I only know that I did not know what love was until I encountered one that kept opening and opening and opening.  
—Christian Wiman, My Bright Abyss 

Father Richard Rohr describes the “eagerness to love” that characterized the life and spirituality of St. Francis of Assisi (1182–1226): 

If our only goal is to love, there is no such thing as failure. Francis of Assisi succeeded in living in a single-hearted way, in which his only goal was to love. This intense eagerness to love made his whole life an astonishing victory for the human and divine spirit and showed how they work so beautifully together.  

That eagerness to love is the core and foundation of Francis’ spiritual genius. He encountered a love that just kept opening to him, and then he passed on the same by “opening and opening” to the increasingly larger world around him. He willingly fell into the “bright abyss,” [1] as poet Christian Wiman calls it, where all weighing and counting are unnecessary and even burdensome.  

After his conversion, Francis lived the rest of his life in an entirely different economy—the nonsensical economy of grace, where two plus two equals a hundred and deficits are somehow an advantage. Such transformation of the soul, both in the inflowing and in the outflowing, is the experiential heart of the gospel for Francis. He then brought the mystery of the cross to its universal application, for he learned that both the receiving of love and the letting go of it for others are always a very real dying to our present state. Whenever we choose to love we will—and must—die to who we were before we loved. So, we often hold back. Our former self is taken from us by the object of our love. We only realize this is what’s happened after the letting go, or we would probably always be afraid to love.  

Richard points to the simplicity that makes Francis’ ministry special:  

For Francis, the medium had to be the same as the message—or the message itself would get quickly lost. Only love can search for, give, or receive love. It’s almost that simple. Francis created a very different classroom for his followers, sort of an underground seminary, if you will, where we Franciscans had to live faith before we talked about faith. Our Rule was initially just “tips for the road,” an itinerant and mendicant lifestyle, both an urban plunge and total solitude in nature, where love could be tasted and touched, much more than a formal seminary classroom where it might just be defined. 

In the Franciscan reading of the gospel, there’s no reason to be religious or to love God except in recognizing “The love of [God] who loved us greatly is greatly to be loved,” as Francis said. [2] Religion is not about heroic willpower or winning or being right. This has been a counterfeit for holiness in much of Christian history. True growth in holiness is a growth in willingness to be loved and to love.   

Practicing the Gospel

Father Richard identifies a radical change in lifestyle at the heart of Franciscan spirituality and the gospel of Jesus: 

For Francis and Clare of Assisi, Jesus became someone to actually imitate, not just to worship. Since Jesus himself was humble and poor, Francis made the pure and simple imitation of Jesus his life’s agenda. In fact, he often did it in an almost absurdly literal way. He was a fundamentalist—not about doctrinal Scriptures—but about lifestyle Scriptures: take nothing for your journey; eat what is set before you; work for your wages; wear no shoes. This is still revolutionary thinking for most Christians, although it is the very “marrow of the gospel,” to use Francis’ own phrase. [1] He knew that humans tend to live themselves into new ways of thinking more than think themselves into new ways of living. (This is one of the CAC’s Core Principles.) 

“When we are weak, we are strong” (2 Corinthians 12:10) might have been the motto of the early Franciscans. In his First Rule, Francis wrote, “They must rejoice when they live among people considered of little value.” [2] Biblically, they reflected the early, practical Christianity found in the Letter of James and the heart-based mysticism of the Eastern Church. While most male Franciscans eventually became clericalized and proper churchmen, we did not begin that way. 

The early Franciscan friars and the Poor Clares (women who followed Clare of Assisi) wanted to be gospel practitioners instead of merely “inspectors” or “museum curators” as Pope Francis calls some of today’s clergy. Both Francis and Clare offered their Rules as a forma vitae, or “form of life,” to use their own words. They saw orthopraxy (correct practice) as a necessary parallel, and maybe even precedent, to mere verbal orthodoxy (correct teaching) and not an optional add-on or a possible implication. History has shown that a rather large percentage of Christians never get to the practical implications of their beliefs! “Why aren’t you doing what you say you believe?” the prophet invariably asks.  

At the heart of Franciscan orthopraxy is the practice of paying attention to different things (nature, people on the margins, humility, itinerancy, mendicancy, mission) instead of shoring up the home base. His early followers tried to live the gospel “simply and without gloss,” as Francis told them. [3] 

Author Jon Sweeney describes how Franciscan preaching took place in everyday circumstances:  

Francis … was a person of action and movement. Spiritual practice was paramount. He made preaching mandatory for all who joined him in his way of life, but preaching was not always done from behind a pulpit. The earliest Franciscan sermons were more like open-air discussions, encouragements, inspirations—usually while the preacher or another friar were on the road walking, beside the road begging, in hospitals caring for the ill and accompanying the dying, repairing crumbling churches, acting as intermediaries between people in trouble and people in power, and touching with tenderness the creatures and creation around them. 

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The following is from John Chaffee regarding Mysticism

Quote of the Week:

“Very truly I tell you, whoever believes in me will do the works I have been doing, and they will do even greater things than these, because I am going to the Father.” – John 14:12

Reflection

Jesus is the original mystic, the main mystic, the high exemplar of what faith is supposed to look like.  Even Brennan Manning, the former Franciscan turned author of Grace talks of him as such.  For our purposes, though, we will understand the term “mystic” as someone who has experiential knowledge of the deep mystery that we call God.  Modern understandings of the word associate it with all kinds of things that the first usages of the word did not have.  So let us begin by affirming that Jesus had that deep experiential knowledge of God.

That being said…

During his ministry, Jesus fulfilled many roles for people.  As a teacher, healer, prophet, priest, king, and messiah, he was many things to many people.  However, we sometimes gloss over the reality that Jesus was a traveling or itinerant rabbi.  Often, we associate the role of a rabbi with being equal to or similar to that of being a pastor today.

In ancient Near Eastern culture, though, a rabbi was more unique than we may realize.

Jewish children were raised to memorize the entire Torah by pre-teen age, that would be Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy.  Then, if they were deemed to be good students, they might continue and memorize the rest of the Hebrew Scriptures from Joshua to Malachi.  If they did not prove themselves worthy, they would simply start learning their family’s trade instead.

However, at the end of possibly memorizing the rest of the Hebrew Scriptures a student might have the opportunity to sit and talk with a rabbi.  The rabbi would then give them question after question to test their memory, their acuity, their rhetoric, etc.  If at the end of that time, the rabbi was impressed with the student, they would essentially say, “I believe you can do what I do, come and follow me.”

