Tag: peace

Taking Notes, at peace or in the wilderness

I am rarely without a notebook and pen. It would be fair for me to wear a sign on my back that says, “Will stop to write.” Mostly because otherwise I will forget. I will stop my longboard if a compelling thought jumps into my mind. And I frequently sit along a shoreline, in the woods, on a bench or wherever to take notes.

When it comes to church, for the readings and the sermon, I often just have pen and paper at the ready.

These are notes and thoughts after sermons and discussion last weekend at Christ Church Easton.

Last weekend’s lectionary readings were Isaiah 11:1-10 (The Peaceful Kingdom) and Matthew 3:1-12 (The Proclamation of John the Baptist). They will both speak to you if you let them.

A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse,
    and a branch shall grow out of his roots.
The spirit of the Lord shall rest on him,
    the spirit of wisdom and understanding,
    the spirit of counsel and might,
    the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord.
His delight shall be in the fear of the Lord.

Isaiah 11:1-3

On our Sunday morning Zoom discussion, Fr. Bill Ortt unpacked the Isaiah reading.

Wisdom happens in the heart and soul. Understanding takes place in the mind.

Fr. Bill Ortt

That’s one to sit with. We comprehend things with our mind, but when something sinks into our soul, it changes us.

And as we got talking about how to take “the fear of the Lord,” Fr. Bill talked about the ocean–how it deserves reverence and respect; how it leaves us humbled and in awe when we think about its size and power.

My mind went to the stars. When I stare at a clear night sky and try to think about the distance and time that is between us and God’s artwork across the cosmos; if I see a shooting star or the recent eclipse, my sense of awe and wonder is beyond stoked.

In verses 6-10, Isaiah goes on to describe what the coming peaceful kingdom might be like:

The wolf shall live with the lamb;
    the leopard shall lie down with the kid;
the calf and the lion will feed together,
    and a little child shall lead them.
7 The cow and the bear shall graze;
    their young shall lie down together;
    and the lion shall eat straw like the ox.
8 The nursing child shall play over the hole of the asp,
    and the weaned child shall put its hand on the adder’s den.
9 They will not hurt or destroy
    on all my holy mountain,
for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord
    as the waters cover the sea.

This whole section is filled with hope for a people that need it. Maybe with what the world we live in feels like, looking forward with hope for a time to come might do us some good.

In Matthew’s Gospel, John the Baptist appears in the wilderness. He looks crazy, wearing camel-hair clothing and a leather belt, eating locusts and wild honey. He tells people to change their lives, to live differently.

We got talking about the wilderness.

“Temptation in the Wilderness” by Briton Riviere, WikiMedia Commons

The kind of wilderness they talk about in the Bible is not a place we want to be. Wilderness experiences are those times we feel alone, lost, stripped down, exhausted, confused.

We talked about the need for recognizing those times in the wilderness, those times of desperation.

“Sometimes we go into the wilderness, but sometimes the wilderness comes to us.”

That was a comment made in our Zoom discussion. There is a lot of truth to that. Being aware of the wilderness, even if we don’t feel that’s where we are, can be a saving grace.

Wilderness changes us. It can make us wiser. It can help us understand what other people are going through. It can wake up our compassion. When we come out of the wilderness renewed, we want to be people who help others who are struggling to make it through.

Towards the end of Fr. Bill’s sermon in the church on Sunday morning, he tied it together:

“We need to know what it means to be people who have been healed, forgiven, and renewed.”

Amen.

Getting Connected: The Feast of St. Francis

St. Francis was not in the movie “Stripes.” He’s not that (“my friends call me psycho”/lighten up) Francis. I think the first time I connected Francis of Assisi to words was the prayer that is attributed to him:

“Lord, make us instruments of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let us sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is discord, union;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy.
Grant that we may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;  to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen.”

And I thought, I want what that guy has. I want to get to that place. It is not an easy road. And then I realized that St. Francis is the guy who is always pictured with animals, connected to nature, known as a hippy in some circles, patron saint of the environment. So more good stuff.

And as I’ve come to find writers and thinkers who resonate, open doors,  help me name things, or get out of my own way, one of those folks is Richard Rohr, who is a Franciscan friar/monk.

Today (Oct. 4) is the “Feast of St. Francis,” which has given me a bunch to think on. Rohr’s book “Eager to Love,” outlines “the alternative way of Francis of Assisi.” In his preface, Rohr says:

“We are each loved by God in a particular and incomparable way, as in the case of a bride and bridegroom.” Francis and Clare knew that the love God has for each soul is unique and made to order… Divine intimacy is always and precisely particular and made to order–and thus ‘intimate.'”

If you dig into his life and teachings, Francis (1182-1286) is a fascinating friar. Son of a wealthy merchant who lived it up, was captured, got sick, had dreams and visions and transformed his life. He lived a life most of us couldn’t handle or live up to. He embraced and marveled in all of God’s creation. Again from Rohr:

“In Franciscan mysticism, there is no distinction between sacred and profane. All of the world is sacred… you can pray always and everything that happens is potentially sacred if you allow it to be. Our job as humans is to make admiration of others and adoration of God fully conscious and deliberate.”

All the world is sacred, pray always, everything that happens to you is a chance to find meaning and grace. Francis is often depicted in nature, praying with and spending time with animals. I think artist Sue Betanzos, who creates whimsical paintings of St. Francis, and whose painting is the featured image at the top of this post (used with the artist’s permission), gets his connection to nature.

On this Feast of St. Francis, I want to make it a point to study him more, his life, writing, and teachings. One of the things he seems to get is the idea that we are all connected to everything–God, each other, nature/creation, it’s all rolled into one. As Rohr puts it:

“The great irony of faith is that authentic God experience does indeed make you know that you are quite special, favorite, and chosen–but you realize others are too! That is the giveaway that your experience is authentic, although it may take a while to get there. You are indeed hurting–and others are too. Your only greatness is that you share the common greatness of the whole communion of saints. Your membership in the communion of sinners is a burden you can now carry patiently because others are also carrying it with you. You are finally inside what Thomas Merton calls ‘the general dance.’ You no longer need to be personally correct as much as you need to be connected.”

We don’t need to be correct, we need to be connected. And what St. Francis got, what Rohr gets, what Christ was making known to us, among so many other things, is that we are all connected, to God, each other, the Universe/Creation. Now we just need to start acting like it, both for the joy, the wonder, and the stewardship that is entrusted to us.

St. Francis connects all the dots in his “Canticle of Brother Sun,” quoted in part below the stained glass:

Praised be you, my Lord, with all your creatures,
especially by Brother Sun,
who is the day through whom you give us light.
He is beautiful and radiant with great splendor,
of You Most High, he bears the likeness.

Praised be You, My Lord through Sister Moon and the stars,
In the heavens you have made them bright, precious and fair.

Praised be You, my Lord, through Brothers Wind and Air,
And fair and stormy, all weather’s moods,
by which You cherish all that You have made.

Praised be You, my Lord, through Sister Water,
So useful, humble, precious and pure.

Praised be You, my Lord, through Brother Fire,
through whom You light the night and he is beautiful and playful and robust and strong.

Praised be You, my Lord, through our Sister,
Mother Earth
who sustains and governs us,
producing varied fruits with coloured flowers and herbs.