Palm Sunday: a day to step beyond the barrier

Sunday is Palm Sunday, a day when we begin Holy Week. The church will be full of those seeking that cherished palm. And yet, it should be more. It should be a reminder of life, and how no one, not even Jesus, is exempt from suffering.

The week ahead will not be productive for us unless we find a way to remember it in light of grace and glory. And that light comes from remembering that Jesus' only crime was claiming a union, a oneness with God. This was unheard of by the people of his time. And yet, this is the main message of Jesus: you will be like gods (John 10:34).

Jesus tells us we can be so filled with the spirit of the Divine as to be transformed. And is that not the purpose and intent of Holy Week? To remember that no matter what we suffer, Jesus has in some way suffered the same with us? He was not content to "know" suffering intellectually. He accepted the kinds of suffering he knew we would experience: rejection, misunderstandings, loneliness, betrayal, mental anguish, physical pain. He wanted us to be able to look at him and say, "I can talk to Jesus about this. He will understand."

And just as Jesus accepted suffering such as we endure, he reminds us we can take on Divinity. "The Father and I are one." he exclaims in John 10:30. Why else would this upcoming week be called Holy, except to demonstrate how pain and sorrow do not have the last word, but we who know not to let it destroy us can take it one step further, to breaking the barrier of self and stepping into transformation.

Teach us to pray

One of the most interesting lines in scripture are the words of Jesus disciples, "Lord, teach us how to pray." They had the whole Jewish cycle of prayer, they had the law, they had the customs of their day. They had the temple, the rabbis, the priests. Yet, they wanted Jesus to teach them to pray. Why? I think that when the disciples saw Jesus pray, it was different, he was different. They wanted to know what he was saying in prayer that caused him to experience the Father in a way that was real and tangible.

Simon Tugwell says when we come to God, it is not to force our moods or our interests onto God, but to receive God's interests and to let God, in a sense, share moods with us...

Is that not prayer? Is it not a time when we become aware that God has approached us. Is not this what caused the disciples to ask Jesus about his prayer? He became different. They wanted to too.

Helen Waddell writes in her introduction to the Desert Fathers, The truth is that to look for the secret of the Desert under any form of words is to lose one's pains. They [desert Abbas and Ammas] are seldom eloquent: but---their every gesture is pregnant.

Pregnant with what?  With the power of prayer. Their power came from letting prayer transform them. Even as it transformed Jesus. Even as it transforms you and me.

Stepping out of time and into the past

I love sunrises and sunsets. It's the time of day when the sun weakens and becomes vulnerable, so that we see what we could not see in the bright light of day. As the sun's rays shatters, they break open, revealing a myriad of brilliant colors. Those same shattered rays stretch far across the horizon, as though they must touch land and sea, clouds and stars and moon before being put out. Amazing. We actually see the most glorious part of the sun when it is at its weakest point.

Holy Week is like that. It's the time when Jesus' life went on display, and the words of Jesus were stretched for all to see: shadows and darkness, brilliant colors of blood and bruising, bread and wine, palms and thorns, cross and garments. It is the time the weakness of Jesus appears, Jesus being vulnerable, being wounded, dying. It is the sunset of Jesus' life.

If you would see the glory of God, find a way to step out of time and into the past, I encourage you to find a place that celebrates the many ceremonies that commemorate Holy Week. Start with Palm Sunday, a day that begins with a triumphal procession and ends with the reading of the Passion. 

Better yet, take time to sit with the Gospels and read the Passion account for yourself. Let the sunset of Jesus bring rays of hope to your life. Let the life of Jesus be broken open for you, so that you may see the glory of God, and find God's healing rays.

Life is not a tragedy

Life is not a tragedy, writes L Giussani. Tragedy is what makes everything amount to nothing. Yes, life is a drama. It is dramatic because it is the relationship between our I and the You of God, our I that must follow the steps which God indicates. (343)

If only we could remember that when we have thoughts of defeat, worthlessness, and loss; when we feel that what I am going through, my disappointments, my discouragement, my failures makes life amount to nothing.

