Monday Morning Music Ministry

10-13-25

Only last week in this space we addressed Peace – the concept and definition; the dream and reality; its frequent transitory nature and its elusive permanent state; the world’s quest and our personal desire. On cue, in a sense, Peace was in the headlines: an apparent “peace deal” in the Middle East, brokered by President Trump. Focused on Gaza, a treaty has been signed whose peaceful ripples can circle out to the wider region, and from this week into the future.

Yes, this is possible. History’s wars inevitably have ended not from sudden awareness of justice nor hunger after righteousness nor dawning revelations of amity. Rather, solutions routinely have resulted from crushing military defeats, or bankruptcy (of arms and money, often sustained by both sides), or abject weariness. And the Gaza Peace accord might last for a generation, or be one more well intentioned memory before this is posted.

I desire to take nothing away from President Trump and his team. Their efforts to mediate numerous conflicts have been bold and clever and, it surely seems, successful at the moment. An element of timing has been a blessing to the peacemakers’ work. Israel, after pummeling its enemies and toppling regimes, was at a stalemate with, ironically, anonymous thugs. When Russia and the Ukraine have bled each other dry, they will eventually seek to save face, partition the country as has happened frequently across Europe, and call it Peace.

Regarding the Middle East, the “Holy Land,” we must thank God for the interruption in bloodletting – the chance to dry so many mothers’ tears – but remember to peek ahead to the end of the Book, where the final battles at the End of the Age will take place, once more staining the sands with blood.

I am not being cynical, and certainly not pessimistic: we observe human nature on one hand… but we also should recognize God’s nature. Can good come from bad?

Wars end in peace. If it proves flawed or short-lived, nevertheless we seek it and savor it. Most legends and novels deal with conflict, and most of them end in sweet resolutions. So with life. When lovers quarrel, there is no sweeter affection than that of making up. In spiritual terms, once sin entered the world and corrupted our natures, God Almighty moved Heaven and earth, if I may characterize it so, to create a means to effect reconciliation with Him.

You’ll find that plan in John 3:16; but, really, in every page of Scripture. The Bible, from Genesis to Revelation, is God’s love letter to us. Its theme is peace – that quality that we claim to need and need to claim – specifically the Peace of God, which passes all understanding. It comes through Salvation, which is the only quality more desirable than peace.

We are broken people, all of us individually and as groups and nations, but Jesus can and does make us whole. This “formula” should not surprise us, because the Bible’s stories feature myriad heroes who were broken and then transformed into great examples for us. In a larger context, such examples surround us:

Majestic cathedrals are built of broken stones.

Ornate stained-glass windows are comprised of small, broken pieces.

Think of it: beautiful works of music are collections of notes that by themselves are random or cacophonous until arranged.

These analogies remind us that so many things in life – plans, projects, intentions, acts, relationships – get broken. They might start in broken states, or end that way… or be that way in between the dream and the realization…but broken, in need of fixing, making whole, redeeming, restoring. Even as we make peace with others, souls are to be reconciled to God. Ultimately, peace to be made with ourselves too.

We meet God in new ways when we understand these contexts. Remembering the analogies with the building of cathedrals, arranging stained-glass windows, and composing music, we see the Lord as Architect, Artist, Composer. To the extent we are all broken in various ways – and see this in our brothers and sisters – we note that faith requires trust. And patience. God is at work. The more we ignore or resist the work God does in us through His Holy Spirit, the longer we might delay the amazing work He desires to do.

We can view “brokenness” as an ugly brand, a permanent disqualifier. But God sent Jesus to be a carpenter able to mend broken bodies. In His repair work, nails are sometimes required. Jesus knows about nails, too. But take joy in the restoration God will do in your life.

We are not born “whole” but we can be made whole. We remember that even the angels cannot sing “Amazing Grace” as we can: they do not know the miracle of Salvation.

Go thou in peace!

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Click: This Is How Emptiness Sings

6/3/2012

A few years ago when I lived in California, I helped organize retreats for the people in the office where I worked. Spiritual getaways, opportunities for refreshment. We availed ourselves of landmarks of the state’s rich heritage, and held them at ancient missions that dot the coast. Few of us were Catholic, but the solemnity and Christian dedication of these oases were special indeed.

Early settlers built a network of missions along the Pacific coast so that travelers could be within foot (or horse, or mule) distance of one day from mission to mission. Most still stand today, active as religious communities that also welcome visitors… including individuals or groups who want a place to worship God or meditate on the Word. My friends and I visited Mission San Luis Rey in Oceanside.

These experiences were so good for my soul that I gratefully learned about abbeys, fewer in number, also each hundreds of years old, that likewise welcomed visitors. The abbeys are more active religious communities, however; and conforming to the rules of the order was more of a requirement. I arranged to stay at the Benedictine Abbey of St Andrew in Valyermo. It was to be for three days, living, even dining, among the monks. Participation in worship was not required, but silence – one of the order’s strictures – was.

One has free run of the beautiful grounds, including the Stations of Cross, a precious tool to reflect on Christ’s sacrifices; and the abbey’s library. There was no “lights out” policy in the Spartan rooms, because there were no lights. But the library, with many volumes and a cozy fireplace, was open all night.

When I went to the abbey I was not enduring a spiritual crisis, but I needed refreshment (we all do, always; whether we realize it or not is the matter), and I arrived expecting all sorts of insights, breakthroughs, and revelations.

I received none. None that I hoped for, or expected. I was not disappointed, but I was confused. In the silence, I had expected to hear God’s voice, but I did not. In nature I expected to see Him more clearly, but I did not. In the solitude, I expected to be free to bump into God at every turn, but I did not.

Yet after three days, without insights, revelations, or breathroughs to headline a journaling page… I was closer to God than I ever had been.

I had the sense – a reminder, really – that a curse of modern life is that we often are too busy to meet God on His terms. In modern religion, we are taught to construct “expectations” and then devise ways to meet them, all the time thinking that such paradigms will please God. In modern spirituality, we tell ourselves that we are on progressive paths to know God better and better and better.

… where, sometimes, the stark realization that we cannot fully know Him, is to rediscover the sense of awe at His majesty, His omnipotence, and His mystery. We have lost a sense of God’s mystery. It does not threaten to make God more distant; it does, however, make Him more God-like to us. Our goal must not be to be God (if that were possible), but to be Children of God. We should not think we can be Christs, but we are instructed to be Imitators of Christ. Yes, it is one of our charges to “know God and make Him known,” but we cannot have a presumptuous attitude: if we fool ourselves into thinking we can know all there is to know about Him… there would no longer be a need to know Him.

I came to appreciate, not regret, that “space” between our knowledge of God and God Himself. It is not empty, as we sometimes fear, but is that mysterious zone where we can just stop and have reverence and awe and wonder at the unknowable power, and love, of God.

That mysterious zone, of course, is called faith.

Embrace its vastness, do not scurry to shrink it. Love the fact that God created and maintains it as a special gift for His children. To lose yourself in the mystery of real faith is to feel, to KNOW, that you are closer to Him than you can ever teach yourself to be, or work towards. To try is futile, to surrender is divine.

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Writing our stories into God’s song, BEING the glory of God, is the essence of Christa Wells’ moving song “How Emptiness Sings.” Let your tune resonate in the open spaces.

Click: How Emptiness Sings