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Showing posts with label Spirituality and Practice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Spirituality and Practice. Show all posts
This morning I came down with a case of spiritual
amnesia. Spiritual amnesia is that
illness where you forget the things that have connected you with God. (Don’t try to claim it on an insurance form,
because I just made it up.)
I raced into the office this morning, running late. There was the stop at school to bring the
forgotten gym shoes, then the bank, then the dry cleaners. I had lots on my
plate, so there would not be time for my usual practice of beginning my day
with journaling, scripture, and prayer.
This is spiritual amnesia.
I forgot that gratitude matters. I forgot that, even on a busy day, prayer
helps. I forgot that especially on a busy day, prayer
helps. I forgot that writing in a
current journal or reflecting on an old one often brings helpful perspective
for the day. I forgot that bringing my
life to God is what sustains me over the long haul. I had spiritual amnesia.
The great thing about spiritual amnesia is that God never
forgets. So when I did sit down to pray,
the gifts of that spiritual practice were there once again.
Now if I could only remember where I
left my car keys….
I recently received, through email, a political “joke,” a cartoonish thing that the sender must seen as having sufficient merit to warrant sharing it with four people, of whom I was probably the only one who found it offensive, bordering on violent.
I keep thinking that she sent it to me in error, but there it was in my mailbox. I could have guessed her political persuasion, but I wish I had not glimpsed the bitterness and hostility behind it. I wanted to respond, but I deleted it instead.
Here’s the complication. The sender and I used to be connected to one another through our children. We had a cordial relationship, and over a ten-year period, we were often in one another’s homes. But ever since the divorce of our children, which I know broke both our hearts, we have been simply and quietly out of touch—though our paths will cross again, for we have two young grandchildren in common. Of course we each want the best for their future, even though, politically speaking, we differ in how we think that might be accomplished.
The thing is, receiving that email from her was an up-close-and-way-too-personal reminder of the deep divisions that afflict not only the two of us and our particular families but also those in culture beyond. Meanwhile, I know that while she and I differ in many respects and do not share all of the same values, we do share some. And then there’s the matter of our grandchildren.
This week, riding through the heavens on our fragile planet, all earthlings will undergo a change of seasons. Those who live south of the equator will move from winter into spring while those of us in the northern hemisphere will move from summer into fall. I, for one, am ready. We’ve had a long, hot summer in my Virginia neck of the woods. More than that, though, I take comfort in remembering how light continually changes for all people and all cultures as we travel around the sun, for reflecting on that changing light gives me a sense of the wholeness of creation— and reminds me that creation’s goodness is greater than our tribal divisions.
Thus reminded, perhaps in the first few days of fall, while day and night are still fairly evenly balanced, I will respond to that email. I would like to tell the sender that, as regards our differences, my heart is heavy. I would also like to say that I wish her and her family well. We share a common humanity, and we share a common brokenness.
And not only to her but to everyone I would like to say that I wish we could find opportunities and language to talk over our differences, to work with both reason and compassion toward solving the complex problems our world faces, and to be kind and respectful to one another as we figure it out. In fact, that is my prayer at this change of seasons. From all extremes of both hot and cold, dear God, deliver us.
Ian is building a chapel. In his back yard. In many ways it is a typical back yard, with kids toys, patio furniture and dog poop in the grass. But he has made space for a stone chapel too. Ian is a busy guy, with a complex job and two young children. But piece-by-piece, he is putting together this space that he will use for prayer, reflection and writing.
I don’t see myself building a stone chapel in my backyard, and I doubt you do either. But what might you or I do to help our prayer life? Where could we go or what could we change to deepen our life of prayer?
“Finding the treasure is only the beginning of the search”
~Henri Nouwen Source: The Inner Voice of Love
I find this an interesting way to look at a treasure hunt, that the job is only partly done once the treasure is found. In our Western culture it seems that we have been indoctrinated with the idea that finding the treasure is the final goal. This logic certainly negates the teaching that joy is found in the journey and not in the destination and it leaves out the part that another journey begins after the treasure is found.
Following are the words to ‘Joy in the Journey’, a song by Christian musician Michael Card which speaks of the Christian journey toward a treasure:
There is a joy in the journey, there’s a light we can love on the way.
There is a wonder and wildness to life, and freedom for those who obey.
And all those who seek it shall find it, a pardon for all who believe,
Hope for the hopeless and sight for the blind.
To all who’ve been born in the Spirit, and who share incarnation with Him,
Who belong to eternity, stranded in time, and weary of struggling with sin.
