Personal prayer

This week, we met for our last class in our Episcopal Church intro. We talked about Anglican/Episcopal resources for personal prayer. There are as many ways to pray as there are people to pray them, but one of the most characteristically Anglican ones is the Daily Office. (for E Crier Meditations on the daily office, look at the ecrier blog page--I've posted a few reflections up there that I did before I started archiving there). Today, our office gave us a text from Leviticus, which made me think of the national debate on Arizona's new immigration law:

When an alien resides with you in your land, you shall not oppress the alien. The alien who resides with you shall be to you as the citizen among you; you shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt: I am the LORD your God. (Lev. 19: 33-34)

Yesterday, I was talking with an acquaintance and mentioned we were going to Arizona to visit my in-laws. Arizona? Is it safe there? It's been all over the news!" Perplexed, I said, "Safe?" "Yes," the person responded, as if assuming I must live in a cave, "All the illegal immigrants. That's what's been all over the news." "Oh," I said. "Actually, my in laws have been active in trying to get rid of that law. But it's perfectly safe." And then I made a googly eye face at Adah, and was relieved the conversation had ended.

I was troubled by it for a while; immigration is such a complicated issue and there's no way I could do it justice here, but immigrants as a group are not dangerous! For the most part, they are people, like anyone, trying to make a life for themselves and their families. Whether they have legal documents or not, everyone pays taxes. One statistic I saw says that illegal immigrants pay 7 billion--with a "B"--dollars in social security taxes and 2.5 billion in Medicare taxes. They will never receive any benefit from either system. Immigration is a complicated issue, and I don't have an easy fix---but a law that makes it a crime to buy groceries without a passport is not part of the solution.

We could talk all day about evidence about what immigration does for our country. Biblically, though, it doesn't matter at all whether people are "good" and hardworking or "bad" and just sitting around the house all day. We are all equally created in the image of God and we are all equally loved and treasured by our creator. In the Baptismal Covenant we promise to respect the dignity of every human being--and there aren't any loopholes to that.

The Leviticus line quoted above is one line in a series of laws that we often skip over in our readings in church. The holiness code also has rules about kindness to the poor--a few verses before the one above, it also says "You shall not reap to the very edges of your field, or gather the gleanings of your harvest...you shall leave them for the poor and the alien." It explicitly says NOT to collect everything that is yours--it expects the "poor and alien" to make their way through your field and take what they find--they aren't supposed to have to ask.

Admittedly, there's a lot in Leviticus that we don't believe in (like the prohibition against tattooing a few lines earlier, or the rules about cloth made of more than one kind of fiber)--but this is solid, "love thy neighbor" kind of stuff. What's interesting to me, too, is that it's in the context of prohibitions against idolatry. You aren't just supposed to be generous to the outsider because it's the kind thing to do; it's because being generous to the outsider is part of what it is to be human in relation to God. It's God's job to be the judge and Creator; it's our job to be created--to be creatures, and part of being a created being is to recognize your rightful place beside other created beings, which means loving and caring for them and not regarding yourself as more worthy or above them. (I could spin this out theologically about the oil spill in the Gulf, too, but I've already gone on for some time.)

So where does this leave us on the other side of the country? Advocating, certainly, but also praying. Pray for the immigrants, pray for the police, and pray for those who suffer--on all sides of the border. Those who are victimized by crime, and those who perpetrate it. Pray for Arizona Governor Jan Brewer, too, and for all our legislators who are trying to find creative--and humane--solutions.

Blessings,
Sara+

To join in saying the Daily Office with Christians all across the globe--all of them reading Leviticus right now :) --you can get out your prayer book, or visit the Missionstclare.com

From December 14, 2006: On Praying the Daily Office in Community

I am so pleased to be back with you, and home in Waltham. Last week was terrific, but it’s good to be back, too. One of the wonderful things about my retreat last week was the experience of regular prayer in community. I spent about half an hour in silent prayer alone each day, but the rhythm of the chanting of psalms, reading of Scripture, and singing of hymns for prayer morning, noon and night (plus Eucharist—-usually I went to four services a day) was a profound experience of God in community. I didn’t know anything about the other people I was praying with—-didn’t know why the monks had chosen to become monks (it’s a community of about 12 men), didn’t know who the other retreatants were (there were 15 of us staying at the monastery, all of us in silence for the week), or why they came. The structure of the daily office prayer services is such that personal preference or experience has nothing to do with it. It is a structure that the church has followed for a millennium—-psalms, canticles, reading from Scripture, hymns. There is no preaching, no editorializing. It is what it is.

