Sometimes you have to genuflect with trash.

Early on in the life of Jesus’ followers, there was a common awareness that God had revealed Himself as Father, and through Jesus the Son, and by the movement and presence of God’s Spirit.  There was this early belief in a threeness to the Oneness: God is unified, but also interpersonal.

The language they used for this mystery was perichoresis, which means “dance”.  God is One and also a community of  continually generating love.  The best way to picture this, it was taught, was of a dance.

And because the early followers of Jesus believed that all reality was grounded on the presence of God, they saw all of reality as only making sense by way of joining this dance: joining in by loving God and thus loving one another and the world they found themselves in.

This is how everything works.  Two plus two might equal four, rocks might fall because of gravity, but love and generosity and community is what is most sacred, what is most real.

And as soon as you start talking about it, or blogging about it—as soon as you try to pin it down—you realize there’s no way you can truly capture it.

All you can do is remind yourself of God in this way.  And followers of Jesus have been practicing that for hundreds of years through genuflection.

You’ve seen it: someone touches their head (Father), and then their chest (Son), and then touches one shoulder, then the other (Holy…Spirit).  It is a way of remembering that you are a part of this Community of Love, that you are in the dance, that you are immersed in this generosity, and that you are invited to live into this deep reality with everyone you come across.

I’ve been practicing genuflection for a few years now.  I find it helpful to remember that I am immersed in the love of God who includes me in community.  I find it helpful to remember that this is the lens through which I must see the world and then act accordingly.  I usually end a time of meditation and prayer with this up-down, left-right movement.

There is a hill I come down from on my way home from work.  I enjoy walking home from work, because it gives me the chance to pray, to hand off what I have given at work to the only One who can fix and multiply it, and to prepare myself for my interactions at home.

As I was finishing my prayer, I picked up a loose piece of trash that was floating down the hill with me. (Aren’t I a good person?) And so, as I finished my prayer, with this piece of trash in my hand, I genuflected: “I give myself to You in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”

With a piece of trash in my hand.  Flapping in the breeze.  Hitting me in the face.

It felt odd, or maybe profane, reminding myself of the beauty and Presence and goodness of God with a piece of trash in my genuflecting hand.

But maybe this is how it’s supposed to work.  Maybe we are meant to remember the goodness and grace and generosity and selflessness of God and all of reality precisely in the presence of the trash that is right in front of us and even in our hands.

When pain wakes me up in the middle of the night.  Up. Down. Left. Right.

When someone wants to sit me down and set me theologically straight.  Up. Down. Left. Right.

When my integrity is called into question.  Up. Down. Left. Right.

When I am ripped off by a for-profit medical machine.  Up. Down. Left. Right.

When we get the diagnosis.  Up. Down. Left. Right.

When I lose my cool with my kids.  Up. Down. Left. Right.

When I say the wrong thing at precisely the wrong time.  Up. Down. Left. Right.

It’s when I have garbage in my hands and deep down in my heart and am wading through it with my feet: that’s when I need to remember that I am surrounded and immersed and embraced by the One who is present in the trash with me.

Who invites me to get back to the dance precisely there.

Precisely here.