Love: The Body speaks

I jumped out of bed Labour Day Monday ready for action: I had my traditional ‘to do’ list around the house, tasks reserved only for that most auspicious of holidays: Labour Day. Neatly positioned at the beginning of a new school year, Labour Day promises the beginning of a new season of programs, commitments, work, setting goals, ideals and visions of our aspiring.

I only did certain jobs on this day of the year. You know, like Spring cleaning, these were things that needed to be done once in a while, but aren’t really activities that are particularly pleasurable, to say the least. So, I put it off to Labour Day. I need that annual calendar day to help me stay disciplined. And that is good.

One of those jobs was cleaning the HRV – the Heat Recovery Ventilator. This is the contraption attached to the furnace that recycles the air in your house. On the sticker inside the ventilator, it suggests that the filter should be cleaned once every three months. Yeah, right. Who has time for that?

So, on Labour Day every year, I dutifully remove the heavy box containing the filter, and hose it down. I wash the spongy fabric and hang to dry. I meticulously wipe out the interior of the ventilator with a damp cloth. I vacuum out all the cobwebs, dead wasps, flies and dust mites. I use pipe cleaners to clean the plastic, transparent drain tubes. And when everything is done I put it all back together. Usually it takes me a couple of hours. And then it’s on to the next item on my Labour Day ‘to do’ list. You get the idea.

I knew I had a full day’s agenda of those odds and sods sort of jobs.  Jess and I had just pulled the stove away from the wall to clean the floor underneath (yuck!) when all-of-a-sudden the doorbell rang.

With beads of sweat trickling from my forehead stinking of sweat in dirty clothes, I looked up with ‘surprise’ at who was smiling and waving through the front door pane: my parents-in-law! They were inviting us out for lunch at the local truck stop.

With herculean effort to switch gears and rush into ‘receive-and-respond-to-guest’ mode, I quietly complained to Jess in the bathroom as we quickly washed up that I didn’t appreciate this interruption to the day’s agenda of hard work. Likely all the work wouldn’t get done. And how long were they going to stay at our place after lunch? Throughout the lunch hour I fought the impulse to be resentful and angry at this unplanned, unwelcomed intrusion to the important Labour Day work.

Nevertheless, have to say I enjoyed lunch out. It was a treat. And the conversation helped take my mind off other pressing matters. After only about an hour, we came home, and my parents were off to complete errands. I was surprised by how just one hour of gift, of grace, of unscheduled act of love actually gave me the energy to finish all my Labour Day tasks in a shorter amount of time than I had originally anticipated.

Love has a way of doing that. Love does not steer clear of the structures, agendas, immediacies of our lives. Love does not exist on some surreal, other-worldly plane, dis-associated from ordinary life. Love is not a fantasy trip. Love operates right in the middle of the messy, honest reality of our lives.

We call it other things, which leave us empty:

Whenever we project our wants onto something or someone we don’t have. We delude ourselves in believing we will experience love when we yield to this mirage of desire. This is the ego’s impulse. But if we are honest, getting what we want only sets the ground for wanting more and more. This strategy for life is a prescription for perpetual unhappiness bereft of true joy, because pursuing this frantic desiring is predicated on the assumption that it is never good enough. We are always wanting what we don’t have. Wanting and desiring do not fulfill love.

Neither does the law. We skim the surface of love when we try to please God by merely following the rigor of the law. This is the ego’s attempt to prove one’s self-worth by measuring it up against some ideal. But if we are honest, this effort at loving God and others is really self-centred and only exposes our failure to live up to that ideal. This strategy for life can lead to a stifling legalism, judgmental attitudes towards others and self-hate. Our success at following all the rules is not love. Paying attention to another person is. “Love is the fulfilling of the law,” Paul writes.[1]

Love is free. It is not bound by our ability to control outcomes. Love happens when we are not in charge. Love is a gift, given and received freely. There is no guarantee, from our human perspective, that all our good efforts and good works will make things right. Author and teacher Belden Lane writes: “We love and are loved by God in the act of relinquishing every guarantee of love.”[2] In truth, when we stop our striving if only for a moment, when we release our need to be in control, then we are in the position to experience God’s grace and love. Through others. In ourselves. And from the least expected of places and people. Indeed, as C.S. Lewis expressed, we are surprised by joy.[3]

The ego doesn’t like this because the ego wants to get in the way.  But, love is expressed to another without preconceived expectations of what the other person needs. Love is expressed without giving what we imagine to be best in the situation for them. True love is not striving for what particular results we want to engineer in a relationship. True love, as Belden Lane describes so well, is “a love finally purged of the ego’s calculating desires, a love without strings.”[4] We simply be with the other, and listen to them. And go from there.

