Today I got the pleasure and the honor of exploring Christian traditions of contemplation and meditation with a lovely group of women. \u00a0One of the things we did was an active imagination contemplation on a passage from a gospel. \u00a0I used Mark 6:53-56 which is a short passage whose language captured me a few months ago when I ran across it in my morning scripture readings.<\/p>\n
\u201cOnce they had crossed over to land, they landed at Gennesaret and dropped anchor. \u00a0As soon as they had gotten out of the boat, people recognized him right away, and they ran around over the whole area and started bringing those who were ill on mats to wherever he was rumored to be. \u00a0And wherever he would go, into villages, or towns, or onto farms, they would lay out the sick in the marketplaces and beg him to let them touch the fringe of his cloak. \u00a0And all those who managed to touch it were cured!\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
I read the passage a few times and asked the women to imagine themselves in the story. \u00a0Where are they? \u00a0On the shore? \u00a0Running around over the whole area? \u00a0In the marketplace? \u00a0On a farm? \u00a0And what do they experience there with their senses? \u00a0Is it hot, does it smell like lake-shore, is there sand on their feet, do they hear animals or people?<\/p>\n
And then I asked them to consider who they might be in this story. \u00a0Are they Jesus? \u00a0Are they one of Jesus\u2019 followers? \u00a0Are they bringing their loved one for healing? \u00a0Are they themselves laying in the marketplace hoping that Jesus will come near? \u00a0Are they a shop keeper or bystander watching and wondering what is happening?<\/p>\n
And then I asked them to inhabit the story and imagine what might come next after the text ends.<\/p>\n
Today I read this passage and found myself in the marketplace. \u00a0I have heard a rumor that Jesus is coming and I am in need of healing. \u00a0My family humors me and doesn\u2019t understand why I would go, but I know I need to go, even if they don\u2019t understand. \u00a0I have no mat. \u00a0No one can tell that I am there too hoping and waiting to see if the Healer will come here. \u00a0No one can see my illness. \u00a0I can see the others, those with scaling skin, those laying in the hot sun barely breathing, those with withered limbs, with all manner of physical illness. \u00a0And I see those family and friends who have brought them here, anxious mothers with their sick children, friends standing by, all of them ready to rush their loved one close to him, to help them to reach out, to press in all around in the chance that they will come close enough to be cured. \u00a0They are the ones who really need the Teacher. \u00a0They are the ones he should reach out to.
\nI don\u2019t know why I thought I could come here, whole in body, and seek for my own healing. \u00a0There are so many here who will die if they are not helped. \u00a0Still\u2026.I will stay regardless. \u00a0Maybe there is a chance he will come here and at least I will see him and see for myself this man of God. \u00a0I smell the fires of the cooking ovens. \u00a0I wait for a long time. \u00a0The air feels tense with anxiety;\u00a0\u00a0everyone straining to see down the path. \u00a0Will he come? And then suddenly there are shouts and a great many people run down the road. He is coming. \u00a0He is coming here. \u00a0I hold back assuming there is no room for me to get anywhere near him. \u00a0He is pressed from all sides. \u00a0Everyone is scrambling and calling out. \u00a0Voices everywhere beg and plead. \u00a0He walks through the crowd slowly reaching out and touching the sick.
\nHe is amazing to watch and as he moves further into the crowd, an amazing calm moves through the people. \u00a0They witness him in awe. \u00a0Everyone who touches him, everyone he touches, even just a brush of his clothes, becomes well. \u00a0They sing and shout their praises. \u00a0Mothers weep in gratitude. \u00a0I watch and wish that I too could come close. \u00a0Suddenly everything stops and he meets my gaze through the crowd. \u00a0He knows exactly why I am there. \u00a0I am embraced in a feeling of all-encompassing love. \u00a0There is nothing but his gaze and somehow I am standing before him. \u00a0He takes my hands and tells me that I too am well. \u00a0And I am. \u00a0I am well. \u00a0I am a boundless perfection beyond all thought and word. \u00a0I am an essential piece of everything and there is Love, only Love. \u00a0Everything is Love. \u00a0He smiles at me and tears run down each of our cheeks. \u00a0He says, \u201cCome. \u00a0Follow me.\u201d \u00a0And I do. \u00a0I leave everything I have known for Love and Joy.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"Today I got the pleasure and the honor of exploring Christian traditions of contemplation and meditation with a lovely group of women. \u00a0One of the things we did was an active imagination contemplation on a passage from a gospel. \u00a0I used Mark 6:53-56 which is a short passage whose language captured me a few months ago when I ran across it in my morning scripture readings.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":140,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-139","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-category"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.sarahcledwynblog.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/139","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.sarahcledwynblog.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.sarahcledwynblog.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.sarahcledwynblog.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.sarahcledwynblog.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=139"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.sarahcledwynblog.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/139\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":141,"href":"https:\/\/www.sarahcledwynblog.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/139\/revisions\/141"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.sarahcledwynblog.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/140"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.sarahcledwynblog.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=139"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.sarahcledwynblog.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=139"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.sarahcledwynblog.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=139"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}