“The the Lord God said, “it is not good that the man should be alone” Genesis 2:18

This quote is from the second version of the creation story found in the first two chapters of Genesis. This silliness in the US of attempting to require the teaching of Creationism in our public schools seems to me to entirely miss the point. Since there are two different stories right from the very beginning of the Bible, it seems to me that a literal interpretation of scripture distracts one from the deeper truths. The Bible is not a book of science but a window to the living Word of God.

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This season of Advent reminds me once again of a paradox in my Christian experience. The Christian tradition uniquely celebrates the Divine becoming Human. That means having a physical body with all its attendant challenges: pain and ecstasy, flight or fight stress reactions, embarrassing functions and goose bumps, scars and freckles. Why, then, have the Christian traditions taken such a negative view of our physical bodies? I’ve never understood this.
Watch a baby delight in their fingers and toes. Watch a baby try to walk and giggle when they land on their bum. Watch a two year old run around naked, squealing with delight at the feeling of wind through their hair, dancing and twirling to music only they hear. I wish we didn’t ever have to learn to be ashamed of what we see in the mirror.
Robin Amis reflects on the effect of spiritual energies that effect our physical bodies. He tells us that the word often translated virtue is the Greek word dynamis which means energy . He reflects on a frequent experience of attending church services or spiritual meetings:

You may have realized that some of these events give you a strange kind of energy. People sometimes look different – sometimes younger – when they leave such events from how they looked when they came in through the door. This difference is the direct result of different energies – a different balance of energies within us. Certainly, these energies are little understood today, but although nothing is ever said about them, we experience their effects on us, and if we are honest we must sense that they are important, especially for those with true spiritual aims.

These energies connect directly with the following verse from the Syrian Saint Joseph the Visionary, which spoke of what the tradition calls the “Glorification of the body.”

May my body be sanctified by You,
May my soul shine out for You,
May my body be purified by You,
Of every image and form here on earth,
And may my thoughts be cleansed by You
And my limbs be sanctified by You;
And my understanding shine out,
And may my mind be illumined by You.

(as quoted from A Different Christianity by Robin Amis)

“Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here we might as well dance.”

I hadn’t attended church for three weeks. Our church is about 45 minutes away. A chronic illness keeps me grounded: some days my physical well-being is dis-ordered by this and I am reminded that I can’t always choose what to do. Other days, I’m just plain too tired or perhaps it’s just an excuse to stay in bed. Regardless, today we gathered with our community of faith to begin the Advent season.

I didn’t want to go. Exhausted after the Thanksgiving celebration (in which I reveled in the presence of my two children), sleeping in sounded good to me. No could do. I was the guest preacher for the day while our pastor was away on a cruise with his wife.

I’m still exhausted but I’m glad I was there. The hour set aside to gather and sing and pray and just be in God’s presence was certainly worth the drive! Our church is far from perfect. I didn’t even like the hymns we sang (and I had picked them out!). We messed up the call to worship reading. Babies were crying and people were coughing. But it was church and it was a joy to me. Why church?

It’s the people for me. The people are beautiful in all their variety and neuroses. I feel like I belong with them because I can be myself, with all my neuroses and imperfections. Although there may not even be one person there who might understand what it means to practice a mystical christiainity, I’m welcome and appreciated. These are people with whom I can laugh and cry, remember and dream. With all the problems that come with any group of human beings trying to be organized together, with all the times there are misunderstandings and immature acting out, these are still people with whom I belong. I’m thankful for that. It’s worth the trip. It’s worth the effort. It’s worthy of my respect.

Tomorrow is the first Sunday of Advent: the four Sundays before Christmas. I have often heard this described as the season of “waiting.” The first Sunday’s scripture readings are always about the Second Coming of Christ for which we have been waiting for 2000 years. I came across the following quote in my own preparations for this season:

A psychologist, William Moulton Marston, embarked to ask three thousand persons, “What do you have to live for?” He was shocked to find that 94% were simply enduring the present while they waited for the future;
waited for “something” to happen;
waited for children to grow up and leave home;
waited for next year;
waited for another time to ake a long dreamed-about trip;
waited for someone to die;
waited for tomorrow…
those who were waiting had no realization that today (now) was practically what they really had.”

I hate waiting. I have become better at it over the years – life is less urgent in these AARP years. Less places to go. Fewer timetables to meet. Fewer bills to pay. Less waiting. But I still hate it.