When Jesus calls his disciples in the Gospels, he says, “Follow me.”  Knowing the background context, it was a heavily loaded statement of possibility.”

“I believe you can do what I do, come and follow me…” sounds like, “Very truly I tell you, whoever believes in me will do the works I have been doing, and they will do even greater things than these because I am going to the Father.” – John 14:12

Jesus, as a traveling itinerant rabbi, is not interested in a passive existence for his followers, in their spectator spirituality of watching him heal the world alone.

Instead, he says, “Whoever believes in me will do the works I have been doing, and they will do even greater things than these…”  What is true of Jesus is true of us.  The mystic wisdom of Jesus that comes to us here is that the Incarnation is an infinite mystery that invites us into the infinite mystery of being “little incarnations” of the Christ in our own life and lifetime.

The cosmic redemption of God is that of one Christ with many “little Christs.”

Why?  Because Christ says, “I believe you can do what I do, come and follow me.”

Prayer

Lord, help us to be more than spectators of your work in the world.  Help us to be “little Christs” in our families and communities.  And, may we have the courage to actually believe that you believe in us, and that we can do what you did: live and love well.

In his years of teaching and programming through the CAC, Father Richard balanced an active and contemplative life:  

I am just like you. My immediate response to most situations is with reactions of attachment, defensiveness, judgment, control, and analysis. I am better at calculating than contemplating. Let’s admit that most of us start there. The false self seems to have the “first gaze” at almost everything. 

On my better days, when I am open, undefended, and immediately present, I can sometimes begin with a contemplative mind and heart. Often I can get there later and even end there, but it is usually a second gaze. It is an hour-by-hour battle, at least for me. I can see why so many spiritual traditions insist on daily prayer, in fact, morning, midday, evening, and before we go to bed prayer too! Otherwise, I can assume that I am back in the cruise control of small and personal self-interest, the pitiable and fragile “richard” self. 

My Franciscan tradition and superiors have allowed me in these later years to live alone, in a little “hermitage” behind the friary and parish. When I am home, I am able to protect long hours of silence and solitude each day, which I fill with specific times of prayer, study, journaling and writing, spiritual reading, gardening, walking, and just gazing. It is a luxury that most folks probably do not have. My time on the road, which is often as much as 50% of the time, is much harder to balance, and probably more like your life.  

On a practical level, my at-home day is two extremes: both very busy (visitors and calls, counselees, work at the CAC, mail, writing, and some work at Holy Family parish) yet on the opposite side, my life is very quiet and alone. I avoid most social gatherings, frankly because I know my soul has other questions to ask and answer as I get older. Small talk and “busyness about many things” will not get me there.  

Our practice, whatever it is, must somehow include the problem. Contemplation is not the avoidance of the problem, but a daily merging with the problem, and finding some resolution. We quickly and humbly learn this lesson in contemplation: How we do anything is probably how we do everything. 

It’s taken me much of my life to begin to get to the second gaze. By nature, I have a critical mind and a demanding heart, and I am impatient. These are both my gifts and my curses. Yet I can’t have one without the other, it seems. I can’t risk losing touch with either my angels or my demons. They are both good teachers. A life of solitude and silence allows them both, and invariably leads me to the second gaze. The gaze of compassion, looking out at life from the place of Divine Intimacy is really all I have, and all I have to give, even though I don’t always do it.  

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Sarah Young Jesus Calling

Relax in My everlasting arms. Your weakness is an opportunity to grow strong in awareness of My Almighty Presence. When your energy fails you, do not look inward and lament the lack you find there. look to Me and My sufficiency; rejoice in My radiant riches that are abundantly available to help you.
     Go gently through this day, leaning on Me and enjoying My Presence. Thank Me for your neediness, which is building trust-bonds between us. If you look back on your journey thus far, you can see that days of extreme weakness have been some of your most precious times. Memories of these days are richly interwoven with golden strands of My intimate Presence.

RELATED SCRIPTURE:

Deuteronomy 33:27 (NLT)
27 The eternal God is your refuge,
    and his everlasting arms are under you.
He drives out the enemy before you;
    he cries out, ‘Destroy them!’

Additional insight regarding Deuteronomy 33:27: Moses’ song declares that God is our refuge, our only true security. How often we entrust our lives to other things – perhaps money, career, a noble cause, or a lifelong dream. But our only true refuge is the eternal God, who always holds out his arms to catch us when the shaky supports that we trust collapse and we fall. No storm can destroy us when we take refuge in him. Those without God, however, must forever be cautious. One mistake may wipe them out. Living for God in this world may look like risky business. But it is the godless who are on shaky ground. Because God is our refuge, we can dare to be bold.

Psalm 27:13-14 (NLT)
13 Yet I am confident I will see the Lord’s goodness
    while I am here in the land of the living.
14 Wait patiently for the Lord.
    Be brave and courageous.
    Yes, wait patiently for the Lord.

Thursday, September 26, 2024

Authors Adam Bucko and Rory McEntee envision what a “new monasticism” could mean today:  

Monastic [life], then, represents for us a complete commitment to the transformative journey, … which takes us into the fullness of our humanity, allowing divinity to flower within us in increasing degrees of love, compassion, joy, sorrow, and wisdom. The monastic is the one who devotes his or her life to this ideal, and allows all life decisions to flow out of this commitment. The root of the word monk is monachos, which means “set apart.” For us, this is not so much a physical separation as a setting oneself apart from our cultural conditioning—from an unquestioning, and un-questing, view of life, one that drives us to adulate material success, seduces us into participating in the devastation of our planet, hardens our hearts to the plight of the poor and oppressed, and divorces us from our innate capacity for spiritual growth and maturity. 

By new, we refer to the phenomenon of living out this spiritual vocation in the world…. We have found that many people today are feeling the same deep calling as the monks of old, a calling of complete commitment to the transformative journey, yet without the urge to act out this calling in the traditional way. They do not find themselves necessarily drawn to a monastery, or to celibacy, or to disengagement and liberation from the world. They instead feel a radical urge to live out this calling in the world—to be embedded in the world, with the hardship of financial realities, the ups and downs of political unrest, the blessings and difficulties of relationships—all in the midst of a contemporary society that does not support such a calling. [1] 

CAC staff member Mark Longhurst honors the sacredness of ordinary life:  

It is not possible, or even desirable, for most seekers of God to live in remote solitude or join a monastic order. I cherish going on retreat and revel in praying the monastic hours, but my true vocation is not to be a monk. My call is simply to be the most loving version of myself. Besides, I’m too busy driving the kids to basketball practice and reminding them to do their homework. [Thomas] Merton matters to me because he shatters the illusory barrier between the world and heaven, prayer and activity. He says, “I do not need to lock myself into solitude and lose all contact with the rest of the world; rather, this poor world has a right to a place in my solitude.” [2] Solitude and the world are not at odds or even, in the end, separate. Merton struck upon this truth from one end of the spectrum, by embracing the world as a solitary monk.   

