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Month: August 2020

Choosing our future: questions in a time of potential

This time holds the potential to kickstart momentum for the years ahead. We have spiritual choices each day of the pandemic, the effects of which will multiply. There is great promise and challenge in the air. We do not know what the future holds, and yet we can do our best to shape the kind of world we want. The situation moves me to ponder …

Questions in a time of potential

Will we reach out with friendship and compassion
reverencing the experience of our neighbours?
Will we descend into pure self-interest
forgetting we are always interconnected?
Photo by Duy Pham on Unsplash
Will we build justice for the discarded
and attend to the needs of this vulnerable planet?
Will we accelerate our insatiable consumption
forgetting the earth and those in need?
Will we lean into generosity and large-heartedness
pouring out our lives with gladness?
Will we shrivel up into mean-spiritedness
and avoid the call to relationship?
Photo by Aleksandr Ledogorov on Unsplash
Will we listen to the call deep within us
tending our hopes and deep desires?
Will we give in to desolate disconnection
and baser tendencies toward despair?
Will we give thanks before the gathering of peoples
praising the God of all goodness?
Will we lose sight of all we have been given
and hide our face from the light?

This moment

This moment holds great promise:
in the gathering of our hopes
through the call we receive.
May we, in time, have cause for celebration.
This moment is a discovery:
new trials and joys
fresh opportunities for liveliness.
May we, in time, embrace this experience.
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That more urgent longing: seeking God in prayer

In this time of great change and challenge, as we stare down a pandemic, prayer seems all the more urgent and necessary. Many of us need God’s strength in these days. I believe that seeking God in prayer is indeed a more urgent longing than anything else. The God I long for is the One in whom I find comfort and consolation. This is a God in whom we can hope.

God of my longing

God of my longing,
I wait on your movement within:
draw me close to you
lead me to rest in your embrace.
God of my longing,
I cry out for your presence:
make yourself known to me
grant me your compassion.
God of my longing,
I seek your peace in the quiet:
the embrace of your Spirit
the joy of your life.
Photo by Umit Bulut on Unsplash
God of my longing,
I yearn for your tender love:
to renew my mind
to make music in my heart.
God of my longing,
I want your very self:
create fresh confidence within me
to reach out after your hand.
God of my longing,
I call on your name in the morning:
hear my voice, listen to my request
be with me in joy and distress.
God of my longing,
I sing of your goodness before the peoples:
gather us in solidarity and companionship
move great communion among us.
Photo by Caleb Woods on Unsplash
God of my longing,
I believe your light is the true north star:
shine brightly in the night of darkness
be the guiding hope of this age.
God of my longing, 
I ask for your invitation today:
send a new call to my ears
give me the grace to respond.

Prayer and discernment

The inner encounter in daily life renews us for what we are to do. In calling on God’s name, and resting in God’s presence, prayer opens the heart to experience God moving within and among us. So it is that the door may open into a deeper peace and a renewed sense of hope – and other gifts from the giver.

It is on the days of distance
that my heart expresses its deepest yearning.
It is on the days of darkness
that I seek the light with which to see.
It is on the days of distress
that my plea for comfort is heard.

We may in time notice a growing sense of ease in relating with God and an encouragement to keep going, both sure signs of God’s Spirit with us. We may also grow in our ability to recognise contrary movements for what they are – disturbances from the spirit of dis-ease and discouragement. Thus, we grow in our felt need for ‘discernment’ in daily life.

A prayer for these times

God of all goodness and consolation, be with our communities. Make us aware of your presence with us. Give each person the deep peace, comfort and patience needed to get through this time. Send life to our minds and joy to our hearts. May we see ourselves and each person as indeed precious in your eyes, honoured and loved (Isaiah 43:4). Send out your Spirit and renew the face of the earth. Amen.

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Bonobo’s ‘No Reason’ featuring Nick Murphy: years of listening

For three years now I have listened to No Reason featuring Nick Murphy by Bonobo. I listen whenever I seek the peace of the familiar. The 2017 track from the Bonobo album Migration features an uplifting rolling beat and ethereal vocals. The track accompanies me in joy and sorrow, laughter and fear.

I feel the lyrics from the opening ‘it’s beautiful’ through the long ‘sunrise’ and to the final ‘we’ve got the time of our lives now’. I am always moved by Murphy’s words ‘when music’s around, stay warm’. This music moves my heart. I emerge buoyant and more aware of hope.

Each play hits me again. I associate the track with a deepening sense of consolation over the years. My experience is of being enveloped in delight.

