Mercy and Grace

Plato, in his Timaeus, says “So, Timaeus, it seems it would be your task to speak next – that is, after

you’ve called upon the gods in accordance with custom.” [27B]

In like manner, I will call upon both St. Augustine, the patron saint of theologians, Bastet, the Egyptian cat goddess, as well as Polyhymnia, the muse of sacred poetry and eloquence, in order to ascertain how mercy and grace play upon the human stage.

What value is there in finding mercy and grace? How do we know if we have found mercy and grace? The Israelites of the Torah, especially if you lived within a day’s walk of Jerusalem, had it easy. They has a cadre of priests, to whom you brought you doves, lambs, or bullocks, if you were really a big sinner, and the priests would make your sacrifice on the altar in front of the temple, and you were good for another few days, weeks, or months, depending on how big of a rascal you were. Jesus, according to Hebrews, put an end to that, by being the last high priest, of the order of Melchizedek, the first order of priests, from Genesis. One way of reading Hebrews is that Jesus give all the Jews in the Diaspora, those living in Ephesus, Alexandria, Byzantium, Cyrenia, Rome, and Athens a break. They no longer had to schlep all the way to Jerusalem, over difficult roads and seas, to have their sins forgiven. It was all done for them.

But there was no longer any “receipt” for two doves paid for sacrifice. That’s were the “boldly” in the meme comes in. We are now on the honor system, and being on the honor system is sometimes tough. We have to be like the skeptical Agent Dana Scully to the wild eyed alien-hunter, Agent Fox Mulder of the X-Files.

But that’s not what I’m really here to tell you. This should just get you to the right place to accept what I have in mind. Remember when we talked about forgiveness and the fact that He is expecting us to forgive our enemies before we can expect forgiveness from Him. Remember how it is even in His prayer. Well, I suggest that Grace and Mercy are treated in the same way upstairs. Since we have no App on our Smartphone or Tablet to signal whether we are in His good graces, and are up to date in the grace and mercy department, we have to assume that if we have faith that we are, and pay it forward, we will be in His good graces when our ledger is tallied up when the time comes.

The company line is that we are rewarded with grace even if there is no way we can afford to earn it by being… aha … and there’s the rub. We don’t even know what it means to earn His grace and mercy. So why try. But at least we have a reasonably good idea of what can really foul up our ledgers. We don’t even have to be murderers, rapists, or adulterers to make His virtual police blotter. Being greedy is high on the list. In fact, it may even be worse than murder, if that taking of a life was due to a momentary blindness in judgment. Greed requires intent, and it is intent which runs all through your daily life. It is so consuming that you lose any sense of compassion for those in need.

So, that’s were mercy comes in. Grace is a bit abstract, but when we are in the forgiveness and mercy shelves of the library, we have no trouble reading what those notions are all about. It mean that if someone whose politics runs counter to yours, you welcome them into your church with as much enthusiasm as your closest confidant on political matters. The past is entirely in God’s hands. We deal with what is set before us, with mercy and forgiveness. We don’t only act on it, we preach it, and we write about it.

That writing business may be more powerful than you may think. Robert Heinlein, the dean of classic writers of science fiction, added an exchange in his novel, Between Planets which went like this:

The banker reached into the folds of his gown, pulled out a single credit note. "But eat first—a full belly steadies the judgment. Do me the honor of accepting this as our welcome to the newcomer."

His pride said no; his stomach said YES! Don took it and said, "Uh, thanks! That's awfully kind of you. I'll pay it back, first chance."

"Instead, pay it forward to some other brother who needs it."

Heinlein lived this philosophy, and passed it on to other great writers of science fiction, such as Ray Bradbury, who wrote stories with the same theme. This is not something which only happens in TV commercials. Speaking of and to everyone with love, mercy, and forgiveness gets communicated in actions.

Take this with you in this Easter season.

Amen.

-- Bruce Marold

God's Love and New Beginnings

I love to see crocuses in the springtime. They are always among the first flowers to grace our lawns and gardens, and to me they are a sign of hope. Even when the ground is still rather cold--and sometimes still covered with snow--the crocuses dare to break through the hard earth and blossom. They let us know that another spring, another season of new growth and new beginnings, has arrived.

Crocuses make me think of the hope we have in and through Jesus Christ, which we have pondered anew throughout this Holy Week. As Father Cliff reminded us in his sermon on Palm Sunday, the primary message and meaning of this sacred time is God's love for us, as expressed in the passion, death,and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ. God's love has triumphed over pain, brokenness, suffering, and death. Knowing and experiencing this in our own lives gives us the hope that sustains us in our ongoing journey with Christ.

As we conclude our Lenten meditations on forgiveness and reconciliation, it is helpful to remember that God's love makes possible the seemingly impossible. When we seek forgiveness from God or others, or when we seek the willingness to forgive those who have hurt us, let us have faith that forgiveness and reconciliation can, and will, happen through God's grace. Even when the damage may seem irreparable, God's love for us reminds us that it is not. God's love will break through our resistance, pain, and fear if we remain open to it. And like the crocuses that brave the cold, hard earth to bloom each year, we will have the courage to break new ground so that forgiveness and reconciliation can begin, and blossom into something new and beautiful.

There is a lovely hymn by John Crum, entitled "Now the Green Blade Rises",that I think expresses the wonder and beauty of Easter very well. The words are as follows:

"Now the green blade rises from the buried grain,
Wheat that in the dark earth many years has lain;
Love lives again, that with the dead has been:
Love is come again, like wheat that springs up green."

As we celebrate Christ's resurrection and continue our journey through the coming year, may we remain open to God's love for us in Jesus Christ, so that this divine love may "spring up green" in each of us as well.

-- Stephanie Stover

Choose Grace

Because grace makes beauty
Out of ugly things

Grace finds beauty
In everything

Grace finds goodness
In everything 

Grace by U2

     Now that the mounds of snow have mostly melted, I am overjoyed to see the snow drop and tips of daffodils peeked out of the garden beds, pushing up from under the leafy debris.  But also uncovered is refuse, garbage: at the side of the highways; blown up against fences; fluttering in the trees, and piled by the rivers.  My eyes are glad for the rest from the unending winter blanket of white, but at least the snow covered up the obvious wastefulness of our human race, consumed with constant desire for consumption and temporary material joy.  

