Category: Everyday Live

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“KEEP AWAKE: AN ADVENT MEDITATION WITH INSIGHTS FROM JESUS AND THE BUDDHA”

Under the boughs of the Bodhi tree, Siddhartha Gautama sat motionless, meditating. At once, the solution to the problem that had brought him to sit under that tree came to him. He opened his eyes. He was enlightened. He was awake. That is the story of the Buddha, the name that literally means “one who is awake.”

The Awake One, the Buddha, had set for himself the goal of solving the problem of human suffering. Shortly after his “enlightenment,” he announced to the world that human suffering is caused by “clinging,” that is, holding onto or trying to possess people or things. If we want to put an end to that suffering, he said, we must extinguish all desire.

This is just the beginning of what I could say about Buddha. I have taught numerous college courses on various religious traditions, including Buddhism. My point here is not to discuss the Buddha or the Buddhist tradition in detail but rather to contrast elements of the story of the Buddha with Jesus’ words in the gospels of Mark and Matthew.

The Buddha is the awakened one. The Buddha is awake. Jesus, similarly, urges his followers to be awake. In Mark 13:33-37, Jesus tells his disciples: “Beware, keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come. It is like a man going on a journey; when he leaves home and puts his slaves in charge, each with his work, and commands the doorkeeper to be on the watch. Therefore, keep awake—for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening or at midnight or at cockcrow or at dawn, or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly. And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake.” Matthew 24:42-44 reinforces this urgency: “Keep awake therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming. But understand this: if the owner of the house had known in what part of the night the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake and would not have let his house be broken into. Therefore you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.”

St. Paul also urges the followers of Messiah Jesus to be awake and perennially ready for the return of the Lord. In Romans 13:11-14, Paul writes: 

Besides this, you know what time it is, how it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep. For salvation is nearer to us now than when we became believers; the night is far gone, the day is near. Let us then lay aside the works of darkness and put on the armor of light; let us live honorably as in the day, not in reveling and drunkenness, not in debauchery and licentiousness, not in quarreling and jealousy. Instead, put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires.

Paul echoes this theme in 1 Thessalonians 5:4-6, “But you, beloved, are not in darkness, for that day to surprise you like a thief; for you are all children of light and children of the day; we are not of the night or of darkness. So then let us not fall asleep as others do, but let us keep awake and be sober.”

In the scriptures we read from the Revised Common Lectionary during the latter weeks of the Season of Pentecost and into the beginning of the season of Advent, Christians are repeatedly called to live in constant readiness and preparedness. Our readings often end with the admonition that we remain awake because we cannot know the hour of the Parousia, the return of the Lord Jesus in glory. 

St. Paul urges his hearers, in so many words, to live lives that are blameless, such that if the Lord were to return at this moment would be beyond reproach. The point of these scripture readings is that we should never do anything for which we would not be prepared to give an account or to have to explain if the Lord were to return at that moment. Jesus illustrates this principle vividly in the Parable of the Ten Bridesmaids in Matthew 25:1-13, concluding with the warning: “Keep awake therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour.”

If you are a teenager whose parents trust enough to leave you at home without a babysitter, then you know what I am talking about. If you have ever been a teenager, you know what I mean. You never know when your parents will walk through the door. You can take a chance, but if you are surprised, you will have to explain, even account for, your actions. If you have ever been caught, you will know what I am talking about. We might have some explaining to do, and perhaps we might face a few consequences from our unwise decisions that we had not fully contemplated. Jesus makes a similar point in Luke 12:35-40: “Be dressed for action and have your lamps lit; be like those who are waiting for their master to return from the wedding banquet, so that they may open the door for him as soon as he comes and knocks. Blessed are those slaves whom the master finds alert when he comes.”

“Being awake” to the world around us is central to the life of faith. The figurative use of the idea of being awake is found in Buddhism, Christianity, and many other religious traditions. To be awake is to be alive.

Jesus often reminded those who heard him that they had ears, but could not hear, and eyes, but they could not see. Jesus might also have said that although many of his hearers were physically awake, they were nonetheless spiritually asleep. To be faithful to God, we must strive to awaken from sleep and be alive and awake to God.

