Tag: christianity

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Seven

This week I received a Hi Judith message that said, “We’ve loved being your website partner for the last 7 years. Here’s to the next 7”, their courteous reminder that my annual WordPress fee was due.  It has also reminded me that I’ve been standing on the Edge for many weeks, without writing a word.

The number seven plays a big part n everyday life, from Sunday through to Saturday and the seven colours of the rainbow, always a show stopper as they arch across the sky. Grass Grows by Itself, by Melbourne writer Elizabeth Cain, introduced me to the energy that ‘gathers and intensifies in seven centres in the human body’, known as Chakras. And if you ever had music lessons you’ll remember that the number seven forms the basis of Western music scales. Then there’s that wonderful sentence in the opening chapters of the Bible; “On the seventh day God completed the work he had been doing. He rested on the seventh day after all his work of creating”.

References to the number seven are not particular to Judaism and Christianity. The number seven has spiritual significance for religions such as Islam, Hinduism and Buddhism. Catholics and some other Christian denominations have actions, or rituals known as sacraments, seven of which,  Baptism, Eucharist, Reconciliation (or Confession or Penance), the Anointing of the Sick, Holy Orders and Matrimony, have a birth to death personal relationship with God’s love, healing, forgiveness, nourishment and strengthening .

My life is back-dropped by my Catholic upbringing and for many years I assumed that spirituality was a one-size-fits-all, practices involving religious pictures, feast days and repetitive and formal prayer cycles. As I’ve aged I’ve come to understand that Christian spirituality  actually flourishes in pockets of space. Those in-between gaps -watching the jug boil, waiting at the traffic lights or taking the dog for a walk. God is in the gaps, patiently waiting to visit with us, giving us the opportunity to scratch beneath the surface of our reality and see what wisdom or riches lie there.  

Saying “I am spiritual is an affirmation, whether we name it Karma or the Universe, Yahweh, Giai, Lord God or dear God, we are touching into God. It’s recognisable when you are overtaken by an experience that goes beyond the mundane and hints at the inexplicable. Words from the Edge is my now- and- again wordy dip into the relationship we all have with God, something we recognise a as spirituality.

Writing things down is the way I find my way to God. Words from the Edge is not about religion, however important religion may be to the development of spirituality, but it’s about what’s happening in the world, questions that beg for answers, about everyday life and issues that have emerged in my life, and perhaps even in yours. Joan Chittister says that “we can only become spiritual adults when we go beyond the answers, beyond the fear of uncertainty, to that great encompassing mystery of life that is God.”

Write back to me if you feel the urge to respond, or when Words from the Edge has given you something to talk about but no one to talk to, consider sharing it on-line with a friend – or a group.

Peace be with you, wherever you may be.

Judith   Judith@judithscully.com.au

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One Friday night

Last Friday night my youngest grandson, Harry, was confirmed.

One Sunday morning eleven years ago, a priest had swirled water in a large clear glass bowl and poured a scoop of it over Harry’s head with the words. “I baptise you Harry, in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” Now, in what seemed to be no time at all, Harry had been invited to confirm that Baptism.  

In the outer Melbourne suburb where he lives there is no stand-alone church but a very large catholic primary school. Its assembly hall had been set out with hundreds of chairs occupied by parents, siblings, grandparents and assorted family and friends, greeting each other and chattering in a mixture of languages. As I looked around to identify my family seat the breath caught in my throat. The place felt so – alive!

Flowers and twinkling lights marked a table set with silver cups and the Mass book. The hubbub gradually died away as the Bishop and two accompanying priests moved to the table and the girls and boys, accompanied by their sponsors, processed into the seating set apart for them. For the next hour it would not be the Stella Maris school assembly hall, but a sacred space.

I would love to say that the aliveness I initially experienced stayed with me through the rest of the Confirmation. Instead it gradually drifted away. That might have been because we were solemnly told that as this was now a sacred space, phones were to be turned off and a prayerful silence observed, especially during the reception of communion – but an assurance that the Bishop would be available for photos at the conclusion of the ceremony.

As a catechist I’ve been to quite a few Confirmation ceremonies and occasionally I recall the words of an experienced parish priest standing behind the line of Confirmation candidates as they waited in line to process into the church. “Look at them”, he said, “ just kids still. I’m in heading for my 50s and I still don’t think I’m ready to be confirmed.”

The Australian Catholic Church, or possibly the whole church, puts a lot of emphasis onto educating primary school aged children in faith – hoping, maybe assuming- that this will be enough to see them spiritually and religiously into the future.

The children to be confirmed did their part very well: as readers, writing as well as reading the prayers of intercession, and ever so slowly and reverently bringing the bread and wine to the altar. But the Bishop didn’t, or probably couldn’t talk to them, even ask a few questions that they were dying to answer, if only he would ask. And the parents, the families, the god-parents who had left work early to be present at this special occasion, they wanted an on-the-spot photo or two to send ‘back home’ as well as some encouraging words, just for them. It didn’t happen.

What I heard was a lengthy, theological kind of homily. I could sense the restless squirming of the people in my own family seat as the words went on and on. It was so disappointing. A majority of the adults present may not have been regular church-goers, but their presence was a visual sign           that they valued their Catholic faith. The Bishop could have talked to them, recognised that they came from many different countries, congratulated them for passing down their Catholic faith to their child, given them a few words that they would recall in the ordinary days that followed. A lost opportunity!

As  the girls and boys who were confirmed  last Friday night move out of primary school and into the years that follow, they  will need to experience a more creative and hands-on Church if they are to grow into an adult relationship with God in a twenty first century world.

And Harry, his family and close friends finished the day gathered around a dining room table, laughing, talking and eating. And God rejoiced with us.

Judith Scully

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Or leave a comment; judith@judithscully.com.au