Meditation at Shale Beach

I recorded this last week when I was at Holy Cross. I had just finished meditating at the edge of the Hudson River and felt like sharing a bit of what that scene is like.

Quick Update from the Monastery

I've been taking a break from blogging, for the most part, during my my vacation/retreat/work at Holy Cross, but I thought I would do a quick note to check-in.

Already this time at Holy Cross has been very special to me. Something about the silences and the overall deliberativeness of life here has been remarkably good for my soul. I feel totally at home and have been resting into the reality of this place. Lots of prayer and eating and meditating. The evening I went with Bede to an "Insight Meditation" group that meets nearby.

I've also been productive. The new version of the Holy Cross website is almost ready to go live--just a few pieces left to finish on the basic website. Then I'm going to really push myself to add some sophisticated CMS (Content Management System) tools to make editing the site easy for non-specialists. I'm also going to add some kind of on-line catalog/shopping cart kind of thing for the book store and possibly a way to see Guest House availability and even request reservations. What could possibly be next after that? How about a social networking site like Facebook, only for Holy Cross Associates and Monks? And did I mention the videos? I've already gotten some great content "in the can"--with the bulk of the interviews still left to do.

I know it sounds like a lot, but actually I've been making rapid progress. Feels good to have creative work balanced with prayer and mediation just about right.

-t

Monastery Sleep vs. Parochial Insomnia

Here's a mystery for you. Why is that when I'm at the monastery I can easily go to sleep at 9:30 or 10 pm and wake up 8 hours later without a hitch, but when I come home the insomnia is on me like a cheetah? If Acedia is the "noon-day demon" (as the Desert Fathers called it) then surely insomnia is the "plague that stalks in the darkness" (Psalm 91:6)*. As soon as I'm at home the anxieties mount right back up again I'm restless with thoughts of all the problems besieging me and mine. I might feel better if I talked about some of them, but alas almost all are far too classified to share here except in the most vague and useless ways.

When I was at Holy Cross this morning I watched the river pass by as the sun rose--sipping my coffee on the Cloister waiting for the Mattins bell. I thought about Siddartha (the book by Hesse, not the historical Buddha per se). At one point the eponymous character spends many years ferrying people across a river. Hesse says that the river teaches him wisdom. Staring at the Hudson as the sun gradually rises--seeing a doe some hundred yards away grazing in the meadow that slopes to that river--I totally understand what he means. The river flows by, and we look at the river and not the noisy, busy waves nor the barges bringing fuel oil to Albany. Enlightenment seems so easy when you are staring at a metaphor at 6:50 A.M. with a good fair trade organic coffee warming your palm.

Back in Toronto, worrying about a dozen things, it ain't so easy. Many years ago when I was getting ready to leave the Monastery after my first extended retreat (Lent 1998) I asked Bede whether it was possible to preserve the mindset created by monastery living out in the conventional world. He replied that the only people he has known able to do it had deeply cultivated meditation practices. A few years later I would meet Susan T. and others whom have done precisely this--but it's hard, very hard. I know from experience that the barrier is not having "enough energy" or time, but rather the willingness to make great and fearless self-sacrifice. In my own case I suspect, secretly, that I choose not to pursue such a peace because it would mean abandoning delusions I'm still quite fond of.

Sometimes I'm tempted to say that being a parochial priest with parish responsibilities works against having a contemplative practice, but I know that's false. The truth is that the only thing that works against having a contemplative practice are our attachments. The problem is that many of these attachments go so very, very deep. It takes great patience and love to penetrate so deeply--which is why even in Buddhism enlightenment in rare. Luckily Christianity doesn't ask so much of us, and we are promised perfection through Christ in some later time. The point eschatology is not fireworks and a moment when we can say "see--I told you so," but rather the promise that given enough time, every conflict that needs to be resolved will be resolved.

One of my spiritual teachers once told me that the reason intractable conflict exists among certain people is that some personalities need to encounter each other in conflict. The conflict is somehow necessary, but that doesn't mean it's helpful, merely necessary! One thinks of those steel balls that collide to demonstrate Newton's Laws.

So is the conflict between a parson and the things that keep him up at night similarly necessary? I know some who say they are. The roof will always be on the verge of leaking. There will never be enough money. There will always be a sermon to write. Yet the anxiety that hovers at the corners of these thoughts seems to be about something else entirely, something that has little to do with roof repair, stewardship, nor homilies. Something about me.

