Fly Like the Birds

As I was doing my lectio divina and prayer Psalms this morning and yesterday, my attention was drawn to the constant coming and going of sparrows at our bird feeder. I got to wondering, even speculating about what they think as they manage their flights. Some seem to come swooping in from high above only to veer off on a sharp vertical path out of my sight. Some seem to come in smoothly and perch on the edge, rewarded by their morning meal. As some come in, seeming intent of landing, something warns them off and they even seem to drop sharply to the ground. Some seem to take off from the feeder effortlessly, while others jerk a couple of times before getting into their flight path. I am very aware that different birds have quite different flight patterns, and sparrows are among the flutterers. Watching them come and go, I paid attention to the shifting positions and speed of their wings as they made these various maneuvers. I thought about my nephew Tom Williams who is a pilot and knows how to use the controls to get an airplane to take off, climb, steer, descent, and land. I know that takes a lot of knowledge, training, and skill. He has to be alert and thinking to do it. So I wonder how birds use intentional thought to fly.

Then today, I came to Psalm 55:5-8 today. It brought together my awe at watching sparrows fly and the anxiety I am sure many if not all of us feel with COVID-19 – not just with health but with practical economics, social isolation, uncertainty about what’s next. I know, dove not sparrow, but I think a lot of us can identify with wanting to get far away.

“Fear and trembling come upon me, and horror overwhelms me. And I say, ‘O that I had wings like a dove! I would fly away and be at rest; truly, I would flee far away; I would lodge in the wilderness; would hurry to find a shelter for myself from the raging wind and tempest.’”

I don’t want to get into all of the political and public health controversies that are swirling around us right now. But for a long time, well before COVID-19, I have been concerned about how the divisiveness and polarization in our society is infecting the Church, our neighborhoods, workplaces, friendships, and families. Just a little farther down, Psalm 55:12-14 trembles with this pain, even as it reminds us that it is hardly new. It evokes for me an intense prayer for unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. (Ephesians 4:3; Philippians 2:2-4; 4:2)

“It is not enemies who taunt me— I could bear that; it is not adversaries who deal insolently with me— I could hide from them. But it is you, my equal, my companion, my familiar friend, with whom I kept pleasant company; we walked in the house of God with the throng.”

Pondering the juxtaposition of watching the sparrows coming and going at the feeder with Psalm 55, I was brought back to where I started today with Psalm 25:4-5,9. My prayer is for the humility not to overthink what is beyond me, but to welcome the Lord to teach me the way.

“Make me to know your ways, O Lord; teach me your paths. Lead me in your truth, and teach me, for you are the God of my salvation; for you I wait all day long. … He leads the humble in what is right, and teaches the humble his way.”

Living the Prayer of St. Francis

 

Giotto - Francis and the Sultan

For very long time I have included the Prayer of St. Francis in my daily contemplative rhythm and drawn on it as a reference point in my relationships. I can’t, however, claim even close to the consistency I aspire to with living it.

A while ago I was discussing this with my spiritual director specifically in terms of my role as caregiver for my wife and her father. Those are not particularly conflictual relationships, but with her Alzheimer’s and his moving from his own home in Minnesota to a senior living residence near our home in Wisconsin, the Prayer of St. Francis has informed my efforts to be a source of peace for them in their situations. The quarantine from the COVID-19 pandemic has brought new challenges as she misses the social interaction that buoyed her spirits each week, and not only is he isolated, I cannot be with him to tend to his basic personal needs as I had been doing.  Nevertheless, I do believe my daily encounters with this prayer help keep me focused on my call to be God’s instrument of peace for them.

I must admit I have struggled with being God’s instrument of peace in the fragmented, divisive context of both today’s Church and society. I’m not suggesting that it was ever easy, but in both realms we seem to have moved from discussions and even debates about our disagreements into take-no-prisoners, allow-no-compromise, my-way-or-the highway, binary thinking. I am often inclined to respond with fact-checking and logic-challenging. As much as I try to avoid direct arguing, I find I get sucked in too frequently. I recognize that even these restrained responses do not seem to modify anyone’s positions.

The Prayer of St. Francis challenges me with the realization that winning a debate or silencing a disagreement does not bring God’s peace. Conversely, ignoring destructive perspectives is not peace either. More and more I am recognizing that I cannot impose peace on someone else, but I continue to struggle with peace in my own heart as the conflicts of culture and Church disrupt closer relationships of acquaintances, friends, and family. I am wrestling with how to be at peace with my own conscience without becoming just another debater.

