Advent Hope

This coming Sunday, November 28, is (incredibly) the first Sunday of Advent.  Each year at this time, my thinking naturally turns to the theme of hope.  (One of the many things I appreciate about the church calendar is that it brings the church, again and again, to themes of the sacred journey that are absolutely crucial.  Here, in the weeks leading to the celebration of the birth of Jesus, we naturally turn to the theme of hope.)

In a delightful book called A Door Set Open, Grounding Change in Mission and Hope, author Peter Steinke contends that we today must be prepared to do battle against three great temptations: denial, despair and magic.  Denial is the lure to close our eyes to the realities of living in a fallen world, to pretend that all is well when we know full well that it is not.  Denial fails to see the need for change (whether personal or corporate), even when the need is compelling.  Despair is, in some ways, the opposite of denial.  It sees the overwhelming realities of living in a fallen world and is suffocated by them.  Despair is the loss of courage in the face of challenge.  Magic is the belief that there are remedies and secret formulas that offer a quick fix for what ails us.  "Sorcerers," Steinke writes, "have a habit of showing up in down times (pg 40)."

Steinke contends (and I agree) that denial, despair and magical thinking are working overtime these days.  What is desperately needed is a renewed grounding of our lives in hope.  While magic looks for a quick fix to our personal trials and to the enormous challenges of our world, hope is rooted in the slow, patient power of God.  Hope remembers that God is the one who makes something out of nothing.  Hope remembers the God who brings the gift of life to the womb of the barren Sarai, the gift of freedom to the enslaved children of Israel, the gift of return to the exiled Jews, the gift of new life to disciples who are bereft of their crucified Lord.  Advent hope invites us to organize our thinking and our worship around the promise that the one who comes to us on Christmas morning will indeed finish the good work which he started.

Invictus

This week I watched a wonderful movie, Invictus, starring Morgan Freeman as Nelson Mandela and Matt Damon as the captain of the South African rugby team.  This is a powerful story, beautifully told.  According to the film, one of Mandela's sources of inspiration during his 27 years in prison was the short poem Invicutus by the English poet William Ernest Henley.  I hear this poem as a call to courage and to be true to one's  self.  I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

The Perfectionist

I'm beginning to wonder, is there any greater obstacle to embracing life as a sacred adventure than the perfectionist within?

The perfectionist is confident for a season, setting out on the journey with an almost arrogant certainty, but at the first hint of his weakness or failure he laments, “I can’t do it.  I’m not able.  I’m not worthy or gifted or smart or committed or tenacious.  Look, look at my pathetic track record!”

It is the perfectionist in her perfectionism who is the problem, not her gifts or track record or unworthiness.  At the first hint of her weakness, she is doomed.  If only she could draw back, playfully of course, and welcome her own failures:  “Of course I’m not able or worthy or gifted or smart,” she might say laughingly.  “I will rejoice all the more in my weaknesses, for in my weaknesses another is made strong!”

When he loses nerve (because he sees his failure or weakness), the perfectionist is quickly overwhelmed.  He hears the stories of those doing good work and he is buried by his sense of inadequacy, becomes more despairing because of his weakness, pulls back more fervently into the ruts of functioning in which he feels most proficient, or finds ways to judge those who are more 'successful.'   If only he can learn to laugh at himself and act upon that which his clearest and most prayerful thinking compels him to do.  Laugh and act, silly perfectionist!

How might the journey look different if the perfectionist can learn the way of surrender to the empowering Spirit rather than the way of willfulness (i.e., trying harder)?

The Jesus Prayer

All of us need some 'tools' along the sacred journey--the hiking boots that guard against the cold, the compass that guides our direction, the map that keeps us on the way.  One of the 'tools' that I've found to be very helpful at various times is "The Jesus Prayer."  This simple prayer is ancient.  It comes from the Eastern Orthodox Church.  While much of our praying tends to be directed 'out'--we bring our praise and petition to God out there (and appropriately so), the Jesus Prayer is directed 'in.'  It is a descending down into the presence of Christ within us.  The purpose of this prayer is to help us embrace and rest in the one who is the source of life. 

This last Sunday I spoke about our 'programs for happiness,' a phrase I've borrowed from Thomas Keating.  Our programs for happiness are the many ways we attempt to meet our needs for security, affection and control.   In a sense, we all become addicted to our programs for happiness and our tendency is to try harder and harder to get our needs met.  Last Sunday I described this as 'willful' living.  An alternative to 'willful' living is 'surrendered' living.  Here, rather than trying harder and harder (even using religious means) to meet our deepest needs, we surrender to the source of life, Christ himself abiding in and with us. The Jesus Prayer is a simple tool to help us surrender to Christ, the source of life.

The actual practice of "The Jesus Prayer" is uncomplicated.  I might suggest that you begin by assuming a comfortable posture in a reasonably quiet place.  You may wish to close your eyes in order to shut out distractions.  Then, in rhythm with your breathing, whisper these words:

Lord Jesus Christ

Son of God

Have Mercy on Me

A Sinner

Repeat these words over and over again, and as you do, allow yourself to descend into the presence of Christ with you.  As you continue, you may want to simplify the prayer even more, returning to the single word, "Jesus."  If you should become distracted, your mind flitting from thing to thing, just return very gently to the prayer.  

You will no-doubt recognize that this prayer is taken from the prayer of the tax collector in Jesus' beautiful parable about the tax collector and the Pharisee in Luke 18:9-14.  This is not a 'worm prayer,' where we crawl before God like worthless worms.  It is rather a humble prayer in which we open our hearts and lives to unconditional love.

One of the beauties of "The Jesus Prayer" is that it can be offered any time, day or night.  (I suggest that you keep your eyes open if you're driving the car, though.)  When you become aware that you're anxious, or for some reason you're not thinking clearly, you can return to this prayer, offer it over and over under your breath, and 'sink' into the presence of Christ.  This is what I like to call a 'recess prayer.'  In the many recesses during the day, those moments when you're walking from the car to the grocery store, when you've finished one item on the 'to-do' list and are preparing for the next, or during the drive to or from work, you can employ the Jesus Prayer as part of your communion with God.

The Jesus Prayer is a wonderful tool for the sacred adventure.  I'd love for you to give it a try and then share your experience with the rest of us.

One quick note about this blog:  I originally indicated that it would be my intention to write and send this blog on Monday.  I'm finding that almost impossible, so from here on (until I change my mind!) I'll make every effort to write on Tuesday.