Smiling at Difficulties

Another skill I’ve learned from yoga:

smiling when what you want to do is growl, or frown, or scream.

This week, as the Amsa community continues to live into and unpack the ramifications of dear leaders moving to a new community, I’m noticing even more the ways that starting to practice yoga there has helped me to respond with more generosity to people, events, and  moments in my life.

When I read an email that stung, my knee-jerk response was to smile.  Smiling, which you may know, brings on good feelings, lowers tension, and takes less energy than frowning.

During our “warm” yoga sessions, as we hold ourselves and breathe in chair pose (a wall-less squat) for the third or fourth time, Kim always tells us to smile.  Smiling helps us to release the tension we may be holding our bodies during the challenging position.  In life, smiling helps us to release the tension we may be holding our bodies during a challenging moment (or interacting with a challenging person!).

Healing in the Jordan River – Trinity Cathedral

2 Kings 5:1-15 & Luke 17:11-19

When you stepped over the threshold of the building you’re sitting in this morning, you left the United States of America.  You left American society.  Be not afraid! (have you heard that one before?)  You see–it’s more that you entered God’s Embassy than that you left American soil, but here, in the church, we are now on God’s turf.  Here, God’s rules carry the day, we are on holy ground that has been consecrated to be the place where we encounter God in the sacraments and are changed by our interaction with the Holy One.  The rules here are different than the ones we often follow outside these doors, the social customs are different here than the ones we’re used to following walking down the streets of Columbia, South Carolina.  These differences aren’t just nuances or quirks–there is significance to the way that God’s kingdom works; it’s sometimes in opposition to the way we’re used to behaving.

Here, in the Bible, we see dozens of accounts that show us the way that God desires for the world to look.  When we read holy Scripture together we learn about God’s kingdom, the world that we step into when we are in this holy place, the world that God desires for all of creation to become.  This morning, we read the story of Naaman, a powerful Syrian who is paradoxically, a sufferer of leprosy.  In the ancient world, leprosy was a disease the counted its victims among the weak, the marginalized; people with leprosy, as we saw in today’s Gospel lesson, were separated from society, ostracized.  Naaman, however, somehow manages to preserve his place of power despite this disease, though he clearly desires very much to be rid of the affliction.  Who is it that notices the skin lesions and suggests where he might seek treatment?  His Israeli slave girl–this nameless girl has a quotation in Holy Scripture, how strange that a being not even considered a real, full person by her society would get a shout out in the Bible.  She says that there’s a prophet in her home country who could definitely cure her master’s ailment.

Naaman goes to this holy man, Elisha, and parks his chariot outside Elisha’s front door.  Naaman clearly expects Elisha to dash out to his driveway and greet his Most Esteemed guest.  Elisha does nothing of the sort–he sends his servant out the front door with a message.  Naaman’s eyebrows raise, verse 11 says that he “became furious”–Elisha, this big-time prophet, was supposed to hurry out to the chariot and wave his hands about and shout in a loud voice.  Look at your Bible, it actually says that!

To add insult to injury, another low-life is now giving Naaman directions…  The messenger tells Naaman that if he will go and wash in the Jordan River seven times, he will become healed of his ailment.  Naaman grumbles.  Not only is the Jordan River a pathetic stream compared to the wide, beautiful rivers of Syria, but what sort of pathetic quest is a bath?  Couldn’t Naaman, the great military general at least prove his strength or daring or mental acuity in order to be healed?

For a third time, a servant corrects Naaman (I’m almost surprised that more slaves and messengers and servants aren’t killed or banished in this story!), saying in verse 13, “Well, sir, if you had been told to do something super impressive, you would have dashed right off to do it.  Why not go do this super easy thing?  We might even get back home in time to catch the end of the football game!”  Naaman takes a deep breath–I think he must be a very patient, and exceptionally magnanimous nobleman of his time–and agrees with the servant.  He makes his way down to the Jordan River, he immerses himself seven times–which is the Biblical number which means “complete” or “total”–and Naaman’s skin is made, it says, “like the flesh of a little child.”  “As smooth as a baby’s bottom,” if you’ll pardon the saying so early in the morning.

