Saturday, January 7, 2023

Epiphany and the Full Wolf Moon

 

Friday, January 6, 2023

Today is January 6, the twelfth day of Christmas, which is celebrated as Epiphany in the Church. It commemorates the visit of the Magi (“wise men”) from the East to the infant Jesus and the Holy Family. The major theme is light, as the learned easterners saw and followed the light of a star in the sky which led them to the newborn Savior of the world. We are told in Matthew that they were warned in a dream to return to their home by “another way” to avoid the treachery of the narcissistic king. We don’t hear from the magi again.
Every year on Epiphany I find and play the YouTube recording of T. S. Eliot reading his own poem in his own voice, the famous “Journey of the Magi.” It is quite remarkable! Near the end of the poem, the narrator says,
“We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.”
The traveling magi were not someone you would ordinarily write into a Hebrew (or Christian) religious origin story. They didn’t belong. They were outsiders in every way – they were the wrong race, the wrong religion, from the wrong country. They were “incompatible” with Judaism in almost every way. Yet here they were – being led by the Light. They were the enlightened ones (hence, “Epiphany”). You might even say they were “woke.”
They were so enlightened that when they returned home by “another way,” they felt themselves not as much at home as before.
This year’s Epiphany coincides with the Full Wolf Moon, as the first full moon in January is known by some who give name to their moons. The Full Wolf Moon gets its name from the sound of the wolves who can be heard often this time of year, to broadcast their presence, to call to others, or to express something that is known only to the wolves themselves. Some say the long, upward, mournful sound tells us it is a time to turn inward, to “trust your gut,” to get in touch with your feelings, and then to rear your head back and let ‘er rip.
When you go home and it no longer feels like home, it’s how I feel when the church spends so much of its time squabbling over buildings and bureaucrats and who gets to decide who’s in and who’s out and how to squirm out of a trust clause rather than how to be more like Jesus. Tonight, I go outside and lift my voice and pour out my heart to God with all the intensity and passion of the call-of-the-wild.
“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome the light” – John 1:5

Tuesday, November 1, 2022

All Saints' Day and the Bonus Round

 

Today is All Saints’ Day, November 1, 2022.  The other day Professor Tom Nichols posted this image and comment on Twitter:

Having had a recent brush with death but with different ongoing implications, I too feel like the part of life that I am living right now is the bonus round.

Last week I had updated pulmonary function tests and a follow-up visit with my pulmonologist. By now I have learned a thing or two about how to interpret these tests and how to listen to my body, so I pretty well already knew what the status is: the fibrosis has progressed, which was anticipated, but not as quickly as it might have without the medication that I am taking. The clock is ticking on the bonus round.

All Saints’ Day has always been one of my favorite days of the year, and such a meaningful time to express our love and appreciation for those who have died throughout the past year.

This particular All Saints, this year, has been especially hard for me. The list of people whom I have lost this year is much longer than it ever has been – former church members, clergy colleagues, high school friends, and others. It seems as though almost every week or so I hear of another death. So. Much. Death. 

The classic scripture reading for All Saints is Hebrews 12:1-2, the part after that great roll call of the heroic saints of old, where the writer then admonishes us: “Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses…let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us.”

Well, I’m not running any races these days, and I am predicted to be joining the great cloud of witnesses before too long. It may be ten years or ten minutes, and my family is well aware of this and about as well prepared as they can be. They are going to be just fine, and I am abundantly proud of them.

So I was glad that this special day would also be the day that I would meet with my monthly online centering prayer group, and I was asked to bring a brief meditation to lead us into our prayer. I chose an alternate scripture text:

“I have heard of your faith in the Lord Jesus and your love toward all the saints, and for this reason I do not cease to give thanks for you as I remember you in my prayers, that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give you a spirit of wisdom and revelation as you come to know him, so that with the eyes of your heart enlightened, you may perceive what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance among the saints, and what it the immeasurable greatness of his power for us who believe, according to the working of his great power.”  --Ephesians 1:15-19

The key word for this to me today is “remember.” Part of my spiritual practice these past few months has been to remember in prayer the many departed loved ones on my growing list along with their families. This calls to mind these words from Nouwen and Buechner:

“It is central to the biblical tradition that God’s love for his people should not be forgotten. It should remain with us in the present. When everything is dark, when we are surrounded by despairing voices, when we do not see any exits, when we can find salvation in a remembered love, a love which is not simply a wistful recollection of a bygone past but a living force which sustains us in the present. Through memory, love transcends the limits of time and offers hope at any moment of our lives…One of the mysteries of life is that memory can often bring us closer to each other than can physical presence.” ---Henri Nouwen

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“When you remember me, it means that you have carried something of who I am with you, that I have left some mark of who I am on who you are. It means that you can summon me back to your mind, even though countless years and miles may stand between us. It means that if we meet again, you will know me. It means that even after I die, you can still see my face and hear my words and speak o me in your heart.” – Frederick Buechner

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So this morning a clergy colleague posted the following reflection which I believe pretty wells sums it up:

“Today is All Saints' Day, truly a moment to be still and reflect upon that amazing blessing and truth -- we are the result of the love of thousands. Parents and grandparents who came before us and prepared our way; teachers, preachers, and mentors who helped shape our heart and faith.  Their light shines so brightly in and thru us, and we would not be the people we are today if it were not for their faith and love.

