The Ten Lepers, Immigration and the Affordable Health Care Act

This morning's Bible study at the home of Ross and Gloria Kinsler focused on Luke 17:11, the story of the ten lepers who begged Jesus for healing. Ross and Gloria are a remarkable Presbyterian couple who served as missionaries in Central America and are deeply committed to  Jubilee justice and liberation theology. They have written several books, including The Biblical Jubilee and the Struggle for Life: An Invitation to Personal, Ecclesial, and Social Transformation ( 1999) and Diversified Theological Education: Equipping All God's People  with a foreword by Desmond Tutu.

I could wax eloquent about their amazing achievements helping and empowering the poor in Latin America and Africa, but Gloria would be very displeased. She is quite humble and doesn't like to be "puffed up." Nonetheless, I must give them credit for opening me up to seeing the Bible as a radical call for justice for the poor and the "least of these."

Reflecting on the story of the ten men with leprosy, I wonder how many preachers will see the parallels between this story and what is happening in America today? If you are looking for a sermon topic, please feel free to borrow ideas or plagiarize!

Jesus Heals Ten Men With Leprosy

¹¹ Now on his way to Jerusalem, Jesus traveled along the border between Samaria and Galilee. ¹² As he was going into a village, ten men who had leprosy^[a] met him. They stood at a distance ¹³ and called out in a loud voice, “Jesus, Master, have pity on us!”
¹⁴ When he saw them, he said, “Go, show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went, they were cleansed.
¹⁵ One of them, when he saw he was healed, came back, praising God in a loud voice. ¹⁶ He threw himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him—and he was a Samaritan.
¹⁷ Jesus asked, “Were not all ten cleansed? Where are the other nine? ¹⁸ Has no one returned to give praise to God except this foreigner?” ¹⁹ Then he said to him, “Rise and go; your faith has made you well.”

Given the current debate in America over whether health care should be affordable, one can't help noticing that Jesus heals the lepers for free (unlike most pagan faith healers who charged for their healing). Nowhere in the Gospel does Jesus ever ask for payment, and neither did early Christians. In fact, when Simon the Magician (another word for healer) offers money to receive the Holy Spirit (a perfectly reasonable request since spiritual healers usually had to pay for training), Peter shocks him by threatening to curse him for making such a crass request. "Freely ye have received, freely give." That was the motto of Christians when it came to healing. Free health care is the distinguishing characteristic of  Christ and early Christian communities. What does that say about America, the only wealthy country that doesn't provide free health care for all its citizens?

When Jesus healed the lepers, he sent them back to the priest to be certified as cured. This ritual was important since lepers were ostracized from Jewish society. It was also lengthy, requiring over a week, and expensive (Leviticus 14). Birds and two male lambs had to be sacrificed, and this was not cheap. But the Jews did make allowances for the poor. They could be certified as cured at a reduced rate:

"But if he is poor and cannot afford it, then he shall take one male lamb as a trespass offering to be waived, to make atonement for him, one-tenth of an ephah of fine flour mixed with oil as a grain offering, a log of oil, and two turtledoves or two young pigeons, such as he is able to afford: one shall be a sin offering and the other a burnt offering."

Nothing is said about the poor who couldn't afford even one male lamb or two young pigeons, except that he is required to give only what he is able to afford. This sounds a lot like Obamacare.

Jesus didn't require a costly or even low-cost ritual to certify a cure. Once the leper returns and expresses thanks to God, Jesus says: "You are well." (The Greek word is "salvus," from which we get the word "saved."). Furthermore, Jesus gives the leper credit for being part of the cure: "Your faith has made you whole" (salvus).

This shows how sensitive Jesus was to the condition of the poor. The ten lepers felt excluded and stigmatized, which is why they did not approach Jesus but instead petitioned him "from a distance." Jesus didn't make the leper feel unworthy for not being able to afford to pay anything for his cure; instead, Jesus affirms him for giving thanks. Gratitude is payment enough. Jesus says:  "Rise and go." By telling him to rise and "go his own way" (rather than become his follower), Jesus treats him as a co-partner in the cure: "Your faith has made you whole."

It is also important to note that Jesus didn't distinguish between his own tribe and others. In fact, the point of this story is that the non-Jew, the Samaritan,  was more grateful, and more godly, than the Jewish lepers.

Jesus uses an interesting word to describe the Samaritan: allogenis. This literally means "someone who is born different." The usual word for "foreigner" is the Greek word "xenos," which can mean either "stranger" or "guest." Xenos has a positive as well as negative meaning, but "allogenis" is purely negative.

Yet it is this "born different" person who offers thanks to God and to Jesus and receives complete healing--both physical and spiritual.

Who are today's lepers? Who is "born different"? Blacks, Latinos, gays? Who is being stigmatized, excluded, or in any way denied  health care and full participation in American society? Those are the ones that Jesus came to heal, and his followers are supposed to do likewise.

The current debate over health care and immigration in America shows how far we have strayed from the teachings and example of Jesus. Jesus healed for free. Our health system is for profit and extremely costly. Even the ACA excludes many of the most needy, the "lepers" who are black or brown or low income whites and live in Republican states that have refused to go along with Medicaid expansion.

