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                   This is my favorite photo.  It’s a Beluga Whale who has become the signature of all printed material of Peace River Spirituality Center.  You can see her in a quick glance at our brochure, letterhead, business cards, even on our mouse pad!

                    It’s not that I don’t like the rounded white head of the Beluga, but there is something at the same time mysterious, ethereal and strong about this image.  Maybe the mystery is in the nature of the fluke–which we know is like the whale version of human fingerprints…no two exactly alike.  Maybe its the strength we imagine of this magnificent creature as she plunges herself into the deep.  Or simply the stark visual contrast of the white flesh against the dark water in her naturalized tank.

                   My eye, heart and imagination are caught by the amazing color of the submerged head and body under the water.  The cool teals and turquoises call me to follow.  I want to know what  caused her to change course. I want to feel the water quickly going over my body.  I want to know what called to her that was worth the plunge–perhaps especially that–what made her dive deeper?

                   This photo is of a moment in time of a transition. We don’t know what happened the moment before, or what came after.  We do know that something or someone called and Sophia took the plunge, changed direction, went by another path, deeper…and alone.

                   That is the nature of transitions, isn’t it.  One moment we’re headed one way and then something happens, or we hear a different voice, a different call.  It’s the nature of transitions that they often feel like we’re taking a plunge which can be exciting or fearful or both.  What transitions have you experienced lately?

                  Transitions can be public like changes in where we work or where we live.  They can be more private like matters of our health or changing our mind.  But sometimes the transitions of our life are of the spirit.  Transitions in our spirit often affect all areas of our lives–as they involve the very bedrock of who we are.

                  In my work in spiritual direction, I’m often able to accompany folks as they are being awakened to fresh impulses of God’s Spirit.  Often they don’t recognize the new…but know that the old ways they thought, prayed, experienced the Holy, or believed are changing.  It’s most often at first a frightening thing. But as we meet, together we’re able to begin to see an order, or direction, or even a divine plan. Waiting is the most difficult part of any transition.

                 Currently I’m in a transition of my own.  After 5 consecutive Interim opportunities…I hear a loud, insistent call for reflection. This week I’ve transitioned from a 20 month full-time call to a very part-time position for the next few months.  I find myself at a place of utter openness willing to take the time to listen and follow, whatever that may bring.  I’m trying to pay attention to those sweet whispers of the Spirit–making note of what is new or different.  More than ever, I take comfort in the photo above and her obvious freedom to change direction!

                 I’m convinced that for the most part we’ve been poorly taught in how to be aware and listen for birthing moments in our spirit. Life moves at a pace that is not conducive to such subtlety. Chances are we’ve whooshed right past Spirit nudges and have left behind opportunities for our good and for the good of others around us.

                  But it need not be so.  Why not set aside an hour a month for your spirit?  Meditate. Pray. Make an appointment with a spiritual director.  Walk on the beach (unless its cold where you are). Set an intention to connect with your spirit–and don’t be surprised when The Spirit shows up.

In peace and joy,  KATHLEEN BRONAGH WELLER  —  the celtic monk

How’s your prayer life?  How has it changed over the years?  Does it make your heart sing?  Or do you have the sense that something is missing?  There has been some amazing theological reflection done in the past decade on spirituality during the second half of life.  Even before you wonder if you are in the second half of life let me ask you…do you remember Howdy Doody?  If so, you’re here!

I’m in my final residency (this week and next) with The Shalem Institute at a wonderful retreat setting outside of Baltimore.  Already we’ve had some amazing teaching, silence, peer group interaction and significant time with  our prayer partners.  Rosemary Dougherty who has literally written the book on prayer spent all day Wednesday with us lecturing and leading us in prayer practices.  This kind of rich spiritual experience makes our days which begin in prayer at 7:45 a.m. and go till 9:00 p.m. seem much too short.

And yet, when’s the last time someone asked about your prayer life?  When is the last time you sought out new prayer practices that might take you deeper and closer into the heart of God?  How adventuresome are you in prayer?  Or maybe you’re doing what I did for so long,  just keep repeating the same things and hoping for different results.  When’s the last time your prayer seemed to change the axis of the universe?

