Grey

This morning, in our reflections, Lois and I were using a practice called Terra Divina which we came across in Ian Adams’ helpful book, Running over rocks. Adams encourages us to pause and contemplate the natural world around us, to ‘read the text of the landscape. [This is] like reading a book, except now it’s another language that you are reading – of clouds and birds and trees and sunlight.’ We seek whatever catches our attention and accept that as a gift.

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As I looked out of our window on the damp summer morning, I was drawn to the flat, grey sky beyond the trees. All was dull, shallow, grey. There were none of the usual dawn colours of the sky; none of the depth of blues and golds and pinks. The trees were lacking their usual green vibrancy. Even the birds were muted in their morning symphony of praise.

As I lingered with the greyness, I thought of the young couple I visited yesterday evening. For them this morning will bring no leaping green trees, no blue dream of sky[1]. Just the dull reality of life without their little baby; the steady trickle of rain and tears; grey.

I trust that, one day, hints of colour might start to creep back into their lives. But for now, all I can do is hold them in my thoughts in the grey of this day.

 

Kyrie Eleison

 

 

[1] From ‘I thank you God for this most amazing day’, Chapel of Tarore Songbook, Ngatiawa River Monsatery

Dabbling with Ducks

All along the backwater,

Through the rushes tall,

Ducks are a dabbling,

Up tails all!

 

Ducks’ tails, drakes’ tails,

Yellow feet a-quiver,

Yellow bills all out of sight

Busy in the river.

 

– Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows

 

 

I love Eddie Askew’s ability to take something as simple and as laughable as ducks dabbling, and draw deep spiritual truths from it.  Apparently the verb, ‘to dabble’ is used to describe a duck’s activity in feeding, head down, tail up, grazing on the plant life just below the surface of the water:

 Maybe we should all dabble a bit more.  Try to get below the surface of life and take hold of some of the possibilities that could open up if we just went a little bit deeper.  And, who knows, maybe one day we’ll be ready to dive.

– Eddie Askew, Dabbling with Ducks. TLM publishing, 2007

Go simply in your spirit

Holy Week.

The excitement of Palm Sunday and Jesus’ entry to Jerusalem

The culmination of three years of journeying

The perplexity of those last days

The anguished grief of Good Friday

The empty waiting…

 

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We journey this week with some of the women who had accompanied Jesus over those three years, and who stayed with him to the very end.

Can we learn from them a simplicity of spirit that will stay with us, whatever life may bring?

 

Click here to go to this week’s meditations

 

Go simply in your lifestyle

bread wine cheese

As we enter the fourth week of Lent, we will spend time looking at the Bethany family: Mary, Martha and Lazarus.  We will encounter their vulnerability, their love, their hospitality.  We will think about our fragile, vulnerable world, and how we can go simply in our lifestyles, combining active care and contemplative devotion, careful stewardship and extravagant celebration, future hopes and present realities…

 

Click here to go to this week’s meditations

 

 

Go simply with yourself

Tomorrow begins the third week in Lent.  During this week we will journey with Mary Magdalene: Mary, the one afflicted by seven demons; Mary, the one set free; Mary, the one whose name Jesus spoke – tenderly, lovingly.

 

We are invited to simply be ourselves,

not needing an exciting lifestyle, busy schedules,

comfort foods, or approving relationships

in order to know and live out

our belovedness,

our true identity, our worth, our life tasks.

 

Click here to go to this week’s meditations

 

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Go Simply: Reflections for Lent

Sandals croppedA series of Lenten reflections to attend to our doing and being, the active and contemplative

 

 

 

 

Traditionally, there are 40 days of Lent, from Ash Wednesday to Holy Saturday (not counting the Sundays of Lent), which means February 18 to April 4 in 2015.  Starting from Ash Wednesday, 18th February, we will be posting a series of reflections for the seven weeks of Lent.  Each week explores a different aspect of simplicity, and focuses on someone, or some people who featured in Jesus’ life.

These reflections take the form of a simple liturgy for the week, with five readings to help you be still in God’s presence: to pause; to listen; to be.

 

The seven weeks

Week One: Go simply in your belief – Thomas’ Journey

Week Two: Go simply with your possessions – Judas’ Journey

Week Three: Go simply with yourself – Mary Magdalene’s Journey

Week Four: Go simply in your lifestyle – With the Bethany Family, Mary, Martha and Lazarus

Week Five: Go simply within your culture – Nicodemus’ Journey

Week Six: Go simply in your vocation – With Mary, Jesus’ Mother

Week Seven: Go simply in your spirit – With Joanna and the women who accompanied Jesus

 

 

Learning to listen

The Lord calls Samuel

The boy Samuel ministered before the Lord under Eli. In those days the word of the Lord was rare; there were not many visions.

