Shining Spirit

A gift for you on this Sunday morning, courtesy of the good earth and it’s maker. Wear it behind your ear, in your lapel buttonhole, pinned to your blouse, give it to a friend. Admire it. Share it. Enjoy it. Above all, remember to be grateful for the little things that so often pass us by unnoticed. Life is filled with beauty. Name it today.

For the beauty of the earth, for the glory of the skies, for the love which from our birth over and around us lies, Lord of All, to thee we raise this our hymn of grateful praise. Amen.

Today I shall look for wonder.
I’m told it’s everywhere.
Have you seen any?
It is reported to appear between the
“same old” and the “what’s new?”
I plan to observe the day carefully
and note any suspicious sightings.
I will report any confirmation promptly,
but I ask that you do the same. Let’s
be alert and diligent. I’m told it’s
worth seeing. The Wonder Watch
is on.

I pulled out a volume of poetry by Thich Nhat Hanh the other day and in one of his brilliant poems I found the phrase, the world “…needs you to breathe gently for the miracles to be displayed.” Breathe gently. What a wonderful idea. His poem prompted this poem, which I offer to you for meditation and prayer this morning.

Breathe Gently

Walk through this world and breathe gently.
Do nothing in puffs or blusters.
Gently draw your next breath,
gently return it to the cosmos.
And as you breathe upon the earth,
watch the wildflowers burst into flaming color,
hear the songs of the rivers, and the trees’ replies.
Step lightly upon the moist soil;
bend no grass blade, break no twig in its
desire to become an oak of stature,
a sentinel of serenity.

Let all who care, and all who hope,
and all who weep walk through this world
breathing gently,
loving extravagantly,
dying well.
It is the why and the how of eternal life.

(A tribute to Tom, who walked gently.)

Today I will not be held to the ground by others’ opinions or by
my own fears. Today I will listen to my heart for compassionate
courage, to my mind for perspective and context and to trusted
friends whose presence has and will guide me along right paths.

And, I will find in the words of Jesus the insight and the
wisdom that will be both anchor in storms and
sacred wind to fill my sails and move me forward.
“Fear not,” he says.
“I am with you,” he promises.
My word is truth.
I am the way,
hate is not.

Today I will go to the core of my life
where I will find Him waiting.

An empty cup isn’t very inviting. Is it what’s inside that makes it a cup? Is the cup defined by its contents? Matter of opinion, I suppose. For sure, the cup is designed to hold something: your penny collection, pencils, jelly beans, dirt with a petunia sticking out of it, milk for the cookies, fresh coffee. When I open the cupboard that holds my cups, all different colors and shapes and sizes, they all call out at the same time: Me! Me! Choose me today! I try not to play favorites. Do you think the shape and color of a cup represents its owner in some way? What would you say about the cup in the photo? Utilitarian. Functional. Rather neutral. Imagination? No, not much. On the boring side?

There is a point here somewhere. And I think it’s this: Some days I feel like a fine piece of priceless dinnerware fit for the royal table. Some days I feel like my old cowboy boot cup, or the tacky saguaro cup with a handle on the side. I have a friend who thinks his javalina cup is the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. All in the eye. But maybe we spend too much time polishing up the outside, being more concerned with what it looks like than what it does. That approach produces a fine cup collection, one suitable for display and public admiration. But something tells me that an empty cup wishes it had something on the inside. Feeling empty is not fun. When the hope that used to be there is gone, when there’s an empty place where love used to be, when joy has been drained to the last drop, that’s when filling is so important.

Lord, on behalf of all the empty cups who wait this day expectantly, prayerfully, even painfully, come and fill us with Sacred Spirit. Replace our emptiness with the healing and hopeful energy of your love. May the warmth of your love that fills us radiate to the world around us. May we be for others the Cup of Salvation. Rugged chalice or Fine China; it’s what’s inside that counts. Come, Lord! Inhabit our hearts, for they are empty without you.

That is NOT a hummingbird. He’s trying to fool me, I know. But I had suspicions right away. For instance, I’ve never heard a Hummingbird make such a loud, raspy noise. And his colors are all wrong. And he’s too big. And when he tried to hover in the air, like a Hummingbird can do, he dropped like rock. This, my friends, is an imposter. I don’t even know if he’s legally in the state. I once saw a bird very much like this one in New Mexico. I wonder.

But, you know what: he was very thirsty. In fact, he almost emptied the feeder. And all he wanted was a drink. Right there, in the midst of my stealthy observation of this stranger, I remembered the phrase “cup of cold water in my name…” Feed the hungry, give your coat to the one who is cold, break down walls that separate, treat everyone the way you want to be treated, welcome Woodpeckers to your Hummingbird feeder. On and on he goes, the Voice that turns out to be a better host than me. I’ve written before about Hospitality as a fundamental virtue of The Way of Christ, a bowl-and-towel perspective. Some would say that this big, noisy bird on my Hummingbird feeder was a sign or a divine message. I think he was just a thirsty neighbor passing by. Here, let me refill it for you.

