God Calling

Tags

Benedictine, coming home, fear, frailty, heart, Hosea, living deeply, new life, return, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, Weston Priory

In the early 1970s the Benedictine monks of Weston Priory in Vermont began a music ministry that has enhanced the spiritual growth of innumerable people over the past half century. One of the most beloved of their early compositions that still appears in church hymnals and touches hearts of those who desire relationship with God, even while knowing human frailty, is Hosea. It is based on passages from the book of the prophet Hosea in the Hebrew Scriptures, which is one of the most tender texts in the Bible as it recounts the relationship of Hosea and his harlot wife, Gomer – a representation of God’s relationship with Israel.

Those words in this morning’s lectionary (HOS 2:16-22) float through my mind and call me back to the song. The music itself is full of longing while the words simply and directly present God’s desire for us. It sings in my heart this morning as I listen to it again on YouTube.

God calls: Come back to me with all your heart. Don’t let fear keep us apart. Trees do bend, though straight and tall. So must we to others’ call. Long have I waited for your coming home to me and living deeply our new life.

How can I resist?

 

 

 

 

 

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Take A Good Look

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blame, difference, faults, fear, Hearts on Fire, innocence, join, Prayer of Reconciliation, righteousness, separation, spirit, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, together

In the little book of Jesuit prayers entitled Hearts on Fire, I opened this morning at random to one called “Prayer of Reconciliation.” I was interested in what the prayer said about the mental process that can quickly lead to blame in our dealing with others as well as our judgment of their motivations. When we come from a place of difference or separation it becomes easy to denigrate the other while shoring up a skewed sense of our own innocence or righteousness. We would do well to carry a small mirror with us (if only a virtual one) to look into our own eyes and see the love that is God’s Spirit looking back at us before we judge another.

Lord Christ, help us to see what it is that joins us together, not what separates us. For when we see only what it is that makes us different, we too often become aware of what is wrong with others. We see only their faults and weaknesses, interpreting their actions as flowing from malice or hatred rather than fear. Even when confronted with evil, Lord, you forgave and sacrificed yourself rather than sought revenge. Teach us to do the same by the power of your Spirit. (William Breault, S.J.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Song of the Refugee

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courage, deliverance, fear, grief, prayer, protect, refugees, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

Today we are again tricked by the weather to think it’s still winter. All across the midsection of the country there is a band of snow that I thought was going to miss us. The weather maps tracked it clipping the southeastern end of our state. This morning reconfirms my conviction that the only certain way to tell the weather is to look out a window or walk outside.

The snow will only be a minor inconvenience here at our house. We have winter coats and boots and even someone who comes to plow our driveway, should it be necessary. I am, however, aware this morning of the plight of refugees who do not have such luxuries, nor any basic necessities. When they leave their homes (often walking), they leave everything they have known – even the security of the concept of “home.”

The lectionary psalm for today, Psalm 16, is entitled A Song of the Refugee in an alternate translation. As I read the words I could see the streams of people, forced to leave their homes in strife-torn countries, their faces lined with grief or fear or both, looking toward safety in places foreign to them. There are no “moving vans” accompanying them and no fast food restaurants along their way. They have virtually nothing to sustain them – except their faith in God and a hope of safety. As I pray this psalm for these brothers and sisters of ours, I pray as well for the courage to stand with them to find a solution to the crises that create this shame in our world and to be part of the solution. Hear them speak, if you will, in the psalmist’s words and join them in their hope of deliverance.

Protect me, Lord, for I have fled, a refugee, to you and as I fled, I said, “Lord, you are my God; I have no other God but you…Let me offer up the cup of life for you to fill, and hold my life in yours as I hold you…I am here to listen to your counsel, Lord, your inner teachings of the heart…You take my hand in yours and hold me up…This body-mind, this spirit, all are yours, and each part finds a place to rest in you…From birth to death you are the path I walk upon.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Why Not Ask for Help?

