Going down to go up . . .

In a recent post I mentioned Falling Upward: A Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life by Father Richard Rohr*.  I frequently refer back to it as the days come and go, and was reminded of its wisdom again this morning as I read today’s Daily Meditation** from Father Richard which includes these haunting words:

Often people will get very adamant about one or another moral issue which usually asks nothing of them, only of others.  Or they practice some ritual that asks very little of them in terms of real commitment or change.

Today’s meditation sent me yet another time to the book and I opened it to the place where Father Richard begins his discussion about how the way to go up is often to first go down.

The soul has many secrets.  They are only revealed to those who want them, and are never completely forced upon us.  One of the best kept secrets, and yet one hidden in plain sight, is that the way up is the way down.  Or, if you prefer, the way down is the way up.  This pattern is obvious in all of nature, from the very change of seasons and substances on this earth, to the six hundred million tons of hydrogen that the sun burns every day to light and warm our earth, and even to the metabolic laws of dieting or fasting.

Yet it is still a secret, probably becasue we do not want to see it.  We do not want to embark on a further journey if it feels like going down, especially after we have put so much sound and fury into going up.  This is surely the first and primary reason why many people never get to the fullness of their own lives.  The supposed achievements of the first half of life have to fall apart and show themselves to be wanting in some way, or we will not move further.  Why would we?

More thoughts on this subject in our coming posts – I hope you will join in the discussion.

*Rohr, Richard.  Falling Upward: A Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life.  San Francisco:  Jossey-Bass, 2011.

**http://cacradicalgrace.org/

The journey continues . . .

A number of years ago I had my first encounter with Martin Bell’s Rag-Tag Army* and it has always been a favorite – and – words that almost always seem appropriate.

I think God must be very old and very tired.  Maybe he used to look splendid and fine in his general’s uniform, but no more.  He’s been on the march a long time, you know.  And look at his rag-tag little army!  All he has for soldiers are you and me.  Dumb little army.  Listen!  The drum beat isn’t even regular.  Everyone is out of step.  And there!  You see?  God keeps stopping along the way to pick up one of his tinier soldiers who decided to wander off and play with a frog, or run in a field, or whose foot got tangled in the underbrush.  He’ll never get anywere that way.  And yet, the march goes on.

Do you see how the marchers have broken up into little groups?  Look at that group up near the front.  Now, there’s a snappy outift.  They all look pretty much alike – at least they’re in step with each other.  That’s something!  Only they’re not wearing their shoes.  They’re carrying them in their hands.  Silly little band.  They won’t get far before God will have to stop again.

Or how about that other group over there?  They’re all holding hands as they march.  The only trouble with this is the men on each end of the line.  Pretty soon they realize that one of their hands isn’t holding onto anything – one hand is reaching, empty, alone.  And so they hold hands with each other, and everybody marches around in circles.  The more people holding hands, the bigger the circle.  And, of course, a bigger circle is deceptive because as we march along it looks like we’re going someplace, but we’re not.  And so God must stop again.  You see what I mean?  He’ll never get anywere that way!

If God were more sensible he’d take his little army and shape them up.  Why, whoever heard of a soldier stopping to romp in a field?  It’s ridiculous.  But even more absured is a general who will stop the march of eternity to go and bring him back.  But that’s God for you.  His is no endless, empty marching.  He is going somewhere.  His steps are deliberate and purposive.  He may be old, and he may be tired.  But he knows where he’s going.  And he means to take every last one of his tiny soldiers with him.  Only there aren’t going to be any forced marches.  And, after all, there are frogs and flowers, and thorns and underbrush along the way.  And even though our foreheads have been signed with the sign of the cross, we are only human.  And most of us are afraid and lonely and would like to hold hands or cry or run away.  And we don’t know where we are going, and we can’t seem to trust God – especially when it’s dark out and we can’t see him!  And he won’t go on without us.  And that’s why it’s taking so long.

Listen!  The drum beat isn’t even regular.  Everyone is out of step.  And there!  You see?  God keeps stopping along the way to pick up one of his tinier soldiers who decided to wander off and play with a frog, or run in a field, or whose foot got tangled in the underbrush.  He’ll never get anywhere that way!

And yet, the march goes on . . . .

*Bell, Martin.  “Rag-Tag Army.”  The Way of the Wolf: The Gospel in New Images.  New York:  Ballantine Books, 1970.  Pages 89-91.

For such a time as this . . .

Today I found myself searching for a writer who could help make it possible for me to speak what is on my heart – and with deep gratitude to Walter Brueggemann I offer these words from his book, Journey to the Common Good*.

