Gathered Together--Community Contemplative Practice

 

Jesus would also die so that God’s children scattered everywhere would be gathered together as one.                                                                                       John 11:52

Reading through the gospel of John for Lent, this verse came in today’s reading. As I read it, what came to mind was the centering prayer time that Pastor Wil is leading each week during Lent. I could see our small circle, practicing centering prayer in community.

There is something special to me about gathering together in person to practice centering prayer or lectio divina or to walk a labyrinth. These are all contemplative practices that can be done alone, but there is something powerful and compelling about being contemplative with others. It’s a completely different experience!

It makes me wonder if John, the mystical gospel writer, was looking to a day when our action in the world would flow from our gathering together as one in contemplation. Practicing silence in community invites the Spirit to speak in ways we may not hear otherwise. Collective silence can draw together scattered minds.

I know I am grateful that my church is offering opportunities this Lent to do contemplative practices in community. It is shaping my Lenten journey in meaningful ways. Gathering together with others to reflect on scripture in silence or to do a twenty-minute sit is countercultural, pushing back at our society’s demand that we must always be doing something. The good news of Jesus tells us that our worth is not tied to our ability to produce. Contemplative practices invite us to live as if we believe that to be true!

Celebrating Teresa of Avila

Today, October 15, is the feast day of one of my favorite saints and Christians, Teresa of Avila. A sixteenth century Carmelite nun, she was a mystic, a reformer, an influential woman in an era when that wasn’t common, a woman of strength, beauty, deep faith, and a sharp wit. She was vivacious and daring and deeply in love with God.

The first book of hers I read, over fifteen years ago, is entitled The Interior Castle. That book describes the progression of the spiritual life, using the image of a castle to teach the steps on the journey to union with God. Images from that book stay with me even today, and while she was writing for the nuns in her order, the book has remained relevant through the centuries.

Teresa was wise and witty, strong and sure in her relationship with God. Once, when a cart in which she was riding broke down in a river, she said to God, “If this is how you treat your friends, no wonder you have so few of them!” I love that she was so intimate with God that she felt free to speak in this way!

A few years ago, as part of my commitment to a word of the year, which in that year was free, I chose Teresa to be my spiritual teacher for the year. I read everything I could that she wrote, and read books that others wrote about her. To immerse myself in her being for the year was a deeply meaningful practice, and, as part of the journey, I found this wonderful icon of her, created by Marcy Hall, which I purchased and hung on my wall to help me keep my focus on my word and on Teresa. It has this lovely quote: “Allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise, and love.”

Teresa was brought before the Spanish Inquisition, and faced both health challenges and challenges from leaders in the church to her reforms, yet she continued to work, drawing others to her, and I’m sure her joy and wit and energy were part of the reason people were attracted to her. So today, celebrate with me this strong woman of faith whose influence shaped the church for centuries to come!

Wrestling with Scripture

Recently, I posted a scripture on Facebook from the devotion I was reading, and a comment about the challenge of trying to follow the example of God that was reflected in the verse I posted. Because it was about loving and caring for immigrants, I received several comments that were on the argumentative side. 

I was reminded in reading the comments how we are often made uncomfortable by scripture. It challenges us, it offends us, it invites us to wrestle with it. And there is value in that. If we aren’t finding ourselves challenged by scripture, if we’re not questioning and discussing and wrestling with it, then we aren’t growing. We’ve removed ourselves from the process of becoming stronger in our faith.

I remember hearing a story about trees that were grown under a dome, where there was no wind, no environmental challenges that could impair or otherwise affect their growth. The trees grew straight and tall, but they had no strength. Because they hadn’t been challenged by wind or storms or even changes in temperature, they were weak and spindly. Sure, a tree in the wild is subject to a lightning strike or being blown over in a storm or bent over in an ice storm, but the challenges it faces also makes it more durable, able to withstand difficulty.

Somewhere along the way, we decided that we had to be certain about everything. Maybe it’s just basic human nature to want everything to be black and white, wrong or right, good or bad. But if you’ve lived any length of time at all as a thinking person, you will find such dualities don’t hold up. There is always more than meets the eye. Certainty is a bit like living in a dome. Our unwillingness to wrestle and be challenged by scripture makes us weak and spindly Christians, Christians whose faith won’t hold up when times are difficult.

