haiku

pregnantly waiting

alone within my dark shell -

awake o my heart!

This is salvation...

In these weeks after Easter, I have been reading and reflecting a lot on salvation. What is it about the death and resurrection of Jesus that saves us?

Today, in a most unexpected way, an answer was given to me.

I called my mother this evening for Mother's Day. After the usual well-wishes, she updated me on the hardships she and my father have faced in the last week, a litany that sometimes seems to have no end.

My parents are both well into their eighties. Last night, my father fell once again, this time from his wheelchair when he leaned over to pick up something from the floor. He hit his head and bruised his ribs, adding to the aches he already suffers from his rheumatoid and osteoarthritis.

My father has dementia and a worsening Parkinsonian tremor that makes it difficult for him to do much of anything for himself. My mother, who has her own severe chronic pain, has had many more responsibilities land on her shoulders because she is now the healthier one.

Throughout the 61 years of their married life, both of my parents have been devoutly religious (Catholic). Just in the last month or two, they reached the point where they had to conclude that they could no longer attend church. Even with a van equipped with a wheelchair lift, it was simply too hard.

A handicapped priest comes to their assisted living facility to celebrate liturgy every couple of weeks and a lay minister of the church brings them communion once a week. But for most of their married life, they attended church every day...

My poor, dear sweet parents.

As my mother was recapping events, she mentioned Daniel whom I met when I visited at Christmas. My parents are very fond of Daniel, a young African American nurse who frequently stops in to provide care for my father. While he is there, they often discuss sports since both of my parents are avid fans of almost every Minnesota team.

However, what my mother related today was different - not just the usual chatter between them about how the Twins are looking this spring. Daniel, while trimming my father's nails for him this morning, sang hymns to my parents. My mother couldn't remember most of them, since they were not familiar to her, but my parents joined in on the one or two that they knew.

The vision in my mind of this young black man singing hymns of faith to my frail white parents in the decline of their lives brings tears to my eyes. I see Daniel holding my father's frail hand, steadying its inexorable tremor, singing softly as he works...

"What a friend we have in Jesus..."

No longer do I need to read theological discourse or debate. In my heart, I have seen salvation...and it knows no words.

I didn't know...

(When a poem came forth on Ash Wednesday, I was surprised. However, the verse that emerged today in celebration of Pascha (Easter) could not have surprised me more. I do not always understand the gifts God gives - much less expect you to understand them. However, reading the brief poem for Ash Wednesday as well as my recent post for Holy Thursday may lend some context for the poem below. You may read or listen - or both... )

i didn't even know i was in hell

when You came for me.

i thought that I was alone

while they persecuted me

and treated me unfairly.

surely You could see

how wrong they were

and that i was one of Yours!

i did not understand Your silence,

why the walls closed round me

in stony darkness,

why my cries of complaint

never reached Your ears.

they ridiculed me

and You did not stop them,

they robbed me of all dignity

and You did not rebuke them.

did You not love me

more than this?

did You not love me

more than those who

sought to destroy me?

i had not known i was in hell.

or that you had left

the Prayer there for me

amidst the ashes at my feet.

yet i repeated its words,

again and again,

until they spoke themselves

deep within my heart.

Lord Jesus Christ,

Son of God,

have mercy on me,

 sinner.

Lord Jesus Christ,

Son of God,

have mercy on me,

a sinner.

Lord Jesus Christ,

Son of God,

have mercy on me,

a sinner.

over and over, i said them

until i had become

all of the me’s in the world,

their sins were my sins,

and my sins, theirs…

and then, when i looked up,

You were there.

i had not known i was in hell,

so accustomed were my eyes

to the darkness within me,

so familiar was my heart

with its own despair.

and now, You are here…

gently, You touch my eyes –

and I see, as though for the first time!

there are no walls of stone

imprisoning me,

no menacing enemies threatening

to take my life.

i stand emptied and open,

Your glorious light ever before me.

my heart has been freed for mercy!

mercy – o endless mercy –

You surround me and fill me!

o joyous, wondrous love –

You who are my heart –

shine in me, o eternal Light!

