Bumbling

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bumbling, clueless, hidden life, human, Jesus, mistakes, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

Here’s a unique take on the “hidden life” of Jesus that I read just now from one of the Brothers at the Society of St. John the Evangelist. Even though we have been told that Christ was/is “fully human and fully divine” I wonder how many of us can stretch our imaginations to think of him as bumbling. A worthy exercise today, perhaps. Give it a try.

What was going on with Jesus during those twenty “hidden” years when he was growing up? We don’t know for sure. But his humanity must parallel our own, or he cannot be our Savior. I presume that Jesus was as lost as many of us were, and for long stretches of time. I presume that Jesus made as many mistakes as I have, as you have, in finding his way into life. I presume that Jesus was as much as clueless as you were, as I was, trying to find and claim his identity and destiny. Lots of bumbling. — Br. Curtis Almquist

Diversity

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Br. Nicholas Bartoli SSJE, celebration, differences, diversity, human, light, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

As we struggle toward unity in our homes, our communities and our world, we are also charged with the responsibility to embrace diversity. From our families to the members of the United Nations (meeting this week in New York City) the task is acceptance and understanding. I was reminded of this today by a post from the Society of St. John the Evangelist that called for appreciation of our uniqueness as a way to celebrate the unity of humanity. Here is the post.

Although we may have plenty of differences, it remains true that the Holy One created human beings as perfectly beautiful and in God’s image, shining like stars with the light of Christ. It’s a light reflected through the prism of this world as a diverse offering pouring forth from within each unique human heart. We pray with God’s help we will bear witness to that light, and instead of creating separation from difference, see diversity as a cause for celebration. (Br. Nicholas Bartoli, SSJE)

The Human Jesus

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acceptance, Brother Curtis Almquist, developmental issues, gratitude, growth, human, humanity, imagination, Jesus, limitations, Messiah, mission, reflection, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, understanding, visualizing

Like many people, I receive a few “thought for the day” quotes in my e-mail each morning. Most often I delete them without too much reflection but occasionally there is something that makes me sit up and take notice. Perhaps because of the Wednesday and Friday gospels this week that focused on the miraculous feeding and healing powers of Jesus, I was led to reflect on his humanity today by Brother Curtis Almquist of the Episcopal Society of St. John the Evangelist in a short post entitled Growth. Here’s what he wrote.

I don’t think Jesus asked to be the Messiah any more than any of us asked for the deck of cards that was handed to us in our birth. But Jesus grew into the acceptance of his humanity, his gifts, his limitations, his mission, and his unfinished business, facing the same developmental issues that we all do in growing up.

Even though in theory I totally buy into Paul’s declaration to the Philippians that Jesus “emptied himself of godliness” and “became like us in all things but sin,” it’s rather stunning to think of Jesus having limitations, let alone “developmental issues.” I must admit, however, to a tiny sensation of relief and gratitude somewhere inside me as I begin to conjecture just what that might mean. I think it will take some time because there are no words that will clarify the sensation. It will take imagination, visualizing Jesus in life situations – in his youth, as a young adult and during his ministry – asking him questions about what he is experiencing in the situations in which he finds himself and then listening for answers.

Trusting that this process is not just a “flight of fancy” but rather a journey into the “imaginal” world may lead to a deepening of understanding and appreciation of Jesus as “fully human.” Why not give it a try?

Everyday Miracles

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A Deep Breath of Life, Alan Cohen, awareness, consciousness, creative mind, human, intelligent force, life, loving heart, miracles, perfection, planets, prayer, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, universe

Here is an interesting thought for pondering that brings my awareness to the importance of how I look at life. I invite you to suspend judgment and just read the words, then see if you can agree with the concept. If not, spend some time assessing your objections and ask yourself what it would take to adjust your attitude.

The universe was designed to work and in spite of appearances, it does. All of life, from the tiniest amoeba to the trillions of stars, planets and galaxies, operates with clockwork precision. Surely there is an intelligent force with an unfathomably creative mind and loving heart behind such magnificent perfection! (Alan Cohen – A Deep Breath of Life)

What are the most amazing miracles that you observe in life? For me it’s the incredible cooperation of systems in the human body and the way the planets keep moving without colliding. Or it could be the way that the change of seasons is so vibrant in my neighborhood or the prayer plant in front of my window whose leaves move from a horizontal position in the day to verticality at night so I can sleep knowing that there is, in fact, a creature lifting up prayer in my stead throughout the night. I could go on (big surprise, right?) but each of us must choose what it is that stuns us into consciousness of the amazing universe given to us even in our darkest days.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Old Thoughts for a New Time

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apolitical, Book of Hours, Cold War, human, monk, Peace, politics, rational thinking, restraint, serious discourse, The Hidden Ground of Love, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, Thomas Merton

This morning I read the Wednesday “Day” section of Thomas Merton’s Book of Hours (since it’s rather too late for the “Dawn” thoughts). I was struck by the relevance of what seemed so appropriate to our present situation. Merton was writing letters in the 1960s that were eventually gathered and published in a book entitled The Hidden Ground of Love. He had been ordered by his superiors to cease publishing anything on war and peace and so privately circulated a series of mimeographed “Cold War Letters,” many of which appear in the above-mentioned text. It’s clear that monks were supposed to be more concerned with peace than with the disconcerting issues that block the path to that peace. Merton was not willing to be silenced because his words would disturb the image of “the holy monk.”