What would it mean for you to be awake? Let us consider this together.

What is it like to be physically awake but spiritually asleep? We do not have to imagine that. Most of us are well aware of this fact. We know how easy it is to live our lives in a kind of stupor, just going through the motions. We know how easy it is to be bored with so many interesting people, places, and things around us. We know how easy it is to be so tired that we can hardly care about anything or anyone else. We know how easy it is to get stuck and for our lives and relationships to become stagnant. Perhaps you know, from your own experience or from the experience of those you love, how easy it is to become addicted to caffeine, alcohol, food, or something else. The well-known psychologist Rollo May argues in his book Addiction and Grace that being human is, in some way, to be addicted. For some people, the states of exhaustion, depression, and addiction that I have described are medical issues that can be helped by a variety of medications, therapies, or other remedies.

But even so, we cannot solely blame our spiritual ennui on our brain or body chemistry. Many of us often realize that we are spiritually dead and we have no idea how to remedy it.

As the Advent season begins and Christmas looms, we are assaulted by the promises of advertising that the key to personal happiness is to be found in the car we drive, the deodorant we use, or the diamond jewelry we give or receive. We may enjoy the use of our possessions, but sooner or later, we come to realize that they alone cannot supply meaning or purpose to our lives.

It is far easier to describe what it is like to be spiritually asleep or dead than to describe what it means to be alive. So, what does it mean to be awake and alive?

First and foremost, to be spiritually awake or alive is to have a vital and life-giving relationship with God. When you pray, do you nurture a real relationship that involves silence and listening, or do you fill your time with “fix it” lists for God? True prayer is not one-sided; it involves building a relationship with God.

To be truly awake, we cannot place our ultimate trust in our possessions or anything other than the living God. Here, both the Buddha and Jesus come to a somewhat similar diagnosis, even if their solutions are somewhat incompatible. The Buddha tells us that clinging to things or people is the cause of human suffering and that we need to let go if we are to find peace within. Jesus tells us not to place our trust in treasures that can rust or spoil, but to place our trust in the living God. As Jesus teaches in Matthew 6:19-21: “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

Being awake and alive means being engaged in what you do. If stagnation is a sign of spiritual sleep, growth is a sign of being alive. To grow, you will have to open yourself to an uncertain future and trust that if you remain attentive to the relationships with one another and with God, good will ultimately come of it.

Advent is a time of repentance, a time of turning away from the ways and patterns of our lives that keep us from being truly awake before God. To be truly awake, we must let go of the things that try to substitute themselves for God and go in search of the Living God–the God who gives us life and hope.

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GOD’S GENEROSITY TO ALL

A Faith that Does Justice has published another contribution of mine as the “Weekly Word.” The article poses the question, why do the people of God often fail to appreciate, or even notice, God’s many blessings and be thankful for them?

God’s Generosity to All
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“EMPTY NOTEBOOKS”: A NEW POST ON MY SUBSTACK PAGE, “EVERYDAY LIFE”

Here is the link to this post: https://craigphillips.substack.com/p/empty-notebooks-an-addiction

To my readers of this blog, please read and subscribe to my new free Substack Blog, “Everyday Life: Flourishing in These Times.”

I started this new blog as a way to reach a wider audience for my work. I will continue to post on this page. For some of my newest thoughts on a wide variety of topics, however, please subscribe now to http://craigphillips.substack.com.

Thank you for reading my writing. I deeply appreciate the time you spend reading what I write.

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MY NEW SUBSTACK PAGE: EVERYDAY LIFE: FLOURISHING IN THESE TIMES– PLEASE SUBSCRIBE!

Please read and subscribe to my new free Substack Blog, “Everyday Life: Flourishing in These Times.”

I started this new blog as a way to reach a wider audience for my work. I will continue to post on this page. For some of my newest thoughts on a wide variety of topics, however, please subscribe now to http://craigphillips.substack.com.

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THE JOY OF WRITING WITH PENCILS

There’s something deeply satisfying about writing with a pencil. The gentle scratch against paper, the distinctive smell of the graphite, and the ability to erase and refine thoughts, make pencils an indispensable tool in my writing.

