Another weekend passes, with the sun finally showing herself this afternoon.   It was glorious!  And then it was ninety-degrees.   Summer’s coming, and with it new seasons in this unfolding mystery.  I hope you found hours to rest this weekend, to lay down the mantle of things that occupy, challenge, or confound you during the week.  A rhythm of rest feels essential to me these days, and I am hoping that each of you are finding consistent practices for rest in your respective corners of the world.  Here are some thoughts and ideas for the week(s) ahead to contemplate our engagement with the world and create opportunities for connection with each other:

Contemplative Practice:  Beholding

The Center for Contemplative Mind in Society describes the contemplative exercise of beholding as follows:  Beholding exercises change the ways in which we see the world, enhancing one of the primary means through which we interact with the world: sight.  During a life experience where many of us are seeing the same things again and again, it seems worthwhile to challenge our awareness via our vision.  How are we looking at the objects, art, or nature around us?  You can read a longer description of the practice of beholding here, but the basic concept is to find an image, a work of art, an object, or something in the natural world and to return to it again and again.  Don’t glance, no passing gazes.  Really take some time and spend it with what’s in front of you.  A Religion professor at my alma mater would have students do a 10 minute meditation on a raisin.  Look at it, smell it, think about all thoughts and associations you have with it, marvel at its size and wrinkled surface, and then, eventually, chew, taste, reflect, and enjoy. 

As personal spheres might feel more constricting right now, this could be a solid exercise in expansiveness.  What is on your walls that you haven’t really noticed in months?  Are there images hiding in books, rose bushes in bloom outside, or a beloved pet asleep in the same corner each day?  If it’s hard to feel inspired by an object or image in your immediate radius, you’re in luck:  The Art Institute of Chicago has digitized much of their collection, so you can now tour their museum virtually or skim their digital collection for your foray into the practice of beholding.  

Meet me at the Threshold (Something we can do together, apart)

I was reading about the renovation of an extremely old house this week and a quote from the head builder caught my eye as he talked about the challenge of leveling uneven floors in a time-worn home:  

“If the floors are all over the place, you have to pick a reference point- a place to begin- and work from there.  The front-door threshold is usually a good starting point.  It’s a given that can’t be easily changed.”

It made me curious about an analogy in our houses of worship:  In this time that feels disjointing, what would happen if we all took a moment to return to our reference point?  How would we describe our threshold, or front door into this faith or this community?  To that end, I’m going to make an effort to call three people this week and ask them to tell me their threshold story.  How did they get in the door of the Christian faith?  What was the entry point, and when?  The same questions could be applied to a particular congregation.  How did you get here?  What brought you in the front door?  I’m curious about any and all practices that leave us feeling more connected when this time of distance is over, and intentionally learning and listening to one another’s experiences in both our faith and faith communities feels like a good place to begin.

Memorization/Meditation:

Last week wasn’t our finest for scripture memorization around here, so this week we’ll be doing double-duty.  But memorize we will.  It’s strange how encouraging it is to hear a child quoting scripture.  To hear anyone quoting scripture for that matter.  Here’s what’s on the docket:

This week’s verse: “Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.” (2 Corinthians 3:17)
This week’s poem:  In opposition to last week’s epic, here is this weeks poem in its’ entirety from the incredible Lucille Clifton-

The Lesson Of The Falling Leaves 

the leaves believe
such letting go is love
such love is faith
such faith is grace
such grace is god
i agree with the leaves

Below you’ll find a compelling tidbit from Richard Rohr, an excerpt that one of our Young Adult Community Builders used as a catapult for group discussion this week.  I loved it!

Peace and grace my friends, 

MLC

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I know this was an Easter many of us will never forget.  The beauty of the Easter Sunday, at least in Central Austin, was so incredible and refreshing after the rain of the past few days.   Here are a few thoughts and ideas for practices to ease you into the new week.  We hope you are finding practices that provide grounding in the midst of change, as we all work to find life-giving rhythms and craft a new sense of routine into our weeks.

Centering Prayer with an Eastertide focus:

Since Eastertide lasts 50 days, consider finding a word that you would like to hold as an intention particularly during this time and incorporate it into a Centering Prayer practice.  Contemplative Outreach lays out the process of Centering Prayer simply and beautifully here.  I haven’t had time to watch this recording myself yet, but was super excited to find this Zoom tutorial Contemplative Outreach recorded around facilitating meaningful prayer and other facilitated group experiences during the Pandemic.  Perhaps it could be helpful for folks in our midst.  If you try centering prayer and you like it, you can support and be supported by Contemplative Outreach right here in Austin by contacting or connecting with our local chapter, Heart of Texas Contemplative Outreach.   The Contemplative Outreach website, and the brief workshop I took on Centering Prayer years ago, both suggest engaging in Centering Prayer twice a day, for 20 minutes each session.  That is my #aspiration, but we all have to start somewhere, and my somewhere will likely be closer to 5 minutes, three times a day (no one tell Thomas Keating!).

Something we can do together, apart:

Last week I shared a link to a piece in The New Yorker by Catherine Ceb, and an excerpt from the article got me thinking:

“(My father) also handed out bulletins in the narthex and delivered the faithful to the altar for Communion, but my favorite of all the tasks he performed was ringing the bell, at the start of worship and at the end, but also near the middle of the service. Later in life, when I took a more meaningful interest in the liturgy and all its components—learning such wonderful things as why we share the peace before the Sacrament of Communion (so that we make peace with one another before God makes peace with us), and why the elements include water for weakening the wine (so that even the poor can bring an offering unto God)—it finally occurred to me to ask my pastor why we rang the bell when we did, during the Lord’s Prayer. In response, he asked if I could name any of the farmers who were not there for worship because of the harvest or recall any of the homebound who could no longer make it to services. We ring the bell for them, he told me, so that they know when we have gathered and when we are sent back into the world, and so that, no matter how far they are from the sanctuary, they can join us in reciting the words that Jesus taught us to pray. For almost as long as the Church has existed, bells have called Christians together when they have to be apart.”

