Shifting the Lens

Tags

change, comfort, daily practice, fear, feelings, grace, gratefulness, gratitude, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

I had a very serious and heartfelt conversation yesterday with someone whose life partner is dying. We spoke of many things. While the main and most important topic, of course, was constellated around fears about change and how to let go of this precious life together that has lasted so long, we also talked about how to face everything in the best way possible which included being honest about feelings and reactions, not skirting anything but facing things head-on with as much grace as possible. And then we spoke of gratitude. We came to the conclusion that the best way to proceed was to make it a daily practice to be thankful for one thing in their life together – great or small, no matter – and to share a conversation about the detail.

The recognition of the need to be intentional and resolute about such a practice brought a glimmer of light into the situation and a determination to focus on and talk about the gratefulness that is certainly at the heart of the relationship. Will this practice erase the pain in the experience of letting go that is upon these two loving and loved ones? Certainly not. I have a hope that it will shift things a bit, however, and serve to comfort my friend in the days to come.

Thinking about all that made me conscious that the above practice would be something worth adopting in any of our relationships – not just in a time of impending death. Why not start taking one precious person at a time – or the one person we most need to attend to on a daily basis – and share with him/her/them each day a reason for your gratitude. What have we got to lose? Even more to the point: what might we gain from the practice?

 

 

 

 

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Fear

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be not afraid, curious, end of life, fear, Hafiz, human, Meg Wheatley, perseverance, positive, present, spiritual tradition, Sufi, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

As often happens lately on Friday mornings, I sit down to write and wonder where the week went. Time seems to pass more quickly as we get older. People have told me that for years and I accepted it but now I know it from the inside. As a consequence of that thought, next comes a wondering about the stretch of life before me. How long will I be here? What will be my experiences, accomplishments, abilities? Will I maintain the health I have been blessed with? How will I face the end of my life?

To be honest, I rarely worry about the answers to those questions, primarily because I am trying to live in the present and because I trust that, whatever happens, divine grace will accompany me. I raise the topic today because of conversations I have had with older friends and with frequent reports of accidents and illnesses of others. As well, I opened Meg Wheatley’s book, Perseverance, this morning at random and the page that stared back at me was a reflection entitled Fear.

Normally I would shy away from talking about what are considered negative emotions because I prefer to stay in a positive mode of thinking, yet given the state of our country and my awareness of all the fear that is manifesting in personal and communal encounters lately I decided to read Wheatley’s comments and pass on what I found to be of value. As usual, I could just copy the entire entry – Meg Wheatley has a way of making good sense – but even the first few lines will do, I think. She says:

Fear is just part of human life. It’s so common that every great spiritual tradition includes the injunction: “Be not afraid.” If fear is this fundamental to being human, we can expect that we’ll feel afraid at times, perhaps even frequently. Yet when fear appears, we don’t have to worry that we’ve failed, or take it as a sign that we’re not as good as other people. In fact, we’re just like other people. Fear is simple evidence that we’re human. What’s important to decide is what to do with our fear…(p. 71)

The author suggests moving toward our fear, being curious about it, not asking why we’re afraid but rather investigating the feeling itself which can often dissipate the strength of the emotion in the process. Whether or not this is the way to proceed, my intent was simply to bring the topic to our consciousness for examination in our own lives, having been reminded that fear is, in fact, just part of living on earth. To conclude, I do want to add the quote that is a standard feature of every topic in Wheatley’s book, this one a short word from the 14th century Sufi poet Hafiz. It made me smile. He says:

Fear is the cheapest room in the house. I would like to see you living in better conditions.

 

 

 

 

 

 

After the Rain

Tags

balance, companion, fear, flooding, God, mercy, Nan Merrill, possibility, psalm 25, rain, reflect, restored, shining, soul, steadfast love, sun, teach, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, thunder, trust, wake up

It’s been raining – torrents and thunder-filled sometimes – for the past three days. Yesterday it was if the divine weatherman was playing with us. Drenching downpours were followed by moments of sun peeking out of big gray clouds – then rain again…Even this morning the deck behind our house is puddle-strewn. I look out at the trees, rain soaked as well, but shining now in full sun. What a relief! I never mind the rain but when we begin to hear of flooding streams I know it’s all too much for the farmers and I pray for the balance to be restored. So today it feels as if God is saying, “Wake up! All your sluggishness is washed away! New possibilities await you!” and I sing a response with the psalmist in a translation by Nan Merrill.

