Bread for the Journey

I don’t remember a whole lot about math; much of what I do remember, Dad taught me. I think this is true because I learn not only through textbooks, but also through relationship: father and daughter. As I worked on school projects, he would interject his mechanical engineering skills. At the time, I didn’t appreciate this as much as I do now. I recall him stressing the importance of the triangle while attempting to build a tall tower or as I tried to create a strong foundation for a bridge. By experimenting with various shapes, I began to understand the triangle’s importance.

Richard Rohr speaks of how relationships “can have an effect on things—both on the individuals that make up a relationship and on things outside. Think of what close-knit groups of people can accomplish, for example, sports teams, research teams, ministry groups, and certain famous families. . . .” Rohr continues…

[In] Teilhard de Chardin’s approach, when two people come together in a caring and productive way, not only are the two relating people enhanced and their capacities developed by their interaction, but their union, or relationship, becomes itself a Third Self [which] Teilhard calls . . . “a psychic unity” or “higher soul” or “higher center.” . . . The Third-Self relationship is capable of accomplishing more than either [of the members] alone.

“The Church’s One Foundation” is a hymn that speaks of relationship between the church and Jesus Christ and union with “God, the Three in One.” It has endured and been accepted by many denominations over the years because of its “careful grounding in Scripture.” (Carl P. Daw Jr.) Even its tune (AURELIA) seems to have a relationship with the text. Daw says, the fact that “… it is almost impossible to hum this tune without hearing phantom harmonies is a measure of how integral the parts really are. Perhaps without realizing it, the editors are making a theological statement about the inter-relatedness of the members of the church by choosing the tune to set this text.”

As the door nears completion, artist Marilyn Smith captures poignant moments of touch between peoples of all nationalities and walks of life. These individuals hold hands around the perimeter of the door, leading each other in laughter and dance to the joyful feast of the people of God. Oh, what a wonderful world this would be if we could all feast with one another.

I see trees of green, red roses too; I see them bloom for me and you. And I think to myself what a wonderful world. I see skies of blue and clouds of white; the bright blessed day, the dark sacred night. And I think to myself what a wonderful world. The colors of the rainbow so pretty in the sky; are also on the faces of people going by. I see friends shaking hands saying how do you do. They’re really saying I love you. I hear babies crying, I watch them grow; They’ll learn much more than I’ll never know. And I think to myself what a wonderful world. Yes I think to myself what a wonderful world. Songwriters: George Douglas / George David Weiss / Bob Thiele; What a Wonderful World lyrics © Carlin America Inc, BMG Rights Management US, LLC, Imagem Music Inc

A blessing is a form of grace; it is invisible. For the one who believes in it, a blessing can signal the start of a journey of transformation. The Bible is full of blessings. They are seen as a communication of life from God. When one is in sorrow or pain, touch can become the silent language that says everything; it travels deeper than words can. ~ John O’ Donohue

When our daughter came home this week, she knit a house for a baby gift. It looks like a very comfortable dwelling place; maybe not quite big enough for me, but it does make me think how thankful I am to be living in a comfortable home. When I visited a pioneer village and a Shaker community, their living situations seemed so uncomfortable; straw pillows and all. Yet that’s all they knew, or it was a choice they made or had to make. That was home for them.

Where is home when I am far away from “home”? Although a bit cliché, I think home is where my heart is. My heart holds God, so my home must be anywhere that God is, which is everywhere. So I can be at home anywhere I go. How cool is that!

I read something not long ago that woke me up; as if something knocked me over the head. My experience of contemplation has been God speaking to me through silence and solitude; a very Euro-centric view. So have I been narrow-minded in my approach to creating a prayer room for General Assembly? What about those who pray and contemplate with loud music, rhythm and drumming? This is a world I do not understand but must embrace as another way of union with God. So over the next few weeks as we continue preparations for thousands of guests to enter into worship, work and contemplation, I will be praying that we might “draw the welcome circle wider,” as Mary Louise Bringle speaks of so eloquently in our newly commissioned hymn. The “door” artwork above is part of the exciting depiction of this hymn by artist Marilyn Smith. Some ideas have been floating into my mind, which they tend to do when moving with the Spirit. Stay tuned!

Joy Unspeakable is not silent, it moans, hums, and bends to the rhythm of a dancing universe. It is a fractal of transcendent hope, a hologram of God’s heart, a black hole of unknowing. ~ Barbara Holmes

My story told yesterday was not complete. I cannot know the deepest thoughts which caused my grandfather to take his life while serving in the Army. Hearing the news, so many decades later, did I doubt it? Yes. Did I have anger? For sure. I struggled with unanswered questions such as, “Did he have any support?” “Did he have faith?” “Why did he choose this dark path with a wife and a four-year-old at home?” Others may also ask these questions; never knowing the answers. I do not know the mysteries my grandfather held, and I am at peace with not knowing.

