Thealogical Lady: A Blog

How does it feel?

6/10/2017

I shared the ordo of my Strawberry Moon Thean Eucharist at a friend's request, and he asked me afterward how it felt during and after that liturgy.

For a bit of background, allow me to say that my Thean Eucharist has evolved a great deal over the last two and a half years, so much so that we stopped doing Eucharist for a while because my thealogy had changed so much from its Christian roots.

But this was the response I offered my friend, and I believe it sums up what I value most about Theanism:

Our only light was what remained outside (which wasn't much) and the lone candle that we lit. The lighting of the candle hushed them. Nearly everything I did from that point forward brought forth a torrent of questions, mostly from A. M couldn't participate as well as A could with the parts involving reading. Both of those things left me with a little frustration. That being said, I felt this extraordinary calm and joy as we moved through the liturgy. It was so familiar and yet so fresh. It felt a bit like being at a wedding, or a funeral, or a baptism--it was rich with meaning and charged with the shaping of identity. It felt important and weighty, and I felt alive and at home right where I was, doing what I was doing, sharing and helping shape the story of me and my girls with them. It was as poignant as any liturgy at my old parish back home, and even more poignant than Thean Evening Prayer has been. Perhaps that was the case because my daughters were at the center of it and I could see them, or at least A, making connections and sorting out what it means to be of Thea and to regard all the rest of the world, including those we find difficult to love, as part of Thea.

Making connections between the narrative one hears and one's role in it, and to tell a narrative that empowers a person to shine in ways she never realized she could, is what it's all about for me. To be able to do this with others--particularly my own daughters--to observe them making those connections, and to watch them practice their unique power by being agents in the liturgy we share, is about as near to ecstasy as I've come.

The practice of engaging in liturgy with my girls feels like one of the most important tasks I could ever undertake, because this liturgy as I've shaped it encompasses what I value (and want to pass on to them) most. I want them to break bread with others. I want them to pray, whether that prayer centers them or gives them something to argue with, or both. I want them to be confident storytellers, and I want them to know they have the right to shape the stories they tell. I want them to know the extraordinary relationship between light and shadow without glorifying one over the other. I want them to know that they are, as much as any other part or person of the world, of Thea, of the stars, of the glory of this beautiful universe.

I loved it. ♥

Psalm 139

7/29/2016

Psalm 139

Thea, you search me out and you know me;
   you know my sitting down and my rising up;
   you discern the pattern of my thoughts.

You trace my journeys and my resting-places
   and are acquainted with all my ways.

Indeed, there is not a word on my lips
   that you, O Thea, do not know.

You journey behind, before, and beside me,
   and you lay your hand upon me in blessing.

Where can I go then from your Ruach?
    where can I flee from your presence?

If I climb to the heavens, you are there;
   if I make the grave my bed, you are there also.

If I take the wings of the morning
   and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,

Even there your hand will lead me
   and your hands hold me fast.

If I say, “Surely the darkness will cover me,
   and the light around me turn to night,”

Darkness is not dark to you;
the night is as bright as the day;
   darkness and light to you are both alike.

For you yourself created my inmost parts;
   you knit me together in my mother’s womb.

I will thank you because I am marvelously made;
   all your works are wonders to behold.

My body was not hidden from you,
   while I was being made in secret
   and woven in the depths.

Your eyes beheld my limbs, yet unfinished in the womb;
all of them were already written in your book;
   they were fashioned day by day,
   when as yet there was none of them.

How deep I find your thoughts, O Thea!
   how great is the sum of them!

If I were to count them, they would be more in number than the sand;
   to count them all, my life span would need to be like yours.

Search me, O Thea, and know my heart;
   lead me in your wisdom’s way.

Lake Pleasant

5/5/2015

This past weekend, my family and I drove north of Phoenix to Lake Pleasant. My daughters watched as their dad and I set up the family-sized tent. The temperature when we got there Friday afternoon hovered in the upper 90's Fahrenheit. The heat crawled up our legs and arms and down our backs. Before long we were settling down at our shaded picnic table to drink cold water and eat trail mix. There was nothing we had to do, nowhere we had to be. We just were.

The next morning, I rose with the sun and stepped down the hill to the lake. This is what I saw.

And I couldn't help thanking Thea for creation's wonders and the tiny role I get to play in them.

96

4/6/2015

Thea,
unveil the vein of gold
that yearns to gleam in your light.
Amen.