He is risen.

alleluia, alleluia, alleluia!

He is risen, indeed.

(amen.)

More on disobedience...

My last post might strike some as taking too light of an approach to a grave topic. Disobedience toward God is indeed a very serious thing. Are there no consequences? What about hell?

God's love is unconditional and eternal. God is unchanging and unchangeable. He does not stop loving us when we sin nor does He dole out punishment to us for our misdeeds by sending us disease or misfortune in this life.

He has not created a fiery hell in which to cast us when we make mistakes or yield to our weaknesses. Even if we fail to repent, He does not withdraw His love from us.

This is my faith. This is Christianity.

Some of the suffering people who come to see me tell me that they believe that hell is right here on this earth, that they are in hell right now.

And they may be correct - but not for the reasons that they think. More on that later.

As I write this, it is Holy Thursday and I have just returned from celebrating the Lord's Supper. In this holy meal, Jesus gives Himself to us completely and for all time.

He first gave Himself as Eucharist to His apostles, (including Peter who would deny Him within 24 hours and Judas who would betray Him that very night). He did not limit His gift to the obedient.

He has continued giving and giving Himself in sacrament to saints and sinners alike, for generation after generation, century after century. And now to you and me. It is a grace and love beyond telling...

So if God loves me unconditionally, giving Himself to me whether or not I am obedient, what is point of being obedient?

This is where hell comes in. Hell is not a torture chamber designed by God for the next life nor is it the suffering we experience in this life - though the latter can indeed be very bad.

Hell is being in the midst of suffering, with God loving you completely, totally and unconditionally - and you don't know it. You don't know that He loves you, that He is holding you at every moment. You think that you are totally alone and that you are locked into the dungeon of that aloneness with no means of escape. You imagine either that there is no key - or that God is outside holding the key, with no intention of releasing you because you deserve to suffer.

That is hell.

And that hell is of our own creation. There is no dungeon and we are not really alone - but sometimes a belief can be stronger than reality in our corrupted awareness. The hell we experience is locked from the inside. Christ is most certainly there with us ready to show us the way out. However, if we don't know it, we experience no comfort, no hope. We experience hell.

And so to be obedient, to repent, to change my heart, to "cease doing evil and learn to do good", to love and forgive, to pray and to receive Eucharist - all of this is so that I might know Christ and unite my heart to His, by the gift of His grace.

United to Christ in obedience, am I then guaranteed freedom from the pains and sorrows of this existence? Am I promised that I will be loved by others and have the things I want and need from this world?

Most assuredly not. In fact, I am promised quite the opposite - at least for a time.

United to Him, I still feel pain and sorrow, grief and betrayal. But I am not alone. I am loved.

And so I choose to walk with Jesus, praying for the courage to be obedient and the humility to know that I cannot walk this path without Him...

What happens to the disobedient...

My backyard, graced with an old walnut tree at one end of the property, is a veritable playground for squirrels. I love my squirrels, so frisky and playful and funny are they.

And this is the season of hungry squirrels. Of course, if you have spent any time watching squirrels, you will recognize that all seasons are the season of hungry squirrels. No matter how much they are given to eat, they always seem to want more - one's layer of fat can never be too thick nor can there ever be too many nuts stowed away.

I try to look out for my squirrels. I frequently given them tasty treats outside my sliding doors on the concrete slab that passes for a patio. They gobble up everything from stale pretzels to left over peanut butter sandwich to gourmet treats like the fruit and nut mandala I made for them last year. (see below)

Yet, as much as I try to show my love for them, sometimes my squirrels are disobedient. I know. You are probably thinking that they are just wild animals and cannot know the difference between right and wrong. Well, allow me to explain.

On the other end of my property, many mulberries fall every spring from a large old tree on the other side of the chain link fence. The mulberries, of course, attract many birds whom I also love and gaze upon fondly from my kitchen window.

In fact, a couple of years ago, I hung a bird feeder from the tree outside my window so that I could watch them feed and was quite delighted with the result. I had been a bit skeptical of the claim that the feeder was "squirrel proof" but I had talked to my squirrels and they never tampered with it. If I saw them eyeing it, I reminded them where I put their food and they were obedient.

