Oh!

I’m prone to rush through my life. My life is pretty well packed. Maybe over packed? But I’m learning.

This morning reading about Jesus healing the ten lepers and only one ran back to thank him, I had a discussion about when I miss seeing the Holy in my life. As I read scripture, I try to see myself in a similar situation. Needless to say, I’ve never been healed from leprosy but I have missed seeing the Holy in my life. Lots of times. Most of my life it has been a way of life.

Like all of us, I get busy. I get distracted. I’m not paying attention. Often, in the midst of one event my mind is on the either the last or the next event instead.

So, this morning I considered where I might see the Holy in my day ahead. But it’s such a typical day… and, yet, the Holy is in the typical just as much as the spectacular.

I’m better at looking back to see God—like Moses could only see God after God had already passed by. Then, where did I see the Holy yesterday? I know, I saw the Holy in the coworker I chatted with—the one I used to run from. But awhile back I discussed her with the Holy—it involved lots of grumbling on my part. I wasn’t even asking to changer her or to feel differently and, yet, I do feel differently. I even recognized that moment with her was Holy—as it was happening!

Then I rushed off and forgot about it. That’s the wondrous beauty about stopping daily to be with the Holy, even as I feel I can’t cut back on my busy schedule. I get to savor Holy moments I may have rushed through… running back to acknowledge the Presence in my life.


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Time for Prayer

Most days I pray in the morning and evening. I love having this rhythm of prayer in my life.

Most days, like I said. Some days my schedule seems to get overtaken by life. Yesterday I jumped out of bed at 5:15am to volunteer at the homeless shelter, then rushed from there to an out-of-town work retreat. And while I know the shelter feeds my soul, we also need regular quiet time. with the Holy.

Life can get out of hand. The shelter feeds my spirit better if I can take time to reflect on it and the many others ways the Holy is at work in my life.

The Benedictines call morning and evening prayer the hinge hours, the beginning and ending of the day. In morning prayer I can present my day ahead to the Holy, then in evening prayer I can review the day with the Holy—if I'm not constantly rushing from one day to the next, blurring it all together.

At this point I don't have any answers. Some days and from some things I can more easily just cut fifteen minutes. But if prayer ends up feeling rushed, what have I gained?

So, this conversation with the Holy is ongoing.



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Back at the Monastery

I will spend next week at Our Lady of Grace Monastery for a week of formation toward becoming a Benedictine oblate. I often refer to it as being a "groupie" of a monastery: associating with a particular monastery, oblates live out Benedictine spirituality in our lives outside the monastery.

This isn't quite what I set out to do. I'm a former Pentecostal church pianist who came out of the closet and landed in a progressive mainline congregation. When I was elected president of my church council I couldn't imagine how I could possibly contribute. What did I know about mainline Christianity? But, reader that I am, I started reading and soon discovered that what at first seemed like metaphorically stumbling across books, books were being laid across my path. I didn’t need to know any more about mainline Christianity, church growth, or church governance. I just needed embrace the Holy alive in my life.

Benedictine spirituality and oblate kept showing up in the books—and newspapers—lain across my path. Over and again.  I almost felt stalked by the Spirit.

In a sense, the ground of my life is soaked with monasticism. Every summer of my life Sister Bessie Carter, a little black preacher preached a revival at my church. Sister Carter never married and lived a life of devotion to God. She continues to touch my life in the most profound ways.

But monasticism also touched my life before I was ever born: generations of my grandfather Pa Corn's family were next door neighbors to the Kentucky Shaker community. When they speak at Shaker Village now that their singing was heard by neighbors for miles, it was my ancestors who were listening, and touched by their spirituality.

While the first thing Sister Carter, the Shakers, and Benedictine monks have in common that comes to mind for some may be celibacy—and that as a gay man I'm hardly "honoring" that—there is so much more… and I am very much honoring it. For one thing, because oblates do not profess vows, celibacy is not expected of us. But like Sister Carter, the Shakers, and Benedictine monks, we gay people live our lives in nontraditional families with a different sense of family and community.

