Living in the
Present Imperfect
By Denise Long
Genesis 32: 24-32
Hebrews 11: 1,3
Luke 17: 20-21
One of the great things
about belonging to the YMCA is the opportunity to try out different forms of exercise.
I have been exploring different classes in muscle toning and aerobics, and
learning how to use the treadmills, bicycles, and weight machines. This past week I had a taste of what is
called "Power Yoga". To a
background of soft music, the sound of waves, and the smell of peppermint, we
went through a series of contortions on floor mats that are supposed to elevate
and calm the spirit as well as limber up the body. Our tiny, slender, twenty-something instructor told us to focus
on breathing and finding our own "divine centers", as she moved us
through pretzel-shaped poses, backbends, and agonizing stretches.
One of these stretches
involved crossing one leg over the other and twisting in a way that I was sure
was not physically possible. The purpose was to stretch the muscles around the
hip. "Now some of you may find
this a little difficult", the instructor said sweetly, "but close
your eyes, breathe deeply and try to hold it as long as possible." So, I twisted and pulled my legs and arms
into the right shape, and felt pretty good about myself. Hey, this wasn't so
bad! But then the clock ticked on, and I started to "feel the burn",
as they say. I glanced out of the
corner of my eye at my neighbors. They seemed serene and unmoving. Sweat began
dripping down my neck. I was determined not to let the youthful women to my
right and left outlast me. Finally, our
instructor told us to move slowly into the next pose. It certainly took a long
time for me to get there! And the next day, I got out of bed with a groan. Doug asked me what was the matter.
"I've been wrestling with my divine center," I whined,
"my hip is killing me, and now I'm going to limp for the rest of my
life!" He was not very
sympathetic.
Limping through life…. that's what all
of us do in one way or another. We find
that the world is not the Garden of Eden we had expected when we were
children. We discover that we can't
write the script for everything that happens to us. We suddenly see the truth
in those old cliches like, "the best laid plans of mice and men often go
awry", and "life is what happens when you've planned something else." We begin to realize that bad things happen to good people… that
bad things even happen to us, and that suffering is a part of existence.
As
Scott Peck says in his book, "Further Along The Road Less
Traveled", (Simon an Schuster:
1993, p. 19), life is NOT about a return to Eden. We have eaten the apple and become conscious. We
cannot go back, but can only go forward.
Since we cannot return to our innocent childhood, we must grow up. And
growing up means going "forward through the desert of life, making our way
painfully over the parched and barren ground into …. deeper levels of
consciousness."
We live in
the Present Imperfect… a place of struggle, of divine encounters, and of
journeys.
As
some of you may remember from high school grammar lessons, the imperfect tense
is defined as a verb which designates
"a continuing state or an incomplete action." This is opposed to the perfect tense which
expresses completed actions that do not continue.
We
live in the present imperfect. We are always moving forward, continuing on
that unending journey of spiritual growth which carries us through the
mountains and valleys of life. It is a journey, a continuing action. And there are two parts to this experience: savoring the present, and accepting life as
imperfect.
I
have enjoyed taking the Myers Briggs personality test, and I know that the
youth group recently tried this as well.
One of the benefits of doing this is becoming more aware that people are
hard-wired differently. As Suzanne Luper says, we can use it to better
understand each other and to realize that our family members and friends are
really not TRYING to drive us crazy, they are just put together with a
different psychic makeup.
One
of the things that I learned about my own personality type is that I tend to be
overly "future oriented", instead of present oriented. This means
that I often romanticize the future and have unrealistic expectations about
what will happen SOMEDAY. This was a
helpful insight for me. Because in
being too future-focused, I can miss out on the blessings of the present,
imperfect as it is.
As
the poet John Greenleaf Whittier advises us in his poem, The Soul and I:
The Present, the Present is
all thou hast
For thy sure possessing;
Like the patriarch's angel
hold it fast
Till it gives its blessing.
