Who is Christ for Us?

One of my favorite places at the Jesuit Center is the main chapel. Above the altar is a radiantly beautiful mosaic of the scene of the crucifixion. I suppose that sounds a little inconsistent- radiant beauty/crucifixion.
This depiction of Christ has a duality to it- brilliance and praise, exuberant colors, but in the midst of these vivid hues, there is Christ on the cross, pale, dying and suffering.
I know that this mosaic like many depictions, in some way is an effort for us to beautify the horror of the factual act, to cover up the horror of what we, humanity have done. And yet, in the midst of this pale suffering one, there is a glow to Christ. Depicted as the Jesus we know and yet not just Jesus we know.

At different times of the day the chapel may be bathed in light streaming through the stained glass windows, or deep still darkness, almost like a tomb. For most of the time, the chapel mosaic is lit. In the midst of those deep darkness times, it almost leaps off of the wall. When it is dark and the mosaic is not lit, the space is somber yet compelling.
One of the other retreatants had shared with me that there is a tiny balcony on the third floor of the building. When you are there it seems as if you are floating above the chapel space. At the same level as the mosaic, but at opposite ends of the nave.
I looked at the mosaic the first time- there are the three crosses. On the left, the thief to whom Jesus has said, "Today you will be with me." Beneath him are onlookers who are walking away- though one has his head turned back toward Jesus. They have decided Jesus' death means nothing to them.
Beneath Jesus in the center are the Marys and John, and on the right, the other thief and the soldiers who have cast lots.


That first time I focused on the onlookers for whom this meant nothing worth sticking around for. Then I focused upon Christ.
What does it mean that Jesus died for you?
Who is Christ for us?

The second time, I returned when the chapel is in utter darkness- all I can see are layers of shadow. Places where nothing is clear and I am seemingly alone-places we have all felt in our lives. That proverbial shadow of the cross. Can I still sense Christ in that space?
Not by seeing, or by touching, or hearing. Not by anything overtly physical.
Yet still in this space, and maybe especially here, where I have stepped out of all that surrounds me- there is only God.

Henri Nouwen lifts up this experience -
Solitude "shows us the way to let our behavior be shaped not by the compulsions of the world, but by our new mind, the mind of Christ."
Silence "prevents us from being suffocated by our wordy world and teaches us to speak the Word of God that emerges from the silence."
Here in this space, where we can engage in unceasing prayer, such prayer gives solitude and silence "their real meaning... we descend with the mind into the heart-through our heart into the heart of God who embraces all of history with His eternally creative and re-creative love."


The third time I returned, after praying for awhile, focused upon Christ, I was drawn to the kneeling Mary Magdalene as I became aware that someone was in the chapel below who was crying. Mary is on her knees at the foot of Christ's cross, with her head in her hands, sobbing.
"Were you there when they crucified my Lord?"
"Who was the guilty? ... I crucified Thee."
I looked back at Christ who though pale and dying has a rainbow of waves and gold rays emanating from behind him in the mosaic. Pale but powerful. Each wave or ray touching one of the others at the foot of the cross.

Forgiveness.

Now I look at the onlookers again- walking away- walking away from forgiveness.
Are there things I hold onto that exhibit walking away from, or refusing to accept forgiveness?


In Christ there is that radiant light. The sky around him of vivid blue and gold may seem lovely, like all that calls us away, but in the end, it is a dark sky. Christ is the light in that deceptive darkness. Calling us to live in the knowledge that we are given the ability to not be stuck on our knees, sobbing, but to be re-created in newness by that pale yet powerful, suffering yet triumphant One who touches us across time and space forever.

Patient Trust

I decided to make this retreat as a way of stopping and taking stock of my internship year at the mid point. As it turns out, I have completed seven months as of the weekend of my time apart. A time to reflect and pray about all that has gone on my life these last seven months in a large parish that has been around since 1730 with a staff in the double digits. There is a very different perception of time and of timing.
A vicar's time in the parish is short- a year.
The ongoing work of the collective body spans a much larger and longer spectrum. Vicars spend time in class preparing to integrate learning.
Time in the parish shows that the flow of integration in real life in the parish is vastly out of sync with the world of the semester. None of this is earth-shattering news, and yet reality "on the ground" must be processed.
Where are the joys and moments of God's grace?
Where are the challenges and how might God be speaking in them?

"Patient Trust"
by Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, S.J.

Above all, trust in the slow work of God.
We are quite naturally impatient in everything
to reach the end without delay.
We should like to skip the intermediate stages.
We are impatient of being on the way to something unknown, something new.
And yet it is the law of all progress that it is made
by passing through some stages of instability-
and that it may take a very long time.
And so I think it is with you;
your ideas mature gradually-let them grow, let them shape themselves,
without undue haste.
Don't try to force them on,
as though you could be today
what time (that is to say, grace and circumstances acting on your own good will)
will make of you tomorrow.
Only God could say what this new spirit gradually forming in you will be.
Give our Lord the benefit of believing that His hand is leading you
and accept the anxiety of feeling yourself in suspense and incomplete.

