Advent and life

I have not been very good these last few weeks about writing this blog. Partly it is because I don't want to write just for the sake of writing. I want rather, to try to say something in which we all might find at least a little bit of nourishment of one kind or another.

But now we are well into Advent which is one of my favourite times of the 'religious' year. Advent talks about someone coming who will make a difference in our lives. Someone who is love and who cherishes each of us with all our gifts and meannesses and worries and burdens. 

I have just been re-reading (for the umpteenth time) Sr Wendy Beckett's beautiful book 'Sr Wendy on Prayer' (Continuum, 2006)and found a couple of passages I wanted to share. I think they are difficult because they leave us a bit vulnerable but I think she means to challenge us to a spiritual adulthood . She is talking about 'does prayer work?': 

Almost invariably when one talks about prayer, people think it is about asking God for something...It may seem to us we are asking God to give us something - good weather, good health, good exam results - and that of course, is our explicit intention. Since God is not a puppet-master who will stretch out and change the weather, adjust the cells of our body or jiggle with the examiners markings, and, at a deeper level we know this; the essential nature of our plea is not that God will change the real world, but will strengthen us to bear the impact of it.

She goes on to say: Life is unpredictable. Tragedy and comedy come down upon us without warning...We would like God to change these stresses. This will not happen. What will happen is God's support in making everything in our lives a means of deepening our capacity to be human. Not God the puppet-master ... but a God who has resolutely refused to people the world with puppets. God has paid us the compliment of creating us as free and intelligent,, able to choose and reject and look clearly at the truth.

I find myself reacting to this strongly because I want a God who can save me from myself in an almost physical way. And yet, I am coming to recognize that it is because of my ability to choose, my ability to let suffering transform me, my ability to try to let other people be themselves that I have the chance to grow up and be as fully human as I can be. 

I think of the images we use at Christmas. There is is the image of a small, vulnerable baby - there is a chance here that this special child might never grow up, might be hurt or killed before the time of his mission. That is an amazing thing to me. Then even at Christmas there are shadowings of the suffering and darkness of human hubris to come so it is not all light and joy but a very human journey that is beginning. In this man's life we are shown how to live fully in our vulnerability and gifts.

Finally, one of my other teachers has this to say about our human journey: 

We would all like to have the time to sit and appreciate the stillness that comes from doing nothing. But if we were given the time, would we be able to be still and quiet? That is the problem with many of us. We complain that we don't have the time to rest, to enjoy being here. But we are used to always doing something. We have no capacity to rest and do nothing...We are workaholics. ...That is why learning how to be right where we are without doing anything is a very important practice, as well as a very challenging one. (Thich Nhat Hanh:Keeping the Peace)

Wouldn't it be a wonderful way to celebrate this season of gift and joy if we could just be present to each moment with our families, our friends, our life's journey and not let any moment go by without living it as fully as we possibly can?

Recurring themes in life

You know, it is interesting how often some theme or some word keeps appearing in your life after you first notice it. In this case I am thinking of 'vulnerability' 'weakness'.

A weekend ago I was in Tennessee at a retreat for people who are caregivers. It was meant to be about 'The Spirituality of Caregiving'  so that it was not about how to care for someone but more about how to care for the caregiver. One of the themes that arose there was that caregivers feel they need to be strong and they often go on and on without a break or without admitting that they need a break. But here, in the atmosphere of a group who understood, there was the opportunity for people to say 'I am tired', 'I myself feel vulnerable', 'I sometimes think thoughts about the one I care for that I can hardly bear'.

Later, during the same weekend we attended a meeting that was focused on the message of Henri Nouwen's life and books and how it might speak to people now, in this 21st century. The strongest theme that arose was the awareness that Henri was speaking out of his own weakness, his own very great need and vulnerability. But because he helps us to see that it is okay to be weak, that it is okay to be a mess we can be encouraged. Because what he also makes wonderfully clear is that we are so beloved of God even when we fall apart or act badly that we can stop trying to be what we are not: strong. We all agreed however, that in this world where strength and success and never failing are built into the way of our society this is not a message that people want to hear.

