Intercessions ~ First Sunday in Lent

Lent,/ the Church's Springtime,/ has begun./ We pray to experience something personal that we might call warming,/ melting,/ greening/ or simply,/ change./ We pray to the Lord.

As March begins/ we pray for our families and friends,/ and for those who celebrate birthdays,/ anniversaries and other days of remembrance,/ asking good health, safety and peace./ We pray to the Lord.

As India and the United States sign a three billion dollar military equipment deal,/ we pray for Pope Francis, who has said, "Countries that sell arms have no right to talk about peace."/ We pray to the Lord.

We pray for the President of the United States,/ our Congress and candidates for public office./ We ask boldly for leaders who are of clean heart and mind,/ freed of corruption,/ lies and greed./ We pray to the Lord.

We pray for the sick,/ mindful of the countries where the coronavirus is spreading./ For the safety of the many people who help others to heal./ For those who are addicted,/soul-sick,/ or whose relationships are toxic./ We pray to the Lord.

Remembering the 1965 Voters Rights March from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama,/ we pray for our nation,/ whose original sin is racial prejudice./ We pray to be healed of hatred./ We pray to the Lord.

Duccio's Christ In His Farewell Teaching ~ Some Thoughts

Click on Duccio's painting of Christ in His Farewell Discourse to the Apostles for some shared thoughts - about 11 minutes. I might suggest opening the painting to a full screen.

The Glenstal Abbey Christ ~ Will you join me?

This icon of Christ Pantocrator (Christ the Ruler) is venerated in the crypt-chapel of the the Benedictine Monks of Glenstal Abbey in Ireland.  So I begin the day, while it is still dark, silent before the icon which is teaching me the truth of Carl Jung's insight:

"We should not pretend to understand the world only by the intellect; we apprehend it just as much by feeling. Therefore, the judgment of the intellect is, at best, only half the truth, and must, if it be honest, also come to an understanding of its inadequacy."  C.G. Jung ~ Psychological Types

Join me in the gazing. In Christ, God now has a human face. It is an all-compassionate face. His eyes understand as he steps up to the window's edge where heaven and earth touch. His side is burnished; our side is charred. Did you notice?

In Christ, there is no longer earth-here and heaven-there. He blesses us with his right hand. His all-merciful eyes jump the gap. The opened Gospel book reveals the text: "Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest."  Mt. 11:28 

Many people visit the Glenstal icon and claim it to be a source of healing. I don't doubt it. But while we pray for our dear ones who are sick, may we also hope for our own healing—may we be healed of our confident indocility, energy-stealing anxieties, compulsions, addictions, indifference, resentments. Standing before the icon in cyber-presence, may we pray for the world and our nation, afflicted from within.

~ ~ ~

The compassionate eyes of Christ,
looking up—
seeing the vast crowd and
healing all the sick.

The tender eyes of Christ,
noticing
the widowed mother
and saying to her,
"Don't be afraid."

The pitying eyes of Christ,
greeting the kneeling leper,
excluded and shamed,
and saying, "I do will it; be clean."

The benevolent eyes of Christ,
stopping in all the towns and villages,
the marginal places—
shepherding eyes of inclusion.

Forbearing eyes of Christ,

shine light into the world's wounds
of militarization,
child neglect,
bio-destruction,
runaway greed,
gross vanity,
the feeble souls.

Warm eyes of Christ,
melt the hearts
frozen with hatred,
gross stupidity, 
blind loyalty.

Empathic eyes of Christ,
revealing your broken heart,
your deeply-moved,
pitying heart
for our en-flamed world,
our cultural suffocation.

Understanding eyes of Christ,
how have we come to this—
that we have so failed 
the planet-gift,
that the news we create is so cruel,
that we can't seem to get it right?

Curative eyes of Christ,
in our disorientation,
bewilderment,
misery,
unhappiness,
despite the braggadocio of 
greatness
and economic wonder.

Fellow-feeling eyes of Christ,
access to God's gut-churned heart
for our sickness,
our coarse humanity,
our savagery—
the president expands the use of landmines,
the punished boy found dead in the garage,
the swan kicked to death—
   her mate,
   her cygnets plying the stream, searching—
our idiotic sense of humor.

My desperate, crying heart knows your icon is the way.
And so I run to you this morning, 
God of hearts—
to meet you,
to greet you
in your caring gaze,
your merciful,
healing eyes.