God Himself Violated the Law

I am re-posting the following, which I wrote last week on the Marriage Revolution blog. I'm hoping for some discussion! Please comment.

While reading through some of the laws in Leviticus and Deuteronomy recently I came across the passage below:

Deut 22:23 If within the city a man comes upon a maiden who is betrothed, and has relations with her, 24 you shall bring them both out to the gate of the city and there stone them to death: the girl because she did not cry out for help though she was in the city, and the man because he violated his neighbor's wife. Thus shall you purge the evil from your midst.

I wasn't hunting for marriage related laws, this one just happened to jump out at me. Why did it grab my attention? Because according to this passage, God Himself violated the law.

Luke chapter 1 describes the occurrence.

Mary the mother of Jesus was in a city; the town of Nazareth. She was betrothed to Joseph. The Holy Spirit came upon her, overshadowed her, and planted a child in her womb. She did not cry out for help because she didn't want or need it. Joseph initially believed himself to have been wronged and planned to divorce her.

All of these facts line up to show a clear violation of the law laid out in Deuteronomy 22.

At the very moment the New Covenant was initiated, God Himself broke an Old Covenant law related to marriage. Perhaps it was a sign of it's passing, a shattering of a clay tablet inscribed by a Pharisee.

The Spirit must have whispered to Mary "Don't think about what you've been taught. Simply love Me with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength." Mary responded by opening to His request, despite knowing that she could be stoned.

I'm still pondering what this could mean. I don't have an answer. But since God Himself begins the very life of Christ through a violation of marital law, it certainly points out that the Biblical "view" of marriage is far from straight forward.

From My Temple to Yours

I've been wondering about being the temple of the Holy Spirit.

It's been a topic of interest for a long time, coming at me from all sorts of perspectives. I contemplate what it means in relation to healing prayer for others, what it means on a molecular level, what it means about Mary, what it means about the two becoming one...

So many questions.

Lately, I've been trying to figure out if there was a point scripturally which indicates a shift. Perhaps at Pentecost, perhaps elsewhere. But a point before which we were not temples, and afterward when we are.

If you can offer any suggestions for research or reference, I would appreciate it. Along with your own thoughts.

Open Both Hands to Receive My Blessing...

I've been doing a lot of thinking, praying, and complaining about intolerance lately, as can be seen by recent posts.

My heart hurts for all the souls to which investigation of Christ's mysteries is closed, the door of the mind slammed shut, locked, and barred.

During these weeks I have tried to be His hand, knocking.

I'm sure I go about it the wrong way much of the time. But our God is such a lover that He rewards even the fumbled attempts. Here's how He rewarded me yesterday.

DiDi and I went to mass at the local Episcopal church, where the Holy Spirit is tangible, the music excellent, the preaching very good, and community and outreach are a central focus. (In other words, all of the things we've had a hard time finding in the nearby Catholic churches.) A time for healing prayer was offered before the Eucharist, with several pray-ers positioned near the altar. Neither of us felt led to go forward and request prayer, and so we sat in the pew, listening to the music and praying. As the time drew to an end, I started feeling the urge to ask Diane to go up and ask for prayer for her knee, not for her sake, but for the sake of the ministry. I told her it was not a burning need, but that I knew I should pass it along.

The healing ministry concluded and the service moved on. DiDi leaned over to thank me for telling her, and said to open my hands; that I would be blessed for my obedience in delivering the message. (He also convicted her about speaking to the minister afterward, which she did. But that is DiDi's story to tell.)

As the service continued, I prayed that my heart would be opened to anything our Lord wanted to give me.

We stayed for coffee hour, and chatted with a few people before beginning a conversation with one of the priests. Rev. Ollie is an easy conversationalist with a wide breadth of knowledge and a gift of encouragement. We mentioned our frustration with the level of fear that manifested when discussing issues faith from a catholic perspective. We described how the fear and discomfort reached a pinnacle when the topic was Mary.

Rev. Ollie's eyebrows shot up, and for a moment he looked like a young boy with a secret he couldn't wait to share. His eyes sparkled as he revealed it. Just that week they'd received a phone call from someone  trying to find a church to adopt a statue of Mary. None of the Roman Catholic parishes had accepted the offer, and so this church said yes. They took her in as an act of mercy, but had no idea what they were going to do with her. They aren't a church that really "does" Mary images.

