Soul Force

Inner Life

Rev. Paul Sprecher

Second Parish in Hingham, www.secondparish.org

January 31, 2010

^READINGS

Eknath Easwaran, God Makes the Rivers Flow, pp. 13-14.

In ancient India lived a sculptor renowned for his life-sized statues of elephants. With trunks curled high, tusks thrust forward, thick legs trampling the earth, these carved beasts seemed to trumpet to the sky. One day, a king came to see these magnificent works and to commission statuary for his palace. Struck with wonder, he asked the sculptor, "What is the secret of your artistry?"

The sculptor quietly took his measure of the monarch and replied, "Great king, when, with the aid of many men, I quarry a gigantic piece of granite from the banks of the river, I have it set here in my courtyard. For a long time I do nothing but observe this block of stone and study it from every angle. I focus all my concentration on this task.... At first, I see nothing but a huge and shapeless rock sitting there.... Then, slowly, very slowly, I begin to … feel a presentiment …. [A]n outline, scarcely discernible, shows itself to me .... I watch with an open eye and a joyous, eager heart. The outline grows stronger. Oh, yes, I can see it! An elephant is stirring in there!

"Only then do I start to work.... How the big fellow strains! How he yearns to be out! How he wants to live! … [W]ith an utter singleness of purpose, I must chip away every last bit of stone that is not elephant. What then remains will be, must be, elephant."

When I was young, [I would ask] my grandmother, my spiritual guide, … "What happens in the spiritual life? What are we supposed to do?"

My granny wasn't a theologian, so she answered these questions simply with a story like that of the elephant sculptor. She was showing that we do not need to bring our real self, our higher self, into existence. It is already there. It has always been there, yearning to be out. An incomparable spark of divinity is to be found in the heart of each human being, waiting to radiate love and wisdom everywhere, because that is its nature. Amazing! This you that sometimes feels inadequate, sometimes becomes afraid or angry or depressed, that searches on and on for fulfillment, contains within itself the very fulfillment it seeks, and to a supreme degree.

Barbara Merritt, Minister of the First Unitarian Church in Worcester, “Adversity,” in Everyday Spiritual Practice, p. 56.

When Jesus said that in order to acquire the "pearl of great price," we must sell all we have, he did not explain exactly how expensive the kingdom of heaven would be to obtain, or how long and painful the journey would be. But he gave plenty of compelling hints. He described the spiritual practice of his teachings as being akin to walking on a razor's edge. He said there would be no safe place to lay your head. He claimed you must become the servant of the "least of them." Jesus was not afraid of adversity. He taught that it was an integral part of God's grace. Jesus was not deterred by the limitations and fears and duplicity of his disciples. Even on the cross, at his own death, he forgave enemies and showed compassion toward the thief dying next to him. He always remembered what was essential. He kept in relationship with his truth.

If all of this discipline and hardship and sacrifice sounds too demanding, too uncomfortable, too difficult, you might wish to turn away from Jesus' teachings and search for easier spiritual nourishment in other world religions. You would be disappointed. This acceptance, even welcoming, of adversity is a common theme in all of the major world religions. The Buddha said, "To my best disciples I give disease, poverty, and dishonor." Apparently the Buddha understood that these hardships are some of the most auspicious circumstances in which to move forward on the path of enlightenment.

SERMON

Barbara Merritt recounts this tale of

Rumi, the thirteenth-century Islamic poet and mystic, [who] told a remarkable parable about adversity as a spiritual practice.... [A] young religious seeker heard of one Sheikh who could bestow peace to a conflicted mind with a single glance. He set off on the long journey to the mountains where the Sheikh was believed to live.

The young man arrived at the Sheikh's house and knocked on the door. The teacher's wife stuck her head out of the window and asked, screaming, what he wanted. The young man replied that he intended to see the great, holy teacher, the Sheikh. His wife let loose with a barrage of insults, recriminations, and accusations, calling the Sheikh a parasite and a fraud and the young man a fool. The seeker was taken aback, but undeterred. He told the woman that her angry words could not stop his quest for wisdom. "For you to try to blow out his candle is as futile as for you to try to blow out the sun," [he said].

And so the seeker continued his search. He went into town and learned that the teacher was in the forest collecting firewood. The young man hurried to the forest, but now his mind was troubled. Why would an enlightened teacher have such a wretched, miserable wife? Suddenly, the teacher appeared riding on a lion. The teacher had not only the power to quiet and tame the wildest of beasts, but he also read the doubt in the mind of the young man. The Sheikh immediately answered the unspoken question of the seeker. He told the young man that he had not chosen his wife and that he did not desire her company. He was committed to her, but for reasons of his own. "It is not her perfume or bright colored clothes. Enduring her public disdain has made me strong and patient. She is my practice."