I am a reflection of that love, and I hope that the others who will come after me will be a reflection of the love that I show. 

For all the saints who came before us, may God grant them eternal rest and may perpetual light shine upon them. 

On this All Saints' Day may we each remember the love that shines thru us.

All Saints’ Day 2022”  -- Rev. Blake Lasater (used with permission)

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Tuesday, April 12, 2022

Zen and the Short Pencil, Chapter Five

 


CHAPTER FIVE: FROM TEAM TO TRIBE

“The Necessity of Companionship"

“The important thing is not to think much but to love much; and so do that which best stirs you to love” –St. Teresa of Avila (1515-1582).

Six weeks ago, just after Ash Wednesday, I began to “open up” to everyone about my sudden and unexpected onset of chronic lung disease which was exactly concurrent with the beginning of my retirement. I promised to share a brief essay each week during Lent to “tell my story, for what it is worth, in hopes that it might help someone.” Since then, something more than 260 friends have asked to be “tagged” on the weekly posts, and many have commented that something in the sharing has blessed them. I continue to be in awe of this response, and I continue to be thankful for your prayers and kind words.

As I have shared with you during this season of Lent, the first six months of my journey was a journey that I did not see coming and yet was something that God may have been preparing me for throughout my entire life. Lent is a season when we are reminded of our mortal nature, and we are never more conscious of our mortality than when we are given a life-threatening diagnosis.

Earlier I shared that I was thankful for so many things that God has provided for me, some of which I had probably taken for granted. When you are reminded of your mortality every single day, you become aware that some things are simply not as important as you might have thought they were; and some things are more so.

As Lent comes to a close, I would like to share a word of testimony about one thing that has been sustaining me along the way. That one thing is companionship.

In my case, the divine gift of companionship has taken many forms:

One, my team. When I first got home from the hospital and figured out that I was not going to immediately recover and go back about my business, I reached out to about 20 people, about half of whom were family who needed to know, and the other half being friends whom I had more or less kept in touch with through the years. I trusted them with the unfolding information which I have now shared with you and asked them for their support in conversation and prayer.

Beyond my team, I am part of a small group of spiritual directors who meet with a larger group once a year and meet together once a month for conversation, centering prayer, and lectio divina. I refer to this group as my tribe.

My spiritual director. Your spiritual director is not your pastor, not your therapist, but is a person who is gifted and called to walk alongside you on your journey and to help you to see, to notice, and to discern where God may be at work in your life in the present. Everyone should have a spiritual director. Spiritual Directors International is a good place to find someone who may be a good “fit” for you. Aside from that, God may just send you someone from “off the grid.”

My wider circle of friends. Since I have started writing again and sharing these posts, I have been humbled and amazed at hearing from so many friends, colleagues, members of churches and communities where I have served, others who have reached out. When I first started sharing, a buddy from my college days commented that my team had grown!

My dog. Yes, Dixie. She is a ten-year-old rescue, and she almost never leaves my side.

The ancestors.  As you may know, Buchanan is a Scottish name, and in the Scotch-Irish Celtic tradition, we believe the ancestors are always somewhere near. They are like the “great cloud of witnesses” mentioned in Hebrews 12:1, whom we celebrate on All Saints’ Day. Walking around in the backyard and seeing a red cardinal on a branch is a reminder that the ancestors are nearby.

The Spirit of God.  Even in the brain-fog that goes with low oxygen, the Spirit of God is always present.

Physical reminders. When I first moved in after getting home from the hospital, I was thankful for the stack of greeting cards that I had received from my retirement party and for the big green peace lily which is the only plant in my house. These gifts represent the love and prayers that were so fresh on my mind that I felt the presence of these friends for many days after.

There can be many manifestations of companionship. I believe all of these are gifts of God, and in some ways may be a manifestation of God’s own companionship with us. Many find companionship within communities of faith, the church. Community is not the same as companionship, but companionship may be one of the basic building blocks of community.

