pioneermeditations

It is not what we think we fear, but what we link to what we fear that is the problem.

When I saw this idea expressed in a book about fear, it was an “aha” moment.

Fear is a necessary reaction to some things in our lives.  A poisonous snake, a predatory big cat, a patch of quicksand or precarious footing on a high place – these are things to which we should react with fear.  There is a danger that needs to be avoided or confronted.  Denial of the danger is folly.

 Linking one dire outcome to the next, we can be bound by the initial cause of our fear.  Using the wrong fork at a formal dinner does not mean you will be laughed at, judged as a fool, lose your job, become penniless and die on the streets of starvation.  This is a comical linkage of one fear to another, yet more often than we realize we create so many links to a simple fear that we have created a chain of fear that immobilizes us.                  

When there is a specific target for our fear, we can do something about it.  When we link all kinds of increasingly dire outcomes to that something then it becomes greater than it really is.  One of the problems with posttraumatic stress is that all the links to the initial fear are triggered by some reminder of the initial event.  One of the problems when we talk about death is the linkage that has been made to eternal judgment beyond it. 

The Christian idea of resurrection helps to take away the links to the fear of death.  When we can trust that whatever lies beyond the veil of death will not be harmful and damning, then death loses its sting.  We do not globalize a fear of dying into an eternity of suffering. 

How many other fears have we globalized?  If we have no links to our fear, there can be no chains of fear to bind us.  We can face the dangers of living in a way that is more likely to produce positive outcomes.

Celebrate the Resurrection.  Stop letting fear rule you.  Go ahead and use whatever fork you want.

The Problem with Sainthood

Snapshots are fine.  They capture a moment in time.  When they are viewed the viewer can conjure up either memories or create a possible story around the image.  Even if one is in the snapshot, the memory of the event now frozen in time by the picture can be edited.  In fact, experts tell us that every time a memory is brought back into our conscious mind it is edited by the circumstances of the moment.  The snapshot does not change, the memory does.

What does this have to do with sainthood?  Saints become like snapshots for us.  The character of the saint becomes frozen in time.  We do not see how that person would adapt to current conditions.  The saint in our mind cannot evolve and often does not have any flaws.

Almost universally, the saint is thought to have a spirituality that is greater than our own.  Their qualities become standards by which we feel we are judged.  I am not talking only of those who have been canonized by the church.  The same is true of our “sainted” fathers, mothers, siblings, etc.  Because they are now flawless, we bear the blame and shame of not being able to attain their standards or what we perceive and remember their standards to be.

This is often a subconscious process. We crave acceptance from someone who is no longer able to give it.  Because we cannot know how they would evolve in the current situation, we let them judge us from standards of the past – theirs and ours. As long as we are doing this we can never be absolved of our guilt or shame.

It is even worse when we do not have a living God, one that can understand each new day with its own evolving creatures and ever-changing conditions and give the love, forgiveness and strength for that new day.  We are so much better off when we do not let ourselves be judged by those who do not know who we are today.  Let your saints and your God be alive and loving, for then they will understand, accept and love you as  you are now.

On my business card I had “Honoring journeys, celebrating diversity and serving community”.  The last two parts of that require me to care for others.  The first part of it often makes that caring difficult. 

The journeys that some people must take are extremely difficult.  My heart aches to near breaking when I try to honor their journeys. I understand and sense their pain but too often there is nothing I can do to change their pain.  It is their pain, their decisions to make, their journeys to take. 

When my children were growing up I realized that I could not keep them from experiencing pain.  If they were going to learn to walk or ride a bike they were going fall down.  I had to let them experience that even if it hurt them.

Of course, life gives us much greater difficulties than learning to walk, although for some that is difficult enough due to physical problems.  Problems like drug abuse, legal trouble, hurtful family relationships and terminal illness make for tremendously difficult journeys.  If you love the one going through these kinds of journeys you cannot prevent them from suffering altogether.

So what can we do to show that we care?  We can walk with them through it all.  It is a gift more valuable than we realize.  What we cannot do, if we truly care, is avoid their suffering when it makes us uncomfortable or reminds us of our own pains.

There is a faith tradition that has a ritual for dying.  The loved ones of the person near death gather around.  It is their job to remain calm, allowing the dying one to depart in peace.  I am told it works wonderfully. The dead have their journeys the living can not yet take.

Know that you have served your loved one well by allowing them to take their own journey, face their own pain and go through their dark places while you walk with them. You honor their journey by trusting them to endure it to the end.

Peace is not the product of terror or fear.

Peace is not the silence of cemeteries.

Peace is not the result of violent repression.

Peace is the generous, tranquil contribution of all to the good of all.

Peace is dynamism.

Peace is generosity.

It is right and duty.               

            Archbishop Oscar Romero of El Salvador

As a fruit of the spirit, peace does not equate to peace as a political condition noted by a lack of war.

Peace and serenity are not always the same thing.

Peace is a sense of rightness about one’s place in the fabric of life.

For some the constant activity of fighting for justice is their peace.  They cannot find peace without involvement in the work of justice. 

For some the offering of hospitality is their peace.  It is their willing contribution to life in general.  They cannot feel at peace when others are feeling socially awkward.

For some physical labor is their peace.  They feel at peace in their spirit when their body is working vigorously. 

There is no one more at peace, if it is defined as care free, than a patient on the mend in a hospital.  Ask them what they would rather be doing, and you will discover where they feel they fit, where they find their spiritual peace in life.  It is probably not going to be lying in bed, being served constantly.  It is more likely to be about being up and active.

Peace is listed as fruit of the spirit, but it is not only something felt in the spirit.  It is an experience and a state of being that includes the totality of what we are as individuals and as human society.