I-YOUniverse

I love small group Bible study. Tonight was one reason why.

It’d been several weeks since most of us were together. The evening began with a spontaneous checkup on each other. I was amazed at the level of care the women demonstrated. Being the sole man, I was out of my league.

Then, we turned to the final topic in a series on prayer: “Unanswered Prayer.”

If God answers in a way we don’t like, we call that unanswered prayer: No, Not yet. Actually, both are answers.

We think answered prayer is, ”Yes, of course, right this minute!”

Despite common wisdom to the contrary, God answered “No” to the prayers of some big names:

• Moses didn’t get to cross into the Promised Land.
• David didn’t get to build the Temple.
• Jesus had to drink the cup of suffering.
• Paul had to endure the thorn in the flesh.

Students of the Bible have supposed the thorn to be everything. Best evidence is some sort of eye trouble. Paul was struck temporarily blind on the Damascus Road; the Galatians would have given him their eyes; and he wrote with large letters in some correspondence.

So, “No” or “Not yet” doesn’t always indicate lack of faith. Actually, to keep praying and living faithfully in the face of “No” takes more faith than otherwise.

The Lord said to Paul,

“My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.”

2 Cor 12:9 (NRSV) Who could ask for more than sufficient grace?

Real unanswered prayer is when we lose any sense that God is with us, as described in Psalm 88, which is painful even to read. (I occasionally skip it when it comes up in rotation, it hurts so badly.)

Your wrath has swept over me;
     your dread assaults destroy me.
They surround me like a flood all day long;
     from all sides they close in on me.
You have caused friend and neighbor to shun me;
     my companions are in darkness.

Psalms 88:16-18 (NRSV)

All in the group had experiences of feeling forsaken by God: death, loved ones in harm’s way, illness, life being changed.

A woman whose husband died of cancer said it was devastating when pray-ers blamed no healing according to their specifications on her lack of faith.

Psychologically we’d rather cling to false answers than admit we have no answer.

The classic spiritual literature calls this kind of unanswered prayer “the dark night of the soul.” Mother Teresa endured such spiritual darkness much of her ministry.

Some unanswered prayer is a temporary test.

 Remember the long way that the LORD your God has led you these forty years in the wilderness, in order to humble you, testing you to know what was in your heart, whether or not you would keep his commandments.

Deut 8:2(NRSV)

Some unanswered prayer is much more profound. Jesus experienced forsakenness by God on the cross, crying out,

“Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” which means, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Mark 15:34 (NRSV)

We can treasure his very words, as we find our way through the darkness. Of course, these are the opening words of Psalm 22, a psalm that works its way to trust.

Jesus ended his life with the Jewish child’s prayer,

“Into your hands I commit my spirit.”

Ps 31.5 (NRSV)

Contrary to our feelings, and because Jesus endured the spiritual darkness of the cross, we know God’s promise is true:

“I will never leave you or forsake you.”

Heb 13. 5 (NRSV)

Thanks be to God!

Recently I had my big toenails removed, so I started the day daubing hydrogen peroxide on the wounds. Then, letting my toes air out, I brewed some coffee. I experimented, for 15 seconds on High nuking a square of Dove dark chocolate in a third of a cup of coffee. Then I read a few psalms, 11-14, and John 6, “I am the Bread of Life.”

I’ve divided my NT & Pss into sections: gospels, epistles, psalms, ps 119. Three or four times a day (ideally) I read first a psalm or two, then either a gospel or epistle chapter. Each time I finish ten psalms, I read a page of ps 119. (This system doesn’t do justice to the Hebrew Bible as a whole.)

To a degree I put my brain in neutral as I read. Trained in the critical method, I have all the tools for vivisecting the Word at the ready. But this isn’t that. This is simply soaking in the Word, letting words and phrases I’ve known all my life wash over me—being still that I might know.

I check on day’s events through msnbc.com, mostly, reading at random for a few minutes. What’s happening I don’t understand, unless it’s as simple as it seems: the Selfishness at the heart of Capitalism run amok. How else could you explain a man who thinks making $500 million reasonable while his company vanishes in debt?

Can you afford Hope in such a time?

Or do we now have proof that both Communism and Capitalism are unworkable economic models, and there isn’t a good one out there?

I’m not a good enough economist even to know how to ask the question.

Nor do I know enough about political science to know what to make of recent events. We’ve elected an eloquent, informed, idealistic man to be President. (Oh, yeah, and that other thing.)

Will we let him govern?

