The following was written by Anne Voegtlen as a response to one of the lectio passages from the fall retreat.
“Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others. Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, who though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be grabbed at, but emptied himself, … being born in human likeness.”
How can I see these hands
and their emptiness? How can I see
what is not held? What cannot be held.
I am invited today to hold
my own hands empty, to grab
at nothing — and especially
not to grab at this divinity
simmering in the given spark,
the green fuse, that drives my cells.
How do I measure
emptiness? Jesus emptied himself.
In a way, in time, in this body
that asks so much, I hold
the ultimate gift, which is an answer
of sorts. An answer in a language
I can read only haltingly.
Let me find a new language in things.
Let me see in the needs around me
the words of our being. The
sentences we string together
day by day, we cobble up—
we built them only partially
with words. They also are shaped by deeds,
infused with dreams of rest and motion
both. These sentence forms are
pebbles dropped along a faint trail
through dark woods. If attention
is paid, they will gleam. They
will be my guides, my prayer
for the night places. They are
given, not made— seen,
not taken. Let them shine
today and do the old warm
work of our lost words.
Let them charm me back
to sweetness, to sharing,
to the dazzling waywardness
of all life.
September 29, 2018