I am on a silent retreat this week and there is noise and clattering joy all around me. It is the liturgy of the natural world doing a shout-out for Creator Godde.
Goldfinches dart and swoop in and out of the Lupine.
A tiny redbreast catches my eye as I gaze into a shrub. He is the first baby out of the nest peering peeping to the world in which he will soon fly up.
A topiaried tree leans toward its neighbor. Wait. Look. The two have two trunks but one has leaned into the other's branched topping so they are one. They have merged and as my eye travels up I see an explosion of new growth. A completely other tree, one we would call a Christmas tree, soars upward.
I am not making this up. (I understand why St.Paul wrote this as he struggled to define grace—the indescribable look and feel of divine creativity.)
It smells like lilacs, is the color of new grass, and tastes like the finest red wine accompanied by deep dark real chocolate.
And Godde said to Abram and Sarai. Go forth! Choose life!
And they went.
And from them grew nations and scriptures and a people of covenant blessing.
And God said to Jesus. Go forth! And he went.
And from his healing and teaching grew gratitude and new life for all. And when Jesus hung dying, then dead, and could no longer go forth or sing or pray, could not choose life Godde did it for him.
The beauty of Holiness is the same for humanity as it is for nature. A shout-out!
And Godde says to me, Go forth and Choose life. And I open all my senses and my pores and taste goodness and touch the sky.
It's raining so I grab my umbrella, grouse, then I go forth.
As I go I shout to Godde, Go forth and strut your stuff. Be Aslan. Rush. Hurl wisdom into all souls. Fling your word far, far, far. This is no time for anonymity or letting be. Make lots of noise. Burst with style. Shout out with all your might. Go!
Todo en el aire is pájaro.
Showing posts with label how Jesus heals. Show all posts
Showing posts with label how Jesus heals. Show all posts
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Last Suppers
In the closing weeks, now days, of our time here in Gloucester and at St. John’s Church before we move into retirement, we are being treated to many last suppers, breakfasts, lunches, teas and coffees. The bounty is varied and all of it bittersweet.
I can understand the impact and value of the Christian tradition’s focus on Jesus’ Last Supper with his disciples and friends. I know why they picked this moment as the scene that would be re-enacted over and over weekly in most Christian churches to remember the love of God communicated by Jesus Christ— a love so broad, so rich, so free as to include us all as guests without invitation, RSVP or conditions.
I can understand the sacred Friday Shabbat supper with ritual candles and remembrance of God’s faithfulness in the covenant.
I can understand why a prisoner facing execution is given a last meal, whatever he or she want without condition, to say goodbye to earthly life. Grace in a meal.
I can understand why as a child I was offered my favorite meal on my birthday and sometimes while recovering from a bout of some childhood illness. Mine would always be tuna fish casserole sans the peas but with potato chips crumbled on top, chocolate milk and vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce. Now it’s meat loaf of any variety with peas, potatoes smashed, then red wine and dark chocolate.
And I understand why the Last Supper became the Holy Communion/Eucharist sacrament of remembrance, justice, thanksgiving and forgiving, compassion and hope— the food of grace.
Don’t we all know this same experience around a family dining table when the food is sumptuous, the conversation heartening, and love connects? And don’t we all also know the truth that this ideal is rarely unbroken by more difficult feelings like anger, fear, guilt or sorrow?
But we come to the table anyway—again and again and again—with outstretched hands.
Our “last suppers” have all been holy too— lots of love sprinkled with the sorrow of goodbye and the hope of new life and the fear of loss.
For us the theme of “last supper” had many variations: from tea or coffee with dunking biscotti, to caesar salad with chicken times 5-6, to elegant dinners with wine and quail or some bird or other, to the most precious of all, a dinner out at Friendlys complete with my old favorite vanilla with hot fudge sauce no cherry.
I can understand the impact and value of the Christian tradition’s focus on Jesus’ Last Supper with his disciples and friends. I know why they picked this moment as the scene that would be re-enacted over and over weekly in most Christian churches to remember the love of God communicated by Jesus Christ— a love so broad, so rich, so free as to include us all as guests without invitation, RSVP or conditions.