Did you catch that?  Naaman is in danger of societal death, perhaps even bodily death, depending on how bad his leprosy was, and Elisha sends him to be baptized in the Jordan River, which heals him.  Naaman, the Syrian, the foreigner, is made healthy and whole again by command of a holy man and the application of a bit of water.

Naaman has borne the insubordination and the humiliation of being directed about by his slave, Elisha’s messenger, and a servant; he has submitted himself to the “easy” task of taking a bath instead of showing his might and earning his reward.  He returns to Elisha–Naaman himself goes up and knocks on the prophet’s front door this time–and says, “Indeed, now I know that there is no God in all the earth, except in Israel; now, therefore, please take a gift from your servant.” (v. 15)  Naaman still wants to make sure he pays his debts and doesn’t leave himself beholden to anyone.  He’s got a reputation to uphold, and he can’t let it get out that he’s dependent on this holy man for his healing.

Elisha can sense when he’s being bought off, and will have nothing of it.  He doesn’t want an offering with psychological strings attached, God’s power is not for sale, and nor is the truth of God’s healing to be silenced with gold.  Naaman has learned–he’s been brought very low throughout this experience, and catches himself where he’s gone wrong.  He changes his request, asking instead that he might have some soil from Elisha in order to build an altar that Naaman himself might use for his worship of the Living God when he goes back to his own land.  I imagine Elisha finally smiled and nodded.

Naaman finally realized what the slave girl and the messenger and the servant had learned long ago because of their necessarily vulnerable place in society: you cannot do anything to insulate yourself from God.  Naaman tries to use his impressive strength and mind, desiring a more demanding cure, and then tries to use his money–all to keep God at arm’s length.  He finally learns that whether he pledges 2% or 55% to God, none of it is close to a repayment of the life that God, through the Jordan River, has given back to Naaman.

What would you pay for your life being saved?  We pay plenty to doctors and car makers and insurers and our government for protection, safety, and insulation from danger or dangerous circumstances.  God, through Jesus Christ, has saved us from eternal death.

Have you come back to Jesus’ feet, glorifying God and praising him with a loud voice?

Who Are We?

A wise woman blogging through a difficult transition recently wrote that she’s “trying to set energy aside for dealing with life’s daily hiccups before they derail [her].”  Immediately, I knew what she meant; I call it “emotional fat”–that energy, a shock-absorber, that keeps spilled milk from becoming a puddle of tears and torn-out hair.

Sometimes we lose our way when it comes to an equal-and-opposite reaction, or even better–no “reaction” at all, but being a non-anxious presence in the midst of upheaval.

Coming back from a place of emotional-boney-ness (which may come up suddenly and without warning, or you may know very well whence it comes, but it’s still unexpected when its impact is so great) takes time, of course, and it happens gradually, with the help of loved ones, and sometimes doctors, and often (for me) chocolate and pastry.  Then one day, you look back, and though you’ve got plenty of new stressors, you realize you don’t even want that pastry you promised to yourself for completing the task–the task being done is plenty, or perhaps the task itself was a joy.  You make a mental note, “Remember, Self: you love this task which you do.  You may not think so, but the moment you get yourself out of bed, or into the car, or onto the phone, you love the way the task reminds you of who you are, and the way the task helps you to be connected.”

I wonder if some of the emotional-boney-ness comes from losing track of who you are.  We are the relationships we have–I wouldn’t be Emily if I didn’t have two brothers who live in NYC and with whom I became who I am; I wouldn’t be Emily if I didn’t have lots of family of varying blood-relation splattered all over the globe.  Apart from our relationships, we don’t exist, and being un-connected can sort of make us feel as if we aren’t there at all.

On the deepest level, the relationship which truly defines us is Jesus.  God came to rub shoulders with each of us, and in relationship to us, with so much love, peacefully, willingly gave up his life for each of us, that we may all be together at the end of time with no death or disconnection ever again.  Our worth and energy and emotional fat comes from working to believe* that God really does love you so much as to give up everything for you.

