Saturday, September 21, 2013

If every child is taught to meditate...


            The summer seems to have flown by.  For me this summer has been full of activity, and I have been away a lot.  I was blest with a very good two week meditation retreat, and recently I was able to spend a week with my dear grandsons.

            When I stay with my daughter and son-in-law, I like to get up early before the rest of the family and meditate, but my youngest grandson, five year old Kai, is also an early riser.  One morning I was sitting on the bed on a pillow in a full lotus pose when I heard little footsteps on the stairs.  The door to my room slowly opened as I kept my eyes closed in meditation.  Kai slipped quietly into the room and climbed up on the bed next to me.  He assumed the pose he had seen by Rafiki, the wise mandrill (baboon) in The Lion King

            I asked him if he knew what he was doing.  “Yes,” he said, “I’m meditating with you.”  “What is meditation?” I asked him.  He said that it was the way he was sitting.  So we engaged in a conversation about how to sit.  I told him about the four silences: silent spine – sitting with the back straight and still; silent hands – lying still on the thighs or in the lap; silent eyes – lids closed and still; and silent tongue – the tongue remaining still in the mouth.  Then I said that the only thing we have to do then is to watch the breath, just keep watching the breath.  We sat in silence with great stillness, simply being without doing.  He got it.  After about five minutes Kai announced, “I’m done.  Let’s go have breakfast.”

            The Dalai Lama is quoted as having said, “If every eight year old in the world is taught meditation, we will eliminate violence from the world within one generation.”  This is an interest thought.  What is it about meditation that would make it an antidote for violence?  Well, if we look at the Prayer of the Lamb we can see how that could become possible.  “Yeshua/Jesus, Lamb of God, have mercy on us.”  The more we meditate with this prayer, or the more we may come to see that I cannot pray for myself in isolation or for you without including myself.  We are in relationship.  And then when we come to see that this abundant and spontaneous mercy unconditionally flows to all regardless of worthiness, we are better able to recognize how my need for mercy is of the same nature as your need for mercy.  The distance between persons is shortened.  Life becomes more intimately shared.  The idea that another could be an enemy or a competitor becomes less and less tenable.  The need for violence and the desire for it reduce, and the other becomes a much more interesting and appealing person.  Compassion replaces fear.

            So keep on meditating.  Until this mercy and love of God become an experienced reality for us, we need to make good use of this excellent spiritual resource of meditation practice.  Practice is the word.  Practice, practice, practice.  Keep on meditating.

Beverly

Sunday, August 11, 2013

Sermon for August 11 at Emmanuel, Mercer Island


The week before last I was in Spokane.
I was helping my mother and sister combine households
                        and move in together into a new home.
As is typical with any move,
            we get to notice how much stuff we have acquired over the years.
                        Where did this all come from?

Any move give us the opportunity
            to reflect on our relationship with possessions.
We may notice how we tend to cart stuff around with us.
Sometimes the things we have don’t even get unpacked from the last move,
            but we keep bringing them along with us just the same;
                        we wouldn’t think of letting them go.

A prime example might be old photo albums – that’s personal identity stuff!
            even the old photos of ancestors 3 or 4 generations back now
                        whom we never did get grandmother to label with names
                                    before she herself went to join them at the cemetery.

And then there is all the stuff that might have a need someday,
                        probably the day after we get rid of it,
            or it might come back in style.

All of what we amass and possess is part of our personal identity.
Our treasures are there in all the stuff,
                        all the things loaded with associations, memories or hopes,
            we keep them all.                                    Or they keep us.
“Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”


This last week I participated in a right of passage,
                        what inevitably an opera lover must do.
            I attended the 4 opera Ring Cycle of Wagner.

It is the most massive artistic and musical stage production ever created.
This tetralogy presented a whole new way of being and form for opera,
It is an original creative work.
This is the origin and source in popular mythology
            for so much that has become part of our culture.
Any fan of Tolkien would recognize where he got the basic plot line
                        for the Lord of the Rings trilogy,
            or where the Klingons came from in Star Trek.
Even Darth Vader is foreshadowed in the sinister character of Hagen,                                                                                                                                                 Alberich’s son.
It is a goldmine (pun intended) for Freudians and Jungian analysts.
Meaning of cosmic scope pours out through every measure of music.

