Blog Posts

After the Election

11/9/2016

“The Adversary took Jesus to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor. ‘All this I will give you,’ he said, ‘if you will bow down and worship me.’ --Mt. 4:8-9

Jesus knew that was a bad deal. Apparently, four in five white evangelicals in America do not. They traded in the Gospel for earthly power. They took the bait that Jesus would not.
Jesus never said, “Go ye out and become ye top dogs; yea, rule ye the roost in my name.” In fact, Jesus promised us persecution. And I don’t think he meant the crèche being taken off the courthouse lawn.

When the Emperor Constantine saw that the Gospel faith—a way of life that had grown by leaps and bounds in spite of being actually persecuted--was the only thing unifying his disintegrating empire, he made Christianity the official state religion of Rome. And even at the time, there were lots of brave men and women who knew what a terrible idea that was, and fled into the Sinai desert in order to have no part of it. They were the Desert Fathers and Mothers, known today for their radical hospitality to pilgrims and travelers, and for their rejection of political power.

I’m not advocating flight into the desert (or Canada), or living as hermits, or founding monasteries. But I am urging that we, who remember that Evangelical Christianity brought us the civil rights movement, the abolitionist movement, the suffragists, child labor laws and most other progressive social movements in America before being hijacked by the Republican Party in the 1980s, need to regard ourselves as being in a desert exile of a different kind, far from the centers of worldly power.

“When they go low,” said Michelle Obama, “we go high.” When the powerful church attacks LGBTQ folks, the exiled church must welcome them. When the powerful church rejects refugees, the exiled church must embrace them. When the powerful church tries to silence women, the exiled church must make sure women continue to have a voice.

A dear friend of mine adopted four Mexican girls. This morning, the seven-year-old declared, “We need to open our home to everyone that Trump doesn't want. We can make the room. We will keep them all safe".

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Outward and Visible Signs

10/21/2016

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"I don't know whether you could tell, but there was a lot of tension here this morning."

Um, yeah. I don't know what it was about, but the tension in the office of that South Philly body shop was obvious and discomfiting the morning I dropped off my car for repair. I couldn't get away from the awkward scene fast enough.

"But when I went to get your keys," the receptionist continued, having phoned to tell me the work was done, "I saw the medal of St. Francis on your key ring, and it reminded me of what's really important, and it put everything into perspective. I just wanted to thank you for that."
This is why I like outward symbols of faith. Bearing in mind Jesus' warning against practicing your piety in front of people in order to be praised by them (Matthew 6:1), and eschewing ostentation for simplicity, I find that something like a medal or pendant can be a great conversation starter. People with questions or qualms might never know otherwise that you are someone they can approach. When someone asks, "What's that?", it's an opportunity for dialogue.

This is why I wear my clerical collar to demonstrations; people need to see white clergy declaring publicly that black lives matter, full fair funding of schools matters, a living wage matters. Like the kids say: represent.

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Showing Up

10/20/2016

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I've been having a bear of a time getting my sorry butt to morning meditation at St. Martin's. It's a wonderful, diverse group, and I love the idea of starting the day with meditation. The reality, however, is that even when I'm not in the depths of my allergy season--which I am, and which makes me even more prone to drowsiness than usual--I spend much of the time just fighting off sleep. Which doesn't feel particularly "spiritual," whatever that is.

The lesson, of course, is that trying to stay awake is practice; showing up and exercising your will is practice; catching and correcting yourself over and over is practice. Half of the practice, at least, is just showing up.

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My Pain in the Neck

10/9/2015

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http://spinalstenosis.org/blog/spinal-stenosis-arthritis/

I had surgery in July to correct my cervical spinal stenosis. I went through a lot of pain that I will not bore you with a rehearsal of--unless you want it, in which case you can read about it here.

There is more than one cause of spinal stenosis--a condition in which the spinal column puts pressure on the spinal cord, attenuating the flow of nerve signals to the body. Typically of stenosis in the neck, I found that, slowly over the course of a year or more, I lost strength, dexterity and range of motion in my left arm, hand, shoulder and leg.

