Altered Space and Osama bin Laden's Death

I was just completing a unique weekend experience when, at a hotel near Chicago, I learned that Osama bin Laden had been killed. The details were sketchy and I was in what might best be termed an "altered space." It was a very unusual moment.

I had just completed a special conference over the weekend. It brought together women and men from all over the United States. We were Christians, Buddhists, Hindus, Muslims and Jews -- and maybe others. The nearly 230 of us had gathered at invitation to experience a second level of teaching, prayer and meditation using various points of departure into experiencing contemplative states within our own expression of faith. I had done the first of these weekends in late February and found it to be transformational. This particular weekend (29 April - 1 May) found me in a new depth of experiencing God's Presence, the power of Christ's healing and the transformational indwelling of the Holy Spirit. This is what we are all about. And it does produce an altered space, when one emerges into the regular human stream of life. It was in this space that I watched and listened and read the emerging news of the raid on a compound in Abbottabad, Pakistan by two dozen SEAL special operations personnel, and their final confrontation with Osama bin Laden.

It was interesting that the only word that would come forth from me at the moment of this revelation was, "Damn!" This says a lot, probably, about me and where I was in that moment. First, the expletive itself revealed the state I believed bin Laden found himself at the point of his death: damned. The expletive expressed my profound respect for the US Navy SEALS...being a veteran of the Navy and very familiar with special operations during my time in service (1972-75 active on station). The expletive also expressed the delicacy of my moral and ethical concerns for death and the disposition of that which is conceived as evil. This latter is where, perhaps, any number of us might find ourselves.

For me, the response of a Christian Priest and practitioner of contemplative/mystical spirituality is to go deep inside, find that place of true silence and peace and explore what emerges from my external experience. Since I was still very near that altered space after a weekend of right brain, contemplative practice, this was was not a difficult journey inward.

What I heard and learned: Yes, this death needed to happen. The explosion of a person into acts that can only be described as evil in their intent and destructive in their result can often only be healed in the death of that person. When a psyche confuses his/her own twisted and chaotic self with the voice of God, it is the definition of sin -- at the least -- and destructive evil -- at the worst. It is why I have always been very concerned when anyone speaks of "me and my God..."

Yes, God does love Osama bin Laden -- for who he is as one created in the image of God -- NOT for what he had become in the twisted expression of self and the actions that led to thousands of deaths and the creation of an organization that only understands religious practice through the thoughts and feelings of anger, hate and the striving for personal supremacy. I also am very aware that each of us must say, "there, but by the Grace of God, go I..."

Justice has been served in truth. It will give pause to those who follow in this life of terrorizing world societies and otherwise peaceful people. It will not stop them. As scripture reminds us, we must "be sober and vigilant; for our Adversary skulks about seeking those to devour..." I do not spend any time looking over my shoulder or around the corner. I am inwardly resolved to walk placidly amid the noise and haste with my heart in Christ and my mind on what I must do in this moment of a life that is precious...for it is a gift.

We, who are People of the Risen Christ, do pray for the soul of Osama bin Laden....praying that he will, in death, be healed of the severe brokenness that plagued his life. We pray for the thousands of lives lost around the world at the hands and instigation of such a man. We pray for the healing of those left with the loss of dear loved ones and dear friends. We pray for the men and women serving in harm's way and for their families. We pray that those who continue to follow a false god of terror and selfish procurement will have their hearts turned to the God of Grace and Peace, who is our Creator.

Mostly, after my own recent experiences, I pray that we, the global community, can be tolerant of each other's faith journey and its particular expression: Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist and others. All seek to know the true God and to have hearts that know sincere peace and acceptance. May this moment be a place where Oneness can really begin anew. Let not the death of so many innocents be for naught.

In Christ's Love,

Fr. Fred+

Mindfulness and the Holy Three Days

During Lent, I have been been exploring and deepening my engagement in what is known as "mindfulness meditation." I actually started this practice in the mid-1980s when I read Gerald May's book, Will and Spirit: A Contemplative Psychology. Dr. May is a psychiatrist and theologian -- a combination one does not often hear about. Not only did he attempt to explain the dynamics of contemplative practice; he taught the reader how to disengage from momentary preoccupations and experience the deeper reality of what we call "spirit" (aka, soul, true self, ontological ground). I reread this book so many times that it began falling apart, and I had to buy another copy. It is still in print with updates.

While also studying the works of Thomas Keating, Basil Pennington and John Main (all excellent teachers and practitioners of contemplative prayer), I began branching out a bit and reading the works of John Kabat-Zinn (Full Catastrophe Living. Wherever You Go, There You Are & Mindfulness for Beginners are excellent) and Thich Nhat Hanh (You Are Here: Discovering the Magic of the Present Moment). There are a number of other notable teachers and writers in both the Christian and Buddhist traditions that help foster a state of mindfulness in daily life.

Learning this technique was not always necessary. It is very much in our genetic makeup and was part of our normal routine in ages past. If we read Scripture from the standpoint of the experience of the Patriarchs, Matriarchs, Prophets and Apostles, we can easily see that they were living very much in the moment of their lives. Thus, they were quite capable of experiencing transcendence as well as the nuances of their surroundings.