Or will we play the game so popular in Washington D.C.: in rare event something good occurs, take credit for it; spend most of your time and energy in negative mode, blaming everything on everybody else. The bibble babble of Democracy grinding to a sound byte, while Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee point fingers and say “‘Twas he.”

Or, amazing things may happen.

Maybe it’s the chocolate.

Maybe it’s eating the flesh and drinking the blood of the Christ.

Maybe it’s Hope.

for Julian King, age 7

oh my little lamb, little one,
now I hold you in my arms.
I made you for your laugh,
your running round energy.

I made you someday to be a Father,
a Teacher,
a Pastor,
a President.

but now instead you’re safe in my arms,
you and all my little ones,
my little ones, little lambs.

beyond your guardian angel’s shielding fists,
drugs, madness, bullets—
and why?

oh my little lamb, little one!

 Suffer the little children
to come unto me, and forbid them not,
for of such is the kingdom of heaven.

how long, oh Lord, how long? 

oh my little lamb, little one!

Usually I turn the TV off during the day; lately, however, the presidential race has snagged my attention.  The bottom line we all forget is that God chooses our President, and God’s reasons are usually beyond our ken.  Once a President is elected, he will have to govern.  If, as seems likely, there is a Democrat majority in the House and Senate, legislating will be easy.

Legislating wisely will defy the wisdom of Solomon.

Democrats will be tempted to enact all the laws the Republicans have kept them from enacting.  But what they need to do is to seek for a bipartisan coalition, the goal of which is the welfare of the country.  Statesmanship and bipartisan cooperation have been extinct on Capitol Hill in recent years.

Just because Al Qaeda has not been successful bombing another target in the United States doesn’t mean that we are no longer in its cross hairs.  Rather, we need to think of ourselves as facing an enemy, which can take any number of forms: financial, military, diplomatic, religious.

A Democratic sweep of the 2008 elections will be meaningless, if those swept into office, undergo the same kind of sea change that affected the young idealistic Republicans of 1994.  They brought little change in the long run.

I confess: I am a liberal Democrat; even worse, a liberal liberal Democrat.  The word comes from Latin, meaning free.  I’m not an advocate of the old post-millennial doctrine of progress.  I agree with CS Lewis who said, “We’ve seen it all in an egg— it’s called going bad in Narnia.”

I also believe that prayer is more important than most other things we’ll try to fix the fix we’re in.  I think of myself as a kind of anchorite.  Since God has limited my mobility, I have chosen to make this armchair a place of prayer.  I hope through reading to recover ancient and medieval perspectives on prayer that have been lost.

We need a President who is “a transformational figure” (General Colin Powell).  Barack Obama is such a man.  I pray we will let him lead us to a new kind of America, an America whose chief export is not dollars (as now), but the ideals of equality among all people, equality of opportunity, and freedom for all.

But, what will change the world is not one leader, no matter how dynamic.  What will change the world is “7000 who have not bowed the knee to Baal,” 7000 who pray to the Lord God Almighty (known perhaps by other names), 7000 who pray without ceasing.

Yesterday on Wall Street it snowed sell orders. I don’t usually watch the news, but I watched hour after hour, trying to figure out what’s going on. My grasp of economics is minimal (maybe better than Palin’s). I think it goes like this:

• lenders made a lot of money making bad loans, and
• passed the bad paper up the food chain, everybody taking their cut along the way,
• but now the big guys at the top of the money markets are drowning in a sea of bad debt;
• if the big guys go belly up, they’ll drag down the whole system which depends on money being available to borrow.

I usually don’t comment on current events here, because I’m interested in prayer and especially ancient wisdom on prayer. But lest we be debating how many angels can dance on the head of a pin while the revolution goes on outside, it’s important to wonder how spiritual issues interlace with economic ones.

Our House of Representatives needs to hold their nose and vote the bill. This is political courage: the country’s more important than getting reelected.

Republicans love Jeffersonian ideals of small government. But Jefferson’s been dead a little while, guys. The biggest entity in view isn’t government any more; it’s these business behemoths, which only a strong proactive federal government can control.

Prayer isn’t a bailout plan with no restrictions. You can’t throw a switch and pray the light won’t come on. Consequences happen. I need to swipe the plastic less, even for (gulp!) books.

7 The rich rule over the poor,
     and the borrower is the slave of the lender. Prov 22

Christians need to live within their means, and whenever possible have money to give.

Somehow, the fat cats need to figure out the same applies to them.

I read that the ancient church taught that your surplus belonged to someone in need. I don’t know the source of that. Maybe the manna: no one had too much, no one had too little (Exo.16.18).

