Why is being still so difficult?

Something I learned as a career journalist was that the skill lay not in scoring a by-lined story about a plane crash on page one, or playing stenographer to a celebrity or politician; it lay in producing an interesting, accurate, relevant and informative story from a three-day drainage board hearing where half the press bench were asleep from tedium. A good journalist would pay closer (and better-informed) attention than the board members themselves (and better represent the "public interest").

A good journalist, in my book, is one who can pull a relevant, interesting and responsible story from anybody, anywhere, any time. To do that calls for a willingness to think, to research, to learn and, most of all, to listen. It calls for sensitivity. As well as his or her accurate notes, a good reporter would come back from an interview able to describe the setting in which the interview took place and details of the interview subject’s mannerisms, movements, mood and apparent health.Very little of it would go in the story but it would all go into an understanding of what the story was about. You have to be still if you are going to do that. And stillness is a sign of genuine curiosity.

Being still is a problem not because we are too easily distracted, I believe, but because we are not distracted readily or deeply enough. We are distracted, not when our attention flickers around roomsful of irrelevancies but when we submerge our attention in something deeply enough to be led to an awareness of our own meaning.

It happens when we let ourselves be drawn into moments we’d usually be too busy to heed. The secret of meditation — a sure-fire path of health-giving stillness — is not about a focus on anything, but a focus off everything.

Stillness means silencing our own noise, our personal sense of importance and feelings of responsibility. We live in a society that values conceit as “self-esteem”… the victim is self-confidence.

In trying to be beacons of that sort of "self-esteem" we mount a teeter-totter of cross-purposes and conflicted priorities; we succumb to false feelings of responsibility. And they fill us with anxiety because, in truth, we do not have the sort of control over anything that our imagined responsibilities would require us to hold in balance. Deep down, we know we're riding on "luck". Looking out at the world from “cones of conceit”, we dare not be distracted, certainly never deeply distracted, but take false respite in the meaningless form of entertainment -- spiritual white noise -- that helps to mask and suppress the need to venture more deeply:  venturing that would free us (but demolish illusions that have become very precious to us).

So, entangled in details of imagined significance, we grow tired. We feel we have misunderstood... that we have made “wrong” decisions... that we are “failing”... we “should have” done this or that differently… and all of this, in turn, beds us deeper in the mire of fear and fretfulness. The sort of “self esteem” we’ve sought turns sour. We begin to realise we need to let go but don’t know how. We have so conditioned ourselves to anxiety it feels like stimulus.

It is stillness that frees us: letting ourselves be distracted by something from beyond the “cone of conceit” — really distracted… silenced in our distraction. At peace in our silence; still in the peace that begins to bathe us… the peace that “passes all understanding”. We experience it as love.

And, having experienced it, we can share it.

In what ways might my faith community help me on this journey?

By encouragng my distractions towards what is real

... by helping to provide experiences on freedom's side of my "cone of conceit"

...  by providing tools to help my ideals, aspirations and zeal -- all the self-important task-specific stuff -- mature into visions and expressions of love.

Brilliant MikePatterson!

I am a lover of silence for the world is not silent.  Turn off our human noise, the sounds of creation fill the void:  The gentle whisper of rain, the symphony of bird song, the lullaby of pines in the wind, the rousing chorus of bullfrogs seeking love on a spring night.  All are music to my ears.

I know of people, my darling son and partner included, who fear the absence of human sound.  Left to their own minds they find chaos not peace.  So cultured to constant cacophony they can not filter noise;  can not distinguish lullabies from dirges, hear sound bites as totalities, move beyond the wall of silence to hear the answers hidden there.

Perhaps this is my conceit, that I enjoy my own mind.  Recoil when others intrude upon it uninvited.

Perhaps as a member of a community I must recognize the need for noise yet encourage the discovery of silence and find balance for all.

LB

Soon silence will have passed into legend. Man has turned his back on silence. Day after day he invents machines and devices that increase noise and distract humanity from the essence of life, contemplation, meditation... tooting, howling, screeching, booming, crashing, whistling, grinding, and trilling bolster his ego. His anxiety subsides. His inhuman void spreads monstrously like a gray vegetation.

     Jean Arp (1886-1966)

Can I relate to the disciples!   To be still, to sit quietly and wait while Jesus went off by himself and prayed!    No, I couldn't do it.  Yes, I would fall asleep.

I have been to retreats when someone would attempt to lead the group in meditation or meditative prayer.  It is not for me.  First of all, the leader usually asks the group to think about their breathing, and then to breath in as he repeats a two or three word phrase, and then out for the next three words, repeat, and repeat.  By then I am dizzy or gasping for breath.  To consciously control my breathing - to slow it down or speed it up - it doesn't make sense.  My body fights it.  Seventy years ago God breathed the breath of life into my 7 1/2 pound body, I gasp and yelled.  But then I settled down and started breathing on my own.  Its worked fine ever since.  Run a block, climb a ladder, swim the length of the pool, and it speeds up.  Relax and drift off to sleep, and it slows down.  All without thought.  Try to think about it, and I interfer with the natural rhythm.  Not for me.