As of now, I am able to type mostly without pain, but I am unable to play the piano or the tabla, and I can play the concertina for only a short time. Frame drums have become more difficult, too. My nurse practitioner tells me it can take up to two years for the symptoms to resolve, allowing me to know how much functionality will return and how much is permanently lost. (Whether it would have been better to have developed lumbar stenosis, in which the arm and hand are spared but one becomes incontinent in the bladder and bowels, is an open question. Actually, it isn't very open; just a tiny crack. Barely at all.)

A number of factors can contribute to the onset and exacerbation of stenosis. My right leg is a half inch shorter than my left, which has given me mild scoliosis which, in turn, contributed to the spinal squeeze. More important, however, is the fact that I have always carried a great deal of tension in my neck and shoulders. "All muscles pull on the bones they are attached to," wrote Paul Grilley in Yin Yoga: A Quiet Practice, "and the bones respond by growing thicker and stronger. This is why a forensic scientist can examine a skeleton and determine the strength of the deceased. The bones will have thickened and strengthened where powerful muscles have pulled on them." Apparently, my neck muscles pulled on my vertebrae until they became arthritic, causing them to constrict the spinal cord. Long before the symptoms appeared, I had already included neck and shoulder stretches as part of my yoga practice, but by then it was too late. Now, I am unable to do any intense neck stretches without risk of damage to the expensive hardware with which four of my vertebrae are fused.

If, like me, you find yourself walking around with your shoulders in your ears and your neck stiff as a cable, I urge you to begin now to loosen up those muscles before it is too late, and you end up needing spinal surgery. (The pre-surgical consent forms I had to sign warned that the procedure could result in blindness, paraplegia or death--but the discomfort and debility were more than enough of an ordeal even without those grim outcomes.) Click in the link below to download a free ebook from Yoga Journal called "Yoga for the Neck and Shoulders." And good luck!

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My Book

10/9/2015

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If you are a regular reader of this blog, you already know that I have struggled off and on with depression for the past ten years or more. When I began blogging after leaving my university teaching job, I noticed that I always got very positive responses from readers when I wrote about that topic. Evidently, there are a lot of people out there who are dealing with this disease, and my thoughts on the subject were helpful to some of them.

For that reason, I decided to write a book on faith, spirituality, and depression. When The Sacred Feet Publishing Imprint--a project of the Jones Educational Foundation, which also oversees the Slate Branch Ashram--expressed an interest in publishing such a book, I sifted out my depression-related blog posts from Elephant Journal, Progressive Christianity and Recovering Yogi and dunked them into the boiling pot of my thoughts the way you might dunk a string into a pot of sugar water, and the book built itself around them like rock candy around the string.

If you have "Liked" Open to the Divine on Facebook, you will be getting notices of upcoming promotional events, such as combined book signings and kirtans in New York and Philadelphia. (And if you haven't, why haven't you?) In the meantime, you can learn more about the book here.

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Suffering, Grace and Euthanasia

10/8/2014

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The American Life League has circulated a meme with this text:

Suffering is a grace-filled opportunity to participate in the passion of Jesus Christ. Euthanasia selfishly steals that opportunity.

This statement is jam-packed with problems. First of all, the use of the word “steals” implies that euthanasia is generally, or even always, something the living inflict upon the dying without their knowledge or consent. Grandma’s looking a little peaky; let’s put her out of her misery.

I have seen articles citing studies showing that many patients in Belgium and the Netherlands are euthanised without their knowledge or consent, and I am not prepared to comment on that except by quoting Augustine: abusus non tollit usum--abuse does not cancel out right use. Many things that are right, good and fitting are abused, and they are still right, good and fitting. A thing ought not to be outlawed because some people may abuse it. Denying the mentally competent a choice because some might take advantage of the incompetent is monstrously patronizing at best.

Secondly, end-of-life care has come a long way since the days of Jack “Dr. Death” Kevorkian, and the choice between suffering and suicide is largely a false dilemma. Palliative care has gotten so good that people simply do not need to die in pain the way they used to (except in very rare cases.) I do not mean to imply that the loss of control and the ever-increasing restrictions and dependency attendant on degenerative diseases are not suffering; they are, of course, and there’s nothing we can do about that, for the most part. But we are far better at controlling pain than we used to be.

