The devastation from the 7.0 magnitude earthquake in Haiti has been terrible. Tens of thousands of people are feared dead under collapsed buildings and so many are homeless and without basic food, water, and medical aid. International rescue and assistance are being sent to help.
In the face of such a natural calamity it is deeply disturbing to me to hear the Rev. Pat Robertson attribute a spiritual cause for this and claim this is God's judgment on Haiti due to its people making a pact with the devil. I remember similar claims of God's judgment when New Orleans and the Mississippi delta region was devastated by Hurricane Katrina. And the echoes of judgment reverberate from the 1980's initial outbreak of the HIV-AIDS virus. There are times when I almost feel ashamed of being a Christian minister of the gospel when I hear such moralistic, judgmental diatribe from other ministers. I expect that it can feel that way for the vast majority of Muslim imams who have to address Islam's extreme fundamentalist clergy, or Jewish rabbis having to deal with ultra-orthodox leaders, that are so caught up in their sense of righteous causes that catastrophic events mirror their purposes and reflect divine affirmation and judgment upon the Others. It is dangerous stuff, this kind of projection of evil upon people and divine wrath read into natural catastrophes.
I cannot hold to such a view of God any longer, and I hope that most people see such pronouncements as portraying the Holy One as monstrous. I sincerely hope that the vast majority of people of faith find such views of God repulsive and distance themselves from religious leaders that make such claims. What is the fruit of such judgment? Common people are associated with some pervasive evil intention and victimized a second time.
Certainly, and thankfully, the vast majority of credible spiritual leaders support all those who take up actions of compassion in response to such terrible situations as an earthquake in Haiti. We pray for those who have experienced huge loss and death, and for those who are directly engaged in rescue and relief services. We give our financial resources for emergency care of those who need it. We do this as a response and participation in divine compassion and mercy, flowing from a God who cares for the sick and the stranger, the widowed and the orphaned, and holds all life dear. It is not ours to cast or pronounce judgment. Such talk bears bitter fruit. It is ours, rather, to see the suffering Christ in the face of those who suffer and to respond with compassion.
Friday, January 15, 2010
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Visitations
One of my regular daily practices is to go out to my back yard, weather permitting, and do some tai chi and qigong routines. Chi/Qi has an elusive meaning but it refers to "energy" or "spirit." And I do find these exercises both refreshing physically and also spiritually. It feels like a contemplative dance or wordless prayer in motion where the Spirit is my partner. It seems like every time I go out to do this practice I see one or two little neighborhood hummingbirds. I just love seeing them! Today, in the midst of my routines a white dove came by and stayed on the roof of a shed in our backyard just a few feet away from me. I was just thrilled. I whispered to it that I would dance for it. Later it left and the neon green, black, red, and yellow hummingbird came shimmering by for a visit. God is present in all that is but sometimes it is easier than in other moments to see, and be aware, and be delighted. I hope someday to always be alert to those visitations. This life is a gift, and God puts so many good things in our path to see and enjoy. Merry Christmas, happy holy-days, everyone!
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Waiting for Clarity
People are asking me how the wine is coming along from the pinot noir I started this fall. That was the case last night with a student at a dinner at the seminary. I told her that the wine is still in larger containers doing its slow, quiet work of settling and clarifying. The wine is very cloudy now and I will wait for a few months to see if it clarifies by itself. I have clarifying agents that I can use if it becomes necessary that will help clear the wine without altering the taste. Once it is nice and clear I'll bottle the wine. Well, when the seminary student and I were talking about waiting for clarity we both smiled and I realized that we've got another theme in spiritual life here!
Often in spiritual direction I am sitting with people, sometimes for months or even years, as we wait together in prayerful attentiveness as my friend is seeking clarity about various life questions: What direction am I being called into in ministry? How do I best respond to this relationship? How should I address a particular concern with my spouse or partner? What does God want from me in my workplace? If I take this particular job I'll have to give up many other important things. What is the right thing to do? My prayer life seems to be changing, but what will that do to my relationship with God? I keep getting variations on the same dream--I wonder what this is trying to tell me? Now that I'm moving to retirement I wonder what I should be doing in my life? There are a whole host of questions that come with faithful, reflective, contemplative living. The Christian spiritual tradition offers various tools for discernment, for seeking God's direction (our deepest, truest direction) amidst the various pushes and pulls and interests that come with important life situations and decisions.
