Opening my heart

Eyes see only light, ears hear only sound, but a listening heart perceives meaning.

--  David Steindl-Rast

So much of seeing with my eyes and hearing with my ears happens unconsciously.  Interestingly, our hearts are one of the most significant parts of our body that also operates unconsciously, beating away without us even thinking of it.  Listening and looking with our heart is a different matter, and requires serious intentionality.

On a daily basis, if I don't pray and re-center my heart on God, the presence of the physical world - that which I can easily experience - pushes in and pushes God out of the way.  

One of the gifts of Montauk, is its constant reminders of God's presence - the ocean, the stars, the natural beauty - which help nudge me back to being recentered upon God.  Romans 4 speaks of the faith of Sarah and Abraham.  Frankly, that story feels very remote to me.  In the beauty of God's creation, however, I have accessible to me a different miracle that can help fire up my faith.  I need to regularly access that.

Peacemaking

When I was in elementary school, my father was the president of the School Board in my hometown.  That period in the late 60s was a period of upheaval for Kingsville, just as it was throughout the entire country.  The schools had sit-ins, walkouts and pickets protesting racial inequities.  The conflicts were not violent as they were elsewhere, but they certainly were heated at times.  This time was also when my grandfather died, making it quite a stressful period for my father.  I can still trace the arc of stress by following my father's signatures on my school report cards.
There was something much more important about that period that I remember: Not once did my father utter negative comments about the people opposed to his positions.  He was willing to criticize their positions with evidence supporting his own, but it was clear that those criticisms weren't personal.  Maybe that's why the conflicts never became violent.
Years later, after my father's death, one of his former political opponents told me how much deep respect she had for my father.  At the time, the uniqueness of the comment didn't completely sink in, but now I understand it much better.
Last week, my son sent me a link to a hilarious web comment parodying opponents to a single mother housing project our church seeks to build.  I had a hard time deciding which of the many funny lines was the funniest.
Here's the rub.  My son's email subject was "This is probably in poor taste."  At eighteen, he has already figured out a truth about peacemaking: You can't build up the world by tearing down others.  Even though he "couldn't stop laughing" at the effective satire, he also knew that it cut it too close to attacking personally, and couldn't send it without qualification.
I hope our church community can be without rancor in acknowledging our neighbor's fears about single mothers.  I hope that we can minister to our neighbors about the benefits of living in a heterogeneous community, the richness that can come from understanding our differences, and from helping to lift up those in need.  That would be peacemaking.
There is plenty written about a sandwich generation.  This is my sandwich - learning about peacemaking from both the memory of my father and from my teenage son.

Hearing the Silence

The Lord said, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.”

Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. 

After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. 

After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. 

And after the fire came a gentle whisper. When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave.

Then a voice said to him, “What are you doing here, Elijah?”  (I Kings 19:11-13)

"My life feels like a whirlwind."
"I've been putting out fires all day."
"We have another earth shaking development today in the field of..."

With wind and earthquakes and fire all around us, it is no wonder that it is hard to hear God in the silence.
I believe.  And yet, often I act as if I am a faithless wanderer.
I have seen God's miracles in my own life.  Often I have sensed God's presence, available to me in amazing ways.  But, on a day to day basis, I go forward just like anyone else, acting as if the world revolves around me and as if my observations, perceptions and feelings are all that there are.
If I don't pray and re-center, the presence of the physical world - that which I can easily experience - pushes in and pushes the silence out of the way.  Elijah discovered that God was in the silence, but not in the wind or earthquake or fire.  I need to rediscover that every single day.

The joy of not having it now.

Last night’s menu for dinner was kale salad with figs, sweet potato greens in a coconut milk sauce and caramelized Japanese turnips.  I’ve never eaten a meal exactly like that, but that is just par for the course this summer.  Our meals this summer have been defined by the contents of our weekly box from a community supported agriculture share and the output of our small backyard garden.  Menu planning has been turned on its head.  Instead of starting with what we want to eat, and then shopping for and cooking exactly what we want, we begin with what is available to cook, and then build our menu from there.  The menu becomes our response to the natural flow of the season.  It is a powerful metaphor for living our life as a response to God.

In yesterday’s sermon, our pastor used the phrase “I want it, and I want it now” to describe self-centered society and the consumer marketing that panders to our desires.  He, too, saw the menu as metaphor, noting a fast food chain’s recent shift to offer breakfast anytime.  Jesus’ teaching runs counter to this mindset.  Approach Jesus like a child.  Approach as one who does not control what happens.  In this approach, Jesus offers us the chance for a wholeness that will never be found in a consumer good.

I have not only succeeded at submitting to the flow of the summer crops, I have been blessed abundantly by doing so.  Newly discovered dishes.  The joy of feeling aligned with nature.  Reaping what we have sown.  These have been my blessings for eating what is available.  I have experienced firsthand the richness that come when I take myself out of the center.

Montauk in September is characterized by a gorgeous ocean, the monarch butterfly migration, spectacular weather and the richest of plant harvests.  Taking myself out of the center in those circumstances is about as easy as it gets.  Can I use these days as training for those times that the call to selflessness is much harder?  Can I get up each morning and not only ask the simple question “What will I eat today, Lord?” but ask the harder “What would you have me do today, Lord?”  When I am angry and want to lash out, will I be able to respond as Jesus taught, or will I fall back on “This is how I want to act.”

One of the points of this sabbatical year is to be able to have the space to listen, to learn, to respond.  My prayer for this time is that I will be able to respond to God’s will for my life and allow that to define what I want for my life as well.  I look forward to finding life’s equivalent to Japanese turnips, sweet potato greens and kale.  

Contemplation and Action: The Virtuous Cycle

Today's morning reading was Matthew 12:46-50, which includes "For whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother."  This is another one of those verses that boils it all down to something very straightforward: Do God's Will.
Well, when asked, who among us wouldn't say that he WANTS to do God's will? But we all know that reality is quite different.  Where's the gap?
First, we have to know God's will before we can do it.  My friend Jonathan Gregory has said, and I agree, "God will clearly share his will, if we will only listen."  God doesn't write it out in an email, or send us a memo with an action plan attached.  But God will share in many other ways.  We must find ways to put ourselves into the place where we can ask for guidance, listen for guidance and hear God's will for our life.  Contemplation matters.
Knowing God's will, of course, is not sufficient.  We still have to go forth and do God's will.  Faith without deeds is dead. (James 2:20)  James precedes that verse with the observation that even the demons believe that there is one God.  And they tremble!  (James 2:19)  The world is good at action plans, and here is our chance to learn from that.  Self-control, self-discipline, motivation, goal-setting are all great tools to help us turn knowledge of God's will for our life into doing God's will.  Remember, though, that self-control is only a tool.  Submission to God, which requires recognition of our true lack of control, is the context in which we exercise our limited self-control.
Overcoming these two hurdles to doing God's will - knowing God's will and acting on what we know - hinge on learning well both contemplation and action.  The two really aren't separate, however.  In fact, one of the core tenets of The Center for Action and Contemplation, is that "We do not think ourselves into a new way of living, but we live ourselves into a new way of thinking."
Acting rightly will make us wiser and draw us closer to God, which will instruct us further on the right ways to act.

Word

Walk through the doors I open for you.