Holy Silence

Hagia Heyschia

Thank-you, Gail Wiggin, for the following contributions.  I pass these on here in the interest of widening the network of information available to seekers:

When one comes into contact with a teaching that comes from a particular psychological [spiritual] place, that has been reached by others who have laboured in the past, then if the teaching is valued and followed it leads to that place where, on the way, one begins to get help. Another reality and another meaning begin to show through what one has hitherto taken to be the only reality and meaning. Every form of inner teaching is a way to a place. For example, Christ calls himself a Way. Only when it is followed to the end can a person be transformed into a Christian. Yet people begin by imagining they are Christians. -- from the Psychological Commentaries on the Teaching of Gurdjieff and Ouspensky by Maurice Nicoll, p. 997

The mind, which we call in religious language the Almighty, and in mystical terms the divine mind, is the depth of life, the depth of activity, with which all activity and every activity is connected. Therein lies the whole of religion. The mystic's prayer is to that beauty, and his work is to forget the self, to lose himself like a bubble in the water. The wave realizes, “I am the sea,” and by falling into the sea prostrates itself before its God. As it is said, “Be ye perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect.”-- Hazrat Inayat Khan



EVENTS OF INTEREST

Wisdom School with Rev. Cynthia Bourgeault and Father Richard Rohr, Ghost Ranch, Albuquerque, New Mexico
May 1-5, 2011
There are still a few openings so don’t
miss this opportunity! Apply now: http://www.cacradicalgrace.org/conferences/2011/wisdom/reg.php

If Christianity is to emerge as the path of mystical illumination and compassionate action that it truly can be, it will be through the courageous commitment of those willing to follow the call to the next level of conscious evolution. This Wisdom School brings together Cynthia Bourgeault and Richard Rohr (who will join us for the first 2 two days), both gifted teachers in the ancient wisdom ways of contemplative prayer, particularly as it supports the emergence of non-dualistic thinking and action. We will work with the core Christian practices of contemplative prayer and lectio divina, but add to them the specific wisdom methods of self-observation, conscious work, and sacred gesture, in order to facilitate the opening of what is classically known as “the third eye,” or non-dual perception. The goal is not only to deepen our personal spiritual lives, but to raise human consciousness, leading to the ultimate transformation of society.




Rabbi Rami Shapiro on Wisdom in the World’s Religions, Wisdom House, Litchfield, CT 

March 11-13, 2011 Lady Wisdom has taken on many faces in many cultures throughout history. In this exploration of wisdom spiritualities, we will meet many of Her forms and study many of her teachings. Rooted in the texts and teachings of many faiths, this workshop will challenge you to step beyond religious ideologies to hear the words of Lady Wisdom in your way for your own life.Cost: $190 shared room, $230 private room    For more information: http://www.wisdomhouse.org/program/calendar.html
register here:  http://www.wisdomhouse.org/forms/formRS3-1113.html

Francis and Clare: The Eye of the Heart

The Omega Point is Love


Returning home renewed and restored in Love.
The greatest gift I received from a pilgrimage to Assisi is this:

To absorb the greatest teaching of St. Francis and St. Clare--
the teaching of the path of conscious love.

To hold precious and yet not to cling.

To restrain the lower self for the sake of allowing
the higher self to blossom forth and radiate this love.

To render oneself obedient to this love
and let nothing and no one
distract nor derail love.

To give freely and completely of oneself
and to hold nothing back.

To entrust oneself to a higher vision
engendered by this love.

To remain poor in spirit
and make space for this love
to infill, make whole, and make holy.

To seek union in the new intensity.