No better reflection could prepare us for Holy Week. Who, more than anyone, could have thought this way? Jesus. Three years of training his disciples, and they run when he needs them most. Three years of drawing unimaginable crowds, and they turn on him in his time of need. All the preparation, all the prophecies about Jesus and his destiny come to naught. And Jesus prays, "Father, remove this cup from me!" 

But God did not. And Jesus had to experience defeat, betrayal, isolation, public humiliation and death.

And we celebrate this week with great ceremony. Why? Because life is not a tragedy. For Jesus, all the trials of this week did not make him forget the relationship between our I and the You of God. It is Jesus going through the suffering of Holy Week that teaches us the value to be found in such things.

Tragedy is what makes everything amount to nothing. Let me not think in those terms. Let me rather believe I have something more, that defeat is only defeat if I forget the I and the You of God.

The journey

In our age of literacy, we tend to put a great deal of stock in the written word. But do you ever wonder why Jesus never wrote anything down for us to read? He spoke volumes to his disciples. But he never used any of his time to make a written testament, something for them to treasure, something for them to keep in their pocket and refer back to time and time again. Why?

I think it is because of our tendency to become attached to such things, to hold on to a word rather than to a concept. Even today, Christians who profess to follow the teachings of Jesus so often get stuck on a scripture verse, get set in stone, get very un-Christ-like in holding on to the meaning they want it to have.

I think this is because we crave permanency and security. We do not want to continue digging for the hidden meaning. We do not want to continue to journey forward into the unknown. It can become tiresome, even for those who accept the concept of life as journey.

The bible tells us Jesus roamed about without a place to lay his head. In our own lives, we too must accept our Christian life as one where we never allow ourselves the luxury of settling, but continue to dig into the mystery.

We will find continued life in it.

The Prodigal

Sometimes when I hear familiar passages from the Gospels, I think we've got it all wrong. For example, take the story of the Prodigal Son. It seems pretty straightforward. Squander your livelihood, and you'll end up crawling back begging for forgiveness.

Yet, I do not think that is the real interpretation we should get. The story is really about each one of us, how God gives us an inheritance and sets us free to follow the desires of our hearts.  The message is not sinner come crawling home, but God who understands. For who who of us, in our efforts at life, gets it right the first time? If the prodigal had not gone away and seen life from a different perspective, he would never have come to really know his father. Knowing that father took the honestly of acknowledging he'd made a mistake. And as the story so dramatically portrays, the Father didn't love him less for that, but more.

I sometimes think our tidied up religion keeps us from seeing the reality of life. We cannot live within a structure that keeps us from all harm. That isn't living; that is slavery. To venture forth means to deal with life as it really is, without pretense or false virtue. We will be robbed, we will be a victim at some point, and we will also betray our own best selves. But that is not the end of story (like time now to crawl back and beg). That is part of our journey.

I know only too many who, for fear of making a mistake, continue in a false life, where expectations can be met, and no surprise will throw them off guard. Yet, they are the most unhappy people I know.

The prodigal son took a chance at life. And in the end, he grew. What am I willing to chance for spiritual growth?

Mystical prayer

In his book Discovering the Hidden Reality: A Journey Into Christian Mystical Prayer, George Maloney writes: Our culture feeds us with the idea that we can do anything that we set our minds to do. In the time of St. Augustine, this concept was called "Pelagianism." 

Maloney goes on to explain how such a concept keeps us always busy about "doing" things, so that silence, especially the silence needed for mystical prayer, not only becomes foreign to us, it actually frightens us. Such attitudes seep into our way of praying. We want it to be active, to be asking, to be fingering, to be vocal. We are not good at sitting in the presence of God.

Mystical prayer requires that stillness and silence, the ability to gaze at God so as to learn his goodness. It doesn't so much ask God for gifts or plan great deeds for God. It consists more of openness, listening, waiting and wanting God.

Maloney writes further: There is a subtle type of pharisaism that uses God as a static object who will flood us with consolations and a feeling of a good conscience. What we fail to see is that we have gradually lost the willingness to take the wild risks of Moses and the Israelites as they followed God for forty years in the dry and threatening desert.

Perhaps that is why we do not step out of the crowd of believers. We have forgotten the practice of mystical prayer, and the power it offers. Let us bring it back. Otherwise, we shall give up at the desert's edge, without even entering upon the long journey.

