[Jesus] also said, “The kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed
on the ground, and would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would
sprout and grow, he does not know how.”
that you have been holding
for such a long season now;
that ache in your chest
that goes with you
night and day
in your sleeping,
Continue reading “Blessing That Holds a Nest in Its Branches (Easter Meditation) …”
come, meet me
in the garden of my life.
Lure me into elation.
Revive my silent hope.
Coax my dormant dreams.
Raise up my neglected gratitude.
Entice my tired enthusiasm.
Give life to my faltering relationships.
Roll back the stone of my indifference.
Unwrap the deadness in my spiritual life.
Impart heartiness in my work. Continue reading “Awaken Me (Easter Meditation) …”
There are so many haunting lines in the passion narratives. Who of us, for instance, is not stirred in the soul when the passion story is read in church and we come to the part where Jesus takes his last breath and there is that minute of silence, where we all drop to our knees? No Good Friday homily is ever as effective as that single line (“he gave up his spirit”) and the moving silence that ensues.
Another such line that has always haunted me is the one that follows immediately after. Jesus dies and we are told that, at the very second of his death, “the veil of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom.” My imagination, even when I was very little, has always been able to picture that. I have this picture in my mind of it growing dark in the middle of the day and then at the second of Jesus’ death, almost as if by lightening, the temple veil is ripped from top to bottom while everyone looks on stunned, convinced now, too late, that the person they’ve just mocked and crucified is the Christ. It’s a great picture. But, my imagination aside, what is really meant by that phrase that the veil of the temple ripped open at the moment of Jesus’ death? Continue reading “Desert Day 46: Tearing Of The Temple Veil (Good Friday Meditation) …”
How did they know
it was time to push up through the long-wintered soil?
How did they know
it was the moment to resurrect,
while thick layers of stubborn ice
still pressed the bleak ground flat?
But the tulips knew. Continue reading “Desert Day 40: How Did They Know (Spring Meditation) …”
What is serious to men is often very trivial in the sight of God. What in God might appear to us as “play” is perhaps what He Himself takes most seriously. At any rate the Lord plays and diverts Himself in the garden of His creation, and if we could let go of our own obsession with what we think is the meaning of it all, we might be able to hear His call and follow Him in His mysterious, cosmic dance.
— Thomas Merton from New Seeds of Contemplation
Continue reading “The Gift of Holy Surprise …”
The blessing of the morning light to you,
may it find you even in your invisible
appearances, may you be seen to have risen
from some other place we intuit and know Continue reading “Easter Blessing …”
The simplicity of winter has a deep moral. The return of Nature, after such a career of splendor and prodigality, to habits so simple and austere, is not lost either upon the head or the heart. It is the philosopher coming back from the banquet and the wine to a cup of water and a crust of bread. Continue reading “The Winter of Listening (Lenten Meditation) …”
The tulips are rising from the ground
as if, having heard their name,
they suddenly walked toward the sound
of winter’s stone rolling away. Continue reading “Signs of Life …”
The song begins and the eyes are lifted
but the sickle points toward the ground,
its downward curve forgotten in the song she hears, Continue reading “The Song Of The Lark …”