Wakeful Waiting

327
Photo by Joe Grant © 2018

And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake. Mark 13:37

Seeker,
As another year unfolds, what are you waiting for?

We call it longing
because it distends our sense of time,
and so much living is enlarged in the waiting.

Waiting…

for healing to happen,
anticipating a change to come,
expecting a loved one’s imminent return.

Waiting…

for loss to soften,
an ache to ease,
a void to shrink.

Waiting…

for tempers to cool,
a chafed heart to mend,
a conflict to ease, a bloody war’s end.

Waiting…

for a new day to break,
a tired old one to wane,
for the silence of night, or the chorus of dawn.

Waiting…

for a newborn’s cry,
or a loved one’s final breath;
we vigil before the mysteries of birth and death.

Waiting…

for the torrent to abate,
eager for the drought’s release,
we hold out for hunger and injustice to cease.

So many ways
and shapes of expectation,
whetted by keen anticipation.

All the while, and all around,
so much secretly undeclared,
quietly waits to be noticed, savored, shared.

The meaning of awe is to realize that life takes place under wide horizons, horizons that range beyond the span of an individual life or even the life of a nation, a generation, or an era. Awe enables us to perceive in the world intimations of the divine, to sense in small things the beginning of infinite significance, to sense the ultimate in the common and the simple; to feel in the rush of the passing the stillness of the eternal. Abraham Heschel

Endlessly empty,
waiting feels like drowsy,
mid-afternoon dullness.

Routines called “ordinary”,
when taken for granted,
numb and stultify.

Immune to golden sunsets and icy mountain peaks,
milky ocean spray and windswept wilderness,
we fail to notice the grandeur and beauty that over-wash us.

Even crisis fails to stir those still blind
to famished children, ravaged lives,
littered oceans, denuded hills, rapacious mines.

Daily life presents challenges and lessons
that measure our attentive presence,
and test our receptivity.

In every golden moment grace hides
in plainest sight
for those with presence of mind and a will to penetrate.

When life, love or loss
lift the veil,
hearts and horizons are transfigured.

In the clarity of astonishment,
there is nothing
ordinary about existence.

Thus poets, artists, mystics come to life;
poised for inspiration,
to crack hearts or mend them.

Attentiveness is 
that heightened state of readiness,
of wakeful watching and wondering.

Wakefulness sharpens connection,
disdains distraction, discards pretension,
unmasks self-preoccupation.

Like a heron intent on a gravelly stream,
or a tail-twitching tabby transfixed in the grass,
electrically-charged anticipation sharpens senses with focus and purpose.

Now we enter a state of expectant attention—
engaged presence—
the opposite of terminal boredom.

Fine-tuning the present, attentive to the peripheries,
scanning the horizon,
wakeful wondering disciples wait.

(God) did not wait till the world was ready,
till (all the) nations were at peace.
(God) came when the Heavens were unsteady,
and prisoners cried out for release. Madeleine L’Engle

Who knows how grace will
greet you this day, this year.
But will she find you awake and ready to receive?

joe

Re-Inhabit Life

lorettoapr15 074
Photo by Joe Grant © 2018

…every good tree bears good fruit, but the bad tree bears bad fruit. Matthew 7:17

Seeker,
How do pattern your day with habits to clothe the passing moments of life?

Renouncing the appetites of the marketplace,
the earliest monks
pursued the soul of Christianity into wild and rocky places.

In the desert they re-patterned life,
marking hours in prayerful rhythm,
into a daily office to transfigure routine into ritual.

Ironically, these ritual hours of office,
first formed in ancient cloister,
now shape the routine of office-workers worldwide.

With due attention and wakeful wonder—
practicing soul-stretching habits—
mundane becomes mystical and work an act of worship.

The patterns of our lives reveal us. Our habits measure us. Our battles with our habits speak of dreams yet to become real. Mary Oliver

How do we re-inhabit our days,
to wear us wider,
and stretch the span of our short sojourn?

Can we invest our brief time
in the sacred art
of becoming fully human?

What might shake us free from self-obsession
and bring us to our knees,
as we negotiate the stumbling blocks of ideology?

And, if suffering-love is more lasting
than faith and hope,
what are we prepared to do, for love’s sake?

And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love. 1 Corinthians 13:13

The trust-filled gaze of an infant
implores us to do our utmost
to make a safer world.

Tender shoots, boldly up-reaching,
beckon us to stoop and tend to beauty,
green with hope’s fullness.

Timeworn, aged hands,
shakily extended,
beg us to slow our pace and inhabit each fleeting moment.

