thesoulpurposedotorg

I read the biography of Steve Jobs a few months ago and was amazed to discover that he read Autobiography of a Yogi once a year. I have done the same the past 4 years and this is a sober reminder from that book:

“Always remember that you belong to no one, and no one belongs to you. Reflect that some day you will suddenly have to leave everything in this world-so make the acquaintanceship of God now,”

Sri Yukteswar as quoted by Paramahansa Yogananda in Autobiography of a Yogi

My Dad would have turned 86 tomorrow and he was well acquainted with God. Tomorrow I will tell you more about his Spiritual Practice of Joy.

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I’ve been keeping the silence on this website for quite some time. My daughter’s wedding, her graduation from grad school, family and friends visiting have all taken my attention outward. At the same time, I’ve been “keeping the silence” in my daily spiritual practice. For anyone who has known me even a few years ago, you know that silence has had to be a spiritual practice for me because it does not come naturally! Name the subject, I’ve got an opinion and am sure you are just dying to hear that opinion!
Not so much these days. Life has had a way of humbling me and I’m not so sure my opinion or even my musings are necessary for anyone else to hear. In fact, I so often gather new information that I find my opinion is merely a vapor, evaporating as quickly as it arose.
Have you ever noticed what Jesus said to those he healed? “Keep silent….don’t tell anyone!” I’ve been pondering this for some time, several years in fact and here’s my “opinion” at this moment in time: When I keep silent, there is time for the experience or the insight to take root in my soul and to become a part of me. When I speak too soon, I lose the lesson and give away the power of God’s grace. I become distacted by another’s opinion of my experience and become confused and anxious, missing the joy of grace.
I think of my children at Christmas time. When I had picked out something for them that took much thought and clearly had been longed for, my joy was in the giving. And if they ripped open the gift package, just glanced at the present and rushed on to the next one, the gift seemed lessened. I wonder if God has that experience when we recieve God’s grace and are unable to just sit with it and to silently bask in God’s love.

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Christ has died.
Christ has risien.
Christ will come again.
This is the ancient mantra of the church and one I sorely miss hearing on Easter Sunday. There is a dear couple in the church I attend who know to greet me on Easter Sunday with the call and response “He is Rien” and “He is risen indeed!” But other than that, I haven’t experienced an Easter Sunday that pleased me since I was a pastor. Which has made me wonder if those worship services I planned each Easter were as pleasing to others as they were to me!
For me, it was the worst Sunday to preach because the church was packed with people for whom this would be their one experience of the year to worship. How can anyone understand the mystery of the resurrection much less celebrate it without the daily, or at least weekly experience of life in Christ? For that matter, how do any of us begin to understand.
And so the ancient ritual words are what have meaning to me. Words said by those first disciples in the throes of it all, their lives turned upside down, never to be comfortable or stable again, their lives each ended in martyrdom because their experience of the holy was in their very bones.
I’ve been out of commission for a bit of time here but not out of touch with the meaning of these Easter words. My daughter was here to visit for a week. On Easter evening, we sat in the hot tub and looked up at the stars. Then we sang the old Easter hymns I love so much: “Up from the Grave He Arose,” “The Strife is O’re, the Battle Won,” “I Serve a Risen Savior” and “Were You There?” Hymns that I have sung since I could barely talk have never sounded so good to me. I’m not sure if the neighbors would agree!

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I wrote this four years ago. Given our present “world system” and common anxiety, I thought it worth re-posting:

Many years ago, I was introduced to the concept of the “Abuse” or “Co-dependency” Triangle. I have come to think of it as a visual description of sin. Imagine a triangle. At the top of the triangle put the word “Oppressor.” At the left corner put the word “Victim.” At the right corner, put the word “Savior.” Keep that in mind for a few moments. Then think of a troubled relationship in your life. Which of those roles do you play? This can be a personal relationship, a relationship with your job or your church and then finally your relationship with God. Take a few moments to process this thought before you read on.