Certainty and faith are opposites. Doubt is not the enemy of faith, rather it is the wind, the storm, the season changes that enable our faith to get stronger and grow. Doubt can cause us to turn away, the spiritual equivalent of a tree being blown over in a storm, but doubt is not fatal to faith the way certainty is.

I’m glad people engaged with the Facebook post I made. It was an opportunity for me to reflect on views different than my own, and I hope the commenters did likewise. In reflecting and wrestling and pondering, there is opportunity to grow. And at the very least, we should be able to listen to one another with grace and patience.

When have you wrestled with scripture or theology in your own life? How has that affected your faith?

 

A Meaningful Lent

“Stop collecting treasures for your own benefit on earth, where moth and rust eat them and where thieves break in and steal them. Instead, collect treasures for yourselves in heaven, where moth and rust don’t eat them and where thieves don’t break in and steal them. Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. Matthew 6:19-21

Included in one of the readings for Ash Wednesday, these particular verses set me thinking about past Lenten disciplines that helped me focus on collecting treasure in heaven, the practices that had staying power with me and helped me know myself and God better.

One year I took on the practice of writing a poem each day. That practice helped me to pay attention, both to what was happening around me and to what was happening within me. After all, I needed something to write a poem about. I found the practice so helpful in paying attention that I adopted for this year, to help me live into the word that is guiding me in 2023.

Another year, I worked through a Lenten book called Simplifying the Soul. What made this practice significant is that some of the exercises it suggested revealed to me attachments of which I was not aware. I learned a lot about myself working through that book. 

Years when I gave up chocolate or desserts or similar things did not have the lasting effect that these practices had. However, the year I let someone talk me into giving up coffee I found myself resentful. I learned that year not to allow anyone else to determine what my Lenten discipline should be!

The year that likely was the hardest, and yet the most transformational, was the year my practice was to not defend, justify, or explain myself when my words or actions were misconstrued. My then-husband frequently accused me of motives that had never crossed my mind, and when I would try to clarify my actions to him, things would escalate. Choosing this discipline for Lent meant I absorbed the accusations and twisting of my motives. It was so hard. 

Our natural response is to want to be understood, to be seen for who we are. To keep quiet reminded me of Isaiah 53:7: He was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; he was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before its shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth.

As hard as the practice was, there was less conflict in our home because I chose to keep silent. Additionally, keeping silent allowed me to see more clearly that his behavior wasn’t simple misconstruing of my actions but a form of verbal abuse. Because I wasn’t allowing myself to be drawn into an argument, I came to recognize something I hadn’t previously.

Obviously, not every Lenten discipline has had the impact that these three did. But taking the time to consider how I want to grow, how I want to be made different beyond the season of Lent, is, for me, laying up treasure in heaven. So I give careful consideration each year to the Lenten practice I will adopt, knowing this season of Lent is a chance for God to create a clean heart in me.

I invite you to pray and consider carefully how your Lenten discipline can help you lay up treasure in heaven. Blessings on your Lenten journey.

Hold Life Lightly

Seasons teach us to hold life lightly.

Everything dies, yet birth comes

in equal measure, if not more abundantly.

We have to wait years for apples

after planting the tree, watching

summer leaves die and fall,

winter’s bareness too, before spring’s 

buds. All the time, the tree grows.

Winter’s death no hindrance, but

necessity for strength to bear fruit.

Even the fallen apples, uneaten,

carry new life within them.

Everything dies and is born.

Hold it all tenderly, lightly.

Stubbornness or Adventure

Last week I was in the mountains for some time away. I didn’t go to the mountains with a plan to hike to waterfalls, but most days, those were the trails I chose.

One day I found a great place to eat lunch by a waterfall. As I ate, I noticed leaves that, instead of being washed downstream, were stubbornly clinging to rock, even though water was rushing forcefully over them. I cannot explain how they managed to hold on tightly where they were.

Certainly, there is a time to hold fast, but also there is a time to let go. I thought about the adventure of riding the current of the stream, and how, if we are too intractable, we miss out on the grand adventure that is life. To let go makes one vulnerable, because we cannot know what lies downstream for us.