However, the Bible is clear that God provides our needs. So it’s useful to rely on verses like these:

⁶ Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. ⁷ And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.      

¹¹I have learned to be content with whatever I have. ¹² I know what it is to have little, and I know what it is to have plenty. In any and all circumstances I have learned the secret of being well-fed and of going hungry, of having plenty and of being in need. ¹³ I can do all things through him who strengthens me.

¹⁹ And my God will fully satisfy every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus. ²⁰ To our God and Father be glory forever and ever. Amen. Phil 4

Another useful pair of verses are these:

¹ In the LORD I take refuge; how can you say to me, …

³ “If the foundations are destroyed,
     what can the righteous do?” Psalms 11

 ¹¹ For no one can lay any foundation other than the one that has been laid; that foundation is Jesus Christ. 1 Cor 3

What verses do you turn to for reassurance in such times?

Sometimes prayer is slugging it out, slogging through; having all the principalities and powers, all the demons of the air we don’t believe in any more—we believe in bankers and politicians—arrayed against us, waiting for the opening bell, waiting to pounce and devour at the first sign of weakness.

I’ve been thinking, as I sit in my chair, that prayer is my vocation. I’m an explorer in the vast wasteland of the soul.

I am armed with little but the leather New Testament and psalms I bought a couple decades ago for its readable print and slimline profile; it now needs to be re-covered. With it is the Voice of Praise, a  slender brown hymnal published by Baptists in 1947, the year before I was born, edited by B. B. McKinney.

If you’re high church, likely you haven’t heard of him. But the low crowd—all of us know his tunes by heart.

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and the God of all consolation, who consoles us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to console those who are in any affliction with the consolation with which we ourselves are consoled by God.

2 Cor 1:3-4 (NRSV)

Affliction is the fuel of the spirit. We shovel our sorrows into the furnace of God’s love, and God converts them into power to drive the mighty engines of redemption.

If you’ve endured real sorrow, you don’t glamourize it. This isn’t toe nail removal, elective tragedy for the fashionable martyr; or the fish tale disaster, a story of pain that grows with every telling.

No, these are gut wrenching blows that knock the breath from your lungs and the light from your eyes, relentless throbbing griefs no Valium can assuage, regrets that growl over you like a pride of lions devouring their bloody carcase. Never full.

Have you heard the Darkness laugh? At last, It has you in Its grasp. Or is your soul’s inbox jammed with spam, the scientist demon-bot of Perelandra for no reason calling you by name again and again?

We do not want you to be unaware, brothers and sisters, of the affliction we experienced in Asia; for we were so utterly, unbearably crushed that we despaired of life itself. Indeed, we felt that we had received the sentence of death so that we would rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead. He who rescued us from so deadly a peril will continue to rescue us; on him we have set our hope that he will rescue us again.

2 Cor 1:8-10 (NRSV)

My favorite TV show is M*A*S*H, beginning season 4, when the show underwent a sea change, not unlike Margaret Hoolihan’s transformation from Frank Burns’ Boadicean Barbie doll to real woman. It’s a metaphor of

• surviving
• seeing clearly (Hawkeye), and,
• responding with compassion and expertise to the never-ending flow of wounded.

Fr. Mulcahey is my pastoral model. He has no equal in contemporary secular media, except maybe Andrew, the angel of Death on Touched by an Angel.

Yes, the show has flaws: the skirt chasing, the excessive drinking, the anti-authority streak. You can’t do as Hawkeye does and live up to the ideal he represents. Yet M*A*S*H remains in my head the main metaphor of being the people of God in today’s world.

Actually, prayer may be battalion aid instead. In this kind of world, if the bombs aren’t exploding in your face, I wonder if you’re where you’re supposed to be.

Contemplative prayer, the sacred mountain where silence sings and glory shines, arms us with spiritual courage, to come down into the valley (like the ox master after enlightenment) empowered to cast out demons, take up our cross daily, and follow Jesus.

Prayer is the in-your-face God of Gethsemane, the Oil Press. It’s standing, abandoned, silent and true before the man who will wash his hands of you, and hand you over to the lynch mob.

It’s being nailed to the cross—stripped of all but prayer.

If you have breath and guts enough, maybe you cry out, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani? My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” And you remember the psalm you’ve recited from childhood, that also says,

 To [the God of being], indeed, shall all who sleep in the earth bow down;
     before [God] shall bow all who go down to the dust,
     and I shall live for [God].

