Showing posts with label balance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label balance. Show all posts

Friday, May 12, 2017

Forgive Us Our Debts

“Forgive Us Our Debts”
Rev. Alison Longstaff, Oct. 13, 2015
Bath Church of the New Jerusalem
Isaiah 40:6-11; Luke 16: 19-31; Heavenly Secrets 6960 

I love researching sermons.  The deeper I delve, the bigger and broader and more amazingly interconnected the insights become.  (It doesn’t get better than being Swedenborgian in my honest opinion.)

Heavenly Secrets 6960. ‘Put your hand into your bosom’ means making truth ones own. This is evident from the meaning of ‘hand’ as power, and from the meaning of ‘bosom’ as love. The chest corresponds to love since the chest holds within it the heart.  We have a sense of ownership of or attachment to the things we love. Therefore ‘the bosom’ symbolizes the things we ‘own’ or identify with, which is the same as the things we love.  For this reason ‘putting a hand into one’s bosom’ here means making something one’s own.  And for this reason 'the bosom’ symbolizes a person’s true self, or all the things with which one identifies or one ‘owns.’ 

“Forgive us our debts.”

I have had this topic on my heart for a while, having listened to many stories of good people struggling with overwhelming debt in the past several years.  I came to Maine with no debt and will be leaving with several thousand in debt, so it is an active personal topic as well. 

According to my book-keeping program, I now have a negative net worth.  I am worth less than nothing.  It doesn’t matter what my character is or my desire to do good, or my kindness, or my life experience.  Put me next to someone who earns more than I do—who owns more than I do—and I can be seen as “worth less” or worthless.  In today’s culture it means I must be less deserving.  That it would tell Jesus the same thing were He among us today is only a little comforting.

“Forgive us our debts.”

Debt weighs heavily on our hearts.  In this culture in particular debt seems to strike at our very sense of human worth, not just material worth.

Take yourself back to a time when you realized that you owed far more than you could pay.  Surely everyone in this room has experienced that bottom-dropping-out sensation—that cold hollow in the gut when you realized you didn’t know how you would repay a debt. Remember that insurmountable bill—that frightening peek into the future that struck at your very sense of worth and capability.  It doesn’t feel good.

To have a hopeless, unpayable debt forgiven, throws us sobbing on our knees.

As I researched this topic, I kept being struck by the relationship of debt with ownership, and Swedenborg’s extensive discussion of what is “our own.”  In spiritual growth circles, phrases have emerged such as “I need to own my part of it,” and “that wasn’t mine to own”.  They are used to describe how we do or don’t take responsibility over our part in misunderstanding and conflict.  Spiritual growth work invites us into greater and greater clarity over what we do and don’t “own” in our relationships. This clarity brings healing to all areas of our lives. We develop the ability to “own” our part rather than “pass the buck” to someone else. 

Spiritual “ownership” means we take responsibility for our contributions to life situations.  We become better and better at managing what is ours and leaving alone what isn’t ours in our relationships with others. We start spending increasing energy on our own spiritual territory and stop spending so much energy on what other people “should” be doing. The metaphor holds strong all the way through.  Our debts are all the things we are refusing to take responsibility for yet which drain our ability to be of service to others.  We need help acknowledging them and learning to manage them. This is far easier than it sounds but it is essential to our happiness.

“Forgive us our debts.”

When the scripture reading from Isaiah says that God carries the lambs in His bosom, it is symbolizing the way God embraces our innocence and vulnerability.  The bosom symbolizes what someone loves most—it is the “heart place.”  The female bosom symbolizes motherly comfort and nourishment; the male bosom symbolizes fatherly protection and strength.  The Divine bosom encapsulates all of these qualities in one and transcends them as well.  Our weakness and ignorance are next to God’s heart.  He carries us tenderly even when we feel weak and unworthy.

