all evil." 1 Timothy 6:6-12  It's not money that is the root of all evil, but the love of it. But then, St. Francis comes along, creating the tension in which we must live. "Better for you to go out into the street and kiss donkey dung than to touch money."  Some people love Saint Francis when he stands in the birdbath. But when the saint says things like this, they get angry or nervous and cover their ears. 

Psalm 39 ~ God drew me from the miry clay

 

One author titles this psalm, A Psalm of Thanksgiving and Further Plea for Help. That's because it's actually two psalms that have somehow gotten attached to each other. That shift happens around verse 12. For our purposes here we're only hearing and considering verses 1-12. After verse 12 the psalmist switches into his complaint mode.

Side note: if the only contact we have with the psalms is at Mass between the readings, we'll never hear a complete psalm, as the whiney and vengeful bits have been eliminated. Perhaps just as well as they can be full of a negative energy and each day dishes up enough of that. The first twelve verses of Psalm 39 are extraordinarily tender standing beautifully on their own.

Verses 1-2: The psalmist repeats the word waited twice — "I waited, I waited for the Lord." I like that. Instead of saying, "I waited for the Lord a really long time," repeating the word waited seems to have emotional content. We can feel his urgency.

This translation then says the Lord has stooped down to me. Another translation says, "the Lord inclined to me." Hmm. "Stooped down" — I have the image of the great God of creation getting down, bending low over us like a good parent or teacher. Isn't it a tender scene to see someone get down low on eye level instead of talking above him/her. 

This sense of God stooping down to each of  us also suggests that God has noticed us in the first place. I ask young people who have created their own vision of God, "Does your God know and care that you exist?" 

And in this getting down low, God hears our cry. God listens. God is with us on an emotional level. I'd suggest that God's listens to more than just our words, but God listens to the cry of the heart which is often unspoken.

Verse 3: Here the psalmist give us an indication of his plight. He feels as if his life is stuck in a deadly pit. Miry clay is essentially mud. A car can get stuck in the mud, but a human like can get stuck too, yes? Stuck in resentments, prejudice, addiction, fear, despair, regret. A mind can get stuck in ignorance, even stupidity. But then notice that the psalmist seems to catch himself, as if he's got lost in his complaint and then returns to the great personal truth, that God has pulled him out of it, put him on his feet, back on a sure path. God restores. Can I name that for myself: that even after a long waiting, God puts me back together.

Verse 4:  God has put a new song into the psalmist's mouth. A new song. It's a song of praise. And it's his own song — a poetic way of saying "Through all of my troubles, my love of God; my praising of God is refreshed within me."  The psalmist hopes this refreshed praising of God will be contagious. God is essential for him. Do I trust God? "I trust this brand, I trust the news that comes to me through this channel,  I trust my doctor, I trust my finance guy." Maybe I've gone over to the rebels (as the psalmist suggests). A Russian friend told me after the Soviet collapse, people started flocking back to the Russian Orthodox Church, "Oh, they've just switched their political party," she said. Now in the United States we hear the new term, "Christian Nationalism." Not good: political party and nation as god.

Verse 6: What a wonderful verse! The psalmist has put away all his woes and is overflowing with his observation of God's wonders. "God has given us two books; the first is the book of nature, the second is the biblical word," Father Alexander Men taught. There are 150 psalms. I'd suggest we can all compose our own praise-psalm. We could call it Psalm 151.

Verses 7-8: The psalmist speaks directly to God, "You don't want sacrifices and offerings." But many of us were taught, "Offer it up." Hmm. Maybe. But might that cliché have also been a way to silence any complaint. God asks only for the inner spiritual way of an open ear. What about the ear of my heart? What might that entail?

Verse 8: It must be important, he finds another way of saying it to bring home the point. God wants to hear only one thing only from: "Here I am." It is an offering of self. Christ is the perfect pattern of this self-gift. 

Verses 9-12:  "I delight in your law." Does God elicit real delight in me? Do I feel it (from the depth of my heart)?  Many people these days, especially among the young, say, "I'm more spiritual than religious." Let's not dismiss them. What are they getting at? We can recite the Creed and participate in a church function and never look within. The word religion comes from the Latin, relegio-ere which means to reflect, reread or to consider. 