Out of these many contributions from the Christian tradition, I'd like to highlight an aide to discernment that comes from the Quaker community--the clearness committee. Although I'm not going to go into detail about how a clearness committee process works in this reflection, I would like to emphasize some aspects of it from which we can all benefit. A person (or people) is seeking greater clarity and sense of direction, of God's direction, in a particular life question. He or she calls together some members of the community to sit with in one or more sessions that is marked by prayerful silence and questions of a particular kind. The members of the committee believe that the truth that the person is seeking already resides within that person. But the various considerations and interests that come with living in this world cloud his or her knowing, and the committee's job is to ask the kinds of questions that help the person engage the issues deeply and clear away the clouds to discover that inner truth or direction.
Whenever we are seeking clarity about a life issue it can be helpful to have people that can be with us, non-judgmentally and faithfully, in ways that are like a clearness committee. A spiritual director-companion, a some friends, a pastor or therapist, some wise elders in your faith community, some family members that can be loving but also a bit detached from the situation, a colleague at work or school, or others that God may provide for you can be invaluable if they can help you freely explore your own deepest concerns and desires about the issue. These are not people who are trying to tell you what to do--they are not advice-givers. They trust that God resides within you and your deepest inner knowing will take you where you need to go. They can sit with you in prayer, be a companion you in the waiting for clarity, and can ask you the kind of questions that help you do your best inner sifting of values and concerns and open you to the imaginative and prayerfully intuitive work that will eventually clarify your truth. Sometimes that inner direction comes quickly, but many times it is a process that takes a long time before you have clarity. Having some faithful friends can be helpful--they can be "spiritual clarifying agents."
Often in spiritual direction I am sitting with people, sometimes for months or even years, as we wait together in prayerful attentiveness as my friend is seeking clarity about various life questions: What direction am I being called into in ministry? How do I best respond to this relationship? How should I address a particular concern with my spouse or partner? What does God want from me in my workplace? If I take this particular job I'll have to give up many other important things. What is the right thing to do? My prayer life seems to be changing, but what will that do to my relationship with God? I keep getting variations on the same dream--I wonder what this is trying to tell me? Now that I'm moving to retirement I wonder what I should be doing in my life? There are a whole host of questions that come with faithful, reflective, contemplative living. The Christian spiritual tradition offers various tools for discernment, for seeking God's direction (our deepest, truest direction) amidst the various pushes and pulls and interests that come with important life situations and decisions.
Out of these many contributions from the Christian tradition, I'd like to highlight an aide to discernment that comes from the Quaker community--the clearness committee. Although I'm not going to go into detail about how a clearness committee process works in this reflection, I would like to emphasize some aspects of it from which we can all benefit. A person (or people) is seeking greater clarity and sense of direction, of God's direction, in a particular life question. He or she calls together some members of the community to sit with in one or more sessions that is marked by prayerful silence and questions of a particular kind. The members of the committee believe that the truth that the person is seeking already resides within that person. But the various considerations and interests that come with living in this world cloud his or her knowing, and the committee's job is to ask the kinds of questions that help the person engage the issues deeply and clear away the clouds to discover that inner truth or direction.
Whenever we are seeking clarity about a life issue it can be helpful to have people that can be with us, non-judgmentally and faithfully, in ways that are like a clearness committee. A spiritual director-companion, a some friends, a pastor or therapist, some wise elders in your faith community, some family members that can be loving but also a bit detached from the situation, a colleague at work or school, or others that God may provide for you can be invaluable if they can help you freely explore your own deepest concerns and desires about the issue. These are not people who are trying to tell you what to do--they are not advice-givers. They trust that God resides within you and your deepest inner knowing will take you where you need to go. They can sit with you in prayer, be a companion you in the waiting for clarity, and can ask you the kind of questions that help you do your best inner sifting of values and concerns and open you to the imaginative and prayerfully intuitive work that will eventually clarify your truth. Sometimes that inner direction comes quickly, but many times it is a process that takes a long time before you have clarity. Having some faithful friends can be helpful--they can be "spiritual clarifying agents."
