[Sundaycommunity] At home - with the stranger - and a hollow heart

Sat Aug 7 13:22:37 PDT 2021

I do not always participate in the Sunday prayer group - but many dear friends do so - faithfully.   In reading the posts sent out by both Brenda and Cathy C (among others) - much resonated - and I thought what I wrote and posted this morning on FB connected in many ways.

I too consider myself a “struggling” catholic - even though I agree with Catherine that too often that tent is too restrictive - particularly to women and indigenous people - also to youth and those ardently struggling for justice in myriad ways - that’s usually because institutions - and patriarchy - and bureaucracy - and clericalism - cannot countenance true reform - it would mean their own demise. We all seek that house in which God dwells - that house - tent - dwelling - where all can dwell in communion and care.  But we too must be ready to face with truth and grief - that we must be reformed as well.

 So I’m sharing my journal entry from today - and a few photos - mostly surrounding indigenous people who so prophetically remind us of our deficiency. But also the statue of the mythic Arthur - a hollow man - who despite all his idealism, dreams, innate goodness and decency - could not sustain his Camelot nor prevent the round table from collapse.  It’s a lesson that our own history and legacy is marred with defeat - injustice - and yet we must not give up the dream. Despite death and crucifixion - hope must endure.
Peace
Kevin Anderson

This is part of my journal for today - Saturday August 7th, 2021. I don’t usually share these - but I thought some of my family and friends might resonate with these thoughts that have been percolating in my brain recently.  So I’ve edited them for a larger audience.

As we age, I’ve come to the conclusion that we can either become more pliant and humble - or more entrenched and enraged. Or we can put it this way:  Do we want to become enraptured by wonder and beauty and mystery as we get older?  Or will we succumb to the easier seduction - the default position of most people and things - and become brittle and embittered as our bones, heart, head and soul begin to degrade - dissolve - decay - and cry out against the dying of the light - as we refute the lessons that our own dying is trying to teach us?

After sitting in the hot tub underneath a light rain this morning - I’ve been pondering two major themes these last days. The first - is the distinction between Magic and Miracles.  I am a firm believer in miracles but not magic. Because magic - it seems to me - employs a misplaced notion of wanting to control and manipulate unseen forces – perhaps wanting to do so with good intentions - perhaps using the muscle of faith - but this kind of self empowerment regime wants to control, manipulate, manoeuvre outcomes - which seems to me - a mistaken move at explaining mystery and mysticism.

The miracle motif rings true to me – because miracles mean I see truth as never before – my horizons open to the unseen and unknown - not because of any power or control of my own - but only because of the grace, gift, God that is willing and wanting to unfold despite all my resistance and self reliance. Only my utter humility at embracing my incapacity, my inattention, my ignorance - allows the door of my heart and soul to open - to a widening world that I could not recognize before.  And so is revealed a deeper truth – not because of me – but in spite of me. Miracles are nothing more than truths I have yet to recognize - truths not yet revealed - truths I cannot see because my vision is stunted and my soul is not yet ready to receive - this blessing - this gift - this benediction.  And how wonderful it is to recognize the miracle in ordinary things - in breath - light - a bird’s song - a babbling brook - a gentle rain.

This brings me to my second aha moment around aging – and how wisdom and enlightenment are also more a kin to humility than to hubris. Aging “gracefully” I do not arrive at wisdom – rather I embrace my own insufficiency and so realize - at least I hope to realize - that my pride and ego are my greatest obstacles – they are the blinders that impede my vision and openness to mystery.  I have been an avid reader/student/disciple of Richard Rohr for many years - and have become more open to other mystics who I study online. These interviews/ podcasts/ teachings have provided a steady diet of ideas around the non-dual awakening that is the antidote to the spiritual/ moral malaise - and polarization - that plagues our age. Yet recently I’ve come to the realization that the dualism we attempt to disown - to bridge – to overcome – places us all on a continuum – a sliding scale.

Just as gender fluidity and race relations is teaching us that we are all on a spectrum, we need to realize that we are on a spectrum for most things in life - including our capacity to embrace truth, justice and mystery. We all live somewhere along the spectrum of awareness - of openness - of tolerance - of compassion - of enlightenment - of love. This spectrum leads either toward humility or toward pride - toward egalitarianism or egoism - toward isolation or communion - toward independence or interdependence. The spectrum is everywhere – it is the human condition. And as I age, I realize the enemy to growth is the spectre of certainty. Old people either become more resolute/calcified/ entrenched and convinced that their notion of reality is what matters - or they can embrace the truth of their own brokenness, hypocrisy, inadequacy, and weakness - that asserts evermore - that we are not the masters of our fate - or our world - or our destiny; we are not God - we only hunger to be so.

These are the people that recognize their lack of control and insight, they acknowledge their blindspots and admit they are not saints; they know that their reality - and the world - “as they know it” - is not sacrosanct. There is always more to learn, discover, experience, acknowledge - and the greatest of teachers, the greatest grace, experience, truth, heartbreaking and heart broadening source for all wisdom – is the “other” - the stranger – the poor and the broken – those who have been maligned – hurt - forgotten - ignored - ostracized – victimized.  And the hardest pill to swallow, the most humbling and disturbing truth of all - in this cosmic and planetary scenario - is that the pain and brokenness of those “others” - those I might call my “lost relations” (and here I include my non-human relations as well) is often done implicitly or complicitly by me. I am responsible for my heartless, tactless, tasteless ignorance - my blindness; sometimes it is intentional – especially when it is done with malice and with forethought;  but most often it is unconscious and unintentional - and simply a result of my careless defence of a worldview that protects my ego, my privilege, my power, and my delusion – that I am in control - that my version of reality is the one and the only valid one. In short - when I am not ready, willing, or able - to let my horizons, my borders, my frontiers be invaded – by the other - the inconvenient one - I miss the invitation for growth and grace.

On the spectrum of magic and miracles – I can either lean toward the notion that I foresee and control unseen forces – a recipe that I suggest is doomed to fail - for lack of humility. Or I can wait and wonder, hope and pray, that my defences and my guard will be lowered enough to welcome the guest who comes to my door - and in welcoming him/ her/ they - into my house - I am amazed to see the face of God – my dearest friend.

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Sent from my iPhone
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