When I write, I alternate between two loves: the soft scratch of pencils and the expressive flow of my fountain pens. Each brings a unique satisfaction. Having previously explored my passion for fountain pens in my blog post, “Fountain Pens: Writing Magic,” I would like to share why pencils hold an equally special place in my work.

The crown jewel of my wooden pencil collection is undoubtedly the Blackwing Pencil. The pencils come in a variety of colors and density of leads. The longer eraser, held in place by that gleaming brass clasp can be extended as it wears down or be repositioned to the desired angle and length. I maintain a variety of these pencils with differing lead densities, from soft to hard, each serving its own purpose. I like to write with extremely sharp pencils, so I find myself frequently sharpening my wooden pencils. Sometimes, I enjoy the break. It gives me time to stop and think for a moment about what I am writing. Other times, however, the need to sharpen my pencil is an unwanted interruption. When I stop to sharpen the pencil, I might irrevocably lose my chain of thought. 

While I like wooden pencils, the newest Japanese mechanical pencils have introduced some groundbreaking innovations:

The Orenz Nero mechanical pencil feeds lead automatically. You don’t have to manually click the pencil, unlike so many other mechanical pencils. This engineering marvel ensures consistent lead length without adjustment, perfect for uninterrupted writing sessions.

The Uni Kurutoga Advance, by contrast, offers a self-rotating lead mechanism that automatically rotates the lead while writing, ensuring even wear and consistently sharp lines. These clever devices maintain a sharp point without me having to think about sharpening the pencil often as I write, as I would with a wooden pencil. 

As someone who often works in rare book rooms and archives, pencils aren’t just a preference—they are a necessity. Many institutions ban pens to protect their invaluable collections from permanent marking. Copying material from the books is tedious. So, my choice of pencil varies based on the task. When I find that I am erasing often, I switch to my Blackwing wooden pencils. When I find that I am spending too much time sharpening them, I turn to my Kurutoga Advance mechanical pencil. For completely uninterrupted work, I rely on my Orenz Nero pencil with self-advancing lead.

Both fountain pens and pencils offer distinct forms of creative freedom. My fountain pens are perfect for capturing rapid-fire thoughts and brainstorming.

My premium pencils offer a different kind of freedom. Their smooth graphite provides its own form of flow. It offers the liberty to erase and adjust my ideas as I write. This makes them perfect for evolving ideas—whether sketching concepts or refining drafted thoughts.

In this age of keyboards and touchscreens, I find deep satisfaction in choosing analog writing tools. Each stroke requires intention, and the maintenance rituals—from filling a pen to sharpening a pencil—have become cherished moments. These pauses serve as valuable punctuation marks in my thinking process.

The analog tools of pencils and fountain pens connect me to the physical act of writing. Whether using my Blackwing with its smooth graphite gliding along the paper, or watching my fountain pen dance across the page, each represents a valuable approach to capturing and developing ideas. Mechanical pencils bridge these worlds, offering convenience without sacrificing tactile pleasure. It Is wonderful to embrace the unique character of each writing tool, allowing me to appreciate their distinct qualities and the maintenance demands they require, thereby enhancing the creative process.

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REPOST: THE LOAF KEEPER OF ALL CREATION

The non-profit, A Faith that Does Justice,” has republished a widely read blogpost of mine from this site, “In These Times.” Here is the link to the repost:

The Loaf Keeper of All Creation
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EMBRACING WINTER MORNINGS: A COFFEE RITUAL

Photo by Benni Fish on Pexels.com

This morning, I woke to the sharp chill of a New Hampshire winter. The thermometer at 6 a.m. read 1°F. Outside, a light layer of snow covered everything, softening the edges of the world in its quiet way. At this hour in Winter, just before sunrise, there is just enough light over the horizon to hint at the day ahead.

I am wrapping my hands around a pottery mug my wife made for me. It’s one of those small, tangible things that brings an out-sized amount of joy. The mug has a beautiful blue glaze. Its handle is wide and perfectly designed for my fingers. As I sipped my coffee, I couldn’t help but admire its warmth in my hands. Making and drinking morning coffee is a ritual that grounds me.

