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January 28, 2020

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What I am reading and writing: PART II

January 2020

Same study group, all ages welcome; however, most of us have graying hair as well as lively curiosity and diverse faith heritages. 

We are now tackling Dorothee Soelle’s seminal book The Silent Cry: Mysticism and Resistance. Dorothee, who died in 2003, was a German feminist liberation theologian. She believed theology must speak for the oppressed, not only the privileged. 

I was enthralled when I read the Introduction and Chapter 1: We are all mystics. Chapter 2: Ecstasy slowed me down to a crawl. This book could be required reading in a seminary course although its meatiness encourages me to reflect on my own mystical moments and awarenesses. 

I am learning, the history of mysticism as it stands over against the traditional, patriarchal, limiting teachings and liturgies of religious institutions. As I listen to the group’s conversations, I jot down my mystical moments and awarenesses, surprised how many come to mind. Rather than thinking how great these remembrances are, I am wondering how each has impacted my life and the contours of my faith.  

Rather than doing crossword puzzles to keep my mind active and supple, I climb the steep stairs to my nest under the eaves and write. Remembering and reflecting is a sacred experience which takes time and effort…and I am easily distracted. I turn on the computer, I am pulled into emails, news and weather, or other Internet magnets. When I begin the hard work of writing, I am pushed to focus sharply as I seek words to express my understanding of my experiences and faith. 

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January 12, 2020

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SUNDAY MORNING PRAYER

“‘I wait for you, O God,/my soul waits/and in your word I hope./My soul waits for you, O, God/more than those who wait for the morning/more than those who wait for the morning.’ ~~Psalm 130:5-6

SILENCE

Be still and aware of God’s presence within and all around.“

I read these words, mark the page, close the book and take it with me to my nest under the eaves of the third floor, to write about the tender response I feel. John Phillip Newell’s words in Celtic Benediction, in Sounds of the Eternal and in Prayers for Peace have accompanied me as I have lived and moved and had my being these past two years. 

Since our move to this bit of fragile earth, our island home, and through the onslaught of fierce fatigue and brain fog from my metastatic breast cancer meds, these morning and evening prayers have nurtured and nourished me. The words led me into knowing that we are held by Mother Earth, Father Sky, Grandfather Fire and Grandmother Ocean. Sometimes cradled and other times unbearably challenged, inextricably we are earth, air, fire and water. 

Accompanied by the roar of the wind from the west, I look eastward at the blue-gray churning ocean and her rhythmic waves. The mystery of the meaning of this life and this tiny planet within this massive, infinite universe is witnessed. The world seems to spin out of control with crazed politicians as well as being steadied by the voices and actions of Greta Thurnberg and Malala and their generations. 

My faith has diverged from the one that carried me with hope through the first half century of my life, yet, praying them, these Psalms and prayers speak to me in an expansive and reassuring voice. I am refreshingly awakened by the presence of the Great Spirit “within and all around.” I reflect and make notes, touching and giving words to the faith within me so that I can live more fully all around.