Friday, May 5, 2017

We Are the Easter People

           John Paul II wrote:  “Do not abandon yourselves to despair.                                        We are the Easter people.”
An Easter person is someone who believes it is possible to rise up from any enormous tragedy, to be transformed, and courageously continue the journey. It doesn’t matter what religion you profess, or even if you don’t believe in the mystery of Easter. If you can recognize that it is possible each one of us can rise up from a miserable situation and be transformed, than you are an Easter person.
But what if the situation is so bad and so horrendous you can’t see the end of suffering or find hope in what seems to be a collapsing situation? I recently sat with a young client whose life has been one miserable event after another and who feels despondent about it, as well as about the political climate in our country. 
As a spiritual director I sit and listen with compassion and an open heart. And I have to fight my desire to want to fix things and make people happy again. I do not have the power or the insight to know how to fix people or political corruption. 
I held my client’s hands and prayed for something good to come, to ease her burden. I believed it would come. And when I said “amen,” she gave a little cynical snort and we both laughed. I said, “Would you have rather I prayed in cynical snorts?” And then I snorted several times more and said “amen.”  We both laughed again. We hugged and said goodbye, and I was sure that she felt a bit better.  

Have you ever been in a situation that was so miserable it overwhelmed and tired you out, and all you could do was just sit back and laugh about it? Well it’s in that moment afterwards—when you stop laughing, or crying, or whatever defeatist emotion rises up--it's when you take in your next breath, stand back up and start over again, that you become an Easter person.  

Wednesday, March 1, 2017

Taking some of us into the season of Lent.


Following is excerpts from an online article by Christine Valtners Paintner
The kind of fast drawing me this season isn’t leaving behind of treats like chocolate or other pleasures. This season I am being invited to fast from things like “ego-grasping” and noticing when I so desperately want to be in control, and then yielding myself to a greater wisdom than my own.
I am called to fast from being strong and always trying to hold it all together, and instead embrace the profound grace that comes through my vulnerability and tenderness, to allow a great softening this season.
I am called to fast from anxiety and the endless torrent of thoughts which rise up in my mind to paralyze me with fear of the future, and enter into the radical trust in the abundance at the heart of things, rather than scarcity.
I am called to fast from speed and rushing through my life, causing me to miss the grace shimmering right here in this holy pause.
I am called to fast from multitasking and the destructive energy of inattentiveness to any one thing, so that I get many things done, but none of them well, and none of them nourishing to me. Instead my practice will become a beholding of each thing, each person, each moment.
I am called to fast from endless list-making and too many deadlines, and enter into the quiet and listen for what is ripening and unfolding, what is ready to be born.
I am called to fast from certainty and trust in the great mystery of things.
And then perhaps, I will arrive at Easter and realize those things from which I have fasted, I no longer need to take back on again. I will experience a different kind of rising.
Online at: Abbey of the Arts - http://abbeyofthearts.com/ 

Tuesday, January 17, 2017

Lifted




Imagine being on a train traveling at a constant speed—it never slows down or stops, 
and there is no way you can get off. This train is continuously bringing you closer 
and closer to the end of your life. Try to really get a sense of this, and check what 
thoughts and feelings arise in your mind. 

Article in Spirituality & Health -- 

"How to get really good at dying" 


Painting is called "Lifted", by me.

Friday, December 30, 2016

What Is Hidden Is Never Lost



Hanukkah has come and almost gone this year.  Locally, I have heard and read very little in our media about this Jewish holiday.  In past years there has been a picture of a menorah on the first day of the holiday as a banner in our local newspaper, and the T.V.  news would feature a segment each night of a large public menorah being lit during the eight days of remembrance.  But here we are on the second to the last day and I see nothing. 

Perhaps this holiday seems absent from me because I’m Christian.  I light our Advent candles, one for the four weeks leading up to Christmas, (a time of waiting and remembering), and then the Christ candle on the 25th of December for the birth of Jesus. 

If I were Jewish I would light a menorah-- one candle each night for 8 days.  When the Jewish people regained their temple from the Syrian army, all the oil for the lamps had been destroyed except for enough for one day.  But that lamp burned for 8 days, which gave them time to make more oil.  This was a sign from God and it is remembered annually during Hanukkah, which means “to dedicate” ( "חנך").

These two traditions blend with a similar kind of ritual of lighting candles, waiting, and remembering.  

So with two days left of Hanukkah, I decided to find the old dreidel (spinning top) is kept in the front room drawer.  (I don’t know where it came from and rarely take it out.) It’s a Hanukkah game and it’s played like this:

The four sides of the top bear four Hebrew letters: nun, gimmel, hey, and shin. Players begin by putting into a central pot or “kitty” a certain number of coins, chocolate money known as gelt, nuts, buttons or other small objects. Each player in turn spins the dreidel and proceeds as follows:
  • nun – take nothing;
  • gimmel – take everything;
  • hey – take half;
  • shin – put one in.


The letters on the dreidel are reinterpreted to stand for the first letter of each word in the Hebrew statement “Neis gadol hayah sham,” which means “A great miracle happened there”.

In my online research I found an excellent article by Rabbi Eliyahu Safran where he writes, “Dreidels are my talisman, my touchstone. They reassure me in the most innocent and delightful way that our miracles will continue.”  