When we pledge allegiance, we put our hand to our “bosom.” This shows our willingness to support something we hold dear.  This intuitive act of placing our hand on our heart springs from the spiritual meaning of showing commitment to the things that have the most meaning in our lives. 

Swedenborg tells us that we are what we love.  The things we draw to ourselves represent our desire to “own” or be identified with those things.  Ultimately, everything we pull close represent what we love, and what we love is who we are.  Why would we pull close those things that reflect badly on us, even if we are responsible for their existence?

 “Forgive us our debts.”

We say that phrase every time we say the Lord’s Prayer. It is a simple phase, holding within it such a world of meaning.  We are not asking that God forgive our debts when we pray this.  We are stating the reality of what God is already doing.  Our “debts” are already and continuously forgiven by God.  It is we who cannot forgive our debts.  It is we who feel the shame, and can get caught between denial and self-abuse when we realize how much we “owe” spiritually.  We struggle with all aspects of spiritual ownership. We tend to swing between wanting too much “credit” or wanting none at all even though it is due.  We notice when others “take credit” unduly and we feel the injustice of it.

Where do you lie on the spectrum of ownership of your spiritual worth?  Do you acknowledge the riches you have and use them in wise service, or do you tend to feel undeserving and bury them in the ground? Are your riches repeatedly cast before swine?  When the world wants to hand you responsibility because of your spiritual abilities, do you hide your gifts under a bushel, or do you step up and offer from your bounty?  Or are you the one most likely to give energetically more than you have only to end up needing help yourself or in debt?

Because we all tend to be out of balance in one direction or the other, there is only honor in recognizing yourself in one of these profiles.  “Owning” your tendencies is the first step toward a healthier spiritual “financial portfolio.”  As for me, I am the one who gives away too much.  I repeatedly “spend” too much on helping others, forgetting to leave enough for myself.  There is a false “Christian” cachet associated with this way of living that is not actually helpful.  Another name for an overly-sacrificing style of relationship might be “codependency.” So detrimental can codependency be to healthy relationship, it now has its own twelve step group to aid people in recovery. Far from making everything better as it likes to believe it can, codependence is often as big a part of the problem as what it is trying to help.

And this brings us back to ownership.  If I am too ashamed to “own” the ways I am codependent, but instead pass responsibility onto others, (blaming) I will never get free of my spiritual “debts.”  Only by owning my part in each problem to the best of my ability (but no more than my part) can I help restore my relationships to their rightful balance.  Even if those around me are wobbling in their balance, the more stable and healthy I am in myself, the more I make space for others to find their balance.  The only debt I can own is my own.  The only contribution I am responsible for is my own.  And because we are all so interconnected, the more stable and balanced I become, the more easily those around me can find their own balance.

“Forgive us our debts.”

My grandfather kept a little black book on each of his eight children, tallying what they were costing him as they grew up. Imagine the emotional impact that must have had on those seven little girls and one little boy.  One day my grandmother, who rarely stood up to her charismatic but often violently angry husband, threw those books in the fire.  He never raised a hand to her, they say.

A chasm of unworthiness existed in the heart of my grandfather. He could not forgive himself for whatever he thought was so completely unlovable inside himself, so he spread harsh judgment and blame onto those around him.  A terrible accuser existed inside his own consciousness, placing on him a sense of debt so great he could never get out from under it.  He could not love his children because he could not love himself.  I don’t know what wound he carried, but I don’t believe he ever forgave himself on this earth. He died of a massive heart attack at age forty eight.  My prayer is that he found the self-forgiveness he needed in the life to come.
 
“Forgive us our debts.”

God would no more keep a book of deposits and debits on our spiritual account than would any loving parent.  Imagine saying to a newborn, “Well, it will be twenty thousand for the hospital fees; another ten thousand for the prenatal visits, blood-tests, and ultrasounds; then there was the six hundred for the maternity wardrobe; two hundred for the prenatal vitamins; and we haven’t even begun to add up the costs of diapers, immunizations, clothing, school costs, university….  Will that be check or credit card?”