Psalms 22:29 (NRSV)

If you are one of the women who stood by him, you get through the sabbath. Then, all the cold night you listen for the tramp of soldiers outside your door. Keeping sabbath is pointless, maybe, but sometimes tradition is all you have left. The wind gusts. An earthquake shakes the land.

The sleepless silent night gives way to the gray pre-dawn of fear. You gather your costly bundles, cover your face with the veil all women must wear in public, and you make your way to the cave where they laid the body Friday evening.

“Who will roll away the stone?” you worry, an objection that would stop any sensible person. But your feet keep moving, one in front of the other, till you reach the place.

The stone hasn’t just been moved; it’s as if, like a child’s ball, it’s been tossed across the garden. A man dressed in white is sitting there; he makes the white stretch of the horizon seem dark as midnight. If you look straight at him, it leaves a shadow in your eyes. “He is not here,” the man in light says.

You peek inside the dark room. What a contrast to the man outside!

The room is empty. The shelf they laid the corpse on, not three full days ago, is empty, except for the rumpled pile of grave clothes, and the napkin that covered the head, neatly folded.

You realize, “He is not here.”

He’s not where I always feel him, not in the ideas I believe, not with the people I call my own family. He is not here.

Your first reaction is terror and you want to run for your life.

That’s what prayer is: running as hard and as fast as your legs will go, until you can’t grab another breath.

Then, it hits you.

He is not here! He is Risen!

Christ is Risen. He is Risen indeed.

Our Lady of Guadalupe appearing to Juan Diego

2:09 a.m.

A prayer journal

No trumpets on street corners here. Just notes for a sort of science project.

My father was converted from Catholicism, maybe as a young adult, I think. His oldest sister Margaret led her siblings into the Baptist faith, then reverted. She told me that was because, when a young woman serving as a missionary in a Baptist school in Mexico, she had been accosted by the missionary principal of the school. My mother whispered to my wife in the kitchen that Dad had never been baptized by a Baptist minister. So the font gets pretty murky. (Bottom line: God doesn’t care about who, when, how you’re baptized—only the state of your heart.)

The news tonight was all about the government bailout of Wall Street. A trillion dollars.

Typically, I wake up at night. Tonight I pray mostly for my African friends, although there’s an ominously empty place in my gut;  if I stayed there, I’d wonder, “What are we facing?”

But I do my best gently to focus on my prayer word mercy, short for the Jesus Prayer, “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner.”

I’ve got the words of the Rosary down now. I can say it all without reference to the book, except the final prayers “Hail, Holy Queen”; and “Memorare,” which apparently is optional. One of many how to’s is here.

The story of Guadalupe

Ten years after Cortez conquered the Aztecs, a baptized Indian passing the site of a temple to an Aztec earth goddess saw a vision of the dark-skinned Blessed Virgin, who asked him to build a church on the site. The skeptical bishop asked for proof. The Virgin told Diego to fill his tilmo, or blanket, with roses. It was December, not the month for roses. When he emptied them out for the bishop, they found a beautiful image of the Virgin on the tilmo, which now hangs in the basilica on the site. Scientists who examined it report the image is extraordinary and unexplainable. The Virgin of Guadalupe was a primary factor in the evangelization of the Indian peoples of the Americas. A sociologist says Mexico really is a conglomerate of disparate groups united by their love of her.

What really happened?

No one knows. What we have is the story, the original in a native Indian language, and the Spanish bishop’s testimony.

It’s impossible for the scientific mindset to grasp such a tale as any way real. The same science dismisses the incarnation and the resurrection.

So we bracket that discussion, which is like finding the square root of pi.

Back to praying

For two days I’ve been praying the Sorrowful Mysteries: the agony in the garden, the scourging, the crown of thorns, the carrying of the cross, and the crucifixion.

I discovered a web-based radio service Pandora here. So I figure how to get from head to heart is music, right? Ave Maria! Pavarotti, Charlotte Church, Bobby McFerrin.

As I progress, I read the scripture account of the event remembered in the Mystery (for example, of Gethsemane) to begin. Maybe I sing a hymn, like “Into the Woods my Master Went.” Then I say the Our Father, the Hail Marys, and the Glory be.

One set takes about 20 minutes.

During that I put the image above on screen. I grew up in El Paso with those people.

That process gets to my heart.

Today as I prayed for my friend, I said something like, “For the sake of my friend I’m praying the first decade of the Sorrowful Mysteries, the agony in the garden, the spiritual fruit being ‘thy will not mine be done.’ About halfway through or more often, I give myself an oral reminder “For my friends, the agony” etc.

