Word Magic

The morning that I write this, I woke early thinking of how I would shape my talk on Henri Nouwen in Seattle this coming Friday. Some of my best ideas come to me in the middle of the night or early in the morning. Then it occurred to me that a friend, J. Marshall Jenkins, and the Dalai Lama were downstairs awaiting me for morning prayers. As I sometimes do, I got up at 5 a.m. to enjoy an entire hour alone with them, my thoughts, and hopefully with God. With coffee, of course.

It pleasantly reminded me of my visits to Mt. Calvary Retreat House in Santa Barbara, arising in the darkness, picking up a cup of coffee in the coffee room, and finding a nook or cranny or outside space to think, read, or pray—a memory reinforced when our dog came downstairs and I took her out for her morning necessaries and I saw a bright full moon and a handful of visible planets and stars—a contrast to the abundance of planets and stars in the night sky over Santa Barbara, but wondrous nonetheless. I picked up The New York Times in our driveway, remembering today was Science day, being a Tuesday, with its special science section.

And I realized my thrill—no doubt partly induced by my half-decaf coffee—was due to the magic of words. Thinking of Nouwen’s words and how my words might characterize them; anticipating Marshall’s words in his book, A Wakeful Faith: Spiritual Practice in the Real World, with which I’ve been doing a kind of lectio divina for a number of weeks, and my newly acquired book by his holiness the Dalai Lama, The Universe in a Single Atom: The Convergence of Science and Spirituality, experiencing both challenges and agreement in each; looking forward to reading the morning paper; and finally, eager to sit here writing this post and soon my Nouwen lecture.

I was so giddy by the time I concluded with the Lord’s prayer, I could hardly contain myself!  Those of you who are not morning people may be rolling your eyes right now, and believe me, I do restrain myself when Wade comes down for breakfast before going off to the office.

As if to sober me up, I happened onto a review of a novel by Bruce Wagner, who last year wrote of the “depravity” of Los Angeles in Dead Stars, and now apparently finds among “Buddhists, gurus and spiritual pilgrims” similar “narcissism, self-aggrandizement and the ravenous appetite for fame and renown” in The Empty Chair.

I gave myself up to a moment of self-doubt about why I write this blog, and in my younger years, this might have stopped me cold. But older, I have realized that everything we/I do is prompted partly by ego—how we view ourselves and how we think other people view us—and our need to be heard. In fact, one entry in psychologist and pastoral counselor Marshall Jenkins’s book confirms this: “What we think others think of us—or what we think they would think of us if they really knew us—shapes our self-concept.”

Too many of us are derailed by the snarky and sometimes jealous comments of others, those Henri Nouwen describes as trying to hook you in your wounds “to dismiss what God, through you, is saying to them.”

For me, the magic of words is that they engage me in a community of many voices, some uplifting and affirming, some challenging and humbling, even when I am alone.

Related post:

The Right Word

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Copyright © 2014 by Chris R. Glaser. Permission granted for non-profit use with attribution of author and blogsite. Other rights reserved. Check out past posts in the right rail on the blogsite. Consider using a post or quotes in personal reflection, worship, newsletters, and classes, referencing the blog address when possible: http://chrisglaser.blogspot.com.

Where Your Treasure Is

“Master, you are wonderful! You have renounced riches and comforts to seek God and teach us wisdom!”

“You are reversing the case!” The saint’s face held a mild rebuke. “I have left a few paltry rupees, a few petty pleasures, for a cosmic empire of endless bliss. How then have I denied myself anything? I know the joy of sharing the treasure. Is that a sacrifice? The shortsighted worldly folk are verily the real renunciants! They relinquish an unparalleled divine possession for a poor handful of earthly toys! … The world is full of uneasy believers in an outward security.”

I chuckled over this paradoxical view of renunciation—one that puts the cap of Croesus on any saintly beggar, whilst transforming all proud millionaires into unconscious martyrs.

Paramahansa Yogananda tells this story about Bhaduri Mahasaya in his Autobiography of a Yogi (1946) that I am presently reading. In a previous post I referred to Yogananda as founder of the Self Realization Fellowship whose grounds in southern California I frequented in college. While the supernatural experiences of Eastern tradition reported in this book are hard for this Westerner to believe, the philosophy is persuasive and powerful.

While I have not attained the saint’s dispassion toward rupees and “earthly toys,” many if not most of my colleagues in ministry will identify with the saint’s preference for the spiritual life. To whatever degree we have “gone without,” given the culture’s greater monetary valuing of other professions, we have realized our greater dependency on spiritual treasure—the satisfaction of pastoral care, of preaching and writing, of attending to matters of the heart and soul rather than simply to matter and materialism.

A church member once told me that she was well into adulthood before she understood that ministers were paid! And I’ve met people who think spiritual leaders should do what they do for the sheer joy of it, unlike other vocations.

“Worldly people do not like the candor that shatters their delusions,” Bhaduri Mahasaya explained to Yogananda. The gurus Yogananda writes about receive rupees in their slippers from followers. And though I am not a guru, I am grateful that a few of my readers have put rupees in my slippers!

When I was ordained by MCC in 2005 after a professional lifetime denied ordination by the Presbyterian Church simply because I’m gay, I chose for the Gospel lesson Jesus’ words on God’s Providence from the Sermon on the Mount, which reads in part, “Do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly [Creator] feeds them.” It is the scripture that gets me through the tough times when I do not rise to the level of a saint’s disposition!

Progressive Christian Reflections is an authorized Emerging Ministry of MCC. Donations are possible by mail or credit card. Thank you!

Related posts:

I Wanted to Be Famous

Has Been

Our Own Fiscal Cliffs

Copyright © 2013 by Chris R. Glaser. Permission granted for non-profit use with attribution of author and blogsite. Other rights reserved. Check out past posts in the right rail on the blogsite. Consider using a post or quotes in your congregation’s or group’s newsletter, including the blog address: http://chrisglaser.blogspot.com.