Copyright (c) 1993 by Daniel L. Prechtel.  All rights reserved.
Online version:  Permission to reproduce this document is granted by the author.  Credit the source and author in the reproduced material, and as a courtesy please send a letter to the address given below or an email to dprechtel@llministries.com  notifying the author that the publication is being used and for what purpose.
 

Published by
Lamb & Lion Spiritual Guidance Ministries
2135 Orrington Ave.
Evanston, IL 60201-2936
phone 847.492.9013
http://www.llministries.com
 
 

CONTENTS

Preface
 1. In the Beginning
 2. A Journey and a Companion
 3. From the Depths
 4. Calling
 5.  Where is God?
 6.  First Fish
 7. Elementary Education
 8. Mythic Education
 9. Encountering a Sea Monster
10.  Fish Scale
11.  Baptismal Mystery
12.  Remember Your Baptism
13.  Oy! and Ah!
14.  Wanting God
15. Jackie
16.  Initiation Rite
17. Hartwell Dam
18.  Grandpa Joe's Fish Tale
19.  Grandma Elsie's World
20.  Vocation and Romance
21.  Colleen's Big One
22.  Grandpa Joe's Last Days
23.  Cosmic Dance
24.  Looking with the Lenses of Faith
25.  Connections
26.  Serendipity
27.  Death as an Adviser
28.  Crazy about Trout
29.  Miracles Abound
30.  Daniel's Whopper Tale
31.  Brother Hans Says
32.  Chaos and Covenant
33. Red Sea
34.  My Beloved Child
35.  Well Spring
36.  Fishing for You and Me
37.  Jesus Keeps Fishing
38. Drought
39.  Save Me!
40.  Implications of Being Well
41.  Encountering Holiness
42.  Abundance!
43.  Water and the Spirit
44.  Loving Care for God's World
45. River of Life
 
 

PREFACE

        A few years ago at the Upper Room's Academy for Spiritual Formation #5 held at St. Benedict's Center in Madison, Wisconsin, ago a monk of the Order of St. Benedict, Fr. Tim Kelly, was speaking to us of an ancient practice called lectio divina.  He emphasized that this way of approaching scripture was not just a method, it was more accurately a way of life.  Indeed, the material for opening the self to God's approach did not have to be a text from holy scripture, although it is often through the Bible that we do encounter God.  But lectio divina is more of a way of approaching things in a sacred manner, a contemplative approach to life, than simply a way of doing devotional Bible study.
        I think Fr. Kelly is right.  Scripture can be a window into the sacred realm.  So can a bush, as Moses discovered.  Jonah met more than a great fish.  And what about the kiss of a beloved one?
        The basis of this book is lectio divina as a way of life.  I believe that the holy can been encountered in scripture, and in and through creation.  We do not exhaust God in and through any of these little subjects for meditation, prayer, and (if it be) contemplation, but we can be open to catching a divine glimpse.  I hope that as you engage these little meditations organized around a general theme of water and encounters with the sacred dimension of life (some from scripture, some from other religious sources, some from my own life) you let out the poet/artist/holy person in yourself.  Wonder, mystery, and joy can be the gateway to true adventure and, best of all, to fascinating companionship.
        A few comments on the scripture citations may be helpful to the reader.  I am using the New Revised Standard Version of the Bible.  The portion of text from the "Song of the Three Jews" that is quoted in the meditation entitled "Looking with the Lenses of Faith" is from an inter testamental work (apocryphal) that was a later addition to the book of Daniel in the Septuagint.  It has been used as a canticle for a morning prayer office since the fourth century, and is used in the present Book of Common Prayer as Canticle 1 and 12.
        I have given thanks on the dedication page to various people.  Christian communities influencing me range from ecumenical to diocesan to monastic to parochial settings.  A special acknowledgements should go to the generous people of St. John's Episcopal Church, Charlotte, Michigan, to whom I had the honor of being a parish priest.  They allowed me sabbatical leave time to do projects like this.  Also, they allowed me the opportunity to exercise a ministry of spiritual direction, which I hope increases my spiritual depths as I have the privilege of being a companion along The Way with some folk.  I hope that this little book can give witness to their generous spirits.

                                                                                Daniel Prechtel
 
 

1. IN THE BEGINNING

In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while the spirit of God swept over the face of the waters.
  (Genesis 1:1-2, alternative translations)

        The ancients tell us that there was a time before time, and a time of beginnings.  Sages from the far-distant past share wisdom-stories that precede human history and acknowledge the One who gives life.  Often the truth-myths speak of the primordial waters of chaos, and its potential for danger and for creativity.  The biblical story takes us to those dim origins, using the language of poetry and myth.  This great story goes beyond mathematics, and chemical reactions, and photonic energy from the initial blast.  It does not quarrel with such physical dimensions, indeed such inquiries may evoke wonder and mystery--and then the investigation has moved from the domain of knowledge to that of wisdom.
 
 

2. A JOURNEY AND A COMPANION

 Where can I go from your spirit?
  Or where can I flee from your presence?
 If I ascend to heaven, you are there.
 If I take the wings of the morning
  and settle at the farthest limits
       of the sea,
 even then your hand shall lead me,
  and your right hand shall hold me fast.
 For it was you who formed my inward parts;
  you knit me together in my
       mother's womb.
 I praise you, for I am fearfully and
      wonderfully made.
    Wonderful are your works;
      that I know very well.
      (Psalm 139:7-10,13-14)

Come take a journey like others before you.
Let's not live life
  as if it is just random happenstance
but with intention, purpose, direction, and faith.
Make life a pilgrimage,
rather than something that just happens to you.
Along the way, I'll spin you a few tales
 of water and fishes and love and desire.
They are all true, you know!
I'll be your companion
 as our paths merge for a time.
But I hope to serve as a reminder
that there is Another who travels with you
 throughout your life.
Be awake and hospitable!
 

3. FROM THE DEPTHS

        Were we not first intrepid little sailors, exploring the vast ocean of amniotic fluid?  I heard that sticky question once, and pass it on to you.  As a child I would go over to the little museum in my home town and look with wonder at the collection of specimens showing the development of human beings from embryo to fetus to baby.  For a brief time in that developmental process we were fish-like creatures as our tiny growing bodies developed gill-slits, giving shape to the primordial memory of an evolutionary stage when we were at home in the sea.  My earliest dreamlike memories are fluid, oceanic.  I belong to vastness and the depths.
 

4. CALLING

        My mother tells me that when I was in the womb she would lovingly speak to me, calling me "my child."  Suspended in warm fluid, pulsing to a heartbeat beyond, surrounded by a nurturing and caring universe, the boundaries between that larger life and my own not yet defined, my own little life knew the first great unitive experience.  It is a shadow memory hidden deep within me.  Before my consciousness developed a separate self, so foundational to me that I can only remember the event as a vague dreamlike sensation of being enveloped in warmth and a rhythmic energy, the ancient Well Spring of life was calling to me.  This prenatal Eden was bound to end, life giving birth to separate life, but still the maternal embodiment of God's presence dimly echoes from my personal prehistoric past saying something like, "you are my beloved child in whom I am well pleased."
 

5. WHERE IS GOD?

      St. Paul revealed to the people of Athens the unknown-yet-intuited God as the one spoken of by poets in whom "we live and move and have our being."  Thus says the poets and affirmed by Paul, "For we too are his offspring."  God is the personal, loving, medium of life and source of all existence more fully known through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus (Acts 17:28ff).  This is pretty remarkable stuff!  Where can you go where God is not?  It is a call to wake up to God's presence in your aliveness.  Yet, God isn't some impersonal "thing" or "force."  Do you want to know what God is like?  Look at Jesus carefully, and then observe that which is the finest, fullest, most awake and aware "you."  Do you really think you are alone?
 
 

6. FIRST FISH

        Many of my earliest memories are of fishing on lakes with male relatives.  I remember going out in a boat with my Uncle Norval (an ordained Disciples of Christ minister).  The two of us went out in a rowboat to some lily pads.  It was very quiet and the water's surface was calm.  He gave me a short stick with line tied to it and a hook on the end.  We sent a worm down into the mysterious depths of the water.  After a while there was this quick, strong tug.  Something struggled on the stick and line and when we pulled it up to the surface there was this wonderful alien being on the hook that lived down in the world of water.  It shuddered and fought to get free from this new world it had been brought into.  It was shiny and had lovely colors on it.  I was told that it was a sunfish.  Wow!  A fish and the sun!  I wanted to keep this magical being in my world.  And there were more where that one came from.
 

7. ELEMENTARY EDUCATION

        Paul, my birth-father, had a cottage on Lee Lake.  It was actually owned by Grandma Connie and Grandpa Stewart.  It was on Lee Lake that I gained my elementary education about fishing and water.  I learned that there were many different kinds of fish and that different kinds could be caught using different baits and lures.  Some fish ate other fish.  Some fish had teeth.  In some bodies of water there were fish that ate people.  I liked catching fish, but what about those fish that could catch me?
The lake, too, had various characteristics.  Around lily pads were a good place to catch sunfish and bluegills.  Reedy points were good spots for perch.  This lake had a muck bottom near shore which made it very difficult to wade in.  There was a quick drop off and you could see a fascinating world of weeds that were like a magical forest and fish would glide through the forest--sometimes big fish like bass.  Bass are big fish and they are strong and eat other fish.  There were also very deep places in the lake going down to eighty feet or deeper where there were springs.  Very big fish lived there...bigger and stronger than bass...and they had teeth.
        As little kids, both of my brothers and I were able to paddle close to shore in a boat that was made from two car tops welded together.  It was called the "Mud Puppy" and I saw pictures of the curious creature that it was named after.  We had to wear life preservers.  The water could be dangerous and we could drown.  We pretended we were ferocious pirates.
 
