12/29/15

Wow, the National Catholic Reporter, a popular (albeit liberal) Catholic newspaper has named Greg Bourke and Michael DeLeon their 2015 persons of the year for their role in the SCOTUS case that ruled same-sex marriage a constitutional right, as well as for being vocal about the challenges and discrimination they face as a gay couple within their own religious community. I can't say I'm not a little surprised. I'm sure it'll upset some and put the NCR squarely in the cross hairs of the uber conservative USCCB, if they're not already. But I think it's a pretty bold move that reflects the voice of many rank and file Catholics, one that'll hopefully help broaden the institutional church's painfully outdated understanding of family and human sexuality sooner rather than later. People like Greg and Michael, and many others like them, are exceptionally brave for sharing their struggles and taking a stand, and I think they reflect the future of Catholicism and other religious institutions like it if they're to survive, let alone establish the kingdom of God on earth.

x-mas at our lady

12/24

I preemptively thought that Christmas without my mom was going to be difficult, whether I was alone, in Michigan, or with Annie and her family, so I scheduled a short 3-4 day stay at Our Lady for Christmas back in August. I left early Christmas Eve morning. I wasn't in any real hurry and took my time driving through the countryside, arriving about 10am. It was cold, grey, and rainy, which mirrored how I felt inside. Still, it was good to be back in such peaceful and familiar surroundings, and I found myself reminiscing about visits past.

I arrived in time to watch the monks decorate the 15ft+ Christmas tree in the chapel, then sat in the library and started reading Bernard Bangley's modernized translation of The Cloud of Unknowing while I waited to check into my room. For a Catholic text composed in mid-14th century England, I was surprised by how similar it is to many of the Buddhist meditation manuals I've read from the Thai Forest tradition, which tend to be less theoretical and more practical, focusing on things like sense restraint, constant mindfulness, and techniques such as the use of a short meditation word to maintain one's concentration. In its simple yet profound language, it's obvious that the unnamed author was an accomplished meditator. I sat pondering what I'd read as I tried to let the peace of the monastery wash over me.

I went for a hike after settling into my room, which this time happened to be the one directly beneath the one I'd stayed in last time. The trail was wet and muddy, and the closer I got to the top, the darker and foggier it became. When I wasn't worrying about a werewolf jumping out of the shadowy fog and eating me, I was thinking about The Cloud of Unknowing and contemplation in general, how the experience of nibbana, awakening, union with God, or whatever you want to call it isn't something you can intellectually understand, nor something that you can physically see, smell, taste, or touch. It's not something that's easily put into words, either, because it's a reality that transcends our normal, everyday experience of the world and how we perceive that world to operate. It's truly a mystery.

That's why mystics tend to talk in symbolic language, language that points one towards it and how to experience it for oneself. And mystics of all traditions seem to agree that you don't cause it, all you can really do is remove the obstacles in your mind that obscure it and open yourself up to the experience, or at least the possibility of that experience. You have to learn to be silent, deeply, internally silent, and rest in that silence, forgetting the world and yourself, and continually incline your mind towards that transcendent reality. You just have to keep focusing through the darkness, that proverbial cloud of unknowing, to the light on the other side, the luminous mind that's "defiled by incoming defilements" (AN 1.49-52), the "spirit of God that dwells in you" (1 Cor 3:16). We're often frightened of the dark, of the unknown, yet the darkness is where the magic happens.


