Desert Time–ReflectionTwo

Image: reference.com

Desert Time

Read: Mark 1, 12-15

Jesus Speaks

Right after the baptism I received from John, Spirit drove me out into the desert. I remained there for forty days, during which Satan tried his best to tempt me. I lived among wild beasts, but my Father sent angels to care for me.

When I returned, John had been arrested. I then came to Galilee to proclaim the good news of God. “This is the time of fulfillment. The Kingdom of God is at hand. Change your lives and believe the good news.”

Reflection

Desert times are times of preparation. Think of Israel in the desert on the way to the land my Father promised them, and of my own time when I was alone, reflective—a time in which I prayed, listened to God’s plans for me and had to face up to Satan’s efforts to derail me in my mission.

Beloved, what would happen if, every morning, you set aside some desert time to reflect, pray and listen as I did? If you enter the day with a clear vision of my divine purpose for you, with the intention to call on me throughout the unfolding of the day, wouldn’t you have such a better chance of facing difficulties and temptations? I’m only a word away: “Jesus.” I’m waiting within for you to call on me so that I can help you to be my witness, to help you to reach out to another to show them the love that is my Kingdom.

Be still, and listen to all I have to share with you today. Please.

If you are new to this series of reflections on the Gospel, “As Jesus Would Tell It,” it will be helpful to read the previous posts. Have a blessed, joy-filled week. Please feel free to share your insights in the comments. Thank you.

Beginning My Work–Reflection One

Photo: sjmcdonough via Flickr–labeled for non-commercial reuse

As Jesus Would Tell It–Reflection One

Beginning My Work

Read: Mark, 1, 1-11

Jesus Speaks

As I was about to begin my public ministry, my cousin, John, known as the baptizer, was already preaching a baptism of repentance, urging his listeners to admit their failings, to seek forgiveness, and to change their behaviors.

Just as Isaiah had predicted, John was the one to prepare for my coming, he foretold that I was near and that I would do even greater things than he had. He said that, while he baptized in water, I would baptize in the Spirit.

A bit later, I left my home in Nazareth and went to him where he was baptizing in the Jordan. Along with others, I entered the water and received baptism from him. When I got out of the water, John saw the heavens open up and the Spirit, in the form of a dove, descend upon me. Then a voice came down and my Father spoke: “You are my beloved son. I am so pleased in you.”

Reflection

Beloved, little-by-little, I came to fully grasp my role as my Father revealed it to me. Once I heard about John, I knew the time had arrived to make my presence known, just as I long to make it known to you. I accepted John’s baptism on behalf of you and for all of humankind. You can imagine my joy when I heard my Abba’s wondrous affirmation.

Ponder how much I love you, how I live in you and how pleasing you are to me. Is it hard for you to see me in others, especially when they are troublesome? If you really understand that each one is my child, just as you are, how would you want to treat them?

Now, renew the promises of your own baptism. Ask for my help and forgiveness. I rejoice when you remember to thank me for the many gifts you receive from me each day.

Stay with me for a while. Please.

Note: if you are new to this series, please review the two previous posts in order to reap more from these reflections.

Have a blessed, joy-filled week. Please feel free to share your insights in the comments. Thank you.

As Jesus Would Tell It–II

Photo: Ariel Waldman via Flickr–Labeled for non-commercial reuse.

A Little “How-To” Before We Begin

My paraphrase of the Gospel, putting the text into Jesus’ own words, is, of course, not a canonically approved translation. For this reason, I will cite each passage, chapter and verses, for you to read from your preferred translation, prior to reading my interpretation of Jesus’ telling. To begin, I suggest you read your version slowly and prayerfully, asking the Holy Spirit to open your mind and heart, asking the Holy Trinity to be present with you during your time of prayer.

Next, read the imaginative interpretation as narrated by Jesus. Realize that this comes from my limited perception, though I call on God’s Spirit to guide me in my writing each day before setting pen to paper.

Then, read the brief reflection, also written in the voice of Jesus. Listen to what he has to say to you. Ponder the questions he offers, especially any of them that seem to have meaning for you, or those that cause you to feel some resistance.

Finally, sit in silence for a while. Reflect, contemplate, resolve. Finish your time of prayer with a moment of thanksgiving for the gift of his presence in your life. Perhaps you will want to journal the insights the Lord has given you.

Note: Here is a very brief explanation of the four steps of Lectio Divina,(sacred reading) an ancient prayer form used in monasticism, but one that remains timely in our day and one that I turned to in writing this book of meditative reflections.