Silent, hungry cries
of kin clad in different skin
fire the desire to simply live together as better beings.

This visible, earthly world is still God’s creation: one should not condemn it as a valley of tears; it is really the miracle work of God. And this earthly life is the life that God gives us, which it is our task to develop. Emil Brunner

Try these soul-stretching habits,
re-solutions for re-inhabiting 
this budding new year:

enter the dark quiet,
and listen for the signal
beneath the static;

seek sole time,
and turn off to tune in
to rhythms deeper;

extend loving attention
and cultivate concern for livelihood,
beyond the immediacy of you and yours;

practice Christhood,
by letting everyone you meet today
know they are Christ-companions, not competitors in your way.

Whenever I groan within myself and think how hard it is to keep writing about love in these times of tension and strife which may, at any moment, become for us all a time of terror, I think to myself: What else is the world interested in? What else do we all want, each one of us, except to love and be loved, in our families, in our work, in all our relationships? Dorothy Day

May you resolve
to shape a world
where it is easier for us all to love.

joe

From Segregation to Incarnation

Photo by Joe Grant © 2018 

Be aware, keep alert, for you know not when the time will come… Mark 13:33

Seeker,
Who is sacred to you, and who is not?

We have entered that darkening time
of watchfulness;
a season of ripening contradictions.

Festooned with jingle-jangle,
temples of commerce lure us
with sweet indulgences so very good for the economy.

All the while, in hallowed spaces,
choirs croon
over starlit, snow-globe nativities.

So familiar are those alluring songs
and fuzzy festive feelings,
it is difficult to stay awake.

For unto us and into the DNA
of this deep-divided world, Christ takes fragile flesh;
God-within, all around, among us everyone.

Blinded by brutality,
carved up by inequity,
our fractured family huddles into separateness.

While some bow to the East
and others incline to the West,
we also hark from Global North or South.

And many undertake that desperate exodus,
crossing desert, sea or mountain in search of peace:
possibility and the promise of a new beginning.

From ages past no one has heard, no ear has perceived, no eye has seen any God besides you, who works for those who wait… Isaiah 64:4

It is so easy to divide us—
Dives from Lazarus, darker from lighter—
the handful who own more than the billions on the bottom.

With fanatic fervor some commit heinous crimes
in the name of merciless gods.
Others give their lives over to national supremacy.

And many millions more find their souls
somewhere in the middle;
worried and wondering.

It may feel safer to stay distracted,
to tune out distant gunshot terror,
disregard protest, hunger, horror.

We might even decorate our lives
with pious pageantry.
But wishful thinking does not bring peace to birth.

Into this world, this demented inn, in which there is absolutely no room for him at all, Christ has come uninvited… With those for whom there is no room, Christ is present in this world. Thomas Merton

Christ has not come
just for a few or some.
the Holy One wears the skin of everyone.

No fence or barbed-wired boundary wall,
no color, caste or class,
can contain that merciful cascade meant for all.

For Christ bides with us already,
and we will know and be known,
when, as one, we refuse to be gated or segregated.

Under the rain of mercy
all are re-consecrated,
as separations are washed away.

In that blessed-broken body of Christ
there is no room for “they”, no place for “them”
and justice means “just us” – all of us.

May you find your way today to honor the Holy One Abiding-with-us!
joe

Make Room

DSC_0548 (2)
Photo by Joe Grant © 2018

In the sixth month Gabriel the messenger was sent by the Holy One to a hamlet in Galilee called Nazareth, to a young girl engaged to a man named Joseph, of the house of David. The girl’s name was Mary.  Luke 1:26-27

Seeker,
Who awaits you in these greatly troubled times?

How do we make room
for hope in the gloom,
and peace to smooth the way in the dealings of our day?

How do we give voice
to understanding and compassion
where heartlessness is always in fashion?

Will you attend that age-old parable
of messengers from the heavens
and signs in starry skies;

of wisdom setting out to meet humility;
and a maid who made room
for unimagined possibility;

of a refugee-God,
brought to birth in poverty,
and swaddled in squalor;

of a liberator nestled amid beasts of burden
in an occupied land,
and hope hosted by a wandering shepherd band?

Will you re-tell that ancient teaching tale,
of flight in the night
from lustful power

that fears the vulnerable,
and dreads the promised restoration
which is most surely coming?

And might you make space
for contemporary connections,
and parallel parables;

of unlikely welcomes and unsettling visitations
of fear and flight, of hearts roomy and ready,
and promise wrapped in powerlessness?