Sometimes the birds themselves would squabble among themselves. That seemed a natural outcome of there being so many of them and just the one feeder for them to share. (see below)

So, this year, when I saw a sale on bird feeders, I thought perhaps I would hang up another. This feeder made no promise of being "squirrel-proof" but I trusted my furry friends. I decided to load this feeder with sunflower seeds, making it more appealing to cardinals and songbirds, to ease the sharing process among my winged friends.

However, before I had even hung the new feeder, something very disturbing happened. I glanced out the window one morning in March and, much to my amazement, this is what I saw:

I wanted so much to believe that it was an accident, an aberration, something that would never happen again. Yet I know how it is with disobedience. It starts with a single act. Perhaps one is simply curious. Perhaps the adversary has whispered false promises that seem just too good to pass up.

Whatever the reason, once the sweet fruit of sin has been tasted, it is hard not to go back for more, despite the guilt and shame that follow.

Thus, my heart was saddened - but not surprised - when the new feeder was hung and I could see the look of disobedience on the faces of my squirrel friends as they plotted and planned how its contents could become theirs.

My first response to these transgressions was to tap loudly on my kitchen window. But, alas, they did not even look up from what they were doing. Next, I charged out the door and talked to them sternly, with words and gestures, reminding them that this food was for birds and that their food was by the door.

My immediate impulse was to withhold food from their usual feeding station, not wanting to reward their disobedience. Yet my heart soon melted. It had been a long and harsh winter. They were hungry. And not all of my squirrels were being disobedient. Some dug up last years nuts and ate contentedly. Others stopped by my door to see what I had left for them. Should I punish all because of the actions of a few?

And so I continued to leave them their treats. I even gave the squirrels their own little pile of bird seed, along with the nuts and fruit, since they seemed so fond of it.

Yet my bushy-tailed friends became even bolder in their disobedience.

I was perplexed. And then something else happened. My bird friends started showing up at the squirrel feeding station!

The birds, however, did not necessarily limit themselves to the bird seed. Some of them even tried out the walnuts and pecked at the grapes!

I wrestled with the question (after I got done laughing): what happens to the disobedient?

Reflecting on my Father in Heaven, I realized this: He makes the sun to shine and the rain to fall on the obedient and the disobedient alike. He gives food and drink to his disobedient children as much as He does to the obedient. He loves them all and wills for them all to return to Him in love.

I too have been disobedient and He has loved me. Who am I to judge these little ones?

And so, following in His Way, I continue to love all of the little creatures of my backyard and share with them of my bounty. Even in their errant ways, I know them to be good and beautiful. For He has made them, each cell of their bodies having been born of His love.

The same is true of you and me. Good and beautiful. Born of His love. Longed for, even in our disobedience...

Even under its burden...

So often we feel burdened. Our bodies, our minds, our circumstances - sometimes they all just seem too difficult to bear.

Yet it was not meant to be this way.

We are made of love; indeed we are made to be love. All of the dimensions of our unique individual selves are meant to come together like the many instruments of an orchestra. Disordered as they often are in this world, they may seem discordant, more noise than music. However, when well-directed, they blend into a perfect symphony.

Likewise, our selves are made to be part of each each other, with our lives flowing together into a flawlessly choreographed dance. Yet, looking at our world, one might think that the choreographer has gone missing. We human beings are ever bumping into each other, sometimes violently, often painfully.

Within ourselves, we do not know who we are. Between ourselves, we do not understand how we were made to be. Because we do not know how to love ourselves, our efforts to love each other too often leave us feeling hurt and empty, longing for something that ever eludes us.

I encountered a gift today in my e-mail inbasket - a gift that will surely help our burdened souls to sing. And in the singing, to begin the journey to knowing and loving our true selves.

"Even under its burden / the soul awakes and sings." (Listen below)


 


(Thanks to Christine Valters Paintner, whose newsletter for Abbey of the Arts, alerted me to this wonderful video of the song, Soul Awakes and Sings, by Trish Bruxvoort Colligan. If this is a rehearsal, I cannot wait to hear the album upon its release!)