Next they want me to be absolutely still, feet flat on the floor, spine straight, shoulders back, arms relaxed on my lap, palms turned up.  Now look at some spot in the air about six feet ahead of me and unfocus my eyes.  What!     So I sit, staring into space.  My arm starts to itch.  My ankles want to cross.  I fight them.  No - that's not what I'm supposed to do.   I sit and stare.  Gradually my unfocused eyes start to shut.  I force them open.  Unfocus again.  Breath.  Eye lids droop.  I'm asleep.  

Please Jesus.  If you need companionship at this time, couldn't we walk around the garden a bit.  Perhaps we could meditate as we walk under the trees.  Perhaps we could feel the cool moss under our sandals.  Maybe a night bird will fly between the olive trees.  Or maybe in the clearing we might see a shooting star - a message from above that God is with us.  Couldn't we pray while walking around?   Or, you get someone else to sit and pray with you.   And you could send me on an errand.  Isn't there someone who needs to be fed, someone who could use a helping hand, maybe a child who needs a story, a baby that needs to be walked, a leper who needs someone to tend to his needs.  Here I am, send me.   Just don't ask me to sit still and do nothing. 

Why is being still so difficult?   Could it be because we have different talents?  Maybe I'm meant for service, for study, for facilitating discussion groups, for delivering a message of hope, for feeding the hungry, caring for the children, washing the dishes - even writing down my thoughts in a journal or organizing them in an essay to share with others.   But don't ask me to just sit still - my sister would be good at that.  Not me.  

In what ways might my faith community help me on this journey?   Again, I say:  recognize that we have different gifts and value them.   Let each of us be ourselves.  Give us different creative outlets.  And recognize that some things are hard for me.  I suspect that I am ADHD (when I was a kid we just said 'She's a difficult child', or 'She just can't sit still'.   I also suspect that my son inherited his Obsessive/Compulsive tendencies from me.   Someone once told me that I 'attack' sessions of meditation like I would attack any assignment.   In trying too hard I defeat the purpose - I am struggling for relaxation, rather than drifting into it.  But let myself drift and I fall asleep.

I don't think of my church as a place of stillness. I think of it as a place of action - a place that is constantly moving. Sometimes we - as a faith community - are moving forwards, sometimes we are moving backwards and sometimes it seems as if we are going around in circles, but always we are moving. Sometimes it feels as if we are moving at a snail's pace - talking for years about making decisions that are important to the life of the community. Occasionally we move at warp speed - if someone is in trouble, we'll be there to help them out. Always we are moving.

Sometimes I think I do better at sitting still than my congregation does. I like to take my time to make decisions, but once my mind is made up there is little anyone can do to change it. Once I have made my decision, I want to act on it immediately.

What can my congregation do to help me learn to sit still? Honestly, not much. What can I do to help my congregation learn to sit still? I can remind them that listening to all points of view is important, as is pragmatic decision making. I can remind them to take time on the journey to stop and smell the roses.

I grew up in tiny bush villages of less than two hundred people.

My mother, a city girl, hated the isolation - but I loved it.

With so little in the way of external distraction, I turned inward - and reflection has always been a huge part of my life's journey.

I'm thinking now of "my" peppercorn tree - where I would sit hidden in it's branches with just the birds and insects for company.

But, balance is important, for it's in our darkest moments that we want and need the warmth and healing of human love.

And, having been there ourselves, our empathy and compassion  opens our heart to others.

This was one  dark night of the soul for Jesus. As such, I understand the anguish he felt at his much loved disciples falling asleep.

But I also understand that our journey is ours alone - Jesus's journey wasn't his disciples.

In that sense we are always alone - unless we have faith in something beyond ourselves - the More, The Other, God?

Good morning. Please see the synposis and suggested discussion question from Rising with the Morning Star below. Thank you.

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Can I think of an experience of division and conflict that led to renewal and health?

A few years ago, things were not going well for me in the little church I attended.  I began to consider solutions and options.  When I finally talked to Seelergirl and her children about trying another congregation (within the UCC) they were willing.  We started attending and eventually joined the larger downtown church we now attend.  The change was right for us - we are thriving in the new congregation - and we have been there long enough now to see that it too has its conflicts and problems, tensions between different groups, different priorities, different visions.  But I will stay with them and try to work them out.

I still miss the friendships and sense of belonging that I had developed over 30 years in my previous church.  There has been a change in pastoral relations in the past year, and I try to visit and worship with them occasionally - or work on their fund-raising dinners - but they know that I am now committee to my new church and will not be transferring back in the foreseeable future.

And who knows what the future holds?

I guess the most readily explained split and subsequent healing that I've experienced in the UCC was the adoption of an inclusive same-sex marriage policy by a pastoral charge in a fairly conservative rural community.

Several people left the church over it and would not be reconciled, so the "healing" is not complete. But the process was conducted under my wife's very sensitive leadership over a two-year period.

The decisive consideration for many seemed to be the question: "would I want to belong to a church that turned a gay, lesbian or transsexual child of mine away if he/she wanted to make a sacred commitment to his or her partner?"

A strong opposed view was that "no-one around here's like 'that' " -- even though a well-liked lesbian couple were very much a part of the congregation... but the real extent of that denial was revealed after the inclusive policy was finally adopted.

