Better than the Smell of Bacon

I awoke this morning to the smell of incense, not bacon.  It filtered into my room like a sweet prayer.  I am staying at the Antiochian Conference and Retreat Center in Bolivar (or Fairfield or Ligonier - depending on who you ask) in Western Pennsylvania.  I arrived Wednesday afternoon and settled into my basic but comfortable room with a gorgeous view of the hills and the warmth of hospitality that makes one feel instantly at home. A small staff sees to the enormity of the operation that includes everything one would expect in a large Conference Center as well as a well appointed book store and a theological library that left me a little weak in the knees.  And then I saw the chapel - it took my breath away.  The iconography is stunning and the setting is peaceful.  It is a perfect place for writing, rest and renewal.  I will come here again.

It was my first time worshipping with Antiochian Orthodox Christians, and because there was a doctoral program in residence for the week, the priests and deacons in the program led chapel morning and evening (Orthros and Vespers).  As Antiochians trace their origins to the original church of Antioch (“the ancient faith”), their chant has a distinctive Middle Eastern flavor (very different from the Russian Orthodox chant of which I am better acquainted even though many of the texts are the same).  It has a haunting and ethereal quality to it, made even more poignant when one contemplates the reality in Syria and Lebanon.  They are a people who have known great suffering.  And yet they sing to God.

My theological orientation is not orthodox - or else I would not be a Protestant minister.  But I have a great resonance for the symbolism, liturgy and their ability to respect the “greater-than-ness” of God. The God they worship does not fit comfortably within anyone’s hip pocket.  This God is mysterious, wild, and “more than” - a cosmic God enthroned in the universe.  Each time I worship with them or pray in their chapel I am reminded of my place in the universe - it is humbling but a very good corrective.  They remind me that I am a beloved child of God created in the very image of God - but I am not God.  And it is not my place to assume God’s role - I can let God be God and just be about the business of being the most authentic me I can be.

Candles and incense - images of the prayers we offer to God and symbols of how we are meant to live in the world.  We are called to be living candles and incense - offering life and hope as we serve in love and fill the world with sweet justice and hope.

And that definitely smells better than bacon!

Easter Monday Musings

I love Easter Monday.  I set no alarm and leave the day blank in my calendar.  No agenda.  Any tasks undertaken evolve organically - no planning allowed!  So the brief freak snowstorm invited me to make some soup and putter a bit in the kitchen, having previously puttered a bit upstairs moving furniture into a new configuration.  

Easter often leaves me feeling like it is time for something new.

This year the daily readings for Lent and Holy Week were stunningly applicable as they both challenged and comforted me from day one.  Surprisingly, one reading has remained with me from the very beginning of Lent - continuing to slip into my awareness for what seems like no apparent reason.  Often it stays just out of my line of sight - echoing deeply within my heart - I know it is there even when I am not actively pondering it.  Perhaps it brings the wisdom of the next lesson... 

Because I prefer Advent to Lent, I set the bar low in terms of expectations and keep my focus on all the pastoral/liturgical tasks of the season (of which there are many). Despite my low expectations, I soon found myself on an unexpected journey of deepening awareness, compassion and growth.  Will it lead to further transformation?  

Abbot John Klassen's meditation today raises these kinds of Easter Monday questions when he writes:  

Our belief in the possibility of genuine human transformation is rooted in the resurrection of Christ.  This change is not superficial, like a new 'do or shirt.  It is deep change, coming from the inside out, energized and guided by the resurrection of Christ.  So some questions:  What do I want to do that is totally new for me because Christ is Risen and I share in that resurrection?  What do we as a community want to do that is totally new because Christ is risen and we share in that resurrection?

I want the newness that emerges in my life this Eastertide to be more than a reshuffle of furniture or a new batch of soup.  I want it to reflect a deepening of my relationship with the One who is Love so that my transformation into my true self continues - much like the children and I discussed on Sunday regarding the nymph and the dragonfly. One can serve most fully and deeply when serving through the true self rooted in Love.

I wonder what newness will emerge in me this Eastertide?  I wonder what newness will emerge for my church community?

