Celtic Lent Day 37

This is quite long this evening as I'm sharing the meditation from yesterday evening's Celtic Wholeness and Healing Service.

The Cup of Joy, Henri J. M. Nouwen, Dutch Catholic priest:
The cup of life is the cup of joy as much as the cup of sorrow. It is the cup in which sorrows and joys, sadness and gladness, mourning and dancing are never separated. If joys could not be where sorrows are, the cup of life would never be drinkable. That is why we have to hold the cup in our hands and look carefully to see joys hidden in our sorrows. Can we look up to Jesus as to the man of joys? It seems impossible to see joy hanging with outstretched arms on a wooden cross. Still, the cross of Jesus is often presented as a glorious throne on which the King is seated. There the body of Jesus is portrayed not as racked by flagellation and crucifixion but as a beautiful, luminous body with sacred wounds. The cross of San Damiano that spoke to St Francis of Assisi is a good example. It shows the crucified Jesus as the victorious Jesus. The cross is surrounded by splendid gold; the body of Jesus is a perfect, immaculate human body; the horizontal beam on which he hangs is painted as the open grave from which Jesus rose; and all those gathered under the cross with Mary and John are full of joy. At the top we can see God’s hand, surrounded by angels, drawing Jesus back into heaven. This is a resurrection cross, in which we see Jesus lifted up in glory. Jesus’ words ‘When I am lifted up from the earth, I shall draw all people to myself,’ (John 12:32) refer not only to his crucifixion but also to his resurrection. Being lifted up means not only being lifted up as the crucified one but also being lifted up as the risen one. It speaks not only about agony but also about ecstasy, not only about sorrow but also about joy. Joys are hidden in sorrows! I know this from my own times of depression. I know it from living with people with intellectual disabilities. I know it from looking into the eyes of patients, and from being with the poorest of the poor. We keep forgetting this truth and become overwhelmed by our own darkness. We easily lose sight of our joys and speak of our sorrows as the only reality there is. We need to remind each other that the cup of sorrow is also the cup of joy, that precisely what causes us sadness can become the fertile ground for gladness. Indeed, we need to be angels for each other, to give each other strength and consolation. Because only when we fully realize that the cup of life is not only a cup of sorrow but also a cup of joy will we be able to drink it.

I feel this mixture of joy and sorrow, of all that we are and all that life is, is contained within the Eucharist. With each communion we remember the final days of Jesus’ life and celebrate his Resurrection. 

Richard Rohr, American Franciscan Friar and Catholic priest says this of the Eucharist:

The Eucharist offers one focused moment of truth, showing that the Christ and this ordinary bit of elemental bread are one, and therefore the spiritual and the material can apparently coexist. Struggle with that, resist it, fall in love with it, eat it. You can't just think about it rationally in your mind. Spiritual things are known in a whole-body way. You know them with your body, heart, soul, and mind all operating together. In this mysterious sacrament of Eucharist, you eat the bread; it becomes one with you; you become one with all those around you who are the same Body of Christ. It's a corporeal, cellular knowing. The bread is for the sake of the people, it is food for the sick and weary, a medicine for the soul to let people know that they are what they eat!

As we move towards our Eucharist this evening, remember that in it we share Jesus’ joy and sorrow and he shares in ours. We offer all within us which needs healing and unity, both with Christ and with each other. We are one in the body of Christ, we drink from the cup of joy knowing sorrows still lie ahead, but also knowing that the sadness of Good Friday is always following by the joy of Easter Day.