He led us to a side room where she sat on a wide window ledge; a painted plaster statue about two feet in height.

And then Rev. Ollie said "Would you like her?"

I had to pick her up with two hands, and carry her in both arms. She is a bit heavy.

Mary now sits in the living room, waiting for a gentle cleaning. She is not the first Mary image in this home. From where I sit typing I can see five. (I'm a bit of a collector.) But she is the largest. And she is the first which I needed to open both hands to receive.

Sometimes His affirmations are soft and subtle, requiring you to lean in with heart and mind in order to recognize them. And sometimes they are so obvious that they need their own seat belt.

Thank you Lord, for your Mother, and for your love of those who seek to honor her. I receive her with open arms.

Mother of Whom?

Therefore the Lord himself shall give you a sign; Behold, a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel. (Isa 7:14) 

Immanuel. God with us.

I asked the question, and the question was asked back to me: Is Mary the mother of God?

It is an enigma shrouded in mystery. It leads to confusion on multiple parts of the brain.

There is the chicken and egg problem. How could someone be the mother of the person who created her?

There is the time and space problem. How could the infinite be "born" of the finite?

There are multiple theological problems. How could the holiness of God be present within the confines of a sinful nature? How could a mere human presume to claim such an important role over God Himself?

It boggles our human brains, brains which have been honed and refined by the Enlightenment. Our reason has been sharpened to such a fine blade that mystery is sliced into unrecognizable shreds and the truths it contains thrown out as rubbish.

So fine a blade that we even reject our own Enlightened modes of thinking, for example that if A=B and B=C then A=C.

When boggled and muddled with mystery, our minds go into a tailspin focused on rejecting the question altogether so as to simply make the confusion go away.

I get this. But it makes me sad.

Luke fades to black prior to Mary's being overshadowed by God. She was the only human witness to that event, and apparently didn't believe it was a matter for public consumption when she passed the event along for the record book. And so He trusts us to contemplate the moment, the method, the union.

The theme of marital union with Him is stressed from Genesis through Revelation. He gives us scriptural example after example of His view of what His bride must be like. Pure. Spotless. Reverent. Holy. He speaks to us about how the two become one when they consummate the marriage covenant. He promises us that we become one with the Body of Christ. John speaks to us of the marriage feast we will celebrate when the final trumpet calls.

Marriage, marriage, marriage.

Consummation.

Behold, a virgin shall conceive. In her body. When she is overshadowed by the Holy Spirit.

Gabriel, the friend of the Bridegroom comes to tell her He is on His way. And then, fade to black.

But here's what I envision, as I use the vehicle of imagining that the Father provided for this purpose.

Gabriel leaves. The Holy Spirit descends, overshadows her, wraps her in His wings. He steps into time and space and sweeps her into the scenes of the Song of Songs.

1:2 Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth
— for your love is more delightful than wine.
3 Pleasing is the fragrance of your perfumes;
 your name is like perfume poured out.
 No wonder the young women love you!
 4 Take me away with you—let us hurry!
 Let the king bring me into his chambers.

 2:14 My dove in the clefts of the rock,
 in the hiding places on the mountainside,
 show me your face, let me hear your voice;
 for your voice is sweet, and your face is lovely.

16 My beloved is mine and I am his; he browses among the lilies.
17 Until the day breaks and the shadows flee,
 turn, my beloved, and be like a gazelle or like a young stag on the rugged hills.