But the most troubling aspect of this meme for me as a Christian is the way is abuses the Catholic notion of “offering up” our suffering, debasing the idea for the faithful and misrepresenting it to those outside.

Now I rejoice in what I am suffering for you, and I fill up in my flesh what is still lacking in regard to Christ's afflictions, for the sake of his body, which is the church. –Colossians 1:24

The practice is, in itself, empowering—or can be. When suffering is inevitable, “offering it up” for God to use for redemptive purposes turns us from passive sufferers to active spiritual strivers. It gives us the option of putting our pain to spiritual use rather than simply enduring it.

The obvious question, of course, is whether such offering-up is of any value when suffering is inevitable anyway. A story from India tells of a man pouring grain from a high tower to allow the wind to blow away the chaff while the kernels fell to the ground.[i] When the wind picked up to the point where it was blowing away the whole grains, the man decided that he would offer that grain to God. If you’re going to lose something anyway, offering it up seems pretty meaningless. But is the alternative—suffering unnecessarily for the sake of being able to offer up one’s suffering--any more tenable? Does palliative care “steal” spiritual opportunity, too?

However we answer these question, these choices—whether or not to endure suffering for redemptive purposes, whether or not loss of control is endurable even in the absence of pain, whether or not to avail ourselves of palliative care—are choices that only the afflicted can make. As a Dutch blogger[ii] who suffers from a degenerative disease of the nervous system put it,

If you personally believe that euthanasia shouldn’t be done then don’t use that option. You’re free to do with your life as you wish and live it according to your views. But you cannot use those religious views to advocate for legislation that would force someone to go through something they don’t want to. Some have very good reasons to say “Please, no more.”

[i] Swami Tyagananda told this story at the Boston Vedanta Center.

[ii] http://www.realsceptic.com/2014/02/12/suffering-euthanasia-passion-jesus-christ/#comment-27106

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"Spiritual But Not Religious"

10/8/2014

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“Woe to the shepherds who destroy and scatter the sheep of my pasture!” declares the LORD. –Jeremiah 23:1

* * *

“Mrs. Lincoln, the theatre is really a fine institution, and I hate seeing you allow that one thing to deprive you of the broad spectrum of culture and entertainment the theatre offers.”

True? Absolutely. Fair? Possibly.

Helpful? No. Unkind? Definitely.

I am afraid I have played a similar role with people who identify as “Spiritual, but Not Religious.” I hear them say that religion is all rules, dogmas, abusiveness and authoritarianism, because that is what their experience has taught them. When I tell them that my experience is of acceptance, support, fellowship, intellectual stimulation, music and the arts, opportunities for service, and a story huge and awesome enough for my while life to fit inside it, I’m not trying to invalidate their experience, emotions or choices—but I’m afraid that’s what they hear.

They see anti-gay bigotry; I saw my parish sponsor the first AIDS hospice in its rural Pennsylvania county. They see judgmentalism toward unwed mothers; I attended a church that ran a free daycare center. They see priests who prey on altar boys; I see nuns who nurse the sick and care for the poorest of the poor. They see the blow-dried peddlers of the “prosperity gospel;” I see faith-based coalitions demonstrating for living wage and gun-control laws.

I want to say to the SBNRs that their experience is not of religion per se, but of religion distorted and perverted. But many of them are so raw, so armored and defended around their choices—choices they made, in many cases, against fierce opposition from family and religious community—that they cannot hear that. If I suggest they aren’t looking at the big picture, they hear me telling them they’re wrong. They carry a soft, painful wound, and they have so hardened around it that the mere utterance of a word can put them on high alert.

So just to be clear, here’s what I mean by “religion.”

1) I mean what the word itself literally means: “that which ties together.” Whatever ties your whole life together is your religion. For Scrooge, it was money; for Capt. Ahab, it was the pursuit of the white whale. For the Dalai Lama, it is kindness.

