One Thing I Ask

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God's presence, lessons, meditation, psalm 27, self-compassion, stay home, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

For a long time I have wished for more time with less to do. I was reminded of that this morning when I read Psalm 27 which sang out:

One thing I ask of the Lord, this I seek: to dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, that I may gaze on the loveliness of the Lord and contemplate God’s temple.”

It’s ironic really because since the second week of March — 46 days to be exact – I have been without a schedule and without restriction except to “STAY HOME” (as directed by our government) but have yet to dedicate time in any regular way to the contemplation of the “loveliness of the Lord.” I have participated in a virtual retreat by Zoom and have begun again the group book study that was interrupted mid-course last month…but that just happened this week and only takes 3 hours out of 24…

As I think of it, another irony is that the topic of the virtual retreat for this week is “Self-Compassion” and I wonder why I might be feeling guilty at this moment. I sit in my recliner and look at my meditation mat just three feet away, wondering why I am not sitting there right now and what it will take to finally move from recognition of lassitude to the discipline of meditation once again.

There are many lessons in this “season-out-of-time,” as I have come to call it. In conversations lately (zoom and telephone only!) I have been grateful to hear that I am not alone in what is probably a mild case of depression if not just an adjustment to life during a situation I have never before encountered.

As I think of it, I have not lost the sense of God’s presence always with me so perhaps attention to that fact is a way to achieve the same result as happens in a scheduled meditation session. That’s something to watch as I go forward…but I think today will lend itself to a scheduled “date” with God on my mat, because during this attempt to explain myself to myself, I am feeling a deeper longing for just such an event!

Darkness to Light

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awakening, Barbara Brown Taylor, experience, Learning to Walk in the Dark, lessons, living in the moment, meaning, new growth, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, Zoom

In a first step toward what might be movement back to the work of the Sophia Center – although that seems still very far away – Cheryl (my co-facilitator) and I are “zooming” today to plan what we hope will be the virtual re-gathering of our book study group to finish consideration of Barbara Brown Taylor’s book, Learning to Walk in the Dark (Is that not a perfect title for this moment in time?) which we left in mid-read in early March.

To prepare for our conversation this afternoon, I pulled the book from its resting place. Upon opening to the chapter where perhaps we left off (a very long month ago), I found a loose sheet with a poem entitled For Light by John O’Donohue. There is a parenthetical subtitle (A Blessing) and I found the first stanza very apt in describing just that. Here is what the poet said:

Light cannot see inside things.
That is what the dark is for:
Minding the interior,
Nurturing the draw of growth
Through places where death
In its own way turns into life.

It seems to me that this is what is happening at this “moment.” We cannot reach for the solace of others except virtually and not being able to touch physically is clearly a loss. Can we, however, learn lessons from this distancing? Does it become a benefit when, in the future, we will need to let go of a significant relationship? Are there times when we must “stand on our own two feet” and come through a danger or challenge that we thought we would never be able to achieve?

There are so many lessons offered to us now. We may not see them as blessings just yet but perhaps we are coming closer to the possibility of awakening to new meanings, new growth, new experiences of life. We may even name those openings “Blessings.”

Father’s Day

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example, father's day, fatherhood, lessons, memories, psalm 8, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, wisdom

This morning I am greeted with a rush of memories and feelings like smiles inside as I think of my father. A devout Catholic, my father loved the prayers and rituals of the Church and I can see his face as he humbly blessed himself “in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit,” especially on this feast of the Holy Trinity.

As I read Psalm 8 just now (definitely my favorite of them all), I feel my father’s amazement in experiencing the beauty of nature. Whether on our front porch with us during a storm so that we would never fear thunder and lightning (although respecting the power by taking us inside when necessary) or floating effortlessly for hours on his back in the ocean at Cape Cod, his peace was palpable.

My father taught by example mostly and the lessons remain. I pray today in thanksgiving for the blessings bestowed on myself and my siblings, my cousins and the wider world of friends and co-workers as well as, of course, my mother, with whom he made love the purpose and center of his life.

I pray as well today for all fathers that wisdom may guide their steps, that their children may respect their efforts and that they have what they need of strength and the resources necessary to be equal to the role of fatherhood. May it be so!

Total Surrender

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Good Friday, heart, Jesus, lessons, let go, love, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, Thomas Merton

Today is called “Good Friday.” The veiled goodness of this day consists of our ability to tap into the lessons that we may perceive in silence and in our willingness to widen our heart space and unite ourselves to the heart of Jesus in his total surrender. Here is how Thomas Merton expressed it long ago:

Let go of all that seems to suggest getting somewhere, being someone, having a name and a voice, following a policy and directing people in “my” ways. What matters is to love. (Learning to Love, p.15)

Oops!

