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Greetings, SBT Readers:
Back from my travels, I am grateful for graced moments spent with family and friends, for the exquisite blue of the Mediterranean, for 80oF days, and even for the last-minute cancellation of my return flights. Eventually re-routed through Vienna, I enjoyed an extra day in Malta, only later discovering that thousands of travelers had been stranded for days at Munich Airport without food, toiletries, showers, or even beds. My irritation with the airline quickly morphed into profound gratitude when I saw images of aircraft frozen to runways, impassable roads, and passengers sleeping on the airport floors. I would not have done well in those circumstances -- or behaved well, for that matter. The noise, the chaos, the deprivation, being trapped for days on end would definitely have brought out the worst in me, especially as I had personal and professional commitments waiting in Chicago.
What must it be like to be a refugee? I wondered. How do people deal with long-term displacement, lack of resources, and having no control over their circumstances? What is it like to have small children in tow with no means of feeding them, or to be an older traveler in need of medical assistance? Had I been stranded in Munich, at least I would have had three passports, two credit cards, and a pocketful of euros; though there would have been no food to purchase at the Franz Josef Strauss International Airport, as a last resort I could have followed the example of several other resourceful Maltese travelers and hired a taxi to Zurich for E900. Sadly, the undocumented and displaced peoples of this world have no such options available.
Many Blessings!
Elizabeth
PS Please see my flyer regarding my upcoming course on Transformational Coaching. If you know any Ministers, Spiritual Directors, Life Coaches or Spiritual seekers who might be interested in this course, I would be very grateful if you would share this link with them:
MCF-Presence-Ad-7.375x9.75.pdf
SCRIPTURE REFLECTION
Link to Readings
John the Baptist appeared in the desert
proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.
People from all over the Judean countryside
and all the inhabitants of Jerusalem
went out to him to be baptized
in the Jordan River as they confessed their sins.
John was clothed in camel’s hair,
with a leather belt around his waist.
He ate locusts and wild honey
and this was his message:
“One mightier than I is coming after me.
I am not worthy to bend to loosen the straps of his sandals.
I baptize you with water;
he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”
MK 1:1-18
We need both the desert and water, that time of aridity and that time of refreshment and cleansing. These seeming opposites belong together: on its own, the desert is a fearsome place that can leave us at the mercy of sand storms, scorpions, wild beasts, night terrors, and agonizing thirst; on its own, water lets us float aimlessly or else tugs at us relentlessly until we are swept away by powerful currents or else battered by tempestuous waves. To linger in the desert too long places us at the mercy of demons, while to dive deep into unknown waters can lure us into forgetfulness and oblivion. Alone in the desert, we are left to face our worst selves and to relive the pain of lives past-- forgotten memories of what we have done and what we have failed to do, of promises made and broken, of relationships that ended with a bang or a whimper, of opportunities missed. Alone in the water, we lose all agency as the waves and rippling currents do what they will, lulling us into complacency or else leaving us struggling for survival...
But together, desert and water are balm for the soul. In silence and solitude, we remember; in water, we are "re-membered" or made whole again. The desert brings insight, allowing us to see how we ourselves have been responsible for much of our own pain, mostly because of our attachments and ego needs; at the same time, it allows us to understand why others may have harmed us, to see how their own wounded selves have caused them to be cruel, unjust or indifferent. For its part, water washes over us, cleansing our hearts and minds, soothing our aching limbs, accepting our tears of grief and contrition.
Just as in the days of John the Baptist the people of Judea flocked to the desert to be immersed in the waters of the River Jordan, so we, too, need to seek out both desert and water, both insight and forgiveness. This desert/water immersion is neither an empty ritual nor mere obligation. It is not about trying to feel good or getting rid of guilt and regrets; nor is it just about being "saved," becoming righteous, or preparing for Judgement Day. Rather, it is an opportunity to encounter the God who dwells in both desert and water, to be with the One who was driven by the Spirit into the desert to find his mission and identity and who had the power to calm turbulent waters. In his company, we look to the desert to find life, not death; at his bidding, we plunge into the maelstrom so we can learn to walk on water...
For all its glitter and frenetic activity, Advent is a desert season, but while we, in the northern hemisphere, celebrate a snowy wonderland in our carols, it is the living water that brings life to the desert-- the inexhaustible streams of God's love and mercy which are ever-present in those places where even angels fear to tread, flowing through the wasteland, the scorched earth and the parched lands...
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