Lenten Writing Prompt #2
Write about a ritual of renewal and baptismal remembrance that you have either participated in, witnessed, or invented. If you are creating one, what would that ritual look like if you had no limits? What is a way you can remember your baptism and that you are a child of God in a language or activity that resonates for you?
Silence’s Cathedral
ReplyDeleteLent 1, Thursday
Brnnng! Meditation bowl striker summons all who hear.
Come into the silence; release every doubt, every fear.
Attune all senses to the magnificence of being.
Open wide the spiritual doors, embrace this fresh seeing.
First impulse at dawn: Holy One I’m up.
In silence I come to draw from your gracious cup.
The path has no footprints, no distracting noise,
Church, culture, news feeds, technology full of toys.
With subdued mood, the day entered freely this time,
Egoic push set aside, Breath of Life gently fills, no rime.
Stands upon the gut rock of Hell, no earthquakes here,
Under all that is, Holy One’s hands up gird, evaporate fear.
Personal practice prepares pathway, perpetual ‘prentice,
Quickening the pulse, the breath, heightened sense,
Sometimes a closed door, sometimes a detached place,
Every time in this location, Word Made Flesh’s face.
Small gathering, twice a month, Merton for a season,
Confessional discussion, healing listeners, excellent reason;
Restoration of relationship, reintegration from isolation,
Brothers explore nooks, cabinets, ambience in silence’s vibration.
Last conscious gesture each day; Holy One takes my hand into the night.
As rest comes near bring my soul peace, protect from dark’s fright.
Receive my life offering into your kind hands,
Know my thanks for each dropping of life’s sands.
Always close by, any time of the day,
This holy space, silence, heals the fray.
Keeper of All, sustains, maintains a full silence larder,
Come, find your way inside, requires no selfish ardor.
The Rev. Ronald Allen Melver, M.Div.
19.2.15
I love how your use of the word 'Holy One' and the tone of the poem resonates as a very intimate, close-as-breath God : )
DeleteFrom Doug Millar
ReplyDeleteMy father was an intensely private person. He spent most of his life being told what to do and expected to do the right thing. He felt his duties keenly. Whether he derived any pleasure from his chores I don’t know, he never talked about anything personal. He did seem to have a few moments of freedom though. He went out every morning and got the paper, and would report back on the weather. If he could see Mt. Baldy it was a very clear day. If there was frost on the ground or snow in the mountains, it was a great day. These two self-appointed activities were ones where he could experience freedom and control. He also loved to golf, another highly regimented encounter with nature. However, he never made a friend in all the years he golfed. That is the trouble with rituals, they may be comforting through giving you a sense of order, but they don’t take you out of your shell. I’ve always felt that the real calling was to use ritual sparingly, and spend most of my time with people. We can be pretty scary though. In general, we are awkward, noisy chaotic, passionate, confusing, but also caring, sustaining, invigorating and loving. It is the latter that sustains me. I guess I’ll take a good friend over a good ritual any time. Ok, how about a good ritual with a good friend any time? A number of both come to mind. One of the best for me, is to go to Yosemite Valley with my family. Going to Indian Caves with my kids, renting burros with the grand kids, cooking on a wood stove, sketching with my daughter or having dinner all together on the patio at the Ahwahnee Hotel, all put me in touch with both the creator and created-the past and the present. Being in the park gives me a level of continuity and peace I don’t get any other place.
your counsel is wise, simple ritual, engaged relationships.
DeleteThe rituals of friendship remind me of good times! Thanks!
DeleteThe waterfalls in Yosemite aren't too shabby about reminding us of our baptism, either, eh Dad? ; )
DeleteYep.
DeleteI keep a small piece of paper close to my bathroom sink and another taped to my desk at the church….they read “Baptismus sum” or “I am baptized.” Luther is reported to have said that we should remind ourselves of this daily. At the sink or in the shower or walking in Seattle rain it becomes something of a mantra. (I admit to loving it’s mysterious sound as it rolls off of the tongue – very Harry Potter-like!)
ReplyDeleteBut it’s harder to remember this when the day gets difficult. Or when I am simply dealing with the quotidian tasks required of each of us. Or when the difficult people are making their presence known. Or when I am the difficult person. In those dry days, I think, we need a ritual to remind us that we are baptized. And that baptism is a sacramental sign of God’s grace poured out to us. Not dependent on our faith or our good deeds or even on our own remembering.
The other thing I keep in my desk is a “magic wand” given to me at Children’s Hospital in Columbus, Ohio where I did my Clinical Pastoral Education. I had lamented my ability to make those children better and wished I had a magic wand to do what, despite their best efforts, doctors sometimes could not. A colleague gave it to me and said “remember that your (non-anxious) presence makes room for God’s grace.”
