somersaults in salting unsalty salt

02 Aug

The sun had risen.Once again called to the edge of the field. Bathed in the warm rays, I find myself praying the beatitudes of Matthew 5.


same sky, next day, and a parking lot instead of a field…the gap between the sun bursting above and the rays penetrating below caught my eye…a lesson here


Blessed are the poor in spirit
Blessed are they that mourn
Blessed are the meek
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst

And then I’m at the salt.

“You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt has lost its saltiness, how can it be made salty again?”

And that question hangs in the air.

As I stand before compost piles, I ponder saltless salt not even fit for dungheaps. Ah, the rich images one encounters when mammering a prayer.

If the salt has lost its saltiness, how can it be made salty again?

Still the question hangs there. Floating like dust in the beams of morning.

Saltless salt. It’s how I feel, standing on the edge of the field. I want to perform a retrograde movement back up the page in my mind to the poor in spirit, the mourning, the weak meek, the ravishing hunger and thirst. At least there is blessing and kingdom and and comfort and life there. But for saltless salt there seems only a dunghill. And it doesn’t even qualify for that. “Good for nothing.” But then I feel a retrograde movement back from shit to salt.

If the salt has lost its saltiness, how can it be made salty again?

And now I see the lips of the Divine, edges upturned in a coy smile as if to intimate that rather than being a conundrum or, worse, a dunghill dead end, it’s something he actually does all the time. In fact, it’s his divine specialty. We all grow detached – separated from our humanity, distanced from the divine image we bear by creative fiat, alienated from Christ in us. We forget who we are. We lose sight of the richness of the multifaceted graces placed within us, bestowed upon us, spilling out of us. Instead of a brilliant, life-giving sunrise we see only a glaring light from which to annoyingly shield our eyes.

Saltless salt.

Life leeches it out of us.

I feel leeched. Saltless. I can sense “dunghill” stamped on my forehead.

But suddenly, in those bathing rays of sun, on the edge of that field, not far from the dungheaps…

I lick my lips.

My former saltless, tasteless lips.

Now salty again.

And it’s my turn for a coy smile…


1 Comment

Posted by on August 2, 2013 in Faith, haverings, musings, Prayer


Tags: , , , ,

One response to “somersaults in salting unsalty salt

  1. ericstollerdonahue

    August 2, 2013 at 11:25 pm

    Encouraging. Thank you!


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