Roger went missing again for the third time in as many months. He’s unpredictable, like watching a friendly ghost fade in and out of sight with little difference between “present” and “absent”. Yet over the years his coming and going has been woven into our lives. Even in between appearances he is one of us.

Jesus told stories about lost sheep, lost coins and stumbling upon hidden treasure. For him it was never about “who messed up?” or “what went wrong?” but always about “who is missing?” Without the missing ones “we” can never be whole.

Roger went missing again and we went looking.  Thankfully, he found us when we passed one of his usual haunts. He said, “where you been?” It’s frustrating but we went looking because being mindful of the “missing ones” is how we find ourselves. It’s the way God comes looking for us.

“Don’t be afraid”. It was a provocative thing for Jesus to say since the political and economic order of his time was established and maintained by violence. But he knew the world can work in more than one way. He not only believed it and taught it but also lived an alternative way.

I am afraid. I live in society that is addicted to violence. We trust in the power of violence. I see it expressed everywhere in our conduct, speech and thinking. We are even entertained by it. However, I know it’s absurd to condemn the violence of others if I cling to it myself.

“Don’t be afraid”. The world can work in more than one way. We don’t have to passively accept violence as the “way of the world”. We do have to be willing to live an alternative way.

Vocation

 

 

It took Jeanne McNulty many years to understand her vocation. It was confusing and frustrating at times. She began with great enthusiasm, completing formation training in a Franciscan convent. But as the day for her first profession of vows approached she knew that something wasn’t right. She remained faithful to the call of God and soon left the convent.

Jeanne would later serve with a community of Franciscan Friars, Nuns and laypeople, living and working among the poor in the inner city of Chicago. That was closer to her vision of “being poor among the poor” but she needed more time and space for solitude and prayer. To fully live into her vocation she would have to find a place to do both.

The journey ultimately led to the mountains of rural West Virginia where she founded a Franciscan hermitage. Jeanne devotes much of her time to prayer and solitude but also faithfully ministers to her neighbors, giving special attention to the poor. It’s a unique vocation and one that doesn’t readily fit into traditional categories. Perhaps Orville, one of her neighbors, described it best. He once told her, “Jeanne many folks around here do not know why you are living all alone down there on Colt Run [Road], but I do.” When she asked him “why?” he responded “You are down there for us”.

 

Voice for the Hollers chronicles Jeanne McNulty’s incredible journey. More information at Outskirts Press

 

For more information about the contemplative retreat ministry visit the Franciscan Appalachian Hermitage site



Change

Lent is a good time to think about change and consider new possibilities. It is also a good time to be changed. One possible starting point is a change in perspective.

When Jesus was in the wilderness (Matthew 4, Luke 4) he was confronted with some very enticing possibilities: popularity, prosperity and power (and all the privileges these afford). The path of humility and suffering was open to him as well. What was ultimately in question was how the work of God’s kingdom would be done, from the “top down” (through power and privilege) or from the “bottom up” (the way of humility). Jesus chose to work from the “bottom up”. God always comes to us from that direction.

I could certainly use a change in perspective but it’s not a simple thing to achieve. I can’t get there if I begin with “what-I-think-the-world-might-look-like-from-the-bottom”. My participation in systems of power and privilege colors how I see and what I see. I can only begin to learn what others have always known by sharing life with people who bring God to us from the “bottom-up”.

Simple Words, Earnest Ashes

They said the case worker was a jerk. I wanted to tell them that he anticipates being lied to (and about). Folks usually say “whatever-they-think-he-wants-hear-to-get-what-they-want”. You wrap yourself in a crusty, cynical veneer to avoid something worse. These two strangers before me are not yet wounded enough to know that.

“You are dust and to dust you shall return”. Simple words profound enough to cut through the veneer. They’re a reminder that too much time is spent chasing “wants” or defending against what others might want. I am also reminded by the mark of earnest ashes on my forehead. It speaks truth and nudges toward what’s real.

With enough time and honesty the words and ashes leave an inner mark. The kind of mark that carries you out late at night to help two young strangers who might be less than honest. It reminds that we will soon be no more and these two clueless kids will then be beyond our reach and we beyond theirs.

Another Epiphany

Epiphany was different this year. It’s a feast day of the Church which (in some traditions) focuses on the visit by the Wise men to honor the Christ child in Bethlehem. In “Church-speak” that translates into “the revelation of God the Son as a human being in Jesus Christ”. But it was different this year.