One night Eli, whose eyes were becoming so weak that he could barely see, was lying down in his usual place. The lamp of God had not yet gone out, and Samuel was lying down in the house of the Lord, where the ark of God was.Then the Lord called Samuel.

Samuel answered, ‘Here I am.’ And he ran to Eli and said, ‘Here I am; you called me.’

But Eli said, ‘I did not call; go back and lie down.’ So he went and lay down.

Again the Lord called, ‘Samuel!’ And Samuel got up and went to Eli and said, ‘Here I am; you called me.’

‘My son,’ Eli said, ‘I did not call; go back and lie down.’

Now Samuel did not yet know the Lord: the word of the Lord had not yet been revealed to him.

A third time the Lord called, ‘Samuel!’ And Samuel got up and went to Eli and said, ‘Here I am; you called me.’

Then Eli realised that the Lord was calling the boy. So Eli told Samuel, ‘Go and lie down, and if he calls you, say, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.”’ So Samuel went and lay down in his place.

10 The Lord came and stood there, calling as at the other times, ‘Samuel! Samuel!’

Then Samuel said, ‘Speak, for your servant is listening.’

1 Samuel 3: 1-10 (NIV)

 

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This passage from 1 Samuel is all about learning to listen.  We find it hard to listen, to be still: too many things clutter our lives and our minds.

One discipline I have found helpful in learning to listen is the practice of Lectio Divina.

The practice of lectio divina, from the Benedictine tradition, is a well-established approach to engaging directly with God’s Word.[1] There are four stages involved:

  1. Start by slowly reading a passage of the Bible (you could try this now using the first four verses of 1 Samuel 3), then rereading it slowly, sometimes three or four times, until a particular word, phrase, or concept seems to draw your attention.
  2. Spend time repeating and dwelling on that word or phrase, exploring it, seeking the meaning in it for you, for us. Observe the thoughts and feelings that arise in response to the word, and allow these to probe your attitudes, beliefs, and emotions.
  3. In response to that word, talk with God, not being afraid to express your deepest thoughts, feelings, hopes, and fears. You can do this silently or out loud, or use different media, such as journaling, art, music, or movement.
  4. Having expressed yourself, you finally become still, resting in the Holy One’s presence, letting go of your thoughts and feelings, and just being with the God who loves you.

 

Hold on to what came out of that.  You may want to return to it over breakfast/coffee; later on your own or with family or friends; over lunch; writing in your journal.

Direct words from God are rare.  But God does speak – it may just be a nudge, something that seems to stick with you, something that grows on you over time.  Don’t lose it.  It is OK if you didn’t experience anything – it is a start, just learning to be still.  God is present; we need to learn to become aware of God’s presence and to hear God’s voice.

We really find it difficult to listen to God.

Perhaps the following experience sounds familiar to you.  You decide to spend some time praying.  Maybe you’ll stop by the church during the day.  Or maybe you have set up a special place in your house with an altar, a picture or a candle.  Perhaps you have a favourite outdoor spot, and you are determined to go to one of these places and spend half an hour with God.

The time arrives, you have made a space in your schedule around school or work, and so you go and sit down.  Then you remember that you have one more quick call to make.  Or maybe you left the stereo on.  So you go and take care of that problem.  Upon returning to your prayer space, you realise that your clothes are not really comfortable enough, and you are sure that if you just put on those comfy jogging bottoms, everything will be fine.  So you go and change.

When you finally return you feel unsettled, and so you think that you should read some scripture before you begin to pray – just to get your mind in the proper place.  After spending a few minutes deciding what scripture to read, you find a passage that seems appropriate and read it.  Then your mobile phone rings.  Even though you have an answering feature, you just can’t quite resist the urge to pick up the phone and see who is there.

After a ten –minute conversation, you feel wound up and distracted.  You realise you need to do a lot that day.  Looking at the clock, you see that 25 of your 30 minutes have passed.  Telling yourself that this was not the right time to pray, you vow to try again later that evening and, turning your attention to the tasks before you, you head off into the rest of your day.

Daniel Wolpert, Creating a life with God, p 24

 

Here are some suggestions on how to improve our listening:

  1. Acknowledge that we are in God’s presence. In the Old Testament, God’s presence was perceived to be in the temple, with the ark of the covenant.  With Jesus, we recognise that God’s presence is with us always.  We (communal) become God’s temple.  2 Cor 6:16 – ‘We are the temple of the living God, you see, just as God said: “I will live among them and walk about with them; I will be their God, and they will be my people.”’
  2. Practice intentionally being in God’s presence. Listening takes practice.  Being still takes practice.  Start small – maybe five minutes a day.  Find a place where you can be still.  Put yourself in a posture to listen.  Be still.  You could try focusing on your breathing, or say a single word – e.g. one of the names of God, or the Jesus prayer.  Gradually build up the time of your silence: 5 minutes; 10 minutes; 20 minutes.
  3. Develop a rhythm of prayer. You could use the Trinity prayer pattern.
  4. Find some resources to help you: read a book on contemplative prayer; do a retreat in daily life; join one of the quiet days at Offa House; commit to a full residential silent retreat
  5. Learn to distinguish God’s voice. You need to be immersed in God’s word; spending time regularly and intentionally with God.  In his book, Soul Survivor, Paul Hawker gives some helpful pointers on how to distinguish thoughts from God; from myself; from non-heavenly spiritual realms.
  6. Celebrate and share what happens.

