Blessing or Curse: From Generation to Generation

Tonight two of my sisters and I are getting together for dinner in what has become an annual tradition celebrating all three of our birthdays, which fall within two weeks of each other. A week and a half ago, on her birthday, my sister Susan received the best birthday gift ever: the gift of her third grandson!

I have noticed a pattern in families: of all the possible dates in a year, family members are often born on the same day! For example, I was born on my paternal grandmother’s birthday, so we always had a combined birthday party together. Amazingly, my daughter Victoria, was then born on my father’s birthday, so they always had a combined party.

Now my sister Susan and her grandson will have a combined birthday party! Families are like this, connected and woven together in mysterious and inextricable ways. For better or for worse.
In the Hebrew bible, in the preface to one of the oldest parts of the Torah, the ten commandments, we read a weird and seemingly unfair verse: “…for I the Lord your God am a jealous God, punishing children for the iniquity of parents, to the third and the fourth generation of those who reject me,but showing steadfast love to the thousandth generation of those who love me and keep my commandments.” (Exodus 20: 5-6) Now although a God of jealousy and punishment is not in line with my own theology, I ask you, from your own family, do you not see the “sins” of one generation continuing from generation to generation? Consider alcoholism. We certainly see that pass down from one generation to the next. Or unfaithfulness in marriages, that too seems to get passed down from one generation to the next, until someone wakes up and breaks the cycle, that is.

But even in this dismal schema, blessings seem to be exorbitantly more powerful than curses, and have a longevity far, far greater. In fact, the blessings verse can be translated, to the thousandth generation or “for thousands of generations!” In other words, forever. So faithfulness can be passed down, and a passion for music, art, athletics. Determination, compassion, generosity, all those, when lived, can bear fruit for thousands of generations! The other day my husband and I were reflecting on the amazing people our young adult children have become. We are now blessed with a new generation, our grandchildren, and we see some amazing parenting going on on the part of our children. But you need not be a parent to shape the next generations. In our community of faith I see teachers and youth leaders, coaches and counselors, guides and mentors nurturing the next generations.

In fact, our community of faith just celebrated its 141st anniversary. That is why we are called the “First” Lutheran Church of East Greenwich, RI, because we were the FIRST Lutheran church in Rhode Island. Sometimes when I am struggling as a leader of this community, I sit alone in our beautiful, prayerful sanctuary, and pray. I feel strengthened by the many generations of those who sat in the pews before me, whose prayers can still be felt in this sacred space. I draw strength from the deep faith and prayers, from generation to generation…

But on occasion I also see unhealthy patterns repeating themselves in our community of faith as well. A must-read for leaders of communities or other organizations is called Generation to Generation by Edwin H. Friedman. He speaks of families as systems, which function in healthy, functional patterns, or in unhealthy and dysfunctional patterns. He says that communities, businesses, churches, etc. are really just extended family systems, and repeat these same patterns, for better or for worse. Even the most mature, healthy families have their little dysfunctions. But some are so dysfunctional that sometimes people have to leave the system if they want any chance at living a healthy life. Communities of faith are at higher risk, systems theorists say, because many of them are welcoming to all sorts of people, even to deeply dysfunctional, wounded people, who then in their own dysfunction, wound others. Systems theorists stress, therefore, how essential it is for leaders of faith communities to be healthy and highly functional. Or we might add, for leaders of families, businesses, and any other organization, to be healthy and mature.

In Native American tradition there is a saying that we should do everything we do, mindful of how it will effect the next seven generations. This has become a slogan for environmentalists, that we should not just function with ourselves in mind, but rather the generations which will come after us.
I ask you, what kind of legacy are you leaving behind? May our lives be blessings for thousands of generations to come.

May you see the Holy in all you encounter,
and may you reflect the Holy to all you encounter.
Copyright June 2, 2015

Photos:  the sister, at last year’s birthday celebration, Newport, RI; John, John Luca, and baby Liam John; Victoria and Papa; John, John Luca and Papa; Ted and Sylvie; First Lutheran Church of East Greenwich, RI; three generations; Ted and Sylvie

The Quest for the Ultimate

I have been asked to teach a course in comparative religions next fall, at nearby Salve Regina University, called “The Quest for the Ultimate.” Some people at my community of faith asked if I would also teach this course for our community I am so excited about this!  There is an ultimate dimension to this one “wild and precious life,” as poet Mary Oliver says. As grandiose as it may sound, that is the purpose of this blog, “Life as Spiritual Adventure,” to help to open or connect people to this Ultimate dimension of life.

