Lavender field at Los Poblanos

This weekend I’m at a seminar hosted by the Center for Action and Contemplation, Richard Rohr’s spiritual think tank in Albuquerque. A stroke, a heart attack, and cancer treatments have taken their toll on Rohr. He was rolled onto stage in his wheelchair, his very good dog Opie by his side. “I signed up for celibacy before I really knew what I was doing. But Opie cuddles me at night,” he said, laughing. Later he talked about how the biggest decisions in life are the erotic ones. “I’m not talking about sex,” he said, or not only about sex. “I’m talking about the callings that take you beyond logic and predictability. A decision you make based on the good, the true, and the beautiful. A decision that transforms you.”

What a waste of time, he ruminated, talking about the Catholic church’s emphasis for hundreds of years on penances and other attempts to buy grace from God. Our religion is not transactional, he said. It is transformational.

God does not need to be talked into loving his children, he said. God doesn’t have to be paid off. God is – organically – in love with his creation. All of it. Not just the Catholics, not just the Christians. Also the rabbit caught in the trap – scared, bleeding, dying.

Richard Rohr still commands the stage with a quiet voice, speaking slowly enough for me to take good notes. I’ll share more of his thoughts with you next week.

Today’s Bacon is brought to you by another great theologian, Frederick Buechner.

From Listening to Your Life, Oct 20:

A woman with a scarf over her head hoists her six-year-old up onto the first step of the school bus. “Goodbye,” she says.

A father on the phone with his freshman son has just finished bawling him out for his poor grades. There is mostly silence at the other end of the line. “Well, goodbye,” the father says.

When the girl at the airport hears the announcement that her plane is starting to board, she turns to the boy who is seeing her off. “I guess this is goodbye,” she says.

The noise of the traffic almost drowns out the sound of the word, but the shape of it lingers on the old man’s lips. He tries to look vigorous and resourceful as he holds out his hand to the other old man. “Goodbye.” This time they say it so nearly in unison that it makes them both smile.

It was a long while ago that the words God be with you disappeared into the word goodbye, but every now and again some trace of them still glimmers through.

*      *      *

Sincerest thanks to Shelby Moody for recommending that I stay at Los Poblanos, an enchanting lavender farm on the outskirts of town.

This peacock literally stared me down. I went in by another door.

Me too.

 

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