Command – on distractions and religious observance

Posted on January 23, 2014 by betsybeadhead | Leave a comment

I’m at a silent retreat. I don’t have to do anything. I don’t have to Not do anything either. I could check email. I could check Facebook. One of the nuns even told me I could go watch TV in their communal TV room. Normally that room is off limits to visitors. They have to have some areas that are theirs. We are basically in their home, after all.

But I won’t do anything that involves the outside world. These things aren’t part of the “rules” of the retreat, but they are part of my rules for retreats. I think it is important to unplug and stop long enough for God to get a word in edgewise. Maybe if I’m lucky, maybe if I’m quiet enough, God won’t even have to sidle up to me and can talk to me straight on.

At retreats I also make sure to be vegetarian, or at least pescatarian. When food is prepared for me I don’t always have that choice, but I try. I think it helps keep me mindful.

I’m reminded of Daniel, who wanted to keep kosher, but found that it was impossible to do so where he was. He asked for a vegetarian diet because that was the simplest way to keep kosher. I don’t keep kosher, but the idea is the same. I want to make intentional choices, and one of the easiest things to do that with is food. I want to stay all the time in that space that says “Here I am God.”

I want to go online. It is such an itch. But I know if I scratch it, it will get worse. I don’t have to give it up. All I have to do is be silent. But if I go online I’ll be wasting this gift of time.

So I pray. Jesus, I give this craving to you. I can’t handle it. I’m weak and you are strong. Help me give it up so I can get closer to you.

I’ve come through so many other addictions before this, so many distractions and temptations. Life is a series of these. So many obstacles. Yet they strengthen me, the more I notice them and consciously take myself away from them.

I think just noticing them is a big deal. How many times have I gone on autopilot and just reacted to something or someone without being mindful?

And then there’s Peter, telling Jesus to command him to get out of the boat and walk on the water towards him. He’s giving Jesus control. But how much control does Peter have, when he was the one who asked to be commanded?

It is a bit of a mindbender.

It reminds me of when I’d want to learn more about a topic, so I’d volunteer to teach a class on it. Nobody was forcing me to do anything. Nobody’s forcing me to give up anything on this retreat, other than being silent. I’ve added in all this other stuff. But I think it helps.

It is kind of like any religious observance. If wearing a head covering gets your head in the right place to remember to worship – great. If wearing a certain style of clothing does it, great. If eating certain foods do it, great. It isn’t the head covering or the clothing or the food that does it though. It is the fact that you have decided this is going to be your reminder. You’re using that outside stimuli like a bell, to call you to prayer.

(Written on retreat, around 10 pm, 1-17-14. Added to 1-22-14)

Time and silence

Posted on January 22, 2014 by betsybeadhead | Leave a comment

(This was written at last weekend’s silent retreat, at 9:30 am on 1-18-14. I’d come to some understanding after this, but as the struggle is part of it, I’m posting this too.)

I keep looking at the clock. I don’t want to be late. I don’t want to miss anything.

This is so much like how I’m living my life right now. I’m not trusting that I’m on the right path, but I know I am. I’m not living in the moment, but I know I should.

There isn’t much going on. It isn’t like this kind of retreat is jam packed. There’s an optional centering prayer. There’s mealtimes. I’ve got an appointment with a spiritual director. Not much going on at all, in fact. That’s the point.

It isn’t like Cursillo at all. Every moment was scheduled with that. There was a little time for a walk or going to the bathroom, but nothing going for naptime. Even regular sleep was shortened. I think that was very intentional. Sleep deprivation is a cheap way to produce altered reality.

But at Cursillo they at least had a bell. I didn’t have to wonder what to do next or when to do it. The retreat leaders did all the thinking for me. It left me open to do as I needed, and that was to plug directly into the Source. Now, one thing there was that you couldn’t skip anything. Everybody had to be present for a program to start.

I was late to centering prayer this morning. I thought I was early but my clock was wrong. I missed the instructions. I’d gotten them the night before and not read them. I’m pretty sure I was doing it wrong. But I was there and quiet and trying to be receptive.

