Meaning and Authenticity

Grand Canyon vacation

2011-09-08T20:40:00.001-06:00

This is in Taos -- we stopped there and in Durango on the way to the Grand Canyon. It's my husband with a straw up his nose. (Yep. Waited 48 years for this!) :-)

This is D at the intersection of Utah, Colorado, New Mexico and Arizona. Four Corners. Must be one of the most god-forsaken places on the planet. Ugh.

Some shots of the Canyon...

Weather was in the 70's (oh, so nice!), but the sun was pretty intense, nevertheless!

We splurged and took the train from Williams, where we stayed, to the Canyon. Observation Deck on the way there, and First Class on the way back. Worth every penny -- they kept us entertained the whole time!

Jesus and the Poor

2011-08-07T19:02:00.000-06:00

From Stephen Colbert ~~~
If this is going to be a Christian nation that doesn’t help the poor, either we’ve got to pretend that Jesus was just as selfish as we are or we’ve got to acknowledge that he commanded us to love the poor and serve the needy without condition — and then admit that we just don’t want to do it. (Hat top to Sue L.)

Interviewed on local television

2011-08-06T19:26:00.003-06:00

Groups Gather Opposition to Perry's Prayer Rally: MyFoxDFW.com

Monday Meditations: "Enchanted April"

2011-06-27T11:37:00.002-06:00

I've been listening to the audiobook of The Enchanted April. I've loved the movie for years, but the book is, of course, adding so much texture to the story. I love it.

The book spells out clearly why Lottie experiences such a transformation at San Salvatore...it's the Beauty. Fragrant flowers, sunshine (especially so having come from drizzly London), the "castle" itself as well as its staff, the abundance of flowers, and, of course, the Mediterranean Sea.

Lottie

Lottie's first morning at San Salvatore is worth remembering. She has a room to herself (all four of them do), and as she awakes, she notices how "lovely" the room is. "How wonderful to have such a lovely room all to myself," she thinks. "If I chose to, I could lock the door and no one at all could disturb me." She feels the sheets, turns and squirms, moving all around the bed to luxuriate in the smooth softness of those sheets. Not one iota of guilt. She knows she deserves the goodness of this holiday.

San Salvatore

Eventually, the shuttered window in her room calls her, and she rises. As she opens the shutters, aaaaaahh. I need to listen to that part again---the author used words to describe Lottie's response, but I can't remember them. To me, it must have been an experience beyond words. It must've been as if she had never seen sunshine before in her life, never seen the shining sparkles of the sun on a Sea, never smelled the intense fragrance of flowers (the small mountain on which San Salvatore stands is blanketed, literally, in the flowers of spring, all newly blooming)....one of those literally-take-her-breath-away moments.

Beauty fills her, fills her entire being. When that happens, I know, the accompanying sister to Beauty is always Love. Lottie allows this filling--perhaps her temperment and background mean this "allowing" occurs naturally for her (she does seem to have a mystical side, even as we come to know her in London), or perhaps in some way she's been 'working' on her inner life. In any case, she opens herself completely to Beauty's eager outpouring.

Rose exchanges glances with Lottie,
across their respective balconies,
as they get their first view of
San Salvatore

Opening oneself completely to Beauty, for Lottie, means that she is in Heaven. "In heaven one doesn't need to arrange or repair anything at all," she tells Rose, as Rose seems to want to fight Ms. Fisher's take-over of the prettiest sunroom. "In heaven, one has to share the love," she says, confident that there's plenty to go around. She tells Rose that she's written to Milosh, her husband, and invited him to come and stay. "I've been a beast," she says, "only loving Milosh if he first loved me. And since he didn't, there was no love at all. Oh, Rose, it doesn't matter who loves, as long as someone does!"

The Love that Beauty has evoked in her spills out everywhere.

In London, Lottie was nervous almost constantly. When she and Rose first meet Lady Caroline to interview her about staying with them in the castle, Lottie couldn't speak, and when she tried her face turned red. When she first met Ms. Fisher, she made a fool of herself, so nervous that she couldn't think straight and ended up implying that she thought Keats was still alive. (!) Such a funny scene. Lottie frequently appeared confused. Rose thought that her friends' words "gushed" out, unfiltered and often nonsensical.
But this was something else Rose noticed about Lottie that first day in SanSalvatore: her language was developing along with her spirit and her personality. She was using stronger, more striking words--words like "beast." And there was no stuttering, no appearance of confusion at all. She remained enthusiastic in her speech, but "enthusiasm" is quite different when the context is wisdom rather than "covering up out of nervousness," Rose thought.

Lottie: "I've written to Milosh and
invited him here."

Rose was taken aback, to say the least, at the thought of Milosh joining them. "But Lottie, we came here to get away from .... well, from our husbands," she said, trying to understand, to keep up with Lottie's transformation. "And just this morning you said you couldn't envision Milosh. In your mind's eye he was without form or content, and now, this afternoon, he's suddenly taken shape?" Rose felt that Lottie's "development" was shockingly fast, but she did recognize it as 'development,' at one point thinking she could almost see the halo just above Lottie's head.

There's so much else to say, but the main thing is my sense of understanding Lottie. I too have experienced Beauty evoking an outpouring of Love--Love so strong I could not contain it, so giving it to everyone I met seemed perfectly natural. With such an experience, something quite substantial shifts within. I have never gone back to the way I was before the experience. Hmmm, Lottie is so right: It is indeed an experience of heaven.
_______________________________

Women in the Texas Legislature Give 'Em What For

2011-05-30T11:06:00.003-06:00

This gets especially good about 6 minutes in.
"We have not earned this disrespect! We get elected just like you do! We have NOT earned this DISREPECT! And I don't want to tolerate it by anybody. And men, if you don't stand up for us today, don't you walk in this Chamber tomorrow."

Wow.

Service on Fifth Sundays. BEING the church.

2011-05-29T17:22:00.000-06:00

Today is the Fifth Sunday. I copied the idea from a friend in another church...On each fifth Sunday of the year, we have only a brief worship service at 9:00, then we choose a service project to do (which our Christian Service folks have pre-arranged for us) in our neighborhoods. I went with the group that served at the Samaritan House for people with HIV. It's a large facility with 357 families. We cleaned the kitchen for them. Others cleaned and straightened the yard at our neighboring elementary school, while smaller groups did a few smaller projects. Then we all gathered at the church again at 12:30 for a spaghetti lunch.
I'd say we had about 40% participation, which is amazingly good, really. Fifth Sundays' Service isn't something that everyone will want to be a part of. The folks that came today have a real calling to serve, I think.

I tried to set the stage this morning in the sermon by talking about motivations for service, and how when we serve others we can catch a small glimpse of the Reign of God.

A different way of worshiping today. Change. It isn't always easy, but wow, it can really be worth it!

Watch. Keep Awake. The Potential for Disaster is Near.

2011-05-15T18:17:00.001-06:00

I was reminded the other day about the dangers involved in church and being a pastor.

I've known of cutting-edge churches where people who attended believed in all sincerity (and I think they were right) that they were part of something God intends for Church to be. Inclusive of all. True community. Deeply meaningful. Actively caring for "the least of these." Growing by leaps and bounds. The kind of place where it is truly exciting just to walk in the door, knowing you'll be greeted by people who love you, who are genuinely happy to see you. People trust each other. It's where your children are loved, even your crochety old Aunt Bess can come and feel the love surrounding her. The pastors are dynamic, creative, personable, excellent preachers, teachers, and leaders. Yes, this is a place that "God is blessing" big time.

I've known those kind of communities--been part of a couple, at least on the edges. It was a uniquely wonder-filled experience.

Yet time and again those are also the communities in which something horrible happens. The pastor gets into trouble with a parishioner. Or the secretary embezzles. Something.

A few weeks ago, as I listened to someone's involvement in a community like that, I experienced this feeling/thought about how dangerous church can be. Even when it's all so good, so right, so the way Jesus intended. Yet there remains, always, a potential for a fall, an opening to danger, even evil.

Just when you know--"ah, this is heaven on earth," the smallest crack makes an appearance. It seems that we are given glimpses of the Dream, the Reign/Kingdom, but we do not know it in its fullness. No.

I see it as the weakness (?) of the human ego--the false ego, I mean. Indiscretion by a pastor who, believing (s)he's doing the will of God, excuses himself or herself from the kind of daily examination, prayer, spiritual practices that might help keep him/her centered and self aware. The staff member feels the pressure to 'perform,' so takes some short cuts. Our blind spots grow. It's all so innocent...and not.

The goodness that we do is laced with less than pure motivation. No denying that.

Someone at church today remarked that he has a hard time when I say "for forgiveness of sin" during communion. Kinda 'ruins it' for him.

But everything worth anything stands in the paradox, doesn't it?--the tension between opposites. Our wounds tempt us to behaviors our true selves do not value. So we do 'the work,' we look at who we are, how these wounds came to be, and eventually we hear the Gospel Truth--we ARE God's beloved children. We lack nothing.

That's so right. I remember so clearly Mary R. telling me that not so long ago! I lack nothing. 'Tis true.

But if I stay on that "side" of who I am, --I lack nothing; my will and God's will are one; I am good and true and beautiful and smart-- eventually self-deception becomes too powerful an enemy, and "I am right" creeps in more and more often.

I HAVE to come back down on the other side, to a place where I find equilibrium, a place in which I also know that at the same time I lack nothing, I yet lack so much. It's both. "I am perfect AND I could use a little work." As a human being my place is inside this paradox of created-in-the-image-of-God AND in great need of forgiveness.

As a pastor, it seems imperative that I keep trying to maintain this tension such that it becomes beautifully creative, not destructive. The potential for disaster is near. Watch. Keep Awake.

The Welcoming Prayer

2011-04-04T14:55:00.002-06:00

This is directly from Cynthia Bourgeault's Centering Prayer and Inner Awakening. It's from the chapter on The Welcoming Prayer toward the end of the book. I'm finding it to be a powerful spiritual practice.

The three step process of the Welcoming Prayer

1. Focus and sink in

2. Welcome

3. Let go

Focus and sink in

To focus means to sink in to the feeling in your body. If it’s a physical pain, like a toothache you become very present to it, putting your full attention inside it. Exactly the same is true for emotions. If you are angry, see if you can be present to how anger is manifesting in your body—is your jaw clenched? Stomach in knots? If fear is present, what is the sensation of it? Is your breath short? Is there a sense of vertigo, or a stampede of ‘fight or flight’ adrenaline?

Don’t try to change anything. Just stay present.

Focusing doesn’t mean psychoanalyzing. This is not about trying to discover why you feel the way you do, or justifying your feelings.

This first step is the key to whole practice. By becoming physically aware of this energy as sensation in your body, you can stay in the present, welcoming it.

Welcome
Now comes the most inscrutable and counterintuitive instruction in the whole of Welcoming Prayer. Sitting there, steeped in the feeling, you begin to say, ever so gently, ”Welcome, anger” or “Welcome pain, welcome.”

How’s that again? If this emotion is what necessitated the practice in the first place, why are we welcoming it? Isn’t the goal to get rid of it?

Actually, no. The goal is not to let it chase you out of presence.

Admittedly, this is paradoxical. Common sense tells you that the emotion is the problem and the solution is to eliminate it. But by welcoming it instead, you create an atmosphere of inner hospitality. By embracing the thing you once defended yourself against, or ran from, you are actually disarming it, removing its power to hurt you or chase you back into our smaller self.

There’s a wonderful novel by Ursula Le Guin called A Wizard of Earthsea, which is actually an extended meditation on exactly this point. A young wizard named Ged is in training to become a sorcerer. One day, horsing around with his friends, he inadvertently conjures up a minor demon. The demon proceeds to haunt him throughout the book. As he grows in power and influence, it grows right along with him. Gradually it turns very dark and begins to stalk him; he flees in terror. He runs to a city by the sea, but it follows him there. He hires a boat and rows out into the sea, but it follows him there. Finally, he jumps into the water, but the thing is still right on his back. Finally, with all escape routes blocked, he does the only thing left to him: he turns to the demon and embraces it! At which point it vanishes, integrated back inside him as the shadow he’s finally willing to own.
Ged’s experience of liberation is the practical wisdom behind this mysterious second step of the Welcoming Prayer process. This moment can always be endured, the well-known spiritual writer Gerald May reminds us, and the act of welcoming anchors us firmly in the Now. This is the moment where those two great streams, awareness and surrender, converge. The small self is surrendered into the authentic self, connected to the divine within. In this configuration, you are able to stay present in the Now regardless of its physical or psychological content. It’s something the great saints and mystics have always known.

So have the small birds perched on an electric wire. No matter how high the voltage, the energy will do you no harm as long as you don’t give it a pathway to the ground (i.e., as long as we don’t identify with it, attach ourselves to it).

A couple of important points: First, what you are welcoming is the physical or psychological content of the moment only, not a general blanket condoning of a situation. I’m frequently asked by people with abuse histories, “But incest shouldn’t be welcomed, should it?” This misses the whole point. What you are welcoming in this moment is not incest, but the feelings the experience triggers for you: the fear or the rage or shame on your plate right now.

This is a very important mistake to nip in the bud, because if uncorrected it can lead to the assumption that surrender means to roll over and play dead, or that the purpose of the practice is to teach you to passively acquiesce to situations that are in fact intolerable. This is not so at all. There’s a crucial distinction between surrender as an inner attitude and as an outer practice, and we are concerned only with the former here. From the point of view of inner work, the situation is straightforward: anything done in a state of interior bracing will throw you immediately into your small self, with its familiar repertoire of defense mechanisms. Surrender understood as an interior act will place you in alignment with [your authentic self, your imago dei, that part of you that is connected to God]. Once you’re in right alignment, you can decide [freely] what you are going to do in the outer world. Sometimes this is a spirited fight; other times it is acquiescence. But whichever way, you’ll be doing it from consciousness, not reactivity.

Let go
Don’t get to this step too quickly. The real work in Welcoming Prayer is actually accomplished in the first two steps. Stay with them, going back and forth between ‘focusing and sinking in,’ and ‘welcoming’ until the knot begins to dissolve of its own accord.

And yes, ‘letting go’ is also just for now. This is not a final, forever renunciation of your anger or fear; it’s simply a way of gently waving farewell as the emotion starts to recede. If you can’t quite make it to this step, that’s OK. Don’t fake it, because the bulk of the word has already been accomplished.

When you are ready to let go, there are two ways to go about it: a short way and a more complex litany. In the short way, you simply say something like “I let go of my anger,” or, if you prefer, “I give my anger to God.”

Mary Mrozowski (creator of the Welcoming Prayer) preferred a more complex and invariable litany. When it become time to proceed with the third step, she would use this:
• I let go my desire for security and survival.
• I let go my desire for affection and esteem.
• I let go my desire for control and power.
• I let go my desire to change the situation.

The would be her inevitable litany, whether dealing with physical or emotional affliction. Those first three, of course, are the three false self programs, and in naming them thusly, Mary said, “I feel like I’m sending a strong message to the unconscious.”

The last one, “I let go of my desire to change the situation,” is right between the eyeballs and a stroke of pure genius. In no uncertain terms, it removes this practice from the ballpark of “fit-it” (“I do this practice in order to correct an unpalatable situation) and back into unconditional presence.

For Mary this practice was all about inner alignment. Whether the pain went on forever was not the point; the point is that throughout this entire “forever,” an awakened and surrendered consciousness can remain fully present to God “for the duration.”

Great Video. Brene Brown

2011-04-01T20:56:00.001-06:00

In my old age I can't remember who sent this to me. If it was YOU, please remind me! :-)

Misplaced Priorities

2011-03-30T09:25:00.006-06:00

Our oldest daughter is one of three finalists for the "Top First-Year Teacher" award in her large school district. Yet she anxiously awaits word on whether she will lose her job because of budget cuts in Texas. At risk as well are people with disabilities, librarians, etc.

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This article was sent to me by a friend...

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Houston Chronicle - March 27, 2011, 7:32PM

Tax cut comes at 'high cost'
By PATRICIA KILDAY HART Staff writer .

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Imagine $1 billion vanishing overnight from the state treasury. That's essentially what happened in September — just as Texas lawmakers learned they would face a $27 billion shortfall - when the oil and gas industry reaped a windfall from legislation quietly passed in 2003. Poof! About $1.2 billion in potential tax revenues disappeared from the books, leaving less money for hospitals, schools, roads and all the other worthy things the state budget supports. .

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The story of the vanishing billion dollars provides some useful insight if you've been wondering why our prosperous state has a budget crisis. The state of Texas enjoys enormous bounty from "severance" taxes, paid by the oil and gas industry for the right to "sever" minerals from Texas lands. .

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But in 1989, the Legislature created an exemption for "high-cost" gas - as a temporary measure, mind you - to encourage expensive and technically difficult gas production. .

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Lawmakers extended the exemption in 1995 and 1999, when it was promoted by state Rep. Tom Craddick, R-Midland. Then, in 2003, when Craddick became speaker of the House, the Legislature passed a complicated bill with dozens of "technical corrections" to the state tax code. Tucked inside was a single line that struck the expiration date of the high-cost gas exemption. .

As a result, the tax break became permanent, instead of expiring last September. With that tiny "technical" change, the state lost the ability to collect about $1.2 billion a year in additional taxes. Why would the Legislature give such an enormous permanent tax break to a single industry? .

No one seems to know, even the bill sponsors, former State Rep. Brian McCall and former State Sen. Ken Armbrister. "I can guarantee you that nobody in the Legislature knew that was in the bill," laughed Armbrister, now a senior adviser to Gov. Rick Perry. His mirth was an acknowledgement of an open secret in the Legislature: There are some bills - particularly those relating to arcane tax minutiae - that no one reads. .

The bill received even less scrutiny because of the unusual parliamentary journey it took on its path to easy passage. In the Texas House, the bill was approved with no objections by the Ways and Means committee and sent to the Local and Consent calendar. .

As its name implies, the calendar is intended to quickly dispense of proposals that have only local impact, or consent of all members. A little distracted If no one objected when the Texas House passed House Bill 2424 on the Local and Consent calendar on May 16, 2003, we'll have to forgive them. They were, shall we say, a little distracted. You may recall that May 2003 was a particularly acrimonious period for the Texas House. On May 12, Democrats fled to Oklahoma to dodge a vote on a congressional redistricting plan advocated by then-U.S. Rep. Tom Delay. They returned May 16, still groggy from an overnight bus trip. "None of the Democrats were paying close enough attention," State Rep. Lon Burnam, D-Fort Worth, said this week. .

A chagrined Burnam is sponsoring a bill to end the exemption, which he argues skews the Texas tax system to burden the middle class. He has an unlikely ally in a powerful Republican lawmaker, Senate Finance Committee Chairman Steve Ogden. "I don't think much of the exemption," Ogden said. "I don't think it makes a lot of difference to whether gas is drilled or not." Craddick did not respond to numerous requests for an interview. In 2010, the Permian Basin Petroleum Association awarded him its "Top Hand" award. "For the past four decades, there have been very few, if any, bills related to the oil and gas industry and passed by the Texas Legislature they don't have Tom Craddick's fingerprints," the association's magazine noted. .

Kelli Way, a spokeswoman for the Texas Independent Producers and Royalty Owners argued this week that the tax exemption "has successfully encouraged natural gas exploration and production in Texas, particularly in those areas that are difficult and expensive to develop." Definition varies Way also said that in 1990, high-cost gas production was only 5.5 percent of total statewide gas production. .

However, by 2009, high-cost production accounted for 56 percent of total statewide production (in large part because of the incentives provided from the high-cost gas investment tax credit). "It was during this time Texas was the only producing state to offset production declines and increase natural gas production," she said. .

But an analysis by the Legislative Budget Board suggests that the Texas Railroad Commission has applied the "high-cost" definition liberally - certifying whole regions of the state as high-cost regardless of the actual expense involved in drilling. .

During 2009, the gas operations certified as high-cost actually had drilling costs ranging from $14.7 million to as low as $24,000, the report noted. Does the oil and gas industry, which creates jobs and pays other taxes, deserve this exemption? Or has it outlasted its usefulness? For whatever reason - partisan distractions or shrewd advocacy - the Legislature in 2003 chiseled the high-cost gas exemption in stone without adequate debate. .

Ogden said he believed that lawmakers should examine high-cost gas, in a broader debate about the tax burden in Texas. It's a long-overdue conversation. When someone with powerful friends gets a tax break, someone else is stuck with the tab.

patti.hart@chron.com

Obama's speech (the text)

2011-01-14T20:15:00.001-06:00

Remarks of President Barack Obama – As Prepared for Delivery
At a Memorial Service for the Victims of the Shooting in Tucson, Arizona
University of Arizona, McKale Memorial Center
Tucson, Arizona
January 12, 2011

As Prepared for Delivery—

To the families of those we’ve lost; to all who called them friends; to the students of this university, the public servants gathered tonight, and the people of Tucson and Arizona: I have come here tonight as an American who, like all Americans, kneels to pray with you today, and will stand by you tomorrow.

There is nothing I can say that will fill the sudden hole torn in your hearts. But know this: the hopes of a nation are here tonight. We mourn with you for the fallen. We join you in your grief. And we add our faith to yours that Representative Gabrielle Giffords and the other living victims of this tragedy pull through.

As Scripture tells us:

There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
the holy place where the Most High dwells.
God is within her, she will not fall;
God will help her at break of day.

On Saturday morning, Gabby, her staff, and many of her constituents gathered outside a supermarket to exercise their right to peaceful assembly and free speech. They were fulfilling a central tenet of the democracy envisioned by our founders – representatives of the people answering to their constituents, so as to carry their concerns to our nation’s capital. Gabby called it “Congress on Your Corner” – just an updated version of government of and by and for the people.

That is the quintessentially American scene that was shattered by a gunman’s bullets. And the six people who lost their lives on Saturday – they too represented what is best in America.

Judge John Roll served our legal system for nearly 40 years. A graduate of this university and its law school, Judge Roll was recommended for the federal bench by John McCain twenty years ago, appointed by President George H.W. Bush, and rose to become Arizona’s chief federal judge. His colleagues described him as the hardest-working judge within the Ninth Circuit. He was on his way back from attending Mass, as he did every day, when he decided to stop by and say hi to his Representative. John is survived by his loving wife, Maureen, his three sons, and his five grandchildren.

George and Dorothy Morris – “Dot” to her friends – were high school sweethearts who got married and had two daughters. They did everything together, traveling the open road in their RV, enjoying what their friends called a 50-year honeymoon. Saturday morning, they went by the Safeway to hear what their Congresswoman had to say. When gunfire rang out, George, a former Marine, instinctively tried to shield his wife. Both were shot. Dot passed away.

A New Jersey native, Phyllis Schneck retired to Tucson to beat the snow. But in the summer, she would return East, where her world revolved around her 3 children, 7 grandchildren, and 2 year-old great-granddaughter. A gifted quilter, she’d often work under her favorite tree, or sometimes sew aprons with the logos of the Jets and the Giants to give out at the church where she volunteered. A Republican, she took a liking to Gabby, and wanted to get to know her better.

Dorwan and Mavy Stoddard grew up in Tucson together – about seventy years ago. They moved apart and started their own respective families, but after both were widowed they found their way back here, to, as one of Mavy’s daughters put it, “be boyfriend and girlfriend again.” When they weren’t out on the road in their motor home, you could find them just up the road, helping folks in need at the Mountain Avenue Church of Christ. A retired construction worker, Dorwan spent his spare time fixing up the church along with their dog, Tux. His final act of selflessness was to dive on top of his wife, sacrificing his life for hers.

Everything Gabe Zimmerman did, he did with passion – but his true passion was people. As Gabby’s outreach director, he made the cares of thousands of her constituents his own, seeing to it that seniors got the Medicare benefits they had earned, that veterans got the medals and care they deserved, that government was working for ordinary folks. He died doing what he loved – talking with people and seeing how he could help. Gabe is survived by his parents, Ross and Emily, his brother, Ben, and his fiancée, Kelly, who he planned to marry next year.