I believe this concept of God as Savior within the context of this abuse triangle has perpetuated a great mis-understanding of the purpose of life and the purpose of salvation. We miss the gospel itself when stuck in this way of seeing life. We even conceive our country in this way, either as looking to government to save us or to see our country as the world savior. This is so ingrained in our world view that it is hard to think of life any other way. According to the theory, the only way out of this disastorous way of living, is to embrace this paradox: Take total responsibility for your life AND know that you are only a small part of a much bigger picture. I believe that is the salvation of Jesus the Christ: not a rescue from external oppressors, not permission to oppress anyone who doesn’t see life as we do, not a requirement to rescue everyone in our path.
I know I’m getting a little abstract here but bear with me. The concept of the Mystery of the Trinity is basic to orthodox and historical Christianity. It seems most churches and pastors have a great deal of trouble even acknowledging this mystery. In my church, we sing the Gloria Patri and the Doxology for which I am thankful but any sermons I’ve heard on the Trinity have to do with identifying with one of the Three Persons or comparing the Trinity to 3-in1 oil or an egg. I think we’re better off just singing our praises to this which we do not understand.
For me, it has been embracing the Trinity in all It’s mystery that has countered my own sin-triangle with a holy cleansing. Living life in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit…..meditating in the knowledge that I am one with the Creator, the Redeemer and the Sanctifier…..even more ancient is the Sanskrit understanding of God as Tat, Sat and Om. I begin my mediation time with a ritual of remembrance as I stand before three candles, I cross myself in the eastern tradition and know I am in the presence of that which creates all, that which was incarnated in a woman’s womb, that which binds me to eternal life – I let this mystery that is greater than my sin embrace me and fill me and breathe through me. One resource in particular has been very helpful in this regard: Richard Rohr’s The Divine Dance . This is a set of four CD’s. Do not listen to this while you are driving! The depth of mystery to be experienced and holy presence is not compatable with driving. I went five exits past my destination the first time I listened. l close with this: This is the prayer by Richard Rohr that comes with the CD:

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I am at that point in life where I am learning a new role: that of Mother In Law. There are so many jokes about this role and I understand why. I find it more challenging than being a step-mother, a role that has been for me similiar to being an older friend. I do so enjoy the “wise crone” role and delight in being asked for my opinon and for advise. I’ve made so many mistakes in life that I do believe I have become quite wise about a few things. But not so wise about being a MIL. I feel like a teenager again – awkward, stumbling, afraid of offending and equally afraid of being ignored, deemed as one of the worthless ones. How is it that I’ve accomplished so much in life and reached the age of the AARP stamp of approval and somehow I am as insecure and unsure of myself as I was at age 13. I just can’t quite get it right.
I just got the news that my son and his beautiful wife are going to be parents! That means I get to be a grandma to my first born’s first born! I am flooded with memories of his birth and all of our intentions to control every aspect of his life to make it just perfect. That quickly disappeared as he was rushed into the pediatric ICU for a week of death-defying treatments. I was, at that time, still quite overwhelmed by my own mother-in-law. I did not know how to let her into my heart for fear that she would take over our lives. I felt that same 13 year old insecurity then and never did quite get past that. And so now life has come full circle and I’m the MIL who is overwhelming and overwhelmed. Who will I be to this new life growing in the womb of the one who adores my son? I hope I can break this cycle of overwhemling and just flow with it.
This recent passage from Way of the Ascetics by Tito Collander (printed by St. Vladimir Seminary Press) is speking to me:

The narrow way has no end: its quality is eternity. There every moment is a moment of beginning – the present includes the future; the day of judgement; the present includes the past: creation; for Christ is timelessly present everywhere, both in hell and in heaven. With the coming of the One, plurality disappears, even in time and space. Everything happens simultaneously, now and here and everywhere, in the depth of your heart. There you meet what you sought: the depth and height and breadth of the Cross: the Savior and salvation.
Therefore, if you wish to save your soul and win eternal life arise moment by moment from your dullness, blessing yourself with the sign of the cross and say “Let me, Lord, make a good beginning, in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.

Let it be so. Amen Aum. Shalom.

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About 15 years ago, I was in the habit of reading a story to the children at the preschool in the church I pastored. This was often a humbling experience. Very young children have trouble saying the name “Peg”…it often comes out as “pig.” I was respectfully addressed as “Pastor Pig.” Having a life-long battle of the bulge, it was hard not to take this personally.
In the advent of 1993, I was telling the Christmas story to the 4-year old afternoon class. It just so happened that there were several church children in this class so they all felt like the knew me and were very comfortable saying anything that was on their mind. I finished what I thought was a brilliant retelling of the Christmas story when little Samantha called out “Pastor Pig, Pastor Pig you forgot part of the story! You didn’t tell the part where the evil King kills all the babies!”
It helps to know that Samantha had a very challenging 2-year old brother and a brand new baby at home. Perhaps this story gave her some hope or secret delight. But this part of the Christmas story somehow doesn’t fit with the enchantment of the crèche, with Mary and Joseph and the little sheep and shepherds and magi. But Samantha was right, the real story is far less enchanting than the manger scene suggests and it is far more like real life in the near east even today. And just as it was important to Samantha, it is important to us that we tell the whole truth.
(more…)

