It seems whenever we ignore suffering, we are forced up against it. Take Haiti — even with all the charitable efforts, the country remained one the poorest places on earth. But that goes essentially ignored until a massive earthquake strikes and the world is forced to face that a large part of a county's population is now homeless and without medical help, food, and water. One huge natural disaster (requiring immediate attention) piled on top of one already huge human disaster (that never received adequate attention).
It must be very frustrating for the people who have lived in and traveled to Haiti on charitable missions to realize that so much of the good they did is now buried in the rubble. Their hospitals, schools, churches, and sanctuaries have been destroyed. Many of the people they were able to help are now dead.
Talk about feeling punished by God... imagine living your entire life in abject poverty in a crime ridden, corrupt country and then, without warning, the city crumbles at your feet and you are left with no loved ones, no home, no food, no water, no medical care, nothing.
Who is to blame? God? Voodoo? Corruption? Human disregard? Is blame even relevant? Have we come face to face with the alter ego of the Creator — the Destroyer? What will He create in us out of this destruction?
From our sanctuaries we pour money into the Red Cross, the Salvation Army and telethons. We feel so helpless and guilty. We fear we could be under rubble ourselves one day. We count our blessings and give thanks and praise. We ask for an explanation. Silence...
We follow the story in the news. The media gives us doses of fear and dread until they know we need to move on to the sentimentality of the tales of dramatic rescues (they are well aware we need to hear happy endings).
We give the media control over our fears and hopes so that we get a balance of both and are not overwhelmed by any of it. We can only suffer vicariously for so long before we weaken.
We are not the ones living this hell. We are not, right this moment, wandering the streets of Port-au-Prince, covered in dust, breathing in the stench of death, thirsting, and searching for our loved ones. That's not our suffering job, not for today anyway.
We cannot perceive, philosophize or intellectualize all the answers.We go on faith alone. Is faith harder in Haiti? Faith during disaster may actually in some ways be easier because, more than ever, you need God. But I'm sure many of the faithful there would also be feeling tested and abandoned by God.
Is our faith strengthened as we watch from afar, ensconced in the safety and warmth of our homes and privileged lives? Do we renew our faith out of fear of the wrath of God or out of genuine thanks for all we have? Maybe both.
Charity in the rubble gives us pause. We want to be better, to do good, to give, to help total strangers. But will we humble ourselves to trust and need God? Or is our need for control so insidious and our arrogance so ingrained that we really believe our 'rush in to rescue' will make any lasting change?
Of course the rescuing needs to be done, but the larger, deeper picture also must be addressed. History shows us we are not very good at fixing human greed and selfishness. We are only experts at repeating it.
Christianity says we suffer because we have separated ourselves from God. We do not suffer alone though. Christ took it all on and suffered more than any of us (because he took on the accumulation of all human suffering for our specie's entire existence). But that concept is very difficult for us to process.
It does not surprise me that the Shroud of Turin has gone largely ignored. Because Christ suffered so long ago, it's hard for us to relate to the sacrifice He made, much less an image of it.
Even when we suffer, we seldom remember to reflect on Christ's suffering. Have we left God behind, buried in the rubble and floating in the dust? Perhaps that is the 'why' to ponder.
I have come to realize that the underlying message of the image on the Shroud is for us to trust in the mystery of God. The moment we trust God is the moment He comes to lives inside us.
It is interesting that Mother Teresa, one of the most charitable people in the world, privately endured an acute experience of the wound of separation from God. Her letters reveal a woman who, tormented by a sense of abandonment by God, nonetheless trusted God and worked tirelessly to bring His light to others.
Yet, it is not just our do-good efforts that bring us closer to God. Charity alone is not what heals the wound of separation. Charity too was buried in the rubble.
Whether we like to admit it or not, suffering is what brings us closest to God (or severs the relationship entirely). The choice to trust Him is ours. Puny as we are in the larger scheme of things, humankind is graced with the free will to choose to accept or refuse a personal relationship with God.