Who's at the Door?

Yesterday I ended with words from Joyce Rupp's Open the Door. "Ask, seek, knock." When I arrrived at my room in the House, there was a note for me from my spiritual director, introducing herself and telling me she would not be able to meet me until the next day. While I was slightly disappointed, certainly with the weather I understood. I began to get settled in and had read the "Open the Door" sheet as well. I had come on this weekend alone and having never been here before, knew no one. I pondered what I might do until the evening meal.
Then I heard a tiny knock on the door- when I opened it, there was my spiritual director, who had found the time in her busy day to stop and introduce herself and ask if I had any questions. She gave some useful "lay of the land" tips. Boy, that sure was welcome!
It reminded me that in addition to the "ask, seek, knock" reference, we also hear of Jesus saying "Behold, I stand at the door..." I began to contemplate what this says about prayer- the door to our relationship with God.
Ignatian spirituality teaches looking for God in all things- yes, there was a literal knock at my door- thanks for checking in, God!
Over my first full day on retreat I wondered about keeping silence. I dreamt that I broke the silence and talked to others. But in reality I had not. But when I was out walking, in the snow, trying to take pictures, and trying to look at the stations of the cross and trying to remember what time my appointment with my director was, I slipped on the ice.
And to no one else around me I found myself saying, "you're right, God I DO need to slow down. I am here all weekend." It was like God knocking on the door and reminding me I had promised that this was a weekend when we would talk.
I walked by a snow covered statue of the pilgrim- "you're right, God that is me!"
If anyone had heard me it would have sounded like somewhere in space was the other end of a conversation.
And throughout the weekend there were times I was the one knocking- just wondering, just thinking, can you help me with this?
And then there were those other times where God knocked back.
And instead of prayers of formality, or a litany of carefully constructed petitions and responses,
it was like God and I taking turns walking through the door.
Like good friends sharing time and advice.
My director shared with me a prayer nook that is located just off of the chapel- a space where women could observe worship that they could not be a part of in days past. A special space with iron-grated windows that looked onto the altar and the beautiful mosaic and windows.
It was hard to see through the grate- I began thinking that it was not really a special space for me.
Then I heard- open the door.
I looked and noticed that the center window was made of two swinging panels. They could be opened. And when they were it was as though I could almost reach out and touch the altar- it became sacred space.
As I kneeled there it became a totally "God and me" time- nothing more needed to be said.
So often we think of doors as locking or clicking shut, or needing a key.
Sometimes maybe we see prayer that way- not always available, needing certain keys to work.
But prayer is meant to be not so much a fixed door, but perhaps a swinging door, like moving in and out of conversation - with questions, with news, with all of the things we think of in our closest relationships. Comfortable and easy- where we walk in and hear, "How was your day" or "I've been waiting for you."
Maybe eventually the door would swing back and forth so often we would decide just to take it down and come and go at will.
Sometimes for long sit downs and other times just to drop in.
Never really gone for long.
In many ways God seeks us and God sends people into our path- for those same conversations. How might God be speaking, looking to have a chat?
Who's at your door and what would it mean if you answered?

Entering the Silence

This past weekend I was priviledged to be able to take time away on retreat at the Jesuit Center in Wernersville, Pennsylvania.My weekend was one of directed silent retreat. Over the next several days I plan to share about my experience. For those who know me, some were dubious when I pronounced I was going to engage in a weekend long silent retreat. Frankly so was I, and yet I was drawn to the opportunity.
In the weeks leading up to my time away, I began to wonder if I was over-reaching. Even joking about how when I cracked up and couldn't take it anymore that conveniently there is a state mental hospital nearby. The day came and the weather was not cooperating- which in these parts lately means- snow. Early in the day the call came that the roads were slick and if I wanted to come they would welcome me and if I wanted to not travel they understood. And in that message I had a profound sense of sadness for the potential that I was not going to go. I recognized that I truly desired this. I decided to wait and see how the weather played out in the hours before I would need to leave. After all of the tempestuous winds, squalls, drifting and ominous forecasting, I was able to follow the fine work of plows and salting. My journey was uneventful. And within an hour of my arrival the snow began again.
Before entering the house, I spent a few minutes listening to "O Lord Hear My Prayer" and prayed that I would be able to set aside all of the busy-ness, to call upon God to meet me and embrace me in this time apart, to enter into God's presence and listen. I heard a lone bird chirping and the wind begin to rustle.
Listen. Enter into a place where you cannot give words but only receive them. Enter this space where there is humility of purpose.

