Sacred Rest

I am taking a class on the Jewish practice of Sabbath this semester. One of the greatest lessons I am learning is that resting is a sacred event. When done with intention, it's about resting in the arms of God and trusting that everything will be okay.

One of the first things to get over is treating this time as an excuse to be lazy. Nothing that functions as an excuse is sacred... at least I have not seen it yet. Even naps are sacred when they allow the body to rest so the soul can catch up.

It is extremely counter-cultural to say no to work. We are told over and over again that the more productive we are the more valuable we become. Is this really true? Americans work longer hours and weeks during the year, but are we more productive that other countries? My brother lives in an EU country, and he gets 30 days of vacation every year, and that is standard the first year with a company. That country is not suffering from a lack of production or work. So why do we buy into the need to work ourselves nearly to death?

This is where Sabbath can be a life preserver. It almost shouts out, "Stop the world! I want to get off here!" I haven't progressed to having a full 24 hours of rest yet, but I take an hour every day to do nothing. I'll read if it want, but not for class. I'll cook if I want, but nothing too fancy. Sometimes I watch a movie or TV show. The important thing for me is that I allow myself to relax and the freedom for my soul to delight in whatever it feels moved to do. When I'm done - I go back to all the things I need to do with a refreshed energy. Sometimes I discover that I don't really need to do that work, and sometimes I discover my body needed more rest than I had allowed.

That said... I'm off to a nap and then a wonderful day of homework! I hope you find your sacred rest.

Be still and know that I am God - Psalm 46:10

So Close

I love the Disney Movie "Enchanted." The original song "So Close" is my favorite, and I've been listening to it quite a bit tonight. Some of it is because it's Valentine's weekend. All the happy people will be parading through the streets in a parade of love in which I am welcome only as a spectator. However, I'm hoping my leaving the city will help this... praying actually.

The other reason the song is resonating with me right now is because of an internal struggle with which I have been dealing. I felt like I came so close to something real - I was so sure of it - only to have doubt placed in me again. I could make this into a theological treatise about how humankind will fail us, but God keeps God's promise to never abandon it... but I won't. Tonight, I want to be a girl with a broken heart because of an opportunity lost.

I didn't understand the adage about keeping your eyes open for love in the strangest places. How could you not know? How could it be anything than love at first sight. Then "he" walked into my life. I couldn't stand him. I didn't want to share the same air as him. However, a mutual project made us work together.

Through this exchange, I got to know him better. I realized that all the things for which I had asked God in another person he possessed. The friendship deepened, but I felt more. I couldn't tell the other side's position though. Like a middle school girl, I nearly obsessed about it. I would have roller coaster emotions trying to interpret actions or comments. At 30, I still resorted to this - and to sharing the details with a few close friends.

Now, I'm so confused. Ministry changes how one approaches dating and relationships. It's much harder to start and develop them because of the professional boundaries instilled. The perceived rejection is hard enough to take - how is it I'm not good enough... or enough in general? But, the wondering how I could have been so wrong eats away at me too. Could this happen to me again? Could I unknowingly do this to someone else and have a professional issue?

Hearing and following a call from God is tough work, and there have been sacrifices along the way. This one has been the hardest of all to take. I struggle to make sense of it theologically. It's a struggle (in some ways) all of us have, and yet I still look to see where God speaks to this in the Bible. I don't have the answer now - but I hope some day I will know where this leads... or at least find a scripture that provides me comfort on this uncomfortable quest.

The oracles of Jesus

I recently discovered that I wasn't moving forward with a decision because I was "waiting for a sign from God" to tell me which direction was the correct one. Now what struck me about this is this topic recently made me giggle while reading a book on Graeco-Roman cultic practices.

The would try to read the entrails of sacrificed animals for signs from the gods. People went into caves to receive visions, or they went to a professional person to have their dreams interpreted. They wanted to know, "What direction do I take that's most pleasing to the gods?"

Now to be fair, the Bible has plenty of stories like this. The Hebrew Bible (Old Testament) is littered with oracles from the prophets. And dream interpretations? We have that too with the story of Joseph in Egypt.

