Pope Francis provides an added dose of uncertainty, but the shipping is free and the desire to feed the hungry remains

Sophia Spiral Mandala, a design from silence by Wayne Stratz

One thing about working at a school that is fed by many local districts, we can be affected by events, like snow to the north or a visit from the Pope. Districts in the thick of things are closing, but if transportation of some sort can get students to us then they will be in my classroom. Districts that are open may have a difficult time transporting students.

How bad are these roads going to be? Who will be in my classes? What should I plan to teach? There is plenty of uncertainty.

But I do know two things I spoke of in my newsletter of 9/21/15. 

Free shipping (reduced to Canada) on one of my many designs that were inspired by silent retreats with Jesuits while the rare Jesuit Pope is in town. Order one here before he leaves on Sunday >>> Sophia Spirals.

Plus Margaret and I are hoping to give a bit more to feed the hungry this month. 10% of sales are going to be donated to Philabundance in Philly. So check out Margaret's shop as well.

and in the end, Z is for Zest ~ the a to z of one word messages

not an orange
not Zest
but a Sophia Mandala
by
Wayne Stratz

No Z word mosaics  to show off as we end the challenge.  Friends suggested ZEST, and I went for it.  And to tie the this omega to the alpha, I can remember the awe of finding out one could grate the peel of a lemon or an orange and use it to create a flavor explosion.  Zest is like that.  It surprises you and leaves you filled with life. I could see us creating a one word sign. Zest in orange of course.

The first friend, who recommended it, was Zoe, who knows a thing or two about zesty fruit, check out her art here.

Mystical Mondays ~ some thoughts on Wisdom

My time at Wernersville has introduced me to Lady Wisdom, and inspired my Sophia spiral design

Wisdom is there to bring us awe each and every moment of the day. I hope to be awed at least daily if not each moment. Maybe one day I will be so wise to live within the constant flow of awesome moments.

Last night it happened within a drum solo


WHEREVER YOU MAY LOOK

Wisdom is
so kind and wise
that wherever you may look
you can learn something
About God.

Why
would not
the omnipresent
teach that
way?

St. Catherine of Siena

Lady Wisdom Shineth

Sophia has been keeping me a bit under control since I mentioned working and not working on this project.

at night in the bathroom, 10 minutes after completion:

and this morning:

and up close in day light:

FOR SALE HERE

Crafting On Thursday- Rising with Sophia

at etsy

which comes first:

falling into an emotional funk or staying out of the studio?

I have felt riled up this week, letting things annoy me. Students, colleagues, friends, administrators, forms, stained glass artists who sell their pieces for dirt cheap, drivers, ...

I went 130 hours away from my studio, since Saturday when I cut and then ground 21 pieces to fill in a favored design.

For the last 90 minutes of commuting I have listened to one song over and over. A Canadian, singing a song written by a Canadian.

And a phrase resonates with my bitterness: it's a cold and broken hallelujah


and I think of Sophia. In the book of Wisdom, Sophia is given 21 attributes, one of which describes great swiftness. When I first read this I imagined the human need for God to flow into us as Wisdom before we say things we wish we hadn't said. And as I imagined myself a bit cold and a bit broken this week, I thought of my need for some Wisdom.

Today went better at work, so I returned to the studio to foil those 21 pieces. And what design has been waiting for me patiently, it would be my Sophia Mandala. The most recent to be completed welcomed you when you entered this blog post. The new one that is taking form is very verdant.

and it helped to read these words by Rumi at this blog.

There is a light seed grain inside.
You fill it with yourself, or it dies....
I'm caught in this curling energy. Your hair.
Whoever's calm and sensible is insane.

and it helped to ask this friend to pray for me.

...

Sophia in silence, glass, scripture and hymn

at our etsy shop



In August when I returned from my eight days of silent retreat at Wernersville, I wrote about watching a day come into existence through my stained glass which was hanging in the window. The mandala had been made for my spiritual director for the week, who was once again guiding me into relationship with Sophia.

