That Ye Enter

Matthew 26:41

41. Watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation: the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.

Not many have weaker flesh than mine. 

A three-day-old infant can take my finger

and keep it against my will.  Yet, still,

the strength of flesh is in the willing: not that I

can choose to walk and will my atrophied legs to move --

there is no human strength strong enough

for that.  But, no newborn grip can trap me if

my desire is satisfied in the holding.  To love

what is pure and whole and true is

a decision that embroils the greatest desire: to be. 

To be, not as I am not, but as I am, to

be a deft sentry of stronghold heights and to see

from whence I have come and to whence I shall go; and,

even as I keep vigilant watch upon reality, to live.  Lest I turn inward

and forget the tiny child reaching out in need,

lest I become blind and stumble in

darkness as I cry immobile in my unresponsive body

-- lest I muster the strength of will to rage and rally against what is

true and whole and pure,

I choose

to open myself, to be opened to and by the light,

the Light that is Life,

open to the One,

the only one that is almighty, the only one that chose to be as weak

as me. 

It is His strength I feel

in stillness, it is His voice I hear

in silence, it is His light I see when every

thing is lost; it is the will of the One

that answers my deepest desire -- the desire to be

true and pure and whole as I am.  My breathing

is to watch and to pray, the beating of my heart and the pulsing of my brain

is to lead me to fulfillment: my beautiful, bedraggled body attuned to

the flame that forged me into being, that my will be

the will of the Breath that breathes life within me,

flesh no longer weak but strong in the will of the Spirit fulfilled... I am I.

They Wrapped Him in Purple and Laid Him in a Crown of Thorns

Mark 15:17-20

17. And they clothed him with purple, and platted a crown of thorns, and put it about his head,

18. And began to salute him, Hail, King of the Jews!

19. And they smote him on the head with a reed, and did spit upon him, and bowing their knees worshipped him.

20. And when they had mocked him, they took off the purple from him, and put his own clothes on him, and led him out to crucify him.

Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright ‘round yon virgin, mother and child, holy infant so tender and mild.  Sleep in heavenly peace...

Christmastime is rich with images of Jesus as a tiny, cooing baby held gently in his mother's warm and loving embrace.  Mary and Joseph look down upon him with such tender affection and the shepherds and magi gaze upon him in smiling adoration.  This is the nativity scene celebrated all over the world.  This is what warms our hearts and inspires us, while the carols are sung and holiday goodies consumed, with goodwill toward our fellow men.

How often do we stop and think of that child tortured and nailed to a cross?  When we're hanging up the wreaths or opening the presents, or even putting the Christmas decorations away, do we consider this Jesus brutally stripped, mocked, whipped, spat upon and reviled?  I think there is a reason more people celebrate Christmas than Easter.  For, though the suffering of the grown-up Jesus leads to the glory of the Resurrection, none of us really want to dwell on the fact that true glory and divine bliss only comes through suffering.  We prefer the Christmastime imagery of God, humbly and graciously, giving Himself to us by becoming one of us... "God so loved the world that He gave us His Only Begotten Son...".  We prefer this gift that we didn't deserve, this gift that is not born out of misery and pain but, rather, out of God's great love... and out of loving surrender and simple faith.  Mary and Joseph had suffering and trials in order to bring this gratuitous gift into the world and keep him safe.  They risked their lives.  They were homeless and hunted.  The beauty of Christmas did not come easy or cheap.

Christ's Kingship is not one of luxury and decadent pleasure.  Our discipleship is born out of Mary's obedience and poverty in the stench of a stable... and our discipleship can only mature into ripe fullness through sacrifice, the pain and weakness suffered for Love.  If we celebrate Christmastime only and not the full Paschal Mystery, the birth, life, suffering, death, resurrection and ascension of Jesus Christ, then we have not real Love and our faith will wither and die in infancy.

To Secret Away

Ecclesiastes 12:13-14

13. Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter: Fear God, and keep his commandments: for this is the whole duty of man.

