Peace be with you

In John Jesus appears in the locked room and before he gives the disciples their charge he says...

Peace Be With You.

and he says...

Peace Be With You.

these spiritual exercises are in everyday life...

Horticulture has seasons and I have emerged suddenly into the hectic pace of April. Things do get busier in March, but all of a sudden there was so much to do.

There may be some ways I give back my gift of being alive, and one is by having accepted the challenge of teaching special education. It works best when I carry that Peace, a full peace that goes beyond my understanding with me to my classroom.

It gets lost at times when I am feeling overwhelmed with trying to get everything done.

My students have performed well this week. The garden will be planted. It can be joyful. I can't make that a certainty, but by bringing peace, I can improve the odds. Oh yes, that charge given by Jesus... forgive.

shalom

not well known

few if anyone will tell you that I read things closely, especially memos and directions. So when I re-read the top of the sheet my spiritual director handed me on the last Thursday in March, I said hmmm.

"get set" I swear those words were not there.

I swear it said ... leap into Joy. It clearly had said ... expect to experience all of Easter this week.

Last Sunday, my minister said that it was a shame that we do not give the season of Easter the same attention that we give Lent. The book of common prayer does, but we don't come very night like we do during Holy Week. No Wednesday night services.

Just go to church and have a family gathering and Easter is over.

I was not feeling that. As I said a few posts back, I wasn't even ready for Easter when Easter came and I am far from being ready for it to be over. The disciples are in an emotional storm and the exercises have led me to be with them.

Having heard all this, my spiritual director tells me that I am fortunate. I have 5 more sheets to be handed. I take one and head back into Easter (I chose simple).

translucent soul

so, I am feeling a bit disappointed for I could not find something on the web. isn't everything there.

As we got set to drive to Lancaster to visit family, I grab 5 Cd's from our pre-jazz days. But the song that most touched me on the first CD is not to be found as video. now for the exercise...

So, I am to be joyful. Seek joy. spread joy. easier said than done. I glance to my left and see JOY hanging in the window.

The disciples were filled with doubt at first. They were not ready for the joy of the resurrection.

But before I got there Ignatius wanted me to imagine a conversation between the risen and his mom. I see a son coming for some answers and he needs some family history. "Hey Mom. What the .... is going on here?" OK, so I gave him a bit of my angry young man attitude.

Mary realizes that the angel had spread the news correctly back in the day. She is so filled with joy and grace as any doubts brought on by death fleeing her... "Well son, there was this angel........" What a conversation ensued. Family secrets told.

Well, now it seems like the song I originally wanted to blog about fits the blog.... an angel with a message comes to Manhattan.

The song I couldn't find, Translucent Soul, is how Ellis Paul describes his best friend. That is where Jesus goes next. as does Patty Larkin on the CD we finished with on that road trip. OK, so that isn't on the web either....

but look what I found... another song about the person he most craved to see, by another favored performer, Richard Shindell.

Last week, Mosaic woman asked how I was dealing with something. I said it was good to have a friend who listens when I talk. a friend I trust. the next day I thanked her for the gift of friendship.

100th post and I am almost ready for Easter

I am tired, and a bit frustrated with technology, but I do believe my (first ever) powerpoint presentation, which is on hot peppers, is saved on a CD... I enjoyed the project up to this point.

Saturday was a day when I planned to do everything I had put off doing on my week off, so when I sat down and read that I was to rest with those who were facing the longest Sabbath of their lives, I was defeated. How was I to give Peter the time as he faced his pain of having denied Jesus? Mary was being comforted by John, but he seemed a bit overwhelmed by this new role. Mary Magdalene was in tears as were most in the room. Jesus was dead.

The paper in my hand said to do this for a week. My spiritual director told me to do it in a day. I was defeated. I chose to keep busy, but I did skip going to the school.

Easter I drove to the school to check on things. Near full moon in front, sunrise behind...