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Endings and New Beginnings
I love to get out for walks. Always have. And one particular route I often take is along the San Pablo Bay on a regional trail system. When I come upon the "trail's end" sign it gives me pause, both literally and as an opportunity to reflect on endings and new beginnings in life.
The season of the church year when I am writing this meditation is Advent. In the quirkiness of the church's liturgical calendar the end of the year has already happened and a new year begins with the four weeks of Advent that lead to the celebrations of the Christmas season. This is also a time in nature's cycle when, in my part of the world, the days are shortening and the darkness is increasing. Things are getting colder. In Michigan, the land of my birth, much of the plant life has gone into dormancy for the winter and it looks pretty dead. Endings are all around. And yet, spiritual traditions often whisper of new life and hope. Advent is such a time of anticipating new birth.
It seems that my life has seen many small endings, and new beginnings. I expect that is also true for you. Experience teaches that the end of one trail may open up the possibility for a new journey to begin, new territory to explore, new life to be lived. But those times where endings are happening and new beginnings might not be clear yet is often touched with melancholy, darkness, unknowing, perhaps even disorientation or grief. These are times where we are invited to live in hope...that life will emerge anew, and sometimes unexpectedly, beyond our control.
The season of the church year when I am writing this meditation is Advent. In the quirkiness of the church's liturgical calendar the end of the year has already happened and a new year begins with the four weeks of Advent that lead to the celebrations of the Christmas season. This is also a time in nature's cycle when, in my part of the world, the days are shortening and the darkness is increasing. Things are getting colder. In Michigan, the land of my birth, much of the plant life has gone into dormancy for the winter and it looks pretty dead. Endings are all around. And yet, spiritual traditions often whisper of new life and hope. Advent is such a time of anticipating new birth.
It seems that my life has seen many small endings, and new beginnings. I expect that is also true for you. Experience teaches that the end of one trail may open up the possibility for a new journey to begin, new territory to explore, new life to be lived. But those times where endings are happening and new beginnings might not be clear yet is often touched with melancholy, darkness, unknowing, perhaps even disorientation or grief. These are times where we are invited to live in hope...that life will emerge anew, and sometimes unexpectedly, beyond our control.
When Teresa of Avila, one of the great spiritual Doctors of the Church, died in 1582 there was found in her prayer book the following words which have become known as the "Bookmark Prayer."
Nada te turbe,
nada te espante;
todo se pasa,
Dios no se muda.
La pacientia todo lo alcanza.
Quien a Dios tiene nada la falta:
solo Dios basta.
Let nothing disturb you,
Let nothing frighten you,
All things are passing away:
God never changes.
Patience obtains all things.
Whoever has God lacks nothing;
God alone suffices.
Endings are bound to happen. Change is a constant in this life. But the love of God is everlasting and with that love is a creative energy that will not be thwarted.
Nada te turbe,
nada te espante;
todo se pasa,
Dios no se muda.
La pacientia todo lo alcanza.
Quien a Dios tiene nada la falta:
solo Dios basta.
Let nothing disturb you,
Let nothing frighten you,
All things are passing away:
God never changes.
Patience obtains all things.
Whoever has God lacks nothing;
God alone suffices.
Endings are bound to happen. Change is a constant in this life. But the love of God is everlasting and with that love is a creative energy that will not be thwarted.
Monday, November 23, 2009
A New Covenant with the Earth
About 20 years ago I was at a diocesan clergy conference with the Rev. Herbert O'Driscoll, an extraordinary Anglican preacher and educator on homiletics. His topic for the conference was developing what he considered to be important scripture themes for this time. One of those themes was "a new covenant with the earth." That thought of a new covenant has been for me a profound way into a spiritual re-framing of our relationship with the earth in a time of a growing ecological crisis that has been largely due to our wanton misuse and exploitation of the world's natural resources.