I'm sorry to say I can't push that insight any further tonight. But I do know that I'm home...

-t


*That reading of Psalm 91 isn't reaching as far as a glance might suggest--the various difficulties listed in psalm 91 ("the arrow that flies by day," "the sickness that lays waste at mid-day," etc. were actually understood, in Hebrew, to be particular demonic entities and not such poetic ways of saying random violence, fever, et. al.).

Contemplative Fire part 1

I spent Thursday afternoon/evening and all day Friday at a "Contemplative Fire" retreat being held at St. Paul's, Bloor Street. Contemplative Fire is a movement that has emerged in England out of the Fresh Expressions renewal they are experiencing in the Church of England. Contemplative Fire itself is interesting is exploring the contemplative path of Christianity with people using meditation, body prayer, lectio divina, liturgy, and other techniques. It's more broad than many similar movements (like Centering Prayer) and more comprehensive. "Companions on the Way" of Contemplative Fire join small groups that meet on an on going basis for listening, prayer, and discernment. In all of this I heard the echos and synthesis of dozens of different methods and techniques that have been floating around church circles for many years. The unique thing here is that they are being taken back to the mainstream Christian experience and made more accessible by being packaged together into a whole experience.

The leader of this retreat (actually, more of a "time apart" since we all went home Thursday night and returned in the morning) was Philip Roderick. (You can read his blog here, btw.) Philip is a very gentle guy with a contemplative heart and skillful at leading these kinds of events. What I especially appreciated was his willingness to let things develop spontaneously. There was much less planning of, say, the liturgy than you might expect. This would have driven some folks I know crazy, but we had broad outlines as various pieces and it all worked out just fine. Personally, I like worshipping in that style!

One of the pleasant surprises was the music. At several points in the event Philip led the group in simple chants. Sometimes this meant singing along to pre-recorded music. Other times he led us a cappella or using a Djebe (borrowed from COTM) or even with a Hang Drum.

Never heard of a Hang? Me either. It's a very rare instrument related to the steel drum. Unlike the steel drum, however, it is played with the hands and can make music in other ways than simple percussion. For example, drawing you finger along it can make it ring like a Tibetan Singing Bowl. Touching or thumping different areas produce different notes along a single scale (in this Philip's case, Dorian). Very cool. I recommend this you tube demo of this unique instrument:


So imagine your meditation leader using something like this to create contemplative worship!

Personally, my "time apart" was rewarding. Someone asked me "is it working?" I replied, "I'm not sure how I would talk about whether prayer was 'working.' But if you mean, 'are you having a good-feeling of God's presence,' I would say that I haven't had any big epiphanies, but lots of small consolations. And small consolations are all I need these days." So I'm glad I went and also glad that I took part in some of the planning and execution. I hope that there are more events like this in the future.

-t

Quiet, peace, and the deep and vigorous life...

From Bede's blog, this nice post...

But the best moment of Thanksgiving for me was in the evening, after supper, when I walked around outside for a bit and experienced a few moments of the intense and almost magical silence that sometimes comes to this spot on major civil holidays. It was so still: there was no traffic on the highways on either side of the river, no boat traffic, either. It was between the tides and the Hudson River had stilled as well, and its surface was a mirror that reflected not only the lights from the buildings on the other side but also the most brilliant of the stars, and that's something we don't often see. In that profound quiet and beauty was the promise not only of peace but of deep and vigorous life. It was a moment of knowing that God never forsakes us and that God's comfort and strength is there just in reaching out for it. (source)

-t

Noticing

Note the words on the embroidered cushions: "Then Moses said, 'I must turn aside and look at this.'"

At this morning's Contemplative Eucharist I was struck, again, by how much that service can change week-to-week. This morning I noticed (and then let go of) the fact that my voice was calmer and softer and the words came easier than usual. Someone commented afterwards that it felt "graceful" to him. I also noted that after I received Eucharist my body seemed to feel different. I've noticed this before, but I'm not sure to what degree this is simply a by product of eating and drinking that I simply have never noticed before, or whether it is something related to the special properties of the sacrament. I'm also not sure that this peculiarly Western and Modern kind of inquiry about the cause of the feeling is particularly useful. The simple fact is that when I consume the sacrament I feel a change in my body (if I'm ready to notice it, that is).