 

8. MYTHIC EDUCATION

        I knew some fish were very dangerous.  I had heard the story of poor Jonah who had disobeyed God and had been swallowed by the whale.  Jonah and Pinnochio were lucky and got vomited or sneezed out of their sea creatures.  Such luck shouldn't be counted on.  Old Ahab and his hapless crew didn't fare as well.  Didn't God scare the heck out of Job with the knowledge of that ancient sea monster, Leviathan, saying,

  No one is so fierce as to dare to stir it up.
    Who can stand before it?
         Who can confront it and be safe?
    --under the whole heaven, who?
   (Job 41:10-11)

        I'd studied my sacred stories in Sunday School, story books, and movies, and concluded that it would be wise not to presume that I wouldn't be fish bait for God.
 

9. ENCOUNTERING A SEA MONSTER

        My first actual encounter with a sea monster was when my mother took me up to Grand Traverse Bay.  This was a place of origin for some of my family.  Relatives on my mother's side had come from Sweden and settled on the Old Mission peninsula and owned one of the largest cherry orchards in the state at one time.  I was very proud of that piece of knowledge.  Grand Traverse Bay is kind of the Miami Beach of the North.
        I was allowed to float on one of those little inflated animal wrap-around rafts that had a clear plastic window.  Looking through the window gave me a view into the magical world of water.  (I think that the plastic window also magnified things.)  There were little fishes below me.  The bottom was full of colorful round stones.  I was lost in this world for a brief eternity when suddenly I saw an armored monster with whips and searching eyes that jutted out of the sides of its head and huge sharp scissor-claws for arms.  It had a disgusting reddish-gray body that tapered to a flipper tail.  And it had a lot of spidery legs.  It was directly below me and I was terrified that it would see me and attack--especially my vulnerable little toes!  In a panic I left that world for the safety of the dry sand and a mother that probably couldn't understand what had frightened me so badly.
 

10. FISH SCALE

        As a child I had the desire to be a doctor "when I grew up."  I was given various presents that encouraged my developing sense of the wonder of the physical world, such as a microscope.  I remember looking at the humble little scale of a bluegill and being totally enthralled at the vast world of complex colors and textures that the microscope revealed to me about the fish scale.  The mystery of this incredible universe within a scale of a fish seemed to me to point to a spiritual source.
        Years later I read a short story by the then-young author, John Updike, entitled "Pigeon Feathers."  I was about a country boy who was struggling with whether there was a God or not, after reading a history book that did not attribute change to God.  A breakthrough in his spiritual crisis and search for truth came when he looked at the vast, mysterious intricacy of color and design on the feathers of a dead pigeon.
        My Uncle Don, when at seminary, learned that I wished to be a doctor when I grew up.  He wrote me a letter encouraging me to be a "doctor of the soul."  I didn't receive that letter, sent to me when I was ten years old, until I was thirty and had decided to pursue being a Christian priest.
 

11. BAPTISMAL MYSTERY

        Grandpa Lyon (who grew up on the Old Mission farm in Traverse City) was a dignified minister in the Disciples of Christ (Christian) Church.  We believed that you had to be old enough to really understand what you were doing before you got baptized.  When I was eight years old I was given the chance to be baptized by my grandpa at Central Christian Church in Battle Creek.  Oh yes, I was old enough!  I understood everything.  Jesus was going to wash all my sins away when Grandpa put me all the way under the water.  I couldn't swim but it would be all right because Grandpa was going to hold me and baptize me.  This was a really grown-up thing to do.  It meant that I would be welcomed into the fellowship of the church just like the woman who was going to be baptized along with me.
        The baptistery looked just like a tiny swimming pool.  It was up in front of all the familiar faces (because I had always gone to Central Christian Church since I was a baby).  Grandpa was in some fancy chest-high fishing waders.  The woman and I were in white holy robes.  First the lady got baptized.  I thought she looked kind of funny with her hair and everything all wet and runny.  She looked really happy after it was over and Grandpa didn't drop her when she was down on her back under the water.  Of course he wouldn't drop her and she wouldn't drown or anything like that.  (Although there was something that Grandpa or the Bible had said about being dead and buried and then raised up with Jesus Christ...so there was some danger here.)
        Now it was my turn.  I took the steps down into the watery burial tomb.  Grandpa Lyon placed one strong hand tenderly behind my head and placed the other hand with a white handkerchief over my nose and mouth as he said, "Danny, I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit." and lowered me down into the liquid grave.  Down, down I descended.  Totally powerless, I yielded to his guiding, strong hands.  I could see bubbles rising around me in the translucent world of fluid light and shadow.  I could hear the sounds of my plunge into the depths of death and salvation.  Then the way was reversed and those hands raised me up again to the surface, to the light, and the familiar faces of the congregation.  Above all, I was raised to the air again where I could breathe and live in the world as I was meant to live.
        The congregation greeted us very warmly.  Everyone was shaking my hand or giving me a hug and saying how happy they were for me, and congratulations, and all that great stuff.  I was excited by all the attention and before I knew it I had my hands clasped over my head, shaking them in a victorious salute to myself like I had seen champion boxers or wrestlers do.  My mother suddenly grabbed my hands and pulled them down and told me that I shouldn't be behaving like that--it was an embarrassment to her.  I knew, to my wonder and shame, that I had already committed my first sin within a few minutes of my baptism.
        And so I spend the rest of my life desiring to live ever more deeply into that wonderful gift that was given to me as a young child.  Now as a Christian priest it is I that hold the infant, the child, the adult, and administer the sacrament of baptism--initiating another human being into the mystery of the Body of Christ--adding another one to God's "peculiar people."  And how well I know that it is God's loving grace (and not what we do or know by our own efforts alone) that washes our spirits, cleanses, restores, unites, and refreshes us.  After all, I couldn't go ten minutes without getting all dirty again!  My sanctity span doesn't seem to be greatly increased three-and-a-half decades later.  But God, like a loving and patient parent, is always ready to spiff us up again.  What happens once in baptism may be recalled and renewed over and over in life.
 

12. REMEMBER YOUR BAPTISM!

        I recall hearing that Martin Luther in his frequent bouts with the devil would find renewed strength by reminding himself that he was baptized and made a child of God through Jesus Christ and that God would never, ever, abandon him.  Following the practice of others before me, when I wash or shower or I get caught in the rain (or accidently get water sprayed on me) I remember my baptism and God's love.  It started as an intentional practice, now it is pretty much an automatic thing.  You might try it, too.

13. OY! AND AH!

        There is a Jewish folk story about a father who took his little boy to the pool for the first time.  When they jumped into the pool the little boy began to shiver with cold and cried, "Oy, papa, oy!"
His father then led him out of the pool, and rubbed him down with a towel and dressed him.  "Ah, papa, ah-h!" purred the little fellow, tingling with pleasant warmth.
        "Isaac," said the father thoughtfully, "Do you want to know the difference between a cold bath and a sin?  When you jump into a cold bath you first yell 'Oy!' and then you say 'Ah!'.  But when you commit a sin you first say 'Ah!' and then later you yell
'Oy!'"

        Let's not underestimate the damage that sin causes.  People and our earthly environment are certainly harmed by this human action destructive of our relationships to ourselves, others, creation, and God.  But also, let's not lose our perspective--overemphasizing sin and evil at the expense of the much greater work of God's creating, healing, sustaining, and reconciling grace.  Let's just try to be conscious of our choices.
 

14. WANTING GOD

        I was once told about a Hindu man who came to a holy teacher with his desire to find God.  They were near a river and suddenly the guru laid hands on the man, plunging him in the river, and holding him underwater.  The man struggled for his life and finally was allowed to surface, sputtering and angry.  The teacher said, "Quick, tell me what you thought as you were under water."  "Air!  I wanted to breathe!" yelled the young man.  "When you want God as much as you wanted air," replied the teacher, "that is when you will find God."

        Are you willing to look for such a compassionate teacher?  Are you desperate enough to seek such a God?
 