I call the piece, A Sophia Spiral Mandala, which doesn't just happen to have 21 pieces of glass. It has 21 pieces of glass because the design came to be after spending time with Sophia and a passage (The Book of Wisdom, chapter 7) that includes her 21 attributes:

²² For within her is a spirit intelligent, holy, unique, manifold, subtle, mobile, incisive, unsullied, lucid, invulnerable, benevolent, shrewd,
²³ irresistible, beneficent, friendly to human beings, steadfast, dependable, unperturbed, almighty, all-surveying, penetrating all intelligent, pure and most subtle spirits.

This week I decided to make a new mandala for our craft shows. I cut out four pieces of five types of blue green glass and than pulled out the Youghiogeny glass for the 21st. As I was writing a blurb to describe the mandala, it occurred to me what that 21st piece is. As we grow to know God in all images, we spiral into ourselves, and what we find is our true self. And there is nothing I can put in that location better than a piece of amazing glass from western Pennsylvania:





I love how Ruth Duck takes her wonderful new lyrics and places them into melodies I adore. Here is verse 3 of "Wash Oh God our Sons and Daughters"

O how deep your holy wisdom! Unimagined, all your ways! To your name be glory, honor! With our lives we worship, praise! We your people stand before you, water-washed and Spirit born. By your grace, our lives we offer. Recreate us; God, transform!

Now close your eyes and imagine Sophia searching for you and you searching for Sophia and the amazing beauty that resides in us and so wants to shine in the light:

peace, hope, and joy be with you.

adult education

Friday nights on my friends' porch is one place I learn. When I hit the sidewalk, if I turn right I get to my church, if I turn left and left again I end up at a porch of some good folk who I met at my church. So with a beer or two, I unwind with friends while listening to their stories and telling a few of my own. The invitation goes out when the weather warms and ends about now and it is received by more of us than could ever fit on the porch, but we crowd on if needed. And nobody worries about perfect attendance.

I thought of this porch when I read this quote by Carl Jung- - ----

"We need colleges for 40 year olds to prepare them for their coming life. Our religions were always such schools in the past, but how many people regard them as such today."

This was quoted by Paul Robb, S.J. in his book Passage through Mid-Life: A Spiritual Journey to Wholeness. I have been reading a page or two each night following my examen.

So anyway, two weeks ago I showed up at the porch, after a crowd had formed, and three friends seemingly at once asked me when "my" adult class was to begin. Well, I ignored them the best I could, sat down by one and explained how busy my life was ---- how could I possibly find time to teach an adult class. clearly impossible. Ten days later, I am just home from teaching one.

The thought that entered and changed my mind was this ---- if getting a degree in spirituality is going to make me too busy to meet with my own community, to touch base on where God is surfacing or not surfacing in our lives, then something is wrong. Wisdom strikes again. So I took Sophia with me tonight and after a discussion on the images of God, I read a passage from The Book of Wisdom. It was given to me at Wernersville, and tonight I passed it on here in Lansdale.

This past Friday on the porch, books came up, and I was asked what I was reading for pleasure. And there I was again saying I was too busy with reading for my college class and prepping for teaching. My friend's wisdom carried with me, and now every night I am reading a few pages from Many Waters: A Companion to Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle. It is a pleasure to read her writing.

I am glad that though some call me "teach" at church, it is my church that teaches me as I make my passage through mid-life.

before the last 54 hours of noise

My creaky car door slammed into the silence. I had just dropped a load of stuff into my car when I made the noise. It catches the attention of the Sister (who ate the tomato salad!). I walk over and say, "They pay me to make that noise to announce the end of silence."

she says, "it could use some WD4o."

She walks back the the center, and I to the UCC cemetery. Birds are few, but I stop and look to the left and up and there is the moon in the morning sky. I ask Sophia for reminders to get me through my life. To stop, to ask for stillness, to be gentle, to be aware of God's unfolding creation.

At 8 am I enter the dining hall, the silent breakfast is ending and I am pleased to see the woman mentioned above sitting down to eat. I sit down and have a conversation. We are joined by a priest from New Jersey, a Sister from NYC, who happens to be the woman who shared the bench with me; and another Sister, who says I am sweet because I had told her in passing that I had appreciated her piano playing through a door the other night.

As the non-Catholic in the group I get a lesson on what is happening in the Catholic universe and we get to know each other. They ask me how it was to be the only man in the feminine images of God group. I say, "we only met together once and I had the longest hair." I clear my dishes and walk over to Father Sneck to ask if I am Catholic enough to sign the Catholics against the war petition.