When the real incidence of GBLT became evident and people were freed to talk openely about their sexual identity, it was a breath of fresh air through the place.

It was possible to see that the rifts between people were not the result of the policy being brought to the fore, but had been there before, festering away in what proved to have been several small intractible pockets of homophobia that had somehow influenced a whole community.

The inclusive marriage policy edged aside fear and secrecy and re-opened the way to healthy faith development.

Unfortunately, I suspect many of the stresses are less readily approached or resolved... I am thinking about  what may often be local conflicts to do with things like the attachment to unsustainable church buildings, actively seeking right relations with aboriginal peoples, various theological contentions, attachments to "good old" hymns, etc.... but the marriage issue may point a way.

Interesting that Seeler and Mike both chose to look at this from a church perspective! I took a different approach and thought about conflicts within friendships I have had.

I am thinking of the respectful debates and arguments I have had with friends. Because of the level of respect involved I have come away feeling better about myself instead of worse. I have learned things about my friends and hopefully they have learned about me. I f we all had the same passions and opinions, life would be so boring! I am not someone who does well with conflict, however if people can share disagreements with me in a respectful manner, it can be a positive and empowering experience that can lead to a stronger and healthier relationship.

 Greetings. Please see today's synopsis and suggested discussion questions from Rising with the Morning Star below. Thank you for your continued participation in this Lenten discussion.

I find it's easy to overlook the importance of what happens in any given day. Often it's only in retrospect that I realize the significance of an action, a conversation, a decision. Today's reflection helps me remember the need to pay attention to the moments, or signs, that make up each day.

This morning as I stood shivering at the gas pump, frustrated by the cold wind whipping my spring coat and the cost of the gas I was pumping, I heard a little sparrow cheerfully cheeping. It was in the rafters above the pumps, chirping and twittering away. Soon another sparrow joined it and they flitted around together. I enjoyed watching them and listening to them. They helped me remember that spring actually is here, despite the cold wind.

There are many different kinds of signs: natural (clouds darkening), biological (head throbbing), emotional (a smile on a face), social (long applause after a concert), political (who is elected or not), economic (business closing), and so on. What signs will or did you see today? Respond to? Prefer to ignore?

It's a slate-grey, windy day, it's Holy week and the country's in the grips of a squalid political campaign... puh-leeese!!!

I choose to re-focus.

I understand dreams as signs of a sort and it’s my dreams I most enjoy. And, ever since a powerful, transforming experience in my late teens, I have not had a nightmare that I can recall. My dreams are usually funny… sometimes funny enough to wake me. They are always surreal and often beautiful. They often have some sort of meaning. So I look forward to my dreams and often remember them clearly.

Last night’s remembered dream was typical. Let me tell you a simplified, edited-down version of it:

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I woke to flashing red lights from the street and looked out. There were police cars... and a large pile of bright yellow pumpkins was blocking the road. I went down to see.

One of the pumpkins had rolled towards our door. I picked it up, put in inside and went out again. The police — local Mounties — were running tape around the pile of pumpkins and diverting the few cars and trucks that approached. I bent to pick up another pumpkin and was told to leave it alone. I did and asked the Mountie what had happened. She didn't know. There was no overturned truck and no sign of any accident; just the pile of pumpkins.

In the morning, everything had gone. But, when I cut open the pumpkin to roast some for our dinner, a lively little monkey jumped out and, just avoiding our dog, jumped to a curtain. We fed it some canned peach and it seemed happy to settle in.

We got the next pumpkin from a similarly mysterious pile down beside the beach. As we left, the police began turning up there too. Some friends from Ontario had turned up unexpectedly and they had brought in a pumpkin with them from a pile they'd had to detour around on a back road in Quebec. Inside their pumpkin, we found a beautiful big tropical-looking beetle that immediately settled down in our fruit bowl, and in our pumpkin from the beach, there was a bird that flew to a curtain and began to sing beautifully.

Then there stories about pumpkin piles began appearing on the internet and then in the media: there were warnings about them; do not touch them, especially do not eat them… too late. Then our friends showed some journalists what we’d found inside the pumpkins we’d eaten and smuggled them back to us in PEI. The photographs were all over the place and our friends were accused of hoaxing the public and became high profile, controversial figures. Then the media got to another mystery pumpkin pile first and found all sorts of creatures inside them, most of which they let run, fly or scuttle off into the woods.

The monkey, beetle and little bird we’d found had settled down happily with us… but massive controversies were breaking out. Animal welfare groups demanding hat pumpkin creatures be released or treated humanely in captivity; food banks asked for the pumpkins; a multinational company bought exclusive access to the “windfall” pumpkins while native groups pointed out cultural proprietorship over these kinds of foods; scientists warned of introduced threats; medical authorities listed threats of disease and infection; agricultural authorities accused the pumpkin producers of Ecuador of dumping product; there was talk of terrorism and aliens and bizarre weather events… the government, accused of doing too little, fell.

And STILL the piles of pumpkins appeared and animal activists would surround them to liberate the creatures inside: snakes, scorpions, giant cockroaches, rats… then the economy totally collapsed. The price of pumpkins soared… it was now the military that surrounded the pumpkin piles as soon as they heard of them and could get there.

