Breathe Deeply

I practice a routine called "Stretch and Pray" first thing most mornings. Murray Finck, the author of a little book by this title, gives guidance for a series of stretches and prayer positions that help get the accumulated stiffness and aches out of the body. This is a good way to get centered to start the day - appreciating life, turning attention to God; thankful for this new day and mindful of the needs of others.. Very importantly, along with each stretch and prayer position, Finck counsels the practitioner  - "don't forget to breathe".

Seems obvious, of course, that we shouldn't forget to breathe. After all, inhaling and exhaling air is a basic necessity for life.  But I find that remembering to breathe deeply can help turn attention to the fact that I am alive and for this I am thankful.  The words for breath and spirit are very interconnected in Hebrew and Christian spiritual traditions.  To breathe means we are living and our breath is a gift from God; something we have in common with every living being.

The phrase from an old hymn comes to mind, "Breathe on me Breath of God, Fill me with life anew"

I have been with several loved ones during their last days and hours on earth and have noticed how shallow their breathing became as life ebbed away and they "gave up the ghost".

These scattered thoughts came into my mind the other day when we got an email from an old friend and colleague from our long ago days in Vietnam.  Bill Herod, who has lived in both Vietnam and Cambodia for many years, has great compassion for the people of Southeast Asia and has dedicated his life to service and peacemaking.  I copy his short reflection here with his permission:

      "Years ago in Viet-Nam, I was helping out at the little hospital in Tam-Ky after a ferocious battle. The     place was overflowing with casualties. 

     Suddenly, a nurse and I saw a man rushing toward us carrying a young woman. She was unconscious, but still breathing.  We put the 17-year-old on the ground and began CPR. As the nurse did the compressions, I started mouth-to-mouth. 

     An odd calm settled in as we went through the procedures. I filled her lungs with my breath, then felt the breath rush out against my cheek.

     After a few moments, the nurse sat back and said, “She’s gone.”  “But she’s still breathing,” I protested. “No,” the nurse countered, “you’re breathing. She’s not.”

     Whose breath was it I felt on my cheek? Hers? Mine? Yours? It was ours. All of us are inextricably interconnected. We are surrounded by birth, life and death. We all breathe, but whose breath is it? It is ours and that of all those who have gone before and all those who will follow.

Each breath we take is part of the whole mystery of creation. Breathe with care."

Bill Herod
Sen Monorom, Mondulkiri, Cambodia

My aunt, Minerva Aaker, took her last breath on March 15 this year at the age of 95 - the last of all my uncles and aunts. Here she is with my sister Jean and me a year ago.

Just two weeks later on March 28th, our grandson, Colin Aaker, took his first breath as he came into this world in Albuquerque, New Mexico.

For everything there is an appointed time ... a time to be born and a time to die...                  Eccleiastes 3:1

Colin with grandma Judy

Genevieve's advice

We recently spent a weekend in Amarillo in the pan handle of Texas - think drought, strong wind, flat land and the odor of feed lots.  The reason for the visit was to spend time with an old friend, Carolyn Kelly, whom we first met many years ago in Peru. 

One afternoon we visited Genevieve Olson Miller, a 95 year old widow who lives alone in a small house on a farm about 30 miles from Amarillo.  Out at her farm that day the wind was blowing great billows of dirt into the air, bringing to mind images I have seen of how that part of the country looked on an average day during the dust bowl back in the 1930s.

Genevieve was born and grew up on a farm near Oslo, Texas - a town settled by Norwegians in the early 1900s.  Back in the first decades of the century ads were published in papers in the North enticing Norwegians to visit and buy land in Oslo in order to establish a prosperous Norwegian community and congregate with the local Lutheran church in the area.  Now the population is much reduced but I understand there is still a small Lutheran church in Oslo.  My grandfather, Olaf Aaker, went with a neighbor by train to Texas to check it out - about 100 years ago.  Luckily he didn't bite on the sales pitch and came home to the rich soil of his Minnesota farm.  That was the longest and only major trip he ever took.  

Genevieve is a well read and engaging personality.  Upon entering her house one is struck by the large number of books piled high on tables and stacked on book shelves.  She keeps up on theology, politics, environmental issues, and current events - local and global.  Within the first minute of our conversation she was into a discussion about water and the dire situation the country is facing given prolonged droughts and the depletion of the aquifer.

She had just read Lester Brown's latest book,  Full Planet, Empty Plates: The New Geopolitics of Food Scarcity (2012).  She needs a magnifying glass to read these days, but she said she finished reading this book in four hours.  I have read some of Lester Brown's books, but have not read this one nor have I been good at keeping up with global issues recently -  Certainly I would not be able to compete with Genevieve's reading program these days. 