• Lectio (Reading): slowly read scripture or other sacred texts, seeking to understand God’s Word.
• Meditatio (Meditation): seek to understand and personalize the Word of God in your reading.
• Oratio (Prayer, Conversation): what he has said to you. Speak with intimacy as you talk to God, respond to him as you would with your most beloved friend. Express the emotions that the reading has sparked in you: desire, joy, repentance, thanksgiving.
• Contemplatio (Contemplation): sit quietly and listen; just be with your Beloved.

In the midst of our active lifestyles, finding time to pray is a challenge. It may require an earlier start to your day. I hope that you can find a minimum of 15 minutes for your prayer time. More is, of course, more useful, but any effort pleases God’s heart.

For me, early morning prayer sets the tone of the day. It is so easy to say “later” and somehow “later” runs away from you. In any case, choosing a set time is one important tool for success. What is most helpful is to set a routine that works for your lifestyle. That, of course, differs for each of us.

Next week I will offer you our first Reflection.

“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us with all the spiritual blessing of heaven in Christ.” Ephesians 1,3

As Jesus Would Tell It

Wikipedia Commons: Gospel in Aramaic Text Labeled for Non-Commercial Reuse

As Jesus Tells It
The Gospel, According to Jesus

I’ve read the Gospels, over and over again, throughout most of my life. Since you are reading these posts, most likely, you have done the same. The words become familiar, yet now and again, something jumps off the page, something new that I’d never noticed before. Those are moments to cherish, gifts of the Holy Spirit, to savor and put into action.

One morning, on my umpteenth trip through Mark, I became aware that the words I read just slipped through my consciousness, mindlessly. I stopped and asked Jesus why I was becoming so inured to his story. He told me, “Let me tell it to you this time.” And so, I read the passage again, changing the narrative into the first person. The story took on new life and a new intimacy for me; I was able to participate more intensely in the mysteries of God’s walk on earth in the person of Jesus, so present to me and telling me his story.

A while after my prayer time, I set off for a walk. That was when the idea for these reflections came to me. What if this could be a prayer form that would help others, would bring Jesus’ presence more vividly into their lives—thus the incarnation of this series of posts that, perhaps, eventually will morph into a book–my original intention.

To write this, I choose small sections of the Gospel, in no particular order, for a daily journey with Jesus allowing him to retell his story in his own words followed by his thoughts on each day’s reading. My wish is that this process will open us to an ever clearer understanding of the beauty of the basis of our Christian faith.

May each of us be blessed as we listen with loving attention to the Lord as he tells us his story.

More next week!

Depouillement–Letting Go

I have neglected this blog for over a year…a year of letting go, multiple challenges with the death of my mother, some remodeling, my husband’s recent surgery and more–I spare you the details.

Through it all, my strength has been my morning prayer time and many times throughout the day when the Lord has gently reminded me that he is walking with me.

I began to write a book of daily meditations on the Gospels , intending to write 365 to publish in hard copy and on Kindle. This project began in June. I have only written twelve. God has been prompting me to move on it and I have decided to offer them here, instead of in book form–hoping that dropping the idea of so many reflections in a reasonable period of time will free me from the paralysis that comes from feeling overwhelmed. Little by little, I will share them on this blog with the desire that they bring whoever reads them closer to the Lord. Just the process of writing them has brought me great joy and new insights into Jesus’ life among us.

Today, I would like to share with you a poem that I posted recently on my poetry blog. It deals metaphorically with the letting go of aging–a period of life that invites me to greater intimacy with God.

Depouillement*
A Haibun

Do falling leaves ache with the pain of letting go? Or do they revel in the freedom of floating and of the taste of earth? Did they boast of glorious colors that they wore in days before releasing their hold on life?

And the trees—do they grasp obsessively to their robes of glory, regret the day that finds them stripped, exposed and naked—vulnerable to cold and rain.

I am October now, buffeted by aging. I hurl my somethingness into the great unknown, one gift at a time. I face the imminence of winter, move beyond the sting of loss into the joy of unknown expectations. I am old but full of hope, in the springtime of new life. Beneath the soil life pulses.

Je suis depouilée
stripped bare like October trees
richness lies hidden

Photo: Victoria Slotto

*The French word depouillement means stripping. The verb depouiller is to strip. The first line of the haiku translates : I am stripped.

Haibun is a Japanese poetry form that combines a short introduction written in prose, followed by a Haiku.