4:1 How beautiful you are, my darling! Oh, how beautiful!
 Your eyes behind your veil are doves.
 Your hair is like a flock of goats descending from the hills of Gilead.
 2 Your teeth are like a flock of sheep just shorn, coming up from the washing.
 Each has its twin; not one of them is alone.
 3 Your lips are like a scarlet ribbon; your mouth is lovely.
 Your temples behind your veil are like the halves of a pomegranate.
 4 Your neck is like the tower of David, built with courses of stone
 on it hang a thousand shields, all of them shields of warriors.
 5 Your breasts are like two fawns, like twin fawns of a gazelle that browse among the lilies.
 6 Until the day breaks and the shadows flee,
 I will go to the mountain of myrrh and to the hill of incense.
 7 You are altogether beautiful, my darling; there is no flaw in you.
 8 Come with me from Lebanon, my bride, come with me from Lebanon.
 Descend from the crest of Amana,
 from the top of Senir, the summit of Hermon,
 from the lions’ dens and the mountain haunts of leopards. 
9 You have stolen my heart, my sister, my bride;
 you have stolen my heart with one glance of your eyes,
 with one jewel of your necklace.
 10 How delightful is your love, my sister, my bride!
 How much more pleasing is your love than wine,
 and the fragrance of your perfume more than any spice!
 11 Your lips drop sweetness as the honeycomb, my bride;
 milk and honey are under your tongue.
 The fragrance of your garments is like the fragrance of Lebanon.
 12 You are a garden locked up, my sister, my bride;
 you are a spring enclosed, a sealed fountain.
 13 Your plants are an orchard of pomegranates with choice fruits, with henna and nard,
 14 nard and saffron, calamus and cinnamon,
 with every kind of incense tree, with myrrh and aloes and all the finest spices.
 15 You are a garden fountain, a well of flowing water streaming down from Lebanon.

She is His bride, as we will be some day. She is the first of the brides to come. She becomes one with Him, and conceives.

As a result of this union, this overshadowing, this indwelling, she conceives.

And the who of this conception is the Word. Immanuel. God with us.

Mary, mother of Immanuel. Mary, mother of God with us.

Mary, mother of God.

I Think People Want a Third Option

Last night I posted the following yes/no question on Facebook, asking my Christian friends to respond:

Is Mary the mother of God?

I asked for comments if the answer was "No." I got some responses but not enough, so I'm reposting it as a status, and plan to ask on a variety of Christian FB pages to get more. I think the comments would contribute to an interesting article, or book, or something.

One of my friends asked what -I- thought.

I'll answer that question in my next post.

Just Theotokos

"She was just a vessel!"

That's what a friend told me yesterday when we met to talk about the study she leads on women of the Bible.

She burst out with it after proclaiming a bunch of misconceptions about Catholic views, eyes on fire as if a procession of indulgence-peddling papists was hot on her heels.

She said that Catholics elevate Mary above Jesus. That they worship dead people. That they removed idolatry from the ten commandments in the "Catholic Bible".

The accusations flew so fast that it was hard to keep up, and her fear and discomfort were so intense that it was hard to know what to focus on. I didn't know if I should keep responding to each preposterous claim with facts, or work on helping her deal with her emotion.

So I tried to do both.

As it turned out, she denied having the emotions that I watched play out. And this wasn't the first time they'd been displayed.

In thinking about it now, I realize that our conversations must be disturbing. It must be threatening to consider that the things you've been taught for years and years and which you accepted as truth turn out to perhaps not be. When that question enters, the what if, it could shake foundations and send you scurrying for emotional, intellectual, and spiritual cover.

I suppose that if you learned these falsehoods from people that you revered and trusted and loved, from people who mentored you and maybe even brought you to Christ, it could bring up emotions that you just might not want to deal with.

I am praying for her. Praying that she not be afraid. Praying that she open herself to whatever God wants to reveal to her, and that He protect her from anything that is not of Him.

And I pray that this woman, a mother herself, will never again say that any mother is "just a vessel".

Especially not the mother of God.

Evangelicals: Look Deeper. Do Not Be Afraid.

I've been thinking a lot about the blessed virgin, our mother. Both because of Christmas and the readings of the season, and because of a heartbreaking women's Bible study about I attended earlier in December.

I did my best to represent her at the study. I knew I was walking into fire, so DiDi and I prepared in advance. I dug out my Mary binder, reminded myself of writings of the early church fathers and the reformers, and prayed. I identified the key points I wanted to make, and coached myself on keeping my mouth shut as much as possible, other than to stick to these minimal points.

It was more painful than I expected. I think it was even harder for DiDi though; I've been through it before, but this was her first time hearing so much disrespect after coming to understand who Mary is.

The study takes place in a non-denominational evangelical church with baptist roots. The doctrine of sola scriptura is flown like a banner when needed to direct discussion away from dangerous areas. But only then. If issues of Marian doctrine are raised, like the historic ancient understanding of her perpetual virginity, then the Bible-alone flag is tossed into the arena, shutting down further discussion or thought. But history and tradition are readily turned to by the authors of the study materials and by the group leader when the information agrees with their point.

It is, in effect, selective scriptura.