It seems over the last several months that we are reverting to the ’60s, where serious discourse and demonstrations were the order of the day. What is missing, however, from such actions in many cases – not to say it always existed in Merton’s day either – is measured, rational thinking beforehand and restraint in the duration of the events. Perhaps Merton has something worthy to say to us, 49 years after his death.

“It seems to me that the basic problem is not political, it is apolitical and human. One of the most important things to do is to keep cutting deliberately through political lines and barriers and emphasizing the fact that these are largely fabrications and that there is another dimension, a genuine reality, totally opposed to the fictions of politics: the human dimension which politics pretend to arrogate entirely to themselves. This is the necessary first step along the long way toward the perhaps impossible task of purifying, humanizing and somehow illuminating politics themselves. Is this possible? At least we must try to hope in that, otherwise all is over. But politics as they now stand are hopeless.

Hence the desirability of a manifestly non-political witness, non-aligned, non-labeled, fighting for the reality of [man] and [his] rights and needs in the nuclear world in some measure against all the alignments.”

Labor Day

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Adam, connectedness, creation, Genesis, God, human, Joan Chittister, just, Labor Day, labor movement, meaningful work, minimum wage, privilege, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, Wisdom Distilled from the Daily, work, worker

I often think that “Labor Day” must be a confusing holiday for people who are not native to our country or anywhere else that it is celebrated at some point in the year. Some of us have taken to calling it “Non-labor Day” since it is, after all, a day when everyone but essential workers stay home or go on picnics or celebrate in other such ways a “day off” from work.

In the United States, Labor Day is always the first Monday in September. It is, the internet says, a creation of the labor movement and is dedicated to the social and economic achievements of American workers. It constitutes a yearly national tribute to the contributions workers have made to the strength, prosperity and well-being of our country. It became a federal holiday in 1894.

The ideal of “a good day’s work for a good day’s pay” has become rather skewed in many quarters in our country as we see inequity in many places where CEOs of big companies are paid exorbitant salaries while people like health aides are paid little more than minimum wage for their caring service to the sick and elderly members of our society. We need to work continually for just wages in every sphere and celebrate new initiatives where we see young executives sharing their wealth with their employees and many of the richest people establishing foundations with specific projects that seek the betterment of our world.

I took a look at Joan Chittister’s chapter entitled “Work: Participation in Creation” in her book, Wisdom Distilled From the Daily, just to get another, maybe more spiritual, perspective on the topic. Here are some tidbits that might be helpful as we attempt to balance our view on things.

Work in the monastic tradition is not something to be avoided. Work is not a punishment or a penance. Work is a privilege.

In monastic spirituality…work is not a private enterprise. Work is not to enable me to get ahead; the purpose of work is to enable me to get more human and to make my world more just. (I like that one!)

Genesis is very clear on the subject. “Then God took Adam,” Scripture says, “and put him in the garden to cultivate and care for it.” (GEN. 2:15). Adam was put in the garden to till it and to keep it, not to contemplate it; not to live off of it; not to lounge. Even in an ideal world, it seems, God expected us to participate in the co-creation of the world.

So here’s to those who provide meaningful work and good environments for their workers! Here’s to those who give of themselves for the good of society and their own growth and well-being! And here’s to those whose work is for justice for all, especially the under-served among us. May we all come to understand the connectedness that we share in the building up of the world, God’s sacred creation.

 

 

 

 

 

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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fully Human

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call, generosity, human, Meg Wheatley, open-hearted, Paulo Freire, purpose, purpose-filled, receive, religious life, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, Turning To One Another, vocation

The word “vocation” is sitting under many of my thoughts these days as I walk through this 50th year of religious life. It surfaces each time a gathering comes along where I am called to answer the question, “How are you?” asked by people who haven’t seen me in awhile. It comes from the Latin verb meaning to call and as a noun is used to define our work in life. Meg Wheatley quotes Paulo Freire, a Brazilian and world educator who often said that we have a “vocation to be fully human.” She goes on from there to give some thoughts worthy of pondering. See what you think.

We don’t decide what our vocation is, she says, we receive it. It always originates from outside us. Therefore, we can’t talk about vocation or a calling without acknowledging that there is something going on beyond our narrow sense of self. It helps remind us that there’s more than just me, that we’re part of a larger and purpose-filled place.

