religion – Page 2 – A Quiet Walk

Who’s Cross

Posted on July 3, 2013July 3, 2013 by a quiet walk

Mark 8:34 And he called to him the multitude with his disciples, and said to them, “If any man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.

I love the Gospel of Mark, it encourages me to ask questions and this verse in his gospel is one of those that drives me crazy with questions. The reason is I’m not sure whose cross I’m supposed to carry. If I take it literally, which is how it is most often interpreted, then I am to bear “my” cross and follow Jesus. But If I look at this scripture from the way Jesus responded to all of those who did follow him and surrounded him as he taught, then, this verse takes on new meaning for me.

What if, just what if, Jesus is telling us to carry the cross of someone who is suffering and not our own cross. Yes I know that flies in the face of orthodox interpretation but then I’m not orthodox. Those in my ecclesial tradition of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) read and interpret scripture and Holy Writings for ourselves. We do have to defend our interpretation and in that defense we either modify or enlarge our understanding of what scripture has to say. So here is my defense of my interpretation Mark 8:34 that “the cross Jesus is asking us to pick up is not ours but the cross of my neighbor and both of us then follow Jesus.”

First of all these words of Jesus are recorded in all three of the synoptic Gospels, but not in John. Now it could be that Matthew and Luke simply copied Mark, after all they used Mark as their blueprint for their own Gospels. But, the fact that it appears almost word for word in each of three synoptic Gospels leads me to believe this was something Jesus did say or could have said. Jesus also never said anything that would contradict what he “did” throughout his life of a servant to the disadvantaged, displaced, ill, elderly and disabled. Jesus’ life as it was recorded in the synoptic Gospels was less about what he said and all about what he did.

It is also one of the verses that is almost always misused or misquoted to, or by, those who are having a difficult time. How often have you heard the words “well that is my (your) cross to bear.” Something about that phrase has always bothered me. It’s used to trivialize suffering or difficult times for people and I think that is wrong. I don’t believe that Jesus would have ever told anyone that and I believe the “traditional” interpretation of this verse of carrying my own cross may not be what Jesus had in mind when he called to his disciples and the multitude.

Jesus always cared for those who could not care for themselves. His ministry was to those who had been discarded by society, bringing them back into relationship with their communities and with God. We often see him tired and totally worn out from giving of himself to those who needed him. And my question is; is that not carrying the cross of the other long? In fact we see death in so many ways in the ministry of Jesus, and not just Lazarus (John 11:41-43), a widow’s son (Luke 7:14), or Jairus’ little girl (Matthew 9:25, Mark 5:41, Luke 8:54). We see those who are dead and buried simply because they don’t fit society’s profile of “normal,” the blind, the infirm, and the mentally disabled and we see them resurrected from their death to life by Jesus who returns them to their communities. Every story of healing is a story of death and resurrection and it is Jesus who takes the burdens, i.e. their crosses, of those who have died to life restoring them to family and community. Jesus was teaching a Way of Life, and, one in which we as his followers were to emulate. That means caring for those who have died to society, bringing them back to life by restoring them to God, their families, and their communities. If we are going to be followers of Jesus then it is not our salvation that we are to be concerned with. No, it is the resurrection and life of those who have been pushed outside of society and left to die to life.

Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t believe the way I reach God is the only way. I believe there are many paths to God and each person will find their own path in their own good way and time. But If I am carrying the cross of those who are disadvantaged than I do it in the name of my faith in Jesus and give the space for those who are in my care to find the best way forward in their own way. To relieve the suffering of others, carrying their cross, is enough for my task. I can’t make the decisions as to how the move forward for them that is their choice. It could be that they choose to refuse my help and that is OK, they then have chosen to remain where they are in their spiritual lives.

Jesus never forced his pathway on anyone so why should I. Remember the story of the 10 Lepers (Luke 17:12-19)? Jesus healed ten but only one returned to thank him. Jesus asks where the other nine were but that’s as far as it goes. He doesn’t take revenge on them by making them lepers again just because they didn’t return to follow him. He let them choose their own path so that is what we are to do as well. (Here is a side note from this former statistician: actually 10% isn’t a bad response, in most instances you can expect only a 10% to 20% return on anything you put forward.)

So carrying the cross of someone else means opening a door for them, or clearing a pathway that allows them to return to a right relationship with God, no matter what that may look like for any particular individual. It means walking along side someone supporting their burdens while they sort out their lives and relationship with God no matter how they worship, or name God. Not an easy task for sure. We can see the effects on Jesus throughout scripture in his perpetual fatigue. Yet Jesus never complained and that too is a goal we are to reach for and it too is very difficult.

Now the next question is, if I am carrying someone else’s cross who is carrying mine. And that’s a tricky question. Do you remember that during the trip to Golgotha Simon of Cyrene (Matthew 27: 32, Mark 15:21, Luke 23:26) was conscripted into carrying Jesus cross? This, for means me, Simon supported Jesus’ burdens and Jesus was now the one who was in need of life. Jesus find life in his own resurrection, a resurrection had had given to so many others throughout his lifetime.

