Saturday, February 15, 2020

integrating the path of suffering and the tender path of creation...

One of my best mentors has been failure. Missing the mark and spending time with my defeats connects me to the possibility of transformation as well as a bit of humility. This is the time-tested tradition of the hero/heroine's journey. The late Joseph Campbell captured it with clarity when he wrote:

We have not even to risk the adventure alone; for the heroes of all time have gone before us; the labyrinth is thoroughly known; we have only to follow the thread of the hero-path.” Here it is. “And where we had thought to find an abomination, we shall find a god; where we had thought to slay another, we shall slay ourselves; where we had thought to travel outward, we shall come to the center of our own existence; where we had thought to be alone, we shall be with all the world.

My spiritual tradition speaks of this as the folly of the Cross: trusting that out of suffering not only will wisdom and patience be experienced, but intimacy with new life in God, too. Other traditions point to this truth with words like karma, exodus or Tao. Richard Rohr playfully says that "the Buddha is even supposed to have said that suffering 'is part of the deal!'" I have long meditated on St. Paul's description in Romans 5:

Therefore, since we are justified by faith (that is made whole and experiencing intimacy with God by trust) we are at peace in our Lord Jesus Christ and rest in his grace... From this encounter we know that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because hope is God’s love being poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit.

The text tells us that when we know - οἶδα/eidó to perceive and experience awareness and insight as if seeing with our eyes in the Greek rather than the more abstract knowledge of ideas - then we are able to trust God's love through even the most trying circumstances. Like the Cross. This real life way of learning is sometimes called the spirituality of imperfection - and it has been a beautiful albeit demanding teacher in my life. 

But there is another way into knowledge and wisdom, too - a guide that is softer and more tender - involving what some call God's first word: creation. Mother Nature. A spirituality of the seasons. This tutor is no less true than the other - and no less demanding - yet wisdom is still shared, compassion strengthened, and maturity ripened in a more gentle and incremental manner. In Robin Wall Kimmerer's Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teachings of Plants she compares the story of two women: Skywoman from her First Nations' stories concerning the origins of Turtle Island, and, Eve of the Hebrew Bible who was expelled from the garden for eating from the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil.

Look at the legacy of poor Eve's exile from Eden: the land shows the bruises of an abusive relationship. It's not just land that is broken, but more importantly, our relationship to land. As Gary Nabhan (of Tucson fame) has writer, we can't meaningfully proceed with healing, with restoration, without "re-story-ation." In other words, our relationship with land cannot heal until we hear its stories... In the Western tradition there is a recognized hierarchy of beings, with, of course, the human being on top - the pinnacle of evolution, the darling of Creation - and the plants at the bottom. But in Native ways of knowing, human people are often referred to as 'the young brothers of Creation.' We say that humans have the least experience with how to live and thus the most to learn - and we must look to our teachers among the other species for guidance. Their wisdom is apparent in the way that they live. They teach us by example. They've been on the earth far longer than we have been, and have had time to figure things out. They live both above and below the ground, joining Skyworld to the earth. Plants know how to make food and medicine from light and water - and then give it away. (pp. 9-10)

It has taken me decades to hear - and then trust - this other way of knowing. It began when we had to engage Lucie's anxiety with patience and tenderness rather than exasperation. It continued as I relearned (with a lot more to know) how to bake bread. Being a part of L'Arche Ottawa has been part of my journey into this path. And now it continues with the trees, the grasses, and our small garden. I am such a novice. I am grateful to have been opened to the holy upon the road of suffering, but walking along the tender path of creation is equally holy and true, too. Today I give thanks to God for bringing me closer to the beauty of this sacred balance. 

Our indigenous herbalists say to pay attention when plants come to you; they’re bringing you something you need to learn... Know the ways of the ones who take care of you, so that you may take care of them. Introduce yourself. Be accountable as the one who comes asking for life. Ask permission before taking. Abide by the answer. Never take the first. Never take the last. Take only what you need. Take only that which is given. Never take more than half. Leave some for others. Harvest in a way that minimizes harm. Use it respectfully. Never waste what you have taken. Share. Give thanks for what you have been given. Give a gift, in reciprocity for what you have taken. Sustain the ones who sustain you and the earth will last forever.

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