Then, when I returned home and was reading more from the book I mentioned in my last blog - the one by Joan Chittister, I found the theme again. Here's what she had to say: 

Vulnerability is clearly part of the spiritual process, clearly part of the human endeavor. To know ourselves to be exposed to forces outside ourselves, beyond our control, teaches us the power of both darkness and light, gives us gifts from the depths of the unknown, introduces us to the mystery of life...We are put in a position where we have no choice but to go out of ourselves to others in order to draw from them what we ourselves would otherwise be left without. Vulnerability gives us the gift of our own limitations and from the darkness of despair we learn to trust in the gifts of those who are seeking our own giftedness in return.

And then, to all that, add something from Thich Nhat Hanh which sort of topped everything off: 

We have to wake up to the fact that everything is connected to everything else. Our safety and well-being cannot be individual matters any more. If others are unsafe, there is no way we can be safe.

So, I feel like there is a strong message in all of this that says both that we are all weak and vulnerable and in need of one another and also, that that is just fine! 

    

The gift of silence

I am often finding things in the books I read that I want to share. Usually these are 'aha!' things and they hit something deep in me that seem worth pondering. So, the book this time is called: Heart of Flesh by Joan Chittister (Erdmans Publishing Co. and Novalis, 1998). I very much like her writing and this book, though not new, says a lot of things about women and the Catholic church especially. But the aha thing is a bit different. 

Sr Joan says: Talk without thought is useless. What we may need most is interior quiet in a culture of boom boxes, agitation, and perpetual motion. We need space to think in culture bombarded by sound, most of it vacuous, much of it extraneous, a great deal of it self-centered. We have a culture forever geared to mending the way we talk when it may be silence that is lacking. Then she goes on to say something that I feel is so worth thinking about:

Silence is not an empty thing. Silence is full of what we need to learn about ourselves.

Silence is not an empty thing. I can recall when I first entered the monastery. I came from a life not only very busy and full of talk, but one full of my own woundedness. Stepping from that world into a day full of silence was without question, an immense shock to the system. Of course, there were still times when we spoke, but in comparison they were few. What I very quickly found was that there were things going on in my head and my heart that I found hard to bear, even frightening. I was perhaps for the first time, facing things in myself that I had avoided for my whole life. It was so hard. And, paradoxically, it was so healing.

The odd thing too that I soon discovered, was that for all the raw hurt and hard stuff within me, the silence was quite gentle and amazingly loving. How can silence be gentle and loving - I would say because in the silence there is God leading and healing. But whatever is happening it was a gift.

It is so often said that for many people it is necessary to hit the bottom before you can rise to the surface. I know that is true from my own experience and it happened in the silence. Of course, that kind of huge immersion is not what most people need or desire. But daily times of silence where there is just you and your innermost self can be as healing as most people need. But the more we plug in the music or turn on the TV or gather is large noisy groups at the pub, the harder it is to find your own inner centre of beauty and peace. 

Here is something else that Sr Joan says in her book: Communication theorists tell us, in fact, that over 80 percent of every message is communicated non-verbally. What I believe in my heart will show in my body.

Wow. That could really be helpful in leading us to become both more self-aware and also, more attuned in the silence of listening, to what others are really saying to us.     

War and invisible things

Two thoughts have come to mind today - which is Remembrance Day in many countries. 

This week I met a new friend. This woman is a bit older than I am and we met through a mutual friend. My new friend is from Bavaria and one of things she shared with me was a bit about her life in Germany during the war. My friend worked in the Messerschmidt factory and there met her husband. She showed me an article from a newspaper about her work and in it was a photo of her with a handsome young Luftwaffe pilot. Perhaps he was a pilot who dropped bombs on London...

Our meeting being so close to Remembrance Day raised some conflicting emotions in me. I could remember my own war time childhood here in Canada - the things we said and wrote about the Germans and the Japanese (which is another reflection because my hairdresser is Japanese). They were the enemy. But now, they are friends. Did we ever think this would be possible? Perhaps not. But I am glad that I have met my new friend, glad that we do not have to hate one another.