Tomorrow will be Maundy Thursday – the Thursday of Holy Week, three days before Easter. Maundy Thursday gets its name from John 13:34-35 – “a new commandment (mandatum novum in Latin) I give you; that you love one another, even as I have loved you that you also love one another. By this all people will know you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

Jesus has washed his disciples’ feet, dismissed Judas, and has turned to the eleven to give his last words to them at their last supper together. In that intimate moment, mere hours before his arrest, what is the most urgent, compelling, important thing that the departing Christ has to say to his followers?

“I’m commanding you to love one another.”

That’s it. The “new commandment.”

Every year in the liturgical churches, we hear this on Maundy Thursday.

But every year I ask, how can love be commanded? I would venture to say that when you fell in love with your spouse or significant other, it was not a feeling or an impulse that could be “commanded.” To be honest, it could be said that love was commanding YOU!

Most of us would say that loving feelings are not easily commanded or easily dismissed; and let’s be honest: some “one-anothers” are more easily loved than others!

But what if the love that Jesus refers to is not just a feeling? What if this love is not just something that we feel but something that we do? Like washing our companions’ feet?

Lord help us. He is teaching us that love is a choice.

This brings me to what I have stumbled upon, the Meaning of Life. I know, I know, people have tossed this question up in the air for centuries, and responses have ranged from the sublime to the ridiculous. Each one must choose their own way to find meaning. For me, the meaning of life is simple: God is not playing hide-and-seek with us. It should not take a Ph.D. or an ivory-tower theologian to tell us the meaning of life.  Simply put, the meaning of life is…

We live, we love, and then we are gone…but not too far.

That’s it. Everything else is, well, … everything else.

“Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God; and everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. The one who does not love does not know God, for God is love. By this the love of God was manifested in us, that God has sent His only begotten Son into the world so that we might live through Him.”   --I John 4:7-9

Companionship is love in action, love in real life.

I will close this week with my team text on February 2, the Feast of St. Brigid:

 Thank you so much for reading, for your friendship, and for your prayers. Feel free to subscribe to my blog for updates: I promise I will not inundate you with material!

            Wednesday, February 2

February update

February 2, Ground Hog Day,

Candlemas, Feast Day of St. Brigid of Kildare.

 

In the Celtic tradition of my ancestors, the first of February is a threshold time. It’s basically the Celtic New Year.

 

I am presently enjoying a nine-day Celtic pilgrimage each morning based on St. Brigid, whose feast day is today. She is the patron saint of the hearth and of Healing, among other things.

 

I’m in the 4th week of the new ipf medication and thanks be to God my body is tolerating the medication well and I am not experiencing any of the well-known and dreaded side effects. I’m feeling a little better and the doctor says I’m holding my own, with which he is quite pleased. We’re continuing to monitor and I’m praying/hoping for improving functionality by spring.

 

I just returned from Clarksville TN where I got to baptize Elijah my youngest grandson! It was beautiful!

 

In keeping with this threshold time, I received [a very nice] text this morning from Michelle Morris. Michelle was in charge of the Course of Study program at Hendrix College, where I have taught the course in spiritual formation for clergy. 

 

Michelle is an encourager. You, my team, are encouragers as well. Thanks as always for your prayers and continued encouragement. Remember to give thanks for each day of life, for the gift of the present moment, and for every breath you take.

 

Peace,

Bill B.

                      

“And we are put on earth a little space,

That we may learn to bear the beams of love”

--William Blake

 





Tuesday, April 5, 2022

Zen and the Short Pencil, Chapter Four


CHAPTER FOUR:

THE PRACTICES THAT KEEP ME GOING

“A New Rule of Life”

By the time the next leg of my journey came along, it was early fall of 2021. I was figuring out how I was going to do a little hunting and fishing with the help of others, coming to grips with the fact that it would no longer be safe for me to go on the short-term solo wilderness excursions that had been part of my lifestyle for half a century. Losing that part of my independence so suddenly was sort of a big deal, but I was thankful that I had Matt and a few trusted friends, and that I could still get around pretty well as long as I had my oxygen with me.

This would also be my first Thanksgiving, Advent, and Christmas without being a pastor in charge. Christmas Eve was always the fullest worship service of the year, and family members would drive across the state to join in worship wherever I would be preaching that night. This year, it would be different.

It was also a time for me to develop a pattern for how I would continue the spiritual and physical practices that had gotten me through the initial trauma and which would be the foundation for this next part of my life (a word of advice for whoever needs to hear this: please don’t wait until you are in crisis to develop your spiritual practices! I would have been bouncing off the walls at this point if I had not had some spiritual grounding).

