Sunday, December 20, 2009

O Clavis David; O Key of David, December 20, 2009


Isaiah 22:15-25 / Isaiah 9:6-7 / Revelation 3:7

O Clavis David, et sceptrum domus Israel;
qui aperis, et nemo claudit;
claudis, et nemo aperit:
veni, et educ vinctum de domo carceris,
sedentem in tenebris, et umbra mortis.

O Key of David and sceptre of the House of Israel
you open and no one can shut;
you shut and no one can open:
Come and lead the prisoners from the prison house,
those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death

O Clavis
Even in the darkness where I sit
And huddle in the midst of misery
I can remember freedom, but forget
That every lock must answer to a key
That each dark clasp, sharp and intricate,
Must find a counter-clasp to meet its guard.
Particular, exact and intimate,
The clutch and catch that meshes with its ward.
I cry out for the key I threw away
That turned and over turned with certain touch
And with the lovely lifting of a latch
Opened my darkness to the light of day.
O come again, come quickly, set me free

Today is the last Sunday of Advent, and I'll be happy to light all four candles today, and just sit awhile pondering what all of this waiting means. I need that kind of respite. Just me and the Advent wreath, which ironically, I've not lit a single candle on since I brought it home. I guess this doesn't feel like home yet. And I can't get used to not having some kind of table where we gather to eat, here in my own house.

Anyway, I woke up too early this morning, after going to bed too late. I sleep more, but I wake often in the night. Sometimes, when I'm up alone I find myself hungry. I'm not talking about physical hunger. I mean I find myself eating to stuff down some nebulous pain, anger, or sadness--something. And I find no comfort in this sinful behavior, no matter how much I stuff myself.

I'm weary of being so hard-headed. And discouraged. God has given me this amazing life: I'm living deep in so many dreams, yet "that thing" still nags me. And we've all got out "thing" that we wish we could stop doing, but can't seem to to save our lives. Lord, have mercy. Seriously, if I don't do something about my compulsive eating it's going to kill me. Literally. Me and most of my best friends are past 4o now. Our eye sight is worse, or hips are wider, our hair is grayer, and some of us our trying to pray away the high blood pressure and diabetes we wouldn't have had if we'd have listened to the still small voice telling us we had to change our ways a long time ago. I'm getting closer and closer to those particular medical problems, and I've got enough on my plate. For real.

I've considered sitting and talking to the friends I know who have lost a lot of weight and begging them to tell me how they did it. But I already know the answer. It isn't hard. So, why haven't I done it?

I guess it doesn't matter what the answer to that question is. Not really. Because I'm damned stuck whatever it is, and I don't like it here. But here I am, more than a little disgusted at myself, which is useless too. I just have to give it to God. Right?

Lately, I've come to realize that life is in the things I do, all together. It's the way I think, and the moves I make, each and every tiny little step makes up my life, whether I'm conscious of it or not. I am a two hundred pound, chronically ill black woman, mostly because every day I did something to get and or stay this way. If I ever want to be something else, like a... say... 135 pound, much healthier black woman, it will be because I'll have the yogurt instead of the Pepsi, and the apple instead of the chips.

So once again, I'll take this matter to him. God is my life, after all. He's in every step, even the bad ones I make, because he loves me enough to stick around when I'm acting really stupid. What else can I do but give it all to him? I'm deeply moved today by my sweet Jesus, so powerful he opens and no one can shut, and shuts and no one can open, and beloved friends, it's as if I can see his hand on this awful door of buried pain that keeps me entangled in the sin of gluttony, and I just know he's going to close it for good. Very soon. It brings tears to my eyes to think, truly, my deliverance is near. The signs of it are everywhere.

This morning I watched, "Paris Je T'aime." I was struck by a song at the end of the movie, so I went to iTunes to see if it were available for download. But iTunes (God as iTunes) recommended I check out Matt Maher. I'd downloaded the O Antiphons, chanted, along with O Come Emmanuel a few days ago. I guess iTunes figured (God knew) I'd like him, too. So, I go to the recommended album, and it has a song, "Lamb of God." This is one of my favorite things to sing during Mass, so I clicked on that one, and fell in love with his version, complete with Latin. Y'all know I become all quivery inside when I get to hear, say or write anything in Latin.