Love starts here. It is hard work to love. It is a labour of love – for self, others, creation and God. And it is a work in progress – a journey – that can last a life-time and beyond.

Paul continues in the Epistle text for today, that we are to “make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires.”[5] Here, it is helpful to substitute the word, ‘ego’ for flesh. Christianity is an incarnational religion. God is, for Christians, a human being in Christ. The divine entered humanity. God knows the human body intimately. We do our faith a dis-service when we neglect, shame or deny our physical bodies as well as the human dignity of others. Our flesh is not bad. Your physical body is, according to Paul, “a temple of the Holy Spirit.”[6]

We exercise the love of God by paying attention and listening to our own bodies and paying attention and listening to the suffering of humanity all around us. “The glory of God,” Saint Irenaeus said in the 2^nd century, “is the human being fully alive.” We celebrate human beauty and strength, yes, but also not ignore its pains.

I sat alone in the Bilbao hotel room looking at my body. On the surface, everything looked fine. Even great. In eight days I had walked one hundred and thirty kilometres through the Basque hills along the coast of the Bay of Biscay in northern Spain. I had even lost several pounds and buffed up a bit.

My feet were fine. So many pilgrims on the Camino de Santiago develop serious problems with blisters and tendonitis. Not I. Now, I did give regular attention to my feet: I made periodic breaks during my hiking, taking my shoes and socks off and gently, lovingly, applying moisturizing cream around my toes, under the ball of my foot and around the heels. They say foot care is paramount to the successful completion of any Camino pilgrimage. I was the poster boy for that piece of advice.

Yet, these superficial indicators did not reveal the truth of the matter. You see, even before I had left Canada to fly to Barcelona, I was coughing.

Besides the cough, I was feeling fine when I headed out of Irun at the start of the Camino del Norte, near the French-Spanish border. But eight days later, a few kilometres outside of Guernica, my right knee blew out. And, in that moment, I realized that I was in trouble. The systematic repetition of hefting my 200-pound body weight and additional 20 pound pack, leading with my right knee finally screamed protest. At first, my pilgrim friends suggested what I was thinking: A few rest days in Bilbao would renew me enough to continue my pilgrimage across northern Spain.

But after three days of rest in Bilbao, I was feeling worse. Not only did I continue to cough, all my muscles were aching not just my knee. I didn’t even feel like travelling to visit with my extended family in Germany.

My body hath spoken. And I was going to listen to it. When I saw my doctor in Ottawa a few days later, she ordered an x-ray and ultrasound which confirmed the diagnosis of pneumonia. I had, literally, ‘walking’ pneumonia on the Camino. All the medical staff, my family and friends complemented me in being able to ‘listen to my body’. And even though I didn’t realize and know how sick I really was at the time, I didn’t push it for the sake of some higher, abstract goals or principles. I came home to heal. My body was telling me something I needed listening to: Stop. Stop the frantic desiring. Stop the restless striving. Just stop. And be still, for a while.

They say the body never lies. We can deceive ourselves in our heads, play all kinds of mind games with ourselves, providing ceaseless self-justifications and employing conniving self-defense mechanisms that would confound any therapist. But what the body presents – the physical manifestation of who we are – is the truth indicator. What the body proclaims is truer than what anyone says.

Any journey towards health and love begins by paying attention to what your body is saying. And go from there. We may slow down. We may pray. We may embark on a journey to search out meaning in our lives, to explore the multi-layered regions of our hearts and souls. We may seek medical help, and rely on the gifts of medical science. We may even make major changes in our lives. In other words, we learn the truth about ourselves. Beginning with what the body says.

Someone asked me what I learned about myself during the sabbatical. You could say, I had the chance to just be myself. I experienced my humanity without the usual trappings of roles, titles and responsibilities. I met with and explored myself as a human being. I am human. Not just a talking head. I don’t just live out of my head. I live out of my body, too.

And, to be honest, I didn’t always like everything I saw, there, in my human nature. Yet, I will confess that in that mess of my humanity I re-discovered Jesus. It wasn’t so much in the usual places but in those other pilgrims I met, the help I received along the way, and in my own, ordinary self – stripped away from all the usual distractions, comforts and busy-ness of life – that grounded me in a love that endures.

