Parker Palmer: Sanctuary

Parker Palmer: Seeking Sanctuary in Our Own Sacred Spaces

Through the red doors. St. Luke’s North Little Rock

“Sanctuary is wherever I find a safe space to regain my bearings, reclaim my soul, heal my wounds, and return to the world as a wounded healer. It’s not merely about finding shelter from the storm: it’s about spiritual survival. Today, seeking sanctuary is no more optional for me than church attendance was when I was a child.” Parker Palmer, “Seeking Sanctuary in our own sacred spaces,” On Being with Krista Tippett, September 14, 2016

We still read about churches, towns, and cities that are providing sanctuary to undocumented immigrants who now face deportation, including dreamers, many of whom have been working, living, and raising families in our country for years. Many were our healthcare workers who saved the lives of those we love during the past pandemic. They sought a better life for themselves and their families, and now fear losing all that is sacred to them.

Many who come to spiritual directors also seek a sanctuary for their sacred spaces, a spiritual life that once was vibrant but now may seem lost. They have lived and followed a road less traveled, but they have come to a spiritual fork in the road or perhaps a dead end. They fear they have lost the spiritual life they once had. They are now on a path that seems undocumented. Our ministry as spiritual friends is to be a sanctuary for the souls of those who seek our trust and guidance, especially when they feel isolated from their God connection. It can be a lonely time.

We must treat as sacred this precious part of all people, the presence of God within each of us, which we can sometimes see but which others may be blind to. We must never lose sight of the privilege or the awesomeness of being asked to care for the soul of another, especially at a vulnerable time. 

This is a sacred trust, a rare opportunity to make a difference, just as our churches, in years past and in years to come, have been places of sanctuary. I am told that the red doors of some of our churches are an ancient sign of sanctuary within. When we meet with a spiritual friend, may we imagine that we are sitting together just within the sanctuary of red doors? 

This also calls us to relate to other seekers in the world who need sanctuary at this time in their lives, both in prayer and in person, remembering that we are all seekers and often on an undocumented, uncharted path. We hope we will have the courage to stand, sit, sleep, work, eat, and pray beside all who need sanctuary within the red doors of our churches, minds, and hearts.

Camp Mitchell on Petit Jean Mountain, a Sanctuary, a Thin Place

Finding a sanctuary during these difficult times is essential for our minds, bodies, and souls.

Joanna Seibert. joannaseibert.com

Angels Unaware

Strangers, Angels, Visiting Firemen

angels Unaware

“Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing so some have entertained angels without knowing it.”—Hebrews 13:2, NRSV.

Early in our medical careers, as my husband and I had the opportunity to help develop departments at Arkansas Children’s Hospital, we spent several weekends a month recruiting out-of-town physicians seeking positions in our specialties. 

We also had three small children we wanted to be with, especially on the weekends. So we usually took our children with the visitors on tours of Little Rock and treated them to lunch in the afternoon. We often ate at a hotel restaurant with an indoor glass elevator and escalators. When the children had enough to do at lunch, they entertained themselves by making several bird's-eye-view trips up and down the hotel's elevator and escalators. 

I don’t know if this term is still in fashion, but we would refer to the visiting physicians for our children as “visiting firemen.” The phrase is still a common part of our family vocabulary.

Many of these “visiting firemen” indeed became “angels unawares,” as the King James Bible translates this verse from Hebrews. We had no idea how we would be able to work with those we were recruiting, but we took a leap of faith. They changed and healed children’s lives and influenced us as well. Several came from other countries.

They helped us put out fires when the politics of medicine reared its ugly head. They taught us, by their presence, to be grateful for them every day as we tried to solve, identify, and change the course of children’s diseases, consulting with each other in community rather than making decisions by ourselves. Their presence and wisdom transformed me from an anxious person to a grateful one. They brought peace, one of the fruits of the Spirit in Galatians 5. 

The most significant gathering of strangers we now encounter is at St. Mark’s food pantry. But soon they, too, are no longer strangers. Many, indeed, are angels. They ask for prayer, yet know how to pray better than we do. They have very little, yet they share it with others. Many bring their neighbors who cannot drive. They repeatedly tell stories about how blessed they are. Perhaps this is a sign of an angel who lives in gratitude.

I share with spiritual friends that I have learned most often from strangers that gratitude is a path to our soul and the God within us.

If you or a loved one became sick during this pandemic, you met many strangers who were angels, unaware. But we don’t need to get sick to see the angels. They bring our mail. They work in our grocery stores, pharmacies, and food pantries.

Today, we also remember Macrina Wiederkehr, who died near this time in 2020. Her book, Tree Full of Angels, speaks to what we are all trying to say.

Joanna. Joannaseibert.com. https://www.joannaseibert.com/

X-Ray as Art

X-Ray as Art

Guest Writer: George Taylor

white Calla Lilly

In 2002, my “photography” took another unexpected turn when we acquired a digital fluoroscopy unit (a device that captures still and video X-ray images). We needed a moving target to simulate blood flow in the arterial system, so we put two fish in a bowl and took an X-ray movie of them swimming around. The resulting image was a lovely translucent yin-yang pattern formed by the two circling fish. 

I became fascinated by the potential of radiography as art and began experimenting. X-rays allow us to use highly sophisticated technology to create a photogram, one of the oldest and simplest methods of reproducing an image.

I began to image flowers on a whim. Whatever the underlying drive, one thing is for sure—I had an epiphany that day. When the first image appeared on the computer screen, I immediately recognized the haunting similarity between the plant and animal kingdoms. Radiographic images reveal, in stunning detail, the archetypal structures and patterns repeated with elegance and precision across every living organism, from the radial symmetry of the human brain to the unfurling splendor of a fiddlehead fern.  

I began a single-minded campaign to image just about everything I could fit under the X-ray machine—from endless varieties and configurations of plants and flowers to seashells. In a sense, I became obsessed with identifying and cataloging how structure, texture, color, and function move fluidly across boundaries, from plant to animal, from animate to inanimate—all with incredible grace, continuity, charm, and captivating beauty. Their inner structures, hidden from view in visible light, become their most striking features.

At times, these ordinary objects take on a new identity. A flower becomes a puff of smoke or an underwater creature, swirling with its partners in an aquatic ballet. A sand dollar becomes a delicate piece of lace, and an old handmade lace mantilla resembles the X-ray tracings of subatomic particles in a linear accelerator.

Finally, X-ray art has enabled me to use the same technology I have used for 40 years to detect diseases in children and to transform it into a means of revealing the inner beauty of nature.

To see more X-ray art, I invite you to visit my website <taylorimaging.net>, à browse à X-ray Art.

George Taylor, MD

Joanna joannaseibert.com