A Tragedy of the Heart

"...the silence of God is God."  Carolyn Forche

There are no pure and simple words to explain the tragedy of children’s lives being recklessly destroyed.  And I cannot help but think of children in the Middle East who are dying of war; of children in Africa who are dying of AIDS; of children worldwide who are dying of starvation, domestic violence, and neglect.  Yet still, in this country they call “Leader of the Free World,” to have twenty children die at the hand of another near-child, we should call it a tragedy of the heart.

In this country of the free, children are dying daily through acts of violence.  They die and are taken from us way too soon.  Where is our hope of the future if our children do not live?  But that is another essay.  This one is about death.

For some of us, death is not an end but just the next step on a continued journey.  People die all the time; young and old alike.  And for many various reasons they die.  We die.

Perhaps we delude ourselves by thinking there is something beyond this life so that when the final breath is taken we will not be afraid. 

And what is in that moment?  Do we die alone?  Most think not.

Someone once said that at the moment of our death, when we cross over, we take with us all the love we have ever known, and all the love we have never known. 

Some say we are escorted by angels, by ancestors, by holy beings.

Some say we are reincarnated into the next personhood and that everyone in your life, at this very moment, you have known before, in another time.

Is there any solace in the death of a child whether it was by gunshot, by violence, by self wound, by accident, by disease?  People will say what they need to say and do what they need to do to get through the grief, the shock, the disbelief and the tremendous pain.  Can we hold one another long enough, close enough, strongly enough through the unbearable weight of remorse?

And what do we know of God?  Do you cry out in anger that God was there or that God was not there?

Does God Have Eyes?

A spiritual advisor said:

In trying to discover your true identity,

do not fixate on yourself;
simply gaze into God’s eyes,
and you will know all that you need to know about yourself.

The first thing that came to my mind upon reading this was, "Does God have eyes?"

Most people would say yes, of course, God sees all things.

But God is not a person. When asked, God said, "I Am." Or at least, that's what Moses thought he heard God say. Which begs the next question, "Does God have a voice?"

My dear friend and spiritual mentor Wilfredo suggests I rethink the statement above.  He says the following:

“What does it mean to gaze into God's eyes? Also, does God have a name? I think the question is a spiritual question, more than a physical one. It involves an act of imagination; perceiving God' eyes. The practice of gazing into God's eyes is merely a practical vehicle that at some time is disposable.  How about this as an alternative. It really is the same practice:”

In trying to discover your true identity,
Do not look out from yourself with your own eyes;

Replace your eyes with God's eyes and look out through them.
And you will know all that you need to know about God/yourself.

Now I am thinking about whether God has eyes, a voice, and a name. What else? Ears, fingers, arms, legs, toes...

If you/I were drawing God, what would God look like? Does God have a face?

The most reasonable answer for Christians is that God was made manifest in Jesus so we would have answers to these simple questions. But not everyone is a Christian, and I am a firm believer that God most certainly is far more than "Christian." God actually precedes Christianity, yes? God precedes humanity if I am to remember my catechism:

Question:

Who is God –

Answer:  God is the Supreme Being of All Things—God always was and always will be.

Nowhere have I read the answer to the question… What is God?

There are tons of websites on the topic of “God and Reality.”  One of my favorites, as it expresses the ideas of many theologians and spiritual beings is this one:

http://www.spaceandmotion.com/metaphysics-god-substance.htm

Here’s a thought on God from Albert Einstein:

I do not believe in a personal God and I have never denied this but have expressed it clearly. If something is in me which can be called religious then it is the unbounded admiration for the structure of the world so far as our science can reveal it. ... I believe in Spinoza's God who reveals himself in the orderly harmony of what exists, not in a God who concerns himself with the fates and actions of human beings.

Again I see the limitation of language… words to be exact;  Einstein calls God “he” and “himself.”

Another excellent website is: http://www.closertotruth.com/

Here, narrator and seeker, Robert Lawrence Kuhn says “To believe in God I need to understand God…” And he goes on a search far more intense than I have ever conceived I would do, though if given the means, I might.

Kuhn says, “Maybe doubt can be liberating… a passionate uncertainty.”

Other participants in the video called, “Does God Make Sense,” say these words:

Daniel Dennett, “There is no positive argument for the existence of God.”

Hossien Nasr, “God is infinite reality, beyond being, of which we cannot act or interact with…”

V.V. Raman, “God is not an entity but rather an experience… it doesn’t matter if we believe [in God] or not.”

Richard Swinburne, “God is like a personal being with infinite powers… not influenced by rational desires...”

Kuhn goes on to say that “If God exists in these ways, God would have built into our brains the capacity to simply believe [in God.]”

This seems a rather reasonable, logical answer, and it wouldn’t matter then if God were personal or not personal or had eyes or ears or a mouth to speak.  God would be in everything and in the nothing. 

Huston Smith, “Regarding God… what else makes sense?  No one has ever seen a thought, or a feeling…”

Now this last comment has me very intrigued and wondering… Does God exist as thought?  And if we all think of God as the essence of love and compassion, would that make this world or this life any different?

