Sunday Morning

Tags

Celtic Benediction, glow of life, John Philip Newell, light, seeing, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

Geese are squawking on the river beyond our land as morning breaks. Not just a new day but a new week is dawning and hope begins to rise in my heart. It is as if we might be returning to a sense of normalcy. As soon as the silence is overcome by human activity, I know that the morning news will bring a different feeling to the day, but just for now I am grateful for the sense of possibility that helps me remember the goodness in life.

John Philip Newell is my guide as I step into this day. Here is his prayer.

I watch this morning for the light that the darkness has not overcome. I watch for the fire that was in the beginning and that burns still in the brilliance of the rising sun. I watch for the glow of life that gleams in the growing earth and glistens in sea and sky. I watch for your light, O God, in the eyes of every living creature and in the ever-living flame of my own soul. If the grace of seeing were mine this day I would glimpse you in all that lives. Grant me the grace of seeing this day. Grant me the grace of seeing. (Celtic Benediction, p.2)

Zero

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equilibrium, judgment, seeing, stasis, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, zero

The temperature on my phone’s weather app reads zero degrees (F) – a large oval sphere with a small circle outside its upper right corner. The sun outside is puzzlingly brilliant until I notice the telltale sparkling of ice on the upper branches of the trees. Only the most intrepid and well-dressed adventurers would welcome a hike on a morning like this. “But it is so beautiful,” my inner voice says. I know that to be true, but know as well the dangers of too much cold. Wise people need to be prepared on days like this.

As I look at the zero, I begin to muse about more meanings of the word. Is there no weather advice in a zero? Does it mean there is no warmth and no cold but rather stasis? (i.e. the state of equilibrium or inactivity caused by opposing equal forces) It does seem very quiet outside – no cars, no voices, no movement of the trees – just…zero. I am also in a period of semi-stasis. Nothing is moving as I sit in this chair except my fingers as they move across the keyboard of my computer. Everything in my bedroom is at a point of zero when considered in this way. Nothing moves. I know, however that as my prayer plant sits in a stance of reaching out toward me and appears frozen in that position, there is consistent growth going on under the surface. And I know the same to be true in the stillness of my body as I feel breath moving in and out of me.

Thus I begin to shift the lens to see zero more as equality rather than nothingness. I am no more or no less – on the inside – than anyone else I might encounter. Warm and cold might be seen as relative terms from the perspective of an Inuit and a resident of Southern California. Perhaps we ought to think more of moving toward zero in all of our judgments, especially about people. Hmmm…

My Choice

Tags

A Deep Breath of Life, abundance, Alan Cohen, create, happy, miserable, perspective, reality, seeing, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

I was jarred into wakefulness this morning by a paragraph in Alan Cohen’s book, A Deep Breath of Life, that reminded me of something I believe about perspective. I trust that I have the power to choose the way I look at life. Here’s how Cohen described it.

If I want to be happy, that’s my choice. If others want to be miserable, that’s up to them. I do not have to justify, explain, rationalize, apologize, or compromise my choice for joy. I create my own reality, just as you do. The universe is big enough to have all kinds of reality happening simultaneously, and none of us needs agreement from anyone to verify the world we choose to live in.

That doesn’t change the feelings of distress that I wrote about yesterday. It is, rather, a choice to see everything from the perspective of abundance and be thankful for what I have in life of good things – like people to love and ground under my feet (be it muddy or green)…I will need to spend the rest of today conjuring up all those good things that seem so distant when the difficulties of life show up to bring me down. As I wrote that, the song from the movie, The Unsinkable Molly Brown, arose. That’s a good place to start because, as she sings, “I ain’t down yet!”