No Reason gives me a thrill of joy
deep in my bones, as I connect
my spirit soars into the sky.
Nick Murphy's vocals speak to my
life, 'we've got the time ... now' he
sings, calling me to fullness.
Bonobo's melodic beat and big reverb
invite my mind to relish the experience
of this moment, the call of now.
I am staying warm near this track
it fills my life with good tidings
it draws forth hope like water from a spring.
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Piano music of Bach played by Ólaffson: drama, reverence, awe

As Icelandic pianist Víkingur Ólaffson’s hands glide their way over the piano, Bach’s Organ Sonata No. 4 emerges as if out of a dream. The music moves with desire and intent, drawn as if by love, unto completion. We experience great glory in the union of instrument and musician.

Master violinist and Australian Chamber Orchestra Musical Director Richard Tognetti declared last year that “Bach is God to musicians“:

“We’re all disciples of Bach, as cringeworthy as that might sound. You can’t help it. Study any piece of his – and, unlike with anyone else, every piece, every damn piece, is the work of the hands and brains of a genius.”

Richard Tognetti

If Bach is God, Ólafsson here is reverently caring for the creation. The sounds the Icelandic virtuoso draws forth from his piano evoke a calming sense of peace all while telling an evolving drama of the spirit.

The notes tumble as if a stream of water could rise upstream and flow downstream on the direction of the musical master. We feel the intensity and enjoy the revolutions and resolutions entwined in each phrase. This experience is an unfolding and a binding together:

These notes are a discovering
musical phrases tumbling
over the piano like an ever-flowing
stream — sourced from above.
These revolutions are an unfolding
drama with constant movement
and liveliness capturing listeners;
we hang on every resolution.
These sounds are delight for the senses
a reaching toward completion,
a gathering together of the scattered,
a going out and a coming home.
These melodies are a retrieval
the intentions of Bach interpreted for today
like memories gratefully received
like stories heard with reverent awe.
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Finding God in Christian Life Community

CLC is a lay community and public world association of women and men shaped by the spirituality of St Ignatius of Loyola. It is a way of Christian life for people drawn to attend to the presence of God in their lives.

Until two years ago I had lived all my life in close quarters with family within the Greater Sydney area bound by the Blue Mountains and Bondi. When for several months I experienced a deep and returning desire to move to Melbourne, I discerned this as a divine invitation. I arrived in July 2016, turned 29, and began a Masters of Teaching at ACU.

I experienced a newfound freedom. I was blessed with my friends. But there were challenges, and I felt adrift. Thankfully, soon after arriving I was twice invited to go to a Christian Life Community (CLC) group for young-er people. On the second invitation I responded with a tentative yes – and one Wednesday evening in the Spring I arrived for a 7pm start.

Warm welcome

I discovered a group of some seven people, each from varied backgrounds and di[erent stages of life. I noticed a familiarity with one another, and a warm welcome for me the newcomer.

Soon I was introduced to a way of reflection and sharing which would make a lasting impression on me.

We begin by ‘checking in’ with how we come. We pray with Scripture and silence. We speak on how the prayer resonates with how we are each travelling personally. We listen attentively over two rounds of sharing. At the end of the meeting there is a ‘check out’ where again we name how we are.

In my first semester I studied for five Masters level subjects. I was flat-out, stressed, and fatigued. After a couple of fortnightly Wednesdays, CLC became a non-negotiable in my calendar. Each gathering was a safe resting place for my spirit.

I remember one night I turned up discouraged and tempted to despair. At the time I didn’t realise I was experiencing what St Ignatius of Loyola called ‘desolation’ (the felt absence of God). During the meeting this began to lift. I then noticed myself feeling renewed in the following days. In time I saw desolation as part of my journey to an Easter faith.

Pattern of sharing

Another evening we were reflecting on Pope Francis’ ecological encyclical Laudato Si’. Members spoke with an attentiveness to the land we live on and reflections on how we respond to people experiencing homelessness. The pattern of our sharing reminded me of the Pope’s line quoting Latin American theologian Leonardo Boff on hearing ‘the cry of the earth and the cry of the poor’. I found it incredible that within one meeting we heard those cries together.

Now I am coming up on two years with my CLC group. We have supported each other in tremendous loss and abundance. We have reflected on how we live our personal call. We have welcomed two newborns, and one has been to a meeting. We have participated in events with the wider Victorian, Australian, and global dimensions of our Christian Life Community. We are also prayerfully considering our response to Plenary Council 2020.

Belonging to a community

As I experience work beyond university, I take heart that I can continue to gather with my CLC group each fortnight. I am grateful to have a discerning community where I am held, lifted up, and reminded that I am both loved and called. Ultimately, I belong to a community alive to the call of Christ, generously responding in the particular situations of our personal lives, and coming together for inspiration and renewal.

For more, visit http://www.clcaustralia.org.au

The CLC meeting structure

The following is a general outline of a typical CLC meeting process.

Check inIn a period of silent reflection, members may share briefly an image, a word or a phrase describing how each comes to the meeting.

Prayer: Scripture/reading, extended silence, perhaps some music. Often has a theme.