About ten years ago I wrote a curriculum piece called “Hands-On Faith” in which I enumerated some 40 well-known spiritual practices, then I cautioned: 

It is important to always remember the spiritual practices are not ends in themselves.  Paul advises the Philippian Christians to “work out your own salvation with fear and trembling; for it is God who is at work in you both to will and to work for his good pleasure” (Philippians 2:12-13).  The incarnational paradox is such that our faithful spiritual practices are by no means an effort towards a “works salvation” but are merely a means by which we place ourselves at God’s disposal so that God can do the work in us.  We make ourselves available to God, we make “space” for God, we submit to God and we cooperate with God.  Thomas Merton once said the biggest part of prayer is showing up.  Through the spiritual practices, we “show up” for God.

 Someone once asked in a class I was teaching on spiritual formation: “What is the difference between spiritual practices and spiritual formation?” I replied, “Spiritual practices are what we do; spiritual formation is what God does.”

Ever since St. Benedict, the pattern for how we practice our spiritual lives has been referred to as our “rule of life.” In her popular book Soul Feast: An Invitation to the Christian Spiritual Life, Marjorie Thompson writes of the importance of having some intentionality and structure in our spiritual lives:

Certain kinds of plants need support in order to grow properly.  Tomatoes need stakes, and beans must attach themselves to suspended strings.  Creeping vines like clematis and wisteria will grow on any structure they can find.  Rambling roses take kindly to garden walls, archways, and trellises.  Without support, these plants would collapse in a heap on the ground.  Their blossoms would not have the space and sun they need to flourish, and their fruits would rot in contact with the soil.  We would be unable to enjoy their beauty and sustenance.

When it comes to spiritual growth, human beings are much like these plants.  We need structure and support.  Otherwise our spirituality grows only in a confused and disorderly way.  The fruit of the Spirit in us gets tangled and is susceptible to corruption, and the beauty of our lives is diminished.  We need structure in order to have enough space, air and light to flourish.  Structure gives us the freedom to grow as we are meant to.

There is a name in Christian tradition for the kind of structure that supports our spiritual growth.  It is called a rule of life.

            --- Marjorie J. Thompson, Soul Feast: An Invitation to the Christian Spiritual Life (John Knox Press)

A Rule of Life is the development of “holy habits” that provide a supporting structure for our spiritual lives.  It is the way we order our lives to assure that we are always making the space for God to work and help us along the way to being conformed to the image of Christ.  I like the way Marjorie Thompson reminds us that structure is not something that confines us, but that “structure gives us the freedom to grow as we are meant to.”

My new set of circumstances – my physical location, retirement status, and dealing with my illness – would necessitate arranging my daily life in a whole new way. It called for a new Rule of Life.

My Rule of Life has been described in general terms on my blog as “Pray. Be. Enjoy.”  This general statement remains the same; only the underlying order of things is new. Herein are the practices that I have come to regard as essential for this time of my life:

Centering Prayer, both solo and in small group

A—C—T—S Prayer with “Protestant Rosary” Beads

Walking: in nature, in the neighborhood and on the labyrinth

Worship

Mindfulness

Gratitude

Reconciliation

 Here is a brief description of how I practice these:

 CENTERING PRAYER. This is my starting point for prayer every day: Centering Prayer as revived, shared and taught by Fr. Thomas Keating, Basil Pennington, Cynthia Bourgeault, David Frenette, and others. I practice alone and also with a small group that meets once a month online for centering prayer and lectio divina. It is silent, meditative, contemplative prayer, to begin simply showing up to be in God’s presence prior to any discursive or dialogical prayer.

 A—C—T—S Prayer with “Protestant Rosary” Beads. Have you ever lost your place and wondered if you had forgotten something you wanted to pray about? These bead sets were made popular a few years ago by the best-selling book A Bead and a Prayer: A Beginner’s Guide to Protestant Prayer Beads by Kristen Vincent. We had a lot of fun making these little sets of beads when lots of people were doing this, and I still have a couple of sets. They provide a physical, tactile way of engaging our bodies in our prayers. They consist of four rows of seven beads, separated by a larger bead. I use the ACTS model as follows:

           1.       Adoration: the best place to start a prayer is with words of praise. Good places to find these are the psalms and our praise songs and hymnals.

          2.      Confession: When I realize that I am coming into the presence of God for prayer, I may get a feeling that I need to ask for grace and forgiveness before proceeding.  The model I use is the Seven Deadly Sins as described by St. John of the Cross (1542-1591).  They are pride, anger, envy, lust, greed, gluttony, and sloth. These were described in spiritual terms by John but they can be applied in more fleshly terms as well. I simply go one-by-one and ask the Spirit to reveal to me any known or unknown sin that needs to be dealt with (see Psalm 19:12-13).

          3.      Thanksgiving: I could go on and on about this….

          4.      Supplication: This is (finally) where I get out my “prayer list” and go one by one, name by name, to pray for those who are especially on my heart. I also pray for my family and for my team, who have been so faithful to pray for me and check on me. Then I will pray for myself.

