Carry and Roll

Lent is upon us. Many of those who follow this blog will likely know that I'm rather enthusiastic about this liturgical season, this time of pilgrimage to Easter. It's an opportunity for deeper reflection about Jesus and His ministry, His humanity, His cross, His death, His resurrection, His holiness.  Like many of you, I do more reading, more walking, more thinking, more praying.

I'm sometimes asked what I usually do as Lenten disciplines. Many give up things. My husband still likes to give up sweets and chocolates. In addition to taking things on, I do tend to do these two things:

• I don't exceed the speed limit. Weird huh? Speeding is a given in Southern California; when there's no traffic, you zoom ahead. I do this because often times I do so because I'm in a hurry. Except, in truth, I'm not. If I were more considerate to myself and others, I would make enough time to get some place without speeding. And, I do think that my need for speed makes me focus on me and my desires more than on others and their needs. They've got busy schedules as well. So, I stay within the speed limit and work on loving those that pass me by.
• We eat out a few times a week. I try to limit my purchases during Lent. I usually spend around $15-20 including tax and tip when I eat out. So I try to limit myself to eating just appetizers and drinking water so with any money I can save, I can donate to the local homeless services.If I spend only $8, I can donate $12. Donating the cumulative amount during Easter brings this Lenten exercise to life.

So here's something I'll be trying this year. For those of you who recall my posts regarding the Cruz de Ferro, it's a custom to carry a stone along the Camino de Santiago (via the Camino Frances) to carry a stone. (Check out a prior Lenten meditation.) The stone represents anything and everything in your life that weighs you down, that holds you back, that hurts you as it rubs against you. And yet you carry it. Maybe you don't realize how much it's hurting you. Maybe you are afraid to set it down. Maybe you think you cannot live without it. Then, at this enormous iron cross just past Foncebadon Spain, you leave the stone at the foot of the cross. You may have carried it hundreds of miles on your Camino walk, and you finally put it down for Christ to carry.

So I invite you to join me on this practice.

Starting Wednesday, I'll carry a stone with me. I'll carry it everywhere I go. The only time I will put the stone down is during our Taize services, when I will place the stone on the cross. And after the service, I'll pick up the stone and continue to carry it. Whenever I feel it in my pocket, I can reflect on all the things in my life that weigh me down, that hold me back, that hurt me, and pray for the strength to let go of that stone, to leave that stone with Christ, to look forward to the day I can let it go.

And on Easter, like those who visited the tomb on the third day, I'll roll the stone away. I'll put the stone down at the foot of the cross and pray that I do so for all the things I thought about during Lent. And in doing so, I pray that I'll find new life.

So go outside, look for a small stone about an inch long. On Ash Wednesday, pick it up and begin carrying it every moment you're up and about, thinking about all the things that you carry every day of your life. 

If you see me, I'll have extra stones that I can give to you, so ask me.

And we can walk together, knowing that we have our stones, looking forward to the day we can be freed of the stones in our lives.

Sacred spaces

There are moments where many people from very different lives suddenly find themselves in emotional unity, in harmony, with hearts beating together. The distances between them can be short or they can span around the world. This week many experienced one of these moments as we saw a well-known Roman Catholic cathedral, the Cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris, burn in flames.

It is entirely predictable that the French Roman Catholics were moved. It's part of the national identity. It's also very understandable that Roman Catholics around the world were touched by the unfolding tragedy. There are the many Francophiles around the world who are deeply saddened. Architect lovers. Historians. Many different peoples who would have been shocked by the fire.

It feels like a wide range of people were emotionally touched by this fire. It makes me appreciate the human need for beautiful places, quiet spots, sacred spaces. To some, such a space might be a cathedral. To others, a small chapel. To many I know, it could be in the wild country, the mountains, their garden. And to some, it could be a yoga mat, or window where the sunlight warms you as you sit quietly.

We all can be inspired by art or by music, by simple walls or by silence. These places and visions, scents and touches have a way of reaching deep into ourselves, giving us grace to think, to connect, to process. They also are highly personal. What works for me may not work for people close to me, even my own spouse. And that's ok. What resonates within us is part of our unique being.

To each of us, these places are special; they are sacred. They are sacred not because of a label or certificate, but because we consecrate them with our love and our intimacy with Creation and our Creator when we are there.