And then there is nine year-old Christina Taylor Green. Christina was an A student, a dancer, a gymnast, and a swimmer. She often proclaimed that she wanted to be the first woman to play in the major leagues, and as the only girl on her Little League team, no one put it past her. She showed an appreciation for life uncommon for a girl her age, and would remind her mother, “We are so blessed. We have the best life.” And she’d pay those blessings back by participating in a charity that helped children who were less fortunate.

Our hearts are broken by their sudden passing. Our hearts are broken – and yet, our hearts also have reason for fullness.

Our hearts are full of hope and thanks for the 13 Americans who survived the shooting, including the congresswoman many of them went to see on Saturday. I have just come from the University Medical Center, just a mile from here, where our friend Gabby courageously fights to recover even as we speak. And I can tell you this – she knows we’re here and she knows we love her and she knows that we will be rooting for her throughout what will be a difficult journey.

And our hearts are full of gratitude for those who saved others. We are grateful for Daniel Hernandez, a volunteer in Gabby’s office who ran through the chaos to minister to his boss, tending to her wounds to keep her alive. We are grateful for the men who tackled the gunman as he stopped to reload. We are grateful for a petite 61 year-old, Patricia Maisch, who wrestled away the killer’s ammunition, undoubtedly saving some lives. And we are grateful for the doctors and nurses and emergency medics who worked wonders to heal those who’d been hurt.

These men and women remind us that heroism is found not only on the fields of battle. They remind us that heroism does not require special training or physical strength. Heroism is here, all around us, in the hearts of so many of our fellow citizens, just waiting to be summoned – as it was on Saturday morning.

Their actions, their selflessness, also pose a challenge to each of us. It raises the question of what, beyond the prayers and expressions of concern, is required of us going forward. How can we honor the fallen? How can we be true to their memory?

You see, when a tragedy like this strikes, it is part of our nature to demand explanations – to try to impose some order on the chaos, and make sense out of that which seems senseless. Already we’ve seen a national conversation commence, not only about the motivations behind these killings, but about everything from the merits of gun safety laws to the adequacy of our mental health systems. Much of this process, of debating what might be done to prevent such tragedies in the future, is an essential ingredient in our exercise of self-government.

But at a time when our discourse has become so sharply polarized – at a time when we are far too eager to lay the blame for all that ails the world at the feet of those who think differently than we do – it’s important for us to pause for a moment and make sure that we are talking with each other in a way that heals, not a way that wounds.

Scripture tells us that there is evil in the world, and that terrible things happen for reasons that defy human understanding. In the words of Job, “when I looked for light, then came darkness.” Bad things happen, and we must guard against simple explanations in the aftermath.

For the truth is that none of us can know exactly what triggered this vicious attack. None of us can know with any certainty what might have stopped those shots from being fired, or what thoughts lurked in the inner recesses of a violent man’s mind.

So yes, we must examine all the facts behind this tragedy. We cannot and will not be passive in the face of such violence. We should be willing to challenge old assumptions in order to lessen the prospects of violence in the future.

But what we can’t do is use this tragedy as one more occasion to turn on one another. As we discuss these issues, let each of us do so with a good dose of humility. Rather than pointing fingers or assigning blame, let us use this occasion to expand our moral imaginations, to listen to each other more carefully, to sharpen our instincts for empathy, and remind ourselves of all the ways our hopes and dreams are bound together.

After all, that’s what most of us do when we lose someone in our family – especially if the loss is unexpected. We’re shaken from our routines, and forced to look inward. We reflect on the past. Did we spend enough time with an aging parent, we wonder. Did we express our gratitude for all the sacrifices they made for us? Did we tell a spouse just how desperately we loved them, not just once in awhile but every single day?

So sudden loss causes us to look backward – but it also forces us to look forward, to reflect on the present and the future, on the manner in which we live our lives and nurture our relationships with those who are still with us. We may ask ourselves if we’ve shown enough kindness and generosity and compassion to the people in our lives. Perhaps we question whether we are doing right by our children, or our community, and whether our priorities are in order. We recognize our own mortality, and are reminded that in the fleeting time we have on this earth, what matters is not wealth, or status, or power, or fame – but rather, how well we have loved, and what small part we have played in bettering the lives of others.

That process of reflection, of making sure we align our values with our actions – that, I believe, is what a tragedy like this requires. For those who were harmed, those who were killed – they are part of our family, an American family 300 million strong. We may not have known them personally, but we surely see ourselves in them. In George and Dot, in Dorwan and Mavy, we sense the abiding love we have for our own husbands, our own wives, our own life partners. Phyllis – she’s our mom or grandma; Gabe our brother or son. In Judge Roll, we recognize not only a man who prized his family and doing his job well, but also a man who embodied America’s fidelity to the law. In Gabby, we see a reflection of our public spiritedness, that desire to participate in that sometimes frustrating, sometimes contentious, but always necessary and never-ending process to form a more perfect union.

And in Christinain Christina we see all of our children. So curious, so trusting, so energetic and full of magic.

So deserving of our love.

And so deserving of our good example. If this tragedy prompts reflection and debate, as it should, let’s make sure it’s worthy of those we have lost. Let’s make sure it’s not on the usual plane of politics and point scoring and pettiness that drifts away with the next news cycle.

The loss of these wonderful people should make every one of us strive to be better in our private lives – to be better friends and neighbors, co-workers and parents. And if, as has been discussed in recent days, their deaths help usher in more civility in our public discourse, let’s remember that it is not because a simple lack of civility caused this tragedy, but rather because only a more civil and honest public discourse can help us face up to our challenges as a nation, in a way that would make them proud. It should be because we want to live up to the example of public servants like John Roll and Gabby Giffords, who knew first and foremost that we are all Americans, and that we can question each other’s ideas without questioning each other’s love of country, and that our task, working together, is to constantly widen the circle of our concern so that we bequeath the American dream to future generations.

I believe we can be better. Those who died here, those who saved lives here – they help me believe. We may not be able to stop all evil in the world, but I know that how we treat one another is entirely up to us. I believe that for all our imperfections, we are full of decency and goodness, and that the forces that divide us are not as strong as those that unite us.

That’s what I believe, in part because that’s what a child like Christina Taylor Green believed. Imagine: here was a young girl who was just becoming aware of our democracy; just beginning to understand the obligations of citizenship; just starting to glimpse the fact that someday she too might play a part in shaping her nation’s future. She had been elected to her student council; she saw public service as something exciting, something hopeful. She was off to meet her congresswoman, someone she was sure was good and important and might be a role model. She saw all this through the eyes of a child, undimmed by the cynicism or vitriol that we adults all too often just take for granted.

I want us to live up to her expectations. I want our democracy to be as good as she imagined it. All of us – we should do everything we can to make sure this country lives up to our children’s expectations.

Christina was given to us on September 11th, 2001, one of 50 babies born that day to be pictured in a book called “Faces of Hope.” On either side of her photo in that book were simple wishes for a child’s life. “I hope you help those in need,” read one. “I hope you know all of the words to the National Anthem and sing it with your hand over your heart. I hope you jump in rain puddles.”

If there are rain puddles in heaven, Christina is jumping in them today. And here on Earth, we place our hands over our hearts, and commit ourselves as Americans to forging a country that is forever worthy of her gentle, happy spirit.

May God bless and keep those we’ve lost in restful and eternal peace. May He love and watch over the survivors. And may He bless the United States of America.

"Lost Christianity"

2011-01-03T09:41:00.004-06:00

This is the beginning of the second week of my vacation. Among other things, I'm catching up on some reading--the first book I read was Jacob Needleman's Lost Christianity. If you know anything about Needleman and his ideas, I'd love to hear from you.

I found the book fascinating. His main point is that what has been "lost" in Christianity is a necessary focus on our own self-awareness. We can't become who God intends for us to be until we've confronted/celebrated what we are right now. Of course, I totally agree with that!

And for an existentialist like me there are breathtaking gems in this book. Like this:

The whole of the universe rests on the sacrifice of God. But this Christ looks directly at me. The immensity of this sacrifice, which I do not understand or even wish to understand, is directed to me, personally. For the first time, I feel that something is required of me, a response to this sacrifice. I glimpse, for the first time, what it means that Christianity demands a response. I am obliged by the fact of Reality and the fact of my existence. I have felt this before about the whole of my existence and the existence of the world. But I have never felt it with respect to Christianity. Nor have I felt it so realistically as now, regarding this face. Existence here as a human face which I did not invent or imagine; it is an objective I, as much a part of Being as stars and trees. I am obliged, but what in myself can possibly answer this obligation? Nothing. And yet...it cannot be nothing, the sacrifice could not have been made or communicated like this if there were nothing that could come from [us]...I feel on the edge of a new understanding of the greatness of Christianity.

and later...in Needleman's talk with Anthony de Mello:

"You ask what in yourself can respond to the sacrifice of God? But this sacrifice, as you call it, is love. What is the proper response to love?" At first I thought Anthony was expecting me to answer. I had no answer. "The proper response to love," he continued, "is to accept it. There is nothing to do. The response to a gift is to accept it. Why would you wish to do anything?"

I love that. On many levels, I love that. What first grabbed me, though, was his idea that "the whole universe rests on the sacrifice of God." I remember, maybe 20 years ago now, being struck with the strangeness of the whole idea of sacrifice. That we actually live in a world in which sacrifice on behalf of others exists at all struck me viscerally. It was one of those Stop-Everything-and-Forget-to-Breathe moments.

But after my visceral response to the insight, I didn't quite know what to do with it. I had a sense that there was more to the idea than I was able to articulate. And now, 20 years later, here it is.

The whole of the universe rests on the sacrifice of God. So utterly amazing. The Cosmos Itself, in all its immensity, all its' glory, stunning beauty, relentless pain, energy, chemicals, forces the human mind still cannot grasp...all of it brought into being from the sacrifice of God. Big Bang or one tiny atom, doesn't matter. That the universe exists at all--the old question of why there is something rather than nothing--necessarily entails a sacrifice from the Creator. And yes, once one understands this wholistically, then of course, this sacrifice invites a response.

The existentialist in me marvels and is filled with gratitude. That I am a Christian entails the same response. This is what Jesus invites me to know. This sacrifice, as Needleman says, has a face! -- the face of Jesus the Christ.

And "the face" is such a potent image, for I, too, have/am a face. Yes, the "proper response" is to accept the gift of love, but I think there's even more to it. That this cosmic sacrifice has become personal also invites me, like Jesus, to sacrifice my self as well.

The false self. All that separates me from this love that is the gift of the Creator. All that separates me from others. All that separates me from the authentic self I am meant to be and become.

What I am invited to sacrifice throughout my life is, as Thomas Keating puts it, are those emotional centers that LIE to me, i.e., those false messages that tell me I "need" and must have --

affection/esteem/approval
power/control
survival/security

These things are not intrinsically wrong or hurtful, but the fact is that now, as an adult, I do not actually need them--in the sense that to cling to them, to attach myself to them, is death. To let them go in order to place my TRUST in God, to live into Julian of Norwich's insight that All Shall Be Well, is life.

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"KK! Look! Santa's on top of the house!"

2010-12-23T14:48:00.002-06:00

"Oh wow," she said again and again as we drove through our neighborhood looking at the homes decorated for Christmas. I hear her sharp intake of breath as we turn the corner. "KK! Look! Santa's on top of the house!"

This is life with our four-year-old granddaughter Morgan. Excitement bubbles up in her with absolutely zero false social filters to block its display. When she says "wow," the word is airy, long and drawn out, and something within me wants it to go on forever. As we drove around the neighborhood that evening I sensed that Morgan was inviting me back to a time when I experienced Christmas, too, with that kind of awe and wonder.

One of my mentors, Ruben Habito, relates this story in his book Healing Breath:

A young father and his little three-year-old daughter, taking a Sunday stroll hand in hand through a meadow one day in spring. They came upon a clearing where there were clusters of flowers, and the little girl broke loose from the father's hand and began to prance about, dancing among the flowers. "Look, Daddy, look!"
"Yes, dear, those are violets," the father replied.

The little girl continued dancing and prancing, singing the new word: "Violets! Violets!"

The point here is the difference between the modes of awareness of the little girl and her father. The little girl, wide-eyed and full of wonder at everything around her, saw the flowers in their pristine beauty before she could name what they were. This beauty right before her simply moved her to dance and prance about in joy and celebration, unsullied by any dualistic frame of mind. It is an awareness of being filled with mystery and wonder at beholding the simply beauty of nature.

The father, on the other hand, having come to adulthood and now wise in the ways of the world, "knew" what those flowers were over there--violets--and in so knowing, lost the ability to see them in their freshness and mystery of their being. "Those are
violets." The human capacity to name things, giving us a certain sense of being in control over the things we can name, takes its toll on us, and we lose that sense of mystery and wonder that anything is there at all in the first place. [end quote]

The difficulty we adults have in seeing the wonder and beauty of everything around us is a huge loss for the world. It’s the first step necessary in acts violence, in pollution, and in the killing off of millions of species on the planet. When we can’t even see the beautiful Mystery of life itself, then, of course, we don’t respect it.

I know that “mystery” is a scary word for some of us. We have no power over a mystery; we can’t control it, so we try to take it apart and apply the scientific method to it! Understandable, but sometimes simply letting go and allowing a mystery to “be” is the better course.

It’s always struck me as a bit amusing that for all the violent arguing amongst the theologians of the early church – heresies! error! truth defined once and for all! excommunication! – what they finally declared as “dogma” was total mystery.

The Council of Chalcedon in 451 declared that Jesus Christ was “perfect in divinity and perfect in humanity.” The Council said that Jesus Christ possessed two natures which were “not intermingled, not changed, not divisible, not separable.”

Same with the Trinity. If Jesus is God, does that mean there are two Gods? No. “Substance” unites the three aspects; “person” is what distinguishes them, said Tertullian.

Ah yes, the inscrutability of official doctrine.

I’m not denigrating these early church controversies – making fun of them a bit, I suppose, but in many ways I have great respect for them and find the questions they were addressing fascinating. And most importantly to me, where they finally landed (however ironically!) left the door wide open for Mystery.

That’s important because our experience of the divine is just as important as parsing the difference between homoiousios and homoousios. (That was a huge argument.) To experience the divine we have to allow ourselves to welcome the mystery. In fact, we have to move into it! – move into the mystery of the Incarnation as well as the mystery at the center of our own lives. Yes, it can be a bit scary, disorienting, disturbing, but moving into mystery may also empower our respect for other beings. What I mean is that standing in the center of mystery pushes us to acknowledge that we’re not in control, that we don’t know. Standing in that place of not knowing makes it much easier to acknowledge the inherent dignity of other beings and of creation itself. And standing in that place also brings us closer to our own childlike gift for wonder and awe, hidden for years, perhaps, but still there.

To actually experience Christmas this year, that’s not a bad place to stand.

Advent: awakening to a season of anticipation

2010-12-23T14:47:00.000-06:00

The first Sunday of Advent is November 28th – can you believe that? Talk about time flying by. Cindy and I were talking this morning about how “busy-busy” we’ve been with church business lately. Since Dave’s announcement it seems that most of our time and energy has been taken up with “what to do,” “how to do,” “when to do,” “who needs this right now,” and “we need that by tomorrow.” It’s been a mad rush, and now, suddenly, Advent is stepping out from around the corner and holding up its hand in greeting.

On second look, perhaps Advent’s hand is not greeting us, but holding up a Stop Sign to our faces!

Stop!, says Advent. Look around and really see what’s whizzing by as you run 90 miles a minute. Open up your ears; hear the beauty.

I think there’s an art to seeing Advent. In my training as a pastoral theologian I encountered the whole idea of what’s called “phenomenology,” a big word with multiple meanings and multiple nuances within those meanings. I finally landed on thinking of it mostly as simply a way of seeing. Phenomenologically, if you really want to see something deeply, down to its very essence, then you must “bracket” your ‘normal’ way of seeing—you have to let go of ‘normal’ assumptions about what our vision brings us.

If we bracketed our assumptions about Advent, with what would that leave us?
Personally, I assume Advent will be shopping, Christmas lights and trees, winter jackets, hot chocolate, annoying commercials, green and red everywhere, Salvation Army bell-ringers, presents, family-time…all that.

If I bracketed those assumptions, what would Advent be?

For me I think “awakening to a season of anticipation” is a lovely description of the essence of Advent. Beneath the hubbub and clamor, Advent is about the excitement of waiting. Remember as a child how we just couldn’t wait! for Christmas morning? Or how we just couldn’t wait for … whatever is was. That sense of thrill and exhilaration and jumping up and down! The essence of Advent for me is like that, for I know that what comes at the fulfillment of Advent will be amazing, beautiful, full of wonderment and awe. What comes at the fulfillment of Advent is the absolute miracle, the miracle of the ordinary. A baby. Born in obscurity to struggling parents. Happens all the time. And with the eyes to really see it, we know it’s happening all the time. With the eyes to really see it, all of life becomes the miracle it is.

Interim Pastor

2010-11-14T18:27:00.004-06:00

Update: Here's the letter I wrote to the congregation when it was announced late last week that I've been contracted to be the Interim Minister:

I’m so excited and grateful to be serving First Congregational as your Interim Minister for the next year while the cabinet moves forward with finding a settled/called pastor. I love this church and I love what it stands for and does in the community. As I told the cabinet at one point in this process, I believe strongly that the whole notion of extravagant welcome is very close to the heart of the Gospel. It’s an energizing and inspiring thing to see that played out with commitment and faithfulness by all of you.
.
In the interest of transparency, let me share with you that as things progressed after Dave’s resignation announcement, I began to wonder what my role here would be. And I saw the members of the cabinet struggle with that question as well; they were suddenly faced with genuinely wanting to do the best thing both for the church as a whole and for me as an individual. My own personal discernment process was rocky until I began to sense that perhaps God was nudging me toward the interim position. When someone on the cabinet said that she was sensing that very same thing, I felt something inside me shift and the possibility became more and more affirmed in my heart. The future feels very bright to me.
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Although I won’t be a candidate for the settled/called position, there are so many wonderful things we can do together in the coming year. And because I’ve been here and worked with you, I believe I have a feel for how to proceed both from knowing what specific responsibilities interim ministers are called to do for churches in transition and from the kind of knowing that comes from spending time with, and
loving, you—the members and friends of First Congregational.
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I want everyone to know with what amazingly care-filled diligence your leaders on the cabinet have been working since Dave’s announcement. They have not only given of their time (extra meeting upon extra meeting), but they have given their hearts to this process. Leadership in any capacity, but perhaps especially so in the church, requires courage and authenticity. You walk a tightrope between sometimes competing interests, between the present situation and the unknown future, between wanting to do the exactly right thing in circumstances that simply do not lend themselves to exactitude. Members of this cabinet love this church and have given themselves heart and soul to this process. Next time you see them, I hope you’ll thank Josh, Carol, Ann, Dennis, Katie, Linda, Bob, Phil, Malcolm, Sarah, Mike, Claudia, Sue, and Paige—at one point or another each of them has been present.
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Several of you have already expressed concern for what will happen to me after the interim time is over. Well, of course, the future is open-ended, and who knows? What I can tell you is that ministry has always provided lots of options for me. The truth is I’m not worried; I’m excited about this next year. I’m excited about how we’ll continue doing ministry in the name of Jesus Christ in this world, and about how God will work in our lives to clear the obstacles to becoming the people and church God wants us to become. Being a Christian isn’t always easy; but it’s hugely important and deeply meaningful. The world needs what we have to give.
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With you on this amazing journey,
Katherine

Bridge-Time between Pastorates

2010-10-30T00:20:00.007-06:00

It's been a wild ride recently at my church. Our senior pastor resigned just four weeks ago; his last day is this coming Sunday. After he leaves I'll be the "bridge pastor" at least through December. After that, well, I'm still in limbo about what my role will be, but I remain confident that All Shall Be Well, All Shall Be Well, and All Manner of Thing Shall Be Well.

The Welcoming Prayer is helping, that's for sure.

....................................It's always about trust, isn't it?

Here's what I wrote for our November newsletter:

.
______________________________________
“BRIDGE-TIME”

As we enter together this “bridge-time” after our much-loved Dave’s departure, we enter a time both of sadness at the end of his steady leadership and, hopefully, some excitement about this new era in the life of First Congregational.

“Bridge” is an engaging metaphor. Unlike “interim” or “transition,” a bridge is concrete. Remember those images of the collapsed portion of I-35 in Minneapolis/St. Paul a few years ago? I kept thinking how similar to an earthquake that must have been. What a terror to feel those tons of solid, unmovable steel and concrete start to give way.

Of course, unlike a highway bridge, this bridge-time in our community is upheld by something more than concrete, steel, and human engineering. We cross over knowing that God is with us, in fact, leading us to this new era. Holding on to that awareness of God’s presence will certainly steady us on a journey that will probably feel a bit rocky at times.

Theologically, bridges remind me of liminal space, a term often used in describing worship and rituals. When we worship and somehow sense an encounter with the divine, we allow ourselves to suspend our involvement in “normal” time and space and move into God’s time and space. We inhabit a threshold during those moments, a threshold between what’s familiar and not-familiar, between the ‘old’ which we know and the ‘new’ which is not yet clear to us.

Liminality is said to dissolve the boundaries of one’s sense of identity. College years, for instance, can be a liminal space in which one moves from adolescence to the first stages of independent adulthood. Although I think our identity here at First Congregational is secure—we’re one of the few churches in this city that truly strives to embody the Gospel as ‘radical hospitality’ to all persons—it’s also true that one’s identity is never fixed. A hardened identity only squashes the movement of the Spirit. Perhaps this bridge-time can be a moment in which we further explore our self-understanding.

bell hooks ia a feminist, author, and social critic. She makes an important point about liminality:

“It's interesting—the way in which one has to balance life—because you have to know when to let go and when to pull back.... There's always some liminal space…in between which is harder to inhabit because it never feels as safe as moving from one extreme to another.”

And she’s right, of course. Liminal space, like standing on a high bridge, can be unnerving. What resources do we call upon to endure the tension between the old and new? What do we want to accomplish during this difficult time on this steady, and perhaps at times unsteady, bridge? How do we know when the time is right to move forward? and how do we access the courage required for that movement?

It’s an uncertain time at First Congregational. Writing about the liminal time of twilight, in-between day and night, poet and philosopher John O’Donohue put it this way:

When near the end of day, life has drained
out of light, and it is too soon
for the mind of night to have darkened things,
no place looks like itself, loss of outline
makes everything look strangely in-between,
unsure of what has been, or what might come.
In this wan light, even trees seem groundless.

Too true. As someone on the Cabinet recently remarked, to some extent we seem “muddled.” Well, perhaps “muddled” isn’t such a bad place to be for now. Perhaps it’s the perfect place to be—for a season, anyway, for as O’Donohue continues:

As far as you can, hold your confidence.
Do not allow your confusion to squander
this call which is loosening your roots in false ground,
that you might come free from all you have outgrown.
What is being transfigured here is your mind,
and it is difficult and slow to become new.
The more faithfully you can endure here,
the more refined your heart
will become for your arrival in the new dawn.

While I certainly don’t think for one moment that our ground has been “false” or even that we need to “outgrow” anything, I do think it’s usually true that bridge-time between pastorates can energize a “loosening” movement that can free us for the “new thing” [Is. 43] that God is always doing in our midst.

Liminality can be a time for seeking further clarity regarding our mission—how might our mission evolve organically from who we are? In the coming weeks and months, perhaps what’s called for is some intentional time for discerning God’s voice in the midst of this risky and quite beautiful bridge-time.

With you on this new adventure,

Katherine

My freedom to choose to love is undiminished

2010-10-17T21:08:00.003-06:00

How to love others recklessly, consuming, unabashed, risking everything, gambling away every gift...?

This is the poem that our Sacred Conversations read last week. It's by Rumi.

Love is reckless; not reason.
Reason seeks a profit.
Love comes on strong,
consuming herself, unabashed.

Yet, in the midst of suffering,
Love proceeds like a millstone,
hard surfaced and straightforward.

Having died of self-interest,
she risks everything and asks for nothing.
Love gambles away every gift God bestows.