Now it is time for those of us more obviously in the world to embrace the monastic depths—which are the depths of grace that God pours forth toward us in all the stations of life in which we find ourselves.

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Sarah Young

Come to Me and listen! Attune yourself to My voice, and receive My richest blessings. Marvel at the wonder of communing with the Creator of the universe while sitting in the comfort of your home. Kings who reign on earth tend to make themselves inaccessible; ordinary people almost never gain an audience with them. Even dignitaries must plow through red tape and protocol in order to speak with royalty.
     Though I am King of the universe, I am totally accessible to you. I am with you wherever you are. Nothing can separate you from My Presence! When I cried out from the cross, “It is finished!” the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. This opened the way for you to meet Me face to Face, with no need of protocol or priests. I, the King of kings, am your constant Companion.

RELATED BIBLE SCRIPTURE:

Isaiah 50:4 (NLT)
The Lord’s Obedient Servant
4 The Sovereign Lord has given me his words of wisdom,
    so that I know how to comfort the weary.
Morning by morning he wakens me
    and opens my understanding to his will.

Isaiah 55:2-3 (NLT)
2 Why spend your money on food that does not give you strength?
    Why pay for food that does you no good?
Listen to me, and you will eat what is good.
    You will enjoy the finest food.
3 “Come to me with your ears wide open.
    Listen, and you will find life.
I will make an everlasting covenant with you.
    I will give you all the unfailing love I promised to David.

John 19:30 (NLT)
30 When Jesus had tasted it, he said, “It is finished!” Then he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.

Matthew 27:50-51 (NLT)
50 Then Jesus shouted out again, and he released his spirit. 51 At that moment the curtain in the sanctuary of the Temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. The earth shook, rocks split apart, …

Mirabai Starr writes about mysticism we can experience in the “monasteries” of our everyday lives:  

I think you get it: You don’t have to enter a monastery to be a mystic. You don’t have to renounce chocolate or forsake pop culture. It is not necessary to take formal vows and beat yourself up when you inevitably fail to uphold them. These are static notions of what it means to be committed to the life of the soul, and they probably have almost nothing to do with the warm and spicy sprawl of your days. To be a mystic in our times is not about renunciation; it is about intention.  

Living as a mystic means orienting the whole of yourself toward the sacred. It’s a matter of purposely looking through the lens of love. Contemporary wise woman Anne Lamott says (quoting Father Ed, the priest who helped Bill Wilson start up Alcoholics Anonymous) that “sometimes Heaven is just a new pair of glasses.” [1] You know what it looks like when you wipe a lens clean of smears and dust. And you also know how it feels to bump into the furniture when your vision is fuzzy. When you say yes to cultivating a mystical gaze, the ordinary world becomes more luminous, imbued with flashes of beauty and moments of meaning. The universe responds to your willingness to behold the holy by revealing almost everything as holy. A plate of rice and beans, the Dow Jones Industrial Average, your new baby, the latest political scoundrel, the scary diagnosis, the restless nights.  

Starr encourages us to commit to discovering the hidden depths of love in mundane situations:  

You can start right here, in the middle of your messy life. Your beautiful, imperfect, perfect life. There is no other time, and the exact place you find yourself is the best place to enter. Despite what they might have taught you at Bible Camp or in yoga class, you are probably not on your way to some immaculate state in which you will eventually be calm and kindly enough to be worthy of a direct encounter with the divine. Set your intention to uncover the jewels buried in the heart of what already is. Choose to see the face of God in the face of the bus driver and the moody teenager, in peeling a tangerine or feeding the cat. Decide. Mean it. Open your heart, and then do everything you can to keep it open. Light every candle in the room….  

When we make a pact with ourselves to show up for reality just as it is, reality rewards us by revealing its hidden holiness, its ordinary wonder, its fruitful shadows and radiant wounds. Not always, not everywhere, but more and more often and in the places we least expect.… This is what it means to be a mystic. To show up for what is, to be present to all that is, to take refuge in the boundless intimacy of exactly what is.  

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Psalm 127: The Paradox of God’s Work & Ours

Click Here for Audio Together with Proverbs and Ecclesiastes, the Psalms are often referred to as the Bible’s “wisdom literature.” All of these books were written to teach us discernment—to differentiate between the way of wisdom and the way of foolishness, and to recognize the path toward life and the path leading to death. One facet of this discernment is the concern that our labor not be fruitless. For example, in Psalm 90 after expressing the brevity of life, Moses ends by twice repeating his prayer to God: “Establish the work of our hands for us—yes, establish the work of our hands” (Psalm 90:17). Psalm 127 echoes this prayer by reminding us that our labor in this life is meaningless without God’s participation: “Unless YHWH builds the house, the builders labor in vain. Unless YHWH watches over the city, the guards stand watch in vain” (Psalm 127:1). In this verse, the writer establishes a paradox that permeates the Bible. Is it the workers building the house or YHWH? And are the guards protecting the city or is God? Psalm 127 says it is both! Mysteriously and somewhat inexplicably, our work and God’s work can become intermingled; taken up together, and united so that human effort and divine action become indistinguishable. Of course, Psalm 127 also implies that it is very possible to do our work without God’s involvement. Our labor can be a solely human effort that is ultimately “in vain.” How do we avoid this fruitless outcome? Psalm 127 doesn’t address that question directly, but the broader context of the Bible’s wisdom literature certainly does. It speaks often of fearing YHWH, seeking first his kingdom, delighting in his commands, and abandoning the way of the wicked. That is how the Old Testament speaks about the paradox of human-divine collaboration. The New Testament offers its own vocabulary for this same mystery. For example, the Apostle Paul contrasts walking “in the Spirit” with walking “in the flesh.” Flesh is often misidentified in modern Christian communities as referring to immoral physical or sexual appetites. But Paul used the word more broadly to mean human strength, knowledge, or power. Those who walk in the flesh (Galatians 5:16) or “put confidence in the flesh” (Philippians 3:4), are living in a manner that will not last. They are building their lives in vain because they are doing it without God. In contrast, Paul says we should “live by the Spirit” and “keep in step with the Spirit” (Galatians 5:25). This is his language for living in deep, abiding communion with God—the way of wisdom the Old Testament writers celebrated. As we do this, our work and God’s become alloyed. Our seemingly finite labor is transformed by his eternal life, and we will increasingly display the fruit of God’s Spirit through our renewed humanness. Again, exactly how this occurs is a deep mystery, but it is the life we are all invited to discover. DAILY SCRIPTURE PSALM 127:1-5 PHILIPPIANS 3:1-8 WEEKLY PRAYERMother Janet Stuart (1857 – 1914) Dear Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, I hold up all my weakness to your strength, my failure to your faithfulness, my sinfulness to your perfection, my loneliness to your compassion, my little pains to your great agony on the Cross. I pray that you will cleanse me, strengthen me, and hide me, so that, in all ways, my life may be lived as you would have it lived, without cowardice and for you alone. Amen.

