Being the Beloved

"Mother Teresa of Calcutta once said, 

On Grief by Alex Katehakis & Tom Bliss:  Grief... is an essential step in our progress forward. Grieving requires the ego and the recriminations to get out of the way so that we can become vulnerable and fully feel the loss of what once was. Without the full-bodied sensation of our grief and loss, we can never get past them. Letting go and grieving is a cleansing and healing process for all: we tear open our emotional prison and energetically release ourselves, and our former beloved, to move on.

Often it seems the events perfectly crafted for celebration and thanksgiving can equally and even strangely be events that illicit grief and a murky undercurrent of loss. It's rather hard to explain. Perhaps we grieve the loss of the familiar, even the familiar pains. While we excitedly anticipate the newness of what's ahead, perhaps we also carry an anxious expectation about the road yet to be traveled. This particular road does not come with a map or GPS device, and we will only travel it once. At best, this journey is preceded by friends who've traveled a similar road themselves, offering advice on what we may encounter or can expect. "I remember my first day on the job," some say. Or, "I was so excited to finally be done with school and get my first, 'real' paycheck." Rarely do they say that they were scared or sad to leave familiar surroundings, or that the happiness and excitement were accompanied by tears. Mystery and the unknown, it seems, can make us terribly uncomfortable. Do you remember a time in your youth when you tried wearing a favorite shirt, pair of pants, or shoes, only to discover that your body had outgrown your clothes? Those shoes that you once proudly wore now hurt your feet. Or those pants that could always give you a boost of confidence now look ridiculous on you. Perhaps this is what Thomas Wolfe meant when he observed that we "can't go home again." We can't relive the good times. Even if we could return to the familiar, would we want to stay? Would we be welcomed? 

Eternal Spirit, Earth-maker, Pain-bearer, Life-giver, Source of all that is and that shall be, Father and Mother of us all, Loving God, in whom is heaven: The hallowing of your name echo through the universe! The way of your justice be followed by the peoples of the world! Your heavenly will be done by all created beings! Your commonwealth of peace and freedom sustain our hope and come on earth. With the bread we need for today, feed us. In the hurts we absorb from one another, forgive us. In times of temptation and testing, strengthen us. From trials too great to endure, spare us. From the grip of all that is evil, free us. For you reign in the glory of the power that is love, now and for ever. Amen.

Copyright New Zealand Prayer Book

Was Jesus a racist?

This might be an uncomfortable question for Christians to ask, but, given [the story of Mark 7:24-37], I think it’s one we must ask. And we must ask it unvarnished.

The Syrophoenician Woman by Br. Robert Lentz

We all have our secrets: thoughts, memories, feelings that we keep to ourselves. Often we think, "If people knew what I feel or think, they would not love me." These carefully kept secrets can do us much harm. They can make us feel guilty or ashamed and may lead us to self-rejection, depression, and even suicidal thoughts and actions.

One of the most important things we can do with our secrets is to share them in a safe place, with people we trust. When we have a good way to bring our secrets into the light and can look at them with others, we will quickly discover that we are not alone with our secrets and that our trusting friends will love us more deeply and more intimately than before. Bringing our secrets into the light creates community and inner healing. As a result of sharing secrets, not only will others love us better but we will love ourselves more fully.

[Text excerpts taken from Bread for the Journey, by Henri J.M. Nouwen, ©1997 HarperSanFrancisco. All Scripture from The Jerusalem Bible ©1966, 1967, and 1968 Darton, Longman & Todd and Doubleday & Co. Inc.]

Your image of God creates you—or defeats you.  There is an absolute connection between how you see God and how you see yourself and the whole universe.  Theology is not just theoretical, but ends up being quite practical—practically up-building or practically defeating. --Richard Rohr

"Those of you who grew up in the country know that cows are good listeners. And barns are great contemplative places–at least the old ones were. I recommend to you this kind of dairy barn listening. We don’t need fixing, most of us, as much as we need a warm space and a good cow. Cows cock their big brown eyes at you and twitch their ears when you talk. This is a great antidote to the critical listening that goes on in academia, where we listen for the mistake, the flaw in the argument. Cows, by contrast, manage at least the appearance of deep, openhearted attention.