Carl Jung's theory is that we are born with a religious impulse or instinct. When I was a young boy one rainy Sunday after the last Mass in the school auditorium,  I was part of a little procession as the Blessed Sacrament had to be returned to the church. The priest carried the ciborium hidden under a humeral veil as I walked ahead in my altar boy's cassock and surplice while ringing a set of handbells indicating that the Sacrament was passing. All along the way, men genuflected and took off their hats, women in dresses knelt on the curb with little children. Only a felt-need, an inner impulse or instinct would bring people to their knees in the rain, not a rule.

"I delight in your law." Does that mean just reciting, believing and obeying church rules? I don't think so. There is another law — one that is written in my heart. It is the law over my own being: that God imagined my existence. That God took a moment to create me, to breath God's life into me. That God has a great hope for me. That I belong to God who wants me to persevere in knowing God in the heart-to-heart relationship God dreams of. That's much bigger than anything found in a parish bulletin or dutifully following the rules.  Maybe this is what the young person means when he/she says, "I'm more spiritual than religious." May I encounter something of this myself today. Has the religious impulse been knocked out of me? God's merciful love.

Ascension Rosary Decade

 The Ascension of Jesus ~ Artist: Eleanor Dixon Stecker

Our Father...

St. Luke tells us that Jesus ascended to heaven, Forty days after his Resurrection. Forty is a biblical number that means simply, a long time. We don't really need to know more than that. It may seem that we have a long time to "get it right" whatever that is. And as we get older, time seems to go by more quickly — like the sand in an hour glass seems to pour through as it nears the end. Truth be told, while I may have a long time, I don't have forever.

Hail Mary

To say Jesus ascended suggests first he had descended. He descended into death, yes, but he also descended into the place of our own deepest interior un-doing. He descended to bring life and light to the inner place of white superiority. Descended  to the inner place where we think our kind is best and everyone else is "other" or  "them." It is a sad place. Ungodly. Un-Christly.

Hail Mary!

As Jesus departs he promises the gift of the Holy Spirit, the power from on high, will be given to us. It is the same Holy Spirit Jesus received at his baptism. The Holy Spirit is God's engagement with us today. Have I forgotten this? What do I do with this Spirit-Gift? It's easy to be Spirit-filled from 8 to 9, or 9 to 10, or 10 to 11 on Sunday morning. But what about the rest of the week?

Hail Mary!

The Holy Spirit gift is likened to the wind. Wind can be wild. We don't know where the wind comes from or where it is going to go. Do I detect this spirit-wind in my life today? Where is it taking me? What new place? Not a vacation dream spot, but the new place for love and service. What next engagement with the divine?

 

Hail Mary!

The apostles witness Jesus' departure. They must have felt a terrible loneliness. The loneliness is intensified by not knowing what the future without Jesus will bring. I might pray for the Ukrainian people who are feeling devastating aloneness? Many millions are now refugees while others are left behind. How could this be allowed to happen? How could cities be reduced to rubble? How could such brutalizing violence happen in the 21st century? How alone!

Hail Mary!

Notice that the artist has wisely included as many women as men in the Ascension event. Mary, the Mother of Jesus is pictured, and the myrrh bearing women of Easter morning. These women are the first witnesses to the Resurrection. The gifts of each person are needed for Christ's purposes. If we're a church known for exclusion, we're in a very wrong-headed place.

Hail Mary!

For forty days the Risen Jesus has eaten with his disciples. He has shown himself to them, allowed them to touch him, even place their hands in his wounds. Then he departs. returning to the right hand of the Father within the inner Trinitarian community. As he departs, he entrusts the mission of love to us. It is a challenging mission, requiring energy, creativity and risk.

Hail Mary!

We are spiritual beings with bodies, not bodies in search of a spiritual life. Yet some Christians are essentially worldly people — thinking with the world, shopping around in the world, arguing about the world. Some clergy are so worldly, Pope Francis has likened them to pagans. A spiritual person doesn't simply heap up pieties and wave dogmatic and moral credentials, but sees the world through Christ's eyes, and becomes a whole human person as Christ is a whole human person.