Cultivating a Contemplative Culture Within

James Finley shares how in the midst of a challenging time in his life as a father, husband, and teacher, he felt drawn to renew the relationship with God he had experienced in the monastery:  

I began to realize that what I wanted more than anything else was to be grounded once again in the experience of the communal presence with God that had so transformed my life since I was a small child, and which had deepened all the more in the monastery….  

I could not at first see how it was possible for me to fulfill these reawakened longings. For, whereas every aspect of monastic life was carefully crafted to nurture the contemplative way of life in which the communal presence of God is realized, every aspect of the fast-moving ways of the world seemed to be moving in the opposite direction. Then it dawned on me that the contemplative way of life is not dependent on the monastic life that nurtures and protects it. My capacity to live a contemplative way of life was inscribed in my very being as a person created in the image and likeness of God. And so I came to the graced realization that I could, in the midst of my life in the world, cultivate a contemplative culture in my heart by renewing my fidelity to a daily quiet time in which I could once again learn from God how to love and be loved by God.  

And so I began to get up early each morning as my wife and young daughter were still asleep. I would light a candle and sit out on the floor in the living room in an interior stance of silence and openness to God.  

Impacted by the spirituality of Thomas Merton, Finley discovered an openness to the rich contemplative traditions of world religions: 

I began to reflect on how graced I was in the monastery by the non-Christian spiritual masters who came to Gethsemani to visit Merton: the Vietnamese Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh; the Jewish mystic and philosopher Abraham Joshua Heschel; the Muslim Sufis; the Hindu yogi who had come from India to found an ashram; Bede Griffiths, the Benedictine monk who was living as a Christian yogi in his ashram in India; and John Wu, a Chinese Catholic…. 

With Merton’s help I came to realize that God’s presence is fanned out into these contemplative traditions of the world’s great religions as so many languages or paths to contemplative communion with the divine mystery that he and I were seeking in our own Christian tradition….  

When I got up each morning to meditate … I began to renew my prayerful study of the classical texts of these non-Christian sources of contemplative wisdom. I renewed my practice of yoga, which I had discovered through Thomas Merton, along with what I learned from him about the Buddhist traditions of meditation as a path to ultimate liberation

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Psalm 126: Did God Break His Promise?

Click Here for Audio As I mentioned in the previous devotion, Psalms 125 and 126 appear to be in tension. Psalm 125 says that Mount Zion (which is another name for Jerusalem) “cannot be shaken” and “endures forever.” The Psalm is a statement of confidence in Israel’s covenant with YHWH. Because the Lord is on its side, Jerusalem has nothing to fear. But this assurance is quickly questioned in the very next Psalm.Psalm 126 speaks of a time when YHWH “restored the fortunes of Zion” (verse 1), and asks him to continue restoring his people (verse 4). If Mount Zion is unshakable, as Psalm 125 said, why must it be restored? And why does Psalm 126 speak about a time of tears and weeping for God’s people?Most scholars believe Psalm 126 is post-exilic; meaning it was written after 598 B.C.E. when Babylon invaded and destroyed Jerusalem and many Jews were carted away to live in exile. Without question, this event was the most devastating in the history of ancient Israel. Not only was Mount Zion shaken, but the temple built upon it was destroyed, and the line of Davidic kings was broken.The trauma of the exile led many to wonder if YHWH had abandoned his covenant with Israel. Were they still his chosen people? How could Israel’s faith in God and his goodness be reconciled with the evil they had just experienced? The working out of this dilemma reverberates through many parts of the Old Testament—including numerous Psalms. But where the question is most directly asked and answered is in the writings of the prophets. There we discover the “shaking of Zion” was not YHWH breaking his covenant with Israel, but fulfilling it.When the Lord outlined the contours of his covenant with Israel through Moses, he promised blessing to the people if they followed his way and calamity if they did not. The chief calamity he warned about was exile. “If you defile the land, it will vomit you out as it vomited out the nations that were before you” (Leviticus 18:28). For generations before the Babylonian invasion, God warned his people that his judgment for their sin was coming. He called them to repent; to turn away from idolatry, to practice justice toward the poor and vulnerable, and to stop mistreating foreigners. But these warnings went unheeded. Finally, after showing incredible patience and giving his people every opportunity to change course, YHWH’s discipline came.The restoration of Zion that Psalm 126 celebrates alludes to the remnant of God’s people returning to the land after 70 years of exile. It’s evidence that the Lord had not abandoned Israel and that the covenant was still in effect. The exile was not an angry deity’s uncontrollable wrath, but a loving father’s reluctant discipline. As Proverbs says, “My son, do not make light of the Lord’s discipline, and do not lose heart when he rebukes you, because the Lord disciplines the one he loves, and he chastens everyone he accepts as his son” (Proverbs 3:11-12; Hebrews 12:5-6). DAILY SCRIPTURE PSALM 125:1-5 PSALM 126:1-6 WEEKLY PRAYERMother Janet Stuart (1857 – 1914) Dear Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, I hold up all my weakness to your strength, my failure to your faithfulness, my sinfulness to your perfection, my loneliness to your compassion, my little pains to your great agony on the Cross. I pray that you will cleanse me, strengthen me, and hide me, so that, in all ways, my life may be lived as you would have it lived, without cowardice and for you alone.

In this homily, Father Richard Rohr reflects on how contemplation is much more than a set of practices:  

When we emphasize specific practices too much, contemplation can become a matter of technique and performance. We fall back into self-analysis: Am I doing the practice correctly? The revelation of God, who always wants to enter the material world as our image, cannot possibly depend upon people sitting silently on a prayer cushion twice a day. That would mean that 99.9% of people who have ever lived on this earth have not known God. The definition of Christian contemplation up until recent times has come from the early monastic and desert traditions, but the field is far bigger than that.   

