A couple years ago (2009), I was asked to give a Lenten devotional talk at my church on the topic of silence and solitude as spiritual practice, integrating the text of Matthew 6:25-34. Since then a number of people have asked me for copies of this talk. It is again Lent so here is the talk as an audio file for those who may want to listen. Please note this is a "practice" recording and not a recording from the talk given in real time.
Together on Ash Wednesday
Yesterday, Ash Wednesday. The service at my church was in the evening and when I looked at the calendar late in the afternoon found that it was half hour earlier than I thought. I hadn't yet come to the stopping point in my work project and had no dinner plan and would have to rush to get there on time and it looked cold outside and I was tired. So many reasons to stay home. I told myself that individual devotion was what mattered, and that I could as easily attend to the reminder of Ash Wednesday (From dust you came and to dust you will return) and the call of Ash Wednesday (Repent and believe) at home. But I went. Sitting in the pews with others who had probably also rushed to get there; listening together to the spoken Word; standing in a long line to receive the streaks of ash (the burned byproduct of palms waved by this same group the Palm Sunday before) and the bread and the cup; watching the children and the teens; bearing each other's burdens in post-service conversation and with promises to pray, I was reminded. We're in this together.
For Transfiguration Sunday
The following paragraph is from an essay of mine in progress and refers to an icon in an icon exhibit at The Russian Museum of Art a couple years ago. The quality of the picture is poor because I took it with my cell phone in a room with low light.
In the “Feasts Tier,” a row of ten icons, the “Transfiguration of our Lord” hangs second from the end. Jesus takes center position, a robe as white as light, a slash of gold sash, Moses and Elijah to his right and left, respectively. Gold haloes on each. Unlike all the other icons in this exhibit, this one commemorating a late summer feast shows movement. Their robes and capes furl as the three men hover above ground in imagined wind. Mouths are closed, but there is no doubt of a conversation in progress. Hands and arms with bent elbows are caught mid-motion. As the story goes his face is glowing like the sun, but I don’t see it here. A layer of cotton-ball clouds hold the browns, greens, yellows, and reds down to earth, the background above nothing but creamy white. The clouds are just gray enough to suggest a degree of threat. Has the benedictory Voice already spoken? On the hard ground—which yet managed to bloom a flowering plant and sprout a sapling—and looking this way and that, twist the fearful Peter, James, and John.