When I entered my room there was a paper on the desk with words from author Joyce Rupp in her book, Open the Door, a Journey to the True Self. Contemplating Luke 11:9, she offers this:
"What is it we are to ask for when we come to the divine door and knock?
Jesus encourages his followers to be deliberate about searching and requesting. He promises they will find what they are seeking. The assumption has been made by many that Jesus is talking about intercessory prayer, the container of those big and little things we petition God for each day...perhaps this is so.
But could it also be that Jesus was speaking not so much about our external world as our internal one? Could he have meant knocking and searching for what will enhance the relationship of love that flows between God and ourselves?
Are we to knock on the door and ask for what enriches this bond?
What will transform us into our truest selves, our firmest faithfulness, our deepest joy?
Perhaps our petitions at God's door might become not so much "What can you do for me?" as
"Who can you be for me?"
There is so much the Holy One can be for us:
the mentor of our loving
the source of our courage
the keeper of our troubles
the teacher of our prayer
the guide of our pathway
the nurturer of our virtue
the companion of our soul."


A walk in the snow, a meal (the last one with talking) and evening prayer. Then enter the silence- enter again conversation that God and I have been having lately.

Waking Up to God-Transfiguration Sunday

The last couple of weeks I have been taking our daughter Catherine out to learn how to drive. In our trips the three words that keep coming out of my mouth are "STOP" "LOOK" and "LISTEN." "Stop" "look" and "listen" are important words to keep in mind especially at intersections both in driving and in life. Perhaps these three words are also important words to ponder in connection with our gospel for this day. STOP LOOK AND LISTEN.
After a hectic pace of preaching, teaching, feeding and healing, Jesus takes his closest companions away with him. They STOP all that they are doing, even though their work seems all very important and take time away. Really away-the climb up the mountain was not a quick trip but a process of moving farther and farther away from the daily grind to a different place. Away from all the distractions. They are there to pray, but the disciples fall into what we often do when there is "down time." They sleep. But Jesus prays.
Particularly in the Gospel of Luke, prayer has a main role in Jesus' ministry. Before, during and after major events, and beyond routine prayer, Jesus is seen in deep prayer. When Jesus is baptized it is while he is praying that the Spirit descends. Before selecting the twelve disciples, Jesus prays. Prayer sustained Jesus in the temptations of the wilderness, and the constant demands upon him and it will sustain him as he comes off of the mountain and "turns his face to Jerusalem" and the cross. In all of these moments, Jesus STOPS to commune in prayer. Here on the mountain when God is revealed, it is while Jesus is praying
The disciples have been sleepy, but what happens compels not only Peter and James and John to LOOK, but us as well. Until now they have seen the gradual unfolding of Jesus' birth into humanity and the fulfilling of prophecy. And just before this, when Jesus asks "who do you say I am?" Peter has blurted out a truth he cannot comprehend that Jesus is the Christ of God- one who is divine and is deliverer. Now on the mountain we look at this vision, the revelation of this truth.
In overwhelming glory, the brilliance of the light radiating from within Jesus and the forces of nature collaborating must have exceeded comprehension. The disciples, barely awake, see one who looks like the Jesus they have known, but yet is not just the Jesus they knew. Until now they have seen Jesus as teacher- one who gives answers; as leader- one who can control things; as friend. He may be better at these things but there is still a perception that with effort one could be his equal.
Now they catch a glimpse of divinity, of the cosmic and they begin to grasp an inequality they can never bridge. They see their own frailty and dependence. They do things we do in such times-they try to manage or quantify the situation. But revelation and prophecy are dancing before them. NOW WHAT? WHAT DOES IT MEAN? WHAT SHOULD WE DO?
And then the cloud rolls in and the voice of God booms out-LISTEN!!

What happens on the mountain demonstrates God's power and might. Demonstrates God having entered humanity. But is also demonstrates humanity experiencing the presence and communion with God. A God who seeks not monologue but conversation, but in so doing reminds us of how real conversation works- which leads me back to prayer.

Phillip Yancey suggests that "prayer stands as the place where God and human beings meet." Yancey notes that, "In theory prayer is an essential human act and a priceless point of contact with the God of the universe." In theory we treat prayer as essential and priceless. And in theory in our lives we are all good at conversation. But in reality, there are factors that get in the way.
We are skeptics. In days of old people lifted their heads to the heavens to pray for more rain or protection from the storm. With our recent weather we know a thing or two about that place. But now, we study low pressure fronts, monitor weather in 15 minute increments, rush to stay in touch with friends, and curse the science when it fails us.

