Meditation on the Fires 11.16.08

There is an eerie cast to the day when fires are raging in southern California. A rival light, diffuse on the horizon, dilutes the intensity of the sun's rays even beyond the haze cause by the not-too-distant smoke. A surreal glow tinged a warm yellow hovers in the direction of the fires, the sunsets are ablaze with red, and the wind literally rains ash. I found my newly washed car dusted with gray flakes this morning, like some unruly cosmic dandruff, and it reminded me. Fires are burning. Lives are going up in smoke. Let us pray.

I know the fires in Santa Barbara have already almost completely destroyed a beautiful monastery perched on a hill with a view to the sea: Mt. Calvary, of the Order of the Holy Cross. I have gone there many times on retreat, both alone and with the women from my church. We would sit in the sun porch drinking tea, and looking through the books in their extensive library and wonderful bookstore. We bought cards with calligraphy beautifully crafted by one of the brothers, and walked the nearby labyrinth. We snuggled in big chairs before the fireplace, contemplating the words brought by the retreat leaders, the soul's language. We restored our souls.

Mt. Calvary will be rebuilt, reborn, I hope with even half the charm, and it will continue to nurture spiritual seekers from all over the world. But something irretrievable has been lost. When we next sojourn there it will be new, with a different taste and ambience, and in its newness and freshness it will be unfamiliar territory, turning us into strangers in an alien land, all physical traces of our past blotted out, rather than family returning to the familiar homestead. I want to honor this moment of loss, so much larger for the brothers than for me and my fellow retreatants, even as I look forward to the renewal that will come. For now, the Mt. Calvary that I have known and loved lives only in my heart.

Prayer: Dear God, I pray for your gracious mercy on all those who have lost homes, possessions and even loved ones as a result of the fires. Hold them lovingly in Your Hands, give them strength to endure and remind them of the hope of renewal even among the ashes which is Your everlasting promise. Amen.

Enter the silence

Lamentations 3:28 When life is heavy and hard to take, go off by yourself. Enter the silence.

What a surprise, in reading Jeremiah’s poetic ode to the suffering of his people in exile in Babylon, to discover this invitation to partake in an ancient practice. There is such balm in sitting in silence. In today’s world of hyper-stimulation, of 24-7 news cycles, the demands of advertising and the media and the continual bombardment by sounds and images, it’s easy to see how taking a break from all that, and sitting in silence, could be soothing, even though many people don’t do it. It’s kind of amazing to me that, even in a time with no electronic equipment or amplification, when people heard only the sounds that actually existed around them, there was this need and call to go sit in the silence. The Gospels often speak of Jesus, going off by himself to be quiet and pray. In the Christian tradition, Anthony, the first monk, went into the desert for solitude and quiet contemplation, and was soon followed by so many that he started a movement which speaks to the perennial need human beings have for getting away from it all.

I began meditating in 1971, just after graduating from college, because I thought I needed a stronger emotional grounding in my life. I began with Transcendental Meditation, which is from the Hindu tradition and involves the use of a mantra. When I returned to church some years later, and began reading about the contemplative tradition in Christianity, I began doing Centering Prayer, which relies on a sacred word to recall the mind from its meanderings into thought. More recently, I have practiced contemplative prayer in the Thomas Merton tradition, which has many similarities to Buddhist mindfulness practice. Each tradition has its own methodologies, but the common thread is letting go of the incessant thinking that dominates our awareness and becoming aware of the unhurried nature of being in the present moment.

Each day, for 20 or 30 minutes twice a day, I sit in silence. This is the commitment that I have been faithful to for over 35 years, my primary spiritual practice out of which all the others flow. It forms the foundation for my spiritual journey, the fertile ground out of which my faith has grown. I close my eyes and sit comfortably. I may use a sacred word, follow my breath or simply do my best to stay present with what is, gently calling my mind back when it inevitably wanders off into thinking. I abandon any responsibility for doing, for accomplishing, for being in charge, and allow myself simply to be here, in the present moment. I surrender all that I am and all that I have, in that moment, into God’s Hands, and there I find my delight in Her Presence, deep rest and full acceptance of what is.

Prayer: Dear God, I thank you for calling me to you through the practice of sacred silence. Meet me there. Amen.

Reflections on the Election

I am departing from my usual format today, because I feel called to respond to the results of this historic election. I spent last week in Mississippi, helping to restore homes destroyed by Hurricane Katrina, along with people from all over the country. I watched the election returns with a group of young people who are spending a year traveling around the country, contributing their hard work and sweat to all sorts of projects benefiting our nation through the Americorps program. Though they were Obama enthusiasts, I don't think they had the same visceral reaction I did. In some ways, I felt that the hopes I had as a college student in the late 60's were being realized. Though the issues are different, today's youth have been a significant instrument of change, as we had hoped to be back then. Though we were instrumental in stopping a war, it has taken 40 years to create a generation, and a context, that invites the full participation of our youth. That is extremely gratifying and moving to me.

I was also impressed with the response of both candidates to the results. Their speeches were both gracious and unifying, and it reminds me of something that often gets lost. There is much talk of red states and blue states, but in fact there are only purple states. Even in so-called red states, 30 - 49% of the population voted for Obama; in the blue states, a similar percentage voted for McCain. Even as they break down into counties, trying to parse ever and ever smaller units, using the monolithic colors of red and blue hides the reality that while my neighbor may have had an Obama sign on his lawn, a block away there was a McCain sign. And though the real divide may have something to do with rural vs. urban communities, even that breakdown will obscure the complex reality if we use these monolithic labels. Let's remember that we are all Americans wanting what is best for our country as we see it. Perhaps if we can attribute good motives to those who oppose us, we will be better able to listen to what they have to say. Perhaps it is not possible to forge one solution for the problems that beset so many communities; perhaps what we need is local solutions that respond to the complexities of local communities, a whole set of solutions that can be adapted to local needs. Though we are many communities, we are one nation, and now is the time to stand together with all our differences intact, not a melting pot really, more like a casserole.

Prayer: Dear God, It is easy to lump people together and dismiss them when I disagree with their point of view. Help me to see all people as Your beloved children, looking for a way to express Your divine spark, and honor them. Open my heart to hear their point of view, and give me the humility to recognize that I am not always right. Amen.