   
     My part in the cycle of purchasing unnecessary items is fluid.  Today I can choose to buy plastic eggs or colored grass or a stuffed animal which will eventually end up in the mountain of animals in the corner of my children's room.  Or I can choose to recycle the materials I already have laying around my house, repurposing them for a new use, or I can plant a seed as a gift to my children, or bake the special Easter bread a friend taught be how to braid, or dye our eggs with onion skins and herbs.  I can choose to bring beauty into the world without also damaging it.  I can teach my children how to walk gently on the earth.  

     I can also make the choice to accept God's grace and mercy, given to me as a gift in spite of my human errors.  And when I accept that grace and mercy, I cannot help but be transformed at my very core.  And when I am transformed, I cannot help but choose life-giving activities, loving gestures of my gratitude for God's gift.  I am a like a cup which receives God's blessing and cannot contain that blessing and so it runs out again, giving life into the world, "and it is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God,[a] who loved me and gave himself for me." (Galatians 2:20)

Peter, Judas, Me--Fools All

It's April Fool's Day and I am pondering being a fool, at the same time that I am pondering Wednesday in Holy Week.

Catholic priest and spiritual writer Henri Nouwen reflected that Holy Week always give us a choice between being Peter and Judas.  Human as we are and sinners as we are, we all betray Jesus in various ways.  1) in ignoring his commandments: love God and love our neighbor 2) go into the world and preach the Gospel  3) in choosing to waste our lives  4) in ignoring his call  5) worst of all is when we do it knowing full well that we are doing it.

There is no help for it.  As long as we are human, we give in to self interest, laziness, anger—all those things we used to call “vices” or “deadly sins”.  Most destructive of all is the sin to which Judas succumbed: despair.  Peter betrays Jesus but he recognizes it, and weeping repents.  He turns again back to life.  He may not have done exactly the same sort of betrayal before or after, but Scripture gives us a picture of a fairly cantankerous fellow, and he was probably not perfect even after Christ’s death and resurrection. 

Judas, on the other hand, when he realized what he had done, hanged himself.  Whether it was because he was too proud to ask for forgiveness, or he became a victim of a doubt in God’s kindness and mercy—considered himself to be so evil God could never forgive him—he did not turn back to God.  Sometimes, we give up on ourselves, even when God hasn’t.  The likelihood is that if he had turned back, he, too, would have been forgiven, as had so many of the sinners that Jesus spent time with.


We often think of Judas as the most evil person who ever lived.  He was a thief.  He was a snitch.  A turncoat.  But plenty of other people have done those deeds—all the informers who worked for the Nazis in World War Two, or for the KGB in Russia, for instance.  Judas was not rare—he had a run-of-the-mill sort of wickedness.  But because it was Jesus he betrayed, rather than his grandmother, we particularly remember him. 

Like Peter and Judas, we sin and must repent and be forgiven over and over.  If we are willing to listen, daily we can hear God’s words of love and forgiveness.  It’s not a one-time over-and-done thing.  It's harmful fantasy to think that because we are Christians, we can keep from sinning.  But we need not to be discouraged.  Christ’s love is so endless and boundless that he will never send us away.  He has made us, knows us for what we are, and *EVEN SO* loved us enough to die for us.  It is a subtle kind of pride for us to take God’s job on ourselves and assume that we are beyond God’s reach.  That is true only if WE put a fence saying "God, keep out" around ourselves.

So which flavor of fools will we be?  The despairing fools who believe God is too weak to forgive even a great sin?  The proud fools who won't admit to sin and ask for forgiveness?  Or the fools who recognize their own foolish fallibility, and don't hesitate to follow the King of the Fools--the One who foolishly laid down his life for all the rest of us?

(Source of painting unknown)

What is God Like?

(Today's celebrity guest writer is the Rev. Bill Lewellis. He is the canon theologian and the retired communications minister of the Diocese of Bethlehem.) 

Parker Palmer once obsessed about defending God – until God said to him, “Parker, I can take care of myself.” I remember a similar transition in my own understanding: that God seeks not the defense of an apologist but the response of a lover.

It was during the early 1960s when I studied theology in Rome. My professor for the course on Revelation shifted the traditional focus of the course from a defensive attempt to prove how reasonable it was to believe in God to a powerful reflection on the mystery of God, on the mystery of God telling God’s secrets, on the mystery of God seeking/inviting relationship.

He led a quiet revolution. I discovered one practical effect within the next ten years while teaching religion at a local Catholic high school. The sequential structure within Roman Catholic school religion textbooks had been reversed. The traditional sequence had been: teach the commandments first (what must I do?) then the sacraments (relationship with God).

Think about the significance. What does each sequence say theologically?

In French-accented Latin, my Jesuit professor lectured about God’s revelation as an act of love: that God should speak to me, lifting the veil of transcendence, telling God’s secrets, inviting me into the mystery of divinity is in itself an act of love beyond all telling.

Beginning his first lecture, he paced along the long length of a raised platform in a large lecture hall. He stared at a blackboard that took up much of the wall behind him. With hardly a sound, he made one tiny dot on the blackboard. He paused, dramatically. “The white dot is what we know about God,” he said. “The blackboard is what we don’t know. What we know about God is little – but the little we know is precious.”

God’s self-disclosure, he said, is first of all an interpersonal act, not the communication of a fact or of a law. Revelation is God's gift of self-disclosure.

In his Theology and the Arts: Encountering God through Music, Art and Rhetoric (Paulist Press) Richard Viladesau wrote that revelation, as received by us, "is first of all a consciousness of an excess of meaning beyond every content, an orientation to absolute mystery."

God's self-disclosure is mediated incarnationally through ideas, persons, events, acts, institutions and symbols, even words. We receive this transcendent gift as a limited embodiment.

The clearest embodiment to me has been Christianity. This does not, however, put God's self-gift in a box. It has been communicated also in the entire history of human culture. Someone once said that when God tired of waiting for the church to move on segregation, God sent Jackie Robinson to major league baseball.

The human side of divine revelation is conversion, our acceptance of God's self-gift. Intellectual, moral and religious conversion.

This week, we celebrate God’s mercy, God’s loving kindness, God’s compassion and the possibility of doing all things in the cross and resurrection of Jesus Christ, God’s one great Mediator.

Ask this week, “What is God like?” Then, consider that God is like Jesus.