They are where we are invited to discover ourselves, see ourselves, be ourselves. They are where our core being floats to the surface, able to breathe in the air of life. We all need these places because our longing, our life energy, depends on a fertile ground to grow. Sacred spaces make space in our hearts and minds to discover the sacred within.

What if those places become destroyed, burned, and hidden? What if we move away? Are these places any less sacred? Are we bereft of the sacred when this happens?

All things return to dust. We certainly do. And special places cannot escape this truth of this world. It doesn't mean that we who remain behind cannot find meaning in the ashes. We can build ourselves a new space. We can give new life to a new place that in return gives life to us. We ourselves make a place sacred by discovering how that spot, that room, that wild open countryside changes us, reshaping us, reminding us of who we are.

Some places, like the Cathedral of Our Lady of Paris, were not on my radar as a sacred place to me. I didn't understand my emotional response. But when I looked inside, I had subconsciously found in those aged stones a foundation for my journeys. I began my backpacking journey through Europe, my first visit, as a college student. I attended daily mass there on various trips, by myself, with my parents, my ex, my husband, my nephews. I started my Taize pilgrimage from that Cathedral. I started my Camino from Lourdes to Santiago de Compostela by first visiting this Cathedral. I listened to the bells all night long -- every night -- on my last visit to the cathedral, as my AirBnB was a block away. I didn't intend to do so, but I had consecrated the cathedral because she invited me to share these special journeys with her.

What places have you 

intentionally or unintentionally 

made sacred with your love and presence?

May we always remember those places which invite us to feel alive, and may we be privileged to return to those places as often as we need.  In these sacred spaces, we are blessed by merely being present and we become one with the blessing that unites us all.

This Little Light of Mine, I'm Gonna Let it Shine

Praying at the Healing Service in Lourdes, France

Many of us said goodbye to Rev. Zelda Kennedy when she retired from All Saints Episcopal Church in Pasadena at the beginning of summer. And, as she battled cancer, many family and friends stood by her side to be with her and to ease her way into eternal light. Some of us had a chance to say goodbye one last time before she passed on December 29.

I didn't say goodbye to her in the end, but I did get to give her a big hug, and she's known for her hugs, at a chance meeting at church in November. I didn't feel moved to say anything to her. I thought afterwards that perhaps I should have. But it didn't seem needed or even appropriate at the time. Apparently she didn't either. We hugged and just felt each other's warmth and love. In retrospect, that hug was sacramental. It was a blessing to me, it was my blessing to her, and we acknowledged the divine during that hug.

Zelda touched many of us with her effusive love and joy. She oozed with the Holy Spirit and felt your heart better than most. And she organized pastoral ministries at All Saints Pasadena so that we could be caring, inclusive, and compassionate, with the parish and also with each other. When she faced the end of her time on earth, it was obvious to all that the grieving would be intense.

And it was. There were daily vigils of prayer and story telling from the moment her move to hospice was announced. And after she moved on through that divine veil, we held a nightly novena, a ritualized way to offer prayers both personally and communally. Her North Carolina family and friends said goodbye last week and this past weekend, we in Southern California did. The memorial was profoundly emotional, sad at times and downright joyful at others. With Zelda dancing down the aisles with us, we sang out "This Little Light of Mine".

I've been examining my heart during the past few weeks. The tears flowed freely at first. Sobbing burst from my lungs since July but were just as powerful after Christmas. And I wasn't a confidante. I was just someone who was touched by her, who worked closely with her for several years as the Pastoral Care liaison from the vestry, and as a Labyrinth ministry leader. She opened my eyes to recognize and accept rather than evade and reject gifts of love.

It might not be obvious from this blog, but before I started it, before Zelda touched me during our regular meetings, I resisted opening up, letting people into my heart, revealing my inner self. I was lousy at hiding my inner feelings, but I wouldn't admit them easily until the wounds grew to unbearable sizes. My first long term relationship suffered from this behavior. But things started to change and my journey took a new turn.

And my journey continues to this day.

So what happened during those weeks between Christmas and the memorial on January 13? I pray daily, so that wasn't different. I pray weekly in Taize worship, and that has in the past made big impacts on me. But I was praying communally, like in Taize, daily during this time. Somehow, in some way, I felt that community prayer working on me.