The seedlings were fine. Moravians sang out Jesus Christ Has Risen Today, but unlike the last time I sang with them in Bethlehem, PA; it did not quake my soul... the doxology from my childhood did that. Family feasted.

Easter evening I sat to pray. I was still with the mourning believers in Jerusalem, and I was celebrating with Moravians. But I was not ready for Easter, and decided to wait on that celebration. I will explain that decision to my spiritual director tomorrow. For the last few nights I have gone back to that sad place. I need that sadness to fill me, then I will be ready to feel the joy.

Good Friday at the museum

I had a thought the other day while in Philly... I wonder what St Ignatius would have said about blogging through the spiritual exercises... not exactly silent.. is it?

I had other thoughts while at the Philadelphia museum of art, some prompted by women born in 1907.

Frida Kahlo's exhibit (till May 18, 2008) took us into her life in photographs and many self-portraits. She was not one to keep her emotions out of her work so we see the trauma experienced by a husband having an affair with her sister, a bus accident that crushed her leg and pelvis, two divorces from the same man, and a high protein diet prescribed by her doctor. Hard to look at because of their graphic nature, they showed a woman in pain. Made me curious what Jesus would have painted if he had taken some of his harder moments to canvas. What would I have painted? What would we see at your future exhibit?

20 years ago a friend looked at a doodle I had drawn and entitled it ... "a nice design ruined by a day at work." We taught at the same school.

Lee Miller had a nasty dose of childhood trauma, emerged as a model, made it onto the cover of Vogue, then said... "I want to be on the other side of the camera." And thus followed her dream and became a photographer. Who has benefited from your decision to ... ? Her exhibit will last till April 27, 2008 and featured 140 of her photographs.

After a snack, Mosaic Woman and I went our separate ways and soon enough I was sitting in front of Rogier vander Weyden's The Crucifixion with the Mourning Virgin and Saint John the Evangelist...




Which so matched what I prayed to that morning, John 19: 25-42, that I stayed on that stool and had me some more thoughts ... I think Ignatius would be OK with that.

movies

I have written nearly 100 posts and there has been little or no talk about movies, my passion of which waxes and wanes... but I have seen many since August.

Most of the movies I see outside of my house are seen in the Ambler Theater, I went there by myself on Wednesday, then read about the good thief that night. Thursday morning I tried to tie it all together with my spiritual director.

Now I will try again.

In Bruges ended and I was an emotional wreck, movies can do that to me. If I want to be numb, I should avoid them. I wanted to scream out, "This is not the way movies are supposed to happen." And there I was at the foot of the cross understanding those who had believed but were seeing the wrong ending. No movie has gotten to me like this in a long time. Maybe back to when I saw Crash and came home and watched Johnny Cash making a nine inch nails song his own .... to truly let out the emotions.

How did I grow to care so much for a violent character, who would take money to take a life? Maybe it was the emotional pain he was going through while stuck in a town he hated. He is on one cross. By the end of the movie he knows he is supposed to be there, but has hope. Next to him playing the role of Jesus (only in my take of this film) is a friend who would likely give his life so that this man can repent and be saved. Maybe that was it. The Good Thief knows he is guilty, but wants a new life with Christ. There is nothing I see better in a human than a desire to turn away from what is preventing us from living a full life.

That is why I left the theater into a steady rain shocked by the violence I had encountered and like those who were shocked at the cross... trying to have some hope, in this case for the future life of a character written into a movie. Placed into my life.

numbing and mockery

"which he tasted but refused to drink"

I stay in Matthew 27, where verse 34 has really popped out at me this week. Part of me wants Jesus to numb himself with that concoction of wine and gall. The man is being crucified. Isn't that a time for a bit of anaesthetic? He does come close and it reaches his lips, but then he stops himself. I know what happens when a person doesn't stop. When the physical or emotional pain is so high, one leaps in and the numbing feels so good that the next thing you know years have passed and you need help.