15. JACKIE

        I was driving to Hastings in neighboring Barry County to meet a friend at Bob's Gun & Tackle and then go for dinner together.  I had donned my blue cap that had a patch stitched in the front that proclaimed, TROUT FISHING, with the ugliest representation of trout I've ever seen.  Actually, I have a cap passed on to me by our diocesan bishop, that extends out of the right and left side of the cap with the head and tail of a rainbow trout (got trout on the brain) that is the real winner of the ugly trout contest.  But this particular day was three days into Spring, and trout season was only a month away, and I had my cap on for the first time in the new year.
        The drive to Hastings is through some beautiful little hills--a fine contemplative drive.  On this drive I recalled a series of events of some thirty-plus years ago: events clustered around the first time I ever fished for trout.  I must have been about ten or eleven years old--early in my conscious awakening to issues of life and death, of the mysteries of existence.
        I had been invited to visit a cousin who was about my age that I didn't know very well.  We had probably seen each other at yearly gatherings of the Kidd Family clan, but we hadn't connected in any significant way.  Just before I visited Jackie, my mother had briefed me on his life situation.  I was told that he was a very gifted person with a brilliant intellect and fine artistic ability--also, Jackie suffered from a neurological disorder that had caused him frequent and severe convulsions.
        I had the chance to visit Jackie over a couple of days.  I remember going with him to a small brook in a luscious forest.  With a small can of worms and some short poles Jackie introduced me to fishing for little, scrappy brook trout.  Hiding under cover of logs, or brush, or undercut banks, they would dart out and snap up the baited hooks, giving us a furious little battle.  The brook trout were fragile, sleek, and beautifully colored.  Later that evening Jackie took me out hunting for frogs with a bow and arrow.  We caught a few in drainage ditches, Jackie dressed them out and cooked them and I ate my first fried frog legs.
Looking back over so many years, I can't remember precisely what were the signs of Jackie's struggle for health.  Was his speech impaired, or did he experience some spasmodic movement?  There was something--but it didn't affect our time together.  He was lively, vibrant, and a pleasure to be with for those few days.
        It was a few months later when my mother came into my bedroom to tell me that Jackie had died from a brain tumor.  I cried silently, alone in my room, late into the night.  Why?  Why?  It was so unjust.  How could God allow it?  Life has a cruel edge!
        I still do not have a fully satisfying answer to the anguished cry of a boy's, "Why?"  How often has that echoed (seemingly) impotently through human history by mothers, fathers, friends, relatives, and lovers!  Why do children die?  Why does such promise of giftedness never reach maturity?  Why do the innocent suffer?  As a Christian priest I stand in compassion with those suffering survivors, without an eloquent explanation, humbly pointing to a cross where a young man, Son of God, suffered and died in solidarity with all innocent victims everywhere.  I do not fully understand--but I point to the God who chooses to know the bitter experience of innocent suffering and death out of love for us all.  I point to Mary, mother of Jesus, who grieves the loss of her son before the Easter event brings new hope.  I point to these sacred events, and hope that it will bring them some comfort in the midst of their own grief.
        The little fragment of Jackie's life and death is part of me.  He has helped shape my ability to be with others in the presence of the great mysteries.  I have an oil painting, a still life of a pitcher and various fruit so plentiful that a bowl cannot contain it all--spilling over onto a table.  It is signed "J. Phelps" and dated 1958.  I look at it from time to time, and remember Jackie with gratitude.
 

16. INITIATION RITE

     We don't do male initiation ceremonies very well in Western "civilization."  Much of the wonder and mystery of life fails to get expressed and celebrated in the passages toward adulthood.  Driver's license, registering with the selective service system and the political election system, graduation from high school...all rational, rather heady processes.
        But one of the ways that I was initiated into the company of men was in learning how to fish for northern pike.  Earl (my stepfather, later adopted father) used to take me fishing for northern pike, "the tigers of the fresh water," at Grand Lake by the village of Kingston, Wisconsin.  His parents, Joe and Elsie, owned the Grand View Resort.  Once when he was a strapping young man, Earl caught a fierce nineteen pound northerner.  Grandpa Joe got the head of that same pike mounted in a fierce pose with jaws agape, showing row upon countless row of needle-sharp teeth--even on the pike's tongue.  My brothers and I had been warned to keep our hands clear of a pike's mouth, and we'd been told horror stories of unwary fishermen who hadn't heeded this advice.  Before Earl (then called "Pop") and I went fishing, Joe and Elsie would make me ritually touch the teeth of that ferocious pike's head.  Then off we would go, in search of the big ones, danger, and adventure.
        In my early adolescence it finally came time to permit my next younger brother, Eric, (I'm the oldest of three brothers) to go fishing for the Big Ones with Pop and me.  Eric dutifully ran his tender fingers over the Freshwater Tiger's teeth and headed off with us, seated in the bow of the boat, on a water safari in search of big game.
        Eric was to observe the fishing technique as Pop and I cast out our live bait, minnows that were five to seven inches long.  After a while Pop's large bobber slowly went under the water.  I reeled in my line to clear the area in preparation for the fight to come.  We waited a few minutes for the pike to start swallowing the minnow, then when it felt the hook Pop yanked back on his rod, setting the hook in the pike's mouth, and the show began.
        The pike started its run, the line cutting through the water and making a constant noise somewhat like a combined whine and a zipping sound.  The reel whirred line off the casting spool as the pike lunged away from the boat.  After a few runs Pop brought the big fish closer to the boat.  We saw its length, head, and eyes--and it saw us and suddenly dove deep and under the boat.  Again time passed until the tiring pike was brought to the surface and I assisted Pop with the landing net.  Once in the boat, the net was dropped and Pop started unhooking the pike--a good sized fish of about twelve or thirteen pounds and thirty-some inches long.
        Suddenly Leviathan flipped its powerful tail and thrashed free of Pop's grasp.  It violently threw itself about the boat and poor little Eric became terrified.  But Eric knew how to take care of himself and avoid those powerful jaws.  As Pop and I were trying to subdue the boy-eating monster, Eric was busy building a wall of boat cushions between himself and the rest of the scene.  Wielding an oar, Eric was ready to keep distance between himself and that toothy mouth.  Pop finally got the pike under control and pinned on a metal stringer hook.  Eric was shaken but safe in his battlements in the bow of the boat--and thoroughly initiated.  We all came back as triumphant warriors, a dirty gray rag tied to an oar served as a victory flag proudly waving in the air as a signal to our grandparents on shore announcing that we men had captured the Big One.
 

17. HARTWELL DAM

        We have been speaking of passages from childhood into adulthood.  The confrontation with perceived danger, the challenge of capturing the big pike, was one such type of event in my life and the lives of my brothers.  Another event that has often been part of the passage from childhood to adulthood throughout history has been "the journey."  For many of us "the journey" is an ongoing process of inner development and maturing.  For my cousin Greg and I, a small marker-event in our lives was a journey to Hartwell Dam.
        Greg and I have always been close cousins--more like brothers than cousins to each other.  Since most of our lives we have lived at great distances from each other, the chance to get together was something of great importance and eager anticipation.  In the summer of our sixteenth year (maybe seventeenth for Greg--he is four months older than me) I had the chance to ride the bus down to Decatur, Georgia, where Greg was then living.  His father was at that time the dean of Columbia Theological Seminary, a Presbyterian seminary in the Atlanta region.  Since both of us had driver's licenses, we sought permission from Uncle Halvard and Aunt Bea to take the Volkswagen Beetle for a weekend camping trip to Hartwell Dam, a beautiful reservoir on the boundary of Georgia and South Carolina.  To our great surprise, Greg's parents gave us approval to make the journey.
        As we packed up the food, fishing, and camping gear into the tiny car, we considered what would be really manly things to have with us on the camping trip.  We allowed as to how neat it would be if we had women, but that a Playboy Magazine would have to do.  Real men would also have beer with them.  Finally, men would have cigarettes.  Beer was going to have to wait a while, since we were under age and didn't know anyone who would buy some for us.  But that still left us with cigarettes and Playboy.
        Into the car we went and started on our journey: seeking to do the things that men do, and thereby becoming men.  It did not take long to muster up the courage to get a pack of cigarettes.  We both had enjoyed the Newport commercials on television, so we thought we'd give them a try.  The scene on the commercials often evoked images of mountains and lakes and fresh spring air elicited by lighting a match and sucking on mentholated tobacco.  I think we used a cigarette coin vendor, protecting ourselves from being denied the purchase by some busybody that might question our age.  We were going to the boarder of the tobacco belt and there were plenty of opportunities to get cigarettes.
        Getting a Playboy Magazine was more problematic.  We went drugstore to drugstore, town to town, searching for the magazine with the centerfold.  Finally we asked a merchant if there were any Playboy magazines available.  His reply was, "Sorry, boys, but we don't carry that kind of magazine in these here parts."  We then realized that although we were in the Tobacco Belt, we were also in the Bible Belt, and the line of public decency and morality was drawn with Playboy Magazine.  We had traveled 150 miles in a futile search for a centerfold.  So much for booze and sex.
We finally made it to Hartwell Dam and set up camp.  It was a beautiful setting.  I did most of the fishing (Greg has never really enjoyed the sport).  We both tried Newport cigarettes.  Greg quit for good after the first puff or so.  I sucked them down and continued to abuse my lungs for the next twenty-four years.
        I look back with a mixture of wonder and humor on those days of innocence, thinking of the curious images we had of mature manhood: the forbidden fruits of softcore pornography, alcohol, and tobacco.  We were so very vulnerable to the marketing ads and a narrow macho culture for our description of masculinity.  How many more years it took me to embrace the deeper dimensions of mature masculinity: being a creative and productive person of vocation, interdependent with my community, desiring to grow in my own and others' physical, emotional, social, and spiritual well-being.  Sadly there are still relatively few men in our society that can give effective witness to a deeper view of mature manhood.  However, they are present and available if young men are willing to look.
        We as a culture should take seriously the images of manhood that we convey.  Our society, through many of its media forms, convey images of violence as a routine problem-solver, frequent alcohol and other drug consumption as a normative recreational activity, and sexual exploitation as an acceptable way of meeting impulses.  When these images are allowed to cluster around basic descriptions of masculinity it is not a great surprise to see a high level of confusion and destructiveness in our young men.
        My greatest growth in understanding an alternative, and much deeper, description of masculine maturity came from seeking out and relating to Christian spiritual directors, male spiritual mentors, over a number of years.  In such relationships with older male spiritual companions I found a safe place to explore the merger of many qualities of my personality: strength and compassion, vulnerability and acceptance, responsibility and creativity, stability and adventure.
        One small group of men whom I have the great pleasure to be in companionship with at St. John's Church, Charlotte, Michigan, articulates their purpose as: "a fellowship of men desiring to enhance the spiritual and emotional strength and well-being of its members and to extend this practice of Christian love beyond its group.  The Brotherhood honors the fullness of our lives through the power and gift of God in Jesus Christ, and celebrates the continuing development of our potential for being fully human, fully alive.  We are in solidarity with the ancient Christian spiritual tradition that measures men's deepest strength and most lasting power by their willingness to take on the discipline and empowerment of Christ in their lives, working to the best of their ability for the extension of God's reign in their own lives, their families, their community, and in the broader world."  It seems to me that this kind of understanding provides a healthy challenge to immature images of what it means to be an adult male in our society.
 

