Manna

Posted on April 26, 2024 by Esther Hizsa

Even from a distance, you know what I’m thinking.
–Psalm 139:2 (MSG)

I notice that when the details of my life
are attended to
I feel calmer.
Then I think, But I shouldn’t need that to be calm.
You know what I’m thinking,
and a thought comes from afar.
What if attending to details honours the way I’m made?

I think I’ve said too much, been too bossy,
and just as an old fear rounds the corner,
a picture comes to mind:
my friend smiling and accepting me as I am.

I start a meeting online
and, only then, realize I forgot to send
the document we need.
My colleague says,
“It’s okay.”
and we carry on.
After the meeting,
once again, a kind thought
drifts into my heart
like manna from heaven:
I made a mistake,
and it’s okay.

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
    neither are your ways my ways,”
declares the Lord.
–Isaiah 55:8 (NIV)

Credits and References:
“Thinking” by TIGER500. Used with permission.
“Manna” by Esther Hizsa, 2024.
“Gathering Manna” by Ercole de’ Roberti in the National Gallery, London, via Wikimedia Commons
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2024.
The unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2024.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
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Two Prayers for Those Who Fear Scarcity

Posted on April 19, 2024 by Esther Hizsa

Last Saturday, I joined a dozen contemplatives for a Quiet Morning. When it was my turn to check in around the circle, I confessed my current and lifelong fear of scarcity. Thinking of my parents’ cost of care which had doubled in the last week, I said, “I know in my head that God is enough and will provide, but I’m anxious about spending large sums of money, even if it isn’t my own. I know this is an irrational fear, seeded a long time ago, and I wish I could get rid of it.”

After our sharing, we were invited to take some time with the Jesus Prayer. In the fifth century, building on the publican’s plea recorded in Luke’s gospel, the desert fathers and mothers began praying this simple prayer, “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner.” Inspired by those who sought to pray this prayer without ceasing, we were invited to hear these words or rephrase them in a way that captures the original intent: to receive God’s loving compassion and be released from what keeps us from being open to God and others. 

In the company of trees and birds, I walked and waited for words to come that would help me pray and return to what’s true. 

This is what I came up with. I like that God is named beloved and knows there were times when I didn’t get what I needed. The prayer also recognizes the many times God has supplied me with more than I hoped for or imagined. Finally, I ask for what I need: to rest in the reality that God is meeting all my needs and the desire to join God in using my resources to provide for those–human and non-human–who are in need.

O my Beloved, 
You have sustained me in lack
and refreshed me with plenty.
May I rest in your provision
and rise and resource my neighbour.

As I began praying this prayer, another came to me. Pastor Ruth at St. Stephens often begins her prayers with “Holy and loving God.”  Using her salutation here grounds me in community. The pairs of opposites acknowledge that we flow from one state to the other and that we need God to help us with what is out of our control and to see and receive new freedoms. “Seeking and finding” reminds me of Julian’s words, “I saw him and I lacked him.” It names the two postures of the contemplative: we are either seeking to be fully aware of our oneness in God and resting in being one–fully seen and fully loved. The triple “have mercy” grounds me again in a larger community: the cloud of witnesses who have prayed these words throughout the centuries. Finally, using “our” and “us” opens me to pray this prayer for others while I pray it for myself.

Holy and loving God,
in want and in wealth
in holding on and letting go.
in our seeking and our finding,
Christ, have mercy,
Lord, have mercy.
Christ, have mercy on us.

May my words begin a prayer of your own.

And my God will fully satisfy every need of yours
according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus.
–Philippians 4:19 (NRSVUE)

Credits and References:
“Precarious existence” by Broo_am (Andy B) Used with permission.
A Prayer for Those Who Fear Scaricity by Esther Hizsa, 2024
“Abundance” by Erich Ferdinand. Used with permission
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2024.
The unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2024.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
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Appearances

Posted on April 12, 2024 by Esther Hizsa

The same day I resigned myself to watching, waiting
and being with my longing
You saw me.

I was accompanying my mom to her suite,
and the first resident I met at the seniors’ home caught my eye.
I saw in her face what she’s told me a dozen times since then,
“You’re doing great.”

That day started
with two calls from the care aide.
After conversations with the case manager,
long-term care greeters,
the medical lab,
my sister,
the doctor,
and the pharmacist,
I was at the checkout at Freshco wondering why the machine wouldn’t take my card.
“You already paid,” the cashier said.
Then she surprised me.
She reached her blue-gloved hand over the mangoes and prune juice
and squeezed my hand.
“You’re having a hard day,” she said kindly.