The word I chose was light. I hadn’t planned on it. It is what came to me.

Sometimes I think just showing up is part of it. I think also being honest with yourself is also part of it. I’d signed up to do yoga last night but I skipped it because I was in the middle of a good write. I found myself resenting stopping what I was doing to go to yoga. It was optional anyway.

I’m learning that just because the retreat is silent doesn’t mean my head is silent. There are a lot of thoughts crowded in there, jockeying for attention.

Jigsaw puzzle

Posted on January 20, 2014 by betsybeadhead | Leave a comment

I did a jigsaw puzzle for the first time in so long that I’ve almost forgotten. Well, I helped some kindergartners do one a few months ago, but that doesn’t really count. They did most of it. I was just there to direct traffic and stop them from fighting. Something about not being able to share was part of the fight. They all wanted to work on the same parts or some were hoarding pieces.

Another lady had started a puzzle. It had 500 pieces. Most of them were green or pink, it looked like. The image was of a butterfly.

This looked too complicated for me. I think it was too complicated for her too because she left it on the table and moved to something else. She found all the edge pieces and put them together. Perhaps she was leaving it for another person to work on.

I was cruising around the tables to see if there was anything else to work on. There are all sorts of art supplies and things to work on.

There are essays and books and poems to read too.

It is all optional, but I like to take advantage of what is offered. I want to get my money’s worth, and I want to open myself up to new experiences.

I came across this cute bag. It is a recloseable puzzle for travel.

And it is of space. And it is a cartoon. And it only has 100 pieces. I’m there.

Nobody had opened it yet, so I ripped off the top. I’m glad that I don’t have a problem with this. I’ll totally go first at a buffet or a recital. I’m not afraid of claiming something as mine.

I started finding the edge pieces but then I didn’t know how big the finished puzzle was going to be. Would I have enough room? I was sharing the table with a painter. I didn’t want to get in her way. Then I started to see pieces that obviously went together.

My inner squirrel started to take over. What do I do next? Do the outer stuff or the inner stuff?

This is so like my spiritual journey it isn’t funny. Well, actually it is funny. It’s always funny how God works things out and I’m almost always the last to know.

I never have the map. Nobody does. We wander around, like the Jews in the desert, moving from camp to camp, from call to call. We go where we are sent. We don’t know where we are going until we get there.

So instead of focusing on the outside, the limits, I chose to focus on the inside, the images. Make a planet. Then make another planet. With this puzzle, as with life, I found myself heavily relying on words. The names of the planets held me together. I used them as a guide.

At times I felt I was cheating by looking at the picture on the bag.

This is the same person who complains that God doesn’t give me a map.

Here’s a map and I’m balking at using it.

There’s a lot to be understood there.

God doesn’t give me a map because God knows I’d rather figure it out on my own. I’d rather be happily surprised when I see the pattern coming together. I’d rather do it my way.

Also, it doesn’t matter if I work on the inside or the outside, as long as I’m working. It will all come together in the end. God’s got the pattern. It is just to me to work on it, and with it, and trust.

(Written on retreat, 1-18-14, 4 p.m. Finished on 1-20-14)

Wrench

Posted on January 20, 2014 by betsybeadhead | Leave a comment

I had a meeting with a different spiritual director while at the retreat. She is the lady who is hosting it. I scheduled for just thirty minutes in the afternoon. I figured by then I’d be a little antsy and want a break from the whole silent thing.

Last time I was going stir crazy around 2 pm on Saturday. This time, not so much. This time I feel like I’m almost overscheduled. This time I don’t have a four hour block of time with nothing specific to do. Some of that is because I’ve got to keep going into the conference room and check on the prayer bracelet station. I’ve got to tie them and make sure the supplies are stocked.

I feel oddly calm and yet there’s more I can’t quite name. Maybe because I’ve done this, here, before. I brought stuff to work on. I know it isn’t like Cursillo. I know where everything is. I know the schedule.