18. GRANDPA JOE'S FISH TALE

        I spent portions of many an adolescent summer at the Grand View Resort.  Grandpa Joe would tell me stories of how he used to make his livelihood, and how to deal with people in social and business worlds.  Sometimes someone would come by for some live bait and then we'd be talking about what the fishing was like, and what was biting.  He'd make fun of people that would accumulate all kinds of fishing tackle and lures (he called it "hardware").  Then he'd tell me about his fishing trip up to northern Wisconsin to catch a muskie--the king of all pike.  This was my favorite story.
        "When I was a young buck," he'd intone, weaving the spell, "I went up north to fish for muskie.  I brought all my hardware with me and looked up an Indian fishing guide.  The first thing the Indian said was, 'Leave that junk here.  Injuns don't need all that junk.'  He was talking about all my hardware.  He handed me a cane pole with a casting reel on it and a big minnow hook.  'Use this.  You'll catch muskie.'  Well, alright."
        "We got into his canoe and paddled to a likely looking spot.  I put a big sucker on the line and cast out.  I was trying to be real quiet so I wouldn't spook the fish.  Next thing I know the Indian lets out a whoop and grabs his paddle and starts hitting the water and raising all kinds of ruckus.  'Brings muskies.' he said, 'They want to see what's going on.'  Well, alright."
"After a while I got a bite and had a muskie on the line.  When I got it near the canoe I realized that we didn't have a net to land it.  'Injuns don't need net.' said the guide.  Then he started to rock the canoe back and forth, back and forth, until it was level with the water and then, swoop--in came the muskie."
        Grandpa and I'd share a laugh together.  We carry so much hardware with us through life.  Sometimes it's a good thing to let go of some of it.  It might even improve our living.
 

19. GRANDMA ELSIE'S WORLD

        Grandma Elsie was a simple soul.  She ruled the kitchen and created some wonderful German pastries and meals, but her world didn't extend much further.  She would see people rather like a goldfish might see the world beyond the bowl.  Things just got distorted, and people outside the family would take on mysterious and bizarre characteristics.  She wasn't mean-spirited, things just got refracted in her vision.  A neighbor lady was seen by her as the woman whose nose was eaten away by cancer (her nose seemed perfectly intact to me).  Then there was the man she called "The Old Dutchman" that would come by once in a while to fish for northerners.  She intimated that he had been a Nazi officer in the war and was very mysterious about his past.  A shadowy man tinged with evil, through her eyes, yet he was fascinating to her.
        Grandma Elsie would put on a great fuss whenever I caught a pike.  Kind of like I was a great warrior returning from a victorious battle, or a brave hunter that was bringing home the game to feed the family.  My adolescent needs for masculine competence really fed on Elsie's lavish praise.  Any fish that I caught were filleted by her skillful hand.  She'd cut open the stomach of pike to see what they had been feeding on and then tell us what was there.  Once there was a perch that was still alive.  I wondered if it felt like Jonah!
 

20. VOCATION AND ROMANCE

        Two camp trailers were on the grounds of the Grand View Resort.  The owners would vacation there.  Lil Schraeder had a trailer there.  She was an older widow lady who was pleasant and liked to fish for pike, but didn't want to handle them.  She would hire me to go out with her and catch pike.  It was great.  It seemed manly, and I felt like the wise Indian guide of Grandpa's tale.  And I got paid for doing what I loved to do.  (Since then I've tried to make that a major criterion for making a living, sometimes more successfully than other times.  It began my fervent desire to work a vocation rather than just a job.)
The other trailer was occupied by the Church family.  I didn't see much of them, because they also liked to go water-skiing (on nearby Sand Lake--Grand Lake was very weedy).  I think Grandma Elsie said that Mr. Church was a wealthy businessman, maybe a banker.  So I figured that he was very busy and couldn't take much vacation time.  I was about fourteen years old when the Church's daughter and I noticed each other.  Oh my, but she was beautiful.  She was only twelve and therefore I worried that she might be too young for a guy that was fourteen.  But we gave each other a few kisses anyway that summer--my first adolescent romance.
 

21. COLLEEN'S BIG ONE

        Early in my first marriage my wife, Colleen, and I went to Kingston.  Grandpa had sold the Grand View Resort but still did some grounds work.  We were going swimming at Sand Lake, and Colleen wanted to try her hand at fishing from shore to see if she could catch a Big One.  She'd heard enough of my fish stories and thought maybe she could catch one of those northern pike, too.  So she was using my casting rod with a red and white daredevil spoon on it--a great lure for pike.  After a while I heard her cry out to get the net, cause she's got a Big One on it.  "I got my pike!  I got my pike!" she kept repeating as she was cranking in the fish.  Colleen had long hair as was the style for any self-respecting hippie woman at that time, and as she was chanting, "I got my pike...Oh, it's a big one..." and cranking in the fish she was also winding her hair up into the reel.  Bless her heart, she wanted that fish bad and didn't want to risk giving slack to the line to get her hair free.  Eventually her hair was wound up in the reel right up to her scalp, but we netted her pike.  Colleen's ferocious Big One must have measured all of seven inches!
 

22. GRANDPA JOE'S LAST DAYS

        After Elsie died Joe lived with "the poor woman who had her nose eaten away by cancer."  Verna was a very caring woman for Joe.  When Verna died Joe had to leave Kingston because he couldn't care for himself any longer.  He moved into a senior home and nursing center close by us, his remaining family.  Physically feeble, he retained his sense of humor and people would call him "Snappy Joe."  Some of Grandpa's belongings got distributed to us when he left Kingston.  Eric has the trophy pike head.  I have some of his hardware.  I presided at a Eucharist at the nursing home for Grandpa and he was quite proud to show off his minister grandson.  I was proud to have him as a grandfather.  He had been a teacher for me (without his knowing it) presenting a glimpse of the earth as a sacrament of God.  Before he died, Grandpa reminded me of his secret method for catching big pike (really big ones) using bullheads in a special way.  I remember, Grandpa. I'll always remember.
 

23. COSMIC DANCE

        When I was nineteen years old I went with my friend, Jim Mercer, to a little trailer that was owned by his parents for an overnight outing.  The trailer was set in a field near a river  outside of Union City, Michigan.  It was nighttime and I told Jim that I was going to go outside for a little while.  Oh what a beautiful night it was!  It was a clear, starry night.  The river starting making music--it truly did.  (I later wrote a poem about that night but I lost it.  A fragment I still remember was the beginning:  Water is rushing past rocks/ And the melody rings with the sound...)  I became intoxicated with the music of the river.  The ground began vibrating to the rhythm of the river.  The diamond-bright stars began moving.  I was caught up in the Dance.  And I danced, and I was danced.
        I made the mistake of trying to see if anyone understood what had happened to me.  I went in succession to Jim, my parents, and my Baptist minister.  No one could explain what had occurred.  I didn't think that it was some crazy kind of mania, but there seemed no rational explanation.  Now I know better than to seek a rational understanding for some realities.  I'm not so big on everything having to be understood.  In my limited experience, and from what I have learned from my wisest teachers and guides, I have this little rule of life:  all of the most profound moments in life, all of the deepest truths, are not to be fully understood or explained or otherwise put into little rational boxes--they are to be fully LIVED and CELEBRATED!
        Life has a delicious layer of mystery to be tasted and enjoyed.  That cosmic dance so many years ago put me on a path of adventure, creativity, and life in its fullness.  It's not that I go on adventures (as if I can manipulate events in such a way as to give me some thrill)...it's that I expect life to be an adventure.  I haven't been disappointed.  Rather, I am grateful.  Try it yourself.  Live with an openness to the unexpected, to mystery, to a sacred realm that can break through within the ordinary events of life.  I've said enough...maybe too much...I'd rather show it to you in my eyes, or sing it or dance it with you.
 

24. LOOKING WITH THE LENSES OF FAITH

  Bless the Lord, all you powers of the Lord;
      sing praise to him and highly
       exalt him for ever.
  Bless the Lord, sun and moon;
   sing praise to him and highly
       exalt him for ever.
  Bless the Lord, stars of heaven;
   sing praise to him and highly
       exalt him for ever.
  Let the earth bless the Lord;
   let it sing praise to him and
       highly exalt him for ever.
  Bless the Lord, mountains and hills;
      sing praise to him and highly
       exalt him for ever.
  Bless the Lord, all that grows in
       the ground;
      sing praise to him and highly
       exalt him for ever.
        Bless the Lord, seas and rivers;
      sing praise to him and highly
       exalt him for ever.
  Bless the Lord, you springs;
   sing praise to him and highly
       exalt him for ever.
  Bless the Lord, you whales and all
       that swim in the waters;
      sing praise to him and highly
       exalt him for ever.
  (Song of the Three Jews 39-41, 52-57)

        John Wilson, a parishioner of mine and a fine lay preacher and witness to Christian life, speaks of how seeing things through the eyes of faith is like taking up a pair of corrective lenses and seeing the world anew.  New connections are made, new relationships seen.  Life shifts from a focus on everything being an object for our use, to things being subjects in their own right and delightful creations of God expressing themselves in praise according to their nature.  Certainly St. Francis of Assisi, in his famous Canticle to the Sun, sings beautifully of how creation gives praise to God through the various elements in life (and death).  The author of the above-cited Song of the Three Jews sees things quite differently than some two-dimensional view of the universe.  What lenses do you wear?
 