There is no way I could view Mary as this group does, and as hundreds of thousands of evangelicals do; the insignificant girl who just happened to bear Jesus. But I figured the best way to take on the discussion would be to approach it the way they did, by looking at the Gospel accounts alone. I'd disregard her interconnection to the old testament ark and covenant, and references to her in the book of Revelation.

And so we approach this girl, from the perspective of sola Evangealion.

Immediately we run into problems in evangelical doctrine. For example, how can scripture alone believers think that she had other children? Nowhere in the Bible does it say that she did. Scripture lists brothers and sisters of Jesus a number of times in many different contexts. But it never, ever uses the phrase "son of Mary" other than when referring to Christ himself.

So if we are sticking with scripture alone, why is there such mass acceptance of something that is extra-scriptural?

Evangelical tradition.

But here's a more interesting question. The question of whether Mary and Joseph ever actually completed the multiple steps of the ancient Jewish marriage process. In that day, the marriage contract was created at the time of betrothal, followed by a year-long waiting period (or more), followed by the actual marriage and celebratory feast.

Clearly Mary and Joseph were contracted to marry. But Luke 2 tells us that they were still only betrothed when they went to Bethlehem to be registered. According to Luke, they were not married at the time of Jesus' birth.

There is no scriptural reference to Mary and Joseph's actual wedding. There is no record of her ritual preparations, of the ceremonial waiting, of his stealing her away in the night. No record of his spending seven days with her in the chamber prepared in her father's house, whereupon the marriage would be consummated. There is no description of a wedding feast.

If I subscribe to the doctrine of sola scriptura, I would be wrong to assume that the marriage was completed. There is no record of it. It would be an assumption to think that it had been.

And weddings were a big deal; just look at the recounting of Cana.

Weddings are such a big deal that Holy Writ repeatedly describes our relationship with God as marital. The church is the bride. The Lamb's supper is a wedding banquet. Jesus first miracle took place within the context of a wedding celebration.

Weddings were a very big deal. Marriage was a big deal. Ceremony and ritual were a big deal.

They still are. Our God is a God of covenantal relationship. But the wedding of Mary and Joseph? Never mentioned. Never described.

How does the evangelical mindset deal with this? What implications does it have for the extra-scriptural belief that Mary and Joseph had children?

And why should it be wrong to contemplate these questions?

Extra-Biblical dogma is alive and thriving in the evangelical world. Every denomination has tradition, just as the Roman Catholic church does, except few people point it out to them. Most of the faithful don't even know it, they simply accept what they are taught, assuming these beliefs must be scriptural because the church they attend says they rely on the Bible alone. They accept it as they are fed it because they love Jesus and want to be His faithful followers. When questioned about the foundations for various traditions, many react with fear or defensiveness, unwilling to even enter into discussion.

But it is not wrong to question. It is not wrong to dig. It is not wrong to look to history and the church fathers and doctors when asking the Holy Spirit to grant us revelation about His holy word.

And it is not wrong to venerate the holy mother of God himself. 

As for me and my house, we will follow the lead of the archangels. We will not be afraid. And we will call her Full of Grace.

Mary, Help of Christians...

I'm becoming reacquainted with Mary. I studied her intensively back in 2005 but it's been awhile since I took time to contemplate the depth of her holiness. Re-reading the writings of the early fathers of the church (Irenaeus, Ignatious of Antioch, Justin Martyr, Polycarp, Augustine, etc.) and the Protestant reformers (Calvin, Luther, Zwingli, Wesley) brings back the sadness I felt six years ago. The reformers maintained the views of her that the early church held and that the Catholic, Orthodox church, and some Anglican's continue to hold. 

But what happened over the last few centuries since the reformation?

Mary's purity, her holiness, her spousal relationship with the person of the Holy Spirit, her role as mother of the church and mother of God, all have been stripped away in many Protestant denominations. She is reduced to some random girl who happened to have been chosen to carry the baby Jesus to term.

It hurts my heart.

I attend a women's Bible study group on Wednesday mornings at a lovely non-denominational church with Baptist roots. This week we will discuss Mary. These women do not know who she is. I covet your prayers that I bring forward what Mary's son would have me bring forward, and that I would keep my lips closed about anything He would not.

Mary help of Christians, pray for us.

Contemplatio in action: the Trinity's fulcrum?

I love how praying the rosary opens the mind to to insights about our God.