 

 

 

 

 

The Opening of Eyes

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blind, demon, eyes, Jesus, life, love, Luke, Mark, seeing, speak, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, vision

Last Sunday, as I listened to a dramatic reading of the entire gospel of Mark, I was struck by the number of exorcisms Jesus performed. In the different ways that “evil spirits” manifested in people, Jesus commanded those “spirits” to “come out!” and the people were healed. I’m wondering this morning if all the synoptics were similarly engaged in reporting such events. My attention was a caught because today’s gospel from Luke (11:14-23) begins with Jesus “driving out a demon that was mute, and when the demon had gone out, the mute man spoke and the crowds were amazed.”

That makes me think that the gospel writers use the term “demon” as we might not only when speaking about any sort sinful habit, as in “the demon rum,” but also with some physical conditions that are not easily dealt with. There are examples of physical cures in the gospels, as in “the man with the withered hand” but I wonder what I would learn by re-reading the texts with the intent to identify “demons,” how Jesus dealt with them, and what was the transformation that occurred upon the release.

As is often the case, a paper protruding from among my side-table books this morning gave me a clue to my wondering expressed above. We would do well, I think, to ponder moments in our lives when a light appeared in some way and see if it deepens our understanding of something heretofore inexplicable.

The Opening of Eyes
by David White

That day I saw beneath dark clouds
the passing light over the water,
and I heard the voice of the world
aaaaaa speak out,
I knew then as I had before
Life is no passing memory of what
aaaaaa has been,
Nor the remaining pages in a great book
aaaaaa waiting to be read.

It is the opening of eyes, long closed.
It is the vision of far off things,
aaaaaa seen for the silence they hold.
It is the heart after years of secret conversing,
aaaaaa speaking out loud in a clear air.
It is Moses in the desert fallen to his knees
aaaaaa before the lit bush.
It is the man throwing away his shoes
aaaaaa as if to enter heaven,
And finding himself, astonished,
Opened, at last, to falling in love
aaaaaa with solid ground.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Little Prince

Tags

Christmas, images, message, right seeing, seeing, The Little Prince, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

There’s a subtle shift for me today in the Advent theme. Perhaps it will only last until tomorrow but the message of anticipatory waiting is given an additional push from the gospel acclamation – in a rather unusual way. After the psalm I read: Alleluia, alleluia. The Lord will come; go out to meet him! He is the prince of peace. Alleluia, alleluia.

Immediately I saw in my mind’s eye an image from The Little Prince, one of my favorite books, and perhaps the only one that I could still successfully read in French as I know most of the text by heart. The picture was of the Little Prince walking toward me carrying his scepter high in a manner that said, “Here I am; look at me!” I was unable in his presence to just look; I had to stand up and move toward him, smiling.

That may sound absurd but that’s precisely the way things happen sometimes in the spiritual life. Unbidden images are triggered by something – words, weather, music, a photo…and meaning is hidden somewhere inside. The message for me was two-fold. From the words of the psalm I gleaned the truth that the Christ will definitely come to us, no matter our response or lack thereof. We could just notice…or not. The imperative (“Go out to meet him!”) adds an energy that I find in the appearance of the Little Prince today. “It is only with the heart that one can see rightly,” he says. “What is essential is invisible to the eye.”

As we lean ever closer to Christmas, let us add this wisdom tenet to our preparation, searching always for impetus of “right seeing” that is born of love.

 

 

 

 

 

What Do You See?

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apostles, believing, faith, Jesus, mindfulness, perseverance, possibility, seeing, silence, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, Thomas, vision

While I’m not certain that the adage “Seeing is believing” came as a conclusion from the story of Thomas, the Apostle who was missing when Jesus appeared in the Upper Room on Easter evening, it certainly applies in that case. It’s difficult to believe what we have not seen with our own eyes (our physical selves) and thereby experienced as true. How is it that we come to believe what we cannot comprehend with our “ordinary minds?” Moreover, what is it that so stirs a person to envision the possibility of something that has never been done – and then to carry the process forward until that possibility becomes a reality? It seems that great inventors must not only be gifted with vision but with steadfast perseverance. And then there is the willingness of those who come after that visionary soul to continue the work. I think here of scientists and medical advancement and immediately my favorite example in a different but related sphere comes to mind. I’m fond of saying, “Kitty Hawk to the moon in 66 years” as the miracle of flight astounds me each time I feel the take-off moment from inside a plane.