In Christianity we have had several "covenant" understandings that we should examine and see how often the fruit of those understandings have been destructive. Two ancient Judeo-Christian mythic stories come to mind for me. The first version of the creation story (yes, there are two versions) in Genesis tells of the "days" of creation culminating in the creation of humanity on the sixth day with this warrant:
The theological warrant for domination of the earth is drawn from that story. The second version of the creation story in Genesis 2 is slightly different in that God places the human in a garden (of Eden) and the human's purpose there is "to till it and keep it" (Genesis 2:15). Husbandry is the purpose of humanity in that story rather than domination. In the first version humans are clearly at the top of an order of domination. Humans are more removed from the rest of creation and are given authority to subdue and dominate it. In the second version humans are closer to creation. Humans have a job tending the garden. They are still somewhat removed because they can name things (and therefore exert some control) and eat from everything but the forbidden fruit but the relationship is closer to being a steward of God's creation.
In a later mythic story a "covenant" is established between God and Noah after the great flood that destroys all living things except that which was saved on the ark. In Genesis 8 and 9 that covenant includes: God never again cursing the ground because of humans and never again destroying every living thing (8:21-22); and giving over every living thing to human control (9:1-3). The primary theological warrant that humans are removed from the rest of creation and given dominance by God over creation still seems to be in place. An anthropocentric hierarchy over creation gets firmly established.
This has largely been unquestioned (at least within Christian thought) until we began awakening to the ecological crisis we have been causing with this deadly sense of privileged domination. Native Americans with traditional spiritual understandings see things quite differently. Humans are a part of a whole community of creation, sharing a kinship with other beings. There is no radical separation from the rest of creation.
Eco-spirituality in Christian theology looks at the domination motif as something we need to repent from. Separating humanity from the rest of creation violates the relational basis in life--we are actually a web of interdependent, mutual relationships which we should tend and provide care for mutual benefit. All creation is a part of a sacred body--there is no separation or hierarchy between the material and spiritual. God, though not fully contained in creation, is not radically separate from the cosmos. And we are accountable for our relationship with the earth to Christ.
So as we look to Thanksgiving Day and other times of gratitude for what the earth so generously provides for us to sustain our lives, this would be a good time to make a new covenant--a new sacred promised relationship of mutuality with this good earth and with the God that so delights in all creation. We have much to do to repent from our exploitative ways and repair our relationship with this earth that is our home. Let this 21st century be the time of a major new Earth Covenant that embraces the wisdom of many faith traditions in the shared commitment to reformed practices, a renewed relationship of respect with the earth, and a boldness to challenge narrow economic, political, social, and personal privileged self-interests.
***
Here’s a little postscript. After writing this meditation I took a walk by San Pablo Bay and it came to me that students of Celtic influences on Christian spirituality may take issue with my rather blanket indictment based on the later tradition’s relationship with nature. There are some medieval sources that see nature as graced and we benefit from this branch of a more “earthy” spiritual tradition in Christianity.
In Christianity we have had several "covenant" understandings that we should examine and see how often the fruit of those understandings have been destructive. Two ancient Judeo-Christian mythic stories come to mind for me. The first version of the creation story (yes, there are two versions) in Genesis tells of the "days" of creation culminating in the creation of humanity on the sixth day with this warrant:
God blessed them, and God said to [human beings], "Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it; and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over every living thing that moves upon the earth." (Genesis 1:28)
The theological warrant for domination of the earth is drawn from that story. The second version of the creation story in Genesis 2 is slightly different in that God places the human in a garden (of Eden) and the human's purpose there is "to till it and keep it" (Genesis 2:15). Husbandry is the purpose of humanity in that story rather than domination. In the first version humans are clearly at the top of an order of domination. Humans are more removed from the rest of creation and are given authority to subdue and dominate it. In the second version humans are closer to creation. Humans have a job tending the garden. They are still somewhat removed because they can name things (and therefore exert some control) and eat from everything but the forbidden fruit but the relationship is closer to being a steward of God's creation.