Though my prayer life has changed dramatically over the past 4 or 5 years, I realized as Rosemary shared that it still isn’t what it could be.  Truthfully, I’d be so bold as to confess it isn’t what God wants for me.  I’ve been rather creative in trying new ways to spend my prayer time — yet I realized again this week how very stuck I still am doing those things that were new to me 30 years ago. Then they were new and exciting… now they’re simply 30 years older.

Allow me to share with you my breakthrough:  I admitted that I wasn’t satisfied.  In prayer (and with some fear and trembling) I told God that I wasn’t satisfied with this meager communication that too often seemed one way.  I admitted that although I knew we’d made some strides, I wanted more.  My prayer (complaining about prayer) wasn’t nice or neat and may even have been a little hostile at times.  But here it is:  God is big enough to hear whatever we have to say.  Not only that, God loves us enough to respond when we seek Him with our whole heart.

Rosemary would tell you that I went through the steps of Purgative, Illuminative and Unitive prayer all in one day of silent wrestling with God over my prayer life.  I will tell you that I began early this morning a little miffed and sad because my prayer times didn’t seem to be increasing in depth and love…but that by God’s grace, in 12 hours of silent seeking and many tears later, I knew God heard and answered.  Like Jacob with the angel of the Lord, I’d done some wrestling today and God was gracious–more than gracious.

Have you wrestled with God lately?  Is there some part of your relationship with God that you know needs attention but that you’ve just kind of let go?  Are you settling for lukewarm in your spiritual life?  What are you waiting for?

My odyssey began in earnest when I mustered up the courage to tell God the truth about how I was feeling; with the sugar coating washed away and the gloves off.  The One who is All Love, didn’t blink but held me up so I could tell Him some more. 

How’s your prayer life?  I’d love to talk to you about it.  IN PEACE AND JOY (MUCH, MUCH, JOY)   Kathleen Bronagh Weller, THE CELTIC MONK

     

 2013 is the first time in the past 20 years that I have not written, shared or published a devotional or prayer guide for the season of Lent.  It’s been my practice, an offering to the communities I’ve served as well as a labor of love, devotion and an outpouring of my faith during my entire ministry.

      Some of those years I took the season of Lent to journal my devotions based on a Gospel or spiritual classic planning, after the 40 days, to edit and polish it for use the following year.  As a project during one year of my doctoral work, I used the sayings of the desert mothers and fathers to launch the daily devotional–adding themes, scriptures and prayers.  Likely, most of you have found it to be true in your own acts of devotion, I learned much preparing such an offering for others.

      This Lent however has been a remarkably silent one for me. Surgery at 7 a.m. the morning after Ash Wednesday and a six week recovery has changed what I do and how I do it.  But each time I began even just in my mind to bemoan that fact, a deep inward pull stopped me. It’s only now,  approaching the 5th Sunday in Lent that I’m begining to make sense of it; and here is what I’ve come to believe:
                      “We ought not try to give back to God the gift He’s giving us.”
      Or to make it more personal: “I ought not try to give back to God the gift He’s given me.”

     Because I care deeply about the spiritual nurture and growth of those I serve, I’ve annually run at full bore from Ash Wednesday through Holy Week and Easter.  There was the devotional, and an extra adult education class, there was an extra opportunity for worship and sacrament, and many years during Holy Week something each day and night so that busy people could fit spiritual disci-plines and opportunities into their schedules–whether that was a temporary labyrinth, a diorama walk through the events of Holy Week, or something else.  With really good intentions, the sacredness and reflection of Lent was ‘lost’ for me in activity. 

      However it was gifted back to me this year wrapped in gallbladder surgery and a recovery that they promise me will be complete by Palm Sunday.  This season which I can cogently argue is the most important season of the Church year– came to me wrapped in time and silence and presented to me when I did not expect such a gift.  It was extended to me, before I could recognize what it was and before I was able to receive it.  Yet the catch in my spirit was trying to tell me something.

      Does that happen to you too?  Have you ever experienced a catch or a glitch in your spirit?  Did you pay attention to it, or ignore it?  Did it go away, or were you finally able to discern what God was trying to say or how God was trying to lead you? 

      The promised Holy Spirit is available to each of us and is the Teacher, Director and Comforter that Jesus said.  When we are open,  when we listen and when we pay attention the Spirit does reveal God’s will and ways to us. I know there have been times I’ve not been open, not listened and soon the prompting went away. It’s only now I realize how much I regret those times.