Jesus could have numbed not only the physical pain, but also the emotional pain of being mocked. The priests and pharisees were having their moment of thinking they had been right all along and told Jesus that he was a phony. That I think Jesus could handle better than those whose hearts were breaking. These folk had believed, and now their leader was being crucified and was doing nothing to save himself. They felt tricked. So in their grief and anger they too mocked Jesus.

Yesterday I went to check on the plants at work, where I visited with a friend. I spoke of the teenagers I had seen singing praises to Jesus. I told her how I had spent that time of my life mocking those foolish enough to believe. I woke this morning with these thoughts floating in my head. What had led me to that mocking? If memory can be trusted, it too was a grand disappointment.

Last night at church, our leader spoke of the "Way." I had believed that was true as a child. That it was a way of life that made one a Christian and as a teen I focused on those who proclaimed faith but did not walk in the Way. I just may have been expecting perfection or more effort, but I was sad and angry and left the church.

Jesus chose to live out this experience without any numbing. So he cries out to the Lord and quotes the first line of Psalm 22, which goes on to say this...

"all who see me jeer me" (7)
"my strength is trickling away" (14)
"they divide my garments among them and cast lots" (18)
"the poor will eat and be filled, those who seek the Lord will praise him" (26)
"and these will tell his saving justice to a people yet unborn: he has fulfilled it" (closing line)

Jesus seemed to be aware of what was happening... it is a good thing when we don't numb ourselves from our own life, even if we just stop short of doing it.

Christian music

A friend came up to me at school and the next thing I know I am listening to a praise band in a church of the Nazarene. Life is like that, if you open it up to things which are not in the comfort zone.

My friend's son was playing guitar and singing about Jesus and my thoughts wondered. I wished that I could interview these high school students in 30 years to see where their spiritual journey will lead them. For now it will lead them to compete against and meet other bands at a conference in Boston.

When I was their age I was headed away from church, while mosaic woman was immersed in the youth group. Now, I kiss her good bye on Sundays as I head off to church.

At one quieter point during the concert I leaned over to Mosaic Woman and said, "If we are lucky they will play a Mark Heard song."

Her eyes lit up and said, "do they know his music?"

I said, "I don't know, but if we are lucky...."

Mark Heard died at the age of 40 from cardiac arrest two weeks after having a heart attack on stage while performing with none other than Pierce Pettis, who I wrote about in the past. We left the concert without hearing a Mark Heard tune.

Finding a CD, that was put out to support Mark's widow and child, was much easier than trying to find the cassettes buried away of his own voice. Like I said, as a punk I left the church and freely mocked Christian rock, but in my late 30's the music of Mark, and Pierce led me back to God. And there on the CD are names of other musicians who influenced me in my journey: Victoria Williams, Bruce Cockburn, Julie Miller, Buddy Miller.

I get up from this post to start track 7, Pierce singing Nod Over Coffee, and tears enter my eyes. Are these the tears that formed last night as the spiritual exercises led to the nails entering Jesus. I wondered when they would flow.

Two songs later, I pause the CD and click this and there are Pierce and Mark joking with each other, then Mark is gone and Pierce is singing at a tribute concert. Half way though the video, Mosaic woman comes over and kisses me, as the curse of the second hand sends her off to work.....

All the unsaid words that I might be thinking And all the little signs that I might give you They would not be enough No they would not be enough So we nod over coffee and say goodbye Smile over coffee and turn to go We know the drill and we do it well We love it, we hate it Ain't that life Ain't that the curse of the second hand Ain't that the way of the hour and the day If I weren't so alone and afraid They might pay me what I am worth But it would not be enough You deserve better So we nod over coffee and say goodbye Do whatever has to be done again today Get in the traffic and time will fly Look at the sun and pray for rain Ain't that the curse of the second hand Ain't that the way of the hour and the day The dam of time cannot hold back The dust that will surely come of these bones And I'm sure I will not have loved enough Will not have loved enough If we could see with wiser eyes What is good and what is sad and what is true Still it would not be enough Could never be enough So we nod over coffee and say goodbye Bolt the door it's time to go Into the car with the radio on Roll down the window and blow the horn Ain't that the curse of the second hand Ain't that the way of the hour and the day

