Gifts from Within: Women's Meditations for Lent
112
Gifts from Within: Women's Meditations for Lent
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Overview
Starting with Ash Wednesday and ending on Easter Day, each day's meditation explores an aspect of women's lives, their unique spirituality, and their heritage in the biblical stories. By connecting their own stories — some sad and some joyous — with the biblical texts, readers of these devotions may find Lent to be a time of inspiration instead of merely something to be endured.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780819218957 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Church Publishing, Incorporated |
| Publication date: | 12/01/2002 |
| Pages: | 112 |
| Product dimensions: | 5.50(w) x 8.50(h) x (d) |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
GIFTS from Within
Women's Meditations for Lent
By Women of Bridget's Place
Church Publishing Incorporated
Copyright © 2002 Women of Brigid's PlaceAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-8192-1895-7
Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
Ash Wednesday
ASH WEDNESDAY WEEK
Ash Wednesday Jonah 3:1–4:11
A dialogue between Jonah and today's psalms: "... cut off my enemies, and destroy all my adversaries."
Psalm 143:12
And the word of God came to me saying, "Get up, go to those you fear, those who, in your grief and rage, you ask me to punish, even destroy. Tell them what I have told you. You have another chance. You have yet another opportunity to be transformed." Against my better judgment, I gave them God's message. And I heard them say, "Happy are those whose offense is forgiven, whose harm to another is overlooked" (Psalm 32:1).
Those arrogant oppressors! They need to be taken down a notch so that they may never hurt others as they hurt me and mine! Well! They acted like they had turned around and looked at the world through God's eyes. They gloated, "Let's enjoy God's presence with thanks, let's make joyful noise, sing God's praise!" (Psalm 95:2).
Well, it wasn't fair, and was I angry! I went out where I didn't have to listen to them, and lay down. At least God gave me shade from the heat. I waited, hoping—and still praying to see God punish those who had made me and so many others miserable. "Out of the depths I cry to you, O God. God, hear my voice" (Psalm 130:1).
Then God sent the sun to shine on me and on them. Sent Ruah, the breath of the Spirit, to all of us, and I was filled with resentment. It was their turn to be miserable! I didn't want to join their party! Again I prayed, "Cut off my enemies and destroy all my adversaries, for I am your servant" (Psalm 143:12)—and they aren't! But God came to sit with me. "I have called you children, not servants. You forget," God said, "that you didn't earn my mercy either. I give life to those who are condemned to die," she said. "You, them, all. My child, do not take lightly the correction of God your Mother. Let me steer you from the death that hate brings to your soul. You can't punish them without crippling yourself, for I have carried each of you in my womb and you are connected forever. Don't lose your joy for life!"
Let this be told for generations to come, so that a people yet unborn may praise God. (Psalm 102:18)
Madeleine Manning, daughter and heir of generations of strong women, is a freelance writer and liturgist and a spiritual companion. Passionate about justice, fun, food, glowing, and friends, she vows to stop buying books about simplicity, for they are cluttering her ever-evolving home. She is grateful to be living in this time of blossoming awareness of the divine feminine.
Thursday after Ash Wednesday Mark 3:19b–35
A crowd was sitting around him; and they said to him, "Your mother and your brothers and sisters are outside, asking for you" And he replied, "Who are my mother and my brothers?" And looking at those who sat around him, he said, "Here are my mother and my brothers! Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother"
Mark 3:32–35
Because my familial relationships are so important to me, I have envisioned myself as Jesus' sister or his mother standing outside, feeling rejected and worrying about whether Jesus has "gone out of his mind" (Mark 3:21). But he hasn't rejected his family: he has included others in a household so radically loving that a willing spirit, rather than blood or genes, defines membership. Even an institution as dear as our families of origin is merely a human construct. In Jesus' words I hear that even the most binding, precious connections we have as human beings cannot compare with the deep, indissoluble belonging we share in the Spirit. And for those of us for whom there is no joyful memory of parents or siblings, Jesus' message is that we do have a faithful and caring family.
Many socially constructed barriers—those of clannishness, race, creed, socioeconomic class, gender, or sexual identity—have separated us from other members of God's household. We have allowed ourselves to be labeled in ways that keep us from full participation in God's family. When we reach beyond those illusory barriers, we, like Jesus, are sometimes called out of our minds, or we are criticized for ignoring society's castes.
