Awakenings

Modern-day Cannibals

Awakenings

March 25, 2013

Here I am at an internet coffee stop in the Lima, Peru airport. We’ve been in Peru for 10 days. For 9 of those days we were living out in the jungle with our new friends from the Bora Tribe, in the village of San Andreas. Never in my life have I met such gracious people who extend a profound sense of community and love. Considered to be very poor by the world’s standards, they are extremely wealthy in terms of love, joy and being content in this life regardless of what material possessions they own. They don’t seem to be haunted with the hunger of greed that perpetuates our society and sucks the very life force out of us, robbing us of why we were created.

On one of the last nights in the village, one of my students was asking one of the village elders, Walter, questions about jungle life, etc. He was asking through a translator. One of the questions he asked was “Are there any cannibals in the region?” Walter answered “no, not at all.” But then our translator, after thinking for a moment, said, “Yes, actually there are. They live in the city and they wear suits and ties. They have big houses only for themselves and they are consumed with greed that eats those who are weaker then them. Instead of using their power and wealth to help others, they use it to consume everyone and everything in their path. These are the cannibals – and there are many of them.”

Isn’t it true? The world tells us to live for self. Climb the corporate ladder. Success is defined as what brand you can buy, where you live, how much you’ve got put away for retirement, how big is your tv, what is your degree, how much money you make and what you spend it on … And on and on the message goes…

Yet I see my jungle friend’s love and lifestyle and realize they are the ones who are truly successful. They are the ones who have arrived. As one of my other student’s shared: “We have seen those who have nothing, yet who have every kind of happiness. And we see those who have so much, yet are still depressed.” Yes, my jungle friends, the people of San Andreas, are truly the wealthy ones. We are the ones who suffer from true poverty.

It’s true – there are cannibals still around today. The question to ask is this: Am I one of them?

The Different Faces of Jesus

Awakenings

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March 12, 2013

Recently I was at a retreat center in San Francisco. There was different art on the walls and this picture caught my attention:

As you can see, this portrays all the different faces that artists have used to depict what Jesus looked like. Notice the similarities. Notice the differences. Now ask yourself: Which ones do I relate the most to and why? What makes a picture similar or different? Is it similar because it is tied to what I feel Jesus should look like? Is it different because of my cultural or religious background? Are there any images on there that repulse me? Why – why am I repulsed? What do I expect Jesus to look like? What do I expect Jesus to be? And how many of these expectations are based on what I’ve created versus Who Jesus really is?

Now think about all the faces you will see today. Think of all the stories behind each face. Think of all the yearnings. All the gifts. All the love, the pain, the injustices and the graces. Think of what makes you and I different. Think about what separates you from another. What draws you to a face? What repulses you from another? What makes you similar to another human being? What makes you different? How much of those similarities and differences are based on the biases, cultural & religious norms and walls we’ve created? Now ask yourself: Could it be that I have seen Jesus today?

In the child’s giggling, playful spirit

In the homeless man’s haunting eyes

In the addict’s desperate longing

In the stranger waiting patiently in line for coffee

In the driver’s intensity beside you on your commute to work

In your spouse’s steady rhythm

In the student searching for truth

In the young woman longing for love

In the young man chasing after strength and identity

In the migrant worker harvesting fruit

In the Muslim offering their petition

In the factory worker creating our garments

In all the yearnings and routines of the human race…

The different faces of Jesus surround us daily, hourly, moment-by-moment. He can’t be boxed by culture, religion, sin, denomination, sexual orientation, politics, opinion, race, class, gender, bad-habit, country, species, or bias. Remember that His name is I AM – He is everywhere, in everything, and present in all of space and time. The Great I AM. Remember that He is LOVE. This word, LOVE, is what unites us all to every other being on this planet. This is why we are here. LOVE is the longing of every creature on this earth. Therefore I am connected to you, and you are connected to me. Jesus is in you…regardless of who or what you are. “I tell you the truth, whatever you do to one of the least of these brothers and sisters, you do it to Me.” (Words of Jesus, Matthew 25:40)

Now look in the mirror. Look closer. Look at yourself.

