“But I did not believe the reports until I came and my own eyes had seen it. Not even half had been told me; … wisdom and prosperity far surpass the report that I had heard.”
(This is Victoria’s loose translation of 1 Kings 10:7.)
For many years now, I have been drawn to Loretto Chapel and its miraculous staircase in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Having lived a bit in Kentucky earlier in my life, I had visited the motherhouse of the Sisters of Loretto in Nerinx (near Bardstown), Kentucky, and had heard the tales of the sisters there heading out the “wild west” to educate girls. I never imagined that years later I would relocate to Santa Fe and then be employed at what is now called Loretto Chapel Museum.
Like the translation above of 1 Kings 10:7, the Queen of Sheba had heard about the accomplishments and fame of King Solomon, but she did not believe it until she came and with her own eyes had seen it all. Many have heard about the miraculous staircase at Loretto Chapel, but some must make the journey to see it with their own eyes. Hundreds of guests flock to Loretto Chapel daily to gaze upon this staircase (constructed in late 1879, after the chapel had been completed a year prior in 1878). People of faith call this staircase “miraculous” because we do not know for sure who built it, how it can stand with no center support, or the wood from which it has been made. There are several theories about these things, but the Sisters of Loretto could live with mystery (and so can I).
image credit: Rev. Victoria S. Ubben
Every day that I work at Loretto Chapel, I hear dozens of tales about how modern-day pilgrims have traveled to this remarkable place. Here is one such story:
Just last week, a young Spanish-speaking man came to visit our chapel and was trying to ask me questions about its miraculous staircase. Pedro’s English skills are much better than my Spanish skills, so I let him take the lead on this conversation. Pedro was accompanied by two very elderly people who appeared to be well-worn from lots of sunshine, decades of hard work, and whatever trials and tribulations they might have undergone in life. Pedro told me that these two people were his grandparents and he had driven them in his car all the way from a village outside of Mexico City to Santa Fe. His grandparents had just one wish before they died: to see the miraculous staircase at Loretto Chapel with their own eyes. Pedro looked so young to be taking his grandparents on a journey like this. Whatever his age, I do think it is noteworthy that a teenager would drive his elderly grandparents from central Mexico to Santa Fe to see Loretto Chapel and its staircase before they die!
Pedro and his grandparents had heard of Loretto Chapel and its miraculous staircase, but they wanted to see it with their own eyes. Pedro was able to tell me that the mystery and beauty of this well-constructed staircase far surpassed any reports that they had heard.
image credit: Rev. Victoria S. Ubben
Why do religious pilgrims of all ages and of all faiths make long, difficult journeys to sacred places? What draws people to these places? Is it the spirit of God that calls us? Or is it the voices of our ancestors that beckon us? Could it be both? Where has God’s still-speaking voice called you? When you finally arrive at such a sacred space, what do you do? Take photos? Buy souvenirs at the gift shop? Sit quietly and meditate? Like Pedro and his grandparents… do you light a candle and say a prayer of gratitude for mystery, beauty, and a miracle that we may never understand? Pedro and his grandparents were expecting to encounter God inside Loretto Chapel… and I am certain that they did.
(If you do not know much about Loretto Chapel and its miraculous staircase, here is a short video clip to whet your appetite!)
When the day of Pentecost had come…all of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages….[Everyone] heard them speaking in the native language of each. Amazed and astonished, they asked, “Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? And how is it that…in our own languages we hear them speaking about God’s deeds of power[?]” (Selected verses from Acts 2, NRSV)
Question of the day: What languages do we speak? Do those around us hear us speaking about God in languages they can understand?
In my late teens and early 20’s, I learned to speak Portuguese and Spanish fairly fluently, living for a time in Brazil and Mexico. I was proud of myself, as I’d wanted to become fluent in another language since I was young.
As I think about it now, it occurs to me that well before that, I had become fluent in several other “languages.” By that time in my life, for example, I had learned to speak the language of people-pleasing very well, and I was also pretty fluent in perfectionism. The language of judging others came all too naturally, as did the language of “laying down my life for others”—the practice of serving others and putting others’ needs almost exclusively before my own.
Sadly, my fluency in Portuguese slipped away effortlessly over the years, as I used it less and less; in Spanish, less so, as I’ve had some occasions to use it since college, but certainly I’m nowhere near where I used to be.