Contemplatio in action.

Monday night's meditations on the joyful mysteries got me thinking about the Holy Trinity, and about the relationships the three persons have with us.

I often assign roles to them in my thoughts and prayers. For example, when anointing DiDi's forehead with oil, I make the sign of the cross, saying:

In the name of the Father who created you

the Son who redeems and saves you

and the Holy Spirit who comforts and guides you.

There they are in their neat little packages.

I continue the prayer by reminding DiDi that she is the daughter of the King, sister of Christ, and spouse of the Holy Spirit.

So in this "model" we have three distinct roles of Father, Brother, Spouse. Still pretty neat and tidy.

But keep going and the divisions get murky, confusing.

Given that the Father is both Christ's father and ours, Jesus becomes our sibling. But because baptism is a marital celebration, and reception of the Eucharist is consummation of the wedding feast, Jesus is also our husband.

So Jesus is not only sibling, but also spouse.

And it doesn't end there.

While contemplating the Nativity in the rosary, I thought about the opening verses in John's gospel:

1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 He was in the beginning with God. 3 All things came to be through him, and without him nothing came to be. What came to be 4 through him was life, and this life was the light of the human race; 5 the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

Jesus was firstborn, and we were made through him. Without Him nothing came to be. He gave us life.

That's what fathers do. They give us life. We come into being through them.

So this means that Jesus, as the giver of life, is the father.

And that makes the Father really the grandfather.

Let's tally the roles we've got for the three persons so far:

The Father=father/grandfather

The Son=brother, husband/spouse, father

The Holy Spirit=husband/spouse

It is interesting that the roles of the Father and of the Spirit are essentially unchanged throughout the thought stream. They are who they are.

But in the Son, the roles vary. He takes on the roles held by both the Father and of the Spirit, while simultaneously maintaining His own.

I wonder if this is somehow the fulcrum around which the mystery of the Trinity spins?

Space, time, and glorified bodies

I've been thinking about resurrected bodies. Flesh glorified.

The pondering began last week as we read about the Ascension. It is a conundrum to consider Jesus still enfleshed, fully human, fully divine, somewhere in a "place" called heaven. His body is simultaneously broken on the cross, hidden in all the tabernacles of the world, and fully and wonderfully glorified in heaven.

So many mysteries...

If I were a physicist I would work with joy toward a physical explanation of how this is possible. Some new understanding of spacetime, of string theory M evolving into N O P and Q, and then from string to liquid, and liquid to mist.

Instead I sit and ponder.

Last night it came to mind again, this enigma of glorified bodies, as I prayed the Glorious Mysteries of the rosary. I thought about the fourth mystery, Mary's ascension into heaven. I thought about the angels and saints waiting with joy to greet her, this amazing person who's fiat wrought so much change. Most of these beings were incorporeal, with only three exceptions: Enoch, Elijah, and Jesus himself.

I wonder why our triune God decided to give Mary and the other two humans a taste of what the rest of us will only discover at the end of time?

I went on to think about Peter and the sons of thunder on the mountain, with Jesus transfigured, communing with Elijah and Moses.

Unlike Elijah, Moses died a traditional death and was buried. And yet there he stood with the others, similarly glorified.

I think the disciples walked up the mountain and stepped outside of time for a moment, and into a time to come. They saw Christ as He would be post-resurrection; shining like the sun. They saw Elijah, still in the bodily form he'd had when the wheels drew him up into the sky. And they saw Moses also in bodily form, though his body would have long since turned to dust.

The boys undoubtedly received a foretaste of resurrection to help equip them for the work of spreading the gospel. But for me it is says so much more than just that.

(Though "that" is no small thing.)

For me the story says "Wonder."

Do it.

Don't be afraid to think "how can this be?" Not in the way you would think it if you were told that a purple Leprechaun just brought you a pot of gold. But in the way that you think about the colors of a sunset, knowing there is an explanation and wondering what it is.

Do it.

Wonder.

And know that Pascal, Newton, Magnus, Bacon, Kelvin, Henrietta Swan-Leavitt, Florensky, Milne, Einstein, Jaki, and Sandich anticipate their own glorified bodies, watching and urging us on to keep searching.

Happy Anniversary

I wonder if the Spirit descending at Pentecost was a reunion with Mary?