25. CONNECTIONS

        One time "I" got caught by surprise while rowing a boat.  I was just having a good time rowing, and my mental chatter got occupied with the little ditty, "Row, Row, Row Your Boat."  Then after a while there was this little part of me happily mentally singing away while another kind of consciousness (of which "I" was belonging to) was just silently, peacefully aware and connected to everything else that was living.  Without getting too spooky-sounding I was/am connected to an awareness that goes beyond "me."  So are you.  And life's not a dream if you wake up.
        The Christian religious tradition has something important to say about the anticipated unity of all things.  For example, in the first chapter of Ephesians there is a vision of gathering up all things in heaven and earth in Christ through the pleasure of God's good will and love (Ephesians 1:3-14).  The Christian story is about God, through Jesus Christ's life and atonement (at-one-ment) on the cross for the separating effect of sin, reuniting humanity and all creation with the divine lover in the work of the Holy Spirit.  It is a wonderful love story, with an invitation for us to join into God's uniting love on ever deeper, broader, levels.
 

26. SERENDIPITY

        Some of my family and friends decided to vacation together at a fishing/bear hunting lodge in Canada.  The place was an old logging camp and was therefore at trail's end.  Hans, my youngest brother, and I decided to go fishing for bass one evening.  We went out in a little jon boat after the wind died down near dusk.  Once again I had the pleasure of sharing relaxed, quiet time with someone I loved.  We shared the serenity of calm water with an occasional rising fish rippling the surface.  We saw the unique handiwork of the Master in the sunset.  The mosquitoes came out and woke up our flesh for a while as the night deepened, and the stars declared the mystery of the vastness of our universe.  Then we began seeing the sudden waves of light dance in the sky, the unexpected beauty of the aurora borealis.  How incredibly fortunate we were to receive such gifts.  We didn't get one bite on a fishing line.  It wasn't necessary.
 

27. DEATH AS AN ADVISER

        Ice fishing is a whole different kind of experience for me.  I'm not quite sure that I enjoy it but I find myself out on the ice once in a while anyway.  Until I was 37 years old I hadn't been ice fishing since I was a little kid and Paul took us to Lee Lake.  I remember him chopping a hole in the ice with a hatchet.  It seemed so strange to send a little worm through a circle cleared of ice into a dark world and then, if lucky, pull out a fish.  Fishing is always an excursion into another world--but ice fishing seems more so to me somehow.  Less is seen so there's more unknown?
        There's a kind of Spartan solitude in ice fishing, and once that kind of solitude got really spooky and gave me a good education.  Not knowing the ways of ice on a lake, I was out by myself as the sun was setting and dusk was coming on.  The ice was about seven inches thick and very clear--like being on thick glass.  Suddenly I heard a ripping, tearing noise which as suddenly stopped.  Then it happened again and again.  It was happening to the ice on the lake.  Then it happened near me and I saw a hairline fracture of the ice rip past me--much to my horror.
        I could see other people out on the ice three hundred yards from me and they looked unconcerned.  They weren't getting off the ice, nor falling through.  I speculated that the ice was expanding as the temperature was dropping.  I saw that the hairline fracture wasn't making the ice break up.  My rational faculties were telling me that I was completely safe...well, probably safe...and there was no real cause for alarm.  But visions of being alone and falling through the ice started plaguing me.  My gut started tightening up.  What if I fell through?  Hypothermia would set in quickly.  I'd go unconscious and slip under the surface and die.  Was I ready to die, now?  No.  NO!  I had things that I still needed to do!  Dread set in.  I moved closer to shore.  More rrriippping and tearrring.  Time to pack up and go home.  Time to pay more attention to the fact of my personal mortality!
Awakening to the knowledge of the reality of my death (and it might not give me further advance notice) has helped me live with greater potency.  So why not use your death as a wise adviser.  What's really important to you in your life?  Are you living it?  Are you saying and doing what is most meaningful for you?  If not, why not change now.
 

28. CRAZY ABOUT TROUT

        There are other species of life besides humans that fascinate me.  And fascination is a great thing--it moves us humans out of our anthropocentric little vision (that old sin of pride).  In the past few years I have been thoroughly hooked by trout.  I want to see things through the eyes of trout.  I want to know all about their worlds--especially the Michigan streams that I can frequent.  What quality of conditions in lakes and streams are necessary for trout to thrive?  What is trout consciousness like?  What do they eat?  What attracts them?  What do they fear?  How do they make love and generate life?  (The male and female shudder together in the most incredibly orgasmic way.  Wow.)  Some of them (especially salmon) have unbelievable migratory patterns, taking them sometimes hundreds of miles to their places of origin to spawn new life as they give up their own.
        Fishing for trout moves into the realm of art.  They are wily, cagey creatures.  They are incredibly sensitive and wary of predators, including the human kind.  They are much smarter in their world than I am in theirs.  If I succeed in catching a trout I generally consider it a gift of God and the trout.  In the winter I start my fly-tying sessions, dreaming of the streams and the wonderful beings that inhabit them.  In March and early April I'm all restless and excited.  My body has been holding too many visions and dreams of the beautiful trout to contain myself and I'm full of nervous energy.  It's a delightfully nutsy love affair.  The last Saturday of April comes and I get all dressed up in my chest waders, vest, assortment of handmade flies, hat (and perhaps polarized sunglasses), trout net, creel, and fly rod, and off I go a-courting.  God bless my wife, Ruth, who puts up with me and my thing with trout.
        God chuckles at my pitiful invocations of the deity to aid me in my fishing success.  "Jesus, you are the Lord of all creation.  Didn't you show the disciples where to catch the big ones?  I'm a disciple, too!"  "Peter, James, John why don't you help me out and pray for me too?  You know this vocation.  Peter, you decided to go fishing when you needed to grieve the loss of your Lord.  Why not help me out today?  Talk to the BIG ONE for me."  (I'm suddenly a great believer in the doctrine of the "communion of the saints.")  Pretty paltry prayers, Prechtel.  But what can one expect when one is in love?
        Which stream today?  Each has its own characteristics and personal beauty.  The stream bank and bottom compositions vary along with depth, water color and clarity, turns, rocks, riffles, and myriad kinds and locations of natural holds and cover for the trout's feeding and resting and hiding.  Some streams are warmer and will only be host to brown trout.  And browns are more likely to hide out during the daylight, coming out to feed at dawn, dusk, and during the night.  Colder streams can be the habitat for rainbow trout, and even brookies.  I may stand a better chance of catching a rainbow or brook trout during the daytime, but who knows for sure.
        A muskrat might suddenly raise hell splashing and thrashing the water to try scaring me off:  this is his/her territory, thank you very much!  At dawn I might see a raccoon finishing its nightly foraging and heading off to some cozy tree for a snooze.  If I fish at dusk I might be witness to a deer coming to the stream for a drink, then splashing across it.  At night I have seen great horned owls prowl the length of the stream on silent wings.  Countless forms of life are part of the ecosystem that makes for a trout stream: ranging from worms and plants and insects to crustaceans, reptiles, amphibians, and varieties of fish to birds and mammals, let alone the teeming life forms that can't be seen with the unaided eye.
        There is life everywhere!  Everything is vibrating, radiating energy.  This rock or that snag of branches and debris join with the stream's current to sing splashing, or rushing, or gurgling songs.  (Remember your baptism, Daniel.)  The motion of swift water being read with concentration invites the bank's tag-alder bushes and trees to dance when I lift my eyes.  Everything is full of life.  My arm and rod are in perfect rhythm with my surroundings.  This place is holy...Then I lose another of my favorite flies (I only use favorites--but this one is really special) in a high branch of a willow tree that I'd failed to recognize in my backcast.  "Hello, tree.  Where'd you come from?  You've been here a little longer that I have?  That's okay, I can make another one"...Or a brookie accepts my offering of a handmade nymph pattern.  "Oh, you are so very beautiful...Thank you God."
 

29. MIRACLES ABOUND

        In June of 1991 Ruth and I were camped on a primitive site on Shupac Lake, near the town of Grayling and the AuSable River system in Michigan.  It was turning dusk, the sun was nearly down over the lake and the water had turned from brilliant silver to silver-gray.  I brought my fly rod down in time to see the miracle of a hatch come up off the water.  Mayflies had moved from their nymph stage to maturity and were taking wing.  As the sky and water darkened, more and more mayflies were hatching until it seemed like a blizzard in reverse.  A barely perceptible hum filled the air from the thousands of fragile wings rising off the water.  I had never witnessed such an intense primal dance before.
        The hatch brought rainbow trout to the surface for a feast.  Having successfully "matched the hatch" I was able to catch several trout, two keeper size, in the span of the half hour of this drama.  What has struck me is that these little mysteries are repeated all the time on this fascinating earth of ours, whether we are aware of them or not.  Perhaps one of our callings as human beings is to be aware of these beautiful mysteries--and be that part of the cosmos that consciously appreciates, rejoices, and gives thanks to the Source of such intricate miracles of ordinary life.
 

