Sabbath 10: links to Tripp's post, Meeegan's post
This week's chapter was fabulous. I'd post the whole thing here, except for the whole blatant copyright violation thing. I'm tempted to tell you to buy the book for this chapter alone. I can't copy it, but I can paraphrase.
Scripture talks about, and some of it leans toward, the eschaton (the end of all things). Our modern, western assimilation of the concept, Muller says, is 'progress.' We live in a culture that says that things will be better next year, next decade, than they are today. We work frantically for a future in which we can rest, say that we have arrived.
The trap is that there's always more money, or a bigger house, or a faster car, or...insert your stereotypical object of gratification. But we still participate to a certain extent, even if we see the trap.
Now, here's the important move: if the future is the desirable thing, then the present automatically becomes undesirable, or at least less desirable. We have to work, hard, right now, harder, faster, now now now, and we can't stop to rest, because we haven't reached the promised land yet.
Oh boy, he's hit this generation right on the head.
On to the suggested sabbath exercise. When I first read the chapter on Sunday, I actually laughed out loud. The first reason was that this week's exercise is simple: go outside. Well, I just did that. The other reason to laugh out loud is that this week in San Antonio has been between 25 and 33 degrees with freezing rain. The schools were closed for "ice days." My yard is a lake of not-quite-ice-cold slush. It's a good week to be glad we're members of the local gym.
We did spend some time outside, mostly for the benefit of the well-bundled urchling who had never tried to walk up an icy driveway before (or slid down same), or broken icicles off the trees to eat. But nothing particularly contemplative of the beauty of nature.
In other words, ain't gonna happen. I'm giving myself a bye on the exercise.
21 January, 2007
14 January, 2007
Sabbath 9: "Inner Music"
Sabbath 9: links to Tripp's post, Meeegan's post
Yes, I know this is two sabbath posts in one day. I started my response to Sabbath 8 a week ago, but didn't quite finish the thought. So I started doing the next week's exercise while simultaneously juggling the other things in my world and waiting for time to write again.
* * * * * * *
Muller belabors a point in this chapter, namely that all things have a natural circadian rhythm. We're hardwired to need rest. well, duh. Anybody who has pulled an all-nighter studying/doing homework/playing computer games and experienced the inevitable subsequent crash landing afterward knows that you can't go without sleep forever. Not even for small values of forever.
He then goes on to talk about how animals can and do find their way without maps and GPS receivers, and almost seem to listen to songs of the earth we can't hear to orient their lives, followed by a nice segue to the suggested exercise for the week, which is simply to meditate on your own breath.
Or, as we said in seminary, "just breathe, baby."
It's a simple exercise, common to many religious traditions. Get comfortable somewhere, preferably quiet to begin with. (we had to take the ticking clock off the wall for this exercise at first.) Clear your mind as best you can. Now concentrate on your breath. Feel the muscles. Feel your ribcage move. When (not if) your thoughts intrude, notice them, let them go for now, and return to the breath.
This is a wonderful exercise. If you've never tried it, five minutes a day for a week will work wonders. If you're doing this by yourself, you might want to set a timer of some kind, even if it makes you feel a bit like a boiled egg. The point is to not think about what time it is and how long you've been breathing. Don't count breaths. Just breathe.
A personal story about breathing:
Almost all third-year students at Episcopal seminaries are required by their dioceses to take the GOEs, which stands for General Ordination Exams (or God's Own Exam). It's a week of comprehensive essay exams, and seems to comprise equal parts of examination, fraternity hazing, and rite of passage (because many third-year students effectively coast it in after the exam). It's stressful, because students are facing a big honkin' exam at the end of at least a five-year process, and this is pretty much the last place where anybody might say "well, maybe you shouldn't be a priest/deacon after all."
On the first day of the exams when I took them, our chapel leader that Monday morning was the liturgics professor. He read to us from the Bible, and then looked up and said, "remember to breathe. Every year, some time about Wednesday, some of you come to me in a panic, and it's almost always true that you're forgotten to breathe."
And doggone it if I didn't find myself forgetting to breathe. And then I would laugh at myself, and take a few deep breaths, and relax, and get back to it.
Yes, I know this is two sabbath posts in one day. I started my response to Sabbath 8 a week ago, but didn't quite finish the thought. So I started doing the next week's exercise while simultaneously juggling the other things in my world and waiting for time to write again.
* * * * * * *
Muller belabors a point in this chapter, namely that all things have a natural circadian rhythm. We're hardwired to need rest. well, duh. Anybody who has pulled an all-nighter studying/doing homework/playing computer games and experienced the inevitable subsequent crash landing afterward knows that you can't go without sleep forever. Not even for small values of forever.
He then goes on to talk about how animals can and do find their way without maps and GPS receivers, and almost seem to listen to songs of the earth we can't hear to orient their lives, followed by a nice segue to the suggested exercise for the week, which is simply to meditate on your own breath.
Or, as we said in seminary, "just breathe, baby."
