Tags
A Deep Breath of Life, Alan Cohen, effort, faith formation, hope, kindness, lights, lights in the world, patience, Philippians, shine, simple practices, St. Paul, success, The Sophia Center for Spirituality
The verse before the gospel today was encouraging. From Paul’s letter to the Philippians, it urges us to shine like lights in the world as you hold on to the word of life. (2:15D, 16A) Thinking about my day yesterday with a group of parish faith formation leaders, some of whom who are wrapping up a challenging year in their churches, I was happy to reflect on their willingness to live in the reality of their experiences while still fanning the flame of hope in their hearts. The day was not an intensive, content-heavy experience but rather offered them some simple practices for everyday life that also included a brief nature walk and some poetry. The important element, as I saw it, was simply their presence together in community with no expectations except the support of one another. It was clear to me that they are, indeed, “lights in the world.”
I found the same spirit in Alan Cohen’s thought for June 16th in his book, A Deep Breath of Life. He was talking about baseball and how a batting average of .250 was a good predictor of a solid career if the player was also a decent fielder. In contrast, a player with a .300 batting average is a star. He pointed out that the difference between these two was one hit out of 20 times at bat. His reflection on that “margin of greatness” was the following.
Sometimes just a little effort is all we need to put us over the edge to huge success. In your career, family, or spiritual path try to stretch beyond your perceived limits. A little extra patience with a customer could make her a lifetime client and bring you her friends’ business. A seminar participant told me that she signed up for an intensive workshop simply because I had responded to a letter she had written me. An extra kind touch, one more deep breath, or a willingness to listen could make the difference between a modest salary and a million-dollar contract, or a life of mere survival and a glorious adventure.
I doubt that any of the people sitting in front of me yesterday will ever be a multi-millionaire, but I have a hunch that, in the end, they all have a good chance of looking back on their lives as a blessing – and maybe even a great and glorious adventure.
As I look out a west-facing window this morning in Latham, New York, I am drawn in by the reflection of what is happening on the other side of the building that I cannot see. The golden blaze of the rising sun is visible to me on the trees that still hold many of their leaves, burnished gold by this date but receptive to the illumination of the sunrise. This is a season of surprise as we are amazed when the temperature reaches 65 or 70 degrees Fahrenheit and then hear that tomorrow we will be shoveling snow! The environment can be such a goad to our learning of patience in swift change, all the while giving us gifts of beauty and terrifying power at the same moment sometimes.
It is often said that “life imitates art.” This morning’s gospel reminded me in a nearly perfect analogous situation that sometimes “life imitates gospel.” We had in our yard a beautiful hibiscus tree, a memorial to my father, that was moved early in the spring of this year out of necessity. As the year progressed I was concerned to see that it produced no flowers – even no leaves – so it seemed doomed. When our handyman asked if he should cut it down I used almost the exact words of the gospel, saying: Leave it for this year. I shall cultivate the ground around it; it may flower in the future. (LK 13:8-9) I must admit that my hope was not strong but, miraculously, just last month we saw a bit of green on a couple of branches and even a few buds. Two weeks ago, during a Wisdom School at our retreat center, I asked a participant from Maine who is an expert on all things natural and agrarian to look at it. She assured me energetically that the tree would survive and even thrive next year, telling me what nourishment would help if I’d just dig around the base and add what she wrote down for me. I don’t know what happened to the poor fig tree in the gospel but I do trust that I will see the beauty of hibiscus again next year.
Part of my preparation for receiving the sacrament of Confirmation was to memorize all the gifts that I would receive from the Holy Spirit. Since I was only twelve years old at the time, I’m not sure how I understood the promise of those gifts. Much later, when teaching Confirmation classes to teenagers, it was still difficult to imagine – even in new translation – how suddenly the confirmands would become spiritually adult, having received gifts of wisdom, understanding, knowledge, right judgment, courage, reverence and wonder & awe in God’s presence as the bishop laid hands on their heads and anointed them. I was lucky to team-teach those classes for a couple of years with a colleague of my age who explained very well to candidates that these gifts, if nurtured by the recipient, would grow in them as they matured. I remember the first time he said, “I was in my thirties when I first realized what that meant.” For him – and for me still – it was good to pull that list out from the brain filed under the title 
Today’s Scripture readings are filled with warnings about the dangers of riches and power. From the first (the prophet Amos) to the last (Luke’s gospel) we hear chilling words about those who seek worldly wealth and power and the consequences of being unaware of the needs of others. It is only in the reading from the first letter to Timothy (6: 11-16) that I find some advice for escaping the pitfalls recounted in these texts. It is the first sentence that calls out to our best selves where he names us people of God and tells us to pursue righteousness, devotion, faith, love, patience and gentleness. That’s a big order but certain to keep us on the right path. As I think of those words, I see the central two (faith and love) strengthened by the practice of the first two (righteousness and devotion) and flowering in the last two (patience and gentleness). That may sound a bit contrived but it seems to work for me as a plan so today, I’ll think on that pattern and hope for the best!