However, staying stuck to the rock means those leaves will slowly disintegrate right where they are. We can wither when we are stubborn. We can stick so hard to a belief, a way of living, a job, that we wither away in that position. I have certainly known people whose stubbornness kept them from experiencing growth and adventure in their lives. To take hold of life means a willingness to live in the flow, even when that flow takes us through difficult or painful changes. A life immune from risk isn’t much life at all.

Praising Plants

Even the mountains and the hills will burst into song before you;
    all the trees of the field will clap their hands.                                                       Isaiah 55:12

Anthropomorphic descriptions are plentiful in scripture. Maybe you’ve watched a tree sway in the wind and imagined it clapping its hands.  As fall colors begin to appear, mountains do look like they are bursting into song. Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “The earth laughs in flowers.”

A couple of weeks ago I repotted a very potbound spider plant. Its leaves were brown on the ends and when I watered it, the water quickly filled the dish under the pot. It had several plants in it that needed to be separated into their own pots. I had known for a long time that it needed some attention, but it kept making the “do later” list.

This past weekend I was looking at the repotted plants. I felt I could almost hear them exclaiming with delight at their new digs. They truly look happy! In fact, one of the plants is making spider babies already!

All of which makes me wonder, what is it within me that needs space to grow? What do I need to stop putting off and give time and attention to so it can spread its roots and thrive?  When I actually took the time to repot my plant, it really didn’t take that long. It mostly took being prioritized. I just needed to commit about half an hour to the project.

Maybe what is languishing in you, suffering from lack of attention, just needs a small amount of time and space to take root and grow. Making the time and space for a dream to root and grow is an act of praise to God. A thriving desire given time and attention to flourish is a way you show your delight for the gifts and abilities God has placed in you.

I am inspired by my spider plants to tend my “inner garden.” I hope their example likewise inspires you!

Building Project

Because it happened, certain gates were shut;

A door opened.

                                                          From “The Parcel” by Robert Bly

 

Looking back at shut gates accomplishes nothing.

You walked through the open door, into new life,

laid a foundation, built,

tore down, rebuilt, a process repeated

until the house was truly yours.

Now dwell there, inhabit it fully,

fill it with light and joy. It is your home.

Who cares what others think of it?

It fits you perfectly.

A Word for the Year

 

                                                        

Several years ago, instead of making resolutions, I adopted the practice of choosing a word to guide my year. It’s probably more accurate to say I let a word choose me. Through a process of prayer, listening to the world around me, and reflection, a word makes itself known to me. Sometimes a word comes quickly, and other years, I find myself sifting through several different words, waiting patiently for one to emerge with clarity.

 As someone who used to be all about detailed goals and plans, this way of approaching the new year was a big change the first couple of years I practiced it. I have found it to be liberating and life-giving, because instead of focusing on what I fail to do, on goals I fail to meet, I stay open to how the year unfolds itself, and let the word guide me when unexpected changes happen.

 In 2020, my word was “Grow.” When Covid shut things down, and caused a major change to life, I could adapt. A changed environment didn’t derail me because growth was certainly possible in a different landscape than I anticipated at the start of the year. Had I set certain goals and made specific plans, they would have likely been irrelevant by mid-March.

 A word to guide the year creates spaciousness. There are many ways one can live into their word, and no two people will embody a word in the same way. Even if I have the same word as you, we’ll live into it differently because our lives and perspectives and needs are different.

 Sometimes the word has been something to reach for. One year, in the midst of turmoil and change, my word was “Brave.” It inspired me to keep going when it would have been easy to crumble in on myself. It challenged me to draw on resources deep within me, and on those days when I felt anything but brave, it reminded me not to be defined by that one difficult day.

 At the end of each year, I’ve enjoyed reflecting back on how my word has shaped my experience of the year. There are always surprises—a word makes space for the unexpected to happen. To look back and see how the events of the year, the choices I’ve made, and the ways I’m different connect to the word that has guided me encourages me to continue the practice.

 If you’re already frustrated by resolutions, I suggest listening for a word that might guide or challenge you for 2022. Pray, pay attention, and listen to what is around you and within you. You may find a word invites your attention and speaks to your soul. The process itself can be deeply spiritual, and living into the word may keep you connected to God in creative ways.