Many, Many Epiphanies:seeinng Christ in All

Many, many Epiphanies: Seeing Christ in All

“I was in an underground train, a crowded train in which all sorts of people jostled together, workers of every description going home at the end of the day. Quite suddenly, I saw with my mind, but as vividly as a wonderful picture, Christ in them all.

But I saw more than that; not only was Christ in every one of them, living in them, dying in them, rejoicing in them, sorrowing in them—but because He was in them, and because they were here, the whole world was here too … all those people who had lived in the past, and all those yet to come.”—Caryll Houselander, A Rocking-Horse Catholic (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1955), 137–139, 140. 

This twentieth-century English mystic Caryll Houselander (1901–1954) describes how a powerful vision of Christ’s presence in all occurs on an ordinary underground train journey in London.  It brings to mind Thomas Merton’s epiphany in Louisville, at the corner of Fourth and Walnut.

“In Louisville, at the corner of Fourth and Walnut, in the center of the shopping district, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all those people, that they were mine and I theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers.” — Thomas Merton.

This is the first line of Thomas Merton’s famous mystical revelation and epiphany in downtown Louisville, Kentucky, described in his 1968 journal about the world of the 1960s, Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander. pp. 140-142.

Merton had been a Trappist monk for seventeen years and was on an errand for the monastery in the middle of an ordinary day on March 18th, 1958. The story became so famous that Louisville erected a plaque at the site in 2008 at the 50th anniversary of Merton’s revelation. Ordinary people and popes continue to visit the corner of Fourth and Walnut, which was life-changing for Merton and those who read his works. 

 Merton’s and Houselanfer’s experience also seems similar to what James Finley describes in Christian Meditation: Experiencing God’s Presence as “having a finger in the pulse of Christ, realizing oneness with God in life itself.”

 This experience may also be similar to what St. Francis realized in nature when he called the sun his brother and the moon his sister. Richard Rohr calls it finding our True Self, “our basic and unchangeable identity in God.” 1

Methodists might relate it to John Wesley’s experience at 8:45 pm on May 24th, 1738, at a Society meeting in Aldersgate Street when someone read from Luther’s Preface to the Epistle to Romans, and Wesley says, “I felt my heart strangely warmed.” 2

Suppose you ever have an opportunity to visit Louisville. In that case, we hope you can go to the corner of Fourth and Walnut and let us know what epiphanies may happen to you, in London in the underground, on Aldersgate Street, or in a new place you experience!

1 Richard Rohr in Center for Action and Contemplation,” Richard Rohr Meditation: “Thomas Merton Part II,” October 6th, 2017.

2 John Wesley in Journal of John Wesley (London: Charles H. Kelly, 1903), p. 51.

Joanna       https://www.joannaseibert.com/

Working Through loss

Working Through Loss

Guest Writer: Larry Burton

It is probably my age because I often find myself reminiscing about the past. Growing up in a preacher’s family meant moving every few years. At one level, I became quite good at it.

Larry growing up on the farm

All those losses were stuffed in a mental drawer, and we started over in a new city, house, school, and church. That drawer of memories was pretty full, and now it opens quite often, whether by intention or not. I feel pangs of empathy with those in Southern California suffering from the devastation of the fires, which have angrily burned homes and neighborhoods to the ground.

We have all suffered loss and will continue to until we die.

I recall a day years ago when my father and I drove to all the places where he had lived as a kid and as a young adult. We visited cemeteries—mostly forgotten and overgrown—schools now closed, a house or two still standing, and then to Knox County, where he met my mother. My grandfather had been the pastor of Asbury Chapel, and it is there that my mother and most of her relatives are buried. It is also where my parents met. 

Growing up, my brother and I spent many summers on the family farm in Knox County. We helped with the chores. I learned how to milk a cow; my brother was driving a truck when he was 13. A white barn (cows and two horses) and a red barn (hay storage and tractor) were favorite places. There was a smokehouse and a chicken yard, and standing grandly in front of it was a large house built in 1812. 

I loved that house. But when we pulled up in front that particular day, a link fence surrounded it, and the house had collapsed into the cellar. I burst into tears.

Those memories came back as I read about the California fires, and I felt my stomach begin to churn as I imagined all the things and places that had been familiar to those folks in LA but destroyed beyond recognition in just moments. The library, the school, the church. The place where someone had their first date, the field where they played, the movie theater, the drug store…all gone. Loss after loss after loss. 

When we go to sleep, we put another day to rest and expect to greet a new day in the morning. And that is what will happen…eventually. Humans cannot live long in the midst of loss, or we would go mad. I have friends who are still processing the November election and are still angry at the loss of their presidential candidate. They fear the end of democracy. But the sun sets, and the sun rises. The days get longer. Spring will surprise us, but it will arrive soon. 

And there is one other thing. The most important thing. St. Paul, writing to the community in Rome, said, “Can anything ever separate us from Christ’s love? Does it mean he no longer loves us if we have trouble or calamity, or are persecuted, or hungry, or destitute, or in danger, or threatened with death?... I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons,[b] neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love.” And that, in one way or another, is what sustains us in the midst of loss, even devastating loss. 

Our parents are dead, even a grandchild. We have left places and people we loved. Right now, I look up and see a painting of the best house of all, the one on the river in Winamac, IN. A condo is not the same as that house or the farm of long ago. But God is with us, just as God is with all those who have fled from the fire, perhaps never to return. And still, God is with us. 

So, in these days of terrible loss, there is a sustaining power beyond memory and fear. That is where we can live and even thrive in these troubling times.

Larry+ Burton

Joanna Seibert joannaseibert.com

Movements to Start the Day

Movements to Start the Day

“In the quiet of this morning, I recall the prayer and gestures of the deacon as they stand ready at the lectern before reading a gospel narrative each week. I make the sign of the cross on my forehead and say, dear God, may your Word be upon my mind; and then the gesture again on my mouth, may your Word be upon my lips; and then across my chest, may your Word be upon my heart.

I add the sign of the cross on my belly, and I am aware of my feet on the earth. I pray that your Word be upon all my body and soul, grounding me in your Spirit and guiding my every step. I begin my day.”—Trish Stefanik in Overlook Retreat House at Dayspring from InwardOutward.org, Church of the Savior, Washington, D.C.

Trish Stefanik reminds us of the meaning of our gestures before reading the gospel. Making the sign of the cross during my more than twenty years as a deacon has become a habit. However, I usually gesture my hands and fingers without thinking about what I am doing. I typically am more concerned about whether I will pronounce words correctly in the gospel.

How wonderful to be reminded why we habitually do things. However, I often count on God to remember the meaning. I am moved when members of the congregation also make these movements before hearing the gospel read by the deacon. They may also be unknowingly praying these same prayers silently for themselves. Perhaps they are also praying for the gospel reader.

Trish Stefanik also adds a fourth movement to her belly, grounding her feet to the earth. Our bodies, especially our feet, ground us to the present moment. God most often meets us in the present moment.

Finally, there is one more gift from the author. She recommends these prayers and gestures to begin our day.

Today’s reading is a rich blessing, reminding us that our liturgical gestures have an even deeper meaning. When we remember why we are doing them, we can enter into a deeper communion with God. The movements can be even more powerful if done in community. The gestures and prayers can also wake us each day to connect to the God of our understanding, who has been there all along.

Joanna. https://www.joannaseibert.com/