Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, May 4, 2014:


First Reading: Acts 2:14a, 36-41

Psalm: Psalm 116:1-3, 10-17 (Psalm 116:1-4, 12-19 NRSV)

Second Reading: 1 Peter 1:17-23

Gospel: Luke 24:13-35

Today we read of the sojourners on their way to Emmaus. This story gives us an important window into the lives we are to have as Christians, particularly when it comes to the sharing of a meal, and our basic obligations when it comes to hospitality.

That hospitality is the often overlooked side of the Emmaus story. The travelers have walked seven miles together.  For those of you who are wondering, that might take the modern walker, walking at a fast clip, a bit over two hours; in Biblical times, with unpaved roads with poorly shod feet, I'm estimating it would take half a day. When they get back to their house, they don't say to Jesus, "Well, good luck on your journey."

No--they invite him inside. What remarkable hospitality. They share what they have. They don't say, "Well, I can't let you see my house in its current state--let's go out to dinner." No, they notice that the day is nearly done, and they invite a stranger in to stay the night.  They don't direct the stranger to the nearest inn.

Those of you who have read your Bible will recognize a motif. God often appears as a stranger, and good things come to those who invite a stranger in. For those of you who protest that modern life is so much more dangerous than in Biblical times, and so it was safer for people like Abraham and the Emmaus couple to invite the stranger to stay, I'd have to disagree.

Without that hospitality, those strangers never would have known their fellow traveler. We are called to model the same behavior.

One thing we can do in our individual lives is to adopt a Eucharistic mindset. Never has this been more vital. Most people have ceased cooking for themselves, and many Americans are eating at least one meal a day while they drive.

Rebel against this trait. Look for ways to make meals special. Cook for yourself. Invite your friends and loved ones to dinner. Occasionally, invite a stranger. Each week, go to a different bakery and buy yourself some wonderful bread. Open a bottle of wine and savor a glass.

Bread and wine are relatively cheap and available. When I was a teenager living in Knoxville, Tennessee, my father went to D.C. on business, and brought back sourdough bread. I thought I had never tasted anything so wonderful, and marveled at a city where you could just buy such a creation from a bakery.

Well now, most of us do. Even in small towns, it's possible to get good bread. And it's easy to make it for yourself, if you want to restore even more sanity to your schedule. And while you make that bread, you can marvel at the miracle of yeast, and think again about Jesus' call for us to be the leaven (the yeast) in the loaf.

Jesus calls us to a Eucharistic life, which requires a major readjustment of our mindset around the issues of food, drink, time, and hospitality. Consider the Capitalist/Consumerist model that our culture offers us, and the invitation from Jesus looks even more attractive.

So, before the day gets later, go and buy some bread. Think about the many ways that bread (and other grains) sustain most of us throughout the world. Drink some wine and think about the miracle of fermentation; ponder the reality that in many parts of the world, people drink fermented beverages because the water supply is tainted, but fermentation provides some protection.

You are the leaven in the loaf, the yeast that turns grape juice into the miracle of wine--how can you make that manifest in the world today?

Retreat Highlights in a Spiritual Hue

A week ago, I was getting ready to head off to my retreat:  the Create in Me retreat that I've attended each year since 2002 (gulp!  is it really 2014 already?  And almost May?  double gulp!).  Every year, I return refreshed and renewed.  This year is no different.
Let me record some of the spiritual highlights of the past week.  For a general overview, see this blog post on my creativity blog.

--I saw friends along the way, friends who ministered to me in ways they may not have even realized.  For one thing, they took time out of their busy lives to see me.  For another, we had time to listen and connect.  One of my friends said, "It's been a tough year for you.  I'm surprised you're upright."  That care and concern--and just the acknowledgement of my sorrows--it's amazing what a difference that can make.

--We had great worship, as we always do.  I feel lucky to be part of a church where I can bring some of these ideas back.

--We had amazing Bible study led by a seminary professor.  The study was less Bible and more theological musing about recent findings about the universe and what those astronomy lessons mean for our theological thoughts on creation and redemption.  I will be writing more about this later, but for here, let me just say how progressive it was, how intellectual, what a great demonstration of how faith and intellect can inform each other and enrich each other.

