Ash Wednesday

Ash Wednesday was wonderful; being somewhat new to the liturgical stuff - I dearly love Ash Wednesday, Maundy Thursday and Christ the King Sunday - never celebrated them until I started attending the Anglican church in December 2006 and they are so stuffed full with interesting things that help me feel really connected to God. I even like the repeating cycle of the church yearly calendar, it gives a special rhythm to the cycle of life.

During morning group meditation, I had trouble letting my thoughts go and focusing on the Bible words I'd picked, "angels ministered to him." (Mark 1.12-15).  My thoughts were going every which way. I was mostly thinking of how I thought rather than what I was thinking. Example:  I wonder if there's a way to put like a v-shaped snow plow so as thoughts come they are dozed out of the way?  Maybe I'd not struggle so with thoughts if I'd think of going under water where the waves on the surface were the thoughts other than the Word and if I'd go deep enough I couldn't see the turbulence above and could more easily sit with the Word. Then some weird thoughts wanted me to participate and one of the off-the-wall ones is I wondered if Tantric sex (from what I've heard/read is a way to turn our sexual expression into prayer and bond deeper with a mate and with God at the same time). Well, it was an interesting question and I participated with it for a few seconds until I caught myself and let it go.  The interesting thing was that even with the bombardment of thoughts, I still felt a deep closeness to God. I intuited I was cocooned in his love. No guilt that I'd not "performed" meditation perfect but just joy and peace that I knew God was in it.  Afterwards I received a comment that it was emotive and I didn't disagree because there was an emotive element; but it was so much deeper then emotions and was also very and mostly spiritual. But I can't put that into words then or anything more now that I've thought of it.

I also know that any time we put our concept of God into Words, then it is a dead and partial understanding because God is light, vitality and life and cramming Him into words doesn't work. That is also beginning to permeate my understanding of the Word of God - we caged Him into human words and God is not containable - He's much to big to fit in words or concepts or even my emotions.  I think of the parable of the blind men who saw the elephant: when we try to stick God into human words, it only explains a tiny bit of him. Words speak of the now - and God is eternal; so even if we could accurately put God into words; by the time we spoke them time would have moved and they would be imperfect. I think of John who wrote in his gospel that the world couldn't begin to even hold all the books that could be written about what Jesus did. So how can we think it is all contained in the 66 books that were canonized?  I also find it interesting that often the people who are most anti-Catholic are also the ones who are most pro-canonization of those 66 books. But, I still accept that it works for them and I'm okay with that and grateful they have something that helps them feel closer and loved by God.

Over lunch at the community meal, I talked to my pastor a few minutes about the near-death experience I had in December 2013. I hadn't talked to him about it and I think he was a bit surprised.  I periodically think of those few minutes of not being in my body and miss it.. I'm homesick for it. I long for it. I grieve not being there. I don't mind being here; but that thirsting for the other is a powerful longing.

So what is a near death experience doing in the middle of a post on Ash Wednesday?

The way my pastor explained Lent is to die to self or as I think of it as dying to selfishness, that self-absorbed, egocentric spot that is so easy to get into where I think I'm the hub of the universe and forget God is the center - He is the all in all. During this season, we give up something (die to it) so on Resurrection/Easter we can rise again. I think of the Phoenix, which reminds me of when I lived in Atlanta, from the ashes of destruction and death - it rose again and soared. 

I found a deep joy in receiving the ashes this year. It seems my thoughts other years were the ashes were a reminder that death was coming and prepare.  But this year it was a reminder death was coming and to celebrate all of life - both the current in-body and the future in-spirit life. Instead of a reminder of the grim reaper; it was a reminder of the "joy that is set before me." Which was Christ's stance as he went to the cross (Hebrews 12). 

Even with the deep joy of knowing who I am: dust to dust; there was also a somberness about this liturgy. As I unpack it, it seems to be a somberness that the God of glory made humanity out of dust and breathed His life into us as He was preparing the way for Him to come to earth in carnal form to show us who He is.  The humble, loving, forgiving, gentle, sacrificial Jesus. I can only be wow-ed.

Even knowing "From dust you came and to dust you shall return" is full of hope, joy and peace.

During the day I realized what I will lay down or die to for this Lent season and what I will pick up. I've purchased Richard Rohr's book on journeying through Lent.  I'm grateful for this spiritual time to focus on my own (as I wrote in the last blog entry) repent and believe; or  "Be aware and be transformed."

Abba Father,  Help me be aware and be transformed. Help me remember You are the potter and I am the clay - help me learn to see you in more areas of my life and in this snow and in the lives of nature and other people; Help me long for and be transformed into the sweet savor of my Lord. Help me not want to make you in my image; but to stand back and watch as I surrender and I am transformed into the image of Christ.  In the name of the Saviour and Lord, Amen.

Lenten Quiet Day - Wednesday, February 11, 2015

Last week my parish had a Lenten Quiet Day. I didn't put my thoughts on the blog, but I had written them down, so am putting them here now. 

 

Much different then previous years and it was challenging but good.  Historically we’d have Eucharist and then little 10-15 minute meditations with instructions what to write about for the next 30-45 minutes until the next little meditation.  This time we started with reading of the gospel for Lent Sunday 1  (Mark 1:12-15)  about Jesus’ 40 days in the wilderness. As customary, we’re to pick a word of a phrase that stood out to us.  I picked “Repent and Believe” and could sense my inner Pharisee, wringing her hands in glee, and loving that choice that could pull me back into sorting through all my areas of missing the mark and making sure I repented and changed.  Dualism at it’s finest. ; – )  I asked God for a different phrase when the gospel was read the second time. No, I sensed I was to stick with it.  So I did. 40 minutes for meditation/contemplation. I did fairly well watching my thoughts go by rather than thinking my thoughts. Then the Communion and then no instructions except to try to spend the rest of the day with our word or phrase – not for head knowledge but for heart opening.  That nobody would say anything if we read or wrote; but we wee encouraged to try. Whoa!  I am accustomed to letting my brain entertain myself and trying to go 4 hours without mental meanderings really felt like being in the desert... uncomfortable, barren, a bit frightening.

 

A few times I discerned to stick with a thought but most of them I acknowledged and let go.  Here’s the few that were my tutors on de-legalizing that phrase:

(1)  Repent is not just do a 180; but mostly to be aware

(2)  Believe is not the same as behave

(3)  Repent and believe is not childhood echoes of “Deborah Dianne, stop that this instant and behave.”

(4)  Repent and believe is currently more “be aware so you can be transformed”.

 

It was meaningful. I have that peaceful, drowsy, cocooned feeling that comes from hanging out with God; plus my mind is more cooperative because it got a few tidbits to chew over.