THE DESCENDING WAY

I recently read a short little book by Henri Nouwen, titled "Letters to Marc about Jesus".  Nouwen wrote seven letters to his nephew Marc, with the aim of providing some spiritual direction to this young man who was making his way in a world that is increasingly lacking in spiritual opportunities. 

The letters are composed at a time when Nouwen himself was discerning his own spiritual call; he was working with Canadian Jean Vanier in one of the L'Arche communities in France.  Eventually, he came to Canada to work at L'Arche Daybreak in the Richmond Hill area.  But, enough of the book review and history.

One piece of spiritual advice that Nouwen offers his nephew is to follow Jesus' path on the descending Way.  He goes to some length to explain what he means by "descending", focusing on the theme of Jesus' demonstrated relationship to others: a relationship of humility, servant-hood, shared suffering, shared joy.  It was a new way of being in community, a community built on compassion.

Nouwen expresses his understanding that Jesus demonstrated and taught his disciples that God's love would take them downwards into grief, pain and sorrow, a descending journey where they would encounter those who were hurt, damaged and crushed.  It was in this place, with these people, that God's love would be found, and where God's work would be done.  Those that followed Jesus would do that work, God being their helper.  In that work, the ascending Way would be shown.

Nouwen's letter about the descending Way frames a challenge that I'm not certain I can handle.  Frankly, I don't know if my faith is strong enough to do what he suggests; I don't think I have the heart for it and I'm fearful of failure.  Nouwen declares that it is not enough to stand on the high ground I've chosen and extend a hand to those below.  It's not enough to offer money when it's my hand, my heart and my soul that's needed. 

Nouwen says that the descending Way cannot be travelled by proxy and God's love cannot be experienced at arm's length. Nouwen recognized in himself, the brokenness, the damaged and hurtful parts that were keeping him from God's love; he was convinced that it was the descending Way of love that would allow him to return to living fully.

I have heard this message, or a similar message, from other spiritual leaders.  If you want to find Jesus, go to where the hurt is.  Intuitively, I get the rightness of it; but, it's a major step away from the comfortable place that I have chosen.  I have a sense that in taking the descending Way, I will leave one community behind while encountering another.  One thing that I'm afraid of is that I cannot have a foot in both communities - that I will have to make a choice.  The other fear that lurks in my mind is what I will find out about myself on that journey...at the very least, an imperfect version of myself.  Who will accompany me on the Way, and who will I meet when I get there?

I suppose the other challenge (it's actually another fear) is that I do not know...I'm not allowed to know, how the journey will unfold.  I'm not even certain if it will end.  Can I take it slowly, one step at a time ?  Or, will it be like sitting down on a playground slide and letting go - no stopping until you get to the bottom?  For someone who prides himself on map reading and navigation skills, this would truly be a journey into the unknown.  All it takes is one, deliberate first step.

Pat<><

CAN I SEE THROUGH NEW EYES?

There are days when I despair.  I haven't got a lot to despair about, but somehow, that feeling creeps in.  There's nothing like despair to change how you see the world, to tint your outlook with the taint of hopelessness.  It's like someone whispering in your ear, "quit fighting it, let someone else worry about it, give it up." 

When this is happening, it is like seeing the world through "old" eyes.  I mean old eyes not in the sense of learning from the past, honouring traditions and that sort of thing.  The old eyes I'm talking about are those that see everything through filters of disappointment, anger, hurt, suspicion...even hatred.  These are eyes that have given up, given in.

A life fully lived demands that I see through "new" eyes.  Through these eyes, I will have a deeper, truer understanding of myself and other human beings.  These eyes will accept imperfections as part of the human condition.  The lenses of these eyes are hope, patience, joy and love.  These are welcoming eyes, open to possibility, embracing all that life brings.

By seeing through new eyes, I make a commitment to get rid of all the things that prevent me from living fully.  In Colossians 3, those restrictive, inhibiting traits are listed: anger, wrath, malice, slander, abusive language, lying to one another.  The list is long.

Seeing through new eyes, I strip off those old ways and replace them with a renewed outlook that is based on hope and love.  I want this outlook to turn my life around to a new direction.  I know there will be times when I will slip back into the manner of seeing with old eyes, but God being my helper, those relapses will be fewer and shorter in number.  New eyes will be the norm.

We all have negative days, but that doesn't mean we are pessimistic.

We all do stupid things, but that doesn't mean we are stupid.

It is important to be able to distinguish between what happens to us and who we are,

and, to look forward with hope for new and better days ahead.  Lindsey Stirling.

 Pat<><

NEW PEOPLE OF GOD

For some unexplained reason, over the past month, I have been confronted by writing and philosophy related to collapse and catastrophe.  It seems that every direction I turn, I stumble over responses to the question of what to do when things fall apart.  The following passage is taken from The Message, the Bible in Contemporary Language.  I came across it while researching some lectionary resources for the Lenten reflection project that I have been working on with my brother Thom and photographer Bob McGauley.

This is commentary preceding the book of Ezekiel - a major prophet during the time of Israel's invasion by the Babylonians.  It is in that ancient context that Ezekiel wrote his story.  If you have a good teaching bible, it's worth reading all of Ezekiel.

Catastrophe strikes and a person's world falls apart.  People respond variously, but two of the more common responses are denial and despair.  Denial refuses to acknowledge the catastrophe.  It shuts its eyes tight or looks the other way; it manages to act as if everything is going to be just fine; it takes refuge in distractions and lies and fantasies.  Despair is paralyzed by the catastrophe and accepts it as the end of the world.  It is unwilling to do anything, concluding that life for all intents and purposes is over.  Despair listlessly closes it eyes to a world in which all the colour has drained out, a world gone dead.

Among biblical writers, Ezekiel is our master at dealing with catastrophe.  When catastrophe struck in 6th century BC...denial was the primary response.  Ezekiel found himself living among a people of God who stubbornly refused to see what was right before their eyes (the denial crowd).  There were also others who refused to see anything BUT what was right before their eyes (the despair crowd).

The denial people refused to see that the catastrophe was in fact catastrophic.  How could it be?  God couldn't let anything bad happen to them.  The despair people, overwhelmed by the devastation, refused to see that life was worth living.  How could it be?  They had lost everything.

Ezekiel showed the denial crowd that, yes, there was catastrophe, but God was at work in the catastrophe, that they would be able to embrace God in the worst of times...especially in the worst of times.  He showed the despair people that God was and would be at work in the wreckage and rubble, to create a new people of God. 

Whether through denial or despair, the people of God nearly lost their identity as a people of God.  But they didn't.  God's people emerged from that catastrophic century robust and whole.

Pat<><