      The Gift of a Silent Lent has reminded me how important it is for my spirit to pause, and to listen. It’s helped me slow down from my normal (?) 8 daily cups of caffineated tea life. The Gift of a Silent Lent has given me time to think deeply and realign priorities that my busy life saw nothing wrong with.  It’s called me more seriously to prayer.  The Gift of a Silent Lent has strengthened my spirit and blessed me anew with the knowledge of God’s love for my imperfect self.

      There are still 15 days left in Lent 2013. How has this season been for you?  What has God been speaking into your life?   My hope and prayer for you is that you might still have a Silent Lent in which to listen and hear from the One who loves you most.  IN JOY AND PEACE, Kathleen Bronagh Weller, THE CELTIC MONK  

Why come to worship?  It seems an odd wondering as the second Sunday in Lent approaches, on our annual journey towards Jerusalem with Jesus and his disciples.  A journey that inevitably takes us through the events of Holy Week–its horror and its mystery; and on to Easter morning which if we’d been there held some horror and mystery of its own. Remembering the disciples weren’t coloring eggs, filling baskets with jelly beans, or parading with lillies quite yet.

This year the church I’m serving, has an extra opportunity for Lent, the addition of a mid-week worship service that includes the Lord’s Supper.   It’s quite out of the ordinary for protestants who have historically been happy with a monthly or quarterly inclusion of the sacrament to have the opportunity to partake weekly. There were times in my ecumenical past that I received the sacrament on a daily basis and still do during the week I spend on retreat at the Abbey.

As a child I thought that heaven would be a place where you’d have whatever you wanted. At that time, my best hope was a water fountain that provided pink lemonade!  It never occured to me that I wouldn’t want silly things.  More recently, I’ve seen t-shirts and bumper stickers that allude to heaven being full of puppies or greens and fairways where no one has a handicap.  It seems that some folks don’t outgrow wishful thinking.

Where this meets my regard for worship, is that worshipping God together here on earth is likely the best dress rehearsal we have for what we’ll be doing throughout eternity.  Puppies, pink lemonade and fairways aside, the chief end of humankind is to worship and glorify God forever.  Forever is a long, long time. Ought we not be intentional in our pursuit of acquiring the taste, for what is to come?

Much that passes for a worship service in our day and time, unfortunately has little to do with glorifying God.  We come to be entertained and applaud when we’ve been satisfied.  We come to meet and greet, to see and be seen.  We rate the music, the message and the coffee.  We’re often pre-occupied with the temperature of the room.  Much of what belongs in a class of adult christian education now finds itself in worship because folks won’t spend the extra hours on a Sunday morning for education; so we attempt to cram everything into what we call worship.

My intent for worship (which I lead or attend) is to spend the majority of the time with eyes and hearts focused heavenward.  At its barest that means announcements and business before the Call to Worship. At its most graced, keeping God the center, the reason and purpose. A few weeks ago a caring soul left a note on the pulpit that read: “the police are out on Midway Blvd., tell folks to be careful.”  I did not take the opportunity to warn the congregation during worship.

People come to worship for many reasons few have anything to do with the intention to worship and glorify God. It’s often not their fault.  For many, no one has ever taught them that this weekly or daily ritual is preparing us for eternity. The Church has not been a faithful keeper of worship – its form, significance or theology. We’ve been co-opted by the culture and we’ve watered down the best we have to offer a world that needs to find its way–our vehicle of distributing hope.

Our little weekly extra opportunity for worship in prayer, song and sacrament this Lenten season leaves no room to wonder what it is we’ve come to do.  There are no words spoken other than those directed to the worship of God.  The tone is contemplative, the silences give our souls a chance to breathe, the songs are prayer and the sacrament is rooted in all that came before it.  At the end we give thanks to God and ask His blessing as we go into the night, knowing God was with us.

Why do you go to worship?  What compels you?  What do you expect to happen there?   For some the question might better be: why don’t you go to worship?   The answer for a few will be that indeed the Church has not been a faithful keeper or teacher of worship.  Many who found it lacking or wanting just stopped going.