In a later mythic story a "covenant" is established between God and Noah after the great flood that destroys all living things except that which was saved on the ark. In Genesis 8 and 9 that covenant includes: God never again cursing the ground because of humans and never again destroying every living thing (8:21-22); and giving over every living thing to human control (9:1-3). The primary theological warrant that humans are removed from the rest of creation and given dominance by God over creation still seems to be in place. An anthropocentric hierarchy over creation gets firmly established.
This has largely been unquestioned (at least within Christian thought) until we began awakening to the ecological crisis we have been causing with this deadly sense of privileged domination. Native Americans with traditional spiritual understandings see things quite differently. Humans are a part of a whole community of creation, sharing a kinship with other beings. There is no radical separation from the rest of creation.
Eco-spirituality in Christian theology looks at the domination motif as something we need to repent from. Separating humanity from the rest of creation violates the relational basis in life--we are actually a web of interdependent, mutual relationships which we should tend and provide care for mutual benefit. All creation is a part of a sacred body--there is no separation or hierarchy between the material and spiritual. God, though not fully contained in creation, is not radically separate from the cosmos. And we are accountable for our relationship with the earth to Christ.
So as we look to Thanksgiving Day and other times of gratitude for what the earth so generously provides for us to sustain our lives, this would be a good time to make a new covenant--a new sacred promised relationship of mutuality with this good earth and with the God that so delights in all creation. We have much to do to repent from our exploitative ways and repair our relationship with this earth that is our home. Let this 21st century be the time of a major new Earth Covenant that embraces the wisdom of many faith traditions in the shared commitment to reformed practices, a renewed relationship of respect with the earth, and a boldness to challenge narrow economic, political, social, and personal privileged self-interests.
***
Here’s a little postscript. After writing this meditation I took a walk by San Pablo Bay and it came to me that students of Celtic influences on Christian spirituality may take issue with my rather blanket indictment based on the later tradition’s relationship with nature. There are some medieval sources that see nature as graced and we benefit from this branch of a more “earthy” spiritual tradition in Christianity.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Containers
Many things need good containers and certainly that is the case with wine making. I use good food-grade plastic containers and glass carboys that hold up to 6.5 gallons of wine. These containers have fermentation locks which allows carbon dioxide to escape during with wine's fermentation process but also keeps outside airborne yeasts from coming in and contaminating the wine. There's a familiar saying attributed to Jesus in three of the gospels about not putting new wine in old wine skins (Matthew 9:17; Mark 2:22; Luke 5:37-39). In those days new wine would be put in new wine skins because fermentation would continue and the new skins would be flexible and pliant enough to expand. Old skins would harden and not expand with the continuing fermentation, resulting in burst skins and lost wine.
In the past 25 years there has been interesting work done on approaching faith and human maturation developmentally. Building on Jean Piaget's theory of child cognitive development and Erik Erikson's work on adult psycho-social development, James Fowler, Robert Kegan, and Elizabeth Liebert are some of the writers who apply this approach to spiritual life and faith development. I think of increasingly large "containers" that hold our understanding of God, reality, relationships, faith, and meaning. Sometimes we grow out of an old container and need a new one that is larger and more expansive. At an earlier time in our life we probably needed a concrete, literal understanding of scripture. God was seen in human terms. Rules and laws gave a safe structure to understanding the "right way" to live. Later, as abstract reasoning develops we might begin to question some of the earlier ways of understanding. We might begin to understand that there is a place for myth and metaphor, the power of symbolic truth as well as literal truth. Hopefully, church and authority structures are flexible and expandable enough to hold us in our questioning. (Which is, unfortunately, not always the case.) And we might come to understand that the way we understand God changes over time--and that eventually we may find that no container can completely hold God or our spirit.
In spiritual guidance work we try to provide a safe and respectful container that is flexible and expandable enough to hold our group or directee so they can do the inner work they desire to do. We try to honor where the person is in their own faith/spiritual development and be available to them as they form their questions, discover their sense of wonder and mystery, explore meaning, and seek wisdom.
How flexible and expandable is the wine skin of your spirit? What would happen if you burst that container?
