Zooming Along

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Bill Redfield, connect, consciousness, experiment, gratitude, lovingkindness, retreat, solidarity, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, unity, Zoom

I participated in three hour-long zoom calls yesterday. I can see the value in each but, in a contest, would have voted the first my favorite. Although it began at 7:00 AM (not my best time to be fully functioning), there were several reasons to recommend it. As a pre-planned part of Bill Redfield’s Lenten on-line retreat, there was content to discuss. Interesting that although the discussion took a turn because of the COVID-19 virus that is ever-present now, the 16 early risers folded that topic in to the discussion in a way that was seamless and totally appropriate. We found the call to consciousness and lovingkindness heightened in ways we could never have predicted because of the virus.

The second offering was an experiment and, like most “first tries,” it was rather chaotic, especially at the start. As an invitation to a virtual “open house” to meet the new Congregational Leadership Team of our religious community, this call was a replacement (one of five) for the pre-planned “in-person” visit of these five women. In essence, it was a remarkable feat, offering more Sisters more opportunity to interact with the leadership than ever before because we are over 800 women spread across the United States and in Peru. The downside of the meeting was the lack of familiarity with Zoom and the large number of Sisters who responded to the invitation. Although it was honestly chaotic, the hour provided opportunities to see and hear one another (more or less!) and to know ourselves as part of a powerful force for good, larger than ourselves, and willing to move to a new way of connecting that will, in time, be of great benefit to us in the future.

Back for the evening offering of Bill Redfield’s Lenten retreat at 7PM, there was conversation of the same nature as in the morning but with a twist. In a way that is still a mystery to non-technophiles, Bill sent us for awhile to small group “rooms.” Because there were 30 participants, we were randomly divided into groups of three for the major part of the hour. While I’m always happy to experience all the participants – some of whom I have known in other retreat experiences – the wonder of being thrust into what is always a deep and meaningful conversation with two or three people I have never met before is always a blessing. My half hour with Dave and Tony was just such a gift.

So what is the point of all this? The willingness of people to find new ways to connect and the recognition of our need to know not only that life goes on in times of challenge and distress but also that we can be lifted up in solidarity with others who are experiencing the same is a blessing in the midst of this worldwide crisis. More than anything we have experienced, this moment calls us to unity and to a gratitude for the generosity of people who serve in ways that motivate us all to deeper understanding. May it be so for all of us. God bless us all!

Solidarity

Tags

caravan, christians, community, conscious work, consciousness, Jewish Community Center, Jews, judgment, Muslims, pray, refugees, solidarity, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, vigil, Wisdom Schools

I had two experiences yesterday that, upon reflection, help me to understand more deeply what it means to “walk in the shoes of another” – at least in some small way.

1. I took our house car to the local garage in the afternoon to have new tires installed. The mechanic told me that the process would take about an hour. As we needed a couple of items from the grocery store that I judged to be about a mile away, I decided to walk there in the interim. I had already thought about going for a walk while the process was completed but had estimated about half the time – and half the distance to the grocery store. It had been raining off and on but my windbreaker with a hood gave me sufficient protection and I had donned my best walking shoes in preparation. The road is a “country highway” – two-lanes, no sidewalks but with sufficient “shoulders” to keep me out of the way of the speeding cars and occasional trucks. The only issue (in addition to the minor splash of passing cars on a wet road) was the condition of those shoulders: broken pavement and in some places muddy patches of grass. The walk was, to coin a phrase, more than I had bargained for. I haven’t been walking much during the past year and my estimate of the distance was about a half a mile short, but soon after I began I decided to make this an exercise of what our Wisdom Schools call conscious work, uniting myself with the “caravan” of refugees walking through the countries of Central America. By doing that, the trek was not easier but my determination got me there and back in a way that was deeply meaningful. I considered the feet of those people and the terrain they tread each day. When carrying the rather small bundle of food on my return trip, I thought of parents carrying their children and all the possessions they could pack on their backs. When it began to rain again, I prayed for their safety and health and recognized how very privileged a life I lead. It took me just over an hour, including the stop at the store, until I wrote a check for the tires (knowing we had the money in the bank), slid into the car (knowing there was gas to power it) and drove home in warmth and ease in five minutes.

2. I felt drawn to the prayer vigil in our town last evening at the Jewish Community Center for the people of Pittsburgh. I knew it would be crowded but the gathering space is large and the parking lots quite expansive. When I arrived, it was already past sunset and in the gathering darkness I saw people streaming from every direction toward the venue. The parking lots were already full so I backtracked to the Catholic church a block away, grateful that their back lot still had a place for me – although far back from the road. As I joined the steady stream of walkers, I felt like we were going toward the Temple Mount in Jerusalem or some such holy place to beg for solace as the weight of all the hatred and senseless violence overtook me. I was one with the throng of pilgrims going to prayer in sorrow but solidarity. There must have been over 500 people there as all the seats were taken and there were as many of us standing close together in every nook and cranny of the building as there were sitting. For our rather small community, that was amazing. We were Jews and Christians, Muslims and most likely others who might call themselves “Nones” – professing no religion but standing in solidarity because there seemed no other place to be last night that would satisfy. The messages were of love, not hate, of community and willingness, of unity as a way to move through sadness and shock. I recognized very few of the people there but walking back to my car in the darkness, I felt the strength of communion and it was enough.