We can never repay our “debt” to God, but it isn’t about debt, with God.  It is we who cannot forgive our debts, not God.  We are born profoundly imperfect, frightened, and ignorant.  We then inherit whatever the family legacy might be, be it privilege and loving support or blame, abuse, and addiction, or something in between.  If we leave this life having made any progress on the spiritual family legacy, I count it as a win. Besides, no one can see our spiritual balance sheets but God anyway.

And God forgave our debts before we were born.

Amen

The Readings
Isaiah 40: 6-11
The voice said, “Cry out!”
And I said, “What shall I cry?”
“All flesh is grass, And all its loveliness is like the flower of the field. The grass withers, the flower fades, because the breath of the Lord blows upon it; surely the people are grass. The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God stands forever.”
O Zion, You who bring good tidings, get up into the high mountain;
O Jerusalem, You who bring good tidings, lift up your voice with strength. Lift it up, be not afraid;
Say to the cities of Judah, “Behold your God!”
Behold, the Lord God shall come with a strong hand, and His arm shall rule for Him;
Behold, His reward is with Him, and His work before Him.
He will feed His flock like a shepherd; He will gather the lambs with His arm, and carry them in His bosom, and gently lead those who are with young.

Luke 16:19-31
“There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and lived in luxury every day. At his gate was laid a beggar named Lazarus, covered with sores and longing to eat what fell from the rich man’s table. Even the dogs came and licked his sores.
“The time came when the beggar died and the angels carried him to Abraham’s side. The rich man also died and was buried. In Hades, where he was in torment, he looked up and saw Abraham far away, with Lazarus in his bosom. So he called to him, ‘Father Abraham, have pity on me and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, because I am in agony in this fire.’
“But Abraham replied, ‘Son, remember that in your lifetime you received your good things, while Lazarus received bad things, but now he is comforted here and you are in agony. And besides all this, between us and you a great chasm has been set in place, so that those who want to go from here to you cannot, nor can anyone cross over from there to us.’
“He answered, ‘Then I beg you, father, send Lazarus to my family, for I have five brothers. Let him warn them, so that they will not also come to this place of torment.’
“Abraham replied, ‘They have Moses and the Prophets; let them listen to them.’
“‘No, father Abraham,’ he said, ‘but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.’
“He said to him, ‘If they do not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.’”

Monday, February 24, 2014

Rev Dr. George F. Dole's sermon from Sunday, Feb 23, 2014

Rev Dr. George F. Dole supply-preached while I took my first research Sunday.  Here is his sermon.

JESUS ONLY
Bath Church of the New Jerusalem
Rev Dr. George F. Dole
Feb 23, 2014
Amos 3:1-8                                                                                                       
John 14:1-7                                                                                                                   
Divine Providence 326:10

Jesus said to him, "I am the way the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.  John 14:6

It is more than sad, it is tragic that the second part of this text has so often been divorced from the first. The insistence that only those are saved who believe in Jesus Christ, that all others are damned to hell, may have led to some noble and self-sacrificing missionary efforts, but it has also provided a rationalization for such atrocities and the Inquisition and the holocaust. On a smaller scale, it has closed minds against inquiry and learning. Eric Hoffer's description of the mass movement mentality is painfully appropriate:

All active mass movements strive . . . to interpose a fact-proof screen between the faithful and the realities of the world. They do this by claiming that the ultimate and absolute truth is already embodied in their doctrine and that there is no truth nor certitude outside it."[1]

It is little short of miraculous, in a way, that many Christians who believe that all non–Christians are damned to hell are in fact thoroughly decent, caring individuals. The only way I can explain this is to assume that they have not divorced the second half of our text from the first. They have taken seriously Jesus' statement that he is "the way," and have tried honestly and humbly to follow that way, to follow that example. They take seriously Jesus' question, "Why do you call me 'Lord, Lord,' and not do what I command you?" (Luke 6:46). Yes, they believe that they are saved because of their acceptance of Jesus Christ as their Savior, but they believe that this entails a call to do his will; and they recognize that their own understanding of his will leaves a lot to be desired. If you realize that you have a lot to learn, it makes sense to turn to the best teacher there has ever been.

