The Still Point

A Time of Meditation and Reflection

The First Sunday in Lent

 

... 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

            

 Like a tent in the wilderness, God’s table stands ready; 

A place of sanctuary and safety, of hospitality and healing.

 Come, all you who are tired and travel-stained, footsore and famished;         

Come with your fellow travelers to find companionship and comfort. 

Jesus waits to meet us here and welcome us in, 

Offering rest and renewal, solace, and strength, for the journey still to come.

 

Opening Prayer

Lord, help us to see: to see what is eternally good and true, and having seen, to go on searching until we come to the joys of heaven. This we ask through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. 

The Gospel                                                 Mark 1:9-15

In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” And the Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness. He was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him.

Now after John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, and saying, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.”

 

Poem: “Wild Geese”                                                                       by Mary Oliver (b. 1935)

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes, 

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --

over and over announcing your place in the family of things.

                                                          

Meditation

In today's Gospel reading, Jesus's 40-day sojourn in the wilderness sets up the framework for our own Lenten journeys.  Indeed, many a Lenten program has included the word "wilderness" in its invitation to shed for a season those things that keep us distant from God's presence, or that make us blind to the divine within ourselves.  Nevertheless, this may run counter to what we think Lent is supposed to be: piousness, summoning up our most angelic selves, escaping from the world.  Instead, if we follow Jesus's example, Lent means getting dirty, going back to nature, reconnecting with our wildness, in all its glory and ugliness, and finally reorienting it towards what God is calling us to do.  Mary Oliver provides us with a beautiful (and much gentler) invitation, with a wild goose to assist us in the process.  If we follow some of the memorable turns of phrase in "Wild Geese", we may be inspired to nudge our Lenten journey toward:

• taking an inventory of our spiritual gifts, and how the "soft animal of your body'" expresses those gifts.

• observing what nature and the untamed wilderness can teach us.

• telling the truth about despair, loneliness - ours and that of others

• "Heading home" to childhood wonder, neglected talents, and the imagination.

• "Announcing your place in the family of things" through a focus on environmental justice, equity, or reconciliation.

 

Questions for Reflection

• What phrases from Mary Oliver's poem speak to you? 

• When you feel like your life is in sync with the divine, how does that feel physically to you?  What are the sensations of the "soft animal of your body" in those moments?

• The medieval 'Bestiary' was a literary genre that sought examples of Christian virtues in the behavior of animals (usually based on not-so-sound science).  What has the wilderness of the natural world taught you about yourself? About your role in creation? About the divine? (Here's a good place to start, if you're interested in the bestiary.)

• What might it mean to "head home" again during this season of Lent?  To "announce your place in the family of things"?  

 

Prayers  

We bring before God someone whom we have met or remembered today 

We bring to God someone who is hurting tonight and needs our prayer

We bring to God a troubled situation in our world 

We bring to God, silently, someone whom we find hard to forgive or trust

We bring ourselves to God that we might grow in generosity of spirit, clarity of mind, and warmth of affection

We offer our thanks to God for the blessings in our lives

We name before God those who have died.

 

Gracious God, you hear all our prayers: those we speak aloud, those we hold in our hearts, and those prayers for which we have no words. Hear the prayers of your people, and grant them as may be best for us, for the sake of your holy name. 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 Matt Bentley

Cover Image: The Scorpion: Jesus in the Wilderness by Stanley Spencer