Livable Liturgies: Making the bed as an act of defiance

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning... Lamentations 3.22-23a

"The adversary would destroy the internal by destroying the external" Pilgram Marpek (d. 1556).

"Lord God, almighty and everlasting Father, you have brought me in safety to this new day: Preserve me with your mighty power, that I may not fall into sin, nor be overcome by adversity; and in all I do direct me to the fulfilling of your purpose; through Jesus Christ my Lord. Amen." (traditional)

Nearly every day, I utter (sometimes only inarticulately mutter) this prayer.  The key phrases "preserve me...that I may not fall into sin, nor overcome by adversity...direct me to the fulfilling of your purpose" kind of force me to do something. Often the snooze button tempts me.  Sometimes the coming day frightens me.  The sun rises as an unstoppable foe clearing the horizon, unfazed by vain attempts to slow its advance. But there's no way to fight it or flee it. 

I get up. I make my bed.

I commit an external act to get an internal state moving into first gear (thanks Marpek). I make my bed, as a commitment to the purposes of God.  And coffee isn't far away to keep me going in the right direction.

Jesus understands that some days the temptation to delay the start of the day, or extend the escape, is real. And as long as the covers are turned down, the bed is available as a retreat from the the fact that "each day has troubles" (Matthew 6:34), there is a chance that I might crawl back, close my eyes and hide my head. Since each day "has troubles of it's own" yet to appear, if I just close my eyes, I won't see them. Jesus understands. 

Even after making the bed I could easily pull back the covers and hide away. But something about the ritual of making the bed tells me that this part of the day is done and I need to move on into what God's purposes are for me this day.  It is a simple ritual that could be misunderstood as a "tidying things up" or a mechanistic habit carrying over from childhood with the words of your mother, "were you raised in barn?"

But what if one of the first acts of the day is a commitment to throw yourself into God's unfolding mercies and challenges and wonders? Get up. Make your bed. Get on with it.

“Our struggles in this world are similar, and the lessons to overcome those struggles and to move forward — changing ourselves and the world around us — will apply equally to all…. Making your bed will also reinforce the fact that little things in life matter.... And, if by chance you have a miserable day, you will come home to a bed that is made — that you made — and a made bed gives you encouragement that tomorrow will be better. If you want to change the world, start off by making your bed” (William McRaven, UT News, 2014).

So as a reminder that I am committing myself to the mission of God, and even as a hope for a better tomorrow, I make my bed. 

References

Tickle, P. (2015). Fixed Hour Prayer. Retrieved from explorefaith: http://explorefaith.org/prayer/fixed/hours.php

UT News. (2014, May 14). Adm. McRaven Urges Graduates to Find Courage to Change the World. Retrieved from UT News The University of Texas at Austin: http://news.utexas.edu/2014/05/16/admiral-mcraven-commencement-speech

YouTube. (2015). monster.com commercial. Retrieved from YoutTube.com: http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=npQC7v73TXg

Hass, C. J., (1992). Readings from Mennonite Writings: New and Old. Good Books, Intercourse, PA. p45.

Livable Liturgies: Anti-Apocalyptic Dog

“But ask the animals, and they will teach you…In his hand is the life of every living thing and the breath of every human being.” Job 12.7,10

“Among the Algonquin nation…creation was brought about by Kukumthena, the Grandmother…accompanied by a dog.” In this myth, creation is continued and the end of the world forestalled, by the “work” of this dog. “Each day Kukumthena works at weaving a great basket, and when it is completed, the world will end. Fortunately for us, each night the dog unravels her day’s work.  Those of us who have lost rugs, clothing, or furniture, to a dog’s oral dexterity may never be convinced that that ability could be put to such use as forestalling the end of the world” (The Monks of New Skete, 1978, p. 3).

Mika, keeps the world from ending, an anti-apocalyptic angel. At least she postpones the apocalypse by unraveling her own things.

The unraveling work of the anti-apocalyptic angel-dog, stuffing chewed out of the dog bed.

What if unraveling the weave of the great basket is more than a metaphor? Having a dog shares characteristics of having children, of attending to a spouse, or caring for friends. It’s just that a dog has less qualms about telling someone to pay attention.  A dog will not put on a false display of patient waiting. Whining, licking, nudging, pawing at me, she tells me to pay attention to her.

Job wants me to do more than attend to animals, but rather "ask the animals, and they will teach" something.  If there's a constant undoing to the end of all things from the myth about Kukumthena and the dog. Why is it that that myth emerged with the dog acting that way? Is there something about a dog's loyalty that has a future orientation? That the future is not all written out and a closed book? That maybe there is an open future and God has more in store than I can ask or imagine? 

The mystic Matthew Fox always referred to his dog as his spiritual director. I get that. I have one too.  I'd like it if my cat was as forthcoming, but he's a bit aloof.

Livable Liturgies: Routines are Easy, Routines are Hard

“he got down on his knees three times a day and prayed and gave thanks before his God, as he had done previously”

If it wasn’t for my spiritual director’s collar, she would have face planted in the gutter. Fortunately, the collar was attached to the leash – oh yeah, remember, my spiritual director is my dog.  This morning while on our routine walk the sidewalks were icy.

This morning would have been a reasonable morning to skip our walk. The morning light was dispersed by freezing fog looking as if dawn was stalled and needed a push. But the routine had to go on. That is one of the reasons I wanted a dog, to remind me of the routines that I need to be committed to whether I wanted to or not.

In some ways, routines are easy. The habitual rehearsal of that which took place the day before, the season before, the year before. I know what to do and where to go – and usually I know why.

Routines are Easy

Routines have a goal. They are headed somewhere. Routines are about routes, pathways, the beaten path. The beaten path where the grass lays down, the rocks smoothed by friction, where the way is clear. These routines, these pathways are easy. The resistance is not from the route, but whether or not to get started and to keep walking.

My morning routine: first, get some coffee, quietly. Second, sit in my comfy chair and read my morning devotions. Third get more coffee, maybe some oatmeal. Read and think. More coffee. Sit. Pray. More coffee. Get lunches packed and send my wife and son off to school. Every morning, more or less, this routine centers my day. I find often that when the routine is broken, I feel off center.

Routines are Hard

In the morning as I practice my routine walk, geese fly overhead. Nearly every morning. Don’t know where they’re headed, or where they came from. What did they do all through the night? And where?

But when the sun’s light is at the goose-alarm-clock angle, they stir and they fly over. Some land in alfalfa fields nearby, some in the river, or suburban ponds. Every day, like clockwork, set by the daily rhythms of the sun. It doesn’t seem to matter what the weather is like, but the geese are dedicated. Watching a goose flopping its big flipper-feet one step at a time to break the ice, swimming and nibbling on the grass below. That poor bird must have been at least a little bit chilly.

Sometimes routines are hard to stay with. Bright, shiny, new things can catch our attention and distract us. I am easily side-tracked. Daily tasks, picking up things, cleaning the kitchen, playing with the dog; reading emails and magazines and books and blogs; sometimes just wanting to nap or hit snooze on the alarm. Other times the challenge comes from opposition: budget woes and unemployment, depression and lethargy, doubt and unanswered questions.

Routines are hard. The word route comes from the Latin “rupta”, or to rupture. Sometimes sticking to routine is hard and requires breaking through something: ice, drowsiness, distractions, disappointments.

Routines are Easy and Routines are Hard