Christian Pluralism and Unknowing

Here is a great NPR story about a young woman named Gillian Siple exploring how to be a Christian while honoring other religions. This is her photo. At the end, she talks about her experience at Taize, where our Diocese of CA Bishop, +Marc, will be taking a pilgrimage of youth this summer. Unfortunately, its the same week Epiphany youth will be doing pilgrimage/mission to the Gulf Coast of Mississippi for Hurricane Relief.

I particularly like the part where she talks about opening her mouth to pray, saying Dear God, and not knowing who that God she was talking to is-- she felt stuck, and it was profoundly painful. I remember having very similar experiences in college and even seminary. Especially not being able to pray to a God I didn't fully understand, and when language seemed so inadequate. Until I heard this young woman describe that experience, I kind of forgot about that phase in my faith life. Slowly I had eased into a recognition that such unknowing is at the heart of relationship with God-- the ultimately mysterious one.

Beginning a prayer with "Dear God" and having nothing else to say is perhaps the most profound form of prayer-- its entering into the presence of the source of our being that is beyond words-- the "bright darkness" of the mystics. And sometimes it HURTS, the longing to know the unknowable one.

And of course, it helps us understand how being a Christian connects us to all people of faith who are seeking union with all that is holy and mysterious.

From the Past

This is an excerpt from a poem called "from the past' by Franz Wright that seems somehow related to my last post:


"But who was I, so clearly it appeared to me that there was something else than what I saw? Who did I imagine I was, that things as they are, reality as God gave it, was not enough for me?

Everyday Ecstacy

A friend of mine was pondering the other day why it is that we human beings have a hard time maintaining the bliss of our best spiritual experience for any length of time. What is it about mountain top experiences that they are so difficult to take back into daily life?

There is something miraculous that can happen when our routines are disrupted, on a retreat, a vacation, a hike, in good worship-- a disruption that just might crack through layer upon layer of distraction so that we can see what is really real. We can suddenly become awake to ever-present holiness, we see God's presence all around us and feel the Spirit within us.

That longing for union with God-- where we feel totally alive, totally loved and in-love with all of creation. That's what most human beings are looking for, right? It's what we are looking for at church, its what people are looking for at Burning Man. Maybe it what people mean in part when we talk about heaven, or the kingdom of God. Its most definately what people are seeking when they take the shortcut of drugs (this conversation with my friend started when we were discussing a group of nice and successful young adults we know that have started using meth, so that the ecstatic party can last just a little longer).

I once asked a friend of mine who was studying with a (literally) enlightened spiritual teacher "what happens when you come out of an ecstatic stint that lasted months? How do you buy groceries? How does life go on?" Because I think the stuff of everyday life is itself holy.

I am interested in finding more of the everyday ecstacy that comes with mindfulness-- that comes in moments when I actually pay attention to what is happening in the moment (rather than the things I need to do.) Sometimes, to help myself get into the present moment when I walking I will say to myself "This is your life." My life isn't the to-do list, it's not something that will start when the things I am planning are realized. Its happening all around me right now. I better pay attention or I will miss it. Mindfulness and "this is my life" moments are usually things I feel in my body, too, not just in my head.

Every day moments of ecstacy come when I am walking to the train and twilight is particularly strange, they come when discovering me and my best friend have the same favorite poem, they come when cooking and eating a great meal. Teenagers in my youth group know how to milk moments for the ecstatic-- playing tag and staying up late talking with close friends. It is possible to bring a little bit of that mountain-high home with us, if we pay attention.

I feel really sad for the young people I know that are taking drugs to try to get more ecstacy in their lives. It's perfectly human to long for it, but they are selling themselves short. I'm convinced there is more pleasure to be had in a lifetime of paying attention, more bliss to be found when Christ sweeps us off our feet unexpectedly, than in the destructive and short-lived drug-induced kind.

We Will get to The Promised Land

Here is the final paragraph of Martin Luther King Jr.'s final speech. It pretty much sums up what I think being a Christian is. I want to live my life like this, knowing that no matter what happens to me, death will not win.

"Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will. And He's allowed me to go up to the mountain.
And I've looked over. And I've seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land! And so I'm happy, tonight. I'm not worried about anything. I'm not fearing any man! Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord!!"

You can watch the video too. It's good.

Neighbors

We made a trip to Sacramento this week to visit our former neighbors, taking our daughters while they are home for the holidays.

We lived in that Sacramento neighborhood for 6 years and have been gonefrom there for 14 years. We said when we moved that we might never live in such a neighborhood again. These are peole who understand what it means to be 'neighbor'. We may go two years between actual visits but know we can drop in, send an email or Christmas card and be in the company of old friends.

Yesterday we got caught up on marriages, divorces, job changes, a new diagnosis of cancer, and lots and lots of good-natured gossip. I could remember what I liked about these people - some of whom were not people I might have sought out as friends because of our common interests but who became a precious part of our lives because we began to raise our children together or because we shared a fenceline or just because we knew we would be there for one another in times of celebration or crisis.

On our long drive back home last night my thoughts kept time with the slap of the windshield wipers. I thought about why it was that after all this time and distance and many years in between our face to face encounters these people were still important to us. We have lived in many homes and many neighborhoods but that one in Sacramento remains special to us. Why, I wondered.

I suspect it is because we find it harder to connect with a sense of our own history - the people who remember us when we were someone else, still growing into the people we would become. Perhaps as I saw my beautiful daughters through the eyes of others, I reflected on the many people and places that have helped form them. Perhaps it is because we have a sense that our extended family grew by a few households during those 6 years we occupied the same tree-lined street. Whatever the reason I am now feeling a bit more connected with these dear people and am glad for the sense of connecttion.