Therefore, Dark Past...

Spring, Repentance and Homecoming

Photo by Anna Karp on Unsplash

Therefore, dark past,
I’m about to do it.
I’m about to forgive you
for everything.
Mary Oliver

The question is not “How am I to find God?” but “How am I to let myself be found by him?” The question is not “How am I to know God?” but “How am I to let myself be known by God?” And, finally, the question is not “How am I to love God?” but “How am I to let myself be loved by God?” God is looking into the distance for me, trying to find me, and longing to bring me home.”
Henri Nouwen, The Return of the Prodigal Son

Let us know, let us press on to know the Lord;
his appearing is as sure as the dawn;
he will come to us like the showers,
like the spring rains that water the earth.
Hosea 6.3

1^st Reading

Luke 15. 11 - end

Then Jesus said, ‘There was a man who had two sons. The younger of them said to his father, “Father, give me the share of the property that will belong to me.” So he divided his property between them. A few days later the younger son gathered all he had and travelled to a distant country, and there he squandered his property in dissolute living. When he had spent everything, a severe famine took place throughout that country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed the pigs. He would gladly have filled himself with the pods that the pigs were eating; and no one gave him anything. But when he came to himself he said, “How many of my father’s hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger! I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands.’ ” So he set off and went to his father. But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him. Then the son said to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.” But the father said to his slaves, “Quickly, bring out a robe—the best one—and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!” And they began to celebrate.

‘Now his elder son was in the field; and when he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing. He called one of the slaves and asked what was going on. He replied, “Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf, because he has got him back safe and sound.” Then he became angry and refused to go in. His father came out and began to plead with him. But he answered his father, “Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!” Then the father said to him, “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.” ’

REFLECTION

I wonder which character you most identify with in this much-loved parable of Jesus’? It is a story that is, in essence, a call to repentance and gratitude. I suspect most of us could do with a bit more of both. I know I could.

We are like the older son in that we take so much for granted, all the time. I imagine that even the least wealthy of us here live in the lap of luxury, relatively speaking. We are well-fed, safe and sheltered. We have access to so much that is good and beautiful. Even so, we often lack the full-hearted appreciation that such provision should arouse. We often get caught in our daily grind, or worse, in envying what others have. In effect, though we are provided for in so many ways, we are as lost as the envious older son when we cannot lift our eyes and heart to appreciate our blessings.

And we are like the younger son inasmuch as we squander and waste our inheritance. We dispose of things needlessly or carelessly. We buy more than we need. We indulge in life-styles that threaten the earth and leave other people around the world to live in, if you will, our ecological shadows. And, of course, that same reckless attitude creates squalid shadows within our own heart. I don’t like to tell you how often I find myself sitting in the pigsty of my own wayward mind. Squandering both material and spiritual resources, I become aware all too often of my own stinking thinking.

This may sound harsh. But we are still in Lent and the world is still in trouble. We need to do our part in bringing about the sort of honest change that would allow the compassion of God more fully into our lives and into the life of the world. But the call to repentance and gratitude is not in essence a moral telling-off! Though we might do well to subject ourselves to the discomfort of judgement, the call is deeper than that: come home, be embraced by the tender mercies of God, and live out of that mercy - for your own sake and for the sake of those who are still stuck in far-off fields. Because, finally, we are called to be most like the father: to be the arms of compassion for those around us.

In this week’s poem, Mary Oliver’s attention to the beauty of Spring leads to a powerful punchline. After describing windflowers trembling and bracken lifting its fronds and the thrush coming home, she writes:

Therefore dark past. I’m about to do it. I’m about to forgive you for everything.

In opening our eyes to the beauty and vitality of life, wherever we find it, we are brought back to our senses. We notice the stench of our squandering and feel the visceral restrictions of our resentment. By paying attention, we come into the present moment, where life, love and God always, always waits to welcome us. Whatever we may see or hear that lifts our hearts, whether in the fields or in our communities, we might imagine the father standing there, inviting us home.

So this week, let us allow the beauty of Spring to speak to us of the great mercy at the heart of our universe: allow the songs of the earth to call us back home.

But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him.

He said: all that is mine is yours.

A LITURGY OF PRAYER

Opening Prayer

Breathing in, lift your heart to beauty and blessing.
Breathing out, return to Love.

Contemplative Prayer

Take some time now in silence, if you can. 20 minutes is a good amount of time. But give what you can. In any case, commit to practices this week of slowing down, finding beauty, being grateful and offering mercy to others.

Widening the Circle (After the Silence)

Having been embraced by Love, look out into the fields of your community and world - with compassion. As you do so, imagine God’s heart running out to meet all those on our hearts and minds today.

A Celtic Version of the Prayer of Jesus

Holy One beyond all names
Eternal Wellspring
May love rise again in us today
With food for every table
Shelter for every family
And reverence for every life.
Forgive us our failings in love
And free us from all falseness
That the light of our souls may shine
And the strength of our spirits endure
For Earth and all its people
This day, tonight, and forever.

Amen

2^nd Reading

A Settlement

Look, it’s spring. And last year’s loose dust has turned
into this soft willingness. The wind-flowers have come
up trembling, slowly the brackens are up-lifting their
curvaceous and pale bodies. The thrushes have come
home, none less than filled with mystery, sorrow,
happiness, music, ambition.

And I am walking out into all of this with nowhere to
go and no task undertaken but to turn the pages of
this beautiful world over and over, in the world of my mind..

* * *

Therefore, dark past,
I’m about to do it.
I’m about to forgive you
for everything.

Mary Oliver

Blessing

May our eyes be open to windflowers and bracken and song-thrushes. May we come into the presence of goodness and Springtime so fully that we are released from the darkness of whatever winters we still hold in our hearts. May we turn to see the mercy and compassion of God and turn again to show that compassion to others. May we find our way Home. And the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with us all, evermore. Amen.

Music:

As you listen, make the journey Home in your imagination and heart. What do you see? Who else is there with you?

Question for the Week: for Journal or Comment

What brings you home to love?

Who might you be called to embrace?