Father Richard describes Francis of Assisi’s early days of ministry and how he related to nature:   

Francis sets out on the road, excited because he knows his vocation is to be a contemplative, spending time in nature in solitude and prayer, and to be in active ministry and to preach to people what he’s experienced. Along the way, he sees a tree filled with birds. He approaches the tree and the birds don’t fly away, so he starts talking to them. We have several accounts of this first sermon which is not to human beings but to animals, to birds. Maybe it’s been romanticized, but the story is that they stayed and listened to him. At the end of the sermon he says, now go off, because I’ve told you who you are.   

For the rest of his life, Francis is in relationship with a variety of animals, birds, fish, trees, and flowers. He always tells these creatures, “Do you realize that by your very existence, you are inherently giving glory to God? So just be who you are. Every animal, every created being has a unique thing to do. Each of you, do your thing; and in that doing, you are giving glory to God!” He would take delight in everything doing its thing. This is a mutual mirroring and I think it allowed him to do his own thing. He realized that just by being Francis, in all his freedom and joy, he also was giving glory to God. He has no trouble being alone because mirrors are everywhere.    

The only reason I can talk about Francis’ relationship with nature with some confidence is because it’s honestly what I have experienced on my Lenten retreats in the desert. I know it may sound fanciful, but everything becomes a mirror—whether the shape of rocks or the color. I’d collect a whole pile of rocks by the end of the five weeks because they were always naming something about me, and I didn’t even know what it was. All I’m saying is the whole world comes to life: every kind of cactus, every kind of tree or dead branch, the sunrise, the sunset, the different kinds of birds. I find myself in the middle of a universe of belonging.     

David Whyte echoes this message in his poem “The Sun.” Father Richard shares an excerpt:   

… I want to walk   
through life   
amazed and inarticulate   
with thanks….     

I want to know   
when I lean down to the lilies   
by the water   
and feel their small and   
perfect reflection   
on my face….    

I want to know   
what I am   
and what I am    
involved with by loving   
this world   
as I do….  

I want to be found by love,   
… I want to come alive   
in the holiness   
of that belonging. [1]  

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Sarah Young, Jesus Calling

     As you look into the day that stretches out before you, you see many choice-points along the way. The myriad possibilities these choices present can confuse you. Draw your mind back to the threshold of this day, where I stand beside you, lovingly preparing you for what is ahead.
     You must make your choices one at a time, since each is contingent upon the decision that precedes it. Instead of trying to create a mental map of your path through this day, focus on My loving Presence with you. I will equip you as you go, so that you can handle whatever comes your way. Trust Me to supply what you need when you need it.

RECOMMENDED BIBLE VERSES:

Lamentations 3:22-26 NLT
22 The faithful love of the LORD never ends! His mercies never cease.
23 Great is his faithfulness; his mercies begin afresh each morning.
24 I say to myself, “The LORD is my inheritance; therefore, I will hope in him!”
25 The LORD is good to those who depend on him, to those who search for him.
26 So it is good to wait quietly for salvation from the LORD.

Additional insight regarding Lamentations 3:21-23: Jeremia saw one ray of hope in all the sin and sorrow surrounding him: “The faithful love of the Lord never ends……Great is his faithfulness; his mercies begin fresh every morning.” God willingly responds with help when we ask. Perhaps there is some sin in your life that you thought God would not forgive. God’s steadfast love and mercy are greater than any sin, and he promises forgiveness.

Additional insight regarding Lamentations 3:23: Jeremiah knew from personal experience about God’s faithfulness. God had promised that punishment would follow disobedience, and it did. But God also had promised future restoration and blessing, and Jeremiah knew that God would keep that promise also. Trusting in God’s faithfulness day by day makes us confident in his great promises for the future.

Psalm 34:8 NLT
8 Taste and see that the LORD is good. Oh, the joys of those who take refuge in him!

Additional insight regarding Psalm 34:8: “Taste and see” does not mean, “Check out God’s credentials.” Instead, it is a warm invitation: “Try this; I know you’ll like it.” When we take that first step of obedience in following God, we will discover that he is good and kind. When we begin the Christian life, our knowledge of God is partial and incomplete. As we trust him daily, we experience how good he is!

Theologian Randy Woodley tells of being invited by a friend to a contemplative prayer gathering: 

I came one time and they sat around in a room that was completely closed with orange shag carpeting. There were no windows. You could tell the carpet was old, and the idea was to sit there and listen to the Spirit. I sat through the gathering and a lot of silence. Afterwards my friend was smiling and asked, “How did you like it?” I said, “Well, to be honest, I didn’t like it…. Why weren’t you guys sitting outside? It’s a beautiful day out. You’re in this dark room.”   

Of course, there are a lot of different contemplative traditions when it comes to silence. In our Native way, we are more or less listening, not just to ourselves or what we would say the Spirit puts in our hearts, but to what’s going on around us. We’re listening to the birds to see what kind of message they have. We’re listening to the wind to see if there’s a song in it for us. It might sound esoteric, but we’re listening to the way that we “spin in silence” by hearing what I believe is perhaps Creator’s most communicative means on earth—which is creation.   

I think of that when I read Luke chapter 4, the story where Jesus goes out into the wilderness for forty days. The idea we’ve been taught is that he is tempted for forty days, but everybody knows that you can’t be tempted for forty days. Let’s say the temptations took up ten days—well, what about the other thirty? What was he doing? Jesus was watching creation. He was observing what was going on around him. He was listening. The reason that we know that is because when he comes back, he talks about creation for the rest of his life. He talks about flowers and birds and trees and seeds and crops and the earth, and the soil. He could have talked about all kinds of things—Roman chariots and their power and aqueducts and the ingenuity involved—but that’s not what we have a record of. What we have a record of is someone who seemed to be at peace with the quietness of creation.… 
 
The Spirit is so contrary to what we might think or desire sometimes. At one time in my life, it was like every time I wanted to hear from God, God would speak through some person. And every time I wanted wisdom from a person, I couldn’t get it, and I could only hear it in silence from God…. When I go out and I listen in creation and I’m listening to the birds, then all of a sudden the Spirit speaks in my heart. It’s not necessarily always silence. Engaged listening is such a sacred thing, and the Spirit works through that so often.  

