Pondering the connections between breathing and the divine certainly helps us, in turn, to remember that breathing, that most natural and essential of impulses, is also an engagement with something beyond ourselves.
Now we are on the other side of Easter. Remember, Easter was not the glorious event for the disciples that it was for us. The trumpets did not sound. Easter lilies and spring flowers did not announce new life in their midst. Unexpectedly, momentarily, they saw Jesus alive and then very quickly he was gone. It had to have been a very uncertain place to be. What happens now? I imagine the disciples were tempted to go back to where they were. They were tempted to go back to who they were. They were tempted to go back to what they were.
I read a meditation during Holy Week that has stuck with me. It keeps challenging my heart and mind. Mary Luti, a longtime seminary educator and pastor writes: “A new command I give you: Love one another as I have loved you…” (John 13:34) It was on the night he was betrayed that Jesus gave us the love commandment. In fact, it was right after his betrayer, flush with silver, left the table and slipped away into the night. Scripture says that Jesus knew where Judas was going. It’s a safe bet the others did, too. Frederick Niedner once wondered whether, after hearing that commandment about the way they should love each other, any of the disciples got up and went after Judas. ‘Did anyone fear for him, miss him, or try, even after he brought soldiers to Gethsemene, to bring him back and talk him out of his shame, his anger, his rapidly deepening hell?’
Did anyone try to love him as Jesus did? Tradition has consigned Judas to a gruesome death and the deepest circle of hell, so my guess would be no. Which means that the church—that’s you and me—hasn’t yet learned the first thing about the love commandment. Or about our own pain. For we all have at least one Judas missing from our tables, out there in the night, unforgiven and alone. And each of us may be a Judas for someone else, absent from someone else’s feast. Maybe when we sit together at the church’s Table to share bread and cup, we should add a chair. And leave it empty, an aching absence. Maybe the sight of that absence would shame us into the world to look high and low for Judas, and to keep looking until all our Judases come home.”
The commandment to love is demanding. How often do we try to make it easy by loving the lovable rather than seeking out those who really push us and make our blood boil? How often have we chosen to continue sitting at the table while a family member leaves in anger out the door instead of getting up and going after them? Who is missing from your table and how do you deal with the aching absence? Who are you wishing would come home? Have you ever been the outcast of the family, the one absent from the feast? Have you ever felt beyond the reach of forgiveness? As a society, who do we leave behind and never go back for? How will you take seriously the love commandment this side of Easter?
One of the scriptures that is read in the beginning of Lent is about the temptation of Jesus by the devil for forty days in the wilderness. He was tempted with hunger, with power, and the need to prove who he was. Whether or not you believe this actually happened or whether you believe in a hoof and horns Satan or “Tempter” as he is also known, we cannot deny that temptation is very real in our experience of being human. Lent invites us to pay particular attention to our lives and seek self-knowledge. It is in understanding and acknowledging our limitations, our weaknesses, and the urges that have defeated us in the past, that we are better prepared to battle temptations. How do we react when we are struggling with injured pride, a wounded ego, fear of not being appreciated, or anger at being ignored?
One step we can take is to recognize when we are most vulnerable. The mental health and recovery-oriented fields use the acronym HALT which stands for hungry, angry, lonely, and tired. When you ask yourself, “Am I hungry, angry, lonely, or tired right now?” it makes you stop and think about how you feel before you react to a situation. Each one of these four physical or emotional conditions, if not taken care of, leaves an individual vulnerable for relapse. Relapse for an alcoholic or addict means resumption of using alcohol or drugs to manage the discomfort, but even those of us not suffering from chemical dependency have our own forms of relapse (excessive gambling, eating, shopping, TV watching — to name just a few). Relapse may also show up as falling back into old beliefs about ourselves that result in feelings such as shame or guilt.
There is no getting away from sometimes feeling hungry, angry, lonely or tired so the more self- aware we are the better. Hunger, of course, describes the most obvious physical condition of lack of food but hunger can also point toward emotional needs: hunger for attention, for comfort, for understanding, or for companionship. Just as food takes care of our physical hunger, the solution to emotional hunger is community. Anger is a little more complex to understand. The way we express anger often takes destructive forms. We either turn anger against ourselves or against others. Anger can range from criticizing and belittling to name-calling and physical violence. Anger can also be like a repeated tape loop; in that case it’s called resentment. The Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous suggests that a person with resentment towards another pray for the other, that is, imagine all the good in life that we would like to have for ourselves to be bestowed upon the other person. You don’t have to call it prayer; choose a word that works for you.
Next in the HALT acronym is Lonely, which can be a frequent companion for some. It is similar to Hunger in that the solution is the same, namely community. The last of the HALT acronym conditions is Tired. We all have a tendency to ignore tiredness at times. Many of us do not get enough sleep and being tired, overloaded or overwhelmed can affect our well-being. HALT, is a practical tool for everyday living. Thanks to the people in Alcoholics Anonymous, where this acronym initially emerged, for using their experience to benefit us all.