My lesson of the scripture is someone else is walking with me and supporting my burdens while I support the burdens of those who are disadvantaged. The person supporting my burdens is Jesus and I am supporting Jesus’ burdens in my walking in the way He taught. Now that is a big cross to carry! I am not sure I know how to fulfill this task, but I do know that I’m not alone; in fact I am never alone. I have others on the same pathway and I always have the presence of Christ and the Holy Spirit to hold me up and cheer me on. I am not perfect at following the teaching of Jesus but grateful that He’s not too picky and forgives me my all too often mistakes and stumbles. While I strive to be Jesus like I often miss the mark and that means I’m not always helpful. All I am asked to do is to keep trying and moving forward on the path. I mean after all he taught those 12 male disciples and they never got it right so I figure I’m in good company.

Life is what I want, for me and for all that I meet. It’s not my job or task to determine what that life will look like for someone else, I only need to worry about what mine looks like. That is sufficient unto the day. All Christ, God, and Holy Spirit want is for me to try, that’s all, and I am forgive my wanderings from the path and am welcomed back when I find it again. That is all I can do, that is all any of us can do.

May your journey be a joyful one, but if it’s not then I pray that you let someone support you and help you back into life.

©Ruth Jewell, July 3, 2013

a bit of gardening

Posted on April 30, 2013 by a quiet walk

This past week John and I did a bit of gardening. We had a rosemary bush being shaded by another bush and I wanted to move it. So we prepared the new spot where it was to go, dug the new hole and went over to our lovely rosemary bush. Now you should know I planted this bush 6 or 7 years ago and I haven’t touched it to really prune it in 5 years. That means it wasn’t a small bush. For the last 5 years it has been doing a wonderful job of growing as it now stood nearly 5 feet tall and had a spread of closer to 6 feet. But, we started pruning and pruning, and pruning. Some of the branches were more than an inch thick and really woody (great in our fireplace though). After being prickled and rosemary scented by our bush we got down to digging the roots up. I never knew this about rosemary but it puts down ROOTS, not little roots, big ones and deep. Also, they extended farther than the drip line of the bush which made finding the ends of the plant actually very difficult. We ended up cutting a lot of roots because we couldn’t find where they stopped. But we moved our tenacious plant and got it planted in its new home and it is doing well enjoying all the sun it wants and lots of water.

After we were finished and cleaning up I remembered something about rosemary. First of all rosemary, in flower language, means remembrance and that sweet, huge, tough bush reminded me of just how persistent our memories are. Deep within each of us lives a world that was. Sometimes it surfaces when we least expect it whether we want it to or not. But our past makes us who we are and embracing the happy, the sad, the good with the bad memories helps balance our present. Learning from my past mistakes and successes provides me with a road map for my way forward. All of those memories connect me to something greater than just this single moment in time. It is also the memories of those who modeled the best of their lives which have led me to being a better person in my own life.

It is the memory of my parents and how they loved and cared for me that has taught me to be a more loving and caring wife, friend, and grandmother. It was my parent’s determination to model a life that included people of all backgrounds, races, genders, and abilities that has given me a passion for my openness to those who are different from me. It was my father’s love of creation and prayer and silence that has been my model for my spiritual growth throughout my life. It was a first grade teacher’s kindness to this wounded child that taught me anything is possible if you put your mind to it.

The memories I have of wandering open fields, lying in new mown grass, making storybook figures out clouds, and reading a book while I sat in the crook of an old apple tree gave me a love of open spaces. I have precious memories of being awakened at midnight to watch the Aurora Borealis with my father, or going out to our barn to watch as calves or puppies were born that hold a special place in my heart. It is remembering thunder storms roll across our fields and listening as the rain pummeled the tin roof of our barn, or rushed through the branches of the huge pine tree that was just outside my bedroom window that draws me into a place of contemplation and peace like nothing else can.

It is the memory of pulling a deep fat fryer full of hot grease down on top of me that reminds me that accidents happen but I am not alone even in the worst of times. It is the memory of a child in the hospital bed next to me who died during the night that taught me that fresh grief is always inconsolable. It is the memory of uncaring questions by adults and taunts of other children that taught me that sometimes people can be cruel. The memory of my father’s death from cancer keeps me asking “why” questions of God and doubting the fairness of life the Scripture tells me is good. It was being laid off for a year that taught me to let go of my fears, face them, then hand them over to the all surrounding presence that has always been in my life. It is the memory of my discovery of how much I have been surrounded by the Spirit that has changed me from who I was into the person I am today. Memories are the soil of our lives; mine goes deep with plenty of memory leaf compost and with each day. With each new memory made the soil gets deeper and richer.

The best part is that each of us has our own bed of memories to draw upon. Some are wonderful, insightful memories, some are horrid memories we would rather forget entirely, but by facing them we turn those bad memories into rich memory compost. Even the memories of death and destruction have a place in our lives, just as the memories of our mother’s arms around us does. Each memory adds to who we are and allows us to see who we were. Memories are the mirrors of our soul and how our soul has grown into who we are. For the good and bad memories are who we are. In learning to live with what we remember gives us the skills we need to live in the world we share with all of creation.

Creation, life, isn’t always fair or beautiful to our eyes. But, we don’t see the big picture; we see only our very small portion. Like an ant on a forest floor the view of our individual world of reality is very small. What we remember of our past helps us see the greater picture. Memories give us a wider view of the life that lies before us and behind us. Our memories connect us to those we have loved, and hated, giving us a past to live from.