... with God All Things Are Possible

Last summer, I got an email from my college roommate which began, "Don't freak out, but I have to tell you I just got diagnosed with Stage IV breast cancer."

That one hurt. It was especially painful to read at the particular moment she sent it, as I was preparing to officiate the memorial service for another close friend, Dave, who had died from the same disease. It was hard not to ask what God was up to in this instance. Sure, with God all things are possible - including the very real possibility of losing two people in a cruel way and in fairly short order. It's not fair, that someone will likely only get to live half a life, that a couple of little kids won't remember their dad, and that the rest of us will have to find a way to fill in the other holes left behind.

Living with this kind of loss is, for better or for worse, part of the human condition, and has been since the dawn of time. As the only power in the universe big enough to exert that kind of control, it's incredibly easy to blame God for this reality. Except that it's not God's fault. It's nobody's fault. It's simply what IS. How we live with it is what really matters. That is the lesson Dave and Roomie both continue to teach: whom, and what, we have now are critically important, much more so than all the "What if...?" questions and the, "I can't handle your being sick" comments their illnesses bring bubbling up to the surface.

During the lengthy goodbye which happens around the Last Supper in John's Gospel, Thomas and Philip both ask Jesus how it's possible that they can see the Father. Jesus' answer to them is part rebuke, and part reassurance: How can you even ask this? Don’t you know me? If you’ve seen me, you’ve seen my Father, and if you believe in me and in the works I’ve done, you will do even greater works. (John 14:7-11, paraphrase mine) He continues by promising them that not only will he do anything they ask in his name, they will not be left alone. Someone else is coming, someone who will guide them into all Truth and help them to continue this relationship they’ve just barely begun. How he reinforces that point is almost disarmingly simple. “You will see me,” he says. “Because I live, you also will live. On that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you” (John 14:19-20, NRSV).

That is what's possible, through God's mercy and grace: that this Jesus, who is about to voluntarily submit himself to the worst humanity has to offer, will live, and that we will continue to live right along with him.

-- Amy Spagna+

Mercy and Grace

(Today's celebrity guest writer is Trinity parishioner Loraine Johnson. She recently completed a yearlong residency as a chaplain at St. Luke's Hospital in Fountain Hill.) 

Reflection upon Matthew 21: 1 - 11

Writing has to germinate deep within when I am focusing on a topic meaningful to me. I awoke about the hour of Vigils with an idea for the theme of the week and Palm Sunday. When I was working my way through the Ignatian Exercises, I prayed and reflected upon the passage above. I was drawn to the voice and character of the donkey. I had to choose whether I would speak as the donkey or the colt. I selected the colt and left the donkey behind. This is how it unfolded:

Young Donkey Colt:  Two men I have never seen before are here, asking for me. They tell my master I am needed for a very special task. Don't they know I have never carried a man? I am not ready for this. Why don't they ask my mother standing right here? They are saying the Lord has need of me, and my master knows exactly what that means and seems glad. They promise to bring me back as soon as I have completed my task. I'm feeling skitterish about this.

They untie me and lead me to a young man they call Jesus. When he looks at me and places a hand gently on my back, I feel something strange. I feel I know this person and that I can trust him. I am not afraid. As he eases himself onto my back, I feel the lightness of him. How can he be so light? I also feel an energy pass from him to me. I can understand his commands if I just pay attention to him.

We enter the crowd that waits a short distance away. As we move slowly forward, they part for us to pass through like a great sea of waving green and colored cloaks thrown down at our feet. I lift my feet a little higher, stepping carefully, listening intently for the orders of my gentle rider. His hand never leaves my back as he calms me despite the noise and chaos all around me. We move forward slowly toward the big city ahead. I've never been there, but we are heading directly into this strange place. I am not afraid. I have my Lord to carry. Little me.

This happy event stands in sharp contrast to the shadow of the cross directly ahead. In fact, we wave palms and sing today before weaving them into crosses or tucking them behind icons at home to await the next cycle of Lent. As we read the Passion Play, I am shocked to hear my own voice saying, "Crucify him!"

"No!" I want to say. "I could never do that." But if I were honest with myself, I would admit I have crucified Jesus in many ways through my sins against myself and others. Sr. Joan Chittister says, "Every one of us is capable of every sinful thing. Most of us have simply not had the opportunity or the anger or the sense of desolation it takes to do it. While we're being grateful for that, it behooves us to be merciful to those that have."

Recently, I acted with poor judgment when I was working in a retirement home. I had a difficult time accepting my fallibility. I told my story to several trusted listeners and received some relief. Yet it haunted me. I knew the only way to be relieved of this was in total surrender. I prayed, "God, if it is your will, remove from me this need to be perfect."

I finally felt peace. By the mercy of God, I received this through no merit of my own. Pure love.

In addition to this, I had two coworkers share stories with me that showed their own vulnerabilities. This was a gift above and beyond what I deserved. A grace. Whenever I receive a gift such as this, I record it. I enter the date and event and take it into prayer for several days to see what might be the invitation. I cannot receive such gifts without responding to the challenge to stretch myself to love and show mercy to all.

Chittister quote from God's tender mercy: Reflections on Forgiveness.

Be Reconciled

Two households, both alike in dignity,

In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,From ancient grudge break into new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life;
Whose misadventur’d piteous overthrows
Doth with their death bury their parents’ strife.

      -- William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, Prologue


There are two dimensions to Christian reconciliation. There is reconciliation with God and reconciliation with others. Even though Paul does not use that word often, we can be sure it was important to him, because reconciliation with God is achieved through the crucifixion is the alpha and omega of Christianity. If it were not for the crucifixion and resurrection, Paul said he preaching would amount to nothing. In Romans 5:10-11 he says, “For if while we were enemies, we were reconciled to God through the death of his Son, much more surely, having been reconciled, will we be saved by his life. But more than that, we even boast in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received reconciliation." This is important. This is what makes atonement (See Romans 3:25), another name for reconciliation, a big deal. But there are two issues with reconciliation with God. The first, outside the scope of this reflection, is that there are theologians who are up in arms about the need for the violence of the crucifixion to be set right with God. More on that some other time. The second is that, in general, it is a once and done deal.

Reconciliation with others is never done, and as we said last week, reconciliation with others is necessary for forgiveness by God. So, we better get cracking!

