Being untied

I remember talking with a friend who was practicing contemplative prayer, which involves choosing a sacred word around which to center yourself. The word he was using at the time was ‘delight’.

I am not much for prayer lately, but I am trying to delight.

Today the sun caught in the spring grass as it was setting through the clouds. The day before, a cherry tree was blooming white against the rain clouds on the way home from school. I bought a box of Girl Scout cookies outside the bookstore from Girl Scouts dressed as cookies, swinging on the bike rack and shouting at passersby across the street. Roasted vegetables and Return of the Jedi with a friend. The gift of an awesome table and a bottle of wine. Singing folk songs in harmony with my students. Running through the Arboretum. Early morning coffee. Bach. A candle.

In “Holy The Firm”, Annie Dillard opens the third and final chapter with the following: “I know only enough of God to want to worship him, by any means ready to hand.”

There is a lot about life that I don’t understand. This is one of the things I find that I hold to: the fact of my bewilderment. But I am also making the effort to focus on the moments of clarity, to not immediately jump to the why and how, but to focus instead on the who, what, where, and when. Increasingly I find that my favorite moment in the liturgy every Sunday is the singing of the Doxology.

I am the true vine

Arvo Pärt – I am the true vine

Each year at Lent, various members of the St. Thomas community are given a passage of Scripture and asked to write a reflection on how it speaks to them, or how God is speaking through the passage to them. These reflections are assembled and distributed as a Lenten devotional, titled “Bread for the Journey”. It’s interesting reading, with thoughts from laypersons and clergy alike, and an interesting way to look at life through another’s lens.

Today’s passage is from John 15, where Jesus talks about the vine and the branches. Arvo Pärt’s setting is linked above, and Karen’s reflection is here (the entire collection is also available for download). I just read Genesis 1 this morning, so I’m thinking a lot about order. In the creation story, God instills order at a deep level into the universe, and in John 15, Jesus outlines order in our relationships with God and each other. Obedience, sacrifice, and above all, love.

I don’t have a big take-away from that, besides an attempt to pause and reflect throughout the day on seeing that order in action, in myself and in others. 

Above all, trus…

Above all, trust in the slow work of God.
We are quite naturally impatient in everything
to reach the end without delay.
We should like to skip the intermediate stages.
We are impatient of being on the way
to something unknown,
something new.
Yet it is the law of all progress that is made
by passing through some stages of instability
and that may take a very long time.

And so I think it is with you.
Your ideas mature gradually. Let them grow.
Let them shape themselves without undue haste.
Do not try to force them on
as though you could be today what time
— that is to say, grace —
and circumstances
acting on your own good will
will make you tomorrow.
Only God could say what this new Spirit
gradually forming in you will be.

Give our Lord the benefit of believing
that his hand is leading you,
and accept the anxiety of feeling yourself
in suspense and incomplete.
Above all, trust in the slow work of God,
our loving vine-dresser.

Amen.

– Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

But Jesus passed…

The title of this blog is taken from a 15th-century setting of the Credo written by Robert Wylkynson. The body of the piece, the creed, is bookended by a simple, three bar chant-like motive on the text “Jesus autem transiens”, or, “But Jesus passed”, which is taken from Luke 4, where Jesus turns and walks through a crowd that had been attempting to throw him off a cliff.

The genius of the piece is that it is written as a canon, with the opening phrase – “Jesus autem transiens” – setting the period. Wylkynson then divided the creed into 12 parts, labeling each with the name of one of the twelve apostles. Add in the first phrase and you get 13 parts in total: Jesus plus the disciples. It’s not coincidental that the piece has a range of exactly 13 notes. When the  canon is sung as indicated with 13 voices, the opening/closing motif is always present, i.e. Jesus is always walking through while the creed is being sung. It’s a theatrical setting, and while the music is fine as is, the symbolism is what really strikes me. I suppose the whole thing could be viewed as a stunt, or even a musical joke, but I find it both incredibly resonant and also open-ended. Here is a great clamor of voices singing out the creed, and all the while Jesus is very purposefully walking through. The word “amidst” comes to mind.

The idea of Jesus passing by, or through, my life is a powerful image. I don’t mean to discount any way in which Jesus is present in a more immediate way, but when my life often feels clamorous and chaotic, the idea of Jesus walking calmly and quietly through, leading the way, has more immediacy. Peace, and also purpose – off he heads to the next healing in Capernaum. There is more work to be done, there are more steps to be taken, there is more to learn, more following to be done.

I find myself with that opening chant stuck in my head a lot lately. Although I am hard-pressed for specifics, it is comforting and calming to think of Jesus walking through, past, alongside, amidst. Regardless of where I find myself – joy, pain, confusion, clarity, closeness, distance – it’s good to have something in my pocket to remind me that he’s walking through it, leading on to the next thing.