There is a long sacred tradition since the disciples walked with Jesus on the way to Jerusalem till now.  The history of the Christian tradition is checkered, not as pure as we hoped it would be.  But because of the grace of God and God’s patience there is always time to turn things around.  To make what has become old, new again.  Even 21st worship can become the experience of the eternal it was meant to be. Sometimes change doesn’t happen from the top down, but from the bottom up.  Sometimes it takes just one person coming to worship with a renewed heart, that will renew the experience for everyone.  It’s not something we take responsibilty for, that’s God’s job.  But it’s our act of faithfulness, our showing up, that God can use.

Why do you (or don’t you) come to worship?  Might this high holy season of the church be your opportunity to try again?  We don’t have to ‘buy’ everything that might be being sold during the hour.  But our right heart will be seen by God, and we will be blessed.  

In peace and joy,  Kathleen Bronagh Weller  THE CELTIC MONK  

        How did it escape me that there would be “upkeep?”  Did I really think those truckloads of gravel would stop things from growing here in the tropics?  In a matter of weeks it seemed that a little moss formed where the palmettos shaded the path, then a little (okay a lot) of humidity turned the moss into soil and voila! things sprouted.  Without diligence on my part, it just kept on growing.

        I find the same to be true in other areas of my life as well. There’s a lot of upkeep in having all those books that would take a librarian to keep track of.  For my car, there’s oil changes of which a little sticker up in the corner of my windshield is supposed to remind me. Don’t get me started on the decorations for the house I thought I needed to simulate a change of seasons in this place where seasons don’t seem to change.  I’m just beginning to understand that in addition to all these is the upkeep of my body as I face the grace of a big birthday this year. Upkeep. Much, Much Upkeep.

        Our relationships take upkeep too, to send a note, email, card or call.  We must take time (I’ve heard this theme before) for people.  We take time for those who are important for us to be attentive to and into whose lives we speak. Friendships,  marriages, family, extended family, co-workers all require time–unhurried, unresented, peace-filled time.

         It’s good every once in a while to examine what we intend to keep up.  First to take stock of the commitments we’ve already made.  Secondly, to consider where on our hiearchy of priorities all this upkeep falls. Thirdly, to make those sometimes difficult decisions to rearrange, reconsider or sometimes to refrain.  Stopping things is easier said than done, even if its something that has become more a chore than a joy.

         Our spiritual life is one of those things that requires upkeep.  And my sense from personal experience is that if we let this upkeep go…none of the other areas of our life are able to thrive. For each of us this upkeep takes different forms.  For most of us it includes regularly meeting for worship with a community of faith, our prayer life, Scripture and acts of service. I’m keenly aware that one size does not fit all. I’ve gone through many shapes and sizes of spiritual exercise to feed my soul.

         Most of you know that I’m a Spiritual Director.  I see women and men on a monthly basis for conversations bathed in prayer.  For these dear ones this one hour a month is part of the upkeep of their spiritual lives. For me these very same relationships are vital for the upkeep of the call of God on my life.  I feel most like I’m doing what I’ve been gifted to do in these hours with these people. 

         My personal spiritual upkeep includes daily silence, evening prayers, my own directed relationship, retreats and study. These are the things which, should they become crowded out, would make the rest of my life all the poorer. 

         I reflect on all of this today as a way to follow up with you on your findings as you’ve begun to pray the Examen.  So often even in its early practice in fits and starts, the Examen bears fruit that makes us see differently and helps us make important decisions about our lives.  It helps us begin to peel away all that is non-essential and get to the sweetness.

        My hope and prayer is that in these first few weeks of the New Year, you’ve found a rhythm or a new practice to help in the upkeep of the most important relationship you have–exploring what God is doing in you, with you and through you. May you continue to be blessed in the upkeep.
IN PEACE AND JOY, Kathleen Bronagh Weller, THE CELTIC MONK

P.S.  The photo above is a clever vine hut constructed over a bench at the Benedictine Abbey in Rostrevor, Northern Ireland.  I did look for a photo of weeds–and I will let you imagine the photos
that come up when you Google “weed photo.”  I am a child of the 60’s and didn’t know better.       

                       

   

       As promised, here are some ideas for your practice of The Examen which can transform and deepen your spiritual life. I’ve done a lot of study about this spiritual discipline and have practiced it intermittently for the past few decades. The suggestions below are just that; options for how you might wish to practice the prayer.  May it bring you joy day-by-day in 2013 and beyond.

