Soliloquy

Faith for today’s journey, hope in my heart, grace sufficient for my soul, these are the groundings of my morning meditation. Nicodemus was given an important insight into grounding. “No one has ascended except the one who has descended.” It is by descent, by the downward movement of the soul, by its seeking out anchorage and grounding, that it can cast a vision upwards. That the soul is grounded, earthing itself in its primal substance, is the hope of its arising. Grounding is the meeting of sky and planet, heaven and earth, the place of meeting called a horizon, the place of the enjoinment of the divine and the human. The horizon, that toward which we look and from which comes all time and all hope, is the sacred center. And here is what is certain, that wherever the the human stands, there is the horizon. It is in the human being that the horizon exists. The sacred center is fixed only in the sense that the human being is fixed, mobile only in the sense that that human being transcends here and now. This transcendence that is characteristic of the human being endows the horizon with holiness, because the horizon, the human, in transcending what offers itself to be transcended, grasps the reality of the divine human embrace, and celebrates the first light that rises above the distant horizon to break open this new day.

In a world of miracles, beatitudes are the distinctive landmarks on the geography of the soul. Blessed living is grateful living. Gratitude is the essence of eucharist and Eucharist is an invitation into the world of grace. In the presence of the divine, the order of existence is overturned. In the Beginning humanity is told, ” Do not eat of the Tree”, and the Tree was the dwelling of the divine. The words meant, do not take the divine into the human. In an upturned order of existence, living with the spreading presence of the divine, the human being is now told, “Take and eat, this is my body.” Prohibition, living in the dimension of the Negative, is itself negated. Invitation, living in the dimension of the Positive, is now posited as Eucharist. The Body is the dwelling place of the divine, the incarnate presence, enduring into hopefulness. Beatitude becomes Eucharist when the divine embraces the human and elicits praise as the enthronement of the divine in the human. Blessedness and praise, gratitude and grace, eucharist and praise, these are the signs of the spreading presence of the divine. Where the human is present, the divine dawns in an unfolding of grace, laid down before the arrival of the human in search of forgiveness. “Take and eat,” be nurtured, be blessed.

The deaf hear, the dumb speak. The blind see. These ancient words bear images that continue to give hope. As once the spoke of a new thing coming to pass, a change in the air and in the heart, they now speak of a longing for a new thing. In each phrase the words stand in contrast with one another, an unimaginable opposition for those days. Perhaps it is the proper task of miracles to oppose, to stand in contrast, an image to challenge the imagination. The deaf can hear what the hearing ones can’t. The dumb can speak what the speaking ones can’t. The blind can see what the seeing ones can’t. Hearing, speaking, seeing are all actions arising from the deepest source of soul. Miracles return us to that deepest source and give us the hope of a new beginning. When the soul lives in contrast it loses its sameness, its identity, its oneness and integrity. It is diseased. It is to this disease that the miracle speaks. It is in the healing of the soul that the deaf hear, the dumb speak, the blind see. “Go in peace, your faith has made you whole.”

There is so much time ahead of me that I am overwhelmed by the magnitude of the generosity of divine. I remain grateful for each new day, for a moment that opens up before me, and in opening up, discloses the blessings that await. Each moment holds hope hostage, refusing to let it go without blessing the hour and the day. Each hour lingers just a bit too long as if it wants to stay and enjoy its own lingering. The day reflects upon itself, and is saddened, wanting to be eternal, and decides to be true to itself for now. In the passing of time I come to myself, lamenting that time has left me in its wake and awakened me who sees so many of my selves and so many fractured pieces of my self that I feel invaded by an unyielding grace that refuses to let me be lost in a past. I come to know this as absolution, and begin to understand that only the Absolute can absolve, and that at the urging of the Absolute, grace remembers itself, and stands! What an unyielding grace!

Even though I woke up early the morning arrived before I did. In the midst of my meditation I felt myself drawn wide, spreading with the morning light as it moved in all directions. I am like this morning, not wanting to remain here. It is in spreading out that I find all that I am, and just as morning never disappears but appears as other than itself as evening, so I, too, seem different. To stay true to who I am I shall embrace this difference, as every moment a new “me” reveals itself to me, and I must struggle constantly to embrace who I am becoming, only to discover, that when I arrive I have already gone. Pablo Neruda once observed, when I write I am not here. When I come back, I am gone. The Spirit must move to survive. Spirit exists in movement. When it comes to rest, it dies.

It is quiet as I meditate. For me, Fall is a season of hope, and I am looking forward to it, yet not wanting to miss the miracles of summer that still wait to be revealed to me. Wonder uncovers what is hidden in miracle, and people’s lives around me that are filled with wonder are living out the miracles in joyful celebration. I am reminded of the words, “I lift up my eyes to the hills,” and this upward gaze grounds me between heaven and earth. Wonder breaks into this “in between” and removes the veils that cover over the miracles that have arrived here before me, waiting my arrival. Miracles spend their time waiting to happen. When my journey intersects with the miracle it makes the present real and transformative. I pray for this meeting of wonder and miracle each moment.