Ocean Meditation

This week I spent three days at the Maine coast. We rented a room with a view of the ocean and a lighthouse. The first night we shared a meal with my sister and her husband, who had driven up from the Boston area. It was a beautiful time with warm September weather in the seventies but without all busyness of the summer tourist season.  

The best part of the trip was walking the beach. There is something about being near the ocean that is deeply spiritual. I think it has to do with our evolutionary heritage. While in Maine I was reading a novel entitled The Mountain in the Sea by Ray Nayler and came across this quote:  

"We came from the ocean, and we only survive by carrying salt water with us all our lives — in our blood, in our cells. The sea is our true home. This is why we find the shore so calming: we stand where the waves break, like exiles returning home." 

 

The same is true of us and God. We come from God and return to God. We only survive by carrying God with us all our lives – in our blood, in our cells, in our hearts. God is within us. God is our true home. This is why humans have such a strong religious instinct. Knowing God is like returning home. 

 

I am reminded of a passage from the Upanishads in which a father is teaching his son about the Divine Self, which is the Presence of God within us. 

 

“Please, Father, tell me more about this Self.” 

“Yes, dear one, I will,” the father said. “Place this salt in water and bring it here tomorrow morning.” 

The boy did. ”Where is that salt?” his father asked. 

“I do not see it.” 

“Sip here. How does it taste?” 

“Salty, Father.” 

“And here? And there?” 

“I taste salt everywhere.” 

“It is everywhere, though we see it not. Just so, dear one, the Self is everywhere, Within all things, although we see him not. There is nothing that does not come from him. Of everything he is the inmost Self. He is the truth; he is the Self supreme. You are that, son; you are that.” 

 

Like salt fills the ocean and every cell of my body, so does God fill me. There is no division between God and me. This the experience of oneness that Jesus prayed that we might know as he knows. He knelt in Gethsemane and prayed for us: “I pray that they will all be one, just as you and I are one — as you are in me, Father, and I am in you. And may they be in us so that the world will believe you sent me." 

 

Those who do not know this oneness seek to drive a wedge between us and God, as well as between us and each other. Then they offer to bridge the gap with their complex theological and ecclesiastical schemes. But those who have tasted God are not deceived. All we need to do is follow the advice of the psalmist: "Taste and see that the Lord is good." 

Beyond the Sacred Page

When the weather is warm my wife and I like to sit by a river or lake and enjoy nature. I will usually bring my Kindle with me. There is nothing nicer than reading a good book in a beautiful natural setting. At such times I usually read something that speaks of nature. Usually something by the Transcendentalists Emerson or Thoreau. Yesterday I read Emerson's essay entitled Nature.  (You might hear echoes of that essay in this post.) Other times I will read Whitman, Whittier (a nearby mountain is named after him) or Robert Frost.  

One of our favorite spots is on the shore of Lake Chocorua within sight of the summer house of American philosopher and psychologist William James (who was Ralph Waldo Emerson’s godson). Sometimes I will read his The Varieties of Religious Experience. Other times I will read the Psalms, another portion of biblical Wisdom literature, or some other sacred scripture. It doesn’t have to be Christian scripture.  

I remember being at a Baptist pastor’s retreat in Pennsylvania years ago. All the other Baptist preachers were inside the chapel listening to a preacher preach about preaching. Meanwhile I was playing hooky, sitting on the edge of a steep gorge overlooking a river and reading Easwaran's translation of the Upanishads. I chuckled at what they would say if they knew what I was reading.  

I read such books in such settings because the Word that comes through the pages echoes the Word I hear through nature. What is within me matches what is outside me. The distinction between inside and outside disappears.  

To be honest, I am always a bit disappointed by the written word. No matter how inspired and beautiful the words, they do not come close to the Word of God in nature. Spoken or written words are clumsy compared to the direct expression of the Divine Word in the natural world. As the old hymn says: “Beyond the sacred page I seek Thee, Lord; My spirit pants for Thee, O Living Word.” 

I can understand why many people prefer to go for a walk in the woods on Sunday morning rather than go to a church service. In nature’s cathedral we can always hear the Word of God; in a human house of worship we sometimes hear it. That is why I usually seek out an outdoor worship service during the summer, or at least sit by an open window in church. At best the inner and outer world harmonize in the Divine Song. 

As much as I enjoy worship as part of a Christian community, much of the time I find that the words of the service get in the way of the Word of God. Sometimes it is painful to notice how much the human words in a church service deviate from the divine Word. I often wonder if some people go to church to avoid God. Wordy worship can be a substitute for the presence of God.  

The clearest experience of worship for me is wordless. No thoughts to get in the way. No clumsy theological attempts to describe the divine. No moralizing or judging. No heresy-hunting or opining. Just Holy Presence, which Emerson calls “the perpetual presence of the sublime.” Presence welling up like Living Water from within. Presence cascading over me like a waterfall. Presence like sunshine sparkling on a lake at dawn. 

Now I am using words to describe the Divine! I guess that is the occupational habit of a retired preacher. Perhaps that is why I find myself refusing nearly all invitations to preach these days. There is nothing that can be said that is not usually misunderstood. I have found that nothing can improve on silence. So I rest in the Holy Silence of God.  

Being Read by the Bible

I have lost track of how many times I have read the Bible cover-to-cover. I have a dog-eared, underlined, tattered, repaired and rebound Bible to prove it.

During my first fulltime ministry position, there was a retired minister in the community who led a “Through the Bible in a Year” group, which I attended. I adopted his reading schedule and continued using it for many years. It included a reading from the Old Testament, New Testament and Psalms for each day of the year. Later I tried other Bible reading regimens.  