Learning various chants from various mystical practices has helped to a great degree. I chant within my thoughts mantras for clarity when I get anxious waiting in lines or driving long distances. I chant within my thoughts the Jesus Prayer when my thoughts are obnoxious even to me. I chant a prayer of blessing for the cashier when his or her seeming incompetence would otherwise make my blood boil. I chant requests for forgiveness when I’d rather have hateful thoughts because someone elses words have annoyed or offended me. In fact, it has been through these various practices that my “endurance” of waiting has actually often opened my eyes to the present right in front of me.

I remember waiting in line with a particularly slow and seemingly incompetent cashier at the grocery store. As she oh-so-slowly scanned each item of the people in front of me, and oh-so-slowly moved her eyes between the items scanned and the cash register, and oh-so-slowly (and I must admit gently) placed each item in the proper bags, the smoke gathered in my brain and oozed out my ears. Annoyed beyond reason ( I had no place I really had to go), I began to chant in my mind, “Lord have mercy, Lord have mercy” and when that didn’t work I moved on to: “Lord bless. Lord bless, Lord bless.” Eventually the line moved forward. I was still steaming but at least I was using the energy generated by my anger by attempting to pray.

And the line slowly moved forward. I put my items on the conveyor and watched them move oh-so-slowly toward her shaking hands and into the bags. Shaking hands. I noticed her shaking hands and looked up at her face. Her eyes were red rimmed and dark shadowed. I looked down at her hands and saw how thin they were. Glancing up again at her face, I saw the perspiration on her brow and the weariness in her eyes.

I was so ashamed of my thoughts and at the same time grateful for the spiritual practices which taught me to bless instead of curse. I softly touched her arm and said, “you are in terrible pain, aren’t you?” She looked at me anxiously, and just nodded her head. I told her I understood a bit about pain myself and that I hoped her pain would soon be eased.

Waiting can be just a way to endure the present. It can also be a discipline through which we are awakened to the present and able to see that Christ is right here in our midst, right now.

This is a four-day weekend of traditonal family gatherings in the United States. Meant to be a time of reflection and thanksgiving, it has become a weekend of football watching, movie going and over-eating, not to mention a time of creating memories. Every year, our family, in all it’s manifestations, looks forward to time with family. And every year, it seems the event itself disappoints. It’s the memories that are the glue that binds us.

Clement of Alexandria has some profound observations of the limits of memory:

“If any man thinnks that he knows anything, he knows nothing yet as he ought to know. For the truth is never mere opinion. But the supposition of knowledge inflates and fills with pride…but love edifies….if any man loves, he is known.”

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At one time, the only songs sung in churches were the Psalms and the liturgy of orthodox chanting. A bit restrictive to our age’s way of thinking and yet, it is scripture set to music that is easiest to remember. In my youth, Psalm 100 was popular. It is a fitting Psalm for this Thanksgiving week here in the United States:

Make a joyful noise unto the LORD,

all ye lands.

Serve the LORD with gladness:

come before his presence with singing.

Know ye that the LORD he is God:

it is he that hath made us, and not we ourselves;

we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.

Enter into his gates with thanksgiving,

and into his courts with praise:

be thankful unto him, and bless his name.

For the LORD is good;

his mercy is everlasting;

and his truth endureth to all generations.

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Many people, myself included, find that much that we experience on any spiritual path is beyond words. I discovered this artist from Australia whose sculptures speak volumes to me. I had a particularly ecstatic (i.e. extremely joyful) meditation time a few days ago. I didn’t have words to express my experience. This artwork called the Tree of Life said it all. Check out all sides of the sculpure. Amazing.

“The good person out of the good treasure of the heart produces good, and the evil person out of evil treasure produces evil; for it is out of the abundance of the heart that the mouth speaks.” Luke 6:34

Are you ever disturbed by intruding thoughts? Of course you are! In the North American culture, people pay billions of dollars to intrude our thoughts in the form of advertisements, sound bites, and creating trends. A concept from Eastern Orthodoxy has been very helpful to me in dealing with these things.
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I had been away from home for two weeks, away from my beloved fat, cuddly cat Buster. Buster pretends to be a cat but really is a dog in disguise . affectionate, playful, loves people and any attention they pay him, plays fetch, greets us at the door, likes to have his tummy rubbed. You get the picture . I.m nuts about this cat.

When I go away, I arrange for a cat- sitter to visit Buster. He gets the attention he craves, gets his fur brushed, and his basic cat needs met. But it.s not the same as .Mom. and Buster let.s me know he is not pleased with this arrangement.
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