What’s the end?

A friend was paraphrasing John Spong this morning: ‘Religion always thinks it’s the end.  But it’s not.’

I sense that the question this naturally follows, 'So, what is the end or purpose?', can be profoundly helpful.

I know religion gets in the way of spirituality for many.  I also know that spirituality is almost impossible without religion.  Religion ‘carries’ wisdom in story and exposition and in spirit from one generation to the next.

One of the great gifts of developing a habit of fruitful silence is that in contemplative practice we experience something of the end or purpose of religion wordlessly.  And we ‘know’ something that in a way is ‘beyond knowing’.

And we can agree with Spong and stay wholeheartedly involved in religion too.

Blue

Yesterday.  Saw a jet with its long vapor trail at dawn—made me yearn to be somewhere exotic.  Saw a bluebird in the afternoon sun with color out of Avatar.  Made me yearn to be right here.

The Imitation of Christ

If I ever write a book on meditation the title might be, Jesus is the Way but the Buddha has a Map. Jesus is such an incredible example of passion, wisdom, compassion, creative communication, courage. Love in action. How did he get so wise, so open, so effective? As Christians we have a strong tradition of The Imitation of Christ. And our style of spiritual formation sometimes feels more like imitation than incarnation. A lot of willpower and the very best intentions but not enough transformation. Could we use some help?

And REAL Buddhism? It seems more than a little impossible for average people. Reaching enlightenment is said to take years of monastic training and decades of rigorous practice. But mindfulness meditation is a rich gift from the Buddhists, something the rest of us can gratefully begin to practice, enjoy and and benefit from today. Something we can also (writing with both humility and hubris) mess with. Which is what this blog is about.

Hiking the Spiritual Path

I don’t know that I’ve ever been lost hiking. I’ve had boots sinking deep and sucking mud with every step through boggy ground, and my back aching from twisting and crawling through laurel hells, and my spouse angry about our off-trail misadventures, but I’ve always known about where the intended trail was. That awareness comes from having a fair sense of direction and a better sense of the landscape where we usually hike. Our spiritual path has obvious parallels—like being called a ‘path’ for instance. Most—perhaps all—human beings have some innate way of perceiving the Path. And a growing knowledge of the Path comes as a great gift and as hard work.

When I’m tangled in interior laurel hells and feel like stopping, sitting down, swearing or crying I always know (eventually) the path is really never far away, that it is a self-deception to believe otherwise, to believe that here is a time and place to become discouraged and to give up.

The Path is always near, and the slogging or twisting to reach it may seem excessively boring or exquisitely painful. But ultimately and always it is not as painful or boring as giving in to being lost.







Short Prayer

Jesus, Wisdom proclaims that you are the Way, the Truth, and the Life. And we have heard and trusted and followed. Our minds are daily renewed and our hearts overflow with thanksgiving as we walk with you in this Way. Amen.

Softness

To riff on a Pema Chodron thought I read recently in When Things Fall Apart, one of the activities of spiritual practice is to ‘indentify a sense of softness in our hearts and invite it to spread.’

We get these senses of softness at different times and in different ways.  I often get them reading a poem or watching a good movie.  Or listening to someone speak honestly from their own heart.  It’s a feeling of warmth and generosity.

And possibility.  Where we might have been feeling rushed it seems time has expanded.  Where we might have felt a little empty or dry suddenly we're back in touch with something like 'streams of living water.'

In meditation and contemplation we can work with this sense.  We can bring it into the way we let thoughts come and let thoughts go.  And the practice might be this: Try (just try) never to let a thought ungently go.  Never let a thought or feeling go without a palpable sense of kindness, without a bit of warmth.  When we begin to get the hang of this sense of kindness, then we're touching 'the softness' we might invite to spread—both through our prayers and our day to day lives.

Risky Business

If the highest aim of a captain were to preserve his ship, he would keep it in port forever.     -Thomas Aquinas

Even without punctuation…

ws merwin gets it so right.

 

one of the butterflies

by ws merwin

The trouble with pleasure is the timing
it can overtake me without warning
and be gone before I know it is here
it can stand facing me unrecognized
while I am remembering somewhere else
in another age or someone not seen
for years and never to be seen again
in this world and it seems that I cherish
only now a joy I was not aware of
when it was here although it remains
out of reach and will not be caught or named
or called back and if I could make it stay
as I want to it would turn to pain.