floating

Merry Christmas! We’re having a quiet holiday but it's tough to write when everybody is home, so I’m giving myself another hour with this and then I’m going to give up and post. Apologies for any incoherences caused.

The biblical texts for the exercises these last two weeks have been about Joseph, whose primary role in the Bible is to do whatever crazy thing the angels in his dreams tell him to do (marry a pregnant girl, pack up the family and go to Egypt, etc.). The idea seems to be that if I get this spiritual stuff right (like Joseph, like Madeleine Delbrêl), then I too will be able to discern God's plan, and from there it's a question of obedience. Not that following God's directions is guaranteed to be easy or comfortable, but in submission to a higher power there is at least some relief from uncertainty, from indecisiveness, from those constant nagging questions of conscience. God, like a loving father, will always set me on the right path...if only I'd let him.

Sigh. I dunno... Lately I think God is: the incomprehensible infinity of all-that-is. And God's plan is: this one timeline we find ourselves in, with all its complexity and contradictions. And the future is: an infinity of possible others, over which we have only the tiniest amount of control. Short of a mystical experience, I just don't see myself becoming convinced that I’m capable of downloading and executing specific divine instructions. 

On the other hand, I could sorely use a hefty dose of Joseph’s drive to get up in the morning and get right to work. 

Water metaphors kept coming up in my meditations about this. The serenity of floating on a deep pool: relaxing, breathing, feeling held at the surface. The joy of being carried by a river: not clinging to the bank or trying to swim upstream but going with the flow, watching the world go by. Also that scene in Spirited Away where a giant stinky blob is revealed, after being given a very thorough hot bath, to be a river spirit clogged with layers and layers of mud and debris. (This, not coincidentally, after we had a meeting with a guy at the bank about retirement planning. Ick.)

And as frustrated as I get with the biblical stories sometimes, I keep being struck by how much we need them, and others like them. Not because they are true in a scientific or even in a historical sense, but because they are true in the mythical sense of “something that has never happened, but is happening all the time” (a definition of myth attributed to Joseph Campbell). Could it be true that even today, under the radar, beneath the news of money and power and manipulated facts and violence justified by religion there is, somewhere, a baby who will become a prophet whose teachings will become a movement of nonviolence that will save us from ourselves? Keeping this story alive in no way guarantees its success. But it is an act of hope, a spark of light against all the darkness.

My favorite nativity scene from this year's exhibit at the Swiss National Museum is a diorama set under glass in the wreckage of a gothic church. The scenes this year are grouped by setting, and this group’s description explains that "...the birth of Christ represents a time when a fresh start is possible, when something new can rise from the ruins of the past." I love the image of a ruined church sheltering the Holy Family…the circularity of it, the failed dream as a necessary ingredient for the newest hope. May it be so.

grayscale

The Communauté de Grandchamp prays in a converted barn.

I had an appointment this morning, which meant I wasn't home for my 10:00 prayer time, so I decided to try it in situ, first outside waiting for the Landesmuseum to open and then - when a full class of third graders streamed out of the museum and invaded my meditation spot a.k.a. park bench to have their morning snack - sitting at my favorite workplace at the museum library. I was watching some little birds hop up and down the bare branches of the tree outside and musing... so cool and how privileged am I? and could it possibly be that this is what I'm *supposed* to be doing???

The appointment was my second and final consultation at the Laufbahnzentrum, a kind of guidance counseling center for the city, which exists mostly for the kids trying to make their way through the complicated flowchart that is the Swiss education / career system, but they also have a program for elderly people like me who are trying to figure out what to do with what remains of their working lives. I was lucky to get paired with a coach who, in addition to dispensing the required practical advice, also managed to be complimentary and encouraging in a way that didn't feel forced or condescending (as it so often does, to me, which I do realize could well be me and not "them"). She kept referring to my "backpack" - I guess in English we'd say "toolkit" - which contains all my life experiences and abilities, and at this point in my life does indeed have some stuff in it. And said that just because my life might go new direction doesn't mean I need to toss the whole thing out and start collecting from zero. This hit a nerve; she's right of course, and I think this was something I was subconsciously anxious about. The practical result of our two meetings is that I'm supposed to be looking into doing an apprenticeship as a cook, a plan B in case the whole church thing doesn't work out, which on the one hand seems crazy and on the other...definitely has some arguments to recommend it. So, maybe?

In other news, I spent the weekend at a retreat with some GCL folks, offered in lieu of the group's traditional day-long Advent meeting. It took place at the Communauté de Grandchamp, the female and Swiss counterpart to the male and French community of Taizé. It was a silent retreat (should I have known this? I didn't.) with silent meals with the community, silent listening to the nuns singing their liturgies four times a day, silent meditation sessions with our group, and silent walks along the river toward Lake Neuchâtel. 