It is mass where the emotions start to fly. We leap in by singing Lover of Us All.... "with sun and moon we dance with joy...." Father Sneck leads the service and as he always does leaves most of the homily to us. Most of those who do choose to talk mention the fire alarm, the sweaty building, the 12 hours with non-flushing toilets. I say something like this:

"Part of my packing is randomly choosing 20 or so jazz CD's. Somehow I chose at least 4 versions of the standard, "What's New." What's new is Sophia. Sister Maria with much courage directed me into painful places and Sophia provided the gentleness to find healing My hope is for that gentleness to stay with me when I leave and interact with my wife, my students and the rest of creation."

The closing song is "We Are Called" We close out our time together with so much heart felt spirit I am overwhelmed by joy once again. I thank the Jesuits whose worship has helped so much on this retreat. I tell father Barron how the birds brought his message back to me last night. Goodbyes done, I discover a Men's room is now labeled Women. They are ready for us to leave.

I think of writing once more as I step outside, but I run into my bench sharing new bird watching buddy. She is telling me about her trips to Africa and I am telling her the names of the birds, and have gotten to white-breasted nuthatch when another Sister comes over and says, "Wayne, you are gentle."

I try to dismiss the compliment and say, "I have some moments...." But she cuts me off, and as she waves goodbye says, "We all have those."

In a few minutes I am driving through the gates filled with hope. Three times my hand reaches to turn the radio on, and each time I stop myself, for this drive will be in silence.

last and first

I end the last page of my journal today with these words:

"I finished off the doodle, cause an imperfection or two when I spray it. I lie down to listen to a few Keith Jarrett improvistations before I enter into prayer. I end this journal here. Ready to venture into some truths I have not wanted to face. I will let the Father guide me, Sophia comfort me, and Jesus heal me. if and only if, it their desires.

peace hope joy and love

The Man who blames it on his youth"

I turn to find the first entry. It is September/4/2006 I ended that day's examen with this:

"What has brought God's seed to my life?

seeing Margaret for the first time, and years later her saying she wanted to know me?

Touchberry.... "extreme unction" on Christmas Day four weeks after returning to church-- where I learned about letting things die in order to live.

music, doodling

Psalm 139--- Wernersville 2004--- tears and anger"



Sister Maria had the courage to ask me to go where I didn't want to go. But now I am grateful. It just may have led to less blame on my youth, my God, my wife; and more acceptance of who I am. My greatest sadness has changed. It is on the way to being accepted. Maybe that is the lesson of this retreat. Great sadnesses can be accepted. This one is who I am. It is a place to yearn for this acceptance of your nature. It is the spirit of Jarrett playing solo, playing 'Shenandoah' as if it was a jazz standard.

I already had thought it was the most beautiful jazz piano in the world, "The melody at Night, With You." The CD I turned to this morning when I was ranting and wondering why I had chosen to be here. I asked Sister Maria if there was an easier path to take. She said, "Sophia will be gentle. I turn to solo piano. The CD will point out that "I got it Bad and That Ain't Good", that I have "Someone to Watch Over me" that maybe I can stop "Blaming everything on my youth" That Margaret and God have said to me "Be My Love" that "Shenandoah" is the place we most yearn to be, and then he ends with a reminder of that icy Frigidaire and the attitude that I so want to avoid because if "I'm Through with Love" I might as well call it a life.

one full day of silence is left.

time travel with Sophia

12 hours before I time travel in an Adirondack chair, I am aware that I am awake. It is 2:00 a.m. and I am tossing and turning as I think about a poster I had examined earlier in the day. I pour myself some port and walk down the hallway, this is a shorter trip than the one I took the night before.

The poster has the names of several Jesuits and two others who were murdered in central america. I read a name, pray, take a sip of port, till I have paid my respects. The quote about how Christians need to respond to injustice is what I turn my attention too. I think of childhood pain.

The morning light wakes me and I have no need to rush. I head into the UCC cemetery and I am again amazed by the number of birds. I assume they are flocking to go south.

