Risen

Bill the Dean preaching at Trinity Episcopal Cathedral.

After three yoga sessions, one with Jennifer and two on my own, I feel as though I've risen from the dead. This week, and from now until NaNoWriMo, I'll have two yoga classes a week. I am beyond thrilled. Resurrected, almost.

I made this drawing in church, one of a series I've begun doing right in the Sunday bulletin. I love what Bill the Dean preached about how scripture keeps getting made. Not sure whether he meant new testimonies, or new understandings of old ones, or (what I believe) both. "You are an author of scripture." I am an author of scripture. We the human race keep enhancing our understanding of God and Creation and spirit and higher consciousness, and we keep passing it on and thus rise together. Some of this happens right here on this website.

In recent weeks I have been limping to church, literally and figuratively. Above all else, more than the organ and the choir (back today after summer break with only a cantor) and the readings and the beautiful liturgy, I come for the holy bread. It never fails to say Arise to me, to give me a lift and set me back on my feet.

Unleavened bread is what Jews use to celebrate the passing from slavery to freedom: the Passover. Yeast is what makes bread rise. There's no yeast in matzoh. There's also no yeast in communion bread (by church law, as in Jewish law), yet it makes me rise. Spirituality is full of paradoxes; this is one I would not have thought of except for today's challenge. How can something not risen make me rise? It's a sacrament and a mystery! (In Latin, mystery is sacramentum.)

RISE: DDW September 8 challenge

(SOOC, cropped.)

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Many thanks for the fascinating responses to my musings regarding hearts and stars. I appreciate your taking the time to discuss at length how you feel, especially since the inordinate amount of time Blipfoto takes is something we all seem to agree on! Hearts and stars for your contributions.