Shame

I’m ashamed. I have been so negligent in posting to this blog and the reality is, my life is a Christian is so much more important to me than poetry or photography–the subject of my other two blogs.

But then, I think about a book I read over 25 years ago by John Bradshaw, a popular self-help guru at the time, Healing the Shame That Binds You, in which the author describes the toxicity of shame because it focuses on self image, the perception of our failure. As Christians, we have the ability to take our guilt to Jesus and accept his forgiveness, his loving compassion.

I suffer from the spiritually deadly disease of perfectionism and I can’t tell you how often I turn in my prayer to the image of the parable of the Prodigal Son and soak in the unconditional love of God for us. I say disease because, like shame, perfectionism focuses on self not love of God and others.

So I offer, once again, a copy of Rembrandt’s painting of the Prodigal Son, and image I like to visualize when I’m turning inward instead of upward.

 

Image: Rembrandt–Detail
The artist represented the abundance of parental love by painting one male hand and one female hand.

Image: Rembrandt’s Prodigal Son
Wikipedia Commons

As for my shame in not posting for a while, I will do what Bradshaw suggests: let go, do what you have to do to change (or to accept the lack of time and inspiration it takes to blog) and move on! Have a blessed week.

 

The Gospel According to John

Zagreb Gospel Book: John
Wikipedia Commons
Labeled for Reuse

The Gospel According to John

Time passed slowly that afternoon.
Blood flowed like lava into my cupped hand.

The man who hung upon a rough-hewn tree
should have reigned over lush gardens of creation.

The night before I’d struggled to remain awake,
but now I stood by the mother until he passed

into the boiler room of hell. We remained there
to receive his body, returned it to the earth,

sealed the tomb with the clunk of a massive boulder.
After the Sabbath, the Phoenix resurfaced from the ash-pit.

Now I write his story, dipping the nib of my pen
in the sanguine ink of eternal mysteries.

Copyright 2012 Victoria Slotto

Enduring Love

Photo: pexels.com
labeled for non-commercial reuse

love that endures
a sestina

you sit beside the hearth and dream
of years long past, of youth
those days so filled with dance, with life
that you do not forget
you walked in worlds of swirling greens
gave birth beneath the sky

you revel ‘neath cerulean skies
and catch a glimpse of dreams
and thus the burgeoning of green
as you reclaim your youth
those signs of spring you won’t forget
for you still pulse with life

in aging, still you sing of life
your eyes reflect the sky
you smile at love you can’t forget
those memories of dreams
fulfilled when you were full of youth
midst flowers, in fields green

you stood by him in days of green
he held you throughout life
you gave each other joys of youth
‘neath bound’ry of the sky
he was the answer to your dreams
you never will forget

a love that’s easy to forget
cherishes flowers, the green
of grass and sun, the blissful dream—
can these endure through life
when clouds obscure the blue, blue sky
and aging foils youth

how easy to enjoy one’s youth
and facile to forget
the promise made ‘neath azur skies
delight-filled days of green
yet to endure the stuff of life
we need more than to dream

beyond your youth, those days of green
(lest you forget) the greatest life
soars to the skies, surpasses dreams

Throughout the month in which we celebrate Valentine’s Day, much is written about love–most of which is about younger people, with an erotic twist quite often. Today, I want to write about love that has lasted throughout the ups and downs of a relationship, of the years. Love that the Greeks refer to as agape, love that is about the choices we make for the well-being of another. I have been privileged to witness that sort of love in my life as a nurse, when a caregiver puts aside oneself for the sake of his ill or cognitively impaired loved one.

I wrote this in response to a challenge from a fellow poet, Bjorn, to write a sestina in which the end words of each line follow a specific pattern throughout six stanzas, each of six lines, ending with a tercet that uses the six words in internal rhyme, also following a pattern. If you want to learn more about this complex form, go here. 

I will post this for OLN on Thursday and on my Christian Blog: Be Still and Know That I Am God. I am also linking this to Sanaa Rizvi’s Prompt Nights.

 

Advent is My Favorite Time of Year

Photo: Labeled for non-commercial reuse

Christmas Advent is My Favorite Time of Year

(Flash Fiction)

Amy waited, none-too-patiently, in the interminable line at Walmart, drumming slender fingers on the handle of her cart, wondering what the hold-up was and questioning the wisdom of attempting to shop the day after Thanksgiving. Especially since she abhorred the commercialism of the season, not to mention, she wasn’t at all fond of crowds.

