I Don't Know...

As a child I often noticed that adults would make things up when they didn’t know instead of just admitting “I don’t know.” One day in high school chemistry class, our teacher was lecturing our badly behaved class about how things were transformed when they burned. “But why does it make

light?” I asked. He gave an answer that didn’t really address my question, so I asked a follow up, and probably another. Eventually he tersely explained that my questions would not be on the test, and I should cease and desist.

It was only decades later when I was watching a documentary and the narrator explained that there is a lot science still doesn’t know about fire that I finally understood- the chemistry teacher couldn’t answer my question because science hadn’t figured it out yet. So why wouldn’t the teacher just say that? To admit you don’t know is to admit that your knowledge is incomplete, that you have more to learn. Probably admitting any weakness in front of a hostile classroom of high school students who would rather be anywhere else did not feel like an option.

In my role as a minister, I often get questions for which I don’t know the answer. But I’m supposed to be the expert -- how could you trust me if I don’t know everything? Usually I do swallow my pride, remember that ministers are not all knowing, and ask if someone else knows the answer.

But some questions, like “what is the nature of fire”, just lead to more questions. In a recent Ted Radio hour Tabetha Boyajian, a professor of astronomy at Louisiana State University, was talking about some unusual transit patterns in NASA’s Kepler Mission data that scientists can’t fully explain, and this mystery is launching whole new lines of inquiry. Host Guy Roz suggested “So science is more often than not about raising more questions than finding answers. And it seems like in this case, you still don't know what's going on…. That is great. There are more questions now than you can answer, which is better - which is great. Boyajian replied “Well, that's - yeah. That's science. [i]“ The gift of not knowing is the curiosity, the open mindedness that leads to new discoveries, to whole new fields of knowledge opening up.

If you accept the notion that even something as common as fire can be a mystery, and that our curiosity and humility about our knowledge can be helpful in our quest to understand, I’d like to propose that “not knowing” is even more useful when considering the divine. We try to organize God into tidy boxes, with systematic theology and hallmark cards, but as some theologians say, the divine cannot be tamed. God is wild. The world is changing and evolving, we are changing and evolving, and the divine is changing too.

The more I read of the contemplatives and the mystics I see this theme emerging - that in fact not knowing is the only way we can begin to know the divine. The divine, by definition is different from humans. If we let our human knowing drive our inquiry, we could be looking in a limiting way, in a limited range. Not knowing if you believe in God is actually a powerful place to be on your spiritual journey.

Until recently, I thought of not knowing as something on the way to something else. We don’t know about the outcome of a scientific experiment until it is complete, but there is an expectation that someday we will know -- that we could know anything given enough time. Lately, I’ve been coming to a realization that not knowing isn’t just an in-between place that must resolve into knowing, but that not knowing has its own gifts. As Theologian Gerald May says “It is precisely at those times of not knowing that we are most alive… If you really think about it, I believe you will see that your life is greater, more full and awake, even, perhaps more joyous at such times than at any time of certainty.” [p. 122]

Where knowing can give us the delightful satisfaction of wrapping our tidy box up with a ribbon, not knowing allows us to be humble and curious. It allows us to keep our minds and hearts open; it allows us to stay present in the reality of the moment, even when that reality is confusing and uncertain. That space of unknowing is exactly where the soul grows and blooms. The spiritual journey, like science “is more often than not about raising more questions than finding answers. And that’s great.”

The green thing lurking at the back of my fridge...

Sometimes I’m away from home for a while- whether on vacation or just so busy at work that I just sort of zip through the house and go back out – and when I finally get time to be at home it doesn’t feel right. Often the bench by my front door is piled with stuff brought home from my adventures and I suspect there are things in the back of my fridge that might provide the basis for a good science experiment. Instead of feeling comfy and safe, being home becomes unpleasant and stressful.

Have you ever had a moment of panic when you realize you are going to be alone? It occurs to me that this dread of being alone is not so different from my dread of looking in the back of the fridge. When I am busy with meetings and work or family, (or just sucked into my Facebook feed) experiences and feelings pile up inside me and I “get behind” in my inner work. I’ve come to believe that when I get that moment of aversion about being alone, it’s a good indicator that there’s something inside me that needs my attention. And just like with my fridge, it’s not getting any fresher.