Thankfully, my fluency in the other “languages” has also decreased somewhat over time, although that hasn’t happened nearly as effortlessly as it did with Portuguese and Spanish. Rather, it has taken more of a concerted effort on my part as I’ve recognized that while those ways of being may seem desirable and praise-worthy, they can all too easily cause deep harm to both my self and those around me.
There are other “languages” I’ve tried to pick up in recent years–ways of speaking, ways of communicating, ways of being in the world–that have taken equally as much effort to learn as those others have taken to unlearn. And, depending on your perspective, they may or may not be viewed as equally desirable.
These new “languages,” however, are much more likely to lead to healing rather than harm, for both my self and those around me. Some of these are the language of acceptance and inclusion, and the language of mistake-making and grace. The language of forgiveness and courage and trust. The language of belovedness.
I hope that in these “languages,” more so than in those of perfectionism and judgment, people-pleasing and self-denial, not only can I move toward greater ease and even fluency, but that as I do, others around me might more readily hear me speaking about God and God’s deeds of power in ways they can more easily hear.
Because that acceptance and grace and forgiveness and courage–that belovedness–is not just for me; it’s not just for us. It’s for “them,” too. It’s for all. But how will they know if we don’t speak a language they can hear?
Peace be with us all.
Deb
Almighty God, in this season of Pentecost, fill us with your Spirit, as you did the first apostles, and send us to those who need to hear about your deeds of power and Love. Open our hearts that we might learn to speak in languages that are not necessarily our own but that will allow others to hear in ways they can understand. Amen.
What if one word could provide clarity for the wide range of emotions we have all felt during COVID-19 since March 2020? Try: languishing. Dr. Adam Grant wrote an article: “There’s A Name for the Blah You’re Feeling: It’s called Languishing” for the NY Times, April 19, 2021.
I have heard a wide range of emotions this year: anxiety, fear, empty, listless, depressed, trouble concentrating, and life without a defined direction to name a few. And there have been many sad experiences of loss and resulting grief of loved ones and friends. Also grief of the loss of our normal routines, limitations of what, how and when we could do our predictable routines.
Grant notes that “we think about mental health on a spectrum from depression to flourishing… being the peak of wellbeing.” Prior to COVID many have experienced or known someone close who experiences depression. When depressed you feel despondent, worthless, no energy to move forward. “Languishing is the neglected middle child of mental health” states Grant. One of Webster’s definitions: to lose vigor or vitality.
Remember acknowledging that you weren’t functioning at full capacity, but couldn’t say why? You had no overt symptoms or behaviors to indicate mental illness. I recall days of ‘trying to make myself focus.’ Maybe accomplishing one or two of five goals I would have normally set for the day. I have read other articles that comment that during COVID, people were struggling with the long-haul impact of restrictions and the unknown.
Languishing is the void between depression and flourishing—an absence of wellbeing, but you don’t quite feel yourself either—your motivation is dulled, notes Grant. The potential risk of remaining in ‘languish’ is that one might not notice you are slipping toward depression. You might not be experiencing joy or delight and suddenly realize you haven’t felt that for some time.
Say it aloud, languishing, name it. Grant writes that might be the first step to learning more about it; because we haven’t done many studies on languishing. “Languishing is common and shared.” And thus, is not an abnormal reaction. We have not been through a pandemic before.
The professionals admit there is still a lot to learn about this term.
Grant proposes one of the first things to do in coping with languishing is to ‘be in the flow.’ Fr. Richard Rohr in his book, Divine Dance, writes in numerous chapters about the concept of “flow.” To be in the flow is the experience of trusting the moment and staying focused on the smallest of goals. Being present and not letting your mind wonder hither and yon. Don’t spend energy trying to figure out how to control the situation or others or debating solutions for the biggest of problems that professionals/ elected officials are set out to do. Take a deep breath and remember the Creator designed you, and lives in you and all of creation. Don’t go the judgmental path…go the path of discovery the smallest awes.
I find that spiritually to own languishing means I have to name it and experience it and claim that God is a verb in the midst of all that I am witnessing, hearing, and experiencing. Where is God in what I see today? Where is God in what I heard about today from others? Stay in the flow. We have not been alone in this pandemic; nor are we alone post-pandemic.
Second, set boundaries as to when you are not to be interrupted. You need breathing space to rest and process all that has transpired…even…especially even now… as we see a ‘light at the end of the tunnel’ in America as more are vaccinated. All processing doesn’t happen in the exact moment…when we can’t name what is happening. We need to bring some grace to ourselves and others for quite reflective time. A time for energy to be restored. Maybe it is a time when you read a novel, do some craft work, have a project. The important thing…it is your time with boundaries and no interruptions.
