The very first thing I highlighted in Chapter 5 was the very first thing in Chapter 5 ... the quote from Anne Lamott:
I do not at understand the mystery of grace -- only that it meets us where we are but does not leave us where it found us.Here at All Saints we often refer to the bread and wine made holy as "strength for the journey" ... and for me that's all about the not leaving us where it found us part. The "save us from the presumption of coming to this table for solace only and not for strength, for pardon only and not for renewal" part. The empowering us to go out into the world to make a difference part.
But let's be honest -- there are times in all our lives ... Sundays in all our journeys ... when we show up, do everything "right" and "nothing happens." Who hasn't shown up for church, sung the hymns, listened to the sermon, prayed the prayers, trooped up to the communion rail and back again on a kind of automatic pilot?
That's why I love that Nora frames this whole book around the sacred meal as "practice" not "perfection" -- and issues what she names as "a small warning:"
When you have an experience of the infinite during a practice, you can spend a lot of time wanting to return to that great feeling of oneness and end up in what migh be called spiritual addiction.It's the same impulse that inspired Peter to want to build a booth up there on the mountain after the Transfiguration. And I don't think Jesus has any more patience with that impulse in us now than he did with it in Peter then.
Before I went to seminary, I did what was called a "Ministry Study Year" at St. Francis of Assisi Episcopal Church in Simi Valley ---- where Barbara Mudge+ was the vicar.
Barbara gave the same dismissal from each and every Eucharist:
The holiest moment is now. Fed by word and sacrament, go out to be the church in the world.That was nearly 20 years ago now, and it remains for me the key summation of the "afterward" part of the Eucharistic process.
It remains for me the touchstone of the point of why we do all that we do.
And it reminds me how easy it is for we humans to turn absolutely ANYTHING into a "golden calf" -- that even the bread and wine made holy intended to give us strength for the journey of justice, love and compassion -- can become a roadblock in that journey when it becomes an end in itself. And as liturgical people, I wonder sometimes if Episcopalians aren't particularly susceptible to focusing so much on the "perfection" of the liturgy itself that we forget it is not an end in itself but a means to that grace Anne Lamott tells us will meet us where we are and not leave us where it finds us.
Food for thought for this fourth week in Lent!
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Looking at the pattern of "big" epiphanies in my life I think one purpose for them is to get my attention. Another purpose for me seems to have been to teach me the variety of forms they can take. It hasn't always been lightness. On one occasion it was decidedly dark. One was a physical effort requiring instantaneous regognition of what was going to happen in a millisecond; then coordination, flexibility, and speed to prevent it. And an immediate gratitude and knowing I didn't do it alone, I'm a sedentary Grandmother. They have come at times when I am focused on myself and my problems. Generally speaking those "God" moments are quieter now. I don't seek them; but I do stay attentive and receptive.
ReplyDeleteIf I stay open to outcome and attentive; something always happens. It may not (usually does not) come with sounding cymbals or a burst of light; it may be a siirring in my heart, the colors in the stained glass window may be a little more intense, the song may bring a tear. We say the ending prayer giving gratitude for the food that feeds our spirit and I speak with firmness and conviction as I ask to be send out into the world to do the work that the Father has given me to do.
The beauty of it is I don't have to do it just "right" and I don't have to wait for Sunday. It doesn't take a full meditation session or church service. It can be a single deep breath and turning to God. It can be morning or evening prayers. It can be singing a song; it can be stirring a pot of soup.
ReplyDeleteI am one of those folks who almost always leaves the service right after Communion, for me Communion is the culmination and I am ready to go into the world. Typically its to attend to something else "on campus", on bad days. I definitely identify with several points in this chapter: Afterwards, I usually feel as if I have "exercised the muscle of my soul" (or at least put in the appropriate effort by "practicing"). Many times I experience our weekly re-creation of this ancient practice in a "visceral" way...I love the tangibleness of it and how that intersects with deep spirituality. And, I almost always feel fortified by the holy "residue" I take with me. So the "afterward" for me goes something like: "OK self move forward and hold on to this and live this."
ReplyDeleteWhat stuck with me in this chapter was that "transformation occurs in encounters..." and the story of the Gentile woman asking a favor of Jesus. This request derailed his plans for himself and gave him a new path. It makes me think of how simple the guidance of God can be given to us. It doesn't have to be a huge sign, perhaps it's just someone we don't know asking for a favor that can point us in the right direction.
ReplyDelete"transformation occurs in encounters..."
ReplyDeleteI loved that. And having just come from a three day "Theology After Google" conference where we spent a ton of time "unpacking" all the changes to how the various ways we "encounter" each other are changing so rapidly, I think it's a facinating challenge to be thinking about how we seek and serve Christ in EVERY encounter ... even if they're blogs, emails, Facebook posts or "tweets!"
Hi everybody. After several weeks of travel, I found myself at home last week and didn't get around to reading and responding. What irony. I'd like to believe that staying home would give me more opportunity, but it is my travel that got me to be regular and faithful with a Lenten group.
ReplyDeleteSo, I find myself here responding not only to the chapter, but also to your postings:
Susan, when you described the going through the motions of the practice where nothing happens, I admit that it's that way mostly for me. I feel good, but it's not usually a spiritual high that I feel. Sometimes, in fact, I can be silly and sacrilegious. I offer Harry a stick of gum to "get the taste of Jesus out of our mouths." Like Sharyn and GMKR, I am often spurred by the dismissal to get out of church and ready to do and be with others. I often think of a woman in our EFM group some years back, an introvert like me, who described how wonderful the service was and how she was filled with hope and promise as she prayed and sang with the congregation, but when she went out afterwards to the lawn, she stood alone and no one spoke to her. I want to get out there to find her and others like her. I don't often succeed. I think, though, I'm motivated to an openness and the possibility of an encounter ("collision") that deezcloudz describe.
Several times Gallagher uses the word "dance" to describe the practice of taking Communion. On my last trip for work to Hawaii, Harry was able to join me for a weekend on Maui. We took a road trip to look at some rock formations noted in our guidebook. We had to walk through the edge of a golf course to get there. Looking for an alternate route back to our car, we came across a labyrinth on an otherwise unremarkable flat space. Made out of grass tufts, rocks and shells, the labyrinth was unmarked. I had walked the labyrinth at All Saints and was frankly unimpressed by my experiences. But we decided we'd walk it here, out in the middle of nowhere with no one around. Harry entered first while I waited a moment or two. Because of the ordered pattern, we found ourselves walking towards each other, turning abruptly away in opposite directions, brushing hands but remaining silent. It was a dance with encounters and one necessary collision as we shared space, he on his way out, I entering still. As I thought about that experience reading this chapter, I thought about the orderliness of the practice of Communion, the moving out, walking in line, kneeling, raising hands, guiding the chalice, rising up, and shaking hands with the folks on the first row of pews. Part of the meaning of Communion (probably not at all what Jesus intended) is this dance-like movement through the congregation. We all know our parts; each of us has a style.
I'm set to read chapter six, and I'll post a comment again tomorrow.