God weeps with us who weep and mourn; God’s tears flow down with ours, and God’s own heart is bruised and worn from all the heavy hours of watching while the soul’s bright fire burned lower day by day, and pulse and breath and love’s desire dimmed down to ash and clay.

Through tears and sorrow, God, we share a sense of your vast grief: the weight of bearing every prayer for healing and relief, the burden of our questions why, the doubts that they engage, and as our friends and loved ones die, our hopelessness and rage.

And yet because, like us, you weep, we trust you will receive and in your tender heart will keep the ones for whom we grieve, while with your tears our hearts will taste the deep, dear core of things from which both life and death are graced by love’s renewing springs. ~ Thomas Troeger

I never knew my grandfather. He died when Mom was very young. Our family never mentioned him, and our questions were answered with brief responses; so I learned not to ask. But letters to my grandmother included his name in the title, Mrs. F.W. Smith, so I always wondered about this mysterious person. Her home was filled with photographs of family in albums and framed on walls and tables, but none of them included my grandfather. Those were hidden away in a drawer; found after she died.

One day when I reached adulthood, our aunt invited my sister and me over to her home and shared our family’s “secret.” She felt we needed to know this piece of our history. I am grateful to her for telling us about our grandfather, a captain in the Army who died at Jefferson Barracks. If she had not told us, we would still be wondering. I feel as if we received a gift that day; a gift of story, connection and family. Yet I will never know the whole story. It’s tempting to solve more of the puzzle, but that could lead to disappointment. Mysteries surround our lives; unknown truths that remain hidden. I am okay with living in mystery.

My daughter and I added some final artful touches to the labyrinth today. First we sponge-painted metallic gold over a too-obvious-to-miss paint blotch. I would have been fine to leave it except that it was smack dab at the entrance. We added flecks of gold to some of the cobalt blue areas. After the surface dried, I added a message from scripture to the sponge-painted area at the entrance.

As I painted I thought of a beautiful piece by K. Lee Scott, sung in worship this Trinity Sunday.

May the Sending One sing in you, May the Seeking One walk with you, May the Greeting One stand by you in your gladness and in your grieving. May the Gifted One relieve you, May the Given One retrieve you, May the Giving One receive you, In your falling and your restoring. May the Binding One unite you, May the One Beloved invite you, May the Loving One delight you, Three-in-One, joy in life unending. ~ Brian Wren

Today I walked an outdoor labyrinth with our son. He will be leaving in a few days for Europe, so I asked if he would do this with me before he left. It was really, really cool to experience this walking meditation together. As we slowly moved around the path, I felt as if I was praying with and for him. At times we walked parallel to each other in the next path over or at various distances. When our paths took us different directions, I thought of our family. Our children are moving away, yet we are still connected by faith.

After walking, we shared our experiences. Some were similar, others different. He watched his footsteps the whole time and noticed how they became more intentional after spending time in the middle with God. He also looked around, behind and ahead, and recognized how important it is to look right where he is now, at where his feet are taking him this moment. We cannot change the past and we do not know the future. God is in the center, here, now. Knowing this brings us peace.

Today I milled various grains purchased from a local brew store where I previously sampled them in a “grain tasting.” I’m curious about baking bread with Pale Ale malt; comparing the taste with roasted barley, rye, and Crystal 60 malt. I’ll soak the grains in water overnight and create a separate “poolish” with wheat flour, yeast and water. Tomorrow they will be mixed together with more flour, as well as salt, yeast, honey, oil and egg, before baking. Then a “toast” to Pale Ale Bread (and for baking it during a heat wave).

The various grains are so rich in color, and their smell is pretty intense too. I love experimenting with bread and can’t wait to taste the nuances of each loaf. Not everyone is passionate about the same things. I have to remember that; especially when I get caught up in moments of bread-dom and faith-dom. But I’m always willing to share!

Schools are having end-of-year graduations and celebrations. It seems as if activities are happening so quickly they are overlapping, making it difficult to fully enjoy each one. In middle school (then called junior high school), I remember lessons in speed reading. I’m sure this is a helpful tool to learn, but I could never grasp this concept; wanting to make sure I read and understood every word. “What words did I miss?” my mind seemed to say as I forced my eyes to move side to side, as if traversing on a ski slope down the page.

Occasionally I read something out loud; not often though. When I visit the monastery and recite psalms with the monks, I am forced to slow down with every spoken word. Chanting is another way to pause and savor using our voices. No speed reading here!

Virtually all spiritual paths begin their training with breath and tone—conscious breathing, following the breath, vibrating the mantra—and for good reason: these are the actual tools and technologies for engaging and energizing our more subtle inner being.

Poetry, like chant, is meant to vibrate through the uniqueness of our own voice for it to come alive. Don’t take my word for it! Find your favorite poem and see if it becomes real in a new way when you say the words out loud. ~ Cynthia Bourgeault