Category: Reflections

           “You will find a colt that has never been ridden.
           Untie it and bring it here. If anyone asks you,
           ‘Why are you untying it?’
           just say this, ‘The Lord needs it.’”
                           —Luke 19.30-31

A humble donkey, not glamorous or powerful,
maybe not even noticed,
but, Loving Mystery, exactly what you need.

So many parts of myself I overlook—
an extraordinary talent or simple presence—
gifts I’ve been given I undervalue;
but you need them
for purposes I can’t yet see.

Beloved, what gifts of mine do you need?

Help me know what humble donkey you require,
and untie it.

Breath prayer:
                           My donkey … for you

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

           Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies,
           it remains just a single grain;
           but if it dies, it bears much fruit.
                           —John 12.24

Beloved,
in love you have thrown the seed of yourself
into the soil of us.
You have sown yourself in the wound of us,
the dark, rich hummus of our sorrow and lostness.
You have surrendered yourself to our pain
and the taunting of the demons that haunt us.
You’ve allowed the seed casing of your life to split open,
and your love to reach out,
fingering tenderly through the dark soil.
You’ve already said, “Into your hand I commit my spirit.“
You have already died,
and been raised to life that is eternal.

So now you are ready
to ride your little donkey toward us.
Resurrected One, you are ready to be crucified.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

God, I am tempted to jump to Easter
and neglect the cross.
I want the happy ending
but not the good death.
Stop me in my headlong leap over the grave.
Let me descend into the darkness,
held in your hands.
Let me see what in me must die,
what I must let go of.
Let me see the deep pain you endure
in order to descend with me, to heal me.
Let me go with you down into the thick darkness
where death struggles for me,
and loses.
Let me see my grave opened like a wound,
and left open forever, a spring.
Only then, place a flower in my hands,
and raise me into the soft light,
bearing with me always the smell of earth.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

             While they were eating,
            he took a loaf of bread,
            and after blessing it
            he broke it,
            and gave it to them,
            and said, “Take; this is my body.”
                                    — Mark 14.22

He gives us himself.
He becomes part of us.
His light fills our cells;
his love moves our flesh.

Let him pour into you.
Taste him; savor him.
Consume him wholly
until you are wholly consumed.

We are in him, and he in us.
We inhabit his body.
We look out through his eyes,
and he through ours.

Now we need not fear death
or anything else:
we can love with courage;
for he loves in us.

Taken, blessed, broken and given:
we become the Body of Christ,
one in Spirit, one in each other,
and one in love: mighty, miraculous love.

Eat, and be filled.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

Christ carries the great burden on his back,
weeping, bleeding. The burden is you.
He carries you to Golgotha,
though people scorn him.
Though he stumbles, he carries you steadily.
On the hill he is nailed to you.
You hold him as he dies.
His blood runs down you.
He is heavy, bearing the weight of all the world.
Yet he weighs no more than God.
He dies and is buried, and you are relieved of the weight.
You stand through the night, alone and still.

The next day is quiet. Stillness.

On the third day, with the rising light,
he comes to you, alive again.
He takes you in his arms,
bathing you in light,
until you are light.
He begins to pull you up,
his cheek pressed in to you,
his sweat and tears running down you,
your grave loosening, stones rolling away.
He draws you up out of the ground.
It cannot hold you; its grip is nothing
against his gentle, insistent lifting,
until you are free.
Your arms and legs are strong and lively now,
your heart beating with life.
You have gained the strength to bear God.
He walks with you.
You hold onto him,
but he is not carrying you.
You are carrying him.
You walk with him
back into the city, rejoicing,
for your burden is light.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

           “Leave her alone.
           She bought it for the day of my burial.
           You always have the poor with you,
           but you do not always have me.”
                           —John 12.7-8

He covers for her nicely, but let’s admit:
it was an awkward moment, no?
Why does he let her do that to him?
Luke’s story is even more alarming:
it’s a woman of the street, nobody Jesus knows,
and not a gathering with friends, but a public affair.
Why does he let her do that? And defend her?

For the same reason
when your kid gives you a picture they drew
you put it on your fridge.
One way to love someone is to receive their gifts.
No judging, no positioning yourself. Just receive.

Love means receiving.
Receive with humility what others have to offer.
The awkward gesture, the insufficient talent,
the little crayon drawing that is someone’s life.

After all,
God accepts your whole life, delighted,
and puts it on her fridge.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

           I want to know Christ
           and the power of his resurrection
           and the sharing of his sufferings
           by becoming like him in his death.
                                —Philippians 3. 10

           Mary took a pound of costly perfume
           made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet,
           and wiped them with her hair.
                                 —John 12.3

Mary was not merely anointing
those feet, but becoming one with them,
so soon to be pierced, and her heart as well,
nailed to those feet,
blood of her tears streaming down,
oil of his burial bathing her hair,
buried with him.
You don’t need to go out and suffer;
only find the suffering close by
lay your hands on it, anoint it,
soak into each other.

Unnoticed, Christ passes by,
the aroma of your suffering in her hair.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

           Those who go out weeping,
                      bearing the seed for sowing,
           shall come home with shouts of joy,
                      carrying their sheaves.
                           —Psalm 126.6

           “She bought it so that she might keep it
           for the day of my burial.”
                           —John 12.7

The flower blooms only briefly,
but so sweetly.
True faith practices grief,
letting go and letting go
of letting go,
anointing our losses with
perfume and tears,
kneeling at the feet of the Beloved
we can’t possess or cling to,
trusting that the love that aches
bears us through,
until grief becomes gratitude
and sorrow an open heart,
and loss becomes sowing.
And we behold the blossom.
Only the soul that seeks love
and not happiness
finds joy.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

           Mary took a pound of costly perfume
           made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet,
           and wiped them with her hair.
                                 —John 12.3


Beloved,
you pour your love out on me,
healing oil and sorrowing tears
sweetly mingling,
your hands a gentle bathing on my feet.
Your tender grace anoints,
soaks in, moves up my body,
a warm baptismal rising tide.
The fragrance of your love
fills the house of my heart.

Beloved,
in thanks I pour out myself for you,
my most precious essence,
the whole bottle of me.
May the fragrance of my love
fill the house of my life.

Beloved,
you wash our feet,
humble and patient,
honoring, blessing,
cleansing, perfecting.
The fragrance of your love
fills the house of the world.

Here in your ego’s death I die;
here your waters break and I am born.
I walk into every moment
redolent of the fragrance of that love.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

           Mary took a pound of costly perfume
           made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet,
           and wiped them with her hair.
                                 —John 12.3


The disciples don’t understand,
too sure of themselves to imagine the tomb,
to feel the sting, the ache.
Mary does.
Feeling the dullness of his friends
and the harshness of the crowd,
the stone of loneliness,
heart breaking for the Beloved,
for the utter loss they begin to share already,
the gutting of the tomb
already being dug in her heart,
she performs a miracle:
in the shadow of the cross
an act of thoughtful kindness.

Jesus, may I be your Mary.
Let this be the whole of my religion:
to feel the ache of those who suffer
and to offer kindness against cruelty.
Let this be my worship:
simply to be kind.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net