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lessons, mishap, mistakes, purpose, serendipity, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, thinking

For any of you who follow the Catholic Bishops’ website to find Scripture readings for each day, and/or anyone who hears those readings at daily liturgies, you must have been wondering yesterday why I used the reading from next Thursday. I was wondering that myself just now since the battle I spoke of as a great success for Saul and David had not happened by then or in this morning’s text either! It’s not even as if I skipped down to the same day in next week on the calendar. (Yesterday was Wednesday!) My only conclusion is about serendipity. The jealousy theme was already in my head when I opened to the Scripture texts and the story of Saul and David gave me a great example of what I was thinking.

Significant, I think, to this “mistake” is the fact that the correct reading for yesterday was about God’s call to Samuel. The fact that the boy – Samuel – had mistaken God’s call for that of his mentor Eli makes me think that maybe God was interested in having the topic of jealousy come up yesterday for someone. Me? Maybe. You? Perhaps. That might just be my way of making an excuse for my mistake but I’m pretty careful about checking the date as well as the whimsical nature of my cursor sometimes. And the fact that I have written over 1,300 of these posts without such a happening makes me want to attribute it to something other than carelessness.

Whatever the reason for yesterday’s mishap, perhaps the words of Barbra Streisand suffice for today when she sings, “There are no mistakes, just lessons to be learned.”

 

 

 

 

 

Good Example

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compassion, good deeds, imperfections, Jesus, lessons, Matthew, mercy, mistakes, Pharisees, Pope Francis, sacrifice, sin, sinner, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

I remember the day, early in his papacy, that Pope Francis said, “I am a sinner” in public. The quote, as we say now, “went viral.” It’s rare to have a public figure admit during an interview or a widely attended speech that s/he has imperfections. We all know that none of us is perfect but admitting it to the world – especially using the word sin to describe our actions – is not a common practice. At first I was dismayed about his admission because I think that religious people tend to focus more on sin than on giftedness and good deeds. I grabbed onto Barbra Streisand’s line that “there are no mistakes, just lessons to be learned” and used it to talk about sin from that perspective. I still think we either overplay our imperfections sometimes or try to hide them by prevaricating (i.e. “skirting around the truth or delaying giving an answer, especially to avoid telling the whole truth”) but being able to follow the Pope’s example can be very freeing. If we are honest enough to offer our true selves to others we may find that we are accepted in spite of ourselves because nobody else is perfect either!

In today’s gospel (MT 9:9-13) we meet St. Matthew, as Jesus approaches him and says, “Follow me.” At this, the Pharisees were indignant because tax collectors (Matthew’s job) were described in the same breath as “sinners.” They asked the disciples why Jesus was associating with such people. I always wish that Jesus hadn’t jumped in to answer that question; I would just like to know what his disciples would have said. But Jesus heard the question and said, “Those who are well do not need a physician, but the sick do. Go and learn the meaning of the words, I desire mercy, not sacrifice. I did not come to call the righteous but sinners.”

Pope Francis talks a lot about mercy, sometimes in the same sentence with the word “sinner.” In that way – as in so many more – he seems so close to doing what Jesus did, in being who Jesus was, to teach us all the compassionate reach of God to all of us. Ought we then do the same for one another? For ourselves?

 

 

 

 

 

Telling the Truth, Honestly

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Ancient Songs Sung Anew, divine teacher, failure, gained, God, history lesson, lessons, meditation, psalm 78, self-esteem, success, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, unconditional love, wandering, wisdom

I was in a conversation last evening about the difficulty of being honest if one is dependent on others for self-esteem. There are other reasons why people lie, of course – perhaps especially in business these days – but even in our everyday lives the challenge is to avoid linking our worth to success or failure in the eyes of others or even ourselves. As I write this, my thoughts come round to the conclusion that our image of God needs to be taken into consideration here. If the God I believe in is the God of unconditional love, I ought to be able to be honest about both my successes and failures before God and, in that assurance, not be so timid about speaking the truth in all situations.

Psalm 78 is one of the longest psalms. It is, according to one commentator, the retelling of the epic journey of Israel, both an interior and an exterior experience of wandering. It is the reflection of someone who wants to see clearly the realities, and who laments the mistakes of the past…He or she does not glorify the past (as most epic stories do), but tells it in stark detail, failure after failure…It is perhaps true that this is wisdom literature precisely because it refuses to do what other literature does: glorify the past and gloss over the failures in which lie the deepest lessons of wisdom. (Ancient Songs Sung Anew, p.199)

The first eight verses of the psalm tell of the purpose of recounting what is to come in the rest of the “history lesson” and it is these verses that appear in the lectionary today. I think it bears repeating.

Listen carefully, my people, pay close attention, all who belong to me. For I am about to speak as teacher, explaining the mysteries of old. I will teach you using parables drawn from ancient times. I will teach you many lessons you must know. And what you learn and come to hear, speak it to your children, so generations yet unborn will know God’s works and ways, how God taught ancient Jacob and Israel knowledge of the law; how it became a pathway, a teaching meant for all. It passed as holy wisdom to the people as yet unborn so as they lived their trust would grow upon the paths of God, and not rebel or learn so slow, as their ancestors before them.