• Take a moment to remember you are beloved of God, just as you are.  There is nothing that can separate you from the love of God.

• Remember and give thanks for the gifts that God’s love has bestowed upon you today; sunshine, friendship, an answered prayer, strength for a challenge, daily bread, etc.

• Ask God for a blessing that will make this prayer time more than a human endeavor; then watch for an insight that comes not from within you neither heart nor mind, but from above.

• Trusting in God’s love, review the past 24 hours.  What were the thoughts, wonderings, insights or ponderings that God bestowed.  What were the thoughts that came from someplace else?  How did you respond to Divine and other promptings?

• With the past 24 hours in perspective, we seek the mercy of God’s forgiveness, from the only one who can offer us healing.  God hears the prayer of those who seek Him and heals us.

• Filled with the joy of being made whole, we make plans for tomorrow and how we’ll live more purposely in the Light of God’s Love. 

• Bathed in the Spirit of peace, we conclude our prayer. 

       Some folks do The Examen as a mental prayer while others choose to practice it as a journaling prayer.  Again, there’s no right way. I’ve planned to begin the New Year with The Examen –once more making it a daily exercise and invite you to join me and tens of thousands of others who use it this way.  God Bless you and those you love in 2013 with Hope, Peace and Joy.

This morning on my way to the church, I left a container of Christmas cookies on the step of a camper that was by the side of the road.  Well, perhaps I’m already ahead of myself.

Last Sunday morning as we were on our way to church, there was a camper/rv at the side of a two lane divided highway.  I was a little irritated as I drove by thinking how unsafe a place to park not only for the owner, but for travelers.  However, by the time we passed by later in the day, I noticed it was gone.

Then Tuesday morning on another little road I frequent, the camper/rv was back again this time at the side of an even more narrow two lane road. Really quite out of place. Surprised to see it a second time, I began to wonder about the folks who owned it or were in it.  Why weren’t they at one of the 100 rv parks around here.  Why at the side of the road with no electric, no water.

While leaving home this morning, I packed a container with Christmas cookies (the kind I only make once a year.)  My plan: if I should see that camper/rv again, to offer them encouragement and to see if I could be practically helpful. 

I was suprised to see it still on the narrow road, now donning an orange construction cone at the back end so that approaching drivers could see them.  I pulled in front of it and knocked on the front door.  No one was home, so I left the cookies on the tall step with a note saying that I’d noticed them and wanted to share God’s love with them.

In this Advent season with its drumbeat of watch words like ‘being awake’, ‘waiting’ and ‘preparing’, there are all kinds of things we might choose to do to prepare ourselves to meet Christ. But as this drama has lived itself out in me these past few days, I’m convinced that this is how I was called to prepare this year.

It’s a story without an ending.  I’m wondering if the camper will still be there tonight when I pass by once again.  I’m wondering if there will be any signs of life in there.  I’m wondering if the cookies will be gone from the steps.

How are you preparing this Advent Season?  Who are you expecting?  How might you be a manifestation of Christ and a demonstration of the love of God?  A couple dozen of my prize cookies aren’t worth a lot.  But its what I felt called to do in my watching, waiting and being awake. May the Spirit of the Advent Season lead you and bless you. 
IN PEACE AND JOY, Kathleen Bronagh Weller, THE CELTIC MONK
  

We had a momentous occasion at our house this week.  A car transport pulled up at 7:30 in the morning and took away a car that my husband had purchased almost 40 years ago.  As I write it’s on its way to Oceanside, CA…to its new owner.  Many parts and pieces that never got attached went along with it, including a OEM bumper sitting in the passenger seat. It never occured to me that this day would come. I sometimes wondered if I’d find a note attached to his Last Will and Testament with instructions for him to be buried in that car! We are both at that place in life when we’re wondering what to “hold on to” and what to “let go of.”

Many conversations have taken place leading up to this major letting go. As we face into retirement we’ve begun to plan on where we’ll live and what we’ll take with us.  Over the almost 24 years of our marriage we’ve managed to collect a lot of stuff — in addition to what we both brought into this union. Sam took the first brave step of shedding.  Mine will be to cull my books down to less than 60 moving boxes full that I’ve dragged from state to state.

