From years of talking to people about their spiritual lives, it seems to me that there are two kinds of spiritual experiences.
There are the experiences that you seek out - spiritual practices - those places or practices that you know bring you into the presence of something eternal and sacred. You know the terrain of this one. The growth that happens out of returning to such experiences is a deepening awareness - slow like an oak tree.
And then there are the experiences that just happen - it usually involved a major turning point of some kind or another - a birth, a death, a new job, loss of job, moving, an injury or major illness. Whatever it is we are awakened, jolted into a new perspective. We feel the limits of our control in the world and often people report feeling something strong and constant at the base of it all, a still point like the center of a spinning wheel.
What are the experiences that awaken you - either through gentle practice or through life's jolting?
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Do What You Love
Have you ever noticed that when you are doing something that you love, there is joy - not only for yourself, but often for those around you as well? It is contagious.
Leading worship is like this for me - the love part - hopefully the contagion, but I'll leave that for others to say.
Lately, knitting and walking the dog are pretty fun for me, too.
In the coming months, the board and I are going to be asking questions about what we love at Wy'east. Who are we? And more importantly, who can we not help being because we love it so?
Not every congregation would answer these questions in the same way. For Wy'east, I think there is something about being hospitable that we love, especially to those who are new to us. I think there is also something about honoring the place of children in the congregation. I think there is something about inviting people into spiritual depth during worship.
This phrase rings in me today...
"Wy'east is a place where hospitality and intergenerational community lives."
We don't always have the perfect answers for how to do this well - even though the love is there. I know we have disappointed people over the years. Children haven't always had every need met. Visitors and even long-time members have not always felt our hospitality and care, even when they needed it most.
We are not a perfect place, but we are a community of aspiration, of memory and of hope.
We are not a place that has all the answers, but we are a community that can hear the yearnings and the disappointments among us. Instead of giving up in the face of this tenderness, I see Wy'east saying again and again, 'We hear this. Our humble hearts are open to learning. What is next for us?'
As a spiritual community and as individuals, let us dream ourselves into becoming a fuller expression of what we already are, what we already know, what we already love.
Let us rest well knowing that this sweet work - of wondering, of speaking our disappointment, of listening, of leading toward a new vision - this work, Thank Goodness, is never done.
Leading worship is like this for me - the love part - hopefully the contagion, but I'll leave that for others to say.
Lately, knitting and walking the dog are pretty fun for me, too.
In the coming months, the board and I are going to be asking questions about what we love at Wy'east. Who are we? And more importantly, who can we not help being because we love it so?
Not every congregation would answer these questions in the same way. For Wy'east, I think there is something about being hospitable that we love, especially to those who are new to us. I think there is also something about honoring the place of children in the congregation. I think there is something about inviting people into spiritual depth during worship.
This phrase rings in me today...
"Wy'east is a place where hospitality and intergenerational community lives."
We don't always have the perfect answers for how to do this well - even though the love is there. I know we have disappointed people over the years. Children haven't always had every need met. Visitors and even long-time members have not always felt our hospitality and care, even when they needed it most.
We are not a perfect place, but we are a community of aspiration, of memory and of hope.
We are not a place that has all the answers, but we are a community that can hear the yearnings and the disappointments among us. Instead of giving up in the face of this tenderness, I see Wy'east saying again and again, 'We hear this. Our humble hearts are open to learning. What is next for us?'
As a spiritual community and as individuals, let us dream ourselves into becoming a fuller expression of what we already are, what we already know, what we already love.
Let us rest well knowing that this sweet work - of wondering, of speaking our disappointment, of listening, of leading toward a new vision - this work, Thank Goodness, is never done.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
To God or Not to God?
Unitarian Universalism is a tradition that welcomes people of varying theological persuasions. We unite around a covenant - a promised way of being together. Within that way of being together, our theologies vary. At Wy'east, there are Atheists, Christians, Pagans, Agnostics, Buddhists. Some people - myself included - might even consider themselves aligned with more than one of these traditions. The word God - amazingly and yet understandably - is the tipping point. Do you use the word God to describe what you believe/experience? If not, is it because you have been scared by that word and the people who wield it? If so, have you reclaimed the word from your past?
There are many UUs who would like to see us reclaim and save the word 'God' from the right wing. I can understand this impulse. For anyone who has studied the Hebrew and Christian scriptures, it is maddening to see such emphatic cries for charity and then see the right wing run with such outlandish interpretations, often justifying a further marginalizing the most vulnerable in our world.