Is it all “vain repetition”—the fatal blow of my childhood faith to this sort of thing. The other was “idolatry.” You heard again and again how the old ladies in Juarez, Mexico, kissed the feet of the statue in the Cathedral. Repetition?

Outcome

I read somewhere that Larry Dossey M.D. began his investigations of prayer by going into his office, shutting the door, and shaking some prayer gourds or something. Well, going into his office and shutting the door sounds like Matthew. I’ve always wanted to approach a surgeon and ask: “I’ve decided to test the validity of surgery. Mind if I cut up on you a bit, see if it works?”

Dossey didn’t know much about the thousands of years of prayer tradition. Neither do most of the rest of us.

I believe myth is to faith what math is to science. So the story of the Aztec earth goddess isn’t surprising or disturbing to me. There are valid questions, though.

You ask your questions when you buy your ticket. Then, you gotta stow them in the overhead bin and buckle up.

I wrote the following for Trinity United Methodist’s capital campaign. A big part of their effort will provide critically needed parking. Why do we care about 93 new asphalt rectangles? Because they represent about 200 more people who can attend  on Sunday. Americans don’t go places where they can’t conveniently park.

Trinity has an interesting model. Ten per cent of the $3M raised is going to missions, including $100,000 to build a permanent home for the African Counseling Center in Cameroon, an equal amount for a local free clinic and one other project. A cool way to teach people to tithe, huh!

So in case you need a seed to grow a stewardship sermon (yuck!) here are some. BTW Chuck Swindoll’s series Hilarious Giving at insight.org is absolutely the best stewardship/giving material I know of. If you’re like me, you hate stewardship Sunday and the inexorable sermon on the budget shortfall. This is an alternative.

PRAYERS FOR CHURCH FINANCES

SEPT

Deuteronomy  8.18 says, “It is [God] who gives you power to get wealth.” Pray that, deep within, you will know that, despite these troubled times, God is our security, providing us more than enough to give generously.

King David gave sacrificially so that his son Solomon could build the Jerusalem Temple. He asked the people, “Who then will offer willingly, consecrating themselves today to the Lord?” (1 Chronicles 29.5). Pray that God will move you and many others to consecrate themselves and their means to the Lord.

OCT

When God provided manna in the wilderness, no one had too much; no one had too little (Exodus 16.18). God does not ask for equal gifts, but equal sacrifice. Pray that God will lead you to give joyfully all you can.

In a time of skepticism like ours, God’s prophet challenged the people: “Bring the full tithe into the storehouse…and put me to the test, says the Lord.” Read Malachi 3.10, and pray that God will lead you to take a step further than you have before in financial giving.

Jesus said, “It is more blessed to give than to receive,” (Acts 20.35). God doesn’t want sour saints, but grateful and joyful followers who give all we possibly can. Pray that God will bless you with the spirit of grateful giving.

Jesus pointed to the mighty example of the widow who gave the smallest gift allowed-it was all she had (Mark 12.41-44). Pray that God will use your example in giving to teach your children gratitude to God and generosity toward all.

NOV

King David said, “All things come from you, and of your own have we given you,” (1 Chronicles 29.14). Pray that God will help us see ourselves as managers of God’s world, who in giving are just returning what belongs to God.

Paul promised his dearest friends, “My God will fully satisfy every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4.19). Pray that God will inspire us to give according to God’s riches in Christ.

God promises that “the one who sows bountifully will reap bountifully” (2 Corinthians 9.6). Pray that God will lead us to sow through giving generously to Trinity’s future, so that our children may reap a bountiful harvest in years to come.

Jesus taught us to store our treasures in heaven, where they are safe “for where your treasure is, there you heart will be also” (Matthew 6.20-21). Pray that God will inspire you to entrust your treasure and your heart to God alone through sacrificial giving.

John 3.16 says, “God so loved the world that he gave…” In Advent and always, giving ourselves and our money stands at the heart of our faith. Pray that God will give us a spirit of sacrificial giving to the Building Project at Trinity.

DEC

Paul wrote, “[God] who did not withhold his own Son, but gave him up for all of us, will he not with him also give us everything else” (Romans 8.32). During this season we remember that God gave the dearest and best; pray that God will lead us to give our best and our most in return.

Overjoyed when they saw the Christ Child, the Wise men opened their treasures and presented him gifts (Matthew 2.11). Pray that God will persuade men, women and children of Trinity to open their treasure and give generously to the Lord today, as wise and joyful as the Magi were.

