Richard Rohr names the passing on of love as the great gift of Francis of Assisi: 

Contemplative minds and hearts such as those of Francis and Clare are alone prepared to hand on the Great Mystery from age to age and from person to person. The utilitarian and calculating mind distorts the message at its core. The contemplative, nondual mind inherently creates a great “communion of saints,” which is so obviously scattered, hidden, and amorphous that no one can say, “Here it is,” or “There it is,” but instead it is always “among you” (Luke 17:21)—invisible and uninteresting to most, but obvious and ecstatic to those who seek (see Matthew 22:14).  

From the Trinity to Jesus, the energetic movement of receiving and giving Love begins. Then, from Jesus to many—Francis and Clare, Bonaventure and Scotus, Thérèse of Lisieux, Teilhard de Chardin, Mother Teresa, Thomas Merton, Dorothy Day, Pope Francis, and now we ourselves—we are all part of this one great parade, “partners in God’s triumphal procession,” as Paul calls it, “spreading the knowledge of God like a sweet smell everywhere” (2 Corinthians 2:14), much more a transmission of authentic life and love than of mere ideas or doctrines.  

It is remarkable to know that findings about mirror neurons almost prove that this energetic movement is the case, even physiologically and interpersonally. [1] It is not just pious poetry. If we have never received a gaze of love, we do not even have the neural ability to hand it on. We cannot really imagine love, much less pass it on, until we have accepted that someone—God, another person, or even an animal—could fully accept us as we are.  

Human history is one giant wave of unearned grace, and each of us is now another wave crashing onto the sands of time, edged forward by the many waves behind us. We are fully loved and adopted children in God’s one eternal family which is open to all. To accept such an objective truth is the best and deepest understanding of how the Risen Christ spreads his forgiving heart through history. It is Love that we are passing from age to age—even the very love of God.  

Our only holiness is by participation and surrender to the Body of Love, and not by any private performance. This is the joining of hands from generation to generation that still can—and will—change the world, because Love is One, and this Love is either shared and passed on or it is not the Great Love at all. The One Love is always eager, and, in fact, such eagerness is precisely the giveaway that we are dealing with something divine and eternal.  

Francis’ revolution is still in process, and it cannot fail, because it is nothing more or less than the certain unfolding of Love itself, which, as Paul declares, “never fails” (1 Corinthians 13:8). 

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I am the Creator of Heaven and Earth; Lord of all that is and all that will ever be. Although I am unimaginably vast, I choose to dwell within you, permeating you with My Presence. Only in the spirit realm could Someone so infinitely great live within someone so very small. Be awed by the Power and the Glory of My Spirit within you!
     Though the Holy Spirit is infinite, He deigns to be your Helper. He is always ready to offer assistance; all you need to do is ask. When the path before you looks easy and straightforward, you may be tempted to go it alone instead of relying on Me. This is when you are in the greatest danger of stumbling. Ask My Spirit to help you as you go each step of the way. Never neglect this glorious source of strength within you.

RELATED SCRIPTURE:

John 14:16-17 (NLT)
16 And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, who will never leave you. 17 He is the Holy Spirit, who leads into all truth. The world cannot receive him, because it isn’t looking for him and doesn’t recognize him. But you know him, because he lives with you now and later will be in you.

Additional insight regarding John 14:15,16: Jesus was soon going to leave the disciples, but he would remain with them. How could this be? The Advocate – the Spirit of God himself – would come after Jesus was gone to care for and guide the disciples. The regenerating power of the Spirit came on the disciples just before Jesus’ ascension (John 20:22), and the Spirit was poured out on all the believers at Pentecost (Acts 2), shortly after Jesus ascended to heaven. The Holy Spirit is the very presence of God within us and all believers, helping us live as God wants and building Christ’s church on earth. By faith, we can appropriate the Spirit’s power each day.

Additional insight regarding John 14:16: The word translated “Advocate” combines the ideas of comfort and counsel. The word could also be translated as Comforter, Encourager, or Counselor. The Holy Spirit is a powerful person on our side, working for and with us.