As human beings we love to keep score. The first question you want to know when you turn on a game already in progress is, “What’s the score?!” The first important scorekeepers in our lives are our parents. As we grow up, we are eager to learn how to win their attention, their smiles, their approval. Teachers may be next as they keep score with report cards. Coaches teach us to keep score and, later on, it’s our bosses, co workers, or neighbors. Our educational system is based on test scores, GPAs, AP, ACT and SAT scores. An online magazine recently posted a list of the 50 most beautiful women in the world ranked from 1 to 50. Honestly, I thought that #50 was just as beautiful as #1 but I wonder if the one at the bottom of the list was upset? Unfortunately, our inner sense of worth and well-being is often tied to the scores that we get.
One of the ways we tend to keep score is by comparisons. My father used to say, “Comparisons are odious” when any of his girls would play the game of comparisons. Psychologists say people engage in three types of comparing. They compare their situation to those who are better off—upward comparison. They compare themselves to those at the same level—lateral comparison. And they compare themselves to those who are worse off—downward comparison. Each type carries dangers: the first incites envy, the second competition, and the third arrogance. If we define our own value and the value of others in terms of the world scoring system we probably will always be unhappy.
How does God keep score? Thankfully, God doesn’t keep score. Every morning as the sun rises we have a brand new day to live and to love. Fresh start. God works with totally different rules and has a different way of accounting. There’s a passage of scripture where Paul says: “Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus: Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant.” Jesus wasn’t somebody who spent his life trying to climb up a ladder even though he was “at the top of the organizational chart of the universe.” Jesus looked like a failure in the world scoring system. He wasn’t a success by the standards of efficiency, good management, or outward success and his life ended in what seemed to be a colossal failure. However, the cross shows us a different way of measuring success, a way that overturns our desire to keep score. Love keeps no record of wrongs. True happiness starts when there is no need for score keeping anymore.*
As you are reading this, I will be on vacation enjoying some time with my husband and daughter before she goes off to college. I will be doing my best to “disconnect” from the usual busyness of work and other responsibilities and I am looking forward to the Sabbath time. Scripture tells us to “Remember the Sabbath.” Remember that everything we have is a blessing. Remember to stop and offer thanks for the wonder of life. The assumption being that we will forget and given enough time we do. In his book, Sabbath: Restoring the Sacred Rhythm of Rest, author Wayne Muller says: “Long ago, the tradition of Sabbath created an oasis of sacred time within a life of unceasing labor. This consecrated time is available to all of us, regardless of our spiritual tradition. We need not even schedule an entire day each week. Sabbath time can be a Sabbath afternoon, a Sabbath hour, a Sabbath walk. Sabbath time is time off the wheel, time when we take our hand from the plow and allow the essential goodness of creation to nourish our souls.” In many ways, we have lost the rhythm between work and rest. Our society often reinforces that action and accomplishment are better than rest; that doing something is better than doing nothing.
I know that I am not good at doing nothing. I easily become impatient when I am forced to do nothing such as when I need rest when I am sick. Remember the Sabbath. The body needs rest to heal from illness and from exhaustion. Muller says, “Sabbath honors the necessary wisdom of dormancy. If certain plant species, for example, do not lie dormant for winter, they will not bear fruit in the spring. If this continues for more than a season, the plant begins to die. A period of rest—in which nutrition and fertility most readily coalesce—is not simply a human psychological convenience; it is a spiritual and biological necessity. A lack of dormancy produces confusion and erosion in the life force. When we act from a place of deep rest, we are more capable of cultivating what the Buddhists would call right understanding, right action, and right effort.”
As the summer months begin, residents have shared with me that they are leaving for cooler climates or they are looking forward to family reunions or travel for rest and relaxation. Some have shared that even though they will not be going anywhere to escape the heat, they will find moments of Sabbath on their morning walk, in prayer or worship or in moments of silence. In some way, my friends, may you remember the Sabbath this summer and find restoration and renewal for your soul.*
In the past few weeks, I have had conversations with many of you about the recent losses of innocent life in Britain due to both terrorism and tragedy. These most recent barbarous attacks, as well as the Grenfell Tower fire have left my country reeling, with people struggling to make sense of such intense feelings of anger and the depth of sorrow after such loss.
I can tell you from the heart, that what makes Britain a wonderfully unique place to live and work, is its cosmopolitan identity and socially diverse peoples. Every corner of the earth is represented in the cities of Manchester and London where these tragedies have taken place. Cultures blend in the streets, in the markets, in the schools, and the very real way in which the communities affected by these tragedies have pulled together in these past weeks is a tribute to their dynamism. The one abiding blessing of these past few weeks is to have seen people of every faith, ethnicity and background supporting one another.
Photographs of a memorial wall on the façade of a church in London have been shared around the world to bear testimony to this spirit. Many of the prayers written on that wall, representing many faiths, are heartbreaking. They are raw. They are from the heart. They are a modern lament rooted in anger and confusion. “Our loss is heaven’s gain,” says one – while another writes: “pray for our community”, and most simply and poignantly of all, perhaps – “we are one.”