Scripture
So Jesus said to them, ‘Very truly, I tell you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life, and I will raise them up on the last day; for my flesh is true food and my blood is true drink. Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them. Just as the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever eats me will live because of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven, not like that which your ancestors ate, and they died. But the one who eats this bread will live for ever.’
John 6:53-58

Day 38

While they were eating, Jesus took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to his disciples, saying,“Take and eat; this is my body.” Then he took a cup, and when he had given thanks, he gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you. This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins. I tell you, I will not drink from this fruit of the vine from now on until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father’s kingdom.” When they had sung a hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives.  Matthew 26:26-30

Eucharist is recognition. It is the full realization that the one who takes, blesses, breaks, and gives is the One who, from the beginning of time, has desired to enter into communion with us. Communion is what God wants and what we want. It is the deepest cry of God's and our heart, because we are made with a heart that can be satisfied only by the one who made it.

God creates in our heart a yearning for communion that no one but God can, and wants, to fulfill. God knows this. We seldom do.

We keep looking somewhere else for that experience of belonging.
We look at the splendor of nature, the excitement of history, and the attractiveness of people, but that simple breaking of the bread, so ordinary and unspectacular, seems such an unlikely place to find the communion for which we yearn.

Still, if we have mourned our losses, listened to him on the road, and invited him into our innermost being, we will know that the communion we have been waiting to receive is the same communion he has been waiting to give.

from With Burning Hearts by Henri J.M. Nouwen

A suggestion for your prayer and meditation:
When do you yearn for communion/belonging? 

How do you attempt to satisfy that yearning?

What does it mean to you that no one but God can, and wants, to fulfill your yearning?

Meditate on these words of St. Augustine:  "My soul is restless until it rests in you, O God."
Pastor Patty Fox 40 Days with 40 Christian Mystics

How can I possibly add anything to Henri Nouwen? All I will say is that for me Eucharist is about community and equality. It's about meeting Jesus by sharing with each other, recognising our oneness and being filled up to be sent out. Eucharist is about what we do with our faith, our lives outside of those church  walls.

Day 14

When we speak about celebration we tend rather easily to bring to mind happy, pleasant, gay festivities in which we can forget for a while the hardships of life and immerse ourselves in an atmosphere of music, dance, drinks, laughter, and a lot of cozy small-talk.  But celebration in the Christian sense has very little to do with this.  Celebration is possible only through the deep realization that life and death are never found completely separate.

Celebration can really come about only where fear and love, joy and sorrow, tears and smiles can exist together. Celebration is the acceptance of life in a constantly increasing awareness of its preciousness. And life is precious not only because it can be seen, touched, and tasted, but also because it will be gone one day.

When we celebrate a wedding we celebrate a union as well as a departure; when we celebrate death we celebrate lost friendship as well as gained liberty.  There can be tears after weddings and smiles after funerals.  We can indeed make our sorrows, just as much as our joys, a part of our celebration of life in the deep realization that life and death are not opponents but do, in fact, kiss each other at every moment of our existence.

When we have been able to celebrate life in all these decisive moments where gaining and losing - that is, life and death - touched each other all the time, we will be able to celebrate even our own dying because we have learned from life that those who lose it can find it (Matt. 16:25)

from Creative Ministry by Henri Nouwen

A suggestion for your prayer and meditation:

Consider how life and death have kissed each other in your life.
Is it possible for you to celebrate this experience of gaining and losing?
Hold each of these considerations in mind and offer them to God using this abbreviated prayer written by Henri Nouwen:

Dear Lord, today I thought of the words of Vincent van Gogh: "It is true there is an ebb and flow, but the sea remains the sea". 

You are the sea.

There are days of sadness and days of joy;
there are feelings of guilt and feelings of gratitude;
there are moments of failure and moments of success;
but all of them are embraced by your unwavering love.

O Lord, sea of love and goodness, let me not fear too much the storms and winds of my daily life, and let me know that there is ebb and flow but that the sea remains the sea.  Amen.
Pastor Patty Fox 40 days with 40 Christian mystics

The next few days might have me posting at odd times due to night shifts.

I think one of the most harmful ways we've evolved as a society is by ignoring that we will one day die. Part of Lent is acknowledging our death but also figuring out how we live in the "now", fully embracing this gift we have. Life and death are completely intertwined, I see this clearly in ministry and nursing.