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Tuesday, March 23, 2010
This morning, as I was working on my Lenten devotional book, we were asked to reflect on Joel 2:13: "Rend your hearts and not your garments. Return to the Lord our God, for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love, and relents of evil."
As I sat and reflected, the iconic image of the Sacred Heart of Jesus popped in my head.
I have to admit, I have always been fascinated by Sacred Heart images because, frankly, they are an iconic rendition of anatomic hearts, as opposed to Valentine's Day hearts. (not quite anatomically correct, but "correct enough.") Anatomic hearts placed outside the chests of Jesus and Mary. As I reflected on the passage, I came to realize what we are asked to do when we try to emulate the love of Jesus is literally, to wear our spiritual hearts outside of our chests, where they can be pierced, torn, and crushed, without the protection of a bony rib cage. We are asked to do, what, at first glance, appears blatantly fatal.
But when we think about the icon that has developed over the years, ever since Margaret Mary Alacoque had her first vision of the Sacred Heart in 1673, perhaps it is not as fatal as it seems. Yes, the traditional Sacred Heart icon has a wound from the lance used at the Crucifixion, and is often shown bound by a crown of thorns. But what always strikes me is that it is often surrounded by fire or radiance that emanates from one of the great vessels of the heart, and the heart is not consumed by it. It reminds me that yes, our own most secret heart--our own sliver of the Sacred Heart of Jesus--can be pierced, squeezed, and bound, but cannot be consumed or destroyed.
I am in a unique position to think about the Sacred heart, because I have literally held (and removed) hearts from autopsies in my own hands, and sliced them into pieces to examine them. I have held still lifeless hearts scarred from myocardial infarctions, crushed from cardiac tamponade, and literally torn open from ventricular blowouts. I have touched the gray stony hearts affected by amyloidosis and hearts rendered flabby and useless from cardiomyopathy. I have cradled hearts in my hands repaired by bypass, and dissected malformed hearts from infants who died of congenital heart defects. I've run probes through hearts with patent foramen ovale and atrial or ventricular septal defects. I have had an intimacy with the anatomic heart that few are allowed to experience.
Yet I so often find myself incredibly unwilling to allow others to touch my beating, radiant secret heart impregnated with the love of Christ's own sacred heart--even barely allow it to be seen. But the longer I ponder it, I come to realize it is exactly what separates me from Jesus, and it is what I must learn to do to love more fully.
There's no doubt--the times I have exposed the love of my own sacred heart has been a mixed bag. Sometimes there are incredible joys associated with it. But other times have been excruciatingly painful and have caused me to withdraw, to shrink back, to say "never again." Yet it always seems that the more I become enmeshed in my prayer life, "never again," turns to "Ok, I'll give this one more shot." When I look back, I realize the end result is a more firmly "muscled love" and a glint to the radiance I didn't see before.
It made me realize that I need to think more often about the Sacred Heart of Jesus and how to bind it to my own a little more often. The traditional prayers for this, however, seem long and a tad ponderous--so I decided to craft a slightly more contemporary (and shorter) version.
A 21st Century Prayer to the Sacred Heart of Jesus
by Kirkepiscatoid
Lord, have mercy on us.
Christ, have mercy on us.
Lord, have mercy;
Heart of Christ, hear our prayer,
Heart of Christ, graciously hear us.
Heart of Heaven, have mercy on us.
Heart of the World, have mercy on us.
Heart of All that is Holy, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, wellspring of all goodness, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, radiant with holiness, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, transplanted in all of us, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, formed in the womb of Mary, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, who lived and walked and ministered, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, who lifted up the lowly and poor in spirit, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, who forgave your tormentors, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, who died on the cross, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, who transcended death and lives among us, have mercy on us.
Lamb of God, heart of our common life, who takes away the sins of the world, have mercy on us.
Lamb of God, heart of our own capacity to love, who takes away the sins of the world, have mercy on us.
Lamb of God, heart of the Eucharist, grant us peace.
Almighty and ever-living God, look upon our secret hearts and show us the heart of your beloved Son within them, and help us see the mirror of His incarnation within us. Grant us courage to show our hearts to those who live and walk among us, and the vision to see His incarnation in others. Free us from the slavery of the fear of exposing the heart of our holiness in our daily walk through the world. Let the radiance of our own sacred hearts be a beacon to guide others to you. We ask this in the name of your beloved Son, who lives and reigns forever and ever; Amen.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
John 2:1-11:
- 1 On the third day there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there. 2 Jesus and his disciples had also been invited to the wedding. 3 When the wine gave out, the mother of Jesus said to him, "They have no wine." 4 And Jesus said to her, "Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come." 5 His mother said to the servants, "Do whatever he tells you." 6 Now standing there were six stone water jars for the Jewish rites of purification, each holding twenty or thirty gallons. 7 Jesus said to them, "Fill the jars with water." And they filled them up to the brim. 8 He said to them, "Now draw some out, and take it to the chief steward." So they took it. 9 When the steward tasted the water that had become wine, and did not know where it came from (though the servants who had drawn the water knew), the steward called the bridegroom 10 and said to him, "Everyone serves the good wine first, and then the inferior wine after the guests have become drunk. But you have kept the good wine until now." 11 Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him.
Mary had known all of Jesus' life (and before) what he was capable of doing. In a lot of ways in the story, she had more or less cornered him into what was about to happen in the way only a mother or grandmother could do. As those water jars were being filled, I imagine there were a lot of glances cast back and forth between Jesus and Mary, and they weren't terribly beatific. I imagine Jesus whispering to his mother in that little hissing whisper of irritation, "Ma! What are you trying to do to me?" and her whispering back in that somewhat smug maternal way, "You mean what am I trying to do FOR you, son." I can see Jesus rolling his eyes, I can imagine his armpits starting to break out into a sweat. What if this all gets blown somehow?
Jesus, who also knows what he's capable of, might even have started doubting himself. Perhaps as each of those jars got closer to being filled, his stomach started doing flip-flops. Perhaps he wanted to disappear. Perhaps he wanted to just bolt--but he knew if he did, he would never hear the end of it from his mother. Her expectations might have felt heavier than God's at that point!
But then, in my imagination, I can see the moment that the jars were filled. They were there and the moment had come. He might have cleared his throat a little and said to the servants, "Ahem...er..er...uh..ok, dip some of that out and take it to the chief steward," knowing the servants were thinking, "What a boob." The rest, of course, is recorded in John.
The more we imagine the parts of this story that John didn't record, well...how are these moments any different than the moments that we hear and fully understand what God wants US to do? Just as many of the prophets did, we ask God, "Are you sure you've got the right person here?" and "Not me, I can't do this, I'm too (fill in the blank)." Yet when the jars have been filled, and there's no turning back, we step up to the plate and do it. Never mind the butterflies and the sweaty armpits and the trepidation in our voices. Something happens where we do what needed to be done, and somehow it all works out.
That's what operating on faith is all about. When we'd rather melt into the wall and disappear, we do what God's asked of us anyway. But it doesn't change that the time that passes before that moment is agonizing, downright painful at times. The good news is we are not alone in those moments. I believe Jesus has gone before us in those very same feelings at the wedding in Cana!