Parker Palmer writes, “The function of contemplation in all its forms is to penetrate illusion and help us to touch reality.” [1] I think he’s right and I would add that great love and great suffering are the normal paths of transformation. There’s an important place for practices of contemplation. I’m not throwing them out, but any practice of contemplation is for the sake of helping us sustain what we temporarily learn through great love or great suffering, whether it’s on a honeymoon or the day after a parent dies. When we’re in the middle of great grief or great love, we become a nondual thinker for a few days, weeks, or months, but we all know it doesn’t last. It doesn’t last—unless we put it into practice.  

Father Richard names why contemplative practices are essential to deepening our experience of God’s wisdom: 

When we insert religion inside of culture, culture wins every time. Most of us are Americans or our nationalities first, and then maybe, once in a while, we are Christians. That’s just obvious—it’s our cultures that form us. We want to believe, we keep pretending we believe, but we really don’t. Until our faith moves to the elemental, cellular level, until we digest it like we do great love and great suffering, it will not change our minds or our actions. Even after a beautiful Mass, ritual, or retreat, we go right back to either/or, dualistic thinking. We go right back to being angry Republicans or Democrats, Protestants or Catholics, Black people or white people. It just never stops. But as we practice, contemplation becomes a way to touch upon reality, a way of penetrating illusion.  

The ego loves to take sides; it gives us a false sense of solidity, importance, and intelligence. Contemplation is any way we can find to help us penetrate illusion and touch reality—and reality will always be bigger than us. It will always leave us a bit uncomfortable, a bit off center stage. If we’re still on center stage, it isn’t Reality. When we can take our place as the little side show we all are, and from that humble perspective allow Reality to do its work with us, I think we will know what we need to know. 

The New Monk

The monastic heart thrives wherever love is found.
—Beverly Lanzetta, A New Silence 

Spiritual teacher Beverly Lanzetta considers what constitutes a “new monk”:  

Recently, I had an interesting conversation with a hermit, who remarked, “Monasticism is ancient. It hasn’t changed. What’s new about it? It’s the same—you empty yourself; you sit in your cell [small monastic room].” This is the issue, isn’t it? Is there really such a thing as the “new” monk?  

Let me first say that the aspiration to monkhood is intrinsic to human life—a universal quality of being that continually draws us into silence. The concept of the “new monk” includes … monks in religious orders to participants without religious affiliation, … the person who chooses to live out a monastic vocation of one religion or a hybrid … or has no formal desire to be a monk, but lives by the universal call to contemplation. In each case, the deep self seeks something more radical and intense from life, and longs to be united with its Source. This is the monk within.  

Monasticism is not new. Through generations of life on Earth, humans have sought solitude and silence. The monk’s journey is the Spirit’s fire born with and into us that ignites the pulse of the untamed heart. It is the insistent call to go deeper, to reach higher, and to search more ardently for our original home. And so, while perhaps we have not been trained to name or recognize the monk within, it has been awake in the center of being all along. We, then, can speak of the new monk as a person who consciously cultivates the interior monkhood, and who lives out an experimental and daily-renewed vocation.   

Lanzetta describes how “new monks” practice their spirituality outside monastic enclosure:  

New expressions of monasticism are not only authentic, but also offer a vital and necessary counterpoint to secular society. This is especially true because the monk in the world is bound by his or her vocation to be a self-reflective person—one who seeks higher meaning and dedicates his or her life on Earth to its pursuit. It is arduous work to dig deep into one’s soul, bringing forth hidden or unconscious motives contrary to a spiritual life. I find that the younger generations are especially drawn to the movement of new monasticism, as many were born with awareness of a new religious sensibility and a global Earth community.  

For all of these reasons, this monastic orientation is “new” because it is taking place in the daily routine of a person’s life, and not in a monastic setting apart from the world.… He or she recognizes that monkhood is not the special preserve of the traditional vowed religious, but the universal heritage of humanity.… 

The challenge of being “new” monks consists in the attempt to expand monastic wisdom into the wider personal and social circle of our lives, while also fiercely protecting the centering point of silence and solitude in our souls. 

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Psalm 125: The Problem with Distinguishing Prayers from Promises

Click Here for Audio Many Christians, and especially those from traditions that highly value the Bible, have been taught to read Scripture one-dimensionally. “The Bible says it, I believe it, and that settles it” is a very common sentiment in these communities. While meant to honor the Bible, this cliche actually does the opposite by cavalierly erasing the Bible’s great depth and diversity. It ignores the many different genres it contains, and the need to engage and interpret each genre by its own rules.“The Bible says it, I believe it, and that settles it” is especially unhelpful when reading the Psalms for a few reasons. First, the psalms are poems that employ metaphors, similes, hyperbole, and many other non-literal figures of speech. For example, the Psalms say God is a rock (see Psalms 18, 62, 89, and 95). Are we to believe the Almighty is literally made of stone? Of course not. It’s clearly a metaphor. Second, the Psalms pose interpretive challenges because they are also prayers through which God’s people express a wide spectrum of emotions, and not all of those feelings accurately reflect reality. For example, numerous psalms accuse God of being distant, deaf, or inattentive. Does the Bible intend for us to believe that the Lord doesn’t hear us see our suffering? Again, of course not. These are examples of writers truthfully expressing their feelings about God, even when they are not true of God. Turning to Psalms 125 and 126, we encounter another kind of interpretive challenge. Psalm 125 begins by speaking of God’s unwavering and everlasting protection of his people. The writer says those who trust in the Lord will be protected by him, just as the mountains surround and protect Jerusalem. Just as Mount Zion (another name for Jerusalem) cannot be shaken, neither will God’s people. The writer appears to be saying that Jerusalem enjoys YHWH’s permanent protection.That sounds wonderful, and such a comforting promise may lead someone to declare, “The Bible says it, I believe it, and that settles it!” But that becomes a bit more difficult if we read the very next chapter. Psalm 126 is a prayer asking YHWH to restore the fortunes of Zion. Wait, didn’t Psalm 125 just say Zion couldn’t be shaken? So, then why does it need to be restored? We’ll look at that more tomorrow, but for now it’s helpful to remember that first and foremost the Psalms are prayers offered by God’s people, not promises given to God’s people.Of course, the Psalms do contain true statements about God and even some promises, but identifying those promises requires us to read the Psalms alongside the rest of Scripture. DAILY SCRIPTURE PSALM 125:1-5 PSALM 126:1-6 WEEKLY PRAYERMother Janet Stuart (1857 – 1914) Dear Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, I hold up all my weakness to your strength, my failure to your faithfulness, my sinfulness to your perfection, my loneliness to your compassion, my little pains to your great agony on the Cross. I pray that you will cleanse me, strengthen me, and hide me, so that, in all ways, my life may be lived as you would have it lived, without cowardice and for you alone. Amen.

