Wiederkehr:The Spaces

Wiederkehr: The Spaces

“Long ago when I was learning to type, I used to delight in typing letters to my friends without pressing the space bar. Now when you don’t press the space bar, you’ve got a real mess, and there is much decoding to be done. It is the spaces in between that enable us to understand the message.” —Macrina Wiederkehr in The Song of the Seed: A Monastic Way of Tending the Soul (HarperOne, 1997).

I remember reading this message from Sister Wiederkehr more than twenty years ago, and it still jumps off the page for me. She reminds us that many of us keep forgetting to press the space bar in our lives. She calls it hurry sickness. We will rest after we finish this one email, or project or phone call or meeting. She is calling us to spaces of contemplation or meditation or silence at intervals in our lives.

One of my favorite definitions of such a “space” is to stop what we are doing and attend a Quaker meeting in our head. Macrina reminds us of a Native American admonition to listen or our tongue will keep us deaf! I experience this often when I wake up in the morning, and suddenly an answer or idea about my writing comes after that long time of rest during the night. I know when I stop during the day to say prayers at daily intervals, life is more beautiful. But I can so easily become the driver of a Mack truck coming down a steep hill without brakes and hurriedly drive during the day from task to task without stopping.

Our computers and our iPhones are speaking to us. Have you ever noticed how much bigger the space bars are than the letters?

Joanna. Joannaseibert.com

Purchase a copy of A Spiritual Rx for Lent and Easter from me, joannaseibert@me.com, from Wordsworth Books in Little Rock, or from Amazon.

Holy Week: Palm Sunday

Holy Week: Palm Sunday

“And many believed in him.” —John 10:31-42.

We are approaching one of the holiest times of the Christian year, appropriately named Holy Week. In preparing for this time, our tradition suggests the sacrament of the reconciliation of a penitent. Today I share with you the rough draft of my confession of the ups and downs of my relationship with God, looking through the lens of the Stations of the Cross.

Today, on Palm Sunday, we will read the Passion Gospel in Luke; and on Good Friday we will hear the Passion Gospel from John. Many congregations have also been reading Luke during Lent, and this week we will be reading part of that Gospel’s Passion narrative.

I imagine myself as so many of the players in this extraordinary drama. Come with me and see if you as well have a part to play. I have been Judas and betrayed Jesus for politics and money. At the same time, I have also had the privilege for eighteen years of preparing Christ’s supper. Jesus has washed my feet. I have sung hymns with him on the way to mountaintops. I have publicly declared Jesus as my God in front of large groups of people. I have prayed with Christ and fallen asleep, either literally or by staying unconscious to the present moment. I have figuratively cut off ears defending him in my zeal.

I have been Nicodemus coming to him secretly at night and speaking out for him in ways that would keep me safe. I have given false witness against him by making my plan his plan. I have been Peter and denied my God more than three times. I have spat on him and mocked him by my actions. I have been Pilate’s wife receiving dreams that tell me that God is among us. I have been Pilate and washed my hands of situations when I should have spoken out for what I knew in my heart was wrong.

I have been Barabbas, the criminal who was freed, and did not have to face the consequence of my sins. I have been privileged to wipe the face of God present in so many others in pain. I have perhaps been Simon of Cyrene and carried another’s cross for brief periods of time. I have been among the women who followed Jesus from Galilee and looked helplessly on his crucifixion from a distance. I have been the thief on the cross crying out for God’s mercy in my distress. I have been the other thief on the cross still trying to tell God what God should do to relieve my pain.

I have been the centurion at Jesus’ death, finally recognizing God in the lives of so many only after they have died. I have been Joseph of Arimathea and found a resting place for Jesus. I have been one of the spice-bearing women at the empty tomb still looking for God. I have been Mary Magdalene in the garden, searching for God and not recognizing him.

I close with an invitation to take again this Holy Week journey. I hear there is a surprise ending.

Joanna. Joannaseibert.com

Purchase a copy of A Spiritual Rx for Lent and Easter from me, joannaseibert@me.com, from Wordsworth Books in Little Rock, or from Amazon.

Labyrinths

Labyrinth

“Labyrinths are usually in the form of a circle with a meandering but purposeful path from the edge to the center and back again. Each has only one path, and once we make the choice to enter it, the path becomes a metaphor for our journey through life, sending us to the center of the labyrinth and then back out to the edge on the same path.” —Lauren Artress in Walking a Sacred Path: Rediscovering the Labyrinth as a Spiritual Tool (Riverhead Books, 1995).

Walking the labyrinth is one of the most ancient of spiritual practices, first documented in 324 on the floor of a church in Algiers, Algeria. One of the most famous labyrinths of medieval times is on the church floor of Chartres Cathedral, France. Christians who could not go on the Crusades in the 12th century went to the church to walk its eleven-circuit labyrinth pattern as a pilgrimage.

Walking the labyrinth is a form of surrender to a certain path that we trust will lead us in to the center and then back out. As we concentrate on our paces, the committee in our head becomes quiet as all our energy goes to staying on the path. As our body becomes quiet as well, we reconnect to our soul, to the God within. We are now on the path of healing and love and wholeness. This meditative walking spiritual exercise is especially helpful for the person who has difficulty meditating and sitting still, as is necessary in Centering Prayer.

Labyrinths are winding paths that double back before reaching a center. A labyrinth is different from a maze in that there is only one way to go, and you cannot get lost. Walking the labyrinth can be a time for meditation on sacred words, Scripture, or discernment as you move. You can walk, crawl, or skip as you proceed, but you must be considerate of other pilgrims walking the path.

The Episcopal priest, Lauren Artress, was a pioneer at Grace Cathedral in San Francisco when she introduced this spiritual practice in the 1990s. There are books about praying and meditating while walking the labyrinth (see Camp and Geoffrion, below), and how to make your own labyrinth (Welch). A friend, Twyla Alexander, has written a book about her pilgrimage of walking labyrinths in fifty states and hearing the stories of the women who created them.

Choose one of these books or others, or talk with a friend who has walked the labyrinth. Then try this ancient practice, especially if you are one who cannot sit still and meditate. I would also like to hear from you about your experience walking the labyrinth and of any books you have found helpful.

Lauren Artress, Walking a Sacred Path: Rediscovering the Labyrinth as a Spiritual Practice. Riverhead Books, 1995.

Jill Kimberly Hartwell Geoffrion, Christian Prayer and Labyrinths and Praying the Labyrinth. Pilgrim Press, 2004.

Carole Ann Camp, Praying at Every Turn: Meditations for Walking the Labyrinth. Crossroad, 2011.

Sally Welch, Walking the Labyrinth: A Spiritual and Practical Guide. Canterbury, 2010.

Twyla Alexander, Labyrinth Journeys: 50 States, 51 Stories. Spring Hill, 2017.

Joanna. Joannaseibert.com

Purchase a copy of A Spiritual Rx for Lent and Easter from me, joannaseibert@me.com, from Wordsworth Books in Little Rock, or from Amazon.