It is also maddening for me to see our own tradition become biblically illiterate or biblically apathetic, thereby ignoring our own roots and our own history. How can we truly know where we are going if we are so afraid of where we have come from?
And then, I can also see the side for keeping 'God' out of it. In my own view, the word God is not necessary, because my understanding of God is so much larger than that configuration of letters and sounds. God is not about particular letters and sounds, but all about the community, solace and inspiration, we all - dare I say - yearn for.
Among UUs there is this reverence for community. There is a sense that it actually doesn't matter what any of us believe because there is a power in what happens when a group of people regularly come together in the same space and time each week, enshrined in silence. There is something that happens when people leave that space not perfected, but better prepared to stand on the side of love. As Translyvanian Unitarian minister, Francis David said, 'We need not believe alike to love alike.'
And yet, I do wish for liberal religious people to be able to see themselves as worthy inheritors of the Hebrew and Christian scriptures. However, to claim such a status, we can't just adorn a label. We have to be willing to wrestle with it and for many that may mean wrestling with our own past and religious inheritance, a tender a task for many and for some, simply not worth the strain.
There are many UUs who would like to see us reclaim and save the word 'God' from the right wing. I can understand this impulse. For anyone who has studied the Hebrew and Christian scriptures, it is maddening to see such emphatic cries for charity and then see the right wing run with such outlandish interpretations, often justifying a further marginalizing the most vulnerable in our world.
It is also maddening for me to see our own tradition become biblically illiterate or biblically apathetic, thereby ignoring our own roots and our own history. How can we truly know where we are going if we are so afraid of where we have come from?
And then, I can also see the side for keeping 'God' out of it. In my own view, the word God is not necessary, because my understanding of God is so much larger than that configuration of letters and sounds. God is not about particular letters and sounds, but all about the community, solace and inspiration, we all - dare I say - yearn for.
Among UUs there is this reverence for community. There is a sense that it actually doesn't matter what any of us believe because there is a power in what happens when a group of people regularly come together in the same space and time each week, enshrined in silence. There is something that happens when people leave that space not perfected, but better prepared to stand on the side of love. As Translyvanian Unitarian minister, Francis David said, 'We need not believe alike to love alike.'
And yet, I do wish for liberal religious people to be able to see themselves as worthy inheritors of the Hebrew and Christian scriptures. However, to claim such a status, we can't just adorn a label. We have to be willing to wrestle with it and for many that may mean wrestling with our own past and religious inheritance, a tender a task for many and for some, simply not worth the strain.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
How do we know what we know in Iran?
How do we know what we know? This is a key theological question. The big word for it is epistemology. When we are doing the work of epistemology, we are considering how do we know what we know about faith, about spirit. We might ask ourselves: in our life, whose viewpoint have we been so amazed by that we have adopted it as our own? What source of authority do we trust? What do we experience?
I have been thinking about epistemology lately as I see images and hear news coming from Iran. There are the images of Neda, 26 year-old girl who was shot in the streets, dubbed 'The Angel of Iran'. There are images of crowds holding signs saying – in English, for some strange reason – “Where is my vote?”
Most of these images are coming from cell phones since Iran is a place where we have not had a diplomatic or journalistic presence for 30 years. Some say that on the ground reports via twitter and facebook are more accurate than images and reports coming from more ‘official’ sources.
Even amidst all the violence and destruction, there is something about this revolutionary time that captures the American imagination. It is good against evil. It is the passion of the multitudes organizing against the powerful few. 'The Angel of Iran' is being shown along side other powerful images that have shaped our history: the student yelling over the body of another student shot at Kent State; the man held at gunpoint in Vietnam; the numerous images from the civil rights movement; the man standing weaponless in front of a column of Chinese tanks.
But how do we know what we know?
I don't know about you, but the ‘liberation’ of Iraq is still fresh in my memory. There were pictures of what looked like crowds of people taking down the Saddam Hussein statue, crowds that later sources said were fabricated. These images, along with stories of people victimized by Hussein's rule, captured the American imagination and led us right into war.
I’m just not sure I trust our government enough to believe that we are not involved somehow in this revolution. I don’t trust that our addiction to oil is not pushing some of this along. I don’t trust that we might be selling everyone on the romanticism of the time, all the while looking at how this can serve our bottom line.