the boy who shows up in John

I am glad John mentioned where the bread and fish come from...(John 6:1-15) Last night the spiritual exercises had me go to the feeding of the 5000 and in John there is a boy who shows up after the men don't see possibilities for instead the men see limitations that prevent action.

"Not enough money and resources," the men cry out, "how can we feed the hungry?" A boy shows up with five loaves and two fish and Jesus moves into action. My imagination takes over I follow the boy who fees moved to go towards Jesus with his food. I don't see it as a chance encounter.

I want to be like that boy, who has something and brings it forth to God to help make the kingdom happen. No time. No money. No talent. No resources. No energy. I want to listen to myself and when I hear what the disciples said to Jesus, catch it and question myself if whether or not it is true.

Time, money, energy, talent, resources... yes, there are limits to all of these in our lives. My goal is to question if I use them as a reason why I don't do something and to examine what I do with what I have to offer.

living up to my expectations

My first post to this blog was inspired by the man playing piano above and when I saw him last night.... wow. four tunes in he went solo on "Tea For Two" and then "How Great Thou Art" after which he played to pieces favored by Elvis Presley. Cyrus Chestnut has taken some criticism for having a whole Cd of these songs which Elvis sang, though I have not heard any complaints about his playing on that recent CD. The man played everything from Bach to Ellington and did another hymn in the second set. I closed my eyes and truly listened to what Cyrus had to say to us.

I wanted to have this blog be about my whole life and it has been that way so far... Ignatius, Strudel, quilts, teaching, gardening, stained glass, mosaic woman, my church community

tonight I sat with Bartimaeus (Mark 10: 46-52). Jesus was leaving his town. It was now or never see again. I sat listening to him call out to Jesus. I heard the desperation, the hope, the desire. Was it mine? I have not felt so close to Jesus through the exercises for days.

What would I do if I had that one chance to call out and Jesus stopped and said to me, "What do you want me to do for you?" One last chance, would I ignore those around me to be quiet and call out for mercy. Would I desire it as much as Bartimaeus? something happened to me tonight.

Last night Cyrus let an 18 year old take the piano. As he left the young man to play, Cyrus said, "You may never have get this chance to play again..." When Cyrus came back up, he said to the young man, "I want to see what you got in four years, you have been served!"

baptism's power and humility

The spiritual exercises have gone another week of week 2. They are stirring my soul, so I guess I am getting my work out.

first I am in awe of the powerful nature of Jesus's baptism. Following him out of that scene over the last few weeks has shown me how it energized him into a life with a desire to do God's will. Made me think of being confirmed and how little that meant at the time. Being anointed on Christmas Day 10 years ago, a month after returning to church, comes to mind as a day of accepting the spirit, or at least becoming accepting of the spirit.

I have been selected as the person to gather photos to celebrate my parents, both of whom are turning 75 in 2008 and celebrating their 50th anniversary. A package came from California this week. Downloading the photos I see one I had never seen before.... my elder sister at her adult baptism which took place out west.

I sat with the three phases of humility this past week and it brings up my struggle with self-promotion. I feel awkward advertising my craft.

The other night I came across someone selling stained glass for hundreds and hundreds of dollars. Is my goal to limit my work to 5% of the population, to have fame, to have great wealth? What is my desire? Is it to do what I have loved all my life, create designs? If my craft brings me fame and wealth, then I will have to accept or reject those things based on how it touches me.

What do I desire from my life? What great desires does God want to stir up in my soul? I have doodled all my life.

