tended by angels

O God, you are my God, I seek you, my soul thirsts for you;

my flesh faints for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.

                     Psalm 63

 

And immediately the Spirit *brought [Jesus} out into the wilderness. And He was in the wilderness for forty days, being tempted by Satan; and He was with the wild animals, and the angels were serving Him.

                     Mark 1

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I remember standing in the high desert

in the desolation of rocks and sage

stretching on

forever, forever

a juniper or two, twisted and gnarled

but mostly, nothing

 

I remember the Sinai

looking across the tortured rocks

at the acacia tree

living but so close it seems to

a dried out death

 

and I remember the Wilderness of Judea

that place where Jesus wrestled with

“not sacred” and dealt with hungry beasts

and hunger

 

there is something about a wasteland

wherever it is located

even if it is the wasteland of our souls

 

when we stand in desolation

we are exposed and threatened

we are laid bare

and assailed by the emptiness that surrounds us

and penetrates

finding its way into our very flesh

 

it is a hard place

this dry and weary land where there is no water

 

this is our thirsty place

our crumbling place

our place of deconstruction

 

this is where we wither

where so much of what we have clung to

slips from our shriveled hands

this is perhaps where we die

 

this too is the place of blossoming and rejoicing

this is where our hands are strengthened

and our hearts lifted

and our quivering legs made strong (Isaiah 35)

 

for this is where we cling to Sacred

and rely not on our own devices

but are tended by angels

 

this is where we are transformed by grace

and love

 

this is where gifts are given

and received

 

this is where blessing finds us

and we lose our life, only to receive it again

 

we struggle with our time in the desert

those times of pandemic, and isolation

of storm and crisis

violence and deceit

poverty and deprivation

 

yet in such times

in this tortured year

as we linger in the desolation

hands and hearts empty

 

blessing finds us

 

the Sacred wind blows through us

giving us breath

giving us new life

animating our dry bones

 

enlivening us

awaking us to the gift of Sacred Presence

and to the tender nurture of the angels

 

waking us up to the beauty of the earth

and the beauty of each other

 

waking us to Love