After about an hour of conversation Genevieve invited us to partake in coffee and a piece of delicious homemade chocolate cake and continue talking around the table.  She is very distraught about the dismal level of civil discourse in the country at present, and the lack of long term thinking for the common good. 

I told her I am preparing a talk on the topic of living our faith boldly in daily life in the modern culture.  I asked her advice on how I might broach the subject.  With hardly a pause she suggested I might consider Martin Luther's explanation of the eighth commandment.  Then she proceeded to quote it from memory, just as she had learned it some 80 years ago in confirmation class.  Wow!

The 8th commandment is ....

You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor

What does this mean?  (Luther's explanation)

We should fear and love God that we may not deceitfully belie, betray, slander, or defame our neighbor, but defend him, [think and] speak well of him, and put the best construction on everything.

A bit of an updated translation of Luther might read like this:

We should fear and love God, so that we do not lie about, betray or slander our neighbors, but excuse them, speak well of them, and put the best construction on everything they do.

If we followed this commandment wouldn;t we be in a better place politically and religiously in this country?

In a recent article about the ten commandments Pastor Peter Marty wrote, "However feebly we may grasp the commandments, they are worth fresh attention in our congregations and households.  We can keep them from becoming artifacts of a distant past."

Genevieve certainly gave me something to think about and I went back to re-read and think about the ten commandments, something I haven't done for a long time.  There is much value and practicality for daily life in the wisdom of the ages, even though many people in the post-modern age don't know much about the ten commandments.  Or care.

Indeed, I found much to think about and appreciate in Genevieve's wisdom and advice.

 

Genevieve

In the Silence

This week we went to a place called Flathead Lutheran Bible Camp here in Montana.  It is an incredibly beautiful retreat center set on the shores of a gorgeous lake, framed by immense snow-capped mountains.  Such places prompt a movement within us as we say things like, “awesome” or “isn’t this beautiful?”  We search for words to form a prayer of appreciation.  But often we don’t find our words to be adequate.  

In the summer this place is filled with the sounds and movement of hundreds of campers and staff, making it a joyful and active place to nurture young people in the faith AND experience lots of fun – accompanied by the sounds of clapping, talking, singing, laughing, squealing, and prayer – even loud praying, and maybe even crying. 

But this week was different for our small group who gathered for an “Adult Spirituality Retreat”.  We had the place to ourselves and we were there, at least in part, to set aside some time from the loud sounds and demands of the world – at least for a couple of days.

So in the first session on Monday morning a dozen of us sat in silence for twenty minutes. That doesn’t sound like much, does it?  But, have you tried twenty minutes of intentional silence in a group lately?  In a normal setting, say a worship service, just a few minutes of silence makes many people uncomfortable. 

This was a prayer method called “centering prayer” in which one is prompted to pray without words, trying to brush away the distractions of the “to do” lists or other concerns circulating in our minds. 

Praying without words?  That sounds counter-intuitive to conventional approach to prayer – for we usually pray with words directed to the divine presence asking for help, intervention, direction, or giving thanks.  We do all the talking and not much listening.

During those hours we experienced silence together as well as quiet meditation on solitary walks – (several walked the Labyrinth).  After the time in centering prayer I asked the group members to comment on and talk about the experience of silence. Some talked, but at least two participants later said the experience was such a deep and personal time with God, they had no words – in fact they didn’t want to talk then.

We had among us some who are “experienced prayers” and others who are shy about praying out loud.  One session was a meditation on Romans 8:26-28 where we read that “we don’t know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words”.  Intuitively we know this to be true.

Later our friend Janis Hansen, who attended the retreat sent this poem:

PRAYING

 It doesn't have to be

the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones;

just pay attention, then patch
a few words together and don’t try
to make them elaborate, this isn't
a contest but the doorway
into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.

 ~ Mary Oliver, from her collection: "Thirst," (Beacon Press, 2006)

 

 

The Wood Bank: Faith in Action

Last August I wrote a post titled "Why I need to keep involved in the needs of the world".. It is about Father Harry Neeley and the wood-bank ministry he started here in Montana, a project in which I do some volunteer work.  You can see the piece by clicking on 2013 to the right and go to August posts.  

This is a bit of a follow up.  A story and video report on the Tri Parish Wood Bank has been posted on the website of the Episcopal News Service.  You should be able to see it by clicking here:

 http://episcopaldigitalnetwork.com/ens/2014/03/27/wood-banks-unique-ministry-warms-those-left-in-the-montana-cold/. 