Now, in the story the Rheingold is a treasure that is irresistible.
The dwarf Alberich lusts after it,
            and renounces love in order to possess it.
He forges a ring from it,
            a ring to control and have power and safeguard the hoard.
But Alberich is then tricked and has the treasure stolen from him,
            so he places a curse of death upon the gold
                        for any who would possess it or wield the ring.
The giant brothers, Fasolt and Fafner, then get possession of the gold,
            and immediately Fafner kills his brother to have the ring for himself.
And then in traditional fashion
            Fafner sits guard over the hoard and turns into a dragon.

The treasure possesses its owner.

“Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

In the Gospel of Luke
            Jesus has a most unconventional and contrasting response to treasure,
                        to gold, wealth, possessions that are amassed.

Last week in the Gospel reading
            Jesus told the parable about the rich man
                        whose land had produced a bumper crop
                        and who responded by hoarding it, building a bigger barn,
                                    so that he could have this wealth
                                    to see him through for a long time to come.
Unfortunately for the rich man his time was up.

Today in the Gospel we hear these words from Jesus,
            “Sell your possessions, and give alms.
            Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out,
            an unfailing treasure in heaven
            For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

Sell your possessions…
Come on now, does Jesus really want everybody to do that?
Can’t we just spiritualize what he said
            to mean something like holding lightly to our possessions,
                        or not forgetting to share
                        or being appropriately generous?

Nope.
Jesus said a lot of hard things
because this is the way to get across to people really important truths.

The thing is, the way we think about treasure is in terms of ownership.
Mine.
We possess things and call them our possessions.
Ownership makes up much of the subject matter of our laws,
            I once heard about 90%.

Consider this, that ownership is tightly linked with identity.

Our possessions give us identity in the community.
            They designate a standing or class in society
                                                based on the amount of value of what we possess.
            If we have a high school diploma or a college degree
                        that is a possession that defines us.
            The clothes we wear, the cars we drive are possessions
                        that present us with specific identity.
Our possessions mark us off as separate and individual from everyone else.

But ownership is delusional,
            and possessions are no guarantee of security.
We don’t get this.
Our whole economy system is based upon false security and denial.
If you think about this for awhile, you will see that it is so.

Jesus says sell all your stuff.
He’s got a different kind of treasure in mind,
            a treasure in heaven which has much greater durability.
And you don’t even have to work for this,
            because, he says,
                        “It is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.”
In place of ownership – possession - having
            Jesus would call us into discipleship with him,
                        to live as he did – that is, by faith.

Look at Jesus.
No where in the Gospels do we find anything to indicate
            that Jesus owned anything whatsoever save the clothes on his back.
He didn’t even have a home; he was homeless.
            Matthew 8:20
                        “Foxes have their dens, and birds of the air have nests,
                        but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.”

To  discover real faith one must give up the ownership thing.
Francis of Assisi did,
            and they said about him
            that possessing nothing the whole world was his.
It’s dangerous asking a Franciscan to preach on this Gospel text for today.

As a Third Order Franciscan one of the aims of my Order is to live simply.
To quote from our Principles:
“The first Christians surrendered completely to our Lord
and recklessly gave all that they had,
offering the world a new vision of a society
in which a fresh attitude was taken towards material possessions. 
This vision was renewed by Saint Francis
when he chose Lady Poverty as his bride,
desiring that all barriers set up by privilege based on wealth
should be overcome by love. 
This is the inspiration for the third aim of the Society, to live simply.”

Well, as you can see by now,
            the kind of sermon I am preaching is a stewardship sermon.
But it’s not the kind where you are encouraged to fill out a pledge card
            and up your giving from last year.
It is a stewardship sermon about examining our relationship with treasure
            and linking it with Jesus around the issue of faith and discipleship.

We can’t even imagine what no ownership is.
so typically we even want to try to own the process of faith
rather than living by faith,
            or more specifically to be lived by the process of faith working in us
            through the Holy Spirit, the Presence of the Resurrection Jesus in us.

For so many ownership is primary
            and faith is a category in one corner of our lives
                        that we also want to have ownership over.
We substitute ownership for faith.
But Jesus says, “Walk as I walk.
            I give you a spirituality, a way of life.”

