Sunday 6 February 2022

Thinkabout, discussion and midday prayer from Journey into Light, The Campfire Church Candlemas retreat on Facebook.

 #1 GATHERING




Lovely to see you. Welcome.


I wonder if you’ve spent the morning quietly at home, or if you went out to church in the neighbourhood where you live. I hope it’s been a good morning for you.



#2 READING — John 4.1-7


Now Jesus learned that the Pharisees had heard that he was gaining and baptising more disciples than John — although in fact it was not Jesus who baptised, but his disciples. So he left Judea and went back once more to Galilee.

Now he had to go through Samaria. So he came to a town in Samaria called Sychar, near the plot of ground Jacob had given to his son Joseph. Jacob’s well was there, and Jesus, tired as he was from the journey, sat down by the well. It was about noon.

When a Samaritan woman came to draw water, Jesus said to her, “Will you give me a drink?”



#3 PRAYER (traditional Indian)


Lead us from the unreal to the Real.
Lead us from darkness to light.
Lead us from death to immortality.
Peace, peace, peace unto all.
May there be peace in celestial regions.
May there be peace on Earth.
May the waters be appeasing.
May herbs be wholesome,
and may trees and plants bring peace to all.
May all beneficent beings bring peace to us.
May thy Law propagate peace
all through the world.
May all things be a source of peace to us.
And may thy peace itself, bestow peace on all
and may that peace come to me also. 

Amen.



#4 A SONG from Plum Village buddhist monastery: “No Wait”



#5 THINKABOUT & DISCUSSION — 

LETTING YOUR LIGHT SHINE — Grace Garner on the practice of authenticity


#5 THINKABOUT — 

Grace Garner on LETTING YOUR LIGHT SHINE

(For the best results I recommend you to listen to the video rather than just read the text, unless it is unrealistic for you to do that on the device you’re using.)


Jesus said:

“You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.” (Matthew 5:14-16.)

 

Being authentic takes courage; it’s risky, and it may hurt. Most people, most of the time, are performing a version of themselves that they think is socially acceptable and likeable. From childhood, we have accrued the learned behaviours that shape our public personas. Most (probably all) of us are used to biting back the feelings we have been taught are unwanted. Some of us seek to disguise weakness. We hide the things we are afraid will make us unlovable in the eyes of others. It may be to the good that we don’t cast about our judgements, our churlish remarks, and our ill-considered opinions! But, while we should consider others, hiding in a closet is suffocating. To reveal our authentic selves, to speak with candour and sincerity, to assert our boundaries with conviction, to acknowledge the root of our feelings and not take the feelings of others as a personal attack; these are all part of living authentically and allowing our light to shine.

 

In Walt Disney’s animated film of Beauty and the Beast, there is a moment in which Belle prepares to offer herself in place of her father to his unknown captor. Peering at the shadowy figure, she says, “Step into the light.” And the Beast does, allowing himself to be seen by a stranger for the first time in years, revealing to her his monstrous condition. This is the first step on the journey which ends with Belle’s love rescuing and redeeming the Beast, dismantling his selfishness and bringing him back to his princely form once again.

 

The Beast is a literal monster. In the fairy tale, it’s his monstrous personality given physical form by the fairy who curses him. And it’s true that we all have aspects to our nature that are unpleasant to others and may drive people away. Our opinions will not be palatable to some people. The way we behave or speak or dress may be distasteful to them. People may disapprove of your lifestyle, your sexuality, your religious beliefs, your choices and your boundaries. If they know who you really are, they might not want to be friends with you any more. This is the first pain and the first freedom of authenticity.

 

Among my circle of friends, it’s the ones who’ve experienced serious or long-term ill-treatment and abuse at the hands of others, who have decided they don’t have time any more to cater to other people’s mores. They would rather live authentically and only be friends with those who will accept them as they are. No longer jumping through hoops to perform for the preference of others frees up your time and energy to do things that matter to you. And it may drive away some people, but it will bring to you the people who are a better fit for you anyway.

 

We don’t ever have to stop striving for good, but we cannot love ourselves without accepting who we actually are, rather than who we wanted to be. Trying to pretend or to force ourselves to be something that someone else expects of us, in denial of our nature, is ultimately a form of self-hatred and self-rejection. I’m not saying we don’t need to make an effort to be good to others; rather, that extending grace to ourselves over the things we are ashamed of is a necessary step if we are ever to heal from these things, whether through accepting or changing them. A thing that is hidden is not gone. To repair something broken, we must bring it into the light.

 

When we cast light on what is really going on inside us, not only does it allow us to do the self-work necessary to our health, but it may be a gift to others in ways we did not anticipate.

 

I want to give you three examples from my own life.