The gift of greatest efficacy and power that we can offer God and creation is not our skills, gifts, abilities, and possessions. Mary offered only space, love, belief.  Loretta Ross-Gotta

The work of Advent consists of this: make room!
Attune your heart to hope, long-expected
by hungry souls and broken lives.

Clear the clutter, quiet the noise,
turn off the soundtrack,
douse the twinkling lights.

Put away your lists and listen
to cries from the earth
that break the heart of the universe.

Set aside presents to be present.
Leave behind plastic pretense
to stand beneath the sky and ponder the Maker of a trillion galaxies,

who cares yet for the smallest places,
and seeks out the dark recesses,
bearing the gift of tenuous new life.

For into each unfolding moment
with or without us, the Christ arrives,
looking only for room and readiness.

Let us not be lost
to the cancer of consumption,
or adrift in self-fulfilling dreams of doom,

or decorated by distraction,
and driven by the appetite for acquisition,
dismissing the catastrophe playing out before our misted eyes.

All we need, to embody this Christ-becoming
is space, in humble, generous hearts
and spirits ripe and willing.

A message of hope sent to enlighten distress.
A promise of peace meant for conflict-torn places.
For Christ becomes flesh in the midst of our mess.

As water sinks to the lowest point and love finds the sorest soul,
Christ seeks out the broken,
bringing to birth restoration that makes the wounded whole.

The slimmest hope is hopeful still.
The slightest flicker glimmers for all.
As earth from darkness rolls away, will you re-turn your life today
to reflect the new light coming?

joe

Live Small

DSC_0009 (2)
Photo by Joe Grant © 2018

As he was setting out on a journey, a man ran up, knelt before him and asked, ‘Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?’ Mark 10:17

Seeker,
What would it cost you today to live a little more simply?

Change!
Change!
I need your change!

From the recessed doorway
a voice cries out
to the bustling any-town street.

Shapes of purpose-full people
blur by—
unheeding, unseeing, unaware.

You will indeed listen, but never understand, and you will indeed look, but never perceive. For this people’s heart has grown dull, and their ears are hard of hearing, and they have shut their eyes… Matthew 13:14

Change!
Change!
I need your change!

Captivated by the call,
a youngster, open-hearted,
turns herself around.

With bright-eyed encouragement,
she addresses the bundled body
that cradles a crinkled cup.

“Don’t despair,
change is coming!
We are working for change!”

“I need your change!”
the voice persists
with urgency.

Blushing,
the kind student leans in.
“I’m sorry… you must be hungry!”

Thrusting a handful of coins
into the cup, she adds,
“Perhaps a sandwich, or another cup of coffee?”

To her great surprise,
the hooded head
slowly shakes in disappointment.

“No…
I need YOU
to change your life!”

…and what does the Holy One require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God? Micah 6:8

It rightly begins
with being just—
the pathway to the repair of relationships.

Looking, listening, asking,
with ready willingness
to be turned around.

This world redeemed
ever needs to be reorganized,
by loving-with-sleeves-rolled-up.

Such feeding, healing, forgiving
gospel work
is only realized in kindness.

For justice
sees and celebrates
our kin in each and anything.

First, be just! Next be kind!
But then we must change
so much more than just our mind.

…and walk humbly with your God.

For sure,
that third invitation
is the hardest turn of all.

…when I experienced the warm, unpretentious reception of those who have nothing to boast about and experienced a loving embrace from people who didn’t ask any questions, I began to discover that a true spiritual homecoming means a return to the poor in spirit to whom the Kingdom of Heaven belongs. Henri Nouwen

Live humbly,
simply, slowly!
Keep company with the lowly!

Declarations like these
we seldom see
engraved on marble monuments.

Though it might sound straightforward,
such radical redirection
does not come easily at all.

When true simplicity is gain’d,
To bow and to bend we shan’t be asham’d,
To turn, turn will be our delight,
Till by turning, turning we come ’round right. Shaker Traditional

May you
content yourself with little.
May you choose a less complicated life.

Share freely
all life’s blessings,
and you shall taste well-being.

And may we all learn to live small,
because large living is costing the earth—
a price paid most dearly by the littlest lives of all.

…blessed are your eyes, for they see, and your ears, for they hear. Matthew 13:16

joe

Wholehearted

DSC_0126
Photo by Joe Grant © 2018

… you shall love the Holy One with all of your heart, all your soul, all your mind, and with all of your strength …  Mark 12: 30 

Seeker,
What merits your wholehearted attention these days?

We are living through a time of extremes,
where the so much taken by so few
leaves too little for too many;

where understanding and forbearance
are held hostage
by fanaticism and fear;

where hateful brutality
comes garbed as religion,
and callous cynicism dresses up as freedom.