In this story, Rumi suggests a whole new way of looking at what is troublesome, difficult, or demanding. "This is my practice." It could be a specific person or your own grumpy, stubborn, self-centered personality. It could be your health, your financial circumstances, your family of origin, or any number of troubles. Adversity may create an enormous amount of grief and sadness. Yet, through it, we may have the opportunity to become stronger and more patient. In the presence of adversity, we are constantly forced to remember our center, our source of ultimate strength, what is most real.[i]

Winter is a good time to remember to cultivate our practices. The cold outside invites us to warmth inside our homes and our hearts. As the earth and animals rest in winter, we too adopt a more withdrawn way of life, a time suitable for focus on our inner life. On the other hand, teaching that spiritual depth grows out of adversity is probably not the best way to gain adherents in this day and age. It’s a little hard to imagine the television commercial that would promote such a path. Our age prefers solutions which are fast, easy, and pleasant – and not too expensive. Something like “Spiritual Growth. You can do it. We can help.” Or perhaps “Cultivate you inner depths while saving time and money.” Something like that might work.

Eknath Easwaran compares the task of finding and cultivating our true self to the sculptor's work in finding the elephant in a block of stone. He says

Once we have become attentive to the presence of this true self, then all we really need do is resolutely chip away whatever is not divine in ourselves. I am not saying this is easy or quick. Quite the contrary; it can't be done in a week or by the weak. But the task is clearly laid out before us. By removing that which is petty and self-seeking, we bring forth all that is glorious and mindful of the whole. In this there is no loss, only gain. … [W]hen we get even a glimpse of the splendor of our inner being, our beloved preoccupations, predilections, and peccadillos will lose their glamour and seem utterly drab.[ii]

`A regular daily practice reminds us about our purpose; it gives us an opportunity in the middle of the busyness of daily living to reflect on the larger context of our lives, to remind us that there is more to our living than the daily round of obligations and responsibilities; that we have, each of us, a self which is unique and which requires cultivation and discipline. Whatever our particular beliefs, daily practice reminds us that there is something greater beyond us, that we are not God. Practice is a path of self-examination and purification, a way of learning to change ourselves into what we would become, to address those parts of ourselves which need to change so that we may become what we were meant to be. Practice is a way to weed out pettiness and to build the character of our soul. Daily practice makes perfect.

There are many forms of practice, drawn from the wonderful diversity of the world’s spiritual traditions. Each of us needs to find our own, consistent within our understanding of ourselves, with our own traditions, and with our ability to engage in the practice daily. Let me suggest here three general categories among which each of us may find a practice that works for us. I call the first contemplative prayer, the second classic meditation, and the third everyday spiritual practice.

My own practice is of the first type. First, I try to set aside time each day for a variety of inspiring reading – a daily reflection on the assigned reading of the day from the daily lectionary; a daily meditation from our Unitarian Universalist tradition, sometimes from a day book, other times from our collection of mediation manuals; a prayer starting in silence in which I focus on my breath, in and out, in and out (much as I do during our time of quietness in the silence of the bell during our worship service each Sunday) followed by a more fully articulated prayer of thanksgiving, petition and resolution, moving then into the Prayer of Jesus; and finally a reading from scripture – just now my third annual reading through the assigned weekly portion of the Torah, the first five books of the Hebrew Bible. There are of course many variations on such a practice. During the years I was commuting into New York City to my job, I used to carry out this practice during the morning bus ride; now I have more leisure and can do it in my office here or at home in the morning. Some of you undoubtedly follow such a practice each day. I find it congenial in part because I learned it from my father – albeit reluctantly at times and long ignored when I was not part of any religious community.

The second variety I have called classic meditation, often drawn from eastern traditions such as Buddhism, Hinduism, and Taoism. One of my colleagues is a practitioner of Zen Buddhism, engaging in sitting meditation each day; another of Tibetan Buddhism, repeating sacred chants from the Sanscrit each day and gathering with others to share and deepen the practice with others. This is the form encouraged by Eknath Easwaran, from whom we read this morning, drawing from his Hindu tradition. He taught a simple but powerful practice which illustrates some of the main points of most kinds of meditation. First, set aside a room or the corner of a room which is devoted exclusively to meditation and spiritual reading. Then, take half an hour each day, as early as possible in the day, to engage in meditation. Find a position in which you can be comfortable sitting, and keep your head, neck, and spinal column erect in a straight line. Close your eyes, and then begin slowly, in your mind, to recite one of the passages from the scriptures of the great mystics; he suggests learning first the Prayer of St. Francis of Assisi as a first step. He reminds us that

