Musings from a Monastic Monday

This past Monday, November 10th, I had what I have called a Monastic Monday. I wasn’t planning for it because I had too much to do. There are times when these days come upon me and all I can make myself do it be silent and pray. Somehow on this past Monday, I managed to complete what I needed to during the early morning hours–some reading and writing and planning. However, by late morning the Monastic moments had come upon me and I spent the afternoon in silence and prayer and pondering.

So much of what I think about and ponder these days, draws me into a quiet space, encouraging me to rest and reflect. I learn so much about myself during those times. I learn about how I process all that is going on around me. I learn that what is going on around me settles into my soul and shades everything that is there. I learn that as much as I want to believe that I am a loving and compassionate person, there are moments in my life and spaces in my soul where I feel anger and frustration and less than charitable, not to those who are on the margins or who may need something that I can do to encourage them, but to those who are causing harm and pain. And the most frustrating point about this is that I settle into a feeling of letting God down and letting so many others down and letting myself down. At this point in my life and in my ministry I would have thought that I could have gotten beyond that, but I am aware of these emotions and thoughts more and more.

Perhaps it is because I am more and more aware of the presence of Emmanuel in my life. I am more aware than ever of the breath of the Spirit blowing all around me. I am more aware than ever of the need for and the presence of the Light of the World around me and with me, calling me beyond myself into a world where there is more hurt and suffering than joy–at least that is what it looks like at times. That Light of the World points me into places where I might not want to go, but when I do go, I am astounded at the presence of love and compassion and beauty and hope and promise. Maybe that is what I strive for the most–to answer the call to walk with the Light of the World into dark places that do not appear to be places of safety or beauty and find the souls that are there bringing love and compassion and beauty and hope and promise.

In my quietest moments, often with coffee in the early morning light, that is what I want my life to stand for and bring to others. I think these days, as I live the days of my 65th year, I am pondering whether I have offered those gifts to the world. If I have, then I am glad, but honestly I don’t see it and maybe I am not supposed to. If I have not, then I long for forgiveness and mercy and the opportunities to offer these gifts in the time I have left.

So my questions arise:

How am I authentically God’s?
How do my words, my actions, my seeking after beauty reflect that I am God’s–Emmanuel–God with us?
Is my soul longing for beauty?
Has my soul forgotten how to hope?
Have my words faded on the wind, my song silenced in the painful, suffering world?
What if we all give up? What then?
Am I just needing time and space to reconnect with the Holy One who has never left me, never abandoned me?

These days I am itching to play with color more and more. My study at home is becoming less of a study and more of a studio. When I am silent, playing with lengths of thread, pieces of fabric, combining shapes and colors and textures together, embellishing with beads and leaves, with no particular design in mind, I find that I can get deeper and deeper into the presence of the Holy One and I am drawn into the visual image of my deepest prayers–a vortex of the Spirit in green and me in purple, whirling together in the color that is for me the color of peace–Chagall blue. The color of peace in his peace windows in St. Stephen’s in Mainz, Germany. I know that many people will not resonate with this visual experience of prayer, but as a person who sees most things in color and in pictures, this form of prayer makes sense to me. And it is not a wonder to me that surrounded by color and textures and shapes and all things in the created world, I am drawn to beauty and the longing for compassion, love, and peace for all of this suffering world.

Some days I could spend so much time being creative. Those moments bring me deep into contemplation and prayer. I think what I am pondering most these days, in my 65th year, is this: are these moments of creativity and thought and presence in a vortex prayer, a call from God as I end pastoral ministry and enter into something else entirely? Do I need to answer this call now? Can it wait? Don’t I have other things to do right now, before I can give myself fully to whatever this call to prayer and color and compassion is? Am I neglecting the social justice leanings of my heart? Am I neglecting my ministry? Am I neglecting patience to allow God to unfold all of this?

I can’t answer any of these questions right now. However, I know these questions are circulating in my vortex and I will be able to answer them soon. I know that I do not want to be angry, frustrated, and less charitable. Never. And what bothers me most in this time of discernment, what causes me to struggle most and enter silence the most, is that I am afraid that is where my soul is heading sometimes. Deep down, I know that is not the truth for me, but this fear plays around the edge of my vortex at times. I ponder it for a while and then after giving it time and thought I imagine the fear to slip down through the vortex and out the bottom, transformed by the green of the Spirit and the color of peace.

I suppose I need more Monastic Mondays. It is not a bad way to spend a Monday or any other day of the week. And as much as I want to deny it, Monastic Mondays are part of my ministry, part of my life, and part of the days and months and years to come. Hopefully, I will learn to embrace them and cherish them, no matter what I am feeling or what I discern. May it be so.