As much as I long to be loved in such a way--indeed, there are days when I'm acutely aware of the ache inside me for this kind of love--I know the 'secret' is to first love others in this way. Not because that will guarantee I'll get the love I desire, in some kind of cosmic end-around, but because to love others, to freely love others with wild abandon, is the only -- no, not only -- the best thing for an aching heart.

Instead of closing myself off in a natural desire to protect my heart, it's actually opening myself in a strangely trusting manner that allows God to work that divine alchemy within me, the transformation of my very being into love itself.

But of course only saints experience that kind of powerful alchemy, right? As long as I've been "doing" spiritual formation, so often, still, when the opportunity to risk loving presents itself I choose to protect my heart.

I'm in a situation now in which such opportunity presents itself almost daily. Present day reality easily tempts old wounds to resurface, and before I know what's happening, fear/insecurity is in control of my reactions. I behave as if hiding is my best option, or as if it's best to assume I'm at a disadvantage.

My best self knows that present day reality is NOT the same as those old situations in which I was so hurt and beaten down. My authentic self knows that in this present day reality I can be as free and as loving as I choose.

I can't really blog about the situation itself yet. It's nothing hugely dramatic, just different from the norm and full of unknowns. But then, the future is always open-ended, isn't it? Despite a low level of instability right now, my freedom to choose to love is undiminished.

We lack nothing

2010-10-09T15:34:00.005-06:00

"When you feel stressed you know that the false ego is in control."

Can't remember who said that, but I wrote it down one day recently on a post-it note and put it on my desk.

That false ego is a tricky little thing, isn't he? The false ego wants us to believe that we don't have everything we need, that we lack something important -- so it spurs us to think we need to compete, we need to play some zero-sum game, we need to make up what we lack by doing, doing, doing, more, more, more. Which matches up pretty well with our American culture's messages of work, work, work, no play (or very little), make the big bucks, keep up with the Jones.

When we get on the other side of the false ego and are living our lives from the authentic self, then we can see how ridiculous those claims are. Truly ridiculous. Utterly bizarre.

But getting on the other side isn't easy...sometimes it feels like moving a mountain.

Ah...but Jesus said with God all things are possible.

And I know he's right about that! The peace that comes from living an authentic life, the life God calls us to live, is available...closer than the air we breathe...We have all we need; we lack nothing at all. Simply breathe. Welcome All that Is.

"Go to the Limits of Your Longing"

2010-09-22T14:09:00.002-06:00

Isn't this beautiful?

Hat Tip to Robin at Metanoia for the link to this:

God speaks to each of us as he makes us,
then walks with us silently out of the night.

These are the words we dimly hear:

You, sent out beyond your recall,
go to the limits of your longing.
Embody me.

Flare up like a flame
and make big shadows I can move in.

Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No feeling is final.
Don't let yourself lose me.

Nearby is the country they call life.
You will know it by its seriousness.

Give me your hand.

"Go to the Limits of Your Longing"
by Rainer Maria Rilke; translation by Joanna Macy and Anita Barrows

Thinking it Through Until Faith Takes Hold

2010-09-22T12:30:00.003-06:00

I'm home sick today. The lymph nodes--the ones doctors always check kinda underneath the ears-- have been tender for a couple of weeks now; I've been operating despite feeling depleted physically; ragweed around here is pretty high; and this morning it was like I could NOT get out of bed. Finally took my temperature and I have a low grade fever. And a headache. Went back to bed and slept until 1:30! Wow. That tells me something.

I seem to have several things bothering me these days...emotionally, I mean. Perhaps this afternoon, when I'm stuck at home anyway, might be a good time to think them through.

Our local public radio station is having its pledge drive this week, and probably next. I usually grouse and grumble about that, but this time it's OK because I've found myself unable to listen to much news anyway lately. All this gloom and doom about the Tea Party and the November elections is taking its toll -- I can't stand hearing about it anymore. David said a few months ago that he's "in despair" about the nation. I think I understand what he meant...And despair is a huge and ugly emotion; perhaps it's working its wiles throughout my whole emotional system.

The antidote? Hope, of course. Each person working for hope in our own little 'worlds'; joining different action groups that are trying to influence the public discourse toward hopeful civility and caring for our neighbors. I know all that's true, it's just that at the moment I don't feel it like it will do much good.

Another thing working on me is this incessant heat. I'm sick of it. I've been this way since childhood and, of course, it's worsened after menopause. If I had three wishes from a magic geni, I think my first one would be to regulate my body so that heat doesn't bother me. Life would be so much easier!

Third, I seem to have some kind of neurotic need to work myself into the ground. What's it going to take to get me to give up some things and just slow down a bit?

And finally I have some things going on personally that are bothering me -- unbloggable except to say that whenever I think of them my stomach gets all tied up in knots. They aren't huge, just worrisome for their potential to go badly.

OK, so where is my faith? What would my faith tell me in all this?

........
Hmmm...kinda hard to remember the truth when you're sick and tired.

........OK. Dig deeply here...

........
Well, my faith tells me that there IS hope, even when I can't feel it, or 'access' it within me. Carrie Newcomer's song occurs to me -- there's a line that says "there's a goodness on this earth that will not die, will not die." I've always loved that...because there IS a goodness on the earth. God is active in the world. When I have the eyes to see, it's so obvious....And when I'm stronger I'll once again be able to carry the pain and not let it get me so down. I just need to rest, I think.

Faith reminds me that it's September 22 -- in about a month it will cool down. It will.

OK. And faith helps me see that there are some things I can let go of. My portfolio at the church is Christian Education and Wellness Ministry. All the other things I'm doing are of my own initiative--no one told me to do them, and I can let them go. I can. I love doing them, but I can let them go.

And the worry about things with potential to go badly is just wasted energy, isn't it? Faith reminds me that ... no matter what happens, all shall be well, all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well. St. Julian knew that, and when I dig deeply within myself, so do I. All manner of thing shall be well. Despite how I feel, I know that's true--no matter what happens.

Rally to Restore Sanity

2010-09-17T11:02:00.002-06:00

A friend sent me the link to Jon Stewart and Steven Colbert's Rallies in D.C.:

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart

Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c

Rally to Restore Sanity

www.thedailyshow.com

Daily Show Full Episodes

Political Humor

Tea Party

I'm tempted, believe me...

"The River of Sadness Flowing Beneath All of Life"

2010-09-09T14:29:00.006-06:00

I'm in a real snit today.

In the last 24 hours:

I had the wind really taken out of my sails regarding a project I want to do;
I came home last night to a house with no power;
we stayed in a hotel and I slept barely at all;
and one of my dearest friends is experiencing the immanent death of a beloved pet, one of the sweetest, most well behaved and loving dogs I've ever encountered--I spoke to my friend on the phone this afternoon and we both just broke down in tears.

Crying like that with my friend sort of brought me out of the "snit" stage and moved me toward a better feeling. I guess being authentic and letting myself feel the pain of loss in true compassion/suffering with my friend kind of broke through the vagueness that comes with a 'snit.'

That's true, now that I think of it. There is a vagueness involved in 'snit-ness.'

I named some things above that put me in a 'snit,' but a 'snit' is always more than specific happenings. A 'snit,' to me, involves lots of smoldering issues that sort of come together--even though I can't name them all--but they come together and work to make my spirit irritable and my whole outlook bleak.

I remember once years ago this same friend and I were sitting out in front of the divinity school we attended, and somehow we were both aware of the pain involved in simply living. Isn't that strange? This was a very bizarre experience, really. Something had happened to her that day, and something had happened to me also -- I don't remember what those "happenings" were now, except that they were negative for both of us. As we sat there, one of us remarked that we had both come into contact with the "river of sadness that flows beneath all of life."

That's kind of how I feel today. So many smoldering issues can't help but rise to the surface eventually, at least for us sensitive, existential types....Conflict.....Death and the transitory nature of all that is....Disappointment in other people.....It's all just there. All the time, if we pay attention.

Wow. I'm really in a mood, aren't I?

It's OK. Sometimes it's OK to feel down. I've always remembered something Thomas Moore wrote in Care of the Soul. He said that sometimes we need to honor depression. Wear black, he said. Don't try to avoid it. Built a grotto in the back yard and go there now and again to simply experience, be with, this part of life.

It's OK.

.

Courage in the Workplace--ah, so refreshing!

2010-09-06T15:00:00.004-06:00

Spent a couple of days last week at a training session for Courage in the Workplace, a new program sponsored by Courage and Renewal North Texas. The idea is to learn to be a facilitator of Circles of Trust in order to take "courage work" into businesses, non-profits, and other organizations.

Twenty-one people formed our Circle of Trust, and that included five previously trained facilitators. We will meet six more times, each time experiencing and contributing to the development of six modules that we will then be able to offer.

The first day was introductory and the second day was spent learning the first module: Leading with Integrity (or it might end up being called Leading from Within) and then giving feedback on and fine-tuning it from what we experienced. The other modules are:

Managing Complexity: "Both/And" Approach for Organizations
Change: Opportunity in the Inevitable
Taking Time for Trust
Restoring the Heart of Service
Creating Healthy and Effective Organizations
Transforming Time
Mission Alignment

To me, this work is about practicing authenticity, and so often authenticity is exactly what is sacrificed when we work. Sometimes our workplaces foster competition which tempts us to be false in order to win. Sometimes our workplaces stress efficiency/outcomes/productivity so much that time to reflect on what we're doing--crucial to becoming authentic and true--is neglected. And sometimes our workplaces forget their own reason for being and forge into areas in which they cannot produce their best, taking their employees right along with them into these more sterile and depleting efforts.

Part of our work on the last day was to reflect on the meaning of a "live encounter," which, of course, is what our work should include. Live encounters are those interchanges, events, experiences that bring us life, are richly satisfying, and/or increase our energy for the work we've chosen to do. My reflection evoked a powerful sense of gratitude in me for that 'pivot-point' experience in 1994 when God's calling to follow what was my true path finally broke through and I found the courage to make a change. So thankful. And thankful as well for this new opportunity...I feel refreshed!

Mystery and the Open Table

2010-08-23T07:55:00.007-06:00

An Open Table is extravagant, radical hospitality, and that’s one reason I so love the church I'm serving, because we “get it.” We actually GET that.

I once went on a retreat at the Carmelite monastery over in City to the East. And of course as guests at the monastery we were invited to come to mass, but I was told that since I was not Catholic I couldn’t participate. What I would do, I was told, was go forward with the others, but when it came my turn there to face the priest, I would cross my arms and instead of the bread and wine, I would receive a blessing – a blessing which I have no memory of at all, because by the time I left that place at week’s end, the pain of exclusion was at the forefront of my experience.

I read a little essay by Scott Peck once where he described going on retreat at a convent where the Mother Superior obtained a dispensation for him, so that he could participate in the mass and partake fully of Holy Communion. And the experience of partaking of the body and blood, turned out to be a truly holy experience for him, and contributed a lot to him being baptized and becoming a Christian.

You see, the thing is, we never know what might happen. We can't predict how "the Spirit will blow" in someone else's life. In my view the Table is not our table. We have no right to exclude anyone because it belongs, not to us, but to God. Human beings are so beautifully complex that the ritual of symbols and symbolic action can and do, at times, lead us into something that actually transforms our lives for the better. Personally I don’t believe as Catholics do that the bread and the juice become the actual body and blood of Jesus, and yet . . . can the bread and the juice become doorways through which we pass and are never the same again? Doorways through which we come to know the same power that made Jesus the Christ? Oh yes! That’s the stunning beauty and power of ritual and symbol, and especially, in my experience, of Holy Communion. I've come to believe that the invitation to participate in something with that kind of spiritual potential for good should not be denied to anyone.

Because we never know how the Spirit may be working in that human being's life.

We just never know.

.

God's Dream

2010-08-19T06:50:00.000-06:00

Desmond Tutu:

“If we could but recognize our common humanity, that we do belong together, that our destinies are bound up in one another’s, that we can be free only together, that we can survive only together, then a glorious world would come into being where all of us lived harmoniously together as members of one family, the human family, God’s family. In truth, a transfiguration would take place. God’s dream would become a reality.” (God Has a Dream, 24)

"The Idea of the Holy"

2010-08-18T20:14:00.003-06:00

A little essay on Rudolf Otto's Idea of the Holy:

In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord sitting on a throne high and lofty; and the hem of his robe filled the temple. Seraphs were in attendance above him...And one called to another and said: "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory." The pivots on the thresholds shook at the voices of those who called, and the house filled with smoke. And I said, "Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!" Then one of the seraphs flew to me, holding a live coal that had been taken from the altar with a pair of tongs. The seraph touched my mouth with it and said: "Now that this has touched your lips, your guilt has departed and your sin is blotted out." Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, "Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?" And I said, "Here am I; send me!" (Is. 6:1-8)

From its aesthetic sense of majesty and power, to its movement from awe and unworthiness into prophetic action, Isaiah's encounter with the Holy serves as a paradigmatic model for Rudolf Otto's The Idea of the Holy. The Isaiah passage illustrates at least two tenets central to Otto's work. First, that numinous encounters evoke feelings of awe, devotion and utter humility -- religious feelings that are categorically unique and speakable only through analogy. Second, that while holiness is distinguished from morality, an encounter with the Holy does carry within it a moral imperative pointing toward the convergence of the human will and the will of God.

The following summary and critique examines Otto's ideas concerning numinous encounters. Scholars have called Chapters 1 through 13 of The Idea of the Holy a phenomenological account, with the remaining Chapters 14 - 21 a more philosophical treatment of his subject. I will follow this basic division in summarizing the work. The critique will include discussion of Otto's epistemology, a brief look at his work from a postmodern constructionist standpoint, the inherent dualism in Otto's thought, and The Ideal of the Holy as a phenomenological account.

Otto sees the Holy, or holiness, as a unique category of interpretation combining both the rational and non-rational. Interestingly, the rational and non-rational do not exactly correspond to thought and feeling. Rather, they are predicates of an object. If an object can be conceptualized, it is a rational object. If it cannot, it is non-rational. He maintains that as Christians we rightly conceptualize certain attributes of God -- goodness, spirit, reason, purpose, power, unity, selfhood -- thus leading to our sense of the divine as rational and moral. Orthodox Christianity's doctrines and dogmas certainly attest to this, and rightly so, according to Otto. He warns us, however, that this is not all there is to God. The essence of the divine cannot be contained in rational attributions. God is also non-rational, and it is this largely ignored aspect of God within the Protestant tradition that his works examines.

Otto uses the term numinous to denote this non-rational essence, that part of the holy which is ineffable and beyond moral characterization. Numinous refers both to the object and to the experience of the object. Because the numinous itself is beyond words, Otto's analysis is strictly analogical and focuses on the feeling response to the presence of the holy, best characterized with the phrase mysterium tremendum fascinans et augustum. According to Otto, this feeling response is a sui generis category -- irreducible and uniquely religious.

Now to a brief review of Otto's examination of numinous encounters:

The mysterium is the wholly-other, an object eluding all understanding. It is over and beyond what is familiar or intelligible and fills the mind with "wonder and astonishment." (IH, 26) In our encounters with the mysterium we meet something "whose kind and character are incommensurable with our own, and before which we therefore recoil in a wonder that strikes us chill and numb." (IH, 28)

The adjective tremendum describes this mysterium and our encounters with it in three ways. Awefulness is a feeling of fear, bordering on terror, that "penetrates to the very marrow, making [our] hair bristle and limbs quake." (IH, 16) The body shudders in its awareness of the uncanny. The second element is overpoweringness, or majestas. This aspect is one in which the creature-consciousness appears. We feel ourselves but dust and ashes in the objective presence of the all-powerful other. The element of energy or urgency is characterized for Otto in the idea of the wrath of God -- vitality, passion, will, force, movement, impetus (IH, 23) -- as well as in the mystics' notions of the all-consuming fire of God's love.

Fascinans also describes experience of the mysterium. Although we do recoil, at the same time we find ourselves strangely attracted. The numinous is alluring, captivating and charming, and we somehow sense that knowing it and being in its presence is unaccountably salvific. This mystery is wonder and bliss, providing the 'peace that passes understanding.'

The fascinans is the positive subjective side of the numinous experience. The positive objective side is the augustum, that within the numinous which claims our respect. We pay homage to that which is outside of us, and that which we feel by its very nature much necessarily devalue our own. Here again we see how, following Schleiermacher, Otto makes clear that several aspects of the numinous encounter serve to evoke within us a creature-feeling in which we have a staggering sense of dependence and personal finitude.

Not only does Otto offer the above description of the numinous encounter, he also looks at how the numinous is expressed and develops in an historical understanding of religion. From animism and fear of taboos to biblical notions all the way through Luther's writings, Otto tracks how it is that all of these are different expressions of a sense of the holy. To paraphrase Otto, daemonic power becomes divine power; dread becomes worship; confusion and inchoate emotions become a "shudder" of holy awe. When the numen becomes absolutized in Deity, Otto maintains, is when the word holy is attributed to God. All of this develops in the sphere of the non-rational. (IH, 110)

Secondary to this development is "the process of rationalization and moralization on the basis of the numinous consciousness." (IH, 110) The sense of the holy has historically been "filled in" with ideals of goodness, justice, obligation. Otto applauds this moralization process overall as part of the history of salvation and "the ever-growing self-revelation of the divine." (IH, 111) At the same time, and in view of an increasingly secularized European Protestant culture, he is most concerned to say that we have gone too far with it and need to regain some balance. For Otto, holiness is completed by the moralization process -- holiness is both non-rational and rational -- but morality always has its source in and is determined first by the numinous. It is in this sense then that we can say, as above regarding the Isaiah passage, that an encounter with the Holy does carry within it a moral imperative pointing toward the convergence of the human will and the will of God.

Having described numinous encounters analogically through a depiction and analysis of the associated feelings, now in Chapters 14 -21 Otto tells us how it is that these feelings are indications of an a priori principal at work, an objective reality. He maintains that these feelings, characterized with the phrase mysterium tremendum fascinans et augustum, indicate that human beings have a built in psychological capacity to experience the numinous. These qualitatively unique feelings do not arise out of any kind of normal sense-perceptions, yet, since any feeling requires some kind of stimulus, they must be evoked in response to a non-natural object outside of us, i.e., the numinous. (PA, 83) They point to a "hidden substantive source, from which the religious ideas and feelings are formed, which lies in the mind independently of sense-experience." (IH, 114)

Otto's epistemology stands on the shoulders of theologian Jacob Fries' neo-Kantianism. In contrast to Kant, Fries maintained that we can know reality, the thing-in-itself. He bases this conviction on how our very existence and being in general give rise to what he calls immediate knowledge. This immediate knowledge carries within it its own criterion of truth, a feeling of truth, which is "inescapable and irreducible." (PA, 47-49) This immediate feeling of truth is what characterizes Ahndung (presentiment or intuitive feeling). It is through Ahndung that human beings are enabled to apprehend the infinite in the finite. Ahndung serves as a bridge between rational faith and scientific knowledge.

Otto takes Friesian Ahndung and calls it the faculty of divination:

Divination consists in the fact that a man encounters an occurrence that is not 'natural,' in the sense of being inexplicable by the laws of nature. Since it has actually occurred, it must have had a cause; and, since it has no 'natural' cause, it must…have a supernatural one. This theory of divination is a genuine, solidly rationalist theory, put together with rigid concepts in a strict demonstrative form and intended as such. And it claims that the capacity or faculty of divination is the understanding, the faculty of reflection in concept and demonstration. The transcendent is here proved as strictly as anything can be proved, logically from given premises. (IH, 144-145)

It is an open question whether Otto "proved" the transcendent, as he claimed, and it is at this point that I want to move into a critique of The Idea of the Holy. Interestingly, although it has significantly impacted the psychology of religion and has become a part of the religious culture, this work has had little theological influence over the years. Bultmann attacked its "irrationalism," and Tillich said the philosophy on which it was based left open too many questions. (MR, 10 and PA, 89, respectively)

Otto's attempt to give philosophical credence, through Friesian thought, to the experience of the holy was for me the most interesting aspect of his work, but ultimately, of course, he is making a rather circular argument. Truth verified by the feeling of truth is a philosophically weak position. Although I am among the many who believe (based on personal experience and Ahndung, no doubt) that what he is saying is accurate, I saw nothing in the reading that effectively countered the problem of human proclivity toward self-deception. Otto himself seems to understand that his philosophical argument cannot hope to convince the skeptical when he writes on page 8 that those who have not had encounters with the numinous should bother to read no further.

The Idea of the Holy is ultimately a document of faith, for Otto cannot establish that an "event did not arise from natural causes or was in conflict with the laws of nature." His only defense against this claim is an appeal straight back to the religious consciousness itself which, he says, "rises against this desiccation and materialization of what in all religion is surely the most tender and living moment, the actual discovery of and encounter with very deity." (IH, 145)

Philosophically, we are left not with logical proof but with a presupposition that the numinous is an objective metaphysical reality and not a psychological projection.

At the same time, however, the notion that The Idea of the Holy fails to 'hold up' on strictly logical philosophical terms needs to be measured against the equally important notion that strictly logical philosophical terms are, after all, only one way of knowing. As a feminist who has experienced first-hand the denigration of "women's ways of knowing," Ahndung is a refreshing 'philosophical' idea. And if both psychology and philosophy are after the same goal, i.e., to make manifest that which is hidden, perhaps Ahndung makes the most sense of all.

To continue with this critique, I turn now to a look at Otto from a postmodern constructionist position. Not surprisingly, his writing carries within it modernist assumptions of universality, a-temporality, and a disregard for placing much importance on the context of experience. His basic proposition, for example, is that numinous experience is sui generis -- irreducible, unmediated by language or circumstance. And he claimed as well to have discovered a universal predisposition in all humans to receive the numinous experience. Both of these claims are at odds with postmodern constructionist insights that all experience is conditioned and that, given the diversity of human existence and the lack of any fixed reference point, universalizing anything is dangerous business.

Perhaps surprisingly, a few aspects of Otto's work do fit rather well with a postmodern perspective.

First, his emphasis on religion as an inner experience is in line with certain postmodern spiritualities which consider experience more authoritative than doctrine, texts or priests.
Second, as Raphael notes, despite his modernist assumptions, there is little Cartesian rationalism or disembodiedness in Otto. (MR, 5) Indeed, much of the criticism leveled at his work attacks a perceived overvaluation of the body and the senses as well as his position that the intellect cannot ultimately determine religious truth.
Third, Otto's comparative study of religion was a powerful precursor to the religious pluralism of the postmodern world. Although he ultimately claimed the superiority of Christianity and felt it to be the most evolved of all religions, Otto's writing also showed unusual respect for the truth found in all major religions and he advocated a change in the West's disdainful attitude toward them.
Finally, Otto's insistence that morality and beauty are culturally determined anticipates constructionist insights.

The dualism inherent in The Idea of the Holy must be mentioned here as well. In characterizing the sacred otherness of the divine, Otto seems at times to intimate that the created world can be nothing but profane. Liberationist critique notes that this dichotomy has led to sinful political and religious structures. Liberationists prefer a more holistic view, seeing the sacred inherent in all of life, and offering relationality as a means by which the violence of these systemic structures may be countered. They point out that relationship with Otto's 'wholly other' numinous is a daunting task, to say the least.