Scott
Peck makes an interesting observation that people are born with differences in cognition…how
they perceive and know things. Some
folks seem to selectively perceive the negative and fail to recognize the
positive, both in themselves and in the world around them. They feel that it is their right to plan out the path of their lives and that fairy tale
endings are what they deserve. Of
course, they find themselves getting angry and depressed when things don't work
out that way. I find many of these
traits within myself.
Peck
makes the point that one of the goals of psychotherapy is to help people with
depression learn how to cognate differently. In other words, teach them to
learn to see in a different way, and to have different expectations. This
doesn't mean ignoring suffering or minimizing pain. But it does mean that instead of dwelling on the negative, we can choose
to see that life is a profound mystery… that it is full of great goodness, as
well as great pain, and we can choose how we will respond to this imperfect
world.
In
fact, it is how we respond to life's
dark side that gives our lives meaning. This was the discovery made by
Viktor Frankl in the midst of his imprisonment in a German concentration camp.
A psychiatrist who had studied with Jung,
Frankl wrote about this revelation during those dark days of hunger,
torture, and suffering. He realized
that though he could not control anything else in his life, he was still
free to choose his attitude. Frankl
wrote: "What was really needed was
a fundamental change in our attitude toward life. We had to learn that it did
not really matter what we expected from life, but rather what life expected
from us" (Man's Search For Meaning: Beacon Press, 1962).
Even
when his actions were totally controlled by his captors, he was still free to
choose: he could succumb to despair and anger, or he could respond nobly, and
accept his suffering without giving up on God. He could choose to act with
compassion, comforting those around him….keeping hope alive. No one could take from him the freedom of
choosing how to perceive the world… how he would respond…the attitude he would
live with.
Alcoholic's
Anonymous has a couple of great sayings which can help us move to a more
positive mindset: "Act as
if", or "Fake it to make
it."
Frankl
chose to act "as if" hope
were alive. Sometimes this is the most courageous thing we can do. When we are slipping into disillusionment
and despair, when the imperfect present seems to be not only imperfect, but
distorted and broken, then we can still make the brave choice to act "as
if" hope were alive. And as Emily
Dickenson writes, this alone can be enough to get us through the dark times.
Hope is the thing with
feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without
the words,
And never stops at
all..
But
hope also has a companion…. Faith.
"Faith
is the assurance of things hoped for, the substance of things unseen",
Paul writes in Hebrews. Faith means
trusting that God is working all things for good, that God will never forsake
or abandon us, that we are never alone.
Jesus
was asked by the Pharisees when the kingdom of God was coming, and he answered
"The Kingdom of God is not coming with things that can be observed…For in
fact, the kingdom of God is among
you."
God
is at work NOW. God wrestles with us in
surprising ways right in the midst of our unfinished lives. The present is what matters. And
our common, daily routines often mask an unseen holiness.
Saul
Bellows novel, Mr. Sammler's Planet,
has his main character, Artur Sammler, ask this question:
"And what is 'common' about
'the common life' What if some genius were to do with 'common life' what
Einstein did with matter? Finding its energetics, uncovering its
radiance?"
Uncovering
the "radiance of common life" is what Jewish mystics believe to be
our purpose… our vocation.
Raachel
Jurovics, whom some of you have met, is the Program Director at Temple Beth Or,
and is also in the middle of her studies to become a rabbi. I am privileged to also be able to call her
my "Spiritual Director", although she prefers the title of
"Spiritual Companion". We
meet once or twice a month and talk about how our spirituality intersects with
our lives.
Last
week she explained to me some of the teachings of Jewish mystics like Isaac Luria, a Palestinian of Spanish
descent who lived in the 16th century. Luria and other mystics believed in a radical monism, a theology which describes everything
in creation as containing God.
In
the Beginning, God was One. God was
Everything and Everything was God. But God craved relationship, and so He
created a space… God withdrew from part of Her Being and created the Universe.
But God also wanted to continue to be part of that Universe, so God shone
Divine Energy, a Holy Light, toward the world. God created vessels to receive and contain this Divine Energy, but
they were flawed and weak. They could not hold such perfect Holiness. When this Divine Force poured into them,
they shattered and broke, scattering shards of sacred Light everywhere.
