Responses to the question, "Where was your god . . . "

I spend too much time in discussions on Christianity. Sometimes I write too much and sometimes I think it may be helpful to keep that stuff--it didn't do any good where it was posted. There are so many in this world who now hate Christianity and badger and berate all Christians. I completely identify with what they are saying considering what "Christians" proclaim quite loudly and most often wrongly. You'll have to assume the questions that spawned the essays because I can't, of course, copy the words of those I responded to.

I. In Haiti--in such a quick disaster--it is difficult to know what prayers God answered or what lives were saved or what will be for those who died in those awful minutes and those who suffered beneath the rubble for days but were never found. We believe that there is life after death--that life is eternal or we are already dead in the here and now. That what Jesus teaches us. I believe that eventually we will all come to God--rejoin our maker in the way God has planned--and this life with its miseries and sufferings and the difficulties we've surmounted will some how play into that other life. But I also believe that in the love that is shown, in the love of the people who are struggling in the aftermath of this disaster some of the greatest spiritual growth will occur--it is our human nature. But some will be angry, too.

The greater question may be why create the trouble in the first place? What is our purpose? Why do we suffer? Why do we hunger, thirst, go naked, get sick, have injustices done to us, work our lives away, suffer earthquakes, fires, floods and storms? We don't have those answers. We are so often wounded in the heart. But it seems to be a part of the creation. We aren't in paradise, we are on earth. There are myths that explain this stuff but some of us don't take them literally as in that is exactly how it happened even if we see that some purpose or thing we should understand is worked into the myth. Some would say, "So we will know our need of God." And some note that God does comfort us through our trials. For those of faith, we often see many small miracles--but we can't convince those who have no faith.

So, we come to the question that really matters: what is the nature of God--the Creator. And we can't answer that either. Some of us believe or sense that God is in all things and is everywhere--God is spirit. When Jesus entered Jerusalem the very rocks would cry aloud.

Does God speak to us? Yes, in the silence of our hearts, God speaks. God does guide and God does, through faith, help us. But God is more about relationships and love than God is about miracles and preventing disasters. Could God prevent the disaster? Perhaps--but what is his hidden purpose? (Yes, that is in scripture) I am a gifted intercessor and I have done intercessions and healing was reported back to me. I have prophesied little bits that pertain to our relationship to God. I believe that when our hearts ache when we see someone who is suffering and we appeal to God, God makes our help possible--we become God's hands in this world through love. I know that I need to pray daily . . . I'm a contemplative and so I actually don't have rigid prayer times so much as prayers of intent as I go about my day. I know the love of God is the love we all ache for. That God understands us the way we ache to be understood. These things God has worked into our being in such a way that we spend our lives searching for them until we find them--even searching in all the wrong places--until this aching need is finally satisfied and the only true answer is God. A friends said that most gods are gods of something: war, harvest, moon, sun; but our God is a god of relationships as in the "God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob." Our lives are enriched by faith and the practice of faith and once we have perceived the presence of God we "hunger and thirst" for more.

I'm not about fairy tales and I'm not a spin master of stories. I can't explain why all these years the Church has furthered untruths and mislead the people in the pew and then time and again the people are left with nothing. Or why the Church has fostered our fear of death, selfishness, self-aggrandizement and especially our hatreds--all brick walls between ourselves and our God. But the knowledge of the experience of God has been recorded time and again by many on the spiritual path and it is out there and has been all along--more in ancient times than in these days.

We all seek something greater than ourselves, we sense it deep within our being. No doubt we will and should reject those ways that do not work for us. This is the sad truth that the churches should hear. Nobody here is immortal--everybody on earth eventually dies--why promise that this God will save our lives in this world when scripture never promises that and none of us--not even the most holy saints--have lived beyond our years. Our hope begins here and is eternal--and ends with God . . .

We shouldn't try to make up answers when we don't have any.

II. For what it is worth, I totally agree with you that the evidence here suggests religion gone horribly wrong. And one of the reasons I am on this board is to try to figure out a way to combat this kind of ungodly theology that creates these monsters who teach, preach, practice hate in the name of God. It is absolutely impossible to have faith in God and do intentional harm to another. If they have faith of any kind it is in the twisted lies, twisted myths. These lies, perpetrated against scripture and our God that have been harranged into them by controlling, self-aggrandizing clergy relying on chopped up scripture to support whatever soapbox issue is in their sights because they love the sound of their own voice and are jealous of power. In short: Brainwashing. It is spiritual abuse! (And it isn't limited to Christianity, either). And unlike the tradition, they rely more on mass hysteria as their experience of god than the silence and stillness that even is described in scripture and taught by Christ.

There are many religions--probably the best, imho, as far as not going wrong, is Buddhism, albeit Buddhism is more often thought of as a philosophy, it is still a religion. I don't believe the world will ever be freed of religion, so the only solution I can think of is for those of us who actually belong to a religion with a mystical basis, is to try to set things to rights. The sad thing is that there is a good and beautiful, PASSIVE, loving basis for the "Peaceful" Abrahamic religions--yes, all three claim the God of PEACE. All three teach LOVE, love of God and love of neighbor. All three have great spiritual leaders and a great and beautiful tradition and a mystical branch to which those who really love God will aspire (notwithstanding a little sexual bias . . . ). Despite the fact that they all have factions that have dredged up and maintained the war god image--that power monger god that never existed but was always wished for. There IS no relationship with the living God of LOVE in an environment of hate--so no, I do not call it faith! Hate precludes the experience of God! Faith is not religion, religion is not faith. If it is faith it is empty and their hopes are always dashed, their god won't come through. That imagined god does not exist! There are a lot of Christians who won't own the title "Christian" anymore. It is so tangled up with the bible cults and extremists and their hateful and despicable actions.

I cannot and will not try to control you, what you think or what you believe. But I will defend the beautiful and loving Christ who never did any harm but loved all (even those who are hard to love), taught love and commanded love; who was persecuted, suffered and died for loving and healing humanity and spent three years preaching to those who--unfortunately did exactly what most religionists do now--created their own god out of their desires instead of accepting the real God that is. This--MURDER--is the extent to which people will go to defend their created traditions and brainwashed cults. What we see in the Passion of the Christ is that we all stand in the crowd that yelled, "Crucify him!"--we are all guilty, it is human nature to want to use a god's gloss to control others and bring about our idealized, albeit sick, concept of what godless good is. But we crucify that nature to take on Christ--to be filled by Christ. We can only do (God's) good, we cannot harbor hate, we cannot try to control others--control issues are at the heart of the lower nature. Hate to say it, but just like the Buddhists we are busy meditating . . . you don't hear much from us.

For what it is worth I admire real science, I accept evolution, I am not a creationist and I believe in reason. True, in some random way, I believe God directed it all--but I don't believe that science can lean on that or we'd all be back to the middle ages . . . I abhore rewriting history and anti-intellectualism, shutting down people's minds to accept a fictionalized view of god is grotesque in my opinion and I don't believe you will burn in hell. Book burning is anathema to me. And I don't care what others believe as long as they don't smear Christ or do harm to others in the name of God!

