VISIONS OF BLESSED COMMUNITY SOMEWHERE WE MIGHT REALLY LIVE

Again, try to envision that perfect spiritual community. How do we plug our own households (with all of their struggles in a disintegrating society) into that envisioned fellowship? Terra Mama’s got her hubbie and kids, with all of their confrontations in the wider world; meanwhile, this poet-monk keeps hoping to find wifey and kids, to engage in a, well, household, for starters – just to finally get into the game. Too often, I feel like a monk without a monastery! And my prayer life often takes the form of poetry writing, collecting rejection slips from publishers, or playing solitaire and sipping martinis because I don’t want to tackle Pile A, Pile B, or Pile C of obligations awaiting my labors in my studio – usually after my workday.

Put another way, I just don’t see it in the nature of our own liberal/artsy/leftist leaning folkies to get together in anything having a degree of gelassenheit – submission, discipleship, or correcting-rebuking potential. It’s the old problem of trying to herd cats. (Or, as one clerk greeted the Meeting after a presentation by the kids at the rise of worship: “Welcome to the New Age Holy Rollers!”)

Several newer Friends in Agamenticus have been stunned to hear our current clerk tell them how long it has taken Friends here to finally accept my messages, with their Biblical references. Then they look incredulously at me to see my nodding affirmation. There is a place for patience, but the Meeting as a whole still has a long way to go before we’re Biblically rooted. And there will always be a hole forming a “doughnut Meeting, sweet at the edges but hollow in the middle,” until we learn to pray together. At least some people are asking in our announcements time that other Friends hold them in prayer, rather than simply in the Light.

I suppose that practicing as a faith community without openly acknowledging the power and presence of Christ is like trying to do chemistry without any mathematics; things can happen, but you’re never sure quite why, there’s always a high degree of chance, and it’s bound to be messy with unfinished materials all about. Thus, while I find Quaker worship and service can come closest to that of the early church, it is also with a measure of bad manners, not to acknowledge (more specifically, praise and give thanks to) its root and source. Hence, my Mennonite experiences and discipleship, small group, and you and Eric. What a trip!

Now, do you expect the job of pastor to be any easier, facing a congregation of uncomprehending faces or Sunday-only Christians? Most of the pastors I see are pretty isolated, too; they and their families don’t really fit easily into their congregational fellowship. You know the struggles of most P.K.s (“preacher’s kids”); many of the spouses are the real martyrs of Protestant parishes. Maybe what you and I yearn for is grandparents and aunts and uncles in the Spirit, and we long for an extended family – the kind where four Hodgin brothers marry four Ozbun sisters over the course of several years, and are then available whenever for each other whenever needed (that is, between the demands of their thirty-two or so children). Instead, we get Hollywood romance: boy meets girl, zippo.

Actually, you need to go to Cuba and visit with our sister Meetings there. They have community because there’s no alternative. They walk everywhere together. Their faith has been refined in the fire, and they see know their neighbors problems and needs because they live nearby, and they Jesus everywhere. Their representatives who visit New England are re-evangelizing NEYM. Some of their teens, writing to Wellesley’s young Friends, asked: “Tell us about your conversion experiences!” (Our WHAT?) (Out of that, one Massachusetts teen voiced how much his/her parents opposed said teen’s attendance at any religious observance – going to Meeting is an act of rebellion.)

When I clerk, I continue a practice from Ohio of prefacing the session with a quotation of Scripture, which is then minuted. Last QM, I selected a chunk from 1st John. Later, a red Valentine cutout was passed around, a gift from a youth in our sister Meeting, Holguin. As I translated the text, in my hands, I realized she had written, in Spanish, much of what I had read in English earlier. That’s what we long for.

Well, my three-year stint on Ministry and Counsel is now completed, and is I exhausted! Told Nominating I need at least a year’s respite, will serve only as Quarterly Meeting clerk this year; turned down Yearly Meeting, too, in its request for me to be one of the recording clerks. Same reason, plus the gelassenheit reality from above. One thing is enough.

On top of it, I’ve raised a concern with Yearly Meeting’s M&C that maybe it’s time to lay down the Quarterly Meetings, or at least seriously reconsider their role. I think that with modern transportation, the Yearly Meeting committees have simply replaced the QM in most if not all of its functions.