--The professor who led our Bible study is an amateur astronomer who takes pictures of galaxies and all sorts of stellar beauty.  The Bible study had such wonderful slides.

--He also brought his telescope, and we were able to see the vastness of the universe for ourselves.  By day, we were surrounded by all sorts of beautiful nature, including glorious dogwoods.  How wonderful to be reminded of the Creator at every turn.

----I did stretching every morning, a modified yoga class--wonderful.  Again, it was good to be reminded of this gift of a body that's in relatively good health.  I thought about the first time I did a stretching class at the retreat and how that experience led me to the Wellness Center where I'm still a member.  I thought about how much more limber I've become.  I took comfort from remembering that small movements can lead to big changes.

--Likewise, it was good to remember that there are so many ways to create, many of which take just a smidge of time.  It was good to play with cloth and then to give that cloth away.  It was good to make things.  It was good to enjoy the sight of so many of us making things.

--Since we're so many of us Lutherans and many of us went to camp for many years, we were inclined to sing at the least prompting.  And then, people would harmonize--what a treat!

--We had parents bring their children this year, so we had several children at the retreat, which was fun too.

--It was good to be with like-minded people along the way, people who don't need extensive explanations for why we're doing what we do.  I often forget how tiring it is to be with people who only get part of the picture.

--And it's good to remember that I often feel alone and lonely and like no one understands--but that's often a false emotion.  My brain, especially its emotional core, is not always my friend.

--Again and again, we came back to the basic Easter message of hope and resurrection and the firm belief that death will not have the final word.  In this Lent (year?) of many cancers, it's a message I needed to have repeated.

--Now, as I head back to "normal" life, it's good to have had some perspective restored.  I so often get bogged down in negativity about stuff that won't really matter the following week.  I think it's time to return to the spiritual practice of keeping a gratitude journal.

Down from the Mountain

Today I return down from the mountain, away from my time of retreat.  Hopefully, I'll be feeling renewed and refreshed. 

I was feeling really beat up, for all sorts of reasons, before I left.  This Create in Me retreat at Lutheridge could not have come at a better time.

I expect to post more about the retreat as the week continues.  But for now, here's some inspiration to begin our work week:

“Laundry, liturgy and women's work all serve to ground us in the world, and they need not grind us down. Our daily tasks, whether we perceive them as drudgery or essential, life-supporting work, do not define who we are as women or as human beings.”


― Kathleen Norris, The Quotidian Mysteries: Laundry, Liturgy and "Women's Work"

“Prayer is not asking for what you think you want, but asking to be changed in ways you can't imagine.”

― Kathleen Norris

“If grace is so wonderful, why do we have such difficulty recognizing and accepting it? Maybe it's because grace is not gentle or made-to-order. It often comes disguised as loss, or failure, or unwelcome change.”

― Kathleen Norris

Poetry Friday: Muscle Memory and Brain Power

Years ago, I was pleased to have a poem appear in Aethlon: The Journal of Sport Literature. And more recently, the poem was chosen to be part of the anthology that the editors put together periodically; I got my contributor's copy last week.


It's interesting to revisit it. I don't usually write in form, but for this poem, I experimented with the villanelle. I'm calling it a success.

And in terms of content, it's a poem I still like, even though I wrote it years ago.  I think it has something to say about spiritual growth too, althought it's not using overt language to do it.
So, for your reading pleasure, here's the poem:


One Fast, One Slow


The muscles remember what the mind forgets.
The brain replays every decision, each move.
The muscles waste no time on useless regrets.

They keep an even speed, moving in the groove.
They do not lose a beat, always keeping the pace.
The muscles know only one way towards what they have to prove.

With the mind mired in time, the muscles move through space.
The body leaves the mind alone to second guessing.
The mind, unlike the body, knows there’s more than just one race.

The mind spends time wondering what is missing,
That abandoned job, the trip we never took,
The other people we could have been kissing.