Do you see Him?

Song in the Elevator – Sacred in the Chaos

Awakenings

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January 23, 2013

A little over a month ago we were in the city celebrating my husband’s birthday. We decided to venture on foot to Coit Tower, an icon that can be seen from most places in San Francisco. We got to the top by elevator and enjoyed the views. From every direction there was a different scene to please the eye.

Coit Tower

The wind whipped around us and other tourists as we watched the sun sink behind the Golden Gate. On each window sill there were coins from all over the world – mementos of real people, with real loves, real hates, real stresses, real journeys through life. Each coin has a story to it – a representation of how we’re all linked to each other – how our lives collide and mesh more than we realize. We dropped our coins with the others, leaving our dimes standing watch as tiny tourists overlooking the Bay forever.

Coins on the window sill looking out from Coit Tower

As the temperature began to drop we crammed with the others back into the tiny elevator to descend back to our separate lives, our schedules, our calendar of events and appointments. The door closed and there we were, packed into the tiny box, our personal bubbles forced to pop as we all rubbed shoulders for the ride down.

There was that silence – you know the kind. The silence that crescendos upon an elevator as the doors close, and those inside wait, as if frozen in time and space, hibernating from life for a few seconds. But this time something changed. One of the strangers made a joke about how we were all so quiet as we stood shoved into this common space, waiting for the floors to descend and the doors to release us. We all laughed nervously, somewhat relieved that someone had helped to break the awkward silence. Then my husband jovially told everyone it was his birthday today. Suddenly the moving box became electric with an energy of voices wishing happy birthday and asking for his name. And there it was – that same feeling: magic in the mundane, Sacred in the chaos, Spirit among strangers. One of the young men, a kid probably in his late teens, announced that we had to sing! And so, the moving box of strangers of all ages, cultures and from all walks of life, began to sing out a happy birthday chorus that felt spontaneous and authentic, even though none of us knew each other’s names or stories. We were all suddenly linked by a song that the world knows – a song that celebrates life and a recognition that we are all connected and we are all a miracle as sacred, living beings who cohabitate this planet.

The elevator inside Coit Tower

It was only 10 or 15 seconds. Just the time it takes to descend 10 stories in an elevator. By the time the doors opened at ground level, we somehow felt connected and like friends. Everyone, smiling and giggling from the spontaneous warmth of what just had taken place, wished each other a great rest of the day, and many more “Happy Birthdays!” rang out through the air. Life celebrated – in mere seconds – and the Sacred lingered with each of us as we returned to our schedules and routines and lives. Each of us feeling a twinge of magic, a chord of connection, and an enveloping sense of joy.

The Sacred shows up everywhere. Whether we’re in an elevator, or stuck in traffic on the interstate, or going through the routines of everyday life, the Sacred is there. But we have to slow down to see it. We must open our eyes. It’s there, waiting to dance around us, sing to us, sit with us. It’s happening all the time, but we miss it so many times because of the tunnel vision we let creep into our lives. We miss it because maybe our eyes are cast down into our digital devices. Or perhaps we miss it because of our schedules that rule our day-in-day-out interactions, so that spontaneity is choked by well-meaning plans and trivial pursuits. But I believe that if we took time to pause, maybe just 10 – 15 seconds (the time it takes for an elevator to descend 10 floors), we would hear it. We would hear the song that is being sung around us all the time. This song that is telling us all how beautiful we are, how we are loved, and how this day and this space is special because we reside in it. This chorus is cascading around you and me all the time – may we have the courage to raise our voices with that song, celebrating this beautiful life we share with all creatures! And even the most mundane places will turn into cathedrals where we encounter the Sacred.

A Time to Mourn – Sacred in the Chaos

Awakenings

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December 27, 2012

It’s been awhile since I’ve written. In the wake of the Connecticut shootings a few weeks ago, I had to take a hiatus from writing, from busyness, from just “noise” in general. After some of the rush of the holidays, I feel I’m ready to put my thoughts back out there. I just had to take a few weeks of “silence”. Here’s a piece of what has been brewing within me:

It’s time to stop. To shut up. To be silent. For the only sound to be a breath, a wail, a prayer. To stop the chattering and rushing and debating. It’s time to mourn. When was the last time we had a day of mourning as a nation? As a world? As a human being? It’s time to stop the talk about politics for a moment. It’s time to set aside our personal agendas for a day. It’s time to look each other in the eye and feel the pain that is our world. It’s time to grieve.

