Five Ways Relationships Become God's Holy Temple

There's an old rabbinical story that tells about two brothers living "time before time, when the world was young."  They each shared a field and a mill.  Each night they divided evenly the grain they had ground together during the day. Now as it happened, one of the brothers lived alone; the other had a wife and a large family.  One day, the single brother thought to himself:  "It isn't really fair that we divide the grain evenly.  I have only myself to care for, but my brother has children to feed."

So each night he secretly took some of his grain to his brother's granary to see that he was never without.

But the married brother said to himself one day, "It isn't really fair that we divide the grain evenly, because I have children to provide for me in my old age, but my brother has no one.  What will he do when he is old?"

So every night he secretly took some of his grain to his brother's granary.

As a result, both of them always found their supply of grain mysteriously replenished each morning.

Then one night the brothers met each other halfway between their two houses, suddenly realized what had been happening, and embraced each other in love.

The story is that God witnessed their meeting and proclaimed, "This is a holy place---a place of love---and here it is that my temple shall be built."

"And so it was.  The holy place, where God is made known, is the place where human beings discover each other in love." *

Here are four ways from this story that our relationships can be turned into holy temples where God chooses to dwell.

First, God's holy place on earth is the intersection between people where love is the center.

Our relationships of love are where God's temple is.  Those relationships are sacred ground.  When people respond to each other from a spirit of love and compassion, a temple of God is raised up.  God is revealed best and most completely within relationships of love.

Second, relationships become centered on love when each person looks at the other in a spirit of compassion and chooses to give what the other needs the most.

The spirit of compassion is antithetical to a competitive, win-lose worldview.  Sacred relationships are based upon a win-win paradigm.  We give what the other needs, not what we need to give.  We love in the language of the other so that our act of love is truly experienced as love by the other.

Third, a relationship of love doesn't necessarily mean both people agree with each other on everything.

Our ability to love each other pragmatically in the midst of our differences creates God's temple.  Contrary to popular opinion, love God's way doesn't mean having to unilaterally agree.  God's way of loving is giving to others no matter what, even when we disagree.

Fourth, people are empowered to love compassionately and generously when they see the other as their brother or sister.

Family members certainly don't all agree with each other---whether politically, theologically, philosophically, sociologically.  Families inherently contain great diversity.  But because they're all family, blood runs thicker than water.  Until we start seeing all others as members of our great global family---children of God, every one---we will continue struggling to give love and compassion graciously and generously to those we disagree with and are  different than.

Fifth, when people are in a relationship of love, they're content to give to the other anonymously, without credit or recognition.

The joy is in the giving because, as A Course In Miracles emphasizes, when a person gives, they always receive.  The New Testament references this reality when it says we reap what we sow.  In this universe, you can never give away something you don't also receive.  So you don't need credit or recognition in order to receive something; you've already received what you've given away.  When you give, you are never in a place of deficit.

When you and I deliberately and intentionally design our relationships to be centered on love, compassion, generosity, and grace---because we recognize and acknowledge our brotherhood and sisterhood with all others---we enter into the holy temple of God, we are on sacred ground.

"And so it was.  The holy place, where God is made known, is the place where human beings discover each other in love."

So how many sacred temples do you have in your life these days?

* Belden C. Lane, "Rabbinical Stories:  A Primer on Theological Method," Christian Century 98:41 (December 16, 1981), pp. 1307-8.

A Spirituality of Imperfection: God Shines Through the Cracks in Our Armor

Nakedness and Inadequacy Remember that nightmare we've all had at one point or another about being naked in public in front of a crowd?  Do you remember what you feel in that dream?  Excited?  Elated?  Proud?  Seductive?

Most often we feel shame, fear, embarrassment, extreme vulnerability, powerful discomfort, maybe even horrified.

Why?  Because the dream is often about the fear of exposure, fear of rejection; that if people saw us for who we really are, they would not accept us, they might even ridicule us.  Dreams about nakedness in public is about a deep fear of inadequacy and even shame.

So our culture demands that we go out in public looking good, clothed not just adequately but impressively.  We grow up in families that equate high performance with value and worth.  We learn early on to hide our inadequacies as best we can in order to appear put together.  Perfection is the standard.