May God strengthen us with the joy of our full membership, our total belonging to ourselves and to each other, and enable us to welcome all our sisters and brothers in the household of God. Amen.
Martha Serpas, a graduate of Yale Divinity School and the University of Houston's doctoral program in creative writing, teaches writing, religion, and literature at the University of Tampa. She is a poet.
Friday after Ash Wednesday John 12:9–19
... they came not only because of Jesus but also to see Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. So the chief priests planned to put Lazarus to death as well since it was on account of him that many of the Jews were deserting and were believing in Jesus.
John 12:9–11
So, Lazarus stumbles out of the tomb with that "four days dead" smell about him. Mary and Martha are overjoyed and his friends, even the ones who criticized Jesus for not keeping him alive in the first place, are amazed at this miracle. Yet, in the midst of joy and miracle, resurrection and love, we have Lazarus fresh from the dead and under the death threat of the chief priests! This part stops me—"What? This man has just been resurrected and now you want to kill him because people's beliefs are changed?" For me, this is where the story becomes real. I know people are resurrected, and what a glorious experience that is; yet, I know that the world does not take kindly to resurrection, to fundamental changes in who a person is and can be.
Think of experiences where change threatens us: watch a teenager and a parent battle it out as one desires independence and the other learns to let go; watch churches separate rather than accept new modes of being; watch society as we struggle to redefine families in the wake of divorce, single parenting, and same-sex unions; watch our nation as we try to understand what it is to be an American in the midst of a global village. Change, coping with resurrections, is scary, hard, and assaults the core beliefs about the way things are or should be.
As Christians, we are called to be a part of resurrection and accepting of the change that it brings—to move beyond our comfort level to see new possibilities and to use the teachings of Jesus to entertain new relationships and types of creation. As a young woman, I find this one of the most freeing and affirming parts of our faith. It allows me to make choices about who I am as a female, whom I choose to love, what I put my time, energy, and money into, who constitutes my family, and what I am able to become. My resurrection experience of being made whole may threaten people just as Lazarus stumbling out of the tomb did. Yet it also may lead me into a new relationship, a new way of imaging the world, and at last, into a resurrection of myself. So, when fear and discomfort become apparent, I need to remind myself to look for resurrection and ways to welcome this miracle into my life.
Aimee Estep is a proud parent and youth minister living in Austin, Texas.
Saturday after Ash Wednesday 1 Corinthians 10:14–17; 11:27–32
For just as the loaf of bread is one, so we are all one body; for we are all partakers of that one bread.
1 Corinthians 10:17
Discovering the body of Christ on a winter's night ...
November in Connecticut is cold, gray, and always leafless. One plows through winter with steely determination. Often during these bleak times I felt mildly isolated from others, and to combat this I filled my life with purposeful activities. One particular winter I was completing my master's degree in special education in order to help me become more effective in the classroom where I was teaching English.
My graduate class was meeting at the Southern Connecticut Home for the Retarded, where we were to see the facilities and hear more about the residents. We had studied the different stages of mental retardation, teaching strategies, and creative curriculum development, all the tools for "successful teaching." But I was not prepared for the dramatic and life-changing experience this winter evening would bring.
The professor had described the world of the profoundly retarded, but I had not expected to see other human beings so cruelly broken. Some could not speak—only grunt and moan as they lay in beds or partially sat in chairs and cribs. "How can this be?" my well-ordered heart called out. "Can't we do something?" I remembered the words of my professor: "Touch and feel—this is how these people feel contact." As I walked through the residence, I came to a young man partially sitting in a crib of sorts. He must have been in his early twenties, not much older than our two sons, who were at home studying or, more likely, playing basketball. His hand crept slowly toward his shoulder. He must have felt an itch or a pain. He kept reaching, never quite connecting with the pain. Without thinking, I touched him on the shoulder and gently began to rub his back. He slowly turned his head toward me, and as our eyes met, I felt something stir within me. Suddenly I was part of him as he was part of me. In that moment of recognition we were one body, each broken in our own particular ways, but together we were one. Christ called me that night into a new relationship—a new understanding of our oneness. I would never see the disabled, the handicapped, or anyone for that matter, as people to be taught. Each had now become my sister and brother in Christ. Together we were a community of learners.
Mary Taylor is a retired educator living in Lenox, Massachusetts, with her husband, Walter, a retired Episcopal priest. They have two married sons and four grandchildren.
