To sing in the face of death...

When someone comes to see me for psychotherapy for the first time, one of the questions I frequently ask is this: If talking to me could be helpful, what would you like to see change? or  If from some point in the future, you were to look back at this experience and be glad you did it, what would you like to see be different?

One of the most common responses I hear is: "I just want to be happy."

Certainly this is a very normal and understandable sentiment. People typically come to see a psychologist when things feel bad enough in life that they do not know what else to do. To want to be free of that suffering, to want to feel again (or for the first time), a sense of contentment and enjoyment in life, makes perfect sense. It is built into our beings to strive to feel good and to avoid feeling bad.

However, the question occurred to me recently: is this what we live for? Do we live in order to attain happiness? And, if so, what does that mean? And, if not, what else might we be living for?

The authors of the Declaration of Independence gave happiness considerable prominence, declaring that all people are "endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness". Although we have clearly fallen short of respecting this standard, I think many would still consider it an ideal worth striving for.

We live in a culture where people are perpetually pursuing some form of "happiness", whether it be sought in buying new gadgets, appearing more attractive, eating interesting foods or even taking the right pill to cure what ails us.

Yet, is this what we live for? If I reached the end of my life and had this kind of happy, would I consider it a life well-lived? Would that happiness given meaning to whatever suffering or struggles went before it? And if I did not find myself with that kind of happiness, would my life have been lived in vain? 

There is, I think, but one thing that gives life meaning - and it certainly brings no guarantee of happiness, at least in the way we most commonly use the word. The only thing truly worth living for is, of course, love. Not the love seen in movies or on television commercials but the real thing: the giving of oneself so completely that one is willing to suffer for the other.

Almost by definition, love does not always feel good.

Love also has one very serious drawback: it leaves us vulnerable to some of the worst hurt and pain and sorrow that we as human beings can know. When we love, we risk losing what is most important to us, the very thing that gives our lives meaning. While there are many ways by which love can be lost, the most inevitable of these is death.

Because of the sorrow it brings, we resist death. We run from it and try to deny its inevitability. We scream at God over the unfairness of it - as though it should not happen. And yet death permeates the entire created world we know. Seeds sprout in the spring, flowers bloom and fade in summer; fruit develops and then decays in the fall, dropping its seed into the decay of death where it remains through winter. And the very decay of death is what nourishes the seedling the following spring.

How is it that something as natural as death feels so alien to our nature? 

Perhaps part of it is our arrogance - our "original sin" - that we want to be gods creating our own way rather than following the Way given us by our Creator. 

However, perhaps it is also because we have been made capable of love, a capacity that gives us glimpses of fullness of the One who is Love. Perhaps there is something in us that knows that we do not have souls but are souls (paraphrasing C. S. Lewis) - eternal souls that have bodies that will eventually be discarded when worn out or damaged. We believe (or want to believe) that there is something in us that lives after our bodies are gone.

It seems quite likely that both notions are true. Certainly we human beings have perverted the whole notion of love, often making it a selfish pursuit about romance and sex and making ourselves feel good. We think we have a way that is better than the Way and, if only we can hang on to it, we will be able to make ourselves happy. 

But many of us hunger for more and see the emptiness of our own ways. We see that what we have tried to convince ourselves is love can only end in pain and brokenness. We long for a better Way. And if there is a God, a God who is love and invites us into that love, then perhaps the sorrow of death is not nearly so great as we thought. It is still sorrowful in the human sense of missing the bodily presence of those whom we love - Jesus himself normalized this sorrow when he wept for Lazarus. But, by raising Lazarus from the dead, he showed us that this sorrow is but a momentary illusion.

And He did not stop there. Those of us who believe that Jesus is the Christ believe that he accepted suffering and death (not forced but truly accepted), transforming the experience we think of as destruction into the ultimate act of love. His acceptance of death does not mean that it was not frightening or painful for Him. As human as we are, Jesus agonized in the garden while he anticipated death.

Those of us who believe that Jesus rose from the dead believe that this Love, the suffering-accepted-unto-death Love, is stronger than death. Death, the death we once thought to be destruction, has itself been destroyed. In its place is an invitation to live our lives in the Way of that Love, to embody that Love in all we say and do. Then our bodies, whether worn out by age or damaged by the evils of our world, will be surrendered...but the eternal souls we are will fully know Him and be known by Him. We will live in that Love eternally, part of the community of unending Love to which all are invited.

So, for a time, like Him, we may weep for the passing of others, we may agonize with our own fears and sorrows, but only for a time. Accepting His invitation, our vision clears and we see the Truth - not just a truth of some distant future - but a Truth that has been with us from the very beginning. 

(I made the short video that follows as part of my class on art and monasticism. Its title, "wabi-sabi", is a Japanese term described by one online author as "the Japanese art of finding beauty in imperfection and profundity in nature, of accepting the natural cycle of growth, decay, and death". Hence, all of the photographs were taken of dead and decaying bits of nature found within a half block of my house during this Cleveland winter. The background music is a simple rendering of the hymn, "How can I keep from singing?" composed by Robert Lowry. I have re-printed the words to the hymn below. Knowing that "love is lord of heaven and earth", we may indeed sing in the face of death...)