For what it is worth--I am utterly amazed that Christians are being attacked because God didn't stop the earthquake! Then there should never have been earthquakes! What?! Is it supposed to be paradise?! Talk about imagined gods! lol!

What about evangelism?

*I apologize for being in avoidance mode for the past four months!*

Father Jake has a new blog, an apolitical one: Father T. Listens to the World. Today he wrote a post that made me look at evangelism in a whole new light: Ransom or Satisfaction.

Cutting right to the chase, Father T. has in one swipe managed to completely change my view of atonement, the meaning and purpose behind Christ's death and therefore our faith and everything! I suddenly see all this as a theological miasma--diseased and broken--in which we have tried to explain what happened on the cross in a way that would be palatable to us--rather than the one truth we need to see. It is all a lie! And we know it--deep down inside we know it. God gave us his Son, his perfect, flawless, beautiful Son and we crucified him. We have no true defense. This would answer all Father T.'s concerns in this post: heaven, hell, sin and Christ. And until we do see it--the truth of the cross--we will not own up completely to our brokenness and our need for goodness. Oh, we talk about brokenness! But do we sincerely own it? The more advanced our theologies get, the less we have to do and the less we have to face the reality that would make our need of God irresistible and our evangelistic message ring of truth. We've been using euphemisms for theology!

In short, somebody asked what could be said to the uninitiated that explains the cross? Or rather to either defend our faith or to evangelize? Instead of the purity cult that Christianity has become, perhaps we could get back to the dusty reality of a god that is man and the god in man.

It is when we see with our very hearts our own role in the crucifixion of Christ and how, as he hangs on that cross, we will know our own brokenness and our own very deep need of him, of something greater than ourselves and with love in our hearts and sadness we beg for his forgiveness and his help. He shows us in passive humility the Way to perfection, a way to perfect goodness and in the process he will remake us in his own image, to be one with him--whole, unbroken and good. Our sin doesn't condemn us forever to the fires of hell, but becomes a door through which we ache to enter in to a changed way of being, to enter in to a loving way of life where we cease to harm ourselves and others, because the heart of the Law is love. We, desiring healing and seeking it, realize that it is in loving others that we cease sinning and through it we ourselves approach the cross and tremble beneath. There we ask again and again--what do we do now to bring your healing message of hope to a needy world? There we beg with our unceasing need to make reparation for the goodness we have crucified. We promise to never scourge another, or mock or jeer or crucify again. Once forgiven--we have a fresh new beginning, we can stand upright, we can be healed and we will grow whole--we can see another way of being, a lasting and perfect and Christlike way. That is our greatest hope. Without shame we know we won't let ourselves forget: We crucified the Lord of Glory.

That is atonement--his forgiveness for what we have done.

It seems to me that we have permitted our theology to skirt the real issue of what God does in this world and how. We are his hands, we are his servants, who share his love with the world at large. Love cannot leave us unchanged. Our sadness against his suffering is our impetus to bring his healing message into physical reality and through our living faith actively every day.

So I have begun with my conclusions. It may be for the better for me to return to answer Father T. point by point here, to begin at the beginning and work back to close.

Peace.

Annie

*Yes, I am still around!*

What can I say? I have had no inclination to write at all! Not any kind of writing. It is so unlike me.

I guess that is all I have to say!

An entry on faith, however. The question is asked: What about secrets in the church--any kind. It could be more specific, really.

The Gnostics had secret knowledge and early Christians considered that to be heretical. I reject secret knowledge for the very simple reason that there is no deception in God. If there is a truth, it should be shouted from the rooftops! (scriptural) There is nothing exclusive. (scriptural--evangelize!) There is certainly nothing in God that rejects those who do not follow him--but rather invites! (scriptural) I think of the invitation to the wedding feast. I am not more special because I belong to him. (scriptural, prodigal son) We are all special and he wants us all. We are all equal in that he does not wish to lose even one sinner. I am not more loved than you and I am not more loved that the drug addict leaning against the decrepit brick wall in an alleyway. I am sick to death of Christians trying to create some sort of pristine social club when nothing could be LESS holy!

Update on my health and other considerations:

Sorry to have been so absent, but I have recently joined a discussion group based on the book, The Faith Club.

But, because a lot of people access my blog because of my problems with mold, I thought I would update with a little critical information.

First, I noticed that my hepa filter machine was contaminating the air in my room. Thinking that it must be the filter had gone bad after only three months, I bought a new one. But it didn't do any good. On closer examination with my trusty black light which reveals fungus, I found that the interior of the machine was contaminated. Naturally, I removed the air filter and examined it from the front, the area where the air would come through the filter, but there was very little contamination between the filter and the fan. After reassembling it, I began examining the outside of the machine. I found that all the seams around it indicated a small amount of air seepage, i.e., the seams glowed. But what was shocking was when I turned it around and examined the back, the manufacturer has put holes in the back so the unit can be hung on the wall. These little hook shaped holes were filled with dirt, dust and, yes, fungus. I took Q-tips and pulled out at least a teaspoon of contaminants from each hole. What the manufacturer hasn't done or even attempted to do is to maintain the integrity of the machine. Once cleaned, I could see that the Styrofoam insulation for the fan housing is completely open and exposed there allowing contaminates to work their way into the fan itself.

I began by trying to contact the company. They obviously don't care. Then I went to research hepa filters and I found that this is a known issue. I found good information on hepa filteration at The Allergy Buyers Club. Look below the air filters for a list of articles on air filtration and what all of us need to know.

As far as I'm concerned, even if I didn't have extreme allergies, I wouldn't want a machine that would allow dangerous and allergy causing contaminants into my room even if I were trying to just have better air. For those of us who suffer extreme allergies an industry wide rating system needs to be instituted. Machine need to be rated several different ways. Some are better for some types of contaminants than others, for example. More importantly because this little machine did do a superb job for about three months, the rating needs to be established after the machines have been in use for a period of time. In short, it matters not a wit that a machine is rated by the manufacturer to clean 99.97% of all contaminants from the air!

In short all that I had spent on that little machine is a waste of money! Now I need to find another air purifier/sanitizer and probably spend quite a lot more in order to buy a machine that is effective for my needs. For the record, I had simply gone shopping locally for the two machines that I did buy, same brand, and I bought what was available. Sadly, others might make the same mistake but like me suffer without realizing that the machine they are staking their lives and health on are their worst enemy. If I didn't have a blacklight and a contagion that shows up under black light, I might never have discovered this!

It is mind boggling that the company cares so little because sealing the seams and blocking the hook holes would cost little or nothing! Buyer beware!

Dry, dry hands! I was suffering from eczema and I spent money out the whazzoo to go to a dermatologist. His very expensive medicines were doing no good. In fact one of them seemed to make my hands worse. While shopping in Wichita, I ran across one of those little kiosks where they were selling Dead Sea Salt products. The very nice young woman who saw me putting on hand lotion called me over and she demonstrated her product. OUCH! I was telling her I have eczema! She assured me it would be good for me. I bought some other product from her, but not her salt! But then . . . my hands got so much better! In the next seven days my hands were much improved! I went back to the mall and couldn't find them. I'll admit it was terribly pricey but better than the cost of the dermatologist. She had told me they had a web site and so I went in search for it. However, I found other companies that sell Dead Sea Salt for considerably less. So, I bought some. Shipping wasn't cheap! But I'm using it once a week.