CHAPTER 2
First Week of Lent
FIRST WEEK OF LENT
First Sunday of Lent Mark 5:21–24, 35–43 Luke 8:40–42, 49–56 Matthew 9:18–19, 23–26
For years, I have run from thinking deeply about my relationship with my father—just as he has fled from me through emotional detachment. I have no memories of overt harm in our relationship. In fact, I have almost no memories of relationship. Though we lived in the same house for eighteen years, my eyes rarely met his.
Reading the story of Jairus's daughter, I wondered what it was like to be her—to be young, sick, and dying at a time when medical experts were nonexistent. I wondered if her illness was sudden, or if her father had sought other help over previous days—solutions that had failed. Or had he delayed approaching Jesus out of fear of repercussions at work? As the synagogue's ruler, probably from Capernaum, it was at best politically risky for him to seek help from this controversial new prophet, Jesus.
Would my dad have gone? If I look honestly at his life, there's evidence for doubting that his love for me and his faith in God would have been stronger than his fear. (Ugh, this is not where I wanted this story to take me.) Honoring myself as the needy daughter, I grieve.
Interestingly, in all three gospels, the story of another daughter is encased within this one—the story of the woman with a hemorrhage. This daughter, sharing my story of painful abandonment, was no longer a child. Empowered by her own desire, she reached toward wholeness, toward Jesus, and found new life.
Heal me, O God, and I will be healed. Save me, and I will be saved. Fill me with the courage to grieve, to embrace my own power, and to boldly love the little ones around me. Amen.
L. Ruth Washington is a woman in her "middle" years seeking to live into the truth that she cannot love others until she has chosen to love herself—a critical lesson for someone who cares for others professionally as well as within her home. She loves to garden, explore Scripture, and host very fancy lunches for women friends.
Monday of Lent I Psalm 63
O God, you are my God, I seek you, my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.... your steadfast love is better than life ... my mouth praises you with joyful lips ... for you have been my help, and in the shadow of your wings I sing for joy. My soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me.
Psalm 63:1, 3a, 5b, 7–8
The rapture, the passion, of this psalm are akin to the most breathtaking romantic poetry. Could Shakespeare surpass its intensity? This may startle us. Romantic poetry belongs in the world of the flesh, does it not? We are brought up to believe that the kind of longing for complete union that it expresses, the surrender of self, is meant for our mortal loves and life partners. How much of the disappointment of romance and marriage goes back to this preconception?
Many of us seek fulfillment of self in union with other people throughout our lives—a quest that is met time and again with frustration and failure. On the other hand, we approach God with formality and structure—confusing distance with reverence.
Our psalmist poet sets us straight, tells the truth: only God merits and can sustain these feelings from us. Only with God can we find the flawless love and unfailing support that our souls crave. God's support has infinite facets and nuances. God cradles us, accepts us as we are, abides with us, consoles us, nurtures us, encourages us, stands behind us, affirms us, sustains us. God is our constant companion, the alpha and omega of our lives as well as of the cosmos, the One Infinite, the One Sublime.
God of Love, grant me the wisdom and the courage to seek you with unbounded passion. Help me open myself to the full mystery of your Love and to offer to you joyfully that which is already yours— my destiny. Let my life be a song of praise to your glory. Amen.
+ Susan J. Barnes has a Ph.D. in art history. After a career in museum work, she received a call to ministry and was ordained in the Diocese of Texas in June 2001. She serves a parish in Austin, Texas.
Tuesday of Lent I Mark 4:1–21
When someone lights a lamp, does he put a box over it to shut out the light? Of course not! The light couldn't be seen or used. A lamp is placed on a stand to shine and be useful.
Mark 4:21–22
I read a story once about an obstetrician and a couple about to have their first child. The obstetrician learned that the expectant father was a musician and told him how he envied him, because he had always wanted to be a musician. As the pregnancy progressed, complications developed and the husband rushed his wife to the hospital, where the obstetrician performed an emergency caesarian section. When the surgery was over, the obstetrician was explaining the complications to the new father and told him the seriousness of the condition. The physician assisting him in the operating room interrupted their conversation to tell the obstetrician that he had performed brilliantly in the operating room, and that it was an honor for him to have assisted him.
The new father, recalling their conversation, was confused and said, "You told me that you always wanted to be a musician. How can you say that when you just saved the lives of my wife and my baby and you have the admiration and respect of your colleagues?"