Walking.  I have always loved walking; it’s been my favorite exercise. But now, walking any distance is HARD. I still do it as much as I can, and I am sorry that I ever took it for granted. I walk in the neighborhood, at the city park and once or twice a year on a labyrinth.  I have walked labyrinths all over the place and they are a wonderful way to pray. A labyrinth is not like a maze: a maze is designed to get you lost; on the labyrinth, if you stay on the path, you will eventually go into the center and back out again.

Worship. With the pandemic going on and my diminished lung capacity and immunity, I have avoided most in-person worship but am slowly returning. Whether in-person or online, worship is indispensable to the spiritual life.

Mindfulness. This has been one of the most important resources for me throughout, and I am so glad that I learned something of this practice before I got sick. I try to practice this all day as much as I can, for it is the best way I know of to “pray without ceasing.” Be sure and look at my friend Amy Oden’s book on Christian mindfulness.

Gratitude.  Again, one of the most therapeutic things I know.

Reconciliation. You might not have thought of this as a spiritual practice.  But I have seen too many people leave this Earth with unresolved matters which left a lot of pain behind. As much as possible, if there is anyone who needs to be forgiven, I want to forgive them, with God’s help. If I have wronged someone, I want to ask their forgiveness while I am still around to do that. If I appreciate the positive influence someone has had on my life, I want to let them know. And I don’t want to miss an opportunity to tell my loved ones that I love them.   

So, these are the practices that God is using to carry me through, along with the support of trusted friends (Feel free to contact me about any of these: spiritual practices are pretty much my wheelhouse). Everyone’s practice will be different; the main thing is to pay attention to where God is leading.  

New Year’s Eve 2021 represented six months in.  Six days later, I sent this to my team:

Thursday, January 6, 2022

 

Update January 6 Epiphany 2022

 

On Friday, New Year’s Eve, I drove to Heber Springs to check on my boat which is docked there. Only once since I got sick in June-July have I felt like going. It had been my plan to spend my first day of retirement relaxing on the boat. As you know, I spent that first day and the next eight days in the hospital instead.

 

Anyway, on my way back I passed an Episcopal church that has a sign which invited the public to stop and walk the beautiful labyrinth on their grounds. I’ve passed that church lots of times; this time I stopped.

 

As I stood at the entrance to the labyrinth, I knew what I needed to do with this particular walk. Last year was such a threshold year for me, I knew I needed to take some burdens to the center and leave them there. I took more than 30 years of my cherished roles in parish ministry, along with the shell-shock of receiving such a sudden and abrupt terminal diagnosis, along with an assortment of self-blame and regrets from the past, and pressed my hands into the ground in the center. After a few minutes I rose and walked the circuits outward to begin the next part of my life. There are many forms of Healing.

 

On this Epiphany evening I have two prayer requests for you my team (in addition to the regular miracle prayer):

 

Today I have received the special medication that it took so long to get. It’s called ofev and it’s known for two things: it’s astronomically expensive [] and potentially dreadful side effects. But this is one of only two treatments that are known to slow the progression of the disease and prolong life. My pulmonologist has helped me apply for and receive a foundation grant to take care of the cost, which would have been prohibitive. For that I am thankful!

 

So my two prayer requests are:

One, that the medication is effective and that I can continue to function as well as I am now, or even better;

Two, that my body will tolerate the medicine without serious side effects.

 

As always, it means a lot for you to be part of my prayer/support team and I’m here for you anytime.

Lots of love,

Bill B

 


Next week will be Holy Week.  My prayers are with you, my readers, and with all the churches and pastors who have led their people through Lent and who will be preparing to proclaim the Crucifixion and Resurrection of our Lord. 

The theme of next week’s missal will beFrom Team to Tribe” (“The Necessity of Companionship”), with an added mention that I believe I may have stumbled upon the actual Meaning of Life. 







Wednesday, March 30, 2022

Zen and the Short Pencil, Chapter Three

 

CHAPTER THREE: FAITH SEEKING UNDERSTANDING

“Zen and the Short Pencil”

 The third month of my journey with idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis featured my first out-of-town trip. My seventh grandchild, Elijah James Soard, was born August 26th. When he was a month old, Liz and Eric said they were ready for a visit. So, on September 26th I loaded up my oxygen apparatus and drove the 375 miles to Clarksville, Tennessee. This would be my first excursion since leaving the hospital July 8th.