Here are some pics. My beloved bought the camera to say TY for my help with a church staff retreat she recently conducted.

On the left is the first real rosary we built together. I like the large Hail Mary beads. They suit my fingers very well. The wire circles we used for the Our Father beads also remind me of the empty center which is the goal, emptiness that God may choose to fill or not. We’ve got a problem with the filament we’re using, however; it doesn’t hold the knot well.

In the center is my first practice strand for the knotted Rosary. Counting the joiner knot, it has 36 knots; three times around yields 108, the usual number of knots or beads for Buddhist prayer. But my friend Jon had the best idea: why not let each knot remind me of a specific sacred or happy moment of life.

On the right are two sets of beads. The small light wood outside is a rosary made for me by Benessa of latinworks. The inside, made by a friend and given to Sandy, is an Anglican rosary (four “weeks” of seven beads, four Our Fathers in the form of a cross, and an Invitatory bead, totaling 33).

Today I’ll pray for the people of the Gulf; those hit hardest by the financial turmoil (not the fat cats); for my friend Jean-Emile Ngue, who recently lost his mentor; and for Sandy, who is completing her second cataract surgery this afternoon. Believe me, those are the most beautiful eyes on the planet. Thanks be to God for God’s loving care and steady hand through the storms.

A bead is a bead, a knot is a knot—what counts is the heart.

 You can find out more about these for real gorgeous knotted rosaries at Rosaryworkshop here. Any resemblance to mine is imaginary.

I finished my first string of practice knots that end in a circle like a rosary. It’s brown #36 twine, with 35 knots, mostly Hail Mary knots, two or three Our Father knots, and the joiner knot completing the circle.

If you’ve ever been fishing with me, you know disciplined knots are anathema to me. Undisciplined knots collect about me like chiggers. So this string of 35 untangled knots is nothing to snigger at.

When you’re done…

At first, I wondered, why didn’t I stop at 33 knots, like a small chotki (Orthodox prayer rope)? But now I’m seeing things differently:

35 X 2 = 70.

Seventy’s nothing to sneeze at. It’s three score and ten, a lifetime, unless by reason of strength you live fourscore.

And three and a half has a nice apocalyptic meaning to it: brief and unfinished.

If I count the joiner knot, for a total of 36, then 36 X 3 is 108, the traditional number of Buddhist mala beads. My—uh—free style, shall we say, string beats 89 bucks or more on eBay.

As for the aesthetics, I suppose #36 brown twine is a step up from a string of paper clips, my first device for counting prayers, which I still have in a little metal Whitman’s Sampler box.

I’d be willing to show anyone only six or eight of my 30+ Hail Marys, knots formed with three loops. Since I can’t identify the Our Fathers, with five loops, I guess I’m not going to show you any Our Fathers.

As for the joiner knot, forget it. Let’s just say, it does what it’s supposed to. But not even a blind, numb Isaac could bless that sucker.

There’s a short tail and a long tail, as required at the near completion stage. But the long tail isn’t long enough for even one knot, and it’s supposed to accommodate five plus the cross. My ends are still Scotch taped to prevent fraying.

It’ll be my baseline. Future rosaries will, I hope, show significant improvements over this Quasimodo thing.

Guess I’ll sum up with a Bible sort of quote. Considering my sort of kind of prayer rope, what could be more fitting?

Counting the 36 total knots on her hand-tied string of #36 brown twine, Mary Magdalene stood weeping outside the tomb.

“Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?” a man asked.

Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, “Sir, you interrupted me praying. Now I’ve lost count. So easy to do on this homemade thing.

“I’m saving my shekels to get maybe an antique set from a nun’s estate or something, with Swarovski beads and a sterling silver crucifix, maybe a Blessed Virgin medal. Swarovski are the best kind of beads, you know, made near Zurich, Switzerland.

“But, forgive me, I get carried away. I’m looking for Jesus. Tell me where you put him, and I will take him away.”

Jesus said to her, “Mary!”

She dropped the string of #36 twine with 36 total knots on the ground, forgotten; turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rabbouni!” (which means, my dear Teacher).

Jesus said to her, “Do not try to grab hold of me, not with the Jesus prayer or the Rosary or ten verses of ‘Just As I Am’ or speaking in tongues or the infallible pope or the infallible Bible. Ask Jacob; there’s no hold that’ll hold me.

“I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’

“Once I’ve come in the person of the Holy Spirit, I’ll abide with you, in your heart forever. Then beads and Bibles will help you be still and hear my voice, my still small voice.”

With apologies to John 20.