To You, O Love, I lift up my soul; O Heart within my heart, in You I place my trust. Let me not feel unworthy; let not fear rule over me. Yes! let all who open their hearts savor You and bless the earth!…Lead me in your truth, and teach me, for through You will I know wholeness; I shall reflect your light both day and night. I know of your mercy, Compassionate One, and of your steadfast love. You have been with me from the beginning. Forgive the many times I have walked away from You choosing to walk alone. With your steadfast love, once again, companion me along your way. (Psalms for Praying, PS. 25)

 

 

 

 

 

Between the Times

Tags

Acts of the Apostles, Ascension, crucifixion, Father, fear, John, Lectionary, Pentecost, pray, resurrection, Son, Spirit of God, The Great Commission, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

The lectionary readings for this seventh Sunday of Easter find us between an ending and a new beginning and we, in the same manner as the disciples, need to be willing to sit in this empty space, reflecting on what has been and waiting for the movement of the Spirit to call us once again to a courageous future.

In the first reading (Acts 1: 12-14) we find the apostles trudging back to Jerusalem after having received “the Great Commission” from Jesus. He had finished his mission and passed on to them what was now theirs to do: to go out to the world and teach what he had first taught them. So today they are together again as they were after the Crucifixion and Resurrection of Jesus. Was it the same “upper room” where they had huddled in fear for their lives? What were they feeling now? Fearful still, perhaps, without the certainty now that they would be safe going forward. Bereft, most likely, because they were again without the presence of Jesus for their strength. But at least they were together in the company of those who had experienced Jesus in what we would certainly call a privileged way. And together they were praying for the Spirit of God to come and reveal to them the manner in which they were to fulfill their mission.

In the gospel for today we have a glimpse of this ending from the perspective of Jesus. John’s Gospel (17: 1-11) could seem like a son reporting to his father his completion of a project – for school, maybe – by recounting all the steps he had taken and how successful the whole enterprise had been. This scene, however, was much more. Jesus was just on the cusp of leaving those he loved, that small band of followers who had listened to him, learned from him, supported him and sometimes disappointed him, but loved him enough to stay with him through death to new life. His care for and pride in these beloved ones is clear in his recounting to God. Consider your feelings if you had overheard Jesus saying to God: They belonged to you and you gave them to me, and they have kept your word…I pray for them. What a validation of their discipleship! Moreover, these lines seem to express a deep tenderness in which Jesus holds those he called his friends.

Let us take some time in these days between the feasts of the Ascension and Pentecost to sit in this space of emptiness, preparing for a renewed outpouring of the Spirit in our lives and remembering that Jesus promises to us as he did his disciples: I am with you always, until the end of the age.

Sparks of Possibility

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abundance, capacity, context, fear, fire, igniting force, infinite, kindling, Passion, possibility, scarcity, spark, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, universe

Quotes from Pendle Hill: Today’s quote comes from The Art of Possibility by Rosamund Stone Zander and Benjamin Zander.

In the middle ages, when lighting a fire from scratch was an arduous process, people often carried about a metal box containing a smoldering cinder, kept alight throughout the day with little bits of kindling. This meant that a man could light a fire with ease wherever he went, because he always carried the spark. But our universe is alive with sparks. We have at our fingertips an infinite capacity to light a spark of possibility. Passion, rather than fear, is the igniting force. Abundance, rather than scarcity, is the context.

