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Tending the Spiritual Heart July 31, 2005 Alida M. DeCoster Cedar Lane Unitarian Universalist Church Bethesda, Maryland Reading: “Yakko’s Universe” Lyrics by Rangy Rogel Everybody lives on a street in a city It's a great big universe And we're part of a vast interplanetary system And still it's all a speck amid a hundred billion stars It's a great big universe Sermon: Have you befriended the stars? What has been your experience of viewing the night sky? Have you ever been away from the city, in the country or in the desert and seen a clear night sky from there? Not only is the darkness more dark, but in a less human dominated environment, we are outside our usual everyday circumstances. We can’t just go back to the socializing or chores we were doing after a few moments of noticing the pretty stars. In a more distant location, we are without our usual routine and supports, and the night sky can become more than beautiful to us. It is awesome. It can even be frightening. Have you had that experience? I have. I have been in an earthly wilderness, staring up at an unfathomable wilderness, and felt so small that I was scared. This is the kind of human experience that gave rise to religions in the first place. The very first time I heard the song “Yakko’s Universe” I wanted to use it for a sermon. I think it is a particularly good reading for a Unitarian Universalist service ( I mean where else could I give it as the lesson of the morning??)...It is a good lesson though and I think it contains an entire theology. What is theology anyway? It comes from “theo” and “logy,” which means words about God. For our purposes I see a “theology” as a theory of meaning. So how does the song “Yakko’s Universe” offer us a theory of meaning? First it starts with the primal experience of awe, leading to a sense of humility. Awe and humility make us yearn for some kind of comfort or reassurance. The fulfillment of that need for comfort is contained in the final sentence: WE are an important part here. It’s a big universe and it’s OURS. Here is the reassurance that we belong. We belong to this vast interplanetary system, despite the interstellar voids. Believing we belong takes some faith though. A special feature of this particular theology is its sense of humor. Life has it’s absurdities and laughter is truly a gift of whatever gods there may be. Dr. Gerald May died in April He was recently my teacher, and was for many years a fellow in contemplative theology at Shalem Institute, which is less than a mile from here. He had a great sense of humor. In fact, he enjoyed teasing Unitarian Universalists. When he met me at our residency in February, he immediately wanted to trade Unitarian jokes with me. Jerry, as he was known, built his own theology on the premise of absolute human dependence on the Mystery often called God. Jerry was a medical doctor and psychiatrist for a number of years before meeting Tilden Edwards in the 1970s. Tilden is an Episcopal priest who founded Shalem. Shalem was a pioneer in the recent rediscovery of the Christian Contemplative tradition, and the need for developing a life of meditation and prayer as a balance to the stress and social justice emphasis of the contemporary church. In fact, rediscovering the writings and practices of mystics such as Teresa of Avila and John of the Cross brought to light the understanding that spiritual depth, the comfort of prayer and relationship with a higher power could energize us for our service to the world. It is my own belief that without spiritual depth we burn out quickly in our efforts to help and serve. Spiritual depth does not require a Christian orientation, of course, but it does require some kind of humility, or recognition of human limits. Jerry wrote many books. In fact he received word from his publisher during our residency that his manuscript titled “Wilderness” will be published. He was so happy about that. Alas, it must be published posthumously, but I know it will bring additional richness to his legacy. His thought ranged widely, but he has been best known for comparing the fields of psychology and spirituality. His books Care of Mind, Care of Spirit and Will and Spirit deal with this comparison in depth. Is there a difference between a clinical depression and a traditional dark night of the soul? Yes, there is. What is the difference between therapy and spiritual direction? The difference is significant. Essentially, therapy is problem solving, while spiritual direction is companionship. Jerry’s most recent published book was Dark Night of the Soul, a very readable study about those two sixteenth-century Spanish mystics, Teresa and John. I highly recommend it. It is short and accessible. What I want to emphasize here is this idea of humility before the vastness of the universe. Before I go on, I want to say that I am only offering my experience and opinion. Take what you like and leave the rest. What I see is that in our time there is a notable shift taking place in Unitarian Universalism in style of worship. A more traditional style of worship is evolving, at least in a number of large urban churches. It is an approach with more prayer, more emotion, and more ritual: a more “embodied” style. I believe this shift is in direct relation to our experience of the world and life in general as being less predictable and safe than it seemed when we counted so much on progress to solve all problems. In the twentieth century, anything non-rational was suspect. We were so afraid of seeming fundamentalist that our worship stayed tightly in the