There are two sides to reconciliation, success and failure. There are ample examples of both in Shakespeare’s plays, where a disagreement which ends in reconciliation may create a comedy and an unresolved disagreement results in tragedy. Several of Shakespeare’s comedies are based on cases of mistaken identity. Most are accidental, such as in A Midsummer Night’s Dream and A Comedy of Errors, which is one of Shakespeare’s earliest plays, and its influences and weaknesses are easier to see than in his later comedies and his great tragedies. One thing which makes Shakespeare’s comedies so memorable, capable of standing up with the histories and tragedies, is that there is generally a threat of death to one or more characters when the play opens, unless some very unpleasant condition is met. In A Comedy of Errors, a Syracuse merchant is under a death sentence for having landed in Ephesus, unless he can pay a steep fine. In A Midsummer Night’s Dream, a young girl, Hermia, is threatened with death, or a convent, if she does not marry the man of her father’s choosing. In both plays, double and triple misunderstandings arise and get resolved, ending with the death threat being rescinded, due to a combination of magic and the unravelling of the mistaken identities and the generosity of the lord of the city. Reconciliation is good, and leads to true love.

The most famous tragic fallout from a failure to reconcile is Romeo and Juliet. The situation arises, in Verona, Italy, when Romeo, a son of the Montague family, falls in love with Juliet, the daughter of the Capulet family, while the Montagues and the Capulets are deep in a feud which has no reason (as far as Shakespeare is concerned) and has no prospect for resolution. What makes the situation explosive is that there are young bucks connected to both houses who, at the drop of a ducat, will engage in a duel with swords, as in the duel between the Capulet, Tybalt and the Montague, Mercutio. Both die in the duel making the dispute between the two houses even more acute. It is the Franciscan Friar Lawrence who shakes some sense into weepy Romeo and suggests that in the end, the bond between Romeo and Juliet may reconcile the two houses:

Rather than smoothing things over, the plan runs afoul of missed communications and mistaken assumptions, leading to another scene with the deaths of Paris, a relative of the ruling count, killed by Romeo at what he believes is Juliet’s tomb. Romeo, by his own hand with poison, and Juliet, by her own hand, with a knife.

The ending is both ironic, and even more tragic, in that the feud between the two houses is reconciled by the death of four of their children, plus the death of relatives of the ruling house of Verona. In Act V, Scene 3, the Prince scolds the feuding houses:

            Where be these enemies? Capulet! Montague!
             See, what a scourge is laid upon your hate,
             That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love.
             And I for winking at your discords too
             Have lost a brace of kinsmen: all are punish’d.

Love alone does not conquer all. Sometimes, it exacerbates disputes. Wisdom, and slow, careful steps are needed to steer clear of misunderstandings, hot heads, and quick tempers in reconciling disputes, and lack of attention by authorities may let nettles grow and fester already open wounds.

-- Bruce Marold 

Be Reconciled

I recently found an online article by Robert Schreiter, a Catholic priest and writer, entitled, "The Distinctive Characteristics of Christian Reconciliation".  In it, Schreiter makes some very important statements about what Christian reconciliation is, and about how to place ourselves in the mindset of reconciliation. The most critical point he makes is that WE are never the ones who begin the process of reconciliation.  Rather,God--in Christ--is the one who initiates reconciliation and accomplishes it.  We are not capable of bringing about reconciliation between ourselves and God, within ourselves, or with others by our own efforts. Instead, we are Christ's "ambassadors" of reconciliation, as Paul says in 2 Corinthians 5:20, Christ himself is our example of how to live in God's reconciling grace.

Another key point Schreiter makes in this article is the importance of prayer, particularly contemplative prayer, in keeping us open to God's work of reconciliation in our lives.  He states, "By entering into prayer one keeps the work of reconciliation in perspective—it is God’s work, not our own. Contemplative prayer makes us more receptive to the gentle movements of God in the reconciliation process."

I think we all know from our own experience how true this. If we are not in a continual attitude of humility, prayer, and openness to God, it is easy for us to fall into an attitude of negativity or self-centeredness when things do not go the way we want them to. A rift between ourselves and God starts to develop, which then easily carries over into our life with others, leading to blame and sometimes to hurtful words or actions that we later regret.  But if we seek God in prayer and take the time to listen, God will make it clear that all is not right.  If we remain open to God's leading, the Spirit will show us what we need to do in order for our relationships--both with God and with others--to be restored.  And if we learn how to do this, God can use each of us to continue Christ's work of reconciliation in the wider world.

Perhaps we can ask ourselves during this Lenten season:  Where and how do we need to be reconciled to God, to ourselves, and to others?  How can we practice listening more deeply to God, so that this can happen?  If we continually come before our Lord in humility and openness, then He can truly use us as his ambassadors of reconciliation in the world.

-- Stephanie Stover

Re-union

It has been my experience that speaking the truth with love, especially when the desire is to heal a relationship, can cause considerable pain, often to all involved.  Truth can bring undesired awareness and then it is no longer possible for those involved to go on as they once had.  The going forward will take considerable effort and, most likely, a desire to move from the status quo into the unknown.  So we quietly shy away from the hard work of real reconciliation because it requires humility and a willingness to leap into the unknown, often with one's enemy.  

But reconciliation is also a reminder that to re-unite means that our starting place was once unity.  Union with God.  Union with one another.  One with all of nature.  We are just striving to get back to that original state of oneness.

Be brave.  Be daring.  Take a leap for reconciliation.


“Forgiving and being reconciled to our enemies or our loved ones are not about pretending that things are other than they are. It is not about patting one another on the back and turning a blind eye to the wrong. True reconciliation exposes the awfulness, the abuse, the hurt, the truth. It could even sometimes make things worse. It is a risky undertaking but in the end it is worthwhile, because in the end only an honest confrontation with reality can bring real healing. Superficial reconciliation can bring only superficial healing.”
― Desmond Tutu

Be Reconciled

Visit-to-vet day is always traumatic in my household. First there is the strategy required to track down, capture and crate three wily, wild beasts, one of whom seems to be claustrophobic, and whose outraged yowls will immediately alert the other denizens to the game that is afoot. Then there is the eerie growling that is the musical backdrop for the brief ride to the vet’s office.

Followed by the shameless look of (dare I say?) puppy love as the very large, social RedCat stares up into the eyes of his attractive veterinary nurse; the immediate inventory of everything in the room by the black hunter-cat; and terrifying, otherworldly wails and feline obscenities from the tuxedo who is a lifelong enemy of anything that smells of D-O-G.