The “In Group”

Tags

disciples, do not be afraid, fear, gossip, James, Jesus, John, Luke, Mark, Matthew, Peter, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, transfiguration

The gospel for today is Matthew’s version of the Transfiguration of Jesus on the mountain. I understand the desire of Jesus to take time away in a quiet place to be alone as it seems he often did. I might have chosen the Sea of Galilee as my getaway, but the hills might have been a better bet for Jesus as a total escape from people. One could wonder why on this particular day he chose to take Peter, James and John with him. Did he know what was going to happen? Was he afraid he would need help if the depth of experience got too intense? Or did he just have a desire to have some quiet time with less than a dozen companions?

The Transfiguration story appears in all three of the synoptic gospels (Matthew, Mark and Luke) and the accounts differ only slightly. As usual, Peter jumps right in with a suggestion that they stay (forever?) on the mountain. He’s willing to erect shelters for Jesus and his guests, Moses and Elijah, so the vision must have presented those ancestors in a decidedly dense way. (How did Peter recognize who they were?) The disciples didn’t seem too shaken by all this – even the fact that Jesus was appearing in an altered state, until they heard the voice of God telling them to pay attention to Jesus, God’s Beloved. It was then that they fell prostrate in fear so that Jesus had to come and touch them (so they could tell they were still alive?) and tell them not to be afraid. At that point the event was ended and everything returned to “normal.”

I often think about the stricture Jesus put on the disciples on the way down the mountain, telling them not to share what they had seen with anyone. I wonder how difficult that knowing was for them and if/how it changed their lives. Did they feel more protective of Jesus? Did this experience make them wonder more deeply about his experiences when he left them to pray? Did their dreams of greatness as the ones closest to the Messiah increase? Or were they confused and bothered by the statement at the end of this text that says: As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus charged them, “Do not tell the vision to anyone until the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.”

This is all conjecture, of course, and we know that the gospels were not written down until years after the events happened so the writers had a post-Resurrection understanding by that time. My point in all this is – as usual – to look for application to our own lives. Sometimes it isn’t easy to keep the confidences with which people trust us, especially if the news is something sensational or a “tidbit” that others would love to know. We live in a world where gossip reigns and it is difficult to tell truth from fiction sometimes. If I had been one of the favored apostles on that mountain, would I have been able to hold my tongue and thereby protect Jesus – even if I wanted to share what I saw as an event that showed how amazing Jesus was? How difficult would it have been for me to come down that mountain and not go to any of the other nine to share the story? How would my relationship with someone change if I learned of some ability (or disability) that made them more (or less) acceptable to others? So many questions…so much to ask myself, looking for the deepest motivations and clearest truths of my heart, hoping for the touch of Jesus that says, “Do not be afraid.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Come Away”

Tags

come away, courage, dancing, deep reflection, evil, fear, fearless, Hebrew Scriptures, Psalm 23, spiritual practices, stillness, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, Wisdom School

“Even though I walk in the dark valley, I fear no evil, for you are at my side. With your rod and your staff you give me courage.”

These words from Psalm 23, probably the best known of all the psalms in the Hebrew Scriptures, jumped out at me this morning. Then I read that Jesus called his apostles to come away from the crush of the crowds “to a deserted place” for some rest – most likely, for a chance to gain some clarity and reassess what was happening so as to refuel for the re-entry into the ministry that was theirs.

Having arrived in Stonington, Maine yesterday to the shared joy of being with a dozen colleagues whose presence I have enjoyed variously at different “wisdom schools” over the past ten years, I am aware of a similar call to “come away” for fearless and deep reflection on our call to meet the challenges in our country today. Our work will be rigorous and internal, but work it will surely be. Perhaps the outcome will be so subtle as to go undetected by “the crowds” but we will surely be more committed to our spiritual practices and more certain that there is a way forward, although its evolution may still be in seed, thereby impossible to comprehend.

This message itself may be similarly “impossible to comprehend” but I am reminded of a quote on a card that has been in my small treasure box for decades. It says: In the stillness is the dancing, and this morning, that is enough for me to know.

Gatherings Large and Small

Tags

courage, fear, psalm 27, salvation, stouthearted, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, unifying light, wait for the Lord, womens march

In the past 48 hours we have seen in person, on television, the internet or in newspapers a number of very large gatherings of committed people. Some participants simply support the democratic process of the transfer of political power in the United States but the majority were present on Friday and yesterday to raise their voices for or against our new president. We remain a deeply divided country in this way.