This is not the only aspect of mindfulness. It includes the capacity to experience self without either affirmation or judgement -- simply observing self for "what is" at the moment. It includes being able to see self not as separated from the rest of creation but being integrally invested in its expression.

This last element of mindfulness had always escaped me. It was not until my sabbatical in 2008 that it finally became real in my practice. I was given the honor of participating in a variety of rituals at the invitation of my Lakota mentors. Their historic traditions remain part of their daily experiences of life. I was able to see, for the first time in practice, what it means to be connected in the current moment to all that is around me and to allow creation in the present to embrace me fully. It opened a new dimension to the experience of true prayer and the practice of contemplative meditation.

When I was in the fifth grade (ca. 1960/61), we were each given a Gideon pocket-sized New Testament. It was when such things could still be done in public schools. It was an emerging tradition in our home for my Dad to wake me up early on Good Friday morning -- before sunrise -- and take me with him to St. Paul's Episcopal Church (where I grew up in Winter Haven, FL). The church was dark except for the chapel whose windows glowed with soft light from the outside. Inside, there were several parishioners quietly reading devotional material or praying quietly. My Dad and I would find a seat, and I would take into full vision the Chapel Altar -- filled with flowers, plants and candles. In the center of the Altar was a veiled Ciborium containing consecrated bread. Behind it was a flagon of consecrated wine. This was Christ Present in the Eucharistic Sacrament. These things I came to learn very early from parents and teachers who were deeply committed to both their faith and their parish.

I had received the above mentioned pocket-sized New Testament just before Holy Week from our fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Dixon. I took it to the Chapel that Good Friday morning, and my Dad showed me where the story about the last days of Jesus appeared in each of the Gospels. I marked those spots with slips of paper. Beginning with Matthew, I read each story...starting with the entry into Jerusalem (our Palm Sunday) and finishing with the Resurrection. We spent an hour in the Chapel for the Watch with Jesus (called variously the "Watch Before the Altar of Repose" or the "Gethsemene Vigil"). At the end of the hour, I had only read three of the Gospel narratives. We went to breakfast, and Dad dropped me at home on his way to work. I finished the narrative from the Gospel of John (which is now my favorite) sitting cross-legged on the floor at the foot of my bed. I was totally in awe and mystified by those readings. From that time forward, every Holy Week has been a unique experience of journey from the gates of Jerusalem, to Gabbatha, to Golgotha and to the tomb. At the empty tomb, I had to "wait" until I was about 15 years old before I suddenly "got" what Resurrection was all about. It was while serving as an acolyte at a Sunday Eucharist that I encountered Jesus in a way totally unexpected, unanticipated and undeserved. I came away knowing I was in a different place in life from that moment forward (no, it was not when I knew I would be a priest... that didn't happen until I was in college...another story).

In reality, I was practicing a type of mindfulness when, in the environment of our parish chapel, I was caught within both past and present reality. The Jesus of biblical narrative was the Jesus with whom I sat in vigil. The Jesus I experienced in the Eucharist as an acolyte was the Jesus in the Sacrament and community of that moment. The Jesus I experienced in the love and faith of my parents was the Jesus that embraced me in a never ending relationship.

Forty-seven years later, on top of a tall hill in the center of the Black Hills -- while on Vision Quest -- I experienced a oneness with all that was around me unlike anything I had known before. While engaging in that night of vigil and prayer with an ancient Lakota ritual, I touched heaven and earth simultaneously and caught a glimpse -- just a glimpse -- of what Transfiguration is all about. It was all I needed. The next summer, during sabbatical, everything seemed alive in the moment. I made the effort to be present to everything I did...no matter how mundane. Drinking a cup of coffee -- smelling, tasting, feeling and savoring -- became a matter of moment. In being mindful, I observed/heard/smelled/tasted/felt things that were always around me but never experienced in those ways.

After getting back into my daily work routine, I all too quickly lost what I had learned. It happens when we begin to over-focus on the past and future -- always trying to stay ahead of the game in order not to get "caught out" when the impatience of others rule the business of the parish church. It may (just may, mind you) be a chief reason for early retirement. If there is anyone in a parish who needs to be regularly and completely mindful, it is the priest. It is he/she who models that life to the congregation and leads/teaches them the path to that place.

The Holy Three Days (the Triduum Sacrum) of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and Easter Vigil tell a continuous story of community, servanthood, obedience, judgement, condemnation, abuse, death and the glory of Resurrection. Easter is not able to be truly experienced without true mindfulness of the story that leads to that new life. Mindfulness isn't truly possible without being "in the moment." That is why the Church engages in the most ancient of its ritual practices during these times of worship and gathering community. Those moments put us in step with Jesus and refines our experience of the relationship we have with God by virtue of our own creation and journey.

More later.