Otto's distinction between the sacred and profane is more complex than some liberationists may take into account. First and foremost it reminds us that we are not God, that our status as creatures means we require a system of morality that addresses political and religious injustices. Also, despite the 'wholly otherness' of a numinous encounter, the fascinans element points toward a kind of mystical joy and sense of salvation, both of which call forth a type of intimacy with the numinous object. Finally, I particularly appreciated Raphael's defense of Otto's dualism vs. the liberationist tendency toward a monistic theology:

If there is no principle of division that names religio-ethical transgression, then there are no frontiers to halt the advance of those political structures of alienation from God . . . The division of holiness and profanity produces an urgent, purposive model of history, whereas the problem of modernity is precisely that it robs history of any telos beyond that of the final mastery of nature . . . . If nothing is enclosed or fenced off as taboo or forbidden, closed to economic colonization or scientific reduction, then there is no obstacle to modernity's Baconian unveiling of creation's mysteries. (MR, 188)

Before concluding, I want to briefly include something about the phenomenology of The Idea of the Holy. Despite the fact that this work is commonly considered a prototypical phenomenological account, the scholars I read had some interesting input into this classification. Raphael points out that while Otto does attempt to get to the central aspects of numinous experience (eidetic vision), he does not suspend judgment even for a moment (epoche). Rather, he assumes his judgments regarding the religious a priori are not only correct, but universal. (MR, 16) And Almond notes that Otto's assertion that religious feelings are qualitatively unique is not phenomenological, but is a philosophical presupposition. This is the case as well for his ideas regarding the varieties of religious experience. While Otto's assertion that different religions experience the numinous in different ways is accounted for phenomenologically, his assertion that ultimately all religions are grounded in one metaphysical reality is once again a philosophical presupposi-tion and is not phenomenologically based. (PA, 85)

Rudolf Otto's The Idea of the Holy has powerfully impacted the psychology of religion at least in part because it reads the human document in a profoundly insightful way, offering us an astute account of our ability to know the infinite in the midst of a finite world. It is a transcendental psychology that provides a means of expressing the human capacity to distinguish between the sacred and profane and to apprehend the self-revelation of God.

From a pastoral theological perspective, I think The Idea of the Holy offers meaningful discussion of at least three things. First, it points to how revelation necessitates grace. At its most fundamental level how we know God, indeed, how we know anything, is pure grace. Also, Otto's epistemology reminds the pastoral theologian that feelings of truth, while perhaps disparaged in society worshiping at the feet of technology and while indeed always requiring careful reflection and analysis, nevertheless yield important clues as to how it is that like Isaiah we often daringly move out into the world in response to a powerful experience perceived strictly from a religious consciousness. Finally, feelings of truth also provide a theological foundation for a crucial aspect of human existence -- hope.

Paul Tillich has written beautifully of how we have a right to hope based on our experience of the eternal in us and in our finite world. We feel that this is a holy place, a holy person, a holy time. The feeling transcends the ordinary; it gives more and demands more, and it points to the ultimate mystery of experience and all existence. Those moments of truth show us that our finitude, surrendered to the flux of things, is only one side of our being and that we are both in and above finitude. Rudolf Otto helps the pastoral theologian sense anew this paradoxical backdrop of what it means to be human.

IH The Idea of the Holy: An Inquiry Into the Non-Rational Factor in the Idea of the Divine and its Relation to the Rational, by Rudolf Otto (London: Oxford University Press, 1923)

________________________________________________________
MR Rudolf Otto and the Concept of Holiness, by Melissa Raphael (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1997)

PA Rudolf Otto: An Introduction to His Philosophical Theology, by Philip C. Almond (Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina Press, 1984)

_______________________________________________________

A New Spiritual Discipline

2010-08-16T06:44:00.004-06:00

I'm trying a new spiritual discipline. I've set the alarm clock on my phone to go off, with soothing harp music, every hour during the day. As I reach to turn it off each time, I read the title that I gave to the alarm: "Body, Mind, Holy Spirit"

Then I stop, just for a few moments, and I remind myself of three things:

1. Body.
I do a quick body scan. After all, the "body is the best spiritual director we can ever have" (Emily H.) Lately, I've mostly been noticing, when I do the body scan, how my foot is still hurting from the fall I took during vacation. But I usually also notice my level of hunger. When I realize that I'm not hungry, it helps a bit with emotional or stress eating.

2. Mind.
Here I remind myself that: "I am not my thoughts. My true self--my authentic self--lies behind/beyond my thoughts. "I" am a particular and unique manifestation of LIFE, the life-force, the divine spark, the creative energy that continues to bring forth the world." I find this to be an amazing thought. It's really helped me vis-a-vis my relationship with death. Plus, in the last couple of days I've actually been 'present' enough to remember that "I am not my thoughts" during times when I am thinking fearfully or judgmentally. It's been a huge release! Wow.

3. Holy Spirit.
Here I take a deep breath and say to myself: "I open myself to the guidance and wisdom of the Holy Spirit." Each time I say this to myself, I feel this letting go inside me. Very powerful.

I've been doing this for about a week. Sometimes the alarm goes off when I'm with someone, so I turn it off and then forget it. Other times, the alarm goes off when I'm focused on something else, so I turn it off and don't go back to it until it rings again the next hour. Mostly, though, I've been fairly faithful, and I think it's beginning to make a difference. Someone at my lectio divina group said "You're taking little Sabbaths throughout the day," and that's a lovely way to put it, I think. Little Sabbaths that bring me back to the present moment and remind me of what is, for me, ultimately true.

o
o

We're Melting Down Here

2010-08-14T09:39:00.003-06:00

This is our 15th straight day of temperatures over 100 degrees F. We had a surprising amout of rain in July and we kept remarking how green everything was. Now it's all dead and brown.

Yesterday David complained about the heat, a rare happening. Psychologically, it's wearing us all down. I'm suppose to have "high tea" with a bunch of friends this afternoon--a lovely idea and I'm sure we'll have a lovely time, but the very idea of just getting outside to drive to the antique mall ... ugh.

And it's not only the temps, it's the unrelenting brightness, reminding me of those old Westerns where the hero was left to die out on the desert somewhere, and the sun beating down, and he squints and sweats, and the music portrays a slow, rhythmic forewarning of death, and he thinks he sees water in the distance but of course it's only a mirage... :-)

Right, and if my car unexpectedly breaks down, I'll have to play that part: the heroine, out all alone on the side of the highway, squinting this way and squinting that way (sunglasses don't help all that much, you know--not in this level of blaze) ... and no one stops to help, so I must trudge forward all alone, one foot heavily in front of the other, my pale skin blistering red before my very eyes, sweat falling down from the end of my nose, so parched that my tongue cements to the top of my mouth, I am helpless to staunch my tears. Finally, I feel faint...

Yep, psychologically, I'm definitely wearing down....

Grace

2010-08-08T17:17:00.005-06:00

I've always loved this quote about Grace.

The grace of God is "God's transforming disposition towards the whole world." That is, divine grace is expressed as a creative will for dynamic life and goodness, full of ongoing possibilities for transformation and renewal. God bestows on us the risky gift of freedom and responsibility. Grace is a risk God takes in the freedom of divine love, a risk extended for the sake of transformation, for greater wholeness, for fullness of life.

.It's by Walter Brueggemann, as quoted in Companions in Christ series on Grace.

Spiritual Parents

2010-08-06T21:37:00.007-06:00

I saw Mary R. this morning. The last few times I've seen her I spend my time in the car driving over there thinking 'I really don't have anything to talk about. Hmm...' But then I get there and she asks a simple question and suddenly all this pain comes flooding out. Today she simply asked me how I was doing with my grief over Andy's death.

Mary was my therapist before and during my years in the Ph.D. program; she heard all of my angst and self-doubt as I struggled to become more and more my authentic self during those vibrant years under Andy's wise and gentle tutelage. And I remember how she'd say, "Katherine, trust Andy's words. Trust his perception of you. Trust his confidence in you."

As we spoke it became clear to me how losing Andy was ... well, he was more than a father figure to me...he was my spiritual father. I think that's a good way to phrase it. When I think back on those years (wow, I first met Andy 15 years ago now), Andy, and in fact Mary R. as well (and I told her this today), were spiritual parents to me. With them, because of them and the grace and wisdom and love they embody(ied), I was slowly reborn.

You know, when someone older and wiser takes an interest in you, really seems to understand you (at times I've thought Andy and Mary both could read my thoughts) and care about you, it opens up such beautiful space for transformation. Even though it remains difficult and painful, that space has always been so enticing to me, partly, I know, because of my love for those who offer it. My "spiritual parents" made it clear that they really want(ed) me to grow and mature and to know what true joy is like -- and part of the transformation I experienced was motivated by my desire to prove their confidence in me was not misplaced. Often, underneath my courage was this thought: "If Andy (or Mary) think I can do this, then I must be able to do it."

Mary knew Andy slightly. She attended a couple of events where he was the speaker and they talked a bit, I believe. She said today that she was always able to feel his power whenever she was in his presence -- he just had an energy of love that she could always feel, she said. Just before his book on the subject was published, she heard him speak about Hope. Somehow we got off on Andy's notion that is it only penultimate hope that we place in people we love, and how "great" it is that the people in our lives are less than perfect because that reminds us that ultimate hope can really only be placed in God. [Pretty funny -- we joked about that, which, of course, reminded me so viscerally of Andy and how so often his greatest teachings were communicated to me through humor.]

Mary said that she believes that Andy could see, like she sees, how much I love God. Part of me objected, and yet when she said it, I immediately began weeping like a baby. Weeping with such fragile hope that it's true. Weeping with an embryonic recognition that she had given utterance to the deepest desire of my life. And weeping with a vague memory of Andy saying something very similar to me.
Dear God, how spiritual-parent-like to convey words with the kind of power to actually evoke exactly that to which they point. So amazing.

I am grateful for my spiritual parents. Grateful that I had 15 years with such a giant of a human being, Andy Lester. And yes, so grateful that Mary R is with me still, still loving me, still offering such wise and gracious space for an ongoing transformation.

So grateful.

Wolf Totem -- highly recommended

2010-08-01T14:57:00.008-06:00

I've been reading Wolf Totem by Jiang Rong. Started about 9:00 this morning and am about halfway through. It's amazing. I'm totally transported to another world -- the world of Inner Mongolia's grasslands. It's set during the Chinese Cultural Revolution of the 1960s when a young Chinese intellectual travels to this strange land of nomadic Mongols who live in "perfect harmony with their beautiful but exacting natural environment. At the core of their beliefs is the notion of a triangular balance between the earth, humankind, and the fierce otherworldly Mongolian wolf."

In a very strange way, this book is a page turner. There's no 'mystery-murder,' no 'love triangle,' no 'adventure searching for relics from the Catholic church,' but, still, I've found myself eagerly moving from chapter to chapter, anticipating Chen Zhen's next encounter with the wolves.

Such a different, very spiritual, world. I'm enthralled.

Taos vacation

2010-07-31T19:18:00.008-06:00

Just wanted to share some photos from our vacation to Taos...

The photo of our granddaughter near the patio is close to where I fell and sprained my ankle! It's still 'ouching'!

The house was fabulous and had a lovely yard, including the little bridge on which K is standing...

The small photo is of the house we rented--the living room. The house was expensive, so we could only stay 3 nights, but Wow, we all really loved it. 1800 s.f. and about five levels, which were wonderful until I fell!

The vacation was wonderful, but alas, too short. I tripped and fell on Wednesday morning, and we started the long drive back home on Thursday morning. We spent the night in Amarillo and on Friday morning, Deb woke up with the flu (or something like it). So by the time we actually got home, only David and Katie were left standing!

It was such a delight to have little Morgan with us...she brings sparkle wherever she is.

The LIFE WE ARE

2010-07-23T21:56:00.005-06:00

I've been listening to Eckhart Tolle again -- a podcast. He's talking about the "inner space," the "spaciousness" inside us where we are conscious of being conscious. No longer dominated by the mind which is processing sense data, memories, future plans, etc., --this inner space is the gap between all that and the LIFE we really are.

He said LIFE has no opposite because it has no end. And we are manifestations of LIFE in human bodies that will one day turn to dust, but the LIFE WE ARE will continue because it is eternal. We are part of All That Is.

And it's awareness of this LIFE WE ARE that is the "inner space," the "spaciousness," the consciousness and deep spiritual awarness (as Cynthia Bourgealt calls it).

That makes so much sense to me. It's beautiful, isn't it? And to live with this sort of deep awareness, where there is no fear, is where Jesus lived, I think. He lived in the gap between ordinary mind (sense perception, memory, the 'normal' way minds work) and behind the mind. Yes, behind the mind is the LIFE WE ARE, the true and authentic self.

So mystical. Hidden. And yet I know this. I know what he's talking about.

At one point he asked us to move into stillness, close the eyes, take some deep breaths, and then feel the aliveness, the LIFE WE ARE by feeling the energy in our hands. Wow; that was, and is, even now, so powerful.

Absolutely beautiful.

And Now What?

2010-07-19T18:34:00.004-06:00

I'm in one of those I-want-to-look-at-my-life moods. Know what I mean? They come at the end of a big job, when I can breathe and broaden my focus again.

What's next?

1. One thing I know I need to do is find some way to focus on grieving Andy's death. Yesterday I came across his name on something and I found myself nearly bent over in pain; for a few moments I could barely breathe. Of course, I came across his name on things constantly in the last month when I was preparing for and teaching my class, but that was different--I was using what he'd taught me. Now I don't have that psychic "protection." The tears threaten to spill over even now.

2. I have to make-up the time I missed from work in preparing the class, so I'll be working on Thursdays this Fall. I've been in a discernment process regarding whether to enroll in Hearthpaths training for the Ignatian Exercises--it would mean every Friday morning from September through May, plus a lot of hours throughout the week. I need that discipline, but I also find myself thinking/feeling that I might 'need' that Friday morning for myself...just me here at home...since my Thursdays will now be 'taken.' Hmmm, I guess I'm wanting to guard my free time.

3. Free time...to read. I want to read "Wolf Totem"--David was ga-ga over this book; it sounds fabulous. Katie gave me a couple of books to read that I haven't had time to even look at. "How God Changes Your Brain"--I recommended this book to my friend C, and she's finished it, while I haven't really begun! The list is endless. "Eat, Pray, Love" -- I noticed the movie opens soon and I've wanted to read the book for ages.

4. Free time...to garden. My back won't allow me to really garden, but I want to investigate this Tabletop Gardening as an alternative. Maybe this Fall.

5. Learning to eat mindfully. I've started this, but the last couple of weeks I really let it drop. My meals were whatever was convenient.

6. Free time...to write. Weavings invited me to submit some articles this year, but my time was spent in teaching. I'd love to designate Fridays just to writing, and especially for Weavings.

7. Can one learn to like exercising? "Joyful Movement" is the key, isn't it? I do like to walk with my friend Pam--at the mall, of course. It's too damnhot otherwise until October. What else might be "Joyful Movement" for me? Hmmm, dance lessons. Riding my bike (when it gets cooler). I wonder if I'd use a Wii -- they look kinda fun. InterPlay, for sure; I need to find a group.

8. Prioritizing Centering Prayer in my life. I'm meeting with a group of wonderful friends each Wednesday, but I'd like to have a group meet at my church as well on another day of the week. Since reading Centering Prayer and the Inner Life, I find myself really drawn to this spiritual discipline.

Well, we shall see...

What's happening

2010-07-16T20:55:00.000-06:00

The 2-week intensive class is finished. Whew! This was definitely the best class I've taught--everything about it for me felt authentic. I'm still a neophyte professor and can see where I need to improve on some technicalities in teaching, but the main thing is that I felt the class learned some important things and that the students were really engaged. I'm grateful for that! I told them today as the class ended that I felt hopeful for the future of the church, knowing that they were going to be part of that. They really did seem committed and thoughtful, and that was so good to see....Anyway, I'm breathing easier tonight -- no more getting up at 4:30 a.m.! woo-hoo! Tomorrow I am sleeping in!

David and I went out to dinner tonight--he's good at helping me celebrate things!

Tomorrow I start grading papers and that's going to take a very l-o-n-g time. Still, I'm looking forward to returning to church on Sunday; eager to get busy there again.

Things are happening on the homefront, too. We're getting a new roof, and we're refinancing for 4.25%, down from 6.75%, so we're pretty excited about that.

David's riding again tomorrow morning -- just a 40 mile ride, which is easy for him. College girl is coming for a visit--she wants to ride bicycles with her dad later in the day.
And week-after-next is vacation! Yippee!

.

Teaching in July

2010-06-28T08:21:00.000-06:00

I'm using a lot of Andy's material (see previous post) to create this class that I'm scheduled to teach in July. I see his notes on my old papers, and I hear his voice as I read his handouts. I cry a bit, and then give thanks that he was my teacher.

I've been 'holed up' here at home for over a week now, putting together this class on Pastoral Care. It's an Intro class, so we're covering a wide range of subjects. Yesterday I realized I needed to get some guest speakers in; two people have already responded "yes." And I'm considering requiring some kind of group presentations from the class--that's a good way to learn, and it saves me from coming up with ever-more lectures and stuff on my own.

A long way to go....

Andy Lester

2010-06-20T09:20:00.009-06:00

Andrew Lester died June 10, one day after my brother-in-law. I had hoped his memorial service would be held later, but I was still in South Carolina (where I needed to be) when everyone gathered to remember what he had meant to them.

Andy was my dissertation supervisor, my teacher/mentor, officiator at my wedding, and my friend. He and Judy were planning to move to North Carolina and I remember his telephone call to me, letting me know about their plans. He said he wanted me to know because "You and I have always had such a special connection, Katherine."

We had talked on several previous occasions about our 'connection,' and it had to do with us both having an existentialist orientation to life. We were both passionate about authenticity, freedom and responsibility, life/death, anxiety, isolation/community, and meaning.

He was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer not long after that phone call. Their house had sold surprisingly quickly, so he and Judy had to move into an apartment while he received treatment. That saddened me; they had a beautiful home. I don't know exactly how long it was from when he was diagnosed to when he died; a year, or perhaps a bit longer.

I remember once in a seminar class, he had asked us to read an article about "master narratives." All of my colleagues critiqued the article, saying that from their postmodern perspective master narratives didn't exist; our identities are created anew each day through social construction. I saw their point, but I spoke up in disagreement because as I had read the article I knew my own 'master narrative.'

"Tell us, Katherine," Andy said.

"Uh, oh, well...," I stammered. My intention had not been to tell that story -- Andy surprised me in so many ways through the years, inviting me, in one way or another, to honor the Authentic Katherine.

I was maybe 19 years old and on break from college. My parents lived in Houston then. On this particular evening, my mother had already gone to bed leaving me alone with my father. I was sitting in a chair in the living room reading a book, I think. He was only slightly drunk and he came over and sat on the couch and said, "So, Katy, where is your life going?"

Where is my life going... Deep anxiety flooded through me. I froze and could only manage to slightly shrug my shoulders in response. He looked away and eventually said, "Yeah. I know. I was never captain of my own ship either."

As the years went on, that little exchange with my father served as a major gift and, indeed, as a 'master narrative' for me. It taught me in the most powerful way that I MUST become the 'captain of my own ship.' My God, I couldn't go through life and end up, at 60, thinking I'd never acted as agent of my own life! No! No! No!

As I finished that story I looked at Andy, and OH!, I'll never forget his face. He was smiling at me and nodding his head in affirmation. My eyes fill with tears now, thinking of it. He was so proud of me. That's what I read into his smile and his nod: Oh dear God, this man I love and respect so much is proud of me! He saw me becoming, and in some ways as already, the captain of my own ship.

It meant the world.

When I asked him to officiate at my wedding I was pretty sure he would say Yes, and he did. But he surprised me with a question also: Katherine, I can only do this if you've thought through the implications for justice. I think I responded with something like "yes of course," and he said 'great' and quickly went on to some nuts-and-bolts questions. He knew that the question would linger in my mind. In what ways, in the excitement of falling in love and planning a wedding, would I tend to give my power away?--that's what he wanted me to think through, I'm sure, because he knew that ongoing sub-story of mine: letting my God-given empowerment dissipate. It remains a hugely important question for me to keep in mind.

Andy was someone I felt the freedom to always be myself around, and at the same time, not. I know I had him on a pedastal as this "father-figure extraordinaire." I wish I could've related to him as an equal more often than I did. He invited that in so many ways.

Well, it's a small regret, really. The main thing is how utterly grateful I am, and will always be, that Andy Lester was part of my life. Being in his presence was sheer gift because, as his obituary said, he was a man who provided "unconditional love." What response can anyone have to that except utter gratitude?

I have always thought that no human being could provide 'unconditional love,' and I've always asked my clients/parishioners to think about that more deeply when they make such a declaration. But when I read that in Andy's obituary, written by his family members I'm sure, I knew it was an accurate statement, arising, I believe, from his amazing commitment to Jesus Christ and his dedication to increasing in spiritual maturity. Andy Lester was a man who walked the earth with a deep assurance in his soul that God was with him--guiding, healing, sustaining, reconciling, and liberating him. It's that kind of assurance that gives us the freedom to love others so well.

Two of my Ph.D. colleagues contacted me upon learning of Andy's death. Duane called me that morning to make sure I'd heard the news, then he emailed me. His email ended with "We stand on the shoulders of a giant." Oh, how true. Andy's work is hugely respected in the field of pastoral counseling and pastoral theology. He broke new ground in narrative theory and hope, and an incredible pastoral theology of anger. Not to mention his books on marriage and on children. It was a beautiful reminder to me, that we his students stand on Andy's giant shoulders as pastoral theologians, counselors, and caregivers. A feeling for me of both humility and celebration.

And Linda's email brought tears to me eyes. She commented on how I had been in her thoughts since the moment she learned he was on hospice. She wrote of the "closeness and significance" of my relationship with him and her certainty that his death would "leave a hole" in my heart. You're right, Linda. So right. And for all of us in our own ways... I'm thinking now of another friend and student of Andy's, M., who mentioned a couple of times to me how she wished one of us could speak to Andy and learn from his wisdom about this process of dying. I think we all assume that this process of letting go was something he experienced with sadness, but grace and a loved-filled peace as well.

The last time I saw Andy and Judy was about 3 weeks before he died. They had come again to one of the "Sacred Conversations" gatherings at my church. He was very pale, and I knew he had recently had to increase his pain medication. As they left, we embraced and I'm pretty sure I said, "I love you." Even if I didn't actually say that out loud, I know he knew it.

He's with God now.

But, of course, he always was.

Bike Racing Today

2010-06-19T08:18:00.005-06:00

David's riding in a bike race this morning. He got up at 5:30 to get to Italy, Texas in time for the pancake breakfast. His text at 7:15 said he had pancakes with a 69-year-old man who rides this race every year. Encouraging!

I'm a tad worried, but I know he should be fine. He rides over 70 miles on other blistering hot days without a problem, so this 67-mile race shouldn't be hard.

He'll come home tired, but feeling good about himself, I'm sure. And who wouldn't be proud of an accomplishment like that? I think it's amazing.

Tomorrow's Father's Day, of course. I know the girls will be here; not sure about Young Man with Integrity -- he and his family are just now driving back from a two-week vacation to Montana, so they might not be up for it. Hope so, though. It would be great if all of us together could celebrate David!

A Journey Begins

2010-06-15T14:11:00.002-06:00

My brother-in-law of 30 years died June 9. I officiated at his memorial service last week in South Carolina -- it was an informal service with lots of storytelling about Stan and expressions of what he meant to us. I shared a beautiful memory I have of him --

When my mother was dying in 1994, I, along with my sister and brother, were keeping vigil at the hospital where she lay in a coma. Exhausted, I went back to my sister's house each evening to regain a little strength for the next day's waiting. Part of my time each evening was to clean my contact lenses which ended up dirty with salt from my tears during the day, and I couldn't wear my glasses because they were broken. I returned home one evening and Stan had repaired my glasses for me. A small act of kindness, but one that has stayed with me all these years. It meant so much because I was too spent to do anything for myself, and to come back and find my glasses waiting for me meant that Stan had thought about me during the day and had some compassion for how my eyes were hurting each evening. It was a gift that carried tremendous meaning for me.

The story of Stan's death is not a pretty one. Despite hospice care, he suffered greatly, I think. Still, he died knowing that his family members--Susan, my sister, and Ashley and Keith, his daughter and son--were there, and they loved him greatly.

Thirty years is a long time to have someone be part of the family; I haven't yet really processed what it will be like for me to visit their home and Stan not be there to greet and welcome me. And that's just me. Stan was always there for my sister, her confidant and best friend. As she herself said on the day after the memorial service, "So now my journey begins." Poignant words. Her journey of grief and tears and anguished adjustment now begin. It is a journey of creating a new identity for herself, even though in a very important sense Stan will remain with her. She'll have a different relationship with him now, but no relationship ever really dies, for we are forever changed by loving others. They become part of who we are.

