The Fourth Sunday in Lent-The Rev Melanie Lemburg
Lent 4C_2022
March 27, 2022
As I was sitting with the readings for
this Sunday, I was reminded of a story I read years ago. It’s a story that the Celtic priest and
mystic John O’Donohue tells in his book Anam Cara (which means soul
friend). Here is what he writes as he
writes about the challenges of modern life to the soul: “Rapidity is another force causing massive
stress in the workplace. Baudrillard, a French
philosopher, speaks of the exponential speed of modern life. Where things are moving too quickly, nothing
can stabilize, gather, or grow. There is
a lovely story of a man exploring Africa.
He was in desperate hurry on a journey through the jungle. He had three or four Africans helping him
carry his equipment. They raced onward
for about three days. At the end of the
third day, the Africans sat down and would not move. He urged them to get up, telling them of the
pressure he was under to reach his destination before a certain date. They refused to move….Finally, he got one of
them to admit the reason. This native
said, ‘We have moved too quickly to reach here; now we need to wait to give our
spirits a chance to catch up with us.’”[i]
In our Old Testament reading for today,
we see the end of the wandering of the Children of Israel in the wilderness for
forty years. Joshua, who becomes their
leader after Moses’s death, has just led them across the Jordan River and into the
promised land where they have come to this place that they name Gilgal, and God tells them “Today I have
rolled away from you the disgrace of Egypt.”
At this point, two notable things happen. The Israelites celebrate Passover for the
first time in their new home of the promised land, and the manna, the bread
from heaven that has sustained them while wandering in the wilderness, ceases
because it is no longer needed. Now that
they are finally home, they eat the produce and crops of the land.
One of my colleagues invited us to
reflect on this passage from Joshua this week by asking us to think of a time
when we had been wandering in the wilderness for a long time, and we finally
arrived at a place that quickly became home, where we could “eat the produce of
the land.” What was that like for us—to be
settled someplace where we could have time and space to grow things, to see
things brought to fruition and then to enjoy the fruits of our labor?
This has been interesting for me to
think about this week, because one of the encounters with Gilgal for me in my faith
journey has been in coming here. This
place has been Gilgal for me—where I have seen things take root and grow and
have enjoyed sampling with you from the fruit of our labors. And it is still Gigal, but lately, I haven’t
been able to be fully attentive to what is growing. Perhaps I have traveled too far and too fast and
need to be still, pay attention, and wait for my soul to catch up with me? Perhaps this is true for all of us in the
light of these last two years of pandemic and corporate trauma?
How do we tend to the growth if we feel
too parched, to dried out in our own souls for anything to grow or bear
fruit? John O’Donohue writes about this
as well. He writes, “You can search far
and in hungry places for love. It is a
great consolation to know that there is a wellspring of love within yourself. If you trust that this wellspring is there,
you will then be able to invite it to awaken.
The following exercise could help develop awareness of this
capacity. When you have moments on your
own or spaces in your time, just focus on the well at the root of your
soul. Imagine that nourishing stream of
belonging, ease, peace, and delight. Feel,
with your visual imagination, the refreshing waters of that well gradually flowing
up through the arid earth of the neglected side of your heart. It is helpful to imagine this particularly
before you sleep. Then during the night
you will be in a constant flow of enrichment and belonging. You will find that when you awake at dawn,
there will be a lovely, quiet happiness in your spirit.”[ii]
Your invitation this week is to join me
in practicing this here and now. We are
going to sit together in two minutes of silence. For some it’s going to feel like an eternity
and for some it’s going to fly by. As O’Donohue
says, “Imagine that nourishing stream of belonging, ease, peace, and
delight. Feel, with your visual
imagination, the refreshing waters of that well gradually flowing up through
the arid earth of the neglected side of your heart.” Imagine that water bubbling up into all corners
and crevices of your mind, heart, and body.
Pay attention to what comes, and if you get distracted in that practice,
acknowledge that distraction, see it, and bring your focus back to the well
spring. I’ll tell you when the two
minutes is up, and don’t forget to breathe!
Now everyone, take a minute to get
settled, close your eyes, and let’s begin.
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