Fourth Sunday in Lent Year C

Lent 4C_2022_new March 27, 2022 As I was sitting with the readings for this Sunday, I was reminded of a story I read years ago. It’s a story that the Celtic priest and mystic John O’Donohue tells in his book Anam Cara (which means soul friend). Here is what he writes as he writes about the challenges of modern life to the soul: “Rapidity is another force causing massive stress in the workplace. Baudrillard, a French philosopher, speaks of the exponential speed of modern life. Where things are moving too quickly, nothing can stabilize, gather, or grow. There is a lovely story of a man exploring Africa. He was in desperate hurry on a journey through the jungle. He had three or four Africans helping him carry his equipment. They raced onward for about three days. At the end of the third day, the Africans sat down and would not move. He urged them to get up, telling them of the pressure he was under to reach his destination before a certain date. They refused to move….Finally, he got one of them to admit the reason. This native said, ‘We have moved too quickly to reach here; now we need to wait to give our spirits a chance to catch up with us.’” i In our Old Testament reading for today, we see the end of the wandering of the Children of Israel in the wilderness for forty years. Joshua, who becomes their leader after Moses’s death, has just led them across the Jordan River and into the promised land where they have come to this place that they name Gilgal, and God tells them “Today I have rolled away from you the disgrace of Egypt.” At this point, two notable things happen. The Israelites celebrate Passover for the first time in their new home of the promised land, and the manna, the bread from heaven that has sustained them while wandering in the wilderness, ceases because it is no longer needed. Now that they are finally home, they eat the produce and crops of the land. One of my colleagues invited us to reflect on this passage from Joshua this week by asking us to think of a time when we had been wandering in the wilderness for a long time, and we finally arrived at a place that quickly became home, where we could “eat the produce of the land.” What was that like for us—to be settled someplace where we could have time and space to grow things, to see things brought to fruition and then to enjoy the fruits of our labor? This has been interesting for me to think about this week, because one of the encounters with Gilgal for me in my faith journey has been in coming here. This place has been Gilgal for me—where I have seen things take root and grow and have enjoyed sampling with you from the fruit of our labors. And it is still Gigal, but lately, I haven’t been able to be fully attentive to what is growing. Perhaps I have traveled too far and too fast and need to be still, pay attention, and wait for my soul to catch up with me? Perhaps this is true for all of us in the light of these last two years of pandemic and corporate trauma? How do we tend to the growth if we feel too parched, to dried out in our own souls for anything to grow or bear fruit? John O’Donohue writes about this as well. He writes, “You can search far and in hungry places for love. It is a great consolation to know that there is a wellspring of love within yourself. If you trust that this wellspring is there, you will then be able to invite it to awaken. The following exercise could help develop awareness of this capacity. When you have moments on your own or spaces in your time, just focus on the well at the root of your soul. Imagine that nourishing stream of belonging, ease, peace, and delight. Feel, with your visual imagination, the refreshing waters of that well gradually flowing up through the arid earth of the neglected side of your heart. It is helpful to imagine this particularly before you sleep. Then during the night you will be in a constant flow of enrichment and belonging. You will find that when you awake at dawn, there will be a lovely, quiet happiness in your spirit.”ii Your invitation this week is to join me in practicing this here and now. We are going to sit together in two minutes of silence. For some it’s going to feel like an eternity and for some it’s going to fly by. As O’Donohue says, “Imagine that nourishing stream of belonging, ease, peace, and delight. Feel, with your visual imagination, the refreshing waters of that well gradually flowing up through the arid earth of the neglected side of your heart.” Imagine that water bubbling up into all corners and crevices of your mind, heart, and body. Pay attention to what comes, and if you get distracted in that practice, acknowledge that distraction, see it, and bring your focus back to the well spring. I’ll tell you when the two minutes is up, and don’t forget to breathe! Now everyone, take a minute to get settled, close your eyes, and let’s begin. i. O’Donohue, John. Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom. Cliff Street Books: 1997, p. 151. ii. Ibid. p 28