Conservatives, most of whom describe themselves as Christian, required that the ACA excludes the undocumented, the "allogenis." This is not only contrary to what Jesus practice, it is also worth noting that Great Britain and Europe treat foreigners who need health care far better than does the United States.

This story of the Ten Lepers shows quite clearly that free health care for all, including non-citizens, is what a society based on the teachings of Jesus would provide.  When it comes to being a nation modeling the life and teachings of Jesus, America has a long, long way to go.

Time, History, and the Eternal Now

           With inward eye we still can see

             And strive to tell in prose or rhyme
             Just what it means to us to be
            Upon the moving edge of Time

We look back over four score years

           Each one of which some gift has brought
           Still glowing as it reappears
           Within the timeless realm of thought

And so the edge of time is blurred

           By magic strokes of memory
           And life already has conferred
           Some measure of Eternity.

 --Howard Brinton, Christmas message 1968/1969

My first encounter with Friends occurred in Princeton, NJ, my home town, thirty years ago. In 1984 I attended Princeton Meeting, in a charming stone meetinghouse built near the banks of Stony Brook in 1761. I was going through a tumultuous time in my life, and the Quaker meetinghouse was a place of peace and comfort.  Surrounded by woods several miles from downtown Princeton, it evoked another era, a time before the stresses and strains of modern life.  I sat on a wooden bench in front of an old stone fireplace and felt my anxieties and concerns melt away. Among solemn, quiet people sitting in the silence with radiant faces, I experienced a sense of peace and connection with the Divine I had never felt before.

Later, as I became more involved with Quakerism, I learned about the history of Princeton Meeting and of Quakers in America. Princeton is proud of its role in the American Revolution, and its Presbyterian college. I discovered the hidden history of Quakers, the original settlers in the area we call Princeton. I learned that the Quakers didn’t take sides during the Revolution, that they cared for the American and British wounded equally, and that as a result, they fell out of favor politically. Their numbers dwindled and Princeton Meeting was laid down in 1878. It was resurrected slowly and by degrees in the 20^th century, and the Meetinghouse restored and rebuilt.

This fascinating story was never revealed to me when I took an Honors class in American history at Princeton High School. We learned only about the Presbyterians, the dominant religion of our town. History, it has been observed, is usually written by the victors. What fascinates me today is the hidden side of history—the stories of the marginalized, the oppressed, and those struggling for justice and peace and new ways of living—the stories that my teacher Howard Zinn tells in A People’s History of the United States, and Diana Butler Bass tells in A People’s History of Christianity.

I also love to hear people tell their personal stories—how they found God or Christ, how they became a Quaker (or a Buddhist or a Muslim), how their lives were transformed, how they are living their faith. These, to me, are sacred stories. I never tire of reading spiritual autobiographies; and I have enjoyed writing biographies of transformative Friends such as Gene Hoffman, Herrymon Maurer and the Brintons.

We live on two levels, as Palo Alto Friend Josephine Duveneck titled her spiritual autobiography.  Coming from wealthy background, Duveneck devoted her life to the poor, the refugees, farm workers, and to educating children about the environment, social justice and peace. She also struggled to find a balance between contemplation and activism. I think many of us face e a similar struggle.

On one level, we create or read stories about passing through this temporal world and call it history. This is the world of time—a world of joys and sorrows, love and grief, hopes and fears. The world of time imposes limits, schedules, and other pressures, including death itself—the final deadline. Time also gives us opportunities for spiritual growth.

We also recognize another way of experiencing reality, which is (for most of us) rare and precious.  Instead of clock or calendar time, we experience the present moment in all its fullness. We observe our thoughts without judgment and let them float away, like leaves on a stream.  Gradually, we become aware of something that cannot be defined or put into words. We experience a spaciousness, an openness, something beyond time and space. We feel connected to everything around us, and to something greater than ourselves. This experience may occur during times of worship, or in nature, or sometimes quite unexpectedly in the midst of our daily activities.

This is the world of Spirit.  William Tabor, my teacher at Pendle Hill, called it “entering the prophetic stream.” The Franciscan spiritual teacher Richard Rohr calls it the “naked now.” George Fox gave advice on how to have this experience: “Wait in the Light for Power to remove the earthly part… that with the Light your minds may be kept up to God, who is Pure, and in it ye may all have unity who in the Light do walk.” [Ep. 49, 1653, qt. by Howard Brinton in Friends for 300 Years, p. 19.]

As a Friend, I have been influenced by the life and writings of Howard Brinton (1884-1973), best known for his classic introduction to Quakerism called Friends for 300 Years (1952) Brinton was a philosopher and a scientist, a Christian and a Universalist, an historian and a mystic. One of his most important historical works is his study of Quaker journals.  In his religious autobiography, Friends for 75 Years, he wrote frankly about the many struggles and divisions among Friends that he personally witnessed and experienced. He believed that studying history helps us to understand the Quaker way of life, how we live out our experience of the Light in the temporal world.

Howard was equally interested in the mystical, the Eternal Now. During the final years of his life, he wrote about the Gospel of John and the mystical side of Quakerism. Like his teacher Rufus Jones, Brinton believed that the distinctive characteristic of Quakerism was its group mysticism. Mysticism is a term used to describe a direct experience of the Eternal, which cannot be reduced to words.

