Practical Advice from Mary

"Practical Advice from Mary" is the title of today's reading in the Fr. Thomas Keating book "The Daily Reader for Contemplative Living." I've been using this book for my daily devotion in conjunction with my Centering Prayer practice; I've found each meditation to be rich with meaning and new insights. This meditation was no exception. Fr. Keating references verses from the first part of John 2:1-11. It's the familiar story of the wedding feast at Cana where Jesus turned stone jars of water into good wine. As verse 11 says..."This, the first of his signs....manifested his glory; and his disciples believed in him" What Fr. Keating draws my attention to, though, is that Jesus' mother, Mary was also there. Her presence and her words seem almost an after-thought as John tells the story, but it was she who said to Jesus... "They have no wine." And it was she who uttered the most important words in these verses when she said to the servants... "Do whatever he tells you." Across the centuries she speaks to me today with her very practical mother's advice...'do whatever he tells you.' I have to ask myself what is Christ telling me to do? What is Christ telling you to do on this day?




This Virgin is found in Conques placed high in the vault of the Porte de la Vinzelle where she blesses pilgrims as they leave the village on their way to Santiago de Compostela in Spain.

Fete de Sainte Foy

The parvis of the church is full of pilgrims and villagers come to celebrate the fete of Sainte Foy. It's a few days off, but they gather still to enjoy the company. A clear, starry night, cold autumn, the glow of the changing trees is wrapped in darkness. Tonight the only glow is from the flickering torches that light the square and cast long shadows up the sides of the half-timbered houses flanking the parvis. Musicians cluster around a stone bench--flute, tamborine, lute--a voice high and clear sings a haunting tune in the old Occitan language. Strangers from the north can't understand the words, but they feel the story of love, sorrow and prayers to the 'little saint' stir their souls. Wrapped against the cold, the people mingle, eating handsfull of roast chestnuts, looking for family, conducting trade with peddlers, and sharing stories from the pilgrim trail, the Via Podensis. A small, roughly garbed monk wanders midst the crowd, his heavy robe and cowl enveloping his features. In a people small of stature, this monk is smaller still, but no one questions his presence. He's simply another pilgrim, a faithful wanderer in search of Sainte Foy this year. By next year, he will seek St. Jacques at Santiago de Compostelle. Small feet slipped into the roughest of thick wool stockings and shod in hard leather and wood sandals tread softly on the stones. Deep in the sleeves of his robe, surprisingly small, slender fingers pray the beads. Who is this strange monk who stands close to a knot of women sharing stories of children and kitchens? The men trading gold nuggets quietly by the fountain barely notice the cleric's presence as he dips a cup of water and leans in to hear their conversation about the gleaming gold and the fine jewelry it will produce. If anyone cared, if anyone looked closely at the face mostly hidden by the robe's deep cowl, they would see not the whiskered face of an old monk, but the sweet, fresh face of a young girl, her eyes sparkling with the excitement of the music, the stories, and the glittering gold. This child, almost a woman, has come to the 'little saint's' celebration. Sainte Foy is here enjoying her disguise, enjoying her fete, enjoying her faithful people.

Click the appropriate link if you are interested in learning more about Sainte Foy, her Abbey Church at Conques, or the village of Conques. "Little Saint" by Hannah Green is a beautifully written book that weaves all these stories together in a personal memoir of discovery from the author's many visits to Conques.

