by Liz | Jun 22, 2007 | main
Last night, as I was strapping on my CPAP it felt like this was just another one of my many tethers. I’ve had it a month. It fits under my nose and pushes air into my lungs so that I can sleep – really sleep – through a long hose that attaches me to the machine part. When I roll over the hose follows me, keeping me tied to it. If I have to get up in the night, I have to remove it. My tether.
There are other tethers in my life. My cell phone that allows me to stay in touch with family and friends. Always seems to follow me around. If I forget it, the battery dies, I don’t hear it or just don’t answer, then there are messages – “Where are you?” “Call me.” Another tether.
And, Grace and Cooper are tethers. They have to be fed every night. If we are going away, then we have to find someone to take care of them. They follow me around the house almost like ducklings instead of schnauzers. Can’t just walk off and leave them.
I guess tethers are good. They anchor me to reality. The keep me in line. They give shape and form to my days. I guess…
I’d like to be free of some of these things – who wouldn’t prefer to be able to sleep and dream and wake refreshed without a machine to keep you breathing at night? Who wouldn’t like to be able to take off and go without worrying if 2 furry companions have food and water while you’re gone. Who wouldn’t like the idea of sometimes being able to go walkabout without the cell phone.
These early morning writing sessions help me to figure out which tethers are useful and life giving and which are restrictive life-sucking external bindings that need to go. Some days I know that the strongest tether I have is faith — and that is an internal, grounding line. It doesn’t tie me to a machine at night. By contrast, it grounds me wherever I am – I’m guessing that if I ever truly went walkabout, I couldn’t leave faith behind. For that matter, it might actually become more evident.
There are disciplines and practices that emphasize becoming centered or grounded. I’ve not always been successful at following them, but in the times where I start my day around being aware of these anchors, life surely seems more free. If I get the chance to start the day at mass, somehow things seems to fall into place. Or, if I get up and write and sort through the every present thoughts and feelings, the rest of the day runs so much better.
This journey is depending on my understanding the tethers – I’ve had a lot of frustration and anger at the church (RC and other), and yet when I start exploring, I find that the center of it all is my relationship a person – history calls him Jesus. But, I see that person in other people today, and I seek to see that person in all. That is the Way. Without that anchoring Way, all the other tethers become restrictive chains. References to the Goddess, the insights of myth, throwing out much of the traditional trappings of the church – I find that at the core, I’m back in that relationship with the Way.
So – here we are. I’ll have to figure out how to focus on the positive connototations of “tether” because at this point, I just don’t have the will or desire to cut them all and float free – hell, I don’t even seem to have the will to cut the ones I need to. But, that’s my next step.
by Liz | Jun 20, 2007 | main
Yesterday the library had a small Juneteenth celebration. I was glad I read the entire email explaining the origins of Juneteenth, because just looking at the date, my first thought was – “Is this a summer solstice celebration?” Turns out it is a commemoration of the slaves being freed in Galeveston Tx in 1865 and is also known as Emancipation Day or Freedom Day (see Wikipedia). And a part of our little celebration included a questionaire/survey that we were encouraged to fill out.
I’m still thinking. The first question was “Was does Diversity mean to you?” That in a space about large enough for 2 lines. Whoa!
My first reaction is “diversity is good”, but that’s not going to tell anyone what it means to me or how I came to that conclusion. In the context of this celebration, one feels compelled to address the word “diversity” wrt to Black-White relations in the US. That’s just not going to cover it for this global learner. And so, I’ll try to sort out my thoughts on this.
Diversity: the Oxford English Dictionary as 5 definitions, none particularly helpful as they seem to be self-referencing as in
1. a. The condition or quality of being diverse, different, or varied; difference, unlikeness.
or this
b. with a and pl. An instance of this condition or quality; a point of unlikeness; a difference, distinction; a different kind, a variety.
So I go to OED and try diverse, the noun and find something a bit more to the point:
1. Different in character or quality; not of the same kind; not alike in nature or qualities. (Formerly also written divers: see DIVERS 1.)
OK – there’s more, but you get the gist, I think.
My take on diversity is that is keeps life going. Plain and simple. In biological terms, a gene pool that lacks diversity can be wiped out by a single pathogen. In cultural terms, a monolithic society works somewhat the same way – get at the overwhelming common creed, belief, social structure, and down it goes. And, the one that I deal with most often is the office. Heavens – what if we all worked in my eclectic style? Or if we all worked in my boss’s style? Both scenarios would be far less effective, possibly disastrous albeit for different reasons.
And so, LaShawn: what does Diversity mean to me? It means a healthy society with respect for the individuals and their histories, gifts and different approaches to solving problems or resolving issues. It means that those who are descended from slaves can work side by side with those descended from slave-owners. It means that none of us can see the whole picture – no one religious approach, no one moral code, no one menu for dinner. It means that, to paraphrase St. Paul: We are many parts but all one body. And the gifts we have we are given to share [with all for the good of the whole.] If everyone was an eye there would be some real problems in functioning; same if all were ears, or arms or hearts or noses.
Diversity makes it incumbent upon me that I, in my eye-ness, depend on your ear-ness, and both celebrate the difference and learn something more about how to be a bit more of an ear without losing the fact that I am an eye (or a nose or finger or bellybutton.) And the same goes for each of us.
Diversity makes life happen. I look across the our tiny congregation at Mass on Sunday mornings, and I see in the 50 – 60 faces african american and african native, latinos from at least one, if not several different Latin American cultures, faces of different Asian ethnic groups, those who grew up as Roman Catholics, and those who were raised in various protestant flavors of Christianity and even a man who, despite his Jewish heritage has joined our faith. We are rich and poor, uneducated, blue collar, college professor and successful business people. I know of nobody who has come from an Islamic or middle eastern background – although I have no doubt that a person like that would be welcomed. I have no doubt but that some of us find ourselves uncovering our somewhat buddhist approaches to life. And those who often use the feminine when referring to our God intermingled with those who can only refer to Him.