Everyone began to gather pumpkins before the army helicopters, the authorities or company enforcers arrived and the creatures inside them again all seemed to be benign. 

Life became sweet again, and I woke up feeling, I’m going to roast the last of that squash for dinner tonight. And I was a little sad to find there was no monkey, bird or beetle in the dining room. But the pumpkins had come from the place where all the best things do... from beyond our understanding.

I grew up on the lake and most days through the year I would sit on it's shores and watch the incoming weather, the sunsets, the everchanging colours of the water corresponding with the sky. I could just smell and feel the air and knew what was coming even before it was visible. The still waters would reveal a wind many miles away with the sigh of a simple ripple that would sometimes change to roaring waves crashing against the shoreline. A cloudless white sky would slowly or quickly be transformed to become a feast for my eyes and often inform me if I should stay or search for shelter.  I was compelled and transfixed within it's power and my very being was transformed by it's impact.   

Years later, I moved "inland" and felt landlocked by the seas of concrete surrounding me. The buildings created by man that trapped the heat of the city and blocked the view of the day and night unfolding.  The missing horizen caused me to lose my bearing. The lights of the city appeared to outshine the stars and the moon from where I was standing and if a storm was approaching I wouldn't know it until it was almost upon me or I had to check the weather channel. My senses became dull and flat.

If I am not careful, I can lose sight of God.  I need to remember that God is the ground for my being and my horizon is where heaven and earth meet.

Sometimes the signs can be confusing.  Sometimes they seem to contradict each other.  I am reading the biological signs recently.  Is that slight problem a symptom of something serious that is going to change my life?  Or is my overall feeling of good health and well being a sign that I am going to well for a long time to come?

Others are easier to see in hindsight.  Just today Mr. Seeler was saying that he never would have guessed that his young nephew would have gotten into drugs and is now on the methadone program.   Looking back on his lonely, motherless childhood - his shyness - how withdrawn he was,  his lack of social skills - I should have seen it.  His father thought that because he was quiet, spent hours in his room on his computer, never was 'running the roads' with a group of other kids, that he was a good kid keeping out of trouble.   He was easily influenced by any kid who would pay attention to him, a follower who didn't know how to say 'no', and then he found out how much pleasure drugs brought to his otherwise dreary life.

What are the signs?  What do you prefer to ignor?   It's too late for me to help Mr. Seeler's nephew, I haven't seen him in years - I think that needs to be left to his father and the social worker.   And for now I'll ignor that symptom I'm noticing - my doctor is aware of it.  

There are signs of spring behind our changable weather.  I'll keep making plans for housecleaning and gardening, and welcoming the season.  Easter and new life, after another winter.  And  my daughter cancer free and soon to go back to work. 

As a substitute teacher today, I had to stay alert to the signs students offer to be ready to respond appropriately to their needs and inclinations.

Listening to the news, I see signs of an electorate that is getting closer to the tipping point of radically changing their voting decisions, but I don't think close enough yet.

The letters to the editors are pointing to issues we need to discuss and explore as Christians.

As the song says, "Signs, signs, everywhere there's signs"...

I decided to list the signs I saw today:

Natural: beautiful, blue sky; an indoor hybiscul budding

Biological: a tingling in the back of my throat indicating a possible oncoming cold; the watery eyes of the child I look after; another child with a disability returning to our program after two weeks in the hospital.

Emotional: some children laughing, others crying

Social: people laughing at a movie

Political: too many signs - physical and metaphorical! This is the only one I tried to ignore.

 Good morning. Here is the synopsis and suggested discussion question for today. Blessings.

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The book includes a meditation as a main component of the day's reflection. But I found the meditation, which seems to be about fear management, failed to connect with the reading from John which is about discernment. Still…

What sounds did I hear in the meditation?

 (In answer to a question in the book)

Closing my eyes, as instructed, then reading the words of the meditation was my first problem so I opened my eyes.

Yes, I could imagine the sounds of a stream, even bird calls. I could feel the chill ripples and the hard, smoothness of stone; the “shape of fear” I could not get. The metaphor of the spirit then hiding the stone away, still presumably laden with fear, in “gently eroding” waters was unhelpful to me.

How might I listen more deeply to life around me and within me so that I can help to heal the world?

My experience of the Spirit is that it fairly immediately strengthens us and puts fears into perspective. Listening more deeply is to listen more clearly. It gives me courage and discernment, a cooler head to deal with the fear; but it does not “gently erode” them away.

The way I was taught to deal with fear by my father was pragmatic. It was to accept that everybody experiences fear but, by act of will, to take control of it, first by looking at the source of fear and checking whether it is real or not. Most fears are groundless. Recognising that is far healthier than suppressing the fear in the hope that it will gradually vanish.

If a threat IS real, you must quickly decide whether or not it is a threat you can overcome. If you can, then you should do what is necessary (remembering that fear is often wielded as a bluff). It is also important to never go further than necessary out of anger or revenge.

If you cannot deal with the threat, distance yourself. If you can’t do that, can you ignore it until you are in a stronger position? If you can’t do that, as a last resort, go down fighting; those who’ve dared to surprise an over-confident adversary have often surprised themselves. But never engage with the source of your fear on its terms or by its rules.