My soul seems to be at peace as I eat breakfast. Sister Maria hears my 24 hour tale and advises me to be gentle with myself. She claims Sophia is gentle. She asks about the pain. I tell her my childhood story. For my contemplations she recommends time with creation and she will photo copy another prayer by Joyce Rupp, this one on retrieving feelings. Two things occur near the end of my time with her. I feel selfish and admit to it. I want this journey with God to be easy. I want this childhood trauma to be dealt with completely. I am tired of the narrow path mentioned in yesterday's sermon. I want it quick and easy. I also tell myself that as I walk by Sister Maria I am going to pause today and truly feel her hand on my shoulder.

Creation goes well. I see but don't ID warblers, I see and hear a red-tailed hawk, then 100 plus crows emerge from a tree quite dissatisfied with life, then land on another tree. In a few moments I am standing under that tree. I am still, the crows are restless. I see a dead branch that was decaying before it fell and shattered when it hit the ground. I imagine myself Andy Goldsworthey (???) and start a tower. I end up working on it for an hour after I had used up the original branch. Temporary art.

What truly captures my eyes are the two rows of corn closest to me. I claim them RED MAIZE. Later in the afternoon I will draw them in the center of a circle and then fill in the circle with the earth tones I have associated with Sophia. It is my favorite large doodle of this retreat and it is fitting that I drew it for Sister Maria.

Mass is peaceful, lunch is mindful, I draw the doodle. Then I pick up the Joyce Rupp poem. It does not draw me back into the trauma of childhood. Is it because I am at peace with my past, because the image of a hugging mother is not working, or some unknown reason? I thank Sophia for taking me into the pain the day before and get up to finish the doodle. I go outside and sit down in an Adirondack chair and pull out the Joyce Rupp poem. I am walking back into the doctor's office. I ask Sophia to bathe me in blue light and to put her hand on my shoulder. I am also there as a five year old.

I tell him that he will forget his childhood; there will be no memories of elementary school.

I tell him that he will turn to drugs to numb the pain.

I tell him he will have no hope, but God will give some to his mom and it will grow and at some point be passed back into his body.

I tell he will cry, but not for many many years.

I tell him he will consider himself a freak.

I tell him about meeting Margaret and her love which is so great it pushed through his stoic wall.

I tell him about returning to God.

I tell him about how birds and music will bring him peace.

I tell him sad and joyful things. Occasionally I stop and bathe in the blue light, feel that hand on my shoulder.

I am crying in an Adirondack chair.

I tell him that he will take the narrow path, and he will heal his wounds. it will be painful but he will be gentle with himself for wise people will guide him. I tell him that as he heals he will become a healer also. His message to the other people in his life will come closer and closer to the message he will hear from God. He will try to bring comfort to others who have had an unjust childhood. I stand with him 39 years ago, hoping with my faith in God for things yet unseen.

and yes, music soothed... Ella Fitzgerald sang sweetly to me today.

two days left.

The image of the Father joins the dance

Thunder wakes me at 3:00 am and I find myself out in the hallway looking at 4 prints in a memorial to Joe Whelan, SJ. Two were at his desk for years. They are a crucified Christ and an enlargement of Jesus's face. It's like hitting a zoom button looking from one to another. I don't know much about the man but I read about how he faced cancer. That brought a print of the resurrected Christ to his office. Then to the right is a Mark Rothko print that brought him into connection with Jesus. But I am thinking about the Father.

Sister Maria has asked me to read scripture and it has thrown me for a loop. I don't want this loop, and I will resist. It is Hebrews 12: 5-7 & 11-13. The book I will be reading from has that whole section. I copy it to practice. I see the handout for worship says only 5-7. Yesterday Father Lucien said there are time to listen to God and not do what you are being told to do. I need to read 11-13. I need to finish with, "Heals." Basically it is describing God as a father who disciplines us. It is clear that it is out of love, but my mind races to those who had abusive fathers and how that relationship destroys this image of God. I want my mind to stay there, that is enough, but my medical trauma comes racing back for all of those trips to a urologist basically created a soul that was abused as a child. How can I read this? I need wisdom.

I ask Sophia for wisdom, God for love, and Jesus for forgiveness. I beg. I say, I can't read this without your help. I leave Father Whelan, say a prayer, and go back to sleep.