94

4/4/2015

Thea,
my older daughter was alarmed
when every light went out.
Darkness cloaked her,
heavy and scratchy.
I kindled a fire then,
and the gale of light blew off her cloak.
New light gave birth to new light
and soon both of my daughters were twittering
and dancing, delighted.
Light of Christ.
Light of Christ.
Light of Christ.
Thanks be to you, Thea.
Amen.

81

3/22/2015

Thea,
walk faithfully with travelers on long journeys:
be a lamp on dim footpaths,
and be shade on the sun-washed road.
Amen.

74

3/15/2015

Thea,
thunder in my waking hours;
blaze your jagged light through my dreams.
Amen.

54

2/23/2015

Thea,
you are a thousand shards of glass,
all sparkle and point.
As I make my way,
may my eyes catch your light,
seeing where to tread
and where not to.
Amen.

49

2/18/2015

Thea,
let this ash remind me that I am dust
of the stars, and that to starlight I will return.
Amen.

47

2/16/2015

Thea,
you drape the act of living
in folds of light and shadow.
Teach me how to wear your cloth well.
Amen.

44

2/13/2015

Thea,
when the desire for affirmation
grows more potent than the desire
to be my self,
mirror me:
show me my divine spark.
Amen.

43

2/12/2015

Thea,
when I behold the sky
it is your silky darkness
that undims the stars.
Envelop me in your dark night,
that I might be brightened.
Amen.

28

1/28/2015

Thea,
when the path of dreams seems lost,
light hope's brave flame
that I might find my way again.
Amen.

21

1/21/2015

Thea,
show yourself in the pale dark
of the midnight lake,
sparkling presence
before me.
Amen.

Advent Journeying: Sweeping out the Hearth

12/2/2014

An old Advent hymn invites us to sweep the hearth to prepare for the arrival of light who is to be born.

As I sweep the ashes from my inner hearth, I wince in pain--there are still embers burning, traces of old and new anger that haven't burned out.

What is one to do with old, stubborn fire? I could throw water on the embers, but then I'd have to wait for the hearth to dry out again, and I'd also have a considerable mess to deal with.

Alternatively, I could fan the embers with fresh air--encourage them to burn hotter. Bursting into flame, they will burn hotter and faster, and soon will turn to cool ash, allowing me to clear the way for a new flame to alight there.

It seems counter-intuitive to nurse embers of anger into full flame, and yet it is a singularly efficient way to make the vital task of hearth-sweeping possible.

So I fan the flame, nursing my anger that it might burn away at long last.

Spirit Whispers: Have Mercy

7/2/2014

Recently I met someone who suffers from extreme nausea. He can't eat. He's afraid he's going to die. He mentioned fear of going to hell because of his past choices.

I asked him in a quiet voice, "Do you believe you're going to go to hell?"

He paused for a long moment, then answered, "My hesitation tells you a lot, doesn't it?"

My heart wanted to burst in that moment. How could I, who have sinned so greatly and hurt so many, offer my hope to him?

I wrote down for him the lyrics of a slow, gentle hymn I learned years ago, the words to which were written by Archbishop Desmond Tutu:

Goodness is stronger than evil
Love is stronger than hate
Light is stronger than darkness
Life is stronger than death

Victory is ours, victory is ours
Through Him who loves us

Today I went flipping through the psalms and found one in particular that might have resonated with him.

Psalm 143

Hear my prayer, O Lord;
   give ear to my supplications in your faithfulness;
   answer me in your righteousness.
Do not enter into judgement with your servant,
   for no one living is righteous before you.

For the enemy has pursued me,
   crushing my life to the ground,
   making me sit in darkness like those long dead.
Therefore my spirit faints within me;
   my heart within me is appalled.

I remember the days of old,
   I think about all your deeds,
   I meditate on the works of your hands.
I stretch out my hands to you;
   my soul thirsts for you like a parched land.

Answer me quickly, O Lord;
   my spirit fails.
Do not hide your face from me,
   or I shall be like those who go down to the Pit.
Let me hear of your steadfast love in the morning,
   for in you I put my trust.
Teach me the way I should go,
   for to you I lift up my soul.

Save me, O Lord, from my enemies;
   I have fled to you for refuge.
Teach me to do your will,
   for you are my God.
Let your good spirit lead me
   on a level path.

For your name’s sake, O Lord, preserve my life.
   In your righteousness bring me out of trouble.
In your steadfast love cut off my enemies,
   and destroy all my adversaries,
   for I am your servant.

As a Benedictine Canon, my daily prayer etches the psalms on my heart. A few of the psalms I remember most easily are those I memorized long ago in song. Psalm 51, Psalm 130, Psalm 63, Psalm 23, and Psalm 91 spring to mind most easily when my heart is heavy.