Savoring the bliss of Easter Monday,

Kim

Happy Lenten Valentine's Day - or - Resisting Lenten Tourism

Those who know me well know that I'm more of an Advent gal than a Lenten lassie.  But Lent has been tugging at my heart these past few weeks in most unexpected ways.   I have no idea what will come from this shift but know that this journey into the desert of Lent will be different this year...and that I am meant to travel light...and that it begins on Valentine's Day (which feels like an odd day on which to begin Lent).

One story and two quotes helped to frame my preparation for Lent.  The story came from my son, who works (periodically) as a substitute church organist.  He worked for churches as an organist/choir director long before he could drive a car - thus we share 20+ years of his church stories coupled with the 35+ years of my own experiences in ministry.  So when he starts a conversation with either you're not going to believe this or wait until you hear about this morning, he gets my full attention.

He was called at the last minute to substitute at a church because the organist/choir director had the flu.  They indicated that he would rehearse/direct both the bell and chancel choirs, as well as provide music for worship.  They offered him a stipend for that work - which he accepted.  He went, rehearsed/directed, played for worship, and had an enjoyable time.  When it was time to leave the minister came over and said something like this:  I know we agreed a fee for your services this morning, but you did far more than I think is fair for the fee we agreed.  So if it is okay with you, I'd like to keep this check and have the treasurer issue a check more in keeping with what you did this morning.  I will send it to you this week.  My son initially declined and said that he was fine with the amount they had agreed to.  But the minister persisted in doing what he thought was just.

I said what?   My son said, I know.  Isn't that incredible?  With our combined experience of 55+ years, neither one of us had encountered an experience like that.  It did feel incredible.

But wait - the minister's response should not be incredible - or exceptional.  It should be exactly how we respond to life - hands open and from a place of generosity and appreciation, not a place of fear and scarcity.  I found myself thinking:  The next time I am in the 'burgh, I want to attend that church - I'll bet it is a dynamic, thriving community.

And then the first Lenten invitation settled in:  I want to be like that minister.  I want to approach my life and ministry from an opened-handed place of generosity and appreciation - a place of seeing and knowing and responding - a place that is fair and just.  A place rooted in love.  I want the Lenten journey to transform me instead of having it provide a place for me to be a Lenten tourist!

The second invitation came as I read my daily devotional on Monday (with a shout out to Give Us This Day) and encountered the story of Brother Lawrence of the Resurrection in Robert Ellsberg's column  called Blessed Among Us.  Ellsberg says that Brother Lawrence accomplished no great deeds as he spent forty years of his life working in the monastery kitchen as a Carmelite Lay Brother (1611-1691).  But his wisdom about the spiritual life so impressed a Church official who was visiting the monastery that the visitor recorded their conversations and letters, publishing them as The Practice of the Presence of God - a book that is a spiritual classic. 

Brother Lawrence believed that it was possible to cultivate (at all times) a consciousness of the presence of God - and thus be in a constant state of prayer or conversation with God.  He up-ended expectations about the spiritual life and provided a new lens through which people could view their relationship with God.

Our sanctification did not depend upon changing our works, but in doing for God's sake that which we commonly do for our own self.

He achieved this intimacy with God while working in the kitchen on the most mundane tasks of life - washing and chopping, cooking and cleaning.  And in the midst of it doing chores he found heaven!

The Lenten journey is one of conversion - of changing direction (sometimes a slight mid-course correction, but other times a radical change) - of focusing on the essence of what truly matters.  And as a corrective to culture and the expectations of society, dear Brother Lawrence gives us a new way to measure our success:

God regards not the greatness of the work, but the love with which it is performed.

I do not know where this invitation will take me as I open my hands to release fear and embrace love, but if Brother Lawrence's experience is any example, heaven awaits right here on earth!  The realm of God breaking open in our midst - may it help to break open my heart and fill it with love and trust that can overflow into the surrounding world.

What invitation is tugging at your heart at this beginning of Lent?