This is not a deeply reflective answer to the prompt, but on some days, perhaps all I need for baptismal remembrance is to wave the wand around a little and declare in my best Hermoine Granger voice: “Baptismus sum!”
~ JGH+
Luther's beer stein had "Baptismus sum" printed on the inside bottom. wisdom shared. thanks
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DeleteSometimes a playful spirit can be healing - like laughter! Thanks
DeleteDefinitely something my daughters and I can get on board with - we already have a ton of magic wands...Love your perspective and wisdom!
DeleteBorn again?
ReplyDeleteFeared question, yet one for which I am prepared. My father said, that Luther said, we were born anew each day.
Yet I was born into the world of timid Sunday morning church baptisms with sprinkles of water; not the muddy waters of Stinking Creek where parishioners and pastor and the newly chosen gathered round on slippery footings in their Sunday best, and went under.
My first exposure to the Pacific Ocean was a baptism like that, with open mouth and gaining breath the ocean got there first, full of salt and power. And I was held only by the then invisible hands of my siblings.
Easter vigils became the stuff of remembrance as I grew older, with water sprinkled in wild abandon from rosemary branches as lights and music celebrated the Christ, reborn from the tomb.
My daughter smelled of chrism oil for weeks after her baptism. I wonder if that scent was just a bit of what kept me tied to this world as I struggled to make sense of my new role as mother, to fight back the darkness of uncertainty.
The candles from my children's baptisms sit unused in the drawer.
What ritual would I craft, to remember? There would be water, lots of it, like the fountains at the Seattle Center gushing and pouring forth in ways both predictable and surprising. There would be music, like Springsteen's rendition of "O Mary don't you weep" evoking the parting of the Red Sea, and the story of Noah. There would be Luther's prayer, that bundles all those great water stories up into one. There would be singing, and dancing, and breathlessness. And after it all, a nice hot cup of richly scented Earl Grey tea.
This morning, I settled for singing in the shower. Because I am, indeed, born anew each day.
indeed, the wonder captured brings joy bubbling up.
Delete"the baptismal candles sit unused in the drawer". Me too, my friend. I think it's almost like handing a parent a guilt stick when we get that candle ; ) Yet the alternatives you set out sound absolutely delightful! Thank you!
DeleteChrism oil is a wondrous smell….thank you for your reflection….
DeleteSacred Silence
ReplyDeleteWe gathered each Sunday for worship
and even as a young boy I wanted to be there.
They said the pastor was a great preacher.
There were baptisms and communion.
The choir was terrific and mastered their music.
They all inspired me.
I also remember being moved by the trees just
outside the window
as they danced in the wind,
I remember worship was the only place I got to sing out loud,
and I loved that.
And perhaps most of all.
I remember that after the last hymn was sung
and the benediction was spoken -
we all stood ... in silence.
Complete silence.
Perhaps it was twenty seconds,
in my mind in was twenty wonderful minutes.
It was one of the the most sacred rituals
of my young life
To this day I live around lots of sounds,
most of which I love
and some of which I help make.
And when I am silent
especially, intentionally,
with a group of people in worship
I am still that young boy
moved by God
in sacred sience.
Sacred silence. I never realized this, but you're absolutely right! Such a holy moment. Thank you for this perspective!
Deleteindeed the hours of silence captured by the gathered Body of Christ.
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DeleteHow did the silence find its way??? I long for it at the end of worship...
DeleteFinally, a shower, which was long overdue
ReplyDeleteThe rushing water muffles the sound of little bickering exchanges outside my door.
I yelled at my daughters today
But as the water runs over me
I feel like I can go back out and lobby for peace once again
I am a child of God
I sit and cry and write and cry and write out a poem
about my father-in-law who just passed away.
The tears cleanse my soul,
They wash away what has been held back
but they do not wash away the raw feelings
He was a child of God
The spaghetti noodles dance in the pot full of boiling water
I am making spaghetti again, for the 1,000th time
My family loves it
Water is an important ingredient to this nourishing meal that I am sick of
But I always smile when I see that everyone is eating
We are God’s children
We are baptized
There are so many ways to remember that we can begin again
My yelling, crying, cynical self is washed away
And emerges new
hope is clings to me and marks me as child of God
a woman engaged in life's ministry. open to renewal. loved.
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DeleteI will never watch spaghetti noodles boil in the same way again! Love it!
Deletevery earthy! nice
ReplyDeleteI feel a small hand on my arm and a light kiss on my cheek. "Good morning!" A soft voice. And then, a loud, excited one jarring me fully out of sleep. "Arentcha gonna wake up?! We gotta go to church!" Well, how can I say no to that? I stretch under the covers, bracing for the cold, and I rise. The rest of the morning is a blur of movements: breakfast, washing up, teeth, hair, clothes, a snack for the drive.
