Blessing the Neighborhood

 I tucked our palms from Passion Sunday into the birch basket on the front door. The forsythia branches in the basket signal spring and new growth. I like to think the palm branches, which scripture tells us were spread on the road as Jesus entered Jerusalem, wave blessings into the neighborhood. 

                            This blessing 
                            is making 
                            its steady way up 
                            the way 
                            toward you.
                                        Jan Richardson
                                        from Circle of Grace

This blessing is for you if you are Christian and moving through Holy Week towards Easter. Or if you are Jewish and in the midst of Passover. Or if you are Muslim or Hindu or Buddhist.

And yes, it is a blessing if you know yourself as an unbeliever or one who is unsure of your beliefs. Blessings know no boundaries, and it is good to remember that during these days of pageant and ritual. 

Here's what is most important to remember:

    An American rabbi was once asked what he thought of the
    words attributed to Jesus in St John's Gospel, "I am the way,
    and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except
    through me" (John 14:6). The rabbi replied, "Oh, I agree with
    these words." To which the surprised questioner asked further,
    "But how can you as a rabbi believe that Jesus is the way, the 
    truth, and the life?" "Because," answered the rabbi, "I believe that
    Jesus' way is the way of love, that Jesus' truth is the truth of
    love, and that Jesus' life is the life of love. No one comes to the
    Father but through love."
                                p. 119 A New Harmony, The Spirit, The Earth
                                and the Human Soul
                                John Philip Newell

The only way to God is through love. The only way to live, whatever your faith or unfaith, is through love. 

And that's the blessing the palms are proclaiming.

                            This blessing
                            looms in the throats
                            of women,
                            brings from the hearts
                            of men,
                            tumbles out of the mouths
                            of children.

                                        Jan Richardson

An Invitation
What happens when you extend a blessing? I would love to know. 

Thursday's Reflection: Noticing What's Hidden

What do you think when you see a house that looks like this? I drive or walk by this house almost daily, but today is the first time I noticed it. That is not too surprising since the house itself is almost totally concealed by steroid-sized shrubs. However, as I walked first thing this morning, that house cloaked in deep, thick, almost impenetrable bushes entered my imagination and my heart. 

First, I wondered about the inhabitants of that house. Is this a rental house and a case of an absentee landlord who has ignored the landscaping? Or do recluses live there who have intentionally created a moat of green to keep out any invaders? Do the people who live there only enter the house from the back door and never see how overgrown and oppressive their face to the world has become? Is this a case of old age, lack of money and ability, and a too-large home to manage anymore? What do the neighbors on either side of the house and across the street think? I wonder if this is the house on the block where sidewalks are never shoveled in the winter time. Perhaps no one lives there and the house is empty and lonely. 

This house is not the only one in the neighborhood that could use major loving-care. Every neighborhood has homes that for one reason or another are not well-tended or cared for. In some cases the reason is deliberate--the person simply does not care or have pride in how things look. In other cases what started as neat and orderly with gardens and landscaping pleasing to the eye have gotten out of hand. My husband, the head gardener, often points out perennial gardens that are now overbearing, overblown, and in need of ongoing attention, as every garden does to some degree. Of course, neglect can also be the result of lack of money or physical abilities or a different aesthetic from what seems acceptable to most people. Whatever the reason, there is a story attached to each of these unpruned homes. 

As I continued my walk, I wondered about this situation and what was being protected behind the thick wall of green. Is there a need to hide from the rest of the world? What fears are represented here? How could anyone feel welcomed approaching this fortress and is that an indication of the inhabitant's need to retreat not only from the external world, but also from his or her own self-awareness? What is being defended or concealed here? I don't think about possessions necessarily, but what emotions and vulnerabilities are secreted here? How is self-growth and self-awareness limited in such an environment, for not only is it daunting to enter, but it becomes hard to get out the front door as well. 

Here's the challenge I encountered on this walk, knowing what opportunities for metaphor houses and gardens offer: What have I hidden deep within myself? What am I protecting? What do I prevent from discovering the light? In what ways have I built a fortress, defending myself from unknown invasions? Where do I need to prune and weed and transplant and dig? What deep, well-fortified issues prevent me from being my true self, my whole self? 
In what ways do I need to tend my own home? And if not now, when?

Fortunately, there is lots of help available for clearing the barriers, including meeting with a spiritual director, spending time in contemplation and meditation or developing other spiritual practices that open one to deeper self-awareness. My daily walks often move me to greater clarity, especially when I then take time to sit and breathe and allow what I have seen to become part of my interior landscape.   With a clearer landscape comes an open and more compassionate heart. 

A Gift
Currently, I am reading The Rebirthing of God, Christianity's Struggle for New Beginnings http://heartbeatjourney.org/2014/04/15/the-rebirthing-of-god-2/
by John Philip Newell, whom I heard speak recently at Wisdom Ways, Center for Spirituality. http://wisdomwayscenter.org I offer his words for your reflection.
     
     What does it mean that we are made of God rather than
     simply by God? In part it means that the wisdom of God
     is deep within us, deeper than the ignorance of what we 
     have done. It is to say that the creativity of God is deep
     within us, deeper than any barrenness in our lives or
     relationships, deeper than any endings in our families
     or our world. Within us--as a sheer gift of God--is the
     capacity to bring forth what has never been before,
     including what has never been imagined before. Above
     all else, as Julian of Norwich says, the love-longings
     of God are at the heart of our being. We and all things
     have come forth from the One. Deep within us are holy,
     natural longings for oneness, primal sacred drives for
     union. We may live in tragic exile from these longings,
     or we may have spent a whole lifetime not knowing how
     to truly satisfy them, but they are there at the heart of 
     our being, waiting to be born afresh.  p. x

An Invitation
I invite you to walk outside your house and have a good look. Is there something that has been neglected? Can you see what others see? Is it time to prune and bring more light into your heart? I would love to know.