Being a mathematician by training, Howard liked to explain spiritual realities by using diagrams.  Time can be conceived as a line moving from left to right, from past to future—the familiar time line. In the middle of the timeline, a vertical line intersects: this is the spiritual dimension, leading upward to God, and downward to the subhuman, the demonic. The point where the Eternal and Temporal meet is our human condition. This is where the Spirit becomes embodied in the temporal, where the Word is made flesh, and where we are fully alive.

For Howard, “eternal life” is something experienced not just in the future, but in the present. As he explains in his pamphlet Light and Life in the Fourth Gospel (1971),

“The word ‘eternal’ which occurs so often in Johns’ gospel…. refers to a particular quality of life in the present and also to an age of life beyond the grave which has no definite beginning or end....”

He contrasts this lived experience with “clock time.” A machine exists only in “clock time” and “continues until it is worn out.” But an organism lives in “organic time” that includes the past and future, as well as the eternal:

“An organism, because it has life possesses the dimension of height and breadth as well as length, and because it can reproduce itself both biologically and spiritually, it possesses an eternal dimension extending without limit into the past and future. This eternal dimension is possessed only by the highest forms of life, such as are mentioned so often in John’s gospel” (p. 12).

For Brinton, the way to this eternal dimension was through the incarnation of Christ (the Logos) in history, and in us. He quotes Jesus who told his disciples:  “Abide in me, and I in you….that they might also be one in us” (John 15:7). The Eternal and finite human beings are united and reconciled through Christ, who overcomes not only death, but time itself.

Throughout the Gospels, moments occur when the Eternal intersects the temporal, when ordinary experiences, like going to a wedding, or having a drink of water at a well, become sacred events. When Jesus met the Samaritan woman at the well, he was physically thirsty and asked her for what he needed—a drink of water (John 4:16). In return, he gave her the Living Waters that transformed her life. Each was fully present to the other, and benefited from this exchange, in life-changing ways.

I believe we, too, can experience the Living Waters that spring up from deep within us if we take time to be fully present to the Divine. We cannot escape from the ethical demands of history—the cries of the poor, the marginalized,  the oppressed, our broken planet desperately in need of healing—but we can return from our encounters with the Eternal refreshed, renewed, and strengthened.

Arnold Toynbee, a historian whom Brinton quotes in his pamphlet The Pendle Hill Idea, refers to a process he calls “withdrawal and return.” “The minority sometimes withdraws from the world for a time,” writes Brinton, “to come back renewed in strength and insight” (p. 31). For Brinton, meeting for worship, and sojourns at places like Pendle Hill, offer opportunities for such transformative experiences.

Each time I return to Princeton Meeting, it is never quite the same, because I am not the same person. I bring new memories, new insights and new experiences. The Meeting has also changed: new people have joined, others have aged, or passed away.  When I sit down to worship, I return to the stillness, the Eternal, which I experienced thirty years ago, and it seems fresh and new. These moments when the Eternal and the temporal intersect are where I feel fully alive.

Fast and pray for sanity in Washington!

Yesterday, when I went to my spiritual direction program at the Holy Spirit Retreat Center in Encino, the topic of the government shutdown came up at lunch. Yes, even in the midst of a day devoted to spirituality, we couldn't avoid politics! Everyone at my table expressed consternation about how the conservatives were behaving and were desperate and gloomy about the outcome of this latest DC poop storm. It seemed like hopeless impasse.

Then it occurred to me that exactly one month Pope Francis called on Christians around the world to fast and pray for a peaceful resolution of the Syrian conflict. This seemed almost quixotic: the President had drawn a "red line," our national prestige was at stake, and the US seemed hell-bent on attacking Syria and punishing Assad.

Nonetheless, many of us listened to the Pope: we fasted and prayed. I remember going to the Stillpoint lunch on Sept 6, and feeling the grinding pains of hunger in my gut as I watched others eat their lunch and desserts. I not only didn't eat, I didn't drink any water--and that's the hardest part, especially since September is super hot.

I was comforted (somewhat) by remembering Jesus' words: "Blessed are those who HUNGER and THIRST for justice."

Miraculously, our prayers were answered in ways that we couldn't have anticipated. Several days later, Putin made a game-changing proposal that took everyone by surprise. President Obama decided to change course and adopt a diplomatic rather than military approach. We aren't out of the woods yet, but for now our leaders are acting like grown ups.

It certainly helped that we barraged our elected officials with letters and took to the streets to protest, But I can't help thinking that prayer was a factor. God calls us to be peacemakers because God is a God of shalom.

I also know that God is on the side of the poor, and that God wants every one to have access to affordable health care---actually, free health care--as evidenced in the behavior of early Christians, who (unlike pagan spiritual healers) provided their services for free.

So I encourage you to pray for our leaders--for Ted Cruz, John Boener, Harry Reid, Barack Obama, and the rest. Remember each of them is made in God's image, each of them has a conscience and a spark of the Divine.

I'm glad that our Quaker lobby FCNL reminds us to write to our elected officials not in the spirit of anger and disgust (justifiable though those feelings may be), but as if there is "that of God" in those we are trying to reach and persuade. (See fcnl.org.)

Keep sending letters and doing what you can to let elected officials know how you feel about the shutdown, and about the Affordable Health Care Act. But don't minimize or dismiss the power of prayer.