I simply scrub my hands with it. I also bought vegetable glycerin and I've added a several drops each of bergamot and tea tree essential oils to the bottle. I made it fairly strong. So, after using the salt, I apply a little of this--which is really intense moisturizing.

I'm no doctor. You can take my singular experience as my own testimony for what it is worth. You may find products by searching the Internet that are better.

The company that introduced me to the idea has several good products--as I said, I bought some--and they are Deja Vu Cosmetics.

And later--before I found Dead Sea Salt--I remembered a local bookstore sells Dead Sea products. I bought a lotion that I dearly love called AHAVA: Dead Sea Laboratories

All of these produce this silky feel to my skin and it can only be the salt itself. My hands are nearly completely healed now in just a few short weeks. I am so thrilled! And no, at this time I own no stock in any company that manufactures and imports these products. ;) But maybe I ought to!

I have not tried it yet, but my local health foods store claims that Himalayan Salt works the same way. They also sell the pretty pink salt for eating and she claims it is the best tasting salt and the only one that those on low sodium diets can eat. But I haven't tried this.

Both the Dead Sea Salt and the Himalayan Salt are low sodium and have trace minerals, btw. This is just a warning that I stumbled across--luckily--Sea Salt is not the same! There are no substitutions for these fairly pricey salts. I still feel that the discovery that has given me so much comfort the price seems low in comparison.

End of Year . . .

It is right and fitting that the year should end curled up with an excellent book, isn't it? I have just finished reading The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield.

It was an excellent book for those who like an old fashioned whodunnit, very British. I am serious when I say old fashioned because Ms. Setterfield tends to write in a style heavily reminiscent of the 19th Century greats such as the Brontte sisters. Since I tend to that style myself it was very comfortable. My only disappointment was the Thirteenth Tale when it was finally revealed, but, since that says nothing about the plot itself, it is a small thing.

I also began to read The Fire of Your Life, a book of meditations by Maggie Ross. There are meditations for each month of the year. I've only read one, November's. I think it is in for a reread. These are not meditations to be hurried through, but relished and contemplated. They are even the type of meditations that spawn more meditations. It may indeed take a year for me to read them all.

So, back to the whodunnit: I am reviewing the genre for the purpose of beginning to write the suspense novel that has been brewing this past year. Of course, that takes reading that style of writing or, as some would say, a study of the genre. I have always loved mysteries.

Sometimes I think I have an outline taking form and sometimes I feel as though I am still feeling my way. No matter where I begin, there will have to be more flashbacks than I care to use. Past tense is dead, lifeless, static. What POV shall I use? I think that is my big issue right now.

At any rate, should any reader accost my blog today, I wish them a reflective and safe New Year's Eve and a happy New Year! One should never party and end a year in drunken revelry! They should remain watchful as the old year ends, intent on the new beginning that is coming, the fresh start, rather than waking with a hangover and beginning the year on a bad and grumpy note.

Another poem:

Advent

Come, Lord Jesus,
hear my cry!
Hopeless darkness,
I watch the sky.
All swirling clouds,
the endless darkness,
all oppressed.
In tearful pleas
I wait.

Come, Lord Jesus,
hear my cry!
The joy of your presence,
the gift of your love.
A ray of light
breaks through
my heart lifts,
but in the dark
I wait.

Come, Lord Jesus,
hear my cry!
Hope draws me
to watch the sky.
A glimmer here,
a shade of light
the darkness breaks,
a promise comes,
balm to my soul
I wait.

Come, Lord Jesus,
hear my cry!
Peace of mind,
reprieve .of turmoil,
of strife, of hunger.
You'll lift my burdens,
sooth my soul,
with songs like Larks
we'll not have a worry
gently guided,
I wait.

Come, Lord Jesus,
hear my cry!
Your love is all!
And wrapped in love,
joy, peace and hope,
the dawn will come.
The light of love we all will see
forever,
for eternity.

Loneliness:

It is that time of the year that causes immense suffering for those who are lonely. Which makes me think of what I am called to do by Christ. I am called to love even those who are difficult to love, the least among us.

A few weeks ago I participated in a conversation about this very thing, if you will. The question asked was, "I know I am called to love my neighbor, but do I have to like her?" The consensus in the group was, "No. You have to love her, but you don't have to like her." And with that answer the intent was that this person need not associate with her annoying friend, need not include her in her group, etc.--in short, shun her.

Who am I to buck the group? I'm one small voice. The norm of the group is to allow that a person has some deep-seated personality flaws and she is difficult to have around, she does some socially irresponsible things and hurts people in the process and so--even though only God would know it--we love her (how?) but exclude her. Note, this isn't a person who is intentionally abusive. She probably hasn't got a clue what others don't like about her. She isn't socially adept. I, on the other hand, think that if I am loving toward my neighbor, then my neighbor knows it. Far be it from me to be very judgmental, truth be told, so my voice wasn't very loud. But like so many other ways we don't do the hard things we are called to do, loving the least among us is a biggy we'd rather forgive in ourselves and avoid rather than change.

There are lonely people that I am not taking care of at this time and so guilt is contributing as much to my silence in the group as the outcry against my better judgment. But self-examination leaves me with the burden of doing something about my unloving and un-Christlike burden. I do have to love the people that are difficult to love. From the opposite side of the same street, I realize that I am hurt by the people who don't seem to find me to be a lovable, worthwhile person. I know that I am not deserving of their unloving behavior! ;) So, who am I to do the same thing to somebody else?

When my children were growing up, they were normal. It hurt them to be normal. At about age thirteen or so, the painful truth that they were not among the most popular kids in the school caused untold misery. I especially had to give my eldest child several pep talks on the subject. In every school, indeed in every place we go in life, there will be the few, the pacesetters, the top dogs, the few at the top of the heap. But the vast majority of us have to endure being average: somewhat liked, often disliked; sometimes agreed with, often disagreed with; sometimes respected and often reviled; sometimes included, often excluded; sometimes noticed, often overlooked. There is only room at the top for two or three and the second tier are their favored inner-circle, beyond that are all the rest of us.

What makes a person popular? Is it their intelligence? No . . . I know some totally intelligent people that are dreadful to be around. Is it that they always say and do the right things? No . . . I've seen popular people say and do dreadful things. In short, I've never figured out any reason for them to be popular that they did intentionally. It seems to be more like . . . an accident of birth. It is more like being born with a certain skin color, or into a wealthy home, or artistically talented, or mathematically inclined. But I must say that being socially adept and popular is good for the self-esteem.

Yesterday I wrote about Thanksgiving and family. Families are a case in point! We get tossed together with some of the strangest people! There are definitely people in every family that are a pain. We have to look deep for their worthiness to love, ignore a lot of bad behavior, brush aside past hurts and sit at the same table.