Third, pick small goals (Grant). This pandemic was a BIG LOSS. Maybe a short word game, one meaningful conversation with a trusted friend 1-2 times a week to own the gift of that friendship to you and to them. Maybe you color in an adult coloring book. It doesn’t matter the goal…make it a small one. No one is here to judge you about how you spend your time or what you need to do to complete a goal that feels satisfying.
One of the most important sentences in Grant’s article is: “Languishing is not merely in our heads…it’s in our circumstance.” You didn’t cause this…you aren’t making it worse. Many journalists, mental health professionals, and trauma psychologists remind us we are entering a post-pandemic reality. And with that will be some who have some Post Traumatic Stress Disorder for which they need to seek some professional health; particularly if they aren’t eating, can’t motivate themselves to get up, are isolating from others, and feel ‘blue’ beyond what they can manage.
We can now begin with the lists above to address how the post-pandemic awareness of what languishing is and has been in our past 15 months. Give voice, name it, there is power in naming what is happening with you. Your courage to name it…will encourage others to name it too…and that empowers each of you to move forward with positive steps into more ‘thriving’ modes of living.
Kay is a Spiritual Director; Retired: RN, LMFT and Clinical Member AAMFT. She chairs the Life Long Learning Board at Church of the Palms, serves on the CARE TEAM, and the W.I.S.E. Steering Committee.
“Happy are those…[whose] delight is in the law of the Lord, and on [God’s] law they meditate day and night. They are like trees planted by streams of water, which yield their fruit in its season…”
(from Psalm 1)
As I lay in bed last week, for hours and hours…and hours…, waiting for my body to recover from whatever bug I had caught that laid me up (or more accurately, laid me down!), there were times when my mind went in a million different directions. On occasion, as it raced, in an attempt to calm it down, I found myself reciting some of these simple phrases: “God is good…God is faithful…God is with us….”
Those phrases are not necessarily found among the 613 commandments found in the Hebrew Bible–“the law of the Lord”–and as such, are likely not what the psalmist was referring to when he wrote about those happy people who “delight in the law of the Lord,” meditating on it nonstop.
But to me, those phrases–God is good…God is faithful…God is with us–encapsulate much of the truth and beauty and power of our faith.
And when I can think about those things rather than the things that cause me anxiety or fear, then I become more solidly grounded–kind of like a tree.
When I can think about those things rather than all the things I don’t know or don’t understand, then I become more deeply nourished–kind of like a tree whose roots are fed by nearby water.
When I can think about those things rather than trying to desperately figure out how I can solve, fix, or help everyone or everything around me, then I become less tied to both my efforts and the immediate outcomes and tangible results, and more trusting of things happening as and when they need to–kind of life a tree whose roots are fed by nearby water, whose fruit grows when it’s time for the fruit to grow.
I’m pretty sure I will never find delight in meditating on the 613 laws found in the Old Testament. But I trust I will continue to find meaning in meditating on the simple and profound truths found in phrases such as “God is good” and “God is faithful” and “God is with us.”.
I dedicate this poem to my mother, Joyce Mary Payne Church– who put up with me as a kid; to my kids, Sarah, Ryan, and John– who are putting up with me as a mom; and to all moms everywhere, who are doing their best every day to love their kids!
God bless you all!
What does God see when God looks at me? Does God see my elbows? Does God see my knees? Does God see my nose and my misshapen toes? The shape of my chin? the color of my skin? Does God see me in the morning, when I’m looking quite scary? Does God see my legs, when they’re scaly and hairy? Does God see those bags I’ve got under my eyes? Does God see jelly jiggling when God sees my thighs?? Sometimes I wonder what God sees when God thinks to look at me…
What does God see when God looks at me? Does God see that bulge where my waist used to be?? Does God see the [mark of honor] stretch marks that adorn my lower belly? …and the muscles underneath that have now turned to jelly?? Does God see the parts of my body that will never again be lifted? …and how my view of the world around me has forever shifted… because I am a mother? The toughest job I could ever love (well, mostly!…) is being a mother… Does God see my gratitude for this gift that is truly like no other? Sometimes I wonder what God sees when God thinks to look at me…
What does God see when God looks at me? Does God see me when I’m buried under dirty laundry? Does God see me stagger out of bed to feed my crying baby? ‘Cause I’d do it with a smile if I thought God was watching…(maybe!) Does God see the moments of panic when I realize how true it is that I really don’t have a clue when it comes to this mothering biz?! Why didn’t You send an instruction book, God, when You sent this child to me? What You saw in me when You gave me this gift, I’m not so sure I see… Sometimes I wonder what God sees when God thinks to look at me…
God whispers to me, “I see it all…,” and then in my heart I hear God call, “You are my Beloved… …and you are more beautiful and more capable than you know!”