Not having a past cuts us off from our life today. It is the reason those with Alzheimer’s, dementia or traumatic brain injuries that affects memory feel so cut off from the world around them. They have nothing to compare today with so how do they know what today means; how do they relate to people and the world around them. The greatest gift we can give those who cannot remember is to give them a piece of their past to ground them in the now moment of their lives and to do it every moment, every hour, every day we are with them. The joy of someone who discovers their own past is amazing and life giving.

Memories are the soil we stand on, the ground of our lives that allows us to live better lives today and tomorrow. Rosemary, the plant of remembrance, is tough, strong, and sweet and I want to remember my yesterdays to make my tomorrows tough, strong, and sweet.

Ruth Jewell ©April 30, 2013

HOME

Posted on April 12, 2013 by a quiet walk

Ruth 1:16-17

¹⁶But Ruth said,
“Do not press me to leave you
or to turn back from following you!
Where you go, I will go;
Where you lodge, I will lodge;
your people shall be my people,
and your God my God.
¹⁷Where you die, I will die—
there will I be buried.
May the Lord do thus and so to me,
and more as well,
if even death parts me from you!”

John 14:23
²³Jesus answered him, “Those who love me will keep my word, and my Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them.

2 Corinthians 5:6-9
⁶So we are always confident; even though we know that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord— ⁷for we walk by faith, not by sight. ⁸Yes, we do have confidence, and we would rather be away from the body and at home with the Lord. ⁹So whether we are at home or away, we make it our aim to please him.

Our book group has been reading and discussing Diana Butler Bass’ book, Christianity After Religion, and in Chapter 6 Bass discusses home and identity. I actually had trouble with this section because I’m not sure what is home for me. I mean I have a home; I live in a house, with my husband, one dog, 2 parrots and a seminary student so that isn’t the issue. What is my question is “what does home mean?”

I grew up in Ohio and moved to a farm when I was 5 years old so for the next 19 years of my life my “home” was this wonderland place chock full of discoveries, and sadness. When I was 24 I moved from the farm and began a kind of nomadic life. I moved every couple of years from home to apartment, state to state, city to city, and moving many times within cities. My latest move was in 2000, when I was married, and moved into the house I am now living. When I moved into this house I told John, this was my last move and I would be carried out of here feet first because I wasn’t going to pack up all my “stuff” again! But, given my past history that may be a wish made on sand and someday I will have to, reluctantly, move from this house.

When we discussed what was home in our book group I realized I was the only one who had no clear sense of home. In fact I have no sense of a home town, or place of origin at all. All of the places I have lived are really far in the past and clouded with time. Does that sound strange to you? It didn’t to me until I began to listen to the stories of home from others. For instance my husband can identify one spot as his hometown, St. Charles Iowa. That is where he was born and grew up and despite not living there for 50 some years he still calls it home.

I can’t do that; there is no one place I would call home. Heck, there are times when I drive up my own driveway that I have to remind myself this is my “home” and I belong here. For me where I am is home. As long as I have my friends, companion critters and now the family I married into I’m home. I don’t have relatives to speak of. My parents have passed on; I haven’t seen any of my family of origin in 40 some years. The family I have is the family I have created around me, a group of individuals, couples, and families I feel strong connections with. Not one of them is a blood relative and that is fine with me. Yet I feel closer to this group than I ever did to my blood relations.

It is not that they all think like I do because they don’t. In fact, my guess is we have become friends because we think differently. But they share something with me that my “own family” never did and that is themselves. If I need a shoulder to cry on I can count on one of them showing up at my door saying, “Ruth, I had a feeling you needed a friend today.” Even when great distance separates us I can sense when a good friend needs me to call and talk. The conversation may be nothing important at all but it means something to my friend and me. I can’t say my own family would ever feel that connected to me.

For me home is where I am, right now, in this place, at this time. It means for me being with God, family, companions, friends, creation in whatever place or time I am in. If I had to suddenly leave the place I currently shelter in I can do it. I would grab what is important: my husband, my companion critters, my backpack throw in my bible and a change of clothes (my vanity wouldn’t let me wear the same underwear two days in a row, I’d add soap as well for cleanliness is next to Godliness),and walk out closing the door behind me. The stuff in the building is just stuff and can be replaced, none of it is important. As long as I have those that I love (and a change of underwear) I’m good to go. Were I end up I’d be HOME.

So I guess I am saying I am “home” wherever I am, I don’t need a specific location to call “home” I just need to feel close to what is important and what is important is love and companionship with those who I love and who love me. God will not abandon me, where I am God is because I experience God in the love I give and receive. What else is needed? Someone once said “home is where your heart is” and maybe what that means is my heart is my home, the ultimate shelter, the ultimate place I meet and live with Love. I am Home.

Ruth Jewell, ©April 12, 2013

a dream

Posted on February 18, 2013February 19, 2013 by a quiet walk

The telephone rings and I answer it, “hello, this is Mark and there has been an accident. Amelia was dancing near water in which an electric line had dropped. She stepped into the water and was electrocuted. She is in the hospital and we don’t know what will happen next.” Amelia, my sweet granddaughter? I scream for John and tell him to call the airline for a ticket tonight to B and . . . then I stop my dream.