The obstetrician told him, "Yeah, I was pretty good in there all right, and I know why. Today I awakened two hours early and played Chopin on my piano."
The moral to this story is that when we allow ourselves the time during our busy day to do the things we really love doing, the joy and enthusiasm we derive from it permeate all other aspects of our lives. We can perform brilliantly in the tasks that we have to do because we have allowed ourselves the gift of doing the things that give special meaning and value to our lives.
I have heard it said, and I think it is particularly true for women, that most people are less afraid of being a failure than being a success. Our dreams and aspirations seem to be inhibited by our fear of being successful. And yet, Jesus is telling us to "shine" and be "useful." Whatever talents we have should be unashamedly practiced and displayed. In doing so, we will be using the talents God gave us to enhance our lives and be an example of his glorious handiwork.
The Lenten season is traditionally a time of mortification. More recently we have been encouraged to put positive practices into our Lenten observance. I will use it as a time of gratification, doing those things that God has given me the talent to do well, those things that I really enjoy doing. Perhaps in doing so, I can restore joy and enthusiasm to the other aspects of my life. I can shine and be useful.
Mary Catherine Cousins is a divorced, working woman with two lovely grown daughters whose life can be described as a frustrating struggle. But life thus far has taught her that service to others is a privilege and adversity can be a blessing, that a life well reflected upon can be viewed as humorous, and that in order to see joy and goodness in others you must first recognize it in yourself. Her personal life motto is: "Have fun!"
Wednesday of Lent I Luke 2:36–38
There was also a prophet, Anna, the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was of a great age, having lived with her husband seven years after her marriage, then as a widow to the age of eighty-four. She never left the temple but worshiped there with fasting and prayer night and day. At that moment she came, and began to praise God and to speak about the child to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem.
Luke 2:36–38
Secluded, restricted, marginalized, confined to "Women Only" areas, limited literally and theologically by religious authorities, yet described in Scripture as a "prophet." How extraordinary! A visible role model for women: standing fast in the midst of doubters; risking judgment from a patriarchal community; being willing to be an object of derision; worshiping in her own meaningful way; encountering the divine personally; expressing her gratefulness; telling her story!
(Continues...)
Excerpted from GIFTS from Within. Copyright © 2002 by Women of Brigid's Place. Excerpted by permission of Church Publishing Incorporated.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Contents
Acknowledgments
Introduction
Ash Wednesday Week
First Week of Lent
Second Week of Lent
Third Week of Lent
Fourth Week of Lent
Fifth Week of Lent
Holy Week
Contributors
What People are Saying About This
"A Lenten manual designed to feed and stretch the inner life of Christian women fits precisely the quietly rising tide of feminist energy and spirituality in humanity's common life. This manual, prepared by the women of Brigid's Place in Houston, is a girding companion for the inner work to which all people are called who hope for a new world of non-violence, justice and peace. These are the gifts of the Spirit, fostered keenly by women, by which the suffering of a violent world can be borne and transmuted into the aspiring love that St. Paul was certain 'bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things'."
—The Right Rev. Bennett J. Sims
"This collection of meditations by women offers honest, instructive, and touching personal stories and reflections from which spiritual truths are expertly mined. It can become a meaningful companion on your Lenten journey."
—Sue Monk Kidd, author of When the Heart Waits and The Dance of the Dissident Daughter
"In these meditations, it is possible to see how the incarnation of God's word takes place. First holy words are pronounced over ordinary lives. Then the lives become luminous. Finally someone unafraid to look describes the light in her own words, and the circle is complete. This way, God's word goes on being made flesh, as each page of this book attests."
—Barbara Brown Taylor, author of When God is Silent
"These Lenten meditations, written by women for women, may encourage readers to find Lent to be a time of inspiration, a time when they may build their own relationships with God, rather than continuing to struggle with issues of worth and self-esteem, as they may have done in the past."
—Lois Sibley, Episcopal Life
"In its wide range of writings, Gifts from Within invites women to spend Lent focusing on the unique gifts of their feminine spiritual nature. This collection points the way for women to deepen their ability to recognize God's love and to live as God directs. Starting with Ash Wednesday and ending on Easter Day, the daily mediation explore an aspect of women's lives, their unique spirituality, and their heritage in the biblical stories. By connections their own stories—some sad some joyous—with the biblical texts, readers of these devotions may find Lent to be a time of inspiration instead of a time to be endured."
—The Anglican bookstore