The Celtic Monk Musings

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.

For worship on Trinity Sunday, I’d asked our AV folks to project the image of Rublev’s Trinity onto the two screens that are behind me as I face the congregation to preach.  For decades I’ve referred to it as my ‘favorite’ sacred image.  Having been raised Catholic, I was not as adverse to sacred images as some Protestants-who misunderstanding, thought people worshiped the icon iteself, rather than what it represented. We’re often afraid of what we do not understand.

Last night as we prepared to enter a weekend of silence, one of our presentations was on the history and use of icons in prayer.  Part of the library was draped in beautiful deep fabrics and five icons were placed on small tables, surrounded by candles and a few scattered chairs.  As we walked from image to image we learned its history, some scholary insights and were invited to return and pray with these images in our 48 hour silence. Not surprisingly, one of the icons was the one above.  Hmm.

This morning I had intended to simply go downstairs to get something hot to drink and come back up to my room.  But the sun was not quite up yet…and I knew those icons were in the library in the basement.  I stopped first at the modern icon “Compassion Mandala” and although I am intrigued by the form…I had no connection to it.  I passed by the icon I sat with briefly last night, “Sinai Christ”, which I feel has something more to say to me.  I  passed by the icon of the child Jesus in his mothers arms; finally coming to sit before my old friend above.

It’s said of icons that they are not painted, but written…that they have something to speak to us. In the silence I listened and I heard some familiar things from this old friend.  At one point I tilted my head in the same way as the figure on the right (Holy Spirit) and the figure behind the table (the Christ)…toward the figure on the left (God the Father) dressed in gold. I sat that way for a long while eyes closed touched deeply to be in this circle.

Once more I opened my eyes and in a while was drawn to the Spirit image.  I readjusted my body,  slightly tilted my head, eyes now closed and felt as if I’d layed my head on the Spirit’s shoulder.  So much so that after a few minutes it felt as though I could feel the warmth of the Spirit’s body on my cheek–and that the sounds in my right ear were muffled from being against the Spirit’s form.  I rested there for I don’t know how long in wonder–intermittently tears flowed silently down my face.

I can’t explain to you what happened in the sacred place inside of me where the image of God resides, during this intimate prayer time. You have that sacred place inside of you too.  I can only offer to you what happened on the outside.  My hunch is in the days, weeks, months and years ahead – I’ll reap the fruit of laying my head on the Holy Spirit and resting there a little while.
BLESSINGS AND JOY TO YOU, Kathleen Bronagh Weller-THE CELTIC MONK    

It’s a mild spring day in Pikesville, Maryland just outside of Baltimore. Fluffy, crisp, white clouds make the day more shady than sunny but the chirping birds are sounding the fullness of spring. Like most days in: life according to the Celtic Monk it’s a good day for reflection. Which is what’s on my heart.

Surely you’ve heard the saying “good fences make good neighbors.” Having lived in a crowded city with bearly three feet between houses, I can see how that could be true. With a good fence I know what’s mine and you know what’s yours. With a good fence I don’t have to guess if I’ve mowed too much or too little of the lawn. With a good fence it’s clear whose insurance will have to pay if that tree falls and damages my car. A good fence delineates between what is yours and what is mine. It’s the law.

But what about a gate? A gate makes a way for you and I to come together. A gate provides access from me to you and from you to me; access to what is mine and to what is yours. It could even be argued that a gate is an invitation to enter, after all a way has been made. If we never wanted to leave our yard, there’d be no need to install a gate. If you never wanted folks to explore your garden and enjoy it, you’d not need to bear the expense of a gate (a gate makes a fence cost more). A gate is kind of an invitation to enter for those who hold no legal claim to the property. A gate is a means of grace.

This week and next with 30 companions and 8 faculty I’ll be exploring and practicing in depth, the art of spiritual direction. What I’m taken with as we begin is how so many of us are contented living lives made up of a series of good fences…when a lovely, well-placed and well-worn gate could make a huge difference in our relationship to God and to one another. It’s a formality to greet people over the fence… it’s friendlier to invite them through the gate.