Sharing on the prayer and/or review of life since last meeting: In a pattern of listening and discerning, each person present speaks without being interrupted.

Exchange: A second round where each is invited to respond to what someone has shared, further reflect on the theme of the meeting, or seek feedback from the community.

News from wider CLC: community business.

Evaluation or check out: Noticing how movements have shifted during the meeting. 

Final prayer: Sent out with a prayer such as the Glory Be, Our Father, or Hail Mary.

A version of this article was first published in AusCaths magazine on 30 October 2018

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Days of Pandemic, Weeks of Renewal: a hopeful prayer-poem

A hopeful prayer-poem in the midst of the pandemic:

God of all days
These days of pandemic are weeks of separation
Build new stretches of community across our cities
Draw forth relationships of mutuality and care
Move families and friends to balm each other’s sorrow.
God of all days
These days of pandemic are weeks of darkness
Renew the earth with the pattern of your light
Send new life to peoples, animals, plants,
Give fresh vitality to the soil, the waters, the sky.
God of all days
These days of pandemic are weeks of renewal
Send forth your Spirit upon us
Form steadfast hearts within us
Beating at the sound of your voice.
God of all days
These days of pandemic are weeks of challenge
Be the guiding presence in our communities
Be the animator of our plans
Be the breath of our hopes.
God of all days
These days of pandemic are weeks of invitation
Call us close to your very self
Draw us into supporting each other
Bless us with light and life.
An image made of this poem by CLC Philippines
God of all days
These days of pandemic are weeks of fear
Tend our hopes with affection
Walk with us in our darkness
Speak words of comfort and peace.
God of all days
These days of pandemic are weeks of waiting
Draw us to your Word as consolation
Give us ears to listen deeply
Move songs of grief and love in our hearts.
God of all days
These days of pandemic are weeks of upheaval
Hear our deep desires
Listen to our cries from the pit of frustration
Resound new music on our lips.
God of all days
These days of pandemic are weeks of quiet
Give our streets a sense of calm
Help our health workers in their time of need
Guide our leaders to reflect on their experience.
from United Nations Covid-19 Response on Unsplash
God of all days
These days of pandemic are weeks of mystery
Unfold the grace of tranquility in our minds
Unfurl the banners of your peace before the peoples
Give us the means to glorify your name.
God of all days
These days of pandemic are weeks of insight
Transform our hearts with your presence
Grant grace and peace to our spirits
Send us out as servants, finding joy day by day.

Update: this poem was republished by CLC Philippines on 20 August 2020
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These days are our preparation for a new world

These days are our preparation for a new world:
where solidarity shall flourish
where the land will overflow with honey
and the grass will sing with dew.
When the dawn announces such a day
the people will rejoice quietly
mourn the dead
pick up the pieces of existence
and work together to make real
a lasting city of peace
a radiant edifice for stewardship
of the land and all people.
The needy shall be first
and the music will draw forth dancing.
Every person will be free to delight
in the fruits of the earth
every child will hope
every grandma will give thanks
all the parliaments will announce a jubilee for the people
and all will remember
the ones who went before us,
the hospital workers,
the people who played their part.
We will savour life’s gifts
and never forget the violence of such a contagion
we will prepare for future calamity
and commit to care for the wounded.
We will begin our lives anew
keeping our groaning earth before our eyes
and coming to its aid.
We will bless the life we have been given
and reverence the people among whom we live.
We will reconcile with our rivals
and never forget that
we belong to each other
we are as strong as the weakest among us
we are the ones who will care for the land
and love one another.
We are the people about whom it is written
‘They shall be my people, and I shall be their God.’

I wrote this poem early on in the COVID19 pandemic as we experienced it in Australia: 24 March 2020. I couldn’t write with that urgent and ‘prophetic’ voice today; this second lockdown feels different to the first. That said, we can still reach for hope and encouragement.

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Called into warmth and light

A poem remembering a spiritual experience I had while on an overseas trip in early 2008:

On a tropical afternoon more than a decade ago 
I remember feeling a warmth
rise within my chest, a fire burning. This experience
consumed me with a sense of call. I woke with a new
consciousness of being loved, and began walking with
a profound sense of direction.
But I wanted more of that warmth, 
with its tender, blessed light. I sought its
return, and, sometimes felt the heat 
moving deep in my heart. And following such
persistent efforts, the experience was released— 
the fire had become smoke.
In the years that followed, I found new images for a vocabulary 
of encounter: water tumbling over rocks, mustard
seeds, and fertile soil in which to grow. I was invited to
rolling fields of conversation. In naming my experiences,
I began to behold the embrace of the giver 
who kept sending sought and unsought gifts.
Sitting on my balcony one morning, sun hidden 
behind great Winter clouds, I felt fresh warmth
resting within my lungs. I paused gently in stillness,
breathing in all these memories
breathing out appreciation
rising to now write it all down.

Part of my graced history.

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