The mind knows any decision is worth a second look,
Even choices made years ago.
The brain decides there’s no such thing as a closed book.

The muscles focus on their task, to strengthen and to grow,
The mind might say it does the same,
Two processes, one fast, one slow.

What Happens at a Creativity Retreat?

You may wonder what happens at a creativity retreat. I thought I'd re-run this photo essay from 2010.  If this post whets your appetite, it's not too late; the retreat begins this evening at Lutheridge in Arden, NC.

As you might expect, we do a variety of arts and crafts (if you're the type of person who draws a distinction). Here are some batik pieces drying on a line. I like the prayer flag image that we've unconsciously evoked.


We did a variety of interesting worship services. Where else can you worship God with a parachute?

Wind chime creating was one of the most popular activities.

I particularly liked the chair weaving. What do you do when the bottom falls out? Make a new chair and one that's more beautiful.

We did a variety of playful activities. Unfortunately, I didn't have the camera with me when we did tethered balloon rides. But here's some hula hoop play.

We had a talent show at the end. Here are people contra dancing to our impromptu bluegrass band.

We did a balloon meditation (go here to read about how we did it on a smaller scale at a planning meeting).

At the end, we did a Communion sending service at the braided labyrinth. I like that I've captured the stained glass window on the far wall, and the pottery and wood baptismal font in the front.

Plan now for next year! The retreat will be the week-end after Easter--you should come.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The lessons for Sunday, April 27, 2014:



Acts 4:32-35

Psalm 133

How good and pleasant it is to live together in unity. (Ps. 133:1)

1 John 1:1—2:2

John 20:19-31


I love the post-Easter encounters with Jesus. It's as if the Gospel writers knew that we'd need to be reminded of the amazing thing that has happened. It's no wonder that Thomas said he wouldn't believe until he'd touched the wounds.

Jesus was dead. He wasn't just passed out or in a deep sleep or let off the cross early. He died and rose again.

Notice that here, as elsewhere, Jesus knows what humans need and meets them on that level. He doesn't get huffy. He doesn't say, "Well, if Thomas isn't glad to see me back from the dead, then I'm not going to talk to him. I'll just hang out with people who believe." No, he lets Thomas put his hands inside of his side wound, if that's what it takes.

He forgives the doubt. He forgives the disciples who ran away. He doesn't show up to berate the disciples for hiding in a dark room when they've got work to do. He forgives all the human ways we can't rise to the vision that God has for our behavior, for our blessed lives.

Notice in these post Easter lessons how Jesus roots his actions in the physicality of life. He cooks people breakfast when they've been off fishing. He breaks bread and blesses wine. He presents his very wounded body. For those of us modern Gnostics who want to deny that Jesus was as human as the rest of us, these lessons seem specially placed to help us work against that belief. Jesus was NOT just a mystical creature with a human form that he could put on and take off, like a special set of clothes.

Perhaps that should be a lesson to the rest of us as well. When we feel despairing, we should look for ways to root ourselves in our physical lives; maybe we should try baking bread or cooking a meal. Maybe when we're almost sick with missing the ones that live far away, maybe instead of moping, we should write a letter to our loved ones, telling them how much we love them. Maybe we should plant some herbs or flowers, get our hands in the dirt, remember our roots in the world that deserves our love and attention.

Perhaps this approach would make a good way to minister to others. Instead of some sort of theoretical approach to evangelism, we should look minister to our neighbors’ physical needs; then we can think about their spiritual lives. We should ask people to dinner instead of asking, “If you died tonight, would you go to Heaven?” We should describe the great potluck dinner that awaits them at church, instead of the Heavenly feast that we have to wait so long to experience.

God came to this world to become physically involved--we are called to do the same.

Our Work; Small Audience

I think we often want our art, our worship services, our work that we do for pay, to reach large audiences.

But what if we're more effective when our efforts only reach one or two?

How would our work change if we thought of it as being a deep conversation between two friends who sit in a garden?

Could that level of intimacy transform the work?

(I took these pictures at the Mepkin Abbey gardens that are near the gift shop; I took them when I was there in November 2009)