My soul is sad

I am in the garden, sleeping.
My eyes are heavy with grief.

And Jesus prays, that if it's possible, this hour might pass.
He throws himself on the ground. Remove this cup!

He is deeply grieved, even to death.
Even to death.
It does not come so soon ... the yet: the not what I want, but what you want my Father.
Abba.

and yes, I do not know what to say to him.
yes, I am still sleeping.

But enough! the hour has come.
Get up. Let us be going.
Let's walk the road.

(Mark 14: 32-42)

Called into the dance

I am called into the dance, and in order to follow I must let go of all I’m holding.

I bring my gifts, but in order to dance the steps, to follow the beat, the love, the sound, the pulse I must be grounded, must breathe, must stand free.

I place my shopping bags, my piles of books, my eternal list of things to do at the door of your garden.

I step into space.

I sense the freedom waiting to unfold into unencumbered places where I will discover new beats, new moves, new people.

I dance my sadness, I dance my joy. I play my confusion, I tear away what’s stale.

I long for running water, I twirl until I fall

and I find you at the centre, turning all in all. (27 January 2013)

On the liberty of the child of God

I long for you my God. I long for the freedom which is you. I long for that suppleness of spirit that lets go the grip and picks up the pieces with graciousness and generosity; that doesn't need to grasp in anxiety. I trust. I know. I see ... that all is given again and again and yes, again.

Then, I can let go of my fear of scarcity because you are all in all.

Then, I can take up my most amazing life to live in you, for your glory.

Then, I can allow it to run through my fingers like sand because there is enough … and nothing stays for ever.

All is gift, all lost and found in you. So I can allow the dance of life and death and healing and wholeness to take me in its arms and cherish me. Even as I let go and dance the lament of death, the pulse of life beats on in each fresh face awakening to greet the day.

I awake the dawn, blessed, transformed in faith, given in love. 

Lectio Divina: diving deep to hear (IV)

And lastly I reach the stage of Contemplatio … I rest in God … communion … union with God … stillness. I allow the Word to resonate deep within me.

Jesus Stills a Storm (NRSV Mark chapter 4: 35-41)

What is left with me from praying through this Gospel story?

Contemplatio
Out of this genuine exposure of my authentic self I am brought to the possibility of communion. I find here the love after all the words, the passions, the sufferings are spent and I am in union with the beloved. It is as Thelma Hall calls it the ‘entering into silence – which is too deep for words’ Here I entrust myself to God with a loving attentiveness that is rooted in a ‘heart-to-heart conversation’ where ‘silence takes the place of language’.
Through this encounter I am left with a ‘word of life’ that I take with me into my daily life and through the course of my day and night it continues to work and transform me from within, finding echoes in a variety of ways in everything I do. (Thelma Hall Too Deep for Words: Rediscovering Lectio Divina, p. 42.)

Lectio Divina: diving deep to hear (III)

The next stage of the prayer happens quite organically (if I let it!) ... Oratio … I respond to God …I pray and I allow God to pray in me. I participate in the prayer of Christ to the Father through the Holy Spirit. As I read the words this time I notice what arises as the whole of who I am takes part ...

35 On that day, when evening had come, he said to them, “Let us go across to the other side.” 36 And leaving the crowd behind, they took him with them in the boat, just as he was. Other boats were with him. 37 A great windstorm arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped. 38 But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they woke him up and said to him, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” 39 He woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm. 40 He said to them, “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?” 41 And they were filled with great awe and said to one another, “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?” (NRSV Mark chapter 4: 35-41)

Oratio
Oratio or prayer is my response to God as I ponder and savour this Word. Meditatio grounded on lectio expands my capacity to truly listen, and transforms the way I respond to God. I praise, I give thanks, I petition, I repent, I adore. This ‘prayer of the heart’ is a spontaneous following of the Holy Spirit at work within me and is pure gift. St Augustine evokes the movement very well in his words: ‘If the text is prayer, pray; if it is groaning, groan; if it is thanks, be joyful; if it is a hopeful text, hope; if it expresses fear, then fear.’ Above all, I seek to be real.

Lectio Divina: diving deep to hear (II)

Meditatio (pondering) … As I read the text again I ask myself: which words STAY with me, have energy, draw me in, engage me, call to me, make me uncomfortable, console me, remind me of other stories in scripture?

35 On that day, when evening had come, he said to them, “Let us go across to the other side.” 36 And leaving the crowd behind, they took him with them in the boat, just as he was. Other boats were with him. 37 A great windstorm arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped. 38 But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they woke him up and said to him, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” 39 He woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm. 40 He said to them, “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?” 41 And they were filled with great awe and said to one another, “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?” (NRSV Mark chapter 4: 35-41)

Meditatio (pondering)
Through the slow repetition of the words I begin to receive the ‘word’ and am brought into the next phase of the prayer. Meditatio or pondering expands the listening, inviting me to greater fullness, inviting me to greater receptivity, allowing the Word to break me open. The words begin to sound in my heart as I discover little by little ‘the mystery of the Word.’ I notice which words have stayed with me, which words draw me in, engage me, call me, remind me of other words, images, stories in scripture. In this deepening movement I reflect and make connections. I allow myself to ruminate and to enter into the experience with all of my senses. It is a deeper listening, a reading between the lines, a lingering and a relishing.

Lectio Divina: diving deep to hear (I)

The four stages of lectio divina (lectio, meditatio, oratio, contemplatio) invite the one praying to allow the Word of God to deepen and take root in the heart in an organic way where one step leads naturally to the next.

In the first phase Lectio … I hear the WORD … God is communicating his love … I tune in to the revelation of God. I read … and re-read … I slow down.

Jesus Stills a Storm
35 On that day, when evening had come, he said to them, “Let us go across to the other side.” 36 And leaving the crowd behind, they took him with them in the boat, just as he was. Other boats were with him. 37 A great windstorm arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped. 38 But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they woke him up and said to him, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” 39 He woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm. 40 He said to them, “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?” 41 And they were filled with great awe and said to one another, “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?”
(NRSV Mark chapter 4: 35-41)


The lectio or reading Ghislaine Salvail reminds us ‘constitutes an opening’. It is an entry point, a threshold. I read the text as a personal communication from the One I love. As I read I let the words come alive, hearing them as for the first time. I read and re read, slowly, reflectively. This helps to ‘engrave the text on the memory’. (Ghislaine Salvail, At the Crossroads of the Scriptures: An Introduction to Lectio Divina: pp. 45-6)