So, I made fun of it in one "religion" but it's still a part of the history of my own tradition. How do I reconcile this? I answered it for myself by turning to the means of grace - specifically prayer. When I enter into prayer, I am entering into a dialogue with God. Sometimes I do the talking - sometimes I need to be listening. To be sure, I am watching for the signs that God is talking to me, but I'm not looking for God's favor. The instituted means of grace of Eucharist provides comfort for my mind and soul that I am favored by God... and not just me but all of us. God wants all of us to draw closer... those who are "favored" aren't more special, they just respond to the shepherd's call.

So I keep looking for oracles, and I keep trying to figure out my dreams... but it's to walk with Christ and not to win favor.

A letter to myself

Oddly enough, we were encouraged to write letters of spiritual guidance to ourselves. I will be brave enough to post mine here...

Dear Self,

I thank God for the time I have had in getting to know you. You have been open with me, and now I pray that you will lovingly receive these words from me.

Your concerns seem focused on future events, but do you know how often those things will happen? There is some validity to keeping your "eyes on the prize," but what is the prize you hope to achieve? You appear to go from one goal to then next - never really resting in satisfaction for more than a moment. Continue on with plans for graduation, papers, projects, ministry work, but don't forget that Jesus is seeking closer union with you. Seeking a closer union with him should be your goal too.

You care for others, but how do you care for yourself? I noticed that you are eating better and exercising more. I applaud you for this, and I'm sure it's making a difference. However, don't neglect your soul. The classroom should not be the only place to think about it. The soul is not an academic case study - it's a living part of the Living Word, and it can only be know by spending time with it. I cannot plead more soundly that you find a way to connect with it every day. Remember when you were a child and could not keep from smiling? That kind of joy is still within you.

As for love - it is a great concern for many people. Hold steadfast where you are. By this, I do not mean be stubborn and keep people out. I mean for you to stay true to who you are and not change to find love from another. If you are unhappy with yourself, read the paragraph above once again. You have come to understand love as a companionship instead of a completion of a project, and this understanding serves you well. What I delight in hearing is that this definition of love allows you to expand it to more than one person at one time. Do not worry too much about having "one love" in your life - your life is made up of so much more than one other person. And do you really believe that you can possess the love of one person? Does that not take away its beauty as a gift?

Until we speak next - be kind unto yourself. Your loving God is with you always and whispering words of comfort. Be silent and still - whisper words in prayer and listen to hear the response.

The sleet lay on the ground; the T was late...

There's a certain sigh of relief when the last exam is turned in. This semester, the relief literally brought me to tears. In the previous seven days, I used up everything I had, and I was running on fumes. It was one of those times when you realize why God rested on the seventh day. I now had time to visit friends and do things I had been putting off - like laundry and sleep!

After spending an afternoon with a good friend, I made my way through the accumulated snow and the falling sleet towards the Green Line T. I was blessed to watch it pull away with happy passengers. Instead of just waiting for the next one, I walked to the next T stop. I figured it was better to keep moving that stand still and wait. It was about 34 degrees out, so the movement would keep me warm. I forgot that the snow was hiding the vast aquifers on the street, and I was wearing tennis shoes. By the time the T came, my feet were soaked, and my toes were cold.

I was a little more than happy that the train I was riding decided to run express. This meant I should get home a little faster because we would be moving past about 4 stops. However, the joy was short-lived. The car was having trouble maintaining power because ice accumulated on the cables powering the car. I had never heard a train so quiet as that one. People were listening to the conversation between the driver and central command. When we pulled into our stop, we could not start again. I have to give props to the driver - he did everything he could to try and start it again while keeping us warm.

Here's where the unexpected joy came. A number of people came on the train ... only to have to get off and wait again. However, they were filled with a certain joy. They had not been through the past 5 minute experience we had, so they didn't have the same fear or confusion. They were just grateful to be out of the cold. They were cracking jokes and having a good time. I really don't remember the jokes, but I remember my whole demeanor changing. I even started to joke with them. If you haven't spent much time in Boston you may not realize this, but that is a very rare thing to have happen - especially on public transportation. I ended walking the 3-4 blocks home from that stop, and I encountered at least 5 puddles, which soaked my socks to a level not previously know, but I was in good spirits.

Sometimes, letting people in to your life, who don't know all the circumstances, can be liberating. They can give you a fresh version of what's going on, and you may even laugh about it. Smiles, like love, are contagious... it's a bug worth catching.

