Psalms – St. Andrew's Episcopal Church

My cup runneth over.

” ….thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.” (Psalm 23)

There seems to be a common thread being woven through my pilgrimage: surrender. The word I would add today to that core reacquaintance with “the place of my resurrection” would be abundance. My cup runneth over today. Joy and light and love and hope spilled out from my soul, which had been filled to the brim and then some in the beauty and truth of God and humankind in the lost city of Petra. Words and photos cannot do justice to this magnificent expression and revelation of God.

Yesterday, I took 50 photos of dirt, today I took 50 photos of rocks!

Because with each turn inward into the city, another site was revealed that was heart-stopping and soul-lifting. What Mother Betsy and I noticed, as we were coming toward the exit of the city was that the journey in and out was actually a pilgrimage, that the path so clearly could represent one’s spiritual journey. As we traveled into the center, the landscape changed. At first we were “wowed” with the smooth, slightly shaded rocks, but only to find, as we went deeper, the landscape became more complex, more intricate, and revealed a greater beauty.

As we went deep into the city and climbed to the top of the cavern, and had our “mountain top experience”, we knew that the sights on the way out, which presumably we had seen on the way in, would look different, more alive, brighter, and more inviting. And they did. There were times we went through the dark and narrow corridors, only to find a crevice of light beckoning us forward. So it seems to be when we are in the embrace of God. The truth is that we can stop our spiritual journey anywhere along the way: just peering in at the beauty, stopping at the first moment we experience a “wow” with God, refusing to enter the dark narrow corridor, afraid there is not light beyond, or we can embrace every turn, knowing God is beckoning us further, and trust that “surely goodness and mercy shall follow us all the days of our life; and we will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” Today taught me to never fear to give it all to God, for what is received from the place of surrender is the light of the world.

Into the desert we went

This morning we were in the desert (Wadi Qelt) by 6 a.m. to pray and celebrate the Eucharist together. We began our time by praying Psalm 23 together, as we looked out over the desert which appeared to go on endlessly. The beauty was stunning, the view expansive, and the presence of God seemed tangible. We ended the Psalm with the words, “and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever”, and my heart and soul replied “AMEN”. It is true. I know that I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever, for that is the where my heart solidly resides. It was a clear and moving moment in my spiritual pilgrimage ~ I guess that surrender part of the return to the place of our pilgrimage continues to support my journey, ever deeper into the mystery of God.

Our pilgrimage to the top (Reminded me of Psalm 122: I lift up my eyes to the hills, from where will my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.”

Amazing mountains and hills as the location of our Eucharist.

Fr. Richard Wall celebrating Eucharist with us.

One of the most profound parts of the Eucharist, celebrated, in the beauty and silence of the world around us, was the people who joined us, freely and without question. The Bedouin family who live in the caves nearby, came and joined us, not to receive Holy Eucharist for they are Muslim, but to be a part of our group. Yes, they came to lay out their wares to be sold, beautiful bracelets and scarfs, ready for us to buy, but it seemed also to be a part of who we were. The little children carried on, as any child in church, running to and fro, yet also knowing something special was happening among us. It was a gift to walk down the hill with the little girl, noticing that our clothing matched and to ask her help on which bracelet I should buy from her. It was a gift for our communion and community to be expanded by their presence.

I’ve been thinking a lot about community today, about how the people in this area seem to have a different sense of it than we do. I have never seen anyone who knows so many people as our guide. Of course, that’s his professional network, but it’s also his way of life. Everywhere we go, we connect with his “cousins”, people he knows and trust, people he can count on, people he can find similarity with. I have some more thinking to do on this, but it explains a lot about how Jesus was always running into the right people, or asking the right people to provide things for him (donkey to ride into Jerusalem), or feeling comfortable sending his disciples out carrying nothing, for he knew the people along the way who would take care of them. It makes me wonder about how this sense of community supports the idea and practice of the missional church, when the church and relationships extend beyond the parish, out into the community. More to ponder here.