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Sarah Young Jesus Calling

Rest in My Presence, allowing Me to take charge of this day. Do not bolt into the day like a racehorse suddenly released. Instead, walk purposefully with Me, letting Me direct your course one step at a time. Thank Me for each blessing along the way; this brings Joy to both you and Me. A grateful heart protects you from negative thinking. Thankfulness enables you to see the abundance I shower upon you daily. Your prayers and petitions are winged into heaven’s throne room when they are permeated with thanksgiving. In everything give thanks, for this is My will for you. 

RELATED SCRIPTURE: 

Colossians 4:2 NLT

An Encouragement for Prayer

2 Devote yourselves to prayer with an alert mind and a thankful heart.

1st Thessalonians 5:18 NLT

18 Be thankful in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you who belong to Christ Jesus.

Barbara Mahany writes of the converting experience the Book of Nature had on the Christian mystic Brother Lawrence: 

Sometimes, when closely reading the Book of Nature, the profoundest of lessons are learned from the quietest, most quotidian of happenstance. Suddenly seeing what you might have walked past countless dozens of times. Being awake to gospel in the plainest of wrappers. A buck-naked tree, perhaps. A tree whose very nakedness suddenly offers aha! 

Brother Lawrence [1611–1691], the seventeenth-century barefoot friar who found God in the pots and pans of his monastery kitchen in Paris, told one such story. In his one published work [1], a collection of fourteen letters, a wisp of an eighty-page volume I once unearthed from a library’s musky archives, he wrote how a tree in winter, stripped of its leaves, played the pivotal role in his uncanny conversion. It seems the good brother absorbed the tree’s stark emptiness, and, in that way that saints and wise souls do, he saw beyond it. He imagined the possible. As it’s recorded in his little book’s preface, the soon-to-be-friar stood before the naked tree picturing its branches soon filled with tiny leaves as if clasped in prayer. And thus he was hit, head-on. The surging sense of the immensity of the Holy One all but knocked him down, realizing the life force, the beautiful that would burst from the barren. In his little book’s preface, I was struck most of all by how strange it is that divine attributes can sometimes be seen in something so common. And how we’ll miss the whole of it if we refuse to be stopped in our tracks. 

Mahany describes some of the sermons offered by the Book of Nature: 

What are the sermons that the woods—those places of betweenness, repositories of ancient stories—might impart from their fretwork of branches and twigs, their columnar trunks and the boughs that hold up the sky? Certainly, there are tales of resilience, the way they stand against whatever time and the weather gods hurl their way, tornado or drought, ice storm or Noah-like rains. And lessons to be learned of holy communion, the way the woods and the birds and the scampering critters all keep watch, share food, warn each other of danger, create ecosystems that moderate heat and cold, store water, and generate necessary humidity. What else of the time-tested truths, laid down like the rings revealed in a fallen tree’s stump?… 

My temple, my mosque, my church of the woods, where the center aisle is earth rubbed raw, threadbare, not unlike a great aunt’s mothballed Persian rugs, where the vaulted halls are awash in shifting shadow and numinous light, bathed in a mystical halo, it is the holy place to which I return and return. It is a woods that preaches to me, fills me with wordless wisdoms. It is the place where I behold the awe-inspiring mystery of how I hope heaven will someday be. 

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Sarah Young Jesus Calling

Be still in the Light of My Presence, while I communicate Love to you. There is no force in the universe as powerful as My Love. You are constantly aware of limitations: your own and others’. But there is no limit to My Love; it fills all of space, time, and eternity.

    Now you see through a glass, darkly, but someday you will see Me face to Face. Then you will be able to experience fully how wide and long and high and deep is My Love for you. If you were to experience that now, you would be overwhelmed to the point of feeling crushed. But you have an eternity ahead of you, absolutely guaranteed, during when you can enjoy My Presence in unrestricted ecstasy. For now, the knowledge of My loving Presence is sufficient to carry you through each day.

RELATED SCRIPTURE: 

1st Corinthians 13:12 NLT

12 Now we see things imperfectly, like puzzling reflections in a mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely.

Ephesians 3:16-19

16 I pray that from his glorious, unlimited resources he will empower you with inner strength through his Spirit. 17 Then Christ will make his home in your hearts as you trust in him. Your roots will grow down into God’s love and keep you strong. 18 And may you have the power to understand, as all God’s people should, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his love is. 19 May you experience the love of Christ, though it is too great to understand fully. Then you will be made complete with all the fullness of life and power that comes from God.

David Denny and Tessa Bielecki direct the Desert Foundation, an informal circle of friends who share a love for desert land, people, and spirituality. Bielecki shares how she fell in love with the spaciousness of the desert:  

I grew up in New England, a countryside of lush green hills, singing streams, and verdant forests of oak and maple. In springtime I picked bouquets of wildflowers and in summer romped through the tall grasses full of daisies. When the trees turned crimson and gold in autumn, I gathered bundles of leaves and pressed them between the pages of my beloved books. In winter I built bonfires, skated on the ponds and went tobogganing down the steep hills.… 

I first saw the vast magnificent desert of the American Southwest in 1966 and have lived there since 1967. It was love at first sight, the most dramatic epiphany of my life. It felt like coming home—to myself. I recognized the outer landscape as a mirror of my inner soulscape.  

The desert is the homeland of my heart. I don’t find it barren as many do. I find the desert spacious, a perfect embodiment of what my Buddhist friends mean by sunyata, infinite spaciousness. My spiritual path is cultivating a heart as spacious as the desert: wide open to every direction of the compass, wide open to every creature that walks, flies, or crawls through it, wide open to every change in the weather: darkness and light, sun and rain, aridity and dew, heat, cold, and wind.  

St. Teresa [of Ávila], who grew to become my best friend, called the human soul an interior castle. “Let’s not imagine that we are hollow inside,” [1] she wrote. “The soul is capable of much more than we can imagine.” [2] This infinite and noble spaciousness is what I learn from the desert. [3]  

For Denny, the desert is not “deserted”; it can lead to peacemaking and a fullness of life.  