Every morning, I bring my wife coffee in bed. It’s a ritual I’ve honored for years, a small gesture that says more than words ever will. Back when I started doing this, I’d make pour-overs, carefully swirling water in slow circles over the freshly ground beans. These days, I rely on the Dutch Moccamaster, a marvel of practicality and design. It brews coffee with the precision of a pour-over but with less fuss—a reliable companion for early mornings like this.

I think about why I do it. It is the satisfaction of starting the day with intention, a simple act of love as she slowly wakes up. It is another ritual that shapes our days and, by extension, our lives. The act of making coffee, the artistry of a handmade mug, the quiet minutes before the world wakes up—all of these feel like anchors in the chaos of life.

Cold winter mornings in New Hampshire have a way of reminding me of life’s essentials: warmth, love, and the simple joy of sharing. As I hand my wife her morning coffee, I realize that in what I am writing now, I’m trying to capture a moment, not for its grandeur but for its simplicity.

Sometimes, noticing the beauty in the everyday—cold mornings, warm mugs, and small acts of love—is enough.

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WE ARE EUCHARISTIC BEINGS— THE IMPORTANCE OF GIVING THANKS

“Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”  Philippians 4: 6-7

A few years I was talking to a stewardship consultant about churches and people we had met in our separate work and travels around the country. He asked me if I knew a certain priest from the Diocese of Oklahoma, the diocese in which I was ordained almost forty years ago. It happened that I did. Once, when newly ordained, I was having some difficulty in the mission congregations I served. This priest went out of his way to help me and I had not forgotten it. Even though I had not seen him since I moved away from Oklahoma in 1984, I knew that I needed to thank him once again. I certainly had thanked him at the time but I wanted to thank him once again to let him know that I had never forgotten what he had done for me. And so I called him up at the church he was now serving and expressed my thanks to him once more. We had a wonderful conversation. We caught up on what had happened to us and our families over the intervening years and we remembered what it was like for us to be young priests together in the Diocese of Oklahoma. I do not know how he felt after my phone call, but I know that for me I had completed something. I had given thanks and that, for me,  had made all the difference.

One of the things I have learned over the years of my life is that human beings are the happiest when they are thankful. Expressing our thanks to God and to one another is essential to our well-being.

Most Episcopalians know that the word eucharist is a Greek word meaning “thanksgiving.” When Episcopalians gather for worship they celebrate and offer to God a “Holy Thanksgiving,” a “Holy Eucharist.” This form of the Holy Eucharist is shaped by four actions. Jesus took bread, gave thanks to God, broke the bread, and distributed the bread to his followers. On the night before he was betrayed Jesus took bread in his hands, lifted it towards the heavens, with the usual ritual glance upwards towards the heavens, gave blessing and thanks to God. As he broke it he told his followers “this bread is my body” broken and given for you. He did the same with the cup of wine. As he offered the bread and the wine he added these words: “Do this in remembrance of me.”

When we relive this story together we often focus our attention on the suffering of Jesus. That is, of course, central to this event. At the same time, however, we often forget the central role of thanksgiving in this event. What if we were to tell the story this way: Jesus himself is a Eucharistic Being who, in thanksgiving to God, gave his own self for us and for our salvation? When we make Eucharist together we do so to give thanks to God in Christ and through the Holy Spirit for the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus who gave himself for us in thanksgiving to God. When we look at the Eucharistic event through the lens of thanksgiving it becomes evident that our participation in the eucharistic rite is an expression of thanksgiving to God.

Every time we make Eucharist together, we give thanks to the God who so wonderfully created us and to the God who so wonderfully redeems us.

When we make Eucharist together we give thanks to God for all that we are and all that we have. When we do so we are reminded that we like Jesus are also eucharistic beings, that is, we are people who are created by God to give thanks.

We Christians worship a God who is revealed in stories in which God showers blessings on the people of ancient Israel and on us in the person of Jesus Christ. God is not an abstract idea for us, but rather a God revealed in stories of love and concern for God’s people. When you look through the stories of the Scriptures you will see that God primarily is a giver. God always wants to give to God’s people. God showers blessings on God’s people because that is the nature of God.