In Christ's Love,

Fr. Fred+

The Hopes and Fears

The Diocese of West Missouri has just ordained and consecrated its eighth Bishop in Apostolic Succession. On Saturday, 5 March, Bishop Barry Howe handed the diocesan crozier (symbol of diocesan authority) to the newly consecrated Bishop Martin Scott Field. In that moment, the authority was transfered, and Bishop Field became our Ordinary (this is a term which designates the Bishop of a Diocese). I was there -- as were all the clergy of the diocese -- except those who were ill or away on assignment. Several hundred laypersons from around the diocese, Bishops from a number of dioceses and honored guests from other faith traditions filled out our numbers at the Grand Ballroom of the Marriott-Muehlbach Hotel in downtown Kansas City.

In the nearly 33 years of ordained life, I have been canonically resident in three dioceses -- which includes my current residency in West Missouri. In 1989, we elected and consecrated a bishop in Central Florida. I was on the Standing Committee and liturgical planning committee for that moment of diocesan history, when John Howe became the Ordinary. In 2000, I was a runner-up in the election in Northern Indiana and was President of the Standing Committee and Dean of the Cathedral (St. James) when we consecrated Edward Little as our new Ordinary. Since the Cathedral was host, I was involved in that planning (though the actual consecration took place in the Basilica on the Notre Dame University campus).

This time, I got to bear witness without much involvement in making the event happen. My role was as an occasional, very background advisor -- when called upon. This suited me well. This change of Bishops comes at a time when I am in my own transition of authority. It was good to be present, to pray and to listen intently to the words of Presiding Bishop Katherine Jefferts Shori as she, the Co-Consecrators and other Bishops laid hands upon Martin to make him a Bishop.

During the moments leading to the actual Prayer of Consecration and the exhange of the crozier, I reflected deeply on the Gospel upon which I would be preaching at St. Andrew's the next day. Yesterday was the Last Sunday after the Epiphany. The Gospel assigned for this Sunday is always the Transfiguration of Jesus from the Gospel for the Lectionary Year. Jesus took Peter, James and John to the top of a small mountain, where those disciples witnessed the true nature of Jesus as he was flanked by Moses and Elijah (representing the Law and the Prophets). In larger scope, this would set the stage for a journey that would lead the Disciples of Jesus to become the Apostles at the Day of Pentecost. Much had to happen in between these events that would prepare these folks to become what we now call the Apostolic Community. As the Apostles were coming to the end of their times, they laid hands upon those who would replace them as the bearers of the Gospel and carriers of an emerging faith tradition. Thus began the Apostolic Succession. In the sacramental traditions of Anglicanism, Roman Catholicism and Eastern Orthodoxy, this succession has come to us unbroken.

So, my reflection on our particular moment of history engaged the reality that I was seeing the hands of the Apostles on the head of Martin; and the hand of one Apostolic Leader give over authority to a new Apostolic Leader. Transfiguration of a true nature was happening in our midst on that Saturday at about noon.

Everyone has hopes and fears when leadership changes. I have lost count of the number of times the questions have been posed to me: What kind Bishop will Martin be? Is Martin liberal or conservative? Does he side with larger parishes or small parishes and missions? And that's just three of the many questions. They are all, in essence, well-meaning and reflect serious concerns or anxieties on the part of Episcopalians and those who may, in some way, be affected by the work of the Episcopal Church in our diocese. I offer some thoughts by way of general response.

I have been the Rector of the smallest parish in a diocese and am currently the Rector of a parish that, on any given day, is the largest in a diocese (our Cathedral and St. Andrew's seem to run neck-in-neck in this regard...only the current parochial report will reflect who edges forward). I have been the Rector of two parishes somewhere in between in size (called "Program Parishes" in our work). Each parish system is different in its needs, concerns and development of both mission and ministry. One is not better than the other. My experience with each has been both valuable and a blessing. Each congregation worked hard to live into its fullest expression of the Gospel of Jesus Christ in its community and in the larger diocese.

Bishop Field has had a lot of experience. While much of that experience has been with smaller churches, he has been at this long enough to know that a diocese needs all its congregations -- large and small -- to create and maintain a dynamic faith community. I trust the Holy Spirit to work through Marty to make that balance a reality.

I have long ago become weary of the political nomenclature used in the Church. I truly don't care whether Bishop Field is liberal or conservative. That spectrum slides around like crazy anyway and is a slippery slope at best. Those terms raise fear and anxiety in folks, which is unfortunate. My sense is that Marty will be a "big tent" Bishop. Diversity creates a balanced community and one that is both honest and accountable for the well-being of all its people. Every Christian who is Episcopalian needs to feel safe in the diocese and in his/her parish. Anything less is not the truth of the Gospel. Further, constant dialogue and speaking our truth in love allows us to grow and develop the Truth that is the fullness of life in Christ.

Will I disagree with Bishop Field? At some point, I probably will. Such is only a natural part of human community. The truth here is that, for me, I will never cast judgment upon him, nor will I function in any way that is disloyal to his rightful authority as my bishop. One can critique without casting judgment. Jesus had harsh words for those who judge others. If one disagrees with another, integrity demands that one goes to that person and works through the disagreement in an atmosphere of love and trust. My hope and sense is that Marty is a man of integrity.