Peacemaking happens best when we develop a way of life that includes an understanding of desert spirituality. That is, in addition to being geography and spirit, the desert, as I’m fond of saying, has traditionally fostered hospitality, respect, and dialogue with the stranger. This spirit arises from various aspects of the “desert”: a freely chosen dedication to humility, interfaith dialogue, and simple, ecologically sustainable living….  

For many people, the desert is a place to avoid, a place of banishment or grief, or simply useless and vacant. In English, when we say that a place is “deserted,” we usually mean that we find nothing significant there. But the Arabic verb ashara means to enter the desert willingly, for there, according to The Sacred Desert by David Jasper, “If one knows where to look, there are springs and wells of water and places of life.” [4] That’s why Isaiah 35:1 so aptly describes the heart of the universal desert experience: The desert and the dry land will be glad; the wilderness will rejoice and blossom. [5] 

In the climax of the classic courtroom movie, A Few Good Men, the prosecutor demands to know the truth and Jack Nicholson’s character, Colonel Jessep, famously shouts back, “You can’t handle the truth!” Maybe he was right. Maybe most of us have a difficult time accepting the truth when it’s presented to us directly. Emily Dickinson, the famous poet, seemed to think so. She said, “The Truth must dazzle gradually or every man be blind.” Therefore, rather than speaking directly, she advises to “Tell all the truth but tell it slant.”That perfectly describes Jesus’ teaching style. Of course, he spoke the truth, but he rarely spoke it directly. Instead, he told it slant—indirectly, subtly, and often hidden in a story that some people missed entirely. This week we are beginning a series exploring the parables of Jesus, but in order to understand these stories, we must first acknowledge the enormous gap between Jesus’ context and our own; between the way he taught the truth and the way we do. Our modern, post-enlightenment culture expects clear, direct teaching. This is evident by what passes for acceptable preaching in most churches. We want a sermon to include three points (preferably alliterated) and practical, unambiguous applications. We hope to walk out of church on Sunday with more clarity, not more questions, about life and faith. If the pastor manages to do that we feel satisfied. If we regularly leave more confused than when we entered, the pastor should start updating his resume.Jesus’ first-century Jewish context was very different. It was, of course, a pre-modern culture that embedded wisdom into stories more often than it delineated truths with bullet points. This is what causes us to misinterpret and mishandle Jesus’ parables. Our instinct is to break his stories into their component parts and attach a clear meaning to each piece. We treat them as allegories or force them into a modern, didactic framework.The uncomfortable fact is that Jesus offered very little practical instruction in his sermons (at least as we measure practicality today), and he never preached a popular American “how-to” message. Jesus was not a straight talker. Instead, his stories were designed to challenge his listeners’ assumptions and surprise them with unexpected, even offensive, revelations about God and his kingdom. Sometimes Jesus even intended to confuse them. More often, however, his parables began with an object, circumstance, or relationship that his audience was familiar with, and then he surprised them with a twist that turned their assumptions upside down.Dr. Gary Burge, a New Testament professor, describes Jesus’ stories this way: “They are like a box that contains a spring—and when it is opened, the unexpected happens. They are like a trap that lures you into its world and then closes on you.”As we look at Jesus’ parables in the coming days, be prepared to have many of your assumptions about faith and God turned upside down as well. DAILY SCRIPTURE ISAIAH 29:15-21  MATTHEW 13:10-17  LUKE 18:31-34 WEEKLY PRAYERFrom William Temple (1881 – 1944) O God, king of righteousness, lead us, we pray you, in the way of justice and of peace; inspire us to break down all oppression and wrong, to gain for everyone their due reward, and from everyone their due service; that each may live for all and all may care for each, in the name of Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Father Richard describes how reading poetry contemplatively can be a sacred practice: 

Great art and great myth try to evoke an epiphany in us. They want to give us an inherent and original sense of the holy. They make us want to kneel and kiss the ground. Robert Frost said, “A poem begins with a lump in the throat; a home-sickness or a love-sickness.” [1] If a poem doesn’t give us a lump in the throat, is it really great poetry? My final theological conclusion is that there’s only one world and that it’s all sacred. However, we have to be prepared to know what we’re saying when we say that. If we say too glibly that the trees are sacred, along with our dog, a friend, and the roses, then we don’t really believe it. We first need to experience “a lump in the throat” to have encountered the sacred. The sacred is something that inspires awe and wonder, something that makes us cry, something that gives us the lump in the throat. We must first encounter the sacred in the concrete and kneel before it there, because we can’t start with the universal.  

Poets are masters of the concrete. They first pull us into a single similarity between an animal, an object in nature, or an event, before they shock us with the dissimilarity. Then, they leave us there to make the connection between the concrete and the universal. When we make that connection, there’s suddenly a great leap of meaning, an understanding that it’s one world. The very word “metaphor,” which comes from two Greek words, means to “carry across.” A good metaphor carries us across, and we don’t even know how it’s occurred. Here are a few lines from Mary Oliver’s poem “Have You Ever Tried to Enter the Long Black Branches”:  

Have you ever tried to enter the long black branches  

of other lives—  

tried to imagine what the crisp fringes, full of honey,  

hanging  

from the branches of the young locust trees, in early summer,  

feel like? …

Who can open the door who does not reach for the latch?  

Who can travel the miles who does not put one foot  

in front of the other, all attentive to what presents itself

continually?  

Who will behold the inner chamber who has not observed  

with admiration, even with rapture, the outer stone?  

Well, there is time left— 
fields everywhere invite you into them. [2] 

When reading poetry like this, we have to release ourselves and we have to have time to do it. If we’re reading a poem too quickly, between two urgent meetings or other hurried spaces, we probably won’t get it, because we don’t have time to release ourselves. We need quiet, solitude, and open space to read poetry at greater depth. Then and only then do poems work their magic.  

_______________________________________________

Sarah Young

Peace is My continual gift to you. It flows abundantly from My throne of grace. Just as the Israelites could not store up manna for the future but had to gather it daily, so it is with My Peace. The day-by-day collecting of manna kept My people aware of their dependence on Me. Similarly, I give you sufficient Peace for the present, when you come to me by prayer and petition with thanksgiving. If I gave you permanent Peace, independent of My Presence, you might fall into the trap of self-sufficiency. May that never be!
     I have designed you to need Me moment by moment. As your awareness of your neediness increases, so does your realization of My abundant sufficiency. I can meet every one of your needs without draining My resources at all. Approach My throne of grace with bold confidence, receiving My Peace with a thankful heart.

