Advent Manna

Advent Manna – Short Takes on the Themes of Advent

Waiting

Excerpt from Adventually – A Readers Drama for six voices

shepherds 001blue

ONE:  Once I dreamed I was in an earthquake.  The floor shook and heaved and the walls crumbled and fell.  Next I rode in the back of a truck along the street of a bombed out city.  Enemy soldiers rode behind the truck.  Buildings lay in ruins, all was destroyed.  It was end-time, apocalypse, and I mourned for my unborn children.

ALL:  (building in intensity and volume)  For nation will wise up against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places … and brother will deliver up brother to death;  and a father his child; and children will rise up against parents and have them put to death … and alas for those who are with child in those days and for those who give suck in those days. Pray that it will not happen in winter. Mark 13

FIVE:  What does it take for us to see the messiah when the messiah comes?

FOUR:  No less than the total annihilation of all the familiar structures, and the comfortable and comforting ways of perceiving and describing reality that we have erected.

TWO:  Christ rents in two the shabby curtain of illusion we have draped over our lives on which we hang our hopes and justification.

ALL:  Our souls must become a desolate war zone where all we have worshiped, idolized, knelt before, and coveted is laid waste; where the enemy looms before us and we clearly see our own capacity for death, for evil, and for sin.

THREE:  Then naked, stripped of our roles and illusions, we come before the altar to wait in disciplined obedience.  Now, we know that to wait is a constant stream of yes’s in a drought of debilitating no’s

FOUR:  that to wait is an heroic willingness to martyr, to witness, to be one who has seen the living God, the risen Christ, and is therefore, forever possessed by hope.

FIVE:  The waiter is a fool, a clown, a nerd, a jerk, a cock-eyed optimist who sees Christ in the eyes of the outcast

SIX:  who finds beauty in the squalor of a city ghetto

ONE:  who forgives the murderer and the rapist

TWO:  who prays for enemies

THREE:  who passes out second chances freely

FOUR:  who never stops forgiving

SIX:  who suspects that people are plotting to make him happy

FIVE:  who thinks she makes a difference

ONE:  who even believes, most absurd of all, that the Holy One of Israel who made the seas and piled up the mountains

ALL:  loved us so much

FIVE:  that the Source of all goodness and truth shrunk across the universes of time and space

TWO:  and the massive distance, the infinite stretch between the Divine and humankind

SIX:  to cling to a young girl’s womb and slowly grow arms and legs and kick and roll and suck its thumb as she strode the rocky paths of Nazareth.

TWO:  Not like a Jupiter, who in disguise, would come to visit mortals and test their loyalty and reward and punish according to his haughty whim, this God risked everything.

FIVE:  The All-Powerful became a vulnerable babe of simple country parents.

THREE:  The All-Knowing put on the distorted, nearsighted vision of the human cornea. Like a horse wearing blinders, the All-Loving accepted the constraining harness of mortality, and bearing the stinging whip, carried the whole wide creation on his broad back.

ONE:  Sooner or later our eyes are opened and then we see who really waits.

FOUR:  Who are the big time, professional waiters, the high in the art of waiting ones…. the poor, the afflicted, the despised:

ONE, TWO  (chanting softly and repeating under the lines of THREE, FOUR, FIVE, SIX):  I was hungry and you gave me food.  I was thirsty and you gave me drink.  I was naked and you clothed me.  I was sick and you visited me.  I was in prison and you came to me.

SIX:  in crowded welfare offices

FOUR:  in stuffy medical clinics

FIVE:  in refugee camps

THREE:  in lines in the rain for a bowl of rice

SIX:  in gutters

FOUR:  in abandoned houses

FIVE:  in lonely bedrooms

THREE:  on death rows

FOUR:  in greasy diners

FIVE:  in nursing homes

SIX: in hospitals

THREE:  in employment offices

(ONE and TWO stop chanting)

ALL:  These are the homeless, the lost, the lepers; and they wait for us to discover that it is they for whom we have been waiting.

FOUR:  That it is they in whom Christ waits for us

FOUR, SIX:  That it is they who bear the babe whom we are called to deliver that we may be redeemed

FOUR, SIX, ONE, THREE:  that we may know that it is God who has been waiting for us all along.

