.idolatry or wonder.

Concepts create idols; only wonder understands anything. (gregory of nyssa)


Thinking about this and how it relates to Lent and intentionality and presence. When we feel the need to get caught up in the way things are or "always have been" we become believers of idolatry. When we consume more than we give and demean more than we uplift, we venerate the profane. By sticking to the hard and fast rules of law and life  and do not leave room for speculation, skepticism, or openness, we take the easy road. We don't have to be perfect. 


Jesus said, "I have come not to call the righteous but sinners to repentance." (luke 5:32) Jokes on us... there are no righteous people. We are not perfect, pious, faultless people. Lent is a season of repentance, a season in which we remind ourselves that we are dust... that's all. Just dust. We make mistakes. We fail to speak up/out for the vulnerable. We miss opportunities to connect with God. 

It's a season of wonder...
+wondering why we do the things we do and asking for forgiveness.... 
+wondering how we got to where we are and who we have hurt along the way.... 
+wondering about the things we take for granted and the things we dismiss... 
+wondering about our attachments and finding ways to better articulate our actual, physical needs...

I don't know about you, but wondering sounds far more liberating than concepts. Perhaps through wondering we can all come to better understand our lives in relationship to the earth, to others, and to God. 

Commit with me to being more wonder-full/filled this Lenten season, would you? 

.musings.

Lots of Ash Wednesday love today...

Here's a poem by Jim Burklo, friend and Associate Chaplain at University of Southern California. I think it hearkens back to the Tracy Chapman song... things are comin full circle...

Ash Wednesday

On my forehead,

A sign of the cross,

Smudged in ash from the fire

That burned down the McMansion of my hubris,

And, with it,

The money I should have given away,

The television I used to numb my senses,

The carpet I should have been called on,

The doors I should have opened to others,

The envelopes I should have used

To send letters of love,

The wise books I shelved prominently

So that others would think I had read them,

The blank places in my photo albums

Where my darker moments should have been remembered,

The calendars where visits with the people who needed me most

Should have been scheduled,

The couch of my complacency,

The lounge-chair of my laziness,

The shirts I stuffed with my pride,

The moccasins I should have traded with others

So we could have walked miles in them.

On my forehead,

A sign of the crossroad

Where I can turn from the way of ruin

To the way of life.

.mountains.

Incredibly relevant as we begin our Lenten journey....

+++
They tell me
renounce all
renounce all those material things you gained by
exploiting other human beings...

....there's still time to save my soul....



Find the lyrics here...

.and so it goes.

Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday. 
Tomorrow is the beginning of a pilgrimage, a yearly pilgrimage. 
Tomorrow begins a 40 day journey through the Wilderness. 


I was just telling a friend tonight that Lent never seems nearly as involved as Advent because it drags on. Advent feels like if you blink, you might miss it. Jesus will be here and it may feel like the process before never happened. And then she reminded me, "That's what it's supposed to be." It's supposed to feel like we're dragging through the mire seeking the light at the end of the tunnel. We know it's there... we can feel hope... but there's so much to get through before we get there. 


T.S. Eliot wrote a poem entitled "Ash Wednesday" that I believe I have quoted on here before. Nonetheless, found this to be relevant to my current feelings about Lent:


...

Because I know that time is always time
And place is always and only place
And what is actual is actual only for one time
And only for one place
I rejoice that things are as they are and
I renounce the blessed face
And renounce the voice
Because I cannot hope to turn again
Consequently I rejoice, having to construct something
Upon which to rejoice
And pray to God to have mercy upon us
...


This year, more than before, Lent for me is about impermanence. Ashes to ashes and dust to dust, right? We're born, we live, we die. I love Ash Wednesday because it reminds me how insignificant everything is; yet in this paradoxical way how even the most insignificant things still have a purpose. We're not just ashes. The text doesn't say "Ashes and dust." No, it says "Ashes TO ashes and dust TO dust." That "to" is full of substance and action, a life lived. 


"And place is always and only place/ And what is actual is actual only for one time..."
This season of Lent I am aiming to be more present, more intentional. These words that I received from Inward/Outward today prompted this aim:


"Come back to the heartbeat, the pulse, the rhythm we all walk to, regardless of nation or color. Come back to the breath – inhale, take the world deep into your lungs; exhale, give yourself back fully. This is what the body says: release the peace that lives within your skin." 
             (Gayle Brandeis from, The Body Politic of Peace)


Taking in and giving back fully. This is what I want to do. I have yet to figure out how to embody this goal, but that's why Lent is a journey, right? Perhaps it will not come in one consistent form. In fact, that's not how my spiritual disciplines work anyway. 
Let's just say I'll keep you posted. 


Until then:: "...release the peace that lives within your skin..." and "pray to God to have mercy upon us."

(major props to Brandeis and Eliot and Scripture)

.know others, know thyself.

"In the silence of listening, you can know yourself in everyone, the unseen singing softly to itself and to you."
(rachel naomi remen)

[School is keeping me busy. One of these days I will post something of significance. Until then, enjoy these other bits of significance.]

.holiness and truth.

"I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the Heart's affections and the truth of the Imagination." 

(john keats)