The author also posted it on their Facebook page here:

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Episcopal-News-Service/260131260715544 

Father Harry, who is now over eighty years old and works hard at this project every single day, is a good example of putting faith to work for those living in poverty..

Where has all the humor gone?

We worshiped at Gold Hill Lutheran Church in Butte (Montana) yesterday where we heard a good sermon about the Lutheran take on baptism and the need for daily repentance and renewal.  A good Lenten homily, but rather sobering.

The pastor at Gold Hill has a good sense of humor though.  He is Tim Christensen, the same one who gained national - maybe world - attention when a video of him went viral a couple of  months ago.  We caught it several times on network national news. It was put on YouTube as well.  By Monday evening it had something like a million u-tube hits.  (not sure of the number, but lots) 
You can see it here:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EbqVPt8zzWQ

 It turns out Pastor Tim pulled a bit of a 'hail Mary' play to show his love for the 49ers football team as reported by Mashable.  His favorite team, the San Francisco 49ers, were in a playoff game that day.  For those of you who don't follow professional football - the National Football League plays almost all of their games on Sunday and the starting time of games coincides with traditional church time in a large part of the country.  It's the reason many would give for not going to church, I guess.  Millions follow it "religiously".

While the short sermon and NFL passion were real, Tim wanted people to know it was all in fun, and after he made his hasty exist, he returned to the sanctuary and did a full worship service with liturgy and communion.  So, most people just got a good laugh out of it.  

But not all.  By Tuesday he was getting reactions from people around the country.  People called the church or put comments on Face-Book calling him some rather nasty names - said he was an abomination, sacrilegious, a disgrace, (and worse) etc, etc.  They were not interested in talking about it and listening... Mary, the secretary who took lots of the calls, said, "they mostly screamed into the phone". 

I've seen surveys asking non-church goers why they don't go to church.  Often one of the responses is that people in the church are too critical and humorless.  Well, apparently there's some truth to that in some quarters of the church. 

Talking to Pastor Tim yesterday, I asked him how that criticism affected him.  He said it put him to tears a couple of times, especially the criticism from people who said they were Christians.  His family told him he really needed to stop even looking at the comments.  However, he didn't get negatives from either his congregation or colleague Lutheran pastors.   "Over all it was about four positives to one negative on the calls", he said.   

Which brings me to the point about humor. I have been thinking about humor and laughter lately after I caught a little bit of a conversation on radio the other day. A scientist who studies the brain was talking about the positive health effects of laughter and humor.  He made the comment that laughter is not mentioned much in the Bible... He said only 29 times in the old Testament - and most of those were negative - like sarcasm and such.  I didn't check to see if that is a fact. I had never really thought much about it.  He also said it is not clear from the Gospel texts if Jesus ever laughed.  I have to think he did, as least the scriptures record the words Joy and Blessed a lot (sometimes blessed is translated as happy). 

An example:

These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full. John 15:11

I guess if we are full of joy we would be bound to laugh, right?

And I like this verse from the Old Testament:

Go, eat your food with gladness, and drink your wine with a joyful heart, for it is now that God favors what you do.  Ecclesiastes 9:7  (NIV)

What do you think?  What part does humor and laughter play in Christian life and worship?  

Having a good laugh with the grand kids

What to do about Lent?

The word Lent comes from an Anglo-Saxon word meaning springtime.

Lent has crept up on me again.  It starts on Ash Wednesday, March 5th, and continues for forty days after that.  

Though I can say that Lent is a season I look forward to, it is also  a season I am  never quite ready for.  I have some inner struggle about what to do about Lent- Should I fast? do a retreat? more intentional prayer?  good works?  give generously to good causes?

 I believe in all of these as worthy spiritual practices, but do them imperfectly and somewhat inconsistently.  Lent gives me a chance to do some of these practices with more intentionality - Luckily I have someone to accompany me and keep me on track, my good wife, Judy, besides a small group of fellow believers that will meet each week during Lent.

Again this year our friend Bruce McNab, an Episcopal priest, has written a short piece that helps set the framework.  Here are a couple of paragraphs from our church newsletter. 

"There’s a modern trend to pooh-pooh fasting and abstinence in Lent and insist that it’s better for Christians to “take on” something worthwhile rather than to “give up” something we’d be better off without anyway. I’m not trying to pick a fight with progressive contemporary clergy. More power to them. (Who could object to more good deeds being done by believers?) But I want to make a case for abstinence, no matter how many additional worthy works you might also want to take on during the forty days before Easter.