Last night we went to Philadelphia to see Maria Schneider's Jazz orchestra. I closed my eyes and was taken away into the music's beauty and complexity. She has made a life from her passion. How many women who desire to compose and direct big bands end up 20 years winning a Grammy award? Did she do this for the fame or did the fame come because of a combination of talent and passion?

at the concert we ended up sharing a table with a jazz promoter. He was quite excited about one singer (a future post) and gave me her card. I gave him mine (first time I did such a thing) and told him what we make and told him we would save him a seat if he ever came back to the art museum.

with all this mind.... here is my latest piece...mostly made from scraps remaining after making the piece which I dropped...

ETSY SHOP

Mice might have stirred

It was the night before Christmas and I was with Jesus and the evil presence that tempted him in the desert.

My first thought was that it was the wrong place to be.... shouldn't I be in Bethlehem? But spending the night with Jesus was the place to be and no matter where the spiritual exercises landed me on 12/24/07 ... it was the place I was directed to be.


I remember Jesus being guided to the desert by the spirit the entered him at the Jordan, but I don't recall the spirit directing him so that he could face temptation. Have I been guided to those places I did not choose Jesus? Other stories in the Bible would have that evil spirit guiding us to those places.

Could this dream be about choosing Jesus, or about trying to do too many things, or about my fear of administrators...

My dream... I was teaching and I showed up for work. The students and staff were current but location may have been more like where I grew up and/or a place I taught in Illinois. Instead of going into the middle school to help run the science fair I went into the high school to participate in a three day spiritual retreat. I had best intentions of also being at the science fair, but...

I left the retreat and ran into students and staff who listed important people who searched for me all day. The pleasant feeling I had at being at the retreat faded and I walked in dread towards where I would tell my supervisor what happened....

woke before I got there kind of like waking before you hit the ground.

any dream interpreters out there?

any stained glass design interpreters out there.... here is my latest finished earlier today

Unfolding with Jesus

Reading Jim's thoughts over at brainwaves the other day led to this question.... "Quick! What linguistic term would you assign yourself on such subject?" to see what led to the question read the rest of his thoughts.

I answered "unfolding".

Now Jim asks if I see a spark of the divine in this young Jesus I have been blogging about.

YES.

Ignatius has called me to be a witness of Jesus's life to get to know him, to love him, and to follow him.

How can I imagine...

watching through a hole in the wall as the angel brings the news to Mary...
being there when the baby arrived and seeing the love in the eyes of Mary and Joseph...
befriending Joseph who shared the dreams sent by God to guide him...
witnessing those that saw the truth first.... wise folk, shepherds, Simeon, Anna.....
watching a family of friends flee to Egypt and witnessing brutality of those in power...
watching a young boy grow in wisdom...

and then say NO, I guess I could, however...

Jesus was part of creation and he unfolded with it just as I am unfolding. It takes all my faith to believe he was divine, but that is where my faith has taken me. And in that sense he was perfect.

What I don't buy is that Jesus was perfect. If he was fully human, than the man was imperfect. I may be wrong on this but that just proves my imperfection.

What is truth? Jesus was perfect and he was a goof like the rest of us. His human life unfolded. We are given the same opportunity, for in each moment we are renewed as is all of creation.

Thanks for the questions, Jim.

May all of your Holidays be filled with Joy, hope, peace, and love.

After the visitors-- part 2

I always jump for the earliest time. At Wernersville I like to meet with my director early, that meant this past Sunday I had three hours to fill between direction and mass. First a little flat on my back jazz meditation before I moved to the easy chair and Matthew.

Imagining myself being a friend of Joseph and hearing him tell me that he was moving the family to Egypt was something I could resonate with and brought up a guy named JD who left PA a little over a year ago. Still miss the guy. So, there I was pissed off at Joseph, best guy to have entered my life for 7 years and he was heading down the road to Egypt. Soon enough I was wishing I had helped Joseph move.