With love and blessings on this Valentine's Day - the perfect day for Lent to begin,

Kim

Advent Light

Light that finds me always, come find me now - the night is so dark.

- Prayer chant recorded by Stephen Iverson

They say that the light shines brightest in the deepest darkness.  If that is true, then this Advent provides the perfect climate for light spotting.  The news is so dark...

...and yet it is Advent - my favorite time of year.  I begin preparing for this paradoxical season of exuberant joy and silent stillness - biting cold and radiating warmth - of deep darkness and brilliant light - early in November.  First I place my annual order for Advent and pillar candles from Honey Candles in BC - an amazing boutique candle maker that creates bee-friendly all-beeswax candles with a warmth and clarity of light that takes my breath away. (A grateful shout out to Pat who makes sure the candles arrive in time - even if my order is placed in stages as it was this year).  Getting the candles ready for the First Sunday of Advent is pure joy, as is lighting that first candle and chanting O Come, O Come Emmanuel - an annual ritual that I have repeated for almost fifty years.

We become what we do again and again.

I use a pillar in my home office to remind those who come for spiritual guidance of the unseen One who is ultimately our Companion and Guide.  I try to start each Advent with a new pillar - new season, new candle, new beginning - nice symbol.   This year as I prepared the room for Advent I decided to light the old and worn pillar one last time before putting what was left of it in the box of candle scraps to go to the Monastery for their candle-making ministry.  Although distracted with many tasks, I felt that quiet inner prompting that is like a gentle hand on my shoulder drawing my attention back to the candle.  I sat down and looked - really looked.

It was so beautiful.  Despite being old and worn, the quality of light was incredible.  I sat soaking in the light and allowed awe to envelop me.  Such a profound moment emerged from an old and worn candle!  

Many lessons could be drawn from this experience.  I smiled and felt the warmth of hope.

Yes - the news is dark and some days reads like apocalyptic fiction.  And for many so much is uncertain.  There is great suffering both today and anticipated for many in the future.  And yet in the midst of this darkness the light shines.  

God promises us that the light is here - it shines in the darkness and is not overcome. Our Advent tasks start with being light-spotters - to look with expectant longing for every flicker of light's flame.  

Where did you spot the light today?  Where were you warmed by its flame?  Yesterday was the Christmas Pageant and the light shining from the children was incredible (including all the little sheep who quickly discovered that a circular sanctuary with many aisles creates handy sheep escape routes).  Bright light - pure joy.

Once we are reassured and refreshed by this light, then we can undertake Advent's second task of being light bearers in our dark world.

Remember, kind actions - more than anything else - cause the soul

to shine with brilliance.

- Gertrude the Great

This year I chose a Christmas card designed by Mary Southard, CSJ (Ministry of the Arts) called Visitation as my prayer companion for Advent.  The image of three women enveloped in the light who then, with others, become the light lifts my soul on these dark, cold days.  The words within the card proclaim our Advent Mission:

May we be a people of light bringing peace and love to all the world.

Stop.  Look.  See.  Be what you see.  

Shine!

Advent blessings,

Kim                                                                               

Compassion Enlarged

The scenes from the disaster in Texas and the Gulf Coast are horrific.  It is difficult to fathom the scale of the disaster.  The media, skilled at bringing us the human story, provides us with names and faces and images that haunt us. And where no images are available, skilled wordsmiths paint verbal pictures that leave us overwhelmed and heartsick - like the toddler in the flood waters who clung to the body of her dead mother until she was rescued.

We watch.  We cry.  We feel sick.  We want to help.  We reach out and make a donation of whatever we can knowing that these people are family - we want to help.  

Those with sensitive hearts are wise to minimize exposure to the news - it can be overwhelming.  But we must be careful not to shield our hearts from the pain in the world.  Our hearts are meant to crack wide open in moments like this.  That's what causes them to enlarge so they can hold more compassion...which is desperately needed...because Texas is not the only place of brokenness in our world.  

