Burton: Death and Spiritual Direction

Burton: Death and Spiritual Direction

“Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.”   Norman Cousins

Guest writer: Larry Burton

It is seldom that a spiritual friend has brought up the subject of mortality, at least overtly.  The fact that we will die is something many—if not most—of us dutifully seek to ignore.  But human mortality is a rich source for spiritual reflection and discovery.  I am not talking, of course, about those awful billboards that threaten eternal hell if one isn’t right with God.  I’m talking about something more mundane and therefore more challenging.

My friend Teresa (not her real name, of course) suffered a life threatening illness a few years ago.  As a result, she said, she had given-up on God.  (I’m grateful to report she has not given-up on our friendship, however.)  It was the oft heard reasoning that “I almost died.  God didn’t help me when I needed Him,” and that was that.  I confess that I actually argued with her.  “But you didn’t die,” I said.  She laughed, “No thanks to Him.”

Up until then death had not really been a possibility, but when it suddenly loomed large, somebody or something had to be responsible.  Teresa was not in spiritual direction with me.  We are just good friends.  But her words haunt me.  During my years teaching in a medical school, my class in “Death and Dying” always included exercises that required students to reflect on their own mortality.  “What,” I wondered, “if I raised questions about death in spiritual direction?”  So I have begun to do so.

One of the questions I raise is, “How does the fact that you will die affect your spiritual experience?”  I have found that this question is foundational for two reasons.  First, if God only appears as the gatekeeper of heaven, it appears God has nothing to do with daily life, the very place we live moment to moment.  Second, if God is for me, as St. Paul testifies, day-in-and-day-out, then all the little deaths we suffer can be experienced in a very different light.

I wish I had talked with Teresa this way, but I didn’t.  It was my loss and possibly hers, too.  But what I could do, I did.  In my prayers, I lifted her up and took her to a place of light where God could comfort and heal her. I am content with being Teresa’s friend, trusting that she is in God’s strong hands .

Meanwhile, I rejoice at how intimate and safe the experience of spiritual direction is, so that the question about death can be raised.  Conversations about death are a doorway to realization that eternity lies, not just in the future, but in this very moment, and that life with and in God is not just for then, but for now.

Larry Burton

Joanna joannaseibert.com

Peterson: Prayer

Peterson: Prayer

“I began to comprehend the obvious that the central and shaping language of the church’s life has always been its prayer language. Out of that recognition a conviction grew: that my primary educational task as pastor was to teach people to pray. “ Eugene Peterson, The Contemplative Pastor, Returning to the Art of Spiritual Direction, p. 89.

The well-known author of the popular modern Bible translation, The Message,  reveals his interpretation of the most important ministry of a pastor is being a spiritual director, teaching others how to pray. He  is not downgrading teaching about faith or biblical writings or the history of God’s people, but  calls pastors to be spiritual directors, returning to the wisdom of ancient spiritual leaders who spent time training people to connect to God and God’s love in various forms of prayer. He introduces people  to making friends with our ancient forebearers, beginning with Gregory of Nyssa and Teresa of Avila, learning the language of intimacy, love, and relationship.

Peterson reminds us of two great mystical traditions of prayer, kataphatic and apophatic, one praying with our eyes open, the second praying with our eyes shut. The kataphatic prayer uses icons, symbols, ritual, incense, the creation as a way to the Creator. Apophatic prayer calls for emptiness with the mind emptied of thoughts and images until there is silence and the nearness of God.

Both ways can be mixed and will be meaningful in our lives at different times.  This former professor of spiritual theology, however, reminds us that the Psalms were written by people of God with their eyes open.

Joanna   joannaseibert.com

Buechner: Gandhi, Silence

Buechner: Gandhi Silence

A Telling Silence

“I REMEMBER ONCE going to see the movie Gandhi when it first came out. . . . We were the usual kind of noisy, restless Saturday night crowd as we sat there waiting for the lights to dim with our popcorn and soda pop, girlfriends and boyfriends, legs draped over the backs of the empty seats in front of us. But by the time the movie came to a close with the flames of Gandhi's funeral pyre filling the entire wide screen, there was not a sound or a movement in that whole theater, and we filed out of there—teenagers and senior citizens, blacks and whites, swingers and squares—in as deep and telling a silence as I have ever been part of.” 

 Frederick Buechner,  The Clown in the Belfry, Frederick Buechner Quote of the Day, November 30, 2017

We crave to silence the busyness in our heads. We try meditation, being with children, exercise, being outdoors, just sitting. Sometimes art forms can move us from our head to our hearts to the Christ within us in record time, as in the old Superman slogans, “like a speeding bullet.” Movies can do this for me especially about the life of those who know what suffering is like and learn from it rather than avoiding it or not living in the reality of it. I had the same experience when we first saw the movie, Gandhi. We walked out of the theater in silence. There were not words. The story about someone who brought about change by non-violence is a story we need to see or hear every day.

Joanna  joannaseibert.com