I tell myself, wait a minute, this is a dream, and Amelia is just fine. There has been no accident and my little girl has not been hurt. So why am dreaming this. I realize this dream isn’t about Amelia at all; it’s about ME and my very active ego-self that wants to be all important. My ego-self knows just how much I love my granddaughter and would do anything, and I mean anything, to protect her. So when my ego-self thinks I am at my weakest, ill with the flu, asleep and unaware, it formed this scary dream to plant a seed of self-importance. Instead of following the dream any further I begin to repeat my daily prayer, “I surrender, O Holy One, this moment, this now of my life, watch over me and guide me, I surrender.” The dream within a dream ends and I enter a deep, peaceful and restful sleep.

When I woke up the next morning I recognized the “wow” factor in my night’s dream. In my sleep I had carried on a conversation with myself that allowed me to recognize when my ego-self was trying to trick me and I stopped it. I actually offered a meditation, in my sleep, to bring me back to a sense of reality that I also recognized and left me calm and able to drift back into a deep sleep.

In the last 6 months I have been doing a lot of thinking about who I truly am, where I am going, and what I am being called to do. As a result I have spent a great deal of time in meditation and journaling. This deep going within is pulling out new insights from some very dark places within my spirit and where I have been recognizing just how much I have followed my ego-self rather than my true-self throughout my entire life. Somehow that is beginning to change and I am learning to put my ego-self in its proper place and allowing my true-self to step forward.

I do need my ego-self, it is an important part of who I am. It helps me make decisions and protects me when I am in danger (whatever that might be). But the ego-self shouldn’t have the prime spot in my life, following only the ego leads me down a very selfish, self centered pathway and doesn’t allow the true me to shine forth.

My true-self, on the other hand, is the part of me that listens with compassion, offers kindness and mercy, and acts for peace and justice, not for my benefit but for the good of the community around me. It is my true-self that I want to take the place of primacy in my life, for that is who I truly am, the child of, the partner of, God. My dream is an example of how desperate my ego-self is to regain control of me and I am finally resisting the temptation to follow that path.

I am in a discernment process to discover where God is calling me to ministry and I must admit I’ve heard that call, but, I am afraid. It is that fear that my ego-self is using to prevent me from following the path God, Herself, is laying before me. I know God never asks us to do anything we are incapable of doing, but, She does challenge us to the limit of our abilities. It is that challenge that is putting fear in my heart. I guess I haven’t fully surrendered yet and so I sit at a threshold facing the mystery of what is to come. Right now I am unable to move into that mystery, I am paralyzed by fear and I want to tell God, “no not me, can’t you find someone else to do this, I’m not brave enough, or good enough, to do this.” However, I keep hearing “It is you I want, don’t be afraid, I am here, won’t you take my hand and step onto my path.”

It has been my experience that if God wants me to do something, and I don’t want to, God will call and plead, begging for me to reconsider. If I don’t, God stands with me in my choice. When everything doesn’t come out just as I thought, God gently reaches out, puts her arms around me and says with a slight smile, “just how did that work out for you.” I hate it when God says “I told you so.” In the end I grow weary of my mediocre plans and “give in” to what God is calling me to. So this time I think I will choose to follow the path God has placed before me instead of going my own way. I know it will be hard, but it won’t be as hard or painful as it would be if God wasn’t there.

God, I will take your hand and step onto your path. I will accept the challenge even though I am terrified of what might happen. You have led me this far and I haven’t crashed and burned yet. I keep saying “I surrender” and I guess this means I am finally beginning to truly commit to that surrender. All that I ask is don’t leave me alone to face the darkness, and protect me in those places that are filled with traps. I have faith in what you are asking of me and therefore hold me tight and guide me forward.

Ruth Jewell, ©February 18, 2013

A Prayer for Healing

Posted on January 24, 2013 by a quiet walk

Holy One, I am racked by pain,
my flesh is set afire, and
my lungs rattle with every breath.

My nights are filled with terror,
my bed soaked with tears,
I turn to You, O LORD, for help in
my trial.

I surrender into your healing arms,
my wretched body, my weary spirit,
seeking rest and comfort.

I lay my head upon your breast,
your breath brushes my cheeks, and
cools my fevered brow.

I am held in the arms of the creator,
surrounded by Holy Mystery,
comforted by the stroke of a Doves wing.

You, O Comforter of the weak,
are my salvation in my travail,
you pour strength into my bones,
you fill my spirit with health.

My heart leaps for joy,
You fill me with new courage
to carry on in your light. Light of my life,

Heart of my heart,
I kneel before you with joy and gratitude,
for your blessings carry me forward.

O Giver of Life, thanks and praise
for your healing touch,
AMEN

Ruth Jewell, ©January 24, 2013

It Was In Prayer

Posted on January 13, 2013 by a quiet walk

Sermon preached at Queen Anne Christian Church, January 13, 2013

Acts 8:14-17 ¹⁴ Now when the apostles at Jerusalem heard that Samaria had accepted the word of God, they sent Peter and John to them. ¹⁵The two went down and prayed for them that they might receive the Holy Spirit ¹⁶(for as yet the Spirit had not come upon any of them; they had only been baptized in the name of the Lord Jesus). ¹⁷Then Peter and John^* laid their hands on them, and they received the Holy Spirit.