"My life flows on in endless song
above earth's lamentation.
I hear the real though far off hymn
that hails a new creation.

(refrain)

No storm can shake my inmost calm
while to that rock I'm clinging.
Since love is lord of heaven and earth,
how can I keep from singing?

Through all the tumult and the strife,
I hear the music ringing.
It sounds and echoes in my soul;
how can I keep from singing?

What though the tempest 'round me roar,
I hear the truth, it liveth;
What though the darkness 'round me close,
songs in the night it giveth."

i am going to start living as a vessel in God’s hand

Sometimes the things that happen in my life amaze me...so much so that it becomes harder and harder to doubt that there is a good and loving God.

If you know me (or have been reading along), you know that I made a major change in my life in the last few months, leaving my psychologist job of 20 years, transitioning to a small private practice. The whole process, while challenging at times, has been grace-filled. I had never thought I could make such a change without great agony, panic attacks, guilt, etc. Yet it has happened and these horrors did not occur. Work, struggle, doubts and fears - something life is full of - but not agony. In fact, in the end, delight.

When I was on the brink of making my decision late last summer, I came across this quote:

"I ask for the gift
of a moment
to sit by Your side
The work that I have in hand
I can finish afterwards.

Now is the time to sit quiet
alone with You
and to Sing
a re-dedication of my life
in this Silent
and overflowing joy."

-- Rabindranath Tagore

A few weeks ago, on a Sunday morning, I was preparing to go to church as usual when my stomach felt a bit off. I decided to wait and then sought a church that offered a later liturgy. I had been wanting to explore a church that is near my new workplace and this became the opportunity. I was pleased to discover a friendly, welcoming congregation. I enjoyed praying with them.

However, something much more surprising occurred that day. As I have noted in other posts, I follow a blog written by an Orthodox priest (http://glory2godforallthings.com/author/fatherstephen/), even though I am not Orthodox myself. Following his writings, however, has left me interested in learning more about Eastern Christianity, such as the Orthodox or Byzantine Catholic, because of their deeply spiritual ways. In fact, I had been thinking about it that Sunday morning when looking for another church to attend. 

Also, that Sunday morning, as the priest was giving his homily about the early ministry of Jesus, it occurred to me that I had not really sung "the re-dedication of my life" that I knew was part of my journey of change. The decision I made last summer was more to me than a simple job change. It was, for me, a deep spiritual movement into a new chapter of my life, though words cannot fully capture what this means.

As I left the church I visited that Sunday morning, I saw a flyer announcing that they were having a special celebration in two weeks: a Byzantine Catholic liturgy (though it was a Roman Catholic church) and an anointing for psychologists and other human service professionals. The time and place for my song of re-dedication seemed to have come to me as though part of a greater plan...

Though not a member of this parish and not knowing anyone there, I was welcomed when I asked to participate. The liturgy was beautiful and there was a simple prayer as my hands were anointed with oil (as were others'). It was what I needed - what I had been led to... 

A couple of days prior to the anointing, I completed the following poem, expressing this movement in my life:

i am going to start living as a vessel in God’s hand

(an empty vessel, broken, one He has reclaimed)

in His hand,

i will be a feathery quill, wordless and hollow,

waiting to be filled with the ink of His compassion.

in His hand,

i will be an empty cup found upon a dusty shelf,

longing to overflow with the ocean of His mercy.

in His hand,

i will be an empty brush and palette,

thirsting for His colors to paint sad souls alive.

i am nothing, an empty vessel, broken…

yet He holds me in His hand

and i am His.

(to Him be glory) 

 (This is the third poem in the series of three that I have posted this week.)

i want to start living like a monk

(This is the second in a series of three poems I am posting this week - see the first one for explanation of the project.)

i want to start living like a monk

(but i don’t know how, lost soul that i am)

yet i will set my heart to the journey within,

filling my haversack with my doubts and my sin.

i will bring my heart’s longing as i search anew,

listening and watching and waiting for You.

i will walk, i will climb, i will run for You

 i will listen, i will search, i will wait for You.

i will walk aimlessly, endlessly, lost in my blame,

climbing hills of reluctance and valleys of shame.

i will listen while moaning in deepest dark night.

i will watch for Your radiance in sun’s first light.

i will wait for You in churches, in temples, in shrines,

i will wait in prisons, under bridges, in mines.

at last, exhausted, my soul’s final oblation –

i will mingle my tears with waters of salvation.

my thoughts i will burn as incense before You.

my dreams up in ashes that i might adore You.

i will let go of color, of desire and beauty

until empty and free of all that was me.

 i will bring You the vessel once called my heart

that You might fill it with Your sacred art.

for You are all and i am none.

my only desire: that we might be one.

i will be Your poor monk by Your holy grace

forever and ever may i gaze on Your face.

amen.

i am going to start living like an artist

I thought I would share a few poems this week. Not because they are particularly great poems but because I hope that the creative self-expression I found in writing them will be contagious.