Yesterday I was privileged to spend my time with eleven women committed to their spiritual growth, regardless of their political leanings. They chose to come to our event at Genesis Retreat and Conference Center in Westfield, Massachusetts where our exploration centered around “The Wisdom Way of Knowing.” Our goal was consciousness and how we can move toward unity of heart and practice.

I was reminded of this experience by today’s the first reading and the gospel where Jesus repeated Isaiah’s words that the people who walked in darkness have seen a great light. And between those two voices Paul chimed in with words to the Corinthians with his usual vigor: I urge you that there be no divisions among you! But it is in Psalm 27 that I clearly saw a method of movement toward this unifying light. The psalmist declares:

The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom should I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life; of whom should I be afraid? One thing I ask of the Lord; this I seek, to dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life. Wait for the Lord with courage. Be stouthearted and wait for the Lord.

With these thoughts I begin this new season of our collective life in these United States in the hope that we will move forward with respect and determination to be of good will and openness to all that we encounter. May God bless us all!

Darkness and Light

Tags

bounty, courage, darkness, fear, grace, home, Isaiah, light, love, presence, psalm 27, sacred place, salvation, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, wait for the Lord

For the first time in over a week, I awoke this morning in darkness. It was 5:50AM and although it was only the light on my phone that allowed me that information, sleep had already fled and it seemed I was being called to pay attention. So here I am awash in thoughts of light and darkness, blindness and sight. Isaiah 29 promises today that out of gloom and darkness, the eyes of the blind shall see while Psalm 27 hurls into the dark a declaration in answer to – perhaps – our own question: The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom should I fear? The psalmist goes on in confidence attesting to the belief that he shall see the bounty of the Lord in the land of the living and urging us to wait for the Lord with courage; be stouthearted and wait for the Lord. Matthew’s Jesus cures two blind men and I begin to wonder why he warned them (sternly, the story says) to see that no one knows about this – a directive that they totally ignore. Perhaps there is some deep value here about holding things in our hearts.

So what is it that I am to see today and how will I come to know the happening? I needn’t work to produce the dawn; it comes of its own accord (as it now has while I’ve been writing). I couldn’t make it happen anyway. All I can do, it seems, is notice: see it and know a truth about the ways of time and light. Sensing all that, I turn back to a lovely translation of Psalm 27 that matches the desire that woke me and moves me forward today.

There’s only this one thing I ask of you, one thing for which I care, that your own dwelling place becomes a home for me; each day, each night, I shelter there. For in that place I see the brilliance and the beauty of your face; all this, enough for me, is temple, mountain, highest ground, and there I come to seek and know your grace, your love. For in these troubled times I come to you to find a place to hide away, your light a tent that covers all. Your presence is the highest pinnacle of rock on which to stand, beyond this storm. For there you raise my head and lift my eyes to you above my enemies round about and unafraid. And in this sacred place I give my being back to you… (Ps. 27:4-8a – with apologies to Lynn Bauman for my formatting)

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Choice Is Ours

Tags

chaos, choose, Divine Light, fear, humanity, Joyce Rupp, listen, love, Psalm 145, Psalms for Praying: An Invitation to Wholeness, spiritual eyes, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, trust, wholeness

In her book Psalms for Praying: An Invitation to Wholeness, Joyce Rupp has a stunningly beautiful rendering of today’s lectionary psalm (145) that seems quite apt for our time. Let it be our prayer and hope for this day.

Divine Light shines in those who live in Love. I shall uphold all who are burdened with fear, and raise up all who call to Me. The time is nigh for you to choose, for great is the new dawn that fast approaches; I call each of you to open your inner ears, to see with spiritual eyes, and to trust that even amidst the outward chaos, all is working toward the wholeness of humanity.

*CORRECTION: 10/27/16: Although I was holding the book Psalms for Praying in my lap as I wrote yesterday, I inadvertently noted the author as Joyce Rupp, whose writings I admire greatly. The author of the above quote is really Nan Merrill.