Luke 3:15-22 ¹⁵ As the people were filled with expectation, and all were questioning in their hearts concerning John, whether he might be the Messiah, ¹⁶John answered all of them by saying, ‘I baptize you with water; but one who is more powerful than I is coming; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals. He will baptize you with^* the Holy Spirit and fire. ¹⁷His winnowing-fork is in his hand, to clear his threshing-floor and to gather the wheat into his granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.’

¹⁸ So, with many other exhortations, he proclaimed the good news to the people. ¹⁹But Herod the ruler,^* who had been rebuked by him because of Herodias, his brother’s wife, and because of all the evil things that Herod had done, ²⁰added to them all by shutting up John in prison.

²¹ Now when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, the heaven was opened, ²²and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, ‘You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.’

As I was reading the many different stories of Jesus’ baptism this past week I was reminded of my own baptism and the story surrounding it. I was 10 years old when I attended the class that would prepare me, and my entire Sunday school class, for baptism. While I had attended church all my young life, for me, this baptism was more about how cool it would be to suddenly become “Holy” and have all my sins forgiven. I mean my thoughts were, “Wow all of my sins were going to be forgiven, even the ones mom and dad didn’t know about, how cool was that.”

I wasn’t disappointed when the sky didn’t open up and I didn’t hear a voice or see a dove, but I was disappointed that I didn’t “feel” any different. I didn’t feel as if I had been forgiven. However, knowing, at the wise age of 10, that I should feel something I was afraid to say anything because everyone else seemed so darned happy. It would be another 20 years before I felt I was beginning to understand what baptism meant and felt a tug to renew that commitment and asked to be re-baptized. This time I knew that something was different; I just didn’t know what it was. It would take another 20 years of trying to live a good life, failing most times, but, sometimes coming close before I experienced what I call an intervention by the Holy Spirit and had a new enlightenment about what it meant to be part of a faith community.

At the time this happened I was at a very difficult place in my life and my “ah-ha” moment was the most dramatic event to ever happen to me. It changed how I viewed myself and everyone and everything around me in relation to how I envisioned my life with God, Spirit and Christ. Now, events like that do not happen every day or for every person. But, I am grateful for what I experienced and feel blessed to have been given something I feel is special and I try to live into the promise given me that day.

You are probably calculating in your mind “let see 10+20+20=50, she was fifty when baptism finally made sense!” All I can say is I’m a really slow learner. But yes, I didn’t I understand what it meant to be baptized until I was well into my adult years. Your own stories may say you understood before, during or right after you entered and exited the waters of baptism. Every person is different and the Spirit picks the time it will act, we don’t tell the Holy Spirit. Nor do we pick the moment when all of it comes together. In my tradition of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) Baptism is believer’s baptism by immersion, just as it was for Jesus. That means we are supposed to know why we do it and for most part I think most of us do, for some of us it just takes a little longer. As Luke tells the story it didn’t come together even for Jesus until after he was baptized and in prayer.

You know we have heard the stories of Jesus’ baptism so often we don’t actually ‘hear’ it when it is read. It is actually only in Mark and Matthew where we have a retelling of John baptizing Jesus. How many of you unconsciously substituted Mark’s or Matthew’s story in the above Luke scripture when you read it and missed the focus of Luke’s telling of the story?

First of all Luke does tell us Jesus was baptized. He doesn’t actually say it was John the Baptist, although most likely it was. But in Verse 3:21, Luke’s story of Jesus’ baptism is almost an afterthought. Jesus was baptized with all of those who came to the Jordan River. He was baptized just like any other person seeking repentance and forgiveness. Nothing special, it was an act of commitment and faith just like every person coming to John at the Jordan River. What is highlighted is that sometime after the baptism when Jesus was in prayer the Spirit descends upon him “like a dove” and he hears God’s voice say “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

Luke doesn’t focus much on the commitment, repentance and forgiveness of the act of baptism. Instead his focus is on the baptism of the Spirit, just as John tells his audience in Verse 16; “… He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.” Jesus’ baptism is with the Holy Spirit and the Spirit decides when that will happen, and, for Luke prayer plays a huge role in when the Holy Spirit comes.

In the first scripture reading from Acts we read that a Samaritan Community had been baptized but “the Spirit had not yet come upon … them,” so Peter and John travel to Samaria pray for the Holy Spirit and lay “their hands on them, and they received the Holy Spirit.” Jesus was in prayer, Peter and John prayed and the Holy Spirit came. Does this mean that the Spirit will always come in response to prayer … ah … probably not? As I said the Spirit picks the moment when it gives enlightenment, not us.

But Luke’s focus on the act of prayer is the key to our spiritual doors; prayer has a special place in Luke’s Gospel. The Evangelist tells us Jesus is constantly going away to be in prayer, he prays with his disciples, he prays for the sick, the lame, and the possessed. Jesus prays in the garden and on the cross. Jesus’ entire life is a model of a life lived in prayer and the relationship with his Abba that prayer fostered. For Luke the most important thing Jesus taught his disciples was prayer. The way to talk to and build relationship with God is in prayer.

Luke continues his theme of prayer in his second book, the Acts of the Apostles. Following Jesus’ ascension the disciples returned to Jerusalem and devoted their time to prayer. They prayed when they replaced Judas with Matthias. When the Holy Spirit descends on them they were all sitting together, my guess is they were praying, as that would have been their practice. The first converts were taught by the Apostles to pray and when the community became too great to lead by themselves, they appointed Stephen and Philip to do community management, so they, the Apostles, could devote themselves to teaching, baptizing and prayer.