But... did we ever really have to hate each other? We were told they were our enemies and it is true, they were causing us harm. But were they/are they not also children of God? A God who loves all of us however badly we may act toward one another. I have said this before, I know, but I want to keep saying it: do we have to see others as enemies? Do we have to hate others even when they act badly? I am not suggesting we not defend ourselves or our country or our families if they are attacked. But that still doesn't mean we have to hate - or so it seems to me.

The other thought that came to mind today: how amazing and beautiful are some unseen things. What am I thinking of? Well, this morning I was looking up at the blue sky... a rather rare vision these grey days of November. And I remembered a software program designed by my nephew called Starry Night. In that program you can turn off the daylight and see the stars that are shining right now. So when I look up at the blue sky I know the stars are there, still shining beautifully away, but I cannot see them. Wow. 

Another thing we cannot see which is amazing is the air we breathe. We take it so much for granted and yet, it is just ...there. We can't, strictly speaking, see love either but as with the other things, we can experience their effects. We know when someone loves us, we know that there is air to breath because we are still alive and even the stars - because don't the scientists tell us we are made of stardust? Perhaps most of all, we cannot quite see God - but I believe in God's existence and I believe I see God's love all around me.

Are these two thoughts related? I don't know but I guess it would be a lovely thing if we could spend more time being amazed and grateful for the air and the stars and love and God and share that amazement and gratitude with others so that maybe that would destroy the hate.
 

Where's the courage?

As the American election process draws to a close (thankfully) I have found myself thinking a lot about how hard it seems to be courageous these days. I'm thinking at the moment, of courageousness in public life but that is probably only a reflection of our own individual lives as well.

What am I thinking about? Well, if you read the media coverage, most people are fed-up with political-speak. Perhaps Mr Romney is the worst example but it is hard to find a public figure who is prepared to speak clearly and with integrity about their values on virtually any issue. To hear interviews with almost any politician, is to hear a kind of vapour - almost never a straight, clear answer. 'Tell me sir, in view of this decision, what are likely to be the implications?' 'Well, I am so glad you asked that question. Our party has shown how effective it has been in the past in understanding what the people want so you can be sure, we will do the right thing'. Are we any wiser? Have we learned what are the implications of whatever the decision is? 

Why don't politicians speak clearly and simply? I assume that the reason they do not is that once elected they want to stay elected and so they think they need to please 'the voters'. If previously they had any core values, these pretty much evaporate once elected. It is, in my opinion, one of the downsides of democracy. That Mr Romney and President Obama have spent how many billions of dollars on their campaign ads is scandalous. But it would at least be slightly less scandalous if we were one bit better informed about what they stand for. This essentially also applies to our politicians here in Canada except that they are not permitted to spend so much money.

What I am seeing here is a such a lack of courage to speak the truth that it makes me want to weep for our future. I know it is hard, I know it can be costly to be courageous - as it was for Jesus -but without that, without truth, without integrity, what kind of world are we creating? Wouldn't it be wonderful if there were some world leaders who could say for instance, 'Let's stop speaking about other people or places, as enemies and let's talk together to see if there is a way to peace'. Or perhaps to say, 'I'm not sure what the way forward is, but let's work together - all of us, toward what is the very best we can do'. 

I know why I have lacked courage in the past. I lacked courage because I was afraid; afraid of the consequences of speaking the truth or taking a difficult or unpopular stand. I wasn't ready to pay the price. But then, I look at Jesus - because that is my heritage - and I see a man who with compassion and love, spoke  truth to power and of course, in the end he died for it. But he left us an example of what is possible. His courage made our world a better place.

In many small ways every day is it possible for us to be more courageous and truth-full? Would that then make it easier for our leaders to be so too? Would that then mean we could build a society we could be proud of and in which we could live to our fullest humanity? I believe that to be so. 

I'm going to start today.

   

Life's givens

I am pretty sure that I have spoken before about David Richo's book: The Five things we Cannot Change and the Happiness we find by Embracing them. Right now I thought it was worth saying again: READ IT! It seems to me so good and so wise and can probably save most of us no end of emotional aggravation in the rest of our lifetime.

