After the pharisee listed my faults publicly and loudly, I began to weep. It was all true. I prayed, “Lord God, have mercy on me, a sinner.”
My heart cracked open. I was now painfully aware of the extent to which my desires for pleasure, praise, prestige and power had hardened my heart and entombed my deepest desire. “Give me only your love and grace,” I prayed. “Let that be enough for me.”
When Edmund, the spiritual director for my eight-day retreat, had sent me back to pray with the parable of the tax collector and the pharisee, he said, “Be sure to let Jesus find you when you leave the temple.”
And Jesus did. He was waiting for me outside; he looked at me lovingly and took me by the arm. “Come with me,” he said. The next moment I was seated, and Jesus had a wash basin and towel. He was washing my feet.
“No!” I protested. “I don’t deserve this.” But Jesus continued to bathe my feet. He was so close that I reached out and placed my hand on his head. He looked up at me, and I saw tears in his eyes. And then my hand was on his bearded cheek. And then he kissed my palm. That exquisite kiss sent such a profound wave of acceptance through me, that I could hardly stay in my skin. I wept and wept.
When Jesus finished washing my feet, I wiped my tears and opened my eyes. I was back in the chapel at Camel Hill. I still had fifteen minutes left in the hour allotted for my prayer, so I closed my eyes and returned to be with Jesus. As I did, I remembered that no one washed his feet at that last supper.
“Let me wash yours,” I said to Jesus.
“All right,” he said. “Meet me at Simon the pharisee’s house.”
And suddenly I was in that story, kneeling behind Jesus washing his feet with my tears and wiping them with the long hair I used to have as a child.
In my prayer, Simon turned out to be the same pharisee was who had humiliated me in the temple. He scowled at me.
Jesus saw it and said, “Simon, let me tell you something.”
Even though I know how the story goes, I expected Jesus to say, “She’s a sinner but she’s okay.” But he kept to the script. “Do you see this woman? I came into your house. You did not give me any water for my feet, but she wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You did not give me a kiss, but this woman, from the time I entered, has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not put oil on my head, but she has poured perfume on my feet. Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven—as her great love has shown.”
Now it was the pharisee who was stunned and humbled.
I was honoured and set free to follow my heart’s deepest desire.
Take, Lord, and receive all my liberty,
my memory, my understanding,
and my entire will,
All I have and call my own.
You have given all to me.
To you, Lord, I return it.
Everything is yours; do with it what you will.
Give me only your love and your grace,
that is enough for me.
– Ignatius of Loyola
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Kudos to love mischief maker Kevin Lee for organizing Music in the Community on June 25. Kevin, who is a local opera singer, obtained a grant to promote neighbourliness in New Westminster. He and his long-time friends Heidi Braacx and Karina Inkster (aka the Cranky Molluscs) invited other local musicians to perform at Holy Trinity Cathedral. Artists included six talented soloists including one who composed his own song, the Newcomers’ Choir which Kevin conducts, the Heritage Uke Club and, of course, the Cranky Molluscs.
What love mischief are you and God doing to care for the earth?
Let me know and I will include it in an upcoming post.
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As I held these questions, I recalled the comment my friend Gail Koombes (right) added to last week’s post. She wrote, “Remember that there is always someone, myself for one, that would love to be your winter weight.” I thought of all the overweight people reading my blog. I wondered if they were thinking: Wow, if she dislikes herself for being fat, what must she think of me?
At our SoulStream partner gathering, Dave and Shauna Gill of Kaleden, B.C., told me about the ginger snap cookie bake-off they hosted. Shauna said, “The panel of judges was well represented with a father and son who required gluten-free, a chef, Dave, and the fifteen year-old-girl who babysits the kids, cats and chickens for many in this group of neighbours. The judges were blindfolded and subjected to slow, serious tasting with sips of water to cleanse the palate. One woman phoned ahead, needing to know many minute details about the competition. She seemed quite nervous. In the end, it was her gluten-free entry which won that category, and her smile at winning the bottle of wine went from ear to ear. A great time of kinship ensued, and there is more comfort and friendliness that passes between us all whenever we run into each other in the neighbourhood.” I had to ask, “Who won the competition?” “Shauna won the regular snap,” Dave said proudly. “Although the gluten-free one was really good too.”
What 
“Your sister really loves you,” a friend said after I told her about my trip to Gatineau, Quebec to visit my sister and her family. During that week I was touched again by Sylvia’s generosity and thoughtfulness. From buying my airplane ticket to arranging hikes and bicycle rides, to moving and cleaning a couch for our niece, she displayed God’s hands and heart.
As I walked today, I saw the beauty of new life everywhere. I still noticed the decaying leaves as I am always intrigued by their tenacity. They are now heavy with moisture, still clinging to the tree branches. I thought about how they have missed the opportunity for new life. I reflected on the areas in my life where I still cling and where I need to let go in order to be transformed.