Being on supplemental oxygen 24/7 means you learn how to get around with all the extra stuff that keeps you breathing and out of the hospital. Inside the house I have what is known as an oxygen “concentrator.” This thing plugs into the wall and somehow squeezes 95% pure oxygen out of the air and delivers it via a nasal cannula attached to a 50-foot plastic tube that follows me around the house and stays with me as I sleep. That would need to be loaded into the car so that we could plug it in at Liz and Eric’s house. It weighs about 35 pounds. Beyond that, I loaded up six of the small tanks that I carry in my backpack and one that I call a “tall boy” which is about 2 1/2 feet tall and is like the ones you see on the little carts at the hospital.  The tall boy would stay in the car and provide all that I would need for the 6-7-hour trip each way, and the smaller tanks would go with me to the other boys’ ballgames, church, and the coffee house or restaurant. 


So, yes, I learned right away that from now on it will take a bit more time and effort to prepare to go on a trip, but once I got behind the wheel and pointed toward Tennessee, nothing could take my joy! I was going to see my newest grandchild.


I do LOVE to drive and have been known to make solo drives from Arkansas into Canada or out West in pursuit of bears, walleye, and wild native trout. Something about the open road and the solitude seems to put me right where God wants me in order to get my undivided attention!


I thoroughly enjoyed almost a week with the boys and family. We went to the boys’ ballgames and then I helped Kaleb build his sailboat for the Boy Scout Raingutter Regatta (he came in 2nd). I got to spend time with all four boys, with Liz and Eric, and of course, their dogs. At church there was a baby shower for Elijah, and we went to a nice restaurant after.


The last night of the trip, we went to a Chinese buffet, which was something I had not been to since the beginning of the pandemic. I was a bit leery about going there, but we were very careful and managed to keep our distance and stay safe.


At the end of our meal, we were brought the customary “fortune cookie.” Usually a bit of a joke, nobody really paid much attention to theirs.  When I opened mine, I found it had a message that I found very odd.  It said:

            “A short pencil is usually better

               than a long memory any day.”


Like most people, I usually pay no attention to these things. But for some reason, I kept thinking about this.  It’s like it was haunting me.  Why was I giving this even a second thought? Maybe it was the reference to a “short pencil.” I asked, almost out loud, “What in the %#$ does this even mean? And what, in particular, does it mean to a 67-year-old-man who just received a dreadful diagnosis?”


“Faith Seeking Understanding” is a phrase given to us by St. Anselm of Canterbury (1033-1109) who probably borrowed it from St. Augustine (354-430) and basically means that people of faith like to understand what they believe. This was the thumbnail definition of theology for hundreds of years. For those of you who study the Enneagram, I am a “five,” which means I like to think things through, I like to figure things out, and I like for things to make sense. However, my deeper self is fascinated by other things that defy logic and don’t “make sense” from a rational point of view. In other words, my outer person is a “thinker” and my inner person is a mystic.


The fortune cookie confounded my rational mind, but it intrigued my mystical spirit. Its message was not a philosophical statement. It was more like a Zen koan. In other words, you won’t understand it until you stop trying to make sense of it. Then the meaning comes to you.


Now I am not an expert on Zen, and it doesn’t interfere with my Christian practice in any way.  In my view, Zen Buddhism is not a religion per se but a way of comprehending and accepting aspects of reality that don’t make any sense to the rational mind. This is the approach I have taken to interpreting the Eastern-sourced fortune cookie.


If you have read the biblical book of Job, you will remember that the dialogue is comprised of the flailing efforts of Job and his friends to understand, explain, and justify the predicament that Job found himself in. (“Why is this happening to you?” “Have you sinned?” “You MUST have sinned!” “Maybe your parents sinned.” “Maybe God is trying to ‘teach you something.’”) Unexplained suffering is the hardest suffering to bear. Even Jesus on the cross cried out, “WHY?” (Matthew 27:46). Job and his friends never got the answer or explanation that they were seeking. The only relief came when they let go of their striving and decided to “let God be God” because God was going to be God anyway.


In the third month of my journey, I was still trying to “get my head around” what had happened. I asked some of the same questions that Job’s friends had asked. The word “idiopathic” literally means “unknown cause” which was not very satisfying to me. So I studied. I did some research on the disease and on various breathing exercises. I prayed. I listened. I continued to practice mindfulness and gratitude which are two of the most therapeutic things I know of. I deeply treasured the present moments with Liz and Eric and my grandsons and saw each day as a gift. But still I wondered…what is God up to? Does God have a purpose for all this?


I know now there is a reason that I had no specific plans for what my life would look like in retirement, and that the Spirit had led me to leave that rather “open-ended.” In the past six months I have had opportunities for ministry beyond what I would have had time for in the past, and God is still using me. I have heard from friends asking for counsel, spiritual direction, and prayer, and now I have the opportunity to write without having to write a sermon every week. 