The irony is that deep down we know that perfection is not only unreasonable, it's pretty much impossible.  Read my last blog where I give the example of the hitting percentage of baseball's best players.  Even the greatest batters in history never hit perfectly.  And they're heroes.

And yet we continue to hold ourselves accountable to that perfection measuring stick, holding our self esteem and self worth hostage to an impossible standard.  And if you're a part of a religious community, that standard is spiritualized and theologized, raising the stakes even higher of having to measure up.

Connecting Perfectionism and Shame

Dr. Brene Brown, in her book The Gifts of Imperfection, points out that

"where perfectionism exists, shame is always lurking.  In fact, shame is the birthplace of perfectionism."  (p. 55)

That certainly explains our fear of exposure in our nightmare of being naked in public.  We will do whatever it takes to keep our inadequacies from being seen because deep down there's a feeling of shame connected to failure or imperfection.  We see ourselves as "less than" in our failures.

So we resort to whatever form of perfectionism most fits our goal of appearing "together" in every setting:  e.g. we'll not take on any difficult tasks or take any risks for fear of failing and being exposed; we'll automatically assume responsibility for something going wrong, taking the blame; or we'll refuse to ever own up to mistakes, blaming other people for what went wrong; we'll avoid any situations that might cause us to look like we're not good enough; or we'll refuse to leave the house unless we look just "right" in public, trying to maintain a predetermined image that's acceptable to us and others.  And the list goes on.

But let's face it:  this is a really really tiring way to live!  Isn't it?  It takes a lot of mental and emotional energy to try to maintain a perfect image for everyone else, including ourselves.  Exhausting!  And it keeps us from the freedom of really living life and enjoying life in new and wonderful ways.  That belief system narrows rather than expands our lives.

Three Ways A Spirituality of Imperfection is an Antidote to Perfectionism

One of the powerful antidotes to this debilitating life approach is the practice of a spirituality of imperfection.  That's right.  Healthy, genuine spirituality is based upon embracing the value of imperfection.

Here are several Whys and Hows to practicing this spirituality of imperfection.

First, imperfection is a call to practice compassion on yourself.

Dr. Brown interviewed scores of people who were engaging with the world from a place of authenticity and worthiness.  She noticed that all had a lot in common experience when it came to perfectionism.  First, they spoke about their imperfections in a tender and honest way, and without shame and fear.  Second, they were slow to judge themselves and others.  They operated from a place of "We're all doing the best we can."  Their ability to step into self compassion was extremely high.  (Ibid., p. 59)

The next time you make a mistake or do something less than perfectly, practice compassion on yourself.  Don't judge yourself negatively by going to that indictment, "I'm such a loser!  Why can't I do anything well!  If people knew I was this kind of a failure, they'd reject me for sure!"

"A moment of self-compassion can change your entire day.  A string of such moments can change the course of your life."  Christopher K. Germer

Second, imperfection is a place of Light.  Let it in.

The great spiritual teachers of the past saw imperfection as the crack in the armor, the "wound" that lets God in.

Meister Eckhart (the 13th century German theologican, mystic, and philosopher) wrote,

"To get at the core of God at his greatest, one must first get into the core of himself at his least."

This truth is applied by the contemporary Jungian analyst who identifies "addictions," for example, as one of the "wounds" that lets God in:

"Addiction keeps a person in touch with the god .... At the very point of the vulnerability is where the surrender takes place---that is where the god enters.  The god comes through the wound."

So rather than immediately condemning ourselves for a mistake, failure, or even continual "wound" whenever it manifests itself, pause ... embrace it ... and let it bring you to the point of surrender ... let it point you to God who comes through that mistake to embrace you and love you, and then to little by little bring healing to your wound.

Isn't that what we do as parents when our child falls down, scrapes himself, and comes to us bleeding.  We don't refuse him, telling him to get cleaned and bandaged up first before we embrace him.  We get down on our knees, pull him into our arms, holding him tightly and tenderly, whispering words of love.  We gently clean up the wound, put a band-aid on it, and then hold him close again.  That moment of "wounding" lets our love into his life in tangible, intimate ways.