We have a day to vote. We have holidays to celebrate. We have days off from work where businesses are closed. But have we ever taken a day to be silent and to cry, to mourn? Have we ever been given permission to remember that we are all human, and therefore all sacred, and to mourn the loss of tragedy that is happening around us?

As I pause from my usual routine of busy planning, of writing, of social interactions, of teaching, and I look into the face of grief, it can feel overwhelming. But I also feel human again. I feel the huge temptation to distract myself from the agony of mourning, and numb the pain that it carries: to watch a movie, to get more busy with work, to try to fix the situation, to sleep, to debate, to travel, and the list could go on. None of these things are bad in and of themselves, but when I use them to replace and medicate what my soul really needs (which sometimes is to mourn), I begin to stop being human. When was the last time we mourned – as a nation? As a world? As a human being?

There was something curious Jesus once said. He said,

“To what can I compare this generation? It is like children playing a game in the public square. They complain to their friends,

‘We played wedding songs,
and you didn’t dance,
so we played funeral songs,
and you didn’t mourn.’”

-Matthew 11:16, 17

The generation back in Jesus’ day seemed to be in the same place we are today: sitting back and critiquing life as if it were a game, and not actually taking time to live life, be it celebration or mourning. We seem to have celebration down. But when was the last time we mourned? And it seems the more we don’t mourn, the more we see evil playing out around us. Could it be that the more we don’t mourn, the more angry we become? And when we don’t mourn, especially for others, we disassociate ourselves from the human race, and we don’t feel the need to do anything to stop the suffering in the world. We begin to become robots that buy and sell, numb ourselves with entertainment and activity, filling our world with more noise to drown out the sound of wailing and tears within our hearts. But perhaps what we really need is to take time to mourn.

In Ecclesiastes 3 we’re reminded that there is a time for everything. Verse 4 says,

A time to cry and a time to laugh.
A time to grieve and a time to dance.

When was the last time we took time to grieve and to cry? We take time to laugh and dance, which is good. But we also must take time to cry and grieve. And it’s never convenient. It’s not fun. But from what I am understanding, it is a must to heal. If we want to come to resolutions that will truly change the world, we must take time to mourn. If we want to understand the heart of the Divine, the heart of God, we must take time to grieve. If we want to honor what it means to be human, we have to take time to weep, to wail, to mourn. For it is in those sacred moments that we remember that we are all connected and when one person grieves, we all feel it. Because we were not created to hate, we were created to love. We were not created to die, we were created to live and help others live well. Grieving reminds us of these truths.

To mourn. To look suffering straight in the eyes and really see it. And to do this well, in my opinion, means there are no words used. And there aren’t any words. Think of the horrific things that have happened and are still happening. There are no words, because these things were not meant to happen. These things require silence and mourning. To sit with the pain, the grief, the agony. Usually when people try to say things in these situations, it never comes out right. Because perhaps the thing to do first is to be silent and mourn. Grief doesn’t need words – it needs to be held. This is what mourning is. There will come a time for words, for debates, for resolution. But first, mourning is the most sacred thing to do. Once silence is felt, usually the words will emerge.

Speaking of words in times of mourning, there is a beautiful prayer known as the Jesus Prayer, that says, “Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me.” It is thought traditionally to be the unceasing prayer of the saints, and perhaps, of all humanity. Many traditions have taken this prayer and inserted different lines between this main phrase, to help the person praying it to be more directive with circumstances happening in life and the world. I took the liberty to add my own lines to this prayer. Feel free to add yours. After each stanza, you say the refrain, which is “Jesus Christ, Son of God, Have Mercy on Us.” May this prayer help be a vehicle to carry our grief, and ultimately release it in the arms of God, the Great Healer.