Aldous Huxley, in his Perennial Philosophy, says, (1)“There is an infinite, changeless reality beneath the world of change; (2) this same reality lies at the core of every human personality; and (3) the purpose of this life is to discover this reality experientially; that is, to realize God while here on earth.”

My son’s girlfriend, Erika, just returned from a trip to Alaska for her work. Most of the time she was in Alaska, she was on a ship in Kokiak, viewing the landscape from the sea. On her last day there, she providentially ran into a young woman, who with her husband does “Walk Alaska” adventures with tourists. Halfway through this walk this couple told her that they were Christian, and helped others to see the mystery and miracle of God’s presence in the Alaskan landscape. She showed us her photographs. For Erika, as for so many today who consider themselves, “spiritual but not religious,” it is the beauty, majesty, and vastness of natural wonders which connects her with the Ultimate.

Although I consider myself spiritual and religious, I concur. I am very excited for my own upcoming summer spiritual adventure hiking with my husband through many national parks in Oregon and California.

But other experiences reveal the Ultimate dimension of life to us as well. In my comparative religions course I will focus on the sacred texts of various faith traditions. Yesterday I was reading Karen Armstrong’s biography of the Prophet Muhammad, where she writes of the power of the Qu’ran itself, which opens people to the presence of Allah: …”Its verses were ‘signs’ providing a sacramental encounter with God. Muslims still experience a mysterious presence when they recite the Qu’ran or sit in front of the texts from the holy book that decorate the walls of their mosques…Later, some Muslims would claim that it was the utterance in normal human speech of the’Uncreated Word,’ like the Logos in the Prologue to Saint John’s Gospel.” (p. 126)

Having been to Turkey, and worshipped in mosques, I can say that this is true. We were there during the month of Ramadan, when there was a heightened awareness of God’s presence. It was very moving to hear the chanted call to prayer hailing from minarets across the countryside five times a day. For me this was a reminder that the Ultimate invites us into communion in every moment.

Later this morning I will teach a yoga class. In last week ’s class I was teaching people that the Sanskrit chant “OM” which often begins yoga classes is actually “AUM,” signifying the first, the middle, and the last letter of the Sanskrit alphabet, or the One who is our Beginning, our Middle, and our Ending. When I learned that that is what this chant signifies, I could not help but think of Jesus’ words in Revelation 1:8: “I am the Alpha and the Omega.” At the conclusion of Christian funerals we pray to the One who is our Alpha and our Omega, our beginning and our ending, and in Christ, always our new beginning, even after death. But to hear this chanted in the vibrational language of Sanskrit, or in the Arabic call to prayer, or in the preface to the Eucharist, in a sense makes God’s presence tangible.

Saint Augustine said when we sing, we pray twice. Music lifts us into the “mysterium tremendum,” into the Ultimate Mystery we call God. Armstrong speaks of a man named George Steiner, who says he does not believe in God, who nevertheless speaks of “…a text, a work of art or a piece of music yielding a ‘Real Presence’ or an experience of transcendence.” (p. 126) “Such art, Steiner argues, tells us in effect ‘change your life.’ It is an encounter with a transcendent dimension that breaks into ‘the small house of our cautionary being.’ Once we have listened to the summons of such art, this house is no longer habitable in the way it was before.” (from George Steiner, Real Presences: Is there anything in what we say? ) In other words, most of us live in houses that are far too small.

Jesus tells us not to build our house on the sand, but on the rock of God’s presence. Bawa, the Sufi poet and mystic, tells us: “Everything you see tells the story of God. God is outspread, filling the entire universe. So look. You exist in a form. God is without form. You are the visible example, the sun. God is the light within the sun.” (from Rumi’s Book of Love, edited by Coleman Barks).

May you see every moment of this wild and precious life as a quest for the Ultimate. May you wake up and live every day as a spiritual adventure.
This day, may you see God’s Presence in all you encounter,
and may you reflect that presence to all you encounter.
Linda Forsberg, copyright May 27, 2015

Photos:  Linda at Monastery built on Rocks, Greece; Linda inside ancient caravansari, Turkey; ruins, Turkey; from the ship, Alaska; mosques, Turkey; whirling dervishes, Turkey; Linda, Greece; Newport, RI

Stop! Take a Deep Breath!

“Stop! Take a Deep Breath!” How often do we say this to someone who is feeling overwhelmed? How often do we say this to ourselves when we have something difficult or challenging to say, to do?