The New Testament spiritual leader Paul, who wrestled with what he called "a thorn in his flesh" (some kind of either physical or emotional or spiritual ongoing ailment) and kept asking God to remove it from his life, was confronted by the grace of God in the midst of his wound.  Rather than taking the "wound" away from Paul, God came to him in the middle of it, and said,

"My grace is sufficient for you.  My power is made perfect in your weakness."  2 Corinthians 12:9

So embrace your "wound" and let it allow God's amazing compassion and love to shine through the cracks of your armor straight into your life.

And third, imperfection is a place of Light.  Let it out.

To paraphrase Leonard Cohen's lyrics from Anthem,

"There's a crack in everything.  That's how the light gets out."

It is a misguided myth which our perfectionism gets us to buy into:  that we lose people's respect if we fail and make mistakes, if our "wounds" show too much.

Truth is, people aren't looking for perfection from us; people are wanting authenticity, honesty and transparency even about our imperfections.  "Be real," people often say.

The same New Testament spiritual leader, Paul, emphasized this truth when he described human beings as "clay pots"--cracked containers.  His point was that the Light (he called it the "glory of God") that lives inside us is able to shine out into the world through our cracks (2 Corinthians 4:7).  No cracks, no visible light to the world.  God needs our cracks so God's glory can shine through us in order to reveal divine compassion and love to others.

So rather than running from our imperfections, rather than covering them over, or hiding them, or even denying them, we can "sanctify" them (give them over to a holy purpose)--that is, allow them to be used by the Light as vehicles through which the Light of Love radiates out to the world.

Leonard Cohen is right.  There's a crack in everything.  That's how the light gets out.

Sometimes, it's the "sinners" that are more appealing than the "saints."  Who wants to be around someone who tries to be perfect all the time, who refuses to admit imperfection in themselves or others, and who thinks they're more "righteous" than everyone else?  No grace or compassion there.  Perfectionism is, after all, an attempt to play God.

So embrace the crack.  Be vulnerable.  Be authentic and transparent.  That will be used by God to let the Light shine out, to show others that even in our imperfections, love and compassion can shine through and be visible and experienced by others.  Sometimes, it's our willingness to be "naked" in public that reveals the true glory of God.

Betty White, Snickers Bars, and Your Personal Identity

The Commercial Have you seen the 30 second TV commercial with actress Betty White and Snickers candy bars?  It was introduced during the 2010 Super Bowl.  It's an interesting portrayal of personal identity.  Watch it:

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uA7-31Cxc2I&w=560&h=349]

The Snickers Identity Paradigm

The ad's a great example of how so often we see others by what they're doing on the outside.  Their identity is their performance.  If you're not playing football very well we see you as a Betty White (although I would have had second thoughts about playing ball against a younger Betty White--she's got the spirit!).  "Come on, man, don't be such a wuss!  Get it together and start playing like a man!"  If you're really good (which is to say, proficient, skillful, aggressive), then we see you as your "real" self.  Our culture bases everything about identity on externals.  Get that real job!  Drive that real car!  Make a real salary!  Date that real woman or man!  Buy a real house!  Wear that power suit!  Carry that real purse or wear those real shoes!  Show your stuff (whatever "stuff" is) and stop wimping around!

And if you're just not "manifesting" it rightly, then eat a Snickers bar and turn yourself back into a real man or woman!  Notice the interesting solution to being your "true self":  a candy bar (or whatever external things the advertisers are offering).

You and I are tempted every day to buy into this perspective on identity and reality.  If we can just manifest the right outside and external world, we can be satisfied that all is right with the world, we are who we're suppose to be.  So our identity is held captive to what we can or cannot manifest on the outside.

Some Drawbacks

But here are a couple of big dangers with this paradigm.  One, if you base your identity on what you can manifest in your life (the externals like people, things, circumstances), then you never have a solid foundation for your self esteem.  Your identity is dependent upon what happens on the outside.  And so your self esteem fluctuates based upon circumstances created by either you or others.  Your self esteem and personal identity are victimized by the fluctuations of whatever's happening to you or by you.  Definitely not a very secure way to live.

And two, it becomes easy to put yourself down or to put others down who aren't manifesting everything you think you or they should.  You can guilt people by saying, "If you just would get your thoughts right, you should be able to do it.  So if you're not doing it, there's something wrong with you!"

It's so subtle how our attitudes impact our sense of self and our expectations of others.

