Prayer, Tears and Wild Dogs
August 04, 2008
When we were children, we used to think
that when we were grown-up we would no longer
be vulnerable. But to grow up is to accept
vulnerability. To be alive is to be
vulnerable. Madeleine
L'Engle
Welcoming prayer is like a dance, an
invitation to dance with and even welcome
your demons. Mary Dwyer
To become wise you must learn to listen to
the wild dogs barking in your cellar.
Nietzsche
A young seminary student (studying to become
a Rabbi) found himself distraught, and sought
the advice of his mentor.
"Rabbi," he said, "I try to pray and study. I give it my full attention. But I feel constrained and stuck. In the end I am in pain, and all I can do, is cry. Is there a way out of my predicament?"
"I am wondering," the Rabbi responded. "What makes you think that God is interested only in your study and your prayers? What if God is interested in your pain and your tears?"
We live in a world that is afraid of blemishes.
Thank God, I'm just a surefire face cream away from perfection.
If only choosing from the 14,000 options didn't create so much anxiety.
For whatever reason, we are not comfortable in our own skin. So we edit who we are. Which means that I am at odds with certain parts of me--the unkempt, the untidy, the wild dogs. (And it takes a good deal of energy to keep them out of sight.) So it is not surprising that this internal scuffle spills over into our relationship with God.
Anything less than perfect is suspect. One woman told me she had difficulty saying the rosary, because she wasn't sure she said it with enough conviction. She was sure it (the imperfection) tainted her relationship with God. In the end we find ourselves in the predicament of the theology student.
And it is a predicament. The irony of course, is that the more I focus on what needs to be added (or changed or hidden or fixed), the less I am actually present.
So long as I buy into this notion that I am what I collect
or possess
or perform
or achieve,
I don't know what I want, but I am sure I haven't got it.
The result? I seek more information, more speed, more stuff, more belief. It reminds me of drivers who are are lost; they drive faster.
We can learn from Sally, Charlie Brown's sister, who went to Summer camp. She was supposed to be gone a week. Peppermint Patty asked her why she returned home the day after she went. "They said if I went to camp it would be good for me. They said if I went to camp I would find myself," Sally told her. "Well, I got off the bus, and there I was. So I came home."
Little man
(in a hurry
full of an important worry)
halt stop forget, relax
ee cummings
What if being at home (or being present, or being authentic) is not about adding anything?
What if this is about making space and receiving?
What if this is about emptying, entering into, letting it be?
Come unto me all who are weary and burdened, I shall give you rest. Jesus
What if we don't register on the justification meter, that meter of public opinion (or it is just some tape in our head) which proffers approval for accomplishment?
What if this in not about homework stars on my refrigerator?
I resonate with the insight of a woman named Angela, who said, "I did not recognize the sacraments in my life until I came to church with all my parts."
What if this is about the invitation to rest (to be present, to be loved) in this moment with all our parts? Even the not very pretty parts.
Did you know that there are Native American craftsmen who deliberately engineered errors into their pottery. The flaw is the point where the spirit enters the works and gives it life.
I'm sitting here, trying to find a sentence to wrap up this Sabbath Moment. Instead, I find myself pondering the great existential question: should I have the second piece of chocolate cake? These are the defining moments.
It is another way of saying that I am stalling for time. I have nothing to say. You know, of importance. And my mood is blue. Because outside my window we're having a late summer rain. It is a less-than-perfect kind of day.
I look again. It's as if the director has dimmed the stage lights, and a soft rain, perfect for flowers and vegetables, coats the landscape, now in greens emerald, gleaming and lustrous, a tapestry of a rich and elegant texture. And my psyche ratchets back a notch, ready for the couch and a movie (with my cake). The birds at the feeders are oblivious to the weather. There are others in the stream, drinking, bathing, cavorting, relishing.
And at home.
There's a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in. Leonard Cohen
"Rabbi," he said, "I try to pray and study. I give it my full attention. But I feel constrained and stuck. In the end I am in pain, and all I can do, is cry. Is there a way out of my predicament?"
"I am wondering," the Rabbi responded. "What makes you think that God is interested only in your study and your prayers? What if God is interested in your pain and your tears?"
We live in a world that is afraid of blemishes.
Thank God, I'm just a surefire face cream away from perfection.
If only choosing from the 14,000 options didn't create so much anxiety.