It is essential to get out of the habit of accepting fear as a “normal” way to live. Fear of this sort invites the rule of bullies. It is an acceptance of slavery, and we know very well how many masters we can serve. When we listen to political rhetoric and “attack ads” we should hear a warning that the rule of the bully is upon us. The longer bullies go unchallenged, the stronger they get.

What is John 10: 1-10 really encouraging us to do? Certainly not to wash away our fear of “the wolf” but to be discerning about who we admit to fold… about who we decide to follow. But read on in John: the road of life is bumpy.

"The one who enters by the gate is the shepherd of the sheep." John 10:2

As I read through today's selection from the book about a mother recognizing her baby from its cry and the infant knowing its mother by her voice, I remembered something I read in another thread on the Cafe during this past week.  It was about a city slicker being explosed to rural life - wanting to see a calf being born.  The cow was in a paddock anxiously sniffing around the young calves, and the rancher explained, "She knows that she should have a calf and she's looking for it."  Within a short while, the nose and front hooves appeared - then the calf slid out.  The cow turned, sniffed the wet, black something - then began cleaning it off, clearly pleased that she had found her own calf. 

I think that was more by smell than hearing, but I think the symbolism is the same.  We recognize those important to us by being alert and aware of various sights, sounds, smells, touches of those around us. 

A year or so a new puppy was introduced to my daughter's family, and my daughter explained recently that the puppy recognizes:

Dad - the alpha male

Mom- the one who provides food, water, bedding, and care

Big sister - the one who needs companionship - he sits by her while in the evening as she does homework or watches TV

Little brother - litter mate - pal - they play together as equals

If a puppy can understand the complex relationships of living in family or community, is it too much to expect that we should be able to.  When people followed Jesus, responding to him as their leader and guide, it must have been because they recognized that he had these qualities.   He was a alpha member of the pack, but he also provided nourishment, support, companionship, and yes, I think he also enjoyed their company and offered himself as a servant providing for their needs. 

 Good morning. Thank you for visiting WonderCafe's Lenten discussion. Below are today's synopsis and suggested discussion questions from the book, Rising with the Morning Star for today.

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I love this story of Jesus washing the disciples feet.  What a beautiful symbolic story of servanthood!   How better to show that he is not the king on the white horse or with a crown on his head and a seat on a throne, but a servant of all.  

I find it ironic that many people in Jesus time expected a powerful King to rule over them, and despite everything he said and did, including sharing meals with outsiders, riding on a donkey and washing feet, those who are caught up about the 'second coming' still look for a King.   

Isaiah spoke to us about the suffering servant; both he and Micah spoke of humility as one of the three virtues God asks from us.  Yet, we still want a king.  And if we are to follow the King, we want positions of respect and authority. 

What loving gesture did you show recently?

Yesterday I joined with a group of people at my church and made hot cross buns, that were to be given out, no charge, to whomever we wished.  People could come in off the street and take a 1/2 dozen round, or more.  Others could take them home, or give them to neighbours, or deliver them to the sick or shut in, or take them to the community kitchen, or simply go out onto the streets, or the nearby mall and give them away.   They accepted no payment but, I discovered, if you searched out one of the organizers and insisted, they would take a donation towards flour or other supplies for the next endeavour.   This is our 'bread ministry'.    Perhaps Jesus feeding the hungry, sharing their daily bread, was right up there with foot washing as a way of identifying with the common people, and the least among them.

Just the usual daily stuff:  cleaning up the kitchen, doing laundry--recycling next; being cheerful, courteous.

Servants have the best roles -- there is something positive about almost everything they do -- almost every act has the purpose of making something better or cleaner or more useable; the results of almost every act are immediately known -- clothes are clean; a meal is tasty, a person is comforted.  The work provides positive feedback even when that is not coming from elsewhere.  If society didn't have this weird attitude about servanthood being demeaning, it would be easier for everyone to appreciate how good it is to be a servant.

Thank you to all who have participated. It has been a blessing to take part if only reading.

I add my thanks as well for this Lenten discussion. I have enjoyed reading, writing, and reflecting. Blessings for Easter.

The cross… the resurrection… the balance…

The balance is one that I find impossible from within the tomb.

And it is my feeling there is, within Christendom as a whole, a great, sad, claustrophobic lingering in the tomb. We seem to spend a lot of time standing around in horror, awe, perplexity and fear, yearning for the "kingdom" and wondering what we should do next and how we should do it.

Are we in such shock that after 2,000 years were have not risen?

From the perspective of the tomb, resurrection is a hope for the future.

From the perspective of the tomb, I see the suffering and agony.

From the perspective of the tomb, I see love abused.

From the perspective of the tomb, my focus turns to death.

From the perspective of the tomb, I look to my own, personal “salvation”.

From the perspective of the tomb, I await judgement.

From the perspective of the tomb, I am "saved" because Jesus “died” for me.

From outside the tomb, I find myself in the midst of new life everywhere.

From outside the tomb, I see the impotence of violent oppression.

From outside the tomb, I see love ablaze.

