Tag Archives: #faith

And therein lay the healing.

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This morning’s gospel John 5:1-16, was broken down into an amazing insight.  At least for this guy.  You can always read the words but unless deeper perspectives from others are offered and shared in a meaningful way, you may find yourself living in quite the linear manner. 

The intention within this biblical discourse is apparent.  But when other ways of looking at this particular interaction at a healing pool in Bethesda are provided, the connection takes on a whole new mass.  It truly reflects what the name literally means, “house of mercy, or grace.” 

“Do you want to be well?”

The sick man answered him, “Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up; while I am on my way, someone else gets down there before me.”

Father pointed out that the man, invalided for thirty-eight some years, did not answer His question.  Instead, he went on to describe his life, wrought of isolation, abandonment and hopelessness.  Not just that I have no one to help me into the pool, but pure and simple, “I have no one”.  

Father suggested that perhaps when he was younger, family may have helped him move about to partake in some of these healing moments in the water.  But now, approaching the middle of his life, he is essentially by himself. 

Alone.  

“While I am on my way, someone else gets down there before me”, emphasizing the utter disregard of others and his worthlessness to society. 

Imagine that.

Not just crippled for life, immovable and unable. But deemed unneeded, untouchable and unloved.  Being so crippled by that horrific experience that he didn’t even hear the question posed.

And it wasn’t asked a second time either.  He just healed him and sent him on his way.  Too bad some of that healing didn’t waft its way over to the clerics admonishing him for having the audacity to carry his mat, for the first time in his life, on the sabbath. 

Crippled may carry with it the connotation of strictly physical limitations.  But it may come to impart its will on one’s mental or emotional state.  Perhaps even spiritually.  It can be an all inclusive state.

So while He mended his body, He truly mended the man’s spirit.  Giving him life in more ways than one. We are all asked to do the same.  To be there for others.

One way alms were described to me was to simply give of yourself.  Your time.  Your empathy and compassion.  And therein lay the healing. support.  Your love.  Your presence. All forms of personal wealth we can access and share abundantly without ever breaking the bank.

So when you find yourself in a house of grace, do your part to offer alms of healing as best as you can.

You will never be expected to say ““Stand up, take your mat and walk.”

That is what He does. 

But you can definitely listen with true compassion, offer them support and love, and help them to rise from defeat and isolation.  

Simply be present for them, in that house of mercy.

For He would want you to.  

And therein lay the healing.

Boy do they ever.

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This time of year is especially wondrous for me.

I veered off this path for whatever reason some years back. If you are not present, you cannot appreciate where you are and what what you are becoming. Shiny things can appear and once they begin to catch on and command your attention, they multiply. Hiding honesty about a past and inhibiting the truth yet to be. My focus is much better. I am seeing things for what they are.

These past twenty seven days have been illuminating to say the least. Things are different. The written and spoken word have new meaning and depth. Cannot say I have the answers, but man do things make some semblance of sense. Finally. Just keep that clock ticking so I can experience more.

Please.

So, there was the story in John this week about His encounter with a man, blind since birth. I read many of the reflections shared about it and the significance and meaning of His gift. It found a home in my thoughts that have since grown to become some rare and perpetual insight for this old man.

We are all of the earth. And once it is our time, to that we shall return.

But in the interim, by no means is our vision meant to be held solely to those worldly matters. Dirt for lack of a better term. I cannot speak to the man who came into being on this earth blind. But it struck me that He made a hyrdating compress consisting of dirt and His holy water and applied it directly to his afflicted vision. He wished him to be held souly to what He saw in and for him.

Those that pranced about in their costumes and “Holy” garb monitored His actions closely. Taking account of his sabbath violations and untoward behavior. Actually tending to those that needed it most no matter the penalties that would be accrued towards and against Him. Strange how they too were blind to what was really happening. Pride, position, status and most of all – ego – blend themselves into a compress of blindness all their own. Distorting sight to an appreciation of only those things to be had here. Of this earth.

So the man of no known origins, once gifted his heavenly mud pack, was then sent to Siloam. To bathe and allow the waters to cleanse him. Baptismal in nature? A washing away of the sins of this world, emphatically covering his eyes, so that he could finally possess sight? Not just things of this world. But actually “see” what life can be here and now, using a loving mold of His making.

To bad those adorned in the dirt of this world refused to take heed of the same exact offering. Too offensive a suggestion to remove the attire of earthly desires so they too could actually see. Chances are, many if not all of them were too blind since birth. If I can be honest, that seems to have been my challenge as well. So caught up with ego and what is made only here that I was never able to see what is given so that I may last forever. Grace that will shepard us far beyond the dirt from whence we came.

He applied it to my eyes long ago. I just never consented to listening so that I would consent to wash it away. Didn’t think I needed to. Afterall, I was in charge. Plus, it would have violated my personal sabbath rules and regimen. My pharisee-ical nature would never have allowed that.

Consent isn’t so much the correct word. It means I have control. Talk about misnomers.

Acceptance is far more like it.

Since I let go, He removed the dirt. An ongoing baptism if you will.

And with that, things sure look so different.

Boy do they ever.

Being present.