RECOMMENDED BIBLE VERSES:
Exodus 16:14-20 NLT
14 When the dew evaporated, a flaky substance as fine as frost blanketed the ground. 15 The Israelites were puzzled when they saw it. “What is it?” they asked each other. They had no idea what it was. And Moses told them, “It is the food the LORD has given you to eat. 16 These are the LORD ’s instructions: Each household should gather as much as it needs. Pick up two quarts for each person in your tent.” 17 So the people of Israel did as they were told. Some gathered a lot, some only a little. 18 But when they measured it out, everyone had just enough. Those who gathered a lot had nothing left over, and those who gathered only a little had enough. Each family had just what it needed. 19 Then Moses told them, “Do not keep any of it until morning.” 20 But some of them didn’t listen and kept some of it until morning. But by then it was full of maggots and had a terrible smell. Moses was very angry with them.

Philippians 4:6-7 NLT
6 Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. 7 Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.
Additional insight regarding Phillippians 4:6-7: Imagine never worrying about anything! It seems like an impossibility; we all have worries on the job, in our homes, at school. But Paul’s advice is to turn our worries into prayers. Do you want to worry less? Then pray more! Whenever you start to worry, stop and pray.

Additional insight regarding Philippians 4:7: God’s peace is different from the world’s peace (see John 14:27). True peace is not found in positive thinking, in the absence of conflict, or in good feelings. It comes from knowing that God is in control. Our citizenship in Christ’s Kingdom is sure, our destiny is set, and we can have victory over sin. Let God’s peace guard your heart against anxiety.

Philippians 4:19 (NLT)
19 And this same God who takes care of me will supply all your needs from his glorious riches, which have been given to us in Christ Jesus.

Additional insight regarding Philippians 4:19: We can trust that God will always meet our needs. Whatever we need on earth he will always supply, even if it is the courage to face death as Paul did. Whatever we need in Heaven he will supply. We must remember, however, the difference between our wants and our needs. Most people want to feel good and avoid discomfort or pain. We may not get all that we want. By trusting in Christ, our attitudes and appetites can change from wanting everything to accepting his provision and power to live for him.

Hebrews 4:16 NLT
16 Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.

Today’s Prayer:

Dear God,

Just as the Israelites gathered manna each day, I come to You for Peace each day, recognizing my dependence on Your presence to sustain me. Help me not to seek permanent Peace apart from You, but to approach Your throne with confidence, receiving Your abundant sufficiency with endless thanksgiving. In your Son’s name, Amen.

To make art is to make love with the sacred. —Mirabai Starr, Wild Mercy

Mirabai Starr considers the leap of faith required to accept the invitation to creativity:    

A miraculous event unfolds when we throw the lead of our personal story into the transformative flames of creativity. Our hardship is transmuted into something golden. With that gold we heal ourselves and redeem the world. As with any spiritual practice, this creative alchemy requires a leap of faith. When we show up to make art, we need to first get still enough to hear what wants to be expressed through us, and then we need to step out of the way and let it. We must be willing to abide in a space of not knowing before we can settle into knowing. Such a space is sacred. It is liminal, and it’s numinous. It is frightening and enlivening. It demands no less than everything, and it gives back tenfold…. 

The thing is to allow ourselves to become a vessel for a work of art to come through and allow that work to guide our hands. Once we do, we are assenting to a sacred adventure. We are saying yes to the transcendent and embodied presence of the holy. [1]  

Artist Scott Avett describes the sacred conversation that takes place in his studio:   

Painting is like living, though. An idea is born, an invitation accepted, and a devotion sustained in a mysterious gift of joy and suffering, from its inception to its end. It is in the deepest and darkest moments of this mystery that I may feel the heaviest of doubts, but I long to create faithfully. To create faithfully, I am asked to follow an idea into darkness, not knowing where it will go or what may come of me. To enter into this mysterious exchange is faith itself…. 

Here in the studio, the directions I can go are endless. The ocean of images and sounds is bottomless. The list of tools to make a single mark is infinite. All of this to say one thing, “I am.” I have created many forgettable works under different proclamations: “I will,” “I want,” “I can,” “I should,” and “I need to” are a few that come to mind. These are the echoes of a world obsessed with “doing it right.” I jump in and try my hand at this rightness, but I cease to exist in these moments. I disappear into aspiration and become a stranger to myself and God. In a word, I leave. When I return, however, I arrive in the present. I catch a glimpse of the kingdom of heaven. I am actually invited to do this at every moment, but I slip away again and again. I hide from God, behind my proclamations, until I consent once again, and all these claims fade into the eternal “I am.” It is the “I am a child of God” “I am.” Everything I do hinges on this very truth. [2]  

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Sarah Young Jesus Calling

You are My beloved child. I chose you before the foundation of the world, to walk with Me along paths designed uniquely for you. Concentrate on keeping in step with Me, instead of trying to anticipate My plans for you. If you trust that My plans are to prosper you and not to harm you, you can relax and enjoy the present moment. 
     Your hope and your future are rooted in heaven, where eternal ecstasy awaits you. Nothing can rob you of your inheritance of unimaginable riches and well-being. Sometimes I grant you glimpses of your glorious future, to encourage you and spur you on. But your main focus should be staying close to Me. I set the pace in keeping with your needs and My purposes.

RELATED SCRIPTURE:

Ephesians 1:4 (NLT)
4 Even before he made the world, God loved us and chose us in Christ to be holy and without fault in his eyes.

Proverbs 16:9 (NLT)
9 We can make our plans,
    but the Lord determines our steps.

Jeremiah 29:11 (NLT)
11 For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.

Ephesians 1:13-14 (NLT)
13 And now you Gentiles have also heard the truth, the Good News that God saves you. And when you believed in Christ, he identified you as his own by giving you the Holy Spirit, whom he promised long ago. 14 The Spirit is God’s guarantee that he will give us the inheritance he promised and that he has purchased us to be his own people. He did this so we would praise and glorify him.