As I ruminate on these examples and then circle back to Thomas, I find the two categories of vision not dissimilar. In the realm of faith there is necessity for vision, to be sure, since not all of us are gifted with direct visitations from other realms. Whether or not we are privileged to “see” with our physical eyes or come to know by inner seeing, perseverance in the practices of silence and mindfulness can open us to a deeper kind of insight that feels very much like certainty. Then it is only a question of our willingness to let go of that certainty that can allow us to fall fearless into the arms of God.

 

 

 

 

 

Come to Your Senses

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attention, compassion, daily practice, Genesis, God, gratitude, hearing, intention, open my heart, prayer, seeing, senses, smelling, tasting, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, touching

In the Genesis story of disobedience in chapter 3 (1-8), when both Adam and Eve had “eaten of the fruit,” the text tells us, “Then the eyes of both of them were opened,” and they saw the truth of what they had done. In the gospel of Mark (7:31-37) there is a story of the healing by Jesus of a man in the district of Decapolis. “Ephphatha,” he said, touching his ears and tongue and “immediately the man’s ears were opened and his speech impediment was removed.”

Upon a first read of these stories I began to think about our five most basic human senses: seeing, hearing, touching, tasting and smelling. What precious gifts they are! I can’t say I often take them for granted since everywhere I go I am wowed by the sights and sounds of God’s creation. I am similarly moved by the experience of smells that come wafting from the kitchen and the tastes of what has drawn me to dinner. And then there is the touch of another’s hand or a full body hug in the greeting between friends who come together after a long absence. Gratitude for the magnificent creation of our physical bodies and compassion for those who are diminished by their lack ought to be given more than the passing thought. Conscious attention in all that we do should be a daily practice.

My deepest prayer in response to these readings today comes, however, from the gospel acclamation, for it is here that the central motivation of all our actions resides. “Open my heart, O Lord,” we pray, “that we may listen to the words You speak.” May that be our prayer and our intention each and every day of our lives.

 

 

 

 

 

 

In What Way Blind?

Tags

Bartimaeus, blindness, courage, deaf, disability, inner senses, risk taking, seeing, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

I can’t imagine – on a beautiful, sunny, spring day like today – sitting here as I am and not being able to see the scene that greets me outside my window. That was my thought upon reading the story of blind Bartimaeus in this morning’s gospel. (MK 10: 46-52) Fast upon that reflection, however, came the memory of Dancing With the Stars whose winner this season was a profoundly deaf man who was able to keep perfect time in the dances without even sensing the vibration of the music. How was that possible? I can only surmise that the brilliance of his partner and some inner coherence in their energy kept him “in sync” not only with Peta but with the music he could not hear as we hearing people do. It was extraordinary. And then I remember Jacques Lusseyran, the blind leader in the French Resistance during World War II. Blinded at the age of eight years, Lusseyran accessed some inner sense that allowed him to work for years undetected because of his physical “disability” and to survive, as few did, the horrors of a concentration camp while giving hope to hundreds of other prisoners. How did he do that? In his book, And There Was Light, Lusseyran speaks of the inner light that guided his perception and his motivation each day. Rather than feeling sorry for himself and spending his life lamenting what he did not have, he capitalized on his inner senses for guidance and the ability to live a life of meaning.

I am grateful every day for the ability to see and to hear (the Canada geese just flew by my window) but considering the above examples I know that there are also deeper ways of perception and it behooves me to continue to sharpen my inner senses. Bartimaeus had been blind from birth. I wonder if his statement: “I want to see” came simply from having heard from others that Jesus was a healer. When Jesus asked him, “What do you want me to do for you?” he didn’t say, “Heal my blindness!” although that was clearly what he was hoping for. I just wonder if the question demanded some deep determination on the part of the recipient – a participation in the healing rather than leaving all the work of it to the healer. His answer seems to admit of more possibilities than the physical healing it implies.