Inevitably, as soon as we return home, a massive battle breaks out, as though each creature blamed the others for his discomfort. Then an hour of silence as they hide in their respective corners—broken only by soft growls if someone should happen to walk too near.

There is grudging acceptance of each other’s presence over dinner. And everyone is careful to stay in their own areas. While this is better than outright hostility, it is clear that no one is happy or comfortable. Mutual forgiveness for the bad behavior is an important first step. But it is not the last one. Eventually, as the awkward and careful hours go by, someone decides to break the impasse. A cautious approach and a gentle lick of an ear indicate a willingness to move on to the next phase of the process. A wrestle. A mutual hunting of the catnip rats. And an eventual threesome, curled contentedly in the polar fleece blanket.

To forgive is hard. To ask for forgiveness is harder. To stretch out your hand seeking reconciliation requires faith and courage. But it is the best way to achieve healing.

- Laura Howell+

Becoming Reconciled

(Today's offering is from the Ven. Rick Cluett, Archdeacon of the Episcopal Diocese of Bethlehem.) 

Becoming Reconciled

Mercy and truth have met together; *
    righteousness and peace have kissed each other.

Psalm 85

1	You have been gracious to your land, O LORD, *     you have restored the good fortune of Jacob.
2	You have forgiven the iniquity of your people *     and blotted out all their sins.
3	You have withdrawn all your fury *     and turned yourself from your wrathful indignation.

4	Restore us then, O God our Savior; *     let your anger depart from us.
5	Will you be displeased with us for ever? *     will you prolong your anger from age to age?
6	Will you not give us life again, *     that your people may rejoice in you?
7	Show us your mercy, O LORD, *     and grant us your salvation.
8	I will listen to what the LORD God is saying, *     for he is speaking peace to his faithful people     and to those who turn their hearts to him.
9	Truly, his salvation is very near to those who fear him, *     that his glory may dwell in our land.
10	Mercy and truth have met together; *     righteousness and peace have kissed each other.
11	Truth shall spring up from the earth, *     and righteousness shall look down from heaven.
12	The LORD will indeed grant prosperity, *     and our land will yield its increase.
13	Righteousness shall go before him, *     and peace shall be a pathway for his feet.

All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ,

and has given us the ministry of reconciliation

  2 Corinthians 5:18               

Reconciliation: It's Personal!

(Today's celebrity guest writer is Trinity parishioner Gary A. Becker. He is a retired high school teacher and avid astronomer, and currently serves on the faculty at Moravian College in Bethlehem.)

It was a muggy, summer-like Friday in late May, perhaps 15 years ago, and having one of the few classrooms in Dieruff High School that was air-conditioned, I had the planetarium unit on full blast. On that particular last period afternoon, the room was cool even to my standards, but my students generally loved it, coming from other parts of Husky High which could reach in excess of 100 degrees F. In full weekend mental mode, I popped inside about a minute before the bell and spied a raised hand in the far corner of the room. It was Hadi’s, a Palestinian who had immigrated to America with his family several years earlier. Dieruff had a large and vibrant Syrian population; in fact, the school was like a giant cultural melting pot with 37 languages spoken by its student population which at that time numbered close to 1800. Hadi was, however, my first Palestinian. He was an excellent student, also good-looking, with olive-toned skin, thick black hair, and brown eyes. He appeared much older than my average astronomy student, probably because he really was older, 19, I believe at the time. He should have been a girl magnet, but he was quiet and respectful, not nearly “dangerous” enough to attract the average, independent Dieruff girl.

Hadi asked me a simple question, “Why is it so cold in here?” I remember looking at him with some surprise and saying something like, “Well, isn’t it hot in Palestine and haven’t you ever heard of something called AIR-CON-DISH-ON ING (air conditioning)?” I emphasized the words and looked him straight in the eye.

I often used humor in dealing with my students and was guided by a few basic rules. Humor was not to be used to hurt or offend, but it could be edgy or sassy, and if I was using humor to work with my students, my pupils could use humor in working with me. It had to be give-and-take, a two-way street, coming from both sides. Hadi was fully aware of how I conducted my classroom, but the response that I received from him changed my perceptions of the Middle East in the blink of an eye.

Hadi said with almost no emotion, “Yes, we have air conditioning in Palestine, but our air conditioners are almost always broken. Whenever we get them fixed, the Israeli soldiers come around and break them once again.” I was speechless for a moment, and I don’t remember exactly what I said, but there must have been some feeble attempt at apology associated with my stammering. After class, I asked Hadi to remain; we talked some more, and I apologized to him in a more formal manner. It wasn’t necessary, he said. That part of his life was over, and he was in America; his life was good. He was a happy person.

I don’t know the specific reasons why Hadi’s family had moved to America, but I surmised that Israeli soldiers breaking his family’s air-conditioning units was pretty low on the list. You see, Hadi was a Christian, and at least at that time, Muslim families were moving into Christian neighborhoods with the goal of displacing Palestinian Christians. In the case of Hadi’s family, it had worked. They had come to America to find a new and a better life.

Fast forward to my current Moravian College astronomy class where I have two Saudi students, Faisal and Hamad. Their faith in Islam is as strong as their desire to be like Americans, and they are perhaps more in tune with pop culture than my other students. Helping them one evening with an assignment, our conversation turned to Christianity and Islam. The topics we discussed were diverse. They were curious to understand if Christians believed that Christ was the Son of God. They had difficulty in understanding the Trinity, God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. They talked about the Koran and the fact that there was only one Koran, but Christianity had many different translations of the Bible. God spoke to Mohamed through the Archangel Gabriel, but in Christianity, God spoke directly to Jesus; yet any Muslim, like any Christian, could speak directly to God. In Islam, Christ would lead the armies in the Second Coming. However, what made the greatest impression upon me was their statement that no one could be a believer in Islam without being a believer in Christ. To me, the similarities of angels, the Second Coming, and belief in Christ gave a commonality between these two world religions.

So why can a 19-year old Palestinian feel no animosity towards those individuals who had forced him to leave his native land, and a Christian and two Islamic students have an animated discussion about their religious beliefs without anyone trying to gain advantage over the other? And finally, if Christianity’s twenty-first century concept of God is equal to love, why do we have so much difficulty spreading its effects beyond the sanctuary of our sacred spaces?