Our hearts need to enlarge so that along with compassion for the suffering along the Gulf Coast we can find compassion and presence for the 16 million people impacted by the devastating floods across South Asia.  16 million people.  More than 1,200 people have been killed in these floods - 500 in the Indian State of Bihar alone.  Tens of thousands are displaced.  But unlike our neighbors in Texas, there are no people telling their stories.  In fact, when I went on the BBC website to look for information about the floods in Asia, it was buried under stories of a cash crisis, doctors fighting in an operating room, the infamous India rapist guru, and reports of a TV show taken off the air in India because of the controversy surrounding its "unusual love story."  Finally I found the story Toddlers Killed in Mumbai Rains - and it linked me to more information about the incredible loss and devastation happening in that part of the world...to our neighbors...our human family.

The Sierra Leone mudslides and floods that killed hundreds within the past two weeks has fallen completely off the news cycle.  

Both NPR and the BBC carried cautionary stories today about how the world focuses on what is happening in Houston and forgets what happens in Asia and Africa.  There are fears expressed by international aid agencies that people will donate towards the victims whose stories we know (America) and forgot those whose stories are never told (the rest of the world).  There is a fear that our hearts are only so big - that compassion fatigue will set in and the most vulnerable will be forgotten.  Again.

As followers of Jesus we are meant to be broken-hearted.  Our hearts are meant to be cracked wide open - enlarged - healed (again and again and again and again) until they can contain compassion enough for the suffering of the world.  Because we live in privilege and have access to the names and tragic stories of the people (and pets) facing catastrophic loss in our neighborhood of America we must not limit the scope of our compassionate response to what we know and what is familiar.  As Christians we are global citizens - our neighborhood is bigger than America.  Disasters in Asia happen to our family.  Catastrophes in Africa impact our relatives.  Until we can see and respond as citizens of this amazing but ailing planet we will never - and I mean never - have the vision necessary to truly address the global systemic issues that impact all life on our planet.  

Warming oceans enhance the frequency and severity of these weather events.  We share the same oceans and planet - we are all in this together.

Natural disasters impact the poor the most.  Those with privilege have options the poor lack.  We see glimpses of this in Texas.  But when we look at this on a global scale, those who are poor in Texas have access to resources that flood victims in Bangladesh do not.  Our hearts need to be big enough for the suffering in Texas and in Bangladesh.  Our will needs to be fixed on changing the systemic inequities that keep the poor living in the most vulnerable places with the fewest resources.  I am a pet lover and was deeply relieved to see the Humane Society rescuing pets from flooded homes in Houston.  But if we have the will and ingenuity as a people to see that pets are rescued from the flood waters and taken to shelters (and that the animals already in those shelters are flown to other cities to make room for the animals displaced by the flood waters in Texas), we surely can have the will and creativity to see that people whose stories we will never know - who face hardships we cannot begin to fathom - have the resources they need to find safety and the necessities to live a life of dignity.

Please - open your heart to the suffering in Texas.  Do what you can to alleviate the suffering of our nearby neighbors on the Gulf Coast.  But when you make your donation to the UCC (Wind and Flood Disaster Harvey) or the Red Cross or Save the Children or the Humane Society, don't stop there.  Make a matching donation for the other flood victims whose stories we have not heard.  Give to the IFRC (International Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies) or Doctors Without Borders or any of the UN Relief Agencies.  By doing this you are acknowledging through your actions what we believe in our hearts:  that our neighbors in Texas are beloved children of God -  as are our neighbors who are flood victims in India or Sierra Leone.  We may not have easy access to their stories, but that does not make them any less deserving of our compassionate response.

May our hearts shatter in the face of such tragedy.  May our healing tears water the pieces of our hearts and help them to mend enlarged and able to hold more compassion.  May we see this beloved world and all its inhabitants through God's eyes of love.  And may we act accordingly.