And
so, for all time these shards have become imbedded in all of creation. Divine
light is everywhere…in the world around us and in the hearts of women and men.
Pieces of God are thoroughly mixed up in the mess and muck of existence.
. As Raachel told me, "Nothing
is unalloyed"; pleasure and pain
are always mixed up together.
And
so, in the Jewish mystical tradition, it is our job to repair creation.
This is our vocation… to discover and lift up these shards of Divine
Light. We have a moral responsibility
to do "Tikkun Olam", the
Hebrew words for "repairing creation". And in a mysterious an
wonderful way, by repairing creation, we are also "re-harmonizing
God."
We
live in the Present Imperfect. Our lives are verbs, not nouns. They are never complete or finished. And because pieces of God are everywhere,
there is no aspect of life that cannot contain some holiness. It is there in the beauty of nature; it is
there in the joys of friendship and family; it is there in the midst of
celebration, and in the calm inner peace which sometimes graces us.
But
the sacred is also there in the midst of chaos, hidden even in the violence of abuse, war, and suffering, in the dirt and filth of poverty, in the agony of mental pain and
disease, in the tides of anger,
loneliness, and guilt which wash over us and then recede, leaving us feeling fragile, unworthy,
and broken….. leaving us with a limp.
But, God is also broken. God is there… present…..the substance of things unseen…
We
don't have to wait for the "pie in the sky". The Kingdom of God is among you, says the
Christ. It is here and now. It is not only the end of the journey, but
the journey itself. It is the very road
of life we walk now with other pilgrims,
gathering up the twinkling pieces of God along the way.
And
when we find a shard of light, what should we do? We must hold it up, savor it, cherish it, allow it to work its
magic on us so that when the path gets darker up ahead, we can remember the twinkling.
Reb
Zalman Schacter-Shalomi, Raachel's
teacher and mentor in Boulder, Colorado, calls this action, "domesticating the peak
experience". We don't do this
very well. God attempts to get our
attention all the time. We continually brush up against the Holy and then
forget we have just touched it. We are
a lot like Jacob. Yet, even that
flawed, trickster Jacob felt some impact from his encounter with God which
carried over into the next part of his journey. For the next chapter of scripture tells us that he limped toward
a meeting with his estranged brother, Esau, and when they met, it was with
forgiveness and good will. Jacob was
able to say to Esau, "I look in your eyes and I see the face of
God". Genesis 33:10.
I
have always liked Chaucer's "Canterbury Tales". This centuries old classic contains truths
which are timeless. It is about all kinds of people, flawed people, imperfect
people, who go on a pilgrimage and find themselves traveling together. They
pass the time by telling each other stories of their lives. After a while, we
begin to realize that their destination is really not important. Their tales, and our lives, happen ON THE ROAD. It is our relationships and our
stories that matter. We can look in the eyes of another pilgrim and see God.
Faith
is the substance of things unseen…It is the support we find along the way. The staff which travelers lean on while we
tell our stories and look for twinkling pieces of God. The journey never ends. Even our "final" destination is
not a resting place, but a continuation of the adventure.
In
the 9th century, there was a young Chinese woman named Yu Xuanji,
who died at the early age of 24. She
wrote a poem which describes her vision of Heaven:
I've come to the House of
the Immortals:
In every corner, wildflowers
bloom
In the front garden, trees
Offer their branches for
drying clothes;
…..
From the portico, a hidden
path
Leads to the bamboo's
darkened groves
…..
Every place the wind carries
me is home.
Even
Paradise is not a self-contained place. There is a path which leads around a
bend, into a mysterious grove of trees ahead.
"For the sacred is not a destination, but an unfolding, an
unraveling, a blossoming without end."
(Parabola, Vol. XIX: No.4, p.59.)
May
we become good travelers as we limp along in the present imperfect. May we
seize each day, and not let it go until we wring from it a blessing. May our eyes be more open to the points of
light along the way. And may every
place the wind carries us be home.
AMEN.