Just to remind you about the five things - 1) Everything changes and ends 2) Things do not always go according to plan 3) Life is not always fair 4) Pain is part of life and 5) People are not loving and loyal all the time.

You may think these are self-explanatory, obvious. But I suspect for many of us and many especially, who are young(ish) they are not. In any case, even if we think we have taken these to heart it is worth just checking again....

1) There are some big changes and endings that really really hurt - like the death of a spouse or parent or child; like the time of retirement; like life;  and there are hundreds of small changes and endings each day. Just to give a taste of what Richo says about the latter: We may not notice the control issue in some of the experiences that bother us on a daily basis. Control remains the opponent of a healthy and robust yes to reality as it is. It is not that we resent reality; we resent not being in control of it. ...{Richo suggests that] serenity comes from an unconditional yes to what is and to ourselves and others as we happen to be.

2) We all plan - and should do - but it is hard when those plans go awry. Just one thing that Richo asks us to think about: To plan evokes the archetype of synchronicity which reveals itself in a felt meaningful coincidence. To say yes to this given is to trust that the universe has a plan for us and that things are unfolding in this life just in time for us to grow into the beings we were meant to be.
I find that worth pondering and even if you don't believe in God or the 'universe' or in anything beyond this life your own life experience may remind you of all the fruitfulness of things that did not go according to plan.

3) I'm sure that most people learn as very young children that life is not fair. Here Richo says simply at the beginning of this chapter: Life is not always fair and neither are people, ourselves included. Sometimes we are taken advantage of. Sometimes we do all the right things and wind up losing. Others may be generous to us and yet we take advantage of their kindness...The challenge is to meet our losses with loving-kindness, the commitment to act and think lovingly towards others, especially when they test our patience or act hurtfully toward  us. 
This is clearly often very hard but think what a wonderful world we would live in if we kept trying.

4) From my own experience which, admittedly isn't great yet, pain is very hard to accept - not just to bear, but to accept. The essence of what this author says about this, and he speaks as a Buddhist is : A given of life is that there is a cost to everything, and suffering is part of that cost. 
A few blogs back I noted that Thich Nhat Hanh was saying the same thing to us and it is found well, in the best of Christian writing too. It is a reality that we can fight against or be at peace with. The latter brings healing to the heart.

5) We all want to be able to count on people, to trust them and yet we know that, especially now in our society, trust is a huge issue. Here again there is for Richo, a very pragmatic, honest , way to see this: Some people act dishonestly; some lie; some are hypocritical. Part of growing up psychologically and spiritually is noticing all this but without censure or retaliation. We do not willingly allow others to be dishonest or hurtful toward us if we can prevent it. If they are, we ask for amends. If all we do fails, we let it go.

There is so much more in this book that fleshes out all of this and it is, in my opinion, a wise book. Hope this makes you want to read it. 
David Richo:The Five Things we Cannot Change. Shambhala Publications, Boston, Mass. 2005    
  

Even more thoughts about being 'ordinary'.

Some months ago I shared some of my thoughts about the folks who stand at the streetcar stop across the street. They are a tiny, tiny sample of people who, every day of the work week , come to the stop, pretty much stand in the same place, talk to the same people, get on the streetcar and go off...where? I do not know.

One of the things that always interests me about our lives is the ordinariness of them - and it seems to me once again, that these men and women are reflecting the ordinary in a very beautiful way. What do I mean?

Looked at as a group the people who stand at the stop probably live pretty routine lives . They are not likely known to a huge number of other people the way a celebrity or a major businessperson or a politician might be known. But I do wonder if they reflect on the meaning of the life they are living; of the meaning of standing at the streetcar stop everyday at the same time with pretty much the same people? Do they find their lives interesting? exciting? I of course, have no idea and I would love to ask them. I would also want to ask them about their dreams - for themselves, for their families, for our country, for our world. 