From outside the tomb, I my focus turns to love and faith.

From outside the tomb, I see the promise of a changed world.

From outside the tomb, I act — confident of forgiveness for my failures.

From outside the tomb, I am saved because Christ lives in my spiritual rebirth.

Within the tomb, solemnity and silence can be overwhelming.

Within the tomb, my energies are sapped by horror and grief.

Within the tomb, I feel guilt, I feel judged.

Within the tomb, I find my “all” among familiar faces.

Within the tomb, I wait for the “kingdom” to arrive.

Within the tomb, familiar things comfort me.

Within the tomb, I cannot travel anywhere.

Within the tomb, I feel anger and fear.

Outside the tomb, I hear children and laughter… and tears and screams.

Outside the tomb, I feel redemption and empowerment; blue skies and black, gale and stillness all kindle my energies.

Outside the tomb, I feel redeemed.

Outside the tomb, I realise we are all builders of the “kingdom”.

Outside the tomb, I gather companions.

Outside the tomb, new things excite me.

Outside the tomb, my life is a journey.

From outside the tomb, I see the brutishness of Empire and despise my part in it.

From outside the tomb, I see a Christ to follow, a Christ who leads.

I do not believe Jesus called us to anything but fullness of life through love of god and love of our fellow human beings.

I do not believe Jesus simply “died” for our sins: Jesus was TORTURED and KILLED by the same contempt for god and humanity that kills and tortures people today. Jesus knew he faced death and he was indeed killed: but he rose — we should not and cannot enter Easter pretending we don’t know how the story ends.

From outside the tomb, we can identify what has been killed in us and restore it; we can find the killer-spirit in us and expel it. We can see with renewed clarity the sources of violence in ourselves and in our society, and in the world community of societies… as Christians, we have witnessed the cruel, cowardly futility of violence. We know it doesn’t work and we can finger its allies: power, greed, judgementalism, religious authoritarianism — they each stand tall in the story. And, we have witnessed the overwhelming, rushing, unstoppable and invincible power of love.

We plainly see that it is love of god and love of others that restores life. Easter reveals that secret: the power of love, love that is greater than death.

We’ve even been told HOW to love god:

MATTHEW 25: 37-40

“Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?” And the king will answer them, “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.”

Is a balance possible within the tomb, where the story lingers incomplete?

Are we afraid?

The sources of fear are each and all negated in the life and teachings of Jesus.

Mike, I agree with most of what you say here - but I do question the "but he rose"?

In what sense? Physically, spiritually, literally, metaphorically?

At this stage of my pilgrim's journey I think that Jesus the man died. He arose metaphorically for his godliness - experienced by his disciples and early followers, through to many living in today's world.

There could not have been a resurrection without the crucifixion.  The crucifixion  is the key event, the essential event.  It is the crucifixion that serves as a model for people to continue to risk for the sake of faith and righteousness.  The resurrection points to the power held by Jesus, and makes it possible for us to have a personals relationship with Jesus.

I don't understand why the crucifixion and resurrection are seen as a paradox.

Jim,

When you say  the "resurrection points to the power held by Jesus" - can you be more specific, please?

How do you explain what happened?

(It's Easter Saturday here in Oz - it's gloomy and raining outside - it seems a good day to reflect on the message of Easter.)

Hi Grim!

The energy that Jesus brought to his moment in history lit a spiritual fire; introduced a spiritual "virus" if you like, that I confidently believe has the power to transform the world.

"Rose"? I don't know what that means in a dictionary sense either and I don't think that matters.... let people think what they may. What matters is that -- despite ALL of the "stuff" that's been heaped upon that little ember or inflicted on that little spiritual virus, there are truths there that keep igniting hope and heroic attempts to spread inspired love. There is intellectual, emotional and spiritual truth to it all. And the tougher we test it, the tougher it comes back at us. 

When we put that alongside the empires... think about it. Rome got ripped apart... Spain, Portugal and France and England managed to get their languages spread around a bit, but they are cold, dead history as imperial powers. Now we are seeing the American empire comiung unstuck... that spark of Jesus still flares when you give it a bit of a blow.

Naming descriptions of that capacity-to-rekindle phenomenon "metaphorical" is fine... the Gospel accounts of miracle events can also all be located in a whole comparative ethnology of narrative -- and I've  its very helpful to do that. The more we examine them, name them, test it, re-apply it, the better. When you look at the dreamtime stories in Australia, you find they sound quite bizarre in the context of out literal-logical culture, but when you REALLY look at them in their ethnographic contexts... they make a lot more sense than a few politicians I could quickly name.

As so-called Christians, I think our symbol use has become hopeless. Again, it has to do with changed contexts. We are super-dumb semioticists. There is no way a cross is helpful, for example. Why not go with fish: there are the lovely parallel stories of fishing and eating... during the calling of the disciples and the post-crucifiction breakfast on the beach. There are a lot of aesthetic, spiritual reasons to prefer fish over crosses... fishes journey, fishes are free creatures, they are also good food, they draw us into appreciations of nature and give us pointed hints about what we're doing to the planet. A cross stops people dead in their tracks: intellectual, spiritual and emotional tracks. It's inert and evil. As a symbol of brute rule and evil, a cross works.  But anything else... it's a stretch.