30. DANIEL'S WHOPPER TALE

        I can't refrain from telling my story of "catching the Big One that got away."  One day late one autumn I had been fishing for trout on the Rogue River and was told that there were some big fish being taken near Rockford Dam, so I went there to finish up the day (again, the sun was near to setting).  I came upon a couple of people who were on a bridge, and from their vantage point showed me where some coho salmon were.  Indeed there they were--three beautiful salmon lined up one behind the other in the middle of the stream.  All I had with me was a short ultra-lite rod and reel with six pound test line, but I started to cast to them using a small Mepps spinner.  A couple of times I caught one or the other on their body.  The big fish would simply shake the spinner off of it as if it was a little nuisance fly.  Finally I was able to cast close to the mouth of one of the salmon and it started travelling in response to being hooked.
        I was worried about the lightness of my gear.  It was designed at maximum for a fish half the size of this one and I knew that if it started on a hard run I would be in deep trouble.  It was getting dark, and I didn't have a flashlight.  I couldn't wade far with such a large fish on the line in the dark.  Fortunately, I was able to get the fish to swim in a large circle.  It would start a run and I was able to turn it.  This went on for about twenty minutes.  When it tired enough to get close to me I tried to net it with my trout net.  Half the fish stuck out the net!  I grabbed it by the tail and held the net and hauled it to the bank.
        One young man witnessed the event from the bridge and came down to see the fish.  When I got it to the car we looked more closely.  The salmon had been hooked in the jaw by someone who had used a spawn sack.  The fish had broken the line and got away.  My spinner had hooked on to a short section of snarled line from the original encounter.  When I went to dislodge the spawn hook, it easily broke off.  It's a wonder that it hadn't broken when the fish was fighting me.  It was by pure grace that I caught this eleven-and-a-half pound, twenty-seven inch coho salmon.  What a wonderful gift.
 
 

31. BROTHER HANS SAYS

        Hans once said, "There's a Big One waiting for everyone."  A pretty good motto to live by.
 

32. CHAOS AND COVENANT

[God said to Noah and his sons,] "I establish a covenant with you, that never again shall all flesh be cut off by the waters of a flood, and never again shall there be a flood to destroy the earth." (Genesis 9:11)

        Like our opening meditation, we are reflecting upon an ancient mythic truth: it is God who prevents chaos from overwhelming all of creation--it is God's creative energy that maintains the foundations of life.  Humans, with their godlike power to choose and use intentional force to bring about their choices, have nearly called the primordial chaos back into existence.  The story of the terrible and great Flood tells of humans collapsing the very foundations that maintain life in their self-centeredness, their refusal to look to the Giver of life for guidance and right relationships between themselves, God, and the rest of the created order.  The Bible speaks of God's anger at the enormity of human sin and wickedness bringing on the terrible destruction.  It is as if humanity, in its appalling egocentricity invited the collapse of the universe--and God allowed it to be.  The primordial waters, separated out in the act of creation, rush in from the lack of appropriate boundaries and consume the world in forty days of torrential rain.
        But this is a story of God's care for creation, even in the midst of righteous anger.  A remnant is saved, and new creation begins.  Furthermore, God promises to "never again curse the ground because of humankind, for the inclination of the human heart is evil from youth; nor will I ever again destroy every living creature as I have done." (Genesis 8:21b).  The story continues with God making a covenant with Noah and his sons, a sacred agreement or promise that initiated a bounded relationship between God and humanity.  The rainbow, so goes the ancient story, is a perpetual sign of this covenant and God's promise to creation.
        The notion of a sacred covenant with God occurs again and again in the Jewish and Christian holy scriptures.  We are a people of covenant if we are Christians.  Indeed, it is the special covenant with Jesus Christ that makes us a people.  As a people of the New Covenant in Christ we are called upon to be consciously respectful custodians of the boundaries of right relationships with God, ourselves, humanity, and creation.  It is not so much that our covenant with God through Jesus supersedes the ancient covenant with Noah, as it further identifies God's incredible self-sacrificing love and mercy and calls us to a similar, though limited, depth of care for God, humanity, and creation.  If you were to spell out your understanding of your covenant relationship with God and the earth, what would it look like in this time of technological misuse of creation?  The great preacher and storyteller, the Rev. Herbert O'Driskell suggests that this is a time for humanity's establishing a covenant with the earth.  How do we take our rightful place within this larger matrix of life without a covenant to guide us past "the inclination of the human heart?"
 

33. RED SEA

  I will sing to the Lord, for he
   has triumphed gloriously;
  horse and rider he has thrown
   into the sea.
  At the blast of your nostrils the
   waters piled up,
   the floods stood up in a heap;
   the deeps congealed in the heart
   of the sea.
  The enemy said, "I will pursue, I
   will overtake,
   I will divide the spoil, my desire
    shall have its fill of them.
   I will draw my sword, my hand
   shall destroy them."
  You blew with your wind, the sea
    covered them;
   they sank like lead in the
   mighty waters.
   (Exodus 15:1b,8-10)

        The first verse of this "Song of Moses" is probably the oldest fragment of song in the Bible and is attributed to Miriam, a prophet and sister to Aaron (Exodus 15:21).  The sacred memory of God's crushing defeat of the powerful Egyptian chariots, war horses, and army contrasted with the victory given to ragged, fleeing Hebrew slaves is filled with a numinous energy that Rudolf Otto, in his study in the psychology of religion entitled The Idea of the Holy, called mysterium tremendum.  It is a recollected moment of encounter with God that is fascinating, tremendously powerful, mysterious, and leaves us trembling at our own fragile creatureliness in the presence of the Holy One.
        For Jews it is a remembered moment that is part of their memory of deliverance from slavery to freedom--but the memory is not of simply something that occurred once upon a time (memorial); rather, it is an active memory of an active God who is delivering them in the present as well as in the past.  The past informs and gives shape to the present and the future.  Christians may say that this is part of their sacred story, too.  For Jew and Christian alike it is a story that continues to unfold in the lives of ourselves as individuals and as a people.  God delivers us from bondage into freedom.  It is God's saving action that occurs and not our own might.  The forces against us are too strong for our own strength alone to prevail.
        It is humility, this recognition of the need for a strong deliverer God, that opens us to the experience of salvation.  To the Jew and Christian the story of the deliverance at the Red Sea is a story about me.  It becomes a rediscovery that I, too, was a person captured and enslaved by the flesh pots of Egypt.  I, too, discovered my enemies within and without and learned that they were stronger than me.  I, too, discovered my pitiful weakness and dependencies upon things that enslaved me, and felt the bitterness of my rootless passions and my lust for power and helplessness in the face of powers beyond me.  And I yearned for true freedom.  Even though I could not clearly visualize what it would be like to be truly free, I yearned for freedom.  In my desperation I recognized my need and cried out to God for deliverance.
        And yet it can be so difficult to maintain this humility in our society, especially if we are of the more privileged peoples.  Social privilege can spin a web of illusion and subtle oppression.  After all, if we think we are sufficient little gods unto ourselves with our credit cards, and robust health, and social, economic, and workplace power, we probably don't think we need a strong savior.  If we're caught up in our little illusions of power perhaps we're more like the Egyptians of old.  Beware, the lure of the illusion is strong.  Who is Miriam and Moses singing about in your life?
 

34. MY BELOVED CHILD

And a voice came from heaven, "You are my beloved Son, with you I am well pleased." (Mark 1:11--alternative translation)

        I suspect that as a father I have fairly normal expectations of my daughter.  Like many fathers I think that my child is the greatest person in the world.  Of course I think that any child is the greatest person in the world, but mine even more so!  Parenting seems to entail holding the child as beloved--special, pleasing, filled with promise, unique, and a cherished part of who we are.  Now, we parents know that (except perhaps in the case of Jesus--although we suspect that he could be pretty exasperating to his earthly parents [like his that little unplanned stopover in Jerusalem at twelve year old]) our children aren't perfect.  Actually, they can do some things that are darn right harmful to them, or others, and it grieves, and frustrates, and angers parents to see them do those harmful actions or make those harmful choices.  Our desire is for their growth, and wholeness, and good life.  Yet, even with their flaws they remain our beloved children, pleasing to us.  It is integral to parental love.
        How pleased and full of love and joy God felt as Jesus the Beloved Son rose from the baptismal waters of the Jordan River.  Heaven came down to greet him in the Spirit-dove.  The mended breach between earth and heaven was foreshadowed.  The affirmation came to him, strong and empowering, "You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased."
        Whether we have heard such strongly affirming, empowering, words from our earthly parents or not, I hope that we can claim such a blessing as being given to us from our God.  As Christians we follow Christ into the baptismal waters, and receive the rebirth and blessing of being made children of God.  In our baptism God said to you and me, "You are my beloved child; with you I am well pleased."  Maybe we didn't hear it then.  But what would happen if we claimed it now?  What if we, with all our little flaws and limits, accepted the enormous, generous, unconditional love of a God who desires to delight in us right now at this time in our life?  Would you be empowered in your life in a new way as you became conscious that you were a source of delight, and love, and blessing to God?
 

35. WELL SPRING

        Jesus once had a fascinatingly scandalous point-counterpoint with a spunky Samaritan woman at the Well of Jacob (John 4).  He initiates an encounter with her by asking her for a drink of water--something that a Jewish man of the time would not do with a Samaritan woman.  Jews and Samaritans were socio-religious enemies.  Jesus says to her, "Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty.  The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life."
        They quip back and forth, deeper and deeper, until Jesus reveals to the woman her own "shadow" vulnerability (she's been in multiple marriages and now is living with a man without being married), and finally reveals to her (a woman, a cultural and religious enemy, and a sinner--the "lowest of the low" in Jesus' time) that he is the promised Messiah, the Christ.
        Given the socio-religious background information the conversation should never have taken place!  All the standards are broken--this is real scandal.  And yet, this Samaritan woman at the well is the first person to whom Jesus reveals the truth about himself, according to John's gospel.  Jesus permits her to wrestle with him for the truth.  (Jacob had been bold enough and stubborn enough to wrestle with the angel of God and received a wound, a new name, and a blessing.  Could this Samaritan woman be like Jacob?  Scandalous!)  She becomes an evangelist to the townsfolk--even as the "disciples" of Jesus remain in the dark!  The choice of this particular person for Jesus to first reveal his nature to is quite remarkable, given the wide spectrum of humanity.  The gospeller is saying something important about those who would be intimate with Jesus Christ.
        How thirsty are you?
 