To plant in the cosmos
and reap in the Aeon.

~~~

Meditation on Assisi by Gail Wiggin

I thought Gail's observations were so profound that I wanted to share her short essay with you:

There’s a great deal to share about our trip but a highlight was the visit in Italy to Monte Subasio -- a few miles outside the walls of Assisi— where Francis (1181-1226) and his followers established their first home in caves on its slopes. Throughout his life, Francis apparently returned often to those graceful heights on foot (despite his many illnesses) to pray and contemplate (if so inclined, you can get a sense of the place here:  http://www.sacred-destinations.com/italy/assisi-eremo-delle-carceri). A few of us chose to walk back down the mountain to our retreat house, Oasi Sacro Cuore. Now THAT is a walk that every person on the planet should experience. How does one describe the profound pleasure of being dwarfed by a landscape? The Umbrian valley spreads out as far as the eye can see, in beauty and abundance as melodic counterpoint to this rock, this foot, this olive tree, this specificity.

As Christians, we are taught that a similar sacred vastness lies within each of us — however difficult to comprehend-- in the form of our capacity to love. It seemed quite clear that the perspective and fecundity of this landscape, their home turf, deeply informed Francis and Clare in their ministries. At every bend in the road down that mountain, one could almost taste afresh the certainty with which they abandoned themselves to God. Although a photograph can’t begin to capture the nature of the experience, it’s impossible not to give you just a hint of it.



Blessings to you this day,
Gail

Assisi, Italy 2010

Return of the Prodigal Son, a Sermon

The Prodigal Son

The Rev. William Redfield

Trinity Episcopal Church, Fayetteville, NY

The Fourth Sunday of Lent—Year C—March 14, 2010

Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32

All the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to Jesus. And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, "This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them."

So Jesus told them this parable:

"There was a man who had two sons. The younger of them said to his father, 'Father, give me the share of the property that will belong to me.' So he divided his property between them. A few days later the younger son gathered all he had and traveled to a distant country, and there he squandered his property in dissolute living. When he had spent everything, a severe famine took place throughout that country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed the pigs. He would gladly have filled himself with the pods that the pigs were eating; and no one gave him anything. But when he came to himself he said, 'How many of my father's hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger! I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, "Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands."' So he set off and went to his father. But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him. Then the son said to him, 'Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.' But the father said to his slaves, 'Quickly, bring out a robe--the best one--and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!' And they began to celebrate.

"Now his elder son was in the field; and when he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing. He called one of the slaves and asked what was going on. He replied, 'Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf, because he has got him back safe and sound.' Then he became angry and refused to go in. His father came out and began to plead with him. But he answered his father, 'Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!' Then the father said to him, 'Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.'

Let me review the territory we have covered so far on our Lenten journey.  We started out by leaving everything that was safe, comfortable, and predictable in order to seek out the desert wilderness.  Out here we have not only been confronting the dangers around us (the world around us that threatens our very existence), but we have also been facing up to the demons within us.  This started out on Ash Wednesday by our facing our own mortal existence and the reality that these lives of ours in this dimension have a beginning and an end.  

But rather than leading to some sort of depressive morbidity, we are finding that, if we take this confrontation far enough and deep enough, it surprisingly leads to a greater freedom and lightness.  It opens us up to a surprising sense of aliveness.  Incredibly, those ashes on our foreheads turned out to be not signs of death, but signs of greater life!

In this journey we are also learning how important it is to let go.  Our model, of course, is Jesus.  Even as he has begun his own experience of suffering, in taking it all the way and in holding nothing back, whatever divine entitlement he might have tempted to cash in on and whatever very human fear he might have harbored have bloomed into a flowering of deeper love and compassion.  He is living from that eternal wellspring of Spirit.  Yes, he has hit the mother lode!  

And then last week we began to see how the exercise of true forgiveness fits into this whole picture.  This, too, is part of dying before you die.  More than a path of moral uprightness, this is a way of intentionally and humbly stepping down from any presumed moral high ground.  As we release the built up resentments and hurts of a lifetime, like Jesus, we become freer and lighter and able to love like he shows us.  Eternal life flows into us and through us.  

One of the methods I introduced last week in assisting us to move from conditional forgiveness to unconditional forgiveness involves stepping deliberately onto the level playing field of human life and entering into a more deeply shared life with the rest of humanity.  One way we do this is by seeing that, as much as anyone else, we have fallen short of the mark ourselves.  

And today in our Gospel reading the story of the Prodigal Son suggests another way to get to this real forgiveness—and that has to do with opening ourselves to the infinite yet unmerited love from the Father.  When we open ourselves to the full realization that we are loved beyond measure, we begin to realize that it is no longer either important or necessary for us to count the costs.  If God is not keeping score, it is pretty unreasonable for us to do so.

And so the story…

Although the parable has been called the story of the Prodigal Son, it is so much more the story of a father’s steadfast love (so perhaps it should be called the story of the Prodigal Father!).  Told in a culture in which the father was the representative of the law, this father instead disregards his own rights and honor in favor of his enduring and uncompromising love for his two sons.

You have just heard the story.  The younger son, feeling the ache to see and experience the big wide world out there, asks his father for his share of the inheritance.  This, in that society, he is technically entitled to do.  But it is then the duty of the sons to set aside enough in resources to provide for the father in his old age.