The problem with all those approaches was that they are all self-centered. Their weakness lay in the one doing the reading. It was always me reading the Bible. Whenever I read the Bible, there I was. However often I read the Bible, the “I” was always the one reading it. And I was always messing things up.  

Only when the “I” drops away does this pattern change. Then we can see the problem with all Bible study regimens. They all read scripture through the lens of the self. They do not challenge the authority of the mind and the intellectual systems created by the mind. They submit the Word of God to the tyranny of human tradition.  

Even faiths that insist on the sole authority of scripture are really in bondage to the authority of religious tradition. What is Scripture but a term for unquestioned religious tradition?  

Scriptures are written by the church, collected by the church, and canonized by the church. The Bible is a product of the church. The veneration of scripture is just a clever way for the human ego to remain in control while pretending to submit to God.   

When we read the Bible, we come with a certain religious perspective, and we read that perspective into the Bible. We do not see what the Bible really says. We read it as we think it is. We bring our beliefs and values to the Bible and unsurprisingly find our beliefs and values confirmed in the Bible. That is why there are so many interpretations of the Bible. We read the Bible through rose-colored glasses and never wonder why everything looks rosy.  

A less selfish approach is needed. Instead of reading the Bible, the Bible now reads me. The Letter to the Hebrews says, “For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart.” The divine Word of God is the active agent, not the human reader. 

In interpreting that verse, people assume that the phrase “Word of God” means our Bible. We forget that the Christian Bible did not exist when those words were written. The Word of God is not the Bible; it is older than the Bible.  Even the word “scriptures” as used in the Bible does not mean our Christian Bible. It simply means “writings.” The Biblical canon was not collected and canonized until centuries after the writings were written.  

The “Word of God” is a phrase used in the Bible to describe divine inspiration and communication. The prophets said, “The Word of the Lord came to me saying ....” It is not too bold to say that the phrase “Word of God” is a synonym (or more accurately a metonym) for God. The Gospel of John says. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God.”  

The Word of God existed before humans ever uttered a word. The Word of God brought the universe into existence. Everything came into existence through the Word, as John says. The Word of God can speak through human words in holy scripture, but it is not exclusively identified with scripture. Neither is it identified with any one religious tradition.  

When we hear the living Word of God, we recognize it as the same Divine Word that speaks us into existence. When we read scripture, the Word of God reads us and not the other way around. It is no longer I who read, but the Word who reads in me, to paraphrase the apostle Paul. 

When we are read by the Word we cease to be ourselves. We become one with the Word that was from the beginning.

This Word is heard in the voice of creation. Science is its language, just as certainly as Greek or Hebrew are the languages of scripture. “The heavens declare the glory of God and the firmament proclaims his handiwork.” There is no conflict between scientific truth and spiritual truth. 

The Word of God was present before creation and will be present after creation returns to its Source. The Word of God is here now. It is the Kingdom of Heaven proclaimed by Jesus. This is the Word of God heard in the Bible. This is the Word of God that reads me. It is amazing what the Word of God says when we get out of the way! 

I'm Nobody! Who are You?

Recently I came across a reference to Emily Dickinson’s poem “I'm Nobody! Who are You?” in a novel I was reading. I first read the poem years ago but had forgotten about it. It was a joy to become reacquainted.  

In rediscovering the short poem, I learned that it has two forms. The poet’s original words were apparently edited for publication after her death. (Why would anyone do that to a poem?) Here are the poet’s original words, with her original capitalizations and punctuation. 

I’m Nobody! Who are you? 

Are you – Nobody – too? 

Then there’s a pair of us! 

Don't tell! they'd advertise – you know! 

How dreary – to be – Somebody! 

How public – like a Frog – 

To tell one’s name – the livelong June – 

To an admiring Bog! 

The poem is often interpreted as an ode to anonymity by the notoriously reclusive poet. It’s message resonates today with those who do not like our celebrity-obsessed culture that has produced internet influencers, television “personalities,” and “reality TV stars” who are famous for nothing more than being famous! 

I sense a deeper spiritual meaning in the poem. I might be reading my own interpretation into the poem. In fact I am sure I am. But isn’t that what poems are meant to do? The meaning of a poem is not just what the poet intended, but also what it elicits in the reader. For me it elicits awareness of my spiritual identity.  

I am Nobody. No body - not a body. Not a self – no self. Buddhists call it anatta. Jesus phrased it, “Whoever seeks to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life will save it.”

My deepest identity is not a name that I endlessly croak to other peepers in the pond. For bog dwellers life is an endless June during which one repeats one’s cultural identity whenever asked, “Who are you?”  

The typical reply to this question includes name, family, vocation, gender, sexual orientation, ethnic background, nationality, social status, political party, education, geography, and a dozen other societal identifiers. With these cultural identities we set ourselves apart from others.  

Personal identity is a fiction fabricated by culture. It is no more permanent than the shape of a cloud in the sky. Our name was chosen by our parents and reinforced by society throughout our lives.

Our families train us in other aspects of our identity. We accept some labels and reject others. We accumulate other personal characteristics during our brief lifetimes. These societal tags are not what we are. They are not what we were before birth, and they are not what we are after death.  

The Zen koan asks, “What is your original face before you were born?” It is a very different question than “Where will you spend eternity?” asked by the frogs in the Christian bog. Most pictures of heaven are froggish fantasies that we will someday be Somebody – complete with a celestial mansion located on a street of gold - even if today we feel like nobody.  

How dreary to be Somebody! The Good News is that I am Nobody! How about you? Are you Nobody too? Unlike Dickinson I don’t mind advertising the Good News of Nobody, although most will not believe me anyway. The tyranny of the self is too strong in most people. In any case I am Nobody. Who are you?