Whether I am dreading being alone or dreading going home to a home full of unfinished projects, the solution is the same; only time spent there will make it feel like home again. I might put on my favorite music, fix myself a nice cup of team and give myself a good chunk of time to reclaim my home. Sometimes this is all we need, just time to reacquaint ourselves as we would with an old friend. And if it doesn’t feel right, I can ask myself why? What needs my attention? If something in my home or in my spirit doesn’t feel right, I must be brave and go in there. Ah, here’s the handful of shells my family gathered as we walked the beach on our vacation. How lovely they are- time to find a permanent place where I can see them. Here’s the bag we keep by the door all summer in case we want to go to the pool – I guess it’s time to put that away for next year and get ready for the change of seasons. Here are the bills I need to pay. I’ll set them here by the checkbook so I don’t forget they still need my attention. Oh my, that’s where the smell was coming from – that stew I made that turned out badly. Time to admit no one is going to eat it; time to let go of that regret- into the trashcan with you! Long before the house is clean, it starts to feel like it’s mine again.
Whether we are reclaiming our outer home or our inner one, sometimes we fear coming across something that is too much for us. In both cases, remember that help is available. When we realized our air conditioner had been leaking into the wall for over a month, I was afraid to find out how much damage the water had done, so I asked my friend who is handy to come look at it with me. The same is true if I realize I am afraid to feel a great loss or grief, or rage- I would call a friend or a professional who is handy with such things, and ask them to look at it with me. If we are the praying sort, we can also bring our worries and messes to the divine- Remember the psalmist tells us:

… you have searched me and known me.
You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
you discern my thoughts from far away.
… and are acquainted with all my ways. [Psalm 139]

The divine already knows about the moldy stew in the back of our refrigerator (both literally and metaphorically), and knows about the water damage in our walls, and the un-shed tears in our hearts. We don’t have to wait to have a clean house to invite the spirit to tea.

So the next time you dread being alone, might I suggest that spending some time in solitude (your inner home) might be the best thing you could do for yourself and your spirit. It might mean the inward journey is calling to you. Because once you’ve thrown out all the things that need to be discarded, all that’s left is healthy delicious food- maybe everything you need to make dinner, and your favorite dessert besides.

Doing Nothing

 Americans lead busy lives. Even our kids are busy. The idea of sitting and “doing nothing” when there is so much to do feels wasteful to us. Sometimes I am so busy I forget how to just relax. I find that when I do have a moment to sit and “do nothing”, maybe at the end of a long day, my mind spins and spins. Sometimes my mind is still spinning when I head off to bed. Why is my mind so busy even when my long to-do list is finally done?

Recently, I finally did that shopping I’ve needed to do. I replaced that broken clock, the broken chair, and that sheet set with the spent elastic. And there they sat on the bench by the front door for several days. I had the time to purchase them, but not the time to open up the packages and put together the chair, wash the sheets and make the bed, add batteries to the clock and figure out how to set the time.

This feels like a metaphor for my busy mind. I have so many experiences in a given day, that they keep piling up like packages by the door and I don’t give myself time to integrate those experiences into my life. So the time I want to spend relaxing with family at the end of the day ends up being the time I do the mental, emotional and spiritual equivalent of unwrapping my purchases and putting them away. That difficult meeting at work needs to be unpacked and put away. That sweet conversation I had with my son needs to be enjoyed and put away. Rush hour traffic definitely needs to be unpacked and composted. The birds singing outside my window needs to be savored and stored. As a meditation teacher I studied with years ago would say at the start of each class “let your mind release its contents.” We can’t go right from a busy day to sitting quietly and relaxing; the mind, heart and spirit all need time to catch up.

Recently I was waiting for a family member to finish their thing so I could drive them home. At first I was irritated to have to sit wait, to have to “do nothing” on such a busy day, and then I remembered how far behind I was on “doing nothing.” Suddenly, this waiting time seemed like a bonus.