If it sounds impersonal, it is—-but in the best possible way. Tapping into that same experience that Christians have had for centuries, I knew myself to be one in a line of believers, all of whom have struggled with the same issues. I am not the first person to be nervous about parenthood. I am not the first priest who has wondered how best to serve her congregation. I am not the first person just to get tired sometimes, and to wonder where God is in all of it. I am not the first person to feel exquisite joy and gratitude in meeting Christ in the sacraments.

Fastened as we each inevitably are in our own perceptions, prejudices, preferences and experiences, it is a gift to know that our lives do not rely on our own skills or success or on the esteem others have of us. We are not so special, after all, and what a relief it is! Our lives, when it comes down to it, are not just ours. We rely on God, and on each other, on those other fifteen people whom I was in silence with and didn’t know; on each of you and the church we are; on our families, friends, and neighbors. In America we are so accustomed to our individuality; certainly this is a positive thing. I heard on the radio this morning that today is the anniversary of the adoption of the Bill of Rights—-ours is the first country to so enshrine this idea of the individual in the foundation of our society. I am thankful for my freedom—-thankful for democracy, and personal property, and all of those good things we enjoy and those who made them possible with real sacrifice. I’m thankful for those who fought for women’s rights, who are the reason that I can have a ministry both with my family and as an ordained, full-time priest. I’m thankful for all of these things that make me “me”—-but after last week, I’m also thankful for a break from all the “me-ness.” Thankful to be one in a line of millions of Christians, no more and no less beloved by our creator.

Blessings,
Sara+

How to pray?

This week, I'm still working out a bit for myself what it is to enter Lent. I mentioned at our Tuesday supper and Bible study that I find myself looking for a discipline, but that everything seems so trivial; I am saving water with 4 or 5 minute showers, but it feels short of transformative. I could try to eat less or skip dessert more, but then I'd just be focused on losing my pregnancy weight, not the fasting of Christ in the desert. So I am still trying. In general, I'm trying to pay attention more, to move a little more slowly, in spirit if not in practice. And praying.

But how to pray? A while ago I was listening to the radio program Speaking of Faith (http://speakingoffaith.publicradio.org/), where they interviewed one of my favorite writers, Roberta Bondi. Her books bring together contemporary life and theology with the early monastic desert fathers and mothers. She says,
We often have a kind of notion as part of this highfalutin, noble picture of ourselves as pray-ers that when we pray we need to be completely attentive and we need to be fully engaged and we need to be concentrating and we need to be focused. But the fact is, if prayer is our end of a relationship with God, that's not the way we are with the people we love a large portion of the time. We simply are in their presence. We're going about our lives at the same time in each other's presence, aware and sustained by each other, but not much more than that.

She went on to tell the story of how exhausted and lifeless she felt when she began teaching (she's now retired from Emory University). She said she came home from work and felt totally useless to her family. She was already so tired, and would then be overwhelmed by all the things they needed her for--the washing machine had overflowed, or there was too much homework, or whatever. And she'd just want to run away. What she also knew, though, was that the important thing was that she was there--that part of being a family was showing up for meals. She continued, "However we are, however we think we ought to be in prayer, the fact is we just need to show up and do the best we can do. It's like being in a family."

I certainly know my prayer is like that--I have joked about how the dog's crate in my office had replaced my meditation cushion, but that since the dog died, the meditation cushion is back. For a year, most of my prayer time went to walking in the woods with him. Now, I'm back trying to sit down there in the corner--both examples of a certain kind of holy "showing up"--not always so regular, not always so focused, but doing the best I can.

Here is a line from TS Eliot (I found myself quoting him in my Transfiguration sermon, too).
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still
Even among these rocks,
Our peace in His will
Amen.

Blessings,
Sara+

Grappling with Ideas

On Tuesday, I was with the Sisters of Saint Anne in Arlington, where I celebrate Mass regularly. The service was a celebration of the Confession of St Peter; Jesus, asking the disciples who others think he is, finally corners Peter, in an almost aggressive way: but who do you say that I am? For once, the disciple who seems so frequently to not quite understand things, nails it right on the head: "You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God" (Matthew 16: 13-19).
It's an important passage for all of us, but it becomes especially relevant at the turning points in our lives. Our confirmation class has been meeting since last fall with Michele Driscoll, and I've been able to sit in with them several times since I got back from leave. It's so exciting to see someone really grapple with ideas and meaning, to see a light go on.