It's a simple exercise, common to many religious traditions. Get comfortable somewhere, preferably quiet to begin with. (we had to take the ticking clock off the wall for this exercise at first.) Clear your mind as best you can. Now concentrate on your breath. Feel the muscles. Feel your ribcage move. When (not if) your thoughts intrude, notice them, let them go for now, and return to the breath.
This is a wonderful exercise. If you've never tried it, five minutes a day for a week will work wonders. If you're doing this by yourself, you might want to set a timer of some kind, even if it makes you feel a bit like a boiled egg. The point is to not think about what time it is and how long you've been breathing. Don't count breaths. Just breathe.
A personal story about breathing:
Almost all third-year students at Episcopal seminaries are required by their dioceses to take the GOEs, which stands for General Ordination Exams (or God's Own Exam). It's a week of comprehensive essay exams, and seems to comprise equal parts of examination, fraternity hazing, and rite of passage (because many third-year students effectively coast it in after the exam). It's stressful, because students are facing a big honkin' exam at the end of at least a five-year process, and this is pretty much the last place where anybody might say "well, maybe you shouldn't be a priest/deacon after all."
On the first day of the exams when I took them, our chapel leader that Monday morning was the liturgics professor. He read to us from the Bible, and then looked up and said, "remember to breathe. Every year, some time about Wednesday, some of you come to me in a panic, and it's almost always true that you're forgotten to breathe."
And doggone it if I didn't find myself forgetting to breathe. And then I would laugh at myself, and take a few deep breaths, and relax, and get back to it.
Sabbath 8: the sabbath walk
Sabbath 8: Meeegan's post, Tripp's post
Before we get to this week's reflections, Meeegan asked a really good question in regard to my post on last week's exercise: how did it feel to pick those things back up again when it was time to get back to work? Instead of answering immediately, I gave it another few days to pay attention to the picking back up ritual. I did the prayers 'in reverse,' giving thanks for things and responsibilities to be taken on.
It felt... refreshing. Orderly (which is a good thing in my world). I was able to be intentional and deliberate about starting off the day, and more ready to pick things up after allowing myself to put them down for the night.
Of course, I really like what I do for a living. In fact, I can't believe I get paid for this. I tried to put myself into the mental space of not liking my job at all, remembering the worst of my time as a consultant, but I have to imagine how the exercise would work if the things to be picked up were burdensome.
* * * * * * *
Now, on to this week's chapter and exercise: the sabbath walk. Walk without purpose, he says. Pay attention. Notice things. Stop if you want to.
I think Meeegan is right; Muller lives near the beach, and is imagining somewhere beautiful and out-of doors to wander in, rather than an urban setting. Wandering aimlessly in downtown anywhere might be dangerous.
My beloved and I got to retreat to Camp Capers for a day over Christmas break, and we actually did Muller's exercise for this week without knowing it, even before I read the chapter. (God is good) We just strolled for a while, being outside, and then we strolled and talked, and then we strolled some more.
For me, the biggest benefit of the time spent was not necessarily the mindfulness of it, but instead this simple idea: go outside. I live in suburbia, and the church where I'm one of the priests meets in a building that's right off a freeway. We do have some of the wildness of West Texas right close to us, but you have to go looking for it.
The biblical narrative, which I use as one of the lenses through which I view my life, has a certain dirt-under-your-fingernails sensibility. The biblical writers, and original readers, tilled the soil and herded the sheep. They gathered in the grain, the wine, and the olive oil, and knew the smells and tastes and textures of each. Things that the original readers understood at a visceral level we have to stretch for.
We lose something when we lose contact with the land. I grew up a city boy, so I don't want to over-romanticize that. And it's not like I suddenly get in touch with some kind of innate pastoral wisdom when I go for a walk in the woods. But just to get outside for a while is refreshing for me.
Before we get to this week's reflections, Meeegan asked a really good question in regard to my post on last week's exercise: how did it feel to pick those things back up again when it was time to get back to work? Instead of answering immediately, I gave it another few days to pay attention to the picking back up ritual. I did the prayers 'in reverse,' giving thanks for things and responsibilities to be taken on.
It felt... refreshing. Orderly (which is a good thing in my world). I was able to be intentional and deliberate about starting off the day, and more ready to pick things up after allowing myself to put them down for the night.
Of course, I really like what I do for a living. In fact, I can't believe I get paid for this. I tried to put myself into the mental space of not liking my job at all, remembering the worst of my time as a consultant, but I have to imagine how the exercise would work if the things to be picked up were burdensome.
* * * * * * *
Now, on to this week's chapter and exercise: the sabbath walk. Walk without purpose, he says. Pay attention. Notice things. Stop if you want to.
I think Meeegan is right; Muller lives near the beach, and is imagining somewhere beautiful and out-of doors to wander in, rather than an urban setting. Wandering aimlessly in downtown anywhere might be dangerous.
My beloved and I got to retreat to Camp Capers for a day over Christmas break, and we actually did Muller's exercise for this week without knowing it, even before I read the chapter. (God is good) We just strolled for a while, being outside, and then we strolled and talked, and then we strolled some more.