My point isn't so much that there are unpopular people as it is that some people are more difficult to like, more distant and hard to get to know than others, shy and uninclined to speak up and so go unnoticed. For a myriad of reasons, the lonely are among us. In the first example, the woman in question was bossy.

While running an errand and thinking on this subject, I remembered a man I once knew. He was rude, never curbed his tongue, critical of everybody--a real bear! I hated to be anywhere near him and I usually did avoid him. We worked together at the children's home. But let me tell you, when one of those kids was in some sort of trouble or in need, he would move earth and sky to take care of them. That rough exterior was hiding a heart as big as all outdoors! In the long run, I would say that he is one of the best people that I have ever known. He wasn't a bear! He was a huge grumpy teddy-bear!

I've been thinking a lot about Anne Lamott's book, Grace (Eventually). I suffer a sense of guilt because most of my religious counterparts read more meaty theological works. But what Anne is dealing with is the grit of Grace--the living out of faith. It is the most complex theology of all! How do we live out our faith. I don't recall a single meaty theological discussion that dealt with loving the least among us, even those who are difficult to love.

In this book she tells about a woman's husband who has some deep personality flaws and was, shall I say, to be avoided if possible. I gather he'd corner Anne and talk her ear off on some subject ad infinitum. But Anne's friend, who was fighting cancer, was struggling through a heat wave and suffering. Her husband bought an A/C--spur of the moment with funds saved for a vacation. He courted his wife's anger, he defied her wishes--all because he loved her and loved her life. It was grace, I gather, for Anne to see in him something worth loving and to appreciate the fact that he loved her friend.

I hold that every person has both good and not so good--shall I say bad?--personality traits, but all are lovable if we just find what it is that is lovable about them. And it is harder to find love for some than it is for others. I also hold that we are all children of God and we are all called to love each other. And loving does mean that the object of our love knows they are loved. So, loving the least among us, loving even those who are difficult to love, does actually include loving those we don't like. It may not mean that we must be with them day in and day out or include them in all our activities, but it should mean that we tolerate even those who annoy us, that we greet them in such a friendly way that they feel loved and welcomed when they come our way; that we forgive them for their stupidity; it may mean that we allow them to approach us and talk to us at a party and it may mean that we are willing to speak to them, pick up the phone, if they call. It may mean that we are so open to them that if they whispered their pain, we would hear it.

Back from Kentucky!

I hope that everybody had a happy, love filled, overflowing cornucopia for Thanksgiving!



If life is harsh from day to day; if we think we suffer want; if our hearts our broken; if our health is tipsy; if we think our food budget is overstretched and it is getting more difficult to pay the bills; if our home is destroyed; if we are divided--there is still a reason to celebrate our Thanks Giving for all that God has provided for us.

A few years ago, I did research on the first Thanks Givings and, naturally, giving thanks is the reason. Long before it was a scheduled holiday, people put on the best feast they could gather together to give thanks, but probably also to remind themselves that there is hope for the future, hope for a benevolent God that is, in the long run, looking out for us. They held an early thanks giving at Valley Forge. Nowadays, we want to pin down a particular "first" Thanksgiving. Traditionally, we think it was the Pilgrim's celebration of their first harvest. Official announcements recorded as history do not necessarily make an event the first event of its kind. The precedent had been set long before. When I attempted to actually track it, I found it somewhere in the old country first, a mention here and a mention there--but more of an event called at the spur of the moment, a sharing of abundance or the pretense of abundance, an excuse to celebrate, to lift spirits. Thank God for what we have! Yes, a celebration far more casual than our present tradition would imply, never mentioned as anything official--and how natural is that? Christians have always given thanks!

We thank you, Father, for all the blessings of this life.

###

I'm still reading Anne Lamott's book, Grace (Eventually). I am almost finished. It happens sometimes that I enjoy a book so much that I begin to read it sparingly, a few pages at a time rather than racing through it. Although I don't think this is her best book, by far, I always enjoy her honesty and she always inspires me. So my holiday was tinted by Grace (Eventually). It took on that hue of honesty. I wanted to try my own honesty, pry it loose from my reservations on the private page. But I had forgotten to pack my journal! I'd left it sitting on the corner of the desk.

I'm getting to the age that to think about doing something does not equate to having done it, even though logic tells me that if I am prepared to, as in having assured myself that my journal was handy to take with me, I surely would. So, it didn't get slipped into the bag with my book. I was so frustrated, I almost bought another notebook except that I have four in the works right now and reading my journal is growing complex if I want to keep things in the proper time sequence.

We had an interesting holiday. Elderson keeps things lively and emotional. To remember events is to chuckle--even if chuckling didn't seem to be the emotion of the moment in its original context. He is an idealist. If there is one thing I have learned in my life, it is that striving for the ideal envisioned is suicide for joy. It is very similar to being a perfectionist. I'm both by nature. I struggle to keep idealism and perfectionism from ruining my life.

To hint at his ideals: Money is something somebody else spends . . . Teenage boys need to be more rough around the edges . . . they should like to play poker, to master dominoes and to have a brawl for the fun of it . . . and, (worst of all) since he just broke up with his fiancé last fall, hope should equate to fulfillment . . . !

I can't divulge all of it as honestly as Anne would. I don't know how she does it. In short, I began to contemplate selfishness a lot this weekend. In a very loving way, of course.

We are all selfish and all our behavior stems from our individual world views, limited by our needs, hopes, goals and brain power. I noted how we all interact. I spent most of yesterday staring out the window as we progressed from northern Kentucky through Indiana, Missouri, Kansas and finally home to Oklahoma. I composed and recomposed what I would write if I had my notebook realizing all the way that if it weren't written at that moment and the effort made to reconstruct it later, it would be as stark as the bare trees in the misty landscape outside the window.

I was amazed that I could stare at virtually nothing but bare trees and the undulations of the wintertime landscape for so many hours while my mind churned away on the subject of loving each other unconditionally and the unity of the whole family. The lumpy, knobby knitting together of such diverse individuals and the hereditary similarities that are more cause for differences of opinion than for agreement.

Don't get me wrong, it was a pleasurable weekend and not a single major problem came up. But Ike was a little disappointed in his brother. I think he is finally old enough at 17 to see Elderson as he really is. He found some limitations in Elderson's knowledge of music, for example, and that was predictable. But Ike's own ideals couldn't conceive of the fact that he and his brother love different things about music and have a different focus. It was very difficult to forgive, actually. The hero image lost some of its gloss and Elderson couldn't wear it anymore. He was also slightly offended by a couple of near angry outbursts on Saturday afternoon when Elderson was more controlling toward me than he should be and didn't treat me as respectfully as Ike thought he should. A few minutes later, I observed, Elderson had said he needed some time alone, that he isn't accustomed to having people all around all the time. I took that in the way of an apology because apologies aren't always outright. I'm the same way, I need time alone, too, and so does Ike. So, we left him to himself for a while and went shopping and by the time we returned, Elderson was gathered back together.