_________________________________________________

Advent Manna are short pieces taken from my writing over the years on the themes of Advent, Christmas, and Epiphany. Some of these pieces are available to purchase on line. This piece is an excerpt from a readers drama for advent I wrote a number of years ago. You can find it  HERE

It has been a while since I have written here. I have been busy moving from Kansas, where I have lived for 37 years to Iowa City, Iowa. It has been a time of challenge and transformation for me. I will continue to  do the Sanctuary ministry from my new location. I  am offering spiritual guidance, teaching, leading retreats, and will continue to publish Holy Ground – Quarterly Reflection on the Contemplative Life. See the summer issue below.

Summer 2018 Holy Ground x

Subscribe to Holy Ground here. And it it makes a great Christmas gift for a friend!

 

 

 

 

Advertisements

Living in the Presence

St._Jude_Thaddaeus_Bicci_di_Lorenzo_OPA_FlorenceWhen he is here, I see holiness. I tell you something different goes on between him and the Lord God. Sometimes I get to thinking that if the light was right, I might get a glimpse of God right beside him. They is that close, that familiar.  
                                                    Thaddaeus, Is It I, Lord?, Loretta F. Ross
Living in conscious awareness of the presence of God dramatically changes us and how we see and respond to the world around us. This issue of Holy Ground explores the experience of God’s presence.
There is a profound difference between our words, concepts, theologies about God and our experience of God. For some people our language about God and our denominational theological systems and beliefs create barriers to their experience and encounter with the Holy One.
God is an event of communion. Richard Rohr

Help Us Tell Our Story 

Do you have a story about how  The Sanctuary has made a difference in your life? Maybe you are a long time subscriber of Holy Ground, or came for spiritual guidance. You might have participated in a retreat or workshop. Did you read some of our publications or blog? Perhaps, you join us on Friday mornings for silence. The Sanctuary has been tending souls for nearly thirty years and we have crossed paths with many people.
Would you send us three or four sentences about why you support this ministry with your prayers, your gifts, or your presence? We would like to share your experience of The Sanctuary with others. You may also include any suggestions you have or what you would like to see us offer.
If you prefer that your name not be used, just let us know and we will leave it off anything we publish. Comment below, or  Email  us  
or  info@fromholyground.org
And thanks for making your story part of our story!
_______________________________________
The contemplative who can stand back from a situation and see it for what it is, is more threatening to an unjust social system than the frenzied  activist who is so involved in the situation that he cannot see clearly at all.  –  Karl Barth
“The Sanctuary reaches out to help people stand back and see the immensity, depth, and richness of faith.”                                                                  
________________________________________
Contemporary Spirituality of Kansas City Upcoming Events
Wisdom Teachings for Spiritual Seekers
  May 5, 2018
 
Rethinking
Communion and Community
9:00 a.m. – 12:00 p.m.
Country Club Christian Church

 6101 Ward Parkway,  

Kansas City, MO 64113


July 20-21, 2018
 
Christianity as Planetary Faith: 
Engaging Teilhard’s Vision
 
Friday, July 20, 2018 – Saturday, July 21, 2018
7:00 p.m. – 9:00 p.m. & 9:00 a.m. – 4:00 p.m. (lunch included)
Bishop Miege High School
5041 Reinhardt Drive
Roeland Park, KS 66205
To register and learn more: Eventbrite
or contact: Mike Matteuzzi at 913-253-2510  

PESACH – PASSAGE, 2

Pesach – Passage,  No. 2

This is the bread of affliction that our fathers ate in the land of Egypt. All who are hungry, come and eat! All in need, come and join in celebrating Pesach!
This year we are here, next year we will be in the land of Israel!
This year we are slaves, next year we will be free men!
                                                – Haggadah, Gerald Garouste, Marc-Alain Ouaknin

The night we celebrated Pesach –
what did he say, what did he mean
“leaving”
and that we knew the way to where he was going?

I was trying to work it
out when another sea split open
not waters humping up like steel cliffs
but a great scythe slashing
through the middle of everything
and him falling, tumbling down into the rift

a passage
where there had been none before
death leering from either side.

I heard the soldiers coming,
swords clanking, down the path.
My lungs burned in the acrid air
eyes stung to see flames
draped from clouds in smoky sheets.

And while they dragged him off
blood blossomed
over the vast lintel and door posts
of the writhing world
and ran down quietly
like tears.