How amazing that the word for “breath” in so many of the languages I know, especially the languages of sacred texts, is the same exact word as “wind” and (drum roll) as “Spirit!”
In just a few hours I will teach a yoga class. Every yoga class begins with “pranayama,” or “breath work.” In fact, I am certified in a branch of yoga called Prana Flow, founded by yogi Shiva Rea.

The premise behind breath work is simple. The Sanskrit word “yoga” means “yoke.” Yoga is about yoking the different parts of ourselves into a balanced wholeness. In pranayama we seek to balance our feminine and masculine sides, as well as our inhale and exhale. Here in the United States masculine rules. A simple test is to place your finger above your upper lip, and to see which nostril has a greater flow of air. It is probably your right nostril. If so, then you need to focus on strengthening your feminine side (left nostril, left side of the body), to bring yourself into balance. Another way to think about it is inhale versus exhale. If you are really sucking in deep inhales, it probably means that your life is out of balance and that you are expending too much energy (exhaling more than inhaling). You need to breathe in the Spirit, the source of life and energy. In a women’s group I belong to, we frequently remind each other to “Stop, and take a deep breath.” In other words, breathe in the life-giving Spirit of Life.

This coming weekend in Christian churches around the world we celebrate the Festival of Pentecost, my second favorite day in the Christian calendar, after Easter. Actually, Pentecost began as a Jewish festival. Fifty days after passover Jews gathered for a spring barley harvest festival. This came to be when Jews also celebrated Moses’ receiving the ten commandments on top of Mount Sinai. Approximately twelve hundred years later, Jesus ascends (rises) back to heaven to his Father, but promises his disciples, “Wait here, until you receive power from on high when the Holy Spirit comes upon you; and you shall be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” (Acts 1:8) They gather in the upper room in Jerusalem, during the Jewish Pentecost Festival, and the Holy Spirit comes in a mighty wind, and breathes on them this “power from on high.” It is only after the Pentecost event that Jesus’ disciples have the courage and the energy to venture forth from the upper room where they had gathered for their last supper with Jesus, then after the crucifixion had hidden, crippled with fear, behind locked doors, afraid that what had happened to Jesus would happen to them.

Once the Spirit had breathed her new empowering life into them, however, they ventured forth, and changed the world.
Her? Yes, her. In Hebrew the word for Wind/Breath Spirit is Ruach, and it is feminine, She. In Greek the word for Wind/Breath/Spirit is Pneuma, a neuter word, but a feminine concept. The male biased bible translators, unfortunately, still usually translate Ruach and Pneuma as He. But that is gradually changing.

So, right now, Stop. Think of the day you have ahead of you. Take a deep breath. Know that the Spirit of Life is as close to you as your next breath. Know that the same power, the same life force, which hovered over the waters in Genesis 1, and brought forth all life, lives in you! This Ruach desires to empower you this very day as you live your life, and tackle all of the obstacles you must tackle today.

The next time you say to yourself, “Stop. Take a deep breath,” know that the breath of heaven, the energizing Spirit of Life, breathes in and through you. The same power which raised Christ from the dead, desires to raise you to new life.
Stop, take a deep breath! You have everything you need, right here, right now, within you.
Breathe!

This day may you see the Spirit of Life in all you encounter,
and may you reflect the Spirit of Life to all you encounter.
Linda Forsberg, Copyright May 20, 2015

Photos:  Linda in Turkey; Ted in Denny’s garden, Alexandria. PA; Charlene at yoga class; Linda, sailing the Mediterranean Sea;  Linda in cave, Capadocia, Turkey; Linda near Delphi, Greece; Linda in ancient amphitheater, Greece; Linda in NH; Linda in Nova Scotia; Linda in Turkey

The Color of Water: In Praise of God as Mother and All Good Mothers

My favorite Saint of all time is Juliana (or Julian) of Norwich, 1346-1416, after whom my third child, Juliana, was named. She was the first woman to write a book in English. It was called Revelations of Divine Love. In that amazing little book, one of the things she writes about, one of the things for which she is most famous, is Christ as our Mother.

