A month ago, September 6, I posted this on Facebook.
As I casually prepare meals, I am aware that from the perspective of most of the people of the world today and through history, I should acknowledge that I am fabulously wealthy when I need to rearrange the pantry or refrigerator to make room for my weekly grocery shopping.
During my active pastoral career I typically took a three or four day silent retreat once a year for some personal spiritual perspective and renewal. When I “retired” and began doing interim pastorates, that schedule was no longer practical. Since caring for my wife, Candy, on her journey with Alzheimer’s disease I have not taken such a retreat. While I find caring for her a satisfying joy, I am aware that the attention it demands has been increasing. In addition, in his 90s her father (she is his only child) has had some serious falls and a stroke. So I have become his defacto caregiver as well. As he has weakened, I have assumed more daily responsibilities for him. I was discussing with my therapist how tiring paying attention around the clock has become. She suggested I seek some way to take a break for some respite. That brought me back to my annual silent retreats. So after a decade, I took such at retreat June 10-12, 2021.
Though I kept a hot pen journal during the retreat, I thought identifying the scriptures that emerged to inform each day’s meditation. I did not go looking for special biblical input but concentrated on the readings from the Revised Common Lectionary on which I would be having daily lectio divina as usual. Also I would keep my regular rotation of praying through five Psalms each day. As I soaked in these passages and in the extended silence, I listened for nudges of the Spirit to bring to the surface what would refresh me.
On Thursday, June 10 these lines from lectio divina brought to me the theme of not looking on outward things, but inviting God to look into my heart with me. It became something of a day of Ignatian examen, not entirely confession and repentance but also delight and joy (as in Psalm 51:12). I did pray through Psalms 10, 40, 70, 100, and 130 that day, but my lectio divina led me to Psalm 139 with its awareness that God knows me through and through, concluding with the invitation from verses 23-24. “Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my thoughts. See if there is any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.”
1 Samuel 16:7
“The Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the
outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.”
2 Corinthians 5:12
“You may be able to answer those who
boast in outward appearance and not in the heart.”
Mark 4:27
“The seed would sprout and grow, he
does not know how.”
On Friday June 11,
Psalm 131:2 stood out as I prayed through 11, 41, 71, 101, 131. “I have calmed
and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother; my soul is like the
weaned child that is with me.” This is a longtime favorite for my
centering prayer (often with Van Gogh’s drawing of Sien with Child on Her Lap as my icon/spiritual window), letting
myself curled up on God’s lap as a small child with its mother. These
reflections led me to the hymn Be Still,
My Soul and this line from the second verse, “All now mysterious shall be
clear at last.”
On Saturday, June
12 the refrain from Psalm 42:5, 11; 43:5 (12, 41, 72, 102, 132) seemed to draw
all of the retreat to both a conclusion and a commission for returning to my
caregiving mission. “Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you
disquieted within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my help and my
God.”
I am headed for a 3 day silent retreat June 10-12 and find this perspective promising.
As the pandemic seems to be easing in the US (or at least responses to it), and everyone wants to get back to normal ASAP, I think churches are particularly vulnerable to the danger of returning to business as usual. I have long loved this quote from Annie Dillard and find it powerfully relevant right now, not just with regards to the pandemic but also with how the malignant polarization of US society has infected the churches.
I have observed before that I am thankful that I have not been the pastor for a congregation of God’s people in this past tumultuous year or so. I have great respect and pray for those who are seeking to guide and nurture those in their care with faith, hope, and love.
Violence is certainly not new, but it has received considerable public attention lately, perhaps peaking with the storming of the US Capitol on January 6, 2021. This week that attention has come to a crescendo in the US Senate. So as I began my prayer Psalms this morning, I was stunned and stopped by Psalm 11:5.
“The Lord tests the righteous and the wicked, and his soul hates the lover of violence.”
Oh how much I needed to conclude my prayers by curling up in God’s lap as a small child with its mother, as portrayed in Psalm 131:2.
“I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother; my soul is like the weaned child that is with me.”
I have again posted Vincent VanGogh’s drawing of Sien with Child on Her Lap, which for years has served as an icon for me using Psalm 131:2 as the anchor for my centering prayer.
Now that I’ve got my lectio divina attention focused on Jesus’ transfiguration, I have been thinking about Moses and Elijah as the ones to meet Jesus on the Mount of Transfiguration. Yes, of course, the Law and the Prophets. As I reflected on this I considered that they both departed this life at God’s direct intervention, perhaps akin in some way to Jesus’ ascension. Then I remembered Enoch who was noted for not dying conventionally. I haven’t proposed any hypothesis about the significance of this. Maybe that will come through the week, or maybe it is just my curiosity and of no great significance.
Genesis 5:24 Enoch walked with God; then he was no more, because God took him.
I wrote this for used by First Christian Church of Midwest City, Oklahoma who I served as interim pastor a few years ago. It will also go in Milwaukee Mennonite Church's Monday Morning Devotionals this Lent.
The two criminals who were executed with Jesus each made one final request. The first said, “Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!” (Luke 23:39) The second asked, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” (Luke 23:42) Jesus seemed to have let the second one’s rebuke stand, and he made this well-known response, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.” (Luke 23:43)
During Lent we ponder our finitude and mortality, which may prompt us to make an ultimate request of Jesus. Listen for what Jesus tells you as you contemplate his words from the cross.
Scholars have speculated on where Jesus was and what he was doing between his death on the cross and his resurrection on Easter. From Jesus’ response, some have suggested Jesus may have been in heaven enjoying fellowship with his crucifixion partner. Theologians consider several other possibilities. Instead of sorting that out, consider Jesus’ personal response to your ultimate requests. Jesus undoubtedly spoke in Aramaic, which Luke translated into Greek, which has been translated into English for us. Rather than proving a theological point, consider how a simple change of English punctuation opens a way for us to listen personally to Jesus.
Just move the comma from before “today” to after. What changes if you listen to Jesus’ response to your ultimate request this way? “Truly I tell you today, you will be with me in Paradise.”
What may Jesus be telling you today in response to your ultimate request? The first criminal mockingly asked Jesus to release them from their excruciating execution, presumably to pick up with life where he left off when he was arrested. The second asked Jesus to remember him when Jesus came into his Kingdom without specifying a schedule. Jesus responded with the immediacy of “Today!”
The substance of Jesus’ promise was “You will be with me.” As you think through your ultimate request, Jesus promises you will be with him, not delayed for a distant paradise, but you are with him today. He assures you today that you will be with him on your path from today forward. This echoes Psalm 23:4 “Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil; for you are with me.” Jesus' ultimate desire is that where he is, “there you may be also.” (John 14:3)