Senator Ted Cruz prayed with a bunch of his followers in front of the White House in front of cameras. I won't judge how sincere he was. But I do know that Jesus told us such public prayers aren't worth much. What really matters to God is how we pray in secret, in the depths of our hearts. So let's hold in prayer our elected officials, and those in our country who are suffering because of poverty and a lack of affordable health care. Lord, I know you hear our prayers because it is You who inspired them!

Theological assumptions: there is "that of God" in everyone, and you gotta dance when the Spirit says dance!

For my Stillpoint spiritual direction program, I was asked to list some of my theological assumptions. Here is what I came up with. I think it's an excellent exercise. What are your theological assumptions?

 

1) There is "that of God"--a sacred spark, divine wisdom--in every one. This assumption is based on the Gospel of John (who says "the Light that enlightens everyone was coming into the world") and also what George Fox, founder of Quakerism, enjoined Quakers to do:  "Walk cheerfully over the earth, answering that of God in everyone." The idea that "there is 'that of God' in everyone"  has become a core belief of liberal Quakers (even though we don't have a creed!). Quakers call this "the Inward Light."

 

2) Everyone has direct access to God/Christ/Spirit. There is no need for intermediaries, like priests, sacraments, rituals, sacred texts, etc. "You already know. The Spirit is with you and the Spirit is within you," John 14:17, qt by RIchard Rohr in Naked Now.

 

3) No one has the whole truth.  Everyone has a "piece" of the Truth--and that piece, however limited, is extremely important. That's why Quaker value "open" worship in which everyone has a chance to speak, and we must come to Unity before acting as a corporate body. I also agree with Rohr's observation:  wisdom is knowing the limits of knowing. Cf. Socrates: "All I know is that I know nothing."

 

4) "Continuing revelation." Truth isn't static, something revealed two thousand years ago. The Holy Spirit continues to inspire and reveal to us new aspects of Truth.

 

5) Compassionate listening. To listen compassionately, we must let go of preconceived ideas and judgments and "listen from the heart" without judgment. This isn't easy; it takes practice and training.  Quakers have a query (open-ended question) in which we ask ourselves; "Do I practice the art of listening, beyond words?"

 

6) Emotional honesty is crucial to spiritual growth. Something I learned through Quaker worship sharing, my teacher and friend Gene Hoffman, and therapy. Our access to Truth is often blocked by ego defenses, self-will, fear, unhealed wounds, self-deception. To be honest we need to find/create a place where we feel safe and accepted. We also need to find someone we can trust and open up to.

 

7) Silence is one of the most important tools for experiencing God/Truth/Reality.

 

8( Limitation of words: the Ultimate Reality cannot be reduced to a verbal formulation. "Saying must be balanced by unsaying," Richard Rohr.  Opposites can both be true in a spiritual sense. "My yoke is easy and my burden light" and "take up your cross and follow me."

 

The "promise of paradox" (Parker Palmer). Spiritual truth is paradoxical; it can't be reduced to logic:  "To save your life, you must lose it."

 

9) Community. Whenever two or more are gathered, the Divine is present. Our spiritual growth deepens when we commit ourselves to living in community, whether it be a church, marriage, spiritual friendship, etc.

 

10) We are created to love and be loved by a Loving Creator. Love and friendship are the core of spiritual life. (Hence the real name of Quakers: the Religious Society of FRIENDS.) I believe Christ is the best teacher of Love.

 

11) Peace. We experience inner peace when we follow Divine Guidance (rather than our ego compulsions). True peace springs from holy obedience.

 

12) Laughter and dancing and joy are essential spiritual practices.   At the dawn of Creation, Wisdom danced and took delight in what God made. (Proverbs 8:27) If we are open to Wisdom, She will continue to dance within us, thank God! (One of my favorite Quaker hymns is "Lord of the Dance.")

Top Ten Posts and Quaker Parrots Complaining about Life

I am pleased that my blog continues to interest web surfers from around the world, including places such as Latvia, Germany, France, UK, Canada, Australia, Russia, Ukraine, Netherlands, etc. (See below)

This month  my site will probably exceed 4,000 pageviews, and over 80,000 since I first began this blog four years ago. Below is a list of the top ten posts, which you can access simply by clicking on the title.

To put this into context, it is humbling to realize that the "Talking Quaker Parrot" youtube has received nearly 300,000 views and "Boogie the Quaker parrot complains about life" nearly 200,000 --far exceeding those of my blog or that of most Quaker organizations. If you want to see how Quaker parrots express themselves, here's the link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wLXIb5YkWgc and http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pW_0Me9kFrU (I don't want those who came to my site expecting a talking Quaker parrot to be disappointed.)

My most popular post by far is an article I originally wrote for Friends Journal, the national Quaker magazine. It is about some humble wild flowers I encountered at Pendle Hill, the Quaker center where I met my wife Kathleen twenty five years ago. Written as a letter to my wife, it was never intended for publication. When I had lunch with the editors of Friends Journal soon after writing it, I gave them a copy and a week later they emailed me asking to print it. I'm glad they did. In many ways, this essay "speaks my heart"--my love for poetry, nature, and the Creative Spirit.

The titles of most of the other posts speak for themselves, with a few exceptions. "The Parable of the Family that Went Broke" is a satire about our government's absurd fiscal priorities;  and "Seeing the Light through a Prism" is a reflection about Quaker testimonies, based on what I have learned from Howard Brinton and my own experiences in worship.