It is inspiring to witness how so many Haitians, in the midst of extreme suffering, are nonetheless trusting God and choosing to have Him live inside them.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Chapter 8: Let There Be Light
When we add up all the suffering we encounter in our lifetime it's a hefty dose. It includes:
Our own, experiential suffering (to include all of our physical, emotional, psychological, mental, and spiritual suffering).
The suffering of those we love, which causes us to suffer vicariously because we cannot normally do much to alleviate theirs.
The suffering of others we hear of in the news, all around the globe every single day. On some level, we take on a modicum of that suffering too. We count our blessings, get mad at world leaders, complain, play the blame game, become activists, volunteer, vote... because that's about the best we can do to have any influence.
When we imagine the exponential suffering that Christ took on for the entirety of mankind, we really cannot fathom it. It is far too vast and all encompassing. It does not seem “humanly” possible, and yet He was a man.
But he was also a man who was associated with light, namely a halo. He was surrounded by light and emitted light to the world. Is it any coincidence that God said “Let there be light”? Is light the ultimate elixir for the alchemy of transmuting human suffering? Jesus said: “I am the resurrection and the light.”
And is it ever truly dark? Even the night sky is graced with light from the stars, other planets, and the moon.
In our darkest hours, when we most need God's light to shine inside us, how do we let it in? I don't think it's just a matter of prayer.
The Shroud is evidence of the suffering of a crucified man. No one argues that. So, at the very least, when we look at the image we know that the suffering Christ endured must have been severe.
If we believe that Christ died for our sins (and went through extreme suffering in order to do so) then it would be logical for us to wonder if our suffering isn't some kind of payback. Let's face it, we are pretty pathetic when you consider all the manifestations of our dark side. But that doesn't add up because Christ would not have needed to die for our sins if God's plan was to make us suffer for them anyway.
So if we believe Christ died for our sins because He knew that was our only hope for salvation, then it shouldn't be too hard to accept that we are already essentially forgiven. But even if we believe and accept that He died for our sins and we are forgiven, it still is up to us to flip that switch and have His light shine inside us. That's where our free will enters into the picture. It is up to us to choose to allow Him to live inside us. It won't happen unless we say it's okay.
Pretty cool when you think about it. He's not force feeding us His love. We get to decide if we want to accept His gift.
Our own, experiential suffering (to include all of our physical, emotional, psychological, mental, and spiritual suffering).
The suffering of those we love, which causes us to suffer vicariously because we cannot normally do much to alleviate theirs.
The suffering of others we hear of in the news, all around the globe every single day. On some level, we take on a modicum of that suffering too. We count our blessings, get mad at world leaders, complain, play the blame game, become activists, volunteer, vote... because that's about the best we can do to have any influence.
When we imagine the exponential suffering that Christ took on for the entirety of mankind, we really cannot fathom it. It is far too vast and all encompassing. It does not seem “humanly” possible, and yet He was a man.
But he was also a man who was associated with light, namely a halo. He was surrounded by light and emitted light to the world. Is it any coincidence that God said “Let there be light”? Is light the ultimate elixir for the alchemy of transmuting human suffering? Jesus said: “I am the resurrection and the light.”
And is it ever truly dark? Even the night sky is graced with light from the stars, other planets, and the moon.
In our darkest hours, when we most need God's light to shine inside us, how do we let it in? I don't think it's just a matter of prayer.
The Shroud is evidence of the suffering of a crucified man. No one argues that. So, at the very least, when we look at the image we know that the suffering Christ endured must have been severe.
If we believe that Christ died for our sins (and went through extreme suffering in order to do so) then it would be logical for us to wonder if our suffering isn't some kind of payback. Let's face it, we are pretty pathetic when you consider all the manifestations of our dark side. But that doesn't add up because Christ would not have needed to die for our sins if God's plan was to make us suffer for them anyway.
So if we believe Christ died for our sins because He knew that was our only hope for salvation, then it shouldn't be too hard to accept that we are already essentially forgiven. But even if we believe and accept that He died for our sins and we are forgiven, it still is up to us to flip that switch and have His light shine inside us. That's where our free will enters into the picture. It is up to us to choose to allow Him to live inside us. It won't happen unless we say it's okay.