But this is love and this is family. I know how much Elderson loves me, how he tells me his deepest most heartfelt feelings and shares his wounded self with me. And I will always love my son with all my heart despite the fact that he is far from perfect, far from ideal and equally as human as the rest of us. I disappoint myself all the time and worse than anybody else has ever disappointed me. That was my point to Ike--because we all are as undeserving of love as anybody else, or in other words, we are all equally deserving of love as anybody else, loved for our best despite our worst. Elderson is so sensitive, so wounded by the world--and always has been. He knew a lot about music, Ike just outgrew that knowledge and has taken on the burden now of being the most knowledgeable member in the family on the subject of music. Elderson has his own special qualities and owns his own turf. He is actually more of a writer/poet than a musician. I remember that Elderson was born so happy and greeted the world with high expectations and so, ever since, everything has been downhill, a disappointment . . . and we went to Kentucky--afterall--because he needed a boost and some companionship over the holiday that marked what would have been the weekend of his wedding.

That brings me to selfishness. The more needy we are, the more selfish we will be. But the converse is not true: the more secure we are, the less selfish we will be. As I said early on, we are all self centered and that is our world view. We suffer moments of unselfishness, even surrender ourselves for short periods of time to complete selfless generosity brought on by love--but even our generosity will spring from within that self centered framework in how we perceive each other's needs and how we can meet them. Families are knit together not from choice so much as by accident. We are a bumpy weave, a colorful weave, but we are warm and fuzzy and give each other the opportunity for moments of utter unselfish devotion. Ideally (and there I go with my idealism!) we balance each other, we smooth over life's difficulties. When he is weak, I am strong and hopefully the reverse would hold true. But sometimes we end up propping each other up, like a house-of-cards, trying not to shake and, holding our collective breath, try to put another support into place. Without each other, we would all be destroyed, lost and alone. So we don't judge, we just love. We look for the cause of our distresses and discontents and forgive them. We let the past flow away like a leaf on a stream. We relish the moments worth relishing and Thanksgiving was created for that purpose. It isn't the easiness of life we give thanks for! It is having eeked out a living against near impossible odds that arouses a need to celebrate and to give thanks. It is to build hope sufficient for another year of struggle, to drag out the plough, hitch it up to the oxen and begin a new furrow; hope for another year of surviving.

So, what did the Pilgrims and the men at Valley Forge have in common with us as we celebrated this Thanksgiving? The simple, powerful, overriding need to look on the bright side, to ignore our need and what we've lacked, build hope, share love and a toast--to next year, may we all survive! God willing!

Refocusing:

This has been coming on for a while now. I need to reconnoiter. Maybe not just reconnoiter! I also need to rebuild. I'm torn down. Tired. I've lost my way--sorta.

I was disappointed in myself when I didn't do the NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) this year. I had one great day of inspiration and I didn't write any of it down. Then I tried to sign up and, since I've changed my email address, I'd have had to get a new ID, lose my history and all that. So, it just never happened.

And Carolyn--especially Carolyn!--is always so steady. I hate to let her down. But the clincher is, I'm letting myself down, too. And so I hope that if I go back to the well, I'll take a drink and be refreshed.

My faith has been doing lots of strange things of late. Sometimes I simply flow with inspiration and sometimes I feel like a dried up old prune. I'm just not writing much of anything right now. I visited Ron's blog this evening and found some soothing thoughtful posts and rested for a while. I can always find peace on Jim's blog, too. Derek is challenging intellectually, but always gives me that same sense of peace and goodness that I need so much right now. And I've taken up a little more interest in Via Crucis--Jon's blog. Jon makes me think that I really ought to be in Washington! Ron's close to there, too. And Brother John (but he hasn't got a blog, I don't think!) There must be something in the air up there. Washington is a great place--it is where my Dad built his boat and I spent several happy summers. These places are comforting and good, warm and friendly. I want to renew my old friendships, or refresh them.

One problem I have right now is that I can't do very much. Maybe tomorrow I can manage to write down the heart of what is weighing on my mind. Or maybe the day after. I think it is time to heal.

kataphatic theology:

Humbly, I'd never heard of it before. Note that I did not capitalize it. I know about kataphatic practice. I understand the concept of negation--or at least I understand it in the way a book keeper differs in understanding the books from the way an accountant will. I understand its application. This morning I visited Maggie Ross' site again and she sent me on a tangent of research at the beginners level to try to understand. She is quite the intellectual. I began with Wikipedia!

She may help me make that leap I've never quite managed to make into a more intellectual pursuit of the mysteries that intrigue me. I had resented the introduction of psychology into explaining mysticism. Not that I resent science, but I resent tangling science and religion in such a way that the science seems to subtract from the experience of faith. Evelyn Underhill, in her famous work, Mysticism, was the first to assault my prejudices. Perhaps I am more receptive now to the idea. At least I don't mind using psychology to attempt to explain the phenomenon, but I have accosted those who tangle psychological terms and religious terms in such a way that the confusing muck that remains once they are done is sufficient to bog down any communication. I hate the misuse of the word ego as a substitute for soul. I think it is an injustice to both the science and the practice of faith.

I guess I am taking this two ways this morning. My first consideration is how to communicate concepts such as kataphatic theology. Maggie dislikes the use of the word spiritual. I recoiled because, quite honestly, I am such an ignoramus! I'd be ashamed to say to her, "I use the term, but simply because I haven't found a better term to express it."

Communication in my mind means to communicate to anybody--not just the limited few, but across boundaries, from catholic to protestant or Christian to Buddhist and maybe even educated to uneducated, although I fall into the uneducated in religion category. What good does it do to speak past each other or to mull over a theology that is so advanced in the way we have rendered it through our vocabulary that it can't touch the ground from the lofty heights of its ivory tower? If it is not going to help the masses, then it isn't worth the effort to think about it. Until we have overcome the language barrier and learn to speak to each other in a shared vocabulary we tend to speak past each other. How does a liberal speak to a conservative, or a Catholic to a Baptist? In the end she mentions using the word faith, since she likes it. I thought of all the baggage that I have found dragging along with the word faith. I have asked people to define the word faith and I get all sorts of responses. So, if I use the word faith, or spiritual for that matter, the baggage the person carries is going to define how they receive the message and it will tint their understanding. One reality, many religions!

It may occur to somebody that the current tendency to anti-intellectualism especially on the far right side of Christendom might just be a response to this phenomenon! If it can't be rendered into the common tongue, perhaps it isn't worth saying at all!

Going back to the original subject of theology, a word M.R. also claims to not like but must find necessary as she mentioned kataphatic theology. Another term that could apply is via negativa.

I like the idea of thinking in terms of what God is not. It battles the stereotypes of God that I am always battling. Let God define God. Negating is sort of like imagining infinity, a mind numbing leap into something that can't quite be quantified, qualified, so huge it can't be limiting, insistantly expanding, each barrier in turn vaporizing and vanishing; the vision begins to sweep a wide arc from peripheral to peripheral, a whole spectrum, like radar, alert to the blackness, the stillness and the void, with no expectations, dry of emotion, empty and unfilled. Open, waiting and not waiting, not even aware that the hope that a bright spot of light, a blip on the radar screen, can fill my understanding and leave without having defined itself.

