by Liz | May 10, 2008 | main
Funny what comments will cause you to stop and ponder. My sister built an apartment on to her house for my mother to live in. It has its own entrance, a full kitchen, living room, bedroom and bathroom – and a full 2 car garage. With wedding celebrations going on this weekend a lot of time has been spent on the deck that sits between the main house and the apartment.
What does that have to do with garage 1 and garage A? In trying to explain where sodas/bottled water were living, we were trying to describe which garage to go into. My husband suggested designating them as garage 1 and garage A. That way no one would be insulted by the implication that one garage was 1 and other a subservient 2 ( or A and subservient B).
Which led me to thinking about the wisdom of this idea with respect to a lot of things: people are different, not necessarily primary and secondary. The same with a lot of ideas and approaches to life and faith and love. It offers a certainly validity to both sides of a lot of situations. 1 and A. Not bad.
by Liz | May 9, 2008 | main
I was a bit taken aback the other day when one of my coworkers was reading the early reports of the devastation from the cyclone that hit Myanmar and remarked – “He’s really cleaning things out over there.” This young man is a Christian. Our conversation often wanders into the realm of church, community and our faith. But, I was so taken aback by that attitude I could barely respond. This attitude that when disaster occurs that God is somehow cleaning out an evil people or punishing people for being bad is pervasive at times. I heard similar remarks from people when the tsunami hit the shores of the Indian Ocean.
I wish I’d had the presence to ask him a few more questions. There’s Facebook group formed around anger at the actions and words of Westbrook Baptist Church, who proclaimed that the all to recent murder of a coed on our campus was the just punishment for the unholiness of college campuses. When disaster hits close to home, the sentiment is certainly not that we are evil and we are being punished.
My own morbid fascination with this latest disaster has caused me to ask myself some questions. As I watch aid groups trying to get in and help, I see the government of Myanmar either not responding, or trying to handle it all alone. I see them refusing to let aid workers from the US enter the country. I head the media observe that the US has been an outspoken critic of the Myanmar government and opine that this is probably the reason they are refusing to let people from the US in. I wonder at how many times, in my own life I refuse help with disaster (not on this scale, of course) because I don’t like the person who is offering help. I think of the man in the parable of the Good Samaritan, who likely wanted help, but might have been very dismayed at the prospect of that help being offered by a Samaritan. He probably would have preferred help from his own people – those who passed him by – instead of from a despised Samaritan.
I believe that nature is nature and disasters will happen. I know that hurricanes/typhoons are a physical force that transfer heat from the equator to the poles and keep the world functioning. I tend to think of the earth – even the universe, as a creature of sorts. Just as a human body has mechanisms to maintain body temperature and fight off infections, the mechanisms in place to keep this planet functioning are going to have to work to keep the proper balance.
Scripture observes that rain for the fields falls on both the good and the evil. The sun shines on both the good and the evil. And cyclones, tsunamis and hurricanes hit land inhabited by both the good and the evil. We are called to love and care for each other and not make that love and care dependent on whether we perceive the recipient of that care as good and deserving.
If there is anything I can do to help ease the pain and suffering of those remaining after this disaster, I pray that I am open to see it and willing to do it.
by Liz | May 8, 2008 | main
Yesterday I found myself writing on paper, not on the website. Some things simply do not belong here. They are too specific, too personal. As I wrote, I found my thoughts took real shape. They became more focused. I would write a sentence and read it back to myself. Sometimes I found that it didn’t ring true, so I would scratch it out (I write in ink). Sometimes, though, the words on the page surprised me. I couldn’t mark them out because they were too true. Hard truth sometimes. Comforting truth sometimes. Things revealed to me by the act of writing words. Things revealed by reading the words I wrote.
I also found that as I put certain painful things into words and into full sentences they became much less painful. In many cases, as I constructed the sentences, I found that what I was talking about seemed to gain a life of its own and could be set free. I could let go of it.
I’m not trained in theology, but the use of The Word to reference Jesus is obviously no mere coincidence. Jesus is a lot like my written words. God’s Love spelled out in a person – The Word. I’d bet Jesus didn’t understand the whole story until it was all written down as His life. Our pastor thinks that Jesus only finally had full understanding himself at the Resurrection. The story all written out can finally be understood.
Words are powerful. The Word is the most powerful.
by Liz | May 6, 2008 | main
Holiness/Piety: Being in Love with God. Pure and simple.
It seems there are several substitutes for the real thing. I’m trying to get to the real thing (and no it’s not Coke). The kind of love relationship where you are happy or joyful just sitting with someone. I’m trying not to be led astray in this.
I don’t want to be in love with the Idea of religion, or the Idea of holiness, or the Idea of God. I’m not interested in sitting in church every chance I get pondering the idea of being holy. I’m not interested in saying prayers perfectly so that I can appear holy.
The way I might get distracted from the real thing is trying to do the right things without putting my heart into it. But this mechanical, routine method seems, in the end, to be quite hollow. I don’t want to go to mass or benediction just because it looks like the right and proper thing to do. I don’t want to go through the motions out of fear that if I don’t I’ll burn in hell.
And, I know I’m following a misguided path when I put on the trappings, do the right things but then turn around and disrespect those around me. I’m not holy when I judge others for the clothes they wear or the way they act or in any way put myself above them as judge or jury.
I’m looking for the REAL THING. I’m looking to meet God and form a relationship with her (or him – however you have to visualize God.) I desire to hear Her voice. It scares me often when I think about it, because I’m not so good at giving of my deepest self. It seems that to meet God and fall in love is going to require a lot of letting go of self, and that’s a really hard thing for me to do.
Writing for this blog seems to help. It forces me to put some form to my random thoughts. In a way it is a sort of incarnation: a way of putting flesh and bones on something, someone who is so awesome that my mind and my heart can’t handle it. Writing helps me to look beyond.
I had a friend who was deeply into contemplative prayer. When he was helping me to learn contemplation, he told me to think about how it felt to be with someone you love. He reflected on how just sitting next to that person, no words needed could be so comforting. Just sit and be with God.
It’s been a long time since I’ve talked with Dave, but I will be eternally grateful for his reflection on contemplation. I think I’ll take some time to sit with the Lord and just Be.
by Liz | May 5, 2008 | main
I’m just back from working a Cursillo weekend — held in a retreat house on what is truly holy ground. As I participated in the closing mass yesterday, my thoughts wandered once again to Susan’s Ascension posting. At the conclusion of a weekend, the participants are sent forth to carry what they have learned during the weekend. A weekend is often like getting to the mountain top and wanting to stay there looking up. What a wonderful coincidence that our diocese, like almost all in the United States, celebrated the Ascension on Sunday.
My weekend was fruitful despite being a bit tiring. When I made the weekend as a pilgrim about 10 years ago, I was in a not so good place in my life. I could barely hear what I was being told. I was pretty much miserable. So, once again, on Thursday night I listened to the call to know myself (for about the 6th time), and I started a new cycle in this spiral that I am walking. 10 years ago, I didn’t have a clue where to start – I was essentially scared by my own shadow. Now, I look at myself, and my life and realize that there are still things that don’t make any sense, situations and issues that seem to resolve to conflicting solutions. Where I have grown is that somehow, it’s just uncomfortable now instead of terrifying. It seems the spiral will continue to cycle, but at least it’s a spiral instead of just a circle that never grows closer.
And so – yes, I look up to try to see where Jesus has gone before I turn to walk and look for him in the people I meet, work with, live with and sometimes love, day after day.