-          Ira needed a ride and a friend. Who is giving and who is in need of receiving sometimes gets confused. We split the difference and met some place near the middle.

-          Robby, who is frequently lost to us and the world went missing for a week. We went looking. Jimmy found him hiding in plain sight. We were happy and healed a little by that.

-          A call came in about Marty who was drunk-as-a-bicycle again and too stubbornly broken to accept anything other than “what-I-want”.  We were bruised a little by that.

-          Neil has little or nothing but healed us with his laughter and smiles. Ashley is on the fence. She wants to leave this wilderness for another one where the friends are less hit-and-run.

-          There was a late evening call from a dear soul fighting desperately for life and family. She called to say “thanks”.

Like those Wise guys from long ago we were compelled to go out by something inside us that cannot be understood or explained, only obeyed. It carried us along and we wandered into places and with people foreign to us and for a while became alien among our own. We were blessed.

Epiphany was different this year. We didn’t observe the feast as much as we were seized by it. It wasn’t a past revelation celebrated as much as God-present in flesh and blood.

Border Crossing

This year l tried to approach the season of Advent and Christmas as a “thin place”, a space where the border between heaven and earth is blurred. I’m not sure the experiment was a success but at least it helped me get through the prescribed “watching a waiting”. I am not a patient person.

Unfortunately the border crossing did not go according to plan (should have seen that coming). God did not show up on time or at the pre-arranged (and conveniently located) check point with required Tourist Visa in hand. The crossing was clandestine, occurring somewhere along the remote frontier. A few stragglers (what where they doing out there?) allegedly stumbled upon the scene. They acted as if they had deliberately been included in the event.

It makes no sense.  There was no limo or stretch SUV. No arrangements were made for military escort or photo ops with political dignitaries. State authorities and local vigilante patrols went on full alert due to unconfirmed reports that God was smuggled across the border by a poor immigrant couple (disguised as an infant!). The religious establishment was outraged by the total disregard for established protocol and blatant violations of liturgical tradition.

In the future, if I get the urge to “watch and wait” for God along the border I will go with radically different expectations.

 

It Happens

I saw God today, unexpectedly. My friend said he wasn’t sure who would show up. Well, over a dozen friends did. They are extraordinarily ordinary people who showed up and brought their spouses, kids and God along with them. We laughed and loaded the moving truck to the brim with boxes, furniture, toys and odds and ends. Then we shared pizza, prayers, tears and hugs to carry our beloved family (friends) a little further up the road.

God appeared again, unexpectedly. When that same truck pulled up in front of the new house there was an even larger group of extraordinarily ordinary people waiting. They are seminary students who showed up and brought their spouses, children and God along to meet us. Everyone helped in one way or another. The children stood in line at the back of the truck to carry what they could and the entire job was done in no time flat. It was joyful and miraculous. It was “God-all-up-in-there-amongst-us”. One seminarian was heard to say, “It’s just what we do”.

In a word, “it” is community. Community is not just a word. It is not just the hottest hipster way of doing churchy stuff. Community is people showing up and sharing their hearts, lives and love whenever and wherever. Community happens when extraordinarily ordinary people “do” community. It crosses every boundary and breaks down every barrier we create to contain it. It is where God shows up. It is real. I saw it happen.

Learning all the time....

I intended to grab a quick breakfast with a friend before work. It’s something that I rarely give a second thought. But on that particular morning my typical, distracted, fog of “busyness” was disrupted when my friend offered a prayer before we ate.

His words were not remarkable. That’s not what got my attention. It was the simplicity and fierce sincerity of his words, as profoundly holy as any I have ever heard spoken in a Church. His intimate knowledge of poverty had taught him that “our daily bread” was truly a gift. Through his gratitude and thankfulness for that ordinary bacon-egg-and-biscuit breakfast he shared that sacred knowledge with me.

Jesus once told a group of wealthy party guests: “when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame and the blind” (Luke 14). I don’t believe his goal was to move the poor into more exclusive social circles. The aim was to save those affluent guests from their spiritual poverty. It was an attempt to break through the camouflage of polite convention and reorient them toward God’s new reality (kingdom).