Heartbroken and hope-filled,

Kim

Unhooking From the Defibrillator

Is this really happening?  I find myself shocked by something I read, see or hear in the morning news, conclude that I am now permanently unshockable, only to re-shocked all over again - sometimes in the course of minutes!  It is like being hooked up to a defibrillator that fires randomly but repeatedly.  Is there such a thing as shock fatigue?  Never did I think I would see unmasked white men in self-styled militia uniforms carrying weapons, lit torches and Nazi flags as they marched through the streets of an American city chanting anti-Semitic verses as if it were the most normal thing in the world to do on a Friday night.  In America.  In 2017.  Unmasked - unafraid.  Emboldened by the atmosphere present in our nation.  Never did I expect to see that in my lifetime.  

But here we are - punch drunk by the pace, chaos and intensity of the events happening in our nation and world.  If pastoral merit badges were given for the tendency to over-think an issue, I would have too many badges to fit on my stole.  Not that thinking things through is bad - in fact, a little more thought and a little less talk/tweets would help several national and global crises.   But one place where over-thinking has no place is in our condemnation of racism, hate speech and violence.  

It is wrong for white men carrying torches and weapons to reprise the worst of white supremacist/nationalist/KKK behavior - protected under the guise of free speech.  Spewing racist  hate speech to provoke and intimidate others is no more free speech than is shouting Fire to create panic and casualties in a crowded theater.  Intent matters.

It is wrong for white citizens to turn away and think it is a "Southern" problem or "African American problem" when each of us benefits from institutional/systemic racism.  

It is wrong for citizens to minimize or ignore anti-Semitic hate speech.

It is wrong for us to "normalize" or "soften" racist rhetoric and hate speech by re-branding it as "alt-right" and seeing it a reasonable alternative within civil discourse.  

It is wrong for our leaders to use racist or hate speech themselves or to set up false equivalencies that weaken the stand they must take against racism and hate speech in all its forms.  I do not condone violence and hatred as a way to address violence and hatred.   But there is no moral equivalency between the KKK/White Supremacists reprising the worst of the intimidation tactics they historically used and the Antifa counter-protesters who engaged them.  Again, I do not support violence as a means to address violence and hatred - it is like using gasoline to put out a fire.  But the two entities are not the same.  The end-game of Neo-Nazi rhetoric is the genocide of whichever identified group is in their sights.  It cannot and must not go unchallenged.  It must not be normalized. It must be called out for what it is and not prettied up with verbal cosmetics.  Leaders who refuse to call it out forfeit the legitimacy of their leadership.  

I can't believe that, in 2017, I feel the need to write it is wrong for citizens to minimize or ignore anti-Semitic hate speech.  Or it is wrong for our leaders to use racist or hate speech themselves.  Isn't this a given?  Not any more.  

So how do we unhook from the defibrillator and engage in transformative action?  I have no simple answers, but can suggest some steps that I have found to be helpful:

1 & 5.  Name and confront racism, hate speech and violence in a nonviolent and hate-free way.  Work with your gifts and abilities in whatever way you can to eliminate these poisons from our society.  Otherwise, you participate in normalizing them.

The quickest way for these poisons to take root in society is for them to go unchallenged.  Without a quick response, their roots go deeper and they are harder to uproot.  This response must be strong, clear, and itself rooted in nonviolence that is free from hatred.

The Southern Poverty Law Center has produced a helpful publication called Ten Ways to Fight Hate which we have posted on the Boise First UCC website:

http://www.boisefirstucc.org/what-s-happening/ten-ways-to-fight-hate

2.  Educate - Educate - Educate

The only way we can address the racism and hate speech endemic in our country is to understand its roots and the ways in which it was created and is perpetuated - understanding the systems and structures that fuel not only racism, but also white supremacy.  Understanding the historical/cultural context in which both arise provides tools for intervention.

3.  Self/Community Reflection

From that place of contextual understanding we can then look at ourselves and our communities to see how we, intentionally or unintentionally, perpetuate racism and hatred.  For example, I am white and of European descent and come from a working-class family with parents who believed that their relative poverty was due to unfair advantages given to immigrants and peoples of color.  This was not true, but it was what they believed.  When I understand the context of how and why my parents saw the world this way, I can then take steps to address the biases I internalized as a child.