Forget not the hope that’s before you, and never stop counting the cost
Remember the hopelessness when you were lost.
There is a joy in the journey, there’s a light we can love on the way.
There is a wonder and wildness to life, and freedom for those who obey.
I began writing this a week ago, before I had surgery to remove the screw from the bone in my foot that I broke last January. The procedure was more intense than I had expected it would be. So I’m waiting to feel the Joy, waiting for the release from the pain and discomfort that I had expected would come immediately after the surgery. And I’ve been reflecting on how to finish this letter I started.
What comes after one finds their treasure? I’m sure we’ve all heard stories about how a large number of lottery winners end up broke within a short period of time after receiving their treasure. And we’ve also heard the stories of those who feel the need to hoard their treasure instead of sharing it. And I’m sure there are many, who like me, expected immediate relief from whatever they felt burdened by. Although, I had no doubt I was to have the screw removed (was I obeying? I’m not sure.), I missed the mark (sinned?) by expecting immediate relief. Sometimes I wonder if God will someday lose patience with me for hastily jumping to the conclusion I think I want and need.
Then God sends a reminder of God’s love for me, renewing my belief that we all have been invited to experience the “Joy in the Journey… and the wonder and wildness of life” and I begin to move along again on my journey, trusting in the love of the Ultimate Guide to the treasures of this life, Jesus, the Christ.
How is your journey progressing? What treasure are you seeking? May you always remember, God has better things in mind for us than anything we can imagine and hope for.
Faithfully,
Tracy Moore
Tracy Moore lives in Michigan with her husband, Terry, and volunteers her time and energy as our prayer team leader. She is a trained spiritual director.
“I don’t know exactly what a prayer is,” writes the poet Mary Oliver in her poem, “A Summer Day.”
Do you know exactly what a prayer is? Like the poet, I do not, not really, not with any certainty. And yet, for most of my life, I have felt called to pray.
That doesn’t mean that I have always responded faithfully to that call. Nor does it mean that my habits of prayer, when I have managed to establish them, have always taken the same form. Sometimes I have walked my prayers. Sometimes I have written or drawn them. Sometimes I have used prayer books, and other times, prayer beads.
My most recent prayer habit, which took place first thing in the morning, included an extended period of inner stillness. That practice has dissolved in recent weeks, however, first with the adoption of a puppy, and then with the arrival of two grandchildren, ages 7 and 9, for a three-week visit. The resulting changes in household dynamics gotten me thinking again about how to pray.
After confessing that she doesn’t “know exactly what a prayer is,” Oliver adds, “I DO know how to pay attention” (my emphasis). The things she writes about paying attention to on her summer day are different from—and generally quieter than—those I am currently paying attention to on my summer days. She watches a grasshopper chew. I watch for cues that the puppy needs to go outside to potty. She falls down on her knees in the grass and strolls through fields. I play Sorry! with my grandchildren, fill an inflatable pool for them in the backyard, and share popcorn in a dark theater during the last of the Harry Potter movies.
Are those activities prayer? Probably not, at least not in any traditional sense. But perhaps yes if, as I go about them, I can remain fully aware of and present to the goodness inherent in all of God’s creatures. Later there will be time to resume other forms of prayer, but today, if I can simply pay attention, perhaps that is enough.
Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean—
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down—
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
What do you see when you look out of the window you look out of most?
That question, long a favorite journal topic when I teach a writing class, has become a brand new question for me. Last week, the glass in the window I look out of most was replaced. The seal between the double panes of glass had been compromised, so that over a period of years, the glass had become increasingly cloudy. Now, however, with new glass in place, whatever I see, I see clearly.
Yesterday, that was mostly birds—cardinals, Carolina chickadees, goldfinches. Never have their colors and shapes looked so lovely, at least not out this window, not for a long time. Overnight we had a storm, and this morning, even the raindrops clinging to the panes looked clearer than ever before.
So I have been thinking how good it is to see clearly—which in turn has gotten me thinking not only about physical windows but also about metaphysical ones, the “inner” windows through which I view the rest of the world. How easily they too become clouded. All it takes is a little pride, a little prejudice, a little pain, a little impatience seeping in around the edges….
And I begin jumping to conclusions. I become self-righteous, self-indulgent, defensive, or self-important. I fail to see that it is my window that has gotten cloudy or to realize that I am the one not seeing a person or situation quite as clearly as I might.