36. FISHING FOR YOU AND ME

        Jesus called some people from their fishing occupations and invited them to join him, and live with him.  "Follow me," he quipped, "and I'll show you how to fish for people!" (paraphrasing Mark 1:17).  They got hooked, and became his disciples.  To be captured by The Life--what great sport!
        Are you caught, or do things keep getting in the way?
 

37. JESUS KEEPS FISHING

        This little parable is attributed to Jesus:

The kingdom of heaven is like a net that was thrown into the sea and caught fish of every kind; when it was full, they drew it ashore, sat down, and put the good into baskets but threw out the bad.  So it will be at the end of the age.  The angels will come out and separate the evil from the righteous and throw them into the furnace of fire, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.  (Matthew 13:47-50)

        Some contemporary scholars question whether the original parable was more than the first part where fish of every kind were caught in the net, and when it was full it was brought ashore.  If this is the case, the "good news" clearly upset the narrow view of who was included in the kingdom.
        Certainly, the sense of coming moral judgment serves as a valuable warning, whether it is a later addition or not--but it isn't up to the Church to make the ultimate judgment of a person's worth to God, and it may not be the responsibility of the Church to be so darn selective as to who gets let in (caught) to the realm of God's reign!  The Church can so quickly become arrogant when it takes on the role of God.
        Parables challenge the usual ways of thinking, and open us to the mystery of that which is beyond us.
 

38. DROUGHT

  He turns rivers into a desert,
   springs of water into thirsty ground,
  a fruitful land into a salty waste,
   because of the wickedness of its inhabitants.
  He turns a desert into pools of water,
  a parched land into springs of water.
  (Psalm 107:33-35)

        In the late 1980's some parts of the United States experienced a drought.  In the counties in my immediate vicinity our farmers suffered crop failures in corn, soybeans, and northern beans.  Our diocese took up a special relief fund for those hardest hit in western Michigan, and nationally the Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church offered assistance for those hurt by the drought.  I expect that many Christian denominations sought to give assistance as part of relief efforts.
        In my parish church I remember calling for a special eucharist to pray for rain for all those being hurt by the drought.  Some of our people gathered in prayer and meditation, recognizing the serious consequences of the lack of water.  We were a people that were humbled in our recognition of need--dependent upon God's providential care of us.  We took a little, fleeting glimpse, at things beyond our control.  Perhaps for some of us little flashes of the utter devastation of famines coupled with civil war and governmental programs of genocide of its political enemies, such as in Ethiopia, came to our minds.  Perhaps for others a recognition of humanity's guilt over the pollution of our ecosystem came to consciousness.  The threat of global warming was being pronounced over the television nightly on the news.  Perhaps for others the spiritual aridity of the times were evident as the egocentrism of the 80's in the USA was showing its barrenness and our utter poverty of spirit in the presence of material greed and emphasis on self-realization.
        In the face of such threatening limits we may be more willing to break through the layers of defenses, denials, and masks to face ourselves and our failures, see the idols that we have created in our faithless response to needs, and recognize our utter dependence upon God.  Such an experience connects us with our spiritual forebears who learned of God's faithfulness and grace, even in the harshness and desolation of the desert.  Like the desert abbas and ammas we can renew our relationship to God as we recognize our own spiritual poverty, and rediscover our true priorities in life as we are confronted with our own greed and egotism.
 

39. SAVE ME!

  Save me, O God,
   for the waters have come up to
       my neck.
  I sink in deep mire,
   where there is no foothold;
  I have come into deep waters,
   and the flood sweeps over me.
  (Psalm 69:1-2)

Peter answered [Jesus], "Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water."  He said, "Come."  So Peter got out of the boat, started walking on the water, and came toward Jesus.  But when he noticed the strong wind, he became frightened, and beginning to sink, he cried out, "Lord, save me!"  Jesus immediately reached out his hand and caught him, saying to him, "You of little faith, why did you doubt?"  (Matthew 14:28-30)

        In my pastoral and spiritual guidance work with people over the years these two passages often come to mind.  Indeed, they evoke themes that I have found familiar to my own life!  The key phrase is a clearly yelled, from the bottom of the lungs, absolutely desperate, "Save me!"
        The psalm's theme is one of a situation of threatened engulfment.  The person is feeling completely overwhelmed by forces greater than his or her own strength.  The strong feelings are acknowledged--there is no denial going on here!  But it is also a prayer of faith.  God can help me, if I give God my need and not try to do this on my own strength alone.
        As I, myself, have worked and counseled with others on the Twelve Step programs, again and again I have seen the spiritual power of the first three steps unfold:  from admitting our powerlessness and acknowledging "that our lives had become unmanageable"; to coming "to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity"; then to making "a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him" [italics theirs].  God is a wonderful ally in our struggles for truly sane, wholesome living.  Yet, healing and wholeness from the powers of "people, places, and things" that would engulf us comes only as we are willing to fully give God the consent to help us.  Our freely given consent is needed.  We are not puppets on a string.  And God isn't some two-dimensional puppeteer.
        This theme of overcoming overwhelming force through God's grace is prevalent in scripture.  Certainly we can visualize the graphic scene in Exodus 14 of the escaping Hebrew slaves passing through the Red Sea waters, then be with them in terrible wonder as they witness God's fearful retribution on the Egyptian warriors and their chariots.  Or, perhaps more easily applied to the occasional turbulence of our inner world, visualizing Jesus' calming the troubled waters in response to the terrified disciples' cry, "Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?" (Mark 4:35-41).

        Now on to the second passage--Peter's walking on water, and his slip, and his restoration.  I do think that the life of faith is quite a bit like this curious little story.  In the first place, it takes a kind of person that's a little poetic, creative, fun-loving, willing to suspend the absoluteness of law, and generally a bit "touched" by something or someone in order to make some kind of sense to the story.  Doesn't it?
        Peter had to be a bit nuts about Jesus in order to try out this little antic.  Curiously, as long as his sights were fixed on Jesus he was fine--he was a living miracle!  But fears of the "powers that be" emerged, then his ability to sustain a vision of greater truth faded, and Peter started going down.  Fortunately Peter, like the psalmist above, cried for help and was answered immediately.
        Christians, being "peculiar people" of God, in their better moments fill the criterion of being a bit touched by Jesus, too.  Faith life does yield miracles.  We are transformed into our God-blessed fullness from time to time.  Often I hear people of faith say it "wasn't just me" that did something or said something life giving.  Their eyes beheld a vision of a greater truth and reality in Christ's ability to empower them in their lives.  But we all can be distracted by the other forces that affect our lives, and sometimes we find ourselves sinking.  It's not over yet!  We can call for Christ's sure, loving hand.  Again and again.
        There is a beautiful prayer of thanksgiving in The Book of Common Prayer (p. 836) which not only says, "We thank you for setting us at tasks which demand our best efforts, and for leading us to accomplishments which satisfy and delight us."  It then adds, "We thank you also for those disappointments and failures that lead us to acknowledge our dependence on you alone."
 

40. IMPLICATIONS OF BEING WELL

"Do you want to be made well?"
      (John 5:6b)

        Here's the scene: Jesus encounters a man who has been ill for thirty-eight years.  The man, along with other invalids, is near a certain pool of water with peculiar healing properties.  Periodically an emissary from God stirs up the water and the first one who gets in gets cured.  Jesus asks the man if he wants to be made well.
        You may think, offhand, that the question is rather dumb.  But digging deeper, this fellow had a whole life built around his illness.  For thirty-eight years he had people taking care of him, seeing that he was fed and sheltered.  There is a certain kind of security in the predictableness of life--even if it involves diminished living.  One person never becomes responsible for his or her destructive behavior because of being hooked on controlling others, and being caught in self-delusional rationalization, and because others are always engaged in covering up.  Another person accepts living in an abusive situation because it is secure and known on some level and the fear of the risks involved in changing to an unknown future is paralyzing.  Generations of families can remain captured by the downward spiral of addictions.  Countless people remains spiritually immature, refusing to accept the discipline, effort, and inevitable disruptions in lifestyle that real growth would cause.  Sadly many a person has gone his or her whole life choosing to remain physically, emotionally, mentally and/or spiritually stunted.
        I hope that it is clear that I'm not trying to lay the blame on people for their organic infirmities.  I not talking about the need for cures, I am concerned with our failures to seek greater healing and wholeness in our lives.  Wellbeing is a matter of whole life orientation, a basic stance for living healthy lives within our physical, emotional, mental and spiritual capabilities.
        The willingness to take stock of our lives and seek greater wholeness, being made well, is not always easy.  Sometimes it costs a lot.  What price are you willing to pay to be made well?
 