Other fronts help, too: After Meeting for Worship a few months ago, I was in a conversation with someone who shocked me by saying that she and her husband were about to step into retirement – they certainly don’t look it – and that led into a tally of little adjustments in the aging process – the reading glasses, aches, and so on. “Yeah, this getting older isn’t any fun,” I quipped. From behind us came a soft voice, “That’s why old age is saved for those of us who are tough!” – and we turned to see it had come from eighty-something Grace. So maybe we’re just toughening up, rather than being patched up?

~*~

For more Seasons of the Spirit, click here.

FOOD FOR CONTEMPLATION AND GROUNDING

Through much of the history of the Society of Friends, Quakers lived under stick codes of conduct that shaped their distinctive Plain Speech and Plain Dress, along with a host of less visible restrictions. Apart from the Peace Testimony and sets of guidelines that would have us not swear oaths, gamble, live ostentatiously, indulge in most of the fine arts or other entertainments, and so on, those days are long past.

When it comes to food, Friends have long held to the “eat to live, not live to eat” standard, one nonetheless accompanied by a delight in fresh produce, good cheese, and gardening itself. Some of this outlook is guided by our testimonies of simplicity and, by extension, honesty, as well as a respect for quality rather than quantity. Alcohol has had a more varied history, given that it was a basic of daily life at the time the movement emerged in the mid-1600s. Initially, the offense was for “being disguised by hard liquor,” rather than imbibing itself. Only later did much of the Quaker world abolish the consumption of alcoholic beverages altogether. As social drinking has become more widely acceptable in recent decades, so, too, has much of that opposition abated in Quaker households.

That’s not to say individual Friends don’t follow dietary disciplines. Vegans and vegetarians are common in our communities, even before we get to the medically prescribed limitations of gluten, lactose, diabetic, allergies, and more. (Trying to plan for a dinner of potluck can be trying these days – should we save that for a later discussion?) And, a step away, smoking is always discouraged.

As I discussed in Around the Table, a Dec. 17, 2015, posting in the Talking Money series on my Chicken Farmer I Still Love You blog, the issues of feasting and fasting, as well as dietary limitations, are major components of religious practice and awareness. To my thinking, apart from the reasoning behind a ban on one item or another is the essential strengthening of an ability to say No – to curb one’s initial desires and impulses, a virtue that can be conveyed to more difficult decisions in one’s life. We start with the simple things, after all.

Fasting, a common practice among early Friends, is a cleansing I came to appreciate through my residency in a yoga ashram in the early ’70s. It can also be quite liberating and joyful. You’d be surprised.

More recently, I’ve had to acknowledge another kind of fasting – one in which food is not totally avoided but instead the daily diet is greatly curbed, with entire categories of food perhaps removed from cooking or eating.

Looking at the complex regulations the Eastern Orthodox churches impose for Advent and Lent, my wife remarked that vegan would generally fit right in. Since we’ve already (voluntarily) been observing Advent and Lent by abstaining from alcohol, we decided to switch to a vegan cuisine for last Advent, something we’ve considered returning to with Lent, which starts Monday. Yes, I do miss the milk in my coffee, but I’d been intending to reduce the sugar intake anyway – while sweets themselves aren’t off limits, sometimes one step makes another one easier, too, as I’ve found here.

We recognize there are two ways to approach this. One is to go for self-mortification, a bit of suffering, if you will. The other is to delight in many of the options that get overlooked in the abundance we enjoy daily. We’ve been intending to eat more beans, for instance. How do we rise to the challenge? What do we have to use instead of butter or olive oil? Is margarine cheating? How about coconut milk? You get the picture.

Since the Orthodox do relax the Advent rules at times during the week, we’re pondering similar with fish and (other) meat – once or twice a week, at most, and then in small quantities – as an alternative approach . Well, we will confess that Thanksgiving Day was a big exception in our Advent observance. The rules for Great Lent, by the way, are much stricter than those imposed in the approach to Christmas. How do the Orthodox do it?

Anyone have similar thoughts on Kosher or Halal or the yogic considerations of Satvic, Rajasic, or Tomasic or any of the other places where spiritual practice meets earthly tastes? Pipe up, please!

TRAPPED IN THE SCHEDULING

Thinking, too, of Bill Taber’s observation that Quakerism is filled with “strong women and tender men.” Think that describes us?