Additional insight regarding John 14:17: The following chapters teach these truths about the Holy Spirit. Many people are unaware of the Holy Spirit’s activities, but to those who hear Christ’s words and understand the Spirit’s power, the Spirit gives a whole new way to look at life. The Holy Spirit will never leave us (14:14); the world at large cannot receive him (14:17); he lives with us and in us (14:17); he teaches us (14:26); he reminds us of Jesus’ words (14:26; 15:26); he convinces us of sin, shows us God’s righteousness, and announces God’s judgements on evil (16:8); he guides us into truth and gives insight into future events (16:13); he brings glory to Christ (16:14).

John 16:7 (NLT)
7 But in fact, it is best for you that I go away, because if I don’t, the Advocate won’t come. If I do go away, then I will send him to you.
Additional insight regarding John 16:7: Unless Jesus did what he came to do, there would be no Good News. If he did not die, he could not remove our sins; he could not rise again and defeat death. If he did not go back to the Father, the Holy Spirit would not come. Christ’s presence on earth was limited to one place at a time. His leaving meant he could be present to the whole world through the Holy Spirit.

Zechariah 4:6 (NLT)
6 Then he said to me, “This is what the Lord says to Zerubbabel: It is not by force nor by strength, but by my Spirit, says the Lord of Heaven’s Armies.
Additional insight regarding Zechariah 4:6: Many people believe that to survive in this world a person must be tough, strong, unbending, and harsh. But God says, “Not by force nor by strength, but by my Spirit.” The keywords are “by my Spirit.” It is only through God’s Spirit that anything of lasting value is accomplished. The returned exiles were indeed weak – harassed by their enemies, tired, discouraged, and poor. But actually, they had God on their side! As you live for God, determine not to trust in your own strength or abilities. Instead, depend on God and work in the power of his Spirit! (See also Hosea 1:7: “But I will show love to the people of Judah. I will free them from their enemies—not with weapons and armies or horses and charioteers, but by my power as the Lord their God.”)

What would you do today if you knew you might die tomorrow?  
—Francis of Assisi, Letter to the Faithful  

Drawing on an early account of Francis praying outside, Ilia Delio reflects on Francis’ understanding of God as love:  

Francis was praying alone …, uttering a mantra in the form of a question: “Who are You, O God? And who am I?” [1] The more Francis wandered into the fields of nature, the more he wandered into the fields of his own heart. The outer world invited him to enter his inner world. There he encountered the mystery of God who was at once, Most High, and yet infinitely near; more intimate than his own self. Francis experienced God as his “All”: All good, All love, All present, All merciful. As he exclaimed, “Deus meus et omnia,” meaning “My God and my All!” The more he found God within himself, the more he saw God outside himself where every detail of nature spoke to him of God. As the Franciscan penitent Angela of Foligno exclaimed: “All creation is pregnant with God!” [2] Prayer led Francis into the truth of his own reality and into the truth of the world. Nothing was outside the embrace of God’s love.  

It was love that moved Francis into other worlds: the world of the leper, the world of the poor, the world of earthworms and wolves, into the world of everything, because only in the world is God born through love. However, one must be able to see and listen to the sounds of divine love crying out in the birthpangs of the new creation. Francis set his heart on God’s passionate love, his mind on knowing this love and his eyes on seeing this love.  

Delio describes Franciscan prayer as a desire to grow in God’s life and love:  

Prayer is an invitation to grow in love: as we grow into God’s life, God’s life grows in us. We are reborn in the Spirit through the power of love, entering into the chaos and uncertainty of the world. Love does not retreat from suffering and pain but enters into the darkness of life with energy and hope that the future will be different; love creatively empowers life toward more life. Life in God is a gamble in love that requires faithful commitment, even when darkness persists and suffering prevails. To grow in love through prayer is to throw ourselves into the heart of God…. Only when we can weep at what is not yet loved can we live into a new reality; for love is waiting to be born. This is the heart of Franciscan prayer. 