2) I mean a disciplined practice. Religion is what shows up for work when spirituality calls in sick. It is motions to go through when inspiration fails. It is the “working the Steps” that enables Twelve Steppers to “fake it till they make it.” It is ethical and moral codes of conduct.

Any relationship takes work; if I only behaved like a married person when the spirit moved me, I wouldn’t stay married for long. And as a person who has struggled on and off with depression, I cannot overstate the importance of getting my sorry butt to church on Sunday and to the meditation cushion on the other days, even when those are the last things I feel like doing. That’s what keeps the channels open; when spiritual inspiration comes home, I want it to find the fridge stocked and the lights on.

3) I mean community, whether a Buddhist sangha, a Catholic parish, a Jewish congregation, a Quaker meeting, a Kabbalist circle, a book group or a Twelve Step room—or any other collection of humans who are there to support you on your path: to pray with you, listen to you, or talk you down when you want to use.

4) I mean service. Sponsoring other Friends of Bill, canvassing for internal hiring at the Philly airport, cooking and serving meals for the homeless, listening to people who are hurting.

5) Finally, I mean reverence. Most often, this takes the form of devotion to one’s chosen form of the divine, but it can also mean saluting the Buddhas of one’s lineage, cultivating a relationship with one’s Higher Power, or contemplating the wonders of nature. It also includes prayer, aspirations (such as Buddhism’s “May all beings awaken and be free,”) or “holding someone in the Light,” Quaker style.

If I had to put it into a single sentence, I’d say that religion is a set of tools to support spirituality. If you call yourself “spiritual” and you have these things, you are “religious” to me. If you don’t have them, then I plainly don’t understand what you mean by “spiritual.”

I used to urge my Wiccan friends to quit wasting emotional energy on trying to get people to stop using the word “witch” in ways they don’t like, call themselves “Wiccans” already, save their strength for better things and move on. And though nobody’s asked for it, that’s still my prescription. But I realize that what’s sauce to them as goose is also sauce to me as gander, so here’s what I’m prepared to do: 1) stop telling people that the thing that hurt them isn’t religion but something else; 2) start calling what I mean by religion “Following a Spiritual Path,” or something—whatever it takes to keep that wall from going up between me and my fellow humans; 3) save my strength for better things—like ministering to the hurting from their own point of view rather than trying to get them to understand mine—and 4) move on.

I’m going to agree to let the “R-word” go, even though I believe lots of people are misunderstanding it and using it wrong. Because although I am powerfully drawn to the magnetic north of setting people straight, I know what True North really is: helping the wounded to heal—and if their wounds were dealt by people claiming to profess what I profess, then their claim on my forbearance is even greater.

And to the players, predators and hate-mongers who are poisoning the well of religion, I say, with the prophet Jeremiah, “’Woe to the shepherds who destroy and scatter the sheep of my pasture!’” declares the LORD.”

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"I Found My Butt Advertising a Meet-up"

9/15/2014

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A friend of mine (I’ll call her M) is an aerialist, and often complains that, because she does her performing in the air, while most of us with cameras are on the ground, pictures of her in action (of which there are many) end up being “pictures of my butt.”

As a professional acrobat, M is, as you might expect, fit, strong, supple, athletic and attractive. When she posted on Facebook about having found a Science Fiction/Fantasy Writer’s Meetup website that featured a picture of her in the air on its front page—or, as she put it, “I found my butt advertising a sci-fi/fantasy writer’s meet-up,”—one of our mutual friends commented, “Is your butt sci-fi or fantasy?”

I had actually typed “Definitely fantasy,” and was about to click the Comment button, when the thought set in: “Wait a minute; I’m ordained now. I can’t say things like that any more.” And I left the comment unmade.[1]

Opinion is divided on this little incident. My wife says I did right in not posting the comment--which, she maintains, would have been unbecoming in a clergyman. My seminary students, on the other hand, mostly disagreed; they were not seeking ordination, they said, in order to live a life in which they may not make innocently flirty comments to their friends.