Wikipedia has all those little blue lines! Each one is clickable. It is like looking up a word in the dictionary and finding five more that need to be looked up before the original word can be understood. I ended up downloading the complete works of Dionysius the Areopagite. I might as well begin at the beginning. At this rate, it will take 2,000 years for me to finally get a foothold on postmodern soil. So, now all I need to do is wrangle the theology into the practice so I can understand . . .

Maggie Ross:

A friend pointed me to Maggie Ross' blog: Voice in the Wilderness

It is the most amazing blog! She's a terrific writer. She is a Solitary and her insights into faith are extraordinary. I was visiting her blog last night and her entry mentioned a liturgy that she'd posted in January of 2006. I went back to read the referenced liturgy. Needless to say, I still haven't. I began reading the very top entry on that link. It resonates so well with what I have been feeling as pertains to prayer! There is one paragraph there that I want to frame. I just sat there and read and reread it. Then I read it for Ike, who, being a teenager and short on attention span for all things religious, surprised me by his receptiveness. So here is the link to that entry too. It is so much better to have you read what she writes about prayer than to try to write it and fudge it myself!

Top entry on prayer

I want to go tap all my blogging friends on the shoulder and suggest that if they haven't already explored her blog, they should. I've already written the title of one of her books (yes, she's been published) to begin treasuring even more "Maggie Ross". I'm tempted to print out her whole blog!

Uncertainty:

Originally posted on Beliefnet on October 23:

It was a crisp thirty-seven degrees as the sun rose this morning. I stepped outside with my dog for our morning outing. For the first time in seven months, I could see my breath steaming and rising into the early morning light. The dew frosted the tips of grass and made my shoes wet. Sun streaked across my yard and brightly lit the fronts of houses across the road. There is a brightness about the early morning sun that is barely remembered and almost mundane by midday. I have good associations with mornings like this. To be in it is to be vibrantly alive.

I haven't figured out where this is going, but from time to time I think about being present in the moment. I try to be. I try to savor what happens in everyday simple seconds. I'm prone to daydream, to be lost in my thoughts and anywhere but in the reality around me. So, to be present in the moment means calling myself back from whatever adventure I have created in my imagination.

Kahlil Gibran said something in the Prophet that has always haunted me--although I can't quote him right now because I don't have my book. It was something to this effect: That although we go forward slowly, we go not backward. So whenever I am present in the moment, that moment is tinted by this thought. We, and I think I can say this fairly, spend most of our lives going forward and backward. Or round and round. And if I go forward for a while and break the chain of my existence, I return again. Tonight will find me in the same place as I was in last night. And this is security and we like it this way. But this is also boredom and tedium and we don't like that at all!

It has been a year now since I noticed the first symptoms I had of this sickness that has unearthed my daily existence and has dislodged me from my old routines, robbed me of plans for my future I'd never identified, deprived me of most of the material baggage that has increased and clung to me through nearly an entire lifetime. Uncertainty is not something we like (again, I feel safe in saying this because most of us aren't comfortable with it). Depression has accompanied it. The effect is that when I need to be moving forward, I spend my time dwelling on what I can't do anything about, what I am probably leaving behind forever and what I wish I could have appreciated more before I lost it. And I spend an awful amount of time trying to be healthy.

So more than ever right now I am noticing how much routine pleases me. And how what tomorrow may bring can unhinge rob me of hope. I'm forced to dwell in the moment because my imagination can't find a solution for the unknown that lies ahead. A lot of things like my imagination have gained new purpose in this adventure. My imagination is a tool that could, I hope, find a solution. It would be so much better to choose which way to go than to be shoved one day at a time, unwilling, into a less-than-ideal existence. Allergies have had the same effect as they warn me away from what makes me sick.

I hate to say it, but I'm lonely. And I know that others go through this too. At a time when they most need their loved ones to share their lives, their loved ones have withdrawn, become angry at what they don't understand . . . It is very difficult to say that. Sometimes it hurts me so deeply! I feel judged, but for what? It isn't something that I did. I'd gladly dance right back from the fate that has me in its grips.

Where has God been through all of this? My faith has had its ups and downs. Because I am so slow about my duties, I don't take the time to be with him the way I used to. But for some reason, I feel that God has--shall I say "allowed"?--something to do with this--shaking up my old routine, changing me, moving me in a new direction. And is it optimism that makes me believe that in the end "all will be well"? I tread uneven ground now on the path up the mountain. At the top is the glittering city that I had seen from far away, the one that I was promised. I just have one last climb.

"The Great Unraveling"

Today marks the beginning of the annual NaNoWriMo. It is the first time in three years that I haven't participated, if I don't. I have nothing, no idea. Ideas didn't get me anywhere for the past two years--last year less than the year before. I had a pretty decent idea last year, but the push to get words on the page derailed it and I had to force it forward very uncomfortably. My "critic" gets started and she just starts screaming! By the end of last years NaNo she was a raving lunatic.

Above is a potential title borrowed from an online friend on a forum. It intrigued me. There could be so many different directions to take it. One of the ideas I had, and I had considered this in past years, was to write a spoof on schism in TEC. Not this schism, but a fictitious one. And perhaps where I stumble is in my desire to write it so that all Episcopalians could get a chuckle out of it. Yes, all. Sometimes it helps us to laugh at ourselves.

My big stumbling block is that I try to think of a controversy, preferably based on scriptural interpretation of the two (or many) sides. I've thought of revisiting the old slavery controversy, but I would like to have the Internet discussions be a part of the process because I think the Internet has exacerbated what might have otherwise been a ripple in the life of most congregations. I've thought of using St. Paul's Epistle to the Romans, 13-15. Vegans would have a secure hold on the scriptural debates. And it could be funny because few of us care what our neighbor eats--except that it might cause a ruckus at a potluck. I had three or four more good ideas, but today is November 1st and panic has frozen my brain. I considered Womens Ordination, but it is still a hot topic in some circles. I thought about the Great Commandment because it seems to be so overlooked. Pacifism might actually be a good one! And I have some great ideas where the war mongers have found justification for their point of view. And, I thought about Balaam's Ass. I like that story. Can an ass talk?

I attempted to brainstorm this idea with my friends, but they shut me down before I even begin. They wouldn't listen long enough for me to get to the spoof concept and my dilemma. It doesn't matter if it goes nowhere. I haven't published a NaNoNovel yet!

At any rate, I thought that a great way to write it would be to divide the month of November into thirty days. Yeah, I know! That's already been done. But bear with me here. I thought I could peg out thirty days during the past four--it isn't going on five yet, is it?--years and I could write a spoof journal entry each day, a recollection of what occurred on that day. So simple! Aim for my 1667 words per day and VIOLA NaNoNovelDone!

Late edition: As I've gone through the day I have grown more and more fond of Balaams Ass. I really like it!~ And just think how many times I could use the word "ass". I've always thought there was a deficit of cuss words in my fiction.

Uhmmm . . . ?

