This side of Eden

A deep sense of belonging

There was a peculiar alignment last Sunday: It was Mother’s Day; it was Good Shepherd Sunday; and there was a new pope, an American, who gave his first blessing and homily in St. Peter’s Square. It felt like a divine confluence, a synchronicity begging for attention.

Our mothers carry us for months in their bodies, and even from the womb, we are hearing our mother’s voice. As babies, we know a deep sense of oneness and belonging; in our mother, “we live and move and have our being.”

And when a baby is born, suddenly brought into a strange new environment, the baby searches and casts about the room frantically, searching with eyes that struggle to focus. But once she finally locks eyes with her mother, she knows. “Yes, this is the one. This is the one to whom I belong,” gazing in a state of oneness restored, at least for now.

This side of Eden, this searching and casting about for love and belonging is something that will continue for the rest of our lives. A favorite verse of the psalms speaks of this:

“You speak in my heart and say, ‘Seek my face.’* 
  your face, Lord, will I seek.”    27:11

Something deep in us knows that we are not separate, independent beings. We belong to God and each other, and we discover our true nature in the experience of loving and being loved. Oneness with fellow humans and the whole creation – animals and birds, mountains and meadows, streams and oceans, planets and stars. Our sense of belonging primarily to tribe or nation is an illusion.

Another verse of the psalms speaks of the same:

“Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls,* 
  all your rapids and floods have gone over me.”   42:9

The water breaks, and we are traumatically expelled from Eden. And the rest of our life is all about this searching, this casting about for what we know deep down is our true nature – a oneness, a belonging, a love, and a mystical connection to mother, to God, to each other.

Of course, this is what Jesus’ metaphor of the Good Shepherd is all about.

Jesus says, “I know my sheep and my sheep know me; I call them by name, they hear my voice, and they follow me.” Jesus is speaking of that deep sense of belonging that we “know” in a place deeper than our thinking minds.

Jesus may have been drawing on ancient practices of shepherding in which two or three shepherds might join forces at night. They would gather all of their sheep in a common pen and then take turns watching, while the others slept. In the morning, each shepherd would stand in different parts of the field, piping or calling to their own sheep with their distinctive voices. The sheep know the voice of the one to whom they belong, and they follow him.

The 23rd Psalm might be one of the finest reminders of the One to whom we belong, and reciting this psalm daily could be one of the best possible spiritual disciplines. “The Lord is my shepherd,” not Fox News or CNN or my social media feed. Not my anxious worrying about what is becoming of my life or my children’s lives. “The Lord is my shepherd.”

Of course it's okay to watch the news now and then. But if you spend an hour watching CNN or Fox, you might consider spending the same amount of time reading a Gospel, an Epistle, or maybe slowly reciting Psalm 23 until you find yourself metaphorically in your mother’s arms again, gazing.

“Yes, this is the one to whom I belong.” The Lord is my shepherd.

I’ve just returned from a surprise trip to Italy. Generous friends of ours in Wilmington suddenly had an opening in their group of four couples who planned long ago to travel to Italy, so they invited Cherry and me to join them. We had never been to Italy, so this was a dream come true.

Just before we left the United States, Pope Francis died, so we were in Italy at the time of Francis’ funeral, and we left on the first day of the Conclave that eventually elected Robert Prevost, Pope Leo XIV, the first pope from the United States.

This felt like a dramatic synchronicity, a divine confluence, a peculiar alignment too powerful to ignore. That is, the election of this particular pope draws our attention to the core question of our day: which voice is speaking to our depths?

For the first time in history, two Americans are at the center of the world’s attention: the wealthy leader of the richest and most powerful empire the world has ever known, and the humble leader of the largest group of Christians in the world. The contrast could not be more striking.

And the question will surely rise in many: to whom do we belong? Whose face are we seeking? Whom will we follow? Now, no human being is wrong all the time or right all the time. Blanket demonization or blind allegiance is always a problem. Even so, I think it’s fair to say that the contrast between the two Americans who are center stage today could not be more striking.

But whoever is on stage, major news outlets will regularly feature voices of cruelty, greed, tribalism, and nationalism; and social media will frequently fan the flames of blame and finger pointing. But once in a while, we’ll hear a quieter voice of one calling us to peace, humility, and uncompromising compassion.

“You speak in my heart and say, seek my face.”

“Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls.”

The unusual confluence we are experiencing today seems to signal a wonderful opportunity for renewed spiritual discipline and contemplative discernment, in hopes that we will recognize the voice that speaks in our hearts and calls us each by name.

Our grandson, Cooper, evincing some stereotypical Italian traits with emphatic hand gesture, as he makes an important point.