In our morning session, we were paired toegether with a participant we didn’t yet know and given the instruction that after a short time of prayer and silence, we were to share in conversation about whatever we believed God was laying on our hearts. My fence went up pretty quickly. How irregular, how un-natural to verbalize spiritual depth and intimacy with a complete stranger on demand! You must be joking!

When time was called, my partner began speaking first. I realized as she spoke, that God had been working the same image in me that she was describing from her life. How amazing. So rather than reinforcing the fence, I was willing to enter the gate which her vulnerabilty and truth provided.

Even in the Church, or perhaps especially in the Church we are such good fence builders. I wonder what we think we’re fencing in or fencing out. What this 30 minute exercise showed me is that all the roadblocks and fences we construct (no matter what else we call them) are keeping us from touching both the heart of God and the hearts of one another. Our good fences are preventing and/or cripling the ability of the Spirit to move between us and among us making us one. We each remain on our little patch of spiritual grass and are quite alone. We wonder what’s happened to the Church or to the world…and it never occurs to us that grace is a gate that must be built and used liberally.

Why not spend some time thinking about the fences and gates in your life. Which are there more of? Are there fences that need to come down? Can a gate be installed between you and someone else? What would it mean in your life to open a gate to someone spiritually? Or risk it all. Sit down with someone for just a one minute prayer, 5 minutes of silence and then both share what the Spirit was speaking to you. Now there’s a gate! BLESSINGS OF PEACE AND JOY, THE CELTIC MONK

I have to stop using the word ‘human’ as a pejorative. What I mean when I say humanity disparagingly is really that part of our nature yet to be redeemed. What I mean is ego, hubris, pride, selfishness, greed, self-seeking, narcissism, anger, lacking compassion. It’s the fallen-ness which I’m trying to name.

God made and delights in humanity. He created us, and knowing we are prone to wander, God redeemed us. He comes to us and all humankind in celebration. Jesus’s first miracle in the Gospel of John was a wedding – a joining – a union – and the one who helped keep the party going was The Christ, who turned water into wine… and not just any wine, but the best wine.

The Church marks Jesus’ Incarnation – His beginning and end as God made human, in celebration–but not celebration as those who are yet-to-know God practice celebration. In His beginning, the celebration starts in darkness, as on the first Christmas Eve, when He came into being for the celebration of a new morning full of Light. And it is in the night of the Vigil of Easter, that the Church opens her doors in the dark – remembering that sometime in the watches of the night Christ arose—reminding us that we wait (unable yet to see it) for the whole world to be unbound from darkness.

Each one of us and all of us together are meant to leave our darkness to join God in the brightness of His love and glory in celebration. The incarnate Christ has led the way, shown the way, set our steps, laid down the path. And because the image of God is marked in the very core of our being – our life is a journey inward to remember who we are (beloved ones) and whose we are (children of the Creator). And we’re also invited outward to share the Light, grace, hope, communion and peace we have found in God, with others.

Glorious humanity… you and me and so many sisters and brothers. Let us rejoice in the One who created us. Let us rejoice in who we’ve been made to be…Glorious! BLESSINGS AND JOY…THE CELTIC MONK

It surprises me when in times of reflection on grown-up issues or problems, childhood nursery rhymes seem to hold the wisdom of the universe. Take Humpty-Dumpty for example. No one put him up on that wall from which he fell,he got up there all by himself. And likewise no one pushed him; yet it seems that the fact of his being up there led to his demise. Then once the deed was done–well you know the rest not horses nor men could restore him.

As I watched the Komen for the Cure and Planned Parenthood debacle unfold this week I though about old Humpty. Komen is small potatoes in the not-for-profit world. I have to say that I didn’t even know they were in the business of giving the money they raised to anyone other than for breast cancer research. But it seems along the line they decided to climb up with the big guys (in this case Planned Parenthood)and rub shoulders with the rich and powerful. But when they tried to slip away with a mere 700/k–small potatoes to PP–they were slammed to the ground.