I am not saying that Luke ranked baptism as second to prayer, for he doesn’t. Baptism is and will always be the first sacrament. For us Disciples baptism is one of only two sacraments we have, the other being the Lord’s Supper. However, Luke is explaining to his community of Gentile converts that it takes the two together, baptism plus prayer, to fully understand the commitment made in Christ’s name. He is also trying to explain to his community that the Holy Spirit does not always come in direct response to baptism. Sometimes it comes before or after baptism, it is the Spirits choice. Paul experiences Christ and the Spirit on the road to Damascus and is baptized after that dramatic event. As Luke describes Paul and as Paul writes in his letters the act of prayer is an important part of being in a Christian Faith Community. Baptism is the commitment to God and community often in response to prayer. Baptism plus prayer is the key that opens the door of our heart, into that inner place of the Spirit and shows us the way to live a life that is Christ filled, God filled and Spirit filled.

One isn’t more important than the other, in fact, we need both for the key to work, but some of us have locks where the Spirit connects with us first and then we are baptized, sometimes it’s the other way around and sometimes it’s all at the same moment. It is a little like an analogy I picked up from my biologist research days using DNA, RNA and enzymes in comparing how they work in our bodies to how our spiritual DNA, RNA and enzymes might work in our spiritual bodies.

Our Spiritual DNA determines the shape of the RNA and how it will fit together with the enzymes in our bodies. Each has to be a specific shape in order for both to fit together like a lock and key. The enzyme only fits one way in each person and when it does the two together create something new and important to keep us living. I don’t know which of the two, baptism or pray, is the RNA and which the enzyme. I do know that how they fit together in each of us is a specific characteristic for each individual. Both parts are needed in order for the spiritual life to come awake.

Luke knows baptism is important; everyone who comes to Christ is baptized. Everyone who is baptized will have their own experience of Spirit, often whether they recognize it as such or not. The Holy Spirit often speaks so quietly that only a quiet new awareness begins to guide us without our knowing why. Prayer is the tool used by the Spirit to teach us the meaning of baptism and how to be in relationship with God, Christ and Holy Spirit.

How we respond to baptism will be an individual act, how the Spirit guides us is the result of prayer. We can’t have one without the other if we are to live into a Faith Filled Community of God. Baptism is the recognition of our humanness, our humanity and our commitment to something greater than who we are. Prayer is the part that leads to our understanding of what our humanity and commitment means. The two together are the Key that unlocks the door to the Kingdom.

Ruth Jewell, ©January 13, 2013

Standing at the Door

Posted on December 29, 2012December 29, 2012 by a quiet walk

Revelation 3:20- “Listen! I am standing at the door, knocking; if you hear my voice and open the door; I will come in to you and eat with you and you with me.”

For the last four months I have been on an inward journey. I don’t know where this journey will lead me, although I am hoping it will help me come to some conclusions about ministry. Beginning in September I did mostly silent prayer or, depending on the day and moment, contemplative prayer. I would sit for 30 minutes to an hour in silence up to three times a day. I discovered that I was developing a very quiet place somewhere inside and all of the stress and disappointment of the last year were beginning to slip away. As I felt the need I started adding other practices, a bible study, a new interplay class, and a book study.

Through all of this I wrote in my Journal and added to my blog and one of the repeating themes is I am looking at scripture and readings from a very different perspective and the above scripture from Revelation is a good example.

I am fairly confident that all of you have seen the iconic picture of Jesus standing at a door knocking. Have you looked closely there is no door handle; the door must be opened from the inside. This passage from Revelation has been bugging me lately so I started taking it apart and trying to visualize it from a different angle. The one perspective that seems to intrigue me is what if the door is the one into my heart and the person standing on the outside is me, not Jesus. The door is ajar but I have to make the effort to push it open and walk in and in my meditations I seem to be standing at the entrance unable to move toward the door. Sort of like the rodent in one of Rudyard Kipling books where it won’t go into the center of the room but always creeps around the edges.

The reason this perspective seems to be so important is 1) I have always believed part of the creator already resides within me, and for that matter within all of creation; 2) the place behind the door to my heart, or hearts door, represents for me my deepest level of spirituality. It is the place that knows me best, the good and the bad, and offers forgiveness and grace even when I do not acknowledge it. So, to me, it makes perfect sense that in the room behind the hearts door I will find G-d because G-d is the root, or grounding, of my very being and where I want to be. But I am afraid to cross the threshold.

So what does it mean if I am the one outside of my hearts door? First of all it means that
G-d/Jesus/Holy Spirit is waiting for me to acknowledge the Divine Presence and that that recognition means I am giving up some of the control of my life over to the true being within. The acknowledging part is fairly easy, but, crossing the threshold and entering into full communion with the Divine is a lot harder. There are risks to crossing into that sacred place, for one thing I would have to let go of my ego, and many of my desires, such asto always be at the top of everything. Sometimes the Holy Spirit wants me to be second, third or even last at some task because it challenges me to look deeper at who I am and who I want to be. Because of my unwillingness to let go of my ego, I have spent most of my 65 years standing outside the chamber behind my hearts door and it has resulted in a life where hard lessons are learned and travels on rocky roads are my only choices. I had to hit rock bottom before I could accept that I could not live this life alone, I needed help; I needed love, grace, and forgiveness in order to become who I am.

