Intercessions ~ Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Lent begins in eleven days./ May we set out towards Easter/ desiring the renewal of our hearts and minds./ We pray to the Lord.

We pray for Pope Francis who will travel to Malta in May./ We pray as well for that island nation/ which traditionally welcomes with generosity/ those who flee from war and poverty/ across the Mediterranean Sea./ We pray to the Lord.

For the President of the United States,/ our Congress,/ and those in positions of authority across the nation./ In an election year we ask for candidates to public office who will be agents of national unity./ We pray to the Lord.

In a time of climate crisis,/ bless the human efforts to secure the well-being of the planet-home God has filled with living things/ and entrusted to our care./ We pray to the Lord.

We pray for our country where life is made difficult and painful by the dark passions Jesus forbids in the gospel today:/ anger,/ lust of many kinds,/ and dishonest speech./ Breaking out of our tribes and parties,/ may we learn to trust and love one another again./ We pray to the Lord.

For the comforting of the sick,/ the freeing of those trafficked and enslaved,/ the healing of our inner wounds,/ the enlightening of consciences and minds sealed in darkness./ We pray to the Lord.

Witch Hazel and Saint Isaac's Encouragement

When you attain to the region of tears,
 then know that your mind has left the prison of this world 
and has set its foot on the roadway of the new age. 
St. Isaac the Syrian

During last week's winter weather, I went out into my garden to make this short video of the snow coming down on the coppery -orange Witch Hazel which is blooming profusely in February. Notice how the snow looks like bits of silver foil. The sound you hear is a nearby stream. Have you ever been stopped by somethng so beautiful it moves you to tears? St. Isaac sees the deep value of those moments.

The saint writes, "When you attain..." The word attain comes from the Latin attingere—to touch.  So, "When you touch the region of tears..." What's that? It is that inner space where we are capable of the deepest sense-ing and silent appreciation. The region of tears, is the capacity (the power?) we have for feeling. Many people never cultivate that capacity, or they equate it with sentiment rather than deep looking, listening and discovering. 

And when you touch the region of tears, know that you have left the prison of this world.  What's that? It's our bubble-world of endless opinionating; our world of aggression; of selling and scheming to buy, get and own; the prison of our prestige, our pride-world; the superficial laugh-a-thon world; the prison which looks away, which chooses to stay ignorant—even comfortably stupid; our eating—like grazing, our cult-world of personalities and power; of living by violence and planet destruction for our greed. 

And has set its foot on the roadway of the new age. What is this new age? Jesus proclaims God's kingdom, which is my life, indeed, this very moment of my life, synchronized with the heartbeat of God. I want to live in that. St. Paul writes: 

"My brothers and sisters, I need only add this. If you believe in goodness and if you value the approval of God, fix your minds on whatever is true and  honourable and just and pure and lovely and admirable." 

My prayer for you (and myself) this week: May you come upon your own Witch Hazel-in-Snow moment, something so good and lovely that your "region of tears" is touched.

The Bogolyubovo Mother of God

Here is the icon of the Mogolyubovo Mother of God. the story surrounding the icon is long and convoluted: a grand prince, heavenly demands, a church built to commemorate a vision, a variety of monasteries, convents, rivers and cities, physical healings, the icon is here then the icon is there. I'm not sure what all of that means. I love the icon and want to be more than an admire-r of it and its story. What of its spiritual content for us today—a spiritual content which is more than calling the image wonder-working.

Here, we see the Mother of God standing on the far left. She is like a great and strong pillar. She is one of us, wearing a brown-red maphorian, the color of the ground from which humankind is made. Mary looks up into the far right corner where the heavens open and Jesus, streaked with divinity, appears in an orb of light. The Mother of God holds a long scroll filled with the petitions and concerns of the monks who cluster prayerfully at her feet. The scroll Jesus holds contains the same list of petitions. Saints Zosimus and Sabbatius stand with the monks. They are the founders of the monastery which gleams with prayer.

Notice the monastery, the monks and the Mother of God are standing on an island—their patch of land is surrounded by water. Island dwellers can live rugged lives. And look, all throughout the icon there wonderful plants and even the mountain and the rocky places are touched with light. Elizabeth Barrett Browning wrote, "Earth's crammed with heaven, and every common bush afire with God. But only he who sees takes off his shoes. The rest sit round and pluck blackberries."   

But what are the monks' petitions written on the dual scrolls? Let's not wait for someone with a magnifying glass to tell us, let's imagine. Perhaps: 

O Lady, may we have clean hearts. 

May we love one another in this place, as Jesus has instructed us. 

May the world beyond be at peace. 

May we care for this island-home of your appearance—charged with life and beauty. 

May we be protected from the inner plagues of exhaustion, bitterness and complaint. 

May we not live in a tiny bubble world—thinking ourselves to be entitled or better than others.

May we see your son's face in the strangers who make their way across the waters.
May our hearts be synchronized with yours.

Spiritual themes are perennial, aren't they?