Sunday, December 17, 2006

Silencio: Too Much and Not Enough

I don't know if I ever mentioned this, but I have been taking a Prayer Paths to God course this Fall. It mostly looked at ancient and old ways of thinking about and practising Christian prayer, but we also got to try prayer techniques out in 3 prayer practicums. The first one was at the Mount St. Francis Retreat Centre (just outside Cochrane) on 1 November 2006, where we practised the lectio divina for 50 minutes on Hebrews 11. The second practicum was in the side chapel of Central United Church along 7th Avenue on 8 November 2006, where we practised the lectio divina again, this time with Revelations 1:3-8. The third prayer practicum was also at Central United; we practised the lectio divina with Revelations 22:1-18. Just to give you some background, lectio divina is latin and translates as "holy reading." Depending on who you talk to, this system of praying with scripture has between 4 and 6 steps. I'm a geek, so I'll tell you all 6. The first step is SILENCIO (silence). Silence is used to prepare the heart for spiritual reading. This step involves an inner shift from control to receptivity, from information to formation, from observation to obediance (Nienkirchen, 2006). In our prayer practicums, we usually spent about 5 minutes just releasing all distracting thoughts and emotions during this time, then a few more minutes inviting the Holy Spirit to come and be with us and to speak to us. The next step is LECTIO (reading). Here, you choose a short portion of scripture (usually) or spiritual writings (ex. Augustine, Luther, or Richard Foster probably count as "other") and read it over while listening attentively to the Speaker. You are attuned for any particular verse or words that snag your attention. Step 3 is MEDITATIO (reflection/repetition). This involves prayerful reflection on and/or repetition of those wee little bits of reading that you felt called to in LECTIO. You use your imagination and intellect to personally enter the Word. Meditatio calls for an openness to receiving a Word addressed to YOU. Step 4 is ORATIO (praying). This is entrance into prayer of the heart born out of the LECTIO (Nienkirchen, 2006). Here, response is given to spontaneous moving of the Holy Spirit. You return back to those wee little bits of lectio every now and again to refuel your heart and stay on track, undistracted. Step 5 is CONTEMPLATIO (beyond words). At this point, prayer becomes more grace than discipline (Nienkirchen, 2006). It is characteriszed by "being" more than either "thinking" or "doing". You experience deep interior silence, something that goes beyond words. You feel wrapped in divine love yourself and this cultivates true compassion for others. I don't think I hit this phase until the third prayer practicum. It hasn't happened since, probably because I am not nearly as disciplined in my individual "holy reading" as I was in a group lead by someone. Step 6a is INCARNATIO (living). Espoused by Luther as TENTATIO (temptation/trials), this is the practical living out of the text in everyday life, amid the distractions of temptations and trials inherent in the world outside monasteries. Alright. Now the juicy part: the visions and lecutions God gave me during each of these lectio divina experiences and how God has begun explaining them to me. Prayer Practicum 1. Lectio: Hebrews 11

My Prayer. God, I don't really understand the last verse of this chapter but the rest seems pretty straight forward. Death, faith, and life are all very connected. We cannot experience life without giving up control over it, dieing in faith so that You, God, will restore us. The only death to be feared is the death of our faith itself.

So, what are you trying to keep control of in your life, Faye? What do you need to let die?

Lord, search me and know me. Nothing specific is coming to mind, although I feel that there are things there. Please make them clear to me when the time is right. Then give me faith, God, because I don't know if I could do what the faithful who have come before me did: particularly the sawed-in-half-thing; that's a really disturbing thought, actually. Hey! Fear of being vulnerable! That's what I'm holding onto!

Yes, you were right when you were scanning possibilities earlier. It wasn't B. himself you were holding on to (you let him go, as told). It is the fear of being vulnerable and open and then being rejected or hurt by B. or any other potential husband he symbolizes to you. That is what you are holding on to.

Prayer Practicum 2. Lectio: Revelations 1:3a, 3b, 5, 7, and 8.