Someone said to me last week that I am probably not so much invested in what will happen with our new Bishop, since I am on the threshold of retiring from parochial ministry. Not true in the least!! Retirement does not remove a priest from life or activity in his/her diocese. In retirement, Bishop Field will be my Bishop, and I will respond to his call for action or input as needed or requested. Even in retirement, a priest is one under authority to his/her bishop. Perhaps I will have even broader voice, since I will be speaking for only myself and not on behalf of a congregation. That remains to be seen, since I have never been retired before.

I had a wonderful time of bidding farewell to Bishop Barry Howe three weeks ago over a long lunch. We have been friends for 30 years, and we have had an easy, open dialogue throughout those years...and especially in my years in this diocese. I look forward to what is ahead and in developing both a personal and professional relationship with Bishop Field. Right now, I am working on the transition to retirement on 30 June, and he is very busy getting to know the daily life and needs of his new diocese. All will happen in God's good time. Personally, I am content in the moment.

Love in Christ,

Fr. Fred+

The Duchess: Life in the Moment

It is Thursday late morning. Following my years-long pattern, the bed is made, kitchen clean and another cup of coffee made. It is my "day off" (yet to be really defined in parish ministry). After some thought, I decide to settle into the chair in our master bedroom, computer comfortably placed on a pad and resting on my lap, and the chair swiveled to face the large window that looks into the southeast portion of our backyard.

My ears catch the faint sound of a "tinkle" and soft padding. Our 13 year old Schnoodle (Schnauzer/Poodle mix), Duchess is easing into the room. We have had her as part of our family since she was about six weeks old...born on 6 November 1997. She was a Christmas gift for our girls....especially our, then, ten year old daughter, Madeline. Madeline, therefore, got the honor of naming our newest family member. Thus Duchess Magnolia Mann was grafted into our household. Very quickly, due to her personality and wonderful character, she became known to us as "The Duchess." "Anybody seen where The Duchess is hiding out this morning?" would be a good example of how any dialogue about her would begin. "Did The Duchess do this?" as a tipped trash can would be found with contents strewn about. Chances were better than 95% that she had, in fact, committed the crime.

At thirteen years old, The Duchess still commands the domestic scene. She has energy, presence and a hugely engaging kind of personality...eyes bright, tail constantly wagging, and body always poised for whatever action may take place. The only notice we have of her being a "senior dog" (as our Vet calls her) is that she takes a few more naps during the day. She has always been able to sleep the instant she lies down (a trait I envy in her). However, she is never so asleep that she can't rise to a moment of human movement, an outdoor sound or some change in the environment imperceivable to the rest of us. In fact, she has been known to emit a low, gutteral growl even before she opens her eyes and lifts her ears. Make no mistake: with an almost blurring speed, she can go from dead sleep in our master bedroom suite to the front door, at the other end of the house... full run and husky bark (for her size)...completely on the job.

Back to the moment. I am settled in my chair in our master bedroom...laptop keys quietly tapping...and I catch the tinkling of her collar "bling" (two tags) and the padding of her paws on the carpet...as she makes her way into the room. Her goal is always to be where either Denise or I have come to rest. After some sniffing about, she springs lightly up on our bed and begins a methodical searching about. There is The One spot that will be perfect for settling down. It turns out to be the corner nearest to where I am sitting in the chair.

This is not quite enough. Remember, I have long since made the bed. Some of my military training remains with me (actually more than some I think). A bed is not simply "made." A bed is "triced up." It's a Navy term for a very tightly made bed that will defy coming apart in rough seas. It's not that bad now, but there are no wrinkles in a bed that I have made. Just trust me on this.

This effort is of no matter to The Duchess. Finding her spot for a nap, she begins a methodical pawing at the comforter until she has created what amounts to a nesting area. After one final inspection of the wad of material now assembled at the corner of the bed, she literally plops the 21 pounds of her royal pulchritude into the midst of this crafted area of our bed. She looks at me non-chalantly but with a glimmer in her eye; yawns widely; tucks up her legs; puts down her head; and, within the space of two of my breaths, she is breathing the deep breaths of a dog asleep.

I continue my quiet typing. I am never quite still. For most of my adult life, I have had a benign form of myositis. It is simply a neurological state of muscles getting restless due to unnecessary nerve activity. Simply, I change positions often. As I shift my body, while continuing to type, the chair makes a slight creaking sound. True to form, The Duchess opens the one eye that can look directly at me. Observing my continued presence, she is almost instantly back in sleep mode. This probably happens about every five minutes. She doesn't miss a cue. Then, for no reason I have perceived, she raises her head suddenly, ears up and forward, eyes wide and focused. She stairs out the window or toward the door for up to a minute. Satisfied that all is as it should be, she yawns, makes several mouth sounds, puts her head down and is instantly asleep. In some of those "come alert" moments, I will speak to her. "Everything okay old girl?" I will softly question. She gives me a reassuring look and a quick wag of her tail and moves back toward an effortless sleep.