For me, the biggest benefit of the time spent was not necessarily the mindfulness of it, but instead this simple idea: go outside. I live in suburbia, and the church where I'm one of the priests meets in a building that's right off a freeway. We do have some of the wildness of West Texas right close to us, but you have to go looking for it.
The biblical narrative, which I use as one of the lenses through which I view my life, has a certain dirt-under-your-fingernails sensibility. The biblical writers, and original readers, tilled the soil and herded the sheep. They gathered in the grain, the wine, and the olive oil, and knew the smells and tastes and textures of each. Things that the original readers understood at a visceral level we have to stretch for.
We lose something when we lose contact with the land. I grew up a city boy, so I don't want to over-romanticize that. And it's not like I suddenly get in touch with some kind of innate pastoral wisdom when I go for a walk in the woods. But just to get outside for a while is refreshing for me.
12 January, 2007
lectionary group
Gordon Atkinson and I have started doing a way-cool lectionary study group. He writes about it here. (my reflections coming soon)
For the moment, I'll just echo his invitation. If you want to join us, come on!
For the moment, I'll just echo his invitation. If you want to join us, come on!
10 January, 2007
Sabbath extra: sabbath discipline?
I call Sabbath keeping one of the seven spiritual disciplines of the modern Christian.
(what are the other six? stay tuned)
Discipline, specifically, because it's not something that comes naturally to us in this crazy overstressed overbusy world we live in. Discipline because it takes determined effort. Discipline because, frankly, it's not always easy. I struggle mightily with aspects of sabbath keeping (I'm thinking, at the moment, of the resting part, not the community worship part).
I've had the idea for a discussion of sabbath "discipline" in general in the back of my head, waiting for the right chapter to come along. Don't know if or when that will happen, because I'm deliberately not reading ahead in Muller's book. But Tripp and Megan have already started the discussion. I'll refer you to their posts for now, and add to that conversation later.
(what are the other six? stay tuned)
Discipline, specifically, because it's not something that comes naturally to us in this crazy overstressed overbusy world we live in. Discipline because it takes determined effort. Discipline because, frankly, it's not always easy. I struggle mightily with aspects of sabbath keeping (I'm thinking, at the moment, of the resting part, not the community worship part).
I've had the idea for a discussion of sabbath "discipline" in general in the back of my head, waiting for the right chapter to come along. Don't know if or when that will happen, because I'm deliberately not reading ahead in Muller's book. But Tripp and Megan have already started the discussion. I'll refer you to their posts for now, and add to that conversation later.
09 January, 2007
new colors!
The new color scheme brought to you by request of Elfie Stafford. (I love you, Elfie)
Please, nobody write me a nastygram about how I'm changing the blog liturgy and We've Always Done It That Way Before.
Please, nobody write me a nastygram about how I'm changing the blog liturgy and We've Always Done It That Way Before.
24 December, 2006
sabbath: the sabbath box
Muller's suggested practice this week: use a sabbath box. A place to put the things that you carry around, and deliberately "let go" of the attended uses. Close the lid, and be done with them until it's time to deliberately pick them up again.
This one was easy for me. In my closet, on the shelves, there's a pretty wooden box with a cross on it that my mother gave me. It tends to gather clutter, but I cleaned that out and made places for the loose change and receipts and other little things.
Every evening, when I got home for the day, I went through the ritual of putting down my responsibilities. For those of you who are dying to know the regular contents of my pockets, here was the regular litany:
Wallet: I am through buying things today.
Wristwatch: I am on family time now. I have no other time-sensitive obligations.
Fountain pen (which goes in the other box, with all the other fountain pens): I am done writing, creating, preaching, and proclaiming today.
Vial of healing oil: I am always a priest, but I am done with my ministry for the day.
Class ring, seminary ring, clerical collar: I am finished being a visible minister of the gospel today.
Cell phone (turned off): I'm finished talking to the rest of the world today.
Keys to the church: I'm done with my job today.
it worked. I was really able to put things down and tell myself later, "nope, that's in the box. Go pick it back up if you want to work." I'll stick with this discipline for a few more weeks and see what comes of it.
This one was easy for me. In my closet, on the shelves, there's a pretty wooden box with a cross on it that my mother gave me. It tends to gather clutter, but I cleaned that out and made places for the loose change and receipts and other little things.
Every evening, when I got home for the day, I went through the ritual of putting down my responsibilities. For those of you who are dying to know the regular contents of my pockets, here was the regular litany:
Wallet: I am through buying things today.
Wristwatch: I am on family time now. I have no other time-sensitive obligations.
Fountain pen (which goes in the other box, with all the other fountain pens): I am done writing, creating, preaching, and proclaiming today.
Vial of healing oil: I am always a priest, but I am done with my ministry for the day.
Class ring, seminary ring, clerical collar: I am finished being a visible minister of the gospel today.
Cell phone (turned off): I'm finished talking to the rest of the world today.
Keys to the church: I'm done with my job today.
it worked. I was really able to put things down and tell myself later, "nope, that's in the box. Go pick it back up if you want to work." I'll stick with this discipline for a few more weeks and see what comes of it.
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