Friday, March 25, 2022 (today’s lectionary)
Solemnity of the Annunciation of the Lord
Birds sing in the sun, and I am ready to shed old skin
In Taos there is only silence. Sunshine and silence, broken now and then by a laughing child. A crooked brazen sun graces the beige adobe wall of the hotel patio, where I am alone for the moment, and where I relax, breathe deeply, and say thank you. Prayers come swiftly today.
In Santa Fe, sun and silence blessed my breakfast. Distant conversations faded away. I walked to the Basilica and prayed several prayers in each corner of the cathedral. Hail Mary, full of grace. Outside many people thronged the plaza. A mom alone with four children under five struggled to get them across the street in front of my car.
Coming to her, Gabriel said to Mary, “Hail, full of grace! The Lord is with you. Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God.”
Under the portico of the Palace of the Governors twenty or thirty older Native Americans spread out jewelry on beautiful Indian blankets and sat behind them in more or less comfort, waiting for customers. Several of the women, surely over 75 years old, were bundled up. It was chilly back in the shade, even though the plaza was full of warm sun. They seemed to move as little as possible. Many had canes or short poles to point out details of their necklaces and bracelets and rings, turquoise and silver, probably NOT made in China.
Across the street I talked with a stocky Native American who was whittling with his knife. “I carve in cottonwood bark. They cut down a tree and gave me the bark. Some of it is six inches thick.” He made a likeness of his market neighbor with his nice white beard for a Christmas present. His friend took it with him to the family Christmas, showing it off. But then the lacquer started bubbling up, and now he was sanding it down, getting ready to polish his cottonwood statue one more time.
Google maps saved me when I couldn’t find where I parked the car. Santa Fe’s streets are old cattle trails, converging on the plaza. Other concentric streets circle the plaza and made finding my car impossible. Except not for those GPS magicians in the sky. Once in the car I tried ignoring those magicians to take the “Old” Taos Highway, which was fun for a few minutes until I saw the Dead End sign. I stopped beside the road to take pictures of the distant snow capped Sangre de Cristo peaks. Beside the highway piñon trees filled the air with their wonderful peppery scent. Different from eucalyptus, but I got the same feeling of being in the west, in the mountains, in the desert, very far away from the prairie soils of Illinois.
Paintings and sculpture are everywhere at the Casa de Benevides Inn, where I’m staying in the Vaquero room. Three paintings of the same woman’s face follows me around from lobby to dining room to library. She is Hispanic, 50 years old, full lipped, black hair, and very sad. Her face haunts me.
Taos haunts me too. Forty six years ago I spent a week here on a University of Wisconsin Greyhound bus ski trip. I remember moments of that trip more often than most anything. The pleasures were not exactly licit, though. And then a few months later I spent two more weeks, this time with my hitchhiking friend Jay, twenty miles north of Taos at the Lama Foundation. More stories, more pleasure, again, less than licit.
Your justice I have not hid within my heart; your faithfulness and your salvation I have spoken of; I have made no secret of your kindness and your truth in the vast assembly. Here I am, Lord, I come to do your will.
I was struck this morning, praying in bed, then praying in the sun, that it’s time for me to share these stories. Confessional honesty cleanses our souls. I thought I could write it all out, and share it with a friend, a priest-for-a-moment in a coffee shop confessional. This evening, feeling the history all around me, looking at pictures of Taos on the hotel walls from 1907, 1921, 1939 and paintings dated 1966 and 1967, I feel my own memories of 1976, and am ready to shed those old skins and put on something new.
(Isaiah 7, Psalm 40, Hebrews 10, John 1, Luke 1)
(posted at www.davesandel.net)
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