It was truly wrenching for me to leave Susan and Ashley and Keith; I very much wanted to stay and feel like I was helping them somehow. But all of us knew that these journeys of grief must be taken alone. (Not that other people don't help; they do. It can help tremendously to be in the company of one who cares and loves.) But the internal work of grief is just that -- a work of inner transformation that each of us must undertake as individuals-in-relationship.

I know they'll be fine; they are fine. And I know that it's through the pain that true joy can be made known. Christ shows us that. Still, part of me wishes they didn't have to go through any pain at all. I'm praying that even in the midst of heartache they'll be able to sense God's loving and gracious presence with them, sustaining and healing them.

Yes. May it be so.

Twenty Questions

2010-06-06T19:02:00.004-06:00

1. When you looked at yourself in the mirror today, what was the first thing you thought? I was in such a hurry to get ready this morning that I was just thinking "OK, hair done. OK, makeup on." Didn't think much about anything except getting the job done so that I could get to church!

2. Do you miss anyone right now?
I do. I miss my sister and her family -- my brother-in-law is on hospice and I'm concerned about him and my sister, niece and nephew. They are really on my heart.
There's a dear friend I really miss; she's too busy these days to really get together. Grieves my heart, to tell the truth.
I miss my friend Wendy who moved to Missouri.
Funny (strange) thing...I woke up from a dream one night last week in which I was walking down the hall of our house screaming: "Mamma!" Very disturbing dream. After 16 years of being without her, I still miss my mother.

3. If you could move anywhere else, would you?
I'd move to a cooler, prettier place. It's only June and already we're way above 100 degrees here in north Texas. I hate it.

4. If you could choose, what would your last meal be?
Perfectly prepared chicken-'n-dumplings. (That means fluffy dumplings.)

5. What famous person, dead or alive, would you want to have lunch with?
I think I'd enjoy lunch with Henri Nouwen, talking about his life, and, I have a suspicion, talking about mine as well. He'd ask.

6. What was the last book you read?
Centering Prayer and Inner Awakening by Cynthia Bourgeault

7. What was the last movie you watched?
In the theater, Robin Hood.
Via Netflix, As It Is in Heaven (great movie!)

8. What was the last song you heard?
It was something on my I-Phone--Joan Baez, I think. I listened to it on the plane ride home yesterday.

9. What is your dream vacation?
Someplace cool with a wonderful view of the mountains or the ocean. For two weeks--time to really relax!

10. What is the next trip you will take?
We're driving to Taos, NM, at the end of July. I've rented a house near the town square for three nights. Looking forward to that!

11. Did you ever go to camp?
No, I never did. I hear folks talk about the truly formative experiences they've had at Youth Camp, but I can't resonate with that. I do remember going camping once or twice with my grandparents. My grandfather had a motor boat, so we'd go on area lakes.

12. Have you ever been in love?
Yes, I have. Still am. We've been married over six years now. At the moment, we're watching the 5th game of the Stanley Cup together.

13. What do you want to know about the future?
Hmmm, gosh. I really can't think of anything. Guess the present is OK, and I do have a pretty good level of trust, I think.

14. Where is your best friend?
"Best friend" isn't a phrase I use. I have several "soul friends." They're in Fort Worth, Dallas, Princeton NJ, Maryville MO...

15. How is your best friend?
They're all doing great.

16. Who is the biggest gossiper you know?
I know some folks who gossip, but I certainly wouldn't name them here!!

17. What does your last text message say?
"Got it. See you then. Love." That's from my husband after I sent him my arrival time and gate information yesterday.

18. What are 3 things you've always wanted to do, that you still plan to accomplish?
I'm at a point in my life when the "big things" have all been done. We'll see what the future brings.

19. What is one thing you learned from your parents?
I learned to dig deep and find the courage to face unpleasant things about myself. (They did the opposite, so this is a negative learning.)

20. What is one thing you hope to teach to your own children?
I hope my stepchildren and granddaughter will learn something about being truly authentic from me.

I got these from Seeking Authentic Voice, and I think the rules are that if you copy these from me and answer them on your blog you are supposed to let me know....so off I go to let Terri know...

Compassion is the Key to Bridging Opposites

2010-06-06T18:19:00.004-06:00

We had another different worship experience this morning. I used the Widow of Nain story, with the idea (that I read somewhere) about the story being of two processions meeting each other. One procession is about death -- the widow leading the procession with her dead son's bier, and the other with Jesus leading a procession into Nain. He'd been doing a few miracles in the area, so there was a large crowd following him.

Two processions on a collision course -- what will happen when Life meets Death? The focus of the sermon was on Compassion as the bridge between life and death.

Our musicians were so incredible...through them I was really able to worship, even while being "responsible" for worship myself. I'm so grateful to them, and for them. We've come a long way with music that really fits the theme and provides such a beautiful, worshipful experience.

I decorated the worship space with contrasting colors -- yellow (Jesus and Life) and dark blue (the Widow and Nain and Death). That was meaningful for me, creating a space that supported the sermon and theme for the morning.

Lynn provided homemade bread for communion, and she gathered the folks together to illustrate the story as Scripture was read. Thanks, Lynn.

I don't know how many were present. 70, perhaps, including the children.

Unfortunately our air conditioning in that space is on the blink, so it was a bit uncomfortable. It probably mattered to me more than anyone! I pretty much melt in the heat!

At the book study after worship, Cole suggested having some discussion questions that fit the theme each Sunday...we can provide these questions at the Table Fellowship that always follows the service. Loved that idea!

Feel Good Video (thanks to Sue L.)

2010-05-31T15:15:00.002-06:00

Purity of the flower

2010-05-27T06:48:00.003-06:00

The Easter Lilies are in full bloom in the Prayer Garden at my church. Our office manager said yesterday: "They are so pure. Their purity always makes me smile."

Indeed.

"Feeling the pain of the world": a mystical experience

2010-05-26T16:50:00.001-06:00

I had an opportunity yesterday to talk to some folks in my church about spirituality. We took Corinne Ware's "spiritual types" test and it evoked some great conversation.

One thing I talked about (although I wish I'd said it better and expanded on it) was how spiritual depth means being OPEN to both joy and pain.

This wasn't the direction I took, but I remember once, years ago, when I was doing some heavy-duty inner work, how this thought came to me: "I'm feeling the pain of the world." Everything seemed so very bleek and dismal. The Middle East was in crisis, I'd heard news reports of children being beaten up by their parents, and personally I was in a relationship with a man whose "love" for me wasn't exactly healthy. Dark. The world seemed exceedingly dark.

But that sense that I could feel the pain of the world was so strong. And yet it wasn't ... it wasn't something I couldn't handle. Such a mystery. It was as if I was bearing the pain of the whole world, but it wasn't unbearable. My soul was expansive and touched the Divine, and pain, while excrutiating, became simply pain, and not something that I had to immediately push away.

Pain was simply another experience. It wasn't that I was masochistic; I didn't feel I deserved the pain and I didn't want the pain. But it was there, and its presence wasn't repulsive to me. Inextricably the whole experience was a spiritual high. I know that sounds impossible, but I feel it was a real gift to me. In the midst of it all I was so close to God's spirit, so in tune somehow with the Christ.

I've not repeated that experience, but it has stayed with me, forming and transforming me.

Pentecost: community, faith and true worship

2010-05-23T18:38:00.001-06:00

Pentecost!

I think our worship service this morning, which was very different, was appreciated. I know I feel good about it.This was the first service in which we implemented some ideas from our new Liturgy Coming Alive! group. We've been planning it for weeks now.

We had about 9 folks speak our "Welcome sentence" in different languages, including Urdu. No matter who you are, or where you are on life's journey, you are welcome here. Many voices!

Then, for our Acts 2 reading, we had the congregation read aloud verses 1-13 as a kind of round. I led one section, and we started the reading after Dave's section had already begun. It was suppose to be a kind of beautiful cacaphony of sound--and it was in the second service--but in the first service my section caught up to Dave's section, so we ended all together! The first service is our more informal contemporary service, so I felt perfectly free to really laugh at that. It was fun!

After reading verses 1-13 like that, one of our members played the role of Peter who gave Peter's speech in verses 14-21 from memory while walking amongst the congregation. And then just as he finished, our wonderful choir director started singing "We Are One in the Spirit" solo a cappella. Just as he finished the first line, another member, Carol B., who has the most beautiful soprano voice, arose from her seat and started echoing him in a round. They slowly walked up to the front, as they sang, and when they ended that first verse, they indicated to the congregation, in each of the two sections, to join them in singing. Ah! so lovely! The whole congregating singing that melody in a round. Just beautiful.

After the sermon, we had about 45 seconds of "silent reflection," at the end of which everyone heard the sound of blowing wind, as in the wind of the Holy Spirit descending upon us. (That was a fun thing...we'd found some sound files of "blowing wind" on the internet and were going to play them, but then one of our musicians at the early service said "I can do that," and he just blew into his microphone. Sounded much more like blowing wind than any sound file we had found!!)

The sermon itself came about from a discussion that David and I had while driving down to Wimberly for our little getaway. The topic was justice, and my theme was "as children of God (the Romans 8 passage in the lectionary) we are called to justice." I wanted to preach on that topic because it's the last of our monthly themes (long story). Anyway, justice was the topic for the sermon. I only spoke about 8 minutes, then I said something like "we've seen illustrated this morning the "many voices" that were heard on that Pentecost morning. It occurs to me that we probably learn what justice tastes like, feels like, looks like from the many voices we've encountered in our lives." And I asked people to share some personal stories about justice. Several people shared from their hearts; very moving.

For the benediction, I laminated some little cards with Teresa of Avila's prayer: "Christ has no hands on the earth now but yours, no feet but yours..." It was printed in the bulletin so we all said it together.

And then we had our Annual Church Picnic on the Grounds complete with burgers and hot dogs and children playing all kinds of games and older folks sitting around in lawn chairs. We said goodbye to our fabulous youth minister, Manda Adams, too, and shared a beautiful cake made in her honor that one of our members baked from scratch. I'm so sorry to see Manda leave us; she has brought such an integrity and creativity to our youth program. Whichever UCC congregation ends up hiring her is getting a real gem of a minister, that's for sure.

Altogether, a wonderful time of community, faith, and true worship.
I am so grateful...

image by Linda Schmidt (google images)

Wimberly

2010-05-20T18:43:00.002-06:00

We're in Wimberly, Texas tonight for a quick little get-away. First time in this particular part of the Hill Country of Texas...it's lovely.

Forgive us, O God

2010-05-19T14:28:00.001-06:00

"This is the new NOAA situation map as of 6 a.m. this morning. The part in red is where the oi spill currently is, and that's the loop current swooping through the middle and carrying the mess toward the Florida Keys." (Maddow blog)

And this headline from NOAA: "Warmest April Global Temperature on Record"

O God, Our Sovereign,

how majestic is your name in all the earth!

You have set your glory above the heavens.

...

When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers,

the moon and the stars that you have established,

what are human beings that you are mindful of them,

mortals that you care for them?

Yet you have made them a little lower than God,

and crowned them with glory and honor.

You have given them dominion

over the works of your hands;

you have put all things under their feet,

all sheep and oxen,

and also the beasts of the field,

the birds of the air, and the fish of the sea,

whatever passes along the paths of the seas.

O God, our Sovereign,

how majestic is your name in all the earth!

Forgive us. Forgive us, O God.

Robin Hood

2010-05-15T07:50:00.002-06:00

We saw Robin Hood last night. REALLY enjoyed this movie.

They didn't cast some 23 year-old to play opposite Russell Crowe. Cate Blanchett more than holds her own.

I'm still thinking about it this morning (obviously)!

Centering Prayer, Spiritual Surrender

2010-05-12T21:39:00.012-06:00

I'd been meaning to read Centering Prayer and Inner Awakening by Cynthia Bourgeault for a while now. Finally got to it Monday night, and couldn't put it down! It's always good to read a book that agrees with your theological anthropology, right? ~smile~ Very familiar stuff in the beginning chapters. Here's a bit of what she says.

She's named the outer "layer" of who we are as an embodiment of:

~Ordinary Awareness~

This is the ego. In her words:

The person I normally take myself to be--that busy, anxious little "I" so preoccupied with its goals, fears, desires, and issues--is never even remotely the whole of who I am, and to seek the fulfillment of my life at this level means to miss out on the bigger life. That is why, according to Jesus' teaching, the one who tries to keep his "life" (i.e., the small one) will lose it, and the one who is willing to lose it will find the real thing. Beneath the surface there is a deeper and vastly more authentic Self, but its presence is usually veiled by the clamor of the smaller "I" with its insatiable needs and demands.

Exactly. And this outer "I" is the mask we often wear to present what we hope is a presentable self to the world. And it's the self we too often fool ourselves into thinking should conform to cultural norms, please others, hide, etc. This "I" knows itself only superficially. It's level of self-awareness doesn't extend much beyond its own preferences and opinions.

Interestingly, she points out that:

The so-called self-awareness tools of our times, from psychotherapy to Myers-Briggs to the enneagram, spend most of their effort merely resorting and clarifying the characteristics: 'I am an INFP,' 'a gut-centered type,' 'a five,' etc. This may yield insights into the workings of the personality, but it's still ordinary awareness.

Ordinary Awareness is in the kataphatic realm where we use reason and emotion and other faculties (the imagination, the will, etc.)

The truth is that there exists beneath (and I realize the spatial images don't really work, but they'll do here, I think) beneath this false self is the True Self, the Self that was given to be, the Self that is in some mysterious way the image of God within us.

Beyond our Ordinary Awareness, writes Bourgealt, is:

~Spiritual Awareness~

Spiritual Awareness is in the apophatic realm where we bypass our normal mental functionings and begin to use the "spiritual senses." Bourgeault says that most of us aren't very aware at this level --

It comes upon us only rarely, sometimes in a moment of overpowering emotion, such as suddenly being moved to tears by watching a sunset or receiving the Eucharist. That 'nostalgia for the divine' sweeps over us and we are left trembling before the present of a Mystery almost more vivid and beautiful than we can bear.

Spiritual awarness is [also] a way of perceiving. As with ordinary awareness, there is a sense of identity or selfhood generated through this mode of perception. Whereas ordinary awareness perceives through self-reflective consciousness which splits the world into subject-object, spiritual awareness perceives through an intuitive grasp of the whole and an innate sense of belonging.

What's really FABULOUS about this way of knowing (spiritual awareness) is that the body is one of its best instruments. More on that below.

At the third and deepest level of our being is:

Divine Awareness

And here she quotes Thomas Merton--

At the center of our being is a point of nothingness which is untouched by sin and illusion, a point of pure truth, a point or spark which belongs entirely to God, which is never at our disposal, from which God disposes of our lives, which is inaccessible to the fantasies of our own mind or the brutalities of our own will. This little point of nothingness and of absolute poverty is the pure glory of God written in us, as our poverty, as our indigence, as our son[/daughter]ship. It is like a pure diamond blazing with the invisible light of heaven. It is in everybody, and if we could see it, we would see these billions points of light coming together in the face and blaze of a sun that would make all the darkness and cruelty of life vanish completely. I have no program for this seeing. It is only given. But the gate of heaven is everywhere.

Isn't that beautiful? I think I might have posted these words of Merton last year -- but then again, perhaps it was Purple. Can't remember. Anyway, the point of Centering Prayer, writes Bourgeault, is to "put a stick into the spoke of [ego] thinking" so that we can be guided more frequently by our Spiritual and yes, even by our Divine Awareness.

So, I read all that and more Monday night, and was motivated big-time to do Centering Prayer again! And it was sublime. Tuesday morning. 20 minutes. And my day was full of energy and spirit.

Wednesday morning. Again, for 20 minutes. Not so sublime, ha!, but still good.

And then later WednesdayI had an appointment with my dietician/nutritionist, Emily Haeussler, who teaches weight loss through mindfulness.

It's amazing. Slow -- it's extremely slow and difficult to learn to listen deeply to my body, to undo decades of a poor relationship with food and to create a new relationship. But I'm hanging in there.

Part of Emily's spiritual practice is Centering Prayer, and today she spoke a lot about Welcoming Prayer which has three movements to it:

Movement One: FOCUS -- and sink into the energy of your body. She had me focus on my body and its energy: "Do a body scan."

Movement Two: "WELCOME!" You say in your mind: Welcome, Welcome, Welcome. No matter what the body scan reveals, we welcome it, for it is our teacher. And wow, is THAT ever true! As I settled in to focus on my body, I realized I had a slight headache. Totally unaware of that before I turned inward. Then as Emily began to say Welcome, Welcome and the words that followed, I realized in flash that the headache was connected to my stomach, which was hungry! I'd had no idea that this was so. None at all.

Movement Three:

"I let go of my desire for CONTROL / POWER."
I let go of my desire for AFFECTION / ESTEEM / APPROVAL.
I let go of my desire for SECURITY / SURVIVAL.
I let go of my desire for CHANGE (this situation, this feeling, this emotion, this thought, this commentary, this body sensation, this event).

Such wisdom here, but wrenching. Do I really desire to let go of affection? esteem? approval? or my desire to change what I don't like? Yikes!

Actually, I do desire this. The wisdom is that such as Julian of Norwich proclaimed: all is well, all is well, all manner of thing shall be well. Just as they are. The circumstances of my life and who I am are perfect. Because they are.

On Tuesday night I met with the lectio divina group, and, as often happens, by the end of the evening we became aware of the Holy Spirit's synergizing work around everyone's contributions from the silent contemplation of the scripture (Acts 10). The theme that mysteriously arose was--guess what? Yes. It was the idea of letting go.

Now, when I was writing my dissertation one of my professors had a real problem with me using the word "surrender." Her reason was the feminist one--'surrender' can connote powerlessness. But when used spiritually it points to one of the most, if not the most, powerful actions a human being can take: letting go, just letting go.

And then the next day Emily and I spoke about my sense of how Bourgealt conveys idea of letting go continually throughout each day. In Centering Prayer the idea is to continually let go of each passing thought, those thoughts coming to us from Ordinary Awareness, the ego.*

Each time we become aware that we're thinking, we simply use the sacred word we've chosen to signify our intention to simply sit in silence. A thought comes and we let it go. Another thought comes, and we let it go. On and on and on. And it's not so much that we stop thinking; it's more that we increasingly detach from the thoughts.

The idea here is to practice letting go of thoughts so that a different kind of awareness (knowing) can gain a foothold. Kierkegaard talked about "fleeting missives" from the eternal within us. Bourgeault is talking about our Spiritual Awareness becoming stronger so that the Divine Awareness within us can begin to guide us daily and work its transformation.

I love that!

Here's what Bourgeault says about the importance of letting go of each kataphatic thought and staying in the apophatic Centering Prayer:

By your willingness to stay with the apophatic at all costs during the time of Centering Prayer, you are strengthening and deepening an attitude of soul that will protect you and carry you all the way: the attitude of spiritual non-possessiveness.

It's the Zen idea of clinging to nothing. It's the Beatitude of 'blessed are the poor in spirit.' But it's so wrenching because we want to grow and become spiritually mature, right? We want those insights that come in the silence! We want the ecstatic experiences of God so that we can re-learn what it means to really trust. So we rush to journal about everything we've come to realize. But as Bourgeault also points out, this kind of desire is about building up the cataphatic or ordinary self/awareness. And she's so right.

(Of course, this is also a necessary "stage" [not that it's really linear] to live through. The terrible woundedness that we all experience bleeds through to the projected self, and the insights we receive do heal and strengthen this self. I think it's only when this self is strong enough that it can even begin to understand the deeper more authentic self. )

The idea of practicing letting go throughout the day, not just during the 20 minutes of Centering Prayer is so appealing to me--to live from within a deeper awareness, not just this kataphatic ordinary ego thought life. As I wondered out loud how to remember to let go, let go, let go, Emily talked about how all of this connects to body awareness. As I try to develop a healthier relationship with food, I'm slowly learning to think before I eat. And part of this thinking will be to do a body scan. And here's the thing: "The body is the BEST spiritual director anyone could have," Emily said.

Wow! How very true that is.

As I do the body scan I become aware of all kinds of things. Yes, I have a headache because I'm hungry, but a headache might also be a tension within me, signaling stress or overload. That tightness in my stomach might be because of hunger, but on another occasion it could signify anger I'm not consciously aware of. As I do the body scan and become aware of each sensation, I do the Welcoming Prayer and sink into the sensation. I welcome the sensation because it's part of my now experience and hence is perfect and worthy of welcome.

And then I let it go. Let it go. Let it go. And each time I let go I am opening up some space for those "fleeting missives." I'm opening up some space to hear God's still small voice offering guidance and love.

It's all connected, of a piece. As I create a healthier relationship to my body I'm also tapping my spiritual and emotional/psychological self in learning the art of spiritual surrender.

________________________

*Those egoic thoughts are things like listing what we need to do, going over and over an unpleasant encounter with a co-worker, the upcoming vacation, self-reflection, emotions and bodily sensations, and, amazingly, even insights. All these "thoughts" need to be surrendered in Centering Prayer.

Chiang Mai, Thailand

2010-05-12T20:57:00.003-06:00

David just looked at my brother's blog. His comment: "We've got to go to Thailand!"
Loot at these fabulous photos (from GoogleImage):

A little Sunday evening reverie

2010-05-09T18:35:00.000-06:00

I'm sitting on our back patio. We've had a cold front (dry) come through, and it's amazingly cool, which means "wonderful" to me. There's a bird singing loudly, perhaps a mockingbird, although I'm not sure. In the distance I can see a beautiful red cardinal jumping back and forth, up and down the limb of a tree. And the wind...Oh, the lovely cool breeze.

My brother just sent word that he's started a blog: royhamric.wordpress.com. He's a retired journalism professor who married a woman from Thailand (Laddawan); they've settled in Chaing Mai where he works for an English-language newspaper and writes artitcles here and there. He's a very thoughtful person. I hope you'll give his blog a try. It's listed on my sidebar now.

We've been trying to decide where to go for our summer vacation in July. Finally settled on Taos, but the house we wanted to rent has current renters who may decide to stay the entire summer, so says the landlord in his email response yesterday. He said he'd let me know something as soon as they made their intentions known. Took me forever to find a rental property big enough for our family that we could afford, so this is a bit of a setback. Oh well.

Gotta get busy preparing to teach my intensive summer class at the divinity school. I have about 7 books I need to read, then think through how I want to organize everything for 4.5 hours four days a week for 2 weeks. We do have a long weekend there in the middle, but still, I know it will be horribly intense--for the students as well as me!

Mother's Day was fine. Lovely Passionate Feminist came over and went with me to the Coffee Party (really enjoyed being with her for that), then stayed last night to visit with my stepson, his wife and little M when they arrived around 8:00. Good visit.

There goes that cardinal. He flew up into the tree next to me then flew away to the east. About his business.

And it's getting dark; I'd better join David inside. He's watching a Ken Burns WW2 documentary.

Here's to a good week for us all. May God's peace reign.

Coffee Party Fort Worth: Brewing Consensus

2010-05-08T16:20:00.002-06:00

Lovely Passionate Feminist went with me to the Coffee Party Fort Worth meeting this afternoon. Wow -- she's impressive. This meeting happened to be about the State Board of Education's decision to revamp social studies curriculum, and LPF had a LOT to contribute to the meeting.

We came up with a tag line for the group: "Coffee Party Fort Worth: Brewing Consensus." Pretty good.

We decided to carpool down to Austin to make it known that we think the decision by the SBOE should be postponed to give enough time for some history experts to be heard on this issue. The Board has no one in the area of social studies contributing any input. It's revising history based on board members' political leanings, apparently. I really don't know the details; that's just what I've gathered from the conversation and the bits of news I've heard.

Coffee Party Fort Worth has already (before this meeting) decided on some focus groups: Education, Fair Elections, Banking and Finance, and Social Issues. I'm thinking I'd like to get involved in the Social Issues group at some point in the future.

The group was energetic and quite thoughtful. Good dynamics, I thought. Very glad we went.

Here's the Coffee Party Civility PLEDGE:

As a member or supporter of the Coffee Party, I pledge to conduct myself in a way that is civil, honest, and respectful toward people with whom I disagree. I value people from different cultures, I value people with different ideas, and I value and cherish the democratic process.