After supper, I went back to my parents’ apartment,
cut up a mango, my mom’s favourite fruit,
and watched her enjoy it.
My dad sighed and said,
“We end how we begin.”

Before I left, he told me about the best day of his life.
“It was Christmas Eve,” he said,
“The snow had fallen, and I was walking back
from the cheese factory to the house.
I turned the corner and saw
the Christmas tree through the window
with all the candles lit.
I was coming home to someone who was on my side
and our children.”
He paused and sat back in his wheelchair,
“I’ll never forget that moment.” 
Mom smiled

and I knew You were telling them
that’s how their ending will be.

The light keeps shining in the dark,
and darkness has never put it out.
–John 1:5 (CEV)

Credits and References:
“Emmaus” by Caravaggio, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
Appearances by Esther Hizsa, 2024
“Candle on Christmas Tree” “from pickpik.com. Creative Commons.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2024.
The unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2024.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
Posted in Aging, compassion, Easter, Poetry, Reflections | Tagged , , , , , | 1 Comment

Waiting for Resurrection

Posted on April 5, 2024 by Esther Hizsa

I’m not unhappy. 
Life is full and good, 
but the joy of Your resurrection eludes me.

I went to the empty tomb, the garden, the locked room.
I walked to Emmaus and back to Galilee.
You appeared to them
but not to me.

I hear their stories, witness their surprise,
and sense their relief, wonder, and hope.

They didn’t do anything 
to experience resurrection.
It just happened.

Sometimes, we choose a posture of receiving
and let go of making things happen.

Other times
it chooses us
after we’ve tried everything
and there’s nowhere left to be
except with our longing,
nothing else to do
except to watch and wait.

“Julian of Norwich wrote, ‘For I saw Him and I sought Him, and I had Him and I lacked Him.’…The lack of the experience of God is also the gift of God. For the lack of the experience of God deepens the longings for God, and it’s the longings for God that echoes God’s infinite longings for us.”
— James Finley, Turning to the Mystics, Julian of Norwich, Session 1.

A Better Resurrection words by Christina Rosetti composed and sung by Steve Bell.

Credits and References:
“The Way to Emmaus” by Robert Zünd, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.
“Waiting for Resurrection” by Esther Hizsa, 2024
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2024.
The unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2024.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
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Awake

Posted on March 31, 2024 by Esther Hizsa

 Suddenly Jesus met them and said, “Greetings!” –-Matthew 28:9

Suddenly you meet us–on our way from the empty tomb, in the garden, on the road to Emmaus, in a locked room, by the sea, and in the dawn of our darkest night. Your gentle voice, your delicate touch tears through the veil of our grief with sweet encounter.

How we hoped beyond reason for your lifeless body to awaken and tell us, you were only sleeping. And now you have awakened and each good and glorious breath swells our hearts with love.

Living Flame of Love

O living flame of love
that tenderly wounds my soul
in its deepest centre! Since
now you are not oppressive,
now consummate! if it be your will:
tear through the veil of this sweet encounter!

O sweet cautery,
O delightful wound!
O gentle hand! O delicate touch
that tastes of eternal life
and pays every debt!
In killing you changed death to life.

O lamps of fire!
in whose splendours
the deep caverns of feeling,
once obscure and blind,
now give forth, so rarely, so exquisitely,
both warmth and light to their Beloved.

How gently and lovingly
you wake in my heart,
where in secret you dwell alone;
and in your sweet breathing,
filled with good and glory,
how tenderly you swell my heart with love.

— St. John of the Cross

Credits and references:
“Transcendence” by Michael D. O’Brien. Used with permission.
“Living Flame of Love” is in The Collected Works of St. John of the Cross, translated by Kieran Kavanaugh, O.C.D. and Otilio Rodgriguez, O.C.D. with introductions by Kieran Kavanaugh, O.C.D. (ICS Publications, 1979)
Banner “The Glory of Dawn” by Chris Ballard. Used with permission.
Text originally published April 4, 2015© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2024.

The unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2024.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
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Good and Glory

Posted on March 30, 2024 by Esther Hizsa

Jesus-down-from-Cross-lowf

It is finished. Jesus has died. His body is lowered down from the cross and taken to the tomb.

On Easter Saturday, we hold vigil with everyone who is grieving the loss of Christ’s presence. Those bright days of miracles and laughter, of full bellies and awakened hearts are gone. Now, there is only darkness.