I think what strikes me time and time again is that our world is, essentially, made up of us very ordinary people, doing ordinary things. That is what holds up this world. That is the substance of human life. So why don't we see the beauty in it, the beauty in each unique person?  

Sadly, right now it seems to me we live at a time when ordinary is disparaged. Many young people for instance, want to be celebrities because those are the folks who get all the media attention. In fact, it may be that this cult of celebrity makes it hard for most of us to value who we are precisely because we are 'only' ordinary.

But I said earlier that the people standing across the street reflect 'ordinary' in a very beautiful way and as I said, I wish we could all see the beauty. Because if ordinary is what we are, then ordinary must be very special indeed. Each single one of us, whatever we do, whatever our life experience, whatever our ability, age, race, culture, work - or not - is part of the building block of our human existence, of the journey of our world. We matter. We make a difference by being alive, by doing what we have to do, by being good friends, good neighbours, good lovers (in the broadest sense of that word).

The ordinary is full of life. Just look around and see it, it will fill you with wonder at all we might be missing. For instance, back to those folks at the stop. Each one has his or her own way of reflecting her or his uniqueness and humanity. Even if it is never articulated each one struggles in the midst of whatever life is giving them at the moment, to say somehow, both to themselves and to others, I matter, I am someone worthy of your respect. I am the beauty of the ordinary. 

 

 

 

Jean Vanier, a transforming influence

For quite a number of years there has been a group of people working to identify people who would submit letters of nomination for Jean Vanier for the Nobel Peace Prize. Unlike other Nobel Prizes the Peace prize asks people to submit names. Eligible nominators are a fairly 'elite' group of, for instance, past Nobel winners, heads of government, members of parliaments, certain kinds of academics, members of international courts, and current and past members of the Nobel committee itself. That there were always a substantial number of letters for Jean from such a group of people is, as I see it, a sign of the scope of his life's work. Because by far the greatest number of people whose lives he has touched and still does, are very ordinary, often very poor, men and women and young people.

Jean Vanier is a Canadian by birth, son of the former Governor General of Canada, Georges Vanier. Jean's story is available on various websites most particularly: http://www.jean-vanier.org/. He is, in my opinion, a very great and good man who deserved the prize. So because he didn't win yet again, and perhaps never will now, I wanted to share with you my own experience of him because he helped to transform my life .

I first met Jean at his home at the original L'Arche community at Trosly-Breuil in France in about 1973. I had gone to the community with Sister Sue Mosteller who knew Jean and was writing a book about him and Mother Teresa. My first reaction in meeting him was that he scared me - not because he was a scary person but because I sensed that if I got to know him better my life would be changed. Something in him was speaking to my heart.

Well, it was true. When Sue and I returned to Canada she went to live at the new and as of then, only L'Arche community in Canada at Daybreak in Richmond Hill Ontario. In the months following our return we attended a number of retreats and 'events' in which Jean spoke. I had never heard anyone speak of Jesus and the gospel with such beauty and truth. Suddenly it all came to life for me - at least, perhaps I should say it was the beginning of a journey to life. He also spoke of what he wanted l'Arche to be about - a community where men and women share life together each in both their poverty and gifts. Men and women who would be considered mentally handicapped many of whom then lived in institutions, lived together with so-called normal people. The lives of each were and are, transformed by this experience of mutual sharing and respect.

Through the years l'Arche has grown throughout the world always inspired by Jean and his message and his sharing of the gospel; his compassion and integrity and truth. Now, he is 84 and no longer travels much but still shares the wisdom of his life with people who come to Trosly. Jean has met heads of government, the Pope, major leaders of the world but there is I suspect, the greatest room in his heart for the people around him who though often rejected by society have been his companions and teachers since the 1960's. 

Before I went to England to become a Carmelite, I spent a number of years in l'Arche both at Daybreak and then l'Arche Vancouver and I understand the transforming power of that life and the people who are at the heart of it. If I had not met Jean my life would, I am certain, have been so much poorer and so much less meaningful. And having read some of the letters of nomination for the Nobel Peace Prize from those leaders of society, I have a good sense of how he touched and continues to touch,  their lives too.

