From the previous chapter:
Throughout the Gospels, Jesus describes two worlds: the one in which he is living and the one that might be.
As I re-read Chapter 4 on "Receiving" it struck me that when Nora writes about how difficult it is for so many to allow themselves to "receive" it is a manifestation of that challenge to live both in the world that "is" (that tells us we have to earn acceptance, approval, love, etc.) AND the world that "might be" (God's abundant love made available to absolutely everybody.)
And isn't that the source of some of the most challenging theological disconnects of our day? The challenge from those who hold onto clear dogmas and right doctrines as litmus tests for who is or is not welcome at the table ... in the pulpit ... to the banquet ... to those who proclaim a more expansive, more inclusive understanding of God's love, welcome, community and kingdom.
By making our greatest and most important goal the one of productivity, we miss out on the ways God's gifts of grace come to us by doing nothing.
We forget -- as my friend Joanna used to remind us during CPE (Clinical Pastoral Education) -- that we're human beings ... not human doings. And sometimes the most profoundly human thing we can "do" is just to "be."
It is hard sometimes to believe that God loves us just for who we are -- not for what we "do."
I loved Kay's story about coming to the communion rail for the first time. Since she is a dear friend of mine, I've heard her tell this story many times. And so when I read Nora's words, I hear them in Kay's voice:
"It was at that point that I realized I would have to open my hands. When the moment came, I came as close as I ever have to hearing the voice of God. I heard and almost audible, Come on girlfriend. Open your hands.'"How good are you at "receiving?" What -- if anything -- might you be called to let go of in order to open your hands to receive all that God would give you?
At this moment in my life, this chapter is challenging. I have been working for a while on being and not doing, and it continues to be a struggle. Discomfort or better yet "bewilderment" with "receiving" for "no reason" is one of the two themes that have "smacked me upside the head" this Lent. I received the most incredible news last week: many years of focused hard work and sacrifice resulted in my daughter being accepted to one of the best medical schools in the country, closer to home in CA. I have yet to move from gratefully stunned to acceptance and joy. I tell people I am still "processing" as they shriek with joy (and sometime cry) for us. And as I write this I realize I am afraid. The thoughts that inhabit me: Am I grateful enough? and what do I do to prove it? My daughter is certainly worthy, but why am I so blessed? I have yet to open my hands (and heart) to truly accept this gift. This book has opened me to using the practice of receiving Communion to perhaps show me the way.
ReplyDeleteGallagher "breaks up" of the sacred meal into the waiting, the receiving, and the afterward. I view the oneness. Saying the unison prayers,confessing discouragement and separation (and giving it up to God), moving with the congregation, receiving the bread and wine, being nourished and renewed, and giving gratitude for spiritual food and then we ask to be sent out to do the work God has given us to do. There is a rhythm of giving, receiving, and giving. I must breath out before I breath in, Where is the joy of the giver if there is no one to receive. What is God to do if I cannot accept grace.
ReplyDeleteGMKR asks, "Where is the joy of the giver if there is no one there to receive?" I like that question because it settles a responsibility on the receiver. I learned along the way that my acceptance of the love of people who cared for me was a way of giving them what they apparently wanted. It didn't matter any more that I didn't feel worthy or that I felt unlovable.
ReplyDeleteIn an earlier life I kept facing the question "Will you accept Jesus Christ as your personal savior?" I was hung up on the word "savior." What exactly was I being saved from? What did the word "save" mean in that context or in the history of the church. "Salvation is wholeness" is the answer I finally grew to understand. So that meant I had to look at the word "accept." I reasoned that I could show love to God by accepting the love offered. Could it be that that is what God wants of me, just to accept that I am loved?
I really liked what the priest said to Kay in her story: "'This is our family, and this is our table. You should come.'" And I really liked the idea and image of Jesus coming up with the idea: "'I'll figure out a way for them to put their hands out in front of them, empty.'" I imagine him continuing, "Then I'll give them myself, my body and my blood, and with their hands out, they'll accept me."
Receiving Communion is not, however, "a long gaze across a great gap, with the body of Christ between" me and the person giving the bread and wine. Sometimes I wish it could be a longer event with real communication. Instead, it is often quick and with barely time to experience it. When I'm lucky, the person giving looks me back in the eye and smiles. I feel the tug of getting up and out of the way for the next person. Thankfully, Communion is much more than that brief time at the altar. I like the oneness you describe, GMKR!
This chapter is a challenge to look at myself and to look at the times I have been a receiver and when I have been a giver. When a giver do I do it joyfully and generously; or do I dole out the gifts grudgingly? When a receiver can I feel loved and grateful; or do I feel entitled or shame?
ReplyDeleteIt seems that I rarely hear someone discussing their propensity to be a receiver and inability to be a giver. I am going to admit I like being on the receiving side of the balance. I have to be attentive to the rhythm of giving, receiving, giving, receiving; I also have to be attentive to the spirit in which I give and receive.
As I encounter this book I am, predicatably, more aware of my Communion experiences and so I wanted to share my experience yesterday. As I attended the Caholic Funeral mass for my aunt, the exclusivity of the Eucharistic in the religion of upbringing, which normally just briefly irritates me, infuriated me. Most of my Aunt's extended family are not Catholic and therefore were part of the grieving guests who were instructed what to do: either stay in the pew or come up with your arms crossed for a blessing. I won't type the expletives that briefly came to my mind; I think I will file them under righteous indignation. I, of course, did participate and prayed that I never make anyone feel soooooo unwelcomed in God's family. I also fought my strong desire to say something like, "excuse me Father (to the Priest), but what better time to participate and to be comforted by and to be invited in?" and then to turn to the guests and say, "forgive them/him..they know not what they do" AND "please come share God's sacred's meal with me because Aunt Delores would want no less". Of course I said/did nothing, except today at All Saint services appreciate even more the invitation for everyone to RECEIVE together our Sacred Meal.
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