An Alternative Paradigm:  Secure Identity and Inner Peace

There's an alternative way to live that produces far more confidence, assurance, and solid peace.  Notice this statement from scripture:

"Even though on the outside it often looks like things are falling apart on us, on the inside, where God is making new life, not a day goes by without his unfolding grace."  (2 Corinthians 4:16)

Now considering the context of this statement, the significance of it increases dramatically.  The author is writing to people who have developed the insidious belief that your external world validates who you are.  The worldview was that if you were experiencing a life of success, ease, and prosperity that was a sign that you were being blessed by the divine universe.  And being blessed by God was always manifested by a life of prosperity.  They claimed that the condition of your external world indicated your personal identity and your status with the gods.

But author Paul is trying to counter that popular paradigm by describing his own life.  When he talks about looking like things are falling apart, he's painting a pretty graphic picture of his life experience:

"You know for yourselves that we're not much to look at. We've been surrounded and battered by troubles, but we're not demoralized; we're not sure what to do, but we know that God knows what to do; we've been spiritually terrorized, but God hasn't left our side; we've been thrown down, but we haven't broken. What they did to Jesus, they do to us—trial and torture, mockery and murder; what Jesus did among them, he does in us—he lives! Our lives are at constant risk for Jesus' sake, which makes Jesus' life all the more evident in us. While we're going through the worst, you're getting in on the best!"  (2 Corinthians 4:8-12)

Notice his juxtaposition of external circumstances and internal attitude and identity.  Even though his external life would appear to be a complete failure, falling apart at the seams, his sense of identity and security with himself and with God are completely secure.  There's an internal sense of peace and certainty that pervades his mind and heart.  He is describing himself as possessing true life in its deepest and most meaningful sense, a life that God is continually creating and recreating in him.  And the more centered he finds himself in this internal life, the more grounded he finds himself in how he faces his external world.

And he ends that paragraph with a sentence describing another truism (did you notice it?):  our internal attitude does impact our external environment with others.  As Paul centered himself on inner peace that he allows God to create within him in the midst of external chaos, he blesses others with that environment of peace, too, giving them opportunity to experience inner peace for themselves.  It may not still the storms swirling all around, but it does provide inner calm and centeredness which is contagious.

Our True Miracle

That's the true miracle we all are needing.  Being able to live life with the continual unfolding of divine grace within us, where God is making a new life every day--not based upon what people think about us or even what we're tempted to think about ourselves based upon what we have or don't have, do or don't do, but based upon what God gives us inside--an nonfluctuating identity as a child of God embued with eternal value because of that stamp of love on our souls.  The ability to live in love rather than fear is the greatest miracle of all.  That should be our highest manifestation in life.  And it certainly has the power to impact others with a spirit of peace and love, too.

By today's standards based upon the Law of Attraction, Paul would be considered a real failure.  And yet Paul is completely confident in who he is, what God is doing in his life, and his courageous living of his purpose.

Marianne Williamson, author and spiritual teacher, puts it this way:  "We're not asking for something outside us to change, but for something inside us to change.  We're looking for a softer orientation to life...Everything we do is infused with the energy with which we do it.  If we're frantic, life will be frantic.  If we're peaceful, life will be peaceful.  And so our goal in any situation becomes inner peace.  Our internal state determines our experience of our lives; our experiences do not determine our internal state."  (Marianne Williamson, A Return To Love, p. 66)

So build your identity, your sense of self and esteem and worth, on a foundation that remains secure, that outside circumstances and people cannot destroy.  So whether you have much in life that you truly want or have very little, you still are rich--you are grounded on the eternal truth of your being as a child of the God of the universe and nothing can take that away.

What are the internal changes and transformations you're experiencing in your life these days?  Are you clear of your identity and what it's based upon?  Do you possess a centered and grounded sense of who you are and where your value comes from?  Do you have that "softer orientation to life" that comes from living with love instead of fear?  Do you have a peace and security regardless of what's happening in your external world?

Next time I find myself face down on the muddy football field, and others think I'm playing ball like Betty White, I think I need to stick something more substantial into my soul than a Snickers bar.