This could have been relaxing. But. I read a tip last week that if you set your phone to black-and-white mode, it will be more boring to your brain and you'll spend less time looking at it. Worth a try, I thought. And somewhere between not being able to see the colors on my photos and, the aggressively gray weather we've been having, and all that time in my own head (one is supposed to encounter Jesus in there; this has yet to work for me) I got to feeling like the color was draining out of my life completely. Heavy, and not in a good way.

But I'm not at at all sad I went. How crazy is it to even get opportunities like this? The thing I'm taking home from the retreat is something our retreat director, Sr. Marie-Elizabeth, said at the end. This is not in fact verbatim, and of course it was in French and/or German, but for the purposes of this discussion let's say it's a direct quote.

You have to have priorities. And people assume that here I'm going to say "the highest priority is being present with the Lord!" No. First priority, get enough sleep. Second priority, take care of your body. Meditation, in our community, comes in third - critically important, for sure, but terribly difficult without sound mental and physical health. Then fourth: at least once a day you should spend time with another person in an entirely non-transactional way. And fifth, work. And whatever you're doing, try to stay receptive: hear, see, smell, taste, feel, sense what the people and the world around you are offering, aside from and beyond the purposes you've already assigned to them.

Sound advice. And I think not a thousand miles away from what Jung was getting at in my last post. And if I were in charge I'd make a parallel list for my church community. People assume that our highest priority should be our service to the world: liturgy, religious education, access to salvation. But imho, the most important person in the church is the not the priest, it's the custodian. Our first (at least financial) priority should be the care of our physical space, with respect for those we inherited it from and hospitality towards those who are using it now and will use it in the future. Second comes building relationships with and caring for each other, not as potential task-doers but as whole people. Perpetuating our religious traditions, however important, comes third. And whatever we're up to, we must also endeavor as a community to stay receptive: on the lookout for God's kingdom, not as we assume it will appear but however and wherever it breaks into this gray and weary world.

Thank you for coming to my Advent sermon.

acceptance

day breaks in Altdorf

Yes, late again. Chris was sick this week, and also I abandoned the family temporarily to spend the night in Altdorf so I could go to the 6:15 am Rorate service on Tuesday morning, which felt terribly indulgent but was such a magical interruption to daily life. And the résumé writing took longer than anticipated. But with some very helpful help from a friend, I got it done, and I sent it off this morning, along with the four other documents they requested. One more small step in that process, check. The phrase that keeps coming up is, "well they won't reject you for *this*!" So we all assume that eventually they will reject me for something, but let's see how long we can hold on to this bull ride, ha.

In spiritually exercising news, this writing project may not exactly be going to plan but the actual prayer/meditation time has been...fruitful. Being lovingly present to my own thoughts and feelings and formative experiences seems to be doing me some good. Go figure. 

The intention for the week was "I ask for access to my longing for God," and the prompts felt very...specific. Monday: write down your name and speak it out loud. How does that make you feel? [Uncomfortable.] Tuesday: and what about the name "Jesus"? [Ambivalent.] The Bible passage for the week was John 1:35-39, 

The next day John again was standing with two of his disciples, and as he watched Jesus walk by, he exclaimed, “Look, here is the Lamb of God!” The two disciples heard him say this, and they followed Jesus. When Jesus turned and saw them following, he said to them, “What are you looking for?” They said to him, “Rabbi” (which translated means Teacher), “where are you staying?” He said to them, “Come and see.” They came and saw where he was staying, and they remained with him that day. 

Friday: "You get to have your own experience with Jesus. How is that for you?" So I tried to imagine myself in this odd scene and go with Jesus to where he is staying. Where would Jesus stay? In a Motel 6, I decided, or some kind of a commune that in my imagination suspiciously resembled North Dorm (iykyk). When we walk in nobody seems to care particularly about hailing Jesus as Lord and Savior, they sort of just move over so he can have a seat on the couch. Someone asks me if I'll help cut up the vegetables for dinner. 

I think my longing for God, if indeed I got some access to it, is like that. It's longing for a sense of security, of being in good company, of feeling useful, of feeling understood. Of feeling appreciated - but appreciated for something that I really am or want to be, not something someone else thinks I am or needs me to be...

I finished Unlikely Companions this week, and it's coloring my experience here, in a way that I probably can't communicate well yet, but here's an attempt. Becker's discussion of Jung's discussion of Ignatius's spiritual exercises ends with Jung's interpretation of Christian salvation:

If I can say that I am alive simply to join the flow of transforming life from its origin to its goal, then the universe is there for me in a new and far deeper, freer and more fruitful way. The Contemplation is a vision of wholeness - of the self, we could say, in its cosmic dimensions. All things are related to the source from which I came, all flow in the same energy that empowers me and moves me to grow in my conscious and responsible individuality. It is no longer 'my' creation I see, full of my projections, but the creation of which I am a part, as I live with all other things in relation to the whole, to the source and to the goal.
...
As long as I see my own projections, myself, in my world, I can only love myself, and even that is not a true, life-giving love. I can only seek my own security and meaning through my ego-personality and power, which leaves me caught in the vicious circle of my own unconscious patterns that block my ability to see myself. I have to see the other as other - my projections must be gone - in order to love. And if I do succeed in emptying myself and my universe of my unconsciousness in this way, I will be conscious and free enough and disposed to love.