Hail Mary!

The apostles (our ancestors) are sometimes a silly, wrong-headed and contentious bunch. Some parishes just move the furniture around, debate changing the hymnal (yet again), even fight over the placement of a statue, making polite conversation at polite meetings and social gatherings. But when Jesus ascended, leaving us Spirit-gifted and in charge, he had more than this in mind. What radical thing is my parish doing? Radical comes from Latin word radix meaning root. How are we so rooted in the Gospel of Christ that we're doing something brand new that makes a difference?

Hail Mary!

When Jesus ascended, a cloud took him from the apostles' sight. A cloud appeared when Jesus was Baptized and again when he was Transfigured and became white, like snow with the sun shining on it. It is a gloriously hopeful scene in a world of disaster and tears. Is hope still alive in me, or has it been knocked out of me by all the bad news? Have I even become a cynic? Not a few Christians have.

Hail Mary!

Glory be to the Father...

Intercessions ~ Sixth Sunday of Easter

 

A candle for each person murdered in Buffalo

A mass shooting is  one which kills or injures four or more people./ Already this year there have been more than 200 mass shootings in the United States./ We ask for the healing of what ails us culturally,/ spiritually,/ psychologically,/ politically./ May God forgive the national sins which lead to so much violence,/ death and sorrow./ We pray to the Lord.

Despite his painful affliction,/ Pope Francis still intends to visit Canada where he make apology for the actions of the Church which led to the abuse of native American children./ As with the sex abuse scandals around the world,/ we ask for the forgiveness of the Church's sins,/ praying for purification and renewal. We pray to the Lord.

In April alone more that one hundred Ukrainian children were killed./ The sadness is profound./ Christianity is again covered with shame/ as it is a Christian country invading another Christian country/ both countries venerating icons of the Virgin Mary holding the Christ Child./  We ask for leadership which would put an end to this ruinous insanity./ We pray to the Lord. 

While this God-insulting invasion of Ukraine continues,/ the earth itself is convulsed,/ the air is blackened,/ the soil is oil soaked,/ the water wasted,/ the trees are scorched/  no bird can nest,/ the domestic and wild animals are killed or driven away./ May God heal us/ and make us stewards of creation./ We pray to the Lord.

There is a great poisoning of the culture by media personalities who spread suspicion,/ doubt,/ anxiety and division./ It is sometimes said, "The devil is a spoiler."/ We pray to be real Christians who listen only to the voice of Jesus/ which is a voice of light./ We pray to the Lord.

Thursday is the Feast of the Ascension./ May we go up with Jesus/ to the higher things of mercy,/ compassion and humility,/ leaving behind prejudice,/ power and greed./ We pray to the Lord.

"Willful Gladness"

There is an interesting rock garden in my neighborhood — a space that runs about thirty feet long and roughly twelve feet deep. Plants and stones cling to an ascending berm. Some of the ground cover shrubs and mosses drape over the edge of the stone retaining wall which runs the length of the sidewalk.

Late morning a year ago, I saw an elderly woman weeding this garden and so I introduced myself, telling her about the public garden where I volunteer a few hundred feet away. That garden is accessed through a pedestrian tunnel under the rail road tracks on the other side of town. When I asked if she'd share a piece of the yellow primrose (Primula Veris, aka cowslip) which was blooming at the far end of the garden, she said she didn't' even know there was a primrose blooming, but all the same, she climbed down and went to investigate with me. There it was, a small plant under a bush, a wonderful combination of bright yellow and spring green. Glad to share, she dug out half the plant, carefully putting it into my bare hands. I ran off immediately and within minutes had the treasured gift planted under a young witch hazel tree, by the bluestone path that weaves through the garden. 

But for the entire spring and summer, the plant didn't do well. No matter how attentive I was it never seemed to brisk up but stayed semi-wilted all season. I was careful for its watering and constructed a circle of arborvitae branches to filter the light and maybe keep the roots cooler through July and August. I even got down on all fours to investigate when I discovered a few chewed holes in the leaves. Autumn and winter came and went with my wondering if by spring the little plant would have sorted itself out. When this spring arrived the primrose reappeared, sending out wonderfully crinkled, brilliant green leaves followed by sturdy stems topped with clusters of tiny, crayon-yellow trumpets facing all directions.