Incidentally, the Bishop approved continuing to use this experimental rite when I saw him last week. So I think in Advent I may offer it on Saturdays or some other time more convenient to working folks.

-t

Intensity

Kind of intense day spiritually. The Contemplative Eucharist had unusually deep silences. As usual with meditation and contemplative practice the key is to observe without judging, so my observation is simply that the silences felt deeper and more peaceful even than usual. I wonder whether the fact that this group is settling into a way of being together on Wednesday mornings is a factor. That is, the novelty is wearing off and the real work of sitting has begun.

Then there was an intense pastoral care session with a person experiencing acute grief. I'm pretty experienced helping people process grief, but it doesn't make it any easier on my end, since in order to do that work it is necessary to go to the grief place oneself.

And now it's only time for lunch! Wow.

-t

Time and Timelessness

Bede's post this week is a very interesting discussion of those moments when the barriers between this moment and the next or this person and the next seem to dissolve. He describes feeling this way about time itself on his recent trip to Turkey.

I think these experiences are pretty common. I think, in fact, that they happen with both frequency and regularity. But in our radically secular culture we are trained to ignore them. And if they are strong enough that we have to notice them, we almost never, ever mention them to another person. People in our society don't talk about that sort of thing. You have to be someone pretty quirky, like a monk or a teen, to do that. But these experiences of awareness of the spiritual dimension of things are part of life. People who do brain research can even point to the places in the brain where they happen. They are part of the gift of our human nature; God pulling us to that place where boundaries aren't what we thought, and where we are really one with each other and with the world as it is and as it was. Quite a thing for an old man and a young man to share. (source)

Bede also talks about the role of meditation in noticing such things:

I first began noticing it in meditation. Meditation is an old and familiar experience to me, and the technique is part of my ordinary consciousness: attend to your breath (or whatever you're using), when you notice that you've drifted away, bring yourself back to the present, and do that as many times as necessary, with a gentle but firm touch. So if I'm sitting there meditating and find a thought of, say, the city of Sardis in Turkey coming into my mind, I just label it as "thinking", and bring myself back to the present. The trouble is that I'm no longer sure that Sardis is part of the past. What if that ancient city, those ancient ruins, are actually part of my present? This isn't anything that I'm thinking my way into. It's just happening. I can't seem to muster up the energy necessary to regard Sardis as a "distraction", because it seems very much a part of now. (source)

The Bridge in West Cornwall
I've noticed this sort of thing myself from time-to-time. For instance, a few years ago I was visiting my therapist at the time, Mary, up in a place called West Cornwall, Connecticut. It's a beautiful New England village in a small river valley. It is best known for an old-fashioned covered bridge across the Housatonic River. I was approaching this red bridge walking along the bank when I noticed--I mean really noticed--the sight and sound of the river flowing over the rocks in the river. Suddenly I felt as though I was a part of that river and that it was part of me. I sat down on the bank and stayed with the feeling until it began to fade.

It's a wonderful thing to notice, and I think Bede is right that pretty much everybody has these moments. It's too bad we are conditioned to ignore them, as they do reveal something very important about the nature of things.

-t

Meditation as the Craft of Thought

Deirdra Good (NT prof. at General Theological Seminary in NYC) points out this interesting book on her blog:

This astonishing book was the subject of one of our workshops: Mary Carruthers, The Craft of Thought. Meditation, Rhetoric, and the Making of Images, 400-1200. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998. Pp. 399. ISBN 0-521-58232-6. $59.95....

For medieval monastic culture, meditation, and not rational argument, is the path to proper remembrance. And for monks as for artisans, the notion of "craft" implies the proper use of the body as well as a craftiness of mind. So, this is a book about meditation as a "craft" that presupposes the mastery of all of the mind's "tools" that are appropriate to the soul's own special vocation, which is to employ proper books, "places" and buildings, and images (all of which involve as well the participation of a pure and well trained body) in the quest to know God. (source)

So much of the work of Christian spirituality is about proper remembrance--it makes sense to see meditation as the craft that makes this possible. I'm struck that we don't teach this nearly enough in church on Sundays. I mean, meditation is often one of the next things Christians are exposed to in their developing spiritual lives once they look beyond Sundays, but we don't look at it much on Sundays. Sometimes we'll have silence in liturgy or sing in a contemplative manner. But that isn't really teaching meditation, per se.

