A Day in the Life of Jesus
I’m currently reading Into the Mess & Other Jesus Stories by Debie Thomas, a remarkable writer who currently serves as the Minister of Lifelong Formation at St. Mark’s Episcopal Church in Palo Alto, California. Her book is so rich, I’m not devouring it. Rather, I’m sipping it. Today I’m sharing this sip with you from her chapter “A Day in the Life.”
The writer Annie Dillard so wisely says, “How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our life.” What was a “typical day” like in Jesus’ life? Thomas focuses on Mk. 1:29-39, the day Jesus cures Peter’s mother-in-law, a day very early in his public ministry. What does Jesus do on this particular day? Thomas suggests several things. Here are four of them.
Jesus makes home sacred. In Mark’s account, Jesus leaves the synagogue after Sabbath worship and enters the home of Simon and Andrew. He seems to spend the whole day there. In doing so, Jesus blesses “a humdrum location with his presence” and honors it as a “sacred site where the work of God goes forward.” Some of Jesus’ miracles and most significant encounters happen in homes. Says Thomas, “Holy things happen in places we call home. God’s power and presence are not limited to official sacred spaces.”
He heals.We might not have the power to work healing miracles in the same way as Jesus did, but can we, like Jesus, offer a compassionate presence as we go about our ordinary days? Jesus spent time with people. He didn’t consider hanging out with others a waste of his valuable time. He ate with people, listened to their stories, shared his own stories, encouraged them, laughed and cried with them, and offered a gentle touch. “In short,” says Thomas, “Jesus offers the sick and broken his steady presence, his warm embrace, and the good news of a kingdom that is coming.”
He prays. The next morning, Mark tells us, Jesus slips away in the dark to a deserted place to pray. This is a regular practice for Jesus. Says Thomas, “We see (Jesus’) need to withdraw, his hunger for solitary prayer, his inclination to rest, recuperate, reorient his heart.” He understands “the necessary and ongoing tension between compassion and self-protection in a world bursting with need.”
He moves on. This story ends with Jesus leaving Simon’s house so he can bring the good news to other towns, synagogues, and homes. This decision to move on is probably not an easy one for Jesus. There are “compelling reasons” to stay. But after his early morning prayer, Jesus “recognizes and trusts the voice that says, ‘It’s time to go.'” We can learn from Jesus that “sowing a seed and walking away is sometimes appropriate.” That there are times to set boundaries, to relinquish prestige and power, to hand things over to someone else, to withdraw, to retire.
Thomas concludes this chapter with these words: “How we spend our days is how we spend our lives. Let’s spend ours well.” I would add: And let us look to Jesus to see how we can spend our days well!
For reflection:
What are some of the sacred things that have happened in your home?
What does a “healing presence” look like?
Who has been a healing presence for you? How have they done this?
How do you balance the tension between your compassion for those in need and your need to reorient your heart through prayer on a regular basis?
Have you ever heard a voice say to you, “It’s time to move on”? What was that experience like for you?
PS: If you’re looking for a prayer for the U.S. national and local elections, I wrote one at the end of last week’s blog on grief…
Our vdeo today is “Healer” by Casting Crowns.” It’s a reminder of how much we need the person of Jesus in our lives…
I invite you to write a comment below. Thank you!
What I Know about Grief
In the liturgical year, November is the month we remember our deceased loved ones in a special way. November 1 commemorates All Saints, while on November 2 we remember all the faithful departed–not just the canonized saints. It is fitting, then, that we reflect on the experience known as grief, that is, the emotional pain or suffering that can accompany a significant loss in our lives. Here are a few things I know about grief.
Grief cannot be measured. But we are forever trying to measure it. A friend was burying her 94-year-old father who had lived with her the last three years of his life. At the wake I overheard someone say to her, “But, Ruthie, you had him so long!”–implying that Ruth’s grief should be lessoned by that fact. Ruth responded with, “I know, I know. But that’s what makes this even harder. Every day he gave me another reason to love him!”
Who can compare one person’s grief to another’s? And yet we say things like, “But my husband was so young,” as if losing an elderly husband is easier. Or “But he was my only son,” as if losing one son when you have two is less painful. And we try to convince ourselves that our grief really isn’t that bad after all. We say foolish things like, “I know I’ll get over this.” Or “At least she’s not suffering anymore.” These are all attempts to reduce our pain, to diminish our suffering. But they seldom work for very long.
Grief is grief. It is not despair. It is not hunger. It is not paralysis. It is not fear. Yet it can sometimes feel like all of these things. But grief is unlike anything else in the world.
People grieve differently. Some weep profusely. Others barely. Some want to be alone. Others want to be with other people. Some become very angry. Others become calm and mild. Some throw themselves into their work. Others sit and stare out windows. Some hate God. Others become more religious.