I can understand the sacred Friday Shabbat supper with ritual candles and remembrance of God’s faithfulness in the covenant.
I can understand why a prisoner facing execution is given a last meal, whatever he or she want without condition, to say goodbye to earthly life. Grace in a meal.
I can understand why as a child I was offered my favorite meal on my birthday and sometimes while recovering from a bout of some childhood illness. Mine would always be tuna fish casserole sans the peas but with potato chips crumbled on top, chocolate milk and vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce. Now it’s meat loaf of any variety with peas, potatoes smashed, then red wine and dark chocolate.
And I understand why the Last Supper became the Holy Communion/Eucharist sacrament of remembrance, justice, thanksgiving and forgiving, compassion and hope— the food of grace.
Don’t we all know this same experience around a family dining table when the food is sumptuous, the conversation heartening, and love connects? And don’t we all also know the truth that this ideal is rarely unbroken by more difficult feelings like anger, fear, guilt or sorrow?
But we come to the table anyway—again and again and again—with outstretched hands.
Our “last suppers” have all been holy too— lots of love sprinkled with the sorrow of goodbye and the hope of new life and the fear of loss.
For us the theme of “last supper” had many variations: from tea or coffee with dunking biscotti, to caesar salad with chicken times 5-6, to elegant dinners with wine and quail or some bird or other, to the most precious of all, a dinner out at Friendlys complete with my old favorite vanilla with hot fudge sauce no cherry.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Prophetic Lying for Truth
In a lie often dwells a deeper spiritual truth—prophetic and something not to ignore.
When I was in college I nearly had an achievement breakdown. When I joined the world for real at about six I was already working on my strategy of choice to gain my father’s unconditional approval/attention—love by achieving in small matters like learning my letters and then bragging.
It didn’t work because, as I later came to know, my somewhat recessive, depressed, boozy (his own strategy) father loved me all along and it wasn’t for my achievements.
When I hit school in earnest I upped the ante on myself and achieved excellence in most things even Latin. It helped that I did and do love school and learning, but I was fast letting the world remake me in its own image and forgetting the God I’d met under the dining room table at three, the same one who, when I chattered on about all my thoughts, feeling, doings, neither applauded nor scorned but simply listened, made no corrections and, I felt sure, smiled.
Sadly I forgot about my early spiritual experience and took on American culture and its drive to success often at great cost. Even back in the forties we were a can-do culture and I became the most can-do-energizer-bunny I could be—compulsively so.
Phi Beta Kappa,When I called my parents to tell them I had been elected to Phi Beta Kappa, my father said “There must be some mistake.” Then quickly he laughed and added, “Just kidding, darling, that’s great.” I think that was the moment when, as inured as I was to my father’s style, I began to remember my God, began to glean truth fragments about myself, my dad and the American addiction to success, a profound cultural deception: if you don’t succeed (top grades, top credentials, top honors) you may not survive (get elected, get a good job, be a winner, survive.)
I remembered my own experience as I read about the recent exposure of painful lies, fabrications devised in worship of a false god. Religion calls this idolatry. It always stems from a ground zero spirituality of fear—not being loved and so engaging in efforts to prove oneself when there is in fact nothing you have to prove.
Richard Blumenthal, a Democrat got caught serving this lie in an effort to prove his worth. Blumenthal, attorney general of Connecticut, is running for Senate in Connecticut. It looked good until it was discovered that he had falsely claimed to have served in Vietnam. Why? Would this make him a hero? He already is a hero, or at least he has served his office well and was very electable—until his lie was discovered.
Most ordinary people, voters want/expect integrity. The biblical God in Genesis chose Noah to build a salvation ark because of his integrity (in Hebrew tam), not for his wood-working skills.
But I wonder if Blumenthal is a prophet in disguise. I wonder if there is a deeper truth under his unwise lying. I wonder if his action exposes the underbelly of the sin of this culture, the lie that drove him to lie in the first place now playing a role in revealing, not his personal sins but the sins of the system that enables, no encourages such behavior, even makes it almost normative.
