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Grace to you and peace, probably one of the most civilized and beautiful greetings ever written.
I don’t know if you hear the readings better or the sermon comes through clearer when you are one of four people at the early service—four meaning, one priest (Patricia), one altar helper (chalice bearer? Renee Kastanakis), and two parishioners—me and Penny France.
I was the first and only worshiper in the sanctuary at the start of the service and so as Patricia and Renee entered processing toward the altar and stood and Patricia whispered, sort of whispered in the nearly empty room with the jazz band equipment packed up by the choir loft, if I was the only one, then I needed to sit in the front and be sure to say all of the responses.
I can respond, I said. Others will come. And another did come, Penny. So there were two of us to listen to Renee reading the scripture, in as steady and convincing a voice as if she were reading to a full house.
Paul to the Thessalonians, “Grace to you and peace . . .your faith is growing abundantly and the love of everyone of you for one another is increasing.”
The sermon was about one of the many tax collectors in the Bible (the one that climbed up a sycamore tree to see Jesus over a crowd?). I could imagine Jesus doing such a thing, giving this rousing speech then picking out the most despised person in the place, the saddest, the one weighted down by bad deeds and greed, picking this person to basically hang out with—and openly love. The message? Nobody is beyond redemption. I might add, not to be testimonial or anything, that might be interpreted also as nobody is beyond the love of God. (But read the sermon if you haven’t heard it. My interpretations are not always the best.)
Anyway, with four people total, Patricia invited me and Penny up to the altar for the Eucharist—a little something different for the small crowd. We both stopped at the rail but she called us forth, further—no, she meant the altar altar.
I’ve never put my hands on the altar during communion, felt the linen cloth on the tips of my fingers, seen so up close the blessing of the bread and wine, spoken the words so clearly, eternal God, heavenly father, thank you for feeding us with the most precious body and blood of your son . . . and for assuring us in these holy mysteries that we are living members.
It was intimate, so few but it felt so expansive. I had to ask again in Sunday School, how many people do you need to have communion? Apparently just two.
So where was everyone else this morning? Well, they had marked their calendars for the regular service so they could attend the annual Jazz Eucharist—it is All Saints Sunday, All Hallows Eve. In fact, as I was leaving the church, I did so to the sound of music that I could sway my hips to, and that’s just what I did.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Sunday, October 24, 2010
What I Wanted to Say
There was something unsaid this morning in Sunday School--by me--that is. Not that I didn’t get multiple chances to speak, even sitting in the back of the room, low down on the sofa, I am fortunate to have a long arm and be experienced making eye contact with the teacher—today, Patricia.
In fact, today, I sat in the back of the room just so I wouldn’t feel so compelled to chime in, to let others speak, to listen for a change. But it’s just that listening to what others have to say makes me want to add my two cents in the first place. Anyway, for other fellow compulsive talkers in Sunday School—the back of the room will not help you.
Discernment. Of course that’s all we’ve been talking about lately. In fact, I find myself this Sunday afternoon doing a little discerning of my own—where do I find God? How can I live in a way that values a human life, every moment, every person I come into contact with. I mean, in a perfect world.
And even in an imperfect world, what if I could just stop and find God once, just one time in a 24-hour span? That wouldn’t be too bad. Lately, I guess at St. Dunstan’s I’ve been finding God in the faces and presence of fellow parishioners. I’ve been looking hard but really just have been sort of disconnected lately—hence no blog post by me for at least a month—and God has not been as obvious as She usually is. Breaking through the fall leaves early in the morning in a soft, buttery light.
As a parish, our individual lives are bound together somehow--we stumble and fall and help each other up again. My life in the church is certainly a testament to that. It really does matter when life comes at you hard with all kinds of unwanted surprises, it matters that you have a spiritual community around you to remind you and show you how to put one foot in front of the other.
At the Eucharist, I pay mental lip service to first asking for strength, because I feel that it would be better if I just always knew the right thing to do and was sort of living out God’s will in the world. The pardon part, the same. I can reason myself into asking for pardon half-heartedly as much as I can really be having a come to Jesus moment. (I know that’s not an Episcopalian phrase but it says so much I think I like it.)