Pretty cool when you think about it. He's not force feeding us His love. We get to decide if we want to accept His gift.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Chapter 7: Resolution
My favorite part of making stained glass windows is the beginning of a new project. I go to the client's location and see where the window is to be placed and how it will interact with the influences of light, both natural and artificial. Then I start thinking about colors and shapes and how they will relate to the light and the space.
The creative process begins the same way New Year's resolutions begin: with a fresh start.
The daily grind presses on. All our time seems spent in work and working out our troubles. Days and nights continue to bleed us.
A new year arrives and we start planning resolutions--relief from the grind. We set new goals and get geared up to make changes in our lives that will ostensibly make us happier.
A few months go by and then we wind down, start back into our old bad habits, and repeat the cycle. We push that rock up the hill, only to watch it roll back down yet again.
Our relationship to life exists primarily in doing, less than in allowing. It's less scary to just stay busy. Staying busy occupies our minds and calms our emotions. The days go by and we get things done. Allowing feels too passive. We like to be proactive, incite change, move forward. Doing makes us feel in control.
But doing is actually something of a trap.
At the end of every task, we often feel let down. Even if we met our expectations, there is this “What's next” feeling. What will be the next thing that temporarily fills the void until we are done with it and feel the trap closing in on us again.
Allowing is more like watching dust particles or steam interacting with a shaft of sunlight coming through a window. The shaft of light creates what looks like a contained space, a solid structure within which the particles or vapors morph. But then the shaft of light moves to a new angle and the entire dynamic changes.
Our lives are very much like that shaft of light. We impose certain structures on our living, but they are only temporary. We morph inside and beyond the edges of what we consider to be a contained space. And then that source of containment turns into something else entirely and the dynamics change again.
The image on the Shroud is no different. When you look at the image on the cloth and then the photographic negative, for example, you see that the eye is being fooled. The cloth allows the mystery.
Is a resolution just another task on your to do list of all the doing for the new year?
If the course of action you decide on is to allow, that does not mean you just sit around all day waiting for things to happen. You still do all you set out to to do, but your relationship to doing changes. You become less expectation-oriented. You relinquish some of the control. You put forth your best efforts and intentions and then let go.
You allow the mystery of your life.
The creative process begins the same way New Year's resolutions begin: with a fresh start.
The daily grind presses on. All our time seems spent in work and working out our troubles. Days and nights continue to bleed us.
A new year arrives and we start planning resolutions--relief from the grind. We set new goals and get geared up to make changes in our lives that will ostensibly make us happier.
A few months go by and then we wind down, start back into our old bad habits, and repeat the cycle. We push that rock up the hill, only to watch it roll back down yet again.
Our relationship to life exists primarily in doing, less than in allowing. It's less scary to just stay busy. Staying busy occupies our minds and calms our emotions. The days go by and we get things done. Allowing feels too passive. We like to be proactive, incite change, move forward. Doing makes us feel in control.
But doing is actually something of a trap.
At the end of every task, we often feel let down. Even if we met our expectations, there is this “What's next” feeling. What will be the next thing that temporarily fills the void until we are done with it and feel the trap closing in on us again.
Allowing is more like watching dust particles or steam interacting with a shaft of sunlight coming through a window. The shaft of light creates what looks like a contained space, a solid structure within which the particles or vapors morph. But then the shaft of light moves to a new angle and the entire dynamic changes.
Our lives are very much like that shaft of light. We impose certain structures on our living, but they are only temporary. We morph inside and beyond the edges of what we consider to be a contained space. And then that source of containment turns into something else entirely and the dynamics change again.
The image on the Shroud is no different. When you look at the image on the cloth and then the photographic negative, for example, you see that the eye is being fooled. The cloth allows the mystery.
Is a resolution just another task on your to do list of all the doing for the new year?
If the course of action you decide on is to allow, that does not mean you just sit around all day waiting for things to happen. You still do all you set out to to do, but your relationship to doing changes. You become less expectation-oriented. You relinquish some of the control. You put forth your best efforts and intentions and then let go.
You allow the mystery of your life.
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