The great crisis among us is the crisis of “the common good,” the sense of community solidarity that binds all in a common destiny – haves and have-nots, the rich and the poor.  We face a crisis about the common good because there are powerful forces at work among us to resist the common good, to violate community solidarity, and to deny a common destiny.  Mature people, at their best, are people who are committed to the common good that reaches beyond their private interest, transcends sectarian commitments, and offers human solidarity. (1)

So I begin this way:

— The journey to the common good in this text is a memory of the way in which ancient Israel moved from Pharaoh’s slave labor arrangements to the holy mountain of covenanting at Sinai.

— That journey, deeply remembered in ancient Israel, became the script and the itinerary that Jews, over many generations, have made, always again from Egyptian exploitation to the holy mountain.  The Jews make that journey, in liturgical imagination, over and over again, most visibly in the imaginative enterprise of Passover.

Christians, in a derivative way, make that journey alongside the Jews, rooted in the same ancient memory.  Christians do so in the company of Jews, though of course we Christians are frequently tempted to imagine that the script belongs to us and not to Jews.

—  Jews, and along with them Christians, make an offer and issue an invitation to wider humanity to join the journey, because that hard trek is required not only by the particular passions of Jewishness or of Christian sensibility.  Rather, the journey to the common good is a trek that all serious human beings must make, a growth out beyond private interest and sectarian passion. (2)

*Brueggemann, Walter.  Journey to the Common Good.    Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2010.

Arrrrgh! . . .

How often have I heard that change is difficult?  Change disrupts life – change brings unexpected – and sometimes unwanted – things to life.  Change is hard – even when it is planned, desired, and good!

We have recently been in the process of moving from the duplex we have called home for the last five years to a house with more than twice the amount of space that we had in our previous dwelling – and – the new place is wonderful – at least we are confident that it will eventually be wonderful – as soon as everything has found a place in our new home and is there – and – all of the boxes have found their way to where they need to be.

Yes, it is a change that we planned, a change that we desired, a change that we made on purpose – but – it has still messed with our lives – including the writing of the posts for this blog.  My schedule has not been regular and I am finding out about muscles in my body that I did not even know existed before – especially since I am also participating in a new exercise and fitness program to improve my health which is also contributing to my sense of change – ARRRRRRRGH!!!

But soon all will be back to normal – or at least the new normal – if there is such a thing – and – once again I will be writing a post for this blog every other day – but today I just needed to vent a bit and let you know what is happening in my world.

Grace and peace

 

More thoughts about music . . .

Many years ago – during the final term of my undergraduate program – I encountered the writing of Susanne K. Langer* in the last class I took prior to my graduation.  Her incredible understanding of the power of music has helped focus my understanding ever since – for that I am very grateful.  Following is some of her words that I have used many times since that first reading.

Because the forms of human feeling are much more congruent with musical forms than with the forms of language, music can reveal the nature of feelings with a detail and truth that language cannot approach. (235)

Quoting from composer Richard Wagner:  What music expresses, is eternal, infinite and ideal; it does not express the passion, love, or longing of such-and-such an individual on such-and-such an occasion, but passion, love or longing in itself, and this it presents in that unlimited variety of motivations, which is the exclusive and particular characteristic of music, foreign and inexpressible in any other language. (221-222)

The real power of music lies in the fact that it can be “true” to the life of feeling in a way that language connot; for its significant forms have that ambivalence of content which words cannot have.  This is, I think, what Hans Mersmann meant, when he wrote:  “The possibility of expressing opposites simultaneously gives the most intricate reach of expressiveness to music as such, and carries it, in this respect, far beyond the limits of the other arts.”  Music is revealing, where words are obscuring, because it can have not only a content, but a transient play of contents.  It can articulate feelings without becoming wedded to them. (243-244).

*Langer, Susanne K.  Philosophy in a New Key: A Study in the Symbolism of Reason, Rite, and Art.  Third edition.  Cambridge:  Harvard University Press, 1957.

The power of music . . .

I am indebted to Jacquelyn Small* for the following wonderful words and insights.  It has been my privilege to participate in a “musical journey” on a number of occasions and I am able to testify to the truth of these words from first hand experiences.  Thank you Jacquelyn.

Music is a powerful tool of transformation, not only psycho-spiritually, but physically as well.  It accesses cellular memories and other past physical wounding held within the body.  Research shows that music carves new neural pathways through the brain where memory and emotion converge.

Soul-journeying to music accesses your unconscious mind and heals past issues still needing conscious recognition and clearing.  While journeying through the inner landscape to music, you will access hard-to-reach memories and patterns that are holding dysfunctional attitudes and behaviors in place.  And this happens just naturally, as though the music itself is doing the work.  Often, old issues heal by just passing through them as you observe them “from above.”  This method magically reveals the sacred significance of your life’s events, your greater story.  Once recognized, these integrative insights evoke forgiveness and compassion for yourself and for others who may have harmed you in the past.  This process serves to remove shame and blame, the two major blocks to anyone’s healing.

