Buechner: Dealing with Pain

Buechner: A Good Steward of Pain

“I am sure there are one hundred and six ways we have of coping with pain. Another way is to be a good steward of it.”—Frederick Buechner in A Crazy Holy Grace (Zondervan, 2017).

Two book clubs I participated in read A Crazy Holy Grace, a recent collection of Frederick Buechner’s essays about pain and memory. In one story from a previous book, The Eyes of the Heart, Buechner writes about a unique series of rooms in his home that constitute his sacred space. He describes his writing space, the library—the largest room, with ceiling-high shelves of books, including the Uncle Wiggly Series, his first editions, and sermons of John Donne. Also, in the room are unique objects meaningful to him: framed autographs of heroes such as Queen Elizabeth I and inscribed portraits of heroes such as Mark Twain and Anthony Trollope.

In his imagination, Buechner then invites people from his past into what he calls his Magic Kingdom. Next, he carries on a loving and humorous conversation with his ninety-four-year-old grandmother, Naya, whom he dearly loves. As he tells it, she describes their relationship as “a marriage made in heaven. I loved to talk, and you loved to listen.”

Finally, Buechner asks her about death. Naya describes it as “stepping off a streetcar before it has come to a stop.”

Buechner has written extensively about his mother, who deals with her pain by burying it or forgetting about it, his father, who deadens his pain with alcohol, and finally, a tragic suicide when Buechner is ten years old. Buechner seems to have worked through difficulties in those relationships by writing about them. However, he still cannot invite his parents into his sacred space because of fears they may be too much or too little.

Buechner models two approaches for us: letting God guide us to heal through our past pain. First, we can return in our imagination to a sacred space to be with those with whom we feel safe, and let them guide us through our pain. Second, when we are uncomfortable dialoguing directly with those we have difficulty with, we can dialogue with them on paper. His experience is that God works to heal us through both methods.

This has been my experience as well. So, now I pass Buechner’s knowledge on to each of you and pay

  it forward.

Joanna.   https://www.joannaseibert.com/

 

 

 

How Do I Listen?

How Do I Listen?

“How

Do I

Listen to others?

 

As if everyone were my Master

Speaking to me

His

Cherished

Last

Words.”—Hafiz, The Gift (renderings by Daniel James Ladinsky).

Listening skills are paramount with spiritual friends. I remember one person I met with for spiritual direction who talked for the entire hour. I never spoke a word. I kept waiting for her to breathe, but it didn’t seem to happen. At first, I couldn’t understand why she came, but gradually, I sensed that she simply needed someone to listen to her to acknowledge the God within her. This became more evident after she recommended several other people to come for direction, because she said I was so helpful! I later realized she was a gift, teaching me how to listen.

We can practice many listening exercises, enabling us to become experienced listeners. For example, a grief recovery group, Walking the Mourner’s Path, uses a very effective one. At the first meeting of those grieving the death of a loved one, the participants divide into pairs, and each person tells the other about their loved one. Then, they all return to the group, as each listener tells the group about the person grieved by their partner. Even though the pairs never work together again, they develop a bond for the program’s eight weeks or longer.

Today’s picture is of Bishop Michael Curry, one of the world’s most compassionate listeners.

Joanna. https://www.joannaseibert.com/

 

 

John McCain

John McCain

“But the souls of the righteous are in the hand of God,

and no torment will ever touch them.

In the eyes of the foolish they seemed to have died,

and their departure was thought to be a disaster,

and their going from us to be their destruction;

but they are at peace.

For though in the sight of others they were punished,

their hope is full of immortality.

Having been disciplined a little, they will receive great good,

because God tested them and found them worthy of himself.

Those who trust in him will understand truth,

and the faithful will abide with him in love,

because grace and mercy are upon his holy ones,

and he watches over his elect.”—Wisdom 3:1-5, 9.

Along with many Americans, I spent several days watching memorials to Senator John McCain in 2018. Then, I watched the service at the National Cathedral on the Saturday morning of his funeral. I became awed at the Cathedral over thirty years ago when our friends Joanne and Allan Meadors introduced us to it through the National Cathedral Association, and we became hooked. We visited it at least twice a year for twenty years, often staying at the College of Preachers on its grounds. I am still reeling from this memorable service held in this familiar sacred space on that Saturday morning. 

Former Senator Kelly Ayotte read these beautiful scriptural words from the Book of Wisdom recommended for the Burial Office.

I am impressed by how a man can inspire us through his death—how he lived, and even how he planned his burial service. I can barely talk about it, much less write about it. So many of us were reduced to tears by Meghan McCain’s tribute to her father. This is often a sign of greatness when a man involved in politics is also deeply cared for and loved by his children. 

The entire service was inspiring, a remembrance of an icon—of someone who made mistakes and owned up to them, who dared to cross the aisle at the Senate to listen to representatives of the other party, who learned to speak his truth and face the consequences. 

Many believe he grew in character because of his five years of captivity in North Vietnam as a prisoner of war. Most of us cannot imagine what that was like. McCain is a role model for us of someone who turned his trials into gold.

I see many lives in captivity, not in the way McCain’s was, but caught in the captivity of addictions or addictive lifestyles. I daily encounter ordinary men and women who have learned from and come out of that life into what Christians would call a life of resurrection, an alternative life beyond anything they could have dreamed. Many who previously knew them can no longer recognize them—physically, mentally, or spiritually.

John McCain’s service was a service of resurrection, a reminder for all of us that there is another way to live and that we can begin that journey long before death.