For The Duchess, life is lived not observed. She is usually in the bedroom while I make our bed before leaving for work. Observation has been made. But it is also a comfortable place for Herself to take a nap. Naps mean creating comfortable accomodations. For The Duchess, a tight, wrinkless comforter is not accomodating. She wants ridges.

She does not reflect the attitude we often take as we grow older: I've done my bit, I am retired. There is no complaining or blaming or justifying. When the need is there, she responds with all the gusto she has. She is a creature of community. When Denise and I are in separate parts of our home (there are three finished levels of our house), The Duchess believes her job is to insure we get back together. She is a born hunter and herder. She will make all kinds of very obvious and persistent attempts to get us to go with her to where the other of us happens to be.

The Duchess does not take herself too seriously. In fact, she doesn't take herself seriously at all. One great example happened this past summer. Denise and I were taking Duchess on one of our early evening, long walks. We have a pleasant 2 mile circuit that goes through our fairly large neighborhood (Canterbury Estates...fitting for an Episcopal Priest, eh?) and includes a large park and two ponds. The Duchess is in dog heaven...sights, smells and sounds engage every moment of her steady, energetic jaunt as she keeps her retractable lead line at its full extension ahead of us. She gives regular, over-the-shoulder glances to make sure we are still connected and responds readily to one of us saying "this way," when we are making a turn down another street. As I mentioned, her breed is hunting stock. Her nose is always near the ground and piloting her is like flying a kite at zero altitude....constant back and forth movements, as her olfactory radar analyzes the ever-changing spaces around her.

We were about a block from our house this summer evening mentioned above. It was near the end of our long amble. One of our neighbors on the street behind us had moved a Mexican clay oven from his back patio to the front of his house. It stood on its short iron stand in front of the support column that separates his two car garage bay doors. In the gathering dusk, it did look a bit like a short, pot-bellied human. Our neighbor had placed what looked like a pan on top of the chimney, which could have resembled a hat I suspect.

Duchess was busy analyzing the ground ahead of her. As we were navigating the sidewalk in front of that driveway, The Duchess suddenly looked up and directly at the Mexican clay oven. Immediately, she tensed and let out several sharp barks...communicating surprise, alert and something like, "I've got you covered mom and dad." Just as suddenly as she had gone into fight mode, she realized that it was not a person and, in fact, it was not alive at all. There was a split second of what we might call embarassment at making such an error. That disappeared immediately, and The Duchess simply ambled on, with her nose back to the business of taking in her environment. It was what it was. Nothing more.

Our pets do, indeed, reflect God's Love and Grace. They can also be true "sacramental moments," if we are but willing participants. What traits have been reinforced for me by The Duchess? Life is to be lived, not observed. Don't be afraid to get comfortable in your space. Rest well, but have a sense of your surroundings. Be present to your environment, because so much more is going on than meets the eye or ear. Never, never take yourself too seriously. If possible, don't take yourself seriously at all. When a mistake happens, a simple "oops" or apology will suffice, then move on without taking it with you. Live life fully...doing what you do best...and doing it with passion and gusto. Retirement? We don't need no stinkin' retirement. For us, it is a change in life and, hopefully, earned retirement income. But much more life needs to be lived. Get to it. Play hard and often. Above all, be your true self. It is, after all, who God created you to be. Sleep is good. Sleep unfettered by pre-occupation is even better.

Oops, The Duchess just jumped off her nesting area on the bed and has headed out of our bedroom. I know this signal. Time to go outside. After all, a girl dog has to do what a girl dog has to do. Gotta run.....

Love in Christ Jesus,

Fr. Fred+

Remember

I truly love history. Different periods of human history attract me at different times. Currently, it is Native American and American westward expansion that holds my attention. History is a type of remembering. On more than one occasion, I have been asked if such an avocation is but a waste of energy...because it keeps one from living in the present or being focused on the future.

The answer to that inquiry could be a resounding "yes," if that is what one was inclined to do. However, such remembering quickly becomes either maudlin or, at best, emotionally stunting to one's growth. One does not study history for history's sake. Here is where an exploration of definition is important.

Our current definition of "remember" generally means something like, "to think back on" or "to reflect." It is a worthy definition, if the intention is to do just that. I like to think back on moments of raising our two daughters; or a vacation experience; or a conversation with a dear friend. It helps to keep a repertoire of mental images that connect the dots of our growth and change. Our daughters are now adults, and it is a joy to behold what they have become in light of those early images of them as infants, toddlers, etc. Those vacations inspired and shaped new ways of experiencing the world. Conversations have created new knowledge and deeper understanding of the world around me. But, wouldn't you know it, there is more (always).

The ancient Greek word "anamnesis" (an-nahm-nee-sis) appears in a variety of places, but most often in the New Testament (original language was Koine Greek...a common version of classical Greek). The word is translated "remember," but its literal meaning is "to make present again." In essence it is a present perfect tense signifying a coming together again of that event or moment. This introduces a mystery.