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Sarah Young

Worship Me only. I am King of kings and Lord of lords, dwelling in unapproachable Light. I am taking care of you! I am not only committed to caring for you, but I am also absolutely capable of doing so. Rest in Me, My weary one, for this is a form of worship.
     Though self-flagellation has gone out of style, many of My children drive themselves like racehorses. They whip themselves into action, ignoring how they exhausted they are. They forget that I am sovereign and that My ways are higher than theirs. Underneath their driven service, they may secretly resent Me as a harsh taskmaster. Their worship of Me is lukewarm, because I am no longer their First Love.
     My invitation never changes: Come to Me, all you who are weary, and I will give you rest. Worship Me by resting peacefully in My Presence.

RELATED SCRIPTURE:

1st Timothy 6:15-16 (NLT)
15 For,
At just the right time Christ will be revealed from heaven by the blessed and only almighty God, the King of all kings and Lord of all lords. 16 He alone can never die, and he lives in light so brilliant that no human can approach him. No human eye has ever seen him, nor ever will. All honor and power to him forever! Amen.

Isaiah 55:8-9 NLT
8 “My thoughts are nothing like your thoughts,” says the LORD . “And my ways are far beyond anything you could imagine. 9 For just as the heavens are higher than the earth, so my ways are higher than your ways and my thoughts higher than your thoughts.

Additional insight regarding Isaiah 55:8-9: The people of Israel were foolish to act as if they knew what God was thinking and planning. His knowledge and wisdom are far greater than any human’s knowledge and wisdom. We are foolish to try to fit God into our mold – to make his plans and purposes conform to ours. Instead, we must strive to fit into his plans.

Revelation 2:4 NLT
4 “But I have this complaint against you. You don’t love me or each other as you did at first!

Additional insight regarding Revelation 2:4: Paul had once commended the church of Ephesus for its love for God and others (Ephesians 1:15), but many of the church founders had died, and many of the second-generation believers had lost their zeal for God. They were a busy church – the members did much to benefit themselves and the community but they were acting out of the wrong motives. Work for God must be motivated by love for God, or it will not last.

Matthew 11:28 NLT
28 Then Jesus said, “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. (Related scripture = Jeremiah 6:16)

Additional insight regarding Matthew 11:28-30: A yoke is a heavy wooden harness that fits over the shoulders of an ox or oxen. It is attached to a piece of equipment the oxen are to pull. A person may be carrying heavy burdens of (1) sin, (2) excessive demands of religious leaders, (3) oppression and persecution, or (4) weariness in the search for God.

Jesus frees people from all these burdens. The rest that Jesus promises is love, healing, and peace with God, not the end of all labor. A relationship with God changes meaningless, wearisome toil into spiritual productivity and purpose.

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Father Richard understands the Franciscan vow of poverty through Francis’ commitment to live the gospel.  

Francis initially needed no rule, no code of behavior, for his brother friars. He was quite satisfied with Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount and his instructions to the disciples. When Francis read the inaugural discourse of Jesus, he saw that the call to be poor stood right at the beginning: “How blessed are the poor in spirit!” Henceforward, Francis’ reading of the gospel considered poverty to be “the foundation and guardian of all virtues.” [1] The other virtues receive the kingdom only in promise; poverty, however, is invested with it already now and without delay. “Theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 5:3). [2]  

Spiritual teacher Mirabai Starr shares some examples of how Francis lived out the beatitudes of Jesus: 

“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be filled.”  
—Matthew 5:6 

Francis inspired his followers to desire the liberation of their brothers and sisters as passionately as they themselves longed to be free. He modeled a spiritual path that combined private, contemplative prayer with active service in the world.  

While Francis could easily have become the respected leader of a successful monastic community, removed from the distractions of society, he chose instead to immerse himself in the messy human condition, where he was often reviled as an embarrassment to the high society from which he came. Rather than accept a traditional endowment, Francis and his followers begged in the streets for bread, bricks, and firewood. He tended the sick and cared for orphans. He stood up against oppression wherever he encountered it, but he did so in such a loving way that he posed no obvious threat to the authorities and so managed to convert them to his cause…. 

“Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’s sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” —Matthew 5:10 

Francis began and ended his religious vocation the victim of condemnation and rejection. When he first gave up his life of comfort and ease and took to the streets to live among the poor and beg for his most basic needs, the people of Assisi slammed their doors in his face and called him crazy. Multiple betrayals broke his heart, yet also opened him to receive the ultimate gift from Christ: participation in his passion through the stigmata. The full spectrum of Francis’s life—from joyful exaltation of the Lord to crushing self-doubt—reflected his living commitment to Christ’s teachings of love…. 

The Way of Love can be harrowing. It is not a path of convenience. It requires vigilance and discipline to speak for the voiceless, and courage to accept the consequences of ringing the bells that break the spell of complacency. Yet the fruits of such action are sweet. They are wild fruits, and they yield in abundance—enough to feed a whole kingdom, right here on earth. [3] 

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Sarah Young Jesus Calling

Never take for granted My intimate nearness. Marvel at the wonder of My continual Presence with you. Even the most ardent human lover cannot be with you always. Nor can another person know the intimacies of your heart, mind, and spirit. I know everything about you–even to the number of hairs on your head. You don’t need to work at revealing yourself to Me.
     Many people spend a lifetime or a small fortune searching for someone who understands them. Yet I am freely available to all who call upon My Name, who open their hearts to receive Me as Savior. This simple act of faith is the beginning of a lifelong love story. I, the Lover of your soul, understand you perfectly and love you eternally.

RELATED SCRIPTURE: 

Luke 12:7 (NLT)
7 And the very hairs on your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are more valuable to God than a whole flock of sparrows.

Additional insight regarding Luke 12:7: Our true value is God’s estimate of our worth, not our peers’ estimate. Other people evaluate and categorize us according to how we perform, what we achieve, and how we look. But God cares for us, as he does for all of his creatures because we belong to him. Thus, we can face life without fear; we are very valuable to God.

John 1:12 (NLT)
12 But to all who believed him and accepted him, he gave the right to become children of God.

Additional insight regarding John 1:12,13: All who welcome Jesus Christ as Lord of their lives are reborn spiritually, receiving new life from God. Through faith in Christ, this new birth changes us from the inside out – rearranging our attitudes, desires, and motives. Being born makes you physically alive and places you in your parent’s family (1:13). Being born of God makes you spiritually alive and puts you in God’s family (1:12). Have you asked Christ to make you a new person? This fresh start in life is available to all who believe in Christ.

Romans 10:13 (NLT)
13 For “Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.”

My grace is sufficient for you, for my strength is made perfect in weakness.  
—2 Corinthians 12:9 

I am glad for weaknesses, constraints, and distress for Christ’s sake, for it is when I am weak that I am strong.  
—2 Corinthians 12:10  

Father Richard describes how Francis, Clare, and later, Thérèse of Lisieux (1873–1897), found a direct experience of God through humility:    

In his letters to the Corinthians, the apostle Paul, following Jesus, forever reversed the engines of ego and its attainments, and it is this precise reversal of values—and new entrance point—that Francis and Clare of Assisi understood so courageously and clearly. Seven centuries later, St. Thérèse of Lisieux, a Carmelite nun who became the youngest, least educated, and most quickly designated doctor of the Church, also sought this downward path, which she called “a new way” or her “little way.”  

Thérèse—lovingly called the Little Flower by most Catholics—was right, on both counts, since her way of life was indeed very new for most people and very “little” instead of the usual upward-bound Christian agenda. Doing “all the smallest things and doing them through love” was the goal for Thérèse. [1] The common path of most Christianity by her time had become based largely on perfectionism and legalism, making the good news anything but good or inviting for generations of believers. [2]  

Thérèse, almost counter to reason, declared: “If you want to bear in peace the trial of not pleasing yourself, you will give me [the Virgin Mary] a sweet home.” [3] If you observe yourself, you will see how hard it is to be displeasing to yourself, and that it is the initial emotional snag that sends most of us into terribly bad moods without even realizing the mood’s origins. To resolve this common problem, both Francis and Thérèse teach us to let go of the very need to “think well of yourself” to begin with! “That is your ego talking, not God,” they would say.  