My blog continues to be a medley, a potpourri, a smorgasbord, mixing the political, the spiritual and the personal. I hope you find something among these entries that feeds your soul, lifts your spirits, and "speaks to your condition." And if you do, please feel free to comment. I am always eager to hear what you have to say, unless you happen to be a Quaker parrot!

Homage to snow drops and other early spring flower... Mar 28, 2011, 6 comments	7564
Global Peace Begins Locally... Jul 18, 2009, 1 comment	1033
Reflections on Lent and Easter from a Quaker persp... Mar 7, 2011, 7 comments	884
Parable of the Family That Went Broke Apr 20, 2011	839
William Penn and the Indians Nov 25, 2010, 3 comments	802
Coming to Unity through Harmony: Dealing with Conf... Sep 10, 2010, 1 comment	662
Seeing the Light through a Prism....Reflections on... Jun 17, 2013, 2 comments	530
Homosexuality and the Bible: Acts Speaks Louder th... Mar 23, 2013, 6 comments	513
Becoming a Friend of God: the Path of Sufism and Q... Nov 20, 2010, 6 comments	423
Amazingly good news: I am getting married! May 17, 2011, 8 comments  397   United States 47628 United Kingdom 5809 Russia 2843 Germany 2187 Canada 1744 France 1297 Ukraine 1003 Netherlands 598 Australia 591 Latvia 492

Prophetic listening and the power of silence

 

 

I volunteered to give a reflection at ICUJP's Friday morning session. When I was reflecting on what to reflect on, it occurred to me that the best way for a Quaker to share what is truly important would be to let us have five minutes of silence.

 

Instead, I decided to talk briefly about why silence is important to us as activists. I hope that my brief reflection will encourage us to listen prophetically.

 

When we think of prophets, we often think of people who speak truth to power,  people whose stirring words move people to action. But we need to remember that great prophets were also great listeners. They listened to the cries of the poor, they listened to the yearnings of the oppressed, and most of all, they listened to the voice of the One who called them to be prophets. Prophetic listening is just as important as prophetic speaking.

Howard Brinton, the Quaker educator and peace activist whose life I describe in my book, gave a talk about Creative Worship in which he describes how great leaders—from Moses to Mohammad, from Buddha to Jesus—became prophetic voices because they listened deeply to the Spirit:

When Moses saw God in the burning bush or Elijah heard the still, small voice, when Paul went to the desert of Arabia after his conversion, or George Fox on Pendle Hill saw in vision a great people to be gathered, when the Buddha sat in meditation under the Bo-tree or Mohammed listened to an angelic voice in the cave near Mecca, above all, when Jesus Himself faced temptation alone in the wilderness, a great new message to the world was born not because God was spoken to but because God was listened to.

All of these prophets withdrew from the noise and the confusion of the world in order to center down in silence and listen deeply to the still, small voice within. Take, for example, Gandhi. For him, prayer and silence were “food for the soul,” as necessary to spiritual life as breathing is for physical life. Here’s one of his many testimonials to the importance of silence:

It has often occurred to me that a seeker after truth has to be silent. I know the wonderful efficacy of silence. I visited a Trappist monastery in South Africa. A beautiful place it was. Most of the inmates of that place were under a vow of silence. I inquired of the Father the motive of it and he said the motive is apparent: 'We are frail human beings. We do not know very often what we say. If we want to listen to the still small voice that is always speaking within us, it will not be heard if we continually speak.' I understood that precious lesson. I know the secret of silence. (YI, 6-8-1925, pp 274-5).

Gandhi took time to pray and meditate on a daily basis, and so have many other Spirit-led activists. This year I am embarking on a new ministry by taking a spiritual direction program called Stillpoint.  My goal is to learn how to listen better to the still small voice within myself, and to help others hear the still, small voice within their hearts.

I’d like to end this reflection with Gandhi’s confession about his need for prayer:

Prayer has been the saving of my life. Without it I would have been a lunatic long ago. My autobiography will tell you that I have had my fair share of the bitterest public and private experiences. They threw me into temporary despair, but if I was able to get rid of it, it was because of prayer.

It was a great consolation for me to hear Gandhi admit he would have gone crazy without prayer. I feel the same way. Prayer has helped me to stay relatively sane during crazy-making times of my life. Prayer saved me when my first marriage ended disastrously, when my dear wife Kathleen died at too young an age,  when I open up the daily newspaper, read the latest doings of our politicians and want to scream or act out in very un-Quakerly ways. Whatever good I do, I owe largely to prayer. I hope we can find in prayer the strength and inner peace we need to do the work we have been called us to do.

 

Becoming a "Human Being Fully Alive": Spiritual Direction from a Quaker Perspective

I've just begun a spiritual direction program through Stillpoint (http://stillpointca.org/). It feels good and right to be starting this new ministry at this point in my life, when I am retired and "jubilado" (the Spanish word for "retired," recalling the year of Jubilee).

I've had a spiritual director for over a year, and it's a wonderful experience. Thanks to my spiritual director, I have been able to grapple with some tough issues and find glimmers of the Divine in the midst of my daily struggles.