Even if we don’t use the word vocation, most of us want to experience a sense of purpose to our lives…I believe we become more fully human with any gesture of generosity, any time we reach out to another rather than withdraw into our individual suffering. To become fully human we need to keep opening our hearts, no matter what. At this time when suffering and anxiety continue to increase, when there is always reason to weep for some unbearable tragedy inflicted by one human on another, I try to remember to keep my heart open.

In my own experience, I notice I like myself better when I am generous and open-hearted. I don’t like myself when I’m afraid of others or angry at them…At those times, I don’t feel more human but less. I become more fully human only when I extend myself. This is how I define for myself what it means to have a vocation to be fully human. (Turning To One Another, pp. 58, 59)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In Persona Christi

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Catholic Church, human, John, jubilees, Latin, priest, service, the person of Christ, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

I hope I still remember my Latin studies enough to correctly spell what I learned was the role of the priest in my Church and now understand as applying to those who lead other Christian denominations as well. As a child (before I ever heard the designation) I knew that the priest was very special and that he was the one who stood “as the person of Christ” in our parish. We looked to him – to them, since in those days we had five – to teach by example what Christ taught and to be Christ-like in all things. We expected a lot of our priests but gave them honor, respect and admiration as a matter of course. We did not question their loyalty, their competence or their holiness.

Times have changed and we are more realistic now. We see priests (and doctors and teachers and other professionals) not as super-human images of God but rather just like the rest of us: some more talented than others, some with more charisma and ability to preach, some good business people and all in some way imperfect and fallible. That’s good, I think. It not only makes them more approachable; it also brings Jesus closer when we read Scripture texts like this morning’s gospel from John 17. He is praying to God for the disciples as he prepares to leave the earth, “the ones you gave me,” telling God essentially that he has done his best with them and given them everything he could so that they would carry on his mission. And so they did – but not perfectly, of course.

Last evening I was reading the short summaries of the life and ministry of priests in our diocese who are celebrating “jubilees” – anniversaries of 25, 40, 50 or 60 years of priesthood. This issue of our diocesan newspaper is an annual occurrence which I usually read, but this time I was struck by the breadth of the work that these men have accomplished in their lives – not just their leadership experiences in parishes but all of the “extra-curricular” things they have done and the extra education they have sought to enhance their capacities. More engaging was the final comment from each of them about the most significant thing about being a priest. To a person they did not speak of accomplishment but rather of their joy in the privilege of serving God and relating to people.

In coming to the realization that our Church is just as flawed as other institutions in society and living through scandal that is not only demoralizing but unthinkable for those who were taught to consider priesthood as imaging Christ in ways that none of us could achieve – especially if we were girls – it has been a rocky road of late. I have been blessed to know many exemplary priests in my life, all of whom have their faults and failings but whose purpose is clear and steadfast: they are here to serve God. I was reminded of that and of my responsibility to support and respect them as partners on the journey that we share. The truth is that we are all called to stand in persona Christi and there are no pedestals reserved for any group along the path to God, just an occasional word of thanks for service rendered. And that is a good thing for us all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

O Lord, Hear My Prayer

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anguish, answer, broken-hearted, common humanity, compassion, cries, destiny, endure, faith, hear, hear my prayer, human, Jesus, Lord, mercies, psalm 102, remain, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

The psalm refrain for today from Psalm 102 is so direct and familiar. The psalmist begs: O Lord, hear my prayer, and let my cry come to you! This morning I heard it as a call from Jesus as he moved toward Jerusalem. He must have had days when he wondered about God’s purpose for his life – those days when everything he had done seemed futile because the crowds were so slow to recognize the deep meaning of what he was teaching. Psalm 102 rocks back and forth between deep anguish and steadfast faith, not just about his own destiny but that of all God’s people. Thinking this way does not make Jesus less strong in my eyes, but more human and accessible on the days when today’s world seems on the brink of disaster. There is a beautiful translation of the middle verses of the psalm – one might say “the heart” of it all – where I believe Jesus called up the strength to stand steadfast in all that was to come. May we join him in the prayer.

But you, O you remain, my God; your name endures from age to age. For from eternity and into time your mercies rise, each moment your compassion appears in full. And even in these ruins of the heart it moves, and we your servants, Lord, are stirred to love and care for even dust. The peoples of the world shall come at last to speak your name with awe. The rulers of the heart shall see your beauty and finally comprehend. For you, O Lord, will take the ruined places of our world and lovingly will raise them back again, for you have heard the cries of all the broken-hearted ones, and answering, you give them each a place to be and stand. Let this be written now so in generations yet to come, our children will hear and learn to praise. For from a vantage point beyond this world you view us all and understand. (vs. 13-20)