Herod's command for all the males under two to die (Egypt, death of male children... truly seems Matthew was connecting Jesus to Moses) was brutal to witness in my mind. All weekend I was good for an hour of contemplation, but after 30 minutes I was ready to move out of that easy chair, but it wasn't to happier places... a poster on the third floor.

Up the stairs I went and I stood reading the names of Jesuits murdered in Central America .


2000 years later and rulers are still willing to send out others to kill for them. Seeking justice for the oppressed is dangerous business. I look at the long history and see that those who have sought justice have changed the world, but the battle rages. Keeping this long view can get me past the sadness brought on by the news.

Last night I was with another dream which wakes Joseph and again he has to tell Mary they are moving. It is safe to return. It is safe to return. It is safe to return.

What have I fled? What have I returned to? In 1987 I was more than ready to leave Pennsylvania. I left the urologist of my youth. In 1990 we left Massachusetts and we arrived in Oregon. I left a bad habit on the east coast. Eventually I was ready to come back to Pennsylvania. And each time we moved I left friends behind to face the troubles that were to come to those places with one less friend. The school shooting in Springfield Oregon comes to mind. I student-taught in that school district when I got my Masters degree.

And the big question which Isabella brought up... why didn't God warn all the parents? I wish I had an answer. Were they not warned? Were they not open to a dream about warnings? Were that not responsive to dreams? Maybe others were warned and did flee? I don't know but I can only imagine a God who was saddened by the blood shed as he was in Central America, and as she was in that high school in Oregon.

under appreciated

The spiritual exercises have now gotten to the birth. When I imagine myself in that scene, I feel love. At one point I think.... there had to be angst between Mary and Joseph, but it floats by and I return to the love for this baby who God has given to them.

In Luke the angels are singing for the shepherds before they go off to heaven. Christmas music flowed into my brain and I kept it there trying to imagine a choir singing glorrrrria. In the sermon on Sunday, our minister says... don't know if I buy this choir stuff, but wish I had been there to hear it. Ignatius says.... imagine being there.

And there I watch the shepherds telling their story and there sits Mary just being filled with joy. nine months earlier it was dread, but then a decision to be God's servant has led to so much. A child who is proclaimed a savior to those shepherds.

Poor Joseph. I have been reflecting on the man for days and then I forget about him at work. My friend says, "I think Joseph is the most unappreciated man in the Bible." And who do I think of none other than another Joseph.... the man with the dreams who annoyed his brothers enough to be sold into slavery. Yes, the man who was the daddy to Jesus was forgotten, so how could I not agree with my friend.

what do we not appreciate fully.... amazing gifts from God's desire to create new life, in music that is inspired, in stories friends tell us that gladden our heart, in those who cared for us when we were little...... What more shall we praise God for?

strudel.... that's tomorrow.

end of sin and a journey into Colossians

The first week of the spiritual exercises have come to an end, no more sin. Well, not really, but wouldn't that be nice. Before it ended I spent some time reflecting on my own death. The first attempt was not a highlight in sharp focused thinking. I did not focus. The second attempt went better. I imagined myself fully grey and near death and wondered what I wish had gone differently.

Becoming a spiritual director came to mind. Chestnut Hill College, where I am fully not matriculated, has redesigned their program and with it has lessened the time given to earn the degree. Do I want the degree bad enough that I would take two classes a term? Is this suffering? Is it possible? One class keeps me busy, but maybe if I didn't want to spend time gardening and making stained glass and blogging and praying and teaching and being a husband and being a friend and being an active member of my church and watching movies and reading books. "Maybe I have too many interests," I tell my spiritual director. Yet again he is pleased that I am thinking about things.

I wander back to my death bed and try to see my response to not having a degree and not having the experience of helping others develop their relationship with God. The second would clearly cause me more angst. So what would the degree do for me, what has taken me to enroll in two classes. Is it the desire to be 'legitimate?" a desire to be more spiritual myself? a desire to learn the skills and knowledge that will help me to help others? I don't need the degree. I desire the degree.