Eucharistic theology created with QuizFarm.com

You scored as Orthodox You are Orthodox, worshiping the mystery of the Holy Trinity in the great liturgy whereby Jesus is present through the Spirit in a real yet mysterious way, a meal that is also a sacrifice. Orthodox 88% Calvin 81% Catholic 75% Luther 69% Zwingli 44% Unitarian 44%

Stunted growth:

This past spring a number of maples came up in the shady garden on the north side of the house. I chose the healthiest and largest and had my husband dig it up and transplant it to a large bare grassy area of the yard. As the summer wore on, I watered it and watched it, but it never grew. In the meantime, the ones we had left in the unweeded garden tripled in size. The other day, I puzzled over it and realized he must have cut off the tap root. I'm surprised because he knows trees and has worked with them for the past thirty years.

I think that a lot of us are this way about our faith, too. We cut off our tap roots. One of the lessons learned in my spiritual journey was the profound realization of how little I do know. I heard others say that too. It seems the inverse happens, the more I know, the more certain I am of the deficit in my knowledge base. It is in a state of uncertainty that I am most certain! It is in openess that I am ready to receive the message. My own measure of myself was to realize that I don't have the mind of God even though I make the mistake of feeling as though I do. And, so I test what I believe. I allow myself to be challenged by what I read or hear or see. It reminds me of Jesus telling the Jewish people who were in the crowd to "open their ears and hear." Their certainties were keeping their ears closed to his message. And so, in obedience to Christ, I listen with my whole self.

What inspired me in the idea of the tap root today was a discussion with some "mystics" who hate religion. They seem to be hoping to bring an end to the established religions and to teach people that they can be spiritual outside of the traditions and baggage of religion. I copied the definition of religion out of the dictionary and posted it for them to read. I attempted to tell them that even if they shun religion, they are practicing a religion. And given wings, it will develop all the ills of traditional religion. It will have its instruction, its taboos, its praxis and even its tradition. But more importantly to me is that our taproot is the tried and true! It is the centuries of knowledge and experience, success and failure, sharing and loving and hating together that makes our religion a rich resource for us to follow. I'm sorry to say that as I watched the conversation develop, I think their religion is hating religion.

My argument was and is that there is a body of knowledge about the way of the mystics in all the ancient religions. I felt surprised that I even had to point out that I believe religion springs from mystical experience and we gain by the preservation and repetition of it. The contemplative/mystical aspect of traditional praxis in the Christian tradition is often glossed over or misunderstood, rituals practiced without comprehending the full benefits--but of course, I finally came to see the spiritual value in them--so it awaits discovery by each participant one precious gift at a time. Once this is revealed, we look forward to it, joyfully sharing it with the other members of our community, generously encouraging others to come to our table to share it with us. Several times, I have met somebody who said that it was during the Eucharist that they first encountered the risen Lord.

My tap root is the means of being open to the leading of the Holy Spirit as a tap root brings up the living water to nourish the growing tree, so does the Holy Spirit bring me the living water to nourish my growing faith. It is trusting that if in anything I am remiss or I am mistaken, through the Grace of God, I will be set to rights.

I thirst . . .

Long Dark Night

(I haven't forgotten my Southwind project, but my Gremlin has absconded with my journal.)

This is just an effort to put words on the page.

The discussion of late has been on Mother Teresa. It seems that many can't comprehend her long Darkness.

I checked out the book from the library. It is lovely. Mother Teresa's words echo out of the past in a way that is very similar the more ancient mystics. She followed the classic faith and her sentiments were those of the classically trained Catholic. It was easy to read, interesting and moved right along.

I can relate well to her "Dark Night of the Soul." It is the controversial aspect of Mother Teresa's life that for forty years she lived in relative spiritual darkness, even claiming to not see Christ in the Holy Sacraments. I have a great deal of compassion for her in her extended Dark Night. I've been sitting still for a year and a half now and it takes a lot of patience. I feel sorry for her, but I also feel that she will be well rewarded for her persistence.

As I read the book I wondered what could have caused it. I realize that to wonder at the cause of a Dark Night is a strange occupation--how could I have the temerity to question God's will? My own Dark Night could have so many different causes that I can't choose one. What weakness is God weeding out? There are so many that I can think of. God might just leave me eternally in the Dark now. (Yes, I am chuckling!) So it is far more interesting to contemplate M.T.'s Dark Night since she was such a shining example of how best to follow Christ.

As for Mother Teresa, I noted that the editor commented on the fact that M.T. tried to hide her suffering from Christ. I can't help it--I keep thinking that there is no hiding anything and when we try to hide something, we end up hiding completely. I did that in the 70s out of fear of the spiritual world.

Another thought I've had is that her mind was so full of what she had to do that she couldn't listen very well and Christ was there with her all along. The reason I suggest that is that her success all those years, her tireless devotion and her inner strength had to come from somewhere. It was superhuman. And then there are all her beautiful quotes. Her insights are inspired. Her love of all people shimmers and reflects the love of God. And so despite her inner darkness, she was receiving the light somewhere all along.

Silly of me, isn't it? Well, Dark Nights can cause a lot of deep dark reflections that can be hard to admit to. That's my way of confessing that in the quiet that I've been sitting in, quiet is my all. Every now and then I still come up with some profound thoughts--gifts--that give me a little hope. But then I end up sitting quietly again. I gather that Mother Teresa had those same small flickers, too. She was better at admitting her pain to her confessor.

More seriously, (since the conversation got away from being serious somehow) Mother Teresa continues to be one of my favorite people. She led an exemplary life. I'm amazed at how brave she must have been when she launched her institute. The power of her faith and her determination to save those souls for Christ during those first few weeks. Such a small young woman seeking out the poor in their dark holes and taking Christ to them, all alone, in the meanest, darkest, most miserable places people live. And to her, at the time, the need must have seemed overwhelming.

Change under pressure:

On my blog rounds this morning, I visited Ron's blog and found this entry: emergence under pressure . . . in your church. Talk about sacred secular! This entry speaks to where I am in every aspect of my life right now.

Yesterday morning I came home from church reeling. It is one of those years--one of those bad years--where nothing in my life is going according to plan. If there is proof that we have very little control over our lives, the situation that I am in now proves it. All I know is that I'm in a pressure cooker that is about to explode. I have no idea where or when, but when it occurs, there is no telling how far the splatter will fly or how much. Or, in other words, I really don't know what is coming 'round the bend, but I'm craning my neck and ready for whatever comes my way.

Yesterday morning, sitting in the pew, a man who couldn't even follow the service handed me a filled out seeker's card to put into the collection plate. Every week there are new faces in our church. Shades of what occurred in Virginia echo here. People from other denominations are taking over the pews. The angry conservatives are going to make a move to steal the church. I've seen the writing on the wall for years now--I'm just waiting for God to open that window I'm always promised. In the meantime, I am sitting almost still, just waiting. Because through faith I do believe that God will show me what her will is and the direction she wants for me to go. Who knows where this will go or how it will play out in the end. Only God knows.

About that open window (if you will pardon cliches): I think God is preparing the furrow. For example, I have been leading a discussion group over a book on St. Benedict's Rule. I've never considered myself any sort of public speaker/teacher. Far from it. But--and very sweetly, as I have so often said that I am where I am because of the people I love--the women have been coming to me and telling me how much they have been enjoying the discussion. I usually tell them that is themselves--they take the ball and play with it, they make it happen. And yesterday morning I was pleasantly surprised by a similar compliment from a woman who had previously found the book daunting--and I was so happy! Her thoughts had been a concern to me.