And so, I find that I just can’t answer that question in the space provided. And I find that I probably will struggle with the rest of the questions on that little brief survey.
by Liz | May 26, 2007 | main
A few Sundays ago, I noticed that we had done mass in 3/4 time – every song, every proper except the Gospel Acclamation (and a few bars of the Lamb of God) were 3/4. Rather a musical pun on the entire hour – to have all of the music in waltz time.
Mass is not just a ritual coming together to share our lives and prayer and the eucharist. Mass is rather like a dance, it seems. When my son was in high school, he had a tape that included about 4 songs that would loop and loop. One I remember was “The Dance.” And so, as we move through the steps at mass, we are dancing. Dancing with the Lord, dancing with each other.
During Lent and the Easter Season, Fr. Jack has spent a bit of time before mass teaching – talking about “what happens at mass.” Not what we do per se, what what is happening. He started at the the beginning with the gathering, the penitential rite, the Liturgy of the Word and on through the preface, consecretion, communion… all the way through. I think our waltz was the Sunday he incorporated the Preface into the homily instead of doing it beforehand. Wow! The man stepped out of his own way and let the Spirit speak. And, it was rather like being caught up in a passionate, moving dance – almost a tango.
So, I started thinking about this dance idea. On the very pragmatic level, the musicians, cantors, readers, eucharistic ministers, altar servers, celebrant and assembly must dance well together. Who is leading at this point? What step comes next? Do we spin, or dip, do a standard box step or add a flare? We must be engaged with one another to do this well. And on a deeper, spiritual level, that same applies. We must be engaged with the God, and God with us if this dance is to have the impact it needs on our lives.
I could go on about this for a long time – but I’ll cut it off now, and consider just how wonderful it is to take part in the eternal dance of life and love.
by Liz | Mar 2, 2007 | main
A few days ago, a couple of lost souls in the library asked me for directions. I pointed, and talked, and watched them, so I could offer course corrections for a bit. I think they made it to their destination, but I don’t know how many more times they had to ask. As I went about my own business, I thought – It would have been better to walk with them to the point in question. Things would have been a bit more clear that way.
Is that the difference between just reading the Bible, reading books, etc and actually following Christ by allowing him to walk with me? I just ask for directions and then wander off to muddle through myself sometimes. To allow the Spirit to walk with me might just make things a bit easier to navigate.
by Liz | Mar 1, 2007 | main
The past couple of weeks have been rather [emotionally] intense. There were several days where the object of my anger wore the face of a priest – the pastor at our parish. He’s one of those people in my life in whom I see and sense a very deep and intense spirituality… he’s a marvelous preacher… he can really get through to me. I wish sometimes he would heed his own preaching.
He’s one of those folks that I love to death – he’s been there in reconciliation (ok Confession) and really let the Light shine through. He gives great homilies. And more often than not, he behaves in ways that make me want to pinch his head off, or failing that just shake him.
And so, while my frustration and anger was running full bore, I picked up the Sunday readings for the Sunday before Ash Wednesday and got whacked between the eyes. Let’s quote a bit here from Luke 6:
Jesus said to his disciples:
“To you who hear I say,
love your enemies, do good to those who hate you,
bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you.
To the person who strikes you on one cheek,
offer the other one as well, …
For if you love those who love you,
what credit is that to you?
Even sinners love those who love them.
And if you do good to those who do good to you,
what credit is that to you?
Even sinners do the same…
“Stop judging and you will not be judged.
Stop condemning and you will not be condemned.
Forgive and you will be forgiven.
Give, and gifts will be given to you;
a good measure, packed together, shaken down, and overflowing,
will be poured into your lap.
For the measure with which you measure
will in return be measured out to you.â€
OK – whoa! Now I had to not only pick music for the mass (which would feature this gospel), but I realized I had to go home and pray that same passage. Like – reach beyond wanting to pinch his head off and be generous, and loving, and stop judging. Ouch. I am much better at this when I am the direct object of someone’s bad behaviour than when I see my friends hurting because of someone’s bad behaviour. This wasn’t going to be easy.
In the mean time, another emotional disaster struck. A friend, a companion on the journey and someone who had been helpful in offering a plan to deal with said priest in a positive and gentle, but assertive manner, fell ill. In this world of medical miracles, she was one of those unthinkable cases: she died. I talked with her, and she offered her sage advice on Wednesday night; on Thursday I read the gospel from Luke; on Friday, she went to the doctor because her closest friend made her – and by Tuesday, she was gone.
She lives a very long way away from me. The person who introduced us, and was very close to her kept me posted by phone. There were times when I was angry that I was far away and couldn’t even give him a hug as he watched this unfold.
What do you do? The best thing I did was to own that anger. Not express it out loud (except maybe to the dogs and the birds in the back yard) – just own it. Sit down with it. Listen to it. And then I could send it on it’s merry way.
And maybe that’s the “magic” in the sacrament of reconciliation (the sacrament formerly known as Confession – and maybe known as that again)… I own the anger, I own the mistakes, I own the fear. Only when I know that, when I embrace those emotions, can I give them up and let them go, and say “I’m really sorry” or maybe “now that just isn’t worth the energy it required.” And be blessed – whether I do it in the sacramental fashion, or just with me and God.
I believe Francis of Asisi was entirely correct: It is in forgiving that we are forgiven.
Amen.