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Connected in God's Love
I write this entry on the occasion of All Saints' Day in the church's liturgical year--November 1. Our society just widely celebrated Halloween, the evening before All Hallows' (Saints') Day. Today and the day following (All Souls Day or All Faithful Departed) is a special time for the Christian community to remember and give thanks for being connected through God's love with all those who support us in our lives, the saints who have gone before us who are witnesses to the spiritual foundation of our living, and also our personal circle of people who have touched our lives but have died.
That sense of being connected, even with those who are no longer living, is a powerful spiritual dynamic which can have a positive and negative side to it. In grief we might feel deeply connected to a deceased loved one and have that as a consolation--but we might also feel the pain of disconnection and insurmountable distance. Some of my directees or former parishioners have had things they wished to say to a loved one but death or incapacity came too soon for that to be expressed. And sometimes we miss people terribly. Times like All Saints' Day can be a special time, poignant and tearful perhaps, where we can be with a community that honors those who have been important to us and pray for them, and remember that by God's grace we are in communion with all the "saints" past, present, and yet to come.
Scripture gives us some hints of that connectedness. I think of Jesus' words in the gospel of John that he is the vine and we the branches (15:5); or Paul's moving statement of faith: "For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord." (Romans 8:38-39).
That connectedness as a spiritual reality is something that I can occasionally intuitively, prayerfully, sense; and often just simply take on faith. There are times when I will pray to God to "pass" this or that little message onto my deceased loved one. Or some moment will come that reminds me of someone who has died or is geographically distant and I'll just speak to that person as an act of...how shall I name this...imagination?...faith?...trust that on some deep level we are all still connected? I know that in my heart, my inner world, there is room aplenty for the living and those who are no longer alive on this plane of reality; time and space are not such linear things there. That ancient Celtic intuition of "thin places" seems to be much more accessible.
I love this prayer from the Book of Common Prayer (p. 395):
Almighty God, by your Holy Spirit you have made us one with your saints in heaven and on earth: Grant that in our earthly pilgrimage we may always be supported by this fellowship of love and prayer, and know ourselves to be surrounded by their witness to your power and mercy. We ask this for the sake of Jesus Christ, in whom all our intercessions are acceptable through the Spirit, and who lives and reigns for ever and ever. Amen.
That sense of being connected, even with those who are no longer living, is a powerful spiritual dynamic which can have a positive and negative side to it. In grief we might feel deeply connected to a deceased loved one and have that as a consolation--but we might also feel the pain of disconnection and insurmountable distance. Some of my directees or former parishioners have had things they wished to say to a loved one but death or incapacity came too soon for that to be expressed. And sometimes we miss people terribly. Times like All Saints' Day can be a special time, poignant and tearful perhaps, where we can be with a community that honors those who have been important to us and pray for them, and remember that by God's grace we are in communion with all the "saints" past, present, and yet to come.
Scripture gives us some hints of that connectedness. I think of Jesus' words in the gospel of John that he is the vine and we the branches (15:5); or Paul's moving statement of faith: "For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord." (Romans 8:38-39).
That connectedness as a spiritual reality is something that I can occasionally intuitively, prayerfully, sense; and often just simply take on faith. There are times when I will pray to God to "pass" this or that little message onto my deceased loved one. Or some moment will come that reminds me of someone who has died or is geographically distant and I'll just speak to that person as an act of...how shall I name this...imagination?...faith?...trust that on some deep level we are all still connected? I know that in my heart, my inner world, there is room aplenty for the living and those who are no longer alive on this plane of reality; time and space are not such linear things there. That ancient Celtic intuition of "thin places" seems to be much more accessible.
I love this prayer from the Book of Common Prayer (p. 395):
Almighty God, by your Holy Spirit you have made us one with your saints in heaven and on earth: Grant that in our earthly pilgrimage we may always be supported by this fellowship of love and prayer, and know ourselves to be surrounded by their witness to your power and mercy. We ask this for the sake of Jesus Christ, in whom all our intercessions are acceptable through the Spirit, and who lives and reigns for ever and ever. Amen.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