I saw... Rev. 1:3b: I saw white-robed angels who were standing on the clouds pouring out the bowls of judgement in the final days of earth. I also saw a young Asian-American man standing in an empty dug-out pool. He was staring up at a gooey, sticky, grey membrane above his head. He reached up and touched it with his left hand and was disgusted by its texture as it stuck to his fingers. He presses up on it harder regardless, breaking it open like a water sac breaking in child-birth. He emerges reborn into a cold, dark, and barren wilderness.

I thought... Rev. 1:3b: I thought about the similar biblical phrase, “The Kingdom of heaven is near,” and how Christ brings earth and heaven into fusion now and in the future. Others prayed about the urgency of the times, how time must be sanctified because the end is near. My friend Jen prayed that leaders would reach out to the spiritually dead who do not know you.

My prayer. God, please give us more accurate prophets for our generation, ones who will speak your scriptures.

Prayer Practicum 3: Lectio: Revelations 22:1, 5, 7, 18

Prior to commencement of the lectio divina I felt somewhat directionless, as if I was unsure where I wanted to go. I saw myself walking along 7th Avenue beside Jesus. He tossed his cloak on me so that I could cover my sins and weaknesses. It was a red cloak. After this vision, I felt tranquil, curious, and relaxed. I remained in that state throughout the entire lectio divina: a pleasant change from the previous prayer practicums.

In Rev. 22:1: I saw myself standing in a large, flat, mowed grass field just outside the wall of heaven. There are no trees, dwellings, or anything verticle whtsoever marring the landscape's flattness. I was standing beside a very tall, sandy-blonde haired angel with glowing gold eyes who had the build of a warrior and was clothed in a white robe, sandals, and a bronze-coloured belt. Definitely no harp or wings. At first, standing next to the perfect angel, made me feel unworthy, dirty, and ashamed of myself for all my past sins. But the angel was not a condescending angel and he made me feel welcome, protected.

Running in a perfectly straight line through the centre of the field and into the walled city was a narrow but deep river with dark blue waters. The Angel and I were standing on the west side of it; he with his back to the wall of the city, and I facing the angel and the wall. We walked closer to the water and I peered over the edge into the water and discovered it to be so dark and deep that I could not see to the bottom. I felt curious about this River of Life, but I was hesitant to explore it because I was a guest in God's kingdom and I didn't want to cause damage to something that did not belong to me. When I looked up again, there was a narrow wooden boat, pointed in the front and flat in the back, with two paddles for rowing, floating in the water a few feet away from me. I backed away a few feet lest my temptation overcome me and I get in the boat and go where I am not permitted. Then Jesus appeared, crouching on the edge of the river with a wry grin on his face. I came a little closer and he cupped his hand in the water, then splashed me with water to let me know that I am cleansed and I can touch the water without contaminating it. I had permission to be refreshed. I felt relieved, free to be myself and to experience the river with all senses. My intrigue uninhibited, I walked to the water's edge again to touch the water. It felt cold and wet; refreshing. I dove in and almost reached the bottom. To my surprise, the water was packed with life below the surface: there were brightly coloured fish, plants, and anenomies. Then I came back to the surface, where only the angel was waiting for me.

Rev. 22:5: Initially when I heard this reading, I remembered myself standing in the fields of River's Edge Bible Camp, staring up into the night sky with rapture at the falling stars. I thought about the freedom of feeling unself-conscious when I am temporarily invisible to all judgemental eyes because the night's darkness hides my appearance. I mourned the loss of the beauty of the stars at night, and the feeling of safety in anonymity I had in the darkness. Then God comforted me with thoughts of the things that will replace the night. I saw myself back at the river's edge, sopping wet from my swim (no James Bond wardrobe for me). The angel gestured an invitation by sweeping his arm toward the boat still floating in the water. I got in and the river's current carried the boat forward. Inside the wall, the river was graced on both sides by beautiful gardens of different styles. Further back from the river and hazy to my vision were elegant mansions that reminded me of Viennese apartments. I could not see far from my spot on the river and my boat did not travel very deeply into the city, but what I saw was dazzelingly bright and beautiful. I thought about how, in contrast to darkness, sunlight allows everything to be seen as it is. I remembered one of my chemistry classes and being taught about the molecular components of colour and how bright sunlight makes coloured objects so much more vibrant. The boat soon stopped beside an English-style garden, where a park bench was positioned underneath some sort of weeping willow tree. I saw two women sitting on it, chatting and smiling. I realized God is our rest, so we will not need to sleep in heaven. We will never be alone, will no longer be anonymous strangers to each other because of the constant mediating presence of God.