Tags

fear, God, help, Jesus, John, psalm 46, refuge, strength, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, trust

There is such a strong message in the lectionary readings today of the necessity of trust – and reasons to do so even when our patience is wearing thin. It is the psalm that shakes me awake right at the beginning, declaring: God is our refuge and our strength, an ever present help in distress. Therefore, we fear not, though the earth be shaken and mountains plunge into the depths of the sea. (Ps. 46:2-3)

What follows in the gospel is the reminder to never give up. It’s the story of the man who was ill for a long time – waiting 38 years at the healing pool of Bethesda for help. (JN 5:1-16) I always have trouble with that gospel passage because it seems to me unconscionable that there is no one who notices this man who needs help. I try to see that there might be more to the story when Jesus arrives and asks him “Do you want to be well?” That makes me wonder if something more than his physical infirmity is keeping him from the pool. Maybe he just needs to admit his need for help or to trust the help that is available to him. It’s interesting that he doesn’t answer Jesus with a resounding “YES!” as do all the others in the gospels to whom Jesus puts that question. What he does say is that there is no one to help him. So Jesus does.

The message I see here is that God is always at the ready – no matter what – if we don’t give up and if we are willing to speak our needs. The example (38 years!) seems extreme but perhaps some of us need all that time to wake up and/or give in totally.

Then there’s the second half of the story that opens up several more questions, but that’s a conversation for another day…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What’s In Your Bowl?

Tags

A Deep Breath of Life, Alan Cohen, consciousness, enlightenment, fear, guilt, happiness, health, light, spiritual tradition, success, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, unworthiness, wisdom

It seems that the theme of light is meant to continue here for at least one more day. In Alan Cohen’s book, A Deep Breath of Life, just the title for this morning’s daily reflection got me curious. “Rocks or Light?” it asked. He was talking about the Hawaiian spiritual tradition that every child born into this world is like a “bowl of light” containing the radiance of heaven. The theory is that if rocks – like fear, guilt and unworthiness – are placed into the bowl, the original brilliance is obscured. The more rocks in the bowl, the less light we shine. Cohen’s comments are very similar to yesterday’s Scripture readings. (I love it when serendipity like this happens to support my conclusions!) Here’s a little of what Cohen offers.

The game of enlightenment is not about going out and getting something we do not have or becoming something we are not. We are already enlightened; we have simply covered over our wisdom. We started out fine; then we got de-fined; now we must be re-fined.

Health, happiness and success are our birthright and we carry all we need within us to manifest all the good we seek. But first we must remove everything from our consciousness that works against the full expression of what we are.

What rocks are in your bowl?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fear vs. Love

Tags

A Deep Breath of Life, Alan Cohen, connected, creative, darkness, epiphany, fear, great, love, powerless, shine a light, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

January 6 is the traditional feast of the Epiphany but the liturgical calendar – like the “secular” one – is now fond of moving feasts to a more convenient time, in this case a Sunday. So more about that tomorrow. For now I want to borrow a message from Alan Cohen’s book, A Deep Breath of Life, that seems to me a good reflection on how to proceed in this new year.

Fear tells us that we are small, powerless and separate. Love affirms that we are great, creative, and connected. Which voice do you choose to be your guide?

The way to dissolve a limit is to step right up to it and look it in the eye. When we shine the light on the darkness, we see that the thing we ran from had power over us only as long as we kept it at a distance. When we face what frightens us, we discover that we are bigger than it is. We can do anything we choose; we were not born to live in fear, but in love.

Sometimes all it takes is a step toward a trusted friend who will listen to us. If that seems too difficult, I suggest starting with food – no kidding. Eat a vegetable that you’ve never tried that you can’t imagine liking. Even if you find it distasteful, you probably won’t die from it! (If you already love every vegetable available, try some tofu or guacamole: something foreign to your taste buds). Then stand up and walk a short distance, imagining that you are on the edge of a precipice. Don’t look at your feet; just feel each step and know that you will be able to keep walking without falling over the edge. When you’ve concluded those two exercises, find your friend and give her/him the privilege of listening to you!

Coincidentally, you will probably come to understand the meaning of the word epiphany!

 

 

 

 

 

 

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?

 

 

 

 

Fear

Tags

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

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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.