I do not want to be racist and work hard to not think and behave in racist ways.  But I was raised with biases and privilege that cause me to make micro-assessments that are filtered through bias and privilege.  Since this happens initially outside of my awareness, does that give me a Get Out of Racist Jail Free card?  Absolutely not!  I can not undo the biases programmed into my mind, but I can take responsibility for them and learn to spot them when they are active.  Education and awareness are critical for all white Americans so we can take responsibility for the ways in which we perpetuate racism.  And it is also a key for understanding what fuels white supremacy and the subtle ways it is legitimized.

We also need to do this reflection as Christians.  For example, I grew up being taught that Christians were God's chosen people and that only Christians would go to heaven - everyone else was destined for hell.  Christian exceptionalism has caused hatred and violence and emboldened our ancestors to launch Crusades, commit genocide and steal lands already occupied by others.  It fueled the American exceptionalism that haunts our nation today.  As Christians, we live with and benefit from that legacy while continuing to perpetuate it.

Our sacred scriptures include verses that support Christian exceptionalism as well as anti-Semitism, anti-Judaism, slavery, and the oppression of women, non Christians, the disabled and those who identify as LGBTQ.  The authors of the Gospels, written decades after Jesus lived in Palestine, cast him as antagonistic to Judaism and murdered by the Jewish people  - despite the fact that Jesus was an observant Jewish teacher who many historians believe sought to be a reforming prophetic presence within Judaism (not the creator of a new religion) - who was executed by the Romans. The Revised Common Lectionary omits the most offensive passages from Sunday worship (like telling slaves to be obedient to their masters and women to be obedient to men) but still includes frequent anti-Semitic references.  It should stop us in our tracks when we realize that what we often read aloud during worship we would NEVER say in public or polite conversation.  Will Christianity writ large ever address this hypocrisy?  Will we?

Ouch - that hits close to the bone.

Perhaps acknowledging the ways in which we participate in the behaviors we rightly condemn in others will help us to have compassion for those engaged in the cycle of hate and violence.

Compassion does not mean condoning - but it does lay the groundwork for possible conversation and engagement with those actively perpetuating racism and hate speech -  if that can be done in a safe setting.  A counter-protest is not the setting in which that can happen.

4.  Integration

Integrating our words and actions with our values is difficult work - but also holy work!   Having integrity does not mean being perfect or having all the answers.  It does, however mean being aware and willing to learn and grow - and aligning our words and actions with our values.

Having integrity in our witness is key.  Otherwise, we followers of Jesus are like the angry parent who slaps their son for hitting his brother while saying "don't you ever hit him again!" Or the person who screams at the top of their lungs "I TOLD YOU TO BE QUIET!"  

A witness without integrity has no power.

1 & 5.  Name and confront racism, hate speech and violence in a nonviolent and hate-free way.  Work with your gifts and abilities in whatever way you can to eliminate these poisons from our society.  Otherwise, you participate in normalizing them.

The quickest way for these poisons to take root in society is for them to go unchallenged.  Without a quick response, their roots go deeper and they are harder to uproot.  This response must be strong, clear, and itself rooted in nonviolence that is free from hatred.

The Southern Poverty Law Center has produced a helpful publication called Ten Ways to Fight Hate which we have posted on the Boise First UCC website:

http://www.boisefirstucc.org/what-s-happening/ten-ways-to-fight-hate

*****

In the face of our current national climate, I totally understand the desire to dig a hole, crawl in and pull the hole in after you.  But I am also heartened by the courage I hear expressed by others - people who are finding their voices and speaking truth clearly and from a place of integrity.

May we feel the feelings - the anger/rage - the fear - the disgust - the disbelief - the sense of being overwhelmed - but not act from a place of verbal or physical violence or hatred.  May we let our strong feelings tell us how serious the situation is and how high the stakes are.  May we use that energy to educate and to integrate our beliefs and values with our words and actions as partners with God in the ministry of truth and transformation.

It is time to unhook from the defibrillator and get to work.

Pressing on with hope,

Kim 

We'll see - or - Equanimity as a Lenten Discipline

In my previous post I celebrated a successful operation, reboot and mused about what kind of Lenten journey this reboot might provide.  I was excited about the prospects of Lent based in joy and gratitude and had so many ideas about where this spiritual journey might take me.