The author goes on to name how, after moving to a large city, she learned to consider other sounds that were more frequent than church bells (like ambulance sirens) as a call to prayer.  Consider what your own personal call to prayer will be over the next week or weeks, and try implementing it in your daily practice.  Or connect with your community and covenant to a corporate call to prayer.  Maybe it’s just the chimes on your phone set for three specific times a day, or maybe there’s an old, underused bell laying somewhere in a china cabinet (I’ve got one I brought my kids back as a souvenir from Indiana).  If there are children in your house, they could probably come up with their own brilliant substitutes, and when in doubt, there is always the old glass-and-spoon (the thinner the glass, the clearer the sound).  Perhaps it’s just the act of ringing the bell in solidarity, knowing that it’s calling people of faith together in spirit when our physical bodies must remain distanced, reminding us that we are not alone.  Or maybe, like Catharine Ceb, it’s an environmental noise.  Every time you hear bird song, or a helicopter, or a wind chime.  Anything works that calls us to pay closer attention to the world around us and the time we are passing in it, inviting us to a more habitual and intentional prayer practice individually and together.

Memorization/Meditation:

We are trucking along with these verses at my house but committing the poetry to memory is still a work in progress.  This week’s poem is pretty epic, so perhaps consider zoning in on a few lines or a stanza. I’ve included an excerpt below:

This week’s verse: “The heavens are telling the glory of God; and the firmament proclaims his handiwork.” (Psalm 19:1)
This week’s poem:  The very long, very rich, very intense “East Coker” by T.S. Eliot.  Find a section of lines that resonate with you and commit them to memory. Here’s an excerpt, or you can read the whole (again, very long but very brilliant) poem here.

…There is only the fight to recover what has been lost
And found and lost again and again: and now, under conditions
That seem unpropitious. But perhaps neither gain nor loss.
For us, there is only the trying. The rest is not our business.

Home is where one starts from. As we grow older
The world becomes stranger, the pattern more complicated
Of dead and living. Not the intense moment
Isolated, with no before and after,
But a lifetime burning in every moment
And not the lifetime of one man only
But of old stones that cannot be deciphered.
There is a time for the evening under starlight,

A time for the evening under lamplight
(The evening with the photograph album).
Love is most nearly itself
When here and now cease to matter.
Old men ought to be explorers
Here or there does not matter
We must be still and still moving
Into another intensity
For a further union, a deeper communion
Through the dark cold and the empty desolation,
The wave cry, the wind cry, the vast waters
Of the petrel and the porpoise. In my end is my beginning.

Easter joy and courage to you this week, and many blessings,

MLC

The post The Beauty of Easter appeared first on 787 Collective.

Hope this finds you on the other side of some genuine Sabbath time.  Now that our homes are the site of so much work and external connection, it can feel hard to separate the two.  We’re sharing this brief collection of ideas for contemplative practice and creative engagement in the hopes it might generate a space for reflection and imagination as we welcome the new week:

An Oldie But Goodie: As we all seek to carve out a new rhythm of life in these times that feels healthy and nurturing, it seems like an ideal time to fall back on the good old practice of The Awareness Examen.  Please see the link below for an excerpt from our Discernment Guide describing the practice and instructions, or you can read more about it online here.  With social distancing recommended until at least the end of April, it might be a good time to take stock each day of what gave life and what drained it, as we all seek to set patterns that will sustain us over the coming weeks and months. 

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1eNfYuCSECYl8OOi5QbD2UUawRo7x5fAaxC5O4tWrEgc/edit

Something we can do together apart: Below are two links for a prayer walk we orchestrated for our All Day Fun Day last year which took participants around the UT campus.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1yZEZcHn2hkurKBXr1GXUV2DyCLaLJkDD/edit

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1cSoov3ejhuvAQ-NRkysGpKtsYfoxqHo-F6QK8-i8_bI/edit

Most participants did the prayer walk at about the same time, but we had two different routes, so everyone walked the routes solo.  Anyone is welcome to use our walk, of course, but perhaps it’s something that could be replicated in the neighborhood of the church or congregants could devise a route in their own neighborhood around a common liturgy.  Feel free to borrow our prayers or concentration points if that’s helpful.  For our purposes, our focal prayer points were: people seeking vocation, wise use of technology, the environment, a right and just world, and the church.  For community members without that level of mobility or freedom of movement, perhaps they could partner with someone over the phone and take turns sharing places or memories that represent the focal points of the prayers to them.  For every memory or location a partner offers up, the other partner can offer a prayer.  I think for all of us, movement out of close or confining quarters is essential right now, even if it’s just by engaging our imagination.

Memorization/Meditation: I’m taking this challenge with my kids, as committing anything to memory has become a) totally foreign to me and b) is such good exercise for our brains at any age and doable across a huge swath of the age spectrum.  I’m including a verse and a prayer/blessing so take your pick, or go ahead with your overachieving self and file both of these away on lock:

This week’s verse:  “The Lord will fulfill his purpose for me; your steadfast love, O Lord, endures forever.” (Psalm 138:8)

This week’s poem:  “A Prayer Among Friend”s by John Daniel

And speaking of poetry, I would be remiss if I didn’t share this stunner “Keeping Still” from Pablo Neruda with each of you.  I was on a call with some of our young adult leaders earlier tonight and it was shared in closing, and I wanted to share it with you post haste.  Here is an excerpt to tuck yourself in, or wake up inspired:

Peace y’all-

MLC

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