Hi folks... just a reminder that I am voxing (bloging at vox.com). My url is:
www.onpilgrimage.vox.com
peace,
Michael B
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Sharing dreams
The older I get, which really feels odd rolling off the tongue, the more I value the people who offer meaningful gestures that let you trust they believe in your dreams.
One expects their parents (I wish everone had that kind of parent) to have a reasonable amount of encouragement to offer their child's dream - but the day one realizes their parents, and others, really does believe in that dream with you - that's a great day.
I've been taking a few steps toward one of my dreams - perhaps the only or most real dream I have. Every time I have a disconcerting moment - or I totter a little bit - someone this week has been there say "you can do it!" Kind of like Lisa's parrot in Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sadaris. But more real - because it hasn't been just with words, it has been with gestures. Like a fellow student who slipped a note under my door with a check in it, to help me with some logistics, or a people from whom I expected skepticism saying, "I want to join you." It felt like someone sent me a bouquet of gestures that say, "Michael, it will be hard, but ever petal from this bouquet is the world is saying 'YES'!".
I hope that I can be a rose petal yes to another persons dream in their much needed flower delivery. Sometimes it is obvious, but often, the hidden frustrations are what people most need help with. We really have to watch for the moments in others' lives when they need a little bouquet of support.
One expects their parents (I wish everone had that kind of parent) to have a reasonable amount of encouragement to offer their child's dream - but the day one realizes their parents, and others, really does believe in that dream with you - that's a great day.
I've been taking a few steps toward one of my dreams - perhaps the only or most real dream I have. Every time I have a disconcerting moment - or I totter a little bit - someone this week has been there say "you can do it!" Kind of like Lisa's parrot in Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sadaris. But more real - because it hasn't been just with words, it has been with gestures. Like a fellow student who slipped a note under my door with a check in it, to help me with some logistics, or a people from whom I expected skepticism saying, "I want to join you." It felt like someone sent me a bouquet of gestures that say, "Michael, it will be hard, but ever petal from this bouquet is the world is saying 'YES'!".
I hope that I can be a rose petal yes to another persons dream in their much needed flower delivery. Sometimes it is obvious, but often, the hidden frustrations are what people most need help with. We really have to watch for the moments in others' lives when they need a little bouquet of support.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Prophesy to breath:
I love the reading about the dry bones, but this year it felt like I was hearing it for the first time.
This time, the commandments to prophesy stuck out to me. I usually tend to think of prophesy as something cerebral, intellectual. We prophecy to enlighten, and to change someone's mind.
But here, we overhear God commanding Ezekiel, prophesy to the bones, and prophesy to the breath.
And Ezekiel did, saying, "Come from the four winds, O breath." And then the breath did come, and life entered the newly sinew-covered, epidermal-wrapped bones, and they stood on their feet. That must have been an awesome sight.
Prophesy to bones? Prophesy to breath? How sad that God had to show people their hard-heartedness by saying, 'Look, I can't get dead, dry bones out in the desert to listen better than you will!'
With the US at war with so many people, other countries in their own fighting, and women and children in so much pain and suffering, I think of how many bones are going out into the desert, and will one day stand before us as a witness to our own inhumanity.
This time, the commandments to prophesy stuck out to me. I usually tend to think of prophesy as something cerebral, intellectual. We prophecy to enlighten, and to change someone's mind.
But here, we overhear God commanding Ezekiel, prophesy to the bones, and prophesy to the breath.
And Ezekiel did, saying, "Come from the four winds, O breath." And then the breath did come, and life entered the newly sinew-covered, epidermal-wrapped bones, and they stood on their feet. That must have been an awesome sight.
Prophesy to bones? Prophesy to breath? How sad that God had to show people their hard-heartedness by saying, 'Look, I can't get dead, dry bones out in the desert to listen better than you will!'
With the US at war with so many people, other countries in their own fighting, and women and children in so much pain and suffering, I think of how many bones are going out into the desert, and will one day stand before us as a witness to our own inhumanity.
Finding the inner blog:
So these last few days, I've found it difficult to blog as I catch up from being gone to Santa Barbara (he says dreamily).
I've also noticed how my blog, at times is it's own moment of lingering, increasingly on phrases from the lectionary texts in the Episcopal Church, but many aren't. I'm thinking to myself, "okay, you called this thing holy lingering, but you aren't really talking about that much." In part that's because you can only beat a dead horse (not condoning animal-abuse!) so much, but also, I'm not really taking much time to actually lingering these hectic days, and as I slowed down in my blog writing, I felt like I was loosing one of the places where I was intentionally lingering each day - with a text or a moment or a memory.