Then recently, while I was head down still winter-weeding, I heard a nearby voice call hello. Looking up, there was a woman who I somehow felt I should know, but couldn't place. Returning her greeting with "Good Morning," she said, "I came to see the primrose," pointing to it tucked under the witch hazel. Emotionally slack-jawed, I said, "How do you remember after a full year that you gave it to me, and that you remember where I said I'd plant it? How are you even sure that's the plant you gave me?" She said "Well, I do remember, but I'm sorry to say, I don't remember your name."  

Making new introductions we stood around talking awhile about my public garden and her hillside garden. I shared how the primrose had struggled for the whole season, taking delight in its fresh appearance this year. She shared that she had grown up in the neighborhood and presently lived some towns away. Then without any promise of even, "See you around," she went off. 

We live in a country wearied with anger, suspicion and cynicism. I'm joining the poet, Ross Gay, in his book, Year of Delight — taking notice of every lovely and life-giving thing and allowing it all to swirl around inside. I think the poet calls these recognitions conscious acts of resistance and willful gladness — like two gardeners in a world of alienation, talking about a sweet plant and the pleasure it gives.

"And some time make the time..."

I was kindly invited into a zoom poetry group recently where the first six words of the opening line of Seamus Heaney's poem "Postscript" were offered as a prompt — "And some time make the time..." Suggesting the prompt, the participants were then encouraged to compose their own poems. No format prescribed, we were left completely free. Here was my entry as "an old priest who takes care of a cemetery." 

And some time make the time

  to consider the first step through the gate,

  to inhale the damp spring earth,

  to get down deep to the ground's first shoots.

And some time make the time

  to pull the winter weeds,

  to inspect the groundhog's den,

  to watch the fern's unfurling.

And some time make the time

  to engage the robins' holly debate,

  to wash the hand-tool is if it were the chalice,

  to answer the visitor's wave.

And some time make the time

  to bless the morning air,

  to greet the earliest bees,

  to laugh with muddied knees.

And some time make the time

  to feel the light of the golden-hour,

  to consider the sound-gift of rain,

  to trust that Christ has noticed me.

And some time make the time

  to distinguish the house wren's song, 

  to study the lily's interior;

     the pin oak's skin,

  to sing your own psalm.

Intercessions ~ Fifth Sunday of Easter

Church of Saint George ~ Ukraine

We pray not to become indifferent to the reality of wars around the world./ War is death,/ destruction,/ terror,/ tears,/ lies,/ rape,/ theft,/ hidden evils./ For the conversion of humankind where we devolve into barbarity./ We pray to the Lord. 

Pope Francis has called the invasion of Ukraine,/ a blasphemy,/ a God-insult,/ not only for the more than 100 churches destroyed,/ but for the assault upon ordinary citizens,/ children,/ elderly,/ even pregnant women./ The leader of the invasion and his supporters seem to have no remorse./ May the world discover a repentant heart/ We pray to the Lord.

We pray boldly,/ asking for new prophets and new saints/ holy ones who are creative in peacemaking and justice./ May the leaders of the world be found among these men and women,/ gifting the world with peace./ We pray to the Lord.

For the world where there are great and destructive fires,/ drought,/ terrible storms and where new cases of covid are increasing./ We ask blessings for the good people who help others through danger and sadness./ We pray to the Lord.

We pray for the families of the world in all there diversity and challenge./ For families where there is violence,/ addiction,/ insecurity./ For the members of our own family,/ especially those who struggle with physical or emotional stresses./ For the many who suffer loneliness and deep losses./ We pray to the Lord.

We ask consolation and strength for those whose lives have been reduced to tears./ For care providers  whose work is demanding and exhausting./ For those whose work is dangerous or unhealthy./ We pray to the Lord.

In the Easter time,/ may we be undistracted Christians/ responding happily and generously to the voice of Jesus/ in a troubled,/ weary world./ Preserve us from delusion,/ indifference and gloom./ We pray to the Lord.