"If you are listening, if you are turning your big brown eyes or blue eyes on somebody and twitching your ears at them, you are earning your silage. You are listening people into existence. You are saving lives. You are producing Grade A."  --Mary Rose O’Reilley

The Spirit seemingly resides and is discernable within and beyond all animate and inanimate things, incarnated and embodied, making for itself a permanent home in the flesh, and yet transcending all dichotomies and dualisms.  It is not confined to the physical, but extends to the cosmos and beyond.  It is simultaneously transcendent and fleshy.  It is sensed, if not recognized, by what it’s not and by the vacuous impression it makes upon the contemplative and social world of experience, and yet the Spirit is encountered by way of meeting the other, in the engagement with another, and is reflected and recognizable in all persons and things.  The Spirit is discovered to be a companion by way of a deeper sense of one’s self.  Spirit is mystery and not able to be fully known epistemologically.  Reason and logic, and intellect and thought are its shadows.  It is both harmonious with all things and is in tension.  The Spirit is mutuality, discerning and recognizing itself within the flesh, as the flesh recognizes itself in the Spirit.  

“Because I like to compost, I draw a parallel between a mound of rotting compost and my past. This is humility for me. It is recognizing that the stinking pile of rotten things, from the coffee grounds to the cracked egg shells, are the wreckage of my past that will be the rich fertilizer which God will use to grow and make possible the limitless possibilities of my future.” —a friend

When I was a young boy, my parents and I drove a few miles outside of our tiny town to pay a visit to my great-great-uncle Roy. Uncle Roy was very much that "self-made" man, one who marched to not only a very different drum, but to what seemed to be an out-of-step marching band that had forgone the marching altogether. He was his own drum major and consistent with the marginal, rural community in which he lived all of his life, Roy was a true non-conformist. Having exchanged his proverbial drum for a paint bucket and brush, he had long ago extricated himself from the "ought to's" and "should do's" that kept the rest of us in line. A peculiar and rather eccentric man, he was easily identifiable by the white, paint-stained overalls he always wore (without a shirt!). This made Roy rather iconic, I suppose, solidifying his image of the "outsider" and making it easy, even necessary, to speak of him in diminutive terms. He was the subject of many a joke. The Gardners, by way of the Allisons, had not too long ago left the rural, "country" community of Sidonia. Roy and his mother remained in the Allison home where Roy's mother, my great-great grandmother, once dragged a blood-stained mattress to the lawn and lit it on fire. Such was the response to the suicide of a family member. Rather than waist precious time pontificating on and dissecting the causes of such a violent loss, life moved forward. It had to.

"People who claim to be ‘spiritual’ but not religious are often struggling to cope mentally, according to a study."

Does this study and its initial conclusion seem suspect to you?  I'm unclear on, and the brief article doesn't speak to, a clear and compelling cause and effect.  Researchers interpreted their findings to say A/ being "spiritual" leads to B/ mental illness.  More extrapolation seems needed.  I wonder if the opposite could also be true.  I also wonder from what religious frameworks and experiences these "spiritual" subjects came from and what bearing their previous religious experiences had on their mental health.  The Church and religion are complicit in inflicting psychological and spiritual damage on many people.

Addiionally, I'm not sure what the operating definition of "spiritual" is in the piece of research, other than one who lacks structure.  It would seem that lack of structure is bad for everyone, religious, spiritual or neither.  For example, mentally healthy children require structure and schedules.  Perhaps the better title of the article, if not the conclusion, is "Those who lack structure more likely to experience mental illness."  Overall, this article and research seem to set up a false dichotomy in that one must be either religious or spiritual, but cannot be both.  My experience is that they are interdependent; one informs the other; one is an "interior" or contemplative life, while the other is a community or corporate expression of faith.

Another thought: what exactly are and who exactly is allowed to define insanity and "mental health problems"?  If a mental health problem or insanity is a departure from orthodox claims to reality, then aren't some mental health problems simply alternative claims of reality.  Are not some forms or textbook-determined (diagnostic manual) definitions of mental illness simple constructs of those who have the power to largely define true reality and correct thinking?

"Everyone deserves a second-second chance." --Michael Scott (Steve Carell), The Office

Reflection on Grace: At first glance, it might seem that Michael is saying that a total of four opportunities are afforded to us, but upon further inspection, this seems not to be the case. That is, his statement about grace is not about a mathematical equation--four and you're done--or the scarcity of "do-overs." Therefore, one finds one's self at the second chance only to be afforded another first, then another second chance. Grace is circular, if you will, rather than linear. It's more like pi. It's irrational. It's infinite, like your limitless and incomprehensible worth.

(More About Pi: http://www.infoplease.com/encyclopedia/science/pi.html)