Jesus Christ, Son of God, Have Mercy on Us:

– For our tendency to be too busy, Jesus Christ, Son of God, Have Mercy on Us.

– For our tenacity in simply medicate our pain, instead of finding true healing, Jesus Christ, Son of God, Have Mercy on Us.

– For the beautiful souls lost on December 14 in the Newtown, Connecticut shootings, ………..

– For the parents left with empty arms, empty beds, and broken hearts, …………………………….

– For those suffering from the inner torture of mental health issues, …………………………………

– For our need to satiate our lust for buying and selling, but neglecting our fellowman, …………………………………….

– For our time and money consumed in entertainment, while the realities of the world remain untouched, …………………………..

– For neglecting the poor within our reach, including ourselves, ………………………………………….

– For filling our world with more noise, instead of peace, …………………………………………..

– For debating issues for the sake of pride and promoting our own agenda, …………………………………………….

– For putting chains upon each other based on gender, race, social class, political affiliation, religion, and other man-made statuses, …..

– For using You, God, as the reason and source of our bigoted views, therefore using Your name in vain, …………………………………

– For our fear of being uncomfortable and getting involved to help end suffering, ………………………………………

– For raising our voices to share our opinions, but closing our hearts from getting involved, ………………………

And the prayer never ends, does it? This is just the beginning. Join your voice with mine…

Jesus Christ, Son of God, Have Mercy on Us…

The Cable Car Blessing – Sacred in the Chaos

Awakenings

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December 11, 2012

There are moments of the Sacred that surround us everyday. They scream at us, or whisper at us, or dance around us. Most of the time we are unaware of the dance, of the whisper. At times we hear the scream, or see the miraculous within the mundane. Regardless of us seeing it, it still is present, every moment perhaps. There are times when the sound bites get through. There are moments when my eyes are lifted from my stressful routined-existence and I see something beyond myself. I see something Sacred.

Yesterday we were in San Francisco for my husband’s birthday. The day was perfect, with clear skies and no wind. We ran all over the city, checking out Coit Tower, Union Square, Fisherman’s Warf, and finally ending the day with a trolley ride back to our parked car. The sun had set, and the cool air caused us all to snuggle a bit within the rattling cable car. There was a satisfied stillness to the ride, as we all sat at the end of another day of life, riding back to all our different destinations, stories, journeys, histories and lives.

Then I saw her. Probably no more than 3 years old, her big eyes taking in all of life. Her curls danced a frame around her face that painted a hint of kindred kindness, steeped in innocence. She sat there next to her mom, crossed legged on the uncomfortable wooden bench that is the cable car seating. She sat like an old soul with the openness and awe of a fawn.

Then the moment happened. She looked at me. Into my eyes. Across the cable car from her corner besides her mother and grandfather, she saw me. Our eyes locked. She looked at me with a curious kind of wonder, looked right past my adult masks that I’ve learned how to hold up and claim as my identity. She looked at me. I smiled at her. And then she smiled at me. But it was more than smiling at my face. She smiled at my soul. She saw me, and seeing that I saw her, she smiled back. That was it. But it was so incredibly powerful. In those 3 seconds she said more to me than has been said in a long time. She saw my true authentic self and smiled with that awe and wonder still written all over her face. She saw the human in me. I wasn’t a category, or a job, or a social status, or a religion. I was a fellow human being. And she recognized that beauty and returned a smile, as if we were in on the secret that, yes, indeed this life is beautiful. She showed me God. She exemplified the Sacred in that moment.

On a cable car? In San Francisco? With just 3 seconds so much can be said? The innocence of an exchanged look and smile of reverent commonality. A shared grin of “this is life, and it’s a beautiful ride, isn’t it?” A gaze that spoke the blessing of Namaste, which means, “The Divine in me recognizes and honors, the Divine in you.” I had encountered a moment of the Sacred from a 3-year-old fellow-traveler.

The Sacred is all around us. Have you seen it’s colors painted within the threads of your day? Have your ears heard the rise and fall of the song? Has your soul sensed the pulse of the dance, pulling on your routine schedule and challenging your steps to move to a different beat? The Sacred is all around us, and perhaps, especially in the chaos.