In the Month of May

 12th c Fontenay Mother of God

At midday I see the church open,

It draws me within.

I come, Mother of Jesus Christ,

Not to pray,

I have nothing to bring you,

Or to ask of you.

I only come, O Mother,

To gaze at you,

To see you,

To cry simply out of joy,

Because I know that I am your child,

and that you are there...

Paul Claudel

It's still Easter!

 

A funny fellow asks a friend, "What's the shortest length of time?" "One second," the friend answers. "No," the funny guy says, "The space between when the traffic light turns green and the horn behind you honks." We understand. But it's pretty pathetic too. 

At Easter, the Church is out of step with this impatient culture. Easter has an octave — too much to say and celebrate for one Sunday, so it overflows into eight days —  then a further overflow to fifty. Here's a lovely, Eastern liturgical hymn which imagines an Easter morning angel announcing to the Mother of Jesus that her Son is risen from the dead.

The angel cried to the Lady full of grace:

 Rejoice, O Pure Virgin!

Again I say:

Rejoice! Your Son is risen from his three days in the tomb!

 With Himself He has raised all the dead!

Rejoice, all you people!

Shine! Shine! O New Jerusalem!

The glory of the Lord has shown on you!

Dance now and be glad, O Zion!

Be radiant, O Pure Theotokos,

 in the Resurrection of your Son!

• The angel says it twice — again! 
• And not only is Christ Risen but so are all the dead. Rejoicing is for everyone — the whole world. 
• The Church, as New Jerusalem, is invited to bask in the bright-shining of Easter. We're supposed to be the ones who announce to the world what's true for everyone.
• Don't these brilliant Ukrainian eggs reflect that radiant shining: stylized crosses, a spotted galloping horse, encircling vines...
• We're invited even to dance for joy. Can we imagine? Zion is another word for Jerusalem. 
• Jerusalem is an international city. How sad when we exclude. How un-Christly.
• Mary is addressed as Mother of God (Theotokos). 
• There are nine exclamation points in the hymn's verses. I think of them as surprise marks! Are we numb to the Resurrection? Have we lost our sense of wonder, delight and surprise?

Intercessions ~ Fourth Sunday of Easter

Ukrainian Mother

It is Mother's Day./ We pray for the women who have mothered us over the years./ For mothers who struggle against the greatest odds:/ who are refugees,/ who cannot supply their children with food,/ security,/ medical care,/ education./ For mothers who are sick,/ exhausted,/ addicted,/ penniless,/ without supports,/ who have lost hope./ We pray to the Lord.

Early in May we pray for those who will celebrate birthdays,/ anniversaries and other days of remembrance./ We ask for them,/ gifts of good health,/ safety,/ well-being and growth in the good things of God./ We pray to the Lord.

Bombed,/ shelled/ and turned into a cemetery,/ the Ukrainian city of Mariupol,/ is named after the Virgin Mary ~ Mother of Jesus, Lord of Life./ At the start of Mary's month of May,/ we pray for the turning of hearts which destroy,/ causing havoc,/ despair,/ pain and death./ We pray to the Lord.

Our lives are supported by many people/ known and unknown to us./ With grateful hearts/ we pray for those who grow and prepare our food,/ who provide us with safety,/ water,/ medicine,/ clothing,/ power,/ transportation and the countless things we buy./ May they be treated well,/ paid fairly,/ and given the rest to which they are entitled./ We pray to the Lord.

Friday is the Feast of the 14th century English Mystic Blessed Julianna of Norwich/ whose great literary work is titled Revelations of Love./ As the plague raged through Norwich three times,/ Julianna maintained,/ "All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well."/ May we be built up in faith,/ hope and love./ We pray to the Lord. 

It is the season for the birthing of lambs and calves/ and the wild animals./ It is the time for nest building/ and the hatching of eggs./ The time of leafing out and flowering./ We ask for something new of Christ-life to be born or renewed in us./ May we have some fresh sense of what Christ hopes for from us./ We pray to the Lord.

