Poverty of Spirit

A couple of weeks ago I read the blog by Catherine Smith, in her Hem of the Light email entitled “Sometimes to tell is to transfigure”, in which she said, “Peter came to the mountain with an old story. It wasn’t a bad story. It just didn’t quite fit. It constricted his sight. He looked at it without being able to look through it.” The Gospel of Luke, that we read this weekend, for the Transfiguration, says that Peter seeing Jesus’ glory wants to build three tents for Jesus, Moses and Elijah. It then says “But he did not know what he was saying”. Jesus wanted Peter, James and John to get a glimpse of his glory so that they were readied for the difficult times ahead, witnessing his arrest and crucifixion. Peter wanted to move into action versus simply being present to the unity of Jesus and his Father, a glimpse of heaven.

Our old stories can get in the way of what God wants to reveal as possible to us. We say “it’s too late”, “I’m too old”, “I’m not smart enough”, or maybe as we move further in Lent “it’s too hard, what difference does this make anyway (i.e., “this” being the thing I am trying to do more of or have “given up”)? All of these can be temptations by the false spirit to move you further away from experiencing Jesus and growing closer to him in silence and prayer and discovering more about the fullness of life with him. We are tempted to think that the restoration and wholeness we seek during Lent isn’t possible. We might be seduced into believing that we can’t come out the other side of Lent as a different person.

In February, during his reflection on the Transfiguration mystery, on the Rosary in a Year podcast, Fr. Mark Mary used an analogy that captured my attention. He said that if you stand in Times Square in New York at night, you only see the lights, you can’t see the dark sky. The lights blind us to the reality of night above all the lights. With this analogy in mind, the lights of the world make it hard to see the beauty and brilliance of Jesus’ glory, unless we step away, reduce the distractions, so that we can see what’s really beautiful and get a glimpse of that which we have been created for. The other morning, as I went outside to watch the lunar eclipse, I was grateful for the clear skies and darkness of the night sky so that I could experience this wonder in the celestial dome. I couldn’t see the eclipse from inside my house, I had to step out and away, I had to look up to experience it.

Jesus wants us to experience wholeness and healing in our hearts and in our lives. If you haven’t started yet, or have been tempted to give up already, what might you let go of during these remaining weeks of Lent to make more room for an encounter with Christ? Are there some distractions that you can clear away to make space to listen more carefully?

This time of Lent has been revealing to me the impact of distractions and noise on my prayer life and, honestly, my stress level. I pray for the grace to continue with the same level of discipline so that I continue to be transformed during these forty days.

Wishing you abundant peace, Deena

Image: Starved Rock State Park on a March day, several years ago, similar to today with fresh snowfall.

Note: It’s not too late to register for my Lent Evening of Reflection, Make My Heart Like Your Heart, this Thursday, March 20 at 6:30 p.m. The suggested donation is $19 and all proceeds will be sent to Catholic Relief Services and the Rice Bowl project. I am not a non-profit so please be sure to mark donation to Catholic Relief Services on your check so that you have a record of your donation for your taxes. You can contact me in the comments, or on social media, if you would like to attend and receive a Zoom link for the event, as well as the address to mail the check. It will be a time of prayer and reflection, as well as sharing, on three scripture passages reflecting on ways that we might have a heart more like that of Christ.

I participated in Judith Valente’s “Writing the Prologue to Your New Year”, a retreat I look forward to each January. Part of the retreat is to reflect on our “word of the year”. This tradition of considering a word for the new year goes back to the 2nd or 3rd century when individuals seeking spiritual insight and wisdom would go to one of the Desert Fathers or Mothers and “ask for a word”. Most of us don’t have a desert monastery of wise elders to seek out. Most of us don’t even have a spiritual father or mother who knows us well enough to provide that “word” based on their insight to the spiritual journey we are on. We are left to our own discovery, discernment or discrimination of the word that can carry us through the new year.

This past week, words emerged like kernels popping up in a popcorn popper or one of those bingo cages that you spin to pull out the next important letter in the game. Words were tossed and spinning all week and I had a long list to sit with on Friday before sharing my word on Saturday morning. It isn’t my word for 2025 or phrase, (sets of words are ok to choose, there aren’t any rules!) but “poverty of spirit” kept capturing my attention all week. It kept coming up as part of reflections I was reading or podcasts I have been listening to in the new year. So I kept pondering what it might mean, for me, as the phrase kept presenting itself over and over.

One example of trust and humility that was shared in a podcast was that as young children we turn to our parents when asked a question like “what would you like to order to eat” or “to drink”. We, as children, aren’t aware of all the options or what is acceptable, so we turn to a trusting adult to help us decide. Poverty of spirit is the same type of humility or dependence on God as God’s children, turning to the One who can help us see more clearly.

I reflected earlier this week (my first mid-week reflection) on President Jimmy Carter’s funeral services. He certainly seemed to be a man with a poverty of spirit, a will to serve God and others, before self, always looking for ways to be attentive to what God desired for him to do and where he was needed to help others.

As I reflected on these two examples I determined that I can’t be open to hear or listen when my “hands” and mind are grasping tightly to what I think I need to do or be. My tendency is to anxiously hurry up and figure out the next step. This can create confusion or perhaps beginning to go down a path that isn’t the “right” one. I realize that I need an open spirit, willing to ask, “God, I don’t know what I want, or even what the options are (because I surely can’t see them all) or what is best for me, so will you help me decide?”

Jesus’ Baptism, that we remember as we end the Christmas season today, was not a baptism that Jesus needed. It was a baptism for the rest of us. As Fr. Paul Carlson, my parish pastor, shared in his homily, St. Gregory of Nazianzus said that “when Jesus rises from the waters, the whole world rises with him. As Jesus rises from the waters, our recreation has begun”. To be recreated though, requires a poverty of spirit to be called and led, to change and to be transformed.

This week retired minister, speaker and writer, Catherine E. Smith shared her blog on Baptism in an email (links below). She shared a beautiful story of Jesus’ Baptism and a Blessing for each of us. I share the closing stanza of her story.

Baptism is concrete and holy and full of mystery.

Out of the cloud-split heavens the words of belovedness are spoken.

These words fall upon Christ and in Christ they fall upon us.
We are the beloved.

In those days, in these days, in days to come
We are the beloved,
And we are beautiful to behold.

To listen for my call, for words of “belovedness” being spoken to me, or even to hear my word for 2025, takes a poverty of spirit. Am I willing to say “I don’t know what to choose, will you guide me?” Am I willing to emerge from the waters open to hearing what I am being called to? Am I willing to be transformed? I invite you this week to consider these questions also.

Wishing you abundant peace, Deena

Link to Catherine’s website, Hem of the Light, click here.

Link to Catherine’s post on Baptism (not on the website yet), click here.

Photo: Statue of the Baptism of Jesus, Epiphany Parish, Normal IL.

Deena Pavinato – Journeys

Category: Poverty of Spirit

Clearing the distractions