Retreat Day 4

Mar. 4: Here’s a way to describe God: the limitless wisdom within us.

And what is wisdom? I would include knowledge, truth, insight, experience, and grace. There must be more to it than that, because truth and experience vary widely among individuals, and they vary over time. Over centuries and generations, knowledge grows and develops. It is no longer possible, if it ever was, to learn all that is known. If God is the wisdom within us as a collective, then God must also change as in process theology.

For today, yes, I’ll “define” God as Infinite Wisdom. That would have to include the wisdom of all beings (not just human beings) and all of nature (including rocks, magma, electrons . . . ). And is there knowledge in this chair? Does it know something of the world? That cushion, that cup, that chalice, those prayer beads? We humans give them meaning related to their usefulness to us. Could they teach us something else if we paid close attention?

If any of that is so, and God has infinite capacity to grasp it all, then it is right and natural to praise God. Why ever not?

I took a long walk after writing that. Along the way my mind expanded God’s Infinite Wisdom to include the knowledge, experience, and wisdom of time and space, of wind and storm. These exist either in our minds as constructs or in effect, but they are simply what they are. Nature does what it does because of its nature, not for good or ill.

God is with us through and after storms of every kind because the God I imagine IS all-knowing and all-loving. God desires for us to move millimeters in the direction of knowledge, compassion, and love, but does not mind if we remain stuck. God is too busy loving us to be disappointed in us. We don’t know what we don’t know. Nor are we able to experience everything. Therefore we must rely on others to share through their words, touch, movement, and so forth. Whatever we imagine already exists at some level.

[to be continued, but feel free to comment from your own perspective!]

Epiphany

A favorite class in seminary was World Religions, taught by Dr. Ruben Habito at Perkins School of Theology at SMU in Dallas. He was born and raised in The Philippines and became a Jesuit priest. He was sent to Japan as a missionary and became so interested in Buddhism that he also became a Buddhist monk. I appreciated the opportunity to study with someone who clearly had experience in more than one religious faith, someone who could embrace multiple perspectives and see their contributions to religion.

One morning, Dr. Habito invited the class into a few minutes of silence. Then he opened his hand in front of him and asked us to tell him what we saw:

acornAcorn?

Oak Tree?

Forest?

Nature?

Life?

Several minutes passed. I kept staring at that acorn until sudden realization came to me:

“I see                   …                myself.”

I saw that everything is connected. We are all one with the planet, its elements and atoms, breath and interdependence, formation and destruction, contribution and influence. In that moment of epiphany I saw myself, an integral part of this amazing universe.

He silently handed me the acorn.

 

 

Faith Development

This week I have been focused on a workshop for religious educators on Nov. 3, in Houston.  The title is Faith Development as Spiritual Practice, and it applies not just to educators, but all of us.

I’ve prepared an agenda, collected supplies, and prepared a list of resources. I have written out my part and tomorrow will practice it all out loud to double check timing and ease of speaking.

My summary is this: Feed your soul every day, especially when you think you don’t have time. Make it a habit to let go of tension, worry, and anxiety so that you can rest in the present moment. You will move through the rest of the day feeling centered, grounded, and more at peace with whatever comes your way.

Remember . . . YOU ARE A BLESSING!

        Art by D. Williams, on Creative Commons

Hello world!

Spiritual growth: For me it comes in fits and starts. Meditation? Monkey mind leaps into action and rarely stops for more than seconds at a time. But I show up and sit comfortably. I light a candle and set a timer with a pleasant sound for 22 minutes. Then I slow my breathing and count breaths to 10 and start over and over.

I started with 5 minutes. As soon as my monkey mind started to slow down a little, the timer went off. It occurred to me that 5 minutes was too little time for me to quiet my mind as well as my body. Every few days I would add a minute and try again. Twenty two minutes feels like the right number for me.

Years ago when I was introduced to Zen meditation, a Buddhist tradition, we would sit quietly for 20 minutes, then get up to walk in silence for 5 before repeating the cycle twice more. Then our teacher Ruben Habito, a Jesuit priest and a Buddhist master, would speak to us of some aspect of Buddhism. We would close with a tea ceremony.

Occasionally I attended a weekend sesshin–2 1/2 days of silent meditation, walking, chores, and meals. At the end of the weekend my senses were finely tuned to the colors, textures, and sounds of life.

By spending these 22 minutes a day, most days, I tune into an ancient practice that has multiple formats all over the world. It is a prayer without words, simply listening to the wisdom of the ages.