Once I gave a children's sermon at SMM in which I taught them about meditation and even did a five minute sit with them. Perhaps I should do something similar at COTM...

-t

Is Meditation Good for You?

The NY Times is running a piece on the rising popularity of meditation in therapy. A quote from the article:

One person who noticed early on was Marsha Linehan, a psychologist at the University of Washington who was trying to treat deeply troubled patients with histories of suicidal behavior. “Trying to treat these patients with some change-based behavior therapy just made them worse, not better,” Dr. Linehan said in an interview. “With the really hard stuff, you need something else, something that allows people to tolerate these very strong emotions.”

In the 1990s, Dr. Linehan published a series of studies finding that a therapy that incorporated Zen Buddhist mindfulness, “radical acceptance,” practiced by therapist and patient significantly cut the risk of hospitalization and suicide attempts in the high-risk patients. (source)

Some of the interesting work being done in the therapeutic use of meditation is being done at Toronto's CAMH hospital, BTW.

Of course meditation works to relieve various mental and physical ills! That's been known for thousands of years. What's funny to me is the impression that these psychologists have such a limited understanding of how this works. For instance, they are having a hard time figuring out what conditions contra-indicate this kind of treatment.

I can answer part of that. Never try to teach meditation to someone with a Dissociative Disorder. That is, someone who withdraws from reality into some kind of alternative. Meditation will just exacerbate their problems!

-t

Spiritual Partnership

My attention was attracted to this story about two American Buddhist teachers, Michael Roach and Christie McNally, a man and woman, who are living together in a yurt in Arizona. What makes this remarkable is that they say they are celibate but have also vowed to never be more than 15 feet apart. Even more interestingly, he insists on keeping his monastic vows.

Male-female spiritual partnerships are not unknown in Tibetan Buddhism. In order to practice "Highest Yoga Tantra," for instance, an aspirant must give up his monk vows (including celibacy) and begin having very ritualized sex with a compatible adept. This kind of Tantra is a real fascination for Westerners, of course, although I don't think it's common nor nearly as "fun" as it sounds to most people. It's a very disciplined endeavor in real life--one of the main practices involves maintaining a high level of arousal for long periods of time (like, hours) without orgasm. But, again, one must give up being a monk in order to practice this form of Tibetan spiritual discipline.

An anthropologist might say that this phenomenon is a kind of "transgressive sacrality"--that is, a religious practice which derives it's efficacy from it's violation of religious taboo:

Transgressive sacrality’ within a religious tradition is something completely different [from heresy] for, though violating the interdictions and observances of the tradition in question, it does not seek to replace the latter. Instead it lays claim to a superior degree and second order of spirituality derived precisely from the violation of socioreligious interdictions whose general validity and binding force is not at all questioned by the transgressor. In fact, transgressive sacrality cannot operate without the existence of such binding and powerful taboos, and often presents itself as an esoteric form of the mother-religion, the latter serving as the exoteric prerequisite and recruiting ground for it. (source)

The idea of transgressive sacrality is often linked with the "crazy wisdom" tradition within Buddhism--esteemed teachers violating the rules as a kind of pedagogy. Living a Paradox as a way to break through spiritual materialism.

But this couple is not doing HYT (Highest Yoga Tantra)--but instead are trying to model a kind of male-female spiritual partnership of a different kind. They describe their reasons for doing this thusly:

One, he felt that it was impossible to keep secrets in this age of Google Earth. Two, he decided that if Buddhism was really going to succeed in America, it would have to be more inclusive of women.

“If these ideas that will help people are going to make it in the West,” Ms. McNally said, “it can’t be a male-dominated culture, because people are not going to accept that.” (source)

They are transgressive not because they are having sex (which they say aren't), but because they are challenging traditional notions of gender and relationship within the Tibetan Buddhist tradition. Monks aren't supposed to do this kind of thing.