For whatever reason, we are not comfortable in our own skin. So we edit who we are. Which means that I am at odds with certain parts of me--the unkempt, the untidy, the wild dogs. (And it takes a good deal of energy to keep them out of sight.) So it is not surprising that this internal scuffle spills over into our relationship with God.
Anything less than perfect is suspect. One woman told me she had difficulty saying the rosary, because she wasn't sure she said it with enough conviction. She was sure it (the imperfection) tainted her relationship with God. In the end we find ourselves in the predicament of the theology student.
And it is a predicament. The irony of course, is that the more I focus on what needs to be added (or changed or hidden or fixed), the less I am actually present.
So long as I buy into this notion that I am what I collect
or possess
or perform
or achieve,
I don't know what I want, but I am sure I haven't got it.
The result? I seek more information, more speed, more stuff, more belief. It reminds me of drivers who are are lost; they drive faster.
We can learn from Sally, Charlie Brown's sister, who went to Summer camp. She was supposed to be gone a week. Peppermint Patty asked her why she returned home the day after she went. "They said if I went to camp it would be good for me. They said if I went to camp I would find myself," Sally told her. "Well, I got off the bus, and there I was. So I came home."
Little man
(in a hurry
full of an important worry)
halt stop forget, relax
ee cummings
What if being at home (or being present, or being authentic) is not about adding anything?
What if this is about making space and receiving?
What if this is about emptying, entering into, letting it be?
Come unto me all who are weary and burdened, I shall give you rest. Jesus
What if we don't register on the justification meter, that meter of public opinion (or it is just some tape in our head) which proffers approval for accomplishment?
What if this in not about homework stars on my refrigerator?
I resonate with the insight of a woman named Angela, who said, "I did not recognize the sacraments in my life until I came to church with all my parts."
What if this is about the invitation to rest (to be present, to be loved) in this moment with all our parts? Even the not very pretty parts.
Did you know that there are Native American craftsmen who deliberately engineered errors into their pottery. The flaw is the point where the spirit enters the works and gives it life.
I'm sitting here, trying to find a sentence to wrap up this Sabbath Moment. Instead, I find myself pondering the great existential question: should I have the second piece of chocolate cake? These are the defining moments.
It is another way of saying that I am stalling for time. I have nothing to say. You know, of importance. And my mood is blue. Because outside my window we're having a late summer rain. It is a less-than-perfect kind of day.
I look again. It's as if the director has dimmed the stage lights, and a soft rain, perfect for flowers and vegetables, coats the landscape, now in greens emerald, gleaming and lustrous, a tapestry of a rich and elegant texture. And my psyche ratchets back a notch, ready for the couch and a movie (with my cake). The birds at the feeders are oblivious to the weather. There are others in the stream, drinking, bathing, cavorting, relishing.
And at home.
There's a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in. Leonard Cohen
Poems / Prayers
Now I Become Myself
Now I become myself. It's taken
Time, many years and places;
I have been dissolved and shaken,
Worn other people's faces,
Run madly, as if Time were there,
Terribly old, crying a warning,
"Hurry, you will be dead before--"
(What? Before you reach the morning?
Or the end of the poem is clear?
Or love safe in the walled city?)
Now to stand still, to be here,
Feel my own weight and density!
The black shadow on the paper
Is my hand; the shadow of a word
As thought shapes the shaper
Falls heavy on the page, is heard.
All fuses now, falls into place
From wish to action, word to silence,
My work, my love, my time, my face
Gathered into one intense
Gesture of growing like a plant.
As slowly as the ripening fruit
Fertile, detached, and always spent,
Falls but does not exhaust the root,
So all the poem is, can give,
Grows in me to become the song,
Made so and rooted by love.
Now there is time and Time is young.
O, in this single hour I live
All of myself and do not move.
I, the pursued, who madly ran,
Stand still, stand still, and stop the sun!
May Sarton
God of Grace,
you nurture us with a love deeper than any we know,
your will for us is always healing and salvation.
We Praise and thank you, O God.
God of love,
you enter into our lives, our pain, and our brokenness,
and embrace us with your healing hands wherever we are.
We praise and thank you, O God.
God of strength,
you fill us with your presence
and send us forth with love and healing
for all whom we meet.
We praise and thank you, O God.
Amen.
Peace,
Terry Hershey
