Lent, Days Thirteen & Fourteen: 5 Wounds
I took a pilgrimage to St. Francis Springs Prayer Center in Stoneville, NC, this week. I felt so ragged, beyond the edges of my capacity, in need of crawling back into my own skin.
I brought 6 “Lenten stones” with me–threw them in my bag on the way out the door–unsure what meditation(s) the day had for me. I have been contemplating places of self-hatred that I need to pour love into and wondering: Where does that self-hatred come from? From the patio at St. Francis, looking through winter-bared trees bathed in morning light, I slowly prayed a liturgy written by Cole Arthur Riley (Black Liturgies).
“Rescue us from those illusions that are not for our protection, and forgive us for all the ways we demand that others hide or mask in our presence” (“Selfhood,” Black Liturgies, pg 21).
What are my illusions? A voice within me began to intone…
“You are safe if
you don’t owe anyone anything
If you don’t make mistakes
If you stay hidden
If no one knows.
If you trust only yourself
If you are non-threatening to the powers that be
If you want for nothing
If you go with the flow, don’t reveal too much, don’t stand out, don’t make a scene.
You are safe if you don’t expect too much for yourself
If you don’t expect too much from others or God
If you can meet your own needs
If you make yourself indispensable.”
The voice was like a beacon leading me to the heart of my self-hatred.
Well then.
I took a deep breath, gathered myself together, and prepared for a walk. The trails at St. Francis Springs are quiet, winding through trees and occasionally crossing paths with a babbling creek. I took my time, stopping to walk a simple labyrinth, or to listen to the creek, or to do some sun-salutations. At the top of a hill, I found myself at a man-constructed alcove built from large river rocks. The sign explained it was in honor of St. Francis’ experience of receiving the wounds of Christ while praying on Mount Alverna.
Now’s as good a place as any, I figured, and took out the stones I had brought. One at a time, I wrote down the words that most encapsulated the fears that drive my priorities and actions (towards myself and others). They were:
Poverty
Danger
Death
Ridicule
Rejection
I took out the final stone, but nothing more came to me. 5 stones. 5 wounds of Christ. It felt unintentional but perfect.
The more I contemplated this “Big 5,” their nuanced presence in my life became clearer and clearer. Poverty means the obvious, but also extends to any unfulfilled need or desire, want, and even voicelessness/namelessness. Danger to me also equates with isolation, harm, fear and woundedness (especially the ongoing kind). Death is my fear of emptiness and loneliness–utter loss, internally and externally–as much as my fear of physical expiration. Despite the finality of “death,” it’s not even the hardest one for me to face. Ridicule manifests as exposure, misunderstanding, and shame; and I am deathly afraid of the abandonment, betrayal, and unwanted-ness that I associate with Rejection. I think these two are particularly beastly because I fear they will simply reveal things I already believe about myself as true, once and for all: unspecial, unlovable, unvalued, unwanted, not desirable. It would mean I deserve all the abandonment and betrayal I’ve experienced, and all of it that hasn’t befallen me…yet.
These are the things I fear. But they are not the “illusions” that I believe will protect me from my Worst-Of-All-Fear. The “illusions” are the opposites of these things.
Wealth
Safety
Existence
Approval
Acceptance
These are the real Executives that run my life. They are the Stars I obsess over and chase down. They are the Pearls I would sell everything for. It is my fixation on these things that keeps me wounded and weighed down. I carry them in my soul, and every part of me is weakened in bearing the incomprehensible mass of the burden.
Are these, could these be, the 5 wounds of Christ? He certainly faced them all. These are things folks around him would have been trying to gain and achieve; yet, during his life, he constantly took actions that brought him further and further from each one–the people he loved were in proximity to their exact counterparts, and he couldn’t get near those folks without putting himself in that same “line of fire.” I think about his life on Earth and echos of remembered scripture ripple through my mind: ”God made Christ, who never sinned, to be the offering for our sin, so that we could be made right with God through Christ” (1 Corinthians 5:21).
I can’t explain exactly why this passage comes to me, but I know that I don’t feel “made right” these days, and I think it all comes full-circle back to self-hatred. I hate myself for being constantly compelled by these “illusions” I hold close to ensure my “protection.” I am desperate for these things because I believe they will delay the inevitable (though certainly not avert it), or at the very least shore up my defenses against the moment that my Worst-Of-All-Fear will come to light: I am not lovable, and I am worthy of abandonment. I am caught in a cycle of working to be free of these 5 Wounds, but I can’t as long as I believe I don’t deserve to be free of them, or aren’t safe from exposure without them. Around and around it goes. What is my mechanism of escape? I think it might be radical love.
“...Christ’s love controls us. Since we believe that Christ died for all, we also believe that we have all died to our old life. He died for everyone so that those who receive his new life will no longer live for themselves. Instead, they will live for Christ, who died and was raised for them.
So we have stopped evaluating others from a human point of view. At one time we thought of Christ merely from a human point of view. How differently we know him now! This means that anyone who belongs to Christ has become a new person. The old life is gone; a new life has begun!”
I left all five stones nestled around the foot of a makeshift cross that was wedged between stones, shadowed by rock but brilliantly illuminated by the sunlight that poured in through the open window behind it. The hill I had next to climb was quite steep, but my heart was feeling lighter. I had shoveled off some of the symbolic “sludge” I had been wading through the past few days, and I finally felt I was beginning to see the shape of a path my heart could follow to freer ground. Through the trees, I could see a nearby doe and her fawn picking casually through the woods. “Wait for me!” the fawn seems to cry as the doe suddenly accelerated to bound up the hill. The fawn scrambled for a moment, then found its footing and with found confidence, picked up a burst of speed and disappeared over the green crest. I slowly started to follow after.
Oh, dear God, please “rescue me from those illusions that are not for my protection.” I fear danger, poverty, and death. I hear ridicule and rejection around every corner. I am in a constant state of flight to escape all the pain that feels inevitable; and so, each day, I sell my soul anew to the pursuit of such things as wealth, acceptance, or safety that make me promises of protection. There is a better way of being, but I’m stumbling my way up the hill to find it. Will you imbue me with clarity and courage? May your Kingdom Come on Earth as it is in Heaven, starting with this fertile ground in my own heart, my own life.
