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 Our true nature is stillness,
The Source from which we come. . . . . The deep listening of pure contemplation Is the path to stillness. All words disappear into It, And all creation awakens to the delight of Just Being. —Thomas Keating, “Stillness”
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 I watched no news the weekend, nor did I read any. The result: I felt closer to God. Any addiction separates us from God, and surely, at least for me, too much news watching is just that. So where do I go from here? Tonight, do I turn on the TV? I’ll see. Hard not to!
This is an example of what separates me from God, and what I should/would/could do about it. It’s not a judgment on how anyone else might act. We each have our own ‘demons’; if we listen, we know what they are and what to do about them. So far, I hearing that following too much news does not benefit my mind/body/spirit.  In Matthew’s Gospel Jesus tells us: But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you…
I’m working on this. If enemies were limited to the people I come in physical contact with in my daily life, I’d be pretty much free of this directive because I don’t have any personal enemies. Undoubtedly there are people who don’t like me, but I don’t know who they might be because I stay away from much of what is negative. That’s just part of my disposition. But what about those enemies outside my immediate orbit that Jesus asks me to pray for? Those people in power with different political views, or those who carry guns, or those who have different ideas about voting rights? I certainly don’t want to pray for their success, and so my easy way out is not to pray for them at all, to ignore them. I make the excuse that in ignoring them, I am keeping positive, not adding negative energy. But I know better. I am being selfish. We are all children of God; we all need prayers that our hearts will open to love. And, for sure, I don’t know what God is up to. I try to listen through the ears of Job. I listen as Jesus continues: …So that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous. Matt.5:44-45 There is much more going on these days that we can possibly imagine; what will transpire is much more than we can hope for. Praying for my enemies gives me hope.  I wrote this for this blog, A Prayer Diary, but then decided it was also right for A Cottage by the Sea. Sometimes the line between talking about my faith in general and being more explicit about it as I do here, is hard to control. I want to keep my faith out of that arena of politics.
The other day a friend from my teaching days asked me about my journey to divinity school after I stopped teaching. We hadn’t been in close contact since I had retired from teaching kindergarten and first grade twenty-five years ago. Here’s my response. In 2004 I receive a Master of Divinity Degree (MDiv) from Andover Newton Theological School in Newton, Massachusetts. I loved every minute of it-- the professors, students, campus life, studies and writing papers. It was a vibrant place then. But the physical campus no longer exists. It is Andover Newton Seminary at Yale Divinity School in New Haven, Connecticut. After a satisfying career as a teacher, I had no interest in being ordained (being a pastor felt too much like being a school principal). Because I was pursuing the degree for my own discernment and spiritual growth, I was able to avoid courses on church administration, and, what I referred to as ’student teaching in a church.” Being 60 and having had a full career, I convinced the administration that I would never change my mind about ordination, so certain requirements were waved. In another life I might have gone into chaplaincy. I completed the chaplaincy requirement for the degree, but not for chaplaincy certification. Upon graduation I took a part time job as the ’spiritual care director' of Wayside Hospice in Wayland (now called Parmenter Community Health Care—Wayland). During my tenure I visited with families and ‘clients’ both at the hospice residence and in homes. I stopped that work in 2009. It was time. My mother was about to celebrate her 100thbirthday. She was my mom; I was her daughter. I didn’t want a spiritual care/chaplaincy relationship with her, although for sure, we talked about spiritual things. As I wrote in my memoir, Very Grateful, God was always present with us, always, but especially in our last two years together . Mom died October 3, 2011, 9 years ago.  Lately I’ve been starting my prayer time sitting in God’s presence. That’s all; that’s enough. Being; not thinking. I find it extremely satisfying and getting easier and easier.
There is not much more I have to say about this because it is an act beyond words. In fact, I have the sneaking suspicion that presence is what prayer is about once we strip it away all our chatter of our requests and laments. There are many examples in the Gospels of Jesus praying specific requests to God. But what about all those times when he goes off to pray? What was he doing? What was he saying? I wouldn’t be surprised if he was sitting in God’s presence, not saying a word. That’s all; that’s enough.  I put the following on my cottage-by-the-sea blog.
