Donkeys

“I always hoped for a burning bush,” said the disillusioned priest reflecting on his longing for God.

“But you got a burning Church,” his mentor pointed out referring to the parish that went up in flames on Christmas morning.

“Not sure that’s the same thing,” the minister replied.

As I sit here on Palm Sunday morning, thinking about the juxtaposition of Jesus on a donkey, I can’t help but see a profound truth that has traveled from the Sunday way back when to this Sunday and all the Sundays in between: God comes to us in unpredictable ways. Like the minister who wanted a burning bush, we think God will come in the spectacular, the bright lights and heavenly choruses, but the gospels tell us otherwise. Whether its an unmarried young girl, a stable in the back, a well at midday, a campfire by a lake, a garden at night, a broken piece of bread, a cross, or a road to a random town called Emmaus, God comes to us in unpredictable ways. The donkey of Palm Sunday was only one on a long list of surprising incarnations. It seems to be God’s way of making himself known.

A volunteer at a soup kitchen is only too happy to help if it gets her out of her house and her abusive marriage. She’d never felt more alone. When serving one of the guests, she caught his bloodshot eyes and he smiled and said, “God’s with you.” With me? What about with you? But for the rest of the day she felt a strange peace, as if God was sitting beside her, and it didn’t take away her troubles but transformed them.

It was a routine pregnancy check up, but they found something. The baby was fine, but she had cancer. Fortunately, the gifted doctors saved the baby and saved the woman. It was nothing like the experience she thought she would have bringing a life into the world, but, looking back, two lives were saved through that unexpected journey, something for which she remains profoundly grateful.

“We need to talk,” his boss said ushering his intoxicated employee into his office. He remembers little of what was said, but he soon found himself at a local rehab center. He lost his job, but he found his life. He surrendered his power and discovered the power of faith. Sober now for many years, he realized God was in that office, saying the difficult words.

Donkeys come in all shapes and sizes, but the still, small voice of God can be heard in the most unlikely places – a soup kitchen, a hospital, a boss’ office, to name only a few. It’s enough to get me to lay down a garment or cut a palm branch in gratitude.

By Charlotte bristol

(age 7, i think)

The Heart of the Matter/The Matters of the Heart

“You keep carrying that anger, it’ll eat you up inside.” Don Henley

Each Lent, I remember a story I once read about two monks who went on a day-long silent retreat. The rules for such retreats were strict – no contact with anyone and absolute silence. They set off from the monastery and were not an hour away when they came across an old man trying to cross a swollen river. “Here, climb on my back,” said one monk without hesitation, and soon he was carrying the old man while his companion was fuming behind. Once on the other side, they continued on their way. When they finally returned to the monastery and could break their silence, the other monk let him have it. “I can’t believe what you did!” he said. “You not only spoke to the man, you also carried him across the river.” After a brief pause, the other monk looked at his friend and said, “That’s funny. I carried him across the river, but you’ve been carrying him all day long.”

The old men beside the river come in all shapes and sizes, and one of the healthiest things we can do spiritually is recognize the people, places, and things we’ve carried all day long:

·      A divorce (or any other kind of break up).

·      A friend in eight grade who deliberately did not invite you to a sleep-over.

·      A friend or relative who said something that hurt you deeply.

·      A person you look up to messed up.

·      A colleague who went behind your back. 

·      A boss who gave you a particularly critical review. 

·      A friend who took advantage of you.

·      A company that laid you off or fired you.

·      A parent (or child) who didn’t love you enough.

·      A God who could allow a loved one to suffer or die.

The list is endless and particular to the one doing the carrying. What’s universal is the damage such resentments do - not to the other person, but to one doing the carrying. In 12-step recovery circles, they have a saying that captures the danger of carrying resentments: “I’ll show you . . . I’ll kill me.”

This is the season to recognize who or what we’ve been carrying and putting them down so we can walk on free of such lethal burdens.

Wills

I have two friends named Will. Other than names, they have little in common. 

I met the first Will when I was very young, and he’s been my companion ever since. He’s lots of fun to be around, sometimes. He points at stuff and says, “go for it,” even when to do so would be foolish or dangerous. Nothing holds this Will back. He lives in, and sees only, the present moment. He’s fun, but exhausting. We’ve had many wonderful times together, but we’ve also gotten into more trouble than I’d like to admit. 

The other Will came into my life later. He was much quieter than the other Will, but there’s a strange appeal to his calm. He never demands my attention, and he’s content to wait for when, or if, I turn in his direction. He suggests crazy things, too, but unlike the other Will this one’s suggestions are never about getting, only giving. When I go along, I never regret it, nor get in trouble. Quite the opposite. He has the uncanny ability to lead me to places I don’t see. At first, I’m usually reluctant to follow and the other Will always stands off to the side waving his hands trying to get my attention, but looking back, I can see I’m better for it whenever I follow this Will.

There are those who say I should choose between the two, but I’m not sure I’m capable of that. Life would be less confusing, but I fear both are here to stay. Instead, I’m going to try and listen to them both, equally. That, I’m embarrassed to say, would be an improvement.

“Being a Christian is less about cautiously avoiding sin than about courageously and actively doing God’s will.” - Dietrich Bonhoeffer