Only someone who has surrendered their foundational egocentricity can do this, of course. Psychiatrist and popular writer Scott Peck told me personally over lunch that this quote was “sheer religious genius” on her part, because it made the usual posturing of religion well-nigh impossible. It mirrors these teachings from St. Francis:  

Show your love to others by not wishing that they be better Christians. [4]  

We can patiently accept not being good. What we cannot bear is not being considered good, not appearing good. [5]  

Until we discover the “little way,” we almost all try to gain moral high ground by obeying laws and thinking we are thus spiritually advanced. Yet Thérèse wrote, “It is sufficient to recognize one’s nothingness and to abandon oneself as a child into God’s arms.” [6] People who follow this more humble and honest path are invariably more loving, joyful, and compassionate, and have plenty of time for simple gratitude about everything.

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Psalm 131: Faith on the Other Side of Complexity

Click Here for Audio In the gospels, Jesus rebuked his disciples for their pride and ambition. They had been arguing about who would be the greatest in the kingdom of heaven, so Jesus called a child over and said to them, “Unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 18:3). Later, however, the Apostle Paul rebuked the Christians in Corinth by calling their “worldly” behavior childish. He said they were “mere infants in Christ” (1 Corinthians 3:1-2).I have heard Christians say their lack of interest in learning the Bible or doctrine is because they want to “preserve their childlike faith.” In other words, they’ve made biblical ignorance into a Christian virtue. Is that what Jesus intended when he commanded his followers to become like little children? And what did Paul mean when he said, “I put the ways of childhood behind me” (1 Corinthians 13:11)? Is a childlike faith good or bad? Is it a mark of innocence as Jesus implies, or of ignorance as Paul suggests? Psalm 131 can help us solve this puzzle. The short poem contrasts a proud, haughty heart with a weaned child quietly resting in its mother’s embrace. It’s an image of frenzied anxiety juxtaposed with a picture of quiet contentment. What’s important to notice, however, is that David is comparing his previous state of striving and grasping for control, with his current posture of trust and surrender. He has passed through that chaotic season to discover peace in God’s presence on the other side.I believe this is what Jesus meant when he told his disciples to “change and become like little children.” He was inviting them to surrender their pride and their lust for control, and instead entrust themselves to God’s good care. But notice that Jesus frames this posture as a choice. This is what separates us from actual children. A child has no choice but to trust. They are small, weak, ignorant, and therefore incapable of independence. But we can choose to entrust ourselves to God or continue in the illusion of our pride and power. What makes Psalm 131 so impactful is that David has gone through his prideful, haughty period. He has tried to grasp control, he has attempted to understand all the mysteries of life and faith, and he has struggled to take hold of great and wonderful things. But he failed. His striving was fruitless. So instead he has chosen trust. He has given up, surrendered, and collapsed into the arms of God and put his hope in YHWH rather than himself.This is the childlike faith Jesus values—the kind that emerges on the other side of pursuing control. As Oliver Wendell Holmes said, “I would not give a fig for the simplicity this side of complexity, but I would give my life for the simplicity the other side of complexity.” Paul criticized the Corinthians for being childlike because they lacked maturity and wisdom. Their simple faith was not a choice but a necessity. It was grounded in their lack of experience. But the childlike faith Jesus celebrates emerges from our experience. It is the simple wisdom we discover on the other side of complexity. DAILY SCRIPTURE PSALM 131:1-3 MATTHEW 18:1-5 WEEKLY PRAYER Thomas Wilson (1663 – 1775) Forgive me my sins, O Lord; the sins of my present and the sins of my past, the sins of my soul and the sins of my body, the sins which I have done to please myself and the sins which I have done to please others. Forgive me my casual sins and my deliberate sins, and those which I have labored so to hide that I have hidden them even from myself. Forgive me, O Lord, forgive all my sins, for Jesus’ sake. Amen.

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.