Here are some things I like to do when I have nothing to do: 

• let my thoughts drift, without following any of them – watching my mind “release its contents” 
• notice how my body and heart feel with a non-judgmental awareness
• pay attention to my breathing
• pray
• gaze with curiosity at the nearest tree and just enjoy

Whatever path you choose, let go of the outcome, and just see what comes up. What happens when we do this? Sometimes we feel a bit more peaceful. Sometimes a bit of sadness that needed to be felt will find us. Sometimes when our whole to-do list pours out we realize that really there was only one important thing on that list. Sometimes we are able to empty enough to listen to our spirit, or to the divine.

See, now I’m not wasting time at all. I’m not being lazy, I’m taking care of my spirit. The next time you find yourself with a little bit of time between one thing and another, may I suggest that instead of checking your phone or your to do list, consider accepting this scrap of time as a gift- savor and enjoy it as you would a great piece of chocolate.

Too much gratitude?

An article on parenting appeared in my Facebook feed encouraging us to demonstrate gratitude to our children, but to be careful only to show gratitude for extraordinary things they do, lest they grow up thinking that, for example, making their beds is anything other than on ordinary part of life.

Of course I immediately began to question myself-- I thank my son all the time, and he thanks us too: “thanks for making dinner mom” or “thanks for the clean laundry.” Is he ruined for life, I wondered? So I began to ask myself, why do I thank him every day for doing very ordinary things? The same reason I thank the cashier at the grocery store for ringing me up, my waiter for clearing my dirty dishes, or my yoga teacher for each class. My life is better because these people do the jobs they do. When yoga is canceled, I am disappointed and my whole day is less joyful. When I walk up to the front register and no one is there to help me, I feel frustrated and I resent time standing there waiting for someone to notice me. I operate from a core believe that being grateful for very ordinary things reminds us of our many blessings.

I am grateful for clean water to drink
I am grateful that I have a job
I am grateful for a safe place to sleep at night

For those of us who have toes that move, Buddhist monk Tich Nhat Hanh encourages us to be grateful each morning in the shower for our toes-- to consider that not everyone has toes, that some folks have toes that can’t wiggle.

Come to think if it, what is not extraordinary about having toes? Consider the complex interaction of muscle, bone and nerve. What’s not extraordinary about being able to go into a grocery store and know there will be food there every day? What is not extraordinary about having a child who makes his own breakfast and gets himself ready for school? And isn’t this why we are encouraged to say grace as we sit down to eat each meal -- to remember that we cannot take for granted the privilege of each bite we eat?

A number of scientific studies have shown that feeling gratitude is actually one of the most healthy things we can feel- it’s benefits are not only emotional and mental, but also physical. The religions of the world also suggest that Gratitude is an important spiritual practice as well; perhaps we are more open to the divine if we notice the gifts all around us every day, instead of waiting for something extraordinary. As the endless mountains come alive again this spring I am reminded of these words by the great American poet e.e. cummings…

“i thank You God for most this amazing
day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes”

When our hearts sing with the blessings all around us, we recognize the truth that all life is a gift for which we can be grateful-- body, mind and spirit.

Who, me?

Consider the story of Moses- God gets Moses’s attention with a bush that burns “but was not consumed” and then tells Moses what God wants him to do, giving him some pretty straightforward instructions. At first Moses says, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?” And God explains that God will be with him, but Moses is still not convinced replying, “Pardon your servant, Lord. I have never been eloquent, neither in the past nor since you have spoken to your servant. I am slow of speech and tongue.” God replies “go; I will help you speak and will teach you what to say.” But again Moses protests, “Pardon your servant, Lord. Please send someone else.” Three times the great prophet Moses argues with God when he is called to lead his people out of slavery.

I believe that each and every one of us is called. We are not usually called to do something quite as dramatic as Moses, and few of us get a sign as clear as a burning bush, but if we listen carefully to the spirit we start to notice that some choices feel different, feel right, even if they are challenging. This story tells us some very important things about the experience of being called. First, Moses (like so many other prophets in the scriptures) is reluctant to accept his call. “Who am I?” we think- surely there is someone else who could do a better job than us. Surely we’ve misunderstood – the inertial pull of our daily lives is a powerful force, who are we to resist, to change?

We also notice in this story that there is not a single call, “I am sending you to Pharaoh to bring my people the Israelites out of Egypt.” Instead there is an ongoing dialogue; at each turning point in the journey God gives Moses advice about the next steps. And thank goodness- can you imagine having to figure out how to “bring the Israelites out of Egypt” without some coaching and guidance?