 

First of all, I am an inveterate swearer, with a wide-ranging and eyebrow-raising vocabulary. I don’t think it’s a bad thing, but for years I avoided swearing on Facebook out of deference to those who feel differently. One day, I admitted to a Christian friend that I swear a lot. So does he, he told me. This led to conversations about his feelings of anger and impatience, things he’d done in the past and the shame he felt about them. We have both retained our respect for other people’s boundaries in regard to swearing, but feel better for knowing we’re not the only ones. The harder it is to reconcile our church lives and the rest of our lives, the further divorced our faith becomes from our daily practice. When Christianity drives people to work against their human nature to achieve a standard of perfection that reflects something they do not really feel, it is then failing to witness to Christ’s message of grace.

 

So I began to relax online and stop filtering so much of who I really am. People who don’t like it are able to get away from my Facebook posts if they wish. And I am sure I have friends who dislike and disapprove of the language I use; but I am no longer editing myself to fit their purview, for the sake of a difference of opinion, because I am not lesser than the people who judge me.

And now other Christians know they can let their guard down with me, and that they will be accepted and need not be ashamed of themselves. They will receive no merits or demerits on my account.

 

Secondly, I am a person who is hopelessly disorganised. In church and volunteering, I used to habitually say yes to things others asked of me that I thought I should be able to do. I ignored my struggles with time management and organisation, and how much of my time was already filled with things that didn’t take so much time for other people. I was also ignoring my undiagnosed neurodiversity and not allowing myself the grace to recognise my own disability. As a result, I would constantly let people down by failing to do what I’d agreed to.

 

Once I started admitting that I could not take things on, I stopped being given work that I couldn’t do. It is hard to say openly that you can’t do something, for reasons that people don’t really understand or accept. It sounds like won’t, not can’t! Not everyone will understand. But the result is that now, when I do say yes, it is to things that I can manage and am good at. This improves everybody’s lives far more than the constant failures did, while ensuring that the jobs that need doing get picked up by someone who is capable of more than an empty promise!

 

Thirdly, quite late in my life, I have started being more open about being bisexual. It is easy to hide behind straight-appearing privilege as a bisexual person in an opposite-sex marriage. Speaking up in a church context was scary, but lent strength to those who had had less choice, and perhaps opened some minds a little. But when one of my cousins posted online about her girlfriend, how scared she had been to tell her family, and how relieved she was when they were accepting, I realised that she didn’t know about me. Had I been more visible, her life would have been made easier. I began speaking up online, surprising myself with how scary it can still be. And when I did, the messages started coming in, from other queer women who were too scared to admit this fundamental aspect of themselves to the world; who had thought they were alone.

 

So, authenticity involves the courage to be seen, the courage to be vulnerable and the courage to set boundaries. It is a kindness to ourselves and to others, in fulfilment of the commandment to “Love your neighbour as you love yourself.” When we are willing to admit our mistakes and failings, and to forgive ourselves, it is a tacit extension of safety and compassion from ourselves to others.

 

Christianity is the story of not being alone with our condition. Jesus is the Emmanuel, God with us; the Word made flesh, to live alongside us and participate in our suffering.

 

Jesus is authentic. Seeing him, one cannot be deceived because there is nothing false about him. In the gospel stories, demons recognise him and run. Teachers of the Law try to catch him out but find that he always has an answer, derived not from clever studiousness but from authentic connection to God. In babyhood, Simeon and Anna recognise him as the one they have been waiting for; seeing him crucified, the Roman centurion declares him the son of God; Thomas, wracked with grief and doubt, recognises the risen Christ in the painful baring of wounds.

 

We are children of God, created by him, who have received the Spirit of Christ in our hearts. In accepting and loving ourselves, we attune ourselves more truly to the heart of God, and make ourselves available as witnesses to the Light. Not trying to be perfect, not hiding who we really are, but endeavouring to live authentically in accord with what God says to us and not by a legalistic, fundamentalist, spiritual BMI chart that tells us which people fall into the acceptable range and which do not.

 

In the story of Beauty and the Beast, the Beast allows himself to be seen after years of hiding away. As Beauty grows to love him, he also grows to love her. Setting her free, and accepting his lot without demanding anything of her, he allows her the choice of returning to him. And, in receiving her love, he realises that he is loveable. It is Beauty’s love that transforms the Beast, the figure that formerly hid in darkness; and when he transforms, it is in a blaze of light.



#6 — We draw our time to a conclusion with a prayer of Thomas Merton


My Lord God,
I have no idea where I am going.


I do not see the road ahead of me.
I cannot know for certain where it will end.
Nor do I really know myself,
and the fact that I think I am following your will
does not mean that I am actually doing so.

But I believe that the desire to please you
does in fact please you.

And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing.


I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.

And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road,

though I may know nothing about it.


Therefore will I trust you always though
I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death.


I will not fear, for you are ever with me,
and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.


Amen.


 


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