I don’t know how long or short my pencil is (I personally know two people who are still here and have lived well beyond the 3-to-5 years postulated), but I am convinced that God wants to use it to help others. What does the fortune cookie message mean? My memories are precious, and I’m thankful for them, but my pencil is what I have in this present moment and one thing that I have a modicum of control over.


“We can learn a lot from our suffering, and there is always something we can do to transform it into joy, into happiness, into love. It is only by having the courage to encounter our own suffering that we can generate the clarity and compassion we need to serve the world.”

        – Thich Nhat Hanh, Zen and the Art of Saving the Planet

        (Harper Collins)


So, my next team update reflected a little bit of my struggle and continued commitment to embrace the present moment

            Update:

It’s been a while so here’s a new update after my FOURTH pulmonary function test (the dr didn’t believe the last two). He said my latest pulmonary function test showed some “slippage” i.e. I’ve gotten a little worse. He’s putting me on a new med; It will take a few weeks to get started. There is no cure for ild/ipf; the med helps slow the progress in most patients and alleviate some of the symptoms. It can extend life, and I am hopeful for that.

 

Still praying for a miracle; but also for the continued mental, spiritual and physical strength to enjoy the gift of each day with gratitude and hope.

 

So I vacillate between deep grief and overflowing gratitude. And THIS IS OK.

It is my new normal, to fully experience both the depth of the grief and the joy of the gratitude. Both make me alive.  The colors and textures of the present moment are more intense, more vivid - and each one is treasured for what it is.

 

So will this next chapter of my life consist of a sad and bitter denouement or the learning of a new way of living?  I’m committed to making a writing contribution and I’m praying for the years to see my grandkids grow up.

 I believe the beginning of a new way of living is the way to go.


 












Wednesday, March 23, 2022

Zen and the Short Pencil, Chapter Two

 

Chapter One: Welcome to Retirement (“This is Not What I Had in Mind”)

Chapter Two: The Difference Between Hope and Denial (“The Gift of Ambiguity”)

Chapter Three: Faith Seeking Understanding (“Zen and the Short Pencil”)

Chapter Four: The Practices That Keep Me Going (“A New Rule of Life”)

Chapter Five: From Team to Tribe (“The Necessity of Companionship”)

CHAPTER TWO: THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN HOPE AND DENIAL

“The Gift of Ambiguity”

 The second month of my journey was what I might call road-mapping. It meant trying to figure out where I was, where I might be going, and what resources were available and needed for the trip.

 On September 9, I sent the following update to my team:

 Wednesday September 9

First of all, thanks again for being one of the folks who know of my respiratory condition and have agreed to be on my team. Your support and prayers mean a lot to me and I pray for each of you daily. (Again, mercifully, this is not sent to you as a “group text”

 

It’s been a month since I first wrote to all of you in August so here is a little update on my current condition:

 

I’m still on track to go for another pulmonary function test and CT scan on September 20 and a visit with the pulmonologist on September 23 to hear a final diagnosis. After that I will reach out and let you know the result.

 

In the meantime, I have continued with my physical exercises, breathing exercises, and spiritual exercises and my overall well-being is good. I am mentally and spiritually strong and am becoming physically stronger.

 

Pulmonary function has improved but has plateaued and is not near 100%.  Sitting still I am fine, but any kind of exertion requires the supplemental 02.

 

I’m learning how to get around with the little tank which is good for 3 or 4 hrs of activity. I’m getting out for walks with the dog, shooting my bows, and have even done some fishing from the bank. I’m meeting regularly with a covenant community for prayer (online) and I’m engaged in a ministry of spiritual direction via Zoom and FaceTime.

 

I am eating well and have started gaining weight and my overall functionality has greatly improved. However, I still have many of the “signs” and there is no known cure for ipf, so we are still praying for a miracle.


Little did I know that the pulmonary function test would be so inconclusive that the doctor would not believe the results and would order the test to be REPEATED a month later. This happened twice in the first six months. This made for a lot of long waiting for an answer.

I came to see the ambiguity of my diagnosis as a blessing. As long as there was some doubt that it might not be what the “signs” pointed to, I kept hope alive for a better possibility. I found out that I had a lot to learn about hope. I also learned that I had to consider the difference between hope and denial.

First of all, as a trained and experienced pastoral counselor and spiritual director, I have read Elisabeth Kubler-Ross (On Death and Dying, Macmillan Pub. Co.) and am familiar with the five “stages” that we all go through when we encounter really bad news: Denial – Anger – Bargaining – Depression – Acceptance. I have walked with many of God’s beloved through all of these, have experienced them myself, and I know what they look like. In September and October, they came to me like a kaleidoscope of emotions erupting from the depths of the subterranean landscape of my soul.

As a matter of honest self-awareness/self-examination: How did I really feel at first?