But I digress. This usually means I’m trying to avoid something. So, let’s plunge on in. The best way to confront a fear is to face it.

She asked me what had I intended for this retreat. What was I trying to get out of it?

I had decided not to intend anything. I think that is part of my problem. I plan, and then either I’m disappointed or I only look for that intention.

I will set an intention before yoga and by the time the class is over I’ve learned something entirely different. I’ve received a different gift, and it wasn’t what I expected.

The last time we were together, my usual spiritual director had asked me how would I feel if I knew Jesus was standing behind a door with his arms full of gifts for me. Would I open the door?

So this lady went with that. She told me to imagine that Jesus has a gift for me right now. What is it?

We closed our eyes and I imagined this.

Here’s Jesus, all smiles, and he has a gift. It is wrapped up in shiny blue paper. No bow. Tidy wrapping job. I take off the paper. I’m pretty excited. This is a gift from Jesus, so it has to be good, right? He knows me better than anybody, and has my best interests at heart. It’s going to be awesome.

It’s a wrench. It is a used wrench, in fact. There’s oil on it. Not on the handle, but on the adjusting part.

Confused? Sure. Crestfallen? Definitely. I’m a bit hurt. What the heck am I going to do with a wrench?

Uh, thanks, but no thanks, buddy. It is this kind of thoughtlessness that is the reason I hate Christmas.

So the director asked me to sit with this feeling a bit. What does this mean? Ask Jesus why he gave me a wrench.

“It is for your heart” he says. To loosen it up. To stop being so tight and rigid. To be more playful, more childlike. To not have so many rules and limitations.

The more I decide how things have to be, the less I’m allowing them to just be the way they are.

It is like a bonsai. The more you force a plant into a certain shape, the less you are letting it grow the way God wants it to grow.

Something about organic and trust is in there. Not resisting. Acceptance. Being open to possibility.

I wasn’t really happy about this to start off with. Jesus should love me as I am, right? This sounds a little mean, giving me a wrench. I felt it was like going up to a friend and saying that she isn’t pretty enough, so here’s some makeup.

Nope, it isn’t that at all. True friends want the best for you. They want you to grow into your full potential. They challenge you. They call you on your BS too.

If I truly believe that Jesus is my friend, then I have to believe that he wants the best for me. I have to believe that this is an awesome gift, and exactly what I need, and in fact exactly what I’ve been looking for but I just didn’t know it.

So, a wrench. Why? I asked.

Because a seed doesn’t grow into a flower unless it is watered. It needs work. The seed is great as a seed. Jesus isn’t saying that I’m broken. He’s just saying that if I want to be better, then here’s the tool, and here’s the part that needs work.

So why is it oily and used, I asked?

Because he’s already broken it in for me. It is ready to go. Smooth action.

Then I get silly and realize that wrenches are used on nuts, which are just beads after all. They are hexagonal metal beads, with spiral holes.

Now I want to make a bracelet with nuts and wire.

But it isn’t about that. It is important not to iconize this. It isn’t about the symbol but what the symbol points toward.

While writing this I got a snack of hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows, and honey graham crackers shaped like teddy bears. I think this is a good start.

(Written on retreat, around 3 pm on 1-18-14)

Bucket at the well

Posted on January 20, 2014 by betsybeadhead | Leave a comment

I’m at a retreat, and the theme of it is the story of Jesus at the well with the Samaritan woman. This is found here –

John 4:4-10 (the Message translation)
4-6 To get there, he had to pass through Samaria. He came into Sychar, a Samaritan village that bordered the field Jacob had given his son Joseph. Jacob’s well was still there. Jesus, worn out by the trip, sat down at the well. It was noon.
7-8 A woman, a Samaritan, came to draw water. Jesus said, “Would you give me a drink of water?” (His disciples had gone to the village to buy food for lunch.)
9 The Samaritan woman, taken aback, asked, “How come you, a Jew, are asking me, a Samaritan woman, for a drink?” (Jews in those days wouldn’t be caught dead talking to Samaritans.)
10 Jesus answered, “If you knew the generosity of God and who I am, you would be asking me for a drink, and I would give you fresh, living water.”