I looked for a video on Youtube, and ended up finding one here. And then I looked up the lyrics, because it helps me to process what God is saying to me when I see words about. This is why I write. And why I read. So here were the words:

Wonderful,
Counselor,
Mighty God,
Prince of Peace,
Emmanuel,
Morning Star,
King of Kings, and
Lord of Lords

Lamb of God, you take away,

the sins of all, the world
Miserere nobis
Bread of life, You take away,
the sins of all the world
Miserere nobis
Agnus Dei, You take away,
the sins of all the world
Dona nobis Pacem

Did you notice the song starts with the names for Jesus in Isaiah, which have been my Advent focus, especially this week? Reading them felt like a lovely reminder from God that he's been with me, very close by, this holy season, and this One I'm waiting for, he's the one with the key to the door that seems to be locked to me. He doesn't just have the key, he is the key. And this kind Lover, is telling me that he's will take away my sins, including the one that has me so upset this morning. He's urging me, once again, to go to the table, the Eucharistic feast to share the family meal with my brothers and sisters that will save me. Give us this day our daily bread. That's what God spoke to me and rocked my world. Jesus is my bread. And he feeds me on sooo many levels. This morning I'm hungry. Not for physical food. If God is drawing me to the Eucharist, it only stands to reason that God he will use this feast to heal my eating disorder.

"O Clavis David; O Key of David, I'm locked inside this pain. Fling open the door, and free me. O Clavis David; O Key of David, within me there are bad, bad thing. Shut the door to them, because they dark, vile things inside are tormenting me. Come, and do not delay, my Beloved. I need you badly here."

mair-francis





9 comments:

MaryAnn M said...

this wounded soul found peace in your writings today.
...and yes...the magic of losing weight isnt "magic"...eating right things, in right portions, and moving a bit more.
blessings

Jennifer said...

Mair, thank you for this reminder to light the fourth candle today. My group of women won't be able to meet today for our Advent reflections and I would have just forgotten all about it, had I not read your post. Thank God for women like you who are honest enough to admit that the path to our Lord is not easy and yet can fill us with such longing that we want to change so we can draw ever nearer. Blessings to you.

GailNHB said...

Yes, girl.
Yes, girl.
That thing, whatever it is, God can handle it and carry it and take it away from us. AND we have to do our part. Thank you for that reminder, girl. For being so open and honest and vulnerable about your thing and reminding us that God can handle any-thing and do any-thing but leave us and forsake us and fail us.

May He show you the door out of bondage and may you gladly and willingly take the key. The road will not be easy, but He will walk every step of it with you and with me and with each and all of us. Thru every valley and every shadow and every hungry, thirsty moment.

Come, Lord Jesus, please.
Come.

Caldonia Sun said...

Someone said that that certain hunger, that particular longing we cannot satisfy is really our longing for heaven, as described in Romans 8:22: "For we are conscious that all living things are weeping and sorrowing in pain together till now." (Bible in Basic English translation) We are awaiting our redemption, our final and glorious destination where there will be no tears, no illnesses and disabilities.

May He comfort you today and give you the strength to make wise choices for your health.

Erin Wilson said...

I so hear you.
Praying peace for both of us...
xo

~m2~ said...

it's an amazing thing, when i draw near to the blogging community once again, the God provides me with a recommendation from a dear friend (bobbie) to lead me here, read your words, and simply nod in affirmation.

i am glad i found you.

*(i am a HUGE dorothy day fan and was torn between commenting here and on your most recent post -- you are a resonator, if that is a word :)

ragamuffin diva said...

Thanks, everyone. Sally! It's been awhile. Good to hear from you, and ~m2~, welcome!

Heidi Renee said...

dear mair - what if it wasn't sin and was a disease? not shaming myself for it changed everything for me. i love and am here if anything i have would help, k? i love you!

ragamuffin diva said...

I'll gratefully, joyfully accept any help you can offer.