But whatever the prayers, the words that are spoken, the Eucharist is always for me like the physical ingestion of God’s love and blessing. That’s what you get whether you deserve it or not, we all do. The key is knowing that that’s what you’re getting, I guess.
Oh, that one last remark I wanted to make in Sunday School? I can’t remember. I’m sure it will come to me.
In fact, today, I sat in the back of the room just so I wouldn’t feel so compelled to chime in, to let others speak, to listen for a change. But it’s just that listening to what others have to say makes me want to add my two cents in the first place. Anyway, for other fellow compulsive talkers in Sunday School—the back of the room will not help you.
Discernment. Of course that’s all we’ve been talking about lately. In fact, I find myself this Sunday afternoon doing a little discerning of my own—where do I find God? How can I live in a way that values a human life, every moment, every person I come into contact with. I mean, in a perfect world.
And even in an imperfect world, what if I could just stop and find God once, just one time in a 24-hour span? That wouldn’t be too bad. Lately, I guess at St. Dunstan’s I’ve been finding God in the faces and presence of fellow parishioners. I’ve been looking hard but really just have been sort of disconnected lately—hence no blog post by me for at least a month—and God has not been as obvious as She usually is. Breaking through the fall leaves early in the morning in a soft, buttery light.
As a parish, our individual lives are bound together somehow--we stumble and fall and help each other up again. My life in the church is certainly a testament to that. It really does matter when life comes at you hard with all kinds of unwanted surprises, it matters that you have a spiritual community around you to remind you and show you how to put one foot in front of the other.
At the Eucharist, I pay mental lip service to first asking for strength, because I feel that it would be better if I just always knew the right thing to do and was sort of living out God’s will in the world. The pardon part, the same. I can reason myself into asking for pardon half-heartedly as much as I can really be having a come to Jesus moment. (I know that’s not an Episcopalian phrase but it says so much I think I like it.)
But whatever the prayers, the words that are spoken, the Eucharist is always for me like the physical ingestion of God’s love and blessing. That’s what you get whether you deserve it or not, we all do. The key is knowing that that’s what you’re getting, I guess.
Oh, that one last remark I wanted to make in Sunday School? I can’t remember. I’m sure it will come to me.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Thoughts on Seeing the Dalai Lama
Parishioner Christine Beard and her husband, Rick, had a chance to hear the Dalai Lama speak twice this past week. Here are her thoughts:
A long-time dream of mine has been to see the Dalai Lama, whose philosophy of love, compassion and forgiveness have a powerful appeal. My husband, Rick, made this possible for me by securing tickets for two events long after I thought that there was any chance of attending.
The emotional experience of the event started even before we entered the auditorium. In the very, very long line we stood in, it was jarring to see the police and SWAT teams guarding the venue whose underlying focus was on mutual understanding, compassion and peace.
The first forum, Interfaith Summit on Happiness, was moderated by Krista Tippett, host of “Speaking of Faith,” an interfaith dialogue that respectfully explores people from a broad continuum of religious backgrounds. In addition to His Holiness, the Dalai Lama, participants included the Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church, Katherine Jefferts Schori, Lord Jonathan Sacks, Chief Rabbi of the U.K. and Seyyed Hossein Nasr, a leading Islamic scholar and Professor of Islamic Studies at George Washington University.
The latter two were powerful men with commanding presences who could have been captains of industry or political figures in an international arena. They seemed to dominate the space and the conversation . The Dalai Lama’s demeanor was by contrast gentle, self-effacing and non-competitive. He was usually smiling and often giggled infectiously, his mirth spreading to the audience who ended up laughing as well. The other two men seemed to want to convince us of the “rightness” of their religions. The Dalai Lama’s strength came from his quiet self-assurance and the power of his message.