It’s been a bittersweet decision for him, filled with highs and lows.  How fortunate that someone found us and wanted this little automotive pride and joy.  How sad that the time was never found to do the work on it that he’d hope to do for so long.  How great to have a place in the garage for each of our cars now. How sad to open the door and not see the dust cover that protected his youthful treasure. I could go on.

In a real sense holding on and letting go is a spiritual task.  And it’s something we do each day.  Each day we decide: will I hold on to this thing, this feeling, this value, this path, this emotion, this decision…or will I let it go?  Each day we choose: Is this_______________ (fill in the blank) worth my time and attention now…or is it something I ought to let go?  We make these choices daily, moment by monent sometimes, though their ramifications aren’t always as big as a car transport showing up.

Yet in each holding on and in each letting go, we reveal who we are at the core of our being. In each choice, we learn to become more and more the truth of who we were uniquely created to be.  We learn how God intends to use us in the life of those he’s placed around us.  We learn how we truly receive love and acceptance. We learn what it means to be full of peace, spirit and joy. Hopefully we come to learn that the stuff (no matter how beloved) isn’t as important as people and relationships. Cars and books don’t sustain us finally–Love does–Love does.

Recently I’ve been re-reading Wayne Mueller’s SABBATH where he reminds us that while knowledge at its core adds something to us, wisdom’s task is always to take something away. Wisdom in other words, is about getting to that which is essential. Think about that for a moment.

It seems that one spiritual task for this season of my life is to choose wisdom and its accompanying losses.  Not in some somber or macabre way, but in a way that gives life.  It’s the Gospel life, lived in each of us that says: “unless a seed falls to the ground and dies, it bears no fruit.”  It’s following the Christ who laid down His life, so that all could live.  Christian mystics always taught that the path of letting go or relinquishing, ends up leading us to wholeness.

May the hands of your holding on soften.  May Wisdom lead you to what is essential. May you find wholeness in Love.   With much Peace and Joy, Kathleen Bronagh Weller, THE CELTIC MONK

Hafiz is a 14th century Persian poet.  The likes of Goethe and Ralph Waldo Emerson commented on his works. Goethe wrote that “Hafiz has no peers” which is high praise. Though I don’t think any new writings of Hafiz have been discovered, his poems are often re-translated by folks with better linguistic ability or even just a better handle on  his body of work. I find in his poems an uncanny sense of the Presence of the Divine.

In his poem, An Enthusiasm To Express Discovery Hafiz wrote:

It’s not often I sit down to read a book of poems, although there are four of them within grasping distance of me right this moment.  And it’s even less often when I finish a particular poem that I have a conviction that it’s trying to tell me something.  But if you’ll allow me to be so bold — Hafiz spoke to me this evening about this blogging I’ve been doing!

You see I’ve been wondering about this habit of writing I’ve acquired and the things I feel compelled to write about.  It’s never a chore to face the blank page. Most often it seems there’s something I need to say–with a corresponding inkling that the same something I need to say, someone else needs to hear.  While I’ve never considered blogging an ‘art form’ I really do share from a place that could be considered “an enthusiasm to express discovery.” It’s a very deep place.

Last year a reader commented on one of my postings; one which had almost written itself.  He said “thanks for being vulnerable, I was wondering about this same thing.” And there it was.  I freely admit I didn’t realize–maybe until then–that my blogging leaves me vulnerable.  For me this writing is a labor of love.  If I can place myself in Hafiz’ poem: I write to express discoveries of the Divine…when I become aware of some inner movement and when I’ve mingled with it for a while…I put those experiences down on the page for you to touch and see if you want them…and hope you’ll find them useful.

It is not lost on me that what I most often write on are reflections from my silence and prayer.  I write what I feel God has revealed for my good, hoping its for your good as well. My heart’s desire is consistent–to offer something that will enrich your relationship to the One in whom we “live and move and have our being.”

No. In the 14th century Hafiz could not have imagined that someone would take his beautiful poem on artful expression and apply it to the “artform” of blogging.  But I trust my engaging his poem as I have only proves what an inspired poem it indeed is to have stood the test of time. 

May you too experience those “thin places” of revelation in an artform–a poem, a painting, a sculpture, or the eyes of another.  May God use those experiences to draw you closer and reveal to you His Presence. And may you find what it is in you, that is useful to a waiting world.