(I welcome your comments… and thoughts.)

Prayer

 

 

 

I remember being afraid of thunder storms as a child. I remember waking up in the middle of the night during one such barrage of noise and light that so frightened me I walked down the hallway to my mother's bedroom and stood by watching her sleep. Perhaps I thought I could think her awake. But she slept sound so I tapped her gently on the arm with my finger. I can still see her face look up at me with a start. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"I'm afraid of the thunder." I replied with little drama, as I have always been somewhat protective of my emotions and often give the impression of this uncanny calm person in the storm. This dry display on the outside has often lead therapists and doctors who are not intuitive to diagnose me as being perfectly fine when on the inside I might be raging. So, of course, my mother said to me, "Go back to bed and say a prayer and you will be fine."

And I did and I was.

I have another memory of being afraid of the dark and my mother coming in to sit with me by my bed. She said all I had to do was pray and I would not be afraid. She taught me a prayer about guardian angels who would watch over me. To this day, I still think of that moment during fearful times and find comfort in its reasoning and probability.

I don't know if the simple act of a child’s prayer has significance in my memory bank of being something that would always be successful, as it worked perfectly well those two nights, and probably many other nights of now forgotten childhood trauma and fear.   I came to understand that God was listening to me and I would be fine if I prayed.

The Catholics seem to have prayer categorized the most with petition prayers, prayers of absolution, tons of prayers for all kinds of occasions;  so many I won’t go into them.  I was raised Catholic and can still remember learning my prayers, especially the ones I needed to know when I went into that tall wooden box with the velvet curtain to tell the priest I had chewed gum at mass and lied to a nun.  “Say 5 Hail Mary’s, my child!”

Over the years I have studied various methods of prayer.  Centering prayer, Ignatius prayer, Lectio Divina, Walking Prayer, Chanting, Imaging, using art, music, and even sweat lodge prayers.  But I must say the most simple and efficient prayer for me consists of stopping what I’m doing and taking time to be with God.  Someone once said that all God wants from us at times is simply our presence.  We don’t have to pray or talk or even think.  I do believe that is probably the most perfect way of prayer.

And so I thank my mother for teaching me that simple act—that all I have to do is say a prayer and go back to sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

All Things Bright and Beautiful

“We Christians have no monopoly on the Holy Spirit:  All those who are led by the Spirit of God are [daughters and] sons of God. (Romans 8:14)  No wonder, then, that a Buddhist who is not afraid of the pain it brings to be truly alive—birth pain, growing pain—should recognize the Holy Spirit as the ultimate source of all aliveness.  The Spirit blows where she wills. (John 3:8)  And no wonder that alive Christians recognize their sisters and brothers in the Holy Spirit anywhere.”

These are the words written by Brother David Steindl-Rast, OSB, in the forward of the book called “Living Buddha, Living Christ,” written by Thich Nhat Hanh.

There is a Buddhist nun I met about 20 years ago named Jun-san Yasuda, who lives near the Grafton Peace Pagoda near Albany, NY.  She is from the Nipponzan Myohoji order whose life mission is to walk and pray for peace and social justice.  She has lead several walks for peace throughout the United States, and especially through New York State.

In 2010 Jun-san was preparing to walk for the Proliferation of Nuclear Arms and was especially interested in calling attention to Native American reservations being used to store arms.  She needed to get to Buffalo, NY to talk with the native chief and other Indian leaders.  She remembered I helped her when she did a similar peace walk to commemorate the anniversary of the Underground Railroad.  This time, she not only needed a ride but a place to stay the night before.  I said yes, come, Jun-san!  It’s what everyone generally says to this remarkable woman… yes!

One late afternoon in March this 62 year old Buddhist nun stood at my doorstep in her yellow and white robe and blessed my house with her prayer drum and chanted:   

Na-mu-myo-ho-ren-ge-kyo: "One Earth, one sky, entirely at peace."

I welcomed her into my home.  That evening we got to talk about her life and her dedication to peace and a nuclear free world.  I also asked her about her family, did she have brothers and sisters; what did her parents think of her vocation?  It was good to get to know this saint of a figure as another woman, like me, same age, same generation, same desires for peace and compassion in the world.

That night before she went to sleep she alerted me that she would be up very early to do some personal meditation and prayers and that I could join her when I got up.  She said she would burn incense and not to worry if it smelled like something was burning in the house.

Sometime after 5:00 a.m. I did smell a pungent smoke rise up the stairway and greet me in this unusual way.  I wanted to drift back to sleep.  The bed was warm.  The room was cold.  I closed my eyes and then heard the gentle tapping of the prayer drum.  I heard the chanting of her low voice, sweet and mysterious.  When I made my way down to the first floor of the house Jun-san was seated on her mat on the dining room floor facing the large window that looks out at the back gardens.  Incense was burning on the table.  She had a chair waiting for me.  She perhaps knew it was not easy for me to get up and down off the floor.  So I sat quietly beside her and listened and prayed at that very early hour… something I don’t usually do until later in the morning.