Brazilian liberation theologian Leonardo Boff witnesses the presence of the Holy Spirit in the creativity of the arts.  

[The Spirit] is present wherever people live by love, witness to the truth, act in solidarity, and practice compassion. Wherever such realities are manifest in human beings, anywhere in the world, it is a sign that the Spirit has come upon them and is active within them.   

It is by the inspiration of the Spirit that poets and writers redraw life with all its lights and shadows, its dramas and achievements. They are seized by an inner light, and by energies that prompt unexpected connections; they bring something new into the world. Many writers confess … that they feel possessed by an inner energy (a daimon, a good spirit) that seizes them and makes them think and write.   

By the inspiration of the Spirit, artists and artisans elicit from their material—wood, stone, marble, granite—an image that only they can see in it. The material is spiritualized, and the spirit is materialized.… 

The Spirit is especially intense in music. Sounds are invisible, unconstrained by space and time, just as no one can limit the action of the Spirit. And the melodies they project lift up and penetrate the soul; in them we find comfort, beauty to cry over, soaring joy. The great evangelical theologian Karl Barth used to say that Mozart took his wonderful melodies from heaven and the Breath (the Holy Spirit).  

Boff writes of the generous nature of the Spirit that is not constrained by human valuation: 

The arts are very much like the Spirit. They are intangible. They are ends in themselves. They have an intrinsic value…. Art, music, and poetry in themselves are priceless. They are unique creations, not serial productions. They are like a gift we give to a loved one, valuable for its own sake. Somehow they escape the limits of time and bring us a foretaste of eternity.   

Inspiration is in the air and settles on people without regard for their skin color, their social background, or their educational level. How many illiterate artists have emerged in [Brazil], in marginal communities, and were never noticed: poets, artisans, painters, singers, musicians, mystics? Boasting is not the Spirit’s way; it is like water that quietly runs along the ground, fills the vessels it is poured into, and always chooses to run downhill.  

That is why the Spirit does not have its own figure, as the Father and the Son do. It is portrayed as a dove, but what is important is the radiant light it gives off. It is the Breath (Spiritus in Latin) that reveals life, sustains life, and renews life in every way.     

The universe and all beings are saturated with Spirit. To recognize its presence in every corner of the cosmos is the work of spirituality, of life in the Spirit. 

We began this series with the scene of Jesus entering his hometown synagogue and reading from the scroll of Isaiah (Luke 4:16-28). He used the Old Testament passage to announce his messianic identity and the nature of his mission to bring justice—the restoration of God’s order. The people of Nazareth were understandably surprised and excited, but Jesus didn’t stop there.He continued by referencing two more stories from the Old Testament. Both were about God’s care for foreigners. During a famine, the prophet Elijah was sent to help a foreign widow rather than to the many widows in Israel. And Elisha only healed Naaman, the Syrian general with leprosy, but never a leper from among God’s own people. After Jesus told these stories, the vibe in the synagogue changed dramatically. “All the people in the synagogue were furious when they heard this.” In fact, they drove Jesus from the town and tried to kill him.Why the outrage? The Jews in Jesus’ hometown, like people throughout the land at that time, were extremely zealous about their Jewish identity. After all, they were God’s chosen people, but they were living in humiliation under the oppression of a foreign, pagan empire. That’s why they were so excited when Jesus read the prophetic words from Isaiah. The people expected the Messiah to appear, defeat the Romans, and restore Israel’s rightful place of glory above every other nation. Their patriotism swelled with hope. By referencing the story of Naaman, however, Jesus burst their nationalist bubble. The stories about the widow and Naaman were about God giving preferential care to non-Israelites. Even worse, in Naaman’s story it’s the Israelite, Gehazi, who is cursed by God and given Naaman’s leprosy. In a not-so-subtle rebuke, Jesus was warning his neighbors to not put their hope in their ethnic or national identity but to put their hope in God himself. As Gehazi’s fate showed, simply being an Israelite did not make someone righteous. Just as being a pagan, like Naaman, did not condemn someone to a fate beyond God’s mercy. Jesus was warning his neighbors that their arrogance and hatred of the Romans would lead them to the same fate as Gehazi and that God’s messianic blessing would instead be given to gentiles like Naaman. The people of Nazareth understood Jesus’ message and were furious. The idea that Israel’s God would show kindness to pagans, to foreigners, and heaven forbid to Romans!—was unacceptable and insulting. And yet, the reversal of fortune seen at the end of Naaman’s story is precisely what we see unfold in the gospels. For example, like Naaman the Syrian general, it was a Roman centurion whose faith Jesus praised. “Truly I tell you, I have not found anyone in Israel with such great faith” (Matthew 8:10). When he arrived in Jerusalem, it was not the pagan foreigners Jesus cursed and rejected, but the religious leaders of Israel just as Elisha had cursed and rejected Gehazi. And it was not the occupying armies of Rome that Jesus cleansed from the city, but the Jewish merchants and moneychangers in the Temple courts.Like Gehazi, the Jews of Jesus’ day believed they were guaranteed God’s blessings because of their identity. And they believed that gentiles, like Naaman and the Romans, were forever beyond the reach of God’s love and mercy. They were wrong on both counts. The story of Naaman and the gospels reveal that judging anyone—including ourselves—based simply on their national, ethnic, or even religious identity is proof that we do not know the heart of God. DAILY SCRIPTURE MATTHEW 8:5-13  2 KINGS 5:1-27 WEEKLY PRAYERfrom Basil of Caesarea (330 – 379) May the Father of the true light—who has adorned day with heavenly light, who has made the fire shine which illuminates us during the night, who reserves for us in the peace of a future age a spiritual and everlasting light—enlighten our hearts in the knowledge of truth, keep us from stumbling, and grant that we may walk honestly as in the day. Thus we will shine as the sun in the midst of the glory of the saints. Amen.