The story, made more sensational by our representatives in Washington who weighed in with letters and press conferences, bumped-up giving to PP this week, by more than the amount Komen sought to withhold. And Komen, having slid from their privileged view up there… began to feel their supportive wall wavering beneath them. Help, I’m falling!

Pressured by media and folks within and without, Komen caved. But it’s too late you know. The damage was already done. The liberal media made it look like Komen was the giant and PP was David. We all know that isn’t true. But still PP garnered a lot of sympathy points and sympathy $$$. Komen at the very least got a black eye, but more likely “all the kings horses and all the kings men,” won’t be able to put Komen back together again.

It comes as no surprise to those who know me, that I’m Pro-Life, not pro-choice… it’s always been that way. I’ve never intentionally given to PP and never will. [I have no control over the tax dollars my governemnt gives them.] But I have supported Komen for the Cure through friends who walk and race for a cure. What no one seemed to pay any attention to in this (including Komen) is the many people like me who have supported them who will no longer do so because of their funding of PP.

I care about women and women’s health. I care that a cure is found for breast cancer, ovarian cancer, cervical cancer and the other diseases that take the life of women. The pink ribbons make me smile. This year, I’ll support the American Cancer Society instead when someone asks me to sponsor their walk or run.

We had a discussion about this stuff at my house this week. Maybe it was then that I realized I don’t share often enough about moral issues even those I see as spiritual issues. I’m sad that Komen for the Cure got whipped this week by PP and that no one seemed to understand that Komen was the David to PP’s Goliath. But I’m even more sad to learn that Komen tried to sit on the top of the wall with PP, funding the organization which performs the most abortions in the US calling it women’s health.

So this is the epitaph I leave for Komen. But it is really a wisdom word for us all who in unreflective moments convince ourselves that something good can come from dark alliances, or that God can be mocked. “Do not become wise in your own eyes, fear God and turn away from evil.” Because all the kings horses and all the kings men, couldn’t put Humpty(or Komen)back together again.”

KATHLEEN BRONAGH WELLER, THE CELTIC MONK

2011 was jam packed with many opportunities to use my gifts, talents and abilities in ministry. I was priveleged to continue ten months of the year at First Naples preaching and teaching with amazing colleagues in ministry. My opportunities to enter into spiritual direction relationships continued to grow. In June I returned to St. John’s Abbey, and then was blessed with a trip to Ireland for some personal retreat and the World Community of Christian Meditation annual conference.

The last quarter of the year brought the opportunity for a change of venue for parish ministry closer to home. The chance to preach each week has been a blessing combined with my continued priority for spiritual direction. I’ve had to cut back on the weekly 100 mile trip for the meditation group which has been an important part of Peace River Spirituality Center since 2009.

These changes have given me pause to evaluate not only my gifts but also what makes my heart sing. I’ve taken the time to think about just what it looks like to follow my bliss. Something I have to learn over and over again is that I can’t do everything.

As we move into a new year let me encourage you to wonder: what it is that makes your heart sing? Among the many things you’re now doing, or have an opportunity to pursue, what most excites and enlivens your spirit? Are you making the necessary daily choices to follow your dream? If not, what is stopping or side-tracking you? I’ve found that some of the things I allow to eat away at my time are things that I do to please others. I’m letting some of those things go.

At the core of my being is a priority to always be both a student and a teacher. It’s being in what I know as a Paul/Timothy relationship: always learning from someone ahead of me and always teaching someone else. In 2012 I’m adding more quality learning time to my life. It will make me a better teacher in the long run. It makes my heart sing!

At the core of your being… what’s important to you? How do you prioritize your committments to see that what’s important has enough room to be sustained and grow? What weeds might be choking out your best self? Can you pull those weeds yourself or do you need help? Is there something you’ve dreamed of doing for a long time? Might 2012 be the year?

