Learning How To See

 Ken Jenkins wrote a song called "Benedictus". It's in his symphony The Armed Man: A Mass for Peace. The first time I heard it on the radio I nearly crashed my car. I had to pull into a parking lot until it was finished--that's how strongly the music moved me.

Finding a song or experience like that is wonderful. It makes me believe there is far more to this life than we usually notice. Yet, with time the experience mellows and fades until one day you wonder why the song seemed so important. 

Life moves, and we move within it. Our experiences are like glimmers of sunlight on a pond. New lights appear as old lights vanish. Some things endure, like gold and diamonds. Other things are brief and simpler, like tin and pebbles. And then there are experiences upon which our whole life pivots. These take on a power and a life that is not from us, but from beyond. I call them "Burning Bushes" because of the way they make me want to throw off my shoes before I go near them. 

All of these experiences are given to us to help us in our journey. When we find them we love to cling to them, to remember, to re-live the feelings and emotions. But none of it is meant to be permanent. They are there to help us cross the boundary of the perishable world into the world of eternity. Yes, as imperfect as our world is, I believe we can experience some of the qualities and perfections of Heaven right here and now. 

We must remember that all of life is sacred, everything is holy. Little things like buttering toast or tying our shoes can be potent Burning Bush moments because God is immanent, close, near-at-hand. God's breath, moving the branches of the trees. God's hand, covering us in our sleep. We don't need to be fearful or stressed. Even if our daily experiences are tin and pebbles, the Kingdom of Heaven is in them! We just need to learn how to see...

Luke 6: 27-38

 Today's Gospel from Luke 6 (Feb. 23, 2025; 7th Sunday, Ordinary Time) is a "direct order" from Jesus:

• love your enemy
• do good to those who hate you
• bless those who curse you
• pray for those who mistreat you

    He says that when we love our enemies and do good to them, our reward will be great and we will be children of God. I think that last part is good enough. It seems to be what I want most--to be God's child. But when it comes down to being nice to people who aren't nice, that's when the challenge of Christianity becomes real.

    In his first letter to the Corinthians, Saint Paul explains that we are humans from our human ancestor, (the First Adam) and we are also spiritual beings from our spiritual Ancestor, Jesus. Our Church goes on to explain that God our Father wants us to be both. What is imperfect in our human nature will one day be made perfect in Christ.

    Scripture invites us to take on the values of Christ, who loved the poor, weak, grieving, fearful and confused. We meet them every day. And the good news is that in spite of our human weakness God wants us to participate in his love. 

 

    

Will Wonders Ever Cease?

 

    In her book, A Gift From the Sea, Anne Morrow Lindberg writes about a cabin where she spent a summer on a beach. She notes that among the rafters there were spider webs which she didn't care to brush away. I suspect that, to Anne, leaving them there was a quiet act of rebellion against the expectations pressed upon women. Oddly, since reading her thoughts, I've been resistant to bothering most spiders, especially the common residents who hang around my house.

    In one corner, for quite some time now, there lives a Daddy-long-legs who has aptly produced multiple generations of offspring. The spider hangs quietly out of my way, but in a very obvious place, so I have gotten to observe its behavior several times each day. I notice that it has done a fine job of reducing the population of little creepies that love to hide in the cabinets and drawers. I don't mind sweeping up, and I'm always careful not to damage the nearly invisible strands of netting with which the spider harvests its dinner.

    So it was a big surprise one day when I walked into the room and discovered my roommate down on the counter eating a potato chip. I'm not sure what the spider was thinking, and I certainly never knew one to have a picnic. But within the day it finished off the chip and returned to its acrobatic world up near the ceiling. I confess that, since this revelation, I've been tempted to leave Fritos and bits of tacos nearby, just to see if they appeal. It's rather exciting to think that we might have something in common. After all, I love chips and tacos so we're practically buddies.

    One more reason to live and let live. And this, of course, makes me consider my work as a Franciscan. I'm not asking people to like spiders. Rather, I want people to consider how often (and how easily) we draw assumptions about our world that we haven't given any consideration to. If we say "Spiders are bad..." and leave it at that, then it isn't a long leap to saying "People are bad..." while we stare at someone who dresses differently, or wears their hair differently, or collects body art, or likes a different style of music. We all do it. But what would happen if we deliberately choose to do it less? What if we choose to approach each day with wonder, with a wide-open expectation of being surprised somehow, somewhere along the way?

    Wonders really never cease--it's one of God's favorite ways of teaching us. A spider who eats potato chips. A bird who swims in the rain-gutter. Compost that steams beneath the fruit trees. A warm-blooded human person who reaches over and grasps your hand.

    The world is packed with wonders. Take time to see, hear, watch and feel them. Before long, you will begin to notice wonderful new things about God. And why not? God created the world so that we can find him in it.

A Sense For Small Things

    It's late and I should be in bed, but I finally found my old blog and couldn't resist reviving it. After sharing my thoughts via email for three years, a few people asked if I would keep writing and I couldn't see why not.  If people like it, and it helps a little I suppose it's right up my alley. I breathe. I write. It's not complicated.

    But there's a moment when, doing what God has given us the grace to do, the Holy Spirit enters in--not to make us important, but to help others through us. I wouldn't be here today if other people hadn't let God use them. I like to think it's my turn.

    What have I learned, since I became a Secular Franciscan? I was younger when I started and had lots more energy. I was ready to do Big Things and I believed that would make God happy. But looking at my life I understand that I haven't really understood. With God, it isn't the Big Things, it's the little, small, everyday things that he enters into and uses to touch others.

    Secular Franciscans want to help Christ build his Kingdom. Every Christian shares the same call, not to win wars or conquer nations, but to win the daily battle of our own, complicated selves, to allow God to dwell in our ordinary humanness. This really is the "secret" of Franciscan life.  We work within our daily living, to be peacemakers, to be merciful, to be humble (no kidding!) To listen. To speak honestly. To care for all creation...

    It's not that being Franciscan makes us different. I think being Franciscan helps us understand how connected we are with everyone, how much we need each other to become the best person we can be. In every form and challenge of human life, by following the example of Francis of Assisi, the Holy Spirit completes and empowers our human dignity, to the point where we can help others find themselves. 

    It's the reason we are here. God made us human so that we can help bring humanity to fullness in him.

    It's a remarkable journey.