My other real learning today is that I will NEVER EVER AGAIN call the Israelites, who grumbled in the desert, “stiff-necked people”. Oh my goodness, to imagine they walked this desert, from Egypt to the Promised Land — it’s remarkable! I think I would have been cranky within 10 minutes of leaving the Red Sea! This land is hard and inhospitable. The distances are long. The trek difficult. They would have been unprepared for the journey, since they were not bedouins. The left hastily with unleavened bread, but also wouldn’t have had tents, animals, and a familiarity with the landscape. I really understand their discomfort and wondering what in the world Moses was doing leading them into this fragile existence. We did get to be at Mt. Nebo today, where Moses saw the Promised Land and it was stunning and beautiful. As Betsy and I noticed, we took a lot of pictures of dirt today, but the view was so amazing, we kept wanting to capture something within it that was calling us.

Beautiful cross at the top of the mountain, designed to incorporate the bronze serpent we hear in the story of Moses and God’s people.

Tomorrow, we head to Petra to the “lost city”, and I can’t wait!

Many blessings of peace to you, Barbara+

Disorientation … a path toward Reinorientation

I could easily describe my experience of the past 48 hours in one phrase: “twilight zone”. It was a disconcerting and frustrating time of waiting, delays, lines, and ultimately confusion and frustration. On Wednesday evening, our plane from Newark to Israel was delayed and ultimately cancelled.

From the very beginning, our pilgrimage has taken unexpected turns. Already I have found myself surrounded by people speaking a foreign language to each other and to me, with an expectation of my comprehension. I have been beyond exhaustion. Members of our group spent a night sleeping on the floor. Another has already lost something important. It seemed like an eternity since I handed over all my possessions (my suitcase) to strangers, with now limited expectation I’d ever see it again. We have made some decisions we may not have made in the past (such as hopping onto an airport hotel shuttle at 3 a.m. to go to a hotel with which we hadn’t yet obtained a reservation). We have heard others grumble loudly, and we have grumbled ourselves. We have also laughed and nearly been brought to tear by that laughter, and also by the absurdity of our thwarted plane trip to Tel Aviv. We have prayed. We have tended to each other, and at least most of the time, could muster at least a speck of generosity of spirit toward ourselves and others.

Disorientation is the pathway toward reorientation. I preached about this a lot this summer when we explored the psalms, since it’s Walter Brueggeman’s theory of orientation-disorientation-reorientation. I realized on the 10+ hour trip to Israel today (which finally happened) that we had just experienced our period of disorientation, so that our reorientation could emerge on the rest of our pilgrimage.

2016-10-28-09-03-55 — Outside Tel Aviv Airport

Do I wish there had been no delays and we had been walking the streets of the Old City Jerusalem, rather than the hallways of the Newark airport yesterday? Absolutely!

But I bet it is important that we have lived in the “twilight zone” a bit. I bet it matters that we are being disorientated, so we can be resurrected into something new during this trip. Disorientation must always proceed reorientation, it’s just so hard when we want everything to go the way we expect and want. And yet, so often leaning into that unexpectedness is exactly what brings us into a new place with God.

We did finally land in Tel Aviv this afternoon and our feet have touched Holy Land. Thanks be to God.

2016-10-28-10-01-24 — St. George’s Guest House

2016-10-28-10-01-27 — This is our home in Jerusalem.

Summer Series: Those “nasty” psalms

We gathered this evening, in the midst of the heat and humidity, to find a place of fellowship and fun over dinner outside, as the rain fell around us. There’s a place of peace and ease that’s been developing among us, that’s really lovely ~ AND there’s always the opening for others to join us. Every week it’s always a different group gathered — and always the right one. So, come on out and give it a try, if you’ve been curious or feeling the call to explore the psalms!

This week we explored those nasty psalms that call upon God to wreck havoc and vengeance upon our enemies. We read a portion of Psalm 109 and the honest reaction afterwards was “Good Grief!”. Mother Barbara shared with us some information about this genre of psalm (part of lament psalms) and talked about the different possible reactions (ignore them, be horrified by them, enter into them). One of our parishioners shared her real life experience in feeling these psalms which was powerful and helpful. Mother Barbara then spoke about what God’s retribution actually looks like (not the revenge we may imagine, but a tearing down of barriers that keep us from being honest before each other and God and allowing God’s love to lead us into a new place of healing).

The evening ended with the peace and calm of Compline. Thanks be to God for the grace which was present this evening.