I’ve chosen the final Atlantis missle launch for the image to go along with this post. It was hard to choose from among the thousand images I either shot or saved this year, but the Atlantis seems perfect for three reasons. One is that the amazing US space program that began when I was a child, could only have achieved the success it did because someone had a dream. The second reason is that just as it is for all dreams to come true, the space program exemplified a combination of will, knowledge, opportunity and discipline to see it through. Lastly, our dreams can take us on the ride of a lifetime!

I hope you’re inspired to pursue a dream
that makes your heart sing in 2012.
BLESSINGS OF COMFORT AND JOY,
KATHLEEN BRONAGH WELLER,THE CELTIC MONK

Last Sunday was World Communion Sunday. The church I’m serving, First Presbyterian of Naples celebrated the day with music of diverse cultures. It was as if we, sitting in our uni-ethnic congregation, stretched out our hands a little further into the rainbow of the worlds peoples.

World Communion Sunday was also the debut of FPC’s new quartet who are an exercise in diversity itself. Three long-time section leaders who’d been with the choir for many, many years retired to greener pastures this summer. The diversity comes in as the age of their three replacements, added together, is likely less than the age of one of the senior retirees. Don’t mis-understand. I’m not being ageist. It’s simply a huge difference that’s hard to miss.

Their youthful voices, youthful style, youthful attitudes, youthful demeanor could be startling. However, they’ve entered with such grace to fill shoes that were beloved, and they’re doing it like ducks take to water. [see photo above] But beyond that they speak to me of the next generation of talented and dedicated musicians who are being trained right now and will provide sacred music for the church into the forseeable future.[Not all congregations will be moving to a praise band.] If these men and women are indicative of their generation, trained voices and soul-piercing compositions both ancient and modern have a place in the worship of God in the decades ahead.

Some of this was going through my mind as I sat next to the communion table as they began their special music piece this week. A changing of the guard. Fresh voices, fresh spirit, fresh opportunity to lead God’s people to the table in song. I truly was ‘lost in wonder.’ Until…

I was pulled from these grand thoughts and the beautiful piece they were singing, by the sound of my colleague rattling the metal trays filled with thimble sized cups of grape juice. A sound akin to fingernails on a blackboard. It seems that as I was reveling in “all things new” I lost track of the passing of time. The Deacons were making their way down the center aisle. My colleague had called my name discreetly a few times, to no avail, to get me to come and pick up trays to pass to the servers. And in desperation finally he’d rattled those tin trays quite loudly in his quest to get my attention.

I did jump to my feet, as much as that is possible in a 5 pound preaching gown, and did my duty with a great grin on my face. When I turned back to return to my seat up on the chancel, several in the choir were smiling too, as I mouthed to them “I was listening to the quartet!”

It was a hopeful World Communion Sunday for me this year, despite my missing my que. One I won’t soon forget. Because in that sanctuary on 2nd and 6th, the mystery of the meal was made visible in four beautiful faces and voices. The Table was set, the meal prepared and God broke in. The old had passed away, all things were made new. Grace abounded. Fresh vistas appeared, and some of us were lost in the wonder of it all. What a feast. What an amazingly diverse feast. To God be the glory, world without end. Amen.

Use this link and turn to page 3 of the FPC Naples newsletter to read about these singers and see their picture.

BLESSINGS AND JOY, Kathleen Bronagh Weller, THE CELTIC MONK

I’m feeling a little torn, as we approach this weekend and the Remembrance of what has come to be known simply as 9/11. Many newscasts and some radio stations have broadcast or rebroadcast stories of that terrifying and tragic day all week. It was sad then, it is sad now. There’s nothing that can change what happened, or bring back those we lost, or erase the scar from the wound on our national conscience. And so we grieve together, again, these 10 years later.

But in my little corner of the world, we’ve been working hard this week to plan RALLY DAY for the children of our church. Rally Day is the day our Sunday school classes begin again in earnest. We’ve ordered curriculum… shined and polished classroom spaces…lined up teachers. This Sunday, September 11th, is a day to celebrate the lives of little ones who are just beginning to grow into the love and likeness of a Gracious God; most of them were not even alive when the Twin Towers fell.