Perhaps young adults think too simplistically, yet I firmly believe that from my personal experiences of being a young adult and from 43 years of watching high school and college students interact as young adults, that their lives are just as complex as ours, but in different ways. Possibly we should pay more attention to their methodologies. At least, they are willing to talk honestly and openly about difficult situations.

So again I ask why the fight among Jews, Christians, and Muslims when we all worship the same God? Obviously the problems are complex, but the solution to me seems obvious and necessary for humankind’s survival. EXHALE, relax, stand down; and although we have diverse strategies in our traditions, we should unite and embrace our differences in a responsible and peaceful manner. Love thy neighbor. Hadi taught me that, and through example, Hamad and Faisal continue to reinforce that concept today.

Reconciliation to me begins with the individual, with his or her ability to accept differences without judgment, and to recognize that as a species we have an obligation to the past four billion years of evolution to preserve our right to exist into a future of understanding and peace. What a shame, if after all of those eons of time, after all of the struggles and the progress we have made, we nuked ourselves into extinction because we just could not get along. I think the God of love would be very disappointed.

Forgiving Others

When I search for “forgiveness” and “forgive others," three images are the most common to appear. First, there are hugs, then children forgiving, then cats and dogs. Even better is a cat forgiving a dog with a hug. Awwwww.

I did another search of about a hundred different works of literature, and I detected a pattern where there are lots and lots of lines asking “Forgive Me” but virtually none suggesting that we be forgiving of others. Why is that? It is, I believe, natural be discomfited by guilt. It distracts one moment by moment. And this is not the monumental guilt laid on a person who has committed a dreadfully wrong act, such as Raskolnikov’s murder of his landlady in Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment. It takes a genuine sociopath, or someone with a pathological feeling of entitlement, such as Judah Rosenthal in Woody Allen’s film, Crimes and Misdemeanors, where he, the murderer, feels less remorse than the Woody Allen character, who is guilty of, at most, a minor “misdemeanor”.

So, there is a great imbalance between the common urge to be forgiven, and the rare impulse to forgive in our stories about ourselves. The former relieves the subject from guilt. The latter is an invitation to enter into a painful exchange. Forgiving another may be construed as weakness, and an invitation to suffer the same infraction from your supplicant. To be sure, the same ratio of needing forgiveness to offering forgiveness seems to appear in the Bible. Look at the Psalms. Dozens of psalms include supplications to the LORD to forgive, but none that I’ve found which admonish one to forgive another.

But the admonition to forgive is there, prominently, as long as we are willing to pay attention to them. At the top of the list is the second verse of the great commandment: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” That doesn’t clearly spin off a recommendation to be forgiving, until you think about it a bit. If you want an even stronger suggestion, consider the lines in the Lord’s Prayer which say: “Forgive us our trespasses, as we who forgive those who trespass against us.” If that is not enough, Jesus even quantifies it in Matthew 18:22 where he says forgive not once, but seventy-seven times.

OK, but it is still not a commandment! At least not in so many words. But that is the point. It is not enough for Jesus to have you obey all the commandments. Paul boasts that he violated none of the commandments of the Torah. And, in fact, I believe Paul. I believe there are lots of observant Jews who obey every last 613th rule in the Torah, for the better part of their lives. But as Paul makes clear, that is not what Jesus wants. The Lord wants us to be virtuous. The heart of Christian ethics is based on being good, not on doing good.

If you need proof of that idea, consider passages in one of the most famous manuals of Christian behavior, The Manual of a Christian Knight by Desiderius Erasmus. On holding a grudge, he writes “…for nothing is so childish, so weak, nothing so feeble and of so vile a mind as to rejoice in vengeance.” On the other side, he writes “He hurt me, but it will be soon amended. Moreover, he is a child, he is of things unexpert, he is a young man, it is a woman, he did it through another man’s motion or counsel, he did it unaware, or when he had well drunk, it is meet that I forgive him. And on the other side he hath hurt me grievously. Certainly, but he is my father, my brother, my master, my friend, my wife, it is according that this grief should be forgiven…or else thou shalt set one against another…”

Erasmus considered forgiveness an important subject to teach young boys. Would it not be wise to continue that tradition with children?

-- Bruce Marold

"Redemption" - A Poem About Forgiving Others

It may not be true for everyone but for me, the attitude and practice of forgiveness are reminiscent of the spring season.  When I hold onto a past hurt, it means that the ground of my heart is in its "winter" season, still somewhat hard, not ready to be dug up so that some new gift from God can be planted in that same spot, begin to take root, and grow.  But at the right moment--through prayerful weeding and preparation--the ground of my heart is loosened by the power of God's Spirit working in me.  I can then dig up the old hurt or resentment that has kept me from forgiving the person who has hurt me, so that God can plant new seeds of love in that corner of my heart, seeds that lead to forgiveness, new life, and growth.

A poem I wrote last year, entitled "Redemption", expresses this movement from winter to spring, from the inability or unwillingness to forgive to that moment when forgiveness finally occurs.  In this poem, which is included below, I try to express not only my own experience of forgiving others but also the freedom, wonder, and sense of God's love that I believe happen for each of us when we are able to forgive and move on to a new place in our lives.  May we each be open to God's amazing grace and love, prayerfully trusting that God will enable us to forgive others and will plant new seeds of love within us when we do.


"Redemption"

  I.  So many years
      of unforgiveness.
      The ground is cold,
      but our instincts follow
      a different path,
      seeking a soil
      that is softer, that gives
      with the lift of a shovel,
      the nudge of a trowel,
      and begs to be weeded
      of such deep regret.


II.  Isn't this what spring
      is all about?
      The loosing, not the binding,
      the redemption of winter
      and its lingering shadows,
      the deep ice melting
      and the locked gates opened
      onto fields of flowers
      we have not seen before.


III. We have spent too many hours
      holding onto things.
      Now the past tense recedes
      into the presence of wonder,
      and we let the shimmering light
      release our fears.
     

-- Stephanie Stover

My Pointer

Sitting in my nice warm car in New York City's Lower East Side, I'm finding it easy to make judgments and assumptions about the passersby: this one with her Starbucks and black lab; that one with his beard and pointy loafers.