She did not pull this idea out of thin air. Jesus gave this image to her. As he entered the city of Jerusalem for the last time, as he entered the last week of his life, Jesus saw the crowds, and proclaimed, “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, how I have longed to gather you under my wings, as a mother hen gathers her chicks, but you would not!” (Matthew 23:37)
The Hebrew Bible as well refers to God as mother. Most of the time we do not notice it, because we simply read about God’s “compassion” or “tender mercy” or “loving kindness,” all translations of the Hebrew word “hesed,” which literally means “womb love.” The Hebrew prophets Hosea and Isaiah also speak of God as a nursing mother, who longs to feed us, to nourish us, with her consoling breast, and dandle us on her knee. ( See especially Isaiah 49: 14-16 and 66: 10-13). A beautiful image put forth by Juliana of Norwich is that of a pregnant woman. She says that just as a pregnant mother feeds and nourishes her child within her with her own body and her own blood, so Jesus our Mother in the sacrament of holy communion, wants to feed us, wants to nourish us, with his own body, his own blood.

This past weekend the assigned Gospel was John 15: 13: “Greater love has no one than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” The artwork on the cover of our bulletins showed Madonna and Child. I thought, “What better way to tie in the Gospel of the day with Mother’s Day than to focus on the aching, longing sacrificial Mother-love of God, of Jesus, and of some of the amazing mothers we know. I know without a doubt that my own mother would have laid down her life for me or for one of my sisters.

Years ago when I began cycling in a serious way. My youngest child, Juliana, was a toddler. I had one of those bicycle seats on the back of my bike for her. We would ride together in nearby Goddard Park. I will never forget an article I read in cycling magazine written by a young father, who was also a cyclist. He tells the story of one day, when he was cycling near his home on Cape Cod, on a long, straight, flat road. It was a glorious sunny day, and he had not a care in the world. All of the sudden a car came around a corner of a road that ran perpendicular to his road, and careened toward him. Instinctually he swerved his bicycle out of the way, and ditched his bike, but saved his life. Then he heard a cry. He had forgotten that his toddler aged son was on the back of his bicycle in the toddler seat! Thanks be to God his child was okay. But this young father was horrified by what he had done: in that moment when he had no time to think, he instinctually chose to save himself, and forgot about his child. He wrote that he KNEW that his wife would NEVER have ditched the bike with their son in his toddler seat, but would have instinctually tried to protect their son, sacrificing herself if need be. He wrote that that is the difference between male and female instinct. Mothers, who carry a child in their womb for nine months, have bodies which instinctually protect their young. Males do not.

I do not completely agree with him. I know some incredibly nurturing men, whom I know would react protectively toward their child. I think that as we evolve as a human species, more and more men are developing that nurturing instinct. But statistically, I am sure that a higher percentage of women have this instinct than men.

Jesus, I would posit, was one of those rare men, who, like Rachel before him, wept for his children. I think Jesus is weeping for his children today.
My sermon last weekend can be summarized in a photo I have of our grand daughter Sylvie and our great grandson Ayden. It is a beautiful photograph of these two cousins.

I showed a slide of the photograph to the congregation and asked, “Who do you think I worry about more in this world they are growing up in today?” Despite patriarchy and sexism, I worry more about Ayden. I think of Ferguson. I think of Staten Island. I think of Baltimore. I worry about Ayden growing up as a young black man. Why should mothers of black sons worry so much more than mother’s of white sons? Until the day when all God’s children are safely gathered in, I think Jesus weeps for his children. Our Mother God weeps for her children.

Last summer I read an amazing book I found at the book swap for hunger we had held in our church basement: The Color of Water: A Black Son’s Tribute to his White Mother, by James McBride. Growing up in a black neighborhood in Brooklyn, James McBride said he always knew something was different about his mother. When he asked her about it, she said, “I am just light-skinned.” When he got older, she finally told him her story. She had been born in Poland, the daughter of a Jewish Rabbi. When she was a young child, he moved his family to the deep south. As a teenager, she fell in love with a young black man. Because of this, she moved North, to New York. Eventually, she converted to Christianity, and with her husband started a Baptist church in Harlem. She had twelve children, and sacrificed to make sure all twelve children received a college education. Most of them went on to become doctors, lawyers, all kinds of leaders. MacBride said that as a child, confused about color and race, he asked his mother one day, “What color is God?” She replied, “The color of water.”

I love that: The Color of Water. God, like Water, is no color, but reflects all colors. God, in baptism, makes all God’s children one: “In Christ there is neither Jew nor Gentile; there is neither slave nor free; there is neither male nor female; for all are one in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Saint Paul, Galatians 3:28, two thousand years ago!!!)