I don’t mean to undermine the real suffering and the real sacrifice made by Iranians who want justice. I’m just wondering how do we stand next to those suffering and keep our big bottom lines out of it?
I have been thinking about epistemology lately as I see images and hear news coming from Iran. There are the images of Neda, 26 year-old girl who was shot in the streets, dubbed 'The Angel of Iran'. There are images of crowds holding signs saying – in English, for some strange reason – “Where is my vote?”
Most of these images are coming from cell phones since Iran is a place where we have not had a diplomatic or journalistic presence for 30 years. Some say that on the ground reports via twitter and facebook are more accurate than images and reports coming from more ‘official’ sources.
Even amidst all the violence and destruction, there is something about this revolutionary time that captures the American imagination. It is good against evil. It is the passion of the multitudes organizing against the powerful few. 'The Angel of Iran' is being shown along side other powerful images that have shaped our history: the student yelling over the body of another student shot at Kent State; the man held at gunpoint in Vietnam; the numerous images from the civil rights movement; the man standing weaponless in front of a column of Chinese tanks.
But how do we know what we know?
I don't know about you, but the ‘liberation’ of Iraq is still fresh in my memory. There were pictures of what looked like crowds of people taking down the Saddam Hussein statue, crowds that later sources said were fabricated. These images, along with stories of people victimized by Hussein's rule, captured the American imagination and led us right into war.
I’m just not sure I trust our government enough to believe that we are not involved somehow in this revolution. I don’t trust that our addiction to oil is not pushing some of this along. I don’t trust that we might be selling everyone on the romanticism of the time, all the while looking at how this can serve our bottom line.
I don’t mean to undermine the real suffering and the real sacrifice made by Iranians who want justice. I’m just wondering how do we stand next to those suffering and keep our big bottom lines out of it?
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Morning Prayers
For many years I have woken up early for spiritual practice - not always the same spiritual practice - some years Ashtanga yoga, some years Zen meditation, some years saying the rosary. I am in my 'zone', when I am waking up early to engage the spirit.
However in the last couple months, I have not been waking up early. I get to blame my 3 year old son's sleep patterns. (It is so good to have someone to blame, isn't it? Especially someone like a 3 year old who can't argue back.)
But last week I got a dog, a big dog. She gets up early and insists that I do the same. So each morning around dawn, she and I take a brisk walk to the park.
When I was a child, I remember taking family trips to parks to pick up trash. I think it was organized through our church. Not sure how we got to doing this or how often we did it, but I remember it vividly. My family might have even been in the paper for picking up so much trash. I'll have to check with my parents about that one.
Regardless, it is tough for me to walk into a park and not clean it up, but I have never done park cleaning on a regular basis as a form of spiritual practice.
I don't know what all is happening in my neighborhood park over night, but every morning there is a new opportunity of mess just waiting for me.
After a couple days of picking up trash, I thought, 'This is getting to be a regular thing. But if I am the only person doing it, what is the point?' The thought didn't stop me from gathering up chip bags and beer cans, but it did have me feel lonely and sad in the task.
Later that day I was out at Kelley Point Park walking along the beach with my kids and my dog. A man walked by with his dog and we talked about the dogs. (All of a sudden I'm immersed in dog culture. 'How old is s/he?' etc, etc., just like parents at the playground!)
I noticed the man had a plastic bag that was way bigger than a dog poop bag. I said, "Are you picking up trash?" He said, "Oh yeah. It's just what I do." I said, "Hey, that's great. I picked up a couple things back there but I didn't have a bag so I couldn't get it all." He said, "Oh cool. You do this, too?"
It is shocking how unsubtle God is sometimes.
However in the last couple months, I have not been waking up early. I get to blame my 3 year old son's sleep patterns. (It is so good to have someone to blame, isn't it? Especially someone like a 3 year old who can't argue back.)
But last week I got a dog, a big dog. She gets up early and insists that I do the same. So each morning around dawn, she and I take a brisk walk to the park.
When I was a child, I remember taking family trips to parks to pick up trash. I think it was organized through our church. Not sure how we got to doing this or how often we did it, but I remember it vividly. My family might have even been in the paper for picking up so much trash. I'll have to check with my parents about that one.
Regardless, it is tough for me to walk into a park and not clean it up, but I have never done park cleaning on a regular basis as a form of spiritual practice.
I don't know what all is happening in my neighborhood park over night, but every morning there is a new opportunity of mess just waiting for me.