Father Richard emphasizes the inner transformation necessary for the work of peace: 

The gospel is not about being nice; it’s about being honest and just, and the world doesn’t like those two things very much. Our job is to learn how to be honest, but with love and respect. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. taught us that before we go out to witness for justice, we have to make sure that we can love and respect those with whom we disagree.  

Imagine the surrender necessary for those who have been oppressed for hundreds of years to continue to work peacefully for justice. Frankly, I don’t know how anyone can do it without contemplation. How do we get to that deep place where we do not want to publicly expose, humiliate, or defeat our opponents? When we are hurt, we want to hurt back. This is our ego’s natural defense mechanism. Through prayer and contemplation, we change from the inside—from a power position to the position of vulnerability and solidarity, which gradually changes everything.  

True contemplation is the most subversive of activities because it undercuts the one thing that normally refuses to give way—our natural individualism and narcissism. Once we are freed from our narcissism that thinks we are the center of the world, or that our rights and dignity must be defended before other people’s rights and dignity, we can finally live and act with justice and truth. 

John Dear describes the importance of connecting with our core identity as children of God:  

Peacemakers throughout history testify to the need for quiet meditation if we are to live the nonviolent life of peace. The [ministry] of the nonviolent Jesus, according to Luke’s account, begins with him sitting in silent prayer by the Jordan River. In that quiet time of contemplative listening and opening to the Spirit of peace, he heard that he was God’s beloved [Luke 3:21–22]. In this sacred space, he was able to take that message to heart, to claim that truth as the core of his identity.  

Like the nonviolent Jesus, we too need to sit still in silent meditation and open our hearts and minds to the Holy Spirit of peace and let the God of peace call us God’s beloved. We need to give God permission to love us, name us, and claim us if we want to be disarmed, healed and freed to practice loving nonviolence.  

That is why quiet meditation is so crucial to the life of nonviolence. In that silent meditation, we can hear God say to us, “You are my beloved.” We learn who we are, we remember who we are, and we are strengthened once again to be who we really are. In that strength and confidence, we feel liberated from our inner violence and freed to get up and walk outside into the world of violence to offer the hand of peace and nonviolence. [2] 

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Jesus Calling Sarah Young

Try to see things more and more from My perspective. Let the Light of My Presence so fully fill your mind that you view the world through Me. When little things don’t go as you had hoped, look to Me lightheartedly and say, “Oh, well.” This simple discipline can protect you from being burdened with an accumulation of petty cares and frustrations. If you practice this diligently, you will make a life-changing discovery: You realize that most of the things that worry you are not important. If you shrug them off immediately and return your focus to Me, you will walk through your days with lighter steps and a joyful heart. When serious problems come your way, you will have more reserves for dealing with them. You will not have squandered your energy on petty problems. You may even reach the point where you can agree with the apostle Paul that all your troubles are light and momentary, compared with the eternal glory being achieved by them.

RELATED SCRIPTURE:

Proverbs 20:24 (NLT)
24 The Lord directs our steps,
    so why try to understand everything along the way?

2nd Corinthians 4:17-18 (NLT)
17 For our present troubles are small and won’t last very long. Yet they produce for us a glory that vastly outweighs them and will last forever! 18 So we don’t look at the troubles we can see now; rather, we fix our gaze on things that cannot be seen. For the things we see now will soon be gone, but the things we cannot see will last forever.

Additional insight regarding 2nd Corinthians 4:17: Our troubles should not diminish our faith or disillusion us. We should realize that there is a purpose in our suffering. Problems and human limitations have several benefits: 1) they remind us of Christ’s suffering for us; 2) they keep us from pride; 3) they cause us to look beyond this brief life; 4) they give us opportunities to prove our faith to others; and 5) they give God the opportunity to demonstrate his power. See your troubles as opportunities!

Non-violence is the greatest and the most active force in the world…. One person who can express Ahimsa in life exercises a force superior to all the forces of brutality.  
—Mohandas Gandhi, Harijan, March 14, 1936  

Peace activist Father John Dear describes nonviolence as an expression of who we are more than something we do:  

Active nonviolence begins with the truth that all life is sacred, that we are all equal sisters and brothers, all children of the God of peace, already reconciled, all one, all already united, and so we could never hurt or kill another human being, much less remain silent while wars rage, people die in poverty, and nuclear weapons and environmental destruction threaten us all. As we deepen into this vision of our common unity, we come to understand that we are one with all humanity, all creatures, all creation, and God. So nonviolence is much more than a tactic or a strategy; it is a way of life that is based in the oneness of creation, the unity of life itself. It is not passive but active love and truth that seek justice and peace for the whole human race and all of creation, and so resists systemic evil and violence, persistently reconciles with everyone, works to create new cultures of justice and peace, yet insists there is no cause however noble for which we support the killing of any human being. Instead of killing others, we work to stop the killing and are even willing to be killed in the struggle for justice and peace.   

Dear names how the nonviolence exemplified by Jesus, Mohandas Gandhi, and Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. can disarm our systems and world: 

Gandhi and Dr. King invite us to read the Gospels from the perspective of nonviolence so that the nonviolence of Jesus might disarm us, guide us, and direct our lives, and together, disarm the human family to live in peace as one with creation.…  

The visionary nonviolence taught by Gandhi and King flows from our disarmed hearts, from our inner depths, where we renounce our inner violence, let God disarm us and cultivate interior nonviolence, then moves us to practice meticulous interpersonal nonviolence with our families, neighbors, co-workers, communities, cities, nation, all creatures, and Mother Earth. As we face the structures of violence head on with the power of organized nonviolence, we build grassroots, bottom up, people-power movements to end tyranny and injustice and institutionalize nonviolent democracy and social, economic, racial, and environmental justice. When organized on large national and global levels, active nonviolence can peacefully transform entire societies, even the world, as Gandhi demonstrated in India’s revolution, as the civil rights movement showed, as the growing women’s, LGBTQ, and environmental movements demonstrate, as the People Power movement showed in the Philippines, and as Archbishop Desmond Tutu and the churches of South Africa showed against apartheid. Gandhi said that nonviolence, when it is harnessed, becomes contagious and can disarm the world.  