CHEATED. That’s how I felt. Cheated. It’s the way we feel when life throws something at us that strikes us as bitterly unfair. After spending my entire adult life living in a fishbowl, moving from place to place and trying to be faithful to my calling, this is what I get in retirement?

I also felt JEALOUS. Yes, jealous, watching all those folks on TV and in the store and in their everyday walk of life just walking and running and jumping without a care in the world while I’m literally tied to a rubber tube in my nose all day and night, and I can’t walk to the mailbox without gasping for breath. Do they not realize how blessed they are?

But wait. In a moment of self-awareness, I felt differently. I listened to what I just told you and then I felt ASHAMED. And GUILTY. Who was I to feel “cheated” or “jealous?”

ASHAMED. GUILTY. I know, the Universe does not “owe” me anything, nor does God, the creator of the universe. I had no right to feel “cheated” or “jealous” when I thought of my two clergy colleagues who passed away this past year, one with cancer and the other with Covid; or my two friends and former church members who died suddenly from heart attacks, younger than me and with no warning; or the seminary professor who retired in May and died from a heart attack in October.  Short retirement for him, was it not? Or how about the dear spouse of my young friend who died last year with stomach cancer, less than a year after his diagnosis, barely 40 years old, leaving behind his wife and two precious little ones? I really deserved to beat myself up, which I felt was the ONLY thing I deserved. Let the self-flagellation begin!

After the self-flagellation, the shame and the tears, there comes the time to ask: what have you learned, or can you learn, from what you just saw?

I began to recall that feelings of being cheated or not getting what we feel we have earned or deserve comes from the transactional nature of so many of our experiences and relationships. “Study hard and make good grades so you will get a good job.” “Put this cream on your face and it will cure your acne/make you beautiful.” “Give money to charity or the church and God will bless you.” “Make your sales quota and we will give you a bonus and/or a raise.”

Quid Pro Quo. Transactional.

How about this one? “Trust Jesus as your Lord and Savior, and you will go to heaven after you die.” True, and thanks be to God, but also TRANSACTIONAL. I believe God wants more for our experience with God than this. God wants our experience to be not just transactional but also, and primarily, RELATIONAL. I want to love God not for what I will “get out of it” but because God is God after all and is worthy of my greatest love, in a relationship that is based on love and not on any kind of transactional offer or arrangement.

Come to think of it, all healthy relationships should be this way.

Upon reflection on my relationship with God in this light, I began to make a list of things that I’m thankful for. I’m thankful that I have lived a good life, have been blessed with meaningful work and with good friends all over Arkansas and way beyond, and that I am now here in my house, safe and quiet with good neighbors in a friendly neighborhood and town and by God’s grace I made it here. I’m thankful for my dog Dixie, my constant and loving companion who is helping me heal. I’m thankful for my peace lily which was a retirement gift from the West Memphis church. I’m thankful for all the beautiful cards and well wishes from so many friends in all my churches and other places who have wished me a happy and fulfilling retirement. I’m thankful for my medical care, my medications and the oxygen therapy that keeps me breathing. I’m thankful for the spiritual practices which I have learned and taught over the years, and which are now sustaining me. I’m thankful for my son Matt and daughter Liz who both have godly spouses and are serving their churches and communities. Matt is a better man than I ever was, and Liz is like her mom – compassionate, freckled, fearless. Their mom would be so proud of BOTH of them, as am I. I’m thankful that I got to baptize all seven of my grandchildren. I am, in this present moment, a most deeply blessed man.

So my team update that month ended with two spiritual practices that have been strong for me, mindfulness and gratitude:

It may sound ironic, but a central feature of my life right now is gratitude.

 

Each morning I am thankful for THIS day, and for all that God has blessed me with. I’m thankful to be in my house with my canine companion and good neighbors; for friends and family who have prayed for me, shopped for me, checked on me, and took me to the hospital; for the medical care I have received and for the supplemental oxygen that helps me to breathe; for safe and healthy delivery of newest grandson Elijah on August 26; for the gifts of hope, joy and peace that reside in my relationship with God and friends of God; and for the power of Christian mindfulness to appreciate the here-and-now, as Jean-Pierre de Caussade described as “the sacrament of the present moment.”

 

I could go on and on with my gratitude list, but I just want to add that I’m thankful for your prayers and support especially in the next two weeks. Blessings to all!

 So I walk the line between the already and the not-yet, which is how Jesus referred to the Kingdom of God. I found with greater attention to the here-and-now, the colors of nature are brighter; the veil shimmers and sparkles with an intensity that I would not have noticed before.

 Kubler-Ross noted that through and beyond all of the “five stages,” hope continues to endure.

 “But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.” – Romans 8:25

 Next week: Faith Seeking Understanding