So the questions for me this morning are the following: Where does my blindness lie? Do I really want to see? What am I willing to do, to give up perhaps, in order to see in a deeper way? What will that cost? Am I equal to the task? Can I rely on God to be with me as healer in the process? It must have taken courage for Nyle DiMarco to say yes to Dancing with the Stars, for Jacques Lusseyran to step back into life as a blinded child and each day after, for Bartimaeus to put his faith in Jesus as healer. Courage is necessary sometimes in what seem the smallest endeavors as well as the monumental, life-changing possibilities. What am I willing to risk?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Of Eyes and Ears

Tags

ears truly listening, Exodus, eyes wide open, God, hearing, Jesus, lightning, messages, Moses, Mount Sinai, rain, seeing, storms, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, thunder

We’ve had a couple of powerful storms lately – high winds (tree branches down), thunder, lightning and heavy rain. We have not had the destruction that many places in our country have experienced but it certainly is enough to make sleep difficult in the night! These thoughts were occasioned on this peaceful, sunny morning by the reading from Exodus (19:1- 11, 16-20) where God came down to Mount Sinai in fire with the sound of a trumpet and made the mountain tremble with thunder while Moses was speaking to God and all of the Hebrew people watched in awe. The purpose for this powerful display was (as God had already told Moses three days before) so that the people would not only believe in God but in Moses as well.

Sometimes we would wish for such clear messages – with audio-visual effects from God, but it doesn’t happen that way. God’s messages are mostly more subtle than that so we have to really look and listen from the inside in order to understand. That’s the message of Jesus this morning about the crowds who don’t understand him when he speaks in parables. He says that they look but do not see and hear but do not listen or understand. He’s actually complimenting the disciples in the end saying, “But blessed are your eyes, because they see, and your ears, because they hear.” I think of how often I am so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I hear what others are saying but really don’t take it in; I’m not really listening.

May we all go today wherever we are called to go with eyes wide open and ears ready to truly listen so that God’s messages might get through to our hearts!

Making Sense

Tags

blind, deaf, feelings, gift, hearing, inner senses, Jesus, Mark, practice, seeing, silence, subtleties, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

In the parables – like this morning’s “sower and the seed” (MK 4: 1-20) – Jesus often uses the dictum, “Whoever has ears ought to hear.” If it doesn’t just roll by our ears as a fitting wrap-up to the story, we might notice that Jesus is going for something deeper than physical hearing. Everyone who is not deaf has “ears to hear” but not all of us take the trouble to really listen. And actually even deaf people have physical ears so they are included too in what Jesus is saying. Later in the text this morning, Jesus reiterates and clarifies, using two of our senses this time. They may look and see but not perceive, and hear but not understand, he says. He’s talking about the kingdom of God, of course, which he says is a mystery that only makes sense to those who go beyond the senses to understand it. So how do we do that? Practice, practice, practice. Staying awake on a deeper level, letting go of the automatic pilot that we take for consciousness that is our normal way of functioning. (How often do you enter a room and say, “What was I coming in here for?”) Noticing subtleties in conversation, like shifts in tone, or really tasting what you are eating – being aware of the process of chewing and swallowing. Noting as well feelings that arise for no reason or interesting words in what you read, stopping to let them sink into you. Waking up in these ways presupposes allowing some quiet in our lives, so silence is a longer step to take toward that goal of perception and understanding of the reign of God which is already in our midst. If we are silent we begin to activate our inner senses and just might hear God speaking to us in a language that is inaccessible to our physical ears or eyes. No effort can achieve it but practice can open up a spaciousness in us that leaves us ready for just such a gift, given sometimes when we least expect it!