But really, I am drawn to—stalked by—the spirituality. This past year along my oblate journey I learned to pray. After leaving Pentecostalism I didn't know where prayer fit in. Prayer was mired in a theology I no longer embraced. But over the year I discovered that prayer isn't something we do... but something that happens to us.

So next week I return to the monastery with my oblate group in anticipation of what the Holy will do in me this coming year.

Conversation

It's a bit of a continuation of my previous post on hearing voices but recently my conversation with the Holy has been about conversation with the Holy.  A favorite of mine, Psalm 27 says:

One thing I asked of the Lord,
   that will I seek after:
to live in the house of the Lord
   all the days of my life,
to behold the beauty of the Lord,
   and to inquire in his temple.

If I'm in conversation with God, I must be in—or near—God's temple. God's temple is wherever and however one encounters God.

Surely, two-way conversation is crucial to such conversation. It's not just about one doing all the talking, all the time. How do we both contribute to this conversation… and to this relationship? We both have questions and responses that in turn prompt more questions and responses.

This is how my morning and evening lectio divina is going. Granted, I have more time in the evening but every morning something in the reading catches my attention there, too. At first, I thought I didn't have time for it but I have found myself carrying the word or phrase with me into my day. Twice in recent days it has been about conversation.

Some days the Word embraces me, other days it smacks me around. Some days it fascinates me throughout the day and other days it I'm left scratching my head, trying to figure how can I possibly learn this big a lesson in one day. But it's not just one day and maybe the Holy is just slowing introducing it to me.

So I'm dwelling in the conversation… in the house of God.

Hearing Voices

Call has recently been on my mind. How can I know I am being called when I can’t even decide what to call that which many call God?! As for name, the Voice that spoke to Moses from the burning bush claimed the name “I Am Who I Am,” Yahweh in Hebrew and commonly translated at Jehovah. Thank you very much, I Am Who I am, could you be any more vague?! Really?!

From the get-go, the Voice is going to be vague—and not particularly particular about what name we use. God. Holy. Divine. Spirit. Christ. You can expect me to use any of the above, if not a few others.

But how can I know I am being called by the Holy? And how do I respond… without looking like a fool?

First off, what do I think the Holy is calling me to? When I am at my quietest, what do I hear the still small voice saying? What is repeating me in my life or what caught my attention? Maybe it only infrequently repeats, or repeated a few times just recently, or a word or topic floating across my life caught my notice. Not even my attention, just my notice.

Now, can I discuss this with the Holy? We don’t have to decide anything in the first conversation, but we talk about it. Maybe I have to explain to the Holy why not.

Maybe it’s just my imagination. And who gave me my imagination? So, this could go on for a very long time.

I don’t know about you but I figure I have two choices: respond or cover up the voice with other noise. More later about this.

Julian of Norwich

After many recommendations I have started reading Julian of Norwich. Julian was a 14^th century anchorite, Christian mystic, and the first woman author of a book in English. I can't decide whether she was crazy or a saint… or both. A friend asks, "Or was she sane and the rest of us are crazy?!"

 

Instead of reading Julian to gain information, I will be reading her as spiritual invitation, formation rather than information. It has taken me awhile to get here. Julian includes some awkward theology for me. But I'm not reading her to gain information about her theology, as if I am studying 14^th century theology. Instead, this will be a triangular conversation between friends: the Spirit, Julian, and me.

 

Julian's first chapter, where she briefly introduces sixteen visions shown to her, prompts me to consider, what has the Spirit shown me? I can't claim any astonishing revelations beyond the everyday things the Spirit wants to make known to us.