I like to think I am different but that isn’t true. Although I'm not as influential and well connected as those first century party animals, I can be just as oblivious. But I am learning. I am learning that any significant amount of time spent among people who struggle against poverty and hunger changes your perspective on reality. It also radically changes your experience of God. I wonder what our experience of God would be like if we took half of our meals at a table with God’s poor?

Jim told me that’s Neil’s shoes were tattered and full of holes. To be honest, I was embarrassed that I didn't notice myself. It’s winter and raining a lot. How could I not notice? A few days later we went to see Neil with a pair of new shoes.

He was perched high above the street underneath an interstate overpass. Jim said, “That embankment is too steep for him to come down and I don’t think you can climb up there”. “What are you trying to say?” I asked (maybe I’m too old and fat for this?). “You don’t have the right kind of shoes” he replied. Jim would know. He’s an expert. Until a few weeks ago, he lived across the street underneath the same overpass. When he moved indoors, Neil inherited his sleeping bag.  So Jim grabbed the shoes and climbed up the steep embankment without a problem. He sat down with Neil while he tried on the shoes and then scurried back down, again with little visible effort.

He was right. I often don’t have “the right kind of shoes”. The “shoes” that frequently trip me up are long cherished assumptions, the illusions that allow me to feel insulated and separate from what is happening in the real world. They allow me to pretend that people like Neil are invisible. I am thankful for prophets like Jim. They point out my willful ignorance and walk with me to the places where God is waiting.

Giving Consent

“You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit…” John 15:16

The “you” chosen and appointed to go in John 15:16 is plural (i.e. “all of you” or “community” - not individual religious rock stars). Of course I like the idea of missional community, of being part of the God’s kingdom as it emerges in new places. But I am not yet comfortable being missional, because the kingdom often appears in places I would rather not go. I eventually witness things I would rather not see. It is a difficult path to follow and not one I would readily choose.

God’s kingdom is real and I know where to look for it: among the poor and destitute, among those who are oppressed and suffering. That is where Jesus went and announced “the kingdom of God has come near”. Jesus said “Blessed are you who are poor” because that is where God chooses to be found (“for yours is the kingdom of God” – Luke 6:20). Being in that place, following that path is not so much a choice as it is giving consent to being “chosen” and “appointed to go”.

Jesus also said, “I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you took me in, naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you cared for me, in prison and you visited me”. When have we done those things? “Inasmuch as you have done this for the least of these, you have done it for me”. I don’t believe those words are a polite suggestion to do nice things for poor people. I do believe they tell us we cannot find or follow Jesus if we separate ourselves from God’s poor.  Being “missional” means moving beyond our own comfort and security and stepping out into the places where God is waiting. It is difficult. It is so difficult that is requires community. 

Some Thoughts on Community

I’ve learned a few things about community over the years because on several occasions I’ve been fortunate enough to be present when it happened. One of the first lessons I learned is that community is not a commodity that can be fabricated for mass consumption. Community-in-practice (as opposed to “community-in-theory” or “community-as-cliché”) is people sharing their lives with each other. It is not an effortless way of life but I believe it is worth the struggle.

Those who are drawn into community-in-practice soon learn about interdependence. We are connected to everyone and everything else. Everything we do has an impact on the world and people around us. It takes a while for that kind of awareness to take hold since we are conditioned to think in terms of “me and mine” rather than “us” (i.e. “we are all in this together”). The rhythm of life experienced in community requires a different spirit, one of cooperation instead of competition. The illusion of total self-sufficiency has to be abandoned.

But community-in-practice is not the fruit of blind optimism. It springs from the practical knowledge that I can only discover and grow toward my truest self when I am in relationship with others. Everyone, even those who might appear to be weakest (the “least of these”), are important because they are a unique expression of the life of God that help make the community whole. We are not only connected to everyone else, we also need them.

Of course, if this way of life is so challenging and difficult why would anyone bother? When you find yourself in the midst of an emerging community (as I do now) it becomes clear that it is not simply a desirable goal but a precious gift. Community is a visible demonstration of God’s presence in the world. It is the kingdom of God (as Jesus called it) expressed in the language of human relationships. It is alive and always evolving and cannot be limited to static organizational structures. It requires a willingness to set aside our long cherished beliefs about what a community “must” or “should” be to allow room for growth into what we are being called to “become”.

Worship Club

I had a conversation the other day with a close relative about her recent visit to Church. It was an important event since she is a hesitant seeker – curious but very cautious. The wounds from past religious bludgeoning haven’t completely healed.

