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- The Difference Between Centering Prayer and Contemplation — And Why It Matters
Down from the mountain. I am reminded of the Transfiguration. For a few brief moments, the three apostles saw a resurrected Christ. Peter wanted to stay up there on that mountain. But Jesus had other ideas. He started back down the mountain to do “the work of the world”. I can imagine him saying, “Okay, guys, come on. We have work to do. “. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. talked of being on the mountain top, seeing the promised land. But he came down from that mountain so that he could enter the promised land – not alone- but with his sisters and brothers. “Together we rise. “
Inner and Outer Resurrections are mutual. I must enter the silence and come to know my own resurrection. Then I must enter the world and come to know the resurrections all around me. The inner work informs the outer. The outer work informs the inner. And so on. Like a swing.
I can remember swinging as a child with some of my friends. We would purposely create disorientation, often by tilting our heads back as the swing was descending. Trying the same thing as an adult made me feel sick to my stomach. Perhaps as children, disorientation is mysterious, invigorating while as adults it becomes upsetting. HmmmmmDying and rising can happen at the same time, in the same world, in our own hearts. Within every death is a resurrection, whether it be within the Jesus of history or the Christ throughout history. By being present to the daily dyings in our world – dyings due to war or poverty or displacement – we become present to the risings – risings of human consciousness and compassion. We can sing “alleluia” even as tears flow from our hearts.
Comment from Linda: “Release myself into the Silence until the particularities of all can be acknowledged “. The cries of the stones have become deafening. The armies of Putin add atrocities on top of atrocities. Here in Sacramento – while the community is mourning the deaths of six people – city crews remove 30+ people from am encampment. Most of them had nowhere to go. I find anger rising up, particularly at city officials who just days ago held candles in the darkness. Now, during a cold snap and during Holy Week, they destroy people’s property, evict them and erect a fence around the former camp. Reminds me of the fence our pastor erected in front of the church steps, blocking access to a place that had been a safe haven for many. The stones rattle in my head. So, I go into the silence, underneath the clamoring and crying and screaming. The silence embraces it all and I need do nothing but be present.
Veronica. For those who pray the Stations of the Cross, Veronica is Station 6. She steps out of the crowd. Takes a risk. Wipes the sweaty, bloody face of Jesus. She could not stop the crucifixion. So, she simply offers a bit of comfort in the moment. I often think of her when I feel overwhelmed by all the human suffering. She reminds me that I can’t fix it all, probably can’t fix much at all. But I can be present. Offer my heart. Give comfort as the opportunity appears. And, this is enough.
“For each of us, there is the daily life. Let us live it, gesture by gesture. “. The violence, the death is overwhelming. During the past week, I stumbled onto a new gesture that has proven to be healing. Six people were killed during the mass shooting in downtown Sacramento a week ago. One of them was a homeless woman, Melinda. So I have been holding her in my heart, calling her by name. It has proven to be a way to hold it all – the named and the nameless – in a personal yet universal way. Also, I have shared this Word of the Week message with several people who have been deeply touched, as have I.
The stone in my heart. This morning as I found a stone for our time together,
I asked that the stone be removed from my heart. I realized that I had been protecting myself from the reality of the mass shooting in Sacramento. Tears and memories came flooding back. I had worked at the Sequoia Hotel, a single room occupancy hotel located on the block where the shootings had occurred. Many residents were isolated, without family or support. They often died alone and might not be discovered for several days. We would have a memorial service for each, sometimes finding photos and relatives. The person’s life then became bigger than that little room where they had lived. The message: no one will be forgotten, each life is important. As we mourn the six people who died on Sunday morning, I pray that I will take into my heart all of the sadness, remorse, and confusion that accompanies all who are in mourning.
The unknown unblinder. One year a group of four of us dramatized the raising of Lazarus. We made a box that we could crawl into. When Jesus said, “Lazarus, come forth”, we crawled out of the box. We were each holding onto a pillow. Then someone would come from the assembly, take the pillow and walk us down to a pew. The lesson: Jesus could raise us but we needed someone to unbind us. I did it at all four Masses. The most powerful one for me was the noon Mass since I did not know the person who “ unbound” me. One never knows who might emerge to unbind one from some constricting habit and thus enable one to rejoin the community.
Walking With. Thanks, Adeline, for that reflection. When I worked in mental health, I often thought that my main job was being a companion to those on their own journey to wholeness. It was not my job to decide what wholeness was for each person or to determine the best path to that wholeness. What I could do was create an environment for the journey to begin.
Seeing Differently. Today I went to a retirement party for a woman who was an essential part of HOPE Cooperative for 33 years. I have known her for 21 of those years. She is a creative, compassionate and sometimes driven person. Today I saw her with her husband and daughter. She instantly became more human, more approachable and a bit fragile. I saw a small piece of the support that her family had been through the years. No one stands alone.
On Fire. To me the image is of Sophia Wisdom on fire with the energy of justice and reconciliation. Justice for all who are oppressed or fleeing from war. And reconciliation for Canadian settlers and first people, for the privileged and the impoverished, for the institutional church and those who are ignored, diminished or demonized.
An Encounter: I find myself wondering about this encounter. Often an encounter changes both parties. It seems that Jesus might have been changed, might have enlarged the vision of his mission to include the “other”, that is, the Samaritans, long seen as the enemy by the Jewish people.
“ I believe that I shall see…”. Until the pandemic, my parish hosted a Taize service every Wednesday evening. The prayers were short and repeated multiple times, embedding them in my consciousness. One of them is mentioned in this week’s message, “I believe I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord.” Over and over, we were invited to see God right here right now. And to be patient as we wait for the Lord during times of conflict and suffering. The repetition made that awareness part of me and has often been a source of encouragement and strength.
Kathy! I love your prayer shirt. Each time you found another hole, you saw it as an opportunity to add more beauty to the shirt. You sat with a “ ruined shirt” and discovered its grace. You invited yourself – and us – to see the Divine in the “ ruined” people, including ourselves. There the Divine is waiting for us.
The image reminds me of “ holy chaos”, Jesus (and us) being mixed up with and radically changed by our daily lives.
Refracting Light: I believe that my color is yellow. Sometimes pale like a muted background And sometimes, an event or a person or a memory or a song changes the color to a bright yellow, bursting with energy and light