Each time Moses questions God’s calling, God is very clear that God is not asking Moses to do this alone. “Now go; I will help you speak and will teach you what to say.”

I believe that if God gives us a job, God will give us the tools to do the job. For example, at one time or another all of us will have a friend, neighbor or loved one in the hospital. Even though I’ve been a minister for almost 20 years, I still get nervous when I make a hospital visit- what if I say the wrong thing? What if they would rather be alone? Even after all those years I know I could still bungle things, but I’ve learned to trust that I won’t be alone. I just have to listen- to the person lying in the hospital bed, and to the quiet movement of the spirit. Not that I’ll do everything right, not that I’ll always understand perfectly - God knows we are not perfect and sends us anyway. The spirit calls us just as we are and our job is simply to show up, and to listen. There is much that is broken in the world -- so many people who are hurting and need our help. We don’t have to be Moses, only to listen for our own unique call, then to trust the spirit will be with us, to help us and to teach us how to follow that call.

Answering "the Call"

When you hear stories about people receiving a call, it seems like this is would be - easy to hear, simple to answer, simple to follow- like getting on an interstate highway to your destination. When I was a teenager, all I wanted in the world was to be an Opera Singer. I got lots of support of encouragement for this path, and it fed my heart and spirit. Then after a few years studying to be a professional singer, the interstate turned into a local road, and then a dirt road, and finally a dead end. It was really hard to turn around and abandon that road on which I had spent so much of my life.

Sometimes following the spirit is not like getting on the expressway, sometimes it is like a wandering country road, or like a creek that meanders around rocks and trees. I wandered around for a while, trying to find a new path, and when I began to consider becoming a minister, it felt the same way you feel when you step into a creek and walk in the direction of the flow; a way had opened for me, and it just felt right. I have now been a minister for 20 years, and know it was one of the best decisions I ever made.

When our path meanders and turns, it can be disorienting and disconcerting. But there are a number of reasons why the spirit might lead us on a curving path. I’m glad I got a chance to sing for so many years, and there are definitely lessons I learned in my musical training that serve me well in ministry. But my path didn’t straighten out once I made the choice to enter the ministry. When I was in my twenties I felt called to youth ministry. Then family life brought us to this area a decade ago. I had no idea I was being lead to small-church ministry, but now I find I love the intimacy and creativity of a family-sized community. A few years ago on my sabbatical I felt a strong pull to be trained in Spiritual Direction, and what I learned on that turn in the creek has changed both my own personal spiritual life and my ministry profoundly. I like to imagine that from here on out it will be a straight shot- that things will continue like this until I retire, but no creek runs in a straight line for long. I know there will be more unexpected twists and turns ahead.

Sometimes the tug we feel to take a turn on our path is not a change in the direction of our whole journey, but just for this next step. Maybe the spirit is just trying to lead us around a tree and we’ll be heading back north in no time. Sometimes we are lead on a detour that has nothing to do with our larger long-term purpose, but leads us in a way we can serve the spirit in this very moment. For example, I felt a very clear sense of call to attend seminary, and thought of “calling” in terms of something big I would do with the rest of my life. But one Friday afternoon, I didn’t have any classes and headed down to the city park with the intention just to let the spirit lead me. I heard the screeching of cars in front of me. The driver jumped out of his car and picked up an elderly dog who had wandered out into the road. I pulled over and asked if I could help. He looked relieved, and said that would be great- he had to get back to work. I spent the rest of the afternoon helping that dog find her way home. If we are too focused on our larger purpose, we may miss the smaller places where we might be led to help out in the world.

If you look at the rivers and creeks in our area, you notice that sometimes the is more than one path the water takes around an island or through a field, only to converge into one strong channel downstream. Sometimes in our lives there really are multiple paths that will serve us well and get us to the same place. I agonize and agonize about which to choose, until finally I realize that I can serve the spirit either way I go.

I believe that all of us have opportunities to listen to the spirit, and to serve the spirit, whether we are clergy or parents, office managers or construction workers, farmers or retail clerks. Each of us can feel the pull of the spirit, sometimes like a rushing river, and sometimes like a wandering creek. Let us listen for that pull not just at the large turning points, but each day let us be sensitive to that current and the surprising places it may lead.