A poem (below*) was posted on large white paper on the wall of the dining hall at work today. I am not certain how the retreat group that posted these words planned to use them...but they were certainly meaningful to me as I am in the midst of preparing for my final weekend of spiritual direction training. So many questions still remain, and yet it is in holding with gentle hands each individual's story and questions that I discover with wonder the gift...the blessing I have been seeking.
This lesson- the gift of another human being's presence- struck me on Sunday when attending the memorial service of an older man in my congregation who recently died. The service was held at a nearby synagogue. I remember this man, named Hal, telling me about his Jewish tradition and how he liked to attend services there on the high holy days. He also had a Jain guru, in line with his vegetarianism and animal rights activism. Hal was a seeker, and found a camaraderie in the Unitarian Universalist community... in one of our last conversations I remember standing before a large framed poster of historic Unitarian and Universalist figures that hangs in our fellowship hall, and chatting about these famous members of our living tradition .... together making some connection to these seekers of truth and activists for justice.
I am thinking about this poster in the context of my interfaith spiritual direction program. One of the assignments I have been given this past year has been to visit houses of worship from the world's religions and to observe with my senses the sacred symbols, imagery, sounds, around me. I am reminded of the Kwan Yin statue at Blue Cliff Monastery and the sound of the mindfulness bell; the high altar and Hebrew lettering on a plaque at Temple Beth Shalom and the Kaddish read around a grave. I close my eyes and see the Christian cross and sing along with a communion line- "One Bread, One Body". And my mind drifts back to my Muslim encounters- a Sufi retreat day and visit to a Sufi mosque- the prostrations, the dancing, the music of the Turkish neys.
But what are the holy symbols and sounds of our Unitarian Universalist congregation? The chalice of course holds the sacred flame. And beyond this we appear quite busy, as a gallery of art graces the walls of the sanctuary. We share our space with a school, so their belongings and supplies fill our classrooms. The large poster board of people like Susan B. Anthony, Clara Barton, and James Reeb is our living legacy and religious symbol- the lives of people who have gone before us and left their footprints of brave lives on this earth. It is an inspiring symbol, and also calls each of us to notice and uphold the power of our own choices and actions.
It is also inspiring to me that our faith is best represented in the lives of human beings. Each of us flawed persons is a gift, and we do not need to be famous or celebrated on a poster to . At the memorial service, I heard person after person describe Hal with humor, caring, and love. I heard stories I did not know about him- about his care for clients as a social worker, his work with soldiers on issues of depression and spousal abuse, his tender care for friends, homeless people and cats. Tears mingled with laughter, and I saw and held my few short memories of Hal in a larger celebration of his life.
It is truly a gift it is to be human with all our questions and yearnings- and to witness and hold another's human life is blessing, a glimpse of the divine. While we may do this naturally and well in a memorial service, the challenge is also to behold the gift of each human being we encounter with attention and presence in daily life, to see and to celebrate each person's fullness. I pray that I may create the space and take the time to unwrap the gift of the human life and to honor it in the many encounters with divinity that fill my days.
***************************
* The Gift, by Denise Levertov
Just when you seem to yourself
nothing but a flimsy web
of questions, you are given
the questions of others to hold
in the emptiness of your hands,
songbird eggs that can still hatch
if you keep them warm,
butterflies opening and closing themselves
in your cupped palms, trusting you not to injure
their scintillant fur, their dust.
You are given the questions of others
as if they were answers
to all you ask. Yes, perhaps
this gift is your answer.
This lesson- the gift of another human being's presence- struck me on Sunday when attending the memorial service of an older man in my congregation who recently died. The service was held at a nearby synagogue. I remember this man, named Hal, telling me about his Jewish tradition and how he liked to attend services there on the high holy days. He also had a Jain guru, in line with his vegetarianism and animal rights activism. Hal was a seeker, and found a camaraderie in the Unitarian Universalist community... in one of our last conversations I remember standing before a large framed poster of historic Unitarian and Universalist figures that hangs in our fellowship hall, and chatting about these famous members of our living tradition .... together making some connection to these seekers of truth and activists for justice.
I am thinking about this poster in the context of my interfaith spiritual direction program. One of the assignments I have been given this past year has been to visit houses of worship from the world's religions and to observe with my senses the sacred symbols, imagery, sounds, around me. I am reminded of the Kwan Yin statue at Blue Cliff Monastery and the sound of the mindfulness bell; the high altar and Hebrew lettering on a plaque at Temple Beth Shalom and the Kaddish read around a grave. I close my eyes and see the Christian cross and sing along with a communion line- "One Bread, One Body". And my mind drifts back to my Muslim encounters- a Sufi retreat day and visit to a Sufi mosque- the prostrations, the dancing, the music of the Turkish neys.
But what are the holy symbols and sounds of our Unitarian Universalist congregation? The chalice of course holds the sacred flame. And beyond this we appear quite busy, as a gallery of art graces the walls of the sanctuary. We share our space with a school, so their belongings and supplies fill our classrooms. The large poster board of people like Susan B. Anthony, Clara Barton, and James Reeb is our living legacy and religious symbol- the lives of people who have gone before us and left their footprints of brave lives on this earth. It is an inspiring symbol, and also calls each of us to notice and uphold the power of our own choices and actions.
It is also inspiring to me that our faith is best represented in the lives of human beings. Each of us flawed persons is a gift, and we do not need to be famous or celebrated on a poster to . At the memorial service, I heard person after person describe Hal with humor, caring, and love. I heard stories I did not know about him- about his care for clients as a social worker, his work with soldiers on issues of depression and spousal abuse, his tender care for friends, homeless people and cats. Tears mingled with laughter, and I saw and held my few short memories of Hal in a larger celebration of his life.
It is truly a gift it is to be human with all our questions and yearnings- and to witness and hold another's human life is blessing, a glimpse of the divine. While we may do this naturally and well in a memorial service, the challenge is also to behold the gift of each human being we encounter with attention and presence in daily life, to see and to celebrate each person's fullness. I pray that I may create the space and take the time to unwrap the gift of the human life and to honor it in the many encounters with divinity that fill my days.
***************************
* The Gift, by Denise Levertov
Just when you seem to yourself
nothing but a flimsy web
of questions, you are given
the questions of others to hold
in the emptiness of your hands,
songbird eggs that can still hatch
if you keep them warm,
butterflies opening and closing themselves
in your cupped palms, trusting you not to injure
their scintillant fur, their dust.
You are given the questions of others
as if they were answers
to all you ask. Yes, perhaps
this gift is your answer.
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