The Church tends to want to hear about faith in the form of
            the definition given in Heb. 11:1
“Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”
… and not hear about faith in terms of discipleship.
We want to own the process instead of living by the process of faith,
            or more accurately, to be lived by faith,
                        to know that we are being lived by
                        the One in whom we live and more and have our being.

Admittedly this is hard to get across.
To live by faith is to live in creation where ownership does not exist
            and to love in the way that is self-forgetting.
I can talk this way because of what I have discovered through meditation.
Meditation is a spiritual practice that employs non-ownership,
            so it’s a good way to become available to discovering how this is.
Meditation is non-ownership.

At the end of the 4th opera of Wagner’s Ring,
            Brunnhilde represents the love
                        Alberich had renounced in order to possess the ring.
She returns the ring back to the Rhine from which it came.
It is the downfall, doom and end of the world.
Everything goes up in flames,
            including Valhalla, the stronghold of the gods.
The whole world order that lusted after possessing the treasure
                        dies in the purifying flames
            through the faithful, self giving of love
                        in the act of returning what cannot be possessed.
And the curtain falls
            as a new scene is revealed
                        of creation fresh and young springing green.

Saturday, July 20, 2013

Sermon for July 14, 2013, at Emmanuel, Mercer Island


The parable of the Good Samaritan is so well known
            that the name, “Good Samaritan,” has become proverbial.
We name churches after the Good Samaritan.
We call those who help a stranger in need Good Samaritans,
            especially those who have nothing to gain personally
                        for the time and inconvenience caused them by their actions.

But notice that we have had to come up with Good Samaritan laws
            offering legal protection to people who give reasonable assistance
                        to those who are injured, ill, in peril, or otherwise incapacitated.
In some cases, Good Samaritan laws encourage people to offer assistance,             indicating that there is a duty to offer aid.

I lived in Minnesota for nine winters,
            and in the rural areas during those cold snaps
            if you came across a car by the side of the road
                        you stopped to see if everything was all right.
It might mean the difference between life and death for someone.

Yeah, everybody knows what a Good Samaritan is.
But in that very familiarity
            we are in danger of missing significantly powerful things
                        that Jesus is saying in the context for this parable.
There is much more than meets the eye.

I want to call your attention to some of that
            and see if that turns on a light bulb for you,
                        even at the risk of making things uncomfortable.

First of all, the occasion for the parable is a scribe, a Torah lawyer, a Pharisee
confronting Jesus to test him about his knowledge of righteousness and law.

He asks his question of Jesus in such a way
            to see if Jesus thinks the same way he does:
“What must I do to inherit eternal life?”
“What must I do for ME to get for myself eternal life?”

And, of course, Jesus turns his question back on him:
                                                                                    “How do you read the law?”
The Torah lawyer answers with the comprehensive law
            of love for God with one’s whole being and love of neighbor as self.
Jesus says, “Right.  Do this and live.”

Now this man has the opportunity to display his scholarly expertise,
            his rabbinic discernment about the multiple guidelines
                        for love of neighbor in multiple circumstances,
            all the ways of fencing in the commandment
                                                                        to make it workable and achievable.
So he asks the question, “Who is my neighbor?”

Next comes the parable, and when Jesus told a parable to people,
            especially as they are related in the Gospel of Luke,
the story is not going to go in the expected direction;
            you can depend on something odd in the story that doesn’t quite fit.

What is that element here in this story?                          It is the Samaritan.

What is a Samaritan doing here, a Samaritan who comes from north of Judea,
            whose home is in a sort of buffer zone between Judea and Galilee?
What is a Samaritan doing here on the road between Jerusalem and Jericho,
                        a road no where near Samaria?

Now this road, I’ve got to tell you, is not a safe road.
I know.  I’ve been on it more than once, that road that’s been there for millennia.

The road down from Jerusalem to Jericho is about 30 miles long.
In that 30 miles the elevation goes from 2,500 feet above sea level
            to over 1,200 feet below sea level – a change of almost 4,000 feet.
The road hugs the sides of cliffs along steep wadis,
            and often passing under rocky overhangs.
It offers so many hiding places and points for easy ambushes
            that in the last decade the Israelis have actually
                                                plowed up and barricaded that ancient road
                        so that no one can get to Jericho that way anymore,
                        or get from West Bank Jericho up to Jerusalem either.