Thanks Mike.

I don't go camping these days but I once did - and I like your metaphor of the Christ fire being kept alive by those of us that are willing to blow and keep the embers alive.

Have you ever wondered how we even know the Easter story?

The history is recorded within the Bible and some secular sources as seen by witnesses. The stories vary but they all have one thing in common. They mention it.

Believers recorded the sorrow of jesus' death and the  skeptics recorded what they saw.

Even the empty tomb is mentioned by both followers and unbelievers. They just can't agree as to how it became empty.

Those who mocked viewed the crucifixion as the death of an insurgent and those who loved Christ saw the death of the one who was to save  them.

How could so many witnesses see it all so differently? Yet they all acknowledged that Jesus was dead. On that third day they all agreed that the body was gone and each side had an explanation for it's dissapearance. But in this resurrection, there was no witness. The only evidence was, that there was no evidence. Or so it seemed. For whom did they come to seek in the tomb? Without a body, was there even a crucifixion?

And now 2000 years later, I cannot literally witness the crucifixion let alone expect to seek out his body in an empty tomb.

I am left with an historical event and his spiritual teachings. I no longer need the body to know Christ exists because he can manifest himself in me if I acknowledge him. It was much same way that God separated his persecutors and his followers on the day he was crucified by exposing who found him guilty from the ones who acknowledged their own guilt, that lead to such extreme measures to save us.  

Christ cannot live in me until I understand that I am a sinner. It was the same yesterday as it is today.

So how can I say that the sorrow of the cross doesn't shift my understanding of Gods love as much as the resurrection challenges my understanding of being spiritual? Without my body eventually there will be no evidence that I have ever existed--- and curiously, this unseen God, will be my only witness.

How do you define "sinner"?

Being human means there are times when we all fall short of the mark, but it's my belief that God doesn't require perfection.

Thankfully, his love is unconditional.

I experience God's spirit whenever love is in my heart. Jesus requires us to love God and our neighbour.

 The word "sinner" is perjorative - and using it is missing the mark, IMO.

Pilgrim, I rarely use the word sin, but today on good Friday, if I didn't use it I felt I would miss the mark.

waterfall, I mean this respectfully - and hope it doesn't appear otherwise.

Sin isn't the word that springs to mind - I see Jesus's crucifixion as a political assassination.

I guess I hesitate to use it as I'm uneasy about the judgemental nature of the word itself. (the log in our own eyes).

I understand Pilgrim, I may very well have it wrong. I'm willing to listen, which is why I posted the topic on Salvation. If you care to comment there, I'd appreciate it.

The political  aspect surely resonates with me too, but still, as Easter draws closer, I am wondering why are we focused on Jesus' death as there were many others that died political deaths also.

I value your opinion and others on this board. Thanks.

 Jesus spoke truth. 

He spoke it everywhere to everyone.

Where you locate him in relation to life, death, history or god does not change that. You can call it the staggering insight of anamazing mind, the purity of a fearless spirit or the expression of god's will... it is all of those things. We do not have the language to articulate  it, nor are we in the time or place to try to pin it down. Those are historical issues.

The faith issue is clear.

And the faith issue was something he made available to everyonbe, especially the ritually unclean of his day. The ritually unclean were declared unclean not by god but by men... that was his approach and attitude. He "forgave" "sin" and "healed" "sickness" and "infirmity". How he did it, we don't know. But he is certainly remembered as making an enormous difference in a lot of lives. We know he was a Jewish scholar and wise one. Our best way of understanding him is in that context. So there is a whole background to which we have access.

We can get to know him quite well because of this.

You certainly do not have to be anything special to "get" his message.

You do not have to be  paranoid to realise that he is still a serious danger to established power and settled religious or political doctrine. He spoke truth.

Truth endangers the powerful, the unjust and the manipulative. 

For the force of Rome to be brought to bear against him, he must have been a believable threat and crucifixion was what Rome did to those it perceived as threats to its "peace",

The flash in the face of the powerful is the realisation that getting rid of a truth bearer does nothing to change the turth of the truth. That is, one way or another, the truth of the resurrection. Arguing about a literal flesh and blood resurrection is not a faith issue; it's a vanity issue. We simply do not know and it is not necessary to faith. Faith is necessarily in the far greater, known truth of Jesus' teachings.

Burying those essential truths behind barricade of religious niceties and articles of "belief" does nothing more than avoid the point and purpose of his truth-saying.

We are called to love god and humanity, to refrain from judgingh, to forgive repeatedly, to tend the victims of power and seek wisdom and truith. Truth is the core of it all.

 Blessings on Holy Saturday. Below is the synopsis and suggested discussion question for today. Thank you.

Deleted

I think I need to get out more. Socially, I have become a bit withdrawn... it is a writer thing, I think. I adjust to things most comfortably inwardly, on my own. Interactions can feel like distractions. But it is hard to express effective compassion simply in the writing one does.

Maybe we could continue this conversation on the Salvation thread, sorry folks.

Off to the Salvation thread with this...

Being kind to the cashier in a store; smiling at people on the street, even when we are unwell; patience with a partner or child; taking political and other risks for the sake of justice or mercy --these are starters.