Fourteen years ago I was at that rock bottom place and my path choices weren’t looking all that appealing. I have always wondered why we have to be at the worst possible crossroad in order to recognize the grace and forgiveness of G-d, but it does and I am no exception. Just like John of the Cross I was having my own “dark night of the soul.” It wasn’t until all light in my life had disappeared that I called out to G-d, crossed the threshold and entered into the arms of the Divine.

One result of my turning this scripture around so I stand at the door instead of Jesus is that I become the one to initiate contact with G-d. G-d, Holy Spirit, Jesus becomes the force that waits for me to decide how, and when I will respond to their call. I choose to cross the threshold or walk away. Granted I have had a great deal of preparation for that moment in my life but a willingness to risk everything on an invisible (and to some non-existent) entity does not make the choice any easier. Maybe that is why it takes those “dark nights” for us to make the choice to let our lives be lead by the Divine. Unless we have only two choices, life or death, before us we won’t choose life. We will continue to walk without the guidance of G‑d because that path seems easier to walk than the one G-d and there are so of those distractions to choose from. But that is an illusion.

I must admit to a lot of darting out the door only to return with bowed head asking for forgiveness. I am always amazed at the joy the Divine exhibits at the return of this wayward child. I know I am blessed by grace because I can fail G-ds expectations over and over again and return over and over again and I will be welcomed home just as the prodigal son was, with fatted calf and celebration.

See G-d wants us to be inside that sacred room and whenever we leave, the Divine keeps the fires burning for our return. I like to think that hot chocolate and double chocolate chip cookies are waiting for me to communion with the ground of my being. All I have to do is cross the threshold.

Ruth Jewell, ©December 29, 2012

The Innkeeper, a Christmas Story

Posted on December 22, 2012December 22, 2012 by a quiet walk

Jacob was in a delighted panic, there were more people in his Inn than he had ever had before. While giving thanks to the Romans would be condemned by the Temple authorities he was certainly thankful for this emperor’s whim. Now if only he could find time to sit down to enjoy all of those shekels he was collecting. Sara, his wife, was busy in the kitchen cooking a meal for their paying guests and for their own abundant family who weren’t paying because his wife wouldn’t let him charge them. Family, sometimes you can’t live without them but tonight he would like to try.

Now Jacob loved his kind and gentle Sara, but sometimes her kindness was irritating. After all Jacob had to provide for his family. His son, Isaiah, had only just reached manhood, although he was a big help to him tonight. Isaiah was carrying water to all of the paying guests (let his relatives get their own) and taking care of the animals. Jacob’s two girls were busy in the kitchen with their mother and while Elizabeth was still a little small she was working just as hard as her older sister, Rebecca. Over all Jacob was very happy, his Inn was full and he had a box full of money. He should not only be able to pay the tax collector (May YHWH rain fire down on his head!) but also have sufficient money for the next several months. There might even be enough left over to put a little aside for his daughters dowries.

Jacob was suddenly shaken out of his revere by a call from his son.

“Father, there are two more in the courtyard.”

Jacob threw up his hands and ran out to tell them that he had no more room and that they should move on. When Jacob opened the door a tall man greeted him. A very pregnant young woman was perched on a donkey behind him. Jacob had to admit she looked very tired and uncomfortable.

“Excuse me, my wife and I would like a room to spend the night. If you don’t have a room a corner would do. Mary, my wife, is expecting and she is very tired. We have money to pay and I will take care of the donkey myself.”

“I’m sorry we don’t have any rooms,’ Jacob said, “and to be honest with you I don’t think there are rooms free anywhere else in Bethlehem right now. This mandated census has filled all the Inns. My suggestion would be that you go up into the hills above the city and find a cave. At least it would be out of the wind. Good night to you.”

“Jaaa…cob, Isaiah tells me there is a woman with child out there”.

Jacob turned around and groaned as he faced his wife Sara. “Sara we don’t have any room! Where would we put them?” Taking one look at his wife’s face he said “Oh no! I am not giving up my bed! I am tired and will need to get some sleep tonight if I am to deal with all of these people tomorrow!”

Sara patiently looked at her red-faced husband; she knew he wasn’t as hard-hearted as some thought he was, he just had to be nudged once in a while. “Well we can’t turn out a pregnant woman (may the LORD bless her child!), she looks like she is going to deliver any time now! This census is bringing people out on the roads that shouldn’t be there! Don’t you dare send them to the caves! She’s pregnant Jacob, there are thieves up there and they will be robbed or worse! Do you really want that on your hands? Jacob, money isn’t everything.”

Jacob groaned again. “Well, where do you propose we put them?”

“Isaiah”, Sara called, “get me some blankets and a lamp. Jacob, the stable has a corner that is warm and dry, and you won’t charge them either!”

The man at the door had been looking on as the Innkeeper and his wife argued and now said, “Please, we will be glad to pay, we have some of our own supplies, we just need a place to rest.”

“No,” Jacob sighed, “Sara’s right, we can’t charge you for a night in the stable. Isaiah will take you around the back and help his mother get you settled.” Isaiah ran up with the bedding. “Take them around to the stable and fix the stall on the west wall, it’s the driest and warmest. Then come back and help Rebecca take some warm food and wine out to our guests.”

