Speaking & Silence

Today is Palm Sunday for many Christians around the world. (Orthodox Christians celebrate Holy Week and Easter a week later than we do this year.) Our worship at Wausau: First included a heavy dose of Mark’s gospel account as we first read Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem then, after a brief reflection, read of Jesus’ last night and day – two chapters interspersed with hymns and some silence.

It seemed to go over well. People spoke of how moving the service was. Since I plan such services with more time and energy than perhaps I ought, I’m glad it worked for people. I enjoyed it as well. Three people read at one service, four at the other. Hearing them with only an hour between, I was able to notice how differently each person read. Bonnie and Will read the same passage, yet Will emphasized certain words or phrases while Bonnie stressed others. All were quite effective.

Words are important. I once knew someone who was not careful with their words – not even when they knew that what they said could cause pain or conflict. “It’s up to you to hear my words the way I mean them.” I get that taking time to consider one’s words is work but how are listeners to know how the speaker means them? (For the record, I’ve historically been bad at this myself – though without the declaration.)

Yes, words are important. So is their delivery. I had to share the sad news this morning that a younger member of our congregation had died earlier this month. The death was unexpected. I was distressed when I first heard and I’d never met this person. How much more would people feel who had worshiped, ushered, broken bread and laughed together with this family? There is no good way to share such news. I could only hope and pray I didn’t do it badly. I prayed, the day I heard the news, yesterday and frequently in the time between.

When I was growing up I learned not to express anger; acting or speaking in anger was discouraged. When I married, I found that in my (now-former) husband’s family loud was fine and normal. So was anger. My Pandora’s box was opened and I struggled through the ensuing decades unsuccessfully trying to get the lid shut again. 

I can’t undo any of that. But I work each day at watching and hearing the person across from me. What do they hear? What do they notice? I’m again practicing silence – at least once in a while. Seldom do we do harm with that. (Methodist friends: Did you notice the General Rule reference?)
The Ecclesiastes writer mentions, “a time for tearing and a time for repairing, a time for keeping silent and a time for speaking” (3:7). I, for one, would be wise to continue practicing this.

If those who claim devotion to God don’t control what they say, they mislead themselves. Their devotion is worthless. James 1:26

On Keeping Pets and Partners

Watching an old episode of Enterprise, I’m slowly getting warmer. I'd draped a throw over the electric heater like a tent and am curled underneath. The space between the blanket and my neck create a chimney where lovely warm air wafts past my face. And I’m starting to feel cozy when Asriel shows up and drapes herself across my lap, flattening the blanket.

I now have a cat on my lap and this is a wonderful thing. But my feet are cold and the rest of me is cool. She's stretched out along the crease between my trunk and my bent knees. And I'd pet her except that then my hand would freeze in the cold room. Besides it's so seldom that this youngster is still when she's awake that I hate to disturb her.

During a break in the action on the screen, I occurs to me that this experience is rather like being partnered. It's a give-and-take. You need to watch your iron intake; they want beef all the time. Yet you (both, hopefully!) care enough  that either you sometimes eat beef and they sometimes eat chicken, or you prepare two separate meals. (A simplistic example.)

How do we ever manage? And am I truly interested in going back to such an arrangement, should the opportunity ever present itself? I think of 25 years of sleepless night time hours because of someone's snoring. Now I sleep easily and well. If you're partnered, you can surely make a list of all the things that annoy you or make your life challenging.

The lone individuals are divided between those who love using the whole bed and squeezing the toothpaste any which way and those who grieve their aloneness, longing, if not for the annoyances then at least the companionship of someone to share their days.

The apostle Paul gets some things wrong in his letters – even in this chapter of Romans – but he’s right that “singleness might well be the best thing” for some who are living alone (7:8 Msg). Some.

Yes, singleness can be a good thing, but it’s hard. So is marriage. (And we can experience loneliness, which I'm not writing about today, in either state.)

Where does this leave us? I guess we just keep working at it – whatever “it” is for us, whatever our situation. For myself, I’ve been practicing contentment since leaving my marriage. I’m not brilliant by a long stretch, but I’ve gotten better. If I’m alone except for cats for the rest of my days, I intend to practice finding and creating joy and peace. If this aloneness ends and I'm again partnered, I'll make it my life’s practice to live in acceptance and contentment. And I’ll work to know joy (and peace) each day.

Shalom! (May you know God's peace.)

Extended Family

Denise brought string & sticks – the latter no doubt pruned from her property – paper & scissors, Mod Podge & jars. Now, children of varied ages, women and some men are working on the evening’s craft projects – folding and cutting snowflakes, large and small, to either hang by strings on the branches to make winter mobiles or to stick them onto jars.

After songs and story time, Denise had given directions on how to attach the snowflakes onto the jars (whether or not people were listening, who knows?). Now everyone was doing something.