As I have wrestled myself with the intensity of human suffering being felt in places which are so familiar to me, there is one part of the bible which has resonated with me as I have prayed for all involved.
The Book of Lamentations, in the Hebrew scripture, deals explicitly with the personal consequences of loss and mourning brought about by communal suffering – in that case the destruction of Jerusalem- : “The thought of the affliction weighs me down,” writes the author.. “I cannot get it out of my mind; I am bowed down by it.” And, just like many of us are perhaps feeling when we see again images of the burnt out tower block, or the aftermath of terrorist destruction he adds: “my soul is bereft of peace.”
It is only after he has truly expressed his anger and pain that the writer of lamentations can eventually move on to affirm, in hope and – despite everything – that: “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end.” May we all, in whatever anguish or sorrow we face, remember that same truth, and share it readily with others.
“The secret of health for both mind and body is not to mourn for the past, nor to worry about the future, but to live the present moment wisely and earnestly.”
– Buddha
Are you a worrier? I know I am. I come from a great line of worry-warts in my family. We are exceptional at putting countless amounts of overthinking into situations and circumstances to which we have little to no control. It’s not good emotionally, mentally or physically. So why do we do it at all? More importantly, how can we stop?
Some scientists theorize that worrying may actually keep us safe. For example, if I’m concerned about being in a car accident, that worry will probably get me to put my seat belt on, which is a good thing.
It’s nice to know that worrying actually suits a purpose, but I still would much rather do without such an excess of it.
In the article, “Seven Awesome Reasons to Be Present and How to Do It,” by Henrick Edberg, I read that being in the moment is an excellent way to stop worrying. When I am focused on what is happening right here and now, I don’t allow time for my brain to worry about what might happen or stress about what has already passed.
Edberg explains there are many ways to keep your mind in the present moment. You can focus on your breathing or even focus on the sights and sounds that are around you. Feeling the sun on your skin or listening to the birds singing can bring you into the present and keep you there. Being aware with your senses can draw you into the moment and away from your anxiety.
Another technique that works for me is prayer. I silently repeat a short prayer over and over until my anxiety goes away. My go-to mantra is, “God has got this.” It’s simple and easy and, most importantly, it works for me.
Sure, I’ve got work to do with controlling my worrying. It is a lifelong challenge for me to work on and find different techniques that help. There is also a comfort in knowing that my worrying is a human condition and I’m not alone. Even people in biblical times were sometimes worrying too much and turned to the scripture for guidance.
“I sought the Lord, and he answered me, and delivered me from all my fears.”
– Psalm 34:4
“Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything.”
– Philippians 4:6
So, let’s work together to go out in this great wide world and live out our hopes and not our fears. Remember, God has got this.
While he was in prison, St. Paul wrote to the church at Ephesus because they were quarreling with one another. They were allowing their lives to be ruled by anger. Here’s what he said:
Tell your neighbor the truth. In Christ’s body we’re all connected to each other, after all. When you lie to others, you end up lying to yourself. Go ahead and be angry. You do well to be angry—but don’t use your anger as fuel for revenge. And don’t stay angry. Don’t go to bed angry. Don’t give the Devil that kind of foothold in your life. Watch the way you talk. Let nothing foul or dirty come out of your mouth. Say only what helps, each word a gift.
Sometimes we feel we should never be angry, we should repress our true feelings. However, when we do that, our anger continues to simmer within us and ultimately festers or blows up and can be destructive. Avoidance of conflict makes room for the devil. Anger is a natural part of our emotional makeup as humans. The scriptures record God becoming angry 375 times in the Old Testament and we know that Jesus got angry as well. He was angry when the scribes and Pharisees were watching to see if He would heal the man with the withered hand on the Sabbath day (Mark 3:5). He was terribly and majestically angry when he made a whip and drove the moneychangers out of the temple. (John 2:13-17).
Paul gives specific and practical guidelines for dealing with anger. He says, “Be angry!” emphasizing that anger itself is not a sin. Then Paul adds do not let the sun go down on your anger. Plutarch tells us that the disciples of the philosopher Pythagoras, had a rule of their society, that if during the day, anger had made them speak insultingly to each other, before the sun set they shook hands and kissed each other, and were reconciled. Sometimes we are called to be angry. The world would have lost much without the blazing anger of William Wilberforce against the slave trade, and of Anthony Ashley Cooper, later named Lord known as the Great Reformer for his work to end the horrible conditions in which men, women and children worked in the 19th century. If Martin Luther King had not been angry at racism, the civil rights movement might not have flourished. If Gandhi had not been angry at oppression, India’s independence might not have happened. Anger, channeled in a positive way, can be a catalyst for change. The famous writer Dr. Samuel Johnson was once asked to temper the harshness and anger in a book he was about to publish. His answer to that request was that “he would not cut off his claws, nor make his tiger a cat, to please anybody.” There is a place for the tiger in life; and when the tiger becomes a tabby cat, something is lost.