In considering a past event or an historic person, how might such a coming together again take place? Part of the answer can be found in the study of history itself. My experience of Gettysburg Battlefield (Civil War, June 30 - July 3, 1863) is perhaps unique. Not only have I read accounts from both sides of the battle, but I have read biographies and autobiographies of those who fought there. I have made five visits to the battlefield and walked its entire massive range from early in the morning until after sunset. But, it isn't the facts or data that affect me the most. It is the sense of what happened to the thousands of lives forever lost and changed in that place. Something forever changed about who we are now as a result of those four days. Abraham Lincoln captured it magnificently in his short, but never to be forgotten address a few months later. To go there is to have something come together again.

I have had similar experiences while walking portions of the Oregon/California Trail and while doing Vision Quest in the center of the Black Hills. I have "bumped" into presence while climbing Bear Butte or hiking around ancient ruins in Scotland, Wales and Ireland. I have come away changed. My perspective is altered, and I have a deeper sense of direction and purpose. It's an amazing experience.

On Sunday mornings, I generally can be found at the Altar of my parish church. I am either presiding directly (the priest "making" Eucharist via the prayer of consecration) or am near one of my Associates who is presiding. The part of the Eucharistic Prayer known as the "Institution Narrative" is a summary of what we call the Last Supper of Jesus and begins, "....On the night in which he was betrayed, Jesus took bread...." In taking both the bread and the cup, Jesus tells his disciples, "Do this in remembrance of me." It is that word "anamnesis" that is used in the biblical narrative. Jesus is telling those gathered that, when they do this action, he will be present to them again. Do we get it? Not if we are looking for a biological entity.

Soldiers don't return to the battlefield. Monks do not return to the abbey ruins. Settlers do not reappear on the westward wagon trails. And the thousands of those who "cried for a vision" in the Black Hills do not corporally return. But there IS a presence of character, struggle, prayer and the lasting effects of those moments that somehow linger....to speak if we can listen and teach if we are open. It is a presence that shapes our understanding of the present and potential for the future.

With as much theology as I have learned and used (and continue to learn), I cannot tell you how; but I know that the promise of Jesus is accomplished when we respond to, "...whenever you do this, do so in remembrance of me..." Following these Words of Institution is a portion of the prayer known in Greek as the "epiclesis" (epi-clee-sis). It literally means "to call down." It is also known as the invocation of the Holy Spirit. At those words, we become intensely aware that the promise has been fulfilled and that Jesus is present to us in this sacrament. I have never not had that sensation of something transforming and engaging in that prayer. I am awed by the intensity of that mystery.

Next time you are in the act of remembering, ask yourself: Are you connecting dots as you assemble elements of life or experience; or are you re-assembling so as to encounter transformative experience? These are not just questions of theology or mystical prayer. It is seminal to the psychodynamics of our being and the shape of our character.

Blessings!

Fr. Fred+

Love's Inner Eye

[I am grateful to William Johnston, SJ for the inspiration for this blog post. I have read most all of his works over the years, but The Inner Eye of Love: Mysticism and Religion caught and held my imagination from the time I first read it in 1978. It was revised in 1997. The image used for this posting is the Helix Nebula taken by the Hubbel Telescope. It is also known colloquially as "God's Eye."]

We may tend to think of mysticism as being in the realm of monastic communities or the rare -- and rather eccentrically spiritual - individual. It would certainly not be a state of being normal to the regular, everyday individual...regardless of our passion for healthy spirituality or disposition toward being part of any religious body (here, specifically Christian). To set this straight, mysticism and the mystical path is not, a) foreign to anyone's capacity to experience; b) something to which one attains; and, c) a state that detaches one from current reality (i.e. not "out there" somewhere).

Let's take these in order. The capacity and capability to have mystical experiences is normative to any human being. In fact (borrowing from Thomas Aquinas), all creation can reflect the mystical element of reality. What is called "mysticism" is the direct intuition of the Holy (God). Carl Jung's typology is helpful here. The four spectra of human typology are Introvert/Extrovert; Sensate/Intuitive; Thinking/Feeling; Judging/Perceiving. Each of us are somewhere on the continuum of each of those four spectra. The complete set is called one's "Personality Type." For instance, I am an INFP (Introvert, Intuitive, Feeling, Perceiving). On the four scales, I am very introverted, very intuitive, moderately feeling and somewhat perceiving. How does this express itself?

For me (as an example), my natural state is to be inwardly directed, comfortable with ideas and abstractions, processing incoming data through emotional systems first and comfortable with rapid change and spontaneity. This is valuable information in knowing what is necessary to have a mystical experience -- or, more appropriately, what tools one uses in responding to the mystical "nudge."

Christian mysticism, specifically, begins and ends in the experience of being loved....loved by the Divine. It is an experience of intimacy. It is intuitive, as described above. Very important: The mystical is not something one attains or manufactures. It is strictly an invitation. It is God's call to us for intimacy and the resulting experience of that intimacy.