After a couple days of picking up trash, I thought, 'This is getting to be a regular thing. But if I am the only person doing it, what is the point?' The thought didn't stop me from gathering up chip bags and beer cans, but it did have me feel lonely and sad in the task.
Later that day I was out at Kelley Point Park walking along the beach with my kids and my dog. A man walked by with his dog and we talked about the dogs. (All of a sudden I'm immersed in dog culture. 'How old is s/he?' etc, etc., just like parents at the playground!)
I noticed the man had a plastic bag that was way bigger than a dog poop bag. I said, "Are you picking up trash?" He said, "Oh yeah. It's just what I do." I said, "Hey, that's great. I picked up a couple things back there but I didn't have a bag so I couldn't get it all." He said, "Oh cool. You do this, too?"
It is shocking how unsubtle God is sometimes.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Waiting for The Whole
from the July/August edition of the Wy'east Beacon...
During the drum circle on June 14, we were invited to listen to the resonating rhythm of the whole group, as if there was one sound coming from the center of the room.
The challenge of this seemingly simple task was that we were to listen in this way even when we were playing a new rhythm we had just been taught moments before.
When I play the drum (or express myself in any kind of way) I tend to be pretty self-conscious at first. After all, I want to sound good. But during our drum circle, we were invited not to settle for self-consciousness, but to bring our awareness to the center of the room where there was one sound and dozens of people contributing to that one sound. Many people spoke about how energizing it was to feel the rhythm and vibration of the whole group literally moving through their individual body.
A Zen teacher of mine once talked about 'the big mind'. He taught that there are our individual thoughts and perceptions, and then there is also the one consciousness, the big mind that unites each and all. Perhaps the big mind is made up of all our individual thoughts. Or perhaps our individual thoughts are all made up by the big mind. This teacher asked, "What is a thought of the big mind?"
Whether it is the drum circle or the big mind, both practices give us the experience of transcendence. We transcend our individual corner and get a glimpse of the world from the above. Or is it within?
During our Chalice Circle Sundays, there will be time for sharing individual reflections on a particular theme. Our first Chalice Circle Sunday will be in July and will be called "The Beauty of Brokenness". In August we will have one called "Letting Go". What is unique about the Chalice Circle Sundays is that instead of a sermon we will have a time for you to share insights about this theme from your own life experiences, sharing how you are touched, moved and inspired by this particular theme, how the spirit is moving through your life.
It is important to understand that while the sharing will be about our individual lives, we are not speaking to fulfill our individual need to heard. Rather, we are speaking to further a larger congregational conversation.
Don't get me wrong, all of us need to be heard. All of us go through big experiences and changes and we need to talk about what is happening to help us make sense of it all. And I hope that all of you know that you can turn to people at Wy'east when you are going through life's challenges. However, the Chalice Circle Sundays are not a time for processing our personal lives, not a time for discussion and certainly not a time for debate.
As we share in the Chalice Circle Sundays, we are speaking a conversation that is bigger than any one individual voice. Our shared stories, experiences, feelings are a gift to that larger conversation. If you are someone who speaks to a group easily and often, I invite you to experiment with silence. Perhaps let go of your first couple impulses to speak, making room for the more withdrawn among us and perhaps having a deeper understanding of your need to speak.
We will wait and listen for what needs to be said. And we don't need to say anything! Perhaps we will sit in silence and on that day silence is all that needs to be in the wake of such beautiful poetry and unanswerable questions. Silence is good. Listening to silence is good, especially when we are all listening to the center of the room, waiting for truth, love, justice to arrive. Whether or not they decide to show, waiting for such a guest is a bit of holiness, to be sure.
During the drum circle on June 14, we were invited to listen to the resonating rhythm of the whole group, as if there was one sound coming from the center of the room.
The challenge of this seemingly simple task was that we were to listen in this way even when we were playing a new rhythm we had just been taught moments before.
When I play the drum (or express myself in any kind of way) I tend to be pretty self-conscious at first. After all, I want to sound good. But during our drum circle, we were invited not to settle for self-consciousness, but to bring our awareness to the center of the room where there was one sound and dozens of people contributing to that one sound. Many people spoke about how energizing it was to feel the rhythm and vibration of the whole group literally moving through their individual body.