When Jun-san stopped, she turned to me and gave me her prayer drum and said, “Marie-san… you pray now.”

I was taken aback, though I kept my cool.  I could do this.  I’ve been working in the faith community over 25 years and have assisted in plenty of worship services. But honestly, I didn’t have a clue as to what to say.  I took the wooden prayer drum from her hands and held it in mine, tapping a similar rhythm .  I looked out the window at the sun starting to lighten the sky and thought how very spiritual this moment was.  I began to sing a Christian hymn I’ve known for many years; “All things bright and beautiful; all creatures great and small.  All things wise and wonderful; the Lord God made them all.” 

“We Christians have no monopoly on the Holy Spirit:  All those who are led by the Spirit of God are [daughters and] sons of God. The Spirit blows where she wills

(Hang it… drape it… wear it… let it flow in the wind…

Offering a white scarf--called a khata--is an ancient Tibetan tradition. The color symbolizes purity of intention and aspiration. It is an ancient custom to bring an offering when visiting a temple, shrine, guru, or teacher.

An ancient Tibetan adage says that giving and receiving go hand in hand, like breathing in and breathing out--it is an a universal karmic principle that the more you give, the more you receive, which should not necessarily be understood in material terms only. The khata is given at the start of any enterprise or relationship and indicates the good intentions of the person’s offering it.


The 8 symbols etched in the cloth are:


1. The conch -- sound of the Dharma teachings, and given to disciples; it awakens them and urges them to accomplish their own and others' welfare.
2. The umbrella-- protection from illness & harmful forces, and from obstacles of sufferings
3. The victory banner-- the victory of the Buddhist Doctrine over all harmful and pernicious forces.
4. The golden fish-- the auspiciousness of all living beings in a state of fearlessness, without danger of drowning in the ocean of sufferings, and migrating from place to place freely and spontaneously, just as fish swim freely without fear through water.
5. The golden wheel-- the turning of the precious wheel of Buddha's doctrine, both in its teachings and realizations, in all realms and at all times, enabling beings to experience the joy of wholesome deeds and liberation.
6. The auspicious drawing-- the mutual dependence of religious doctrine and secular affairs; the union of wisdom and method, the inseparability of emptiness and dependence arising at the time of enlightenment, the complete union of wisdom and great compassion.
7. The lotus flower-- the complete purification of the defilements of the body, speech and mind, and the full blossoming of wholesome deeds in blissful liberation.
8. The treasure vase-- an endless reign of long life, wealth and prosperity and all the benefits of this world and liberation.

I have begun the tradition of offering a white khata to my personal spirit-teachers, though most likely none of them would consider themselves teachers. And yet all we do in life, we do in the form of either teaching, or learning… pupil.

This is the cycle of our relationships with one another.

For the Love of August

What does it take to wake up to a sky this blue, a cloud this amazingly cirrus, just floating up above the second floor balcony where I stand and greet this day?

Well first, it takes getting out of bed. Sometimes it seems like all I need to do is put the pillow over my head to block out the light of day and stay put for a few more hours. But it's August. It's not December. And pretty soon December will come and it will get freezing-ass cold, and the snow and ice will freeze the limbs and grass and all things green and turn them steely white. So don't think about that right now. Think about August.



It's been a really hot summer, but today it's not bad. The breeze blows through the screen window and it's maybe 70 degrees. I can hear crows in the distance cawing about some catatrophie, maybe they are discussing politics or religion. It sure sounds like it. And I can hear the jay bird requesting his daily ration of peanuts. It's August.



Okay, take the pillow off my face, do a back stretch because now that you're over 60 you just can't jump out of bed anymore. Stand up, shake the dull aches off and drag your old body over to the balcony door. It's been open all night so the cat can stare at the locked contraption that let's him in and out and wonder why he can't push through the clear plastic and jump for that squeaky blue bird on the wire.



A day like today with the sky this blue and the whispy clouds make me know for sure there's a God around somewhere that knows how to use a paint brush. This is too spectacular to have just randomly occured, don't you think? I do.


It's August, and there are changes in the morning to watch for. There are changes in the afternoon that will creep right by you if you keep your face stuck in the computer monitor all day. There are changes in the early evening when the sun swings around and filters through the middle part of the tree branches. And then, that mystical moment at night, when the blue completely disappears, and out of the deep, velvet blackness comes those tiny briliant white stars blinking or just floating around up above your head. You know the constellations have moved. The Big Dipper is behind me now, and Cassiopeia it way off in the distance and the summer is on its way out. It's August.


Some people don't like change. They live in a warm climate and it stays pretty much hot all the time, or maybe they have a rainy season, but here, in this place, it's August. And this means wild and wonderful things are going to take place. It's going to change. Yeah, it's going to snow eventually, but not right away. August is going to do her gentle sensual shift of hips, swaying this way and that, sending a mysterious wind, a change of smells, a heightening of the harvest. And it will be magnificient! Just wait and see.


I have fallen in love with August.