The connection between the two halves of our text is a little clearer in Greek than in the usual translations. In the second section, the King James version has "except by me," and the New Revised Standard Edition has "except through me." The preposition is question is dia, and one of its commonest meanings is "by way of." It is the preposition one would use to describe the route taken from one place to another—"I came dia Route 1 rather than Route 195," "by way of Route 1." In our text, then, Jesus is saying, "I am, the way, the only way that leads to the Father," which clearly calls us to see both his truth—his teaching—and his life as showing us that way, the Tao of the Gospel, if you will.
For a description of that way, perhaps the most obvious place to look is the Sermon on the Mount, bearing in mind that this was delivered not to the multitudes (who would hardly sit still for such an extended discourse) but to the few disciples who followed him up the mountain, thirsty, we may suppose, for the amazing, gracious words that proceeded out of his mouth (Luke 4:22).
The Sermon begins with the Beatitudes, which stand in striking contrast to the fundamental laws of the Torah, the Ten Commandments, without in any respect contradicting them. They contrast not in substance, that is, but in two other respects. First, the Commandments focus on our behavior, the Beatitudes on our attitudes. Second, the Commandments are cast largely in negative terms, telling us what we must not do, while the Beatitudes are uniformly affirmative.
This does not mean, though, that the Beatitudes are all sweetness and light. Far from it, the qualities that mark the way start with spiritual poverty, mourning, meekness, hunger, and thirst. In a way, these qualities boil down to the single quality of recognizing our inadequacy, acknowledging our need. This is presented in stark terms in a familiar little parable (Luke 18:10-13):

Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee, the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood off by himself and prayed like this: "God, I  thank you that I am not like other people—thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even this tax collector. I fast twice a week, I tithe all my income." But the tax collector would  not even look up to heaven. He just beat his breast and said, "God, be merciful to me, a sinner." I tell you, this man went back home justified, and not the other.