Then I look into a cemetery and notice the wall around it. And the homeless man sitting, bundled at the corner, waiting for the iron gates to open.  His head is tilted down and away from me but I think he's asleep. 

In a world of excess, there are many who wander with no permanent home. Living on the fringes and subject the the whimsical generosity of strangers and the weather. Not just here but in my hometown too. 

I find myself wondering how so many can pass by, seemingly unseeing his poverty. I begin to feel anger and disappointment at humanity. Then I ask myself what I've done lately to ease the burden of someone who lacks what I often take for granted. 

Today I will be grateful for all the blessings of my life and for a faith community that both supports and challenges me. I will do something to help someone in need. And I will put my pointing, judging finger away. 

- Ellyn Siftar

Forgiving Others

In her book Speaking of Sin (Cowley, 2000), Barbara Brown Taylor writes:

"It is easy for me to think of churches that operate like clinics, where sin-sick patients receive sympathetic care for the disease they all share. It is palliative care, for the most part. Nobody expects to be fully cured, which is why there is not much emphasis on individual sin. Such churches subscribe to a kind of no-fault theology in which no one is responsible because everyone is.

"It is also easy for me to think of churches that operate like courts, where both sins and sinners are named out loud, along with punishments appropriate to their crimes." (p.76)

Where's the middle ground here? Does my ability to forgive others fall onto that middle ground? And, how can I be sure I mean it when I say to another, "I forgive you?"

-- Amy Spagna+

Holding It "In Tension"

To you, o LORD, I lift up my soul; my God, I put my trust in you;*

      let me not be humiliated, nor let my enemies triumph over me.

-- Psalm 25:1

These words, which the lectionary paired with Mark's version of Jesus' temptation in the wilderness back on the first Sunday of Lent, are not the words of someone who is confident in his or her ability to save the world. They are being sung by someone who is not sure about what is happening to him, and can only hope that God will act to prevent whatever form of humiliation this unnamed enemy might try to unleash. There is also a kind of tension here, between what the speaker knows is right - the love and faithfulness that are the paths of the Lord – and the desire for the treacherous to be disappointed in their schemes.

A marker of that tension is an unwillingness to forgive the treacherous for what they've done to us. I had that conversation with a close friend a few years ago. She called after having seen an engagement photo in the newspaper of one of the so-called “mean girls” who had made life particularly difficult for several of us when we were in school. My friend could hardly believe it. On the one hand, she didn’t think it was fair that this “mean girl” seemed to be receiving the reward of a happy marriage after all she had put us through. On the other, her life had not been easy, and this news meant that things had definitely taken a turn for the better. My friend was still puzzled by her own reaction, however. Even after twenty years and numerous apologies offered and accepted, she still felt that she had something to prove where our tormentor was concerned. The opportunity was now gone. Along with it, she seemed to have lost both the ability to prove wrong everything hateful the girl had ever said, and to find some way of getting even.

As we talked, my friend and I came to the conclusion that even if the chance presented itself, the idea of getting even rang more than a little hollow. They say that revenge is a dish best served cold, though in this case, the coldness would only get thrown back on the person serving it up. Despite that knowledge, it is still very hard to let go of the past. It has proven especially true for me. There are still days when I question whether I would authentically be able to offer sacramental absolution should the "mean girl" ever ask me for it. 

Fortunately, I have to look no further than Jesus' own actions for clues as to how to avoid letting an enemy triumph. None of the Gospel accounts is clear about how he did it, but somehow Jesus was able to overcome any feelings he may have had about wanting to get revenge on his Father for sending him out into the desert in the first place, or on the devil for picking on him once he'd been there for a while. He knew that giving in to the temptation to get even would only lead down a path of self-destruction. That path is not a place many of us are willing to go, and yet we know we need some serious help if we’re going to manage to stay away from it altogether. And thus we pray: lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.

-- Amy Spagna+

Forgiving Others

(Today's celebrity guest writer is the Rev'd Canon Gwendolyn-Jane Romeril. She serves as Priest Associate and chaplain to the Daughters of the King at Trinity, Bethlehem.) 

“He was still a long way from home when his father saw him; his heart was filled with pity and he ran, threw his arms around his son, and kissed him.” -  The Lost Son, Luke 15: v.20                               

The story of The Lost Son is a story about unconditional love.  The father had every reason to feel angry, disappointed, betrayed, hurt, abandoned, yet he was able to forgive his son even before the son reached home.  What love!

We often have trouble forgiving someone who has hurt us.  “We don't feel like it.” What we do feel is the deep wounding, the betrayal, the anger, the rejection.  (Fill in the blank...it's a long  list).  But then, Love is not a feeling! Love is a decision.  Or how else can two people stay married for 60 or 70 years?  On the wall of our home hangs this epitaph:

         

            A SUCCESSFUL MARRIAGE IS THE UNION OF TWO FORGIVERS

It is a great rule, not only for marriages, but for parenting, friendships, businesses, for relationships in general.  Just think how our world would change if this principle were put into practice.

Love is the ingredient needed...unconditional love.  The kind of love the father in this parable possessed.  Of course, Jesus meant us to understand that the father in the parable is God, whose very essence is unconditional love.  We are still struggling to become the lovers God created us to be.

In addressing this struggle of ours, a wise priest named Jim Finnegan once said:  “When you have trouble forgiving someone, look at the word  'forgive'.  Take it apart. Rework it.  Put the 'give' in front of the 'for'. It takes love to forgive.  We can't forgive on our own because we don't feel very loving. But if we take (or borrow) the unconditional love of God, and give it for the sake of Jesus, to another, forgiveness can happen.  When we do this, we accomplish several things: First we forgive the other person.  Next, we release ourselves by fulfilling Jesus' command where he said:  “Forgive one another as I have forgiven you.”

We also model unconditional love thereby practicing godly behaviour...which could become habitual.  Lent is an opportune time to practice unconditional love.

Night Prayer

May any refusal to forgive that lingers with me from the day, any bitterness

of soul that hardens my heart, be softened by your graces of the night.  Renew me in the image of your unconditional love, O God, renew me in the likeness of your mercy. Amen.

Pack Up Your Sorrows

Richard Farina wrote a superb song, which would serve marvelously as a hymn regarding asking God to help you forgive yourself. Here it is:

No use crying, talking to a stranger,
Naming the sorrows you've seen.
Too many sad times, too many bad times,
And nobody knows what you mean.

