It’s been a long day …
As most of you know I subscribe the Richard Rohr’s daily meditation
The day today has meant I have only just got around to reading today’s …
or I would have posted this earlier
with just a big …. YES!
I found todays post so powerful that I have cut and paste it here in it’s entirety. You can see it online here and you can subscribe too … tho quite frankly I really do not understand why any of my regular readers are not already subscribed …
I find today’s post so powerful
so real
so …. umm .. life giving
and yes …. ‘we need to teach all young people how to cry’
anyway … go read …. (and I’ve love your comments too)
Blessed Are Those Who Mourn
Thursday, February 1, 2018
Blessed are those who mourn: they shall be comforted. —Matthew 5:4
Tears are therapeutic and healing, both emotionally and physically. Crying helps the body shed stress hormones and stimulates endorphins. Weeping is a natural and essential part of being human. Eknath Easwaran writes:
We can spend the better part of our lives attempting to construct the perfect personal environment, a kind of bubble that will insulate us against everything that is unpleasant. But sorrow is woven into the very texture of life. Pain, disappointment, depression, illness, bereavement, a sense of inadequacy in our work or our relationships . . . the list could go on and on. . . .
Is there meaning in this pattern, in the inescapable mingling of sorrow and joy? The mystics say there is. If tears are a fact of life, they have several lessons to teach us, and the first is to learn to keep on an even keel through life’s inevitable storms. . . . [1]
The Syrian Fathers Ephrem and Simeon weren’t as familiar in Western Christianity as the Greek and Latin Fathers after the early centuries of the Church. The Greek and Latin Fathers tended to filter the Gospel through the head; the Syrian Fathers’ theology was much more localized in the body. They actually proposed that tears be a sacrament in the Church. Saint Ephrem went so far as to say until you have cried you don’t know God.
Most of us think we know God—and ourselves—through ideas. Yet corporeal, embodied theology acknowledges that perhaps weeping will allow us to know God much better than ideas. In this Beatitude, Jesus praises those who can enter into solidarity with the pain of the world and not try to remove or isolate themselves from its suffering. This is why Jesus says the rich person often can’t see the Kingdom, because they spend too much time trying to make tears unnecessary and even impossible.
Jesus describes those who grieve as feeling the pain of the world. Weeping over our sin and the sin of the world is an entirely different response than self-hatred or hatred of others. Grief allows one to carry the dark side, to bear the pain of the world without looking for perpetrators or victims, but instead recognizing the tragic reality that both sides are caught up in. Tears from God are always for everyone, for our universal exile from home. “It is Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted” (Jeremiah 31:15). I am grateful that the new emergence of hospice work, bereavement ministries, and formal “grief work” seems to indicate we are beginning to understand this. In Men’s Rites of Passage, the “day of grief” is often the turning point toward a man’s initiation. Men finally discover that so much of what they thought was anger was actually sadness, loss, and grief. [2]
Tears seem ridiculous in a culture like ours which is so focused on diversions and entertainment, and are especially a stumbling block to men. Crying will make us look vulnerable. So many men hold back tears. Is it no wonder men don’t live as long as women, on average? We must teach all young people how to cry. Now, in my later years, I finally understand why Saints Francis and Clare cried so much, and why the saints spoke of “the gift of tears.”
© 2018 | Center for Action and Contemplation
1823 Five Points Road SW
Albuquerque, New Mexico, USA
Tonight, the third of our Advent meditations was based on the Shepherds.
In 
It’s not the leader’s job to cast a vision or imagine a future for the congregation or community. Ideas emerge as people listen to each other and talk to each other. The leaders task is to facilitate, coalesce and connect ideas, to catalyse and stimulate the development of vision.
Those two meditations that jumped out at me coupled with the ‘all will be well’ word gave a strong sense of hope on Thursday morning. On my afternoon walk I came across a level crossing, and I know it’s not entirely safe but I took a photo looking down the rails. From my previous two days of quiet coming across these rails seemed again to be prophetic in it’s meaning to me. A meaning that there seems a clear way ahead … it’s long, a lot out of focus, but clear direction and a certain knowledge of what could be ahead … and that ‘all will be well’. This picture of the rails speaks to me in a way that reminds me that over the last 6 months or so I had drifted from the core of who I was … as I look back I have ideas why, but to dwell there would be pointless, other than to learn from the experience. Returning to the core of me in the knowledge that all will be well is pretty liberating!
At breakfast on Wednesday I saw this card.
After this deep experience with what I would call God I sat pretty quietly in my room for another 20 minutes or so before then going for another walk with the camera. As I walked, following my map, I cam across this single poppy which I saw as a massive sign of hope. Interestingly, ‘HOPE’ is the word in metal letters that I have displayed in my living room. It’s an important word for me. It’s one of those words that gets who I wish to be as well as describes how I want to be and also helps me look to the future.
The first two days of the retreat were hard work.
That afternoon the walk I went on with my camera brought me across this tunnel by surprise.
The Shiny Headed Prophet 