I was in NYC this week, playing tourist. The two highlights were St. Patrick's Cathedral and the Cloisters.

I have frequently heard the complaint that the Roman Catholic church has too much money, as illustrated by the lavishness of the Vatican and cathedrals around the world. Visiting St. Patrick's reminded me of why these places should not be stripped bare, with contents sold to the highest bidder and the proceeds going to the hungry.

St. Patrick's is in the heart of mid-town Manhattan; the busiest city I have experienced. (Haven't been to Asia, but it's the most frentically crammed of cities I've visited in the US and a few other countries.) You walk in to a relative hush from the crowded sidewalk, and while the traffic noises are still audible, the difference is immediate. The space is huge, so while there are plenty of tourists wandering around trying unsucessfully to be quiet and respectful, it still manages to feel like a church rather than simply a tourist stop.

The beauty is everywhere, on floor and ceiling, in carved wooden arches, marble pulpits, soaring stained glass windows, statues... The scent of incense is present but not prominent. Small chapels encircle the primary sanctuary and nave, each one centering on a particular saint. The Pieta awaits contemplation of a mother's sorrow. Eucharistic adoration takes place in Mary's chapel.

But what caught me most were the people in the pews.

I didn't look extensively at them, there was so much else to look at. But now I wish that I had. One woman was clearly a street person. She was surrounded by suitcases, so many that I wondered how she managed to get from place to place. She must have a system. She sat on the end of a pew looking over some papers in her lap, and I'm guessing she had been there for hours. It made me wonder how warm such a huge space would get in the cold of winter, and how it must be lusciously cool in the summer heat.

Another man sat with his forehead resting on an arm on the pew in front of him. He looked like he might have stopped in during a lunch break from a custodial job in one of the nearby skyscrapers; tidy dark blue pants and shirt, sturdy shoes. Strong and capable, from what could be seen of his back. I never did see his face. But pain washed off him in waves as I walked past. He wasn't crying, or at least I don't think he was. There were no sounds, no heaving chest. Just a steady stillness, and pain you could feel in the pit of your heart.

I walked around this place of beauty and history and drama and pain, and thought of what a treasure it is. What a priceless thing to have such a place to enter without cost, no matter if you are a hotshot investor, gawking tourist, heartbroken wife and mother, homeless beggar, or anyone else from any walk of life from anywhere in the world.

A place of sanctuary and rest.

A place of solace and contemplation.

A place of beauty and dignity.

All free for all who enter.

The Cloisters cost $20, at the end of a long journey uptown, offering soundbyte-esque glimpses of Christian art out of context. Don't get me wrong, it was lovely in a 3D sacramental crazy quilt kind of way.

But St. Patrick's is Christian art in situ and in practice. A place where all can come to experience the transcendance and immanence of God. I thank Him for establishing a church which provides such treasures for His children.

Where were you Mother?

This week's readings led me to various gospel accounts of women coming to the empty tomb. I found it interesting that the Blessed Mother was not included in any of the lists.

Think about what it would have been like to go there that morning... The linen strips which had been hurriedly wrapped by the men when He was taken down must have been stuck on the wounds. The blood would have seeped through, congealed, and then dried.

Can you imagine going to one you loved so deeply a day or two after such a brutal death, and having to peel away the cloth from flesh already brutalized?

I've never spent time with the body of a loved one who has passed, let alone had to attend to their body and prepare them for interment. The thought of doing that for my child, and doing further damage to their battered body in the process, is incomprehensible.

And so I thought of Mary, His mother. Was it custom for the mother to do such a task?

I can think of two possible reasons for her absence.

Either it was just too painful and she was overcome with grief, so much so that she couldn't make herself go.

Or her Spouse told her that it was not necessary to go because He was risen.

The latter seems to make more sense. What do you think?

Thank you mother

Thinking about Mary's relationships to the Trinity last night made me consider the power of her intercession in a new way. She not only asks her Son to do what she asks (ala the wedding at Cana), she also asks her husband, and her Father.

That's pretty powerful stuff.

Cover your ears young man

I am blessed during this season to be in a home in which dinner table discussion often centers around the readings of the day, or a mystery of the faith. Part of tonight's conversation was about the wedding at Cana. DiDi wondered what Mary's conversation with God must have been like.

How strange it would be to be Mary.