The drive to succeed exceeds a normal desire for excellence when it causes one to lie to achieve something in easy reach. But before we condemn Blumenthal wholesale let’s look at the larger cultural context.
The paradox I discern is this: whether Blumenthal meant it or not his deceptive action exposes a truth we need to examine. Falsification could be seen as a symptom, a prophetic act of defiance against a system gone awry with rank ordering. The more inauthentic we get the more the deception is revealed and hopefully will lead to a change of ways, to ceasing and desisting from all these categories of who is acceptable and who is not. It is simply not the way of Spirit, not the way of God—and just plain not good for you at any level of being.
Could it be an honor not to have served in war or not to have straight A’s at Harvard?
All the great religious prophets exposed truth by doing something so counter-cultural, so deserving of dishonor that it got them ostracized if not killed. It happened to Jesus a lot and in the end cost him his life. Because he dined with society’s dregs and refused any honors himself he dishonored himself. He also called attention to the need for less competition and more compassion.
And from his dishonor itself we are still learning what true honor is, just as I learned and keep learning over and over not to sell my soul for the next accolade, no matter how sweet.
When I was in college I nearly had an achievement breakdown. When I joined the world for real at about six I was already working on my strategy of choice to gain my father’s unconditional approval/attention—love by achieving in small matters like learning my letters and then bragging.
It didn’t work because, as I later came to know, my somewhat recessive, depressed, boozy (his own strategy) father loved me all along and it wasn’t for my achievements.
When I hit school in earnest I upped the ante on myself and achieved excellence in most things even Latin. It helped that I did and do love school and learning, but I was fast letting the world remake me in its own image and forgetting the God I’d met under the dining room table at three, the same one who, when I chattered on about all my thoughts, feeling, doings, neither applauded nor scorned but simply listened, made no corrections and, I felt sure, smiled.
Sadly I forgot about my early spiritual experience and took on American culture and its drive to success often at great cost. Even back in the forties we were a can-do culture and I became the most can-do-energizer-bunny I could be—compulsively so.
Phi Beta Kappa,When I called my parents to tell them I had been elected to Phi Beta Kappa, my father said “There must be some mistake.” Then quickly he laughed and added, “Just kidding, darling, that’s great.” I think that was the moment when, as inured as I was to my father’s style, I began to remember my God, began to glean truth fragments about myself, my dad and the American addiction to success, a profound cultural deception: if you don’t succeed (top grades, top credentials, top honors) you may not survive (get elected, get a good job, be a winner, survive.)
I remembered my own experience as I read about the recent exposure of painful lies, fabrications devised in worship of a false god. Religion calls this idolatry. It always stems from a ground zero spirituality of fear—not being loved and so engaging in efforts to prove oneself when there is in fact nothing you have to prove.
Richard Blumenthal, a Democrat got caught serving this lie in an effort to prove his worth. Blumenthal, attorney general of Connecticut, is running for Senate in Connecticut. It looked good until it was discovered that he had falsely claimed to have served in Vietnam. Why? Would this make him a hero? He already is a hero, or at least he has served his office well and was very electable—until his lie was discovered.
Most ordinary people, voters want/expect integrity. The biblical God in Genesis chose Noah to build a salvation ark because of his integrity (in Hebrew tam), not for his wood-working skills.
But I wonder if Blumenthal is a prophet in disguise. I wonder if there is a deeper truth under his unwise lying. I wonder if his action exposes the underbelly of the sin of this culture, the lie that drove him to lie in the first place now playing a role in revealing, not his personal sins but the sins of the system that enables, no encourages such behavior, even makes it almost normative.
The drive to succeed exceeds a normal desire for excellence when it causes one to lie to achieve something in easy reach. But before we condemn Blumenthal wholesale let’s look at the larger cultural context.
The paradox I discern is this: whether Blumenthal meant it or not his deceptive action exposes a truth we need to examine. Falsification could be seen as a symptom, a prophetic act of defiance against a system gone awry with rank ordering. The more inauthentic we get the more the deception is revealed and hopefully will lead to a change of ways, to ceasing and desisting from all these categories of who is acceptable and who is not. It is simply not the way of Spirit, not the way of God—and just plain not good for you at any level of being.
