Sand between my toes
First Sunday of Lent, February 18, 2018
A voice came from the heavens, “You are my beloved son; with you I am well pleased.” At once the Spirit drove Jesus out into the desert.
– From Mark 1
Ignatian contemplation invites me to spend time with Jesus in the desert. When I “compose the place,” my feet suddenly fit into Jesus’ footprints and I follow him away from the glory of his baptism into solitude.
The sky is blue, the air is dry and hot. But the sun is going down soon, and I know it will be cold out here tonight. Jesus does not carry any food with him; I guess we’ll be fasting. He finds a water hole and drinks. Following him, so do I.
Jesus says nothing as his eyes find mine. I feel no need to leave, but we both realize this pilgrimage is not for us to share except in place. He will have his temptations, and I will have mine. He will have his revelations, and I will have mine.
Inside my sandals the sand between my toes squeaks, chalky, rough. In the oncoming dark I find a place to sleep not far from Jesus and curl up inside my clothes.
My Bible tells me this is a 40-day journey, but I’m not sure Jesus knows that yet. He listens for God and doesn’t seem to care about how long this takes. When I awaken, skin chilled and craving the heat of the rising sun, there is Jesus kneeling, leaning up against a rock, hands and eyes lifted to the sky. He sighs, murmurs, cries out words I don’t understand. Aramaic. His deep throaty voice catches me off guard; there has been so much silence. Surely he is praying.
Day after day we’ll walk, mostly in circles I suppose. The sun comes up, the sun goes down, the hands on the clock go round and round. But I think it’s different for Jesus; I’m the one with the watch, I’m the one that thinks I have places to go and promises to keep. Although I think that is changing inside me as I walk fifty yards behind Jesus, drinking the water he drinks and feeling the hunger he feels.
Desert creatures cry insistent against the endless sand. They scream over and over, but it’s the silence between the sounds that rushes at my ears. Jesus walks, I follow. Of course there are bathroom breaks. Night comes. Again without food, we sleep.
Jesuit James Martin, who has written some wonderful books, talks about his experience with this kind of prayer: “Once you’ve met Jesus in a gospel scene, in your own imagination, nothing is the same. Remember he’s risen and alive and is present to us through the Spirit, who works through prayer, so you’re truly encountering Christ. It’s also something that completely changes your appreciation of that gospel passage.”
Seek to be as vivid as possible when you compose the place. All your senses get to play. What do you see? What do you hear? What do your hands feel, and your feet, what do you taste and smell? There is dust, and dust, and dust. It gets in my nose, it gets in my mouth. When the blessed rain comes the flowers spring up bright red and green and yellow. Then we can smell the sky.
Prayer comes in the interplay of my senses and my mind’s sense of the story’s meaning, and how it grows inside me. And then, as Father Martin says, “I let God take me where God wants me to go.”
Lead me into the desert, Lord, if that’s where we’re going today. And lead me beside still waters, if those waters are right for us just now. And lead me in the way everlasting. Please hold my hand while you show me something of all these ways, day by day by day.
http://www.davesandel.net/category/lent-easter-devotions-2018/
http://www.christiancounselingservice.com/archived_devotions.php?article_id=1658