  Happy Easter! He is risen!

------------------------

 EASTER DAY 2011

The gull wheels and,

 with a breath drawn in

 over the free-running sea,

 screeches with delight

 to see its snowy sternum

 turn liquid gold in the

 new day’s dawn:

 a gently rising sun

rends the clay-grey sky

while a wind sings delight

to the newly-paired crows

canoodling among buds

in the swaying poplar…

and from just-thawed soil

 pale new shoots

 reach like artists’ brushes

 into the euphoria of

 hovering hope.

 Christ has risen! Love lives!

 and goodness flows

 …everywhere.

 I am blinking in a turned world.

HAPPY EASTER!
 

CHRIST IS RISEN!

LOVE LIFE!

LIVE LOVE!!

"I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me...." John 10:14

Reflection: Take a moment to celebrate your sense of relationship with the Easter Christ.

Yesterday, in a moment of spontanaity, I bought two kites as I passed through a check out counter. They were cleverly placed by the cashier and the price was $1.29 each. Who could resist?

I then went to see my grandchildren and after lunch we made our way to the local schoolground (along with the rest of the family) to see if we could get them to soar. The wind was perfect and it was a beautiful sunny day.

Together we put them together and they looked amazingly "fragile". (cheap would be more accurate) I held the kite and one of my grandsons started running with the kite. For approximately 50 seconds that kite soared to the heavens and then came crashing down to earth, shattering in the process. We brought out the second kite and the same thing happened. We were left with two broken kites and we decided to take the pieces that we could save and make one of the kites work again. And lo and behold the renewed kite rose again----but alas it was short lived and we finally had to admit that "humpty dumpty" couldn't be put back together again.

Now, my intention is not to turn the kites into a metaphor, instead I was forced to focus on the power of that wind. As the kids continued to play, I was thinking of someday buying more kites because we had so much fun trying to get them into the sky. I quickly decided I would pay more next time and get one that would be more resilient and have more strength but first I also had to understand a little more about the wind and how it would affect the kite.

It's the same way I feel about God. I need to accept what he has revealed to me in order to be able to understand having a relationship with him. Paul helps me with this in Colassions 1:15-23. 

 ¹⁵ The Son is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. ¹⁶ For in him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things have been created through him and for him. ¹⁷ He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. ¹⁸ And he is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning and the firstborn from among the dead, so that in everything he might have the supremacy. ¹⁹ For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him, ²⁰ and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross.  ²¹ Once you were alienated from God and were enemies in your minds because of^[f] your evil behavior. ²² But now he has reconciled you by Christ’s physical body through death to present you holy in his sight, without blemish and free from accusation— ²³ if you continue in your faith, established and firm, and do not move from the hope held out in the gospel. This is the gospel that you heard and that has been proclaimed to every creature under heaven, and of which I, Paul, have become a servant

Kites are magic! Could I suggest you try making your own hexagonal kites using thin dowel string glue and coverin of strong wax paper and a colourful, long. crepe paper tail... these are very stable, easy to make and will soar high... hundreds of feet. My daughter and i played with these endlessly when she was a pre-schooler. She could manage them alone. And we even got into "creative littering": when the kite's high (ideally on a monofilament line), you can make a paper glider, but a paper clip over the line, then attaching the glider (not TOO securely). It will race up the line, the paper clip hits the bridle at the top and the glider blows free... they will fly for miles...

You can do all this far more cheaply that good quality bought kites with stitched mylar coverings and carbon-fibre sticks.

Have a look at:

www.howtomakeandflykites.com/kites-to-make/the-hexagonal-kite.htmlave a look

but it is easier just to cross three equal-length pieces of dowel, tie them together at the centre and  put a strring around the ends to space them.

Check you library too.

Mike that's brilliant! I like the idea of making the kites with the boys. Thankyou, Thankyou!!! Just goes to show how I've just assumed I had to buy one.

I should add thankyou for your wonderful poem too and Happy Easter.

  I just want to stop by one last time to give a big thank you to all the WonderCafe visitors who participated in the Rising with the Morning Star Lenten discussion. 

Thanks to all of you who participated in the Lenten discussion regularly - you did a amazing job keeping it going through 40 long days (+Sundays)!:

MikePaterson
somegalfromcan
Jim Kenney
waterfall
LBmuskoka
Seeler
PilgrimsProgress
 crazyheart
qwerty
Rebekah Chevalier
Kathryn Holman
Jiln
Beloved
Stardust
spirit wind 7
Pinga

As well, thank you to those who dropped in occassionally to share their thoughts. We really appreciate it!

Moderator Mardi Tindal
Lighthouseghost
Elis
Rev. Steven Davis
SophiaWisdom
cj
mickey_elle
InnaWhimsey
Mahakala
Floribunda
Revs@WesleyUC
Tabitha
scarboropaul

Sorry if I missed anybody! Thanks to everybody for your participation (even if just lurking). The comments shared were insightful and personal and added so much life to the daily book synopsis. I am really happy with how this book discussion turned out, and we look forward to arranging similar group activities on WonderCafe in the future.

Blessings,

AaronMcGallegos (for WonderCafe)