God's Smart Plan

This wood engraving was created by the British artist Howard Phipps. It is titled Jobbing Gardener. "Jobbing" seems to be British slang for "working to complete a job or project." This fellow is down on one knee (that's where my jeans wear out first) digging around with a hand fork. It's spring; he's still wearing a sleeveless sweater and cap. A couple of great bees are hovering over him headed into the leafed out bushes. His long nosed British water can is nearby with some old fashioned clay pots. A woven trug is at hand while the cat investigates.. That might be a swarm of starlings in the background by the hill. It's a wonderful garden picture. 

It seems to me that God made us spiritual beings with bodies — not bodies in search of a spiritual life. And so God placed us in the garden where we could be contemplative, healthy and happy. The Risen Jesus being mistaken for a gardener at the end of the gospel story might well remind us of the beginning of the human story where Adam and Eve were created to take care of the first garden. Of course we often go against our contemplative nature, paving over everything with cement and asphalt, chopping down every tree in sight, heaping up mountains of garbage, using rivers to flush away toxins. We have not learned well.

Recently someone shared something she discovered on Facebook that might encourage or help us to set out in new direction. Max C., writes:

"Did you know that there is a natural antidepressant in the country? It's a Mycobacterium vaccae bacteria found in the soil that humans ingest or inhale when they spend time in nature and gardening. This bacteria stimulates the brain part responsible for producing serotonin. The most passionate gardeners will tell you that their garden is their "happy place" and that the actual physical act of gardening reduces stress and lifts mood. Mycobacterium vaccae also improves cognitive functions, it has an effect on Crohn's disease and even rheumatoid arthritis. The natural effects of these antidepressant bacteria in the soil can be felt for up to 3 weeks. Sit down, get your hands dirty and be healthier."

What are we to do with this man; how are we to pray for him?

 

This is Mr. Putin lighting a big candle while visiting  Mount Athos in Greece in 2005. Mount Athos is a peninsula in the Greek Archipelago where there are twenty some odd monasteries and hundreds of monks of different nationalities. The Monastery of St. Panteleimon is the Russian Monastery (aka The Rossikon). It is the largest of all the monasteries — more like a town.

Men who are covered in blood have not infrequently been pictured doing pious things. In more than a few Renaissance paintings we see princely types holding models of churches and monasteries in outstretched hands, kneeling before the Mother of God —  imaging the gifts they made to the Church — a kind of amends for their dastardly deeds. So Mr. Putin's pious display (candle-lighting, icon and gospel-book kissing, hobnobbing with hierarchs) is not new. God sees; God knows. Pity the Church, which out of spiritual breakdown, greed or fear accepts the theatre and the accompanying lucrative donations. That's why I'm wondering about the monk who is looking on as Mr. Putin piously crosses himself. What is this monk thinking? He's got a lock on gaze, and not smiling like the the deacon on the far left under the icon of the Mother of God Interceding.

We can't read the monk's mind, but I'd like to think that as an elder monastic he's got some understanding of the the Gospel of Jesus Christ who said, "Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you many be sons of your Heavenly Father." Matthew 5:43  Tall order!

What are we to do with this murderous invader? It may take the Ukrainian people generations to forgive the cruel spoiler, but the words of Jesus stand. I would suggest we pray this prayer from the heart: "Jesus, give Vladimir Putin what he needs for salvation."  Then, let Jesus do the rest. There are Evangelical Christians who say we should invoke curses down on him — like the vengeful psalms. But that isn't the Christ-way. Forgiveness doesn't mean, "Let's go on vacation together," but praying, "Jesus, give him what he needs for salvation" Actually, that's loving. Or at the consecration, when the chalice is lifted up at Mass say: "I claim the blood of the Lamb for Vladimir Putin." The Lamb, of course, is the Crucified and Risen Jesus. 

Jesus knows Vladimir Putin inside and out. Jesus knows me inside and out. No need to compare and contrast. Stay with the picture a moment. Then, imagine after the candle-lighter has sailed away, standing alone with the monk and praying this prayer for the man responsible for incomprehensible evils: a Christian country bombing and shelling to rubble another Christian country on Easter Sunday. St. Paul writes: "Don't be under any illusion: you cannot make a fool of God!" Galatians 6:7