But their practice — which even they admit is radical by the standards of the religious community whose ideas they aim to further — has sent shock waves through the Tibetan Buddhist community as far as the Dalai Lama himself, whose office indicated its disapproval of the living arrangement by rebuffing Mr. Roach’s attempt to teach at Dharamsala, India, in 2006. (In a letter, the office said his “unconventional behavior does not accord with His Holiness’s teachings and practices.”) (source)

Yet there is something undeniably appealing about this kind of practice. It's marriage times ten--an exercise is attending to someone other than yourself!

They eat the same foods from the same plate and often read the same book, waiting until one or the other finishes the page before continuing. Both, they say, are practices of learning to submit one’s will to that of another. (source)

Marriage is a spiritual discipline, and I think looking at these kinds of extreme examples from other traditions can be helpful for understanding Christian marriage. For one thing, if gives us a way to understand intimacy that is not necessarily sexual.

-t

Today's Prayers

The first trial of the Contemplative Eucharist went very well. I only had one person there ("and all the angels" as we used to say at St. Mary Magdalene's)--but that's fine. I might start advertising it at some point, but I'm content for the moment. My experience with meditation groups is that they are best developed organically over time.

And "time" is the other issue. We say this Mass at 8:30 A.M. on Wednesdays. It's possible I might get better attendance at the lunch hour or even in the afternoon. Something to think about.

I decided to follow Bishop Yu's suggestion and use the more conventional form of the Sursum Corda. It has the advantage of being memorized by most church-goers. The ventilated Eucharistic Prayer worked MUCH better for this liturgy than any of the prayers in the BAS, but it definitely requires a lot of spiritual discipline on the part of the Presider. This is not the sort of liturgy where you can cruise through on auto-pilot, that's for sure. I think I'll get better at it with familiarity.



Here's how I set up. We sit on cushions on the floor in a circle around an altar made from a ceramic tile with a corporal over it. The patten and chalice set were a gift from my mother--she picked them up in France. Note the Tibetan bell for marking the end of silences. On the little shelf structure is a diptych of Mary with Child on one pannel and Christ on the other. A single candle burns in front of it. To it's side is a small incense pot with a hot coal. Under it is a bowl with Holy Cross Incense, of course.

After Communion I did some e-mail, had some coffee, and then said Morning Prayer. Now that I'm by myself I can really cater the Office to my needs. I usually sing most of it (it's good practice and it just feels better to chant it). And today I incorporated the Holy Spirit Litany from St. Augustine's Prayerbook. This little book of devotions, BTW, is a great place to find little devotions and prayers to say when you want to spend quality time with God. Anyway, since I had the time I also read, as part of the Office, both the long and short versions of Marie de l'Incarnation biography found in Fr. Reynold's helpful book--For All the Saints. Today is Marie's day on the Calendar, so this was a right and proper thing to do for her. Sometimes I just really love praying, I must say. I guess I chose the right profession.

-t

Contemplative Eucharist Approved for Trial...

As regular readers know, since coming to COTM I've been developing a "Contemplative Eucharist" for use with a very small congregation that gathers on Wednesday mornings. That group expressed interest in meditation and contemplative practice, so it was natural to find ways to adapt the Holy Eucharist to this style. Initially, that meant stripping down the BAS Eucharistic Rite to it's bare essentials, but I've been wanting to take it further.

A while back I posted a request for advice on the APLM Listserve. What came from that was some very encouraging and helpful suggestions. I also read a few articles and talked to few other experts. Finally, I asked for permission from the Bishop and he gave me permission to try the rite until All Saints, at which point he wants a report on how it went.

In many ways I've got the example of the so-called "Rite III" Liturgy in the American BCP ('79) in mind: it provides an outline for the Mass with the barest essentials. The rubrics specifically say that this Rite is not for use at the principal Sunday service and that it requires careful preparation. So it is with the Rite I've been developing. Here's what it looks like so far (and special thanks to Fr. Juan Oliver and the other participants in this discussion).

Please note: this is NOT a generally "authorized" Rite of the Anglican Church of Canada. I've got special permission for trial use. I do not want the Bishop to call me into his office for encouraging people to flout the rules, ¿entiendes lo que quiero decir?

GATHERING RITE:
(Extemporaneous, short bidding prayer invoking God's presence.)
(Silence ended with bell.)