Which brings me to another thing--love. I feel as though when the turmoil in the church begins to reach boiling, these wonderful women come to distract me, to bolster me, to hold me up, to warm me. There are no politics in it--their point of view doesn't matter. They are apolitical, faithful, spiritual and GREAT! (And maybe I shouldn't leave out the men who show their support, either. Thanks Z!) I don't need to say or do anything--they think of it all by themselves. I wish that I was as good as they are!

At any rate, what I'm saying is that perhaps I have a gift that I had never guessed at. Or, with God's help, I can do things I thought were impossible.

So, here I am at this juncture of forced change in both my secular and sacred life. Isn't it just exactly as Ron has just said in his blog? "There is something about looking ahead to a new horizon, not being able to really see what is ahead that causes fear... so much fear, we'll strain our necks, constantly looking back to the land of familiarity we just left." I'm trying to keep that new horizon in mind. It could be anything and it could be anywhere. I've been driven out of my charted course by winds that I hadn't foreseen. But it is done. Nothing is left but to box my compass straight and chart a new course.

A Lenten Meditation on the Passion of our Lord Jesus, Christ

A Lenten Meditation on the Passion of our Lord Jesus, Christ presented by the Diocese of Massachussets

Dogma*

There is considerable contention within Christianity and among its divisions over certain aspects of the faith, very old aspects, such as dogma and doctrine. The legacy of the reformation has created a body of Christians who loathe the very idea and like to point fingers and declare their view to be authoritatively based on scripture alone. It is one of those contentious little details that I perceive as a fallacy, one of those hypocritical acts of finger pointing that people of all makes and models are prone to do.

A lot of that dogma has to do with creating the right atmosphere. By that I mean to include all that is within the scope of the spiritual Christian and faith. There are many ways to do that, perhaps. Some people may find the right atmosphere sitting on a hilltop watching the sun set. In other words, the essentials can be stripped down to their bare essentials but there will be a body of knowledge and of practice that the Christian accepts and understands. Whether it is the Church itself that has determined these essentials or a protestant denomination or a single individual it remains technically dogma to those who follow it.

Atonement is a biggy! There is a confusing array of potential doctrines, but as with so many things of faith we can poke holes in all of them or they all fall short of explaining exactly what happened. My own doctrine, if you will pardon me, is that God perceived that we humans wouldn’t be able to accept forgiveness unless we understood that a price had been paid and so it was arranged. I don’t think God needed to sacrifice his only son. God can do anything. It simply reflects the story of Abraham and builds on the ultimate potential sacrifice for the satisfaction of sin. So, our Lord died to save a bunch of goats. *Said with a smile, of course!* Actually, it is a whole lot more complex and I don’t know how to write it. I don’t like rotten tomatoes, either.

At any rate, when we approach God in prayer, we know that we have been washed clean and we know that it isn’t something that we did. It makes God more approachable and at the same time still instrumental to our well-being. So our knowledge of sin creates a right state where pride has died and humility reigns.

I don't think it is ever in believing any thing about God (Christ). I think it is in believing IN, or having faith in Christ, the person. Faith being complete trust. Contemplation requires emptying ourselves, the "Cloud of Forgetting". It isn’t in knowing the right stuff. It is not thinking the right thoughts. It is rather like not thinking at all. It is an act of opening ourselves up to the one we call on. That's why so many find the foreshortened Jesus prayer so effective. Some of us, however have overactive minds. We are so totally self-absorbed that it takes more to bring us into his presence.

In the Church, the ancients used song (chant) psalmody and prayer, reading and contemplating and praying the scriptures to empty the mind in an active way. Or rather, as a means of losing self-awareness. I say I am a reader and I can read my way into the right state. St. Mary was often depicted with a Bible on her lap as a contemplative early on. That was her as role model.

Rituals tell us when God is active among us so that we are more open to his presence and accepting. It isn't that God isn't present at all times, but that we need help sometimes in opening ourselves up to his presence. People may reject those rituals, but they replace them with other rituals they don't call rituals but they still believe that God meets them in their anti-rituals.

An example of such a ritual would be the requirement of the Fundamentalists that baptism is only done after a person has repented of the sin and accepted Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior. It would be by submersion only and infant baptism is not considered either valid or possible. To claim that this is not a ritual would be ridiculous. To claim that it is not a tradition would be equally ridiculous. It has become both for them in their practice of faith. Thus the hypocrisy! But it serves the same purpose. Almost.

Splitting hairs over a word is ridiculous. The scriptures, especially the Epistles, are full of what we are to do and what we are not to do, of what we are to believe and where we might err. To claim that dogma is an invention of later days is a waste of effort! Official dogma was mankind’s effort to set into concrete something they were afraid somebody else might come along and change. Note that I like rock and concrete for their very concreteness.

Find God wherever you can. I find God in my garden, in the pefection of his creation as in the moist cool earth in spring or the opacity of a flower petal. I find God in the dark of night when I am alone and afraid and he calms me. I find God in an infants face, in the trickle of water from a rock, in a bird's song from a treetop. And one night in Holy Week, I left the Church with an unsatisfied feeling only to find what I was searching for in the midnight blue sky dominated by the full moon.

It is not anything ABOUT God, it is not "right belief" or "right doctrine." God is not in a place such as a church building while not being outside its doors. God is not in a cross and he certainly is not within the covers of a book or at least no more so than he is in a handful of dirt (the very rocks would cry aloud). God is Spirit. It is all about seeking God and where he can be found and listening to God and hearing God--an active, living presence.

The problem, I think, is that if I tell you that the only way that you can seek God is to do it my way. God is so much bigger than that!

Discernment:

Yesterday morning, I led the discussion for our DoK meeting again over our book, Seeking God: The Way of St. Benedict. This was the first time I actually had to do any leading because the group just took off on their own after the first question and discussed it without any help whatsoever from me. They're great! This time I actually did have to bring up each point, but again and enjoyably, they made it easy. I'm always so terrified beforehand! They always settle all my fears.

My priest gives me that look that says, "I wonder . . . " I know that he is still considering my extreme interest in monasticism. I have no idea where this leads. He has this way of being very still as though he is observing with his eyes but praying with his heart at the same time. It intrigues me. I want to say, "What are you thinking? What is your leading?"

In silence we discern the will of God, not quickly or hastily. Is this but a night's rest along the way or is it a new path? Where do I go from here? What do I learn from those around me and their responses to me? If he asked me what my greatest concerns are--which he doesn't do and I assume that is because he sees my personality and doesn't need to--I'd have to say that it is that I love people and I love talking to people. And then he might say, "Perhaps your path is more interactive . . . " And I might agree.

On another note, even after such a glorious morning, I still fell prey to anger and frustration again over somebody telling me that our Lord never told us to fast! Well that was the first blow. It sent me on a terrible tangent! I am so ashamed.