5/16/15

Today, Barbara and Fr. Charlie offered a short Pentecost retreat on the topic of, "Is Paul telling the truth when he says we are Temples of the Holy Spirit?" I really enjoyed it for a number of reasons. One reason is that I simply enjoy being around real people of faith, people who don't just talk the talk, but walk the walk as they say. Not having many people in my life outside of St. Philip who are spiritual/religious to talk to and spend time with, I really appreciate the chances like this I do get. It's spiritually nourishing.

Reflecting on today, I'm more convinced than ever that Paul Knitter is correct when he writes, "What Christians have seen in Jesus of Nazareth is a God who creates and is present to the world through relationships, the same kind of relationships that we say exist in the very nature of God" (Without Buddha I Could not be a Christian, 17). The Divine is less a person out there than it is a presence that's personal, and I'm seeing that more and more in my own experience. God isn't a 'God of the gaps' so much as a God of inter-being, of relationships. In fact, the simplest thing we can say about ourselves and God is "we exist through relationships of knowing and loving and giving because that's how God exists" (18).

By now, it seems like everyone knows about my mom's situation. So when I arrived about 10mins early, both Fr. Charlie and Fr. Michael asked me how she was and whether I was going to go to Michigan to be with her. I said that I was planning on visiting for a month in July and that I wasn't planning on going right now unless things got serious/life-threatening because I don't really have the money, as well as the fact that it'd be difficult for me to have that time off of work. And even though the parish is in a bit of a prolonged financial crisis, the first thing Fr. Charlie said was, if I needed help getting there, he'd help me get a ticket. And I could hear Knitter, "God is the activity of giving and receiving..." (19).

Knitter sees God as a 'connecting spirit,' and in one chapter he connects the word pneuma — the Greek word for 'breath' or 'spirit' — to the Buddhist experience of awakening (to inter-being), which is characterized by wisdom and compassion. Having our eyes opened to the interconnectedness of all things naturally gives rise to compassion—by really seeing our 'constitutive connections,' we see our concerns for ourselves in others. Hence the Buddha says, "Searching all directions with your awareness, you find no one dearer than yourself. In the same way, others are thickly dear to themselves. So you shouldn't hurt others if you love yourself" (Ud 5.1). Jesus says, "You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the greatest and the first commandment. The second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself" (Mt 22:37-39).

It really touched me, and I walked into the Paulist Center chapel with that on my mind.

Fr. Charlie began with a brief overview of the experiential and theological evolution of the doctrine of the Holy Spirit, beginning with the spirit of God as the ancient Israelites understood it, i.e., the creative presence of God in creation and our lives, the 'breath' of God in Genesis. Fr. Charlie commented on the etymology of the word for breath, wind, or spirit and how the spirit of God was seen as a creative, life-giving force. God's breath swept over the chaotic waters as God gave form to the earth (Gen 1:1-23); the breath of God gave us life (Gen 2:7); etc. In this sense, our understanding of the spirit of God begins with a knowledge and appreciation of something present and at work in the world that's greater than us; and the early Biblical myths symbolize this intuitive yet embryonic understanding of an underlying connectedness or inter-being that's present and active in the world.

(As a side note, I find it interesting that the Pali word pana, found in places like the first precept in reference to living beings — Panatipata veramani sikkhapadam samadiyami, 'I undertake the precept to refrain from destroying living creatures' — literally means 'that which breathes,' and generally denotes any living being that has breath and consciousness.)

Fr. Charlie then moved on to the spirit of Yahweh, a development in which the presence of God was seen as being imparted to the people of God and working through them, a creative force present in history helping to shape and guide us. It was seen as a special gift, a dynamic entity working through select people in the world (which from the OT perspective is the Jewish people in general, and certain prophets in particular). But this dynamic force is elusive. We can't quite find it. An ancient belief was that to name something, or to know a thing's true name, was to have power over it. But God is beyond our ability to 'name' or control, hence the Jewish tradition of not pronouncing the name given to Moses, Yahweh, 'I Am Who I Am.' In a similar vein, Knitter relates the spirit of God to the Buddhist concepts of emptiness and inter-being, also using the term 'groundlessness.'

Next was the spirit of Jesus, the spirit at work in the lives of the apostles as they carried out the mission of Jesus of making the kingdom of God on Earth a reality after his death and ascension, which from John we can hear was present from 'the beginning.' The spirit of Jesus, the word of God made flesh, is none other than this dynamic force at work in history, combining aspects of both the unconditional love of God (represented, for example, by the story of Hosea and Gomer) and God's relational nature. And early on, through the words of Jesus and the letters of Paul, we see that this spirit of God dwells within us all; and this in turn went on to influence the doctrine of the Holy Spirit that took shape in the 3rd century, giving an even fuller picture of God's presence in the world and our lives.