PROCLAMATION OF THE WORD:
(Gospel reading from the Daily Eucharistic Lectionary)
(Silence ended with bell)
(Bidding to pray for the church, the world, and ourselves)
(Silence ended with bell)
(The Peace is exchanged in the usual fashion)
(Bread and Wine are placed on the corporal after a silent thanksgiving prayer by the Presider)

CELEBRATION OF THE EUCHARIST:
P: God is with you
A: And with you
(brief silence)
P: Hearts above
A: They are with God
(brief silence)
P: Give Thanks
A: Right and Just
(brief silence)

PRAISE
P: Praise the Source of Life and the Word eternal, and the Spirit renewing the earth.
P: God Creates. God heals, God makes holy.

WONDERFUL WORKS OF GOD
P: We specially thank and praise God today for ____ (extemporaneous praise relating to the day, season or readings)

WORDS OF INSTITUTION
(The vessels are at least touched at the corresponding parts of the narrative)
P: On the night of his arrest, Jesus took bread, broke it and shared it as he said, “Take, eat: this is my Body. Do this to remember me.”
(brief silence)
also the cup, sharing it saying “Drink this, for this is my blood spilled for all. Do this to remember me.”
(brief silence)

REMEMBRANCE
P: We Remember the arrest, the torture, the cross; we remember the tomb, the glorification, the Spirit, birthing a People.

INVOCATION OF THE SPIRIT
P: Source of Life, send your Word and Spirit on these offerings and on us, to be the Body and Blood of Christ.

DOXOLOGY
P We join the whole Universe in praise and thanks to the Source, the Word, the Spirit.

OUR FATHER
(Fraction in silence)
(Communion in silence)

SENDING FORTH
(Silence ended with bell)
(Presider prays extemporaneous post-communion prayer)

P: Let us Bless the Lord.
A: Thanks be to God.

How's that? What do you all think? I think it's a great start. Interestingly, one of the versions of a "Contemplative Eucharist" that I found (written by Aloysius Pieris, SJ) was even less wordy. Yet I'm not sure I can go quite that far in a parish setting (versus, say, a retreat group or a monastic group).

-t

Bede on Holy Week

I commend Bede's blog to you for an account of the Triduum Services at Holy Cross this year. Here's one of the fine moments in that story:

Early in the meal I turned around to get some page of the Liturgy that I needed and there was the full moon - the Paschal Moon - rising over the River. I stopped and looked at it for a while. To my left was a young woman whom we have known, along with all of her family, for many years, and she said quietly: "One of my earliest memories is of seeing the full moon through that window." And I thought: "Oh, my." I have been here for a lot of years, but I was a well-formed adult when I came here. I just thought for a while what it would be like to have always had this place in your consciousness. What does it mean to a life if one of the first things you remember is the moon through the Monastery window? I had a moment of very deep gratitude for being able to carry someone through life like that. (source)

Bede has a remarkable way of being present and available to the moment. I once asked him how that could be maintained "in the world," and he said that it is very difficult to maintain outside of monastic community, but it has been done. It seems that the people that we know capable of maintaining this kind of sensitivity are very disciplined meditators.

This morning at our contemplative Eucharist I had a thought about this. I think much of the talk about meditation is really unnecessary. I'm not even a huge fan of giving much instruction to guide novices as they sit. I think the real key is simply sitting down with the intention to be aware. The preconceived notions of what that awareness will feel or look like--descriptions passed down to us from teacher to student about about non-attachment to passing thoughts and so forth--ought to be self-evident from the practice. "Don't just do something: Sit there!"

My contemplative heart misses the days when I could just sit and adore God. I'm desperate to get to Holy Cross soon. Yes, I know I could "sit and adore" anywhere, but places, liturgies, and people all have ways of helping me return to my best self.

-t

The Present Moment

Bede's blog is particularly good this week. Flooding in the church is fodder for a discussion about the nature of spiritual attentiveness to the present moment....