She ignored the queue forming behind her, and a glance to the left and right informed her that it was the same throughout the store. Impatient customers sighed, complained and even argued about who got to the checkout counter first.

The teenager manning the cash registered wore a Santa Cap and, incongruously, a scowl. Frustration oozed throughout the crowd. The cart behind her was loaded, Amy could tell without turning around, and she thanked her lucky stars that she had gotten there before whoever wielded that wobbly thing on non-compliant wheels.

A small voice, almost a whisper, spoke to her. Turning she saw a wizened little lady who had to be in her 80’s, if not her 90’s.

“I’m sorry,” Amy said. “Were you speaking to me?”

“Yes,” the elderly patron said. “I just said that December isn’t like it used to be. In my day, Advent came before Christmas, we gave up candy like we did for Lent. We prayed together, waited for the Wonder that was to come. Gifts just weren’t that important.”

Amy nodded, waited for the woman to go on.

A younger voice, a man, from an adjacent line joined in. “That’s how my mother made us prepare for Christmas, too. It was about what was to come. I don’t know, but for me, that made the anticipation all the more exciting, and Christmas day, we couldn’t think of even looking under the tree before Church.”

The conversation continued and Amy mostly listened, adding only a few “I see’s.” The overhead speakers blasted songs totally devoid of anything suggestive of the spiritual meaning of the holiday, more often chanting masked messages of “gimme, gimme, gimme.”

Amy became strangely aware of the emptiness of her own life. These two people had an entirely different perspective from her own. She told herself she would try to learn more about what made Advent, waiting so special to some people. After all, she was alone in this city. Her boyfriend had dumped her a month ago and it wasn’t that easy for her to make new friends.

She surprised herself when she reached the check stand. Those last few minutes in line had slipped by so quickly. When she was next-in-line she did something a little crazy—she stepped behind the lady with the cart loaded with children’s toys. She could see her wise teacher was exhausted and a little wobbly after standing for so long.

When her new friend thanked her, she said, “I can see you wondering why I have all these toys. Oh, they’re not for my grandchildren—I have none. They’re for the collection the Marines are taking up for homeless children. You see, that’s how I celebrate the birth of Jesus now that I’m alone. His coming was all about love and…well, I’m sure you understand.”

Amy realized that she wanted to do just that.

Photo: V. Slotto, 2014

Playful God

I assure you, unless you change and become like little children, you will not enter the kingdom of God.Whoever makes himself lowly, becoming like this child, is of greatest importance in that heavenly reign. Mt. 18, 3-4 (NAB)

Photo: Crayola Crayons

I remember a couple of lines from a poem I read a long time ago from a book published in the late 1800’s or early 1900’s. It was written and published by a teacher from St. Mary’s of the Lake, a sister college back then of Notre Dame University–the college my grandmother attended. I tried to recall the exact phrasing, but the book is not available to me right now, so I will just give you the gist, in my own words:

I have a very little song to sing,
I have a very little game to play,
I play alone, except for One who is with me always.
And they are beautiful.

Whenever I read or think of this poem, I think of the ever-loving presence of our God and the fact that God cares about the littlest things in our life.

Yesterday, I had a delightful morning with a dear friend, someone with whom I share faith-talk. We went Bible shopping, as my sight is not so good anymore (one of the non-perks of getting older). I would like one that is large print. Most of the ones we saw were enormous study Bibles. None was in the translation I am used to. But we saw a shelf of coloring books for kids and started talking about the meditative fad that’s popular now of adult coloring books. Kerry told me they have them at Costco, just across the street from where we were. So we went, and both found one…but no crayons.

Now, in my early years, my mom and I lived with my grandparents on a very meager widow’s pension. Mom was not able to give me most of what I asked for, so I still carry the pure delight of the times she would take me to get a new coloring book (or any kind of book, for that matter) and a box of crayons…eight of them, if I recall correctly. Even now, when I pass crayons in the grocery store, I can taste that joy, the scent and colors of a new box of crayons…and so in the afternoon, I took off to Wal-Mart and bought one with 120 colors! I colored two pictures last night.

Jesus asks us to become like little children and I believe that is an invitation to trust and unquestioned belief in His Word. But I also suspect that God delights in us when we find joy in the simple things of life (and in the beauty of His creation.) Perhaps you would enjoy it too–or maybe you will rediscover one of those little things that gave you happiness as a child.

Image: Pinterest