Dear Friends,
We pray you are safe and well.
Today's Meditation offers a humble, honest sharing by Joyce Rupp over a conversion of heart back to being the Guest House of God for others.
We invite you to join us as we commit ourselves to working tirelessly to end systemic and structural racism in our society, in healthcare, in the workplace, in the Church--wherever it shows up so that everyone may come to have more abundant life. May this meditation nourish our contemplative-active hearts and sustain all of us in action.
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We hope and pray that you and your loved ones experience genuine peace of mind and heart, and remain in good health during this challenging time.
May this Advent Season be a time of peace, of healing and hope, of the infusion of joy in your life!
With our love and care,
Ron & Jean
MEDITATION 216: The Advent Guest House by Joyce Rupp
Reflection - December 2020
Something quite shocking happened to me last September. It was not earthquake shaking like St. Paul’s conversion when he was struck down and blinded, but it was certainly a wake-up call. I became acutely aware of my lack of hospitality. In a brief space of divine intervention, my shadowed attitude took a sharp turn toward a painful revelation.
It happened like this: all summer I longed to find a quiet place by a body of water where I could write without interruption but crowds of people were out and about everywhere. Finally I located the “perfect spot” in early autumn, a small state park with a sweet little lake, just an hour’s drive away. To top it off, no humans were around to interrupt the tranquility or disperse Covid-19 germs to me. I found a shady oak tree by the lakeside and sat there for several hours relishing the delicious place until I heard male voices not far from me. “Oh, they’re just walking around the lake,” I thought, and went back to musing and writing.
Imagine my surprise when suddenly one of these two men was standing directly in front of me, probably six feet away although it seemed much closer. “Hi,” he said. “Hello,” I mumbled back, feeling instant agitation by his assumption that I would welcome his presence. The stranger stood there silently, mask on, for what seemed like five minutes, (actually, probably one), and then added, “Is that all you’re going to say?” Well, by then I was fuming and blurted out in my most snippy voice, “Well, not if you’re going to stand THAT close.” He stepped back. More quiet. Then the lightning bolt hit. He said his name.
How embarrassed I felt. Here stood a good friend of mine whom I did not recognized with his mask on and with considerable weight loss due to illness. I was humbled to the core. We conversed for awhile and then he went on his way. But I did not go on my way. I stayed there stunned by my initial response: hostile and unwelcoming. I pondered how I had reached the point of being so adversarial. When did my heart turn sour? How could I have strayed that far from my belief about welcoming the Christ in everyone? I then recognized how this attitude had developed through fear due to the difficult, coronavirus-summer, how I allowed kindness to be shoved out and unfriendliness to take over. To my chagrin, I saw how I had been treating strangers as enemies, especially people not wearing masks, or who seemed to be “invading my space” with the possibility of infection.
I have not been the same since that stunned encounter. Thanks to the entrance of grace, I have shed my “enemy response” and developed the habit of silently blessing “May you be well” to anyone coming my way. For my Advent practice, I’m placing one word, “Welcome,” on my prayer altar to remind me of this intent. Each morning I mentally take off the non-receptive signs on my heart (“Do not enter. No trespassing. Stay out. Get lost.”) I pray to receive those I know, and do not know, as I would the Christ who came to dwell among humankind centuries ago, to accept each as he or she is, not as I would have them be.
Like the poet Rumi who considered himself to be the guest house of God, I hope that this Advent my presence will be that of a guest house, a welcoming home filled with kindness.
Abundant peace,
Joyce Rupp