*this is “faith,” and it is a gift, not something we can really work our way into, but it does seem that we’re told a lot of lies about our worth and what makes us worthy.  we continue to pray.

Harry Potter Life Lesson #3

Wizards know how to party.  Did you notice that in the Harry Potter series?  A favorite cafe of mine in St. Louis boasts from its bakery case, “Treacle Tart: A Favourite of Harry Potter’s.”  Each of the seven books provided a sort of liturgy–that is to say, as reader, you knew what to expect at the outset of each new volume: we’d open with Harry away from school, then he’d go to school, then everyone would attend a feast.  Adventures abound, and then would come winter finals, and a Christmas feast.  More adventures, some stress, mounting tension over the great quest of the year, and then an Easter week feast.  A climax, a resolution, the end of the school year…

Why bother with these feasts, or with including meals at all?  On a more detailed level, where do our heroes meet before (almost) every Quidditch (a wizard sport) match?  They meet early in the Great Hall to eat.  Where do our heroes trudge before classes and between exams?  To the Great Hall.  To eat.  (TOGETHER).

For aficionados of the Harry Potter series, one of the most vivid sites at Hogwarts is that of the Great Hall, the gathering place for the community, the place where everyone eats together.  During Ron & Hermoine’s months-long fight, they still sit together and eat (in silence) at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall.  As a sort of reset button and a moment that can be counted on, the feasts of Hogwarts (and at times, the characters’ homes and camp sites) provide a figurative space set apart.  Worries are forgotten during meals, people are most able to keep their mental demons at bay–those eating together pull each other into the present, allowing moments of enjoyment and peace in the midst of the battles against evil which creep ever closer throughout the series.

Something happens to relationships when humans eat together.  The wizards celebrated, mourned, and counted time by their meeting to eat.  We do the same thing, sometimes (not as often as we did, perhaps, in times past), but I wonder what would happen if we did it more of the time–if we recognized the power of sitting down in uncomfortable places and eating together.

It’s not a coincidence that JK Rowling included big, important meals in her series; I think she was reminding us of the power of sitting together at the same table and eating in spite of broken friendships, tragedy, or danger.  Continuing to show up at the table at the appointed time, even when you aren’t sure if your eating partners will, is a way we can be present for each other the way that God has been present to us already.

The wizards’ parties were a way to show their love and commitment to each other–it’s a celebration of their relationships–as well as a place that can offer a familiarity and safety in the midst of upsetting circumstances.  Whether you are with your loved ones at a glorious spread on fine china in a well-appointed dining room, at a diner late at night hunched over pie and coffee, or huddled around a fire outside eating something that the campfire burnt, it’s what happens in the moments you share, more than the food itself, that you remember and that encourages you–feeds you.

Jadedness

Last week when we were moving, dear Husband was positioning the 26-foot U-Haul truck in our dear little driveway.  Charming little street = tight angles for a huge moving truck.

He was a good way up our neighbor’s driveway (angling the truck to make a straight shot toward our front door) when the angles got askew and he began to take out the neighbor’s driveway-bush with abandon.  Lots of loud snaps and crackles, the smell of fresh wood…  Wife with wild arms like those air-filled monsters at car stores.

The new neighbor bounds out (what a way to meet someone!) and says, “Don’t worry about the bush!”  I was a bit taken aback, but recovered quickly, “We’ll replace it!  We’ll pay for it!  I’m sorry!!”  He says, “No, I’m serious, don’t worry about it!”  (I still haven’t caught on, stuck as I am in my sarcasm bubble)  “I’m so sorry, I’m Emily, it’s good to meet you.  Like I said, we’ll pay for it.”  “No, really, I mean it–we’re going to prune it anyway, it’ll be fine.”

It took far, far too long for me to believe that the man actually meant what he said.  How have we wrapped ourselves up in the bubble wrap of sarcasm, that we cannot discern true kindness and vulnerability?