I’m sure there were babies born on 9/11/01. I’m sure there were some who married on that day. Maybe others started a new job. Still others heard for the first time
that someone loved them. Amid horrible sadness… love survived. Amid the tragedy… hope was born.

These incongruous themes of RALLY and REMEMBRANCE remind me of another tragic day, one on which a Lamb was slain–and the world was changed. On that day that which we also remember each year, an Innocent One won for us all a salvation we could not grasp on our own. His also seemed a senseless death, a horrible waste. Those who loved Him stumbled around in grief and yet–beauty came from those ashes.

So though I will not forget where I was and what I was doing on the morning of 9/11/01 – this weekend I choose to celebrate the young lives given to 1st Presbyterian Church as a sacred trust…to nurture in the love of God. As part of
the RALLY DAY CELEBRATION, one of my jobs in worship will be the “Blessing of the Children” and I will pray for them with all the grace God has given me, for a future
full of hope.

RALLY and REMEMBRANCE. Sunday, September 11, 2011 will be a good day to gather as the Body of Christ, to pray for those who still grieve, and to seek God’s blessing for our little ones. In your house of worship, please remember to pray for those who mourn and also for the children of the world.

IN PEACE AND JOY, Kathleen Bronagh Weller, THE CELTIC MONK

LAURENCE FREEMAN, OSB – DIRECTOR OF THE WORLD COMMUNITY FOR CHRISTIAN MEDITATION
Have you ever met one of your heroes? I’m not talking about someone who saved your life, or won the game, but someone who you’ve admired from afar. Maybe it’s an author or a public figure who you’ve grown to respect more than simply admire. Who are these people who loom large in your life?

Laurence Freeman (above) has been a hero of mine for some time. Over the past three years, I’ve read everythng he’s written on Christian meditation and have listened to CD’s of talks he’s given around the world. He was chosen as the spiritual guide for WCCM, after the death of its founder,Fr.John Main. While in Cork at the pre- conference retreat of WCCM, I had the opportunity to listen to six presentations by Laurence and the photo above was taken by a Canadian participant as I was talking to him following one of the sessions.

Freeman’s topic was living in times of crisis. Looking around the world, he named the crises in their many forms: economic, social, personal, spiritual. Crises affect individual lives, families, communities [including the Church] and nations. While his hope was that Christians would be doing more than cursing the darkness along with everyone else. But Freeman voiced his fear that along with people of no faith, believers too have lost their way. Too many have naively believed that like for other dilemmas we’ve acted as though we can just Google an answer and it will come… or we can read the latest book by a guru, or just keep our heads down until the crisis passes. It’s unfortunate that we’re only slowly coming to realize that our past coping skills are useless in a worldwide crisis that even experts are loathe to predeict how long, how much worse or how to get out. The best thoughts, plans, experiences, have not helped us to crawl from the havoc. And they never will.

In times of trouble, in times of uncertainty, in times of small personal crisis as well as worldwide crises the scope of which has beset us over the last few years, our hope is found in the same place, in the same person, in the same way. Hope, like peace is God’s gift and the way to the other side of trial is through the very heart of God–seeking, abiding, cleaving there.

Most of us have found ways to adjust to the fragility of the economy, our smaller portion of all we’d become accustomed to and the lowering what we see on the horizon for our future. But coping is no way to live the abundant life. Coping is not the same as living in hope, peace or joy. Do you know how to access the place where these treasures reside in the heart of God? Is it your practice to spend time there? Are these golden lights part of your daily expereince?

While the lectures, writings and insights of Freeman have been important to me… they’ve never been an end in themselves. Freeman’s work relentlessly points beyond himself to the One Who is, Who was, and is to come. He writes and speaks to help others (now around the world) learn how to find the One who holds eternal treasures.

Crises come to all of us and our loving God desires to help us meet even the ones we’re likely to think we can handle on our own. May you find your way to the heart of God this week. I’ll see you there. BLESSINGS AND JOY, Kathleen Bronagh Weller, THE CELTIC MONK