I am different because of these events of yesterday. There is a deeper, visceral consciousness in me of how everything is connected in this world. It is no longer as theoretical a concept as it was yesterday morning and if I continue to hold the world in this deeper way, I trust that it will continue to grow. It is as if what has just happened as I look out and up to see blue sky and a large white cloud over the mountain announcing sunrise is happening not just outside but within me as well. I now (I hope) will walk with the refugees and will add my voice to those who choose them as brothers and sisters. I will pray for my Jewish sisters and brothers and speak for gun control whenever an opportunity arises. More than anything I will try to love well and leave judgments out of my conversation, and I will pray for peace, the peace that only love can give.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Close Call

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alertness, brothers, calmed, fears, gratitude, Jan Phillips, lightning, safety, sisters, solidarity, storms, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, thunder, tornado, weather, wind

I often speak about the beauty and my good fortune of living in the Northeast region of the United States. Over the past few years my appreciation for this gift has grown as has my compassion for those who live in increasingly dangerous weather climates. Whether it be tornado, mud slide, forest fire or other damaging condition, we have seemed untouched, except for two floods in the last 43 years that caused damage but no loss of life. Last evening we got a taste of what it feels like to experience the likely possibility of a tornado.

It began in the afternoon when the warnings were announced on the media and in the palpable sense of danger when I stepped outside. I understand a little now how the animals feel when the impulse to move to higher or otherwise safer ground embedded in their being clicks on. It was as if a subtle pressure was leaning against my body and an alertness took over my mind. Then there was the inner call to get home, the place of safety, to ride out the storm together. Reports kept coming of damages in places to our south and west as we closed windows, moved outside furniture from the deck to the ground, turned off computers and unplugged everything else in the house. Then we waited.

I had worried in anticipation about two things: first that the roof would blow off the house and secondly that a branch of our huge, ancient maple trees would crash into the house. As soon as we made the preparations, however, my fears were calmed, as if being together was enough to remind me that we would be able to withstand anything the storm could do.

Most of our area is still without power this morning. Thunder, lightning and wind were certainly fierce but I have not heard if an actual tornado touched down. Once again I sit in gratitude for my life. Having experienced all the feelings of yesterday gives me a greater felt sense of solidarity for others whom I am more and more aware of naming my sisters and brothers. And again I hear Jan Phillips singing inside: Because the One I love lives inside you, I lean as close to you as I can…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Little Words

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attention, forgive, home, Luke, Our Father, prayer, solidarity, The Lord's Prayer, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, Thich Nhat Hanh

In these days when interfaith exchange is becoming more common, it is wonderful to hear similar sentiments from very diverse spiritual leaders. One of the most striking examples of this is a book called Living Buddha, Living Christ by the widely esteemed and beloved teacher, Thich Nhat Hanh. Also common now are interdenominational gatherings of Christians commemorating some tragic event or praying for peace or at a wedding ceremony where the Lord’s Prayer is recited and everyone knows the words! It is a comfortable feeling of “home” and solidarity to say or sing it in unison at such times. It is one of the first prayers to be taught to Christian children and the last recitation heard at many a deathbed. And sometimes, as with other memorized texts, we fail to be conscious of the sentiments expressed.

What is it that we are seeking from our Heavenly Father when we recite this prayer? Luke gives us the “stripped down” version in the gospel this morning (LK 11:1-4) that first praises God’s name and purpose (Hallowed be your name; your kingdom come). Then we ask for what will sustain us each day, seen as simple food but representing much more (Give us each day our daily bread), and ask forgiveness for our failures in our dealings with others (Forgive us our sins for we ourselves forgive everyone in debt to us). Lastly we ask not to be tested beyond our capacity at the end of our life (Do not submit us to the final test).

Whatever the translation, if I am really paying attention, there is usually some little shift that I notice – a small word perhaps, or some phrase that is so very applicable to my life at the moment. Today it is about that forgiveness ability that I long for. For me the line has always been “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” I’m used to the big changes like “debts” or “sins” in place of “trespasses” – which make sense. This morning, however, I’m stopped by the shift in the preposition that tells God why we should be forgiven. It says for instead of as we have forgiven…Usually I think of God measuring how much I have forgiven hurts against me and then forgiving me that much (as). Today, it looks like God expects me to have forgiven everyone – like there’s no question of that having happened already (for = because). Definitely enough to ponder for today!