12/25

It's frustrating in many ways being Christian and contemplative, because if God exists, if God is real and present everywhere, why is it so hard to see God, to hear God, to touch God, or be aware of God? I think it kind of makes sense that you have all these stories like Adam and Eve and whatnot, because they're trying to explain what it's so difficult, why there seems to be this barrier to experiencing something that should take no effort at all. Reading the Cloud of Unknowing, the author describes it as a cloud of unknowing, this darkness that you have to love through. From our POV, our level of being, God is incomprehensible, nothing you can intellectually grasp or see, but still there to be experienced by those who long and love into that unknowing, that darkness, whether you connect to it, it connects to you, or both. It's frustrating sometimes, though, being in the world and having everything bombard your senses so that God seems so far away. I'm trying to think about God and be open and aware of existence, of beingness, and then I'm thinking about work, I'm thinking about my girlfriend, I'm thinking about a TV show that I've been watching, or a random song gets stuck in my head, and it just drowns out everything else, everything spiritual. But sometimes, when my mind is quiet enough, like when I'm on a long retreat, I think I catch a glimpse of it, I think I understand, but I'm just not sure yet.


12/26

I spent a lot of time staring at this empty page and stressing over what to write until I realized that I don't have to write anything at all. Writing shouldn't be a chore; and if I don't have anything to say, I don't have to say anything. It's a liberating thought, really. Whether in school, at work, or just hanging out with friends, it feels like we're constantly pushed to do something, say something, even when we don't want to. So much so that the pressure to do something carries over into almost every moment of our lives, compelling us to feel anxious whenever we're idle, like there isn't enough time in the day to do all the things we have to do. To make matters worse, today's culture, influenced by the popularity of social media, encourages us to always have an opinion, something to say about something just for the sake of saying it. But sometimes, I don't have anything to say. And how freeing it is to realize I can just rest in that silence. It reminds me of that passage I read at Open Sanctuary a while back from Recollections of Thomas Merton's Last Days in the West:

[B]eing attentive to the time of the day: when the birds began to sing, and the deer came out of the morning fog, and the sun came up... The reason why we don't take time is a feeling that we have to keep moving. This is a real sickness. ... We must approach the whole idea of time in a new way. We are free to love. And we must get free from all imaginary claims. We live in the fullness of time. ... The whole thing boils down to giving ourselves a chance to realize that we have what we seek. We don't have to rush after it. It was there all the time, and if we give it time, it will make itself known to us. ... There is, in all this, a sense of the unfolding mystery in time, a reverence for gradual growth.

12/26 (2)

Lying in bed, contemplating God as the nameless author in The Cloud Of Unknowing suggests, I got lost within a train of thought. While the author discourages thinking as a means of understanding God, I was having trouble keeping my thoughts, my concentration, on something I can't see, hear, smell, taste, touch, or mentally envision; but then a line from Evelyn Underhill's essay came to mind, "For he is thy being, and in him thou art what thou art, not only by cause and by being, but also he is in thee both cause and thy being" (112-13), and I began wondering how the darkness of unknowing could be a mirror reflecting such a truth. It's a difficult idea to comprehend. But the more I thought about it, the more I was reminded of the pure Mind of Zen, the monistic substance of reality, in which awakening is simply Mind recognizing itself, divine nature partaking of divine nature, creation becoming conscious of itself.


12/27/15

Three days isn't nearly a long enough stay. Just when you get into the swing of things, the silence and the schedule of the monastery, it's time to go. I left early to beat the traffic and because I wanted to attend mass at St. Philip. I missed everyone there, and I remembered that Fr. Michael said it was going to be his turn this time around, his first on the Feast of the Holy Family. Alexis wasn't there and they needed an extra hand, so they asked me to help be a server. Afterwards, I met up with my friend Chris for lunch, and on the way home it began to snow. It was a good day, and something about it made me think that I'm exactly where I need to be right now. I just need to trust in that.

12/7/15

At tonight's Discipleship Training group, Fr. Bill had us do a gospel testimony, asking us to pick out and discuss a passage that was meaningful to us in some way. I was paired up with Dominique, who went first and used the parable of the sower from Mark, which was suggested by The Way. That passage didn't really speak to me, however, and I had trouble thinking of a single passage off the top of my head that did, so I ended up talking about the Gospel of Matthew as a whole, about how I'd read bits and pieces from the Bible before but it wasn't until I decided to sit down and read the Gospel of Matthew all the way through that any of it became meaningful to me.

