Readings

From Gathering April 16: anticipating Easter

“You cannot do this prayer by will power. The more effort you put into it, the less well it goes. When you catch yourself trying hard, relax and let go. Introduce the sacred word gently, incredibly gently, as if you were laying a feather on a piece of absorbent cotton.”

Thomas Keating, Open Mind, Open Heart, p. 49

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Fluent

I would love to live
Like a river flows
Carried by the surprise
Of its own unfolding

~ John O’Donohue

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“Of all the showings revealed to me, the one that gave me the most comfort was that our sweet Lord—who is infinitely exalted and alone is worthy of worship—is also utterly simple and friendly. This realization filled me to overflowing with feelings of delight and soul-safety.”

Julian of Norwich, The Showings, Ch. 7, p. 19 (translated by Mirabai Starr)

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Titian, “Noli me tangere" (1514) Do not touch me, Do not cling to me

Of course I have always known you
are present in the clouds, and the 
black oak I especially adore, and the 
wings of birds. But you are present 
too in the body, listening to the body,
teaching it to live, instead of all
that touching, with disembodied joy.
We do not do this easily. We have 
lived so long in the heaven of touch,
and we maintain our mutability, our
physicality, even as we begin to
apprehend the other world. Slowly we
make our appreciative response.
Slowly appreciation swells to 
astonishment. And we enter the dialogue
of our lives that is beyond all under-
standing or conclusion. It is mystery.
It is love of God. It is obedience.

~ from Thirst by Mary Oliver, in “Six Recognitions of the Lord”

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Lectio Divina: John 20:11-18

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Another morning and I wake with thirst 
for the goodness I do not have. I walk 
out to the pond and all the way God has 
given us such beautiful lessons. Oh Lord, 
I was never a quick scholar but sulked 
and hunched over my books past the 
hour and the bell; grant me, in your 
mercy, a little more time. Love for the 
earth and love for you are having such a 
long conversation in my heart. Who 
knows what will finally happen or where I 
will be sent, yet already I have given a 
great many things away, expecting to be 
told to pack nothing, except the prayers 
which, with this thirst, I am slowly 
learning.

”Thirst,” by Mary Oliver, in her collection, Thirst