 

Learning to listen

Growing up to be a child, chapter 11

So we need to learn afresh how to communicate with God. This has to start with learning to listen in new ways. It seems to me that this new way of listening doesn’t come naturally. Over the years, we have laid down patterns of listening that don’t leave space for hearing God. These patterns have become fixed in our brains and perhaps in our hearts and souls. Too many other things get in the way of our seeing or hearing God. So we need to become again like little children, allowing God to teach us new ways of listening and looking. We need to quieten ourselves and remove other distractions to allow God to speak to us in ways that we can hear.

The pattern of communication I described above relies on pauses. The baby may vocalise or make some expression, but then she stills herself, listens, and watches her mother for a reaction. We often seem to miss this in our prayers, in which we do all the talking but forget to pause and listen, to give God space to respond.

God doesn’t shout to gain our attention. It seems to me that the Holy One communicates gently, in whispers. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks expresses this beautifully in a reflection on Elijah’s encounter with God on Mount Horeb [2]:

 

God tells Elijah to stand on the mountain, ‘for the Lord is about to pass by.’ Suddenly there is a great and powerful wind that tears the mountains apart and shatters the rocks. But God is not in the wind. Then there is an earthquake. But God is not in the earthquake. Then there is a fire. But God is not in the fire. After the fire comes a still, small voice. God is in that voice.

There are many ways of translating the Hebrew phrase for ‘a still, small voice.’ Some prefer ‘a gentle whisper.’ Others, more accurate to the original, render it ‘the sound of a fine silence.’ My own interpretation is different. What is a ‘still, small voice’? It is a sound you can only hear if you are listening …

God does not impose Himself on His image, mankind. On the contrary, God – like a true parent – creates space for His children to grow. He is always there, but only if we seek Him. His word is always present, but only if we listen. Otherwise we do not hear it at all.

God is the music of all that lives, but there are times when all we hear is noise. The true religious challenge is to ignore the noise and focus on the music. The great command of the Bible, ‘Shema Yisrael,’ does not mean, ‘Hear, O Israel.’ It means ‘Listen.’ Listening, we hear. Searching, we find.[3]

 

Learning to be still, to be silent and attentive, is a key part of becoming like a child. In a child’s social development, comprehension comes before expression, listening before speaking. So often we tend to rush into God’s presence with a lot of words, babbling away, bombarding the Holy One with our needs and desires, and never giving any space for God to speak to us. If we are to become like little children, we need to turn that round and learn instead to listen. That will take practice and presence.

With that in mind, I want to finish this chapter – a chapter on communication – with a simple prayer from Esther de Waal[4]:

 

Uncrowd my heart, O God,

until silence speaks

in your still, small voice;

turn me from the hearing of words,

and the making of words,

and the confusion of much speaking,

to listening,

waiting,

stillness,

silence.

 

[1] A helpful exploration of the meaning and practice of lectio divina can be found in M. Basil Pennington. ‘A Christian way to transformation’. Spirituality Today. 1983; 35(3): 220–229.

[2] 1 Kings 19.

[3] J. Sacks. Celebrating life.  London: Continuum, 2000.

[4] E. de Waal. Lost in wonder.  Norwich, UK: Canterbury Press, 2003, 42.

A different resurrection story

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Is the Creator here, too, in our garden,

walking quietly in the cool of the morning,

putting finishing touches to this magnum opus?

 

Surely it is an opus Dei.

Profusion of colours brought forth

by the intensity of the radiant sun

which yet is behind me, hidden and distant.

Deep copper plum bursting forth against

the sleek, smooth sky;

Blue undefiled by man-made stain;

Bright green of next door’s lime picked out

by the light,

demanding my attention in the contrast;

and the steadfast poplar,

bright bundles of leaves striving

to fill every space between

each solid, upright trunk.

 

An ongoing work of creation.

Fountains of white pour forth into the cooler shades;

Starbursts of ivory and gold;

Tiny dabs of blue, pink, red.

 

Opus operantis.

I am touched by this morning sacrament,

this work of grace.

The cool, hushed air floods in

through my open doors,

touching my face,

causing me to pull my warming blanket

more tightly round;

Bringing with it a symphony of song.

Constantly changing.

Not yesterday’s chorus.

This is today.

A new day.

Beginning.

 

Can I, too, walk with the Creator

in my morning garden

and help to make this

resurrection day?