In the sixth chapter of Matthew, which is the gospel for Ash Wednesday, Jesus speaks about alms giving, prayer, and fasting—three regular practices of pious Jews. He assumes that his hearers are going to be engaged in all three; he doesn’t say “if you give alms,” or “if you pray,” or “if you fast.” He speaks of “when you give alms…and pray…and fast.” None of the three is optional. We also hear Jesus telling his followers that “unless they deny themselves, take up their crosses, and follow him,” they cannot enter the Kingdom of God. Fasting and self-denial go hand-in-hand as traditional Lenten disciplines.

Self-denial is not a form of masochism. Self-denial is essential if we’re going to follow Christ on the steep, upward way that leads to life. All of us have appetites, don’t we? Not just for food and drink, but for more money, a nicer car, a vacation place in Arizona (!), thicker hair, or a thinner waistline. We want stuff. For most of us, the stuff we want is innocent enough in a moral sense. But unbridled self-indulgence is unhealthy, even if the things we want are not evil in themselves. Giving in to our every whim turns us, in time, into utterly self-centered creatures, enslaved to our appetites. Jesus says that unless we deny ourselves we cannot be his disciples. We cannot enter his Kingdom."

 Some good thoughts to ponder and then act on. So, Judy and I have decided on our Lenten fast.  In fact I'm looking forward to it.  What about you?

In Montana we  have lots of snow as Lent begins, but Spring will be here by Easter (we hope)!

Change:

  

Last week-end we visited Grand Canyon National Park in Arizona.  

As we walked the rim trail we paused to look out at the amazing vista of colors and shades of light on ancient rock formations, the same scene that has entranced millions of visitors for over a century and probably some Native Americans who were here before us.

What struck me were the almost incomprehensible numbers of years it took for erosion to form this magnificent natural wonder.... counted in the billions of years.  We heard that this geological change is still going on ... the canyon grows deeper by about the width of a sheet of paper each year.. 

We stopped to gaze out in wonder just as my Great Aunt Ella Henning did 110 years ago... right at the grand Tovar Hotel, which was under construction when she visited in 1903! We marveled at the same sight from the same spot... though over a century of time separated us.    

This is what Aunt Ella wrote in her journal.  She was traveling by train and on this portion of the trip she had come from Albuquerque overnight into Arizona. The train route into the Grand Canyon had just been in place for two years - what she probably thought of as a very modern technological development.  It is interesting that we happened to stay at an old 1930s Route 66 motel in Williams, a small town she passed through ....

July 8, 1903:  

A little after noon we changed cars at Williams for the Grand Canyon, passing over a distance of about sixty-three miles.  The scenery was much similar to that we saw before reaching Williams, but not a living thing nor a single house was in sight, except in one place, I saw a team before a wagon.  This was near a mining station.

          We arrived at the canyon around four o'clock.  Such a grand sight, I never saw.  I had never for one minute imagined it to be what it really was.  The great variety of colors in the huge stone walls with the rays of the setting sun falling on them produced a grand effect.  The canyon is thirteen miles across and one mile deep.  This is where conception of size cannot be formed by mearly looking at it.  I found that out, when after supper we started to descend the trail.  We walked down and down the trail, and each time we looked up, the rising cliff above seemed no higher than before.  O my! It was hard work to get to the top.  The moon was shining full upon the canyon walls long before we reached the top.  It was a beautiful scene, and the cool mountain breeze was delightful.

          We left about nine o'clock the next day, July 9, and returned to Williams where we again changed cars, leaving there about two o'clock.  

As I thought about it, a life-time is such a speck of time in the grand scheme of the ongoing creation of the earth.  I can easily feel insignificant and small in the face of such grandeur, but at the same time I am filled with awe and appreciation for life.  Ella's words express the same feelings and wonder as we felt....  viewing the sunset and sky above, the vast cavern before us and the forests surrounding us...  Psalm 8 comes to mind:

When I see your heavens, the works of your fingers; the moon and the stars that you have established: What are human beings “Alors je pense, Qu’est-ce de l’homme?” — Fr. “Then I think, what is man?”that you are mindful of them? Mortals that you care for them?

It is true that the grand canyon was formed by the forces of nature over millions of years, but the capacity to appreciate and reflect on its grandness is a here and now God-given human capacity.... including our natural inclination to wonder about change and how we fit in this world.

We passed through the park almost as quickly as Ella did, but we, just as she, paused long enough to marvel at it all... I voiced a prayer of thanks for those who have preserved such places for succeeding generations ..

What changes prompt you to stop and ponder?

 Here I am, sitting near the same spot where my aunt Ella viewed the canyon in 1903.    Also the below postcard view. Little of it has changed.

 A postcard several years after Ella's visit & most likely several years before the Grand Canyon became a National Park in 1919.