by Liz | Sep 14, 2009 | main
Today’s readings always give me pause… in the desert, the people complain against God. Then come the seraph serpents that bite them and kill them. The cure is for Moses to put a serpent on a staff and hold it up. Whoever gazes on it is saved. This reading is followed by the gospel explanation that the Son of Man must be lifted up like the serpent, and that those who see this will be saved (have eternal life).
First — what is a seraph serpent? Not sure. But, it seems that the way to eternal life is to actually take the time to see ourselves and our shortcomings clearly. Then, when we see clearly, and accept all that means, we are on the road to wholeness.
My serpents are many. When I run from them and refuse to look them in the eye, I die a thousand little deaths. When I turn and face them, and look at the One who took them all on himself… ah, then I am on my way.
And so it is: you shall know the Truth, and the Truth will set you free.
Thank you Jesus for being willing to accept me for what and who I am, right now. When I see this, and accept it, I am healed. When I pretend or refuse to be open to both the bad and the good, then I die.
Amen.
by Liz | Jun 14, 2009 | main
A few months ago, we dropped cable TV and picked up Direct TV (satellite). In the process, the Food Network has provided a wonderland of entertainment. One of the more interesting types of shows are those such as Iron Chef America and Chopped! where the contestants/chefs are presented with specific foodstuff or odd-ball collection of foods and must create dishes “real fast now.” It can be quite interesting, to say the least.
This morning before mass (I’m on for 2 masses this weekend), my attention was drawn to an article in the NY Times – Finding Purpose in Serving the Needy, Not Just Haute Cuisine about trained chefs who work in homeless shelters. These shelters receive random shipments of donated food. The ultimate “challenge” in Food Network terminology. Hmmm… how to make dinner from 600 pounds of bologna and 20 flats of Orange Crush. Oh – and it has to be healthy and tasty.
More difficult, but not totally out of the arena of “what’s for dinner tonight?” when you haven’t been to the grocery store lately, or you have a neighbor who has an abundance of zucchini that has been left on your doorstep. Or even how the creativity required at the end of the month to send a child off to school with a lunch and your have only a hotdog bun and peanut butter as starters, and no cash to buy his lunch or go to the store until tomorrow.
There are many lessons to be learned from these situations — not so easy, but so necessary for survival.
In the end, you discover that at least one of these Homeless Shelter chef’s (who left a life of cooking in a high level Napa Valley restaurant) sees a bit of the feast of Corpus Christi every day when his consumers sit at the table and share not only the physical food he has prepared, but the spiritual food that comes of the sharing, the faith, and the interaction at the table. Both types of food are essential, and both are comfort food.
by Liz | Mar 11, 2009 | main
It’s well into Lent, and I’m being struck by ashes. Ashes are grey — not navy blue, or muddy brown – Grey. Like colorless. Like I feel about so many things today. I’ve been down this rabbit hole before, and I’m not going back. So, I find that I must do whatever I can to add color back in.
I’ll walk – 3, 4, maybe 5 miles this afternoon. Maybe I’ll go on a cleaning spree in the house — vacuum and declutter. Eat properly. And I’ll reflect on Ash Wednesday and ashes… and joy of Palm Sunday, the sorrow of Holy Thursday, the seeming loss of hope of Good Friday and the joy and light and color of Easter. I’ll sink into the grey of the ashes, and the way change that I always try to follow through Lent.
I could be so poetic today about the need to die to some things in order to allow new growth. About the difficulty of the unknown and how it tests trust in God. About how things in the past haven’t always turned out like I would have wanted and the realization that I’m not even sure what I want.
Instead, I’m heading out to walk and sit with my ashes and try to hear what they tell me.
by Liz | Aug 23, 2008 | main
Thursday evening after choir practice, [Fr.] Alex, Timothy and I stood around in the parking lot, sharing and discussing recent readings. I love to watch Alex when he gets going. He starts to talk about Jesus and his faith and his entire being lights up. Timothy too dove into the sharing…
As we talked, Alex shared that the question he will leave with us during the weekend masses will be “Who is Jesus to you?” — very adamantly he added that he wasn’t interested in what you have been taught as “fact” about Jesus or church, he didn’t want to know the “proper” answers.
How would I answer that question? The story of a Marine shot down in the jungle of Viet Nam comes to mind. As he struggled to get himself together and wonder how he would ever get to safety as native appeared as if from thin air.
“Follow me. I will take you to safety.”
“You will show me the path? You will show me the road?”
“No – there is no path. Follow ME. I am the way you get out.”
And so it is with following Jesus for me. He is the Way. Paths can be helpful. They can make it easier to cover certai terrain. But in the end – my individual path is simply walking with him, and knowing him.
by Liz | Aug 17, 2008 | main
I have a new granddaughter! Ella was born about 1 am Saturday morning. That was joyful news to cap off a week of good news.
New babies are so totally unaware of the hope and joy they bear. They just exist, right there in the moment. A new little one, in this strange world of light and sound and touch, is just present. Free from knowing of the expectations that family, friends and the world will try to put on them. Free to be dependent on Mama. Open to being loved.
I’m looking forward to meeting baby Ella. I’m looking forward to spending a week helping out and spending time with her sister, Lily (not quite 2 years old). These new little lives, full of wonder, help me to remember to be full of wonder. They are a very real reminder that we must be as little children to enter the kingdom of God. And they example of how to do it.
Makes me want to shout “Alleluia!”