How is that possible? What was it about repetitious, chanting prayer that comfort many people like me? I don't know the answer but I do know that it's a salve. I get to share my open wound with others as they share theirs with me.

But we don't dwell on the wounds. We repeat our prayers. We acknowledge the pain, and focus on prayer. Together. And it brings life. Like the Lord stitching a baby together in her mother's womb, like the scab stitching together the edges of cut skin, the prayers bind us together into living tissue, living cells that come together and become living membranes, living tissue, living beings.

We become alive when we are stitched together in prayer.

Perhaps that's why I ask for your prayers often. Or why many ask me for mine. We pray so that the light shines on us. On all of us. On all parts of us.

Including the wounds. Because as the mystic Rumi once said, it's in the wounds where the light enters our being.

Let that little light shine. Let it shine on us all. On all parts of us. And like Zelda, be the little light that shines on others.

1-2-3- Go! - Lenten Meditations 2017

Little Rascals episode "1-2-3-Go!"

There's a Little Rascals episode that I remember to this day. In it, the young Robert Blake of the 70s TV show Baretta played "Mickey". Mickey was playing baseball with Spanky, Buckwheat, Froggy, and the gang when he chases a ball out into the street and gets hit by a car. He's hospitalized and as he recovers, the children come up with a plan called "1-2-3-Go!" that they promote to encourage street safety. Whenever you get to a place of danger such as a street, you don't just run out blindly. Instead, you stop and 1) look to the left 2) look to the right 3) look behind you. Then, when all is clear, do you go.

I'm not really sure why I remember this episode from childhood. Perhaps the self-help of the children appealed to me. Perhaps the fact that they all worked together to make their lives better and safer resonated deeply. Or may the slogan itself is something that makes sense even today, or, perhaps, even more so today with everyone walking with their faces buried in their smart phones.

These thoughts came to me this week as I was reflecting on this journey through Lent. I began to wonder about the journey itself. You see, one of the things I help do is help prepare the prayers and music for the worship in the style of Taize at All Saints Episcopal Pasadena. During the 40 days of Lent as we approach Easter, I have to remember not to include the Alleluia but to sing a different hymn instead. We don't sing it because during the liturgical year, this is a time of reflection and penance, and Alleluia isn't consistent with that theme. And yet, sometimes, like last week, I forget that a hymn has an Alleluia buried inside the lyrics. I've had to think about being more focused and not in auto-pilot as I put together the liturgy.

Because yes, Lent is a penitential season. Now, any of us think of penance as punishment for our sins. When we seek penance, many believe that we repent so that we can seek to be absolved of sin. In some faith traditions, an intermediary like a priest absolves us. In others, the repentance needs no intermediary and Christ is present to absolve us directly.

It's hard for me to think of repenting without understanding sin. In the Episcopal tradition, we confess to sin with a confession. Here's a standard confession in the style called "Rite II" from the Book of Common Prayer.

Most merciful God, we confess that we have sinned against you in thought, word, and deed, by what we have done, and by what we have left undone. We have not loved you with our whole heart; we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves. We are truly sorry and we humbly repent.

It's a spiritually meaningful prayer to me,  as is the similar Roman Catholic confession, because it makes sure that we acknowledge that sin is both in the act and in the omission of acts (what we have left undone, or what we have failed to do). Even more so, it helps make it plain what sin is. It's directly related to the Great Commandment. Here's the Gospel of Matthew version.

Then one of them, which was a lawyer, asked him a question, tempting him, and saying, Master, which is the great commandment in the law? Jesus said unto him, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets. — Matthew 22:35-40

Given that these are the two commandments that Christ gives in the Gospels, that all the commandments hang off of these, we can see how the confession takes shape. Forgetting the first commandment leads to the confession that "we have not loved you with our whole heart"; forgetting the second leads to "we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves".

Unlike the popular view that sin is an evil act, sin is more extensive. Sin in the Gospel isn't about intrinsic evil It's about what you say, do, think. There can be sin in both what we do and what we do not do.