How strange her relationship with the Trinity. If it weren't for the reality of the three persons, it would seem nearly incestuous.

Three persons, one God.

The concept of three persons helps explain the mystery, but barely. To one person, the Father, she is daughter. To one person, the Spirit, she is spouse. To one person, Jesus Christ, she is mother.

How then would a conversation take place during her prayers?

Did she speak to one and ask Him to fill the others in?

How did the Father or the Spirit guide her as she considered urging Jesus to turn the water into wine?

Was the Son listening?

Did she do what we mothers do when something comes on TV that we don't want our kids to see; ask them to cover their eyes? Could she have asked Him to cover His divine ears to her prayers?

Blessed Mother, pray for me

Relationship struggles have intensified over the past few weeks and I have been torn about God's will for me. He has me in a holding pattern, suspended in distance and anger. I keep lifting my heart to ask if I am to revert to my normal response (compassion, mercy, kindness). But I keep hearing "Wait".

It is bizarre.

I see how He is using it to do His work, but it is still bizarre and counter to what He normally asks.

So I wait for further instructions, and pray that I will hear Him when He speaks.

My prayer continues to be that I do His will. That I am open to it. That I am like clay rather than marble.

I will obedience.

But my heart sings another song.

My heart hurts. It is tired. Worn out. Wrung out. Broken and glued together into disfigurement.

It hurts.

I was thinking about all of this while praying this morning.

My prayer to the Father is always that I be strengthened to do His will. No matter what.

I want that prayer. Truly.

But this morning I was given a gift. I was shown that I can pray to my mother, His mother, another way.

With her I can pour out my heart, and ask for her help. I don't have to be careful to pray for the right things the way I usually do. She is Mother. She is woman. She understands that while I long for obedience, I also long for peace and comfort and a simple life of quiet joy. She knows that I won't be rash or headstrong, but that I do need to be able to ask for things that I want. I even need to vent.

For some reason, it is hard to ask the Father. For Him I want only to be holy. With her, I can admit to wanting to be happy.

She is mother.

Blessed Mother; pray for me.

She who was not afraid

I've been looking at gospel accounts of angelic visitation, and while I didn't do an exhaustive study to make sure I got them all, I noticed something interesting.

The angels consistently began their communication with "Do not be afraid." It must be a frightening thing to encounter such a spirit. Zechariah, Peter, Mary Magdalene, all were told not to be afraid.

The interesting thing is the exception. Gabriel did not open this way to Mary at the annunciation. Instead, he honored her, saying "Hail, oh highly favored one."

Gabriel must have been ready to burst (if an angel can be filled with excitement and joy), holding back what he knew about who she was, and who she was to become.

The sound of joy

My church's mid week discipleship program started up again last night. The session this time focuses on joy. I'll be teaching in a few weeks, on joy in and through suffering; my favorite topic!

The first class talked a bit about what joy -is-, and what it is not.

During this discussion, someone asked about holy laughter, perhaps in response to the stories that DiDi and I have been telling from our trip.

I thought about this laughter, the sudden unleashing of inexplicable joy that bubbles up uncontrollably, pure gift from the Holy Spirit. A quick taste of the joy of heaven.

And I wondered if Joseph and Mary's household was given this gift. Did Jesus' home ring with the sound of this infectious joy?

What is not said

Some of my favorite parts of the scriptures are things that are not stated. For example, what happened between the Holy Spirit and Mary once Gabriel left. More recently, I've been thinking about Lazarus, and what it must have been like after he was returned to life.

Retreat image #2: Rainbow connection

God sent me another image while praying for someone at the retreat. I initially resisted passing it on because it was so...

So...

Twee.

You see, I pictured her dancing on a hilltop, in hippie garb (Let the Sunshine In!) and there were rainbows flowing out from her head.

Yep. Rainbows.

I continued to pray, despite wondering why I was picturing something so My Little Pony.

But the image wouldn't go away so I gave in and told her about it, feeling ridiculous the whole time.

As the prayer continued, she mentioned that as a teenager she had prayed to be a light to her friends. She loved God and wanted Him to shine through her.

When I heard this, I nearly wept with wonder, because the rainbow image clicked.

He has made her to be a prism. To take in His light and refract it into a brilliant spectrum of visible color.

She was made to be like Mary, magnifying the Lord.

I'll never dismiss one of His images again, no matter how silly.