Waiting

Waiting

waiting for sunrise

“We must let go of the life we have planned so as to accept the one that is waiting for us.” —Joseph Campbell.

I remember a special day of waiting. We awake early to watch the sun rise one more time from behind the Gulf of Mexico. Amazing. There is one other seeker on the beach, sitting at the water’s edge, facing east, waiting as well. For a few minutes, we are connected, the “two or three that are gathered together.” 

All creation is still except for the loud roar of the ocean waves, which seem to say, “We are too busy and will not stop even if this star does not appear on stage today.” It doesn’t take long for the bright orange slowly to peek out from under the sea’s dark, heavy morning blanket. It is spectacular, with yellow, pink, and red soon splattered across our view. It is too much to take in. 

I look for other mentors for the day to accompany us in our waiting. I need not go far. The Monarch butterflies, with their sunlight-orange, black, and white wings, are arriving. They wake from their night's rest and warm in the new sunlight as they wait for the perfect air current to carry them on their long flight over the Gulf to a valley in Mexico. Are they the same ones who emerged from their chrysalises on the milkweed plants on our deck in Little Rock? Probably not, but they may be related. I hope to remember their patience, resilience, and persistence next spring.

Later, in the early morning, we sit and wait in church for the early Sunday service to begin. The eight o’clockers are mostly introverts, quietly finding places near the back of the church. A few brave ones go up to the first row of pews. We later learn they are reading the Lessons in the service. There is no music at eight. The altar party’s procession is silent. They are like the sun, trying not to make a spectacle. But their silence and sacredness are just as powerful, announcing a new day with one more message of love for new eyes to see and new ears to hear. 

Waiting is indeed an art, a sacred spiritual work. Like almost everything else, it takes practice to appreciate, but it always promises manna and a favorable wind just for this day, until we are ready to wait again.

Joanna joannaseibert.com

Encouraging One Another in Difficult Times as We Live Through Another Hurricane Season

Encouraging One Another in Difficult Times as We Live Through Another Hurricane Season

Ivan

“We need one another. The more things get crazy and spin out of control, the more we recognize that our true allies are standing all around us, men and women as bemused by events as we are, as tired of living in the daily disaster as we are, longing for the firm ground of an honest dissent and a democratic process. Until that crazy gyroscope of power stops spinning, we need one another. We need common sense, strong values, deep listening, and honest talk. The counterweight to confusion is community, the balance to chaos is a coherent vision.” —Bishop Steven Charleston, Facebook page.

I remember a trip to the Gulf Coast after several hurricanes. We sent prayers for safety to our friends along the Carolina coasts, still recovering from Hurricane Florence. We also prayed for those in the Florida Panhandle, who were hammered that weekend by Hurricane Michael, especially those in Panama City, Mexico Beach, and Port St. Joe. We prayed for their churches on the Central Gulf Coast, including Trinity Apalachicola, St. James, Port St. Joe, St. Patrick’s Panama City, Holy Nativity Panama City, St. Andrew’s Panama City, Grace Panama City Beach, St. Thomas Laguna Beach, St. Matthew’s Chipley, St. Luke’s Marianna, and Nativity Dothan. 

I vividly remember the year we were on our way back to the Alabama Gulf Coast after Hurricane Irma. Our destination was not damaged by that storm, which devastated neighboring Florida. All the cars we followed had Florida license plates. Some were packed to the gills, And some were dangerously carrying extra cans of gasoline in their trunks and on their roofs. 

Trucks with generators passed by. Pickup trucks were filled with bottled water. We spent the night at a hotel on the way, where the parking lot was filled with cars bearing Florida license plates. The hotel was more like a hostel, housing large families with their large and small dogs.

There was no water under the causeway at Mobile Bay. It had all been blown out to sea, into the Gulf. Could this have been how the Israelites crossed the Red Sea in the Exodus? Hurricane-force winds pushed the waters aside, allowing the Israelites to cross, and then the storm surge came in as the tide changed, swallowing the Egyptians.

We prayed as each car passed, remembering our return to the Gulf Coast after the devastation of Hurricanes Ivan and Katrina. The memories are still painful—of not recognizing our road or our condo building, of not knowing how to enter it, and of the overpowering stench of rotting food in the refrigerator. 

Perhaps this is what we have to offer. A small connection to what people are experiencing in Texas, the Carolinas, Florida, and the Caribbean, while recognizing that their experience is so much worse. We send prayers and financial aid to help them get through. We are waiting to hear more details. Most of all, we stand together in relationship with them, hoping they can feel, in some way, the cosmic love being sent to them. 

We send hope, love, prayers, and financial support, but mostly the hope and promise that resurrection can emerge from these Good Friday experiences.

Joanna. joannaseibert.com

St. Peter’s By the Sea

Two Spiritual Approaches, Ascent and Inward or Contemplative

Two Spiritual Approaches

“Darkness is not dark for you, and night shines as the day. Darkness and light are but one.”—Psalm 139:12.

Richard Rohr, in his daily emails, describes the two traditional approaches to God as “dark” and “light.” The more cognitive, formal, theological approach is called the kataphatic way. In it, we reach God by studying the divine, practicing an ascent to the sacred, and reaching for the light. This has been the most widely followed approach to God since the Protestant Reformation and the Age of Enlightenment. We could describe it as the way of knowledge or knowing God. 

The other spiritual tradition or way of seeking God is the apophatic way, in which we move beyond words and rational knowing into silence. This is the contemplative approach to the mystery, the “not-knowing.” It is an emptying or descent into darkness, into the unknown sacred within.

Rohr emphasizes the importance of both ways of seeking God for a balanced spiritual life. Those whose personality type involves more thinking and sensing, and who make decisions based on concrete, rational facts, will be drawn to the kataphatic, or ascent, approach. Those whose personality leans more toward feeling and intuitive functions, who make decisions based on relationships and consider many connections and patterns, may be more drawn to the apophatic, or inward, emptying, or descending approach.

Many involved in spiritual direction suggest that we try to use the approach opposite our tendencies during Advent and Lent. For example, if we are a thinking person, we should try contemplative prayer. If we are a feeling and intuitive person, we should consider putting our toe in the water by studying our tradition, sacred Scripture, or the writings of significant theologians. 

Just a suggestion to think or wonder about.

1Richard Rohr, Center for Action and Contemplation. Daily Meditation, “Darkness and Light,” adapted from Richard Rohr’s Things Hidden: Scripture as Spirituality (Franciscan Media, 2008), pp. 115-116.