What is hidden is never lost.  Remember the candles and remember the light from them.
Here is Rabbi Safran’s story:


Wednesday, November 23, 2016

Thankfulness in Crisis





I recently received a meditation from Rabbi Brian (Religion Outside-the-Box) called “What I’ve Learned in a Week.”  He was referring to election week and he offers five thoughts:

            1 – Disappointment hits hard.           
            2 – The best way to console someone who is bereft is to sit with them (or yourself) in silence.
            3 – You don't get to choose the crisis that will transform your life.
            4 – Continue to live your morals, your kindness, your faith and your hope. 
            5 – Be there for others.

It was the 3rd statement that I was most drawn to: 
                       
I don’t get to choose the crisis that will transform my life.


I do have to live through the crisis. I have to get up each morning and make the best of things that I have been given.  Although I may be disappointed and heartbroken, I have to continue living my morals, my kindness, my faith and my hope.  I have to be there for others who may be feeling the same way.  And one more thing, I have to be understanding of those who do not feel the crisis or do not believe they are affected by it.  It is in rising to this last task that the crisis will be given the opportunity to transform my life.  And for that, I will be thankful.  

Friday, October 7, 2016

What I Said: What He Said --Thinking About Kneeling

 
 There’s been a lot of controversy over some people kneeling during our national anthem. We all have opinions about it. I think for the most part, we all love God and Country. When the youth soccer team from World of Inquiry School here in Rochester, NY knelt during the national anthem before their game, I saw it as a statement of solidarity and remembrance, I believe, for the many young black youth who have died during police encounters. After that act of civil disobedience I wrote this letter to the editor:

I do not agree with people who say that kneeling during our national anthem is an act of disrespect. As someone who has worked in the religious community for over 30 years, I have always found kneeling to be an act of humility and utmost respect. Perhaps if more of us knelt than complained about those making a peaceful statement, there might be more understanding of what it means to be marginalized and victimized in a country where the nation’s flag represents “one nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.”

Of course, those people who have a similar opinion to me, agreed with my words. Also, after hearing Evan Dawson on NPR interviewing the local soccer team, I understood that their kneeling meant they “were not going to stand for it” anymore; "  "It” meaning violence, discrimination and abuse. 

 Due to the efficiency of our digital technology, the very next day the newspaper posted another letter to the editor with a slightly different opinion that is a rebuttal to my letter. This is that letter:

A writer on Oct. 6, referencing her religious background, defended kneeling during the national anthem as an act of “utmost respect.” I understand that kneeling during some religious rites is the expected protocol, but it is not the established anthem protocol. I wonder what her reaction would be if most worshipers in her church knelt at the appropriate time, and others chose to stand with their hands over their hearts. As guidance, perhaps she would accept the recommendation of a famous religious figure: “Render therefore unto Caesar the things which are Caesar’s and unto God the things that are God’s. (Matthew 22.21)

I found the letter amusing, as most people in my church do stand to pray. And I respect his point of view, although he did not address the issue of violence, discrimination and abuse. Perhaps if we remove all the talk about God and religious beliefs, we can take an objective, (or honest) look at what it means to kneel before something. It’s not always an act of humility and respect. Sometimes people are forced to kneel, like before kings and queens or figures of authorities that dictate over other people’s lives. People kneel before executions in some parts of the world. And yes, we kneel when we are in awe of something greater than ourselves, whether it is a good thing or a fearful thing. But obviously, we are used to seeing people stand, not kneel, during moments of civil protests, which seems to be drawing extensive attention, as it should.

During the NPR radio interview there were callers who commented that these young people did not have the experience in their lives to make a judgment statement by this act of disobedience. Most of these callers were veterans, and/or people my age (maybe your age, too) that have lived through wars and famine and many other kinds of terrible life experiences. To that statement one young man on the soccer team stated his experiences of being black in a white world.

In some ways, our young African Americans are living the lives of their ancestors in these contemporary times, yet in more subversive and insidious ways. We can say life has gotten better for people of color, and yet, the mere act of high school students kneeling to make a statement, shows that things are no better for black lives than when the generation of the 60’s protested by marching in Birmingham or laying down in the streets to call attention to discrimination.

I am very proud of these young students who chose a non-violent way to protest. And I too, can find plenty of quotes in scripture that defend my position in this matter. Many of you know them: the Beatitudes, the Ten Commandments, Isaiah, Micah—we all have our favorite scripture. But what comes to my mind is a quote from Mahatma Gandhi, revered leader in the Indian revolution to independence, and one who inspired the non-violent movement for civil rights. His most famous quote is, “We must be the change we want to see in the world.” 

Here's another quote by Gandhi that is lesser known that speaks to these young men and their act of kneeling in protest: There is a higher court than courts of justice and that is the court of conscience. It supersedes all other courts.




Monday, August 15, 2016

A Lesson in Blowing Away

                                       


Here’s what I’m working on:  Learning to accept people where they are and not where I want them to be, and then learning to accept who they are and not who I want them to be.  Can you grasp that thought? 

I generally pride myself at being a good listener, and bending with the winds of communication.  But every now and then, I lose.  It’s a bit heartbreaking actually.  It’s like not being able to hold onto someone’s hand during a hurricane and they get blown away.  Or maybe I’m the one who’s blown away… lost in a windstorm of translation.

“I thought you said…”

“No, I didn’t say that.”

“Why don’t you talk to me?”

“You don’t understand.”

“Give me a chance.”

“There is no time left.”


“We’ve been blown away. . .”


 (Blown Away - M. Gibson oil on canvas, 2011)