Sometimes checking things out with a friend helps restore perspective. Sometimes remembering a Bible story or re-reading a favorite poem brings some little clarity. When those things happen, it is almost like installing new glass.
How about you? What do you see when you look out of the window you look out of most? And what do you do when you want to see more clearly?
Patience Robbins, taught often about Sister Dorothy Stang, a sister of Notre Dame, who was murdered in the city of Anapu, Brazil, for her work for justice and the poor in that area. When Patience, my friend and mentor from the Shalem Institute, would talk about the inspirational life and death of Sister Dorothy Stang, at first I didn’t quite get it. I thought, “must be a Catholic thing, to be inspired by martyrdom. Me? I’d rather live.” But the story stuck, and has continued to run around in my spirit over the last several years. Sister Dorothy spent her adult life helping the poor of Brazil work for environmental justice, making enemies with wealthy landowners and loggers who were used to getting their way. She was gunned down in the road on the way to a community meeting about these land rights issues. When she was surrounded by her killers, she opened the Bible and read the Beatitudes out loud.
For the past month I’ve been riveted by events unfolding in the middle east. News coverage is now unfolding the personal stories behind to story of the early days of revolution in Egypt, and I see women who look just like me out on the streets, making a revolution happen with their presence, their precious life energy, their demands and their networks. Christiane Amanpour on ABC News This week had a fascinating 5 minute story about some of these women. It is inspiring to watch! In real time, real life, it begs the Biblical question in this Lenten season, “what would I die for?”
Ahhhh here we are, so soon, in the discussion of contemplation versus action. This has been the crossroads for people of faith for millennia. Since Doug invited the importance of the Pause in the last blog, I'll invite the importance of Action.
What I love about the for-profit company Green Mountain Coffee using "A Revelation in Every Cup" as their marketing slogan is that it's actually true. Potentially true, I should say.
If coffee farmers the world over were paid a fair wage for their effort and product, it would indeed change the world.
If every person sipping a cup of coffee became aware of the entire chain of relationship for that one cup, from growers tilling the soil to community members bringing beans to market to coffee buyers and sellers to the roasters, to the marketers, to the trees grown to make the disposable cup, instead of simply focusing on that one cup and their own price and satisfaction, that would be QUITE a revelation!
And finally, the hope is that such a revelation would change how that one cup of coffee was produced, for the good of God's world, if in fact change was needed. To be a just world, change is indeed needed.
Green Mountain Coffee and Ashoka's Changemakers are actually looking "for the most innovative ideas to inspire community action, " hosting a competition to do just that. They are hoping the moment of revelation with your coffee can be turned into action that "motivates local citizens to strengthen communities." The deadline for idea submissions is April 21st - what an interesting Lenton practice that could be! "How can I make my community a better place?"
Certainly it is important to stand at the crossroads, pause and reflect, and turn away from busy-ness. Now, I'm wondering if a different crossroads to explore is busy-ness versus action. Busy means distraction; my attention is fractured, divided up and scattered. Action means conscious awareness; focused attention with awareness of how everything is connected. So that every choice does indeed matter.
Resources for this exploration: Just Coffee.org: We met these great folks on the Everything Must Change Tour with Brian McLaren. REALLY good coffee, delivered right to you, and everyone along the way makes their fair share. No, it's not expensive, either!
Spirituality and Practice: they provide excellent classes, resources, and discussions on action and reflection. Right now they have two excellent series going on: "Watching the Olympics as a Spiritual Practice" and a Lent series with the writings of Catholic Priest Edward Hayes, who views Lent as a time of expansion and growth instead of restriction and sacrifice. Great stuff!
Center for Action and Contemplation: "a place of discernment and growth for activists and those interested in social service ministries—a place to be still, and learn how to integrate a contemplative lifestyle with compassionate service." They have events, resources, and is another place for action/reflection conversation.
Charity Focus.org. These folks have many ways of sending out good information in the world, and encouragement for the Faith Journey. I get a dially email with a quote and a story of GOOD ACTION in the world, with a "how to live this" invitation to ACTION at the end.
Today , the quote was "Since you cannot do good to all, you are to pay special attention to those who, by the accidents of time, or place, or circumstances, are brought into closer connection with you." --Augustine of Hippo. The Good Action story was of a coffee shop owner who asked clients to consider setting aside their laptop for a certain amount of time to actually interact with the people sitting in the coffee shop. The Be The Change invitation was to "budget your computer time, and use your newly freed time to connect with someone face-to-face."
by Tiffany Montavon
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