Then, at the time of Jesus, as now,
                                                it was not a safe road for anyone travelling alone.
So we have an unfortunate soul who gets ambushed, robbed,
            stripped of his belongings, including his clothes,
            and is beaten and left there lying by the road.

Two individuals come by, a priest and a Levite, clergy.
One might expect compassion.
But they would not, by law, touch a dead body, touch blood,
            look upon nakedness,
            or – here one might be cynical – would not delay their journey
                        especially on such a dangerous road
where this might be a set up for getting ambushed themselves
            (one could recognize this trick as old as the hills)
                                                            let alone complicating their journey
            for the sake of a man who,
                        if not dead already, would probably die soon enough.

Now, the non-sequiter:  the Samaritan,
            totally out of place on the road between
                    Jerusalem, where the Temple is, the heart of the Jewish religion,
            and Jericho, in an area of religious schools, desert holy men and prophets,
a Samaritan,
            of a people whose Jewish religious beliefs were considered
            greatly lacking, even heretical, by the good Jews of Jerusalem and Jericho.


Here he is with oil and wine and money, himself risking attack on this road,
and that he should take action to help the robbers’ victim
            is as unexpected under the circumstances
                                                                        as his being on this road in the first place.

But what bridges this gap is compassion.
All other issues of identity and purpose are set aside.
            There is no self concern, no closed heart.
Here is a pure demonstration of the way of life, eternal life or simply life:
            “I love you as myself.  You are myself, and I will care for you.”

How many barriers were crossed, were broken down here?
Barriers of distinctiveness of class and right belief,
            of ethnicity and historical antagonisms,
and of legalistic restrictions
                        about how Torah was read and interpreted and conscribed.

Notice: The priest and the Levite cannot act with compassion
            from within their religious identity.
So there is no neighborly link between them and the man naked by the road.

Who is neighbor?
    Not the one who fits the ethnic and religious lineage of the priest and Levite.
No, it is the body of a human being – in suffering –
            held within the mutual awareness of shared humanity,
                        this image of God, vulnerable in distress and need.
That is the actual and only focus of authentic compassion.
            This wakeful compassion is the channel for effective action
                                    in giving service to another in a truly life supportive way.

Jesus ends the parable with this question:
            “Which of these three, do you think,
                        was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?"
The lawyer is compelled by Jesus to confess – the Samaritan,
            in contradiction to his own legalistic, ethnic and religious mindset.
“Go and do likewise.” 

Jesus calls this man to leave behind his own carefully worked out system
                                    of keeping the Torah law
            for this radical and counter-cultural way of service
                        through mercy and compassion and self-forgetfulness.
Jesus is actually calling him into discipleship.

“Go and do likewise.” 
This is much more than simply doing good deeds
            where motivation comes from within the limitations
                                    of our individual moral judgments.
Action in no way impeded by any thoughts about worthiness,
                                                            how deserving the one in need is.
Who is neighbor?
            Who is NOT neighbor?  Can anyone possibly not be neighbor?
If we are to take seriously the call of Jesus into discipleship,
            then we have to exam how that will take us beyond our self-interest
                                                                                                            and even our morality.
Compassion knows no boundaries of worthy or unworthy, clean or unclean,             friend or enemy, family or stranger.
Jesus would take us into circumstances
            where there can be only self-forgetfulness and no self-interest.

Can we do this on our own?  No.
That is why Paul, as he writes to the disciples in Colossae,
            prays in today’s epistle reading:

For this reason, since the day we heard it, we have not ceased praying for you and asking that you may be filled with the knowledge of God's will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding, so that you may lead lives worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing to him, as you bear fruit in every good work and as you grow in the knowledge of God. May you be made strong with all the strength that comes from his glorious power, and may you be prepared to endure everything with patience, while joyfully giving thanks to the Father, who has enabled you to share in the inheritance of the saints in the light. He has rescued us from the power of darkness and transferred us into the kingdom of his beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.