On reflection, it looks very much as though the tax collector was on the right way without realizing it. By the same token, we ourselves may be so absorbed in trying to do and be our best that there is no tendency to stop and think, "How'm I doing?" This would be to stray from the way onto the detour of self-evaluation, a detour that may lead either to despair or to self-congratulation. There may be time for that when the task is done.
In the course of the task, this peculiar unconsciousness does not leave us without guideposts, though. We can be quite sure that we are not on the way if we find ourselves feeling self-satisfied. In fact, if we look at those first beatitudes, each had an opposite that is all too clearly recognizable. Self-satisfaction is the opposite of poverty of spirit. Callousness is the opposite of mourning. Arrogance I the opposite of meekness. Self-righteousness is the opposite of hunger and thirst for righteousness. If you try to exit a turnpike by an on-ramp, you may see a very obvious sign that says "Wrong Way." Have you ever seen a sign that said "Right Way"? That, it seems, you are entitled to take for granted, offering no pretext for self-congratulation. Remember Amos: "You only have I known of all the families of the earth; therefore I will punish you for all your iniquities" (Amos 3:2).
The next Beatitude, "Blessed are the merciful," might be taken as a response to the preceding four. That is, a genuine awareness of our inadequacy will necessarily press us to be understanding and constructive in our reactions to the inadequacies of others. "For they shall obtain mercy" conveys the message that we are all in this together. In strictly Swedenborgian terms, wherever we may be on any absolute scale of virtue, there is a sense in which we are all midway between heaven and hell and therefore able to turn in either direction. We need to recognize that we can choose only between alternatives that we can see, and that we do not understand the choice someone else has made if we do not know what the perceived alternative to that choice was. If we want a most extreme example of this kind of relativism, we need only look at Jesus' words about the one who was to betray him: "It would have been better for that man not to have been born" (Matthew 26:24, Mark 14:21).
Then we come to "Blessed are the pure in heart." This is the kind of purity that we mean when we speak of "pure gold," and there is an ironic sense in which we can also speak of "pure filth." That is, it is purity in the sense of the absence of any inconsistency, the kind of purity of intent that rules out deceit or hidden agendas. Here, it seems most obvious that we are talking about a lifelong process, because the fact would seem to be that we do have mixed feelings and that we often do not understand ourselves all that well. Thoughts and feelings arise in us from depths that we cannot plumb, and from time to time we surprise ourselves—sometime for better, sometimes for worse. It is entirely natural in this noisy and confusing world that negative feelings arise, and the clear, insistent message of our theology is that we cannot deal with them unless we recognize them. We cannot destroy them, but we need not let them take center stage. If we see them—and only if we see them—we can turn away from them, centering in what we know to be better. The "shunning" of "shunning evils as sins" is less fighting against them than turning our backs on them: the basic meaning of the Latin verb is "to flee."
Perhaps that is why the next Beatitude is "Blessed are the peacemakers." We know this to be true on the small scale of our own lives. When there is conflict in a marriage, for example, there is no way to come to a lasting resolution by having one side win and the other side lose. The effective marriage counselor will help the couple identify the legitimate needs that underlie the conflict, distinguish the needs themselves from the strategies that have been adopted to meet them, and discover strategies that rely on mutual understanding and cooperation rather than conflict.
This is no pipe dream. This is how heaven works, with the joy of all being felt by each and the joy of each by all. Experience will teach us, if we let it, that this is occasionally possible here and now; and the true "peacemakers" are the people who nurture this hope and seek this kind of mutual understanding. We might well bear in mind that this applies on all scales, from the individual to the international; for the whole human race, in the Lord's sight, is like a single individual.
To bring us down to earth with a thud, the Beatitudes conclude by telling us that we are blessed when we are persecuted, when we are reviled and falsely accused. Most of us, I suspect, would have a hard time coming up with examples of times when we felt that we were qualifying for this blessing, but we have only to look at the prevalence of political trash-talking to realize that "reviling" is all too often the name of the game, and that truth all too often takes a distant second place to "spin." How may individuals have remained silent in the presence of corruption for fear of the consequences of speaking out? There is good reason that we have laws to protect whistle blowers, and when they remain silent, we all suffer the consequences.
The Beatitudes are only the introduction to the Sermon itself, and a hasty survey like this can do no more than hint at the depth of its articles, the extraordinary way in which they enrich each other, and the appropriateness of the distinctive rewards for each one. We could take any one of them and apply it to a multitude of different situations; and if we were to do so, we would soon find that they have to be translated, so to speak, into the particular strategies that suit particular circumstances. What works for peace in a kindergarten class may not work in a corporate boardroom. What works in a technologically sophisticated culture may not work in a tribal one. That is what our third reading is telling us—that the variety of people requires a variety of religions. Our text insists, though, that all such religions must have certain essential qualities, however different the may be the outer forms in which those qualities are expressed. There can be no tolerance in any religion for avarice, indifference, arrogance, self-righteousness, cruelty, deviousness, ruthlessness, or cowardice.
There is not the slightest hint of any of these qualities in the life and teaching of Jesus. When he told the disciples that he was the way, he was saying that he himself had been on a path, straying neither to the right or to the left, constantly finding and following that narrow way where justice and mercy are at perfect peace with each other. The apostle Paul got the message, and passed it on to the Philippians: :"Let that same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus" (Philippians 2:5).
Oddly, perhaps, this sounds terribly demanding when it is put in affirmative terms, but when we look at the pure ugliness of the alternatives, it is departing from the way that makes no sense. "Wrong Way!" There really is no alternative path. No one comes to the Father except by this Way.
                                                                                                Amen.
  