So I’ve given this a lot of thought. I haven’t definitively solved the problem, but I have begun to form a set of guidelines around what is appropriate for people committed to a spiritual path--clergy or lay--to say to people. It’s a work-in-progress, so I welcome comments and suggestions.

1) Social media are difficult to control

Someone once told me that getting pictures off the Internet is like getting pee out of a swimming pool. It seems reasonable to me to broaden that advice to include comments.

M the aerialist and I are friends; we worked at the same theme park for several years. She knows from watching me perform that I am a floozy for a laugh and will not scruple to “speak more in a minute than (I) will stand to in a month”[2] if it will entertain an audience. I had no apprehension that M would be in any way creeped out or offended by my comment. So my hesitancy had nothing to do with the fear of committing an actual impropriety; rather, it had to do with creating what is sometimes called the appearance of impropriety.

When comments can be seen by all sorts and conditions of people who may be anything from friends-of-friends to total strangers, or from fellow Christians to outright enemies of the faith, there may be no way of preserving the context and spirit in which a comment is made, or controlling how others understand it. If something we say could be misconstrued as it makes its way around the intertubes, let’s consider not saying it if it could, after it gets away from us, “bring the way of truth into disrepute” (2 Peter 2:2)—even if we meant it only in fun.

2) For teachers, clarity of role is important.

When the conversation in my high school Christian Ed. class turned to upcoming movies, I mentioned that I was looking forward to the new Noah film with Russell Crowe, Anthony Hopkins, Jennifer Connelly and Emma Watson. Now, at the mention of Ms. Watson, I suddenly had the full attention of all the young men in the class. This made me feel old, of course—we’re talking about little Hermione, here—but had I felt at liberty to speak openly, I might have admitted that yes, Ms. Watson—whose father I could be by a wide margin--is gorgeous, smart and a class act; a very attractive young woman. But right there in Sunday School, it just seemed skeevy, so I bit my lip.

Self-disclosure can be a powerful tool for teachers, counselors, chaplains, and many other kinds of caregivers—but it must be handled with extreme care. Some of the most memorable classes I experienced as a student, and sermons as a congregant, were those in which the leader stepped out from behind the leadership role and spoke from the heart about his or her own feelings and experiences. But self-disclosure should always be for the benefit of those to whom the disclosure is made. If, instead of illuminating the topic at hand by exposing the leader’s vulnerable humanity, the self-disclosure hijacks attention away from the topic and onto oneself, it may be best not to self-disclose. Everything leaders do should be for the building up of those in their charge, and those who lead need to have the leadership role always before their eyes—especially when deciding whether or not to step out from behind it. “My brothers and sisters, not many of you should become teachers, because we know that we teachers will be judged more strictly.” (James 3:1)

3) Authority figures

Years ago, an adult Christian education classmate of mine had had an administrative job in a parish. When she returned from a lunchtime shopping trip with a bag of her purchases, her employer—the parish rector—asked her what she had bought. On learning that one of the items was a swimsuit, the priest asked her “jokingly” if she would model the item for him.

Never, never, never, never, never.[3]

When one person is in a position of authority over another, remarks of a sexual or otherwise personal nature are never appropriate. The unequal footing may make it difficult for the victim to self-defend, and, in the case of moral authorities like clergy, may even make her feel guilty for trying to do so.

In relationships such as teachers to students, clergy or other religious or spiritual leaders to their congregations or disciples, employers to employees, managers to managed, law enforcement to civilians, or any other relationship with a built-in power disparity, the powerful are absolutely obliged to respect the boundaries and dignity of those for whom they are responsible. In the case cited above, there was a double inequality in play: rector-to-parishioner and employer-to-employee—so this priest is doubly culpable. With authority comes responsibility, and the obligation to model servant-leadership.

Jesus called them to him and said,“You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones exercise authority over them. It shall not be so among you. But whoever would be great among you must be your servant, and whoever would be first among you must be your slave, even as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” (Matthew 20:25-28)

4) No hate speech of any kind is ever OK, for any reason.