Out of this awareness has grown a deep thankfulness for all the gifts of life. Gifts over which I don’t have ultimate control in having received: The gift of physical health and ability; The gift of this sabbatical – about which I express heartfelt thanks to the congregation; The gift of colleagues who take up the torch so to speak — thank you to Pastors Diane and Ted and musician, David: The gift of capable lay leaders who show remarkable abilities administratively and creatively when given a chance – Beth, Julia and Megan, especially; The gift of lay preachers who in their diverse expression reflect something beautiful about God and God’s ways – Jessica, Beth, Christa and Jann; The gift of a spouse and children who model the love of God by ‘letting me go’ for a while.

In Christianity, the word, ‘body’, takes on a broader meaning: The Body of Christ is the church, the community, the network of relationships. I am ever so grateful and encouraged. I learned another thing out of this sabbatical experience: There is love in the Body of Christ, to be sure.

 

[1] Romans 13:10

[2] Belden C. Lane, “The Solace of Fierce Landscapes: Exploring Desert and Mountain Spirituality”, New York: Oxford University Press, 2007, p.201.

[3] C.S. Lewis, “Surprised By Joy”, New York: Harper Collins, 1966

[4] Belden C. Lane, ibid.

[5] Romans 13:14

[6] 1 Corinthians 6:19

Sabbatical reading list

I enjoyed reading during my sabbatical. Here is a list and brief commentary on seven of the books that I particularly liked:

1. Saroo Brierly, “Lion” (previously published as “A Long Way Home: A Memoir”), Toronto: Penquin Books, 2013.

This memoir was also made into a motion picture under the title, “Lion”. The author documents his traumatic story of becoming separated from his family and lost as a child in India. Miraculously he finds help at the right time and the resources he needs to escape an impoverished and dangerous life on the street in Calcutta, and start his life over in Australia. Under the care of loving foster parents, he responds to an inner longing. His journey home is about finding the roots of his life in India. The story is about death and resurrection, relationships, and journeys of longing, searching, and finding.

2. Charles Foster, “Wired for God? The Biology of Spiritual Experience”, London: Hodder & Stoughton, 2010.

I find Charles Foster to be both delightful and humorous, as well as serious and respectful of the Christian faith. This is not an easy balancing act to perform in one book. He nevertheless provides a thorough academic and scholarly background to his arguments. He suggests that both belief and experience are essential to the journey of faith. But he does not give glib and easy answers to complicated questions and paradoxes of life and truth. Particularly, I enjoyed learning more about the biology of our brains and how the mechanisms of neurotransmitters and other functions of the cortex relate to near-death, out-of-body, mystic and intensive care experiences. Pointing to historical and current examples, Foster weaves a rich and (shall I say) entertaining read. I first encountered Richard Foster reading his “Sacred Journeys” published around the same time.

3. Adam Shoalts, “Alone Against the North: An Expedition into the Unknown“, Toronto: Penquin, 2015.

A Fellow of the Royal Canadian Geographic Society, Adam Shoalts writes about his recent wilderness expeditions to the Hudson Bay Lowlands. In his gripping true tale of adventure, he tells the story of persistence, human resolve, success and failure. Relating his personal experience Shoalts comments on the nature and passion of exploration. He exemplifies the survivalist par excellence who depends on the land, water and air and with simple means survives life-threatening dangers in unsuspecting waterfalls and killer polar bears. Despite all the obstacles, he is pulled forward by an unrelenting motivation to complete the journey.

4. Phil Cousineau, “The Art of Pilgrimage: The Seeker’s Guide to Making Travel Sacred”, San Francisco: Conari Press, 1998.

A classic tome on pilgrimage, Cousineau’s book gives a comprehensive summary of what pilgrimage means. He suggests the idea of pilgrimage is more than just going to a traditional site. Pilgrimage could land someone anywhere on the planet — not just Jerusalem, Rome and Santiago (for Christians). Cousineau supplies in two hundred pages all the well-known quotes and citations about pilgrimage. So, I regard this book as a go-to resource for finding anything ever written on the theme of going somewhere to find meaning. I particularly liked how he helped the reader define for themselves what kind of pilgrimage to make, based on the reader’s own passion, longing and need to go somewhere. He makes the reflection both personal and historically sound, and suggests practical ways of making travel something more than just being a tourist.