But how can we possibly love God all the time? We experience tragedy and pain. War and politics. Racism, misogyny, homophobia, transphobia. It's so overwhelming that we forget to pray. We forget about the sick and the old, the prisoners, the lawyers and the tax collectors. How do love God, how do we love our neighbors as ourselves, how do we stay out of sin when we so easily, well, sin?

Sin makes more sense to me and is easier to work on when I think of it as separation from God. Whenever we sin, whenever we don't love another as we are loved, we move ourselves further from God. So penance is more about coming to a stop. Standing still. Assessing where we are. Looking to the left, looking to the right, looking behind us before we proceed. And, if necessary, changing directions on our journey. "1-2-3-Go!" We repent when we see the sin and change our trajectory. We repent when we fully acknowledge our misdirection. We choose to go towards God.

To me, that's the beauty of Lent. It's a pilgrimage towards Wholeness that fully appreciates that we will often wander away into the desert, further from divine unity. We get lost, out of intention. We get lost because of our habits. We get lost because of a lack of commitment to the path towards God.

And we acknowledge during Lent that this happened, is happening, and will happen again.

And we say "1-2-3-Go!"

We heal our relationship with God. We heal our hearts. We choose to be made whole.

Camino de Santiago - Who's on Your Praylist? (Preparing #9)

Marching in the Doo Dah Parade
in Pasadena , CA - 2012

On the last blog entry, I talked about setting up my music playlist as I walk the Camino de Santiago. Today,
I'll be meditating on the people, events, and dreams that I have for my prayer list.

On my list so far

• folks on the church prayer list
• those who've asked for prayers on Facebook 
• those who've confided in me their prayers
• my father who turns 80 while I am on my pilgrimage
• my mother who, though struggling with medical issues, prays all the time
• my nieces and nephews who give me a glimpse of a future worth creating
• the people of Gaza
• the people of Ferguson
• the people that the Episcopal Relief and Development organization serve so diligently
• those who struggle with economic oppression, racism, homophobia, and transphobia everywhere
• the homeless or near homeless throughout the world
• those who hunger and thirst
• those whose lives are consumed or driven by
• anger
• greed
• lust
• envy
• pride
• gluttony
• sloth
• those who struggle with health concerns or the means to pay for health care
• the teachers and those who are raising the next generation
• for all the saints who came before us, creating a world so full of bounty that we can at times take things for granted
• for the prophets

When I pray for those who struggle, I pray for myself as well. I pray not for only selfish reasons, but with also with humility, so that I can have the strength to give thanks for my life by caring for others.

Praying is a reason I like to serve as a Lay Eucharistic Minister. It's not a power thing. It's because I feel that I'm serving in a most humble way to nourish the spirit of my fellow peregrinos. This fall, I will start as a Lay Eucharistic Visitor at All Saints Pasadena. I'll then be heading out to hospitals and homes to visit those who could not make it to church on Sunday mornings to share the bread and wine made holy. It's an act of prayer to serve others.

It's a reason I love to help bring our Taizé worship services and the labyrinth walking meditation to our church. It's why I enjoy singing so much at church. I feel as though I can breathe with the Holy Spirit and share the transcendent love. They are all acts of love.

In my next blog posting, I'll be sharing prayers and hymns that I'll be taking with me. Walk beside me on my journey and share in the breath of the Holy Spirit, so that you can share it with others.

Thank you and bless you for joining me on this transformational journey.

I leave Los Angeles on September 10 and land in Spain September 11.

Please walk with me by donating to Episcopal Relief and Development

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Prior blog postings regarding the the Camino
Camino de Santiago - Introduction (Preparing #1)

Camino de Santiago - Pilgrimage (Preparing #2)

Camino de Santiago - Going Alone, Together (Preparing #3)
 Camino de Santiago - Lasciate omni speranza (Preparing #4)
Camino de Santiago - Walking with Those in Need (Preparing #5)
Camino de Santiago - Cruz de Ferro (Preparing #6)
Camino de Santiago - Capo de Finisterre (Preparing #7)
Camino de Santiago - What's on the Playlist? (Preparing #8)
Camino de Santiago - What's on the Praylist? (Preparing #9)
Camino de Santiago - This Pilgrim's Prayers (Preparing #10)
Camino de Santiago - The Way (Preparing #11)
Camino de Santiago - The Road Not Taken (Preparing #12)