One of the most stimulating conversations we've had since I've been back was last Sunday, when we had a member of a local Zen community speak with us about his practice. We were all impressed by how clearly and practically he framed his spiritual practice--not just the doing of it (meditation) but also the reasons behind it. What was even more exciting was that as he spoke, I found myself checking off similarities with our Christian belief. We come to similar conclusions, but from a very different place. Mike sat down and said that he was a little nervous, but was telling himself one of the core beliefs of Zen Buddhism--that he was already perfect-- that each one of us is perfect.

In Zen, that idea grounds the practitioner in the idea that however much he or she works in their spiritual practice, s/he simultaneously still has a ways to go, and is already "there." The basic belief is one of acceptance--we spend a lot of energy trying to convince ourselves that things are a certain way (generally, we are trying to convince ourselves that we are right!), but frequently who is right or wrong is beside the point. We can undertake different actions to shape our future, but if the sky is blue, there is nothing I can do to make it pink, except wait for the sunset.

Thinking about our "perfection"--Buddha nature--brings me to the Christian belief in the imago dei, the notion that we are created in the image of God. Our baptism brings us into communion with Christ, and we become his body here on earth. We are joined to the love that brought him to the cross and through the resurrection: a love stronger than death. In the words of one friend of mine, rather than thinking of our "original sin," we should remember our "original blessedness" (this will sound familiar to those of you who participated in the "Connect" course we did a few years ago). We are created in God's image--beautifully, perfectly, whole--though we so frequently behave in ways that betray that essential blessing.

Comparing religious beliefs in this way will only get you so far; after all, even if I can come up with analogies between Buddhism and Christianity, at the end of the day I still find "the way, the truth, and the life" in Jesus Christ, not in Buddha. But insofar as encounters with other faiths cast light on our beliefs in a new way, it's a powerful way to remind ourselves of the truths we believe in as well-and to reconnect with Christian practices we've lost. We always associate meditation with Buddhism, but there is a powerful strain of that kind of practice in Christian history as well. Of course, we call it contemplative prayer--but that's a story for another day.

Blessings,
Sara+

Rummaging for God (from April 3)

This week, I’ve been thinking about ways to pray. Even though we talk abstractly about prayer in the church a lot, we aren’t always very specific about HOW we pray. In the April issue of our parish newsletter, the Fieldstone Crier, Jonathan Duce has written an excellent article about the Jesus Prayer, a method for focusing attention in prayer at all times. You’ll receive that this week. Another practice I’ve encountered recently is the prayer of “Examen.” It comes to us from the Jesuits, the religious order called the “Society of Jesus” founded by Ignatius of Loyola in the 16^th Century.

Ignatian spirituality is focused on the way that God is present to us in our daily lives. The prayer of examen or, more colloquially, “Rummaging for God,” is a way of reviewing the past 24 hours of your day and looking for the everyday, frequently overlooked, ways that God comes to us. As described by Dennis Hamm, SJ, (who also coined the phrase above), there are 5 steps (handily recalled as LTFFF—light, thanks, feelings, focus, future). It can take 10 minutes or a whole hour—however long you have.

1. Pray for light.

Ask God to be able to remember the last day. More specifically, pray for the grace to understand as well as to remember.

2. Review the day in thanksgiving.

The past 24 hours contain many gifts. What are they? It could be as small as a kind word from a stranger standing in line for coffee.

3. Review the feelings that surfaced in your recollection.

Where was there the most energy? Where was there anger or fear? Where was there joy and happiness? Where was there tension and pain? Peace and rest?

4. Choose one of the strongest moments and pray from it.

A particularly strong feeling is a sign that something important was going on at that time. Feelings aren’t good or bad; feelings are just information. If you felt a strong sense of nervousness or fear, ask God for guidance and for the grace to trust. If you felt intense joy, give thanks. If you felt intense worry over someone, hold them in your heart in prayer.

5. Look toward tomorrow.

How do you feel about the coming day? Are you excited? Are you dreading it? Are you feeling a sense of resolve and organization, or are you overwhelmed and out of control? Whatever comes, use it for prayer—for help, or guidance, or simply ask God to be with you for the day.

This way of prayer helps us not just to know abstractly that God is with us, but to cultivate the awareness of God with us and to bring God deliberately into our focus. Take a moment now and pray your day.

[5 steps from Dennis Hamm, SJ, “Rummaging For God: Praying Backward Through Your Day” published 5/14/94 in the journal America]