Which reminds me of a story Sondra Cronk was telling at Tract Association; she was back stateside between semesters at Woodbrooke (the English Pendle Hill center). Friends Meetings there (so she said) are in a very decrepit and lowly state, although as thee may imagine, some of the most powerful worship occurs in the very small Meetings that appear physically most ghostly. In any case, at one of the Quarterly or Yearly Meeting sessions, someone raised the question of whether we were letting the scheduling get in the way of Divine Leading – that is, whether our sessions are too busy to allow the Lord to do His work. Without seeing the irony that followed, the clerk replied: “I don’t see how we can possibly discuss that before 1988!” To which he was challenged: “We can’t wait that long!” “Well, then, maybe we can work it in later in 1986.” No wonder I’m so frustrated with committees! What I’m realizing is that in responding to the call not to serve on committees, I’ve been liberated to perform much needed intervisitation, as the Lord leads me. If I were to do this as part of a committee – and I may still have notes from the gatherings Ohio Yearly Meeting extended when the Lake Erie Association of Friends was not yet a YM – there would be so much effort involved in simply getting everyone together, establishing schedules, packing lunches, carpooling, and writing and duplicating reports, that the visitation would never get off the ground. Well, a committee of two, perhaps: thee and me, or Charles and me. Or even three or four in close combinations such as thee, Charles, Paula, and me. Which seems to be how early Friends did it! How enlightening!

~*~

For more Seasons of the Spirit, click here.

Three sections from MOTET I

1

pick a language . a religion . a star, somewhere

of what I’ve distrusted
and yet seek

in the night of spring greening
where birds begin arguing (the males, as usual

but listen

good questions
guide better
than many answers

let me relate notations
of elk found on mountains
behind mountains – beside mountains, too
where streams run fast and clear
in everlasting rapture

before they appeared to me in their flesh
before I had children
before you appeared
but now

we’ll argue theology over lunch or dinner
or the menu

but first, grace

2

all this is not the same
as sitting by yourself

not the same as watching
anything

or listening to anything
or tasting anything

you can touch

since you asked, I’ll tell
you everything I know

if you tell me
where you’d like to start

3

to be completely honest
is so simple
you would think

until facing others
until facing yourself

all the temptations
all the screw-ups

all the aspirations
all the ruins to your back

all the idealized masks and labels
you wear
the childhood you’ve never left
all the flattery and self-delusions
all the false accusations you can’t quite shake

all the flaking paint on the siding of your house
all the cracking plaster within

as you age, all the lost years
you deny
all the shortcuts

so much of what your mirror
never reveals

no matter what you say
no matter what they say

the sins of omission
as well as commission

all the skills of a Philadelphia lawyer
all the skills of public office
all the skills of executive decision

any or all

the impossibility of saying exactly who you are
or why

Poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
To see the full set, click here.

LET’S CAST THE SPOTLIGHT AWAY FROM POOR JOB

Could it be that the Book of Job isn’t so much about the suffering of Job, a man of faith, as it is a critique of conventional religion and religiosity itself?

In my volume Eden Embraced, I approach Job’s plight as if the text were a Hebrew Upanishad, one paralleling a type of classic Hindu writings. Yes, the thread holding the plot together follows one innocent man’s spiritual journey through unspeakable suffering. Blameless as he is – and uncomforting as God’s role is here – Job would have every right to turn in other directions, though he chooses to remain faithful.

The story is endlessly troubling, especially for those who read it from a legalistic perspective. From the outset, God is arrogant, even vain and cruel, rather than compassionate or even all-knowing. And Satan, a member of the sacred council, could be a favored golfing buddy arranging another wager.

The setup can easily lead to contortions as a believer attempts to reconcile other, more conventional, definitions of the Holy One with the action at hand, especially when Job’s buddies begin to weigh in with their platitudes. In many interpretations, Job’s faithfulness is held up as an example to emulate, no matter what. Fat lot of encouragement, right?

As a writer, though, I can see the axiom of trying to address a situation by taking an opposing, uncommon position, which is where I see the story of Job originating. After all, we are faced with the question of just where does evil originate, along with human suffering. Why not blame the Creator?

Is there even a large measure of humor in this? Take the events over the top, asking just what more can happen to poor Job? And that’s where his so-called friends step in, adding misery to his plight and their condemnation rather than comfort.

Would it be nearly as compelling if they did the right thing? If Mother Teresa had showed up instead?

By the way, I delight in the happy ending, which many purists object to as a later revision that doesn’t fit with the general thrust of the plot. Feel free to weigh in as you will.