From the earliest stories in the scriptures, God’s people have responded to the gifts God has given them by giving thanks in return. We are created by God and given life so that we might give thanks. The human being, in other words, is a eucharistic being. We are beings created to give thanks. If that is the case, then to be fully human, we have to learn how to give thanks to God and to do so in all circumstances.

St. Paul understood how important thanksgiving is to our lives. In 1 Thessalonians 5:18 he writes, “Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” In Philippians 4:6 he writes, “Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.” In Colossians 3:17 Paul writes, “And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.” In all of these examples — and there are many more like it in the New Testament— the word “eucharist” is central. We are who we are because we give thanks, because we are eucharistic beings.

When you begin to realize how central giving thanks to God is to your very being, to being the full person that God has called you to be, you will find that it will change the way you live.

Remember that you were made to give thanks and then offer to God the giver heartfelt thanks for all the gifts you have been given—food, family, shelter, friends, and so much more.

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THE PRACTICE OF THE PRESENCE OF GOD

pexels-photo-756883.jpeg“What’s my line?

I’m happy cleaning windows

Take my time…

“I’m a working man in my prime

 cleaning windows.”

Van Morrison, “Cleaning Windows”

I was walking on 15th Street in downtown Philadelphia on my way to meet a friend for lunch when I felt water drops on my head. Because it was not raining at the time, I looked up to see where the water was coming from. There perched on the side of a large downtown skyscraper was a window cleaner attached to the building by a lone safety wire. In his hands were a bucket and a “v.” Directly in front of me was a mother pointing upward to showing her son the window-washer hanging precariously from the side of the building.

The lyrics to “Cleaning Windows,”one of my favorite Van Morrison songs, immediately came to mind.  It’s a song Van Morrison wrote about his work from 1961-62 when he and his partner Sammy Woodbury cleaned the windows of the terraced homes in Belfast. The song reveals the simple joy and contentment that Van Morrison found in the rather ordinary task of cleaning windows.

Oh, the smell of the bakery from across the street

Got in my nose

As we carried our ladders down the street

With the wrought-iron gate rows

Oh, Sam was up on top

And I was on the bottom with the v

We went for lemonade and Paris buns

At the shop and broke for tea

I have always found this song to be a profoundly spiritual song. It points to the realization that people in many times and places have had, namely that God is often experienced in the utmost simplicity of everyday life. Christians perhaps best know the kind of spirituality that finds God in the midst of everyday activities from the witness of Brother Lawrence.

Brother Lawrence of the Resurrection, born Nicholas Herman in 1611 in French Lorraine, was a large and clumsy man who was always breaking or accidentally smashing things. He had served as a soldier until wounded and then as a footman.  His conversion at the age of eighteen happened as he noticed a leafless tree against the background of snow and thought of the wonder of God that would be made manifest in the spring when that tree again bloomed.  In 1666 he joined the monastery of the Discalced Carmelites of Paris as a lay-brother to atone for his own perceived inadequacies but instead found only the grace and mercy of God. He was put to work in the monastery kitchen where he worked for the next 25 years. He died in 1691 around the age of eighty.

The Practice of the Presence of God, first published in 1691, contained excerpts from conversations with him and from his letters. In the one of the conversations he remarked “that he was more united with God during ordinary activities than in religious exercises, in which he was generally afflicted with spiritual dryness.” He observed that, “the time of business does not with me differ from the time of prayer.”

In the noise and clatter of my kitchen, while several persons are at the same time calling for different things, I possess God in as great tranquility as if I were upon my knees at the blessed sacrament.

Where Van Morrison finds contentment in the everyday task of window cleaning, Brother Lawrence finds the presence of God in the midst of the noise and clatter of his kitchen.

Brother Lawrence’s “practice of the presence of God” was really quite simple: wherever he found himself, he reminded himself continually that God was always near to him. This practice meant that he never strayed far from the well of God’s merciful presence and explains how in the midst of a busy kitchen, he was able to find rest and refreshment in God’s presence.