It's Sermon Sunday- Rilke Style

Yesterday I bought a toaster oven. It is awesome. I had my first piece of toast this morning, and I remembered how much I love the sound of the knife spreading butter and jam across the crackling surface of the bread. That scratching was immensely satisfying for no reason at all, and I took joy in it. 

Also, I am continuing to swim through Rilke's Book of Hours. I want to share another of his poems with you. So, dress your heart up in its Sunday best and sit down. Allow yourself to be vulnerable for a few short minutes in this day. My favorite parts are bold. 

I, 17

She who reconciles the ill-matched threads

of her life, and weaves them gratefully

into a single cloth - 

it's she who drives the loudmouths from the hall

and clears it for a different celebration

where the one guest is you.

In the softness of the evening

it's you she receives.

You are the partner of her loneliness,

the unspeaking center of her monologues.

With each disclosure you encompass more

and she stretches beyond what limits her,

to hold you. 

I feel that I am breaking the sacredness of the moment perhaps, by putting my own small and insignificant words after Rilke (I mean, who speaks in the hall after good writing is read?), but I want you to know how earnestly I am longing to weave these ill-matched threads I've been given, how desperately eager I am to stretch beyond these things that limit me (they exist in abundance), to reach over them victoriously and to hold Love. And after holding Love, to be so full up with it that I've no choice but to love others with it. Genuinely and authentically to love the ajumma stepping on my foot, the girl pushing me in order to see her reflection in the window. And most of all, to love those who love me. 

Go, stretch beyond your limits. Weave a beautiful and pleasing garment from the seemingly ill-matched threads in your life. And I'll meet you there, in Love's house. 

It's Sermon Sunday

John 21: 9-12

When they got out on land, they saw a charcoal fire in place, with fish laid out on it, and bread. Jesus said to them, "Bring some of the fish that you have just caught." So Simon Peter went aboard and hauled the net ashore, full of large fish, 153 of them. And although there were so many, the net was not torn. Jesus said to them, "Come and have breakfast." Now none of the disciples dared ask him, "Who are you?" They knew it was the Lord.

The disciples had been fishing all night, catching nothing. When Jesus called to them to throw their nets on the other side of their boat, they caught an abundance of fish. When they got to the shore, Jesus didn't give them a lecture. Jesus didn't ask them any theological questions. Jesus didn't hand them a pamphlet on how to avoid damnation. He cooked the boys breakfast. ChubbO style. 

Real Love is not handing out pamphlets, thumping a Bible on the streets, or asking people if they really wanna go to hell. Real Love is action. An action as simple and unpretentious as cooking breakfast. If you believe in Real Love, you will live in such a way that others will not be hungry, others will not be naked, others will not be isolated, alienated, and alone. 

Now, all this talk of breakfast is making me hungry. 

If only I wanted bread and fish for breakfast, instead of The Waffle. 

It's Sermon Sunday

In Revelation 3:20 it says:

Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with Me.

Now that's what I'm talking about! Let the man in and what does he suggest? He says let's eat together. Now that's my kind of religion. I bet Jesus would have loved donuts.