Desert wisdom in modern day

It is good to rely on the wisdom of the ages. After all, such wisdom has the advantage of being proved by time. Yet, if I only listen to those who spoke in the past, if I never listen to the wisdom God puts into my own heart, am I not denying the gift of God in my own life?  Did not Jesus himself say, God is the God of the living, not the dead?

Think for a moment of some of the teachings of the Abbas and Ammas of the desert. They offer great insights and solid advice. Yet, they also mirror the spirituality of their times, especially a spirituality that supported an extraordinary hatred of the flesh. We now know that such hatred is counter to both good spirituality and stable mental health.

That brings us to today. Should we not be producing new Abbas and Ammas of the desert with a spirituality resonate with present theological thought and sound psychological findings? Should not we become the new Abbas and Ammas of the desert? What is stopping us from accepting the gift of God within our own hearts and souls?

For what is a desert but a land devoid of refreshment. And there are many kinds of deserts in our lives. Each of us, I am sure, have spent time in one kind or another. It can be the desert of soul, or the desert of work, or the desert of spirit. There are so many kinds of deserts. It is during these times that our thoughts produce wonderfully rich insights, insights that proceed from the very depths of our souls.

These thoughts should be written down and shared. These thoughts can bring light, grace, inspiration, and hope to another struggling soul. These thoughts are the gift of God given to us in our own journey toward light.

So what are we waiting for? Share the insights God has bestowed upon you. And let the world know, the desert Abbas and Ammas are still alive.

The self in hiding

Whether we know it or not, each one of us is haunted at one time or another by words attributed to Genesis 4:9: Am I my brother’s (sister’s) keeper? 

Marianne Watts has strong views on our failure to attend to another in pain and suffering. She believes that when we ignore someone in distress, we do so because we prefer our "gardens of ease." She further accuses us of doing so because we choose a structure for shallow lives and a stockade which distances the suffering not so far beyond.... She writes: When the dark side of human nature is denied, it is often compassion that dies. 

I find Watts’ words a little harsh, and perhaps even a little dramatic. I think there are many reasons we may hide behind a "stockade."  Perhaps we have worked hard to step away from pain, and assisting someone in a similar situation opens up too many wounds. Perhaps we have served others for years (this applies especially to mothers who live for everyone else) and finally we realize we have been neglecting ourselves. Perhaps we have already concerned ourselves with others, and find we have come to a place and time in life where I need to take care of myself.

So, how do we deal with the haunting thoughts to be concerned with others? I think Madeleine Delbrêl offers us another way when she describes it as an encounter, an encounter with the goodness of Christ.” She develops her thought, describing how such encounters offer us an opportunity to encounter our real selves. She says The world forces us to be ourselves plus something else… Encountering ourselves through helping our brother or sister in the scriptural sense heals us of these false images.

So, if we believe Delbrêl, each time we become a "keeper" we not only help another, we in some mysterious way help ourselves. Strange, isn’t it? Only a wonderful Divine Being could make a service become a benefit. Only God could make an encounter healing, fulfilling and fruitful.

Bless the Lord, my soul; all my being bless his holy name! For he fills your days with good things, your youth is renewed like the eagle's (psalm 103:5).

All of us need times of renewal. That's why we do meditation, go on retreats, seek silence and solitude. Trials can burden us. Conflicts can weary us. Life can wear us out.

Psalm 103 says God renews our strength "like the eagle's".  What does it mean to have our strength renewed like the eagle's? Eagle's aren't particularly strong except in flight, and in their ability to soar high in the sky.  When we ask God to gives us an eagle's strength, we are asking for the faith and trust that helps us soar above life's daily struggles. For we can only leave behind the tendency to sink into the mire of doubt and misgivings by rising above them.

Life offers us so many different opportunities. I have the power to choose. But God has the power to renew. In my journey, I should remember psalm 103. For it reminds me that if I look to the Lord for my strength, I can hope to keep my eyes fixed on what is above.

Filling the gap between words and deeds

I don't often think of division on my spiritual journey. I think of authenticity, of determination, and of commitment. In fact, I think of wholeness. Yet, as creatures, we often find ourselves divided. We can relate to St. Paul, who wrote in Romans 7:15, the good I will to do, I do not, and the evil I will to refrain from, that I do.

