Category: Wholeness

Posted on

“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.

Posted on

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
Posted on

JUDGE NOT THAT YOU BE NOT JUDGED

Photo by Richard Jaimes on Unsplash


Judge not that you be not judged…. Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, Let me take the speck out of your eye, when there is the log in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother’s eye. (Matthew 7:1-5)


In the album “The Final Cut” by the British rock group Pink Floyd, Roger Waters questions the “post-war dream,” asking whether the period of Western prosperity following World War II was worth it all. Roger’s father, a RAF pilot, was shot down fighting the Japanese in the battle of Leyte Gulf when Roger was a very young child. In this album and in other albums by the group we find glimpses of his tortuous life growing up fatherless in Britain after the war.

This recording was released at the time of the Falkland Islands war between Argentina and Great Britain. The questions raised by this conflict parallel Water’s own questions about the Second World War. What I am interested in here, however, is not so much his views on war, but the way in which he expresses the hurt he has felt in his life.

The complexity and poignancy of the lyrics of this album were not appreciated by all of their listeners who quickly, and I might add prematurely, concluded that it was one of Pink Floyd’s worst albums. This may be because it contained a cry of anguish too personal or threatening to contemplate. Roger Waters, the creative genius behind this group, you see, is no stranger to personal anxiety and sadness. In the title song of the album, the vocalist asks (his partner) in anguish:

If I show you my dark side, will you still hold me tonight?

And if I open my heart to you and show you my weak side, what will you do?

Would you sell your story to Rolling Stone?

Would you take the children away and leave me alone?

And smile in reassurance as you whisper down the phone?

Would you send me packing, or would you take me home?


These lyrics reflect the fear of telling another, even our closest friends and loved ones, our deepest pain, sadness, and faults. This fear arises for a number of reasons. The first is the possibility of rejection by the other. Another is the fear that if we tell someone how we really feel, or who we really are, it could be used against us. Yet another is the fear that we might have to change. Because of the fear of admitting who we really are and what we really feel, we often keep our deepest hurt and pain to ourselves. It is so much easier to tell others of their inadequacies than to look deeply at ourselves. We are often afraid that we will be found out—that others will discover that deep down we are inadequate and imposters at what we do. And so we, afraid to admit who we really are, locate our own faults in the lives of others. We, who are afraid to tell others of our deepest needs and hurts, for fear of their rejection, live a kind of self-imposed exile in which we are far more competent in judging the faults of others than being accountable for our own self.

It is also far easier in the community we call the “church” to find fault with others than to accept the brokenness of our own lives and the lives of others. Jesus observes that human persons often see the “splinter” in the eye of other persons more clearly than the “log” in our own eye. There’s quite a difference in size between a splinter and a log!

The life of ordained ministers in the church often comes under greater scrutiny than the life of others in the Christian community. After all, so many reckon, they are to live out the “moral life” for their congregation. The priest, in that case, however, becomes a professional Christian attempting under difficult odds to embody the Christian life before those who have often given up trying to live that life themselves. It is difficult today for all of us living in the kind of society we have made to find persons with whom we can share our deepest hopes, joys, fears, and disappointments. It is even hard to find Christian communities in which this honest sharing goes on. But if we cannot find it in the church, where will we find it?

We in the church are often more ready to judge than to love, more ready to criticize than to listen. When we judge, we stand apart from other persons; when we love, however, we stand beside them waiting to share in their hopes and dreams. Jesus calls us who seek to follow him to give an honest account of our own life before we examine the lives of others. We are called first to love others, and not judge them. To do this we have to become a people more willing to trust than to fear.

Posted on

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.