I am currently part of an online class through www.abbeyofthearts.com that brings together monasticism and art. (While the class is in its 4th week now and is closed to new members, anyone interested in exploring how to nurture creativity with monastic wisdom might enjoy reading Christine Valters Paintner's book, The Artist's Rule that outlines much of the content for the class.)

The first line of the poem I am presenting today was given as part of an "assignment" in the class. I tend to feel more than a bit pretentious if I label myself as an "artist" because there are many, many people who deserve this title more than I do. However, in recent years, I have been nurturing and expressing my creative self more and that has been a great blessing, emotionally and spiritually.

I believe that all of us have creative capacity, though we may not know it or have the confidence to use it. I might add that this is very different from "talent" - which we tend to associate with creating a product that people will admire or buy. Creative self expression does not need to meet these criteria and often doesn't. Rather it is process we engage in for ourselves...to express, to heal, to grow.

Sometimes the poems (or paintings or songs or stories) we produce surprise even us, as though there were some other force than our own intention at work. And, of course, I believe there is...that's were the monastic/spiritual part comes in, as well as the healing.

(I will share one poem today and two others on separate days later in the week. Each has such a different rhythm that it seemed best to let each stand alone. I invite you to join me - allow yourself to play with words or colors or sounds or any other medium that you feel ready to engage...)

i am going to start living like an artist,

splashing and splashing in color till drenched

in all of the blue the sky can hold

and dripping pink and purple dusk.

i am going to start fingerpainting my life

on endless rolls of vanilla paper

till it tastes like strawberries

and peaches and pears and plums.

but then i might pause…take a breath

and carefully sketch the feathers

of every bird flitting by me today,

etching each shaft and barb into my soul,

that i too might soar in heavens’ light.

 then i will stoop back to my warm earth,

scooping its muddy softness into my hands

where i will hold it and mold it and shape it

until i see within it my heart alive with joy.

and then – then, i will give it all to you,

laughing my soul into yours in wordless delight.

i am starting to live my life as an artist –

yes, i am starting…

New Year's Gifts

Our world has seen an abundance of tragedies in this past year. I have walked with many who have suffered personal tragedy and all of us have learned of our neighbors suffering from devastating storms, senseless mass murders and unrelenting wars. So much evil and pain that it may easily lead us down the path to doubt.

Where is God? If He is loving, why does He not stop these things from happening?

Of course, I do not know the answer. Even if I could lay out my beliefs, I know they would appear inadequate in the face of both personal and global suffering. There simply are no words.

However, I will share with you a quote and then a video. The quote is from Christ The Eternal Tao, by Hieromonk Damascene. As a bit of background, in ancient China (6th century BC), Lao Tzu wrote about a Being "...fathomless, it seems to be the Source of all things. I do not know its name, but characterize it as the Tao". (The word "Tao" is translated as "The Way"). Around the same time, in a completely different culture, Greek philosopher Heraclitus wrote about "The Logos" (translated as "The Word"): "All entities come to be in accordance with this Logos" which he viewed as the first principle of existence.

Five thousand years later, there was One born into our world who said, "I am the Way". Of this same One, John the Apostle wrote: "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God". This is the One who is said to have died and risen from the dead.

And so the author writes, in the manner of Lao Tzu:

"The Great Way empties Himself into His creation
Out of love, in complete self-giving.
He empties Himself,
Yet, being the unchanging Cause of all things,
He remains ever full.

Quenching their desire for created things,
Followers of the Way likewise empty themselves
Out of love, in complete self-giving.
For in emptying themselves as He does,
They are ever filled with Him,
The Ever-full."

As one who strives to be "a follower of the Way", I have seen His self-giving around me in so many ways. Most of those ways defy words. However, in the video below, I will share with you a little of what I encountered of Him during this past year... Blessings on your new year.




(I made this video from some of my favorite photos of 2012. As always, you are welcome to share this video and may download any of my photos for your personal or non-profit use.)

Christmas Blessings

  

Christmas, the date on the calendar, may find each of us in very different places: we may be sad and alone or we may be celebrating with family; we may be in church praising God or we may be at home lost in doubt; we may feel full of love and gratitude or we may be overcome with guilt and unworthiness. Each of us is on our own unique journey - and our journeys are often not easy.

 

Christmas, the eternal truth, is with us at every moment. God coming among us, becoming us, self-emptying into humanness, that we might know love and hope and mercy, is here with me and with you. He is here, in the midst of our sadness, doubt and worry as much as he is in the midst of our celebration and joy. He came to share in all of our human experience - no matter how painful.

 

Not only did He come to join us - but also to lead us to our true Home. To welcome us into the Love that is Him. There is much I need to learn in order to follow Him there. I must travel His path, not my own. I need to learn all of those things that my self resists: forgiveness and obedience and humility.

 

Of course, I do not know how to do any of this. But come, let us walk together. Let us pray for each other (even if we do not know how to pray). Let us open ourselves to this possibility, this promise of hope, that is so much beyond our understanding.

 

Wherever you are on your personal journey, know that I as praying with you and for you. I am not praying as one who has arrived or who knows the answers but as one more lost soul is search of true Home. Grace and peace be with you.