While it was obvious that the gospel was written for a predominantly Jewish audience and trying to legitimize Jesus as the coming Messiah, I was quickly impressed by the content, which on the face of it seemed rather simplistic but also contained a depth I was eager to explore. From the sermon on the mount to Jesus' warnings about being a spiritual hypocrite, I was inspired to continue reading. And the more I read, the more I was inspired to learn about Christian spiritual life, to live as Christ did, and to be a lamp of skillfulness for others to see. I saw the meaning underlying the stories, the truth/Dhamma reflected in them that I'd somehow missed all these years.

I also shared with her my appreciation of Pier Paolo Pasolini's The Gospel According to Matthew, which itself is a testament to the power of the gospel. After reading all four of the gospels all the way through, Pasolini was inspired to make one into a film. And despite being a Marxist and an atheist, and whatever political motives he had for doing it, Pasolini succeeded in making one of the most faithful and reverent film adaptations of a gospel narrative ever made. Apparently the Vatican newspaper L'Osservatore Romano even goes so far as to describe it as "the best film about Jesus ever made in the history of cinema." That's quite the praise.

12/2/15

At B- tonight, Fr. Michael started out with the idea that we often don't recognize our own poverty, and how being 'poor in spirit' isn't necessarily a physical trait. He said that we have to name our poverty so that we can be open to the gifts God is trying to give us. Spiritual growth really happens when we're cornered and put into a difficult place, a place of darkness, referencing St. John of the Cross. But this darkness is paradoxically full of light, because it's out of this darkness that we gain a stronger sense of the presence of God in our lives. It's a process of death and rebirth, like the parable of the grain of wheat:

Amen, amen, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains just a grain of wheat; but if it dies, it produces much fruit. Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will preserve it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there also will my servant be. The Father will honor whoever serves me. (John 12:24-26)

Switching gears somewhat, Fr. Michael talked about combating fundamentalism. He said that we often approach fundamentalists by debating with them when in actuality living a powerful spiritual life is a more effective witness. Then he read the readings from that day and had us reflect on them. He had an interesting take on the first part of the gospel reading from Matthew:

Jesus left there and went along the Sea of Galilee. Then he went up on a mountainside and sat down. Great crowds came to him, bringing the lame, the blind, the crippled, the mute and many others, and laid them at his feet; and he healed them. The people were amazed when they saw the mute speaking, the crippled made well, the lame walking and the blind seeing. And they praised the God of Israel. (Mt 15:29-31)

The people in the procession, in offering "the lame, the blind, the crippled, the mute and many others" at the feet of Jesus, are offering up their weaknesses. And that's a pretty radical image when you think about it. Rather than offering up sumptuous foods and riches, we offer up our weaknesses and God heals and gives us strength! This led into a discussion about suffering and how a lot of spiritual growth can come out of times of great suffering. I think suffering can help by clearing away our comforts and cutting through our illusions about life, leaving us naked in a sense. And when we're in a place where we can be more mindful and reflective, we can see things as they really are and more easily let go of what isn't skillful/necessary.

It's not the suffering itself that's important but our response to it. Dorothy offered a story about a friend of hers who experienced a lot of misfortunes and suffering in a relatively short span of time, and her prayer/mantra was, "What can I learn from this?" It reflects an openness of heart, a poverty of spirit, non-attachment. It's as if life is screaming, "Let go! It's not that serious! It's not that important!" To develop that kind of attitude, though, we have to confront our greedy tendencies and our self-centredness, not to mention the conditionings of capitalism that compel us to become invested in accumulation, a sense of ownership, individualism, financial and legal responsibilities, etc.

The more we build up and hold onto, the more we invest in and cling to what we have, the harder it is to see through that, to see through the allure of sensual pleasures and the machinations of our ego. We need to put down/let go/lose these things, or at least our clinging in relation to them, to be free to move beyond them and turn within and find God/nibbana in the darkness, silence, emptiness.