Oh... and I'm finding rubber boots tomorrow.

The Cross & Atonement

This is the one where I put up my hands and said, “No. Enough.”

With every lesson, we have deconstructed each point of view with what felt like pros and cons. However, I cannot do this deconstruction to the cross. I have allowed holes to be poked into many of my ways of thinking, knowing that I was unsettled by it, and I tried to re-patch many of them.

If I want to look at the cross as a symbol of salvific work, I hear that it is really a symbol of torture. Women and children have been told their suffering is sacred, so they must continue suffering – at the hands of men. Being crucified was a horrific way to die. I have watched the specials on the History Channel, with enough horrific wonder, to know that it was a cruel way to die, like being buried alive or drowning. You have enough time to contemplate your death and pain.

If I want to look at the cross as empty because Jesus has been raised, I am denying what happened on Friday. I fear James Cone would sweep in and tell me, “You mustn’t forget Friday!” Celebrating Sunday does not mean I forget Friday. I don’t even forget Saturday. I’m not asked, I’m told that I must gaze at horror of what befell Jesus. If I don’t, I want things too clean and pretty.

If I want to wear a cross around my neck, I have made it a piece of fashion. I have brought it low and made it small. It’s not this looming sight on Calvary in the barely lit hours of the day. It no longer casts a shadow upon the landscape. It’s now a shiny piece of silver, decorated with twists and turns while being small enough around my neck.

Here is where I get upset – just because I am white and middle class does not mean I don’t get the cross and how it can hurt. I do understand. I have met people who are very wounded by what the church, and the symbol of the cross, has done to them. I do not deny or belittle their pain. It’s real, and it is worthy of consideration. I try very hard to understand, and it may come out in ways that seem naive, but I can only start with where I am.

However, the cross is something more than mere symbol to me. When I am hurt, and feeling low, I can gaze up at it and see the outstretched arms of Jesus beckoning me to come close. The scars, wounds and blood beg me to look closer and not judge by what I see. Things are not always what they seem to be. Jesus beat death, and I have hope that I can beat whatever trial comes my way. The cross around my neck is not just a decoration. If I ever have to take it off, I feel naked. It has become such a part of me that I don’t notice when it’s there, but I notice when it is gone.

The Father is in heaven, and He has never come down. I cannot embrace Him or feel Him near me. He does not hold me when I am wounded. The Holy Spirit is ever present. I feel touched by it in the oddest times, but even those seem like fleeting moments. I am left with a longing and desire after each time the veil between corporeal and divine thins. While the Spirit lives within my heart, my mind from time to time drowns it out. Jesus came down through emptying himself into human flesh, but he went back. He’s not here anymore. I love that, through his sacrifice, I will be able to transcend this body and this world to rest with him someday, but someday is not today. All I have left to embrace is the cross he left behind, and I will not surrender it. I want desperately to share it, but I cannot bear to watch it be chipped away like an ordinary tree – each person claiming a piece as his or her own and telling me why that piece is better that a part another person holds.

And this is why I throw my hands in the air and say, “Enough.”

Tell me lies; tell me sweet little lies

When is it ok to lie? Some say never while others don't see the need to tell the truth. I would be willing to believe that most think it's somewhere in between. We don't want to ruin a surprise birthday party, and sometimes speaking the truth hurts others when the fault lies within us. However, what is a good lie and what is just a lie?

Consider wall street. I know not many people want to think about them in the current financial climate, but it's relevant to the topic at hand. Did they lie? They didn't say anything false - they just didn't disclose the truth. Now, millions of people are hurting from their decisions.

Let's bring that to a smaller sphere. If I know about a dysfunctional relationship, and one person asks me about it, what do I do? Now the water is muddied. Is it my place to say anything? Can I, in good conscience, not say what I know?

There are real people helped or hurt by the decisions we make. Sometimes the guilt gets to us. Is it a direct correlation of the pride we allow to get to us? There are so many questions and so few answers. I think this is why we need God's intervention. We cannot do it alone. We need an advocate in our corner. We also need someone to say "You tried to do your best. You are loved, and I forgive you." From my experience, people don't hear that often enough from each other.