That's one of the things I miss about pilgrimage - walking requires you to slow down, pay a little more attention, try to be a little burp of peace in the world.
The hard part is conjuring up the muscle memory of alowing down, lingering over my experiences and thoughts, searching for the gold flakes of God's love and mercy in the river worn mountain-dust in my life-pan.
I've also noticed how my blog, at times is it's own moment of lingering, increasingly on phrases from the lectionary texts in the Episcopal Church, but many aren't. I'm thinking to myself, "okay, you called this thing holy lingering, but you aren't really talking about that much." In part that's because you can only beat a dead horse (not condoning animal-abuse!) so much, but also, I'm not really taking much time to actually lingering these hectic days, and as I slowed down in my blog writing, I felt like I was loosing one of the places where I was intentionally lingering each day - with a text or a moment or a memory.
That's one of the things I miss about pilgrimage - walking requires you to slow down, pay a little more attention, try to be a little burp of peace in the world.
The hard part is conjuring up the muscle memory of alowing down, lingering over my experiences and thoughts, searching for the gold flakes of God's love and mercy in the river worn mountain-dust in my life-pan.
Archbishop murdered:
Our war in Iraq has created a lot of victims. All war does. My prayers go up for Chaldean Catholic Archbishop Paul Faraj Rahho's and two of his companions. He was ambushed only a few weeks ago. I am so sorry for my sisters and brothers in Iraq, whatever faith they may profess, for the horrors of war they see - it is so difficult to imagine, here in comfortable US. My heart also goes out to the soldiers - I know that they, too, suffer things we cannot imagine.
Before he died, did he pray for those who were killing him? Was he afraid? Was he confident? Did he sense Christ present with him? I am not suggesting unreasonable expectations for him, but just reflecting more on what I would do - what would I think, or do, or be in this situation?
As Christians prepare for Palm Sunday and Holy Week in the Western Christian churches, I think it is important to reflect on the lives of the martyrs of the faith - those who, unlike most US Christians, really do put their life in harm's way, and not by going out on impossible missions, but by their daily living - driving to work.
In the midst of Lent, we remain a resurrection people, and so can pray for God's mercy with hope and continue our journey in confidence that God's power to make all things new is infinitely more creative than the destructive forces we face in our own lives.
Before he died, did he pray for those who were killing him? Was he afraid? Was he confident? Did he sense Christ present with him? I am not suggesting unreasonable expectations for him, but just reflecting more on what I would do - what would I think, or do, or be in this situation?
As Christians prepare for Palm Sunday and Holy Week in the Western Christian churches, I think it is important to reflect on the lives of the martyrs of the faith - those who, unlike most US Christians, really do put their life in harm's way, and not by going out on impossible missions, but by their daily living - driving to work.
In the midst of Lent, we remain a resurrection people, and so can pray for God's mercy with hope and continue our journey in confidence that God's power to make all things new is infinitely more creative than the destructive forces we face in our own lives.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
see me at VOX
Hi Folks,
I've been try to do double duty on blogspot and vox, but find I'm really drawn to vox for right now. I hope you will check out my blog there until this one comes to full term ;)
http://onpilgrimage.vox.com/
Thanks - Michael B
I've been try to do double duty on blogspot and vox, but find I'm really drawn to vox for right now. I hope you will check out my blog there until this one comes to full term ;)
http://onpilgrimage.vox.com/
Thanks - Michael B
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Pilgrimage or Fugitive: Lent
Run, run, run, as fast as you can - you can't catch me I'm the gingerbread man! Okay, rediculous strart, but it came to mind. My dad and I used to, and still sometimes do, take rides through the countryside. We'd eat fried pig skins (disgusting, huh?), and drink whatever our favorite soda was (usually, for me, rootbeer). Now that I have revealed to you how thoroughly Mississippian I am, I suppose I can share with you have formative it was. Not only in developing a bond with my father - strong enough for me to chose to "come out" during one of our drives - but in helping me think about pilgrimage.
As I ponder Holy Lingering, I am promoting moments of stability that punctuate our pilgrimage. Pauses for reflection allow our roots to grow a little deeper and find some sustenance, before picking up and moving on. This is countercultural , especially the USA. When I look at my father, I wonder if his own love of travel was not only a movement forward, but a movement "away from". Pilgrimge, like any travel, has often included those who were fleeing.