I have not given much thought to division until I heard someone speak of integrity. Integrity, according to this person, is the gap between what you say and what you do.

That definition puts a whole new light on Paul's words. I think our tendency for division comes in thinking in black and white, right and wrong, good and evil. Such thinking tends to divide us, makes us believe we are either on one side or the other.

Jesus often chided those who thought in such a matter. In Matthew 23:4 Jesus complains how those in authority burdened their faithful with laws and commandants they themselves did not obey. It makes one pause and think.

So, if we find division within ourselves, perhaps it has to do with integrity. Perhaps when we say one thing and do another, we build up a division within ourselves. Then, because we are divided, we think in divided terms.

In other words, as Jesus tells others in Matthew 23:4, we do not always do that which we want to. And it is best to be honest, as Paul is honest, and say so. Then, we live with greater integrity, we narrow that gap in our life.

I wonder if this is what it is all about. Does integrity make us honest about our struggle, or do we pretend to be something we are not?

Facing the truth

Have you ever been told, you are just too afraid to face the truth? It seems to be the common battle of us all.

That battle is actually addressed in John 8:32, seek the truth and the truth will set you free.

Seeking the truth means taking life out of the abstract sense of what I would like it to be, and living it in the concrete. It means, having truthful eyes.

Robert Wicks addresses this when he writes it's not so easy for me to have such truthful eyes. I guess it isn't for anyone who wants to be an honest, vulnerable healer in concrete situations rather than a person of love in the abstract sense. Abstract love never involves risk or failure, just good wishes and a rich imagination. (Seeds of Sensitivity, page 81)

I particularly like his sentence, Abstract love never involves risk or failure…That is so true. I would imagine every individual learns this when in a relationship: it is never like the fairy tales.

And yet, seeking the truth about myself does not set me free without cost. Perhaps that is why I hesitate. I find that sometimes what I learn in truth is hard to bear. It is easier to let myself be a prisoner of my own fantasies.

Still, the freedom that comes with facing the truth, even the hard truth, is worth the effort. That freedom can not be described. It can only be enjoyed by those courageous enough to face their truth, to pay the price, and to step out of fantasy. What they discover is "other worldly" and noble and enriching.

The dreamer and the dream

I love the story of Joseph in the Old Testament. If ever there was a dreamer, it was he. In his dreams, Joseph saw many things that predicted his future. Marvelous things, unspeakable things.

I love the quote from Hans Selye: realistic people with practical aims are rarely as realistic and practical in the long run of things as the dreamers who pursue their dreams.

But what does that mean? How do those delightful words translate into real life?

I believe dreamers accept reality without losing the vision. They have a healthy acceptance of what is without losing sight of what can be. They deal with the struggles of today, knowing the future can be different.

Dreamers know no dream is ever realized without suffering. Think of Joseph of the Old Testament. He first experienced enslavement, false accusation and imprisonment before his dreams were realized.

To imagine a dream will not come with costs is to be unrealistic. Scott Peck speaks to this when he writes:  Great leaders, when wise and well, are likely to endure degrees of anguish unknown to the common person. 

That is the path of the true dreamer. It is our call to be great leaders. It invites us not to forget even while we endure. To never lose sight of what can be.

Dealing with disillusionment

Disillusionment. It can be an earth shattering experience or a faith building moment. It challenges all the assumptions I have held dear, and leaves me empty, or it forces me to open other doors seeking greater insight and understanding. That is because, no matter how you look at it, disillusionment breaks the mold of my common belief. I must give faith up completely, or burrow deeper into it.

I find that times like this have often been the most fruitful times in my life, though I only see this in retrospect. It is good to remember that such life-altering experiences need not defeat me. These are times I can be cleansed of the "easy" type of faith, the one where prayers are answered and God seems kind and gentle. Disillusionment challenges that concept. God seems cruel or indifferent, deaf and uncaring. God does not answer my prayers. In these instances, I need a new way to understand.

That is because faith is not an insurance against tragedy. Faith is, rather, the foundation for recovery.