Grief finds us–sometimes when we least expect it. A few months after my dad died, I was using the drive-thru in the bank one day. While I waited for my transaction to be finished, I listened to the classical station. That’s when I heard the opening strains of “Poet and Peasant” by Franze von Suppe. Suddenly my eyes filled with tears–and I didn’t know why. It took me several moments to realize what was happening. “Poet and Peasant” was one of my dad’s favorite classical pieces. He played it often as I was growing up. My heart was grieving his loss even before my brain figured out what was going on. We can be flooded with grief anytime, anywhere, anyhow. The book, A Grief Observed, is a poignant journal C. S. Lewis wrote after his wife’s death. In it he says that grief “is not local,” that is, it is not restricted to one place. He says of his wife’s death: “Her absence is like the sky, spread over everything.”
Grief changes us. After the death of her father, Ann Lamott wrote: “I don’t think you really ever get over the death of the few people who matter most to you. It’s too big. Oh, you do, the badly broken leg does heal, and you walk again, but always with a limp.”
Grief is the underside of love. Perhaps there’s no greater proof of love’s greatness than the pain we feel when the object of our love is taken from us. I appreciate what Winnie the Pooh said about grief and love: “How lucky I am to have something (or someone) that makes saying goodbye so hard.”
For reflection:
Was there anything in this reflection that resonated with your experience of grief?
Is there anything else you know about grief that you’d like to share with us?
Was there anything or anyone who helped you during your time of grief? How?
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PS: Let us continue to pray for God’s blessings on our upcoming national and local elections. This prayer is loosely adapted from a prayer posted by our congregation’s “Justice, Peace, and Integrity of Creation” office:
Wise and loving God, you desire only good for all peoples. May our upcoming elections help to promote the common good of all of us. Give us a renewed appreciation of truth, honesty, and kindness. Free us from fear, hatred, and violence. Help us to choose leaders who see a political office as a form of service to others. May those who seek public office be willing to work with one another to promote human dignity, to correct injustice, to reach out to those who are poor and in need, to care for your beautiful creation, and to work unceasingly for lasting world peace. Good and merciful God, may we never take our freedom to vote for granted. Guide our politics as you guide our lives with your wisdom and love. Amen.
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Our video is “Eye Has not Seen” by Marty Haugen. If earth is this beautiful, and love is this strong, then we can barely imagine what heaven must be like…
I invite you to share a comment below!
What Good Is It Anyway?
One of the disciples, Andrew, the brother of Simon Peter, said to Jesus, “There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish; but what good are these for so many?”
“What good are these?” Andrew asks. What good are five barley loaves and two fish–when there are so many hungry people to feed? And so I ask:
What good is it to give food to the hungry who come to our food pantry, when they only keep coming back again and again?
What good is it to give shelter to the homeless, when many of them don’t seem to want it? When most of them have far greater needs than a place to sleep?
What good is it to provide an apartment for this single mother with two kids, when she also needs food, furniture, clothing, transportation, counseling, a GED, job training, then a job, and day care?
What good is it to try to be honest and to care about those in need, when others (even some of our heroes and idols) are living lives of luxury with seemingly little concern for the common good?
What good is it for me to vote when my vote counts only for one anyway?
What good is it for me to do my daily responsibilities and simple acts of love when the world’s needs are so far beyond my measly giving?
What good is it trying to save our planet, when some say the environmental crisis is all a big hoax anyway? When the few things I can do–recylce paper, plastic, glass, and cans–don’t make much of a difference? And when all our efforts may be too late anyway?
What good is prayer, when it doesn’t seem to change a thing? When I feel I keep knocking on God’s door and nobody’s home? When I feel I don’t even know how to pray?
What good is it trying to be a person of hope when, I see, in the news, so many reasons to lose all hope?
But…
But…
But then I remember how this Gospel story ends.
I remember how Jesus took the little that was offered him… the five barley loaves and two fish… and blessing them… and distributing them… they became enough to feed the crowd of thousands. And (here’s the kicker!) there were even leftovers! Twelve baskets full! How crazy is that?
And so I keep praying:
Jesus, take the few resources I have… my little gifts and talents…. my faithfulness to my daily responsibilities… my consistent small acts of attention, kindness, help, and love… my feeble but faithful attempts at prayer… and the little ember of hope that still flickers in my heart… I place all of these things into your hands… In fact, I place my whole self into your hands… and I ask for your continual guidance and direction to lead me to wherever you are calling me to go… Please use me and my gifts, together with the gifts of all your other disciples and people of good will… to help serve our brothers and sisters who, like us, are hungering for your mercy, peace, and love. Amen.
For reflection:
Did any of the words or phrases resonate with something in your own heart? If so, which one(s)?
What helps you to persevere in your efforts to live a good and loving life?
What helps you to hang on to hope?
Today’s song is “Fishes and Loaves” by Josiah Queen… a reminder that much of our life involves letting go of our need to be in control…
I welcome your responses below–to the reflection, pictures, song, whatever…
“Give This Matter the Attention It Deserves”
I’ve heard that when Rome sends a letter to the Bishops of the world, the letter often concludes with “Give this matter the attention it deserves.” Rome is assuming, I imagine, that all of its matters are deserving of serious and immediate attention. And I’m sure there are many bishops who will put that letter on top of their pile marked “things to do.” But I suspect, on more than one occasion, there’s a bishop somewhere who judges otherwise, and he slips that letter underneath the stack of the other urgent things he is currently devoting his attention to.