Although her recent experience of Church wasn’t traumatic, it wasn’t particularly uplifting either. She was good natured about it, making jokes about the one hour and forty minute service. My heart sank as she described the beautiful and elaborate ritual that she was unable to decipher. Apparently no one in that large gathering was willing to serve as guide or translator. No one was available to say: “Don’t worry - everyone is a little overwhelmed at first”. She was left to navigate that unfamiliar territory on her own.

I told her how sorry I was that her experience had not been more positive. She laughed and brushed the apology aside. “It’s OK”, she said. “It’s their club”. That was a painful and prophetic message.

Lent

“And a voice came from heaven, ‘You are my son, the beloved; with you I am well pleased’. And the Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness” Mark 1:11 - 12

“You are the beloved”. I think that is how it began for Jesus. I don’t know what hearing a voice from heaven would be like but it must have been disturbing. That is why Jesus was “driven” into the wilderness. What does being “the beloved” mean? Would it make any difference? Would anyone notice?

It was a disturbing event because it shattered the traditional view of things (in Mark’s gospel the heavens are “torn apart”). God was no longer safely enthroned “up there” or locked away in a majestic temple. In a very disturbing way, God was intimately present. Not just to the religious professionals who knew all the right words and rituals but intimately present to a “nobody” from no where like Jesus.

For me, that is what Lent is about. It means coming to terms with being the beloved of God. It is not a “thing” which I can own or possess. Being the beloved is being possessed by the very life of God. It is disturbing. It is not an experience that can be limited to the life, ministry and suffering of Jesus. God is intimately present to all of us.

Lately I have been pondering what I’m supposed to be anticipating during this season of Advent. I can, of course, fall back on the conventional answer: the birth of Jesus, the arrival of the Christ child. But what does that mean? Does that make any difference in the world where I live? Not much, if I insist on waiting for God at a safe distance.

When I read the story of Mary’s experience (in the gospel of Luke) I am left with the impression that she wasn't anticipating the appearance of God’s messenger nor prepared for the news that she was to be the “God bearer”. I think the anticipation, the “watching and waiting”, began only after she gave her consent to be part of what God was doing in the world.

I believe my problem is not really an issue of ability but of willingness. God is always coming to us. It is easy to miss because it is so radical, beyond our normal categories of interpretation. The presence of God, God-with-us, turns the acceptable, the normal and customary upside down. I can only experience that if I am willing to say “Yes” to God and become part of the story.

“Blessed are you who are the poor, for yours is the kingdom of God”.

A couple of years ago I invited a friend to Church. I wanted to learn what newcomers experienced when they visited our parish for the first time.  After the service I took this young family out to lunch so they could share their first impressions. Their comments were positive for the most part. However, one of their observations really stuck with me. They said, “We didn't notice any poor people”.

When I reflect on my experience in various Churches over the years I can remember only one where poor and homeless folks attended on a regular basis. I do not mention that as a criticism of any particular Church or tradition. Instead, it raises some very difficult questions for me.

Would I be comfortable worshiping with people who are different than me? Would I welcome such people into Church? Am I ready to go beyond the church doors and out into the real world to befriend people who suffer poverty and homelessness? I don't think they need my help or friendship as much as I need to listen to them and hear the gospel of God’s kingdom. After all, Jesus said it belongs to them.

Listening

“Let anyone who has an ear listen to what the Spirit is saying to the Churches”. I have heard those words hundreds of times but I have never given much thought to what it means to have an “ear to listen”. I know that I am often guilty of “selective hearing”, (hearing only what I want to hear and filtering out everything else). It is a bad habit, especially in the dimension of the Spirit.

But I am trying, learning to be attentive and to listen in a different way. I am learning to listen closely to my life and the lives of those around me. It is difficult. It requires patience because I have to move beyond the shallow and superficial and struggle to understand an unfamiliar language. It takes courage because I have to wait as other hearts and souls whisper or speak or scream out things that are not easy to embrace but are definitely honest-to-God truth.

What I am hearing the Spirit say through lives and hearts these days is: “I am doing something new”. It is not a threat. It is not a condemnation of what has been or is now. It is not an affirmation that a few people have been “right” all along while the rest of us have been terribly “wrong”. It is an invitation to be a part of something new and to risk being transformed in the process.