a pilgrimage beyond anxiety...

Last night another 3" of light snow fell on the Berkshires. It made the morning feel fragile - shrouded in silence - delicate. That is not the whole truth, of course, as soon the plows were scrapping the streets, the garbage crews were collecting our recycling, and a host of four-legged friends were wandering through the wetlands in search of nourishment The tracks of something larger than a cat but smaller than a deer had crossed our front yard at dawn as if to prove my point. But still, at least for a moment, a palpable tenderness filled the air.

It does my soul good to take all of this in at the start of the day: the silence as well as the sounds, the serenity alongside the striving. For too long I could only grasp one side of reality - and mostly it was the lot of busyness and striving. I knew that there was more going on than I could comprehend, by faith I trusted the promise of serenity, but it was hard to rest into it. These words from Jean Vanier helped:You will discover how fragile and vulnerable your life, your body and your heart really are. You cannot do just anything. You have to look after yourself and treat yourself gently, enjoying relaxation, relationships, peace and prayer which will help you stay in the light.

They gave me permission to take another step on the pilgrimage beyond anxiety by faith. Vanier and Nouwen have been my trusted guides during the past three years. It has been a season of inner winnowing that continues to blow away the chaff of fear and the sting of judgment from my heart. These two write confessionally with a vulnerability that is unique among men. Like the poet of Psalm 131: they do not speak in ways that are too high or complicated for my soul; but welcome me like a child on his mother's breast. Nouwen put it like this:

Over the years, I have come to realize that the greatest trap in our life is not success, popularity, or power, but self-rejection. Success, popularity, and power can indeed present a great temptation, but their seductive quality often comes from the way they are part of the much larger temptation to self-rejection. When we have come to believe in the voices that call us worthless and unlovable, then success, popularity, and power are easily perceived as attractive solutions. The real trap, however, is self-rejection... As soon as someone accuses me or criticizes me, as soon as I am rejected, left alone, or abandoned, I find myself thinking, “Well, that proves once again that I am a nobody.” My dark side says, “I am no good... I deserve to be pushed aside, forgotten, rejected, and abandoned.” Self-rejection is the greatest enemy of the spiritual life because it contradicts the sacred voice that calls us the “Beloved.” Being the Beloved constitutes the core truth of our existence.

The gospel reading for this week, the Beatitudes and Curses found in St. Luke 6, encourage us to live beyond the judgment of the world. The story begins with Jesus and his disciples coming down off a mountain - a place of prayer in Luke's writing - to stand in solidarity with ordinary people. When St. Matthew shares this story and its insights in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus is raised up to evoke his role as the new Moses. But here, however, Jesus stands on common ground with everyday people.

And he uses a word, blessed, makarios in Greek, in an upside-down manner. In its original usage makarios refereed to the gods. Bible scholar Brian Stoffregen writes: "The blessed ones were the gods. They had achieved a state of happiness and contentment in life that was beyond all cares, labors, and even death. The blessed ones were beings who lived way up there in some other world. To be blessed, you had to be a god." Other New Testament writers note that the blessed also came to include the dead - who had achieved a place of rest and joy beyond the woes of this world - and society's elite - whose material wealth and status lifted them out of pain and cares of ordinary folk. 

Additionally, when the Hebrew Bible was translated into Greek so that Jews in diaspora had access to their Scriptures, makarios "took on another meaning. It referred to the results of right living or righteousness. If you lived right, you were blessed. Being blessed meant you received earthly, material things: a good wife, many children, abundant crops, riches, honor, wisdom, beauty, good health, etc. A blessed person had more things and better things than an ordinary person... In all of these meanings, the "blessed" ones existed on a higher plane than the rest of the people." (Stoffregen, CrossMarks @ www. crossmarks.com/brian/luke6x17.htm) There are, of course, minority readings in the Hebrew texts that question this perspective. I think of Job or the way Isaiah interprets Israel's exile in Babylon as two examples. Still, there was a dominate interpretation of makarios that was normative during the time of Jesus.