Could it be an honor not to have served in war or not to have straight A’s at Harvard?
All the great religious prophets exposed truth by doing something so counter-cultural, so deserving of dishonor that it got them ostracized if not killed. It happened to Jesus a lot and in the end cost him his life. Because he dined with society’s dregs and refused any honors himself he dishonored himself. He also called attention to the need for less competition and more compassion.
And from his dishonor itself we are still learning what true honor is, just as I learned and keep learning over and over not to sell my soul for the next accolade, no matter how sweet.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Cranky and Hopeful
When I was a tender and cranky teenager my mother besieged me with Norman Vincent Peale’s The Power of Positive Thinking. Even bought me my very own copy.
I read it in spite of myself just in case my mother actually had a good idea or two. But my first suspicions about this “gift” were correct. It was over the top—not me, especially at fifteen!
My mother wanted me to be cheerful, extroverted and fun-loving like her. I’m an introvert, serious, solemn with my own brand of fun. Bad mix of personalities
That was a long time ago, but I’m still distrustful of overly cheery people especially when it feels forced or I feel judged by it.
The spiritual virtue of hope isn’t the same as having to think positively all the time. The biblical Psalms have plenty of lament, but through the process of honest lament the psalmist arrives at genuine unknowing realistic hope.
Christians who judge themselves and others for being negative need their Hebrew roots renewed. And Jesus was hardly sugary. Cheer up? Chin up? Smile, God loves you? Be happy? Nothing gospel about these except God loves you.
Unremitting negativity is as lethal to spirituality as overblown positivity. Spirituality is about wholeness and balance.
Jesus healed without a motivational speaker, judgment or cheerleading, often asking the obviously disabled what they wanted and if they wanted to be well. He didn’t spend much time trying to talk someone out of their misery or into a positive attitude.
There are actually books on how to be happy. Since when is happiness anyone’s right? Pursuit of course but not perfection. One person’s happiness might be someone else’s nightmare. Positive psychology is in now. It’s a corrective to too much psychotherapeutic emphasis on diagnostics, pathology, problems, what’s wrong with you. A good corrective but have we gone too far? Tipped over into the cotton candy vat?
According to reviews in Boston Globe and New York Times, Barbara Ehrenreich’s recent book Bright-Sided: How the Relentless Promotion of Positive Thinking Has Undermined America makes a refreshingly honest case against the tyranny of positive thinking. I'm grateful to her for speaking my mind.While quintessentially American, constant positivity can be oppressive. I think Peale is back in town.
Ehrenreich’s book came out of her own experience with breast cancer in which she felt that expressions of dread and outrage and profound fears were the wrong attitude. One should be upbeat, positive, never angry or a victim. Ehrenreich posted on a cancer support site that she was angry about chemotherapy and insurance companies and sick of pink ribbons and was told she needed therapy for her “bad attitude.”
What happened to realistic? Affirmations are wonderful IF they aren’t quick cover-ups, instant makeovers..
There are actually people who think that they can create their own reality, make stuff happen by how they think. There’s some truth to this but it’s snaky half-truth, and it certainly doesn’t work for child abuse. Children, innocent and powerless, do not create their own reality.
Jesus did not think himself onto or off of the cross. He simply had integrity and took the risk of proclaiming the God of his understanding, the one in fact who does not prevent or eliminate suffering and evil but, often through prayer and truth-telling, strengthens us from within, which can help us find resources beyond ourselves—even learn to show, tell and ask.
And religious folks are flocking to self-help books. How to get God. How to find the prosperity God wants for you. How not to get left behind. How to feel good and gooder. It’s icky.
Ehrenreich, according to reviewer Hanna Rosin (NY Times Book Review, Nov. 8. 2009,) critiques Christian overcheer and wonders where the biblical “demand for humility and self-sacrifice” has gone to.