Today. So today when I was going through a lectio about Nicodemous, I got caught on John 3:5-8. Jesus answered, “I tell you the truth, no one can enter the kingdom of God unless he is born of water and the Spirit. Flesh gives birth to flesh, but the Spirit gives birth to spirit. You should not be surprised at my saying, 'You must be born again.' The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit.” God nudged me. Look at your note in the margin: “see Ezekial 36:25.” Ezekiel 36:25-27: “I will sprinkle clean water on you, and you will be clean; I will cleanse you from all your impurities and from all your idols. I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit in you and move you to follow my decrees and be careful to keep my laws”. Now do you understand your visions, Faye?

I'm starting to. There is a humility, a vulnerability in being born. Infants are helpless. But they are also blameless, and entirely dependant on their carer's love, understanding, provision, and protection. We're celebrating Advent now, which most Evangelicals recognise as a time to remember Christ's first coming, born as a helpless baby from a virgin teen-age mother. But traditionally, Advent was also a time to look to the 2nd coming, the end, which Christ described as coming soon. In the end, we will not be fit to join Christ in heaven unless we become vulnerable infants, born again in the Spirit. And we cannot save this generation unless we learn to suckle from the Word of God like a baby at her mother's breast. Prayer: ecumenical, sustained, and humble. Why are we not doing it?

Wednesday, December 06, 2006

Hurt:

How Learned Helplessness Enables You to Become a Perpetual Victim I feel hurt. There's not really any good reason for it. My week's been decent. I finally handed in the evil paper that was due a week ago; I got a very cool last second interview with some Mormon missionaries for another paper due this week; I've finished reading the book for a book report due today; I went out to see Christmas lights with Amy and Becky last night and my life-long dream of actually walking among the lights along 14th street was finally fulfilled because the gate was open; my mom made the best turkey pot pie ever last night; I had fun washing dishes while listening to my dad try to instruct Melanie and Chasey on how to play together harmoniously; and Melanie and I had fun mocking the latest fashion trends from Paris and beating each other up while listening to Flogging Molly. My weekend really wasn't bad either. I finished my paper; voted; briefly ran into Nick, Lauren & Nathan, Mark & Karen, and Charis, none of whom I've seen in a while; I went to my school Christmas banquet with my friends, then we hung out at Moxie's afterwards; I blissfully slept in on Monday. But little papercuts that didn't bother me at the time feel like they've become infected or something. I was kind of surprised when I wasn't all that wounded after getting blown off by my "date" for the banquet I payed $20/ticket a month in advance for. I just decided it was my friend's loss. I was more just irritated that I'd also forgotten about the banquet so I'd missed out on all the hours of girly interaction getting ready for it with my friends. And, being someone with a "slow-to-warm-up" temperament, arriving almost 2 hours late in the company of my mother (who is very cool and kindly offered to come w/ me in my friend's stead so I'd have a ride down there) with no prep time kinda threw me off for the rest of the night. It was fun and I'm sure I looked like I was having fun but it didn't feel fun because I felt out of place, like I was still missing something. Then on Monday one of my best friends called to cancel a hang-out we'd planned for that day. Again, I was ok. I knew it wasn't personal, she was just tired from lack of sleep. But it stings today. It's partly just a generalized reaction to an old injury, I suppose. From early in my childhood to this day, one of my greatest fears has been rejection. Specifically, making a clear, hard effort to offer my friendship to someone else and then having that person ignore it or fail to reciprocate bites deeply. I've never admitted it, but I actually flinch inside every time one of my siblings plays this (predictably) ridiculous song by Weird Al that goes, "Pizza Party at your house: I stopped, just to check it out. 32 larges with extra cheese, what a shame no one came." It's a parody, for crying out loud! You can't take something seriously that has an end verse beginning with: "Oh, why'd I have to go and get myself de-capitated?"! But I guess it just comes too close to the truth for me. I actually have many memories of similar situations happening to me (that is, I have experience in planning parties and inviting 20+ people and having none of them show up, not in getting decapitated). Maybe I'm really just mad. Sigmund Freud believed that depression is really just hurt transformed into anger towards the self. This theory has not found much imperical support through research but it seems to fit in my case. Last night I was reading The Way of the Pilgrim, which is the first-person account of a Russian pilgrim on his travels as he seeks to learn how to pray without ceasing. It is written in a soft, laid-back, descriptive story-telling style somewhat similar to C. S. Lewis' The Narnian Chronicles or J. R. R. Tolkien's The Hobbit. Not extremely fast-paced or emotional material. Yet it made me sooooo irritated. I wanted to stomp on the Pilgrim, but I don't think I'd find it all that satisfying because he's the kind of meekly heroic character that would just lie there and take it quietly, then pray for me and go on limping joyfully down the road with his blasted Bible, Philokalia, and bread crusts. How the duece does someone live for decades on a diet that consists of nothing other than stale bread crusts and water while traveling hundreds of miles on foot wearing only dirty rags year-round in Siberia?! And why is everyone he meets either entirely amiable and good or entirely selfish and evil? Why the deuce don't they or the annoyingly humble Pilgrim ever stumble in their journeys toward deification/sanctification or towards attaining unceasing interior prayer of the heart? And why the deuce am I taking 4 more 300 and 400 level courses next semester when I already feel spiritually dead, socially isolated, artistically empty, mentally exhausted, physically deteriorated, financially drained, and psychologically harrassed from doing the same this semester, darn it? I know that I need to learn how to pray without ceasing in order to remain in Christ's presence but I am never going to learn how to pray without ceasing without a spiritual leader and without considerable time to develop the habit and I have NEITHER! [Gollum style: Ghaaaaaaaaaaaaa!] Ok, I'll admit it: I'm jealous. I'm jealous and I'm mad. I'm jealous of the annoyingly humble Pilgrim who heals instantaneously from injustices and hurts caused by other people and I'm jealous of my older brother living in a prayer house where he is practising what I so desperately need to learn experiencially and I'm mad at God for not being able to get through my busy thoughts to remind me why it is, exactly, that I'm working 12 hours a day, 6-7 days a week, to get done all the things I have to do to finish my degree and start the next one. Why do I have to destroy myself to live a meaningful life later? I don't know. I'm not sure anyone can tell me, or if I'm even asking the right question. I just feel like I'm running in a circular gauntlet: I'm hurting but I see no healthy options in any direction. It's not really anyone's fault, it's just that I don't know how to get out. Or maybe I don't want to get out or I'm not sure I'm supposed to get out. And reminding myself that "I can't do everything" is not encouraging anymore. I want to know what I can do.
"Everything is meaningless," says the Teacher, "completely meaningless." Keep this in mind: The Teacher was considered wise, and he taught the people everything he knew. He listened carefully to many proverbs, Studying and classifying them. The Teacher sought to find just the right words to express truths clearly. The words of the wise are like cattle prods- painful, but helpful. Their collected sayings are like a nail-studded stick with which a shepherd drives the sheep. But my child, let me give you some further advice: Be careful, for writing books is endless, and much study wears you out. That's the whole story. Now here is my final conclusion: Fear God and obey his commands, for this is everyone's duty. God will judge us for everything we do, including every secret thing, whether good or bad. -Ecclesiates 12:8-14