Luckily some of Sophia's wisdom flowed into my head before I could scrap the idea of getting a masters. I sent off an e-mail to the woman who started the program and very briefly stated my concerns and my desire to talk. Her response gives me hope, and she too has a desire to talk. That will happen on the 29th.

since I am still a student, I guess it is time to start my next paper-- Colossians 1: 15-20-- and by coincidence it is where the exercises have turned to for this week. Christ the King. Having spent time with sin, I am now spending time with the ultimate invitation. Can I reject Jesus calling me into his Kingdom? Why Colossians? It is seen as a connection between wisdom and Christ. I am curious. Did Paul write it? I could flip a coin or randomly pick one scholar.

as for the work incident that I struggled with..... I spoke to the student, asked if he wanted to come back. He said, "yes." He has really gotten into drawing anatomy, strangely I discovered his passion for drawing when he drew a hateful drawing of me.

dark places

I don't like feeling overwhelmed, so the mouse chose a bad week to enter our kitchen Tuesday night. Please don't tell me the mouse didn't choose, I am thinking just as when I tell my students a plant is happy or sad. Who knows besides God how a plant feels or what a mouse chooses to do? Giving the kitchen a thorough cleaning was not a mid-week chore on my schedule, but that is what I did on Wednesday night. It set me behind in my mind and there it was... an overwhelmed funk. Prayer, exercising, talks with M helped bring me out of it, but there I was all the same.



Preparation is over, I am entering the spiritual exercises. This last week was fruitful. A running joke with some people is.. "even Wayne ...." It started when a friend said, "even Wayne wears a wedding ring," to her husband. This week, I heard myself say.. "Even Wayne can put his trust in God." Last night at my class we ended with a prayer. I chose Jeremiah 29:11-14, from his letter to the exiles. Jeremiah speaks of the different responses we get from God depending upon the level of energy we put into the relationship. I thought of these spiritual exercises. 42 days of preparation. I am the man who leaps into things. Read the manual before turning on the machine. That is not my style. 42 days.

We talked about sin (Romans 7:14-25), the law, trust (Hebrews 2: 5-13), choosing a life with God as opposed to a life without (Dueteronomy 30: 15-20). Then I was told we would enter into the first week of the exercises. This would take a week if I was at a retreat center so, it could take me another 40 to 50 days to get through this "week" during which we will explore sin.

I say, "Didn't we just cover that?"

The discussion had been spurred by Paul struggling with fully knowing that the law comes from God, knowing what is right, and yet at times going against God and the law. Jesus didn't abolish the law and at some points made it even stronger. I am not about to follow the book of Leviticus, but something is stirring. Over the years liturgy has gotten kinder and kinder when we speak of sin. Are we wretched as Paul describes himself? I know how I should treat others and at times fall way short. What causes that to happen? Paul believed in a force or spirit of sin inside himself. This is a dark place, but it is filled with light, for Paul says our hope and salvation is in God and Jesus.

A mouse died this week in my kitchen because of a choice I made.

Kairos spelled out

Each Thursday morning I am handed at least one new sheet of paper, after the sixth week, I see it for what it is, Kairos-- God's time. This week's says Preparation Days/6. Thinking I was on a set prescription, I ask, "How many weeks does this take?" Shouldn't this be clear. Can't my spiritual director look at a human made calendar and say, we will be done on Thursday, month, date, hour, minute, second? Or even in a less specific way, can't the man say how many sheets of paper he plans to give me (I think I need a binder.)

He acts as if there is no set number of weeks. I know this already, because as my director he is free to repeat or skip exercises depending on where he, with God's help, senses I need to go. So he tells me with a lack of certainty that we will end most likely late next spring. This man has earned many points along the way. Early on it is was his story of how he stumbled into being an Episcopalian while attending a Presbyterian college, which happened to be a college that kindly asked me to pack my bags and get out after three semesters.