The difference, I think, between a pilgrimage and a fugitice is the pilgrim runs toward and with love. The fugitive is running away. Perhaps my study and interest in holy lingering is a call for me to engage the practices of the season of Lent: to thoroughly search myself, to present my sins to God, to make ammends as possible with those whom I have offended, and know by grace and mercy the compassion and love of God.
As I ponder Holy Lingering, I am promoting moments of stability that punctuate our pilgrimage. Pauses for reflection allow our roots to grow a little deeper and find some sustenance, before picking up and moving on. This is countercultural , especially the USA. When I look at my father, I wonder if his own love of travel was not only a movement forward, but a movement "away from". Pilgrimge, like any travel, has often included those who were fleeing.
The difference, I think, between a pilgrimage and a fugitice is the pilgrim runs toward and with love. The fugitive is running away. Perhaps my study and interest in holy lingering is a call for me to engage the practices of the season of Lent: to thoroughly search myself, to present my sins to God, to make ammends as possible with those whom I have offended, and know by grace and mercy the compassion and love of God.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Idleness and Benedict's Rule
I've read the Rule of St. Benedict many times, and every time I notice new facets, new depth.
Tonight, I'm reading from John Chittister's commentary on the Rule. For class, we were asked to read just the rule, not her commentary, so maybe next week after reading her commentary I'll have a better reflection on it. But, I've enjoyed reading the rule again.
Of the many lines that have stuck out to me, one is his rule on idleness:
"Idleness if the enemy of the soul. Therefore, the community members should have specified periods for manual labor as well as for prayerful reading."
As I contemplate the motion of Holy Lingering, a distinction should be made between lingering and idleness, though they are often associated. To be idle, to dawdle, is to indulge in nothing, to avoid, to put off, or, if we look at automobiles, to run without going anywhere. To me, it connotes a lack of meaning or purpose, a lack of drive, a disinterest.
Holy Lingering, however, is purposeful, oriented and orienting: eyes wide open and bated breath. To linger with the Holy or to linger for the Holy is to take time and space to pay attention to the inner working of God in one's life, to seek revelation or realign insight without, to insight within. Yet, it is not individualistic, however solitary it may be. Holy lingering brings us out of ourselves, requiring us to pay attention to others, to "seek and serve Christ" in them.
This Holy Lingering may be made holy not as a search for a distant God, but in finding God within the relationships: our fellow pilgrims and the strangers we meet, or who meet us, along the way.
Tonight, I'm reading from John Chittister's commentary on the Rule. For class, we were asked to read just the rule, not her commentary, so maybe next week after reading her commentary I'll have a better reflection on it. But, I've enjoyed reading the rule again.
Of the many lines that have stuck out to me, one is his rule on idleness:
"Idleness if the enemy of the soul. Therefore, the community members should have specified periods for manual labor as well as for prayerful reading."
As I contemplate the motion of Holy Lingering, a distinction should be made between lingering and idleness, though they are often associated. To be idle, to dawdle, is to indulge in nothing, to avoid, to put off, or, if we look at automobiles, to run without going anywhere. To me, it connotes a lack of meaning or purpose, a lack of drive, a disinterest.
Holy Lingering, however, is purposeful, oriented and orienting: eyes wide open and bated breath. To linger with the Holy or to linger for the Holy is to take time and space to pay attention to the inner working of God in one's life, to seek revelation or realign insight without, to insight within. Yet, it is not individualistic, however solitary it may be. Holy lingering brings us out of ourselves, requiring us to pay attention to others, to "seek and serve Christ" in them.
This Holy Lingering may be made holy not as a search for a distant God, but in finding God within the relationships: our fellow pilgrims and the strangers we meet, or who meet us, along the way.
Holy Lingering
Here is my "profile" at vox. This is a good attempt at identifying why I am on pilgrimage, and the particular work of pilgrimage I am focusing on right now, both spiritually, in my blog, and in my academic work.
Holy Lingering is an important motion of pilgrimage - it is more than taking a break or a lack of movement. Holy lingering is holding back, hanging out. To me, it implies expectancy, anticipation, the assumption that by lingering, we can have a rich experience with the Holy; but it is also the work of taking time to look beyond our individual faith travels to a wider community and a broader space. In holy lingering, we acknowledge that there is something worth savoring in life's pilgrimage.