Race, creed, color, socio-economic status, sexual orientation or gender identity—no one has the right to harass or belittle others for any of these things. Unfortunately, many people expect the churches--due to the headlines-grabbing behavior of some of the most rigid and judgmental among us--to do exactly that. Therefore, we must be all the more careful not to give anyone a reason to tar us with the same brush as those who claim to hate in the name of Christ.

This is true even when people outside the church engage in behavior that could reasonably be considered immoral. As Paul reminds us, it is simply not for us to judge them.

I wrote you in my letter not to associate with immoral people; I did not at all mean with the immoral people of this world, or with the covetous and swindlers, or with idolaters, for then you would have to go out of the world. But actually, I wrote to you not to associate with any so-called brother if he is an immoral person, or covetous, or an idolater, or a reviler, or a drunkard, or a swindler—not even to eat with such a one. For what have I to do with judging outsiders? Do you not judge those who are within the church? But those who are outside, God judges. (1 Corinthians 5:9-13)

That’s my list so far. What do you think?

________________________________
[1] I should explain that, while my “home tradition” is the Episcopal Church, I am, by ordination, an Interfaith Minister, not an Episcopal priest or deacon.
[2] Shakespeare, William. Romeo and Juliet, Act 11, Sc. 4
[3] Shakespeare, William. King Lear, Act V, Sc. 3

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Me and My Shadow

3/21/2013

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Our mental business is carried on much in the same way as the business of the state: a great deal of hard work is done by agents who are not acknowledged. George Eliot, Adam Bede

While a visitor in a church other than my own, I had a strong negative reaction to one of the lay ministers—some confluence of mannerisms and appearance just grated on my nerves to the point where I couldn’t stop watching this person, in the same way that one will continually pester a cold sore.

It being apparently a good morning, I was able to self-transcend enough to notice not only the irritating object, but also my own irritation. Isn’t that interesting, I thought; now why should I respond so negatively to this person?

Trying to run my thought process to ground, I began to catalog all the things about the person that annoyed me, and ask myself why I was so annoyed at each one. This strategy backfired. In no time, I had gone from being conscious of an irritant within my field of awareness to being entirely subsumed by irritation: I had absolutely nothing on my mind but how much this person annoyed me, and a laundry list of self-justifying reasons for being annoyed.

Then I remembered something that Martin Laird pointed out in his book, Into the Silent Land: when Satan was tempting Jesus in the wilderness, Jesus didn’t debate with him; he didn’t allow himself to be hooked. Instead, he simply met each temptation with an appropriate quotation from scripture. “It is written…,” he said, then shut up, never giving the tempter the time of day.

(I’ll interrupt myself here to share the only thing I ever learned in my brief career as a vacuum cleaner salesman: “once you have stated your case, the next person to talk loses.” When you are arguing with someone—a sales clerk or petty official, say—make your point and then absolutely clam up. It’s difficult, but often works; the tension produced by the silence just becomes too much, and your adversary will begin to babble in order to break it. Then you win.)

So I tried Jesus’ stratagem; abandoning my bogus self-examination about why this person rubbed me the wrong way, I simply told myself what God told Samuel in 1 Kings: “You see not as God sees, but as mortals see; for you look at outward appearances, but God looks on the heart.” I had to repeat this a few times over the course of the service, but it worked: I set aside my involuntary response and put my attention where it was supposed to be.

(The fact that this person turned out, in later conversation, to actually be a jerk is immaterial. I suppose. It’s not as though obsessing about the offending mannerisms was doing any good. And anyway, maybe being a jerk is just one more layer of appearances between me and the heart that God looks on.)

Fifty years before Jung opened his practice, George Eliot put her finger on the problem: “unacknowledged agents” in our minds do stuff without our awareness or consent.

Now Jung attributed much of this stuff to what he called “the Shadow”—those aspects of our personalities which we reject and repress, and which undermine and sabotage us in a bid for self-expression. And Jung believed that, in banishing the unwanted aspects of ourselves into the unconscious, we cut ourselves off from our creativity and self-realization. Jungian psychologist and Episcopal priest John Sanford likened the Shadow to Jesus’ “treasure hidden in the field” (Matthew 13:44). Make friends with your Shadow, the pop-psyche mavens tell us--and why not? If some repressed aspect of my personality is forcing me to read political blogs all night instead of going to bed so I won’t be irascible toward my children the next day, I’m willing to take that as a sign that some fundamental change in my life is called for.