Shutting Out the World

I snapped this photo on my visit to Calvignac in September. It's not unusual to find modern art installations in rather strange places in France; that this one was at the entrance of a beautiful medieval village did not surprise me. While it wasn't particularly beautiful, I felt compelled to get a few pictures of it; I was reminded of those photos last weekend at my Centering Prayer meeting. As we settled to begin the prayer session, three people in the group took off their glasses and put them on the table in the center of our circle. It struck me that I take my glasses off as well when I pray, and I began to ponder that. Which was NOT a good thing, since during Centering Prayer one is supposed to let all thoughts go and not engage in them. Anyway...why do we take our glasses off to pray? I believe that it's a symbolic way of disengaging from the world and of turning within. If you can't see the busy-ness of the world, you can't be distracted by it when you pray. Sometimes I even need to put my hands over my eyes to help me focus; if I'm wearing my glasses, I can't do that. What helps you shut out the world when you pray? Do you remove your glasses? Do you darken the room? Lock the door? Take the phone off the hook? How do you follow Jesus' command: "Whenever you pray, go to your room, close the door, and pray to your Father in private?"

By Candlelight...

Somewhere in hazy ancient pre-history, our ancestors tamed fire and their world opened up. A candle, lit in the dankest cave or the darkest stone hut, dispelled the night, chased away spirits, and enabled them to continue on with the work of their world long after the sun had set. A candle was a blessing, something so special in that long ago time that it was given as a lighted sacrifice when prayers were offered up to their gods, their God. In my search to rekindle my heart and spirit, I've returned to the candle. By its light, I read my daily devotion; by its light I offer my prayers. Unlike my ancestors, my candle gives me a focus that shuts out the world. In the dark morning or the late night, I turn out all artificial light and light my candle. Beyond its flickering glow, the world's busy-ness stays quiet in the dark; I can ignore it for a time. Offering a prayer as I light my candle, I call Spirit into my life. Candlelight brings only enough illumination for the task at hand...writing, reading, praying, meditating. I can forget about reports, projects, data, balancing the checkbook. Only when I blow out the candle's gentle flame and flip the switch that brings electricity surging into light bulbs big and small is there enough light to do the world's work. A few brief moments in a world lit only by a single flame soothes and centers my soul. I am again at one with Spirit.

Sunday Worship

I couldn't have picked a better Sunday to worship as I seek to re-center myself in Spirit. I worshipped on Sunday instead of Saturday evening because the Confirmand that I was given to mentor needed to meet and interview me for her next class this week. Her family attends the 10:15am service, so we made plans to meet at 9:30am. We tucked ourselves into a corner of the downstairs chapel away from the noisy Parish Hall, so we could actually have a conversation, and she began her questions. How could I not focus on Christ when she asked when I first knew I was a Christian? Her questions about where I most feel God in my life made me think and remember and feel again those times that I called on God and He answered. We shared a mutual place where both of us feel God's presence...in ancient churches. She completed her assignment, but I gained far more than she did from simply answering her questions. Then upstairs for the service of saints on this All-Saints Day. There were two babies presented for baptism...my very favorite sacrament. I loved watching Mary annoint them with the blessed waters of baptism and Elizabeth seal them in Christ with the oil of chrism. But my favorite part of the baptismal sacrament is when we in the congregation are called to support these children as they grow in faith. And then we all re-affirm our baptismal vows, saying after each vow "I will with God's help." Strong words that bring me back to center, back to Spirit; words that remind me that all I am and all that I do comes from God.

Organ Music and Candlelight

I'm sitting here journaling by candlelight and the organ music of Conques, searching for God in the midst of the world's busy-ness. Since returning from France, busy has been non-stop: work issues, projects including moving my office, a long weekend in San Diego visiting family, buying a new car and bidding the old one 'adieu,' struggling with a sorethroat and cough, a dental problem, a doggie health issue, planning trips to the laundromat (I've GOT to buy a new washer soon!). You get the picture--all those things that hold you in an iron grip of worry and distraction. Where is God in all this? My Centering Prayer practice has stopped; I hardly find time to journal, say a quick bedtime prayer or even glance at the prayer list from church. I feel frazzled, a bit empty and annoyed at myself for letting exterior things interfere with my interior peace and groundedness. I've decided to let the wonderfully opaque graphic glass windows of the Abbey Church at Conques block out the world's distractions while I renew my inner spirit. For the next few days, I'll seek Spirit in ritual and intention. Will you join me?