Definitional Distinction

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compassion, guilt, light, Meg Wheatley, perseverance, regret, see clearly, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

Most people who know me are aware of my fondness for words – not that I prefer talking to silence, but I’m always interested in nuances and things making sense. This morning I read a page from Meg Wheatley’s book, Perseverance, that gave me pause and seems worth repeating. Her concluding paragraph is especially helpful for a Saturday of looking back to the past week and forward to the next.

There’s a fundamental distinction between guilt and regret. Guilt turns us inward, creating a cauldron of self-hatred that destroys us. People never act wisely from guilt – the intensity of emotions prevents discernment and right action.

Regret, on the other hand, does not disable us. It gives us the capacity to see clearly, to clarify our future, to change. We can vow not to repeat our mistakes, we can pay attention to what we’ve learned, we can focus our heart and mind on not causing harm again. We can develop greater insight into who we are, and move forward to become who we would like to be.

If guilt and shame are driving us inward, hopefully we can notice this direction and choose, even for a moment, to look outward. If we look out into the world, we will notice that millions of other people are, at this very moment, experiencing the same terrible feelings.

We can use this time of feeling badly about ourself to get beyond our self, and connect with all those other humans with whom we share this dark kinship. If our hearts open to them, what enters us is not more darkness, but the light of compassion. (p. 87)

What’s In Your Bowl?

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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?

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Weight of Evidence

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condemn, discernment, guilt, innocence, Jesus, John, judge, judgment, justice, law, Nicodemus, Pharisees, psalm 7, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

Both the psalm and the gospel in this morning’s lectionary remind me of a basic principle of law in the United States of America, i.e. “innocent until proven guilty.” We are still in chapter 7 of John’s gospel where people are divided about Jesus. As yesterday, they are convinced he cannot be the messiah because he comes from Galilee but the guards say to the authorities, “No one has ever spoken like this man!” The Pharisees are still resistant asking, “Have any of the authorities or the Pharisees believed in him?” (as if position alone yields probity.) It is Nicodemus that enters then and asks my question: “Does our law condemn a man before it first hears him and finds out what he is doing?” Would that this question always be raised at moments of personal and/or public judging in our lives!

The psalmist turns the job of judging over to God, as in psalm 7 he cries out: Judge us, judge me, judge everything and all that’s in your care. Weigh me on the scale of innocence, according to your law, and as you establish justice, bring evil to an end. For this I know, you are the source of justice done, the fairest judge of all. You know what’s in the human heart to the very secrets of the soul. You are also the great protecting one, you shield the good, defending all that’s true. (vs. 8-11)

The faculty of judgment in the manner of discernment is essential to our lives in assessing what is beneficial and what is not – from what we ought to eat, to wear, to spend our money on, etc. When judging moves into the public arena, however, where we begin to assess the intelligence, worthiness of respect, good character – or any other quality – of another person or the rightness in a situation, we ought to be sure we have spent the time and energy it takes to really make an informed judgment. And, in truth, we would be better off leaving that kind of judgment to God, letting love be the measure of our lives. I will try today to notice how quickly I move to judgment in my thoughts throughout the day and I will try to keep those thoughts to myself for the benefit of all!

Have Mercy On Me, O God!

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acceptance, acknowledgment, contrition, David and Bathsheba, evil, forgiveness, grace, guilt, just, personal sin, Pope Francis, psalm 51, recognition, relationship with God, repentance, Samuel, sinfulness, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, Year of Mercy

Yesterday I was having a conversation about sin – not sins but sin, as in “the sin of the world” or “social sin.” It’s much easier to look at it that way, not so difficult then to exclude myself from the topic rather than talking about my personal sin and guilt. Today, however, I could not avoid such a “close encounter” in the face of the story about David and Bathsheba. (2 SM 11:1-17) David’s actions of adultery and the subsequent plotting the death of Uriah when his attempts to hide Bathsheba’s pregnancy from her husband had failed sound like a modern movie plot! This from God’s chosen one, the king of Israel, the one whose reign was to last forever through his descendants!

Most of us know our own sinfulness and try to hide our shadow side from others for fear that we would be abandoned if anyone “really knew me.” David’s story gives us opportunity for a different way to proceed. It comes in a series of steps: recognition, acknowledgment, contrition, repentance, forgiveness and finally acceptance – all of which come in his relationship with God. His waking up to the seriousness of his sin came at the death of the child born of his liaison with Bathsheba but that recognition was so deeply felt not only by the loss but also because of his great love for God and the knowledge that he had severely damaged that covenant. Thus, his sorrow matched his guilt as he sang, “I have done such evil in your sight that you are just in your sentence…Let me hear the sounds of joy and gladness; the bones you have crushed shall rejoice. Turn away your face from my sins and blot out all my guilt!” (PS 51) It is because of the depth of relationship that David could come to trust God’s forgiveness. Still cognizant of the enormity of what he had done, David was then able to accept himself and let go of his guilt to live into God’s welcoming embrace. I am confident that we are called to the same willingness in the face of our sin.

Serendipitously as I was pondering all this, my eye fell on a quote that seems apt for both this reflection and this “Year of Mercy.” Pope Francis writes that the Church is commissioned to announce the mercy of God, the beating heart of the gospel, which in its own way must penetrate the heart and mind of every person. Having received the grace and ability to acknowledge our own sins, may we be moved to extend such mercy to our companions and, yes, to our broken world.