The Still Point

A Time of Meditation and Reflection

The Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost

Fifth Sunday of Creationtide (Proper XXI)

... At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless;
Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is,
But neither arrest nor movement. And do not call it fixity,
Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards,
Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point,
There would be no dance, and there is only the dance...

 

T.S. Eliot, Burnt Norton

            Peace on each one who comes in need; 

            Peace on each one who comes in joy. 

            Peace on each one who offers prayers; 

            Peace on each one who offers song. 

            Peace of the Maker, Peace of the Son, 

            Peace of the Spirit, the Triune One.

Opening Prayer

Praise to you, God, for all your work among us. Yours is the vigor in creation, yours is the impulse in our new discoveries. Make us adventurous, yet reverent and hopeful in all we do. Amen.

 

The Gospel  Mark 9:38-50

John said to Jesus, “Teacher, we saw someone casting out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him, because he was not following us.” But Jesus said, “Do not stop him; for no one who does a deed of power in my name will be able soon afterward to speak evil of me. Whoever is not against us is for us. For truly I tell you, whoever gives you a cup of water to drink because you bear the name of Christ will by no means lose the reward. “If any of you put a stumbling block before one of these little ones who believe in me, it would be better for you if a great millstone were hung around your neck and you were thrown into the sea. If your hand causes you to stumble, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life maimed than to have two hands and to go to hell, to the unquenchable fire. And if your foot causes you to stumble, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life lame than to have two feet and to be thrown into hell. And if your eye causes you to stumble, tear it out; it is better for you to enter the kingdom of God with one eye than to have two eyes and to be thrown into hell, where their worm never dies, and the fire is never quenched. “For everyone will be salted with fire. Salt is good; but if salt has lost its saltiness, how can you season it? Have salt in yourselves, and be at peace with one another.”

Poem: “Posey”                                             by  Pamela Cochran

It’s the wail of the wounded; forsaken—
a burden, but for the breaks between
the lines.

The blood shed, beautifully
inked onto the page, purged by the channel
of tears. It’s the battle between flesh
and spirit, victory claimed by the banner
of surrender.

It’s embracing the truth of the scar;
releasing the shame owned by the self
with whom you’re no longer acquainted.
It’s breaking the chains and shaking
that gorilla off your back, picking up the
pieces and patching the holes in your
heart. It’s the wonder of discovering
strength in the moments of weakness,
comfort in the unbearable truth.

It’s forbidding rage to dictate
anything more than the pressure
of the point on the page. It’s sharing the
secrets we can’t afford to keep,
displaying the profound irrationality of
our thought processes; giving the
madness a voice when we refuse to
listen to the silence.

It’s the blueprints for our hopes and
dreams. It chronicles the attempts of
the adversary and the tales of courage.
It’s that what you see in the rearview is
the only hope for the future.                                                                     

 

Meditation

In the past few weeks, as the Lectionary offers us Jesus' teachings from Mark, we have been journeying with Jesus through some not-so-easy imagery-terrain. Jesus has been referring to living life as lowly servants, dragging Roman torture implements (crosses) around, losing one's life altogether...and now, just when we think the imagery can't get any more gruesome, Jesus refers to cutting off or tearing out one's own body parts. Sheesh.

 

Yet, I see these images as all connected to a central theme of letting go of all that no longer serves us and surrendering our wills to God. I've written before about how the "death" Jesus invites us into can be thought of as egoic death, the death of the constructed self we identify with, so that we can be transformed into our True Self, the Self whom we are when we are "hidden with Christ in God" (Colossians 3:3). In this week's Gospel, rather than imagine a Halloweeny scattering of bloody body parts, we could imagine Jesus speaking about cutting out metaphorical eyes and hands and feet, so that we understand that in order to emerge as our True Self in God, we have to jettison those parts of us that no longer serve us. If we see our world through the lens of, say, our political affiliation or social status, Jesus invites us to cut out those "eyes" so that we can glimpse life through divine eyes. If we seek to grasp and cling to our experience with "hands" of the existential desire for control, Jesus invites us to cut off those "hands" so that we can become co-creators with God through prayer-attuned discernment of God's will.

 

What are the parts of us which we think we can't live without, but which so often betray us and keep us from our covenantal vow to love one another? Perhaps it's our attachment to a core belief ("That political party is evil"). Perhaps it's our attachment to a certain identity ("I'm a nurse/manager/therapist/fill-in-the-blank"). Perhaps it's our attachment to a certain outcome. Whatever we're attached to, Jesus is saying, cut the cord, "break the chain", as Pamela Cochran's poem says. On the other side of that loss of attachment is our ultimate freedom. On the other side of that "death" is the life God is unfolding for us.

 

Questions for Reflection

- Mark's Gospel has been guiding us through Jesus' practices of non-possession. Make a list of ten things you think you could never live without. Then imagine life without those things. You may experience some anticipatory grief as you imagine losing these things. Sit for a short time with that grief, and let yourself inhabit that sorrowful place. As you return your awareness to the knowledge that you may still have these things, reflect: what was that experience of loss like for you? What feelings arose in you? Fear? Frustration? Anger? Appreciation? What else did you notice?

 

- We all have "stuff" in our lives that can develop into "appendages" that we carry around and feel like we "need" (for Lord of the Rings fans, these things are the "Precious" to our Gollum). Name one or two "appendages" that feel like weights on your life. It could be the appendage of a nagging anxiety, or worry about the state of the world, or a persistent grief or exhaustion. It could be an old resentment or feeling of injustice, a past harm. Could the appendages you name for yourself be metaphorical hands, or feet, or eyes, or ears, that Jesus is inviting you to "cut out"?

 

- Can you recall an experience of having lost something, or someone, that felt like a part of you was dying? What was that death experience like for you? What is your relationship to that death experience now? Are you aware of any gifts or blessings that unfolded in your life as a result of that death experience? Name those gifts before God now, in this time of reflection.

Prayers

V. Heal your Creation, O God, and bless your offspring;

R. Guide and sustain your creatures, now and always.

V. Day by day your Creation blesses you;

R. We join our voices to praise your Name for ever.

V. O God, unite us with all Creation in harmony;

R. Have compassion on our failings, O God.

V. O God, show us your love and sustaining power;

R. For your creatures live and move only in you.

V.  In you, O God, is our hope;

R. And your Creation shall never hope in vain.

 

Now to God who is able to do immeasurably more than all we can ask or conceive, by the power which is at work among us, be glory in the Church and in Christ Jesus throughout all ages. Amen.             

Accept our thanks for all you have done, O God. Our hands were empty, and you filled them.

 May Christ’s holy, healing, enabling Spirit be with us every step of the way, and be our guide as our road changes and turns, and the blessing of God our Creator, Redeemer and Giver of life be among us now and remain with us forever. Amen.

Reflections this month offered by: Kathleen Schmidt