I wake two hours later than normal. Adrenaline shocks me and there will be no need for coffee or tea this morning. I do eat and shave, but there is little time to reflect before I am sitting with Sister Maria. I say, "Do you know what that passage contained?" What do I sense a conspiracy involving her and all the spirits?

She says, No. And I think, God is strange. I tell her it is about the Father and add this story: Saturday afternoon in the heat I catch a ride on an elevator with an elderly Jesuit and two African-American women (no this is no joke). The Jesuit says, "What floor Father?"

I am 44 and this is a first. I have never been called a father before. I head to the OED and definition 4 is my only hope.

The Father has joined the dance.

I spend the rest of the morning doodling. It is large so it takes up a lot of time. I draw Sophia one side of a circle, I am on the other. We are in a biological cell and we are sending out spindle fibers to grab the dark DNA which is evil. Not sure if the analogy works, not sure if I love the outcome of the doodle, but it kept me distracted, while listening to Marian McPartland's In My Life. The tune 'What's New' speaks to me and I wished there were vocals.

I am sitting waiting for mass to start. My hands are shaking. The psalm is read and I get up to read. I silently ask for calm. I ask to provide hope to those who were abused and cleansing for the abusers. I read with spirit. I feel blessed.

I take the bread and wine. I have settled a bit. Then we get up to sing the closing hymn... Sing a New World into Being. It is filled with wonderful imagery and is placed to a favorite melody. I cry.

The afternoon is restless. I try to distract myself with math puzzles and Count Basie's Atomic Basie. Who brings a CD with a mushroom cloud to a silent retreat? I spend and hour reflecting on Wisdom 7: 22-30. It starts with 21 adjectives and then has some amazing imagery. One of Sophia being the image of God in a mirror. I want to flee and drink beer and eat Mexican food, but instead I go to the sanctuary. I will sit here and pray until the masses have moved through the line getting food.

"Be Still" Who is that in my head? "Know that I am God." Is it Sophia, The Father, Jesus? It doesn't matter, but my evening has moved in a new direction.

I eat more mindful than I have all week, well I did take a bigger piece of cake than I planned, but what can one do when one finds banana cake. My mom's present to me all those years as a child. The woman who I told to eat to tomato salad walks by with a piece of cake, I give her a silent thumbs up. She smiles with me. I am not in this alone.

I move to my room and start my third reflection of the day. Yesterday I wrote a letter from Sophia, today I write her back. My hand tires and I want to take this stillness outside where I see what may be warblers and hear what surely is a red-bellied woodpecker. God the Creator is here too. I walk by some fresh cement and the punk in me wants to spell out, "IGGY WAS HERE."

Something is welling up as I sit watching the sun set, I need to go back to Sophia. I tell her about the urologist and now I am crying about this wound from my childhood. Three years ago I spent an 8 day retreat slowly bringing Mary and Jesus, and then my dad nd later even the doctor showed up in his own office with tears running down his face. We cried all week. How many images of God do I need to bring here? Is there room for Sophia and The Father?

I pull out A Man isn't supposed to cry by Joe Williams. It is the last track on the CD. I randomly choose track 4 and one of my favorite standards floats into my head.... I'm Through With Love. I love the line about placing one's heart in an "icy Frigidaire."

I have three more full days of silence left. Where am I going to place my heart? Every image of God I can imagine is blocking my path to the refrigerator.

Dancing with Don Byron and Sophia

A Sophia Spiral
hanging
at Wernersville
Jesuit Center

Sister Maria is still directing me even though I admitted to her this morning some of my negative thoughts on those who dump the other images of God and only keep the feminine. But she asked for me to read a letter I wrote to Sophia and I didn't edit it as I read aloud, though I worried I would offend. She just get like a good Jesuit and says that's "great, you have to be willing to share your desolations." She even asks if I would read scripture tomorrow and I say, "Yes."

Here, the building sweats with us. At mass today they say, it is going to be 97 degrees and the humidity is 99%. Then to point out more of what I wished I had not noticed, they say, "The floors are slippery." There are sections of this building where the condensation is impressive; small puddles have formed. So I doodle early to try to beat the heat in my third floor room and for the third straight day, I feel I have drawn an inspired doodle.


Today's shows light creeping though a mass of darkness. The darkness is the gate that protects my heart from helpful things like God. Today I imagine it is Sophia, then a thought comes to mind and when you are being silent many of those happen... Maybe it is Sophia looking through and I am the light. who knows.