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Sarah Young Jesus Calling

There is a mighty battle going on for control of your mind. Heaven and earth intersect in your mind; the tugs of both spheres influence your thinking. I created you with the capacity to experience foretastes of heaven. When you shut out the world and focus on My Presence, you can enjoy sitting with Me in heavenly realms. This is an incredible privilege reserved for precious ones who belong to Me and seek My Face. Your greatest strength is your desire to spend time in community with Me. As you concentrate on Me, My Spirit fills your mind with Life and Peace.   

The world exerts a downward pull on your thoughts. Media bombards you with greed, lust, and cynicism. When you face these things, pray for protection and discernment. Stay in continual communication with Me whenever you walk through the wastelands of this world. Refuse to worry, because this form of worldliness will weigh you down and block awareness of My Presence. Stay alert, recognizing the battle being waged against your mind. Look forward to an eternity of strife-free living, reserved for you in heaven.

RELATED BIBLE SCRIPTURE:

Ephesians 2:6 (NLT)
6 For he raised us from the dead along with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms because we are united with Christ Jesus.

Additional insight regarding Ephesians 2:6: Because of Christ’s resurrection, we know that our body will also be raised from the dead (1st Corinthians 12:2-23) and that we have been given the power to live as Christians now (Ephesians 1:19). These ideas are combined in Paul’s image of sitting with Christ in “the heavenly realms.” Our eternal life with Christ is certain because we are united in his powerful victory.
Psalm 27:8 (NLT)
8 My heart has heard you say, “Come and talk with me.”
    And my heart responds, “Lord, I am coming.”

Additional insight regarding Psalm 27:7-8: We often run to God when we experience difficulties. But David sought God’s guiding presence every day. When troubles came his way, he was already in God’s presence and prepared to handle any test. Believers can call to God for help at any time, but how shortsighted to call on God only when troubles come. Many of our problems could be avoided or handled far more easily by seeking God’s help and direction beforehand.

Romans 8:6 (NLT)
6 So letting your sinful nature control your mind leads to death. But letting the Spirit control your mind leads to life and peace.

Additional insight regarding Romans 8:6: Once we have said yes to Jesus, we will want to continue following him, because his way brings life and peace. Daily we must consciously choose to center our life on God. Use the Bible to discover God’s guidelines, and then follow them. In every perplexing situation, ask yourself – What would Jesus want me to do? When the Holy Spirit points out what is right, do it eagerly. For more on sinful nature versus our new life in Christ, see Romans 6:6-8, Ephesians 4:22-24, and Colossians 3:3-15.

1st John 2:15-17 (NLT)
Do Not Love This World
15 Do not love this world nor the things it offers you, for when you love the world, you do not have the love of the Father in you. 16 For the world offers only a craving for physical pleasure, a craving for everything we see, and pride in our achievements and possessions. These are not from the Father, but are from this world. 17 And this world is fading away, along with everything that people crave. But anyone who does what pleases God will live forever.

Additional insight regarding 1st John 2:15-17: Some people think that worldliness is limited to external behavior – the people we associate with, the places we go, the activities we enjoy. Worldliness is also internal because it begins in the heart and is characterized by three attitudes: (1) craving for physical pleasure – preoccupation with gratifying physical desires; (2) craving for everything we see – coveting and accumulating things, bowing to the god of materialism; and (3) pride in our achievements and possessions – obsession with one’s status or importance. When the serpent tempted Eve in Genesis 3:6, he tempted her in these areas. Also, when the devil tempted Jesus in the wilderness in Matthew 4:1-11, these were his three areas of attack.
    By contrast, God values self-control, a spirit of generosity, and a commitment to humble service. It is possible to give the impression of avoiding worldly pleasures while still harboring worldly attitudes in one’s heart. It is also possible, like Jesus, to love sinners and spend time with them while maintaining a commitment to the values of God’s Kingdom. What values are most important to you? Do your actions reflect the world’s values or God’s values?
    When the desire for possessions and sinful pleasures feel so intense, we probably doubt that these objects of desire will all one day pass away. It may be even more difficult to believe that the person who does the will of God will live forever. But this was John’s conviction based on the facts of Jesus’ life, death, resurrection, and promises. Knowing that this evil world will end can give you the courage to deny yourself temporary pleasures in this world in order to enjoy what God has promised for eternity.

Palestinian Quaker Jean Zaru reflects upon her lifelong commitment to peacemaking:  

I call myself a Quaker or a Friend. And Friends, throughout history, have maintained a testimony to nonviolence. War, we say, is contrary to the teachings of Christ. Therefore, we are challenged to live in the presence of that power which wins through love rather than through war. This is no easy testimony. It has three aspects:  

1. To refuse to take part in acts of war ourselves.  
2. To strive to remove the causes of war.  
3. To use the way of love open to us to promote peace and to heal wounds.  

As Quakers we believe that there is something of God in every person. Why, then, is it so hard for us to see what is of God in one another? Both sides in any conflict often have difficulty seeing the other at all, let alone seeing that of God in the other.…  

I believe that we are called to conversion: to be converted to the struggle of women and men everywhere who have no way to escape the unending fatigue of their labor and the daily denial of their human rights and human worth. We must be converted, so to speak, to a new vision of human dignity, what we call “that of God” in each person, even in those we oppose. We must let our hearts be moved by the anguish and suffering of the other.  

Zaru considers the inward and outward dimensions of her commitment to peace:  

Early on in my struggles with living nonviolently in a situation of violence, I found myself at a crossroads. I needed to know in my own deepest convictions whether I really did believe in the power of nonviolence to transform a situation of conflict.… How can I have peace within when I worry so much about life in general and the lives of my family members?… How can I have peace within when our movement is restricted in our own country, when walls are built to imprison us and separate us from one another?… 

As Palestinian women, we have a special burden and service. We are constantly being told to be peaceful. But the inner peace of which I speak is not simply being nice, or being passive, or permitting oneself to be trampled upon without protest. It is not passive nonviolence, but the nonviolence of courageous action.…  

What is that inner force that drives us, that provides regeneration and perseverance to speak the truth that desperately needs to be spoken in this moment of history?… If I deserve credit for courage, it is not for anything I do here, but for continuing in my daily struggle under occupation on so many fronts, for remaining samideh (steadfast) and, all the while, remaining open to love, to the beauty of the earth, and contributing to its healing when it is violated. 