ReplyDeleteThere is also a LOT of talking. Not from me; I am not a morning person.
"I need money for the offering!"
"Let's have waffles!"
"Can I watch TV?"
"I'm not buckled up!"
"Are you gonna take the highway or the back roads?"
"Why aren't you answering?!"
Throughout the drive, there is a constant stream of questions, suggestions, and singing from the back seat. We pull into the big church on the corner and I let out a long breath. I'm still trying to catch up to the morning.
We walk up the stairs and through the doors. We are now quiet. We recognize the holiness of this space. We know it's special.
In spite of being in this wilderness time, I come here. I don't always understand it all and I have too many questions. Then I see the cross and the font.
And they are more than enough to remind me of whose child I am.
-----
Almost every Sunday and Wednesday we spend time with my parents - after worship on Sundays and before the evening programs on Wednesdays. It's a new ritual and I'm blessed by it. As a child, I spent a lot of time with my grandparents, and it's a privilege to offer the same to the next generation. The hugs, kisses, games, and conversations over meals are priceless.
Most days, these visits include just my parents. Other times, we are surprised by other family members - my aunts and uncles, cousins, their children. My mother cooks, we eat, we linger around the table. The children play. The rest of us talk. We talk a lot. About everything. Sometimes all at once.
What was the sermon about today?
What's your latest project about?
I had an interesting conversation with someone from Camp Unity this evening.
We should plan a family trip to New York this summer!
What's this Bible study about?
Hey, did he test into the highly capable program?
Who's hosting the barbecue this July?
It's chaotic and fun and perfect. This is our family and each of us knows we belong here. There are at least a handful of people who have a story for each of our important life events, including baptisms. We don't always share these stories, but I know that the promises that were made at each of our baptisms have been kept and will be kept.
Every time we gather around the table, every time we pray, sing, laugh, and cry together, I am reminded of whose child I am.
God's family.
DeleteInto Daily New Life
ReplyDeleteby Marlene Obie
This prompt has been rolling around in my thoughts since it posted and produced an ocean of places to wash up on shore and I've been beach combing to find a hand-sized piece to carry out. It changes every time my mind goes walking there.
While I was comfortable with routine as a child and even as a teen, I remember thinking that as an adult I wanted to break out of the same patterns and be adventurous. However, as I've progressed into my senior decades, I prefer a balance between both, a comfort in knowing what's coming and a little of the unexpected to keep interesting, and yes, even challenging. Getting used to a new computer and Windows 8.1, learning how to do what on my other devices keeps me always jumping into new lagoons.
Awakening each morning is a coming out of the old life into the new;
a leaving behind the mistakes, intentional tasks undone,
the guilt about time I might have spent more productively,
connections I didn't make, pieces of writing not put on paper or page,
words and actions of love to others skipped over. The would've, could've, should've list goes on and way back.
Yet, here I am again awakening to a new day, baptized for ministry again
with light (thankfully now earlier each day) of the morning and into a routine,
yet full of the promise of something different and gratitude I am alive, loved and forgiven with the opportunity to reboot.
It's so easy to stay on the shore of the lake, river, bay,
or bed in my comfy robe and not go off to my water aerobics,
especially if the day is dreary looking, and I'm wondering
what the water is like-- cold, not great but passable, or
blessedly warm--when there is much to do where I am now,
although getting away from all this technology maze
will be good.
When I make the decision to get out and go take the plunge,
I know I will be better for it. I will come out of the water
a new revived person, with a sense of accomplishment of
getting my exercise done and new energy for the rest of the day
and ready to plunge again into everything else,
even a morning full of activities to beach comb through,
knowing that I will find new treasures of inspirations
and refreshing love of God and companions,
struggling, laughing and learning.
Ahhhh. someone else who struggles to makes the choice to move and then enjoys once it happens. I know that way of being ....Ok I'm off to the gym!. Before I go let me say I was caught by the phrase "opportunity to reboot" - very modern!
DeleteI am not a big ritual fan, but I realize some of its value and I know for some people it is important. I like it when we take the ritual and make it meaningful and personal for the one receiving it. In most Lutheran baptisms we have infant baptism and therefore the word battles over infant vs adult baptism. I don't argue anymore - let it go. I do not remember my baptism, but I do remember the stories of it. I have my baptism certificate, my baptism gown and pictures. I have many baptism keepsakes from when my sons were baptized, pictures and stories. I still have a shell from one nephew's baptism which was given out to all family & friends. Baptism is done in love and that is what is important.
ReplyDeleteRenewal
ReplyDeleteAfter prolonged deliberation
and several drafts
going off on several tangents
I finally decided
that this year
for my Baptismal Birthday
as well as the Baptismal Birthdays
of all my children and Godchildren
I will not only send them cards
but will donate to the UNICEF Clean Water Project
This resonates for me
fHs
Sara