Category: Reflections

           Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him,
           “Teacher, order your disciples to stop.”
           He answered, “I tell you, if these were silent,
           the stones would shout out.”
                           —Luke 19.39-40

They do shout out.
All Creation cries out in praise of Love.
All Creation defies the threats of tyrants
and the certainty of merchants,
shouts out for fragile beauty and the giving of life.
The forests cry out, the rivers cry out.
The stones do cry out,
the stones in walls separating rich from poor,
the stones carved with cruel laws,
the stones piled up ready for the next heretic,
the stones desecrated by greed-spilled oil.
(Your brother’s blood cries out to God
from the ground. The stones cry out.)
All Creation cries out
in praise of love,
in defiance of injustice,
in mourning for our violence.
Listen to the cries.
Listen to what the earth, even as we wave our palms,
cries out.
Listen to the stones.


_________________
Weather Report

Stormy,
as we plunder what we treasure
and murder whom we praise.
Expect tornado-like conditions
as the moist, unstable air of our words
meets the cold, dry air of our deeds.
This coming week especially,
be prepared to take shelter.

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

           Let the same heart be in you
           that was in Christ Jesus,
           who, though divine, did cling to equality with God,
           but in complete self-emptying
           entered a humble human life, as a slave,
           and became obedient to the point of death—
           even death on a cross.
           Therefore every knee should bend and
           every tongue should confess
           that Jesus Christ is Lord.
                           —Philippians 2.5-11


Jesus,
your deepest humility and self-emptying
is not of rank or status or even suffering, but of love;
your greatest miracle is this:
that you loved the people who are impossible to love.

My Chief, my Beloved,
here is my salvation, and my calling.

I love you and entrust myself to you.
May your heart be in me,
that with all my life
I may thank you,
I may worship you,
I may follow you.

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

           “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of God!”
                           —Luke 19.38

          “Crucify him!”
                           —Luke 23.21

He knows.
And chooses so anyway.
He knows how fickle our love,
how fleeting our kindness.
We reject what we most deeply desire,
condemn what we most deeply need.
Our glory and our ruin both clamor.

Into that very wound he rides,
into the deepest divide of our souls.
On the Scorned Way—
into the scorn itself—he rides.
Into the choice between love and the way of the world,
and into our failure to choose well, he rides,
having chosen.

To prevail in the battle between good and evil,
between love and fear,
one must embrace them both
and enter the cleft
and still choose.

Worship the One
who embraces our beauty and our woundedness,
who forgives the failure of our worship.
Come with him on the Foolish Way,
the Way of Love,
…and fail… and be forgiven… and come again.

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

           “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