What words do I repeat to myself about God when I am most low? How might I find fresh, life-giving, mercy-imparting words?

Spirit Whispers: Sister Thea

6/19/2014

Sister Thea Bowman (Photo by John Feister)

Sister Thea Bowman was a Franciscan Sister of Perpetual Adoration, and she changed the face of the African-American Roman Catholic Church.

Sister Thea was a woman who led with joy, story, music, and a sharp intellect. She was a woman who had the power to speak prophetically against injustice in ways that would soften the hearts of even old white bishops--again and again. Her power was the power to tell a story, to preach without a fourth wall, to engage others at the level of senses and emotion and experience.

She died from cancer a couple of weeks before I turned eight years old. It was another twenty years before I knew who she was.

When I make my solemn profession as a Benedictine Canon next spring, I plan to take Sister Thea's name as my religious name. I see in Sister Thea a bright, strong, gentle, humble, magnetic leader who could tear down any Jericho walls with the dulcimer sounds of her story-telling-and-transforming voice.

Do I have the courage to be more than I am? Do I have the humility to let go of my own weighty importance so I can fly with the wild, light Spirit in whom I put my trust and hopes?

Easter: Day 49

6/7/2014

The Rev. Br. Chad-Joseph Sundin

This morning my Benedictine brother, Chad-Joseph, is ordained as a transitional deacon in the Episcopal Diocese of Arizona at Trinity Cathedral in Phoenix.

As I reflect on my brother's call and ministry, I hear the music that God plays through his life, as God played the music of Jesus through Mary. He is a good and faithful servant; he empties his life so God's life might live in him, saying yes to the impossible as Mary did, protecting and up-lifting God's faithful servants without regard for his own image as Joseph did, becoming God's life-giving, light-imparting, nourishing presence in the world as Jesus did. I am one of many blessed witnesses to the working of God through Br. Chad-Joseph's life, because I am one of the many people who has looked at him and beheld God's gentle, undemanding, welcoming presence.

On this day when my brother receives the sacrament of Holy Orders, the Magnificat resonates in my heart.

John Michael Talbot, my favorite sacred singer from when I was a little girl, offers a Magnificat meditation that honors my brother's response to his call in a beautiful way:

Easter: Day 44

6/2/2014

Dear Miri,

A year ago today, you changed the fate of the world by emerging from the darkness of my womb into the bright, bright world.

You've joined your daddy and sister and me on the wildest year of our family's life yet. So many things have changed! Let that lesson always be in your heart: things change, and if you keep moving, you'll find yourself in the most extraordinary places with the most extraordinary people doing the most extraordinary things.

Your eyes have always sparkled brilliantly--may your spirit always do the same.

Your legs and arms have been strong since you were growing inside me--may you always be brave and bold enough to show others what it means to be a graced, living body.

Your older sister is bodacious, but you remain engaged and interested in her presence--may you always cultivate curiosity rather than fear, and may you always turn to your sister when there is no one else your size to turn to.

Your parents love you with a great, big, bursting love--may you learn to love others the way we love you.

Your godmother will always be a gentle listener and confidant for you, just as she has always been your mother's--talk to her often so you can discover what it means to be a person wholly in love with the world.

Your daddy would throw himself in danger's path to save the life of another--learn to care as skillfully, boldly, and wholeheartedly as he does.

The ladies in your life are readers and writers--befriend words so you can stretch the limits of your world.

You have an enormous family circle, one that soars even beyond blood-ties--remember your family and call on them whenever need arises, because we will be there for you, whatever you need.

Sacred presence can be found anywhere for those with eyes to see, ears to hear, and hearts to love--may your eyes and ears and heart always remain open to the presence of Shekhinah.

And if you forget everything else, remember this: you have value just because you are, and no power in the heavens or on earth can ever take that from you.

I love you, Miriam-bub.

Mama Kate

Easter: Day 33

5/22/2014

After a difficult day, all I want to do is collapse.

It's been a difficult month, and collapsing hasn't been an option--not with my well-being at stake. The only thing that could get me out of my month-long difficult was standing up to face God.

So I faced God yesterday. I shed the last of my inhibitions and yelled at her. I demanded that she listen and respond.

And she did.

I realized two things last night: 1) my relationship with God is vivacious, and 2) my heart is made of stronger stuff than I've imagined (which is what she was waiting for me to see, of course).

What wondrous love is this, that I would dare to trust her enough to get raging mad at her when she wasn't holding up her end of our relationship. What wondrous love is this, that she would wait in my shadow, enduring my rage, till I could see the light in me that she's seen all along.