The gentlemen started to protest, “No, sir, it is the least we can do. If you need anything during the night just knock on the door at the back, Isaiah will be sleeping there tonight and he will do what he can.”

The man looked very relieved, “thank you all so very much, you are very kind. This is Mary’s first child and we have traveled so very far today. My name is Joseph and I am a carpenter, if you need anything repaired or need any work done while we are here I will be glad to do it.” Talking softly to his young wife, who turns and smiles her thanks at the innkeeper, Joseph turns, takes the donkey’s lead and follows Isaiah.

Sara looks lovingly at her husband. “You old softy, I knew you couldn’t turn them away.”

“Go, woman, and prepare some food for these people. At least I’ll be able to get that back room lintel fixed. Oh yes, I’ll take him up on his offer, he is an honorable man and I won’t embarrass him, go, go!” Jacob looks outside as he turns to close the door, “my goodness it is bright outside, almost like daylight, there must be a full moon.”

Blessings and Peace to all this Christmastide!

This story was written for the 2009 Christmas Eve Service and I offer it here to all of you as my Christmas Gift.

Family

Posted on December 6, 2012December 6, 2012 by a quiet walk

A Story of Three Women

Three Women drink tea in the morning
Each on their own Terraces
Secure within their walls
They offer the daily morning wave

The Elder, the Middle, the Younger
Careful not to offend
They talk each day
Across a Chasm filled with white still Fog

One day things changed
A breeze stirred the Fog
A path was revealed leading
Into a place of uncertainty

The women looked down, pointing
Each looked at the other and
Moved to the path
Down into the swirling Fog

Lost … calling … WHERE ARE YOU?
Questions of the journey
ARE YOU THERE?
Is it right for us to meet?

The Fog lightens revealing
A space with light and three chairs
The women emerge
The Elder, The Middle, The Younger

Now what do we do?
I don’t know your name
Hannah … Mary … Mary
Smiles, the stories begin

Discovery, sisters all
Lost in time
Grown apart
Yet family still

I know your story!
I know your son!
I know your grandfather!
Family still

High on a hill
Three empty terraces sit
The sun still shines there
The tea still served, waiting

Three Women
The Elder, Hannah
The Middle, Mary
The younger, Mary

Walk hand in hand
Back into the Fog
Back into the uncertainty
Back to ask more questions

Advent has begun, it is the time of expectations. This is a time when small children excitedly wait for that magical moment on Christmas morning when they discover the gifts left by Santa Clause. Yet there is more to Advent than shopping trips to the mall or preparing a big family dinner. I wrote the above poem at the close of a class that went through the scriptural history of our Judeo, Christian and Islamic traditions and as a result discovered just how much alike we three sibling religious traditions are. I think it is because we share so much history that we continue to fight over details just as any family of brothers and sisters do.

Did you know that Hannah’s story is much like the story of the birth of Mary as told in the Infancy Gospel of James written in the 2nd century? Did you also know that The Qur’an also retells the birth of Mary with a story very close to what is said in James’ Infancy Gospel? Hannah, Mary from the Christian tradition and Mary from the Islamic tradition are sisters, or maybe mothers and daughters, of our shared faith. Mary is the most honored woman in The Qur’an, even more so than in our own Christian traditions.

We three faiths are related as People of the Book, of the Bible. Our shared history is more than simply battles fought to get the attention of the Creator, we are family. The scriptural blood that flows through my spiritual veins and pushed around by my spiritual heart is the same blood and same heart as my Judaic and Islamic brothers and sisters. Christians are the middle spiritual child and our older spiritual brothers and sisters have much to teach us about God’s commitment to all of creation, just as we have much to teach our younger spiritual brothers and sisters about the love and compassion of God.

My heart aches because each of us spiritual children seems to only want to compete with the others. So every Advent I offer prayers that we three family members will sit down and share a cup of tea and take the time to offer apologies and forgiveness. Because we three siblings have much to teach and offer the whole world, not as the only right paths to God but rather as models of cooperation in showing all paths lead to God no matter what path we take. All paths are sacred.

I have a pot of tea brewing and a plate of shortbread cookies. So I invite you to a time of tea in the fog uncertainty. Let’s begin a conversation that could just change the world.

A Thanksgiving Prayer

Posted on November 22, 2012 by a quiet walk

The Feast comes in many forms;

bread and wine
in remembrance
of a life given in love

A sandwich shared
on street corners
and alley ways

A comforting hand
strong and sure
when life’s troubles overcome

A mother’s loving gaze
upon her new born babe
tears of joy fill her eyes

A child safely home
from battlefields
in faraway places

Today, we offer thanks

thanks for food shared
for the blessedness of family and friends
for the grace of being able
to sit at our groaning board

We who are blessed
offer prayers for
those who are far away
those who do not have enough
those who suffer from illness, and,
those who struggle to recover from disaster

So in gratitude and with humble hearts

We thank you, Oh Holy Spirit for the feast laid befor us.
thank you for the ground it was cradled in,
thank you for the sun and rain that nurtured it
thank you for the farmers who carefully harvested it
thank you for the hands that lovingly prepared it.
May this food feed our bodies
as You feed our souls. Amen