 

 

 

 

 

This is a slightly altered poem from an earlier series of lenten poems I wrote called, Love in Small Doses.  Pesach, or Pasach, also spelled Pascha  is Hebrew for Passover or passage. The verbal form means to protect and to have compassion as well as pass over. Exodus 12 -14; John 14-19

PESACH – PASSAGE, 1

Pesach – Passage,  1

This is the bread of affliction that our fathers ate in the land of Egypt. All who are hungry, come and eat! All in need, come and join in celebrating Pesach!
This year we are here, next year we will be in the land of Israel!
This year we are slaves, next year we will be free men!
                                                – Haggadah, Gerald Garouste, Marc-Alain Ouaknin

After we were passed over
we passed over.

When the waters split
drew back
a shimmering wall rose
seething strength, waves
smacking, spitting above us.

Some of us hesitated –
to weigh the odds
consider and debate.
Was it more magic?
Who was this son of Abraham
with his stave of almond wood?

Crippled from scrabbling straw in the fields
mixing mortar for the man
meeting his cruel quotas
we dawdled on the shore.

Others, children, especially, ran out
skipping over the coral
through the sea grass
past the shipwrecks
and green turtles
raising their mottled beaks, amazed.

We heard hooves pounding,
shouts, thunder of chariot wheels.
Death before, death behind.
Better to drown
than die by the hands of those bastards.

The kids, though,
did not flinch,
tossing up fistfuls of sand,
diamonds in the sun,
playing on the seabed
like shrimp.

We hobbled over,
leaning on each other,
fearful, fretting.
Seems when a soul is crushed
it takes a long time to rinse out the slave.

Though at Pesach, when we gathered,
it would all come back.
We would shake off another chain
see more clearly, sip
liberty like wine.

 

Mural from American Visionary Arts Museum, Baltimore, MD

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is a slightly altered poem from an earlier series of lenten poems I wrote called, Love in Small Doses.  Pesach, or Pasach, also spelled Pascha  is Hebrew for Passover or passage. The verbal form means to protect and to have compassion as well as pass over. Exodus 12 -14; John 14-19

The Profligate Daughter

“Truly I tell you, wherever, this good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her.” Matthew 26: 13

We remember
how you ran through the streets of Bethany
clutching the precious flask under your shawl
dodging merchants, beggars
searching for the house of Simon
peering in dim doorways
hurrying to be back in time for supperhow with bold extravagance you broke the flask

and poured the fragrant oil on the One at table
and then were gone
while the oil ran like hot tears

from his brow
down his cheeks
dripping onto shoulders
soon to be soaked in the whip’s bloody lather.

And truly, where the gospel is preached,
women remember you
in acts of reckless outpouring love –
the egg money, hoarded over months for a new sofa,
handed to a daughter on a spring afternoon
for a prom dress
cakes and pies and holiday meals prepared for long into the night
visits to the sick and shut-ins on days off
patient listening to the tales of children
hours of rocking, holding, folding,
smoothing, soothing, embracing, forgiving,
breaking open the alabaster walls of self
and pouring love onto love
in the name of Love.
We remember,

blessed by your daring waste
of a Love which knows no scarcities.

 

 

“In the twilight of life, God will not judge us on our earthly possessions and human successes, but on how well we have loved.”
― San Juan de la Cruz

 

Waking Up Is Hard to Do

All historical experience demonstrates the following: our earth cannot be changed unless in the not too distant future an alteration in the consciousness of the individuals is achieved.
Catholic theologian, Hans Kung

And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake.
Mark 13: 37

Waking up and becoming more and more conscious, aware, and alert are fundamental tasks of being a disciple and growing in faith and spiritual maturity. Some of us sleepyheads will resist such bold, open-eyed, clear seeing, tooth and nail.  The call to consciousness rings throughout the scriptures and in the season of advent and Christmas the wake-up call is sounded loud and clear.

Real change and transformation is not a simple escape to a dream of a better place. Real change requires an honest appraisal and engagement with what is so. This may involve getting our noses rubbed in some realities we do not like. It may require first creating enough safety for oneself to speak aloud truths long denied, forgotten, or covered up with various kinds of painkillers and band aids. Before our external reality changes, before the people, institutions, and conditions around us change for the better, we must change internally. Our inner reality conditions and shapes how we see, experience, and respond to exterior reality.

A Box of Dread
and Horror
Remember Pandora’s box? When I was a child I was fascinated and horrified by the myth of the young woman created by Zeus, who was given special gifts by each of the gods. In addition, Zeus added the gift of curiosity to her other gifts of beauty and wisdom.  Then Zeus sent Pandora to earth to be Epimetheus’ wife.  Zeus was still angry with Epimetheus’ brother, Prometheus, who had stolen fire from the gods.  Pandora arrives on Epimetheus’ doorstep with a wedding gift from Zeus. The gift was a box or jar with a lid.