In the retreat, we were asked to put ourselves in the scene. Pick a person or an object, and see things from its perspective. The words we were given were the town, the field, the well, the disciples, the Samaritan woman, bucket, and living water.

The word that stuck out when I was reading that list was “bucket.” What a funny word! Who would ever think of the bucket? It isn’t a character, certainly. But it is. Everything matters. So even though it seemed silly, I worked with it.

We were to think about how we need to nourish ourselves too, and refill from the well that is Jesus.

I’m the bucket by the well. The water is on me, soaking into my wood, slowly rusting my iron bands. I’m glad that the cooper made me so well that I don’t spill a drop.

I’m constantly giving out water, and I’m never drinking it myself.

I love it when I get forgotten. I love it when I’m at the bottom of the well and I’m resting in the water. I love the safety of the rope, ready to pull me up to the bright sunlight again.

Yet I can’t stay in that water too long. My wood will swell. The iron bands that hold me together will corrode past a point of ignoring. In short, I’ll stop being a bucket. I’ll start being something other than useful, something other than needed.

Is that a problem?

What if I go too far, soaking up the water that is God?

I’d love to live in this world. I’d love to stop wading in the ocean that is God and just jump right in.

Well I say that and then I remember that I don’t swim very well. If I was confronted with a hypothetical lake I’d pray for an actual boat to cross it.

I forget that babies breathe liquid. They are liquid. The percentage of water in the human body is the same as the percentage of water on Earth.

There has to be a way to be a mystic in the world. If I retreat fully from the world my husband would have to take on the responsibility of the house all by himself. That isn’t fair.

Jesus didn’t call us to escape from the world. He called us to live in it, to be healers, teachers, repairers. Now, he spent a lot of time alone too. Maybe that is the secret. Do both. Schedule time away, to listen, to replenish, to revive.

How can you constantly give if you aren’t also constantly receiving? You’ll run dry.

In Jewish tradition, water is seen as Torah. Every time water is mentioned it really means Torah. Water is life.

Then I remember my favorite animal is a salamander. It was born in water, but lives on land. It has to stay near water to live. This symbol means more and more now. In order for me to be who I am, I have to stay close to the Water that is Jesus. I have to replenish my soul. Yet to immerse myself fully in that world isn’t healthy either. Salamanders drown. I’d drown.

Balance is key. Return to the well regularly. Remember my roots. Don’t fall in. I’m a little bit of both worlds, all mixed up. Accepting my difference is a good start. I can’t define myself by normal rules.

(Started on retreat, 1-17-14, around 8 p.m. Finished 1-20-14)

Jesus chose everybody who was nobody. So should we.

Posted on January 20, 2014 by betsybeadhead | Leave a comment

Jesus was constantly breaking the rules. He especially broke the purity rules. Nobody and nothing was unclean or unworthy. His arms were wide enough for everybody.

He talked to the Samaritan woman at the well. Jews and Samaritans never talked to each other. He actually asked her for water. He didn’t obey the traditions that had been part of their upbringings.

He touched a woman who was menstruating. This was unheard of. Even today in Orthodox Jewish culture, women and men sit separately just in case a woman is on her period. Even married couples will sleep in separate beds during a woman’s period and for a week afterwards. For Jesus to touch a woman at all was unheard of.

Jesus touched lepers. Nobody touched lepers. To touch a leper is to become a leper. Lepers had to live outside of the camp for fear of infecting everybody.

Jesus didn’t only touch the untouchables, he hung out with them. He hung out with tax collectors and prostitutes. He hung out with everybody who was nobody. He picked untrained people to be his disciples.

Jesus didn’t choose the educated, the upper class, the elite, the well to do. Jesus didn’t choose the best of the best. He chose the leftovers, the forgotten, the ignored.

Jesus chooses us, too.

Jesus chooses you and me. With our embarrassing laugh and weird fashion sense, he thinks we are cool. With our cowlicks and acne, he thinks we are beautiful, just like we are.