What does God see when God looks at me? Does God see me putting band-aids on banged-up knees? Does God see me steal a cookie when I’m making all those lunches? I can’t help it, God–sometimes I get those early morning munchies!! Does God see me put thousands of miles on the car, going back and forth? And that’s not even counting their activities– that’s just trips to the grocery store! Do You see when I get frazzled, God, trying to keep everything straight? I’ll tell You, it’s a good thing I’m married ‘cause I sure as heck don’t have time for a date! Sometimes I wonder what God sees when God thinks to look at me…
What does God see when God looks at me? Does God see me as I really am? or as I’d like to be? I hope God sees me when I’m being sympathetic, patient, and kind, and hears me when I’m inconvenienced, saying, “It’s okay, I really don’t mind!” I hope when I’m being crabby, God has looked the other way, but when I’m loving & sweet again, has just happened to turn back my way! Does God see me when I’m short-tempered? Just ask my kids–I get downright mean! But it’s only when I’m being a good mom that I really want to be seen… Sometimes I wonder what God sees when God thinks to look at me….
What does God see when God looks at me? Does God see me cleaning up vomit at a quarter to three? Does God see me when I stay up late, just to wash my son’s favorite shirt? Does God see when I want to shake him and say, “Stay away from her–she’s just a big flirt!”? Does God see me when I’m trying to scrape that old gum off the couch? Does God see when, sometimes in seconds, I go from “loving mom” to “screaming grouch”?!? I try to always keep my cool, God, I really, really do… but some of what I deal with from my kids would even be trying for You! Sometimes I wonder what God sees when God thinks to look at me…
God whispers to me, “I see it all…,” and then in my heart I hear God call, “You are my Beloved… …even when you’re frazzled and crabby! But keep breathing–you’ll make it, and remember–all shall be well….”
What does God see when God looks at me? Does God see my heart stop when my baby screams? Does God see I feel the same whether she’s five or fifty-eight– when I know my child is hurting, God, my heart just breaks… Do You see, God, how deeply I long to shelter my child from life’s pain? Yet I know that if I somehow succeeded in that, there’d be more loss than gain… While no one wants to go through hard times, it seems to be how we learn best… Does God see me pray for my child, for strength & wisdom when facing life’s tests? Sometimes I wonder what God sees when God thinks to look at me…
What does God see when God looks at me? Does God see the pride that fills me from my head to my feet? Does God see the delight I feel when I hear kindness in my son’s words? when there’s compassion in his actions? when genuine caring is felt and heard? Does God see the disappointment I feel when he chooses to do wrong? and how I pray for courage for him, to do the right thing and not just “go along” with his friends, without thinking, just part of the crowd… God, help him be true to himself… If not for his own sake, then, God, please, for mine, for the sake of my fragile mental health! Sometimes I wonder what God sees when God thinks to look at me…
What does God see when God looks at me? Does God see me hold in my concern as I watch her climb that tree? Does God see the slight sadness in my heart, though overshadowed by great joy, when she walks down the aisle in her lovely white dress, on the arm of that wonderful boy [or girl!]? Does God see I just want what’s best for my child, with all of my soul and heart? I know I can’t live her life for her, God… I’ve tried my best to give her a good start. Help me to trust that she’s in Your hands, that You love her even more than I, And help me to remember that she belongs to You, God, that You’re just sharing her with me for a while… Sometimes I wonder what God sees when God thinks to look at me…
God whispers to me, “I see it all…,” and then in my heart I hear God call, “You are my Beloved… Your child is my Beloved… and I have you both in my hands… Trust me…”
What does God see when God looks at me? Does God see my abiding thankfulness for my family? Does God see my gratitude for everything that we have shared? for all the ways and times and places that we’ve shown each other we care? I admit there have been moments, God, when I’ve wanted to run away, when it all just seemed too hard, and I didn’t think I could do it for another day… But I hung on, I said a prayer, I took a deep breath, I called a friend… And I got up again the next morning, trusting that the rough times would eventually end… Sometimes I wonder what God sees when God thinks to look at me…
But here I am, God, still a mother, and a mother I forever will be. It doesn’t matter whether my child is one week old or 103! I’m an imperfect mom who makes mistakes, but who hopefully gets some things right– I hope my child knows he’s loved when he goes to sleep at night… I hope she knows she’s cherished and valued, and that she’s beautiful, too… And I hope at some point they will know for themselves how deeply they are loved by You… That is my deepest and most heartfelt longing; it’s for that I most fervently pray… And I have to trust that You will answer that prayer, God, in Your time and in Your way… God, sometimes I wonder what You see when You think to look at me…
“I see YOU, my child! I see it all… and to you, my dear one, I continue to call: You are my Beloved!