14. For God shall bring every work into judgment, with every secret thing, whether it be good, or whether it be evil.

With every secret thing, a stone I drag over,

I pile the walls of my fortress, I isolate myself, alone. 

I will not let others in, I will not let them know me.

And as for the One who knows all...

with every secret thing, I distance myself from Reality,

as though Truth isn't truth,

as though Infinity doesn't reach within my heart,

as though Eternity won't outlive my mind,

as though I am my own creation, alone

in a battlefield where I must always defend

myself and rearrange others to fit my liking,

manipulating through pretense,

hiding behind my lies.  Oblivious

to the Presence ever present gently wrapped about my shoulders,

holding me up,

holding me close,

keeping me in existence

with the constant, Loving Gaze.  And I look away --

as if there were an away,

as if there were a me without God,

trying to make myself a little kingdom with finite, piled walls,

clutching at the secrets and losing

the Sacred.

Gift: an essay

Romans 6:22-23

22. But now being made free from sin, and become servants to God, ye have your fruit unto holiness, and the end everlasting life.

23. For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.

If I live my life in sin, my life will only end in death.  If, however, I live my life in service to God, then the result of my life will be eternal life.

Sin has its natural consequences.  When I turn away from others in order to serve only myself, I will not know true happiness.  My selfish calculations may produce physical pleasures or material wealth, like the productions of some mechanism -- 1 plus 1 equals 2, pull that lever and watch this flip.  But, life as a self-centered machine will only result in the deadening of my deeper humanity.  The pleasures will be fleeting and the human relationships will not last.  The material wealth can be lost or taken away and the holding tightly onto it will make me overly stressed.  And, as I only lived for this earthly life, when this earthly life is over, I will agonize at its ending.  These are the wages that I can expect from the system into which I placed myself, a cog in a machine.

Selfless love also has its consequences.  If I choose not to go about coldly calculating "what's in it for me", but, rather, think of the other, love the other and give of myself freely... then I enter into deep relationship and not mechanics.  Giving without expecting anything in return is the highest human grace.  Like mercy -- which is not deserved, but freely given, or else it would not be mercy. To do what is right because it is right and pleasing to God without striving for any recompense or reward -- that is a profoundly human ability.  The seeds we sow grow into holiness, not tangible or marketable, but deep and true and lasting.  Joy that completely satisfies is to love one's neighbor as oneself and to love the Lord our God with all that we have and all that we are. 

What we receive from this kind of life does not come in wages.  Rather, what we receive is gift.  The gracious generosity of God pouring unto us blessings of the Divine, for no other reason than God is Love -- blessings that cannot be articulated, formulated, manipulated, or calculated.  Sheer gift -- not because we deserve it, but because we have opened ourselves to receive what is pouring unto us always.  And when our earthly lives are over, because we have known something of the divine, the eternal, we will experience the eternal.  And what that is actually like cannot be figured out or rationally proven.  It can only be believed.  We do not try to live holiness in order to receive a reward of everlasting bliss -- for if that is our calculation, surely we will fail.  The only way that divine bliss, eternal life, can be received is through faith.  It's through not knowing.  It's through total surrender to God, come what may.  This is the life of Christ, this is Jesus Christ, and this is what it is to be Christian.

If we knew the certainty of Heaven, then Heaven would not exist.  For Heaven is gift and Mystery and does not come when equations line up.  We leap.  And... if we are wrong and there is no Heaven, we will not agonize, we will be satisfied, for we will have given our lives freely, in true love and true joy.  We are not slaves.  We are gift.

                       

Being Last

Matthew 20:16

16.

So the last shall be first, and the first last: for many be called, but few chosen.

When I go to church, I sit in one of the front rows because, well, that's where the wheelchairs go.  In my parish church, the front two rows of the middle aisle are indented slightly, as if one space were removed from each, and this is where I park my electric wheelchair.  Our current priest suggested that my parents and I sit in the front most of the two rows so that it is easier for him to bring Communion down to me before he goes back to the sanctuary steps and gives the Eucharist to those who line up the center aisle.  The very front pew is not the place that I would choose to sit, if I had free choice -- not because of any sense of humility but, rather, perhaps, from a sense of pride.  I really don't like being put on display.  Of course, being in a wheelchair all my life, I've never exactly blended into the background.

