Today’s Gospel Story for the Feast of Corpus Christi (Luke 9:11b-17) is Jesus feeding the 5000. This can be as personal to us as we want it, or not. For the majority report the Story tells one of the powerful things Jesus did to help people come to experience Abba’s love for them. Many see the Story as a preparation for Jesus giving us himself in the Eucharist. Mostly though it is seen as something that happened a long time ago.
The minority report reflects how each of us sees the Story having an impact in the particularities of our life here and now. It is an invitation to notice what is going on in our life, and how we are reacting to it. We might become aware of a richness we have not known before, something that is real, but difficult to put into words. In the Story Jesus’ disciples ask him to get food for the people to eat. He tells them to take care of it themselves. When they complain that they don’t have enough food, he says, in effect, “C’mon we got this, let’s do it”. And so it happens, better than they expected. This Story can offer us some insights to our own habit of prayer, whatever it may be, and our own awareness of Abba happening in our life.
Some thoughts on saying prayers and prayer. Praying, saying prayers, is about us, what we are doing. Prayer is not about doing something. Prayer is about God, where we spend a quiet few minutes or so with God, being available in case God wants to do something in us, which does happen. Prayer is also a way of life where we come to see our relationship with Abba is what guides our every day living. Our time of quiet prayer is not for asking, thanking, or praising God. We make other times in our day for that. Our quiet time is just for quietly “hanging out” with Abba, like being silent with a good friend. Prayer is an expression of our relationship with Abba, with Christ, with the Spirit. But, to paraphrase Meister Eckhart, if I have an image of God that I am looking for, the best I will get is that image. The god I know will get in the way of the God who knows me. Our image of God is usually a reflection of ourselves, and this can get in the way of knowing God. Also, knowing God is not a matter of logic, information, facts, or data, but a matter of experience, even of love.
Often when I pray I have my own idea of how things should be in whatever I’m praying about. I ask Abba to fix something, as Jesus’ disciples asked him to feed the people, and I have my own ideas of how he should do this. In the Story Jesus showed his disciples how to feed so many people. They did it together —Jesus and them, beginning with prayer. Over the years I’ve seen this sort of experience happen again and again as many of us have. Most of the time we see it in retrospect. Prayer is a way of living in a relationship with Abba in our here and now. It involves a willingness to let go of what we know, to change, to grow, to be surprised. It also involves living with uncertainty and trust, and a constant letting go of what I want and moving into the depth and richness of what is. In all the nastiness we sense a goodness that is inviting us to let go and trust, and go where this takes us. Letting go can be frightening and difficult. Yet as we do our best to trust and be open, we are aware of profound peace and a constant “C’mon we got this, let’s do it”.
With all that is going on in my life these days, no matter what I say, I still want to know and feel in control, and this is damaging to my relationship with Abba, whatever it might be, and I don’t know what it is. The Story makes clear Jesus’ loving care for the crowd and for his disciples, and for each of us. Something that is in and around us all the time is Abba’s loving care for all of us. Sometimes it happens to others through us, and to us through others. Each of us has a necessary role in our relationships with others.. The world situation makes this hard to see. It’s like the disciples’ concern for the crowd – “Jesus, the people are hungry, do something”. And he tells them, “Let’s do it together”. Prayer is an important part of everything we do. It begins along the lines of, “Abba, are you saying something to me in all this whatever, is there something you are asking me to do?”. It is not “this is what I want you to ask me to do”. If I think I have the answers, I’m making it about me. When I try to let go of my need for answers it’s becoming about Abba. This is a constant journey of conversion. Am I ready, or willing, to hear “C’mon we got this, let’s do it” in whatever I am praying about?
As I write this on Saturday morning the Gospel Story is of Jesus saying, “Do not worry about tomorrow; tomorrow will take care of itself; sufficient for a day is its own evil.” In other words, another “C’mon we got this, let’s do it, don’t worry”. This seems to have been a constant this past week, popping up in just about everything that has happened. “Do not worry” is easy to say but not at all easy to do. Walking slack with Jesus on point.
This past week or so has been an interesting experience. I’m glad the Welcome Prayer practice is part of my life, because there has been and still is, a lot to welcome. It’s hard to talk or write about all this because I don’t see it as a “poor me” issue. It is an exciting, joyful, and peaceful experience/journey, and I wouldn’t change a thing. I value the peace that has been with me since my heart attack in the car. I am also aware that this can continue for a very long time, or not. I feel a very strong “directive” to let go of my need to know and have a sense of control, and instead to live in the Sacrament of the Present Moment as Abba is very much active and involved in my life in ways that I recognize but cannot put into words. Also this past week some wonderful friends from my time in Italy stopped by my place and we had a great time. They helped remind me who I’ve been and who I want to be. It was a wonderful experience for which I am most grateful. And so, I don’t have to know. I’m not asked to know, only to trust and go where this takes me. And I’m certainly not alone. “C’mon we got this, let’s do it”. Just sayin . . .