The directive “Give this thing the attention it deserves” can be something of a watchword for us. We can use that directive to make decisions regarding the allotment of our time and energy. Let’s say we’re really worried about something and we find ourselves thinking about it almost constantly. Worry can be a form of “attention-squandering.” Eventually, we might ask ourselves questions like: Is there something I can actually do about this situation? If so, then do it. (Someone has wisely said, “Worry can be a substitute for action.”) If I can’t do anything about the situation, then why am I wasting my valuable attention worrying about it? Instead, I can simply say a little prayer (again and again perhaps!) “Loving God, I entrust all my worries to you.” And then we can give our attention to things and people who need it and deserve it.
Or sometimes we may find ourselves devoting too much attention to something which, in the vast scope of things, doesn’t deserve that much attention. Periodically we can assess how much time and energy we are giving to things such as these: trying to have an immaculate house, checking the news every few minutes, fussing with our clothes, taking care of all the stuff we’ve amassed over the years, frequently playing games on our phone, endlessly scanning the sales online. On the other hand, there may be things or people who merit more attention than we are giving them. These activities can deserve our attention: volunteering for a worthy cause, carving out time for prayer every day, doing yard work that we enjoy with our spouse, playing with a grandchild, visiting a friend in rehab, watching a good movie or a PBS documentary, looking in on an elderly neighbor, and educating ourselves on a current social issue.
Our attention is one of the greatest gifts God has given us. And deciding how we allot this precious gift is one of the most important decisions we make in life. A grace to pray for is this: Gracious God, help me to give things and people the attention they deserve today. Amen.
For reflection:
What kind of things (or people) are you most tempted to give too much of your time and attention to?
What kind of things (or people) are you tempted to give too little of your time and attention to?
Looking back over your life are there things you regret giving so much attention to?
Looking ahead, what kind of things do you want to pay more attention to in your life?
Is the little girl in the picture above wasting her time and attention? Explain your answer.
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PS: Thank you for your prayers for the autumn retreat this past weekend at Villa Maria Spiritual Center in Villa Maria, PA. Over forty men and woman gathered to reflect on Autumn’s gifts of “Beauty, Letting Go, and Peace.” I enjoyed connecting with a few “old” friends as well as meeting many new beautiful people from places including Ohio, Pennsylvania, Maine, Connecticut, Texas, New York, Missouri, Michigan–and others. Special thanks to Sr. Jane Marie and her staff for all they did to make the retreat run so smoothly!
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Maybe it all boils down to this: that we may have the eyes of Jesus as we walk through our days–to see the way Jesus sees things, situations, and people. Here is Brandon Heath’s beautiful song, “Give Me Your Eyes.”
I welcome your comments below!
The Gift of the Beauty of Fall
It’s fall where I live in northeast Ohio. Fall is one of my favorite seasons. I associate it with the harvesting of fruits and vegetables, with warm days and crisp, chilly nights, and with the trees donning their array of fall colors: bright yellow, rich orange, deep red, and subdued russet.
Yet, fall can be a melancholy season for some of us. We might even dread the shorter days, the colder temperatues, the bare trees, and the coming of snow. At the same time we might welcome the slower paced life that comes when we don our flannel shirts and cozy up at home with bowls of hearty chili and homemade soups.
Two weeks ago, I gave you a treat for your ears: “Clair de Lune.” Today, I’m giving you a treat for your eyes: a 10 minute video that showcases the stunning fall foliage in New England. I like this video because it shows us fall from afar–skimming the tree tops–and close-up, focusing at times on a single leaf. The visuals are accompanied by natural sounds–wind, water, and walking through the fallen leaves. And there’s music and silence for your ears! At the end of the video is a short ad by the filmmaker, Ally Marie Brown. You can skip the ad, of course!
For now, sit back, relax and enjoy the artistry of our Incredible Creator God!
For reflection:
How do you view the season of fall? Is it melancholic? happy? both?
Do you have a favorite activity you associate with fall?
Do you have a favorite childhood memory of fall?
Does fall make any impact upon your spiritual life? your prayer? your sense of who God is? If so, how?
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Announcing: My New Book!
I have a new book coming out soon!
It’s called Sunflower Seeds of Hope
and it’s a collection of 40 reflections from my blog over the years.
It includes reflection questions, suggested videos,
and even some of the comments from readers like YOU!
It’s due to come out in December!
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PS: I ask your prayers for a weekend retreat I’ll be leading at Villa Maria Spirituality Center in Villa Maria, PA. The theme of the retreat is “Celebrating Three Gifts of Autum: Beauty, Letting Go, and Peace.” We have about 45 participants signed up. I appreciate the support of your prayers! Thank you!
+ I hope you will share some of your thoughts on autumn below!