Reflections on a Wendell Berry Poem

[If you enjoy this blog, please SHARE it with your friends and others who might be interested.  You can click in the column to the right and choose how you want to share this.] Critics and scholars have acknowledged Wendell Berry as a master of many literary genres, but whether he is writing poetry, fiction, or essays, his message they observe is essentially the same: humans must learn to live in harmony with the natural rhythms of the earth or perish.  I'm thankful that I came across one of Berry's poems this week, especially at this time of year when Spring reminds me of the promise of renewed life.  I find myself needing hope these days for a variety of reasons, but particularly in my work as I struggle with a sense of the lack of meaningful accomplishment.  Mr. Berry is writing to me.  So here's the poem, "The Peace of Wild Things."

When despair for the world grows in me

and I wake in the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought

of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting with their light. For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

I don't know if you ever feel a sense of despair over parts of your life or the lives of those you care for.  I do ... especially lately.  Maybe it's the stage of life I'm in, roaring into my second half with lots of dreams and hopes, when at the same time having to come face to face with a more honest acceptance of mortality and that all my dreams might not end up being fulfilled and that many of them could've been a tad unrealistic anyway.  Maybe it's a wrestling with what success is and isn't - the difficult task of having to redefine it in more congruent ways - and yet still deal with a deep passion to have my life count for something significant.  Maybe it's also seeing my parents reaching their sunset years and struggling with health and mortality, realizing that I'm the next generation in line to take their place, having to pay more attention to my own health needs as time goes on.

We all face a sense of despair in various ways and for various reasons.  Sometimes it steals our sleep.  Often it steals our peace.  Too often it robs us of joy.  We lose hope.  What then?  Pop the pills?  Swallow the antidepressants?  Escape or run away?  Stay in bed?  Smother the ones we're worried about with our presence?  Hang on for dear life just because we're afraid of losing?

Here's where I'm moved by Wendell Berry's perspective.  Notice his process of dealing with his despair.  "I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief." Berry has discovered that nature's ability to exist in peace is directly related to it not "taxing their lives with forethought of grief."  One of our homo sapien challenges is that because we have the ability to ponder, reflect, and evaluate everything, we are tempted to live in the past or in the future, with regret or fear, rather than in the moment.  We consequently tax our lives with "forethought of grief."  And wow, it is a tax burden, isn't it!  We're making payments from our emotional bank accounts all the time because of that tendency.  Grief is the result - a constant feeling of loss (loss of hope, loss of reputation, loss of significance, loss of meaning or fulfillment, loss of purpose, loss of love, and the list of grief from losses goes on and on).

Berry noticed that the wood drake ducks and the great herons seemed to exist differently.  He watched them sit quietly in the still waters, and patiently pick food out of the waters, and stand in the shallow water simply being in that place and in that moment.  It was a scene of peace to him.  So he intentionally placed himself there from time to time - and discovered that during those times, he was able to mirror that peace.  His mind and heart became still like the pond water.  He entered as fully as possible into those moments, letting go of his worry, fear, grief, and losses.

Looking up into the sky, he knew the stars were there behind the lighted firmament even though he couldn't see them at that time of day.  They were "waiting with their light," knowing that the time would soon come when after setting sun their light would be seen again.  Berry felt a sense of hope for his own life return.  Nature has its cycles, its seasons - times of fruitfulness and times of fallowness.  Nature seems to know this and it empowers its peace and persistence.  Day-blind stars will shine in the evening.  The barrenness of winter gives way to spring's new life.

I'm thankful for this reminder today.  Just reading this poem takes me to a place of more hope and peace inside.  Visualizing the wood drake floating quietly in the still waters, seeing the great heron now standing, now feeding, a bite here, a bite there - neither one obsessing or worrying or "taxing their lives with forethought of grief" - simply being and doing what they always do.  Can I allow myself to be in that place, too?  If even for a moment?

Berry ends his poem with, for me anyway, a helpful reminder:  "For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free."  For a time.  We can't always live in this kind of secluded peace.  Life happens, the good and the ugly, with its joy alongside despair and grief, and we often can't predict it.  But I need more times to "rest in the grace of the world."  I need to carve out moments of grace, where simply being is enough, where I am all I need to be right then, and I am loved and embraced there, period.  Maybe that's what the Hebrew poet had in mind when he wrote about the Creator God, "Be still, and know that I am God."  In life's stillness and quietness, I feel the divine, the Sacred, and I embrace my enough in the mirror of the true Enough.  Resting in the grace of the world.  Does it sound as inviting to you as it does to me?