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Daily writing prompt
What strategies do you use to cope with negative feelings?
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I am typically an optimist. I have learned to look for and then find the opportunity that lay in all forms of adversity, negative feelings included. Both are never “if” but only “when” moments. Not that one necessarily embarks on a search for them. I think it just behooves us to see them as such and press on.

Speaking from years of experience, negative feelings can have a variety of sources. Maybe this is something for another day. I just know their origins come from within, part of your make. From without, somehow energized by interactions found in everyday life. Those from within may impact how you perceive the ones from without. And those without may behave similarly on those within.

So as with adversity, there is much ado about the sensory aspects of that moment as well as maintaining presence. By that I mean, staying right where you are. Present.

My negative feelings first became inextricably woven into the past. Always returning to the bent corner of the page in that part of my story so I could re-read, re-live, re-shame and re-torture myself for something I did or didn’t from long, long ago. Way too many volumes for this library.

Then, they may have a need to jump ahead in time, to something that hasn’t even happened. To a large extent, that flavor was ego stating I already knew what was going to happen, because you know, I was in control of everything. Funny that if you are convinced you run it, you somehow cannot make everything work out.

My self inflicted negativity, whether through creation or response, cannot survive the present. Absent tending and nurturing the garden variety sins of the past, or, fomenting angst, anxiety and defeat by scheduling ahead, these thoughts cannot survive, let alone grow and thrive.

Choosing to simply and only accept and learn from the past helps kill those roots so new grass can take hold. And deciding not live out over your skis, you will actually begin to appreciate what is right here with you. Being present, right here, right now, reduces, if not completely eradicates negative thoughts.

They are seen for what they truly are. Like the approaching storm, they too will pass.

I have determined that they have no business in my life. And that is just going to be the way it is.

The gift that keeps on giving.

Being present.

As only a father could.

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Daily writing prompt
What is the last thing you learned?
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“Chora makra”.

Well, not the last thing. But this morning when I came upon it, some things in life were no longer Greek to me.

Sorry. It’s genetic.

The parable of the prodigal son in today’s gospel according to Luke, related the story of the two sons, that in their own ways, left their father. The younger, requested his inheritance up front, bid adieu to his loving father and travelled to a “distant country” – chora mokra.

The elder, though he chose to remain at home, made the same trek, in his own way, far away from his father, also to chora mokra. Distancing himself from that unconditional love through resentment, anger and jealousy.

While chora mokra is often ranslated as “distant country”, the reflection that followed from Bishop Barron brought to mind the literal meaning in a spiritual emphasis.

“The great emptiness”.

Think about that now for a moment.

The younger son took his inheritance in advance, a slap in the face of his loving father, to splurge it on a venture laden with debauchery that only served to wrought upon him a great emptiness.

In mind.

Body.

And soul.

Meanwhile, the elder son, remaining at home out of duty, disguising ego, discredited his father’s genuine love for him and his sibling in a fit of jealous resentment. In so doing, he too found his own way into the great emptiness. Removing himself from his father and what he was gifted unconditionally, in a childish fit of spite. Bringing with its own inherent brand of emptiness.

Of mind.

Body.

And soul.

Both went their own way, literally and figuratively, to a distant country.

And both were warmly welcomed back from their chora makra.

Without condition.

As only a father could.

To that, I will not object.

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Daily writing prompt
What are three objects you couldn’t live without?
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Well, on the material side of things, coffee? Maybe having blue tooth so I can listen to my radio station from when I was growing up. Kind of tough to answer that one. I could go to tea, or water if needed. Have before. Sometimes a local radio station will suffice. That is still only two. Not sure.

But that is one definition of object. A material thing that can be seen and touched. Huh. Maybe that disqualifies the blue tooth. Unless the holding the phone and pushing the site on the screen counts. But blue tooth really cannot be seen or touched. So perhaps that statement needs to be amended to “having a phone with blue tooth so I can listen to my radio station from when I was growing up.” There. Is my OCD an object? But I digress….

The other is ” a person or thing to which a specified action or feeling is directed.” If you look at it in this fashion, three things immediately come to mind.

Trust.

Intention.

Faith.

Trust can generate some very specific actions and feelings. What you come to allow in others as well as in yourself. It has been my experience of late that I find it way easier to do so with othose around me than it has ever been with myself. That is changing. Still some things yet to prove on my end. It is an object I cannot live without.

Add to that, intention. Something deeper than “want to”, commitment or goal. Intention reflects a direct investment of self into another object that has no guaranteed outcome. Just that in many ways and means needs to be employed and embraced. Not as a thing to be touched or seen. But a depth of giving of onself that is sensed, felt and fully woven into one’s being.

The intention may be to have a positive impact on another. And then again, it may be to have one on yourself. No guarantees. Just a way of being that goes beyond once incorporated, spreading inward and outwards.

Lastly, faith.

Not really lastly. Really firstly. Because it is only through faith that you are able to actively engage in patience with perseverance. There is a knowing component that provides the salve for the waiting. The continuous deployment of trust in the direction and intentional thoughts, words and deeds through the acts of perseverance.

Objects are of little importance to me.

Objects to which a trusted, intentional action, guided by faith is directed, are.

To that, I will not object.