Friday, April 25, 2014

On Getting to Practice

Last week, I got to write a letter for a friend who was celebrating a milestone birthday. It gave me some time to reflect on our friendship, to wax nostalgic over old photos, to find the words to say what our friendship has meant, all that good stuff. Now that I've been doing this practice for several months, it's getting more fun as I go along.

Taking time for gratitude also means taking time for reflection. It requires remembering past moments, funny stories, meaningful events, tragedy and love, and how all of those elements weave together to form friendships, family ties, and romantic relationships. It helps me reflect on how far I've come, and all of those important people who have and are teaching me important lessons.

This particular letter was nice because it came by surprise. I was asked to write a note by their partner. This person was already on my list, but this time, an opportunity came by someone reaching in rather than me reaching out. Tuning my brain to the gratitude I have experienced these past months has made me more astute at picking it out in others, too. Like warm up scales at the piano, like rehearsals before a performance, actions of love, movements toward peace, toward spiritual attentiveness, and toward gratitude requires practice, too.

Thursday, April 17, 2014

Power in the Low Places

On this Maundy Thursday, my favorite in the church year, I am grateful for so many things. I have never been a "high church" person, and I support liturgy when it works. But when it comes to worship, I am the first in line to mix something up or break something down if it's not working. I'm one of the first to ask, "why is this important?" when it comes to sacred space. But Holy Week? Holy Week works for me. As a pastor, there are certain things that I find particularly sacred. I love the smell of lilies when they arrive and fill the church with the scent of new life and beauty. I am grateful for the ways that the whole community comes together to create these extra worship opportunities--the choir on Friday, the lay worship leaders all week. Most of all, I love the heartache and tenderness that is at the heart of Maundy Thursday.

 In our community, the ministers lead the church in a foot washing ceremony. I am so grateful to those who open themselves to the vulnerability of this practice. They allow themselves to be served, and cared for. That's not always easy. This act of service and love  is followed by the story of the last supper, and the subsequent betrayal of Jesus by his friends. I find power in hanging in the low places, the vulnerable moments, the times where I most find myself at work in the scriptures. Nobody wants to be a disappointment. Nobody wants to be a betrayer. But everybody is, at some point in their lives. I find the discomfort of those moments strangely comforting, because at least I'm not alone. It is the nature of faith and life and love. There is power in staring our imperfections in the face. There is courage in hanging in the low places. Easter is coming. But not yet.

Tuesday, April 1, 2014

On Being the Open Door

I've spent the past few weeks studying and reading about vulnerability, shame, and empathy for a retreat I led this last weekend. Most of my studying has focused on the work of Brene Brown, who is a therapist, researcher, and speaker on these subjects. In her work, she talks about how essential vulnerability is for our lives, how those who are capable of vulnerability show the highest percentages of joy and meaning in their lives. (If you're interested in her work, check out the link to her Ted talk below).

As I have continued to write letters of gratitude, I'm finding that vulnerability is like an open door. It's the way that gratitude connects to me in a deep way. The people who I am most grateful for are those who have seen me in my most vulnerable places, and who love me deeply. And they, too, have been willing to be vulnerable to me. The people I love live all over, but those open doors still follow us, no matter where we are.

 I am finding that my gratitude deepens the wider the door is. In certain traditions, there is the notion of "thin space"-- a place or moment where the our world and the world of the Divine is thin--a place or moment where holiness can walk through. It's like an open door. Does that mean that each of us can be thin spaces, that moments of vulnerability allow for opportunities of magic and grace to seep into our lives? I think so. Who knows, I could be wrong. But I'd rather be an open door.

Brene Brown TEDx:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L0ifUM1DYKg