So if, in retrospect, I go back to that moment, what can I recover? What was the Present Moment, if I had been willing to be there? Well, there was a lot of frantic dashing about, some of which was useful and some of which was merely using up excess energy. There was the feeling of tension and anxiety. There was some feeling of hopelessness while the powers of nature roared outside our door and we couldn't do anything about it. And, if I'm right, there was a rather cosmic chuckle behind things at the thought that we could build a Church on this hillside and forever escape the powers that govern the law that says that water flows downhill. And there is also that freedom that does come with practicing the present moment: the sense that the best and most lasting things about life are behind and beyond and within all that is going on in this present moment. The present moment in fact can liberate or bind us, and sometimes it does both. But, as the old hymn says: "Underneath are the everlasting arms." (source)

-t

Contemplative Eucharist

The Wednesday Morning Informal Eucharist is morphing into a Contemplative Eucharist--which really seems to suit the spiritual needs of the four of us regulars, anyway. This morning as I did it, I had a nice sustained awareness of my body as I celebrated. I noticed how my heart beat went up as a I spoke. I noticed the tightness in my shoulders and a dull ache in the left part of my chest, etc. During the intercessions (which I led in a free-form way with my eyes closed) there were rapid changes--lots of comings and goings. At one point I had the sensation of colours--especially purple for some reason. Having the liturgy to hold to, though, kept my intentionality centered. This is spiritually the good stuff--nice dark soil. Stay tuned to see where this goes. This morning we speculated about adding another Contemplative Eucharist during the Holy Seasons (Advent and Lent) on Saturdays or some other convenient time.

A thought that occurred to me during all this was about when you find a sense of being rooted or grounded you simply see everything quite differently. It's as though your eyes become wider and you can see more of what you are looking at.

One of the books I really need to read is The Contemplative Pastor by Eugene Peterson. But I think I pretty much know 90% of what he's going to tell me. As with most things, a recipe is much less important than a cultivated connection between hunger and the desire to cook.

A character on the show Northern Exposure was an obsessive chef. He asked his students feverishly, "WHY DO I COOK?" A brave underling ventures, "Because you're hungry?" "Hungry?" he works himself up even more, "Because I'm hungry? ... YES! I cook because I am HUNRGY." So true.

-t

The Monastery Experience

I'm writing this from Holy Cross Monastery. I'm using one of the computers in the library. Yes, they have computers in the monastery. They even have a relatively sophisticated computer network that helps them carry out various functions of their common life (like manage guest house bookings and the ~16,000 volume library and the incense business and on and on). Anyway, so I'm writing this from a computer in the monastery library with a nice view of the Hudson River below. There is a rolling green lawn that slopes down the River. Turkeys graze there tentatively, glancing up at the monastery buildings between bites of insects.

I think the best way to describe life in the monastery is to say that it is simply an effort to organize a community around the intention to know and love God. The brothers do this by organizing their common life and individual practices around ancient means to that end. They attempt to balance the four foundations of Benedictine spirituality: Prayer, Work, Study, and Leisure. More than anywhere I have ever lived, here there is some harmony in daily living. We pray, we eat, we do the little jobs that we are asked to do, and we do this in such a way that we have time for everything in our day. In helps that this happens in the context of extraordinary natural beauty.

I started off my time here on Friday with a meditation retreat. We were practicing the discipline of silence, and it was neat to notice just how simple my life became when I only had to do what I had to do--praying, meditating, eating, resting. But the feeling goes way beyond simple relief from the burden of "normal" life--when you live this way you see things and experience things that change you. They were always there, but it becomes possible in holy living to know them. This is nothing less than the truth of the world offering itself to us at every moment. It's an incredible thing to listen to what the sun rising over Hyde Park has to tell you about time or what your body has to tell you about the evening time.

There will be a lot to do when I get back to Toronto. But really only is one thing necessary--to know and love God. If I can manage that, by shaping my life habits according to my best intentions, everything else will follow--the growth, the kingdom, the happiness, and everything else desireable.

One of my most imporant ordination vows (one that I renewed when the Bishop "Invested" me with the responsibility for COTM in his chapel at the Diocesan Centre last week) is "holiness of life." What else could possibly meant than this, to live in a holy manner? And that's not a vague thing. It's a crystal clear reality that you can feel in your bones if you allow yourself to do so.

I've been coming here to Holy Cross for something like 10 years. I was even married here. And everytime I come it gets a little thinner to me--a little more transparent. And through that thinness I can see deeper into the reality of the holiness I seek behind the monastery, and that's the real treasure of this place to me. The buildings and the chant and the Rule and the way of life point the finger of intention to something grand and powerful and life changing. I'm just going to sit here and let that truth change me....

-t