De Waal: Trinity Connected

De Waal: Trinity Connected

“If I am estranged from myself, then I am also estranged from others too. It is only as I am connected to my own core that I am connected to others.” —Esther de Waal in Living with Contradiction: An Introduction to Benedictine Spirituality (Morehouse, 1997).

Esther de Waal’s writings make accessible to us the Celtic way of life. It is a life in which we learn about ourselves in relationships to others, in relationships to ourselves, in relationship to nature and to daily life in the world outside. This life calls for almost constant prayer and connection to God and awareness of each precious moment. De Waal reminds us how easy it is to walk or drive rushing from one task to another, without any awareness of the people we pass by in our paths. All too often, instead of silently sending love to them, we make snap judgments and label them by their appearance or the clothes they wear.

I am indebted to de Waal for one more book on Celtic spirituality, The Celtic Way of Prayer: The Recovery of the Religious Imagination. Today I am rereading her chapter on Celtic prayers about the Trinity as we prepare for Trinity Sunday. She reminds us of the Celtic tradition of placing three drops of water on an infant’s forehead immediately after birth to remind us that the Trinity is now indwelling in the infant.

In the Celtic tradition, the Trinity is a natural part of the daily songs and prayers at work, and is praised through the changes in the seasons. The day of the Celtic life begins with splashing three handfuls of water on the face in the name of the Trinity. The day ends as the embers of the household fire are spread evenly on the hearth in a circle divided into three equal sections, with a square of peat laid between each. This is called the Hearth of the Three. A woman then closes her eyes, stretches out her hand and softly sings this prayer:

The sacred Three

“To save,

To shield,

To surround,

The hearth,

The household,

This eve,

This night,

Oh! this eve,

This night,

And every night,

Each single night.

Amen.”

—Carmina Gadelica I, “The Trinity” in The Celtic Way of Prayer (Doubleday, 1997).

De Waal describes what she has learned from the Celtic Trinitarian tradition: “It allows me to be at ease with a mystery that no longer threatens but supports, refreshes, and strengthens me.”

The Threeness and connectedness of the Trinity also remind me of a prayer that is anonymous, and sometimes attributed to William Blake—but sounds so Celtic:

“I sought my God;

My God I could not see.

I sought my soul

My soul eluded me.

I sought my brother

And I found all three.”

Joanna. Joannaseibert.com

Celtic Spirituality and Nature

Celtic Spirituality and Nature

“There is no creature on the earth

There is no life in the sea

But proclaims your goodness.

There is no bird on the wing

There is no star in the sky

There is nothing beneath the sun

But is full of your blessing.

Lighten my understanding

Of your presence all around, O Christ

Kindle my will

To be caring for Creation.”

—Phillip Newell, “Wednesday Morning” in Celtic Prayers from Iona: The Heart of Celtic Spirituality (Paulist Press, 1997).

Canada Lake. Cricket time

The late Native American producer and musician, Jim Wilson, recorded the chirping sounds of crickets at regular and slowed-down speed, which is said to match “the average life span of humans.” In the slowed-down version, the crickets seem to be singing alleluias. (https://youtu.be/jk5gibBg-4g)

It is an impressive sound of praise from nature. No one else to my knowledge has been able to reproduce the sound, so it may be manipulated in some way; but nevertheless, I have listened to the recording so often that when I am outside in the night sky with the crickets, I hear an angelic chorus.

There is no question that birds, especially in the early morning, seem to be singing a new oratorio to Creation each day as the sun comes up. The stars at night are like fireworks from millions of miles away reminding us of a spectacle beyond our comprehension. The waves at the ocean are like a percussion instrument that keeps us aware of the constant, steady heartbeat of Creation—sometimes crashing like cymbals, sometimes tinkling softly like the ring of a triangle. I also hear from so many pet owners that they have experienced unconditional love for the first time from their pets, especially from dogs.

The love and praise of God is all around us, but especially in nature. Listen for it.

Joanna joannaseibert.com

Grace

Grace

“Like the unexpected call of a friend just when you need it most, grace arrives unannounced. A door opens. A path becomes clear. An answer presents itself. Grace is what it feels like to be touched by God.” —Bishop Steven Charleston, Facebook Message.

I stand waiting to walk out and read the Gospel as we sing the Sequence, the hymn before the Gospel: “Dear Lord and Father of Mankind.” I glance at the last verse, and there, faintly written in pencil, just before the beginning of the last line, is the word “softer.” It is in my mother’s distinctive handwriting. I had forgotten that my mother sang in the choir at her small Episcopal church in Virginia. This must be a directive from the choirmaster.

My mother has been dead for more than nineteen years. We did not always understand each other; but when she died, I wanted to honor her in some way, and decided to start using her personal hymnal/prayer book in church.

Her name has worn off the front cover; the gold cross on it will soon be gone. The red leather cover is now coming apart, particularly the backboard of the spine of the book. I have not repaired it because for some unknown reason what remains of this book, just as she used it, seems to be connecting me to her.

When I saw my mother’s writing, I gasped and sent up a small prayer of thanksgiving. We had some very difficult times; but over the years since her death I have begun to feel healing. This morning, in this split second, I felt reconciled with my mother and was grateful for the life and support she gave me.

Healing of family relationships takes time and constant prayer for family members and for ourselves. Today I realize that prayer works. Attempting to connect to an estranged family member through something that family member treasured and we can share with them over time works. This valuing what we have in common rather than remembering our differences brings about healing in life as well as after death. My mother and I shared our love of the Episcopal Church and singing in particular. Today I almost felt my mother beside me.

Through this realization I experience one more way that God’s Grace continues to heal and care for us over time if we only put ourselves in the position to receive.

Joanna. Joannaseibert.com