But sometimes the Shadow just needs to pipe down. The Desert Fathers externalized their troublesome inner promptings as demons, and oriented much of their lives and practice toward silencing them—and surely not every vicious or self-destructive drive is potentially redeeming. Sometimes evil thoughts are just evil.

Martha Graham counseled Agnes DeMille to keep open to the urges that motivate her. Well and good; the forest is dark, but full of diamonds. But how do we distinguish between motivating urges that are potentially liberating, and those that are just plain bad? Or at any rate unhelpful? (“All things are lawful to me,” said Paul, “but not all things are useful.”) How can we tell the gifts of the Shadow from the Trojan Horse of the ego?

One thing I have heard before, but have only recently realized in my own experience, is that turning the attention from the object of one’s feelings toward the feelings themselves is a great disclosing tablet. When our whole field of awareness is filled up with the object, there is no room for awareness of self—the very reason, I suspect, that most of us “nurse our wrath to keep it warm” toward at least one person or situation: we don’t want to become self-aware on that score.

One evening I was at a motel desk with a friend, trying to get in touch with a mutual friend who was staying there and whom we had arranged to meet. Her room phone wasn’t working, and we were trying to get the desk clerk to somehow get a message to her—which, being more afraid of his employers than he was sympathetic to us, he refused to do. As we pressed him—OK, as I became angry--he became rude and dismissive.

Back in the car, my friend asked me why I so furious at this subaltern. As one reiterating the self-evident, I said, “Because he was rude to me!” “So what?” my friend asked.

And I couldn’t think of a thing to say.

Later, upon reflection, I realized that if someone is rude to me, it constitutes an implicit statement about my relative worth—and that at some level, I take that statement at face value. This person is, by being rude to me, implying that I deserve no better, which some part of me already believes, so in order to distract myself from that externally validated self-assessment, I become furious at the rude person.

Lesson 5 in A Course in Miracles says “I am never upset for the reason I think.” The ego does a bang-up job of directing the attention outward in order to avert the inward gaze. Maybe the key to discerning between the (potentially) liberating drives of the Shadow and the cramping, self-protective machinations of the ego lies somewhere in there. Maybe if we have the keenness to discern and the courage to follow our redemptive inner promptings, we will find ourselves happier and more self-aware--whereas getting caught up in ego chatter invariably makes us more miserable and more aware of other people, other things.

Maybe these internal agents need to start carrying ID.

This post originally appeared at Little Teaboys Everywhere.

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Two Less-Familiar Rosaries

8/21/2012

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Those of you who follow this blog have already figured out that I love chaplets–prayer beads like the Dominican, Franciscan and Anglican Rosaries. (I also love malas–prayer beads used by Hindu and Buddhist devotees for chanting mantras.)

My older daughter just took up lacrosse this past spring, and if you’ve ever seen girls’ lacrosse, you know about “cradling”–the constant side-to-side twisting of the stick the player must do in order to keep control of the ball, women’s sticks not having the deep pockets that men’s sticks do. I think of the prayers associated with each bead as a similar thing–a sort of mental “cradling” that keeps the ball in the air, as it were–keeps me focused and allows my spiritual faculties to work unhindered (or, to be honest, a little less hindered) by my chattering mind.

I also use the familiar Dominican Rosary (what most people mean by “the Rosary”) and the similar, but less familiar Franciscan Crown Rosary as aids to intercessory prayer, about which you can read more here. I also use the even less familiar, but wonderfully uplifting Holy Spirit Chaplet[i] for that same purpose, and for the many people who are strangers to this devotion, here’s how it works.