I've also been involved in intensive pyscho-therapy that has taught me important listening skills and helped heal some of the deep traumas of my past. I now know from experience what my mentor Gene Hoffman taught in her Compassionate Listening work: many of us carry with us unhealed wounds, and these wounds are often the source of conflict. Even "peace people" are not exempt. Indeed, we may be the most wounded of all. As she put it so well,

"During my lifetime I've worked with many peace people and peace people. Rarely were the people I worked with peaceful. Perhaps I was the least. In the peace movement I found wondrous people, people, people who sacrificed themselves, who often turned the other cheek, who could write eloquently of compassion, forgiveness, love of the enemy.... I found, too, that the seeds of all society's ills were also in us, often hidden or disguised. Few of us recognized or admitted it to ourselves. We felt exempt. But the anger, the anxieties, the jealousies were still in place, camouflaged. Peace people, I found, weren't all that different from non-peace people except that we had found a humane goal to work toward" (Compassionate Listening, p. 177).

Gene's words ring more true the older I get, and the more  I become aware of my own inner turmoil. I am grateful that I have had the opportunity to study and practice Compassionate Listening, both here in the US and in Israel/Palestine.

The main reason I am drawn to spiritual direction is that I am eager to deepen my relationship with God and Christ, and also help others to find a deeper connection with the source of Life and Light. I know that it helps me to spend time with others who share my yearning.

Part of my preparation for spiritual direction was my marriage to Kathleen Ross, a Methodist pastor with whom I engaged in contemplative prayer for over twenty years. Kathleen was a humble and insightful teacher, from whom I learned much, especially about the art of listening. She had the gift of listening from the heart, mentored a number of pastors, and led many workshops on prayer and meditation. One of her unfinished goals in life was to become a spiritual director. I feel as if I am honoring her memory by taking up this new ministry.

Prior to meeting Kathleen, I spent nearly a year living at a Providence (Rhode Island) Zen Buddhist Center, practicing meditation as a way of life. We would rise at 4:30 am to do prostrations, chant, and meditate, and ended every evening with meditation. I once remained silent for an entire week--which many friend of mine would regard as a miracle!

I also had the privilege of editing a magazine called Fellowship in Prayer (now called Sacred Journey), which gave me the opportunity of meeting and interviewing spiritual teachers of various traditions (Jewish, Native American, Sufi, Orthodox Christian, New Age, etc.) throughout the United States.

Spending a year at Pendle Hill, the Quaker Center for Study and Contemplation near Philadelphia, also helped me to "center down" in the Quaker practice of silent, expectant worship. Each morning we would spend half an hour in silent worship, and there were also opportunities for worship in the evening. I had the opportunity to study with some of deeply spiritual Friends like Bill Taber (author of The Prophetic Stream) and Sandra Cronk.

Last year I spent one Saturday a week on a Stillpoint "Spiritual Journey" in a small group led by an outstanding teacher named Wendy Edwards,  a Stillpoint spiritual director.  This year I am not only meeting once a month for spiritual direction training, I am taking part in a monthly "spiritual practice" group, led by my dear friend Jeff Utter, a UCC pastor. I came to know Jeff through the So Cal Committee for a Parliament of the World's Religions, on whose board we both served.

All of this has led to feel that God is calling me to this new direction in my life, but there have been additional "signs."

A week before beginning my first spiritual direction class at Holy Spirit Retreat Center, I received a call from a friend who wanted to have lunch and talk about documentary films. I like him a lot (though we are not close friends), and I was pleased to reconnect with him after having not seen him in two years.

As we settled down to lunch at a Salvadorean restaurant, he totally surprised me with his first words.

"I am looking for a spiritual practice," he told me with great earnestness.

"Why are you looking for a spiritual practice?" I asked.

"I want to connect with God," was his reply.

What followed was a rich and meaningful conversation about God, life, and what truly matters. It is a conversation I will always remember and cherish. And I am pleased he wants to see me again for another such conversation.

It was hard not to see this encounter as a sign that God wants me to become a spiritual director!

There was a second sign this weekend. A young Fuller seminary student heard I was studying to be a spiritual director, and asked to be my "directee." He is a young man I like a lot and deeply respect, and I am eager to get to know him better in "that which is Eternal" (to use the Quaker phrase).

One of the requirements of the Stillpoint program is that we find at least one directee to "practice on" during our first year. When I heard of this requirement, I wondered how on earth I was going to find a directee. But now I realize I don't need to go out looking for one. I just need to let God send those who share my yearning to draw closer to the source of Life.

For those who want to find out more about spiritual direction, I highly recommend Candlelight: Illuminating the Art of Spiritual Direction by Susan Phillips. It is beautifully written and gives concrete examples of how spiritual direction works in the lives of actual people. At times this book brought me to tears, and opened up my heart to glimpses of the Divine in ways I had never before imagined.

I also recommend this insightful article by Patty Levering, a Quaker with deep experience of spiritual direction and Divine guidance.

To those of you reading this entry, I wish you all the best in your efforts to become "a human being fully alive," (to use the words of Irenaeus). If you have read this far, you probably share my yearning to connect more deeply with God.  I hope you find (or have found) a spiritual friend or director or spirituality group or a spiritual practice that will help you to connect at the deepest level with the Divine that is already present in your life and in the inmost depths of your being.