And Jesus calls this out in his ministry. Clearly he does not refer to the gods, the deceased, society's wealthy or the spiritual elites as the blessed of the Lord. Rather, he insists that God is giving blessings to those who are the most wounded among us right now; and  promises that God will continue to bring blessings to those living on the periphery in the kingdom yet to come. For me there are two abiding truths here: 

+ First, Jesus brings a presence of assurance and comfort to the wounded and neglected of his world. You have NOT been forgotten by God. And your worth is NOT determined by what you possess or how others view you. Rather, your trust in God's love has opened your heart to experience from the inside out the Lord's steadfast love that endures forever. And to make certain we don't miss this truth, Jesus is physically present as a source of comfort and assurance. He shows up. He makes the words of the sacred flesh by his presence. This beatitude underscores the importance of tenderness and pastoral presence for those who are broken, forgotten and despised.

+ Second, Jesus wants the well-to-do to understand that blessings can become ours too IF we learn to live in solidarity with the poor. IF we can share our wealth - and time - and resources with compassion rather than pity. IF we are open to trusting the poor to teach us about true community. IF we are willing to see how human suffering can also be an upside down invitation into the holy love of God. IF we who are often at the top let the least among us introduce us to the wisdom of our own wounds. And IF our brokenness and vulnerability can become a bridge over the barriers of fear so that we love one another as God has loved us from the beginning. THEN the curses become a way into the beloved community of God for us all.

In my experience, Vanier and Nouwen show me how a middle class white man can taste the kingdom of God in my lifetime. I yearn to follow Jesus. So these two mentors not only point me towards the wisdom of their own wounds, but encourage me to trust my wounds, too in ways that I can comprehend. Nouwen wrote:

As long as I keep running about asking “Do you love me? Do you really love me?” I give all power to the voices of the world and put myself in bondage because the world is filled with “ifs.” The world says: “Yes, I love you if you are good-looking, intelligent, and wealthy. I love you if you have a good education, a good job, and good connections. I love you if you produce much, sell much, and buy much.” There are endless “ifs” hidden in the world’s love. These “ifs” enslave me, since it is impossible to respond adequately to all of them. The world’s love is and always will be conditional. As long as I keep looking for my true self in the world of conditional love, I will remain “hooked” to the world—trying, failing, and trying again. It is a world that fosters addictions because what it offers cannot satisfy the deepest craving of my heart.

Jesus brought comfort and reassurance first to the wounded; then he to all who have so much as we reorder our living. In this, we are welcomed into God's blessing. Solidarity and sharing are the way we let go of our anxieties in the presence of Jesus. Community becomes the way we practice cultivating trust. And compassion empowers us to live quietly, tenderly and consistently into the steadfast love of God that endures forever. Nouwen put it like this:

It strikes me increasingly just how hard-pressed people are nowadays. It’s as though they’re tearing about from one emergency to another. Never solitary, never still, never really free but always busy about something that just can’t wait. You get the impression that, amid this frantic hurly-burly, we lose touch with life itself. We have the experience of being busy while nothing real seems to happen. The more agitated we are, and the more compacted our lives become, the more difficult it is to keep a space where God can let something truly new really take place. The discipline of the heart helps us to let God into our hearts so that God can become known to us there, in the deepest recesses of our own being.

Nearly every day I am able to sit in my study, quietly take in the ever changing wetlands outside my window, and spend time listening for the still, small voice of God through the words of Vanier and Nouwen. Renewed by this solitude, I am then able to be present in the world with tenderness. It is the balance of contemplation with action. My mornings are given to reflection: a few quiet hours of study, writing and prayer. My afternoons and evenings can then be given to  being in the world with a less anxious heart. I can't do it all. And I have discovered that I can't be free from anxiety if I am exhausted or over-committed. So these days I try to do a few loving things well. Sometimes I visit loved ones, other times I am playing or practicing music; every week has times set aside to listen carefully to another's journey. And there are also whole days filled with my adventures in baking bread. Vanier has been instrumental in helping me see how blessings can grow from just being my truest self. 

The beauty of human beings lies in their capacity to accept who they are, just as they are; not to live in a world of dreams and illusions, in anger or despair, wanting to be other than they are, or trying to run away from reality. They realize they have the right to be themselves. And there, they discover that they are loved by God, that they are unique and important for God and that they can do things for others.