In last Sunday’s Gospel Jesus said, “Love one another as I have loved you.” (John 15:12) Again, consider this photograph. Until all God’s children are treated as equal, until all are one, Jesus weeps. Our Mother/Father God who is the color of water reflects and gathers into herself and equally loves children of every color. Last week’s text: If you say you love God, and hate your brother or sister, you are a liar.” (1 John 4:20)

May we be like water,
seeing God in all we encounter,
and reflecting God to all we encounter.

Linda Forsberg, Copyright May 12, 2015
This blog is dedicated to my mother, Helen Stamp Forsberg, who would have been 88 years old today. I know she is now part of the Ocean that is God.

Photo Credits:  Ted at waterfall in Iceland; Juliana of Norwich; Juliana of Norwich; beautiful Renata and victor neuter; my Juliana as a toddler, with our bicycle; Sylvie and mommy Eugenia; Gandpa Ted and Sylvie; Sylvie and Ayden; Sylvie and Eugenia; my beautiful mother,Helen, with Leslie as a baby

Spirituality and Art

I officiated at a wedding this past Sunday. It was outside, as most of my weddings are these days, at breathtaking Ocean Cliff in Newport. I looked out at ocean, jagged rock cliffs, a sailboat going by, the Newport bridge in the distance, the Island of Jamestown across the bay, and thought to myself, “What more spectacular cathedral could you find than the cathedral that God created?”

I always invite couples to select their own readings. This couple selected one reading from modern literature, (the “What is Love?” conversation from the Velveteen Rabbit) and one from a film, Serenity: “You want to know what the first rule of flying is?…Love. You can learn all the math in the ‘Verse, but you take a boat in the air that you don’t love, she’ll shake you off just as sure as the turning of the worlds. Love keeps her in the air when she oughta fall down, tells you she’s hurtin’ ‘fore she keens. Makes her a home.” I selected I John 4: 7-8, from the New Testament of the Bible: Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God. Everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. Everyone who does not love does not know God for God is love.”

In the almost thirty years that I have been ordained, I have noticed a trend. Thirty years ago weddings were in the church, even if the couple were not “church people.” Couples would seek out a church in which to get married. The prettier the church, the more wedding requests. Last year, only one of my weddings was in the church. The rest were outdoors. I can understand this. I myself, an avid outdoor enthusiast, got married outdoors, at Fort Adams State Park in Newport, under a majestic tree, where my husband and I always stopped to rest on our daily bicycle rides. Our weddings guest gazed at pretty much the same scene as the guests at Ocean Cliff.

More and more couples are also selecting readings from poets, films, song lyrics. I think of what Martin Luther said, that the Canon of the Word of God (the Bible) is open and ongoing. It includes the writings of the early church fathers and mothers, the saints and the mystics, sermons rightly preached, and our own mutual conversation and consolation. ALL OF THAT is the Word of God. So why not the Velveteen Rabbit and the quote from the film Serenity?

Last summer for my summer reading I asked my three young adult children what their favorite book of all times was. I read all three, to more deeply understand the the yearnings my children hold in their hearts: One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez; The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand; and Wind, Sand and Stars by Antoine de Saint-Exupery. Indeed, for each of my children these books spoke deeply to their own spirit. Part of my summer reading also included the books of the Apocrypha, (those books from the Greek version of the Old Testament, or Septuagint, considered part of the biblical Canon for Roman Catholics, but not for Protestants, whose Canon is based on the Hebrew version of the Old Testament, or Hebrew Bible). In truth, many of these books were grotesquely violent, and in no way spoke to my spirit.I also read Carl Sagan’s Cosmos and Joseph Campbell’s The Power of Myth and, if I had to compile my own Canon, would include those two books in the Word of God, as opposed to some of the Apocryphal books. Martin Luther said, “If you want to change the world, pick up your pen and write.” (or I would add, pick up your laptop and write.)

What about music? Sometimes I think, “Where are the Bachs of today?” Bach (a Lutheran, by the way), composed his music for worship. In fact, many of the great classical composers composed sacred music to be used for worship. Saint Augustine said, “The one who sings prays twice.” My own Martin Luther said, “My heart, which is so full to overflowing, has often been solaced and refreshed by music when sick and weary.” In true Luther fashion he also said, “A person who…does not regard music as a marvelous creation of God, must be a clodhopper indeed and does not deserve to be called a human being; he should be permitted to hear nothing but the braying of asses and the grunting of hogs.” Tell us how you really feel, Martin:)
Indeed, from the beginning of human history art was used to express the spiritual dimension of life, to give thanks and praise and gratitude to the Creator of the Cosmos. Poetry, sacred stories, songs, symphonies, paintings, sculptures, tapestries, murals, architectural wonders, athletic events (the origin of the Olympics) were all expressions of humanity’s deepest spiritual longings and experiences of communion with the Divine.