Spiritual Direction as a Resource for Friends

By Patty Levering in Friends Journal (December 1, 2006)

Friends come to their meetings out of some kind of spiritual hunger—a desire for belonging and encouragement in making the world a better place, a search for Truth we are not finding elsewhere, an awareness of something missing. There are many Quaker venues in which these needs are addressed; and yet for many of us, at some time, our spiritual hunger is not satisfied. There is no adequate place to see through the fog, get out of stuck places, ask the deepest questions, and be sufficiently supported in an intentional, spiritual seeking. Spiritual direction is a resource for a person in such a condition. It is a complement, not a substitute, for meeting for worship and the meeting community.

Spiritual direction is an opportunity to explore your relationship with the Divine, to be more aware of God’s presence and action in your life, to look for the More that you sense is there in the midst of your life, to listen for the guidance of the Spirit, to be open to the Holy. It happens with the help of a "spiritual director," a person who listens to your story, concerns, or desires, and seeks to be a companion, nurturer, and guide as you explore that relationship.

I am using the term spiritual direction because it is the current, ecumenically recognized, technical term to describe a certain kind of spiritual attending.

Seeking spiritual direction is not about submitting one’s life and faith to some other person’s shaping, or accepting someone else as the authority on spiritual matters. Spiritual directors know that the real "director" is the Divine (God, Christ, the Light, the Spirit, the Inward Teacher). The "direction" happens in the attentive listening of the director to God and to the directee. It also happens in sharing and listening during the direction session, and it happens in the heart, mind, and soul of the directee long afterward. The directee sets the agenda and owns the discernment. The director and directee come together, radically trusting in the One whose presence teaches, guides, and transforms; the One who is directly available and speaks to one’s condition. The director is not more likely than the directee to hear or say the words that most illuminate the condition that needs to be addressed. For a directee, it is like being in meeting for worship, but having someone else to help listen. That can be true whether the director is Quaker or not.

In worship, we gather corporately in expectant silence, listening for the leading of the Spirit or opening to the Divine. One really can’t explain just how the spiritual knowing or the "being moved" happens. The directee listens in the same way and for the same kinds of things in the direction session as in meeting for worship, but the context includes more words. The director is likely to have had more experience in listening for and recognizing the voice of the Divine, or at least is outside the story told by the directee, and thus may be able to help the directee see the Light or hear the Voice.
It seems as if what I do as a directee is to bring in a bag of blocks, dump them on the table helter-skelter, and then watch as they are moved into some kind of order, or until I see them differently, or as additional things are added that make them a satisfying sight. Sometimes it happens as I hear my own words, sometimes it comes from the words of the director, and always the rearranging has a luminous quality from something within and beyond me. Of course, the rearranging may not happen in the session but rather much later, or even not at all. Still, my experience is that something happens more often than not. I am challenged, taught, changed, invited, encouraged, supported, opened, redirected. Isaac Penington writes, "There is that near you which will guide you. O wait for it and be sure that ye keep to it." The experience of spiritual direction is to have someone stand with you in a way that makes it more possible for you to do just that.

Many Friends have tried another form of spiritual caring called "spiritual friendship," an intentional relationship between two persons who take turns listening to each other’s stories and being present to and for the other. Spiritual friendship has a rich history. It is accepted among Friends, and it is especially wonderful and fruitful when the two persons are well-matched and mutually able to support and challenge the other, at levels appropriate to their needs and openness.

Spiritual friendship does, however, have some shortcomings, especially with the kind of mutuality it calls for, the level of informality and passivity it sometimes allows, and the more complicated character of the relationship. It can also cause a burden for someone who is especially gifted in this kind of caring and listening, because many people will want to be with that person, and spiritual friendship takes double time (your hour and my hour). I have been in and seen spiritual friendships where one person, a natural caregiver, ends up giving a lot and getting little; where both choose to avoid the hard work and opt for friendly conversation at a discussion level; where one or both want most to preserve the friendship and so avoid the risk of challenging the other or telling the raw truth; or where the intimacy of deep worship is too uncomfortable for two people who see each other on a regular basis.

I don’t want to disparage spiritual friendship, but I do want to lift up and encourage Friends to be open to spiritual direction. For the person longing for a closer relationship with God, the serious social activist who knows that a deep spiritual grounding is required for the long haul, or the Friend feeling a call or carrying a concern, spiritual direction offers unique possibilities. In fact, spiritual direction is for anyone willing to give it the time, do the listening, and risk being open. It is particularly doable, because it usually takes place nearby, for roughly an hour about once a month, and can go on for months or years. I believe it is especially useful for Friends because it fits so well with our contemplative ways, our experience of corporate discernment, and the fact that we are friends (equal but not the same).

Not wanting to be too vulnerable is a reason some choose spiritual friendship rather than direction. It seems to require less vulnerability because each party is vulnerable with the other. In fact, though, spiritual direction calls for the same kind of mutual vulnerability even if the focus is on the directee. What happens in the direction session very often has an impact not only on the directee but also on the director. Sometimes what is said leads to some new insight into the director’s own condition, which the director will explore later. Maybe there is an opportunity to share a story that has just begun to take on meaning for the director. Maybe a story that is heard will inspire or speak deeply to the director. And it is true that to exercise one’s spiritual gifts is what most challenges the spiritual life of a director and makes that person vulnerable. The two persons in the relationship are equal, yet different. Ultimately, both are trying to listen and respond to God’s call in their lives.
Spiritual direction does have scary aspects. It asks for our time. It expects us to be real, to know and face feelings, to risk being vulnerable and intimate with God. We may fear sharing our spiritual life, because for that to be received poorly can even feel life-threatening. We may want to avoid wrestling with God. We may refrain from asking for help because we really don’t want to deal with the things that block us. We do not want to change, or be asked to change.

