The Bloodline of God

As we approach the Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ, I find myself thinking of an observation by Kaitlin B. Curtice: “The bloodline of God is connected to everything.” At Pentecost, we are accustomed to marveling at how God’s breath animates all of creation, but have we ever considered that all things are connected through God’s blood as well?

According to Wikipedia, “Blood is a body fluid in the circulatory system of humans and other vertebrates that delivers necessary substances such as nutrients and oxygen to the cells and transports metabolic waste products away from those same cells.” In sharing God’s spiritual bloodline with us, Christ provides us with nourishment (grace, love, belonging) and a way to divest ourselves of the things that don’t serve us (for example, pride, fear, and greed).

We are connected to all people in the recognition that blood is life and that to spill another person’s blood is a grave crime (“Thou shalt not kill”). At the Last Supper, when Jesus took a cup, gave thanks and gave it to his disciples, saying, “Drink from it, all of you, for this is my blood of the covenant” (Mt 26:27-28) he was giving them — and all of us — a share in the life of God who loves us unto death. Through this bloodline of God, we are connected to all others in the Body of Christ, which leads us to reverence and gratitude. We honor the new covenant Jesus extended to us when we recognize that we are connected to each other through the bloodline of God and consequently treat each other as sisters and brothers.

Practicing Resurrection

Unlike most people, I have had the chance to practice rising from the dead.

The part of my vow profession ritual that friends found most powerful was not when the community and I made promises to each other, when I read my vows and signed them on the altar, when I sang the Suscipe (song of surrender), or when I received my ring as a sign of my commitment. Rather, what everyone remarks on was when I lay prostrate in front of the altar and was covered by a funeral pall as community members prayed for me. The pall was then lifted and I symbolically left behind my former self and rose to new life in Christ.

In his letter to the Romans, Paul says, “Now if we have died with Christ, we believe that we shall also live with Him” (Rom 6:8). Notice that Paul doesn’t say “After we have died with Christ”; he is talking not about the death of the body but about surrendering our desires, preferences, and prejudices so we can put on the mind of Christ, which means to know we are beloved of God and to extend that love to everyone without exception. Then we too may “walk in the newness of life” (Rom 6:4).

After my profession, I still find myself struggling to love others who, in my judgment, are not worthy of the generosity God shows them. When we attempt to die to self we don’t stop being human; as Catherine (Cackie) Upchurch says, “The human experience is a doorway to God’s truth.” In my encounters with others, I continually have the opportunity to experience God’s truth of love, inclusion, and patience. And now that I have ritually practiced rising from the dead, I know it is something I am called to continue to practice daily, albeit without the altar, the pall, and the prostration.

In Prayers for a Planetary Pilgrim, Edward Hays offers this prayer on Thursday mornings in the season of spring: “May my rising [from sleep] be my rehearsal for my resurrection from the dead.” Every morning upon awakening, we all have the chance to lay aside our old self and put on the mind of Christ. May God bless our daily rising to new life.

Learning to Be Astonished

I have seasonal affective disorder. It hits most people in the winter, but for me, I am smitten in spring, when my desire to spend all my time outdoors with the flowers in the garden affects my ability to get my work done. The answer to this problem is clear. I need to redefine what my work is, as Mary Oliver does in her poem, Messenger: “My work is to love the world.” She goes on to say, “Let me keep my mind on what matters, / which is my work, / which is mostly standing still and learning to be / astonished.”

Something I saw recently that astonished me was a macroscopic photo of the face of an ant. It has what appears to be small horns and needle-like teeth and pores in its skin and whiskers, of all things. I never would have known with what care God fashioned an ant’s face if someone hadn’t looked at it closely and shared it. It is easy for us to be swept up in God’s grandeur in mountains, storms, and ocean swells, but God is just as present to us in diminutive things — seeds and grains of pollen and ant’s faces.

It is perhaps the most important item on our daily “To Do” list — to stand still and learn to be astonished — because it generates reverence and peace, which is a great need in our world today. So don’t worry if you have seasonal affective disorder; it may turn out to be one of the greatest blessings of your life!