Now what?

I always think of the family and friends that loved Jesus so very much and what this time after his “death” might have felt like?

Is it all that different from my own experiences of sickening silences after the funeral director has been paid, the last of the casserole dishes returned, and sitting alone on the couch after everyone has gone; while the colorful roses and carnations wilt and brown on the slight mound of newly turned dirt of earth? Is it so unlike what those who knew and loved Jesus might have said to one another, with still stinging and swollen eyes, “Now what?” Continue reading

My God, My God,

cropped-My-god-my-god-red.jpgThe faith of some is bolstered by knowing their God is God.  Period. For others, faith is made real (as much as that is not a contradiction) by witnessing what might be doubt even in the best of God.

From noon on, darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon. And about three o’clock Jesus cried with a loud voice, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” that is, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” -Matthew 27:45-46

These final words of Christ speak volumes to my soul.  They ring with the familiar tone of human questioning, and they are rung to the Father. Continue reading

When Jesus Spoke

cropped-Weep-not-for-me-4.jpgThe time is nearing.  No words of mine could possibly better represent this season of standing on the edge of final darkness and eternal light than this performance (included here) of When Jesus Spoke From The Cross (Trinity Episcopal Church, Jazz Fest 2012). Composed by Dave Brubeck in 1989, arranged and performed by Paul English (piano) with David Caceres (Vocals/Saxophone), Continue reading

Sideline of Happy

Illinois Tree TrinityI’m noticing a sideline of happy – showing up spontaneously and parallel with all the other busy feelings and attentions of being and doing.

It first showed up as one word [happy] when sitting on a cushion in meditation two weeks ago.  I watched with softened eyes as the sunshine crept across blondish oak floors – breathing in the smokey sticky incense I fondly associate more with Jim Chambers* than the censers of church.  And it showed up. 

Happy. 

Stayed for a little while then slid like fading light into shadows of the next breath, thought, breath, thought. Continue reading