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My womb once so full and expectant is now empty of life, its purpose fulfilled. My ovaries are shrunken, no longer bursting with possibility. My breasts are dried up, no babies to suckle. I think of little Mary, young and frightened, looking at her newborn son suckling at her breast, her precious womb no longer a tabernacle for the holy. “Women will be saved only through childbirth,” was the theology of her people. Some still today, consider us women to only be saved through the blessing of Mary’s womb.
This Christmas day, I miss my children’s laughter. Motherhood has been the absolutely most fulfilling, joyous experience of my life. In many ways, it has saved me. My children’s love and respect nourish me. My proudest accomplishment is this: I taught my children to pray and they know God’s love and follow the way of Christ. I feel very connected to Mary today. It was the fruit of her womb that has given the fruit of my womb purpose, possibility and nourishment for their deepest hunger.
I wonder, does Mary miss the laughter of the boy Jesus and the wonder in his eyes? Does she remember the magic of being able to comfort her child? Does the celebration of Christmas remind her of the sacred center in her body that made God incarnate possible? I like to think that she does. Merry Christmas, Mary, Mother of God, Divine tabernacle of the breath of Heaven.

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St Thomas, Apostle

In the deepest night the star of morning
has heralded the Child’s birth.
The coming of the Child is for us
the dawn of God’s salvation here on earth.

Trust what you see, believe the vision,
lay bare your hearts to God’s own Word,
do not refuse the Savior’s mission,
accept the message you have heard.

God has no other sign,
no other Light in our darkened world to give
than this Jesus to be our Savior,
a God with whom we all can live.

God has revealed to every nation
love of humankind in Jesus our Lord.
In Jesus all persons may see salvation,
and earth made new in God’s own Word.

The promised One of Israel’s story,
a bridegroom clad with fire and light,
the morning sun in all its glory,
dispelling darkness and the night
has come to live with us for ever,
uniting us in peace and joy,
and in Christ’s Body we need never,
be parted from our God above.
– Author Unknown

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A century or two ago, this season called Advent was a time of repentance with fasting and prayers of confession; not exactly the things we associate with joy. Christmas was a feast day but things like Santa Clause and Christmas trees and stockings hung on the mantel with care were considered to be pagan rituals and not becoming for Christians. My mother even recalls her pastor in the 1940’s pounding the pulpit and loudly proclaiming that anyone with a Christmas tree in thier home was surely destined for perdition. In those higher churches that honored Advent as a time of spiritual preparation for the coming Christ Child, this was a time of emptying oneself, an inner housecleaning of sorts, to make room in one’s heart for Jesus. This dismal self-flagellation became too depressing in the midst of winter so the third Sunday of Advent became a day of Joy, designated so by the pink candle in the Advent wreath.
Joy is actually much harder to come by than simply lighting a pink candle, isn’t it? It is much deeper than happiness. It has nothing to do with circumstances that we regard as blessings. And circumstances we regard as awful cannot take away the joy of God’s presence.
I have been surprised by joy. The fullness of the joy of life in Christ has mostly come to me in times of loss and grief. I look back on a time in which I had lost everything – my house, my profession, my children’s emotional closeness, my health, my friends, my church – and I wonder why I wasn’t more depressed than I was. I actually remember that time as a time of deep peace and the joy of being, a reprieve from “doer.” Sometimes I think the more we have to occupy ourselves the less we have room to be occupied by the source of all joy.

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We missed church today. We were expecting a “snow day” here in the Southern Tier. It was mostly sleet followed by gentle snow falling all day. My mother-in-law is here for two weeks – I’m not sure if she loves us or our house more. She is so excited to be in this space with us. This is a place of peace. We live in a house built into the side of a hill overlooking a stream and a forest. With the snow, it feels like a winter wonderland. Regardless of the time of year, this home exudes a sense of peace.
It wasn’t always that way in this space. The woman who built this home was hit by a drunk driver, living her last years in a coma in a far away institution less than two years later. The family who bought her home left signs of growing much marijuana (for medicinal purposes I am sure). The broken and dented doors we inherited leaves us believing there were anger management issues at the least. This room that is now my office showed signs of the “dark arts” that fascinated their son. The young couple who followed them to this place loved this house as a party house but the birth of their child made a house built into a hill with a spiral staircase in the middle a little less than practical. And so here we are.
We have made it a place of healing, prayer and retreat. People feel it when they walk in the door and look out huge sliding glass doors onto pine trees and a trickling creek. But it isn’t the house itself that makes this space healing and peaceful. It’s what we do in this space that changes a once sad and violent space into a place of peace.
I think that is usually the case. The holy and sacred places in this world became that because of what was done or not done in them. This earth itself looks like a beautiful blue ball brimming with joy and designed for peace when we see it from space. But what we do on this earth and to this earth makes this space in the universe either a place of peace or a place of destruction. Peace on Earth the angels sang. Indeed.

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