And we, Jesus’ chosen, are to do the same. We are to see the beauty in others. We are to include the excluded. We are to welcome the stranger, the misfit, the weirdo.

There are no misfits with Jesus. He loves us all, and we are to extend that same love and acceptance to everyone. In the same way that we are loved and chosen, we are to love and choose others.

(Written on retreat, 1-17-14, 7:45 pm)

New commitment

Posted on January 12, 2014 by betsybeadhead | Leave a comment

I keep saving off Bible verses that I like and want to write about. I rarely write about them though. Sometimes I do, but not nearly as often as I write about other things.

I think there is a connection with this and painting. I have a lot of painting supplies. I rarely paint. I want to, but then I don’t. I don’t in part because I don’t want to mess it up. There isn’t a cut and paste feature on painting when you are doing it for real. Digital is another matter. But putting actual paint on an actual canvas is pretty scary sometimes. I don’t want to waste it. I don’t want to do it wrong.

Analyzing the Bible is the same. This is little me, non Bible scholar me, giving my viewpoint. Who am I to say that this section means this? Who am I to pull these different sections together and point out a connection between them?

Then I also think that I don’t want to alienate people. Not everybody likes to read about the Bible. A lot of people are turned off by religion because of religious people. Too many people have tried to cram the Bible down their throat rather than to offer it as the nourishing food that it is.

Then I see between the lines. I’m trying to talk myself out of this. And then I remember the Jewish concept of the yetzer hara. It isn’t me trying to talk me out of this. It is this force outside of me trying to masquerade as me to get me to not do this.

It sounds a bit crazy. It sounds a bit like hearing voices. It sounds a bit like arguing with myself, and we all know that is a bad sign.

But it is a real concept, and it is really useful to know. It is like having a road map to your mind and finally learning where the dead ends are. Don’t drive over here, you’ll get lost.

So I’m using it as a slingshot. I’m seeing this pushback or inertia or fear as a sign that this actually is something I should do, in fact it is something I must do.

It is kind of like aikido, or at least I think it is. At least it is what I think aikido is about. Use your opponent’s energy against him.

So I’m going to commit to making at least one of my posts a week a musing on a particular Bible verse or section. I was going to say three posts, but then I think that is the yetzer hara doing its evil magic as well. If I commit to three and then have a hard time doing it, I’m likely to give up altogether.

It is just like committing to exercise. If you start exercising and you say you’ll go to the gym every day, you’ll likely get sore and tired and worn out. You’ll get discouraged if you try too much all at once. Best to start out small and warm up to it.

I did the same thing with my blog. I committed at first to posting at least three times a week, with the hidden goal of once a day. I now post as much as four times a day, and that is partly because I’ve found “dead” time to work and how to write using my phone and my Kindle.

It is precisely because of how I’m able to write this often is why I shouldn’t commit to three posts of Bible study a week. I need to do those kinds of posts at a computer so I can cut and paste specific references. I don’t always have time to sit at a computer to do that.

Or, am I making up yet another “rule” of how I should do this? Yet another yetzer hara trick. It will tell you that if you can’t do it perfectly, don’t do it at all. The way around that one is to know that doing even a little of a good deed is better than doing nothing.

So, wish me luck, and I hope you find some good out of my insights that will follow. Pray that I am able to hear and interpret God’s Word wisely, so that we all might be uplifted.

Stamp of approval.

Posted on January 11, 2014 by betsybeadhead | Leave a comment

It benefits the Episcopal Church that I’m not going to get its stamp of approval. I’m pretty out there for them. I actually talk about hearing from God. I am very vocal about radical inclusion. I’m pro- everybody rights. I’m so far out there that they didn’t know what to do with me.

Part of the process of seeing if you are called to be a deacon is seeing if you are willing to submit to their rules and their timetables.

They don’t check to see if you are willing to submit to God’s rules and God’s timetable, which to me seems more relevant. They have confused their paperwork and bureaucracy with God’s power. They’ve substituted themselves for God. This is very dangerous.