If I was preaching a sermon or leading a retreat on how to become an instrument of God’s peace, I would need some sort of takeaway, conclusion, or practical application. That I don’t have. I don’t intend to leave you hanging, but I am recognizing that I am going to be perpetually growing into this the rest of my days.

Give Us this Day Our Daily Bread

Praying the Lord's Prayer (the "Our Father") has been part of my daily rhythm for many years, not just passing the words through my mind or mouth, but letting Jesus' model form my prayers for that particular day. One of my pastor friends suggested that praying The Lord's Prayer at a normal pace takes about the 20 seconds recommended for hand washing, so it has been getting deeply ingrained in me.

Typically, when we get to "give us this day our daily bread," with think of our own sustenance. For that generally means being thankful not only that we have not missed any meals but have full pantry and no unpaid bills. With that also comes a reminder not to trust any of that for security but to live one day at a time and trust God to get us through the day, not storing up treasures on earth.

In my typical Benedictine rhythm, Sext (at lunch time) prompts me to pray for those who are not enjoying a meal today, whether food insecure in my own community or around the world, but also those who are suffering famine anywhere. But these days, the repetition of "give us this day our daily bread" is prompting me to pray for those who are out of work during the quarantine and those who are infected and those who have lost a breadwinner to the virus.

Palm Sunday without Crowds

With this most unusual Palm Sunday approaching, I am remembering a Palm Sunday when I was in high school. I don’t know what the connection was, but I had been asked to play timpani for the Holy Week concert of the Mission Covenant Church on 5^th Avenue in Oakland, California. The Swedish (now Evangelical) Covenant folk and the Swedish Baptist (General Conference) folk considered themselves to be kin as non-conformists from the Lutheran state church of Sweden. I grew up with Lakeside (originally First Swedish) Baptist Church in Oakland, so I’m sure my name got passed along in some comparing Holy Week plans conversation. I don’t remember the music, but I do remember the bright sunny day, the packed church, and the rousing spirit of the music. I felt honored to shine in that moment.

Now neither of those churches are what they were in the early 60s, and neither am I. This Palm Sunday will have nothing of the jostling of people that accompanied Jesus into Jerusalem. Reflecting on the lectionary readings is prompting me to probe more deeply into familiar territory that I am prone to gloss over.

By quoting Zechariah 9:9, Matthew 21:5 makes the point that the symbolism of Jesus riding on a donkey was humility. We tend to write off humble leaders as weak, but at the core of Palm Sunday is the image of the essential humility of the king. Then the lectionary Epistle reading takes us to Philippians 2:5-11. While I can’t prove it, I feel a congruence with the scholars who suggest that Paul did not write this but was quoting a hymn that his readers already knew to call them to have “the same mind … that was in Christ Jesus.” That hymn not only celebrates Jesus humility (v. 8) but invokes humility as a central trait of all who would follow him.

As I prayed through Psalms (3, 33, 63, 93, 123) this morning, the very last line (123:4) crashed right up against all of the noise surrounding contradictory responses to COVID-19, with a stark contrast with the humility of Jesus on Palm Sunday. “Our soul has had more than its fill of the scorn of those who are at ease, of the contempt of the proud.”

Learning that "It's not about me" is indeed about me

Any who know me will not be surprised that I believe it is a misuse of Scripture to lift isolated lines to imply a certain quality of piety exempts certain people from common human struggles or to imply that widespread suffering is God’s judgment on what seems particularly detestable in others. Jesus gave some important if unsettling insight on these sorts of things in John 9:2-3 and Luke 13:1-5.  To be sure, in my daily encounters with Scripture every day something strikes me with a connection to current events, public and private. Without getting into exegetical detail, I do try to include disclaimers that emphasize the importance of context both textual and historical.

So with this disclaimer, I offer this from Psalm 31:21-22,24 that caught my attention today.

Blessed be the Lord, for he has wondrously shown his steadfast love to me when I was beset as a city under siege. I had said in my alarm, “I am driven far from your sight.” But you heard my supplications when I cried out to you for help. … Be strong, and let your heart take courage, all you who wait for the Lord.

In keeping with Jesus call to repentance in Luke 13:5, rather than seeing COVID-19 as judgment on other people, I would suggest that we examine how deeply the pursuit of self-interest that characterizes our society has infected us individually. I would suggest that panic buying and hoarding of things like toilet paper and hand cleaners is a symptom of a far deeper issue that is not about “them” it is about “us,” about me. I am called to examine how my focus on my comfort and my preferences have negative impacts on people whom I tend to overlook or dismiss.

I explored this a few days ago at http://nstolpepilgrim.blogspot.com/2020/03/who-sinned.html