A prayer that helped me through a time like this came from psalm 25:5:  Make me walk in your truth and teach me: for you are God my savior.  It replaced the one I so glibly recited years before from psalm 27:1: The Lord is my light and my salvation, whom should I fear?

Disillusionment can take me from where I think I am steadfast and unmovable, to where I realize how fragile I really am. I believe this is the true gem of such times, a time to get to know my real self.

Instead of blaming God for my vulnerabilities, I need to accept them. And realize, I do have the power to make the most of them.

The problem of fear

There is no fear in love, but perfect love drives out all fear because fear has to do with punishment, and so one who fears is not yet perfect in love. (1 Jn 4:18) John Tauler writes Be sure that if you do lack this sign, namely, confidence in love’s final rescue of your distressed soul – then all other signs together are deceitful. How do we deal with these words? After all, most, if not all of us, know fear.

I ponder the power of fear – and the emotions that stem from it – insecurities, inability to accept oneself – lack of courage – trust – foresight. And then I delve into Olivier Clément’s book “On Being Human” and read: Then we discover the basic truth about ourselves, that we are loved, and it is because we are loved that we exist. Love has always been offered as the cure of our fear. Love is what allows us to trust and have courage.

And yet, this is not a totally satisfactory answer. It seems, as I read the Gospels, that just coming to Jesus, just stepping into a spiritual life, results in fearful events: Think of the disciples. Before Jesus they lived a normal life. Once they began to follow Jesus, their lives changed and they were confronted with insecurities and confusions they had never known. It culminated those last days of Jesus’ life, when fear overtook them, and they fled in the garden, not to be seen at the trial or the crucifixion. They certainly had love. But they also had fear.

Perhaps we misunderstand what fear is about. Perhaps we have some romantic concept of what it means to be a follower of Jesus, someone for whom the seas part and the blessings flow. But scripture gives no indication of this kind of earthly paradise.

I think that fear is simply a part of our journey, and that it begins when we begin to discover our true selves, the fact that we are indeed very human. I do not think that it will ever be fully cast out. I believe that love makes us realize fear has no real power over us unless we let it. Fear can remind us that we are still wanderers on our way, but love will keep us going forward. When fear comes with new revelations about myself, love will help me know it is okay to be imperfect, to be vulnerable, and to be human. In a sense, fear is part of my natural condition, and it is never going to be fully conquered. I channel and control it by  my faith, making it powerless to destroy my life.

Perfect love cast out all fear only in the Kingdom. Here on earth, it will be my companion. It is up to me to make it subservient to my faith and hope. It is up to me to keep it from having any power over me.

If you knew the gift of God

The woman at the well. (see Jn 4: 5-42)  A woman who has been cast aside by society. And Jesus not only speaks to her, he tells her, if you but knew the gift of God and who is saying to you 'give me a drink' you would have asked him and he would have given you living water.

It is amazing that Jesus reveals to this woman what he has not yet shared with his disciples, that he is the one spoken of by the prophets of old. What does Jesus see in this woman that compels him to reveal himself? I do not know.

But this I know: the spirit of God come to me as well. Sometimes it prompts me to give a gift. The prompting is a small urge, a inner nudge, a haunting voice in my heart. I sometimes turn a deaf ear. But sometimes I heed that inner prompting. And I have experienced God returning the gift in a most marvelous manner, sometimes a spiritual gift, sometimes a material blessing. Unexpected, and wonderful to behold.

If you but knew the gift of God. It is a reminder of hidden blessings. It is a reminder that God does not look for the acceptable, but the daring soul, the one awake, listening and responding regardless of standing. It is the reminder that I too have something precious to offer to God.

If you but knew the gift of God, you would ask of me. Today is a good day to reflect on these words. A good day to find that gift and respond.

Setting my soul in silence and in peace

This morning I read the psalm 131. It goes:

O Lord, my heart is not proud nor haughty my eyes.

I have not gone after things too great nor marvels beyond me.

Truly I have set my soul in silence and peace.

As a child has rest in its mother's arms, even so my soul.

I find these words wonderfully enlightening and encouraging. I am reminded that a spiritual life is one where I find can find peace in silence, and rest in faith.

I am reminded of the value of humility, and the rewards of trust.