I see you as a mom, trying your best… Just keep loving that child– don’t worry so much about the rest! You are beautiful, you are capable, yes, you’re grouchy once in a while– but you’re allowed! After all, you’re human! And that’s a good thing to show your child… You’re not supposed to be perfect– that was never part of my plan. I only want you to be you, as courageously as you can! Don’t be afraid, my dear one, to be who I made you to be! Accept my Love deep within yourself, and you will truly be free– Free to love and accept your child, and who she is at her very core… That’s the best gift you can give your child; he couldn’t ask for anything more!
You ask me what I see in you when I look your way? I see a beautiful, capable woman to whom I continue to say, ‘You are my Beloved!’ Hear it…Let it sink in…Accept it… and go love on your child!”
I hear it…and I let it sink in…and I accept it: I am God’s Beloved!
Awesome. 🙂
And you are God’s Beloved! Let’s go love on all of our kids!!
Not long after I had pre-enrolled in seminary, my pastor gave an essay to me written by one of the Niebuhr brothers. The paper explored the theme of freedom and responsibility, and Pastor Pollmann asked me to present a series of short presentations on it during worship. I no longer have what I wrote, which is no great loss. I no longer have the original essay, which IS a great loss.
Fifty years later, the core of that essay looms large – not just for me, but I believe for the viability of democracy. Niebuhr’s core idea, at least the one I grasped, was basic: freedom and responsibility cannot be separated from one another without significant danger. For an individual. For a church. For a nation.
Responsibility without freedom goes by many names. Drudgery. Blind obedience. Slavery. Consider the destructive possibilities of such a state of affairs. Nuremberg comes to mind: I was only following orders. Or three-hundred and fifty years of slavery in this nation followed by a century and more of Jim Crow and segregation, whose consequences still erode this nation– especially when some refuse to grasp (or admit) the affront of those days, reminiscing instead about “lost causes.” Responsibility without freedom is a dead-end street –in its worst cases, it becomes a literal killing field of human spirit and community.
But responsibility devoid of freedom is not the only danger when those two are separated.
To some, actually I suspect to many, freedom has become deified into an unqualified good – which is to say, freedom trumps all other qualities and serves as life’s ultimate arbiter. Absolute personal freedom is to be unfettered by anything or anyone. Or is it? This is the other pandemic now ripping our nation apart.
Freedom without responsibility also goes by many names. Licentiousness. Anarchy. The disintegration of community bonds. Consider the destructive possibilities it has unleashed among us. The transformation of masks and vaccines from public health tools to save lives into a political battlefield where MY freedom to do as I choose is everything, regardless of any consequences for the lives of others. Or the freedom to vote for a chosen candidate becomes a license to lie about the validity of the choices and votes of others, a cancer seen in: 1) the lies about the truth of the November election; 2) the abortive attempt on January 6th to violently install the losing candidate over the choice of the majority; and 3) the efforts now underway to legislate voter suppression to eliminate the franchise of those pesky “others” – whether “other” is defined by party or race or country of origin. Freedom without responsibility dis-members society.
The bottom line is this. We have vaccines to combat Covid. We do not have vaccines to combat the collapse of community when “my freedom” is exalted over all, including truth. Jesus once said the truth will set you free – NOT you are free to invent your own truth. For church, for democracy, to hold together: freedom must be yoked with responsibility. If it is not, the lines of the Irish poet Yeats come to mind, written ironically in the wake of the 1918 flu pandemic and the first stirrings of European fascism: Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world . . . While the worst are full of passionate intensity.