Paul applies too much goo to his jar but it’ll still be great addition to his desk, or maybe the kitchen windowsill. Sophie, the youngest cousin has attached her 8-inch snowflake to a stick. Now she and Adrienne are working to see if she can cast it like a fishing rod. But it seems to lack the weight needed.

Two uncles stand off to one side, talking money. A couple of grandfathers sit in relative peace of the living room discussing who-knows-what and laughing occasionally. Meanwhile the kitchen crew has finished setting out the food and is sitting down so they have time to eat before they it’s time to clean up again. Soon the rest will join them for food and more fellowship. . .

Last Wednesday, about 25 of us got together in the church’s Fellowship Hall for Messy Church and a meal. (Wednesday meals are a usual part of our week through the program year.

The Messy Church happens about quarterly.) After I did my part – some story time on the big rug trying to connect the uniqueness of snowflakes with our own inner beauty and distinctiveness (thanks to Genesis 1 and Psalm 139) as well as illustrating our interconnectedness – I made one snowflake then I wandered around watching and listening. I observed how much like a family we all were, laughing and enjoying each other’s’ company, the odd petty squabble. I remembered how some of the dads and uncles  had visit and stood in solidarity as we assembled, how grandmothers and mothers had at the gathering space, while young friends danced and played in the excitement of just being alive. 

I was glad Jan got out her phone and took some pictures – how often do we forget that! . . .

I made one more circuit of the gathering space watching and listening, and also making a few goodbyes before I headed to Rib Falls for my next adventure. It’s been a good hour.

Practices to Grow in the Holy

Jesus told them, "When you're celebrating a wedding, you don't skimp on the cake and wine. You feast. Later you may need to pull in your belt, but not now." Matthew 9:14-17 The Message

It’s happened again. This time, a Christian blogger – to be unnamed – denounced yoga as something designed to cause a demonic trance. No more said on that bit, but this seems like a good moment to write about three of my spiritual practices. 

First off, I’m a Christian. I have a seminary education (MDiv) and have pastored a variety of United Methodist congregations these last ten years. Yes, I’m progressive in my theology, but I have one; I know what it is and it’s generally sound. 

During my final year in seminary, we had an assignment to read a chapter a week from a book on spiritual disciplines (“practices” and “disciplines” being used interchangeably here), practice said discipline however briefly and write a page on the experience. As we approached the last week of class, I emailed both instructors. “Could I write on a difference practice?” I’d still read the chapter, but I wanted to write on something I’d been practicing a l-o-n-g time. After some emails back and forth, I received the go-ahead to write about music. 

I started piano lessons 49 years ago but I've been playing (and singing) forever. I can play a variety of instruments (badly, anymore). I listen to “Alexander's Entry Into Pskov” from Prokofiev’s Alexander Nevsky (I witnessed a live performance in Philadelphia years ago) and I still get goosebumps. How can anyone listen to music – or witness any great art – and question God’s presentness among us?! 

Still, why would I consider this a spiritual practice? 

My mind has always been one that goes in three directions at once, usually at top speeds. Most of my life I had trouble shutting it down so I could sleep. Music helps me to be present. 

We only get one “now” and it makes sense to live into it fully. Yet for much of my life, most of my attention was spent considering the future and reviewing the past. How many “todays” did I miss? 

No more! (Well, not so much...) I will live in the present, today, now! 

Although it’s a very imperfect fix, music helps me to be present. When I’m playing with the New Horizons Orchestra (miss you guys) I’m focused on the page in front of me, my fingers and bow, the sounds around me... oh, yeah, and the director <grin>. I’m present. When I sit at the piano, I attune to my fingers and listen. Again, I’m present. It’s imperfect, yes, because though I have a lot of practice in  I also have a lot of practice at thinking over top of whatever I’m doing. Still this helps. 

Two other spiritual disciplines I practice are meditation (Buddhist-style) and yoga. Horrors! But just as I don’t believe that Christians don’t have a corner on G-d’s word for us – G-d can connect with whomever G-d chooses – I believe people of other faiths (and some non-faiths) have things to teach us. 

Yoga and meditation both help me get out of the way so I have a better chance to notice the holy. I can get so caught up in my own woes that I forget to celebrate what I have. Anything that pauses the navel-gazing so that G-d can reach me is all to the good. 

Now I also pray, read the bible, participate in worship, tithe, give to those in difficult situations, and use my voice to speak out against injustice, but these other disciplines are equally valid and some days more so. When I haven’t taken time to sit with G-d in silence in meditation or made time to pray with my body through yoga, my service to G-d and others suffers.

I know some people have strict notions about what we should do to grow in G-d. But I question those who are so sure; how can they know? And I’m no longer convinced by other people’s “shoulds” (though I’m still working on my own).

Love G-d and love all the others around you. And practice drawing closer to the Source of All-that-is in the ways that best serve you for that purpose.