Krista Tippett put a positive spin on our current economic downturn, hoping that necessity might direct us away from consumerism and materialism and to a greater focus on spirituality. The rabbi pointed out that, though the Israelites' 40 years of wandering in the wilderness was perceived as a great hardship, Moses warned that this was, in fact, the easy part. During the 40 years, the community was tightly knit; they shared common goals and a relationship with God. The “good life” of being settled and having material wealth can separate us from God and community and lead to unhappiness. Nasr agreed, pointing out how surprising it is to many that someone living in Afghanistan without a TV or a microwave can be happy.
All four agreed that the purpose of our existence is happiness, but that true happiness cannot exist in isolation. Furthermore, though we might possess the right to happiness, this is balanced by a responsibility to those who are in need.
The Dalai Lama stated that happiness cannot be mandated by the government.
Instead, it must come from within and must be based on hope. (This surprised me, as I would have predicted that he would have based happiness on acceptance of the current state rather than on hope for the future.) Referring to scientific inquiries involving brain scans, meditation and lifestyle, the Dalai Lama emphasized the evidence that lack of hope can result in a shortened lifespan.
The participants all agreed in the value of quiet time, be it daily prayer three times or five times, meditation, Sabbath practices, or a month of prayer and fasting (Ramadan). This can be a time for gratitude, confession and self-examination, but all forms necessitate a stepping back from the frenetic pace of the world.
Krista Tippett asked the Dalai Lama for advice on how to make time for mindfulness meditation in the modern world. He recommended that she use the methods as defined by her faith, as he does not believe that Buddhism has cornered the market on the path to enlightenment. This provides a concrete example of his belief, “I am a Buddhist by faith, but I have respect for all religions.” I cannot imagine the rabbi or the Islamic scholar suggesting that other religious practices were as valid as their own.
The second conference that I attended was The Creative Journey: Artists in Conversation with His Holiness the XIV Dalai Lama about Spirituality and Creativity. The participants were Richard Gere and Alice Walker. Though the venue was the same, somehow this conference seemed more intimate. It may have been that the presence of a moderator in the first conference created a distance between the participants, whereas in the second a dialogue could occur directly between two speakers.
Richard Gere, an actor, tended to dominate the stage. I had written “talks too much” in a note to myself, but did feel a little mean-spirited. After all, he is an actor who feels at ease on the stage. Then the Dalai Lama pointed out, while laughing and smiling, that Gere was too self-centered. Wow! Vindicated by the Dalai Lama. Maybe I am more enlightened than I thought.
Alice Walker had a commanding presence; diminutive, calm and soft-spoken, she nevertheless exuded strength and confidence. She agreed with the Dalai Lama about the need for clarity, for in order to feel compassion, we need to see clearly. Often people (e.g., black women) are invisible to us. Her work has served to illustrate and illuminate the humanity of these formerly unseen people.
They all spoke of the power of the human spirit, which can exist even in the face of terrible oppression, isolation and even torture. The Dalai Lama referred to a monk, imprisoned for 18 years by the Chinese. After his release, the monk confessed that he had felt in danger ---not in danger of dying, which certainly could have occurred, but in danger of losing his compassion towards his Chinese jailers. Alice Walker was moved by Nelson Mandela, who likewise was able to feel compassion to his jailers.
The Dalai Lama’s last words to the audience were about the importance of the United States’ role in the world. American freedom and democracy had served as a wonderful symbol of hope to him and to much of the world that was struggling to attain them. He warned that it was dangerous to us and to the rest of the world for us to lose our spirit and become demoralized.
A long-time dream of mine has been to see the Dalai Lama, whose philosophy of love, compassion and forgiveness have a powerful appeal. My husband, Rick, made this possible for me by securing tickets for two events long after I thought that there was any chance of attending.
The emotional experience of the event started even before we entered the auditorium. In the very, very long line we stood in, it was jarring to see the police and SWAT teams guarding the venue whose underlying focus was on mutual understanding, compassion and peace.
The first forum, Interfaith Summit on Happiness, was moderated by Krista Tippett, host of “Speaking of Faith,” an interfaith dialogue that respectfully explores people from a broad continuum of religious backgrounds. In addition to His Holiness, the Dalai Lama, participants included the Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church, Katherine Jefferts Schori, Lord Jonathan Sacks, Chief Rabbi of the U.K. and Seyyed Hossein Nasr, a leading Islamic scholar and Professor of Islamic Studies at George Washington University.