Jazz helps us be sensitive to the whole range of existence. Far from offering us rose-colored glasses … it realistically speaks of sorrow and pain…. Jazz stimulates us to feel deeply and truthfully…. Jazz thunders a mighty “yes.”
—Alvin L. Kershaw, “Religion and Jazz”   

CAC teacher Barbara A. Holmes writes of the spirit of possibility that is present in those creating and listening to jazz:   

When Miles Davis blows the cacophony that can barely be contained by the word song, we come closest to the unimaginable, the potential of the future, and the source of our being. Yet, jazz musicians will tell you that improvisation is risky business. They will also tell you, as [John] Coltrane did, that sometimes they receive their inspiration from divine sources. When you listen to Coltrane, you hear beyond the notes. You hear the old neighborhood and the folks we left behind emerge behind half notes. The straining trumpet blasts away the illusion that our upward mobility will bring peace.  

But while jazz challenges and prods us, it also takes us to church.… [Historian] Martin E. Marty [observed] that the key to understanding links between worship and jazz is subsumed in the word awe. This is an emotion that is accessible to everyone. He says that “jazz can erupt in joy.” [1] Joy infused with the riffs of awe tends to be unspeakable.… 

Art also carves pathways toward our inner isles of spirituality. When we decide to live in our heads only, we become isolated from the God who is closer than our next breath. To subject everything to rational analysis reduces the awe to ashes. The restoration of wonder is the beginning of the inward journey toward a God who people of faith aver is always waiting in the seeker’s heart. For some, the call to worship comes as joy spurts from jazz riffs. [2]  

Jazz pianist and minister William Carter describes how jazz can help us pray:  

I have a high view of instrumental music as a potential spiritual gift for the listener and the musician alike.… A jazz quartet can utter things in the presence of God that mere words fail to say. A saxophone can lament on behalf of those who feel helpless. A piano may offer intercessions for those who are in need. A string bass can affirm the firm foundation of faith. Drums and cymbals may call pilgrims to break into joy.  

Poet Ron Seitz has spoken about how, as a young man, he befriended writer and theologian Thomas Merton…. Seitz tells of the night he went with Merton to a jazz club in Louisville. [3] As the group began to play, Merton leaned over to whisper, “They’re going to start talking to each other now. Listen.” Then he moved closer to the bandstand to get a better look. Later, returning with his eyes wide, he said to Seitz, “Now that’s praying. That’s some kind of prayer! The new liturgy. Really, I’m not kidding.” 

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The first body-swap movie was Disney’s Freaky Friday in 1976 starring a teenage Jody Foster who trade bodies with her mother. The success of Freaky Friday resulted in a steady flow of body-swap films ever since. The gimmick may have started as a family comedy, but it has expanded into sci-fi, action, horror, animation, and even dramas. Sometimes the body-switchers are a child and parent, male and female, a human and an animal, or two enemies. Whatever the details, the body-switching genre remains popular because it provides storytellers with a shortcut to empathy. It’s the quickest way to get a character to see life through another’s eyes by having them literally walk in someone else’s shoes. While technically not a body-switching story, by the end of 2 Kings 5 Naaman and Gehazi did switch bodily afflictions. And a careful reading of the chapter reveals the two men swapped much more. After lying to Naaman to steal his wealth, Gehazi was confronted by Elisha for his treachery. “Is this the time to take money or to accept clothes—or olive groves and vineyards, or flocks and herds, or male and female slaves?” Gehazi only stole Naaman’s silver and clothing. So, why did Elisha mention groves, vineyards, flocks, and slaves?To understand Elisha’s rebuke we must remember the beginning of the story. Naaman was identified as “a great man” and the leader of Syria’s armies. He often invaded and plundered Israel’s territory. He was responsible for taking Israel’s land, flocks, and even its people. Remember, Naaman first learned about Elisha from an Israelite girl he had captured, trafficked, and enslaved. Throughout the first part of the story, before his healing, Naaman is depicted as an arrogant, powerful, and greedy man.After his healing, however, Naaman was transformed. He was humble and generous. He repeatedly called himself Elisha’s “servant,” and he gave his full allegiance to Israel’s God in gratitude for his mercy. Naaman’s cleansed character was even evident when the scheming Gehazi approached his caravan. Verse 21 says Naaman “got down from the chariot to meet him.” For a general of Naaman’s stature to come down from his chariot was a gesture of deep respect and humility. For Naaman to do this for Gehazi, a lowly servant, and a foreigner was even more impressive. While Naaman had been cleansed of his arrogance and greed and not merely his leprosy, by the end of the story we see these sins abundantly in Gehazi. His pride and self-righteousness made him think he was entitled to take Naaman’s wealth. He used deceit and manipulation to swindle the Syrian general, and he attempted to cover up his crime by lying to Elisha. By referencing the kind of things Naaman used to plunder in war—olive groves, vineyards, flocks, herds, and slaves—Elisha was indicating that the arrogance and greed that once marked Naaman’s heart had now infected Gehazi’s. Therefore, the prophet declared that the disease that had marked Naaman’s skin would now infect Gehazi’s as well. In these final verses, we finally discover the real point of the entire chapter—it’s essentially a body-swap story. Naaman and Gehazi traded places. The prideful man was humbled, and the humble servant was prideful. The sick man was healed, and the healthy man was diseased. The gentile honored the name of YHWH, and the Israelite betrayed the name of YHWH. The foreigner was blessed by the prophet, and the Israelite was cursed by the prophet. The Syrian was cured of leprosy, and the Israelite was inflicted with leprosy. God accepted one of Israel’s enemies, and he rejected one of Israel’s sons. As we’ll see in the days ahead, just like body-swap movies, this surprising reversal was intended to challenge the assumptions of God’s people and grow their empathy. DAILY SCRIPTURE LUKE 16:19-25  2 KINGS 5:1-27 WEEKLY PRAYERfrom Basil of Caesarea (330 – 379) May the Father of the true light—who has adorned day with heavenly light, who has made the fire shine which illuminates us during the night, who reserves for us in the peace of a future age a spiritual and everlasting light—enlighten our hearts in the knowledge of truth, keep us from stumbling, and grant that we may walk honestly as in the day. Thus we will shine as the sun in the midst of the glory of the saints. Amen.

Richard Rohr describes how art can serve as a gateway to mystical experience and deeper knowing: 

There must be a way to be both here and in the depth of here. Jesus is the here, Christ is the depth of here. This, in my mind, is the essence of incarnation, and the gift of contemplation. We must learn to love and enjoy things as they are, in their depth, in their soul, and in their fullness. Contemplation is the “second gaze” through which we see something in its particularity and yet also in a much larger frame. We know it by the joy it gives.   