A few pictures from our backyard...

2010-05-02T19:22:00.002-06:00

A few pictures of our backyard this year....

Of 'pushing nouns and adjectives': the poetics of space

2010-05-02T14:18:00.006-06:00

The older I get the more interested I become in the space I inhabit. I want it to be beautiful and by that I mean appropriately spacious, colorful, artful, and (usually) abstract. In my younger days I hardly noticed the space I inhabited -- upon reflection I don't think I had enough life experience to understand how crucial it is.

I'm reading a new (to me) book: The Poetics of Space: The Classic Look at How We Experience Intimate Places by Gaston Bachelard. [First published in France in 1958.] I saw a reference to it in the Comments to a post by Robin at Metanoia. The title fascinated me.

Turns out that Bachelard was chair of the philosophy department at the Sorbonne. He gained that position from his works on the philosophy of science, but once he was established in his field, he moved to much more esoteric topics, including Water and Dreams, Air and Revery, The Earth and the Reveries of the Rest. (Can we stand it?--the reveries of rest, air, and water, no less.) Anyway, he kept moving away from reason/rationality and into more abstract ways of thinking. He had to forget all his acquired knowledge, for in the realm of abstractions like the soul and space/time the rationalism of science did him little good.

The first idea he presents in the Introduction is that in studying the poetics of the imagination "one must be receptive, receptive to the image at the moment it appears...The idea of a principle or a 'basis' ...would interfere with the essential psychic actuality, the essential novelty of the poem...The philosophy of poetry must acknowledge that the poetic act has no past , at least no recent past, in which its preparation and appearance could be followed."

and more on this:

Later, when I shall have occasion to mention the relation of a new poetic image to an archetype lying dormant in the depths of the unconscious, I shall have to make it understood that this relation is not a causal one. The poetic image is not subject to an inner thrust. It is not an echo of the past. On the contrary: through the brilliance of an image, the distant past resounds with echoes, and is it hard to know at what depth these echoes will reverberate and die away. Because of its novelty and its action, the poetic image has an entity and a dynamism of its own; it is referable to a direct ontology.

and

At the level of the poetic image, the duality of subject and object is iridescent, shimmering, unceasingly active in its inversions.

and

The image, in its simplicity, has no need of scholarship. It is the property of a naive consciousness; in its expression, it is youthful language. The poet, in the novelty of his [sic] images, is always the origin of language. To specify exactly what a phenomenology of the image can be, to specify that the image comes before thought, we should have to say that poetry, rather than being a phenomenology of the mind, is a phenomenology of the soul.

and this from the Foreword to the 1994 edition:

Always container, sometimes contained, the house serves Bachelard as the portal to metaphors of imagination. With a rare grace, he handles the most fragile shell, the most delicate "cottage chrysalis," the most simple containers. 'Chests, especially small caskets, over which we have more complete mastery, are objects that may be opened.' What immensities flow from objects that may be opened. From Jungian psychology to sexual intimacy, Bachelard explores the significance of nooks and crannies, the shells of turtles, the garden 'chambers' still favored by landscape
architects...

Language serves and delights Bachelard...He writes of hearing by imagination, of filtering, of distorting sound, of lying awake in his city apartment and hearing in the roar of Paris the roar of the sea, of hearing what is, and what is not. In struggling to look "through the thousand windows of fancy," Bachelard elevates language, pushes adjectives and nouns to far-off limits, perhaps to voluptuous heights, certainly to intimacy elsewhere unknown...

In an age of so much homogenized space, so much shoddy, cramped, dimly it, foul-smelling, low-ceilinged, ill-ordered structure, Bachelard offers not only methods of assaying existing form but ways of imagining finer texture and concatenations. The Poetics of Space resonates in an era suffused by television and video games, fluorescent lighting and plastic floors....It is a book that ...demonstrates to its readers that space can be poetry.

All of this speaks to me so powerfully.
Just wish I could translate it effectively. Perhaps that will come.

Mentoring

2010-04-29T09:45:00.006-06:00

I spent yesterday morning at a Courage & Renewal North Texas event. We had about 20 folks in a Circle of Trust and we looked at the poem "Shoulders" by Naomi Shihab Nye:

A man crosses the street in rain

stepping gently, looking two times north and south,

because his son is asleep on his shoulder.

No car must splash him.

No car drive too near to his shadow.

This man carries the world's most sensitive cargo

but he's not marked.

Nowhere does his jacket say FRAGILE

HANDLE WITH CARE.

His ears fill up with breathing,

he hears the hum of a boy's dream

deep inside him.

We're not going to be able

to live in this world

if we're not willing to do what he's doing

with one another.

The road will only be wide.

The rain will never stop falling.
Excerpted from the Inner Work of the Leader Manual. Katherine Tyler Scott.

And then these questions to consider: "What does it mean to hold something in trust? It involves being responsible for something or someone that we don't possess, own, or have ultimate control over. It is knowing that when our responsibility is completed, we will have contributed to improving the capability and health of individuals and organizations and to enhancing conditions for those we may never know, for a time we may never see."

We spoke about holding someone or something in trust, about being held, and about the social implications of these actions. I remembered who held me for so many years -- my boss at ARCO, Helaine H. She was a true mentor, creating a safe environment for me to learn to trust my capacities as a manager, nudging, even pushing, me outside my comfort zone when I needed it, teaching me appropriate boundaries (that included a couple of painful experiences, as I vaguely recall, but she knew that pain sometimes had to come with true learning) -- and she did it all with a wicked sense of humor. It was a joy working for and with Helaine. She retired three or four years before I left, and I remembering missing her terribly. My new boss was fine, but he took no real interest in me as a person. Helaine was (and is; I hear from her occasionally) a quality human being.

This pic was taken at a party at my house in the early 1990s.

My 2nd Grade Reading Buddies

2010-04-25T20:35:00.002-06:00

Tomorrow I see my Reading Buddies for the first time in about 3 weeks. I've been sick or out of town and haven't made my regular 8:30 Monday morning appointment with them.

My Reading Buddies are three 2nd graders at the elementary school next door to my church. They are Brianna, Nancy, and Cindy. All three are a little behind in their reading skills, so we go to the school library and they read to me, and then, at the request of this particular 2nd grade teacher, I read to them. These are children who don't get much reinforcement at home for reading.

They're amazingly lovely children. Kinda shy. All wanting so much to do a good job. Of course I heap the praise on them, even while not letting their little mistakes go unnoticed. I've bought them all some fun age-appropriate books at the Reading Fair at the school. Lately I've been taking all three at once, instead of one at a time for 30 minutes. Cindy is behind in her reading skills by far the most, and at times she'll just sort of zone out. "Cindy, are you OK?" No response. "Cindy?" "Honey, what's going on?" Eventually she'll tell me she's OK and then she tries to read again. I've asked her teacher about this, but haven't received much of a response. I've about decided that she might be telling herself she'll never be a good reader during these little episodes. Of course, I'm not sure. Her teacher tells me that she's very good at math.

Wish I understood how the brain works as we learn to read and understand.

I'm growing old and death awaits

2010-04-24T10:53:00.002-06:00

Been thinking a lot about growing old. The other day I thought, I'll be 64 when Morgan (our granddaughter) is 13. And I've not let go of that thought; it's been haunting me.

My father was in his sixties when he died, and my mother was 75. If I die at 75, that means I only have 21 more years to live.

And as May Sarton (or is it Mary Oliver? can't remember) asked:

What will you do with this one wild and precious life?

In my youth I wanted to be famous, but that was compensation for being afraid to be seen. That particular wound is largely healed now, hence the fame-fantasizing thing is gone as well. Of course, now that I think of it, I got an email this week from a representative of some company that publishes academic materials, asking if they could publish my dissertation, and I found myself quite interested. Probably a scam, but I sent back a response, didn't ignore it, just in case.

And here I am blogging. Not a desire to be famous, but it certainly says something about wanting to be known/seen.

Maybe the wound isn't as healed as I like to think...Fame as Hedge Against Death.

I also continue to be troubled by this lingering sense of ... what now? This came upon me after I got married, got the Ph.D., and began actually living out my dream of ministry. What am I striving for now? What goals do I set for myself?

And I know that goals have also been a kind of Hedge Against Death. To stop and simply be, to really live into the phrase Just as I Am, to accept myself and know that God accepts me just as I am right now even if I never grew and matured one whit ever again -- Yikes! What a scary proposition. I know the healthy thing is to live inside the paradox of Growth/Goals/Doing vs. Being/Acceptance. The best thing would be to live inside that tension between opposites creatively, but the Being/Acceptance side of it is not easy for me. I equate it with "OK, I'm ready to die now. Come get me, Lord."

It's the problem of believing I must earn my (existential and otherwise) salvation. Denying the grace that is mine. I've identified this problem, this lie, for so many others and have helped them work through it. And God knows I've worked through this myself many many times. And yet....here it is. The wound yet wounding.

I guess the other thing, thinking about growing older, is this sadness at leaving the earth. Standing at my kitchen window looking at the green everywhere -- the grass, the trees and bushes, and the beautiful flowers all different colors this year--oh, it took my breath away! I walked with my friend Pam this morning and I noticed how lovely the path was...such a deep green (for Texas, anyway). I do love the beauty of the earth. Oh! I really do. And I don't want to leave it.

And then I started thinking about coming home tonight -- I'm doing a wedding at 6:00 -- and being able, such a lovely thing, to come home to my family, people I love. David, the girls and their friends, Morgan. That's what awaits me when I get home tonight. No longer do I come home to an empty house. Ah! How grateful I am. And how MUCH I want that to continue.

The more I write the more I realize that I'm saying "YES" to life! YES YES YES YES YES!!!!! I love life. I want life.

The key is learning to let it go, when the time comes for that. To let my life go with grace and gratitude.

In the meantime, perhaps learning to LOVE it like this, more and more, with greater and greater appreciation, is what I'm after as I grow older. Imagining myself at 75...am I old and crotchety, mean-spirited because I'm afraid and continuing to cling? Or am I old and lovely, extending grace to everyone I encounter because I have an abundance of grace within me and it just naturally overflows?

Ahhhh, the latter. Please God, the latter.

Courage and Authenticity

2010-04-19T15:58:00.003-06:00

A little attempt at creative writing: Scenes of courage

His mother had never liked his wife. For that matter, his mother had never liked anyone he'd ever liked, or anywhere he's chosen to live, or any career to which he'd felt called. One day, for some odd reason, he decided he wouldn't take it anymore and he told his mother not to call again. "You owe me!" she screamed in response. The car she bought for him, the college loan. Nevertheless, "You've been paid in full," he said, and then, without fanfare, angst, or guilt, he simply hung up. Ah, the end of a relationship, but the beginning of life. He'd accessed the courage within him.

...

"I'm afraid to be alone," she confided. "If I leave him, I'll be alone. I might not make it." And if you don't leave him? Her eyes went blank as she turned deeply inward. Silence. Gentle tears. "If I don't leave, I'll be alone anyway." Turning point. The impulse of courage and the launching of Life.

...

"Perfectionism. Soul-murdering perfectionism. What will they think if I'm late with this deliverable? It's like riding a bike and getting absolutely nowhere, striving, struggling, working 80 hour weeks and then ... poof! The affirmation I need is given, received, and then it's over. On to the next striving, struggling, riding that bike as fast as I can, all in order to please....who? My boss? sure, and he won't remember longer than next week how I busted my butt. Myself? well, there's the rub. I won't remember longer than tomorrow. No matter how hard I work, how much effort I put into it, it's never enough. The bar is always higher the next time. Dear God, what am I doing? I'm wasting my life. I'm caring about things that just don't amount to a hill of beans. Please help me, God. Beneath all this false bravado, false niceness, false 'you can count on me!', false EVERYTHING...who am I? Please God, help me."

...

A Visitor Named Barbara

2010-04-18T14:21:00.003-06:00

I'm in such a wonderful church, both the denomination (United Church of Christ) and the local church I serve. We had a visitor today--her name was Barbara. She made a point of telling me that during the "Where Did You See God This Week?" portion of our contemporary service, she almost said out loud how much it had meant to her that our church has all these "Welcome" signs around the propoerty. She thought the service started at 9:30 (instead of 9:00), so she was late, and because she's a first-time visitor when she realized she was late she probably would've turned around and gone home except that all these signs made her "brave," she said. She ended up staying for our Adult Education hour, our traditional service as well as the coffee fellowship!

Anyway, it made me happy to hear her say that because those signs actually do speak to who we are. As you drive up to our church we have these Burma-shave-style signs that repeat one of the UCC's main slogans: No Matter Who You Are...Or Where You Are on Life's Journey...You are Welcome Here. And it's true! All people are welcome, as our Open & Affirming Statement makes clear:

We, the congregation of First Congregational United Church of Christ, Fort Worth, declare ourselves to be Open and Affirming. We strive to be a congregation that includes all persons, embracing differences of sexual orientation, gender and its expression, marital status, age, mental and physical health and ability, racial and cultural identity or background, and educational or socioeconomic status. We welcome all to share in the life, leadership, ministry, fellowship, worship, sacraments, responsibilities, blessings and joys of our congregation’s life in Christ.

I just love that we really do strive to live by that statement. We're already a pretty diverse congregation, but another initative we're taking is a new push this year to devise new strategies so that people living with a mental illness will also come to know our church as a place of welcome and affirmation, a place where they can encounter God on a regular basis through worship and through our community. The local president of NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illness) is a member of our church, so she and I are making this a priority project this year.

I feel so strongly that this is what the Body of Christ should be about (among other things, of course), and I'm so grateful that I get to serve a church with these kinds of commitments and vision. Thank you, God!

Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee

2010-04-17T09:49:00.001-06:00

David and I went to the symphony last night. Beethoven's Ninth. With choirs from TCU, University Christian Church, and Southwestern Seminary--probably about 350 singers on stage behind the orchestra.

Oh! When they suddenly burst out with Joyful Joyful We Adore Thee (in German, but hey...) I thought I had died and gone to heaven. That amazing sound just filled Bass Hall. It was THRILLING!

[Peruvian-born Miguel Harth-Bedoya is credited with transforming the Fort Worth Symphony into a top-tier ensemble.] Boston.com

After the concert, as we're walking to our parking garage, we encountered the street preachers on the corner. They're there every Friday night, shouting their hate-filled version of the gospel to all passersby. This picture is from GoogleImages, but it represents pretty well the intensity you feel coming from these guys.

Usually I just want to get away from them, but strangely last night I felt myself getting very angry. After having come from this truly sublime experience of Beethoven's Ninth that filled me with joy, touched my soul, and took me to the mountaintop, to then come out into the night and hear this filth filling the air -- it was horrible.

If you've never heard a street preacher, believe me, they are vile. There they are, running up and down the street, SCREAMING that we are worms! SCREAMING that we're all going to HELL and we're DAMNED unless we REPENT OF OUR SINS. REPENT! REPENT! REPENT!

In Ft. Worth there are usually four or five of them on this one corner -- I guess they do a tag-team thing, taking turns with one screaming and others accosting people with flyers. They don't look like the older guy in that picture I posted here; they appear to be in their 20s or 30s. Maybe they've had a huge conversion experience and have traded their addiction to drugs or alcohold for a religious addiction; perhaps I shouldn't criticize too harshly. I guess it was the juxtaposition last night of going from the sublime mountaintop to all that anger and hate and worm theology. David said we should've gone up and starting singing to them: JOYFUL JOYFUL WE ADORE THEE.

1.Joyful, joyful, we adore thee, God of glory, Lord of love;

hearts unfold like flowers before thee, opening to the sun above.
Melt the clouds of sin and sadness; drive the dark of doubt away.
Giver of immortal gladness, fill us with the light of day!
2. All thy works with joy surround thee, earth and heaven reflect thy rays,
stars and angels sing around thee, center of unbroken praise.
Field and forest, vale and mountain, flowery meadow, flashing sea,
chanting bird and flowing fountain, call us to rejoice in thee.
3. Thou art giving and forgiving, ever blessing, ever blest,
well-spring of the joy of living, ocean depth of happy rest!
Thou our Father, Christ our brother, all who live in love are thine;
teach us how to love each other, lift us to the joy divine.
4. Mortals, join the mighty chorus which the morning stars began;
love divine is reigning o'er us, binding all within its span.
Ever singing, march we onward, victors in the midst of strife;
joyful music leads us sunward, in the triumph song of life.

Choir concert

2010-04-16T16:00:00.005-06:00

We drove up to University City, about 45 minutes north, last night to attend a concert by the choir in which J, our daughter-in-law, is a member. J has a stunning alto voice. The concert was sublime; they sang about 9 songs, divided into Petition, Prayer, and Praise. Beautiful arrangements.

And of course that meant we also got to see our granddaughter M. Here's her picture from Easter:

Amazingly, she was pretty quiet through the concert. Squiggly, but no outbursts or loud giggles. I'd whisper, "Look, there's mommy!" and without fail she'd quickly look at the stage and smile. That kept her interest for a little while, then it was back to squiggles and playing with my jewelry. She'll be four in June, and in the last couple of months we've really noticed how she's grown--her conversation is much more conversational these days.

United Church of Christ

2010-04-16T12:13:00.000-06:00

The Language of God from United Church of Christ on Vimeo.

"Letting Go," theologically expressed

2010-04-14T20:37:00.002-06:00

I keep finding these great quotes! Hat-tip now to Robin at Metanoia, with this thought-provoking quote from Stanley Hauerwas:
Discipleship is quite simply extended training in being dispossessed. To become followers of Jesus means that we must, like him, be dispossessed of all that we think gives us power over our own lives and the lives of others. Unless we learn to relinquish our presumption that we can ensure the significance of our lives, we are not capable of the peace of God's kingdom.
It's letting go, theologically expressed.

Transforming Church

2010-04-14T20:12:00.005-06:00

With a hat-tip to Diane at Faith in Community, here are some thought-provoking quotes from a book she's reading called Transforming Congregational Culture by Anthony Robinson:

The church, once founded and established to make a difference in the lives of others and in society, has in time of change and confusion tended to adopt a diminished purpose and vision. Seeing or sensing that earlier roles and purposes--conscience of the community, instrument of aid, and center of the community--no longer quite worked, and yet unsure of other directions, too many churces have adopted as their implicit purpose the maintenance of a congenial community for their members. And the measure of a minister and church has become how well they keep the membership satisfied. [p. 31]

Too often worship in the mainline churches is an information event rather than a formational and transformational event. But if information were all that was needed to save us, we would have been redeemed long ago...Worship is the encounter with God--it is meeting, and being met by--the Holy One...In the Christendom era, and in many mainline churches today, worship is nice but is not absolutely necessary, not critical. In our new time, worship will be experienced as essential, not something you can miss.

Poetry: a way to truth

2010-04-14T19:41:00.006-06:00

Here's a wonderful quote:

C.K. Williams, a Pulitzer Prize-winning poet who teaches at Princeton University, in a new book called On Whitman, movingly invokes Whitman's redemptive power: "He reinforces and in some ways reinvents the elemental fact that poetry is a form of knowledge and a way to truth, that it is a unique genre of aesthetic experience, that it enlarges our conception and reception of beauty." http://chronicle.com/article/Dead-Poets-Society/64989/

Silence, the "space beyond thought"

2010-04-12T19:52:00.003-06:00

Held a new Sacred Conversations, a Circle of Trust group at my church tonight. We already have two groups on Sunday mornings--one on the 2nd Sunday and another on the 4th Sunday. Monday night seems to be a good time; we had 10 people there.

I love being with people who are comfortable with silence. As we looked at a poem I just closed my eyes and tried to move deeply into what the words evoked for me in the present, and I did that without self-consciousness, knowing that most others there were doing the same thing.

As people shared I was reminded of that 'space beyond thought' where there is no judgment, no fear. That place is tremendously attractive for me (and a tiny bit terrifying). I'd love to know what it's like to get beyond the mind to a consciousness that is without language, in no need of words. I've had glimpses, moments. I wonder what would it be like to live there more often? Tonight I got in touch with my longing for that....

Tonight I am grateful...

2010-04-09T21:23:00.004-06:00

Gracious God,

Tonight I am grateful for flowers...colorful zenias, begonias, marigolds...for patio decks built by my husband's loving hands...for the 75 year old American Elm tree that reaches to the sky forming a cathedral for me as I revel in a beautiful day outdoors.

Tonight I am grateful that David made such a powerful and deep connection with an old friend tonight, someone he played with as a little boy in Miami and hadn't seen for over 35 years. Their conversation was deeply meaningful -- I was so moved to hear David talk about it. Thank you. Keep him safe there in Florida on his pilgrimage through old haunts (shrines, I guess that would be, in keeping with the pilgrimage analogy) before attending his business meeting.

Tonight I am grateful for friends, especially those coming to my little "tea party" (the original, non-political type) in the backyard tomorrow. I know you will bless our gathering; help me stay aware of your connecting presence. I'm looking forward to preparing the tea and various little munchies for them. Thank you for the inspiration to issue a 'spontaneous invitation' the way I did yesterday.

Tonight I am grateful for family. For my niece, with whom I spoke on the phone this afternoon. Keep her healthy, O God. For my brother-in-law as he continues on hospice care. I pray for my sister -- may she continue to be energized and able to see the humor in life--one of her many gifts. I'm grateful for Deb and Katie who will both be here tomorrow and will join in the tea party with my friends--they'll keep us lively, for sure! How grateful I am that they are both coming to spend the weekend with me, and visit with each other, while David's away.

Finally, tonight, I am aware that your grace is indeed sufficient for all things.
Thank you.

Conference in St. Louis

2010-04-09T13:42:00.005-06:00

The conference in St. Louis this week was helpful regarding setting the current context for the church --that was interestingly presented -- but not so great on ideas or practical suggestions about the church's future. That's understandable, of course, given the speakers'* thesis that we are 150 years into the next 500-year-cycle for the church.

Every 500 years the church holds a 'rummage sale,' so to speak, during which the accepted Authority is questioned and ultimately deposed. The Reformation 500 years ago set the Bible as our authority and now we're at the point where that's gone but the next Authority is not yet certain. Probably something around "spiritual experience."

Anyway, I'm glad I attended. It was interesting to see a stand-alone seminary. Wow. Eden has a wonderfully beautiful setting, like a small college campus. The total space for my seminary is just one over-crowded 3-story building on a university campus. Big difference.

Plus the three of us who attended had time to talk quite a lot about our church and come up with some good ideas regarding how to better open some space for people to experience God. Those conversations were fabulous and I'm grateful to Carol and Sue for their love for the church.

*The speakers were Phyllis Tickle and Diana Butler Bass. We also heard Geoffrey Black speak, but he kept his remarks focused on Eden and the $18 million it has recently received, and didn't say much at all about the United Church of Christ overall.

Thanks, David

2010-04-05T08:07:00.002-06:00

Have I mentioned lately how great my husband is?

I'm going to St. Louis today and have a million things to get done before I leave the house (like blogging, right? ha!). Anyway, yesterday he noticed that a tire on my car had a bubble on it, so this morning he takes the car in for me! Having been single for 48 years and always having to deal with this kind of singularly unpleasant task myself, this is SUPER GIFT!

Just wanted to say again, thanks, David. You're amazing.

Easter 2010

2010-04-04T18:39:00.006-06:00

During our Maundy Thursday service my role was to help preside at communion. Because of the way the sanctuary was set up, with readers plus the choir, I was seated in a corner of the chancel. I couldn't see the readers; I only saw the light going dimmer after each reading. Finally, there was just the Christ candle, and then that, too, was taken out of the sanctuary and we were in darkness and in silence together.

We have a new choir director who graced us during that service with a solo. He sang "Were You There When They Crucified My Lord?" Not usually one of my favorites, but his voice conveys such rich emotion for me. I was struck with awe, and carried away...

I imagined the desolation Jesus must have felt. Betrayed. Abandoned. He was about to be given up to the authorities and no one could even stay awake to share his agony. What utter loneliness.
Sitting there on the chancel, hidden in the corner, I could feel something of the profound sadness of it. I don't feel that every year. It was heartwrenching this year.

My God, what we human beings do to each other.