Sitting there, front and center, I feel like everyone behind is watching me.  They probably aren't, but the sense of eyes upon me only increases my self-consciousness.  And I am a person who is highly self-conscious, anyway.  You might be imagining a shy, painfully cowering waif -- but, though I do have a waiflike appearance, I do not cower.  No, instead, I'm up there singing and wondering if I am an inspiration to others as I sing, praying and wondering if I look like Joan of Arc in a mystic trance, reciting the prayers aloud and being quite sure that I am a model for others.  Yeah, I've got serious pride issues.  And, the thing is, I know it's ridiculous.  As much as I love myself, there are times when I feel myself such a stupid little fool... then again, that may stem from pride, as well.  I get disappointed in myself because I know I have potential greatness.

So, how I would look to others is almost always in my mind when I am at church, especially after receiving Communion first and having a large portion of the congregation file past me as they also receive.  My thoughts have been far too grounded in myself.  Like I can't escape, can't break through to what is just beyond... to what is truly being offered to me, to what I just can't see.  And then, one day, our parish was celebrating the first Communion of a dozen or so little children.  I used to skip the First Communion Sunday because it's so crowded and my parents and I have to sit in the very back of the church so I won't be in the way in the aisles.  That year, however, our priest had left under some mystery and strain and, on his last day, he had asked me to pray for him.  I can't tell you how many people have asked me to pray for them!  When I was younger, I would inwardly roll my eyes at the request and smile.  But, at that point in my journey, I was willing to try, to try to actually pray for someone else.  So I agreed to pray for our departing priest and decided that I would do so by forcing myself to Mass every week.  Even on First Communion Sunday.  So, my mother and I sat in the very back of the church, I parking in my wheelchair behind the last pew, while my father sang in the choir upstairs.  The only way for me to receive Communion without getting in the way of the others or turning my wheelchair around without incident was to be the last one in the line.

It felt good to go last.  I didn't feel so "special", something I've been called my whole life.  I just followed along with the others and the priest didn't even have to move as he gave me the Consecrated Host.  I turned my wheelchair around without hitting anyone and proceeded back down the aisle while everyone else was knelt over in prayer.  And then... then I sat in the back of the church, behind everyone else... dark, quiet, unobserved... and, for the first time in my life, I truly received the Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity of Christ beneath the Sacramental Veil.  I gnawed upon His Body and received Grace beyond words.  After that, for almost a year, I cried every time I received the Eucharist.

Somethings, some people, are most certainly worth the wait.  It is good to be little and last.  It is good to be relegated to the shadows of the world, sometimes, for there, in the quiet and stillness with no one's eyes upon me, I could finally sense the Real Presence of Christ with me and within me.  The power of God's love reached way back beyond the last row and was intimately mine in that moment of aloneness when I was self-conscious no longer but, rather, God-conscious and totally loved beyond all telling.

And, yes, I have taken a life lesson from that.  Funny how Christ preached it and, yet, I had to experience it myself to know what it meant.

His Face to Shine

Psalms 67:1-3

1.      God be merciful unto us, and bless us; and cause his face to shine upon us; Selah.

2.      That thy way may be known upon earth, thy saving health among all nations.

3.      Let the people praise thee, O God; let all the people praise thee.

Every human being needs

the Sun, as we

need blood, water, oxygen.  There are none

who can live without its saving rays;

slow death and torture to live one's days beneath the gravel,

carved out rock, in the soil of things once green,

without having seen the warm bright face,

or know the heated embrace, we,

male, female, adult, child, infant,

elder, millionaire or pauper, we all

shrink, reduce in presence, pale, absented

from the pouring out of the Sun's own self

through our earthly veil.

                   -Christina Chase