Two pieces of art have given me this incarnational and contemplative insight. The first is called The Ascension of Christ by Hans von Kulmbach (c. 1480–1522). It portrays the two human feet of Jesus at the very top of a large painting of the Ascension. Most of the canvas is taken up by the apostles, who are drawn up with Christ through their eyes, as his feet move off the top of the painting, presumably into the spiritual realms. The image had a wonderful effect on me. I too found myself looking beyond the painting toward the ceiling of the art museum. It was a mystical moment—one that simultaneously took me beyond the painting and right back into the room where I was standing.  

The second piece of art is a small bronze statue of St. Francis, located in the upper basilica of Assisi, Italy. Created by a sculptor whose name is hidden, the statue shows Francis gazing down into the dirt with awe and wonder, which is quite unusual and almost shocking. The Holy Spirit, who is almost always pictured as descending from above, is pictured here as coming from below—even to the point of being hidden in the dirt! God is hidden in the dirt and mud instead of descending from the clouds. This is a major transposition of place. Once we know that the miracle of “Word made flesh” has become the very nature of the universe, we cannot help but be both happy and holy. What we first of all need is here!  

Both these pieces of art put the two worlds together, but from different perspectives. Yet in both images, it is the Divine that takes the lead in changing places. Maybe artists have easier access to this Mystery than many theologians. I doubt if we can see the image of God (imago Dei) in our fellow humans if we cannot first see it in rudimentary form in stones, in plants and flowers, in strange little animals, in bread and wine, and most especially cannot honor this objective divine image in ourselves. It is a full-body tune-up, this spiritual journey. It really ends up being all or nothing, here and then everywhere.   

The Transformative Power of Art

Father Richard shares his contemplative practice of visiting art museums: 

I believe good art has the power to evoke an epiphany. Sometimes, when we can’t take our eyes off a picture or work of art, an epiphany is happening. We don’t yet know what we’re knowing while the wisdom of the unconscious is being ferried across to the conscious mind. Carl Jung said great art presents an “archetypal image.” [1] On one of my very first speaking trips away from Cincinnati, I visited the St. Louis Art Museum. They had an exhibit of Claude Monet’s water lilies; some paintings took up the whole wall. It was a quiet weekday afternoon, and as I went from room to room, I found myself getting quieter and happier, quieter and happier. When I walked out into the sunshine after the exhibit, I felt like I floated home. I wasn’t waiting for an epiphany, but I think I was granted one anyway. I don’t know that I had a new piece of doctrinal information or theological insight, but the experience connected me to something deep and true within. To this day when I’m in a city and have some time free, I go to an art museum. 

Folk artist and Living School alumna Lourdes Bernard writes:  

Art invites audiences to consider the spirituality and transformative power of images. Engaging art offers respite, contemplation, even as it shares powerful, inspiring, or difficult stories. Art images are real and alive and have the power to change us and cause change.… They can shift our perspective on what we thought we knew and understood about a subject. Too often, art is considered decorative, and it is significantly more than that. Engaging with art means we have to slow down to allow a new experience to enter which perhaps cannot be accessed in another way. It can be an expansive experience. [2] 

Richard continues: 

I believe good art, good poetry, and true mythology communicates, without our knowing it, that life is not just a series of insulated, unrelated events. The great truths—when they can be visualized in images—reveal deep patterns, and reveal that we are a part of them. That deeply heals us, and it largely happens beneath our conscious awareness. A great story pulls us inside of a cosmic story. If we’re Christian, our cosmic story is the map of the life of Jesus, the divine conception, ordinary life, betrayal, abandonment, rejection, crucifixion, resurrection, and ascension. It all comes full circle. We might not really believe it. We might not have surrendered to it or trust it, but if we can, it makes us much happier people. Our happiness is on a surface level, of course, because suffering is everywhere. We don’t close our eyes to the world’s pain, but on a deep, unconscious level, a cosmic story offers us healing and coherence. Good art gives us a sense that we belong in that story, we belong in that world.  

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If Naaman’s story ended in verse 19, we might assume it was included in the Bible to illustrate the superiority of Israel’s God. After all, he healed Naaman’s leprosy when no foreign gods could. Or we might think the story was intended to foreshadow the day when people far beyond Israel’s borders would give the Lord their allegiance and worship. These ideas are certainly present, but it’s the conclusion of Naaman’s story (verses 20-27) that contains a surprising twist and the primary lesson of the chapter.As Naaman’s caravan heads back to Syria, we are introduced to a new character named Gehazi. He was Elisha’s servant. He disagreed with Elisha’s refusal to accept any of Naaman’s gold or silver. “My master was too easy on Naaman, this Syrian, by not accepting from him what he brought. As surely as the Lord lives, I will run after him and get something from him.”Gehazi’s words reveal that his disagreement with Elisha’s decision not to take Naaman’s wealth was all about identity. He belittles Naaman’s identity and elevates his own. Gehazi is an Israelite, one of God’s chosen, covenant people. He worships YHWH; the God who lives. Naaman, on the other hand, is dismissed as “this Syrian,” an idol-worshipping gentile. In other words, Gehazi believed his status as an Israelite entitled him to take something from this foreigner.Beyond being a gentile, Naaman was introduced at the beginning of the story as the leader of Syria’s armies. In this role, he often invaded and plundered God’s people. Gehazi may have seen Naaman’s offer of gold and silver as an opportunity to take back the wealth that rightfully belonged to Israel. It wasn’t just greed that motivated Gehazi, but vengeance. Why Elisha would pass up the chance to plunder the man who had plundered his people was inconceivable to Gehazi. So, he makes a vow, in YHWH’s name, to “get something from” this Syrian. Gehazi would self-righteously do for his people what Elisha did not.Gehazi fits a pattern we see throughout the Bible of self-righteous characters chafing against God’s mercy. Jonah is a vivid example. When the Lord extended mercy to the city of Nineveh, “it displeased Jonah exceedingly, and he was angry.” “This is why I made haste to flee to Tarshish,” Jonah complained, “for I knew that you are a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.” Jonah then asked the Lord to take his life: “For it is better for me to die than to live.” The melodramatic prophet was so angry at God’s mercy that he would rather die than live in a world where his enemies are forgiven.And Jesus illustrates this attitude again in his parable about the prodigal son in Luke 15. When the rebellious younger son came home, and the father embraced him and threw a celebration, the older son was livid. “Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!” (Luke 15:29-30).Like Jonah and the older son, Gehazi carried a sense of superiority because of his identity. I am righteous; he is a sinner. We are God’s chosen people; they are idol-worshipping pagans. Therefore, I am entitled to God’s mercy and blessings; they are not. Interestingly, the outcome of this self-righteous arrogance is not revealed by Jesus in his parable, nor is Jonah’s fate revealed. Both stories end without resolution. But not Gehazi’s. His fate serves as a clear warning to those who would second-guess God’s mercy. DAILY SCRIPTURE JONAH 4:1-4  2 KINGS 5:1-27 WEEKLY PRAYERfrom Basil of Caesarea (330 – 379) May the Father of the true light—who has adorned day with heavenly light, who has made the fire shine which illuminates us during the night, who reserves for us in the peace of a future age a spiritual and everlasting light—enlighten our hearts in the knowledge of truth, keep us from stumbling, and grant that we may walk honestly as in the day. Thus we will shine as the sun in the midst of the glory of the saints. Amen.