Ah, but if somehow you could pack up your sorrows,
And give them all to me,
You would lose them, I know how to use them,
Give them all to me.

No use rambling, walking in the shadows,
Trailing a wandering star.
No one beside you, no one to hide you,
Nobody knows where you are.

No use gambling, running in the darkness,
Looking for a spirit that's free.
Too many wrong times, too many long times,
Nobody knows what you see.

No use roaming, lying by the roadside,
Seeking a satisfied mind.
Too many highways, too many byways,
And nobody's walking behind.

Part of one’s sorrows over which we might grieve are feelings of guilt and remorse for slights, missteps, insults, broken promises, and hurts inflicted on others. They drag down the spirit in the same way that Jacob Marley’s chains drag him down, as he wanders through the afterlife. Why do they not disappear? Why can we heal the pain from losing a loved one, and not heal the guilt over not giving more love to that person when they were alive? Guilts are like a cancer which steal energy and nourishment from our spirit.

Some events which produce guilt may not be identifiable as such when they first occur. A simple case is when you forget to get a printer cartridge for your printer, you get home when all the stores close, and discover that your daughter needed to print a 10 page report to be handed in the next day. OK, so you write a note to your daughter’s teacher, go to the store when it opens, print the report, and hand carry it to the school. Problem solved, but a residue of guilt remains, that you could have been so thoughtless, especially if the forgetting was linked to staying overlong at the club after a round of golf.

Some causes for guilt evolve in such a dramatic way, they become the subject of great literature, such as the guilt of Rodion Raskolnikov, the central character of Fyodor Dostoyevsky’s great novel Crime and Punishment. Raskolnikov murders an unsavory pawnbroker for money, and has fabulous excuses for committing the crime, such as imagining all the good he can do with the money he unlawfully acquires. But, as the story evolves, Raskolnikov becomes more and more weighed down by the guilt of the murder. The great irony of the crime is that it was done to relieve what, in retrospect, seems like a trivial matter: the debt he owed to his landlady.

Guilt was such an overwhelming emotion that it drove Raskolnikov to murder. Guilt, and other toxic emotions such as hate and resentment, when mixed with a mind out of balance can lead to the kind of vicious multiple murders over which we grieve today. Guilt, the burden of a sense of sin, ranges from being an uncomfortable companion on sleepless nights, to being the match which lights the fuse to far more serious problems.

So now we come back to the song. It offers to someone like Scrooge, for example, the opportunity be relieved of years of regret, remorse, and isolation. But who is willing to accept such a burden? It seems magical. It sounds like something Mephistopheles might offer, as he draws off a miasma of guilt from your ear, packs it into a ball, like a snowball, and waves his talon-fingered hand over it, and it has disappeared. No mortal can take on such a burden.

            

But God can. The Lord has an infinite capacity to forgive and place you in the state of his Grace. We know he can absorb suffering in the extreme, and be renewed in life, in the divine which is our fate, if we pack up our troubles and give them all to him. If you find yourself being unable to look people in the eye, or you are reluctant to help with simple things, for fear of making a mistake, perhaps you are due for the blessing of being kind to yourself and accepting the help of Jesus, who can carry your troubles, for he knows what you see.

Amen.

-- Bruce Marold

Forgiving Myself

I recently read an online article entitled "Self-forgiveness and God's Forgiveness" by Father Alexis Trader, an Orthodox priest. Father Alexis discusses our contemporary emphasis on the self, even to the point of espousing self-forgiveness rather than remembering that only God can forgive our sins. He writes,"In place of introspecting ourselves into a state of self-forgiveness, we simply need to accept God’s forgiveness, generously offered to all who repent. Instead of relying on ourselves, we simply need to rely on God. Instead of sifting among our beliefs about how bad our actions were, we need to turn to belief in forgiveness incarnate in the person of Christ Jesus....".

I agree with Father Alexis that our contemporary culture places far too much emphasis on the self, and also with his point that only God, through Christ, can forgive us when we sin.  However, I also believe that many individuals need help in letting go of their sins.  I have heard it stated that many people have more trouble "forgiving" themselves for past sins and failures than they do with forgiving others who have wronged them.  It seems to me that there is a great deal of truth in this statement.

The ability to accept God's forgiveness can be especially difficult for individuals who see God primarily as a stern taskmaster and judge, rather than a loving and merciful Creator.  This can also be especially true for individuals who have been influenced by parents or other authority figures who led them to believe they were unworthy if they did not do everything perfectly. These individuals, as well as many of us who have not been shaped by such experiences, sometimes need compassionate reminders that God loves us and wants us to experience the power of forgiveness.  Such reminders may come from family members, friends, mentors, or clergy who know that we are struggling with guilt and unable to move past it.  These people reflect God's love to us and help us to open up to that love once again.

God knows that we are not perfect.  Our loving Creator only asks that we regularly confess our sins, ask for divine help in amending our lives, and then do our best to follow the Way of Christ. 2 Corinthians 5:17 states, "if anyone is in Christ, they are a new creation: old things are passed away; behold, all things are made new." (Jubilee Bible 2000)  If we confess our sins to God and follow the Way of our Lord, we can be assured that God is making us new. Dwelling in this assurance, we are free to let go of our past sins and move forward as God's beloved ones.

Notes on the Wall

Finding that poem in the attic, I read it again to my present self.

Dear future self,

When you read this, I hope you are free.
Free from this place with no windows
Which is also like a cozy nest
Know that there is more in this world
Than these walls
This life

Forgiven,
E.

This house has stood for 115 years, 95 of them in our family's ownership.  17 kids born there, making their marks on the doorways, porch, kitchen counter.

Now it is ours for just a few days more.  I've painted over the place where I measured the kids as they grew.  I've spackled over the holes where my grandparent's wedding picture used to hang.  I've pulled out all of the garden, including the beautiful compost.

It's empty and I'm free.

I know my cousins, aunts, uncles, and father have let go, but it's hard for me, the caretaker for just 15 of those years.  I can't seem to forgive myself and move on yet.

Maybe forgiving myself means letting go, a little at a time, of those things I think I ought to be doing but cannot.  Maybe, just maybe, being free doesn't mean being without attachments but rather being aware of the need for attachments (comfort, home, family) and being willing to let go, just for a moment, of my constant grasping and reaching for that which is not God, and allowing myself to rest in the hand of God, content.