OK I’m a crank. I know there are people who need pep talks, encouragement, empowerment, even a little cheerleading, who need reminding that they do have resources they might not have counted. I do too this in my work as priest, spiritual director, counselor, but never to override tears and lament.
Spirituality and good religion are about trust that there is a God who cares and has more grace, will and power than your own will, attitude or positivity.
It’s a control issue!
I believe that the source of one's soul-uplift is not in one's own mind or ego strength or can-do mentality but in one's willingness to partner with the grace that’s given.
I read it in spite of myself just in case my mother actually had a good idea or two. But my first suspicions about this “gift” were correct. It was over the top—not me, especially at fifteen!
My mother wanted me to be cheerful, extroverted and fun-loving like her. I’m an introvert, serious, solemn with my own brand of fun. Bad mix of personalities
That was a long time ago, but I’m still distrustful of overly cheery people especially when it feels forced or I feel judged by it.
The spiritual virtue of hope isn’t the same as having to think positively all the time. The biblical Psalms have plenty of lament, but through the process of honest lament the psalmist arrives at genuine unknowing realistic hope.
Christians who judge themselves and others for being negative need their Hebrew roots renewed. And Jesus was hardly sugary. Cheer up? Chin up? Smile, God loves you? Be happy? Nothing gospel about these except God loves you.
Unremitting negativity is as lethal to spirituality as overblown positivity. Spirituality is about wholeness and balance.
Jesus healed without a motivational speaker, judgment or cheerleading, often asking the obviously disabled what they wanted and if they wanted to be well. He didn’t spend much time trying to talk someone out of their misery or into a positive attitude.
There are actually books on how to be happy. Since when is happiness anyone’s right? Pursuit of course but not perfection. One person’s happiness might be someone else’s nightmare. Positive psychology is in now. It’s a corrective to too much psychotherapeutic emphasis on diagnostics, pathology, problems, what’s wrong with you. A good corrective but have we gone too far? Tipped over into the cotton candy vat?
According to reviews in Boston Globe and New York Times, Barbara Ehrenreich’s recent book Bright-Sided: How the Relentless Promotion of Positive Thinking Has Undermined America makes a refreshingly honest case against the tyranny of positive thinking. I'm grateful to her for speaking my mind.While quintessentially American, constant positivity can be oppressive. I think Peale is back in town.
Ehrenreich’s book came out of her own experience with breast cancer in which she felt that expressions of dread and outrage and profound fears were the wrong attitude. One should be upbeat, positive, never angry or a victim. Ehrenreich posted on a cancer support site that she was angry about chemotherapy and insurance companies and sick of pink ribbons and was told she needed therapy for her “bad attitude.”
What happened to realistic? Affirmations are wonderful IF they aren’t quick cover-ups, instant makeovers..
There are actually people who think that they can create their own reality, make stuff happen by how they think. There’s some truth to this but it’s snaky half-truth, and it certainly doesn’t work for child abuse. Children, innocent and powerless, do not create their own reality.
Jesus did not think himself onto or off of the cross. He simply had integrity and took the risk of proclaiming the God of his understanding, the one in fact who does not prevent or eliminate suffering and evil but, often through prayer and truth-telling, strengthens us from within, which can help us find resources beyond ourselves—even learn to show, tell and ask.
And religious folks are flocking to self-help books. How to get God. How to find the prosperity God wants for you. How not to get left behind. How to feel good and gooder. It’s icky.
Ehrenreich, according to reviewer Hanna Rosin (NY Times Book Review, Nov. 8. 2009,) critiques Christian overcheer and wonders where the biblical “demand for humility and self-sacrifice” has gone to.
OK I’m a crank. I know there are people who need pep talks, encouragement, empowerment, even a little cheerleading, who need reminding that they do have resources they might not have counted. I do too this in my work as priest, spiritual director, counselor, but never to override tears and lament.
Spirituality and good religion are about trust that there is a God who cares and has more grace, will and power than your own will, attitude or positivity.
It’s a control issue!
I believe that the source of one's soul-uplift is not in one's own mind or ego strength or can-do mentality but in one's willingness to partner with the grace that’s given.
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