And then this morning....about 14 of us gathered outside in a park near the church at sunrise. (It was overcast where I live, but we could see a tiny line of pink horizon in the east. Good enough.) Cool, with a slight breeze--just the way I like it. The ducks and geese were swimming about 50 feet from us. Lynn identified the various birds for us as they sang their way by. We spontaneously formed a circle. As the service progressed, I kept looking outside the circle to the park, noticing how very green it was. Beautiful green everywhere, as the grass has turned and the trees are budding. The familiar words of Scripture read. The liturgy of prayer, signifying our gratitude to God for the new life that is ours. The forgiveness that is ours. The joy that is ours. Yes, Christ is risen indeed.

And then in the 9 a.m. service, our contemporary "Jesus, Justice, and Joy" worship....Denise read the Scripture, Luke 24: 1-12, where Mary Magdelene encounters the two angels who say, "Why do you look for the living among the dead?" Denise read that question three times. Three times she emphasized -- no, with her lovely voice, she pounded those words into our ears! She gave us all time to hear the query, time enough for me to hear God ask me that question: Why do I look for the living among what is dead? Why do I expect to find real life when I continue to let fear be an obstacle? Why do I expect to find real life when I crowd out real life with busy-ness and concern for things that simply do not matter in the beauty of God's milieu?

Powerful experience.

And then the beauty of the children's excitement on Easter morning with our activities (Lisa organized a fun cooking project for them in our church kitchen and social hall) followed by our traditional Easter Egg Hunt ....the flowering cross at our 11 a.m. service...the baptism of little Lila, the melodic harmonies of the bell choir and the singing....thoughtful sermon....a joyful community. A community for which I am so very grateful.

Easter 2010.

Coffee Party, anyone?

2010-03-30T16:14:00.003-06:00

A friend invited me to the next Coffee Party in our city. I missed the first gathering earlier this month, but am very glad to be invited to the next. These TeaParty-ers are scary. Of course I can't really believe that they're very powerful--most folks are moderates, right? Most folks don't really care one way or another about politics. The press is giving this extremist group a lot of attention, but, really, how much of a threat are they?

Still, the idea of becoming active in a group that is meant to counter the right-wing extremists seems like a worthy thing to do. The Coffee Party-ers are all about

giving voice to Americans who want to see cooperation in government.
We recognize that the federal government is not the enemy of the people, but the expression of our collective will, and that we must participate in the democratic process in order to address the challenges that we face as Americans. As voters and grassroots volunteers, we will support leaders who work toward positive solutions, and hold accountable those who obstruct them.

This is the Coffee Party mission statement, and it seems like something I can support. I took the survey on the website and it asks all kinds of questions about education, healthcare, equality, environment, economy, and our sense of the future in this country. Pretty interesting questions. We're asked to bring the survey with us to the next meeting.

I've always cared about what goes on the world. I care about justice. But I've never been a real 'activist.' When I marched in the streets of City to the East back in 2003 against the start of war in Iraq, it was a major event in my life. I felt so empowered and so good about myself for standing up for what I believed in. I went with Seeker Executive and Zen Scholar and we walked arm-in-arm down the streets, singing, and reading the clever signs that others had brought. Wow. What a great feeling that was.

I've written letters to my representative and Senators, and I've called their offices; I've organized letter-writing campaigns here at the church; I've put up signs in my front yard during Presidential elections; supported the work of Amnesty International, etc., but I've never really devoted much personal time, compared to many people I know.

I feel hopeful that perhaps this Coffee Party might be a doorway for me to further my involvement in the political process. We shall see!

Crazy Sad. Crazy Angry: Pope actively refused justice for 200 boys.

2010-03-28T16:07:00.006-06:00

I read on Salon.com about the lawyer who uncovered documents showing that the Pope, then Cardinal Ratzinger, transfered a pedophile priest.

Jeff Anderson has filed thousands of lawsuits alleging sex abuse by priests and has won tens of millions of dollars for his clients, but he's had a bigger goal in mind for nearly two decades. He wants to bring his career-long legal crusade against misconduct in the Roman Catholic church right to the top.
He would love to question Pope Benedict XVI himself under oath. Though that is extremely unlikely given that the pope is a head of state, documents Anderson has unearthed have the potential to take a scandal that has plagued dozens of dioceses around the world and place it at the doorstep of Vatican leadership.
The documents, which became publicly known in the past week after Anderson shared them with the New York Times, show that a Vatican office led by the pope, then Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, halted a church trial of a Wisconsin priest accused of molesting some 200 boys at a school for the deaf.

The Pope actively refused justice for 200 boys molested by a pedophile priest at a school for the deaf from 1950 to 1974.

I guess we shouldn't be totally surprised. I guess it's even predictable in a way, given the clerical culture, the history of the Church and this pope's misguided (to put it nicely) allegiance to it. Still, it's disappointing, isn't it? The Pope, even.

We had 10 children in Adventure Village this morning. Two little boys are in foster care--they come from a family environment where the mother is alcoholic. We have several other couples in our church who care for children in that way, providing caring, stable and loving environments for them. Anyway, I think about the sacred responsibility we have to care for these children in ways that show them the love of God. They are so vulnerable, so trusting. It just makes me crazy that anyone would violate them so heinously. Crazy sad. Crazy angry.

Perhaps this scandal should crucify the institutional Catholic Church so that it can rise again in some other form, one not so tempted by patriarchy, by worldly power, by such arrogance that it believes its representatives shouldn't live balanced lives.

Health Care Reform

2010-03-22T19:24:00.002-06:00

David and I watched the House vote on the healthcare reform bill last night. What a wonderful thing...finally. As Nancy Pelosi said in her speech, this could really contribute to a better economy because people will be free now (or here pretty soon) to try out an entrepreneurial spirit without the burden of worrying about healthcare. I don't how many times I've heard people say that they can't do this, or they can't do that, because they have to have the healthcare coverage afforded by their current employment. Now they are more free to experiment and take business risks. It could bode well, I think.

Our laws reflect who we are as a nation. It's important to me that we are a nation that cares about the widow and the orphan, those who cannot care for themselves as easily as the rest of us. If the churches had the wherewithal to do that, or philanthropy took care of it, that would be fine--it's not that I'm in love with big government. I just want someone to do it. Government, it's up to you! i.e., it's up to all of us, and I don't mind paying more in taxes to help that happen.

This American love of the individual is just way out of control, it seems to me. One of the Republican representatives last night was obviously a fan of Ayn Rand. I agree that individuals should have reasonable freedom to be all they can be, to create and accomplish. But we're in this country together and when the 'least of these' suffers, there is some sense in which we are all diminished. That's a core belief for me. Executives making millions of dollars when their employees make minimum wage? Uh, No. Let the executives be 'free to be all they can be' with fewer dollars at their disposal.

Each time a Republican stood up there and said we need to start over, I almost gagged. I'm sure the bill that has passed is indeed flawed, but start over? Get real. It would be forever before another bill got off ground, and in the meantime people are going bankrupt because of medical bills, people are totally stressed from their lack of good (if any) coverage, and people are dying from an inability to get competent medical care in this country.

Conservatives think it costs too much money. I agree we should balance the budget and live within our means. So let's withdraw or greatly scale back our involvement in Iraq and Afghanistan -- how much would that save? Let's raise taxes, especially on rich individuals and corporations -- how much would that help? There are ways to pay for healthcare. And if the Dems are right, in the long run our fiscal house will be better off with healthcare reform.

After the vitriol of last summer's town hall meetings, I really thought that the forces of evil were winning the day. We're looking at the issue of theodicy in my class this week--the problem of evil and suffering. One book I read reminded me of Hannah Arendt's study of Adolf Eichmann in which she noted that he wasn't 'demonic or perverse.' No, Eichmann was thoughtless, shallow and had an authentic inability to think critically. It's the banality of evil that gets us, because as Martin Buber said, good is the struggle for beauty and truth. It takes work to stay on the path. Evil, on the other hand, can manifest from inattention and distraction. Evil can happen when we close our eyes and just don't look, when we don't bother to do the hard work of critical thinking.

And while I have some problems with the implication here from Buber that good doesn't come naturally (I think it does, as much as does evil), I do think there's a powerful point in this. We have to be willing to pay the cost involved in thinking critically about our society and culture. It may hurt to realize that we've been blind, but it's just so important to let that kind of pain come and work our way through it to a new worldview. Systemic evil exists.

Systemtic evil exists, and I think it's pretty easily seen in this TeaParty movement whose principles are in large measure Randian--free market, constitutionally limited government, and fiscal responsibility. Give the individual the space to be free!!!! [Never mind that my freedom inevitably limits my neighbor's freedom. That is simply inevitable. I cannot do whatever I want without eventually spilling over onto other people.]

The free market, while it's great in allowing creativity and promoting entrepreneurship, also bolsters greed. There must be interference from the government to limit some individual and economic liberty and put some reigns around human greed.
This reverence for the Constitution is fine as long as we understand the Constitution to be a living document, one that itself has the freedom to be applied to new situations in new ways. To say that the founders' original intent is what counts is...dangerous fundamentalist thinking. People evolve. God is always creating the New.
Fiscal responsibility? Yes of course. The rubber meets the road on this issue, though, when we ask whether fiscal responsibility is so that 'I can spend the money that is the fruit of my own labor' [that's language from the TeaParty website] in any way I want or whether fiscal responsibility is so that there will be enough for everyone to have a decent life.

So when people against healthcare reform call Barney Frank a f-----, and they call John Lewis a n------, what am I to think? Do I think, Oh, they just got excited in the heat of the moment? or do I think, oh, these are just the fringe element of the TeaParty-ers, like all movements have fringe elements? or do I think something else?

Do I think this is the predictable outcome of an evil philosophic system that refuses to acknowledge our interconnectedness? You bet, that's what I think. And yes, I think it's evil, and yes, I'll continue to name it and to stand against it.

Sixth Anniversary

2010-03-20T16:41:00.002-06:00

Today is my 6th wedding anniversary. Not a particularly notable year, 6, but David and I are both celebrating! Of course he's today driving home from a week at a Habitat for Humanity worksite in Alabama--I won't see him until tonight--so the celebration is just in our hearts. Still, it feels good that we've missed each other this week and have repeatedly voiced these last couple of days in our phone conversations how GLAD we are that we're married.

I'm grateful.

Meditation and other spiritual practices

2010-03-17T21:33:00.003-06:00

Wednesday night. The "week" is over and it's time to start anew, put on my 2nd hat, and focus on my class instead of my church work.

Except that it's spring break so I don't even have to do that! yeah!

Usually Wednesday night signifies the end of one job (part time at the church) and the start of my teaching job. Since January, there's been a distinct line drawn through the middle of my week. Switching gears. Putting aside one stack of papers and finding the other!

So, this Wednesday night I can relax. Tomorrow I'm getting my nails done, meeting some friends for lunch, attending a funeral, seeing a client, and then (assuming I have the energy for it) working on next week's class.

Saturday I'm spending the day in Small City to the South at a church judicatory event -- an "ecclesial council" for someone seeking ordination in our Area. Normally I'd be dragging my feet regarding attending, but this is Manda with whom I've worked now for two years and whom I know to be an exceptional human being. I'm eager to give her my vote of approval to the Ministry of the Gospel of Jesus Christ on Saturday. She's been an outstanding colleague and has ministered to the youth of our church with creativity and grace. Check out her blog...she's a great writer, too.

I'm home tonight from having given a little presentation on Christian Meditation at another church. My preparation for it did double-duty in that I was able to also write my church newsletter article! Here tiz-- (guess this makes it triple duty!)

Christian Meditation
I was asked to do a little presentation recently at another church on the topic of Christian meditation. While preparing, I started to think about how the actual meditation experience itself isn’t the point. Indeed, it’s often not during meditation, but instead during our regular daily routines, that the benefits of meditation are experienced. I like to think of meditation as exercising our ‘spirituality muscle,’ so to speak. Any spiritual practice has the effect of making us more spiritually aware, more attuned to the Spirit in our lives. Little moments that would otherwise go by unnoticed become strangely important when we’ve been engaging in a spiritual practice.

John Cobb is a process theologian, and this quote from his Christ in a Pluralistic Age has always stayed with me:

“There are times when we feel peculiarly alive….These moments exercise an influence upon their future that is greatly disproportionate to their temporal endurance or frequency. We can dimly imagine what it might be for us to be continuously alive in this full sense, in each moment growing beyond our past through its inclusion in a richer whole that includes others as well."

Those little things we begin to take note of in our daily lives -– like feeling “awash in love” when we look at our grandchildren, or stopping in our tracks at the sight of a beautiful sunset, or suddenly becoming viscerally aware that “I’m alive!” or “I’m free!” -– those moments can impact our future in a way that goes far beyond how long they last or how frequently they occur. And when we engage in a regular spiritual practice of some kind then we become more and more aware of those moments and of the importance of pausing and taking note of them so that their influence can grow.

What spiritual practice fits you best?

Daily devotional Bible reading?
Lectio Divina?
Taizé prayer?

Centering prayer?
Mindful walks? Walking the labyrinth?
Intercessory prayer?

Noticing beauty?
Doing some kind of artistic work?

Service to others?
Working for social justice?
Trips to the Japanese Gardens?
Spiritual direction?
Devotional reading?
Practicing trust?
Singing or playing an instrument?
Attending worship services?
Journaling?
Looking for the Christ in others?
Silence?
Sacred Conversations, a Circle of Trust?
Small group?
Enjoying the joy of children?
Writing psalms of your own?
Practicing the “present moment”?
Counting your blessings?
Saying the Jesus Prayer?
The Breath Prayer?
Practicing simplicity?

Whatever your spiritual practice (and there are many others), what difference is it making in your life? How is your spiritual practice helping to transform you more and more into the image of Christ? (or however you would articulate that transformation). How are you becoming more aware of God’s Spirit in your life, even in the little moments?

With you on the journey,
Katherine

"Accepting This" poem

2010-03-15T12:54:00.004-06:00

In our Sacred Conversations group yesterday (it's a Circle of Trust, Parker-Palmer style), we used this rich poem by Mark Nepo called Accepting This:

Yes, it is true, I confess,
I have thought great thoughts,
and sung great songs--all of it
rehearsal for the majesty of being held.

The dream is awakened
when thinking I love you,
and life begins
when saying I love you,
and joy moves like blood
when embracing others with love.

My efforts now turn
from trying to outrun suffering
to accepting love wherever
I can find it.

Stripped of causes and plans
and things to strive for,
I have discovered everything
I could need or ask for
is right here--
in flawed abundance.

We cannot eliminate hunger,
but we can feed each other.
We cannot eliminate loneliness,
but we can hold each other.
We cannot eliminate pain,
but we can live a life of compassion.

Ultimately,
we are small living things
awakened in a stream,
not gods who carve out rivers.

Like human fish,
we are asked to experience
meaning in the life that moves
through the gill of our heart.

There is nothing to do
and nowhere to go.
Accepting this,
we can do everything
and go anywhere.

She Wants To Be Free

2010-03-13T11:28:00.005-06:00

I asked a client the other day if she really wanted to change. She's been struggling with shame.

"Yes," she replied.

"Why?" I asked.

She paused long time, looking down, and finally she raised her head, eyes glistening, and said, "I want to be free."

(With that, my eyes did more than glisten.
Moments like that make it all worthwhile. So beautiful.)

About those presentations today...

2010-03-11T22:55:00.010-06:00

Robin asked me to say a little more about the presentations in class today. First of all, let me say that this is the class to which I gave a copy of Robin's own writings about her son's suicide, with her permission, of course.

To Robin:

Like me, the entire class was powerfully moved by what you wrote. Two children of one of our presenters completed suicide, and at one point in her [I'll refer to her as "A"] presentation she said something like, "I can't understand, I will never really understand, the kind of pain they felt." In our processing of the presentations later during class, one woman said that your beautiful, wrenching essays, Robin, gave her the sense of that same kind of expression. And I agree. What you wrote helped these future ministers, and me, get a sense, at least, of the powerful mystery involved in this unspeakable pain and suffering, this horror. We are the better for it.

Relating to that, "A" also today mentioned something else that tore at my heart and that I can begin to apprehend in Robin's richly evocative writings. Talking about this level of Pain that she'd never fully understand, "A" said that she'd read recently that when a loved one completes suicide, all that Pain, (which she or he can no longer bear), explodes outward toward the loved ones who remain. It's a strangely recognizable metephor. An explosion of Pain, transferred from one who finds his or her release, to the ones they most love. A testament, I suppose, to the inevitable narrowness carried within the very marrow of this kind of Pain. In my own way, I can get a small glimpse of this.

One of the last things my mother said to me, as she lay dying of COPD, was "Well, Katy, I'm giving you what you've wanted." I can't know what she actually meant with those words, but my heart will always carry the wound they, and my interpretation of them, inflicted. And when I think of that unholy experience in terms of this metaphor, it was indeed as if my mother's life-Pain exploded outward from her toward me.

Not to blame. Not at all to blame. In fact, I'm wondering now as I write these words and relive my own experience...Hmmm....I'm wondering whether my forever-wounded heart can now, sixteen years later, transform the Pain into the kind of Love that willingly receives the Pain in order to transfigure it. Does that make sense? I'm remembering somewhere in my reading of Process theology the notion that God-as-Love absorbs the ache of the world and recalibrates it into joy. Assuming that one of the last things my mother wanted to say to me was intended to hurt me (and I'm not sure of this...she was saying all kinds of unclear things during those last days), but assuming it was, perhaps now I can allow Love to do its job. I mean, perhaps my Love for my mother can open fully to absorb the Pain, her-Pain-now-mine, and in that freely-given absorption transform it back into Love. Perhaps, in some sense, all Pain is love-gone-awry, anyway.

Well, I don't know. These are the reflections that come to me as I process today's amazing experience.

Robin, I've no idea how you will read these words. In some sense favorably, I hope and pray. The horror of your experience, and your soul-filled and utterly compelling manner of writing, was in my heart all day today. In some small way (although not really small to me), I have here experienced healing, as I've reflected on the day.
It seems that God is always at work.

Jan, I hear you

2010-03-11T21:55:00.005-06:00

Jan, I hear you. Thanks for wanting me to "come back" (I'm smiling at that!).

Well, a little catch-up:

My absence has been because I'm so busy. Ugh. Yes, BUSY. Writing that feels kinda like a joke. I received an email yesterday from someone saying he appreciated what I wrote about Eckhart Tolle -- didn't say what exactly, but it was probably what I wrote concerning Tolle's definition of stress being simply "wishing I was not here, wishing I was finished, or wishing ...whatever."

Sheesh! Have I been letting myself feel stressed? Yep. Have I been living in the present moment? Nope. Not much. I've been concerned about keeping up with my class on Grief and Loss, the class that I'm teaching at the seminary. --The class that's been 'eating my lunch,' in the sense of finding the time to teach it with integrity, providing the students with information but also imparting what I really have to give them, i.e., my own learning about the art of pastoral caregiving. It's hard. I'm just not sure I know how to teach that very well. I'm making rookie mistakes, that's for sure.

And, of course, my little perfectionistic ego hates that! Well, I guess it's some progress that I'm not beating myself up about it. Not today, anyway. Today, in fact, I feel rather free from that kind of self-flagellation.

That's probably because I was so moved by the presentation made in my class today. I had two guest lecturers who spoke about providing care in the form of suicide-survivor groups to the community. Oh, it was powerful. I was literally in tears a couple of times listening to them. I guess I touched something holy today through their words, their healing presence. And it energized me.

Then D and I went out for dinner and had a great time. He's taking some students from his university to a Habitat for Humanity project in another state over spring break. I'll miss him!

Tomorrow our granddaughter is coming for a sleepover at Bubba and KK's! (She has 3 sets of grandparents, so that's what we told her to call us. Believe me, we smile when she skips in yelling our special names!) We're also going to celebrate Young Man with Integrity's birthday tomorrow and Deep One, Lovely Passionate Feminist and Beautiful Genuine Musician are coming as well. Really looking forward to this family time. (And I definitely need to update my names for them--but that's for another day.)

Jan, I love you!~ Thanks for missing me, my friend. I promise to do better, so check back often, OK?

Pregnancy-related deaths.

2010-03-04T13:23:00.004-06:00

I'm loving Obama's determination to get something passed on Health Care Reform.

And here's another reason--This morning I received an email from Amnesty International which talked about the appalling number of women who die in childbirth. It began with this global statistic:

"Women worldwide are dying of pregnancy-related causes at a rate of about one a minute."

It never gave the number for the U.S., but I assume it's much higher than we expect.

"Too many women are dying in the U.S. from pregnancy-related deaths that are entirely preventable. In fact, half of these deaths can be prevented. Many of these women have no access to healthcare or proper maternal care. In fact, nearly 13 million women between the ages of 15 and 44--that one in five women of reproduction age--have no insurance at all. Many begin pregnancy with untreated or unmanaged conditions that can get worse with pregnancy.

"The story only gets worse when you look at the rates of pregnancy-related deaths among minority women. African-American women are nearly four times more likely to die of pregnancy-related complications than white women. In high-risk pregnancies, the disparities are even greater.

"If we're going to see to it that all pregnant women get the care they deserve, then we have to convince Senators and Representatives to get with the program. That's why from March 29-April 9th we're taking our message to the streets--and hometowns--of our elected officials.

"During these dates, clusters of human rights supporters will mobilize in local districts across the country to tell elected officials face-to-face that these women don't have to die. We've seen the powerful effect that these meetings have on Senators and Representatives. When they are forced to answer tough questions, they are forced to identify real solutions.

"We can fight this tragedy, but we have to be organized. AI has prepared step-by-step guides to support this work and other instructional opportunities to ensure that you feel prepared before you meet with your elected officials." Signed: Chris McGraw, Amnesty International

A Lenten Remembrance (and Psalm 103)

2010-02-23T13:33:00.003-06:00

Here's what I wrote for our March newsletter:

March 11 will be the fifth anniversary of the death of my dear friend Nancy Taylor.

Nancy suffered terribly following a stem cell transplant for non-Hodgkins lymphoma in 1994. I still miss her generous, sweet spirit and graceful ability to always see the best in everyone she met. Nancy used to talk about how, no matter the actual ‘length of our days,’ each life can be seen as a masterpiece. Somehow that thought has stayed with me over the years, and I treasure it all the more now.

Thinking about her death and how she suffered for 10 years following that transplant always leads me to Psalm 103. This psalm helps me confront the reality of death while holding in my heart the power of hope.

Although the focus of this psalm is obviously on God, the sheer beauty of the poetry in verses 14-16 take us into a stunning confrontation with the fact of death. Not only are we ‘fleeting like grass and as vulnerable as flowers,’ we are also destined to be forgotten. Utterly forgotten. Even if we’re fortunate enough to have children and grandchildren, the time will come when no one alive on the earth will remember us. What a sobering thought. The psalm’s image of our days being ‘like grass that the wind naturally annihilates’ is so evocative that it takes us abruptly, but without a whimper, to a stark face-to-face with death. Psalm 103 seizes the illusion of living forever and brings it up short by linking us to all creation.

What is created, says the psalmist, is meant to die. Life and death are inextricably linked; each is carried within the other.

It is through this powerful look at death that the psalmist lays before us a compelling sense of God. Although all this talk of our death might cause us some anguish, God’s hesed—steadfast love—transforms these deep human realities. God’s hesed is the stronger reality, assuring us that we are part of a spiritual reality of life and love that continues on forever. It’s in this sense, I believe, that Nancy was so right: each life, no matter its length of days, is indeed a masterpiece of creation. What a comforting thought.

During the Lenten season, as we live the precious life we’ve been given, may we all know this stronger reality, the steadfast love of God.

Peace,
Katherine

Here is Psalm 103, a masterpiece of poetry:

Bless God, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless God’s holy name. Bless God, O my soul, and do not forget all God’s benefits—who forgives all your iniquity, who heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the Pit, who crowns you with steadfast love [“hesed”] and mercy, who satisfies you with good as long as you live so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.

God works vindication and justice for all who are oppressed. God made known God’s ways to Moses, God’s acts to the people of Israel. God is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love [hesed]. God will not always accuse, and will not be angry forever.