A Zen teacher of mine once talked about 'the big mind'. He taught that there are our individual thoughts and perceptions, and then there is also the one consciousness, the big mind that unites each and all. Perhaps the big mind is made up of all our individual thoughts. Or perhaps our individual thoughts are all made up by the big mind. This teacher asked, "What is a thought of the big mind?"
Whether it is the drum circle or the big mind, both practices give us the experience of transcendence. We transcend our individual corner and get a glimpse of the world from the above. Or is it within?
During our Chalice Circle Sundays, there will be time for sharing individual reflections on a particular theme. Our first Chalice Circle Sunday will be in July and will be called "The Beauty of Brokenness". In August we will have one called "Letting Go". What is unique about the Chalice Circle Sundays is that instead of a sermon we will have a time for you to share insights about this theme from your own life experiences, sharing how you are touched, moved and inspired by this particular theme, how the spirit is moving through your life.
It is important to understand that while the sharing will be about our individual lives, we are not speaking to fulfill our individual need to heard. Rather, we are speaking to further a larger congregational conversation.
Don't get me wrong, all of us need to be heard. All of us go through big experiences and changes and we need to talk about what is happening to help us make sense of it all. And I hope that all of you know that you can turn to people at Wy'east when you are going through life's challenges. However, the Chalice Circle Sundays are not a time for processing our personal lives, not a time for discussion and certainly not a time for debate.
As we share in the Chalice Circle Sundays, we are speaking a conversation that is bigger than any one individual voice. Our shared stories, experiences, feelings are a gift to that larger conversation. If you are someone who speaks to a group easily and often, I invite you to experiment with silence. Perhaps let go of your first couple impulses to speak, making room for the more withdrawn among us and perhaps having a deeper understanding of your need to speak.
We will wait and listen for what needs to be said. And we don't need to say anything! Perhaps we will sit in silence and on that day silence is all that needs to be in the wake of such beautiful poetry and unanswerable questions. Silence is good. Listening to silence is good, especially when we are all listening to the center of the room, waiting for truth, love, justice to arrive. Whether or not they decide to show, waiting for such a guest is a bit of holiness, to be sure.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Listening
All things and all people, so to speak, call on us with small or loud voices. They want us to listen, they want us to understand their intrinsic claims, their justice of being... but we can give it only through the love that listens. --Paul Tillich
When we are truly listening to another person then we are aware of setting aside our own concerns - our concerns for what we will say next, our concerns for what we will be doing later that day and the most pervasive: our judgments and opinions of what is being said.
Notice I did not say to just stop the concerns. I did not say that because, I don't believe that it is possible to 'just stop'. First, we have to be able to wake up to the fact that those concerns exist in the first place.
I would venture to say that most of us listen in a way that is more an imitation of listening than actually. We listen as if we have heard it before and we know where it is all going. We listen with the superficial manners of listening. We know how we are supposed to sit and how we are supposed to look, even how to offer give affirming sounds and phrases to 'show' that we are listening. Nodding our head, saying 'Uh-huh' 'Oh, is that so?'
But our heart has moved on. We are not bringing all that we are to rest in attentive silence before this person.
I find that my concerns, thoughts and judgments keep me hidden in a strange way. I can hide behind my thoughts. But when I leave the thoughts behind and come to listening whole, then I feel vulnerable - perhaps even a little nervous, perhaps a little excited - sitting on the edge of my seat, not knowing what is going to happen next.
When we are truly listening to another person then we are aware of setting aside our own concerns - our concerns for what we will say next, our concerns for what we will be doing later that day and the most pervasive: our judgments and opinions of what is being said.
Notice I did not say to just stop the concerns. I did not say that because, I don't believe that it is possible to 'just stop'. First, we have to be able to wake up to the fact that those concerns exist in the first place.
I would venture to say that most of us listen in a way that is more an imitation of listening than actually. We listen as if we have heard it before and we know where it is all going. We listen with the superficial manners of listening. We know how we are supposed to sit and how we are supposed to look, even how to offer give affirming sounds and phrases to 'show' that we are listening. Nodding our head, saying 'Uh-huh' 'Oh, is that so?'
But our heart has moved on. We are not bringing all that we are to rest in attentive silence before this person.
I find that my concerns, thoughts and judgments keep me hidden in a strange way. I can hide behind my thoughts. But when I leave the thoughts behind and come to listening whole, then I feel vulnerable - perhaps even a little nervous, perhaps a little excited - sitting on the edge of my seat, not knowing what is going to happen next.
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