I hope these words speak to you as well, in the place where it counts: the depths of your heart.

God is not hard to please

The longer I live, the more I meditate, the more I think that my past spirituality got so much of "it" wrong. I lived by the merit system, toiling my way toward paradise, fearing hell all the way. I felt heaven was hard to attain, and God hard to please.

Authors like Hans Urs von Balthasar help me to see it in another way.

Von Balthasar writes that when Jesus came and died for us, it changed everything. In his words, God is not only with us, as in the Old Testament's "Emmanuel," but is ultimately "for us,"...now God is so completely on our side that any (juridical) indictment against us loses all its force. No one can accuse us before God's judgment seat, because the Son God sacrifice is such an irrefutable advocate that silences any human charge...

That doesn't sound like a God who is hard to please. 

So when I think of all the fear I've had in the past of not pleasing God, I have to wonder. I wonder if we as humans don't promote the concept of the merit system because it gives us some sense of control. I wonder if as do so because we want to be able to differentiate between those who qualify, and those who don't. We like to have a "club" where all the members abide by the rules or else are banned. 

Von Balthasar is telling us, God does not operate like that. God does not keep a check list. God watches out for us, determined to defend us.

So I need to put fear aside. For God is not hard to please. Humans are.

My transfiguration moments

This weekend the gospel story is about Peter, James and John being taken on a mountain apart, where they see Jesus transfigured before their eyes. I've often thought this a pretty cool experience, something I'd only read about in the gospels.

And yet, when I think about it, I can be transfigured in my own life. I can find the noble in me every time I listen to an inspiration or respond to a prompting.

I have to stop thinking of God and the things of God as esoteric. I have to stop reading the gospels as something that happened to others long ago. I can have a gospel experience now.

My problem comes in looking at the readings as "extraordinary". Thinking of the transfiguration only as Jesus, with his face shining like the sun, and his clothes white as snow. And the cloud descending with the Father's voice. These things I will never see.

But I will see life in different lights...some as brilliant as the sun...as those inspirations that come to me during meditation, or even during just regular work. I will hear the voice of God deep within the cloud of my own consciousness, prompting me, guiding me, encouraging me. I will find myself remembering words from the prophets, words that can enlighten my life in the here in now.

These are my transfiguration moments. If I wait for the Jesus in the white garment thing, then I'll miss all the wonderful experiences open to me every day.

Love as pure gift

Just a small thought from Bernard Bro on Jesus and the power of love. Bro writes: Jesus loves as a pure gift, for the sake of nothing...He makes others better by loving them. Not only does he not accuse their mediocrity, although it is his full right to do so--he takes up their defense and gives his heart, his time, his trust.

I like to think of the lives I might change if I love thus. For love is like fuel that energizes those despondent, bruised, or wounded. And who of us cannot use a little more love?

Bro goes on to say: He [Jesus] calls forth, arouses, renews the best part in us, the part that is good and filled with hope and is always hidden in each and every person...and everyone who meets him once again begins to believe, to have trust in God and in themselves.

That in itself is an incentive to be charitable. To bring back faith in trust in someone's heart.

"I desire mercy, not sacrifice," we read in Hosea 6:6. Lent is a good time to remember our charity. Lent is a wonderful season to love.

God bringing new creation out of chaos

In life, I tend to seek that which brings me stability, security and protection. I really do not like the unknown. I like clarity and peace and light.

And yet, life does not always give me these things. There are times when life challenges, when I have doubts and questions and darkness. There are times when I experience chaos.


The book of Genesis speaks of chaos, and narrates how it drew God to create. For God created not from calm and peace, but from chaos, from darkness, and from emptiness. That is the matter which drew God forth.

And so I learn, chaos is not a bad time. It is when God is drawing near, reaching out and creating something new. It is a time of transformation.

I need to remember, that to faith, waiting is a time of gestation, a time of new life, a time of revelation. And no matter how many times I've gone through it, I find that each time is different, each time challenges me in a new way. Each time, the creation brings forth a new aspect of my life that I did not expect.

And so I say, never shy away from risks, challenges or darkness. It is in stepping into these things that we find a new realm of spirituality, a different way of living. In accepting the challenge, we find a new creation, something God brings forth anew.