The Power of Inspiration

Revisiting Fishes & Loaves

Blessed Monday!

Welcome back to our corner of the world, the devotional crossroads that is Chapel of Honey! Meeting you where you are, as you are, without judgement.

How are you, beautiful people? How was your weekend? I’m feeling renewed and bright today, with a heart full of gratitude. Between preparing the essay collection launch (a lil’ birdie says 5/25), hosting friends, and building community outreach I feel like my head is spinning! Something that has been a grounding practice is a return to more intentional devotional reading and simple quiet prayer meditation. With this has been a dive back into Jesus the Rebel: Bearer of God’s Peace and Justice, by Jesuit priest John Dear. This book has been honestly surprising and impactful, and the short chapter I read yesterday really affirmed for me again that inspiration is one of the greatest charisms, and as gifts go this is one that anybody can work.

(Art found via Google Images, by Chelle Fazal)

Before we can really get into the fishes and loaves, we need to get into Jesus. No, not the guy you’re thinking of. I mean the man with the purple tie and orange sportcoat, who made it to every Mass and was always there to help. I never met this Jesus in person, only in spirit. He was given through the storytelling of our pastor, who happened to know this eccentric Jesus while growing up in the Northeast many decades ago. You see, this gentleman came to their town in the mid-40’s. He didn’t come with any name, very few possessions. He was odd, but kind. He worked odd jobs, was generous with assistance to others. Eventually the children of the town begin to call him Jesus, and so does everyone else. Children really be knowing. Jesus wore a huge brown scapular, other medals and prayer items piled over it until he walked with a bend to his back. The weight of his path was literally shaping him. One day the townspeople found Jesus, he had passed peacefully in his sleep in his small shack. The town gathered, and suddenly realized they knew nothing of him beyond the given name of Jesus. So they searched and found out his original name was Solomon, and that he had been to a well-known maximum security prison. The people were confused, some even feeling betrayed upon learning Jesus’ history. But their pastor, who surely influenced the one who told this story, turned to his congregation and reminded them that the life of their friend was not his history, was not the secrets he kept, but was the redemption and ministry he lived. The Jesus they knew, whose only church clothes were a bright orange sportcoat and a purple tie, who sang beautifully in spirit if not in sound, he was their Jesus, the reminder of generosity and inspiration and commitment right in their midst. And I think it’s important to note, the children gave him that name.