I read somewhere that you and I are supposed to be involved in building or enhancing the Kingdom of God here and now. Right here where we are. That the Kingdom is not an exclusive resort, a post-life experience. The powerful presence of Christ, apparent and lived out in our lives, is a very real and urgent reality in these difficult days. We are called to build the kingdom by who we are and what we do.

One way to do that is to be sure that we are representatives and agents of God’s unflinching love through Christ. Remember that it’s patient, and strong and never ends. So, all we have to do is live out those three little words: I love you. There you have it. That’s all there is to it. Love your neighbor! If that’s too easy, let me give you a harder one. The three little words that are really on my mind this morning are these: I am sorry. Tougher assignment? But every time we say “I am sorry” and mean it, we create a new reality. A door opens, a window is pushed up and something new and fresh is possible. Old walls come down, new vision is cast, there is a future. Just from saying and meaning: “I am sorry.”

You and I have an opportunity today to expand the Kingdom of God right here and now. And all it takes is three little words…times two. To the person in your life who needs to hear: I love you, say it. And to the person(s) who needs to hear: I am sorry, say it. Don’t expect anything in return. This isn’t about anything I’m expecting to receive in response. Congratulations! You’ve added on another section of God’s intentional Kingdom. By the way, you can say either three-word sentence as many times as you need to. The Kingdom is limitless.

So, there we were setting up our starting blocks on the cinder track, minutes before the big race was to begin. It’s important how those blocks are set. Runners want the best start possible, so they take time to set the blocks exactly right. Mine in place, I watched the guy in the next lane. Measure, move one of the blocks; measure again, move the other one. Then adjust the first one, which requires resetting the other one. Pretty soon the other runners were standing around watching this poor kid struggle for perfection. The official Starter cleared his throat and said: “Come on, son, get it done.” Finally, we heard: “Take your marks.” “No, wait just a second: one more adjustment.” The Starter’s pistol pointed toward the sky.

Poor guy lost the race before it ever started. He didn’t have a chance. His indecision, his lack of confidence in the name of getting it just right, sent him off the blocks dead last and that’s the way he finished the race. Sometimes you take what you have and make the most of it. Perfection eludes most of us, so we take what we have and do the best we can. You’ve heard of “throwing caution to the wind”? Irresponsible preparation will usually cost you the race, but so will fear of trying. You can make the application in just about any arena you choose…including faith and life. Moments come when you have to decide to live cautiously or courageously. Sometimes circumstances leave no ethical choice. Set the blocks, push off hard, and run like the wind. The Way of Christ isn’t about setting the starting blocks perfectly. It’s about running. If you win, you win. If you don’t, you tried. You can smile and be grateful either way.

Maggie was a remarkable dog. Beautiful, sleek black coat, big brown eyes, so smart, loved life. Her best buddy was Josie, a little ball of white fur who ran on high octane. Josie ran the household at my daughter’s home, while Maggie made life exciting for Sue and me. Neither dog ever tired of chasing a tennis ball or making us laugh when they were together. Josie seemed sad when Maggie died. Animals know more than we think, don’t they. And it wasn’t long before illness took Josie. Our family grieved for both of them and I still feel a little lump in my throat when I remember how they loved each other.

I mention this because I found a sheet of paper tucked into one of my files recently and it contained the words that I share with you today. I titled it “Reunion” and imagined the moment when Maggie and Josie met again.

“Josie, is that you? I’ve looked for you every day, thinking that you might come running across the field. And then I saw a flash of curly, white hair and I knew. That’s Josie! Come on, let me show you all the wonderful parts of this beautiful place. There are no fences, just fields for play. No leashes, nothing to hold us back. See over there…that’s Tillie chasing the ball and Clipper is rolling in the yellow flowers. I told them about you, how you danced when people knocked on your door and how you slid on the tile chasing your stuffed toy. And don’t worry about your seizures. They’re gone! Follow me, Josie, Let’s run in the wind and chase the golden leaves. I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve missed you.”

Tell me why people can’t give love and affection like God’s other creatures? Over-the-top, without limits, no-strings-attached love. We have so much to learn from the least among us. Someday. Thank you, God, for unconditional love, and for the creatures, great and small, who bless us. Thank you for Maggie and Josie and all our beloved friends who run through the fields of joy forever.

If you have not put Richard Rohr’s book, The Universal Christ, on your reading list, do it now while it’s on your mind. This book has the potential to reshape how you think about faith and life. Among the many highlighted sentences and sections in my copy are these words: “The point of the Christian life is not to distinguish oneself from the ungodly, but to stand in solidarity with everyone and everything else.” That sentence is worth expanding. The goal of the Christian life is not to determine who is good and who is bad; it’s not at all about my personal salvation. It is about complete immersion in God; waking to what is, not simply preparing for what will be. I would add: to live the life of Jesus, we are not called to be religious, but to be real; angelic, but to be authentic; holy, but to be whole; saved by belief, but awakened to life; spiritual, but to be human.

To be his disciple is not limited to creed but is all about conduct. I’m always amazed at Rohr’s candor and courage, given that he’s still on the roster of the Franciscan Order of the Catholic Church. His words must challenge many. But, then, truth always does.