Silence, solitude and simplicity! I thought I had it under control. After all, until nine months ago, that’s how I lived, free from stressful or anxious situations. Although silence solitude, and simplicity remains in my being, I have to keep working on them more intentionally than ever. I am reminded of this each morning as I write out my daily Top Ten Prayer List, which used to be comprised exclusively of individual names. Now, however, DEMOCRACY, COVID, TEACHERS AND STUDENTS, AND FIRE take up four of those slots. If you have been following this blog for a while you may be surprised that I mention my Top Ten Prayer, because over the years I have intentionally stayed clear of mentioning my faith. But this morning as I started writing about the challenge it is to live into silence, solitude and simplicity during these extraordinary times, I felt compelled to share that prayer is one way I stay free of stress and anxiety. For you, my prayer diary friends, I’m noticing that my faith is growing and becoming more intertwined with my longing for silence, solitude, and simplicity. I’m wondering if you are noticing something similar? Because of the pandemic, and because of my age (80), there is less I can do actively and socially to help bring about love in the world. And yet the flip side is also true; I now have the time to be in prayer about democracy (for all), health (for all), learning (for all), and physical safety (for all). So, pray away. I believe it is the most important thing we can do. Ask yourself, “What if everyone in the world prayed for peace?”  Once again, I have to push back on watching so much news. Once again, I return to spiritual practices that bring me hope. It’s pretty simple: when I let go of a bad habit, I have time to bring back a good one.
Meditation: I’m terrible at it, but that’s not the point. The rules are simple: 1.“Show up,” is the first. I smile at this one because what it is telling me is that if I don’t meditate I won’t’ meditate! 2. Set a timer and don’t open my eyes until it rings. If I follow that rule, there is no way I’ll be checking the clock. 15 minutes gives me success. 3. Sit up straight. Ah, less chance of falling asleep. 4. When a thought comes up, let it go and pay attention to my breathing.  I cry out to you, O Lord, I say, “You are my refuge, my portion in the land of the living.”
The other night I woke up depressed. Yes, depressed; something that is not part of my disposition, nor my usual way of responding in the land of the living. The abuse of power by the president, and the crowds of people without masks overwhelmed me. I try not to be political on my blogs; I strive to be compassionate and uplifting. And so, as I write this I feel compassion for everyone trying to stay alive during this pandemic. Wearing a mask and staying out of crowds, isn’t political, it is lifesaving. As Flannery O’Connor tell us, “The life you save may be your own.” As I’ve mentioned before, I start each morning meditating, praying, and reading the Bible and other spiritual texts. This time with God gets me out of myself (in this case depression) and into God’s place of hope, faith, and love. God becomes my refuge, my portion (destiny) in the land where I live. Every morning I am grateful for this immediate paradigm shift. I am reminded that I am a human being, and thus I need this shift from self to God to happen again and again. And it does. God is much bigger than what is going on now in this country right now, something more than we can hope for or imagine. Every morning God gives me hope, moving me out of despair so I can listen to what I can do to be more loving and compassionate.  I’m one of those people who tries sooooo hard to get this spiritual life right. The effort, however, catapults me out of my heart and into my head, where living a life with God becomes a daily exercise, something on my to-do list, rather than a way of life.
I know and have come to believe that faith’s home is in the heart, where the soul resides. This story by Joan Chittister catapults me out of my head and back into my heart. She prefaces the story with these wise words: The spiritual life is not something that is gotten for the wishing or assumed by affectation. The spiritual life takes discipline. It is something to be learned, to be internalized. It’s not a set of daily exercises; it’s a way of life, an attitude of mind, an orientation of soul. And it is gotten by being schooled until no rules are necessary. Among the ancients there is a story told that confirms this insight to this day: “What action shall I perform to attain God?” the disciple asked the elder. “If you wish to attain God,” the elder said, “there are two things you must know. The first is that all efforts to attain God are of no avail.” “And the second?” the disciple insisted. “The second is that you must act as if you did not know the first,” the elder said. Clearly, great pursuers of the spiritual life know that that secret of the spiritual life is to live it until it becomes real.  A wonderful way to think and pray about the life to which you’ve been entrusted is to face into the certainty of your own death. The only thing uncertain about death is how and when we will die. Death is a part of life by God’s design. By facing into the inevitably of death you will find enormous freedom and clarity in the moments of life which you have now. All of us here may have as much as one more day, or another week, or another month, or year or perhaps many years. We don’t know. Br. Curtis Almquist, SSJE
During the pandemic there is no way to avoid thinking about death. We older folk are accustomed to considering how our end will come about and how our last years and days might be. We try to do some planning and do our best to be in control during this life stage. But the pandemic shifts everything for us because of its unpredictability and its power. We can choose to protect ourselves by social-distancing and wearing a mask but there are no guarantees. There are medical choices and prayers we can make, but there is no certainty they will work out. Anyone of us may contract Covid-19! I choose not to take up a hospital bed although I could end up in one. I ask not to be hooked up to a ventilator, but that could happen. I pray that no one in my family feels guilty. I pray that I will remain grateful for all the blessings in my life. Remaining grateful is up to me; a choice I can control. |
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