The rosary consists of a medal of the Holy Spirit. three small preparatory beads, and six sets of two large beads each, enclosing five sets of seven small beads. Like the Dominican and Franciscan Crown rosaries, each set of beads is associated with a "mystery" to be contemplated whilst reciting the prayers: 1) Jesus is Conceived by the Holy Spirit, 2) The Holy Spirit Descends Upon Jesus at Baptism, 3) The Holy Spirit Drives Jesus into the Wilderness, 4) The Holy Spirit Empowers the Church at Pentecost, and 5) The Holy Spirit Dwells in the Souls of the Righteous.

The traditional way of praying this chaplet is a little complicated; as I am prone to do, I’ve simplified it. (In fact, in some places I’ve outright changed it; you can learn the traditional method here if you wish.)

ON THE HOLY SPIRIT MEDAL

            Almighty God, to You all hearts are open, all desires known, and from You no secrets are hid. Cleanse the thoughts of our hearts by the inspiration of Your Holy Spirit, that we may perfectly love You, and worthily magnify Your holy name; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen (Collect for Purity, Book of Common Prayer. I begin all my Christian chaplet devotions–with one exception, about which more below–with this prayer.)

ON THE THREE PREPARATORY SMALL BEADS

            Breathe in me, Holy Spirit, that all my thoughts may be holy;
   Act in me, Holy Spirit, that my work, too, may be holy;
            Draw my heart, Holy Spirit, that I may only love what is holy;
            Strengthen me, Holy Spirit, to defend all that is holy;
            Guard me, Holy Spirit, that I always may be holy. (St. Augustine)

ON THE FIRST OF EACH OF THE FIVE SETS OF TWO LARGE BEADS

            Our Father in heaven, hallowed be Your name;
            Your kingdom come, Your will be done on earth as in heaven.
            Give us today our daily bread,
   and forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us.
   Save us from the time of trial, and deliver us from evil. Amen.

ON THE SECOND OF EACH OF THE FIVE SETS OF TWO LARGE BEADS

            Hail, Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you;
            Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus.
   Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen

ON EACH OF THE SEVEN SMALL BEADS BETWEEN THE SETS OF TWO LARGE BEADS

            Glory to God, Transcendent Majesty, Incarnate Word, and Indwelling Spirit,
            As it was in the beginning, is now and will be forever. Amen. (Traditionally, this is the familiar “Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit," etc. I prefer this version because it is not only more gender-neutral, but also more beautiful and, because it is longer, it allows more time to “hold in the light” each person for whom I am praying. It also just makes the whole exercise a little less like falling down the stairs.)

In the traditional version, one recites the Apostles’ Creed and the Our Father on the last two large beads, but I prefer to maintain the Our Father/Hail Mary pattern.

One other chaplet I am fond of is the Adoration of Our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament Chaplet. This one, as it turns out, I actually pray in the traditional manner–but not in the traditional circumstances.

This simple chaplet consists of a medal of the Blessed Sacrament[i] and thirty-three beads, one for each year of Jesus earthly life. It is traditionally prayed during Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament, when the consecrated communion bread is exposed to view in a vessel call a monstrance, and the faithful pray in the presence of Christ in this form.

As Eucharistic Adoration is not part of my tradition, I most often pray this chaplet when, for whatever reason, I find myself in a Roman Catholic church rather than and Episcopal one. Since I, as a non-Catholic, am forbidden to receive Communion in a Catholic church, the chaplet gives me something to do while the other worshippers are communing. (I find this far more edifying than my former practice of sitting there and being resentful.) Here’s how the devotion works:

ON THE BLESSED SACRAMENT MEDAL

Oh, my Jesus, as I cannot now receive You in Holy Communion, come spiritually into my heart and make it Your own forever.

ON THE BEADS:

Lord Jesus, ever present in the holy sacrament of the altar, have mercy on us, and on the whole world.

For reasons that I will write about later, I have found myself becoming ever more dependent on structured devotions like chaplets, and the more I practice them, the more satisfying they become. If you find it difficult to sit in utter silence during your contemplative prayer time, you may find rosary practice as fruitful as I have.

[i] Not to be confused with the Seven Gifts of the Holy Spirit Chaplet, which is different.
[i] The Eucharist, or Holy Communion

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