intellectual realm. A stronger sense of awe and humility leads to this new style of worship. Many of us who were raised Unitarian Universalist in the later decades of the last century, and especially many of us who have attended seminary, have discovered the richness of the Judeo- Christian heritage. We may also have discovered that we need something more than reason to address our deeper longings for belonging, and for facing the sometimes frightening mystery of life. Now, in facing our “puniness,” we still never have to give up reason as a tool. Reason is an essential tool in human community. Being reasonable matters in life. That is not the same as rationalism which refuses all contemplation or acceptance of mystery. While we continue to research and establish a greater understanding of objective truths, there are deeper questions of life and death that can only be addressed by philosophy or theology. Faith is also important. All the major religious traditions recognize that people develop in faith over a lifetime. When we are young in life and in our faith, we have more confidence that we can figure things out. A major task of growing up is forming a strong sense of self and ego boundaries: a certain sureness about things, so we can go forward and accomplish life tasks. But ultimately, all religious traditions teach that the ego itself blocks us from a sense of union with all, from the deeper peace of spiritual maturity. Buddhism and Christianity both teach ego transcendence, “dying to the self” as essential to the later stages of development. So does Jerry May. What does this mean? Dying to the self does not mean putting ourselves down or denying ourselves pleasure. First, it means not hurting others, starting at home. It means recognizing that our grasping and cravings are to be let go of. Most worries and concerns are ego related. So the more we can turn ourselves away from that grasping, finally, the happier we will be: letting go and letting God. Having a sense of a higher power in life is a great relief, which is why I started with that image of the universe. What greater power is there than that? We’re just a bunch of Mickey Rooneys. Even though I find it scary to face the hugeness of the universe, I find it a relief to know I cannot figure everything out, nor do I have to. Whew! That goes for my everyday life, too. I don’t have to figure everything out! Whew! The more we let go of our need to figure everything out, the happier we will be. Now, the “universe” is not the same as “God.” The “universe” is one way of defining or understanding God. But the idea of a personal God, a God with whom we have a relationship, is a different idea. The God who moves through our hearts, who moves and acts in human history is our Judeo-Christian God. Let me tell you about a mystical understanding of “God.” If you are skeptical, it may help. What is mysticism? It does not refer to some altered state. It is not superstition or magic. Mysticism, according to the great British mystic Evelyn Underhill, is “the art of union with reality.” Mystics are people with a gift for feeling very connected to the universe, for seeing the universal in the particular: people who feel that we are important, we belong and we are part of everything, and further more, that everything is God. Not that we are the same as God, for we are still Mickey Rooney. But Mickey Rooney is a tiny part of God, if you see what I mean. A mystical understanding of God is all about love: Love and longing. We humans long to be a part of something, don’t we? Our painful sense of aloneness drives us to do all kinds of crazy things. What if our faith could help us never feel alone again? This, you say, is what fundamentalists want and get from their religion. It is also what mainstream people of faith have, and what we can have too. It is what I have at this point in my life. We often achieve a sense of universal connection through our relationship with nature. Our Transcendentalist tradition is nature mysticism. For us, too, it is not so hard to say that “God is love.” The force of love that we can choose to be a part of or not. At the Washington Ethical Society, they say “we spell God with two o’s.” These are all more mystical views of God than the old man with the beard idea which really doesn’t work for most people over the age of twelve. Mature religious faith is something else. It is being able to encounter, live with and feel part of the great mystery and love of the universe, whether our personal style is intellectual, emotional, devotional or mainly in the realm of social justice. As another of my mentors, Roy Phillips said, “Maybe we need to use the word ‘God’ just to remind ourselves that we are NOT God.” We are part of something larger than we can comprehend that also leads us toward love if we let it. So what does mysticism have to say about all the bad things in life? The wisdom seems to teach that we cannot escape our human condition and our suffering, but that allowing ourselves to be filled with the love of God, transcending ego-attachments, we are less likely to experience the bad things in the same way. Not that we don’t feel pain, but the sense of love and peace may provide a balance. We feel everything more deeply, including joy. Awe, humility and belonging. Once we really feel that awe and humility and are willing to believe that we belong, however that happens, we need practices to maintain our faith in love. Tending the spiritual heart, the mission of Shalem Institute, is also the aim of the religious life, the life of faith. It is consciously setting up reminders of love: reminders that we are loved, and belong in the universe, and that we too can be sources of love, fed by the greater source. Tending the spiritual heart takes life long practice. What kind of practice? One way is coming to church and participating in a worship community. Private spiritual practices, rituals, reading and study all keep us attentive to this love. Staying on the path is a discipline, but it gets easier with time as the fruits become more obvious. What is your way of “turning to God,” of tending the spiritual heart? Symbols can be helpful. Wearing a symbol around your neck (over your heart), worry beads, a favorite book or readings you can carry with you, these are ways to continually remind ourselves of our belonging in this great love, this miraculous universe. Do it every day. Do it every morning and every night even if it is just a brief offering of thanks for the day. Tend the spiritual heart and your heart will grow and grow. Working for justice from this place of the spiritual heart helps us to keep with it. Service can be a kind of prayer too. To me, contemplative theology is the best of the Christian tradition and the easiest part for us to appreciate. It is the Catholic church teaching freedom in God. It is the Catholic tradition teaching that who you authentically are is who God wants you to be: as long as you live according to love, authentically turning to the greatest source of love. How about that! My own UU tradition is still and will always be the one where I feel most comfortable because I have so much freedom to find my own way. It is just that I am amazed to find how much there is in Christianity that is nourishing for me. And I haven’t even mentioned Jesus yet. Other traditions bring other gifts and each tradition is a lens, or piece of stained glass, through which we all perceive the same light, the same ultimate reality. Tending the spiritual heart is a discipline. We do not always want to do it. It takes some effort to structure our days to include it. We drift away, we forget the sacred. Yet in moments of stress and trial, to suddenly remember, to touch that sacred object in our pocket, brings us back to a sense of perspective and peace. The more we keep the practice, the more it will help us when we need it. I recently heard of a book about knitting as a spiritual practice. In my group at Shalem, the knitting craze was alive and well. We all made prayer shawls. The idea of a prayer shawl is that you pray as you knit. If you are knitting it for someone, you think of them, hold them in your thoughts, as you knit. If it is for yourself, you use the activity as a meditative practice, quieting the mind as you go. There are now knitting retreats, if you can believe it. One of my co-students is an Episcopal priest who specializes in leading these retreats. Tending the spiritual heart is nurturing this intention for connection, for love, for openness. What Gerald May taught over and over is that we are not saved by determination, control or exertion of the will. While there is a time and a place for these efforts, we are saved spiritually by surrender to mystery and grace. We don’t accomplish our own spiritual growth. It is given when we open up to it. Our only job is to open and turn to love. Using some practice will help us remember to do that. One day last week, I came right to this point in this sermon and ran out of gas. How to end it, I wondered. Well, I thought, I’ll turn off the computer and go make lunch. Something will come to me. I wanted it to have something to do with stars. So I went into the kitchen. A little later the mail came, and with it my first regular newsletter from the organization “Spiritual Directors International.” Most of the issue was devoted to Gerald May. Several of his closest colleagues had written pieces about him and his long ministry of spiritual direction and his great influence on so many of us. This kind of serendipity is the gift of grace and mystery. One of his students, Tony Sayer, wrote a poem about him and it occurred to me to close with some of it. Many of his lessons come across in this loving collection of images: 1 just the other night i realized he was truly gone from us i went out to look at the stars the Twins were holding the moon in their hands they had overturned the bowl of light 2 he was our teacher and soul friend but he is gone from us no more will we hear that strange beguiling voice strong enough to flatten all pretensions soft enough to make your soul lean forward ... He was our teacher and our friend who filled himself by keeping himself open who was just himself in the most ordinary way which turned out to be extraordinary who did not think it too mean a thing to sense a mystical depth even in us and blew softly on the small flame within who taught us a grave and powerful mantra: “remember, the only state you are in is the state of Maryland” ...... 4 For him (and for us) grace means freedom not just freedom from death but freedom for love and delight and to live means simply this: daily turning toward love in all things, in all circumstances. (5 & 6 skipped) 7 the stars shine with pale dignity the Twins are holding the moon in their hands they have upended the bowl of light empty, full grief and joy (and presence and absence) all mixed together all splashing down i lift my hands for my friend’s last gift of (what else) rich dark silence
By tending the spiritual heart we learn little by little to turn to love in all things, in all circumstances. May it be so. Amen |
Cedar Lane Unitarian Universalist
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