Gertrud Mueller-Nelson in her wise book, To Dance with God, reminds us what C.G. Jung observed: when people and societies lose touch with the sacred rhythms of life, they create pathological ones that mimic the blessings but lead towards death. In a culture that no longer fasts, for example, we have become obsessive about dieting. In a society that can't remember to honor the Sabbath, we are forever inventing - and purchasing - more and more "time-saving devices." And on and on it goes. Feast days help us both bring sacred celebrations into our ordinary days and invite us to look towards real human beings who have expressed God's grace in healing ways. Feast days give us a break from the grind, and, ask us to consider truths deeper than our habits, addictions and opinions.
One of my favorite Franciscans, Fr. Richard Rohr of the Center for Contemplation and Action in New Mexico, recently wrote:
Soul
knowledge sends you in the opposite direction from consumerism. It’s not
addition that makes one holy, but subtraction: stripping the illusions, letting
go of the pretense, exposing the false self, breaking open the heart and the
understanding, not taking my private self too seriously. Conversion is more
about unlearning than learning.
In a
certain sense we are on the utterly wrong track. We are climbing while Jesus is
descending, and in that we reflect the pride and the arrogance of Western
civilization, usually trying to accomplish, perform, and achieve. This is our
real operative religion. Success is holy! We transferred much of that to our
version of Christianity and made the Gospel into spiritual consumerism. The ego
is still in charge. There is not much room left for God when the false self
takes itself and its private self-development that seriously.
All we can really do is
get ourselves out of the way, and honestly we can’t even do
that. It is done to us through this terrible thing called suffering.
On a cool and rainy autumn Sabbath day in the Berkshires, I resonate with Rohr's insights. In another note he has called the way of religion in America a form of "spiritual capitalism" where we strive for more and more and judge others by their status and power rather than their intrinsic worth as a child of God. This morning Pope Francesco I called it "the cancer of society and the enemy of Christ." Paraphrasing his name's sake, he added:
Let us not live as instruments of destruction. May there be an end to armed conflicts which cover the earth with blood, may the clash of arms be silenced and everywhere may hatred yield to love, injury to pardon, and discord to unity. Let us listen to the cry of all those who are weeping, who are suffering and who are dying because of violence, terrorism or war.
From where I sit - in a small house on the edge of a small city in Western Massachusetts as a pastor/artist serving a small congregation in the midst of a culture that doesn't remember much about feast days and saints - I think it is vital to renew a tender commitment to these sacred rhythms of life. On one level, it is a gentle alternative to the status quo - a peaceful and loving form of protest against blind consumerism - an embodied way of living as "instruments of God's peace." The way I get it: we can't give what we don't have. So feasting, fasting and honoring a sacred ebb and flow in my life helps me live and ordered and grounded existence in the midst of too much busyness, noise and clutter.
Such a gentle commitment also puts me into solidarity with others in our household of faith: Roman Catholics, Anglicans and Eastern Orthodox. I know that I will never see the unity of the Body of Christ in my life (as much as I ache for it). Still, I can do my part to honor and celebrate the wisdom of my sisters and brothers by opening myself - and our congregation - to the time-tested insights and traditions that we Protestants threw away 500+ years ago. For a long, long time I have sensed that in spite of the courage and passion of my Reformed fore bearers, mostly they were theological adolescents having an extended temper tantrum. And in the process of opposing daddy and mommy, they threw the baby out with the bath water. (How did Pete Townsend put it? "Meet the new boss... same as the old boss?")
Yes, I continue to embrace the radical freedom my Protestant mothers and fathers reclaimed during the Reformation. And I celebrate the importance of the priesthood of all believers. But so much beauty, wisdom and tradition was smashed in this movement, too. It was a theological cultural revolution in Europe that was as ugly as it was valuable. Renewing a tender re-connection with some of the old ways seems healing to me. The way of Jesus didn't begin with John Wycliff, Jan Hus, Martin Luther and Jean Calvin, right?
In his book, All Saints, Robert Ellsberg writes this about Francis:
... behind his "foolishness" Francis could not disguise the serious challenge he posed to the church and the society of his time. (One he still presents, too!) Centuries before the expressions became current in the church, Francis represented a 'preferential option for the poor.' Even in his life, Franciscans themselves were divided about how literally to accept his call to radical material poverty. In an age of crusades and other expressions of 'sacred violence,' Francis also espoused a radical commitment to nonviolence. He rejected all violence as an offense against the gospel commandment of love and a desecration of God's image in all human beings. (More over) Francis had a vivid sense of the sacramentality of creation. All things - whether living or inanimate - reflected their Creator's love and were thus due reverence and wonder. His life... represented the breakthrough of a new model of human and cosmic community.
Two days ago, a Roman Catholic nun who is working with me on the local social justice organizing team project, asked if I might consider meeting with her on a regular basis to explore what she called "the next voluntary step in evolution." We would be "spiritual friends" - anam cara - to one another as we listened and talked, read and studied, prayed and encouraged greater grounding in a commitment to compassion, healing and hope. What a blessed gift. ALL of my spiritual directors have been Roman Catholic - and now one of my favorite nuns has asked if we might be "directors" for one another - I am so very grateful.
And now the rain has ended (for a bit) so we'll play with the puppy, wait for Jesse's baby to make his announcement and give thanks to God for the witness and love of St. Francis.
No comments:
Post a Comment