Into the darkness we must go.
Gone, gone is the light.

We think that if we had just prayed right, lived right, and believed hard enough, we could have raised Jesus from the dead and felt his presence once more. But this dark night dispels that illusion.

Into the darkness we must go.
Gone, gone is the light.

Before he died, Jesus told his friends he would be back. Remember what John said:

The light shines in the darkness,
and the darkness has not overcome it.

Remember when Jesus said that if our children asked us for a fish, we wouldn’t give them a snake. Or if they asked for an egg, we wouldn’t give them a scorpion. He knew we would never do that and neither would his Father. God only gives good gifts. So this dark night must be a good gift, a glorious gift.

O guiding night!
O night more lovely than the dawn!

On this holy night, let us light a candle in the deep caverns of our feelings and welcome the darkness that is filled with good and glory.

candle shawn carpenter

O guiding night!
O night more lovely than the dawn!
O night that has united the Lover with his beloved,
transforming the beloved in her Lover.
—“Dark Night of the Soul,” St. John of the Cross

Credits and references:
Jesus down from the cross by Michael D. O’Brien. Used with permission.
Gone is the Light by Gord Johnson on Steve Bell’s album Devotion.
John 1:5, John 14:28, Luke 11:11-13.
The phrases “deep caverns of feeling” and “filled with good and glory” from “Living Flame of Love,” This poem and Dark Night of the Soul  are in The Collected Works of St. John of the Cross, translated by Kieran Kavanaugh, O.C.D. and Otilio Rodgriguez, O.C.D. with introductions by Kieran Kavanaugh, O.C.D. (ICS Publications, 1979)
Candle by Shawn Carpenter. Used with permission.
Originally published April 3, 2015.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2024.
The unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2024.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
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O Sacred Friend Now Wounded

Posted on March 29, 2024 by Esther Hizsa

Crucifixion 2 Michael O Brien

Now you are lifted up and alone, O Sacred Friend. You are every person who has ever been condemned, battered, betrayed, or abandoned. You bear all our suffering and every consequence for the suffering we caused.

“Father, forgive them; they don’t know what they’re doing.”

Forgive us, you say. Me too, you mean. Even now you see the spark of the kingdom in my intentions without justifying the outcome.

You know full well what I have done, yet when I reach my hand across time and space to touch your face, you do not flinch. I caress your hair, your cheek, your beard as you slip into death. I lay my open palm over your heart.

And all that is you flows into me, into us, into every living thing on earth.

Jesus-down-from-Cross cropped-lowf

What language shall I borrow
to thank thee, dearest friend,
for this thy dying sorrow,
thy pity without end?
— “O Sacred Head Now Wounded”

Credits and references:
Crucifixion 2 by Michael D. O’Brien. Used with permission.
Luke 23:34 (Msg)
Jesus down from Cross (cropped) by Michael D. O’Brien. Used with permission.
“O Sacred Head Now Wounded,” anonymous.
Banner: The Dark Night of the Soul (cropped) by Rene. Used with permission.
Originally published April 2, 2015
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2024.
The unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2024.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
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A Smelly, Sweet Encounter

Posted on March 28, 2024 by Esther Hizsa

Perhaps it wasn’t until Jesus and his disciples sat down to eat their evening meal that they noticed the unpleasant aroma of street and feet. I can imagine them all, tired from the day, edgy and irritated with each other, avoiding eye contact with Jesus. Let someone else do it. And someone else did.

Jesus got up, and desiring to show them the depth of his love, took off his outer garment and got a basin of water. I’d always pictured a hush coming over the room at that point and each disciple quietly waiting their turn, but seventeenth-century painter Dirck van Baburen didn’t see it that way.

In his scene, a cacophony erupts that sounds worse than their feet smell. An older disciple accuses a younger one of shirking his duty. A couple of the men lament, “How did we let this happen?” Peter argues with Jesus while Andrew interferes; Jesus argues back.

And who was going to wash their master’s feet? They likely debated about that, too.

Finally, they settled down and returned to their cold dinner. Then Jesus unsettled them again. “I have set an example for you that you should do as I have done for you,” he told them.

And how did they respond? Maybe they used their inside voice, and maybe they didn’t.

“I’m not washing John’s feet; he already thinks he’s so special.”

“I’m not doing it.”

“Me either.”

“I’ll do it, and then I’ll wash my own.”

“You can’t wash your own, Doofus. Didn’t you hear what Jesus said? We need to take turns. I’ll draw up a roster.”