In my life's pilgrimage, it has been not only the movement through the liturgy, the moving towards something: it is in the moments I have stayed a little longer in a particular place, that I have been able to pause and reflect or slow down and notice God in new way. Life is a pilgrimage, it is not stagnant, but part of the movement of pilgrimage is the action of lingering. There I have found God in shadows and corners, in an unanticipated companion, in rest and contemplation, in discovering a pearl of great value. How many of these, I wonder, have I passed by, because I hurry on.
Perhaps there is something countercultural there, too. The culture of rushing says "don't stop to notice, don't stop to think." This culture urges on, always moving, never pausing. If we live this way, we never have to stop and pay attention to what God is calling us to do - we can keep shopping, earning trophies, climbing the ladder of "success," and avoiding the realities of failures and pain, avoiding relationships and events that can help us find the greater meaning in our movement. Holy lingering is an attempt to make a case for a vision of pilgrimage that is about more than a rat-race. Holy lingering reminds us that we are in fact pilgrims, and not fugitives. Running towards and not away. Hope you enjoy.
There are many motions of pilgrimage, "gestures" as Brett Webb-Mitchell calls them. This is only one of them.
Yes, I am on pilgrimage - on a journey towards God with the delicious sweetness of communion in a crazy, diverse pilgrim band. But in this sacred travel, there are motions we learn, practices that help us understand who we are. One of these is Holy Lingering.Holy Lingering is an important motion of pilgrimage - it is more than taking a break or a lack of movement. Holy lingering is holding back, hanging out. To me, it implies expectancy, anticipation, the assumption that by lingering, we can have a rich experience with the Holy; but it is also the work of taking time to look beyond our individual faith travels to a wider community and a broader space. In holy lingering, we acknowledge that there is something worth savoring in life's pilgrimage.
In my life's pilgrimage, it has been not only the movement through the liturgy, the moving towards something: it is in the moments I have stayed a little longer in a particular place, that I have been able to pause and reflect or slow down and notice God in new way. Life is a pilgrimage, it is not stagnant, but part of the movement of pilgrimage is the action of lingering. There I have found God in shadows and corners, in an unanticipated companion, in rest and contemplation, in discovering a pearl of great value. How many of these, I wonder, have I passed by, because I hurry on.
Perhaps there is something countercultural there, too. The culture of rushing says "don't stop to notice, don't stop to think." This culture urges on, always moving, never pausing. If we live this way, we never have to stop and pay attention to what God is calling us to do - we can keep shopping, earning trophies, climbing the ladder of "success," and avoiding the realities of failures and pain, avoiding relationships and events that can help us find the greater meaning in our movement. Holy lingering is an attempt to make a case for a vision of pilgrimage that is about more than a rat-race. Holy lingering reminds us that we are in fact pilgrims, and not fugitives. Running towards and not away. Hope you enjoy.
Saturday, February 9, 2008
Why "on pilgrimage"
Psalm 84 says "Blessed are those whose hearts are set on the pilgrims' way," and I figure there are different ways to interpret that.
I felt a delicious blessing as I walked across Northern Spain on the medieval pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela along the "camino frances."
However, I have come to see that there is a different kind of blessing for a different kind of "being" on the way. That is the way of the hospitalero.
I felt a delicious blessing as I walked across Northern Spain on the medieval pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela along the "camino frances."
However, I have come to see that there is a different kind of blessing for a different kind of "being" on the way. That is the way of the hospitalero.
The person who lives along the "way" and receives the person passing by and passing through. The little old lady who runs after me with a diet coke, the man who invites me into his home and pulls a slab of meat out of his smoke house, and picks fresh vegetables from his garden... the priests who pray the mass at the churches along the camino, and the volunteers who run the refugios. Even those who wave at you as you pass by.
The ministry of hospitality 0 this is the school I need, I want to learn from. I was given a wonderful suggestion by a mentor: go stay in a Benedictine retreat house, and follow the guest master for a few days. I'll check back in when I've done that, and let you know how it goes.
What are your thoughts on hospitality? What are your thoughts about being on pilgrimage? I want to be on pilgrimage in a way that helps people in their journey.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Spiritual Biography and Memoir
I'm in a class in seminary, called "Spiritual Biograpahy and Memoir." I'm going to dedicate this blog space to developing some of my work in that class. You can also see my blog, "holy lingering," on Vox at: http://onpilgrimage.vox.com/
pax v.
michael b.
pax v.
michael b.
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