None of those ideas included coming down with a post-operative infection!  It started two weeks ago Friday when I noticed I felt a bit "off."  Then the next day I felt very sleepy and even more "off" - something was not right.  Then on Sunday I could see what was wrong as my belly became angry red and began to swell.  Post-op infection.  

I was fortunate to have great medical care - the kind you can easily access when you have the privilege (in our society) of medical insurance.  But even with great care and some slow and steady improvement, small surgical interventions were necessary to get ahead of the infection.  I felt so sick the first week that my memories are a blur.  By week two I was feeling just a little bit better.  Since the surgical interventions the pace of progress has accelerated.  The wound-v.a.c. is helping the antibiotics to get ahead of the infection.  I can feel the difference.  Phew!

What impact did this have on my Lenten observance?   I haven't opened my beloved devotionals in two weeks.  Prayer time became very basic and a bit primal - no strength for the daily offices.  A major problem has a way of stripping down a situation to its essentials - no room for anything extraneous.  I have discovered that this is one of the gifts that problems bring us.  They also help us to prioritize what really matters and get back to our bottom line.

But to clarify:  I do not believe God brings problems into our lives in order to help us simplify and prioritize.  I do, however, believe that God works with the "stuff" of life in whatever form it takes.  And unlike the miller's daughter, God regularly spins straw into gold.

The infection left me with feelings of being helpless and out of control.  No matter what I did (or agreed to do) it didn't seem to be making things that much better.  I have grown accustomed to living in a world where often medical interventions make an immediate positive difference.  Hearing that something is going to take time brings me no comfort at all - especially when I do not feel well.  It was at this point that I accepted that Lent was also out of my control.  It would take whatever form it took.

And so it did - very quietly.  While having a procedure in the Interventional Radiology Department, I found myself trying not to focus on my pain.  Very quietly my heart reminded me of the practice of Tonglen - that wonderful Tibetan meditation/prayer form that teaches you to take your personal pain and use it as a way to identify with all those in the world experiencing pain right now.  You draw in their pain with your inbreath, and exhale peace and relief to all who are suffering.  This was a practice I always wanted to explore in greater depth - and here was the perfect classroom.  Tonglen in Interventional Radiology.  Tonglen in the Procedure Room at my surgeon's office.  Tonglen for Lent.  Paul Knitter would smile and understand.

Recently while watching some political satire I remembered the United Worship Service we shared with our Buddhist neighbors on the eve of the Presidential Election in 2016.  We talked much that night about equanimity - and I reflected on how this virtue has received scant attention in popular Christian literature.  The Apostle Paul touches on it briefly and Jesus appears to have lived it.  But it is not a Top Tier Virtue in the Progressive Christian Lexicon.  And yet here I was living deeply into this notion of equanimity.  Aside from taking my antibiotics and following my surgeon's advice, there was little else I could do to move this forward.  It would take as long as it takes and much of that was outside of my control.  Can I lean into equanimity with this infection?  With the circumstances of life?  With my ministry?  Can I explore the virtue of equanimity and see how it fits for a follower of Jesus?  Can I live that Buddhist story of the Zen Master, the Boy and the Horse with an open mind and heart and see where this all of this takes me?  

We'll see...   : )

Kim

The Zen Master, the Boy and the Horse (this version is taken from the website The Buddhaful Tao):

In this village, a little boy is given a gift of a horse. The villagers all say, “Isn’t that fabulous? Isn’t that wonderful? What a wonderful gift.”

The Zen master says, “We’ll see.”

A couple years later the boy falls off the horse and breaks his leg. The villagers all say, “Isn’t that terrible? The horse is cursed! That’s horrible!”

The Zen master says, “We’ll see.”

A few years later the country goes to war and the government conscripts all the males into the army, but the boy’s leg is so screwed up, he doesn’t have to go. The villagers all say, “Isn’t that fabulous? Isn’t that wonderful?”

The Zen master says, “We’ll see.”