The wonder of perceptions

This Thanksgiving weekend many of my family members and some close friends (22 people in all) were together at my niece and nephew-in-law's place in rural Quebec. We were also celebrating the 50th birthday of my nephew. There was a fantastic mixture of generations - us oldies, 40's & 50's and young children. It was really great. 

The setting, on a small, very quiet lake surrounded by trees all in their most fantastic autumn colour was breathtaking. There was of course, lots of noise in the house but once we stepped out, it was silent and meditative. Yesterday though was frosty - had to scrape the ice off the windshield.

What I wanted to share especially though was a most fascinating exercise in perception that we underwent one afternoon. As I mentioned, my nephew was celebrating his 50th birthday. He is a bachelor, a man who essentially marches to his own drummer, and who lives simply and ascetically. At least, that is how most of the adults would see him. 

The exercise in perception began when he was out of the room and it was intended to be preparation for a poem that someone would write and read out in the evening party after Thanksgiving dinner. A question was asked: how do you see Steve? what comes to mind when you think of him?

The adults started with such words as: a bit unusual, a loner, an eccentric. Words also used were : gentle, kind, interesting, someone who fixes things around the house, someone who is almost always late ...

The children then spoke and the most commonly used expression for him was AWESOME! All the adults just sat there and soaked this up, marvelling at the use of a word that would not easily have come to mind for them. But the children were emphatic that this was the best word to describe him. 

So, for me, this was a great lesson in not wholly thinking that my perception of another person is all that comprehensive or worth giving great weight to. Because it is really true that each of us is such a complex human personality and we do tend to be a bit different with different people that we cannot and should not be 'pinned down'. 

Therefore, the next time I think I have someone's personality "nailed' I think I would do well to ask a few other people before I say or think anything. The next time I am tempted to think that someone is ... whatever... I hope I can just hold back a while and take another look and another listen. And that sort of comes back to what I hope I managed to say in my last couple of blogs - that to learn to see people I want to think I understand or perhaps judge for not being what I think they should be, I should try to see the wonderful, God blessed humanity at the core of each person.

Brothers and sisters more than enemies

Another thought from Thich Nhat Hanh which is sort of on the theme of my last blog and also another book that I am currently reading. Hanh says something that I find very helpful:

When it is raining, we think that there is no sunshine. But if we fly high in an airplane and go through the clouds, we rediscover the sunshine again. We see that the sunshine is always there. In a time of anger or despair, our love is also still there. Our capacity to communicate, to forgive, to be compassionate is still there....You have to believe this. 
We are more than our anger; we are more than our suffering. We must recognize that we do have within us the capacity to love, to understand, to be compassionate. If you know this, then when it rains you won't be desperate. (Anger)

It is so hard when you are overcome by a really strong emotion like anger or grief or fear isn't it? That strong emotion seems to be all there is; nothing else seems possible. But I do think that what Jesus teaches us about trust and hope and seeing light at the end is going to help towards eventual healing and peace of heart too.


The other book that I am reading is by a man called David Ford and is called 'The Future of Christian Theology'. It is for me at least, not an easy book to get through but something I read this morning seemed to me to sort of fit in the whole theme of strong feelings and the temptation to see people and feelings as enemies. The chapter is called 'Inter-faith Blessing' and he is talking about a letter that 138 Muslim scholars and leaders sent to the leaders of Christian churches on the subject of love of God and love of neighbor. The letter is entitled: A Common Word between Us and You.

David Ford speaks about how unprecedented this letter is and how it focuses on  a common ground to begin dialogue. He also recommends especially, the response led by the Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams.

What speaks to me here is the courage of the Muslim leaders to reach out in the face of opposition from other Muslims and the willingness of some Christian leaders (alas, not all) to take what is offered and start there. There is so much anger and fear between our faiths, feelings that get carried well beyond religious actions . But somewhere, sometime don't we have to begin to see even those we think of as enemies as our sisters and brothers, other human beings who are more like us than unlike? I hope so.

You can find the original letter and many Christian responses at:http://www.acommonword.com/