I was very angry that I was made to wait three years before the process even began. I wasn’t angry that I was put on hold, for my sake. I get that they need to make sure that someone is suitable before they put their stamp on them. You don’t want some wacko embarrassing the church, after all. You also don’t want someone trying to do something that they aren’t suited to do. It is like affixing a garden hose to a fire hydrant. The force of the water will blow that hose to pieces.

The same thing can happen with people who aren’t called.

I am angry at an institution that doesn’t seem to know how to build up the Body and therefore the Kingdom.

If someone comes to you and says they want to help, and you make them wait three years before you even begin to see if they are suitable in your eyes, then you have wasted a resource. You have wasted a lot of time, and you run the risk of discouraging someone.

Jesus tells us in Luke 10:2 that “The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few.” There are a lot of broken, hungry, hurting people in the world, who need love and care. Why would you make them wait, by putting a worker on hold?

There are so many sleeping people in church. There are so many people who show up every Sunday and don’t even do anything. They passively listen and they get a warm feeling of smugness or perhaps of assuaging of guilt that they have gone to church and done their duty, and that is all.

It would be so much better if they all took that hour and a half and skipped church and went to serve food in a homeless shelter. Or manned the local crisis line. Or walked to raise money for AIDs patients. Or visited people in hospice care.

Or did any number of things other than sitting on their butts, listening to someone say how awesome God used to be way back when in Biblical times.

God is awesome now, and is real, now. And Jesus isn’t here anymore to heal us. That is our job now. We are to pick up where Jesus left off. We are to get up and be Jesus in the world.

The purpose of church needs to be to train the workers. Church needs to be more like a mobile command unit for a war, because it is a war we are fighting. We are fighting a war against depression and hunger and poverty and abuse. We are fighting for all that is good and right. We are fighting because that is what we were made for.

That is why God put us here, to be God in this world.

Instead of saying “How could God let this terrible tragedy happen?” we really need to say “What are we, the children of God, going to do about it?”

Silent retreat.

Posted on January 9, 2014 by betsybeadhead | 1 Comment

I love going on silent retreats. I love making a special time to be alone with God.

And then I hate it. I feel like I’ve gone on a long road trip and I’ve forgotten something. I feel like I’m four hours away from my hairdryer or the book I meant to bring.

No matter where you go, there you are.

And that is the problem. When you go on a silent retreat, there you are. You can’t get away from yourself. You can’t talk to other people to distract you from you. You can’t listen to their problems so you don’t think about your own.

You are stuck.

And that is where the magic happens. You have to learn to live with yourself, and love yourself. You have to learn that this crazy mixed up bag of humanity that is you is loved, by God, completely and totally, head over heels, no doubt about it, loved.

You have to relax into it, this love. It is pretty overwhelming. To know that you, yes you, are beloved. To know that God wants to talk with you and listen to you, directly, no intermediaries, no message takers. There is nothing between you and God.

Everything is stripped away, and all that is left is all that is needed.

Going on retreat is like going to a deserted island, but everything is taken care of. There’s a bed, and food, and things to read, and arts and crafts to work on, and a nice place to stroll.

There’s a whole lot of nothing, and that is everything.

We spend our days just jam packed with noise. We have so much noise all the time we can’t hear ourselves think.

So we certainly can’t hear God.

Sure, you can go on retreat in your house. You don’t have to go anywhere. You can’t get away from God. God is stuck on you closer than a Band-Aid.

But sometimes you need to make a point of getting away. Sometimes you have to leave home to get it. Home has too many distractions. Home is too easy. Sure, you can turn off the television and the computer and you can set aside this time, from here to there, that you will do nothing but listen to God.

Sometimes that works.

For when it doesn’t, you have to go on retreat, with other people, where you all do it together. All together you get on that boat and you head out into the sea that is God, and there is no life raft, or oars, or sail. You are adrift on that sea, with no way of knowing where you’ll end up.

Sounds scary, right?

It is. And it is beautiful, and wonderful, and amazing. And God’s got you the whole time.