5. Eca de Queiroz, “The Relic”, London: Dedalus, 2003.

Originally published in Portugese in 1887, this fiction is a European classic. It tells the story of a young university student who pretends at being pious and devoted to his Christian practice, motivated only by impressing his rich aunt so he would inherit the family fortune upon her death. Set in Lisbon, “The Relic” is about the journey of a man who crosses boundaries of moral behaviour in his secret/true life but shows off in order to please and meet the expectations of others. After a fantastical trip to Jerusalem to find a relic to bring home to his aunt, our hero experiences the folly of his hypocrisy. And, through the pain of defeat and untold embarrassment, he learns in the end to hold both the good and bad in his life.

6. Richard Rohr, “Adam’s Return: The Five Promises of Male Initiation”, New York: The Crossroad Publishing Co., 2016.

My favourite author/mentor, Richard Rohr continues in this book to make the case for authentic, real, and healing experiences for men in Western society. Drawing from cross-cultural and historical examples, Rohr describes what happens in male initiation rites, and what is hoped for through these transformational rites. It should be no secret that men suffer emotionally in our culture that give little space for men to be real, vulnerable and honest. Rohr reflects on Scripture and describes what is, in my reading, a summary of the Gospel: Only by accepting what is real, painful and honest about one’s life, only by entering the Paschal Mystery of Christ crucified and risen in one’s own life, can men rise into the resurrection of new life and hope.

7. Beldon C. Lane, “The Solace of Fierce Landscapes: Exploring Desert and Mountain Spirituality”, New York: Oxford University Press, 1998.

This was my favourite book on my sabbatical. A dense read (I had to re-read sections), Lane offers a historical overview of mystic/contemplative tradition, citing the likes of Gregory of Nyssa, Evagrius, Cassion, Julian of Norwich and other desert mothers and fathers. He also emphasizes the importance of geography in expressing one’s journey of faith, comparing for example the experiences of hiking up Mount Sinai compared to Mount Tabor. He makes the case for a healthy spirituality that includes both apophatic (no words, letting go, release, loss, mystery, disorder, contemplation, silence, solitude, stillness) and kataphatic (language, community, structure, order, images, action) modes of relating with God. You can’t have one without the other. Observing regular contemplative forms of prayer leads to a renewed engagement with community. Essentially, nevertheless, this is a book describing the process of grief. Lane writes about this stage in his midlife dealing with the loss and deaths of his parents, and how the experience of the nursing home and caring for his dying mother contributed to his inner and outer journeys. And his healing.

You may follow me on Goodreads.com for a listing of all the books I have read.

Sabbatical journeys

Life is both an outer and inner journey.

The outer journey comprises the various travels, trips and destinations we make. During my sabbatical, these were the places I visited and geographies traversed: Barcelona, Irun, Guernica, Bilbao, Lisbon, Cabo da Roca, Munich, Portland, Long Beach, Astoria, Vancouver, Montreal, Toronto, Algonquin Park, Kitchener-Waterloo, Golden Lake, Lac Philippe. The outer journey took me away from home where I engaged other people, different languages, cultures and histories, and embraced community in fresh ways. In this outer journey I made new friends, and rediscovered old ones.

The inner journey, on the other hand, involves meeting myself and the mystery of God. It meant letting go of comforting routines, familiar places and a sense of security. It meant exploring the quiet, slower spaces which allowed deeply buried longings, hurts, joys and memories to rise to the surface of my consciousness. It meant learning to hold both the good and the bad in my life. That journey meant meeting myself in a new light shining on the darkness of grief and loss. I agree with Thomas Merton who once wrote that our real journey in life is interior. And more difficult. For me, time and space away from the routines, familiarity and usual distractions could afford the launching of this inner exploration. That journey is not over. I don’t believe it ever ends.

Integrating the two journeys is what making a pilgrimage is all about.

This inner exploration is important for the development of leadership. Spiritual director and social activist Janet Hagberg writes about power: “People who aspire to be leaders need to be more concerned with internal or inner power than they are with external or outer power.” (1) When a leader is honest with themselves and to others about their biases. When a leader is honest first with themselves about their inner issues, when they know the contours of their psyche — their needs, desires, longings, pains, hurts. These leaders will not only lead with authenticity, they will inspire others to be bold, take risks and make these journeys themselves. These people will lead with compassion, forgiveness, patience and courage. These leaders will accept reality as it is, and will also challenge it from an inner place of trust and confidence.

1 – Janet O. Hagberg, “Real Power: Stages of Personal Power in Organizations” 3rd Edition, Wisconsin: Sheffield Publishing Co., 2003, p.xx