Here we have three dudes conversing across the centuries about a patriarchal religion, and doing an elegant job of it! But what I'm thinking is...beyond the privileged dynamics of projections and power there are also the flip sides - internalized expectations and disempowerment - which also get in the way of our free disposition to love. Do the contemplations that help us detach from the former also address the latter? I don't know. Deep thoughts, to be continued. Now it's time to: make pizza. Which is its own form of salvation.

Life, everywhere

Ever year my choir sings at the adorable Christmas market in Albisrieden. I took this picture in 2023, when we had snow for the occasion. 

It's the second week of the spiritual exercises and I'm already behind on the blog posts...hmph...but I truly did have a busy weekend of choir concerts and...well, not writing. 

This week I have another writing assignment, too: composing an ausführlicher Lebenslauf for my am-I-sane-enough-to-work-in-the-Church psychological assessment in Feburary (due December 12, because ?). A lebenslauf is a résumé / CV, and I had assumed that ausführlich meant something like "detailed" - as in, don't try to limit it to one page or anything, we want all the info...but *apparently* in this specific context it means "in prose," as in I have to describe my personal and professional life using complete sentences and coherent paragraphs. Please wish me luck! 

But first - and maybe not not because I'm procrastinating on that project - last week's deep thoughts:

Each day of these spiritual exercises starts with an intention, and the intention stays the same for a whole week. Week 1's was:

Ich bitte Gott um Zugang zu meinem tiefsten Kern. Ich bin geliebtes Kind.
I ask God for access to my deepest self. I am a beloved child.

I wondered why I had to ask God for access to something that is already, like by definition, mine? And why I have to be a child in this picture? And can I address God and not mean something essentially male? With some, um, let's call it "contemplative editing," my intention became:

Liebes Universum, ich bitte dich um Beistand und Begleitung beim Zugang zu meinem tiefsten Kern. Ich bin mit allem verbunden.
Dear universe, please support and accompany me as I journey towards my deepest self. I am connected to everything.

Week 2's was:

Ich bitte Gott, dass ich seine Gegenwart in der Natur oder durch Menschen erahne und erfahre.
I ask God that I may perceive and experience His presence in nature or in the people around me.

That "or" is strange. But that didn't bug me. What did was this: This one time in college, I tried taking a karate class. The workout room was on the second floor of a shiny new athletics complex. The instructor told us to "root our feet deep into the earth" and I cynically thought huh, my feet are at this moment nowhere near any earthy roots... Similarly, as I was trying to pray about finding God in nature I looked up and saw...my couch, and our bookshelves, and out the window the buildings across the way, and the construction site beyond those. My long-suffering houseplant is going to have to do a lot of work if he's the only thing around here that counts as "nature"... And yes I can go take a walk in the woods, and undoubtedly I should, but the carefully managed city forest is hardly untouched wilderness. I think if I'm going to get anywhere with this spirituality thing I'm going to have to perceive God even in the holy mess (sin?) of this very-much-human-built environment. So my prayer became simply:

Möge ich das Leben in allen Dingen finden.
May I find Life in all things.

So the Christmas market in Albisrieden is tiny - maybe 20 stalls - but has everything you could want, from handmade gifts to sweet treats to the obligatory bratwurst stand, and a surprising variety of glühwein options (the second concert is - at least for the choir - always better than the first). And it takes place under the watchful eye of the old reformed church, which is white with "ALLES WAS ODEM HAT LOBE DEN HERRN" (Psalm 150:6: Everything with the breath of life, praise the Lord!) in all-caps above the door. 

I love this. And: "praise the Lord!" evokes images of exactly what we do inside that church, which is sing cheesy Jesus songs, but if everything with the breath of life can do it, it must mean more than that, right?

Which brings me to something that keeps coming up, a quotation from Albert Schweizer that I first encountered as set to music by Helge Burggrabe.

Ich bin Leben, das leben will, inmitten von Leben, das leben will.
I am life that wants to live, in the midst of life that wants to live.

Here's what I think: God is the universe, alive to its core, and to praise this aliveness is simply to live - as fully we can, which for me means without so much damn anxiety.

These meditations have indeed left me feeling a bit more enlightened and calm and hopeful and less anxious than usual. Though also, at random intervals, brittle and terrified. Like on Saturday night after the market when Daniel said he wasn't feeling well and wanted to go to bed early, and he did, which never happens, and I was convinced he was going to die. Good news: he didn't. Praise God?!