Here, Fr. Charlie encouraged us to think about and look for feelings, experiences, etc. in our own lives where we potentially saw the spirit of God at work. Were there any ah-ha moments like the ones experienced by John the Baptist or Paul? Maybe something a little more subtle? We were asked to think about it and then pair with another person and talk it over with them. I got James, Barbara's husband, and we took turns sharing our stories.

My experience wasn't as intense and immediate as James', but more of connecting the dots in my life and spiritual journey. I took as a starting point my childhood fancy that I'd move to Oregon someday because of a fascination with a map puzzle piece and all the things that eventually led me here, where I was able to discover God through my experiences at Our Lady of Guadalupe, meeting Dorothy, and becoming a part of St. Philip's community despite all the issues I have with the Catholic Church as an institution. Looking back, I can see a thread (the Holy Spirit?) weaving all of these events and experiences together, events and experiences that led me to the one place I could find God.

After we finished relating our stories, we all reconvened and Fr. Charlie asked us to share a little of what we learned from the other person's story, or from telling our own. One of the things I found interesting, and somewhat surprising, was that James said he felt more comfortable with me after talking with me. It made me think of Knitter's ideas about God, the Divine, being relational, personal. Silence, while good in many circumstances, can often prevent the expression of that. Sometimes, we must open up and share when the spirit motivates. It also reminded me of what Br. Chris said about me being like two people, the quiet one at the beginning and end of my five-day retreat and the more talkative one at the pond. It makes me think that maybe I'm on the right track and should continue working on connecting with God and other people when I feel inspired.

Fr. Charlie then went over the word 'behold,' as in John's exclamation, "Behold the lamb of God" (John 1:29). He said that whenever we hear or read this word in the Bible, it means to see someone or something in a new light. Essentially, it's a word that represents verbally a kind of awakening experience. In many cases, it's an awakening to something that's already there, we just never recognized it for what it was or could be. He told us the story of a family member who everyone had a certain opinion of while growing up — carefree and without a serious thought his whole life — only to have them all see him in a new light after he surprised everyone and read an incredibly deep and thoughtful reflection he wrote about his grandfather during the viewing.

He used John the Baptist as another example, who likely knew Jesus as a cousin before the spiritual teacher and bodhisattva that he was. He had one experience during Jesus' baptism. But in prison, he probably wasn't being shrewd when he sent his disciples to ask Jesus, "Are you the one who is to come, or should we look for another?" He may have worried that Jesus wasn't doing the kinds of things everyone thought the Messiah was going to do. He may have wondered if he missed the boat, so to speak. Jesus, of course, replies, "Go and tell John what you have seen and heard: the blind regain their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, the poor have the good news proclaimed to them. And blessed is the one who takes no offense at me" (Luke 7:22-23). To me, this shows an evolution in understanding of the spirit of God and the working of that spirit in the world.

The idea of seeing Jesus, and in turn the spirit of God, in a new light reminded of something I wrote back in January when I started reading the Gospel of Matthew:

The Sermon of the Mount is a perfect example of [Jesus' soteriological message being more subtle than what people expected]. Many were waiting for a warrior king in the line of David who'd lead them out of oppression through strength and might and military genius. But here we have the 'messiah' preaching the importance of right action and harmlessness, especially forgiveness and righteous (skillful) deeds, rather than shouting battle cries. Much of it reminds me of ideas and teachings found in the Pali Canon (hence my whole double-belonging thing).

And in the Holy Spirit, we encounter the spirit of God active in the world—a spirit in which we're baptized, with its gifts of wisdom, understanding, counsel, knowledge, fortitude, piety, and fear of [the loss of] the Lord; a spirit that, for Knitter, "points more meaningfully to a pervasive energy rather than to a particular being, that energizes many things without being contained by any" (20). And this spirit, that's been with us since the beginning, is a connecting, relational, personal one. Jesus heals through touch and word, imagery that I think symbolizes the relationship between God and us and how that relationship is expressed and unfolds in our lives. It's inter-being in the fullest sense of the word.

So, is Paul telling the truth? As Fr. Michael would say, he's telling the truth as he knows it. And looking at my own life, I'd have to agree. I can look back and see the Holy Spirit, what Knitter terms 'InterBeing,' working throughout my life; and I can see it at work in the lives of others. The Holy Spirit may be difficult to spot because, in many ways, it's hidden in plain sight. But I believe it's always there, dwelling among us.