Maybe it didn’t happen like that. Maybe after they all got their feet washed and experienced Christ’s sacramental display of love, their hearts were humbled and transformed.

Maybe. Maybe not. Or maybe not completely.

Jesus, I am just like them. You washed my feet and that very night I argued with my brother, fell asleep when you asked me not to, and betrayed and deserted you.

You knew that would happen, yet you washed our feet anyway.

Flames by Tassoman

O living flame of love
that tenderly wounds my soul
in its deepest center! Since
now you are not oppressive,
now consummate! if it be your will:
tear through the veil of this sweet encounter!
— “Living Flame of Love” by St. John of the Cross

 

Questions for your journey into Holy Week:

  • How do you feel when you’ve had a sweet encounter with Jesus and then fall back into old patterns of behaviour?
  • What would it be like to believe that love broke through the veil and left a sweetness in your heart?
Credits and references:
“Dirty Feet” by rbairdpccam. Used with permission.
Christ Washing the Apostles’ Feet Dirck van Baburen (circa 1594/1595–1624) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
John 13:1-17
“Flames” by Tassoman. Used with permission.
“Living Flame of Love” is in The Collected Works of St. John of the Cross, translated by Kieran Kavanaugh, O.C.D. and Otilio Rodgriguez, O.C.D. with introductions by Kieran Kavanaugh, O.C.D. (ICS Publications, 1979)
Originally published April 1, 2015
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2024.
The unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2024.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
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The End of a Story

Posted on March 23, 2024 by Esther Hizsa

On each of my dyings,
shed your light and your love.
–Soul of Christ Prayer, paraphrased by David L. Fleming

I’m haunted by the ending of a story.
The boy dies from his compulsion
to save the earth.
The father can’t save his son;
he missed the cue
that prepared the reader
for what was to come.

The stark scene
continues to bother me
long after I finished the book.
I still feel it in the pit of my stomach–
the sadness of it all,
the fear that my compulsions will win,
the anxiety that I will miss a vital clue.

What brings some relief
is that the father held his son
in his fear and pain
until he was released from this world.

Perhaps that is life:
God holds us tenderly as we die again
to one more thing we can’t control.

The grain of wheat must fall to the ground
and die.
We must lose our life
to find it.
“Whoever wants to be my disciple,” Jesus said,
“must take up their cross and follow me.”

I know this.
I’ve spoken about it
and accompanied others through death and resurrection.

But this story
slipped past the tidy knowing
that distanced me from my cross.
It pierced my gut
and let me feel
fear,
grief,
loss,
and my deep need
to be held
in my passing
from one story
to the next.

Will you sing over me?
Will you sing over me?
Sing of the goodness I cannot see
Will you sing over me?
Will you sing over me?
—Sing Over Me
by Paul Zach, Kate Bluett, Isaac Wardell, Taylor Leonhardt, and Matt Maher.

 
Credits and References:
“Grain of Wheat” photo by Upsplash from Free Range Stock
“The End of a Story” by Esther Hizsa, 2024
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2024.
The unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2024.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
Posted in compassion, Creation, Easter, Holy Week, Lent, Poetry, Reflections, Stories | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Free

Posted on March 16, 2024 by Esther Hizsa

O Beloved, how numerous are my fears!
They rise up within me whispering
there is no help for you. 
 Yet You, O Beloved,
are a shield about me…
When I cry out to You,
You answer within my heart.
–Psalm 3:1-4 Nan C. Merrill,
Psalms for Praying (adapted)

Numerous are the nameless fears 
that rise up against me. 
They draw back their bows 
and fire sharp thoughts. 

But You, O Beloved, 
are swift and strong– 
a shield about me,
a shelter within,
so I can rise again.

You have saved me
again
and again
and again.

And you will keep saving me
until all my fears fade into love.

I used to be afraid I wasn’t loved.
Then I feared I didn’t love enough
or my love would be rejected.

Then one day,
when my love was cast aside,
I wasn’t afraid.
I was hurt,

then I was sad

and then I was
free
to keep loving.

Rise up, Love! Set me free!
For through your guidance,
my fears will fade into love.
Free from fear, I will know 
the Oneness of Being that 
encompasses everything! 
I shall be free to serve Love
with a glad and open heart.
–Psalm 3:7-8 Nan C. Merrill, Psalms for Praying

Credits and References:
Image by Anne Yungwirth. Used with permission.
Free by Esther Hizsa 2024
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2024.
The unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2024.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
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