Judgement

A Spiritual Practice for Anger

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Friends,

Yesterday, I preached on a difficult text in the Gospel of Luke, in which Jesus says, "I came not to bring peace, but division." His exasperation, anger, and impatience are on display. We often have strong reactions to texts in which God/Jesus seem angry or judgmental -- many of us have been taught to internalize those words as shame. Many of us have been taught that those words are precisely why you shouldn't bother with Christianity anyway. In the sermon, I asked listeners to consider why Jesus was so frustrated, why people seemed to react with division to his message of peace, and how we let our own frustration and anger be a guide for our participation in the way of love. I shared a spiritual practice (hat tip to David O'Fallon, who shared it with me a few weeks ago) that can help us connect with those feelings and perhaps use them as a compass. You can find it below.

To catch up on that and other recent sermons, click here.

Along with that practice of entering our impatience and anger, people of the way of Jesus get to claim a radical hope. As our bishop put it recently:

"As followers of Jesus and heirs of God’s promise to Abraham, our call in this moment is to stand in the face of that cynicism as people of outrageous, even laughable, hope. Our call is to help lift heads hung heavy by the weight of death, injustice, and suffering, that we might all consider the stars, and make a choice to cling to nothing more, and nothing less, than the promise, most fully revealed in the resurrection of Jesus from the dead, that love’s power to bring in God’s perfect reign exceeds even their seemingly endless number. Can we live in this moment with Sarah’s defiant joy, Abraham’s absurd hope, and a fierce commitment to God’s better way, anchored in an unimaginably vast horizon of hope?"

You can read the rest of his message here.

Susan+

—Spiritual Practice
Honoring the Ache | from The Rev. Cameron Trimble at Piloting Faith

This week, choose one grief you’re carrying for the world. Name it clearly. Then, without trying to solve it or suppress it, spend 5–10 minutes each day simply sitting with it.

Place your hand on your heart. Breathe into the ache. Ask: What does this pain teach me about what I love?

Then, write one sentence each day that affirms that love—something you want to protect, preserve, or praise in this world.

Let your heartbreak become a compass.

From Curse to Blessing: A Guided Lenten Practice

Week of Lent III, March 23: From Curse to Blessing
Luke 13:1-9 “Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all others?” In this passage, Jesus wrestles with a belief common in his time, and in ours – the notion that God causes bad things to happen to people as revenge for their sins. Using an image of garden fertilizer, Jesus calls us back to the story of the first garden: he invites his listeners to put their energy toward bearing fruit.

Where has an image of a punishing God taken root in your life? How might you ask God to heal that image? In a violent and unpredictable world, how might we put our energy into God’s original blessing, God’s dream of shalom for the earth and all its creatures?

[ Audio version ]

Find a comfortable spot in your space. Sit or lie down in a way that allows your body to fully relax. Take your time, making any necessary adjustments. If your body offers you guidance about what it needs to fully soften into this moment, heed its advice.

Once you're feeling supported and settled, gently shine the flashlight of your awareness onto your breath, be curious--- what do you find? Is it smooth and even? Are you craving a deeper inhale or more luxurious exhale? Does it reach to your belly or is it living up and among your collarbones? Invite your breath to soften and lengthen – signaling to your mind and nervous system that it’s ok to drop into this moment, there is no place else to go, nothing else to do.

Release your awareness from your breath and trust it to do what needs to be done to breathe your body.

Now, again using your awareness like a flashlight, bring your awareness to your feet. Check in with the soles of the feet, the tops of the feet, the ankles. Let your noticing gradually pull upwards, checking in with your calves, shins, and knees.

Consider the strong muscles of your upper leg – the hamstrings, quadriceps, all the tendons. Notice any tension still present and gently soften deeper into your seat.

Bring your awareness to the hips, pelvic bowl, seat...imagine the light of your awareness working its way into the intricate workings of your hip sockets, softening whatever tightness you may find.

Let the awareness move up now into the belly bowl, the lower back. Fill the whole lower torso with breath and the light of awareness.

Let it continue up, checking in with the diaphragm, the rib cage, the lungs – take some time to saturate all the vital organs and muscles in your chest cavity with awareness and breath.

Notice now as the flashlight of awareness gently rises to fill in the space around the collarbones, the shoulder blades, and pools along the strong muscles atop your shoulders. Imagine your awareness cascading down each arm – touching your biceps, triceps, elbows, forearms, wrists…hands and fingers. Notice as any tension or tightness drips out the tips of the fingers and returns to the earth.

Train your gentle awareness on your neck and let it fill and move along the muscles on the front of the neck, the sides, the back. Release the root of the tongue, release the jaw. Let the muscles of your face and scalp soften, giving some extra noticing to your temples, the tiny muscles across your forehead, and the deep pockets of the eye sockets.

Good – now notice as your entire human form is full of gentle awareness and breath. Just breathe into the shape of you for another moment.

Now, into this soft, supported space, consider the notion of God as ultimate judge and punisher. Is this image of a vengeful God familiar to you? Notice any stories or history that come to mind as you examine this notion.

How do you relate to this notion of an exacting God – one that doles out retribution for our sins? What happens in your body when you bring this fearsome image of God to your awareness? Does your belly tighten? Your heart race? Your face flush?

Spend a moment feeling into the conditioned response to a retributive God.

Keep breathing.
Choose one place in your body that can feel the impact of the version of God that is punishing. Gently place a loving hand there – belly, heart, forehead, feet. Breathe into your own gentle touch and invite that place to start to relax and soften. Stay with this sensation and breathe into it – returning if your mind wanders.
As your body starts to relax and release this fear into your breath and gentle touch – intentionally choose to shift your attention to Jesus’ invitation to set down the debate about sin and punishment and instead turn towards bearing the fruit of God’s love. Feel into this shift with your senses – look towards the bearing of fruit, feel the turn away from vengefulness and towards love.
Really orient your awareness to this – the fruit to be borne by your human gifts.

What shifts for you as you change your awareness and intention in this way? How can you notice, in real time, that you have oriented to being a bearer of fruit in this world instead of an exacter of judgment?

Consider your week ahead – as you scan the days and hours, let opportunities for bearing loving fruit present themselves – what chances do you have to choose this way of being? What is one concrete offering you have for the world this week in the spirit of fruitful love?

As you move through this week – commit to noticing when you’re in the energy of judgement, punishment, and fear. When you find yourself there, practice gently turning energetically and heartfully towards the bearing of God’s fruit – over and over again. Without perfection but with steadfastness of purpose.
Now, release any practice and tend fully to three deep breaths. Then return to the room and stretch to come back into the present moment.