Psalm 122: Praying for the Peace of Jerusalem

Click Here for Audio A few months ago, I walked west with my son down the Mount of Olives and entered the Muslim Quarter of the Old City of Jerusalem through the Lions’ Gate. On a normal day, we would have encountered a labyrinth of narrow, crowded streets bustling with merchants, cafes, tourists, and pilgrims. But this was not a normal day. The ancient streets were quiet, many stores and restaurants were boarded up, and we probably saw more soldiers than tourists.Israel’s war in Gaza, which began after the Hamas attack on October 7, 2023, was fifty miles away from us, but it reverberated through Jerusalem. Tensions were high, security was tight, and we all knew a wider conflict could erupt at any time. The unease was new for us, but certainly not for Jerusalem. N.T. Wright, perhaps the most famous living New Testament scholar, describes the city this way:“Jerusalem has been a place of conflict as well as of celebration for three thousand years, and somehow its continuing sorrows still function as a kind of symbol of the out-of-jointness of the whole world. Misunderstandings, bad memories, unintended consequences, and plain old-fashioned sin, pride, guilt, and fear all jostle together and make the city one of the most painful, as well as one of the most beautiful and evocative, places on earth.” A few days after my son and I left, we received a troubling text. The Jewish woman who had been our guide through the Old City, had been attacked by a group of young Jewish nationalists. Why would they attack a fellow Jew? Because she dared to protect a Palestinian shopkeeper from their racist insults and harassment. It was a vivid reminder that Jerusalem is indeed a mix of beauty and brutality; of ancient history and ongoing hostility.Psalm 122 includes a call to “Pray for the peace of Jerusalem” (verse 6). The poetic beauty of the phrase is lost in English, but in Hebrew, it has a lyrical alliteration. The words for “pray” (sha’al), “peace” (shalom), and “Jerusalem” (Yerushalaim) flow together in Hebrew (Sha’alu shalom Yerushalaim), sounding almost like a mother comforting and shushing a crying infant to sleep in her arms. This maternal imagery for the troubled city was echoed centuries later by Jesus.As he traveled west from the Mount of Olives, on the same road I walked with my son, Jesus saw Jerusalem and wept over the city. “If you, even you, had only known on this day what would bring you peace—but now it is hidden from your eyes” (Luke 19:42). And Matthew’s gospel includes these tender words: “How often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gather her chicks under her wings, and you were not willing” (Matthew 23:37). Jesus’ ached for the peace of Jerusalem. He wanted to comfort and calm the strife that had always plagued its inhabitants. Sadly, even two millennia later, the peace of Jerusalem remains an unfulfilled prayer.As you reflect on Psalm 122, add your prayers to that of God’s ancient people. Add your prayers to Jesus’ own. Add your prayers to those of saints throughout the ages who have longed for the peace of Jerusalem, and to those who continue to pray for it today. DAILY SCRIPTURE PSALM 122:1-9 LUKE 19:41-44 WEEKLY PRAYERThomas à Kempis (1380 – 1471) Grant me, O Lord, to know what is worth knowing, to love what is worth loving, to praise what delights you most, to value what is precious to you, and to reject whatever is evil in your eyes. Give me true discernment, so that I may judge rightly between things that differ. Above all, may I search out and do what is pleasing to you; through Jesus Christ my Lord. Amen.

Rev. James Lawson (1928–2024), an influential teacher of nonviolence in the civil rights movement, insists on the effective power of nonviolence: 

There is impracticality to violence. It’s ineffective and has been ineffective throughout the world for too many years. We must not let people who romanticize or mythologize violence persuade us that it has proven to be efficacious…. It has proven to be the most ineffective weapon. It drains emotional, psychological, moral, and spiritual energy with no good consequences.  

I want to urge you today to the spiritual and moral task of creating a revolution that is utterly necessary in the twenty-first century. And when I use the term revolution, I do not mean violence. 

From the perspective of Gandhi, nonviolence is the use of power to try to resolve conflicts, injuries, and issues in order to heal and uplift, to solidify community, and to help people take power into their own hands and use their power creatively. Nonviolence makes the effort to use power responsibly.  

Lawson’s Christian faith is at the center of his philosophy of nonviolence. 

At the root of nonviolence is the notion that within each person there is not only a spark of God, as the Quakers say, but also the spark of love and compassion. I hear many people saying, “I’m not going to love my enemy.” As Martin [Luther] King points out so very well, when Jesus said to love thy enemy [Matthew 5:44], he was not talking about friendship love, nor was he talking about romantic love. [1] He was not talking about deep liking and appreciation. He was talking about what the Quakers and William Penn pledged to the Native Americans during colonial times: how even though we are very different, and we come from different countries and different cultures with many different languages, we have a common human experience that we can show each other and that we can come to respect.  

There is no other way. It cannot be done with hatred. It can only be done by people who have compassion and awareness of their own lives in the light of creation. It cannot be done by insulting other people, cannot be done with the gun or the fist, cannot be done with bombs. We three-hundred-plus million people of the United States can be healed of our fears and our animosities, our hurts and our pains, but that can only happen if we adopt a nonviolent perspective, daring to put the issues on the table in front of us no matter the pain, walking through them and putting together the ethos and principles that can create in the United States a new earth and a new heaven. And I think if religion is valid, as I understand it for myself and for my family, I think religion must get out of the pews and become a movement for the moral, intellectual spirituality that can help us become the people that God has created us to be. 

John Chaffee’s Friday Five

Grace and Peace, Friends! This week, I was out with a friend who told me he was listening to a discussion online between a Christian and a Satanist. Yep, you read that correctly. He said that throughout the conversation, the Satanist was making excellent points about how the god of the Christian was vindictive, punitive, retributive, and kept account of wrongs.  He said the Christian failed to respond well to that indictment and how the conversation left a mark on him. I couldn’t stay silent.  During our walk, I burst out and said, “This is what infuriates me.  The Christian God is barely taught about in a Christian way.   Most people have no idea that God is infinite, out-pouring love, who does not keep account of wrongs and has already reconciled everyone and everything back to God (Col. 1:15-20).  Most people’s understanding of God can’t even live up to 1 Corinthians 13.  The problem is that we platform very passionate people into pulpits who are still quite immature, and they preach their immaturity but not Christianity.   Then, they hear someone like me talking like this and I am experienced as polarizing for just quoting parts of the New Testament that people were never told about.  Everything changes when you realize Christ came to salvage all of humanity (John 12:32).  People walk away from Christianity because, often, they were not really taught Christianity anyways.” The moment was a little odd because I vented more than spoke calmly.  We then continued our walk, which was quite a nice time, and moved on to other topics.  But I thought about that moment for the rest of the day. One of the reasons I started this weekly newsletter was to try and offer some other voices and share quotes from people who helped me shift my understanding of the faith into something larger, more integrative, more mature, and more robust.  I sincerely hope that if you have been reading these emails for the past few weeks or months or from the start, it has helped you expand your view of the world and God and challenged you to grow yourself.