The latter two were powerful men with commanding presences who could have been captains of industry or political figures in an international arena. They seemed to dominate the space and the conversation . The Dalai Lama’s demeanor was by contrast gentle, self-effacing and non-competitive. He was usually smiling and often giggled infectiously, his mirth spreading to the audience who ended up laughing as well. The other two men seemed to want to convince us of the “rightness” of their religions. The Dalai Lama’s strength came from his quiet self-assurance and the power of his message.
Krista Tippett put a positive spin on our current economic downturn, hoping that necessity might direct us away from consumerism and materialism and to a greater focus on spirituality. The rabbi pointed out that, though the Israelites' 40 years of wandering in the wilderness was perceived as a great hardship, Moses warned that this was, in fact, the easy part. During the 40 years, the community was tightly knit; they shared common goals and a relationship with God. The “good life” of being settled and having material wealth can separate us from God and community and lead to unhappiness. Nasr agreed, pointing out how surprising it is to many that someone living in Afghanistan without a TV or a microwave can be happy.
All four agreed that the purpose of our existence is happiness, but that true happiness cannot exist in isolation. Furthermore, though we might possess the right to happiness, this is balanced by a responsibility to those who are in need.
The Dalai Lama stated that happiness cannot be mandated by the government.
Instead, it must come from within and must be based on hope. (This surprised me, as I would have predicted that he would have based happiness on acceptance of the current state rather than on hope for the future.) Referring to scientific inquiries involving brain scans, meditation and lifestyle, the Dalai Lama emphasized the evidence that lack of hope can result in a shortened lifespan.
The participants all agreed in the value of quiet time, be it daily prayer three times or five times, meditation, Sabbath practices, or a month of prayer and fasting (Ramadan). This can be a time for gratitude, confession and self-examination, but all forms necessitate a stepping back from the frenetic pace of the world.
Krista Tippett asked the Dalai Lama for advice on how to make time for mindfulness meditation in the modern world. He recommended that she use the methods as defined by her faith, as he does not believe that Buddhism has cornered the market on the path to enlightenment. This provides a concrete example of his belief, “I am a Buddhist by faith, but I have respect for all religions.” I cannot imagine the rabbi or the Islamic scholar suggesting that other religious practices were as valid as their own.
The second conference that I attended was The Creative Journey: Artists in Conversation with His Holiness the XIV Dalai Lama about Spirituality and Creativity. The participants were Richard Gere and Alice Walker. Though the venue was the same, somehow this conference seemed more intimate. It may have been that the presence of a moderator in the first conference created a distance between the participants, whereas in the second a dialogue could occur directly between two speakers.
Richard Gere, an actor, tended to dominate the stage. I had written “talks too much” in a note to myself, but did feel a little mean-spirited. After all, he is an actor who feels at ease on the stage. Then the Dalai Lama pointed out, while laughing and smiling, that Gere was too self-centered. Wow! Vindicated by the Dalai Lama. Maybe I am more enlightened than I thought.
Alice Walker had a commanding presence; diminutive, calm and soft-spoken, she nevertheless exuded strength and confidence. She agreed with the Dalai Lama about the need for clarity, for in order to feel compassion, we need to see clearly. Often people (e.g., black women) are invisible to us. Her work has served to illustrate and illuminate the humanity of these formerly unseen people.
They all spoke of the power of the human spirit, which can exist even in the face of terrible oppression, isolation and even torture. The Dalai Lama referred to a monk, imprisoned for 18 years by the Chinese. After his release, the monk confessed that he had felt in danger ---not in danger of dying, which certainly could have occurred, but in danger of losing his compassion towards his Chinese jailers. Alice Walker was moved by Nelson Mandela, who likewise was able to feel compassion to his jailers.
The Dalai Lama’s last words to the audience were about the importance of the United States’ role in the world. American freedom and democracy had served as a wonderful symbol of hope to him and to much of the world that was struggling to attain them. He warned that it was dangerous to us and to the rest of the world for us to lose our spirit and become demoralized.
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