Music is a universal passion that speaks directly to the soul in a completely nonjudgmental fashion.  The soul already knows this work!  Therefore, it is immediately recognized and loved by whose who experience it. (The Sacred Purpose of Being Human: A Journey Through the 12 Principles of Wholeness)

(I added the bold for emphasis because those words spoke to me in a very special way.)

*http://www.amazon.com/Sacred-Purpose-Being-Human-Principles/dp/0757303307/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1310649948&sr=8-1

Loving our longing . . .

A few more thoughts from Dr. Gerald May*:

We cannot do our own surrenders.  To try to turn it over to God prematurely would only be another mind trick, a way of trying to escape responsibility, testing rather than trusting.  But indeed God is in it with us all along, and wherever our choices are enabled to remain simple and our intent remains solid, empowerment comes through grace.  There is little else we can do except to keep on trying, and looking for God’s invitations and seeking simplicity . . . we must come to love our longing.

The implications of accepting pain are significant in dealing with specific addictions, but they become massive in terms of our basic attitude toward life.  In our society, we have come to believe that discomfort always means something is wrong . . . the truth is, we were never meant to be completely satisfied.

If God indeed creates us in love, of love, and for love, then we are meant for a life of joy and freedom, not endless suffering and pain.  But if God also creates us with an inborn longing for God, then human life is also meant to contain yearning, incompleteness, and lack of fulfillment.  To live as a child of God is to live with love and hope and growth, but it is also to live with longing, with aching for a fullness of love that is never quite within our grasp.

Authentic spiritual wholeness, by its very nature, is open-ended.  It is always in the process of becoming, always incomplete.

Our fundamental dis-ease, then, is at once a precise neurological phenomenon and a most precious gift from God.  It is not a sign of something wrong, but of something more profoundly right than we could ever dream of.  It is no problem to be solved, no pathology to be treated, no disease to be cured.  It is our true treasure, the most precious thing we have.  It is God’s song of love in our soul. (Addiction and Grace, 178-180)

*http://www.amazon.com/Addiction-Grace-Spirituality-Healing-Addictions/dp/0061122432/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1310300409&sr=8-1

With gratitude . . .

With gratitude to Father Richard Rohr for the following thought provoking words of wisdom:

We must rediscover the gift of free will.  I think its loss is at the bottom of the deconstruction of our society.  It is at the bottom of our cynicism.  Mature conscience only develops inside of free will, even the freedom to make mistakes and then take responsibility for them – from which we all grow.

Grace and freedom are totally correlative terms.  You cannot have one without the other.  Grace creates deep inner freedom and our very freedom to fail becomes another deep experience of grace, mercy, and acceptance.

From Richard’s daily Meditations for July 8, 2011.  I recommend that everyone subscribe to this wonderful series of daily meditations – visit http://cacradicalgrace.org – you will be glad you did.

Freedom, risk, and dignity . . .

As I reflect on the recent celebration of Independence Day I want to offer some thoughts about freedom, risk, and dignity – the first from Father Richard Rohr* – the second by Dr. Gerald May**.

God allows and respects the freedom of creatures, even to the point of allowing rebellion and blasphemy against God!  Inner freedom is a prerequisite for all virtue, just as it is of sin.  This is God’s great risk – and God takes it – refusing to use dominative power to force his will, even in the presence of evil.  This is really quite amazing, humble, and patient of God.  (From Father Richard’s Daily Meditation for July 5, 2011)

Honesty before God requires the most fundamental risk of faith we can take: the risk that God is good, that God does love us unconditionally.  It is in taking this risk that we rediscover our dignity.  To bring the truth to ourselves, just as we are, to God, just as God is, is the most dignified thing we can do in this life.  Honesty risks that God is good.  Dignity risks that we ourselves are good.  (Addiction and Grace, 169).

It’s good to be back!  The time away was wonderful!

*http://cacradicalgrace.org/

**http://www.amazon.com/Addiction-Grace-Spirituality-Healing-Addictions/dp/0061122432/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1309953772&sr=8-1

 

Thoughts on wisdom . . .

Some more thoughts from Saving Jesus from the Church* by Robin R. Meyers:

The ultimate defining characteristic of Christianity is the incarnation, the mystery of God’s presence in a person.  When Christianity is “personal” (though not to be confused with “individual”), it is at its best . . . peculiar to Christianity is that at the heart of everything there is not a text, or a single commandment, or even a new Torah – but rather flesh and bones and breath and the remarkable response of Jesus’ followers to both his brief public ministry and his brutal execution . . . when there is conflict between what the scriptures say in particular and what we have come to expect from the wisdom of Jesus, his wisdom wins.  We hold the Bible accountable to the message of Jesus, not Jesus accountable for everything in the Bible. (54-55)

It is time for a short vacation.  These posts will resume on July 6.  Grace and peace.

*http://www.amazon.com/Saving-Jesus-Church-Worshiping-Following/dp/0061568228/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1308580135&sr=1-1