The commentator asks questions for meditation which stood out to me as directive for today. 1. Where have you experienced the divine teacher in the midst of both success and failure? 2. What have you learned specifically from failure and sin, or disobedience to the best that you knew? AND What have you gained from mistakes made in ignorance?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Fuller’s Lye

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clean, fuller, growth, Jesus, lessons, Malachi, openness, pain, prophecy, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, willingness

I’m thinking about laundry this morning, specifically the necessity of working really hard to get spots off clothes – usually new ones that I’ve just worn for the first or second time. It would be nice to just drop a little bleach on the salad dressing or beet juice or whatever has created the offending stain, but that only means total ruin of the garment. It might have helped the biblical fuller though – the one from the third chapter of Malachi (3:2) where “the one who is to come” will be like the refiner’s fire or like the fuller’s lye. I remember from my childhood that lye soap was the strongest kind, used in the big laundry sink where clothes got really scrubbed on the washboard. It’s a vague memory, blotted out by modern conveniences like a wringer-less washing machine and every kind of spot remover possible to human invention. Our lives have been made easier in lots of ways but it would be unfortunate to lose the meaning of this analogy in Malachi’s prophecy.

I understand the process of what happens in a refinery to produce pure gold or silver – leaving the dross behind in that hottest of hot fires. Less easy to comprehend, perhaps, in this age of progress is the work of the fuller, who not only scrubbed and picked at the material (usually wool, I think) but beat it with a stick or some other hard object to get out all the natural oils and impurities before weaving or selling it.

I think, as I look back on my life, there have been times of significant growth occasionally brought on by the pain that can accompany purification in some way.  More often, however, it is simply life experience that has taught me the lessons necessary to moving deeper in consciousness. I’ve missed some of the signs along the way, but those are the times when something more blatant happens to wake me up and helps me to let go of what holds me bound. Interestingly, as I get older, the fire seems less hot and the lye less abrasive or caustic as I welcome rather than resist the refining as a step closer to “the finished product.”

I think that might just be one of the things that Jesus came to teach us, so that as we welcome him on Sunday, we do it with an openness and a willingness to learn the hard lessons. In the end, that should stand us in good stead to greet God as brilliant garments wrapped in purest gold.

No Matter What…

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bigger picture, encounter, experiences, insights, learn, lessons, pondering wisdom, reflecting, St. Paul, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, Thessalonians

Of all the lectionary readings today, the one sentence that called out to me was the gospel acclamation. From Paul’s letter to the Thessalonians, we hear: In all circumstances, give thanks…Perhaps it is because of these days of pondering wisdom with an extraordinary group of people, reflecting deeply on life and our living of it, that those words seem so clearly the way to proceed. I can’t imagine on my most difficult days stopping to read and assent to that thought. It does, however, make sense to me this morning. I have found, if I really stop to think, that I can learn from everything and everyone that I encounter. Whether the lessons in the experiences are easy or monumentally difficult, there is something helpful to take away from everything if I have eyes to see and ears ready to hear. Sometimes the most important insights come from the most difficult happenings. It is the willingness to see beyond the circumstances themselves to what might be there for me to learn that can help me let go of my personal agenda in order to see what might be a bigger picture.

No examples today. My lessons are mine. All of us have our own. It is for each of us to “fill in the blanks” on this one. Happy delving!

Practice

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benediction, consciousness, daily life, essential, lessons, Pablo Casals, piano, spiritual practices, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

I love listening to piano music, especially if it involves watching the person playing. The ability to do something different with each hand at the same time creating such beauty is a marvel to me. I took piano lessons once for about eight months when I was teaching school. I gave it up, thinking that my teacher, my colleague, could better spend her time with someone or something else because I could never find enough time for sufficient practice. Now I appreciate the skill even more than I did before those eight months when I was 31 years of age.

On Monday of this week I sat with a group of spiritual seekers to talk about our particular spiritual practices. We came to the conclusion that almost anything can fit that category, depending upon the motivation and consciousness with which it is performed. It’s the regular practice that is the key.

This morning I read a quote by Pablo Casals (1876-1973), a maestro who knew the value of practice, not only in order to play the piano, but also to live a full life. He said this: For the past eighty years I have started each day in the same manner. It is not a mechanical routine but something essential to my daily life. I go to the piano and play two preludes and fugues of Bach. I cannot think of doing otherwise. It is a sort of benediction on the house. But that is not its only meaning for me. It is a rediscovery of the world of which I have the joy of being a part. It fills me with awareness of the wonder of life, with a feeling of the incredible marvel of being a human being.

As I look out my window every morning (hoping each time I travel to find such a gift as well), I find a peace that comes to my eyes and my heart just to recognize that – even as the wind bends the branches of the tallest tree, even as last summer’s grass lies yellowish-brown or covered in snow on the ground, whether the sky is brilliant magenta or emptying its buckets of rain – I am here and the world goes on as it will, always turning and traveling its given course through our universe. Looking out and giving thanks has become my simplest, most essential spiritual practice. What is yours?