 

Like prayer. Prayer can be so cliché: pray about it. We are easily confused about prayer. Prayer is about much more than little puppy dog prayers asking for magic tricks from the guy in the sky. Our notion of prayer is prone to be faulty. Prayer, instead of changing things or others, to change me. Prayer to live my life as guided by the Spirit through my everyday life. Prayer as listening. Apply it liberally.

 

When we listen closely, we'll find the Spirit is constantly calling and revealing to us. Listen. And, like Lady Julian, consider what the Spirit has shown—and is showing—us.

 

Beginning a Spiritual Practice

I suggest to anyone who wants to start praying the Daily Office—or any spiritual practice—to start small. Start out with just the Psalms, or just one Psalm at a time. Allow yourself the flexibility to miss a morning or evening here and there.

Benedict says to begin every good work with prayer so I began praying Daily Office prayerfully… in the shallow end. I just wasn’t ready to commit to an all-out Daily Office every morning and evening, even while I knew in my heart it was my goal. Commit to a couple minutes. The commitment can always be added to… as the Holy invites you closer. And closer.

Work up to all the Psalms for the day. Then add the reading of the day. As I added the evening Gospel readings I found myself savoring it, while I didn’t have that kind of time for the morning Hebrew reading. Then a morning here and there I took more time with the Hebrew reading in the morning and found myself savoring the reflection into my day.

Now I excitedly rush to morning prayer to discover what the Holy has for me. This morning I reflected on being quick to listen but slow to speak. Oh, yeah. This one was written just for me.

Places of Prayer

I started out last summer with daily morning and evening prayer. I eased into it, just the Psalms at first. I didn't push myself to do it everyday. If I was pressed for time or forgot, it was okay. Over time, though, it grew into every day. One day recently I forgot until to 2pm. I won't beat myself up about it but suddenly my spirit was out of balance and I needed to right it with afternoon prayer.

Eventually I added daily reading with my prayer, still with some flexibility—though most days my spirit seems to want prayer more than flexibility. I seem to have settled into catholic.org's daily readings—I like the New Jerusalem Bible. Evenings I include lectio divina. Mornings I listen for a word or reflection to carry into my day.

Yesterday's reading from 1 Kings 8:22-23, 27-30 carried into my day: reflect on where I pray. I like praying on hilltops with a clear view—and wish I could find one nearby. Sometimes I walk in the woods above Lake Griffy until a spot calls to me to prayer. I tried praying once at Cascades Park but the traffic was too distracting. Most days, though, I pray in a corner upstairs at home, complete with Goodwill finds table and candlestick. The prayer builds up, soaking the corner in prayer. It grows.

Where do you pray?

Awkward Theology and Unrelenting Forgiveness

I’ve been away from blogging far too long. Because the details don’t really matter, I’ll just say life got busy and I lost track. I’m back blogging about food justice and life as a Benedictine oblate for a gay, former Pentecostal now Progressive Christian

Part of Benedictine oblate life is praying the Daily Office of morning and evening prayer. I pray something of a blend of United Church of Christ-Episcopalian-Catholic daily office. This prayer includes the Psalms and a daily reading. Mornings I include a reading from the Hebrew Testament and evenings a reading from the Gospels.

Some days it can be a lesson in faithfulness, like today’s Hebrew reading from 2 Samuel 24. I don’t like the theology. I just don’t think God would be that bent out of shape over a census. Maybe David was trusting too much in numbers but I have encountered a God who is much more loving and forgiving.

Absalom Leaving David

We tend to think we have two choices: embrace the bad theology or reject the Bible. I prefer to discover what the Word is saying to me today. There is far more going on in this story than the theology. Without disregarding that culture and its theology, can I hear the real story and ask myself what about when I have disappointed God?

Disappointing God—and God’s unrelenting forgiveness—will carry into my day. As monastics say about failing, they fall and get up and they fall and get up, in community. Perhaps there are two lessons for me to learn here: when I fail, embrace forgiveness and keep going; and when others fail, give forgiveness and help them keep going.