Yet, it is deeper into this disturbing wasteland
that we are beckoned,
to bare our hearts to a plea;

the keening chorus
of tenuous life,
sorely afflicted:

echoed in the churning storms
and crackling glaciers
of warming-wasted oceans,

amid the chafing cries
of God’s children cast adrift
on treacherous seas.

Within this refrain lives
the deepest longing
of Our Long-Suffering Lover- aching for healing.

May you come to accept your longing as divine urgency.
May you know the urgency with which God longs for you.  John O’ Donohue

It begs us to leave hearts ajar
and comforts behind,
that would only harden the crusty edges of our care.

The wilderness of compassion hides seeds;
dry and dormant, anticipating catharsis—
the melting of hearts, the changing of minds and lives.

Wildness reminds us what it means to be human, what we are connected to rather than what we are separated from.  Terry Tempest Williams

These packages of possibility hold blueprints for peace
that blossom with the merest inclination of reverence,
and precipitation of tenderness.

In a world such as this,
who has the courage
to be vulnerable first?

Who dares confront
untruths, terror and taunting
with the hot truth of tears?

Who is strong enough to be gentle,
willing enough to embody the paradox:
only the broken are made whole-hearted?

Vulnerability is the only reliable measure of courage.  Brené Brown

Though in her manifold dimensions
universe looks like chaos,
at her core mysterious, she is profound connection,

light itself, ever-outreaching,
craving communion—deep calling out to deep
in a singular cosmic sacrament!

Will you quiet your soul,
steady your voice,
and ready your loved ones for wholehearted living,

so that lovingly we might stand together,
before the haze of hurt and hatred,
misguided mockery and the reckless ruination of holy life?

It is when we love the most intensely and most humanly that we can recognize how tepid is our love for others. The keenness and intensity of love brings with it suffering, of course, but joy too because it is a foretaste of heaven. When you love people, you see all the good in them, all the Christ in them.  Dorothy Day

Will you weep and keenly wonder,
at the state of God’s good garden,
and wounded humanity—body-broken of Christ?

Wholehearted living— compassion practiced—
is a narrow gate into Mercy’s expansive realm
that evaporates separation to draw us tightly together:

the dominated with the divided,
the gated with the segregated, the distracted with the discounted,
the privileged with the persecuted people of God,

together at last
under the cross we all bear,
brimming with pains and joys we can share.

joe

Last and Lasting

puget four 089 (4)
Photo by Joe Grant © 2018

Come unto me, all you who are weary and carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take up my yoke and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble-hearted, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden light.  Matthew 11:28-30

Seeker,
What do you leave behind for those coming after you?

As I grow down, creaking and groaning,
I find my (much-diminished) self,
ever-closer to the ground.

Bent a bit,
and increasingly inclined
to question rather than resolution,

I am more at home
with the lyrical than the literal 
in any and everything: rhyme without reason.

Truth, that once seemed
to fit so neatly
into my travelling haversack,

seems so much larger,
that I can no longer
get my heart, let alone my arms, around it.

Still, wisdom comes to visit,
gracing my committed incoherence
with room enough for wonder and woe to cohabit.

As tears flow more readily than reasons,
explanations evade me for the monstrous misery I witness;
swept away in a deluge of compassion.

What to tell my dear, growing-up children,
after over half a century of wondering and wandering;
looking back more frequently than ahead?

It sounds so simple and simply too hard;
that love is where they came from
and all that keeps us going.

as we live in the light and the love of those
who came before us…
…we will be remembered
in the way others still live, and still live on, in our love.  David Whyte

And, with the evaporation of absolutes
in the harsh light of mercy,
judgement and dogma dissolve.

Though I can’t quite put my finger on it,
I think, somewhere I must have surrendered;
lost or let go these last illusions of control.

How frightening, to be so free;
lightly-burdened;
co-responsible for everything, yet in charge of nothing.

Could this be
the uncharted territory I always sought, 
while playing in the safe confines of the sandpit?

What now remains— last and lasting—
before the long slumber                                                                                                         envelops for good what stood for me.

Now, daily to marry grateful wonder with woe,
and find, in that blessed arrangement, stepping-stones
to help in my stumbling toward the wholeness called well-being.

May it be so for you, fellow pilgrim,
as you make your way home,
much more deeply into here; far less concerned with hereafter.

And in your seeking, may you be found
and found out, as a wise fool, whose supple heart,
cleaved by loss and love, may never close to mercy and mystery.

Rest and be thankful!

joe