True encounter with Christ liberates something in us, a power we did not know we had, a hope, a capacity for life, a resilience, an ability to bounce back when we thought we were completely defeated, a capacity to grow and change, a power of creative transformation.
—Thomas Merton, He Is Risen 

Father Richard teaches that the essence of contemplative prayer is presence and love: 

Prayer is not primarily saying words or thinking thoughts. It’s an encounter and a life stance. It’s a way of living in the Presence, with awareness of the Presence, and even enjoying the Presence. Fully contemplative people are more than aware of Divine Presence; they trust, allow, and delight in it.  

The contemplative secret is learning to live in the now, which is not as empty as it might appear to be or that we fear it may be. Try to realize that everything is right here, right now and God is in this moment in a non-blaming way. When we’re able to experience that, taste and enjoy it, we don’t need to hold on to it.  

Because most of our moments are not tasted or in the Presence, we are never full. We create artificial fullness and want to hang on to that. But there’s nothing to hold on to when we begin to taste the fullness of now. God is either in this now or God isn’t at all. If the now has never been sufficient, we’ll always be grasping. Here is a litmus test: if we’re pushing ourselves and others around, we haven’t yet found the secret of happiness. This moment is as full of the Divine Presence as it can be.  

The present moment has no competition; it’s not judged in comparison to any other. It has never happened before and will not happen again. But when I’m in competition, I’m not in love. I can’t get to love because I’m looking for a new way to dominate. The way we know this mind is not the truth is that God does not deal with us like this. Mystics, those who really pray, know this. Those who enter deeply into the great mystery do not experience a God who compares, differentiates, and judges. They experience an all-embracing receptor, a receiver who recognizes the divine image in each and every individual. 

For Jesus, prayer seems to be a matter of waiting in love. Returning to love. Trusting that love is the deepest stream of reality. That’s why prayer isn’t primarily words; it’s primarily an attitude, a stance. That’s why Paul could say, “Pray always; pray unceasingly” (1 Thessalonians 5:17). If we read that as requiring words, it’s surely impossible. We’ve got lots of other things to do. We can pray unceasingly, however, if we find the stream and know how to wade in its waters. The stream will flow through us; all we have to do is keep choosing to stay there. 

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5 For Friday: John Chaffee

1.
“I have renounced spirituality to find God.”

• Thomas Merton, Catholic Monk and Activist
   
  Thomas Merton frequents these Friday newsletters, I know, I know.

You can’t deny it, though, this one is still just golden.  It is almost a Christian version of a Koan…

It is not that someone “gives up faith” to find God, it is more that God is larger than our concepts, frameworks, rites, and rituals.  God is willing to be experienced within them, but at some point, we butt up against the limitations of those things.

For me, there is a season in which it makes sense to “learn” religion, and then to “unlearn” it, to then “relearn” it in a larger, more mysterious sense.  (This might be similar to Brueggemann’s idea of “orientation, disorientation, reorientation”, which Rohr then calls “order, disorder, reorder.”)

It may be the wisdom of the Dark Night of the Soul that first formulated it, but there is a point at which we may need to “repent” of our own limiting understandings of God!

2.
“Individuation is the process of becoming a ‘person,’ a fully integrated and relational being… That is to say, when the individual remains undivided and does not become conscious of one’s inner opposite, the world must perforce act out the conflict and be torn into opposing halves.”

• Sr. Ilia Delio, Franciscan Theologian
   
  This quote stopped me in my tracks.  This week I finished reading The Not-Yet God: Carl Jung, Teilhard de Chardin, and the Relational Whole.  It was not exactly an easy read, but it certainly connected some dots for me.

The possibility that all of our external conflict is the result of externalization of internal conflict is striking.  That which we cannot handle within ourselves, we seek to eliminate outside of ourselves.

Every division, every separation, every conflict, and every war is the result of an internal division, separation, conflict, or war we are dealing with.  This means that for there to be world peace that lasts, there must be the teaching of internal peace/shalom.

The book leans heavily into the idea of the Whole and how to be properly “catholic” means to be concerned (kata) with the whole (holos) of everything.

3.
“For as in Adam all die, so in Christ all will be made alive.”

• 1 Corinthians 15:22
   
  Not a few.

Not some.

Not most.

ALL.

4.
“I take my cue from Jesus Christ who told me and told all of us to love each other, clothe the naked, feed the hungry, and visit those in prison. If you can’t do that, you’re not a believer—I don’t care what church you go to.”

• James Baldwin, Civil Right Activist
   
  Any “Christianity” that does not lead toward loving one’s neighbor enough that one can’t help but do acts of compassionate justice while respecting the inherent dignity of the other… is not Christianity.

5.
“You’ve made a holy fool of me and I’ve thanked You ever since.”

• In a Sweater, Poorly Knit by mewithoutYou
   
  I think that this singular line from mewithoutYou completely encapsulates my personal spirituality.