In memorizing the prayer, it may be helpful to remind yourself that you are not addressing some extraterrestrial being outside you. The kingdom of heaven is within us, and the Lord is enshrined in the depths of our own consciousness. In this prayer we are calling deep into ourselves, appealing to the spark of the divine that is our real nature.[iii]

He suggests that you simply say the words of the text you have memorized very, very slowly, allowing each each word to sink into the depths of your consciousness like a pebble thrown into a deep well. When distractions come, do not follow them but instead concentrate still more on the words of the prayer or other text you are using. As you give each word sustained attention, the meaning cannot help but sink into your inner being. He summarizes,

The secret of mediation is simple: we become what we meditate on. When you use the Prayer of St. Francis every day in meditation, your are driving the words deep into your consciousness. Eventually they become an integral part of your personality, which means they will find constant expression in what you do, what you say, and what you think.[iv]

That’s one simple variation of daily meditation. Another is especially associated with Thich Nhat Hanh, and consists especially of simply focusing on your breath, breathing in, breathing out, a form which is illustrated and practiced in our first hymn this morning, “Meditation on Breathing.” As Thich Nhat Hanh says about his chosen way, “The miracle is not to walk on water. The miracle is to walk on the green earth in the present moment, to appreciate the peace and beauty that are available now.”[v]

Finally, the third form or rather set of forms is drawn from a group of reflections by a number of leaders of our own Unitarian Universalist tradition, gathered in the book Everyday Spiritual Practice: Simple Pathways to Enriching Your Life, from which Rev. Barbara Merrit’s practice of responding to adversity was drawn. Some of the essays describe the more classic forms of practice, among them Sitting Zen, Tai Chi, and yoga practices such as Rev. Kim Preveza uses. Others are more eclectic, drawn more closely from our daily living, but all involve paying careful attention each day.

Rev. Barbara Wells, for example – formerly of the Paint Branch Unitarian Universalist Church in Maryland which Sandy and Bernie Peavey attended before moving to Linden Ponds – describes her own eclectic spiritual practice, which has “consistently involved three primary elements: personal devotion, finding a mentor, and worshipping in community.”[vi] This path allows her the freedom to focus more on the particular problems and issues in her life at a given time. She emphasizes that it becomes most important for her to engage in her practice precisely when she doesn’t have time for it. She reports that

At one particular time, when everything seemed to be falling apart around me and I had very little time to deal with anything, I found myself even more compelled to do regular personal reflection, meet weekly with my teacher, and worship with my community. Doing so enabled me to weather one of the most difficult periods in my life.[vii]

Barbara Merrit, in describing her practice of using adversity as a discipline, describes it as a commitment, a way of “staying in relationship, despite changes in mood, weather, and schedule.”[viii] The advantage of using adversity in this way is that we fill find it wherever we look. As she puts it,

Many spiritual disciplines require a great deal of intentionality; one must search for, and then cultivate and protect these practices. Adversity, on the other hand, will come to us without any effort or exertion. When difficult circumstances present themselves, we can choose to pay attention. We can keep our hearts and minds and souls open to the gifts of the spirit, which are hidden in the midst of an imperfect world.[ix]

Many other practices are described in this collection: Silent retreats; living by heart, a practice of memorizing and contemplating great poetry; martial arts; exercise; fasting; marriage; loss and grief; social justice; simple living; gardening; cooking; art, and many others.

There are many possible practices, many possible paths. What is important to us in choosing is to find a practice which speaks to our own depths; to give it careful and sustained attention; and to engage in it regularly so that we are challenged and changed by it, discovering in the process who we really are and what we are meant for. While most practices involve some withdrawing from the ordinary rounds of our lives, they help us return to active engagement renewed and refreshed. As Easwaran puts it,

The old dispute about the relative virtues of the active way and the contemplative way is a spurious one. We require both. They are phases of a single rhythm like the pulsing of the heart, the in-drawing and letting go of breath, the ebb and flow of the tides. So we go deep, deep inwards in meditation to consolidate our vital energy, and then, with greater love and wisdom, we come out into the family, the community, the world. Without action we lack opportunities for changing our old ways, and we increase our self-will rather than lessen it; without contemplation, we lack the strength to change and are blown about by our conditioning.[x]

There are many ways, but what we choose must be our own way. Only thus can we penetrate our own depths; only thus can we find strength for living boldly and confidently, facing conflicts and distractions with ease. Let us find such a way, and let us practice.

Amen www.secondparish.org