This week it was his knowledge of the Bible, which helped with some passages I had struggled with during day 5, which for now matches up with week 5. For example, Ephesians 2:1-10. Yes, I can see myself as spiritually dead when I was failing out of my first college, but I can't feel it in the same black and white way as the passage describes. My director points out what seems obvious now. I was baptised, raised in a community, then wondered away, then came back and felt a re-birth. But was I correct in doubting if I had been completely dead. I probably wasn't. Am I fully alive now in a time where we speak of spiritual journeys? Probably not. But for the Ephesians who received that letter, they were not adults who had wandered off, they were folk newly baptised into a new life.

As I write this, it makes me think of how I see being born again differently than others who are alive today. I see it as a process that can occur at any moment, God's time of creating us new. Each moment is a chance to shed something that keeps me from living fully with myself, others, and God -- the three things we are called to love. Others see it as the moment they entered into communion with Christ. I always thought that "they" must have it wrong, but now I sense how powerful that must have been to be truly born again as an adult into a relationship with God. Not understanding others is an example of what needs to die in myself. It is as if I am deadheading so more flower buds can form.

I think of those raised to parents who have had a life changing event in accepting Christ. I hear that that the pressure can be great to feel the same joy. But how can one feel that joy of being born again, if they have not experienced the lack of it?

If it happened to me as an adult in a big way, I am nearly at my tenth anniversary. We had just moved to Lansdale and M said she wanted to find a church. I said, "Why not?" Now, I am glad I didn't have an answer to that question. Those two words came from someplace new inside of me and shocked her. I would say that a celebration is in order. My anniversary of stepping into a church--- the first Sunday of Advent.

28 days of everyday life

If I had done it the quick way, then I would be nearly done, however, I have barely begun. Ignatius's spiritual exercises can be done at The Jesuit Center in Wernersville in just over 30 days. I lack the money, time, job, and understanding wife to go away for a month. Margaret graciously allows me 8 days to be in silence each summer, but 32 is pushing it.

Ignatius had annotations and the 19th states the possibility for people like myself to do the "exercises in everyday life." This means I pray for an hour 7 times a week and then meet with my spiritual director. That counts as one day. My director is not Jesuit nor Catholic, but like myself he is an anglo-catholic and he trained at Wernersville. When I met him this summer, he told me that he had no time in the evening or on weekends. So I fit him in on Thursday mornings before I go to work, after which I go to my class. It is a long day leaving the house at 6:30 and getting home around 9:30. 28 days in and I am beginning to sense what it means to be in retreat during everyday life.

Getting up early for prayer each day, exhausted me, so after two weeks I adjusted. An Hour on Thursday-- you've got to be kidding. Now, I am finding a rhythm to this retreat. I pray twice on either Saturday or Sunday. Mondays and Wednesdays there is time when I get home from work, after a short nap. Tuesday I pray when Margaret is off at choir practice. Last Friday I got up early, because we had a date planned in the evening. I am still off balance as I fit prayer around exercise, teaching, Margaret, friends, music, gardening.... you know everyday life. But a good friend said, I looked better today, and I believe her.

Yesterday I did a "consideration." It took me to a place where I could imagine loving a group of seven students where love was low. Today the class went smoothly and one student who had been convinced I was the devil (she did say that), apologized to me. The prayer the night before had placed me in a frame of mind to accept it. Well, the smile that came with the apology was amazing too. So I gave her and the other dreaded six students a freshly baked whole wheat roll which had had diced hot peppers mixed into the dough. It was a blessing. I reflected on it this afternoon as I prayed with a passage in Romans-- those who follow the spirit are adopted by God. As I prayed I thought that I needed to thank the staff member who intervened between the student and myself yesterday. That will fit into my everyday life tomorrow.