God does not deal with us according to our sin, nor repay us according to our iniquities. For as the heavens are high above the earth, so great is God’s steadfast love [hesed] toward those who revere God; as far as the east is from the west, so far God removes our transgressions from us.
As parents have compassion for their children, so God has compassion for those who revere God. For God knows how we were made, and remembers that we are dust.

As for mortals, their days are like grass, they flourish like a flower of the field; for the wind passes over it, and it is gone, and its place knows it no more. But the steadfast love [hesed] of God is from everlasting to everlasting on those who revere God, and God’s righteousness to children’s children, to those who keep the covenant and remember to do God’s commandments.

God has established a throne in the heavens, and God’s dominion rules over all. Bless God, O you angels, you mighty ones who do God’s bidding, obedient to God’s spoken word. Bless God, all you hosts, you ministers who do God’s will. Bless God, all God’s works, in all places of God’s dominion. Bless God, O my soul.

Odds and Ends, the Beginning of 2010

2010-01-11T08:04:00.004-06:00

We came back from our Christmas vacation Wednesday night, last week, driving all the way from SW Georgia straight through to our home in North Texas. Usually we break up the drive and stay in eastern Louisiana somewhere, but because of the weather forecast (icy conditions) we decided to beat the freeze and just keep driving.

The drive, while hard, was basically OK. My granddaughter was with us, and for the last half of the trip I was in the backseat next to her, which made the ride...very interesting! She's such a good traveler, loves to be tickled, and wants to talk and play (insomuch as one can 'play' while strapped into a car seat!). Anyway, it was fun and made the time pass more quickly.

Being Monday morning, I go into the church office late because I have "Reading Buddies" at the elementary school next to the church at 9:15 -- I'm helping a little girl (2nd grader) learn to read, 30 minutes every Monday morning. So, I have a little time this morning. David has already headed off to the university--he chose to wear the new shirt and tie I gave him. Oh, he looks good~!

He and I have had a great time together during this break from work. He gave me a new evening bag for Christmas -- I told him where the purses were at Macy's and then "let" him choose from there. ha! It's beautiful, but even better, he put season tickets to the symphony in the purse! I was so surprised!! We went to our first concert Friday night -- Vivaldi's Four Seasons with guest soloist Jennifer Koh. Wow -- she was fantastic, and there was also a guest conductor who, as part of his conducting, practically "danced" the music. It was so different and lively -- very entertaining!

Yesterday was my first day back at "work." Doesn't feel like "work" at all. I'm so grateful that I don't have that "oh no, I have to go back to work" feeling, like I used to in the corporate world. This is a great church and I love being there. Thanks be to God!!

My thoughts turn to what I want to make of 2010. I'm 54 years old now, and not healthy. That's got to be my focus for this year. Diet. Exercise. Those two things need to be my spiritual practice for the year -- at least part of my spiritual practice. I've been trying to make them part of my spiritual life, though, for a number of years and have not been successful. Yikes. Prayers appreciated.

"Up in the Air"

2009-12-27T22:37:00.004-06:00

David and I saw the movie "Up in the Air" this afternoon. Both of us left the theater saying it was a great film, and we talked about it most of the way home.

George Clooney plays a man whose life seems as barren as his one-bedroom, blank-white-walled apartment --which he rarely occupies since he's on the road 342 days a year. His goal in life is to earn 10 million frequent flyer miles. (Really, every time they showed his apartment, my heart contracted in deep sadness, or perhaps horror. Blank. White. Walls. An ugly, cheap kitchen table from Wal-Mart. "Famine of the soul" is a phrase that seems to fit.)

I won't go into the story, but it's a sophisticated film, an intelligent film about relationships and life and what really matters.

Vera Farmiga plays a woman he meets on the road, and she is stunning in this role. An intriguing character, she's the one in this film that surprised me the most.

David read somewhere that the people in the film --the ones who are reacting to being fired from their jobs -- are not actors, not all of them are actors, anyway. The director advertised in Detroit and someplace else for folks who had recently lost their jobs -- he asked them to come in and filmed them talking about how they reacted to the news. Powerful stuff.

And there's a wedding scene that MUST have been filmed in an authentic little Lutheran church in northern Wisconsin. It was too real to have been thought up by Hollywood set designers!

And I loved the opening sequence...It was one city after another being filmed from the air. And the earth just looks so different from 30,000 ft up! I was totally engaged, and I can't say that for most opening sequences of movies!

If you can, go see it. Let me know what you think.

A "good word" about Jesus Christ

2009-12-27T07:03:00.003-06:00

I'm preaching this morning. On Jesus. My homiletics professor used to say: "Say a good word about Jesus Christ." Included in the sermon is the story of my own coming to terms with Jesus as the God-Human and the difficulty I had with that whole idea until I entered seminary and read John Cobb's Christ in a Pluralistic Age. As I wrote the sermon I realized how much Jesus means to me. Here's the last of the sermon:

I said that when I left the businessworld and entered seminary, I knew my heart's desire lay in a search for meaning and for a sense of purpose. I've known for a while now that my heart's desire is Jesus. Jesus provides the meaning and purpose for my life, evening while remaining so mysterious. There's not just a whole heckuva lot I can say with absolute certainty about the paradox, the Mystery, of the God-Human Jesus.

There is a way, though, that I can say with integrity that "Jesus saves." That's because, for me, the vision of this divine Mystery is overflowing with the most joyful, dancing and vibrant colors, a vision that can trigger a new reality. The music of Mystery transports me--transports me to a sublime place where everythng I am suddenly moves into alignment, gets "centered," and there is no fear, only the authentic me. And the fragrance of divine Mystery places me always in the present moment, when regrets for the past and worries about the future just dissolve, and I am truly alive, utterly grateful, and enveloped in the saving grace that is my Savior Jesus of Nazareth, the Christ.

May it be so for you, in your own unique way, as well. Amen.

As I wrote those words I realized just how true they were. It's the Mystery of Jesus that draws me--the Mystery of embodying Love, and all those other attributes of the divine. --The Mystery of how the divine does indeed intersect with the human, bringing about creativity, goodness, justice, peace. --The Mystery of death. --And the Hope that it's not the last word about Life. That's Jesus, for me.

Beaver Lake

2009-11-29T19:16:00.002-06:00

Beaver Lake in the Ozark Mountains really is beautiful. Our trip this time was quite different (we went about 6 months ago as well). We knew the place, so neither of us felt the need to explore very much; plus, northern Arkansas has already seen the onset of winter. As you can see from the photograph, the trees were bare. Still, that carried its own beauty, I suppose.

We had two full days of exquisite rest. More than that, really. When we arrived on Thursday we had enough time for David to cook our yummy Thanksgiving dinner. Afterwards, we fixed a beautiful fire in the fireplace, something we never do here at home.

I'm so grateful for this little getaway time. We both came back tonight feeling refreshed and happy.

And now a month of hard work ahead of us! Let us begin!!!!

"a beauty that suffered its way through the ache of desolation until the music emerged to equal the desperation"

2009-11-21T16:10:00.007-06:00

It's a dark cloudy Saturday. Quiet. I'm a tad sick again and have zero energy. Good thing I finished my sermon yesterday.

A wonderful friend invited me and David to the symphony last night -- her husband plays the trumpet with the Ft. Worth Symphony. Lovely performance. Different, South American music that we all enjoyed. We walked downtown to a nice restaurant afterwards. Heavy, humid night air that I'm sure didn't help my lungs. Worth it, though. We had a nice time.

TCU Horned Frog (Go Frogs!) won again this afternoon, 45 to 10. Wow.

David's back from a 42 mile bicycle ride this morning. He's in the kitchen now preparing for dinner -- Young Man with Integrity and his family are coming over in about an hour. Morgan will once again spend the night with us--wish I had some energy to enjoy her more...

I'm drawn to John O'Donohue on a day like today. Here's just a random passage from his work Beauty: The Invisible Embrace.

Page 179. "To Create Beauty out of Woundedness."
Beauty triumphs over the suffering inherent in life. (Nietzsche)
When we decide to explore our lives through creative expression, it is often surprising to discover that the things that almost destroyed us are the very things that want to talk to us. It could be years later; time makes no difference in the inner sanctum of this encounter. The wound has left its imprint. And yet after all this time the dark providence of the suffering wants to somehow illuminate our lives so that we can now discover the unseen gift that it bequeathed...

...Beauty is not all brightness. In the shadowlands of pain and despair we fine slow, dark beauty. The primeval conversation between darkness and beauty is not audible to the human ear and the threshold where they engage each other is not visible to the eye. Yet at the deepest core they seem to be at work with each other. The guiding intuition of our exploration suggests that beauty is never one-dimensional or one-sided. This is why even in awful circumstances we can still meet beauty...

...The beauty that emerges from woundedness is a beauty infused with feeling: a beauty different from the beauty of landscape and the cold beauty of perfect form. This is a beauty that has suffered its way through the ache of desolation until the words or music emerged to equal the hunger and desperation at its heart. It must also be said that not all woundedness succeeds in finding its way through to beauty. Most woundedness remains hidden, lost inside forgotten silence.

Indeed, in every life there is some wound that continues to weep secretly, even after years of attempted healing. Where woundedness can be refined into beauty a wonderful transfiguration takes place.

For instance, compassion is one of the most beautiful presences a person can bring to the world and most compassion is born from one's own woundedness. When you have felt deep emotional pain, you are able to imagine what the pain of the other is like; their suffering touches you. This is the most decisive and vital threshold in human experience and behavior. The greatest evil and destruction arises when people are unable to feel compassion. The beauty of compassion continues to shelter and save our world. If that beauty were quenched, there would be nothing between us and the end-darkness which would pour in torrents over us.

The lingering past

2009-10-30T15:47:00.005-06:00

Wow. This EMDR therapy is powerful. Again today the session was just incredible.

Trauma (whether it's capital "T" Trauma like rape or PTSD from war experiences, or the more subtle but long-term and pervasive small "t" trauma, as in my case) often doesn't get completely processed in the brain, probably because there's some kind of chemical release that interferes with normal processing at the time of the event. The neurons associated with those traumatic memories get stuck in the amygdala, part of the limbic system, and when a later event triggers that trauma-memory, it can come bursting out of the amygdala with a lot of power to influence feelings 20, 30, 50 years later.

I had processed so much of my growing-up years already, but this methodology helps me to re-experience episodic memories emotionally and thus "break them apart," as M said. I re-live the feeling of them, and then M helped me re-process them.

Amazing. I could almost feel the shift happening, the new perspective forming.

As I process the memories, I wear headphones in which I hear beaping, alternating between the right, and then the left, side of the brain... apparently the alternating beeps help the episodic memories arise.

I'm utterly exhausted this afternoon, and this will probably continue into the weekend, if last week was any indication.

Worth it, though. Totally worth it.

http://www.emdr.com/index.htm

So proud.... here's my husband on YouTube

2009-10-29T09:47:00.000-06:00

Busy plateaus

2009-10-25T15:34:00.003-06:00

The wedding was wonderful. The weekend before that, our Mary's Hope Conference on spiritual healing for survivors of childhood sexual abuse turned out to be a wonderful success. And for three or four weekends before that, I was struggling with bronchitis and asthma and flu. And, of course, every weekend since September has been a working weekend for teaching my class at the seminary.

I'm pooped.

Five more classes to teach. Thanksgiving. Advent and the holidays.

How to stay centered and present, and not just keep my eye toward a future with a vacation in it? After all, staying centered and present makes every moment a vacation.

It helps that I'm seeing my therapist regularly again. When I was sick I had an emotional meltdown--that's what prompted me to make the first appointment. I hadn't seen M, my therapist, in over a year, during which time she'd been trained in EMDR so she invited me to consider coming regularly again for a while to try this new method.

Working with memories, EMDR simultaneously stimulates both sides of the brain to kind of re-wire those neural patterns that developed as a child reacting to various stresses and hurts (my words). I had my doubts, but I trust M so much that I was very willing to give it a try. First session was okay but nothing big. This second session on Friday was amazing. Very powerful. So much emotional "gunk" (technical term) came out that I've been exhausted ever since.

I'm hopeful that this method can really help move me forward again psychologically. I've been plateaued for a while now.

Speaking of plateaus...David drove me around to where he's been riding his bike. Up and down. Up and down! :-) This area is about 5 miles south of where we live, kind of a rural area. Not really rural -- there are lots of people, but the roads are tiny, and it's probably still an unincorporated area. Anyway, it's amazing to me that he can ride 32 miles. I've been riding my bike around our rather hilly neighborhood and can barely do a mile!

Here's to school, church, bike riding, and keeping-on-keeping-on!

A Wedding of Some Sort

2009-10-19T20:33:00.004-06:00

Here are some photos from Jen and Rob's wedding yesterday:

Dying with Grace and Dignity

2009-09-29T19:19:00.005-06:00

There are days when one feels particularly alive -- I hope you know what I mean.

Strange that today was one of those days for me, since I've been down, down with acute bronchitis and some asthma.

M called me Sunday to let me know that J was near death. M and J are two older women from my previous church, two older women who 'adopted' me, mentored me, loved me. Toward the end of my time at this previous church, when things were extremely stressful and it seemed that mean-spirited people might prevail, M and J and I began meeting every week for prayer. Prayer. Prayer. Prayer. Those meetings sustained me, nourished me, gave me strength to carry on for what I believed was right.

Today I decided to visit J before I went to work, to tell her goodbye. (Such a blessing that she is able to die in her own home, on hospice. ) I entered her room. She lay there on the hospital bed they'd brought in for her, her face turned toward the door. She's somewhere in that netherland between life and death, unconscious -- or perhaps not completely. I don't know. Her mouth open, the death rattle reminded me of other losses, other deaths.

The nurse came in, so S (the lovely woman, also from my previous church, who is staying there in JC's house during this time) and I went to the living room to talk. When J arranged for S to stay there, knowing she was dying, she told her several times, "S, I want to die with grace and dignity. That's all I ask of you."

And S is exactly the kind of person to help her do that. She is guardian of JC's grace and dignity during these last hours.

I wish I had made more time to visit with JC. I know she wanted me to. She visited me at my current church a couple of times, just to "see your face, Katherine. I just want to see your face," she said. She loved me so much.

Damn this busyness. Oh, dear God. I should've made more time for dear, dear J.

She was a poet, you know. Beautiful poetry that she would type out for me on an old typewriter and give me a copy. Poetry about life and God and love, but also about troublesome bunny rabbits in her backyard garden. Hilarious, rich, earthy poetry.

When S and I went back to J's room again, I said a prayer, thanking God for this angel on earth, thanking God for allowing me to know her, for the way her heart yearned for God and for the example that was for me. I held her, and I kissed her sweet face one last time.

I don't know. I have carried this early-morning experience with me all day, perhaps made more powerful by this pervading sickness in my lungs through which I have to push through just to draw a breath of any depth. JC's breath is leaving her body. I am working to breath this day. Somehow, the symmetry there seems ... helpful to me in some way I can't quite articulate. I have felt so open this day.

The sin of our time

2009-09-20T15:21:00.003-06:00

I'm feeling very low today. No surprise. When I'm sick it's hard to stay "up."

Tired of being sick. No energy. Tired of worrying worrying worrying about cat dander and its effect on my lungs. Probably dust, too. I need to hire someone to clean the house for me.

There's a lot to be grateful for, I know. I'm just not going there right now. :-)

I want to rant and rave, but, luckily, I'm kinda too tired.

Slept until 10 a.m.
Watching football right now--well, sort of. D is asleep in his recliner and I'm [obviously] blogging. Tried to read a bit earlier today. Got about 30 pages into For Whom the Bell Tolls, and then feel asleep.

I really need to reevaluate the way I live. I do. I said 'yes' to teaching at Brite out of loyalty to the school--wanting to help when it's short handed, and, I admit, a little ego that I was asked. It's been a fabulous experience so far, and I'll continue on through the Spring (teaching Grief and Loss), as I said I would. I'm not sorry about the decision I made. What a gift to be able to influence future ministers. I love it.

But it's also taking its toll. No denying that.

I'm just too busy...the sin of our time, and I am guilty. No question about it.

Yes, our "culture of cruelty"

2009-09-07T09:57:00.004-06:00

With a hat-tip to Jan at Yearning for God, here is Bill Moyers, who takes the words right out of my mouth:

September 4, 2009 BILL MOYERS:
The editors of THE ECONOMIST magazine say America's health care debate has become a touch delirious, with people accusing each other of being evil-mongers, dealers in death, and un-American. Well, that's charitable. I would say it's more deranged than delirious, and definitely not un-American.

Those crackpots on the right praying for Obama to die and be sent to hell — they're the warp and woof of home-grown nuttiness. So is the creature from the Second Amendment who showed up at the President's rally armed to the teeth. He's certainly one of us. Red, white, and blue kooks are as American as apple pie and
conspiracy theories. Bill Maher asked me on his show last week if America is still a great nation. I should have said it's the greatest show on earth. Forget what you learned in civics about the Founding Fathers — we're the children of Barnum and Bailey, our founding con men. Their freak show was the forerunner of today's talk radio.
Speaking of which: we've posted on our website an essay by the media scholar Henry Giroux. He describes the growing domination of hate radio as one of the crucial elements in a "culture of cruelty" increasingly marked by overt racism, hostility and disdain for others, coupled with a simmering threat of mob violence toward any political figure who believes health care reform is the most vital of safety nets, especially now that the central issue of life and politics is no longer about working to get ahead, but struggling simply to survive.

So here we are, wallowing in our dysfunction. Governed — if you listen to the rabble rousers — by a black nationalist from Kenya smuggled into the United States to kill Sarah Palin's baby. And yes, I could almost buy their belief that Saddam Hussein had weapons of mass destruction, only I think he shipped them to Washington, where they've been recycled as lobbyists and trained in the alchemy of money laundering, which turns an old-fashioned bribe into a First Amendment right.

Only in a fantasy capital like Washington could Sunday morning talk shows become the high church of conventional wisdom, with partisan shills treated as holy men whose gospel of prosperity always seems to boil down to lower taxes for the rich.

Poor Obama. He came to town preaching the religion of nice. But every time he bows politely, the harder the Republicans kick him. No one's ever conquered Washington politics by constantly saying "pretty please" to the guys trying to cut your throat. Let's get on with it, Mr. President. We're up the proverbial creek with spaghetti as our paddle. This health care thing could have been the crossing of the Delaware, the turning point in the next American Revolution — the moment we put the mercenaries to rout, as General Washington did the Hessians at Trenton. We could have stamped our victory "Made in the USA." We could have said to the world, "Look what we did!" And we could have turned to each other and said, "Thank you." As it is, we're about to get health care reform that measures human beings only in corporate terms of a cost-benefit analysis.

I mean, this is topsy-turvy — we should be treating health as a condition, not a commodity. As we speak, Pfizer, the world's largest drug maker, has been fined a record $2.3 billion dollars as a civil and criminal — yes, that's criminal, as in fraud — penalty for promoting prescription drugs with the subtlety of the Russian mafia. It's the fourth time in a decade Pfizer's been called on the carpet. And these are the people into whose tender mercies Congress and the White House would deliver us?

Come on, Mr. President. Show us America is more than a circus or a market. Remind us of our greatness as a democracy. When you speak to Congress next week, just come out and say it. We thought we heard you say during the campaign last year that you want a government run insurance plan alongside private insurance — mostly premium-based, with subsidies for low-and-moderate income people. Open to all individuals and employees who want to join and with everyone free to choose the doctors we want. We thought you said Uncle Sam would sign on as our tough, cost-minded negotiator standing up to the cartel of drug
and insurance companies and Wall Street investors whose only interest is a company's share price and profits.

Here's a suggestion, Mr. President: ask Josh Marshall to draft your speech. Josh is the founder of the website talkingpointsmemo.com. He's a journalist and historian, not a politician. He doesn't split things down the middle and call it a victory for the masses. He's offered the simplest and most accurate description yet of a public insurance plan — one that essentially asks people: would you like the option — the voluntary option — of buying into Medicare before you're 65? Check it out, Mr. President. This health care thing is make or break for your leadership, but for us, it's life and death. No more Mr. Nice Guy, Mr. President. We need a fighter.

That's it for the Journal. I'm Bill Moyers. See you next time.

Exactly. No more Mr. Nice Guy. No more caving in. Go for it, Mr. President. Go for the difference that will actually make a difference.

I love and admire Bill Moyers. Always have. Always will.

Last night

2009-09-05T16:33:00.004-06:00

I'm in my office, checking blogs and email and facebook. The fans are whirling, so I'm nice and comfortable. My office...oh, it's beautiful, filled with so many things that remind me of people I love and work that engages me in the depth of my being.

David is in the shower. Since he got home from church this morning, he's been working on restoring his old bicycle, and then he just finished mowing the lawn.

All the kids are in City to the South today, visiting their mom and step-dad in celebration of Beautiful Genuine Girl's birthday. She turned 19. Last night everyone was here celebrating her birthday....

Our gathering around the dinner table was warm...siblings reconnecting...little Morgan (3 yo) so happy that we were having a birthday party (even if it wasn't her own!)....BGG's best friend J part of the family....David cooking one of his signature dishes--mushroom meatballs over rice (yummy!).... Lovely Passionate Feminist talking to her sister-in-law, Inherently Irrational Rationalist, for over an hour after everyone else had moved to the living room for a movie...BGG ostensibly watching the movie with us but really playing with her new phone (birthday gift).

David and I went to bed at 10:30, leaving the youngsters to themselves.

We slept well...

...with happy memories of a very good day....

True Tears

2009-09-05T15:10:00.004-06:00

From Lynne Baab's "A Renewed Spirituality: Finding Fresh Paths at Midlife":

Esther de Waal writes about the sense of guilt that bedeviled her childhood, the sense of never being good enough, of failing again and again in trying to measure up. In the Celtic tradition there is none of that kind of self-focused guilt. Instead, she notes that in the Celtic poems and songs "I have found sorrow, deep sorrow, many tears, a real outpouring of grief, but it is never turned in on itself, never the kind of sorrow that becomes inward, self-destructive guilt, feeding on itself. Tears, as I learn them from the Celtic Christian tradition, are never what so often my own tears become: tears of rage or of self-pity, tears of frustration, tears because I have put my own self at the center of the picture and feel that I have not received the treatment that I deserve--the tears of a child, in fact, for whom 'life isn't fair.'.....But true tears are those of real, deep personal sorrow, of repentance, that lead to the determination to change."

And I would add that true tears are those evoked by beauty, by goodness, by profound truths, as well as by deep personal sorrow and repentance.

Frantic, frenzied, no-time-to-stop? Oh, no.

2009-08-25T06:24:00.003-06:00

I went to lunch yesterday with my husband. He told me all about his morning, and I told him about mine. After only my first couple of sentences, though, he said, "Whoa. Take a breath."

I didn't understand what he meant. "What?"

"I don't know. You just sound...." He couldn't quite put it into words.

I tried to feel what he might've sensed, but nothing quite came to me. As the day wore on, though--and now, this morning as I sat in my chair and tried to pray--I think I understand what he was hearing.

Frantic.

Yeah, frantic, and I was SO frantic that I didn't even realize (at any meaningful level) I was frantic.

Yesterday was a frantic, frenzied, no-time-to-stop, "must check off those action items from my list," work at break-neck speed, kind of day.

And I know why I do that to myself. More importantly, I know why I must stop. I have to stop because, as far as I know I only have one life to live. A precious life, filled with Grace that I don't even feel because I don't give my soul the space it desperately needs to take it in.

Now. In this moment. I stop.

I feel such gratitude for David that he's sensitive enough to hear that something was really wrong yesterday...that "hint" stayed with me all day, even if it only came to fruition this morning.

I feel such gratitude for my life, full of opportunities for ministry. I have such meaningful work to do, but to do that work with integrity, with authenticity, I must stop and take a breath.

Breathing, breathing, breathing...helps me remember that I am surrounded by the Divine Presence, by God, who doesn't much care whether I get all the little details just right. No, God cares so much more that I remember I'm alive and that this life is pure gift.

Pure gift.