Theology is our attempt
to punctuate Mystery

an analysis of the handwriting
of the Beloved’s letter

a drawing
of the back side of light as it receds

Of course there is no such thing
We make it up

and spend the rest of our lives
following an imaginary map

Nevertheless we’re all walking around
with light shining in our eyes

         •

Every once in a while you just close them
and smile
                        

   —September 25, 2017
 

         Those who gathered much had nothing over,
         and those who gathered little had no shortage;
         they gathered as much as each of them needed.
         Some left part of it until morning,
         and it bred worms and became foul.
         Morning by morning they gathered it,
         as much as each needed;
         but when the sun grew hot, it melted.
                  —from Exodus 16.18-21

God’s vision of justice
is that everyone has what they need.

Manna in the wilderness,
the widow’s jar of meal,
laborers in the vineyard,
feeding the five thousand,
God’s forgiveness upon each heart:
each is given what they need.

It is gift,
that you can’t earn or possess.

Your excess rots in your hands.
What you have beyond your need
you have taken from your neighbor.
It poisons you.

Starve your greed
and feed on justice.
Until all have what they need
even God is hungry.
            

   —September 22, 2017
 

         “Is your eye evil because I am generous?”
                  —Matthew 20.15

Jesus tells a story in which workers labor one, three, six, nine or twelve hours— but the employer pays them all the same amount, a usual day’s wage. Those who worked longer feel short-changed, and are not happy.

What do you think this story is about?

1. Gratitude: God gives all of us all the grace we need regardless of our sense of “deserving.”

2. Encouragement: Whatever gift you have to give is valuable to God.

3. Wisdom: Don’t compare yourself with other people.

4. Confession: Notice how often we want for ourselves what we don’t want for others.

5. Self-awareness: Your desire to be superior can warp your appreciation of other people’s contribution.

6. Justice: Nobody needs less than what they need.

7. God’s freedom: God doesn’t follow human rules or expectations.

8. Presence: You can focus on what you don’t have or on what you do have. Your choice.

9. Humility: If you hear this story and think,”Hey, that’s not fair!” it’s likely because you identify with the ones who worked all day. Why do you do that? Don’t you feel you’ve been given more than you’ve earned? How does this story feel if you imagine yourself as one who worked one hour?

10. Wonder: A scripture passage’s meaning isn’t always singular, simple or obvious.

Pick one thought that speaks to you and meditate on it.
       

   —September 21, 2017

In the morning there on the surface of the wilderness was a fine flaky substance, as fine as frost on the ground. When the Israelites saw it, they said to one another, “What is it?” For they did not know what it was. Moses said to them, “It is the bread that God has given you to eat.“
                  —Exodus 16.13-15

What gets you through the desert?
What gets you through?
What gets you through the chemo,
the healing from abuse, the bad marriage,
what gets you through
the job that tries to kill you,
the dark alley of the shadow of death,
the rotten places, the placeless places,
the evil you fear, the evil you’ve done,
your daily inadequacy,
what gets you through?

Some will call it courage or stamina,
luck or faith or reaching down deep.
But you know it’s not you, not yours.
It’s given. To you. For you.
From the Holy One.

The thread you follow,
the source you drink from,
the encouraging voice,
the Divine desire that you thrive,
the gift amid the desolation,
you find it anywhere—
the usual, the impossible,
the unwelcome.
You learn to recognize it.
You learn to receive it.

For that grace that gets you through
you learn to say thank you.

You learn to count on it,
and be surprised,
every morning.
Every morning.

   —September, 2017

I lay down the backpack,
quit the journey to the far place.

I set aside the pick and shovel,
the coded treasure map.

I renounce the person I want to become,
abdicate mastery of my fate.
I rest my fears, desires and intentions.

Even the angel within me,
wings tightly wrapped, rests.

Already a holy vessel,
I rest with the Presence I hold.
I rest in this:

You, I AM,

in me,

becoming,

and I allowing.
 

   —September 19, 2017
 

Trees are beginning to turn.

They turn toward me.

They walk with me,
along the turning road.

Teach me, friends,
the grace
of turning.

_______________
Weather Report

Release,
as the winds of grace
lift from you
the burdens
of all you possess.
Changing winds
will shift what you think you need;
expect heavy things
to precipitate out of your life.
 

   —September 18, 2017
 

Settle and breathe deeply. …

Rest in the peace of God. …

Bring to mind a person you haven’t forgiven. …

The two of you stand together.

Jesus comes and looks at the two of you
with great kindness in his eyes.

He embraces the other.
Perhaps there are words,
though likely you can’t hear them.
Perhaps there are tears.
He holds them for a long time. …

They release the embrace, look at each other
and smile. …

Jesus turns to you
with great kindness in his eyes.
He embraces you.
Perhaps there are words.
(What might they be?)
He holds you a long time. …

He releases you and looks at you
and smiles. …

You look at the person you want to forgive.
What is in your heart? …

Tell them. …

Jesus blesses you and leaves you
with your new heart.

   —September 15, 2017

The ocean,
all movement,
seems so still,
the surface of a mind,
the waves coming in
against the grain.

Behind me
two horses,
mine and another,
wait together
grazing in tall grass.
They are friends,
they know the way.

I sit and wait,
not for something,
just wait.
The afternoon floats by
overhead, white and puffy
in the blue of God.

You come up
out of the sea
to me though
it seems you have walked
down into my waters
and disappeared.

September 14, 2017

To forgive you will pass through the sea.

You will leave much behind:
what is owed, obligations,
the heavy chains of your master anger.
Just leave them.

You will be tempted to turn back and fight
but that is the slavery you are escaping,
the lie of superior and inferior,
the cruel economy of deserving.
It is a lie. Walk away from it.

You will be afraid of being overtaken
and hurt again
but God’s mystery will protect you.

Go, on foot, through the wounded sea,
your tears a wall on your left and on your right.

Take only your love with you.
You will find yourself on the far shore
unburdened, free,
in the wilderness of love,
never needing to go back.

You will do this
seven times seventy times.

September 12, 2017

I sit, giving my weight to the chair.
I breathe. I wait. I behold.
The tree exercises patience,
lets go a leaf, pauses,
lets go a leaf.
I can’t see it
but the horizon embraces me.
The hills pass it on.
The ground abides.
Planets, too.
God unhurries, unworries.
A depth opens.
Presence wells up.
I have passed
out of the world of adjectives.
         
                        

   —September 12, 2017