AIR, AND THEREFORE

imagine
some flying heaven

with sparks
and the fantasized constellations

wind . inspiration . beclouds and clears

memory . learning
philosophy. theology. mathematics
within logic a song or cunning ethics

the conception . over land, over waters
even fire

all the legged and winged creatures
the very words God said

goodness as well as
food for the mind

dreams
wishes
visions

nothingness
and everything that moves in some fashion

positioning sun, moon, stars
the multitudes of birds
yes, singing

the WAY

I breathe, therefore, and am

ANY

light entering a shadow

light chasing a shadow

headlight of a passing car
swirling around the room

*   *   *

come to me anyway

come to me any way

Poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
To see the full set, click here.

STILLING THE SEASONS, IF FOR A MOMENT

For all of their range across time, seasons of the Spirit, as well as seasons of the flesh, are grounded in the here and now. It’s the paradox that unites the two, and intensifies their wisdom. Eternity, in effect, as found in a flash.

Keep racing, and you’ll see nothing but a blur en route to some goal. You can be fully alive in the rush of adrenaline, your attention concentrated on what is essential in split-second increments. The pace is unsustainable for long, naturally, and an emotional crash will follow. The alternative is to stop yourself, to achieve calm before the storm or calm within the storm, before continuing. Stopping, to regain strength as well as collect scattered thoughts and actions. To restore focus and wholeness.

When I think of these seasons, I don’t know whether the yin-yang emblem of Buddhism, with its “S” rippling through a circle, and light on one side and darkness on the other (alternating day and night or sun and moon), or the Christian cross is more appropriate. The cross, after all, leaves us with four quadrants, like the seasons themselves, while the yin-yang expresses alternating rhythms encountered daily.

The daily rhythms converge on sunrise and sunset – in many traditions, times of meditation, prayer, or chanting. Moments to acknowledge the presence of Spirit with us, in our flesh.

Walt Whitman, describing his first Quaker meeting, tells of entering a room where people were “sitting still as death.” The phrase initially appears morbid and troubling. Even so, it reflects an early Quaker understanding of a necessity of “dying to the world” and its desires and distractions in order to become open to the Spirit. Deep silent meditation becomes a kind of winter, to be followed by spring. The flesh, too, is given symbolic rest and freed from unessential movement. The moment becomes timeless. The stream clears. Fears and worries fall away.

This, too, is a season I invite you to discover.

The hour will end, and we’ll return to our usual labors, before drawing back together in stillness.

~*~

For more Seasons of the Spirit, click here.

REINTERPRETING A BIBLICAL TEXT

In fleshing out minor characters in Scripture, performance artist Peterson Toscano shared an insight: “feet” in the text (and I believe he mentioned “thighs,” too) can be a euphemism for “penis” or “genitals.” So when Zepporah tosses her son’s bloody foreskin at Moses’ “feet” (note the parallel), she’s screaming, “What kind of man are you who would place us all in jeopardy!”

Much of the Hebrew Bible is likely far “earthier” than we’re likely to hear from the pulpit. How much do we lose, then, in translation? How much are fundamentalists, too, missing?

YOGIS

The old swami was only fifty-one, I see now.
He thought Helene and I both were way too skinny.

The cookies my mother, an inept cook, shipped
went to class anyway. The break, after a workout.
“You moved away from this? You’re nuts!”

“Breathe as if you’re a sponge,” Loretta encouraged.

Life is different when the mind controls the breath.

“You are the most interesting person you’ll ever meet,”
Guru-dev insisted. “Stand in your own Light,
not others’.”

Or stand on your own head, before falling over.

“People leave us alone,” the young bride radiated.
“We pacifists are no fun to fight with.”

An exchange of floral garlands
made a wedding.

When the husband chanted,
he sounded like a puppy
first thing in the morning.

This would be as close as I would get to India
from Ohio.

To continue, click here.
Copyright 2015

NAGGING QUESTION

I’ve been trying to avoid one nagging question: How does your faith make you a different person? How has it changed your life? Followed by: How do others perceive this?

The old Quaker testimonies presented faith as a matter of the way we live. Our “sufferings” for our beliefs. (It matters THAT much!) The days when Friends lived “under discipline” – language and clothing as outward expressions – remaining inescapable.

So what about today? How does being Quaker (or whatever your faith) make you not just different, but a better person than you would have otherwise been?

~*~

Seasons 1

For more of my reflections, click here.