I used to think that one became a mystic by studying biblical literature, ritual and reading books and guides about prayer. Sure, all of that is helpful. In the end, however, I realized that folks like Moses, Elijah, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Peter, Paul and all such persons in our tradition were responding to some kind of invitation. Sometimes the invitation had to be rather abrupt (Paul's being struck blind on the road to Damascus is such a moment). One of the reasons Jesus compared us to sheep (which actually isn't a flattering metaphor) is that we are wilfull, hard headed and easily enough distracted to get regularly lost (thus, requiring us to be "fetched back").

The call of Samuel (1 Samuel 3), is a great story to get how the mystical moment happens. Samuel (as a boy) hears his name called in the night. He arises, goes to his mentor, Eli, and... thinking Eli has called him...says "Here I am." Eli (a mystic) doesn't get it and tells Samuel to go back to bed, because he did not call him. Finally, when Samuel hears the voice the third time, Eli gets it and tell's Samuel to answer the voice directly, should he hear it again. Samuel does and so begins his particular vocation as a prophet that will eventually raise up David as the unifying King of Israel.

Mysticism is not generally a world changing way of being. It is, however, a life changing experience, because responding to the invitation from God opens us to the deeper realization of who we really are and to the vocation that each of us has by nature. I used to think and function with the conviction that, to be fully human and a good priest, I had to be able to love others. I did everything possible to accomplish that and found myself always frustrated and exhausted. It was during my first truly mystical invitation that I cried out, "I am loving folks as hard as I can, and it isn't working!" The quiet voice that vibrated within said firmly, "that's the problem, you cannot simply love others....let go and let me love you and others through you..."

This was an astounding revelation to me. God was working from within me...not from "out there" somewhere. The secret of the fire and energy of every person I cited above as biblical examples was their experience and conviction of being loved by God. Another example of this is Thomas Aquinas.

We celebrated his feast in the Church yesterday (28 January). Aquinas is considered the greatest theologian in the history of the Western Church (perhaps Karl Rahner, who died just a few years ago, comes very close). Thomas Aquinas wrote the Summa Theologica and the Summa Contra Gentiles in the mid 1200s. There is much mystical expression in the theological works themselves. However, the real story is what happened just prior to his untimely death (at age 49).

Thomas -- a Dominican -- was celebrating Eucharist and entered a "frozen" state that lasted long enough for those gathered in community to have real concerns. Emerging from that experience, he became quite agitated and wanted to immediately have all his written works burned (this amounted to what is currenly more than 54 volumes). While his monks dissuaded him from such a hasty action, Thomas continued to insist that, "all this work amounts to nothing but dross..." (straw). He insisted that he had seen the glory and love of God in a way that changed everything about what he had previously experienced and expressed. Unfortunately, we will never know the contents of that mystical moment. He died a few days later rather suddenly.

The reason we read so much of mystical experiences from men and women in vocation is that prayer is at the center of our discipline. I know a number of lay persons who have similar experiences regularly...and are quite involved in their "day jobs" in secular society. In my work among the Lakota, I have found a number of folks for whom encounters and experiences of the Holy are daily occurances. Their work is as varied as that of archeologist, professor, psychotherapist, engineer, medical doctor and many other occupations.

There is no secret to this. It is about openness and being mindful of the deeper parts of our nature. There is something to be said for "taking time to smell the roses." To sit and experience the expanse of a prairie (here in the midwest) or a forest or quietly watching the antics of wildlife are a few ways. We surround ourselves with noise and electronic visualizations. We effectively block any opportunity to hear the invitation of the Holy to experience the awesome power of Divine Love. Do we fear what that will do to us or where it will lead us? Most often, the experience only deepens and nurtures our current circumstances and occupations. It both answers questions and raises new and important ones.

Jesus spoke what seemed rough words to Martha, who was consumed with self important doing of things (and was criticizing Mary for attending to what Jesus was saying and doing). Jesus, as the full expression of God's Love in the world, told Martha to take a break, for Mary had chosen the better part of human nature in that moment. [Note that, later, Mary would be somewhat angry with Jesus for not showing up in time to be a healing presence to her brother Lazarus, who was dead. None of us are always "in the moment."]

Next time, I will reflect more on this key element of human nature.

In Christ's Love,

Fred+

Truth and Love

For a number of years now, I have not made New Year resolutions. First, I have found it difficult to stare a new year in the face from a hungover composure. It seems antithetical to what making a resoluton means...."as soon as I get over the affects of this party, I will get serious about this new day." A good number of folks can't even drag themselves up until after noon...and then with hangover meds, coffee and their melons feeling like they need a size 12 hat.

This is not an indictment as much as it is simply an observation of what might be considered typical. So, why a set of resolutions? Such promises for renewal of life and commitment would indicate we that we want to leave some not-so-helpful behaviors behind in favor of behaviors that are healthy, renewing and invigorating to body, mind and spirit. None of this is why I gave up resolutions, however.