I had chosen a Don Byron CD to listen to while doodling and lie down to finish it off. Some of his jazz sounds like klezzmer music, but this doesn't and for a moment I am wondering if I am hearing a tuba. I take out the liner notes and see he is playing a bass clarinet in what is a duet with jazz pianist Uri Caine. They are playing "Reach Out I'll Be There" which sounds like a 70's pop tune, but the title is what I have been hearing from God. I read more of the line notes. Byron does everything from Roy Orbison and Stevie Wonder to Schumann, from Ornette Coleman to Mancini, Sondheim, and ends with Chopin. I realize that this jazz album states it all for me these silent days. Byron is open to many. I want to be open to many. I quake and tears fall. It is rare for me but every so often God finds a wound opens it up and in the pain and joy tears fall.

Sophia is Wisdom is God. Sophia as described in Chapter of the Book of Wisdom says begins with a sincere desire for instruction. She is what drives us to want to know more about our faith. Anytime we need wisdom to to do what is right, to know what to say, to love more fully, she is there for us. What does your heart desire to know?

At lunch I am finding God in a cherry tomato salad. These tasty gems have to be local. There is a woman sitting a few feet from me. She has tomatoes on her sandwich and in her green salad, but none of the salad. I resist for a bit, but finally when I get up to clear my plates, I lean over and shattering the silence, I whisper, "God desires you to have some of the cherry tomato salad."

The woman looks up and says, "Does SHE really." The smile that shines on her face is as great as the salad.

Being a prophet of a God with many names, I say, "Yes she does," and walk away back into the silence, where many more thoughts awaited me.

silence!

tower on the Jesuit Center
Wernersville, PA

OK, so I am going to resist the world especially a desire to know what other think of Sophia and how the Phillies are doing, but use the blessing of the computer at the Jesuit Center to keep up with my Blog.

two days of silence and I have not been given a Bible scripture to reflect upon; I should have had 6 bu now. Sister Maria seems to be knowing what she is doing as she directs me to Sophia, and though I don't know much of anything about Sophia, I have at least figured out that it is a feminine image of God. Well, that's the name of the retreat I signed up for with a strange heart. Sister Maria is trying to have me open it.

On the night I got here she gave me a prayer by Joyce Rupp (and yes, she is the reason I walk these halls with a beautiful mug made by a friend). That night as we sat in silence, that would be my fellow retreatants and myself the lone male, I change the pronouns to include all.

On the first full day Sister Maria had me bring Sophia into three aspects of my life which I have brought into silence. The administrators at my school who are supporting my desire to get a degree in spiritual direction, my relationship with my students, and missing Margaret. It goes well. I realize the students are at times like the wedding guest who is not dressed properly and gets thrown out (that day's Gospel), but I then take it further to the importance of the reentering of the kingdom or of my classroom. Can I greet the students like the father greets the prodigal son? The importance of missing Margaret strikes more after I call her, in a moment of clarity that could have come a lot sooner, I realize I need to call her as much for my own sake as for hers and if I look at it that way, I may have a better attitude while doing it.

This morning I tell Sister Maria I resisted the urge to go to the library to research who exactly this Sophia I am praying to is. She encourages that behavior. Provides no scripture to help me and says to keep listening for Sophia. I listen to Madeleiene Peyroux sing "I am going to sit write down and write myself a letter and make believe it came from you, going to write words oh so sweet, they are going to knock me off my feet...." wow, I say that's what Sister Maria wants me to do, so I take the poem by Joyce Rupp and rewrite it as if it is written to me, and yes the words are sweet and full of love.

Later during my evening prayer, I read the letter and respond to it line by line. It's all about mindfulness and opening one's heart and about God's desire, Sophia's desire to be with me. And after two days my attitude is bared to Sophia. I came here because OTHER folk believe in this stuff, and it will help me in working with them. Once again I am afraid of what will happen to ME if I believe in a feminine image of God. Will, I become new age and move to Santa Fe, or possibly will I be a man with a more complete image of God who hangs out with Episcopalians in Lansdale. who knows anything, but there are five full days of silence yet to go and I may yet get a Bible passage.