Divine Providence section # 326:10  Emanuel Swedenborg

We know that there are within us not only the parts formed as organs from blood vessels and nerve fibers—the forms we call our viscera. There are also skin, membranes, tendons, cartilage, bones, nails, and teeth. They are less intensely alive than the organic forms, which they serve as ligaments, coverings, and supports. If there are to be all these elements in that heavenly person who is heaven, it cannot be made up of the people of one religion only. It  needs people from many religions, so all the people who make these two universal principles of the church central to their own lives [loving God and living a good life] have a place in that heavenly person, that is, in heaven. They enjoy a happiness that suits their own nature.




[1] Eric Hoffer: The True Believer: Thoughts on the Nature of Mass Movements (New York" Harper Perennial, 2010), p. 79.

For a similar sermon, see: http://alisonlongstaff.blogspot.com/2013/08/the-names-of-god-or-is-jesus-christ.html

Monday, April 23, 2012

Flesh and Bones: Meditations on Flexibility and Rigidity

Flesh and Bones

As my ankle heals, I am reflecting on the duality in our bodies of stiffness and softness, of stability and movement, of stop and go.

These things live in constant relationship, affecting each other and depending on each other.  These apparent opposites NEED each other in order to do their jobs well.  Firm and flexible, strong and sweet.  Furthermore, a loss or imbalance in one creates a corresponding loss or imbalance in the other.  For example, the loss of stability in my ankle makes me stop being able to move with any flow.  The return of some stability brings back a return to some flow, but my flow is in constant negotiation with the pain and resistance in my ankle.  Stop and go. Go and stop.

And balance is what we want. 

We need both our bones and our flesh.  Bones can seem to get in the way of stuff, but look at any yogi, and tell me bones get in the way!  We need the firm rules, AND we need the creative soaring beyond the "box."  

Okay.  Enough with the metaphors.  Let's get specific.  Let's get concrete.

What are BONES?  Bones are rules.  Bones are guidelines and laws.  Bones are the police and locks and barriers. Bones are STRUCTURE in all its forms.  Crappy structure equals system collapse and nothing can get done.  NO rules means no order, no sequencing, no clarity, no direction.  (That's an extreme, because there are always some rules in some form, like gravity.)  We need "bones" to be stable.  We need them to hold up, to support, to carry, to anchor, and to withstand. That is their purpose and their job.

What is FLESH?  Flesh is intention and desire.  Flesh is CONTENT.  It is the WHY.  (Hmmm.  Not very concrete....)   FLESH is the stuff that happens in the hospital building, as opposed to the building itself.  The ability to provide medical care is the flesh.  This need requires a place and it needs tools to be fulfilled.  The building and equipment are the bones for the flesh of getting the job done.

Abandoned buildings are like skeletons.  They have no life. Maybe that's why we make skeletons a symbol of death.  They are a concrete symbol of something lifeless.  We all have seen the horror of bumping into "stupid rules"---where we completely see the lifelessness of a barrier or law that is obsolete.  We have all seen someone enforcing a rule without understanding its deep "why," and how much harm that can do.

Isn't it funny that a pile of muscles doesn't have that same archetypal resonance with death?   It might evoke something kinda creepy, like "the blob."  But it just isn't energized the same way, eh? Though it is hard to imagine how I could accomplish anything without any bones, we don't use "bare muscles" as a halloween image.  (Sounds more like the Chippendales!)

Anyway, it is the metaphor of the interdependence of our bones and flesh that is interesting me now.  It is the need of the one for the other and the other for the one.  I get mad at my physical inflexibility sometimes, the same way I get mad at the inflexibility of some aspects of life.  But my inflexibility isn't actually due to my bones.  Bones don't bend, sure.  But it is my soft tissue that is overly tight, or weak, that gives me the inability to move every-which way.  Yoga has been showing me that.  It is my tissues and ligaments that can learn and be trained to be more expansive, less tender, more strong AND more free.

Just some thoughts.
Alison