41. ENCOUNTERING HOLINESS

"Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man."
      (Luke 5:8b)

        Here is the fishing story that is the basis for Luke's version of the calling of some of Jesus' disciples in chapter 5 of that gospel.  Jesus is standing beside Lake Gennesaret with the crowd pressing upon him, hungry to hear the word of God.  Jesus sees two boats with the fishermen ashore, washing their nets.  He gets into one of the boats, belonging to Simon (Peter) and asks the fisherman to take him a ways out from shore.  Jesus teaches the crowd, and then tells Simon to head out into the deep water and drop his nets.  The professional fisherman says he has been working the area all night long without a catch, but if Jesus insists, he is willing to humor the preacher.  He catches so many fish that, even with the help of the other boat, they are all threatened to be swamped by the amount of the harvest of fish.  Simon and the other fishing companions, James and John, know in amazement that this Jesus is causing them to break through to the spiritual dimension of reality.  Simon falls down at Jesus' knees, saying, "Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man."  Jesus responds, "Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people."  When they got to shore "they left everything and followed him."
        Let's explore a dimension of Luke's story for some possible meaning for us.  After all (to follow in the tradition of the medieval mystic, Meister Eckhart) what good is a story of a few fishermen being changed by Jesus a couple thousand years ago if it doesn't happen to me, too?
        I can empathize with the crowd and the fishermen and Simon.  They are not that different from me.  (I will speak for myself, and not for you readers.  You speak for yourselves!)
        I can relate to this crowd.  I could be one of those people.  I want to hear the deep truth of the word of God for my life.  I am willing (at least on some level) to try to get close to Jesus in order to let God communicate with me.  So I read scripture, and pray, and go to church, and listen to those who have something to say about Jesus and God, and I let others into my life that are companions in this way of becoming God seekers, etc.  I expect that there is more to life than some rationalistic or hedonistic, flat, two-dimensional, view of life.  I want meaning and purpose in life that includes me and goes beyond me.
        I think that I could be like Simon and the other fishermen.  I have a basic sense of competency in doing my job, and my life is often in some kind of good order.  Sometimes I'm successful at my tasks, and sometimes I work hard but just don't seem to get the good fruit of my labor.  Life can be like that.  But things can get less predictable when Jesus gets me to go into deeper water!  Now it's not my control--I am being called to spiritual depths that are beyond my usual sense of myself, and including a mysterious "other" in my life.  This plumbing the deeper dimensions of life may yield riches beyond our expectations, but it feels dangerous too.  The little "I" is no longer in control and the feeling of oceanic breadth and depth is real!  My creatureliness is threatened, my limited sense of who I am--a mortal, weak, sinful person--is very present!  So I, too, might yell out--be tempted to go back where it is safe and predictable and where God is carefully bracketed off and where I can feel comfortable about being in charge of my life--for Jesus to be gone from me!
        If I can trust Jesus' presence in the deepest parts of me, if I can intuitively hear and trust that God's words "do not be afraid" are the life-giving, universe-creating, living Word that is connected with my deepest longings for love and unity, then I too, like those fishermen, will come back again to the ordinary world as a changed person.  I, too, will "leave everything and follow him."  My life is no longer my own alone.  There is Deep Mystery now as a companion, and the cosmos includes not only what I know but what I do not know and it is good news.  And echoing the depths that have been given to me as a gift from the Lover is the word of vast peace and wholeness, shalom.  I live an ordinary life richly, fully, as I am lived.
 

42. ABUNDANCE!

        Jesus' third resurrection appearance to the disciples, in the twenty-first chapter of John's gospel, begins with another fishing story with Simon Peter and some of the gang.  Peter announces his intention to go fishing and the others say they will go, too.  Again, they fish all night but it is a bust.  Just after daybreak, Jesus appears on the beach (unrecognized by the group) and commiserates with them about their fishing failure.  In similar form to the last passage we looked at, Jesus tells them to cast their nets on the right side of the boat where they will find some fish.  They do so, and discover a catch so large that they can't haul it in.  Jesus gets recognized in the action by the "disciple whom Jesus loved" and Peter goes nuts, throwing on some clothes and jumping into the sea.  When everyone is ashore, Jesus treats them all to some charcoal-grilled fish and some bread that he had already prepared for them.  The rest of the disciples know who he is when he distributes the bread and fish.
        A reader attuned to John's language and stories can hear the allusions to the miraculous feeding of the multitudes, Jesus' claim to be the true bread of life, and eucharistic (holy communion) imagery.  Again, the gospeller has something to say to us and not just about a story in the past.  Among other things: this one, Jesus the Christ, has triumphed over death and therefore is available to us now, in our time and place, to point out the way to true abundance in life and calls us to do what he has done--share it with others.
        Christ is here--present in the worship of a community of faith on a typical Sunday, present in the generosity of a child sharing a sandwich, present in the feeding of the hungry or any other corporeal act of mercy, present in the newfound inner strength following a humble prayer for help, present in the lively eyes and hands of the artist, present in countless situations and occasions.  Christ is here calling us to plunge deeply into this wonderful life that is God's gracious gift, discover its abundance, and pass it on.
 

43. WATER AND THE SPIRIT

[Jesus answered Nicodemus,] "Very truly, I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit.  What is born of flesh is flesh, and what is born of Spirit is spirit."  (John 3:3-4)

        John, as is typical of his style and message, pushes poor old Nicodemus to drop what he knows and enter into a fresh time of decision born from this encounter with Jesus.  Our own meditations on water, baptism, and spirit have, I hope, encouraged this fresh time of decision as well.  I'm not interested in getting into "once born vs. twice born" debates.  Rather, I would reaffirm that in life we have the opportunity to be open to the many little invitations to realign our life with the life of the Spirit of God.
        From what I know about the Benedictine religious order, I think that there is an important gift that this religious community can give us.  As an associate (confrator) with such a community, I share with them a rule of life that seeks:  1) Obedience (to Christ through the proper authority of the Word known through holy scripture and the witness and guidance of the Church).  2) Stability (through a disciplined life of prayer, study, and work rooted in a community of Christians).  3) Conversion (to Christ, not just as one "event" in my life but as an ongoing, lifelong process of open listening, receiving, and yielding to the transforming work of God).  Following a "rule of life" gives me a helpful tool for meeting God's grace with my intentional willingness to be changed, deepened, and inspirited anew.
 

44. LOVING CARE FOR GOD'S WORLD

  Happy are those whose help is the
   God of Jacob,
  whose hope is in the Lord their God,
  who made heaven and earth,
   the sea, and all that is in them;
  who keeps faith forever;
   who exercises justice for the oppressed;
   who gives food to the hungry.
   (Psalm 146:5-7)

        One of the great shifts in the spiritual awareness of our time is to recognize with greater depth the interconnectedness of things.  While this is not a new awareness (witness the Old Testament prophets, John the Baptist, and Jesus who all challenged religious structures that separated religious practices from compassionate, ethical action in life) our concerns for the environment born out of an ecological paradigm seems to have sharpened our vision somewhat.  Christian spirituality's concern is becoming less "otherworldly" and much more rooted to a realization that this is God's world, and all of creation (including suffering, oppressed humanity) is the proper setting for spiritual activity.  Justice, ecological concerns, and spirituality are uniting for Christians.
        Ancient Hebrew wisdom knew that what was spiritual must not be separated from the material realm--it was a unity in life.  It was later as Christianity and Judaism encountered Greek thinking that the separation of matter from spirit began to take place.  Then forms of gnostic thinking distorted Christian spirituality with a view that things that were material (including the bodily necessities of life) were less important than things that were spiritual.  This split between matter and spirit has done enormous damage--as we are beginning to see more clearly from the global ecological considerations of our time.
        If we try to go about the business of responding to the concerns of God, what do we visualize to be God's concerns?  Do we get the scriptural picture of God being concerned with the work of caring for all creation, establishing justice, overcoming oppression, and attending to the physical as well as spiritual needs of people, especially those who have been marginalized by society?  To accept the call to participate with God in Christ's great work of reconciliation is a wonderful challenge.  To take our rightful place in Christ's great work of restoring the breach between the secular and sacred, the material and spiritual, earth and heaven...what a profound vocation.
 

45. RIVER OF LIFE

Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb through the middle of the street of the city.  On either side of the river is the tree of life with its twelve kinds of fruit, producing its fruit each month; and the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations.  Nothing accursed will be found there any more.  (Revelation 22:1-3a)

        The author of the letter to the Hebrews writes, "Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen."  Living in faith provides me with a direction in my life, and an assurance that life itself has a very good purpose that is moving into fulfillment through God.  Faith connects me with a purpose in life that includes and goes beyond myself to the One who created and loves me and all that is.  It is a hopeful view of living, and has a stability about it in its trust in God's ongoing involvement in our lives and the life of the cosmos.
        The passage cited above from Revelation is a piece of the Christian vision of the future.  It is poetic, impassioned, and proclaims the wondrous creativity of God.  It is also ultimately hopeful--life will flow in abundance from God and the Lamb, creativity and healing will be the fruit of God's relationship with the nations, wholeness will be everywhere.  Such an image arising to the consciousness of humanity about the future with God is profoundly life-giving.
        I want to live in faith in the God that can produce such a vision of the future.  I want to live my life in such a way as to contribute in some small way to the fulfillment of such a future for us all.  Bless us, God of the holy river of life, that we will discover ourselves and our future generations in you.
 

Daniel Prechtel is a priest of the Episcopal Church who served as rector of St. John's Church in Charlotte, Michigan from 1984-1995.  He is the founder and director of Lamb & Lion Spiritual Guidance Ministries of Evanston, Illinois, maintaining a practice of spiritual direction, retreats, workshops, group facilitation and other ministries in the field of Christian spiritual formation. He has also written handbooks for baptismal preparation and using the baptismal covenant as a spiritual rule of life for  members of the Episcopal Church.  These handbooks are available through Lamb & Lion Ministries and now published online.

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