We are strapped for time. Our communication with others is getting shorter and more cryptic with texting, email, instant messaging, camera phones. There is less and less actual conversation. And just less conversation at all. Because there isn't enough time. Think of all the things we need to schedule. Where does God fit in when our lives already seem so far behind?
We become reduced to "drop and run" prayer to God not experiencing God in prayer. There is a difference- prayer is a relationship. Our relationship with God. And like all good relationships it has its ups and downs and a learning process. There are moments of great excitement and the mundane. Times of keen focus and constant distraction. Experiences of joy and of irritation. Prayer has features in common with all relationships that matter. Prayer is the key to THE relationship that matters.
Which leads to another factor even greater than skepticism or feeling overwhelmed. We need to take time away from these, but also to take time away from our own perception of the universe. So often we rely upon our own prosperity or talent, our resources, our command of things as the primary source of security and well-being. We practice methods of self-satisfaction and proclaim that we have found the center of the universe and it is US.
This is behind the scores of self help books, even those about faith and religion. A few years ago now one of the more famous books was Pastor Rick Warren's "40 Days to A Purpose Driven Life." A well-intentioned effort to draw people toward a relationship with God. But instead people who proclaimed to be "God people" focused upon the concept of their purpose.
    I need to find MY purpose
    I need a purpose
   When I find MY purpose, I will have success for ME
    Then I can do things for YOU who have no purpose out of MY goodness
    And I can feel good about MY purpose.

WHERE IS GOD IN THIS EQUATION?
WHAT IF I CAN"T FIND MY PURPOSE OR MAKE IT HAPPEN? This is in fact the point of a recent book by Mark Ellingsen, entitled Sin Bravely. He notes that the perhaps unintended consequence of Warren's work is that even in trying to re-orient our lives we still focus on OUR talent and skill. And this is what we look for. We see the good in our lives as natural not supernatural. We listen to our voice that says we can do without God. And we never stop.
And this is the heart of sin. Here we find ourselves on the mountain with Peter thinking we can build things to improve upon this mountain experience- as if we could! We imagine hearing how people will gush over our efforts. And the cloud rolls in and the voice of God thunders, "This is my Son, listen to HIM!" Stop talking, stop asking, stop doing and LISTEN first!
Some of you have shared that during this most recent storm you found you had more time for listening to God. As you looked about the raging snow and wind, you stopped and listened. As we again prepare to enter the season of Lent, God's word this day calls us to Stop, Look and Listen.
I encourage you to contemplate what it would mean to have a healthier conversation and relationship with God. Mother Teresa's approach to prayer that mirrors what happened on the mountain in the Gospel. Four parts:
We talk, God listens
God talks, WE LISTEN
Though we often cut out of the last part, let's not short-circuit our relationship. Because when we live into the rhythm of what happens on the mountain in our prayer relationship we stop focusing on doing and focus first on Being. God's being and our being. There is discipline involved, but when we follow in this path, we are transformed. Instead of only hearing where we can keep or discard as we wish, we begin to listen. When we listen what takes place changes us. Instead of seeing and moving on, we really look at the world differently. Our being is shaped and re-shaped by God each time we are together.
Maybe instead of just praying for God to soothe our hurts when we have been wronged, we will contemplate forgiveness. We'll look at others and really see them and realize that we too need forgiveness-for our inability to forgive. Instead of just praying for our wants, we begin to listen to the cry of others without. Instead of demanding immediate answers and whining about time, we stop and appreciate the gift of a day and of God's possibilities.
Perhaps you will consider how to experience Lent as 40 Days of a God Purpose, in one of the many opportunities for walking with God's word and for times of prayer. Perhaps you will consider how your relationship with God might be deepened by engaging in one of these disciplines not as a new thing to do, but as a door to deeper revelation. A revelation that opens up to us that the words "disciple" and "discipline" have something in common- there is much we must be taught about how to live and have our being in communion with more than our own limited vision, but with God's greater truth. This greater truth speaks not only of glory more magnificent than we can imagine but of the cross and a depth too great for us to fathom. We should contemplate this. Then we TOO will be speechless.
And in our speechlessness, in the stillness, stand in awe that the God of the universe seeks us- in love and faithfulness. Face the truth that we need God, but our God meets our ongoing frailty and faults with patience and grace.There in the glimpse of that moment we realize that nothing we can say or do is greater. We do not have all the answers. We need to keep listening, to be shaped by God before we act. And then to follow. And there in the silence, we find ourselves waking up to God.

So what is the World as You See It?

I have been studying the different vantage points people are using today and how they affect our understanding of being in community and plugging into community. To that end, I have created two short quizzes that ask some basic questions- props to the authors of After the Baby Boomers for some great direction.
Would you, my readers, be so kind as to go to the following two links and answer the questions? It is free and is for some ongoing church related research- not spamming. At the end of the second quiz it is helpful to know your age category- i am testing out some theories. Thanks in advance!


quiz part II
quiz Part I