I began to realize that, if resolving to launch (or in most cases relaunch) a set of programs for improvement would have permanence, they would change each year. We would accomplish the goals set forth, find ourselves in a new place, celebrate THAT on New Year's Eve, go to bed happy and wake up with a fresh set of goals for the coming year. Yet, every year, the number one resolution (this is according to marketers) is diet. It is followed by exercise programs. Personal health is the big ticket for every new year. And we start that as we are praying to our adopted god O'Rourke while hovering over a hotel, friend's or home toilet. Is there something about this picture that doesn't seem quite right?

So, shortly after college -- while stationed in Scotland with the Navy -- I made my last new year resolution: Never make another resolution and never enter the new year in worse physical shape than I was the morning before (New Year's Eve morning). Instead, I decided to follow something that I started calling the Benjamin Franklin Method. Here is how it works.

• Make the last days of the current year be ones of enjoying family and getting done what is necessary for one's work life. This is simply being diligent to what composes our life.


• Enjoy whatever might be planned for New Year's Eve festivities. Change it up so that it includes different folks and different venues. Some years, stay home and enjoy alone time with one's partner.


• If drinking is involved, stay completely sober. Here is a subtext of the Franklin Method. It is called the Dirty Harry corollary: "Some people just don't know their own limitations." To know the limits of one's capacities and attendant boundaries of civility is an essential element of character. (An aside: I do drink alcoholic beverages -- enjoying good wine, well crafted beer and good single malt Scots Whisky. I do not find it helpful having it turn into an internal toxic soup and thus lose control of my faculties and motor accuity).


• Start the new year with ONE (yep, just one) area of life that needs attention. Now (and this is important) this is not a resolution. This area of attention is much deeper than that. This is about character....the substance of Self. What needs to shift in such ways that who I am more completely reflects the image and being in which I have been created.

This last bullet point is the heart of the matter. If one's blood chemisty (for instance) is out of whack and causing problems, this one area of attention might begin with a trip to the doctor for advice and resources for getting one's body back in balance. I had such a situation, and it has taken nearly three years to find the formulary that has finally worked. In this journey, the annual ONE thing was to continue making progress. I was never quiting and starting over during the three years. Instead, it was a 'what next, because I am not there yet' continuation. Shortly after shoulder replacement surgery this past fall, I hit that balance mark. Hit it on the head!! So, 2011emerges with a new ONE area of life needing attention. By the way: Just because one "nails" that ONE area needing attention, it doesn't mean walking away from it. Learning what is necessary and continuing its employment is a hallmark of the Benjamin Franklin Method....mastery of one's being.

Being a priest, much of what I find inside myself comes from extended times of meditation and prayer. I use those tools to look at my own character and how I function in the environment around me (which is a lot more than just relationships with other folks). As I spent time on surgical leave this fall, I journaled a question one morning: "Is Truth an external, isolated entity to which I must accede or measure up; or is it an expression of the best sense of Self as it touches the external environment?" This is a tough question by itself, but there is more. Is truth raw and painful, or, is it loving and transformational? St. Paul put these two together in Ephesians 4:15 (bless his heart):

• Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will grow to become in every respect the mature body of him who is the head, that is, Christ.

Jumping to the conclusion of my exegetical work on that passage, I learned that "the truth" is intrinsic. It lives inside us, and, if we can touch that place, external reality can be seen in light of the internal character of Truth so that that external experience can be measured as truth. Another way to see it: If a statement, event or experience external to us is called "truth" by others, it is only Truth if our internal character can see and embrace that reality.

In pastoral ministry, I have often found that another person is adamant about what constitutes the truth of a situation. Others walk away in frustration or confusion, because they are not experiencing truth in that situation. What's wrong with the picture? The adamant person is not a pathological liar (another issue entirely) and makes a good case. Something inside me...or others...doesn't make sense. It is here that St. Paul's point becomes fundamental. I must be able to experience the Truth of Self in order to see the truth in my environment. In speaking that Truth, since it is intrinsic, it must be vesseled by love...a positive, tranformational desire for the good of all in my external environment.

We are not taught this way. In general, truth is seen as an external reality that must be weighed, measured and lived up to. It must be defended at all costs; and further, if you do not see the truth as I see it (as an example), then you are faulty. This can lead to all kinds of bad and unpleasant things (including war, fratricide, ethnic cleansing, and, perhaps the most insidious, branding another as a less than normal human). After all this, I found what my ONE area of life needing attention this coming year is: Speaking the Truth in Love.

This is going to take some work. While I always work to be truthful, I don't think I represent myself in a way that speaks truth. I am the "me" that God has created, and I have not always represented that "me" with integrity. I have often "bent" it so that others might be pleased or accepting. Ultimately, this is not very loving -- first to God and then to those folks in my relational environment. As a ready example, I would not have dared write this blog article for (potentially) the world to see even a year ago. But, this is my truth. It is who I am. It is, also, essential that the Truth of Self be delivered NOT as a weapon but as a loving gesture of transformation. Again, the opening lines of Desiderata become meaningful:

• Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons.
  Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and the ignorant;
  they too have their story. (from the first stanza)

This is where I start -- not where I end. It is the mandate of my coming year and will be the work of my spirit, mind and body as I press forward. I'll keep you posted as I learn more.

Blessings in this new year!

Fr. Fred+