Orthodixie

[Meditations are intended to be read sequentially, from 1 to 33.]

In the Wilderness …

“Who am I?”

Tears. It’s been long in coming — and still longer since last we cried. Once again we seemingly had it all in the Garden. Now all is lost. Again we were betrayed. It wasn’t the fault of the creature, or the environment of plenty. It was the others who chose to inhabit the oasis of the Garden. Damn them!

“Did they not know that ‘I am?’”

“I’ll show them!”

It was all to no avail — scheming and planning. They were too powerful. In fact, they’ve actually lived in the Garden a very long time. They KNOW more. They’ve not only eaten fruit, they’ve stockpiled it in their paradisal warehouses. They were too powerful. Had to leave … but, shall return.

[Meditations are intended to be read sequentially, from 1 to 33.]

In the Garden …

It is easier in the Garden. The Hill involves sacrifice. For love requires that one give up self for other. Joy necessitates suffering. Peace implies war. Patience is ultra-sacrificial. And kindness quite often makes us nauseous!

Our taste buds dance was we bite again into the fruit of pride.

Yes, we eat it for a remedy. We were a little queasy last eve after a bout with envy and greed. It seems that we just can’t get enough of the Garden. Now, here we sit partaking of the omnipotent medicine of pride.

From where we sit in the Garden we can see the weak and naked pilgrims ascend the Hill of Hell. Oh how our minds delight in hating them and their pitiful wasted lives. Wait’ll they get to the top and realize that death alone beckons and awaits them.

“He dies, you know!”

“He dies!”

Pride is abundant upon this Tree in the Garden.

[Meditations are intended to be read sequentially, from 1 to 33.]

Again on the Hill …

“Fear God and all will be well.” There it is again — that thought. What does it mean to fear God? Why, how, is it that “all will be well?”

The man who brought us to the Hill has been gone for a long time. Perhaps it was all a dream? A hoax even? Maybe it would be better in the Garden. Had the man ever been to the Garden? Perhaps he led us the wrong way? Maybe he can be found in the Garden?

“No.”

He clearly said that he was on his way to the kingdom. He bid us come, did he not? What was his name? “Fear God and all will be well. Fear God and all will be well. Fear God and will be well ….”

“I fear that I am lost,” we say. There, off in the distance, is the Garden. So inviting. So familiar. We’ve spent so much time there, in the Garden. It looks like home.

It is home. “Leave your cross and receive your crown, your reward,” bids the creature.

So be it.

… it is so.

[Meditations are intended to be read sequentially, from 1 to 33.]

On the Hill we sit …

How we got here, we’re not quite sure. Yet, thankful we be. For some odd reason, it seems that we’ve been sitting here ‘neath the Tree on the Hill … staring off into space. And, oddly enough, this seems all right.

We remember that in the Garden we were clothed as royalty. Here, we sit in the shade of redemption — naked — with a cross. The man who led us here told us that we had to bear it if we were to find rest in him and his kingdom.

Funny, it seems that he met us in the Wilderness. We didn’t have to make the decision to either go into the Garden or to climb the Hill. Instead, we were met by a man who seemed to know us — and, we him. He lovingly said, “Come, follow me.” And now, here we are.

Where did he go?

Where is his kingdom?

Why did he call us?

In my secular work, the clinical team shares a daily reading during their staff meetings. Today’s, June 17th, caught my eye. Thus, we interrupt the series of Two Trees meditations for the following … meditation:

The desire to believe the best of people is a prerequisite for intercourse with strangers; suspicion is reserved for friends.

— Mary McCarthy

How often we find ourselves treating our acquaintances with exquisite courtesy, while our friends and loved ones get our yawns, our sulks, our tantrums. We may pride ourselves on treating everyone alike, but most of us lapse into rudeness with our intimates. “It doesn’t matter,” we say. “They know me.”

If someone doesn’t know us, we behave with generosity. Why? To convince the stranger that we are nicer than we really are? Which is the ideal person, the one who is courteous to strangers, or the one who is rude to friends?

Mistrust of ourselves is the basis of these false values. Most of us fear, at one time or another, that we won’t be liked, loved, or respected for ourselves alone. So we try to appear different, usually better. Once we’re assured of approval from another, we feel comfortable enough to drop the facade.

Sometimes, perhaps, we even punish the new friend a little for the strain of our good behavior. Wouldn’t the best behavior be a comfortable respect?

My friends deserve my courtesy as well as my love. Today I will welcome them gratefully to my life.

— Taken from The Promise of a New Day by Karen Casey & Martha Vanceburg.