Sixth Monday after the Epiphany
Lectionary texts:
OT--Isaiah 43: 1-6
NT--1 Corinthians 14:20-40
Psalm 41
The NT lectionary text for today includes vv. 34-36, in which women are instructed to be silent in the churches. That the NRSV translators place it in parentheses may indicate that they, along with many othr scholars, consider this passage not to be authentic to Paul. It is plainly contradicted within I Corinthians itself. In chapter 11 Paul gives instructions for women prophesying in church.
My faith journey is now slogging slowly toward a movement in my life from Action to Contemplation. The word contemplation in the strict technical sense refers to wordless prayer that focuses with the vision of the mind upon a particular object, most often the cross, but also commonly a mental picture of Jesus or Mary. If praying for a particular person, the contemplative prayer will focus on a mental picture of that person. It does necessarily need to be a still picture but can be a moving picture of that person. If so, it's a silent movie. Neither you nor the person you are praying for needs to speak. If you try this kind of contemplative prayer, you will find that you are getting closer to this person, that you are coming to know them better. In this process you are also coming to know God better. If you are contemplating the person of Jesus, you will come to know him better.
Another form of contemplative prayer is to put yourself into a story of Jesus. For example you could put yourself into that boat on the Sea of Galilee on a foggy day (and I've seen incredibly thick fog on the Sea of Galilee) and imagine that you see Jesus coming through the fog, walking on the water. His image is indistinct at first but becomes clearer as he comes closer. He beckons you to step out of the boat and walk with him on the water. Your trust of him overcomes your fear of the water. You step out. You walk. Your bare feet skim lightly over the water's surface. He takes your hand. You walk on with him through the fog. Indistinct shapes become more distinct as you feel the water become shallow enough for your feet to touch the sand. The fog is clearing and you see the sight of the beautiful, lush, green grass of Mount Arbel with blossoming spring flowers dotting its gentle slopes. Jesus lets go of your hand and silently with his other hand beckons you to continue your journey up those slopes until you reach the summit and will be able to see all the beauty of land and lake stretched before you, beneath you, and behind you. You can no longer see Jesus, but the soft warmth of gentle breeze lets you feel that he is there with you. You can stop for a while, and then you can move on.
"Our good Lord always want us to remain much more in the contemplation of the higher and not forsake the knowledge of the lower, until the time we are brought up above, where we shall still have our Lord Jesus for our reward, and be filled full of joy and bliss without end."
--Julian of Norwich, late 14th century
Faithfully,
Christian
1 comment:
What a beautiful vision!!! I think I will think of that in my nighttime prayers.
Remember the part in Absolute Truths where Charles tries to pray for Stephen/Neville/Aysgarth and pictures him then sees a giant pollutant of some kind? I really must re-read the books. Poll of blog readers: who has read the Susan Howatch Starbridge Series? If not, you really must. It's a long series about the Church of England starting in the 1920s and ending in 1968. It's an amazing story of love, lust, faith, sin, what it means to be human, and it puts to rest any notion that love is reserved for the young. I read it when I was very young, and remember reading that line. Now that I am a bit older I couldn't agree more. I spend my days as a Case Investigator talking to people over 65 who have COVID, and many are couples who have been married for 40, 50, 60 years and more. They seem just as happy and in love as any young couple, usually much more so. Most of these people are in rural Pennsylvania and are people of faith. I tell them that they will be in my prayers if it seems appropriate and they are very happy. I do picture them in my prayers in the settings they describe: on a farm where a bear sometimes comes up to the kitchen window, on a big piece of land with a house they built for the ten rescue cats: the cat house has one section that is heated and air-conditioned and one that is a screened in porch. I mentally go with them to the hospital when they have to go. I pray for their children, some of whom have to live with the fact that their visit to see their parents is what gave them COVID. I am grateful for my parents' vaccines, and will be relieved when my mom gets her second (she got her first yesterday.)
The cases who pass away I'll imagine walking on water with Jesus to a happier place.
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