Perhaps even more daunting is a fear of intimacy with God, a distrust of any notion of a God who relates to human beings, or a sense of personal unworthiness. One can have such a feeling without knowing it, even though it impacts how one lives. Or one may have the feeling, know it, be clear about its truth, and choose not to examine it or give oneself a chance to go beyond it. Sometimes that is the best one can do. But sometimes that means choosing to live lukewarmly instead of with the abundance Jesus said was to be ours. Spiritual direction is a good place to see if there is a way to stretch oneself and experience more.

Let me give an example, from outside Quakerism, of how spiritual direction can be a safe place to explore faith questions. Rabbi Jacob Staub is a Reconstructionist Jew who wanted to help rabbinical students know and pass on the spiritual treasures of their ancestors. To do so he had to deal with many obstacles, including that many liberal Jews do not believe in a God who intervenes supernaturally in human affairs, hears prayers, or responds to them. He chose a spiritual direction program as a way to see what could be done, and began with Rev. Sue Cole, a United Methodist minister and spiritual director. In his first session, she was able to hear his story and use his experience to help him reframe what it means to see God at work in the world and in his life. He reports in Presence: An International Journal of Spiritual Direction:

She listened to my narrative, pointed to a moment that I had described as "breathtaking," and had me revisit and re-experience that moment for ten to fifteen minutes, after which I knew I would never thoughtlessly run by a breathtaking moment again. After three months, I could feel God’s palpable presence when I entered her office and at many other times as well.

Over time she used his experience, his Truth, and his terms to make it possible for him to reconnect in a living way with the deep treasures of his Jewish heritage. He did have to be vulnerable and open, but the rewards for him and, later, his students, were great.

What I think I like best about spiritual direction is that, as a directee, it is my time. It has been set aside for me alone. I don’t have to worry about taking care of the director or anyone else. Primarily the relationship we have is not about friendship, but about the relationship each of us has with the Divine and, through that, with each other. I can use each session in whatever way I choose. The matters discussed are private and confidential. I can pursue whatever issue I desire, counting on the director to hear me where I am and to work at understanding my particular context and faith language (or lack of faith or language). The director’s response will be tailored to me, my needs, my situation. The director will not attempt to impose a particular faith on me. I don’t have to pretend to be something I’m not in order to be in the relationship or to learn. It is an opportunity to grow in ways particular to me, but also in ways that others have traveled before me. And I don’t have to be sick or broken or in pain in order to be in spiritual direction. It is about the whole of life, the ups and the downs. Things get fixed, but it is about the relationship with God, not about fixing things.
There is something awesome about spiritual direction. Somehow it is ultimately about love. Somehow, from time to time in sessions and in the overall experience, one gets a real taste of God’s unconditional love, in the listening, accepting love of another (the director) through whom God’s presence and love become clearly and truthfully communicated.

I have experienced that love in both mundane and profound ways. One director, after we had met over a long period of time, heard my distress about a particular situation and offered me an insight: the rhythms of my life are very much affected by the seasons, and in the winter I simply need more sleep. Those very mundane words took a huge weight of frustration and unmet self-expectation off my back. It was as if suddenly my blind eyes had been given sight. There have been other times when what transpired left me touched to the depths of my being, rearranged and empowered, aware that I have been on sacred ground. Very often I go into a session confused, troubled, lost—or with very positive emotions. I tell my story, I am heard, I am met, and I leave enriched, touched, challenged, loved. Even between sessions, that love lingers. A memory of my director comes to my mind, and I know that I am being remembered, prayed for, held, carried, and strengthened—by God, made manifest through the director.

If you decide to try spiritual direction, finding a suitable director is important. You want to find a director who can help you see things you otherwise miss, someone who is deeply centered in God and in love for others. The director should be someone who has been there before you, someone who has been on an intentional spiritual path long enough to be humble, and to know some of the traps and keys. Your spiritual director needs to be a person whose light draws you, whose depth invites you, whose presence is attentive to you while at the same time attentive to God, whose insights are opening for you. At times it is especially helpful to have a director who is not part of your faith tradition (i.e. not Quaker), which can give you more freedom to ask questions, make mistakes, try out different language, and be stretched. Sometimes it is especially helpful to be with someone who is from the denomination in which you grew up and knows things about spiritual formation in that tradition that you may not be aware of, even though you have been impacted by it.

The person may not appear ideal. That may not matter. Because you approach the relationship the way you would an open, expectant, waiting meeting for worship, you may still receive the gifts you need. It is the fruits of the interaction that count.

My hope is that the day will come soon when spiritual direction will be such a recognized resource for Friends that yearly meetings and regional associations of Friends will have lists of Friends who do this kind of spiritual nurture. When that day comes, I believe the spiritual lives of Friends will be enriched, and the work we do in the world will be even more transformative.