Well, the younger son spends the whole wad in riotous living and finds himself one day in the pits (literally as well as figuratively).  Feeding pigs in a foreign country has got to be about as low as you can get for a Jew in those times.  So he figures, even as a hired servant for his father, he could do a lot better.

But how will he be able to face the judgment and retribution of his father?  How can he possibly soften his heart?  The younger son begins to rehearse in his mind a repentant sounding story that might possibly open his father’s door.

But no story—rehearsed or otherwise—will be necessary.  The father, it turns out, has been watching the road and waiting and longing—yearning, really—for his son’s return.  And before he can even get to the property line, the father throws all dignity to the wind and runs out to meet his long lost son.  Runs!  No self-respecting elder in this society would surrender his dignity and run—unless, that is, his uncompromising love was bursting from his heart and so greatly overshadowed his need to preserve his own dignity.

Before the son can get a word out of his mouth to express his shame and remorse, the father throws his arms around his son and kisses him.  Again, this behavior was very much out of character for an elder in such a patriarchal society.  Stunned, the son tries to mutter a confession, but the father hardly seems to be paying attention.  The father is much more interested in expressing the joy he feels in the son’s return.  He calls for the finest robe (probably his own) and sandals for his son’s feet as a sign of his full restoration of honor back in the family.  Then the party begins!

But here, as you know, is where the story gets juicy.  The older son, who just happens to be working hard out in the field, hears the merrymaking and inquires of one of the servants what is going on.  The report of the forgiven return of his self-serving little brother cuts like a knife into his heart.  He cannot abide this gross unfairness.  He shames his father by refusing to go in and join in the merrymaking.  And when his father graciously comes out to explain the situation to him and to encourage him to join in, the older brother dishonors the father by insulting him.  

Now many of us—especially the prodigals among us—might judge the older brother harshly.  But before we think of this elder brother as a stuffy old stick-in-the-mud, let’s just think about it.  

The younger brother has all but wished his father dead and expressed this by leaving with half of all the inheritance.  This is the money that was supposed to take care of the father in his old age.  That meant that the older brother had to care for the father out of his half of the inheritance.  And now that the reckless younger brother has returned, he too must live off his older brother’s half since he has squandered his own.

Knowing the impetuousness of his younger son, one wonders why the father would have given him his share of the inheritance.  He must have guessed his son would squander and lose it.  He was certainly not obligated to give him his share at this time.  It must be that the father valued his son’s freedom more than his own security.  Or maybe security was of no real value for him at all.

All that is bad enough.  But when the older brother sees the extent to which his father is celebrating the other son’s return and how quickly he has forgiven his brother’s grievous sins and reckless behavior, he is understandably upset. And the frosting on the cake is that the father is giving that profligate one the party that he has never given him, the dutiful one.  The father has simply relied on him to always do the right thing without ever such a demonstration of acknowledgment or support—let alone a party.

At the very least, the older brother is looking for conditional forgiveness.  He would at least have the younger brother pay back what he has lost and given some sort of provisional status in the family until this whole thing gets sorted out.  He’s counting the costs, and he’s going to make him pay.  But because the father’s love overshadows all other concerns, there will be no conditional forgiveness here; the father’s forgiveness is immediate and completely unconditional.

So here in this story we can see and identify with part of us that so often and egregiously screws up and misses the mark; we are, in other words, the profligate younger brother.  Here too, though, we can also see and identify with the part of us that would prefer to stick to the moral high ground and express our self-righteousness in conditional forgiveness that would require some real conditions before reinstatement could place.  This, of course, is the part of us that is constantly counting the costs and keeping score.  Yup, we’ve got that part too.

Perhaps you had thought that the father in this story represents the unconditional love of God the Father.  Maybe.  But maybe that’s just the door to something deeper.  Maybe the father presents the wellspring from which we too are invited to drink.  Maybe the father is the picture of aliveness that reveals our essential nature when we are willing to take it all the way.  

Take it all the way?  Yes, maybe this route to the father’s unconditional love and unconditional forgiveness requires that we be willing to claim those profligate parts of ourselves as well as those self-righteous parts of ourselves.   

Perhaps we never quite completely leave behind us the part of ourselves that is subject to the whims of self-indulgence and thinks it can get away with murder.  Perhaps also we never completely leave behind the part of us that keeps drinking from the poisoned well of the need to be right and in control and takes refuge in some imagined moral high ground.  

But maybe we are invited to take it all the way such that a deeper part of ourselves will refuse to get provoked or misdirected by our own waywardness, our own self-righteousness, or even our own self-judgment.  You see, we are not forgiven because of our repentance.  Nor are we justified by any dutiful obedience or hard work.  The deeper part of ourselves knows that eternal life is not the denial of these parts of ourselves.  It knows that these parts—the parts represented by the two sons—are only partial and conditional identities that are simply hiding our deeper identity in God.  

And here’s the secret—once they are identified and claimed, they be seen for what they are—partial and conditional identities; they can be held more loosely; and gradually over the course of a lifetime, they can be let go of.  This is precisely what delivers us to an existence that is both freer and lighter.

Indeed, three weeks from now this will be the resurrected life we will be claiming and celebrating.  But just to give us an advanced peek—this will not just be the resurrected life of Christ.  I suppose that might be miracle enough.  But it will go beyond even that.  We will be celebrating and claiming our own resurrected life, and it is here prefigured in this story and seen in the person of the father.  

We are being invited to drink from the eternal wellspring of divine love.  And as the father in the story illuminates, the nature of this love is that it is always being given away—whether it is recognized or not, whether it is responded to or not. Neither our own foolhardiness (represented by the younger son) nor our own self-righteousness (represented by the older) can stifle or suppress it.  

Thanks be to God!