Read more of Waking Up Is Hard to Do, Autumn 2017 Issue of Holy Ground

The age of spirituality lite,
and the gospel as entertainment is over.

 

Observations and Update
From The Sanctuary

2017 annual letter

Learn what I have been hearing over the past year, as I listened in over 300 conversations with people struggling with the challenging task of waking up and not giving up.  When “things fall apart and the center cannot hold,” will the falcon hear the falconer?

A Goodly Theme

This post is an adaptation of a post first published July 5, 2010.

My heart overflows with a goodly theme
as I sing my ode to the King. Psalms 45:1

The kingdom of God will come when men and women are willing to be penetrated by bliss.
-M.C. Richards – Centering in Pottery, Poetry, and the Person

Her words stopped me in my tracks and resonated like a struck gong. Little seemed blissful in my life at the time. It was 1973. I was living alone in an apartment in Ann Arbor, Michigan, working at a job I hated, depressed, and hurting deeply. These words of artist M.C. Richards penetrated my defenses, self pity, and sense of worthlessness like a swift shining sword. For the first time in a season of sadness I felt hope.

The notion that the rule of God, the peaceable kingdom, the promise of wholeness for all people is a function, not of ridding the earth of evil, not of righting all injustice, not in overcoming human sin and limitation, but rather our willingness to receive goodness and mercy into our being  has animated my life ever sense.

“Put down your sword!” Jesus tells Peter in the garden of Gethsemane. Peter, in a desire to protect his master, had taken a sword to the ear of one of the Roman soldiers who had come to arrest Jesus. However, Jesus’ kingdom was not of this world. It is a Reality already here, present, and accessible to all. Jesus says, it is within you and everywhere like a seed, common and transforming as leaven. The winsome, disarming Jesus manifested that kingdom wherever he went and invited his followers to do the same.

Two disarming black labs, my Elijah and Jean Luc Picard, who arrived with some house guests, have been teaching me about bliss. The dogs met for the first time a week ago with the hearty delight of Adam, when God introduced to him the woman he had made of Adam’s rib.

“Ah, at last a fit companion! Bone of my bones, flesh of my flesh,” Adam exults. Though not recorded in the scripture, I figure Adam then wiggled all over just like my dog, Elijah.

The best-friends-forever have been inseparable – wrestling, play fighting, swimming, fetching, and sprawling, here and there, exhausted and snoring. Holding back nothing, these fellows have allowed bliss to penetrate and animate every cell of their bodies. Bliss surrounds, follows them, spills out of their eyes, and rolls off their shoulders. Even the cat has a spring in her step and an amused quality to her feline reserve.

I believe the great challenge of our time and all mortal time is holding our hearts open to the rain of grace – the glorious reign of delight that ceaselessly offers itself to the whole creation.

“But hold on!” you say. What about climate change eating away our coasts and killing off species? What about health care crisis?  What about the lives and shores devastated by oil spills? What about your own personal crisis and impasse, your unemployment, your grief, your illness? What about the suffering ones everywhere we turn?

Could you, will you, permit the tiny possibility of joy to penetrate your darkness, to kiss you on the face, to pounce upon you from behind? Maybe, before you know it, it will jump up into your lap and go to sleep in your arms.

To notice, delight in, and allow ourselves to be penetrated by the goodness of God does not mean we ignore the places where that goodness is obscured or sorrow and pain exist.

The amazing opportunity to be a member of the homo sapiens species alive on this earth at this time is an incredible gift.  Our willingness to receive, to lay down and roll on our backs in, the sheer bliss of being alive is what allows God to transform that vortex of darkness, greed, and hate through us. What evil and sin target and destroy is joy, because joy is a unfallable sign of the presence and power of God.

The world does not need our disgust, outrage, anger, and rage. It needs the Reign of Christ’s joy with its unfailing hope, faith, and love. The world – sucked into the whirlpool of greed, violence, and  suffering – will not enter the Kingdom of God through our anger, retaliation, and swords, but through our bliss, the utter delight and lab-lucious joy of being children of the Father of Goodness and the Mother of Mercy.

Let no one and no circumstance rob you of such a splendid birthright.

Download and read latest issue of Holy Ground – A Quarterly Reflection on the Contemplative Life,  “Try a Little Tenderness”

Holy Ground Spring 2017