So today, why not films? Plays? Television programs? Music? Novels? Paintings? Mosaics? Photography? Graffiti? Blogs?
Those of us who lament the dwindling attendance in churches around the world, need to reflect on the events that are drawing huge numbers of people, like sports events, concerts, films, plays. The other night I suggested to my husband that the television programs he is so fond of, like “The Voice,” are perhaps so popular in our culture because they tap into that spiritual place within all of us, and move us to that same place of thanksgiving, praise, and gratitude for the gift of this “wild and precious life,” as poet Mary Oliver says. Perhaps artists are now, as they have always been, the “preachers” or communicators of the holy to those who are spiritually longing. That is my theory. So, part of the Oceans of Grace Outreach Ministry at our church includes a Faith in the Arts program.

if we want more people in our churches, maybe we need to open our buildings to artists, and invite them to share their gifts to help all of us open to the Artist who painted the Cosmos? And to you artists out there, whatever your art, CREATE! For in so doing, you give glory to God!

This day, may we see the Holy in all we encounter,

and may we reflect the Holy to all we encounter.

Linda Forsberg, Copyright May 5, 2015

Photos:  With Victoria at the Cloister, Metropolitan Museum of Art, NYC; Wedding Site, ocean Cliff, Newport, RI; our wedding; our wedding, Fort Adams, Newport, RI;  Jules’ photo of Newport Bridge at sunset; Greenwich Bay Brass performing at Gloria Dei Lutheran Church, Providence, Faith in the Arts; Tapestry exhibit, the Cloisters, NYC ( I learned that the Unicorn represents True Love); Mural of Martin Luther, Our Lady of Guadalupe, and Frederick Douglas, at Trinity Lutheran Church, Manhattan; Victoria and Madison’s wedding, Newport, RI

Opening

Spring is my favorite season. Easter is my favorite day. Both are about Life bursting through when and where we least expect it. Imperceptible at first, buds, tiny and hard, warm in the expanding sun’s heat, and slowly whisper open. Each year I pay close attention. I try to catch this opening in the act, but it never happens. One day all is tightly gripped, closed. The next day, all is open, verdant green, colors exploding, the sight, the sounds, the smell of fertile soil, of Life triumphant.

For years I had a little poem by Joyce Rupp scotch-taped to the window sill above my kitchen sink:
And every year 
the dull and dead in us 
meets our Easter challenge:  
to be open to the unexpected, 
to believe beyond our security, 
to welcome God in every form, 
and trust in our own greening. (Joyce Rupp, Easter Challenge)

I think I like this poem because it proclaims that Easter can happen in us. I have seen it. Relationships, bruised and wounded, open to forgiveness and reconciliation. Hope, weary and battered, takes a deep breath of Spirit. Doors, bolted shut against fear’s wintry cold, open, and trust emerges into the sunlight.

A friend once told me that my downfall is that I see the potential for good in others. I focus so much on that potential for goodness that I cannot see the meanness right before my eyes. Actually, I do see it.
But I have faith in something bigger. Rupp and one of my favorite mystics, Hildegard of Bingen, call it the “greening.”
God is always able to make us new. Not just some of us. ALL of us. No matter what.

God’s invitation to this new life is always there. Some of us say “Yes” to it. Some of us prefer to keep ourselves tightly closed. All over the world, in many different cultures and faith traditions, the story of creation takes place in a primordial garden.

The Easter story also takes place in a garden. Mary Magdalene, seeing the resurrected Christ, thinks he is the gardener. Things always come full circle. The cross becomes the Tree of Life. The tomb becomes the womb. The Easter garden returns us to the Garden of Eden. We are invited to open ourselves and to let God re-create us, make us new.
Life IS triumphant over death. You can choose to open to this, or not.

I believe that God sees us in the fullness of God’s potential. As a mother, I see my young adult children as through God’s eyes. I see their ultimate potential. I also see their hardness and resistance, their wounds, and their fear of being wounded again. I pray that their hearts remain open.

In my better moments, I am able to see everyone with a mother’s eyes, the closest thing to God’s eyes that I know. Year’s ago I liked a song called, “If You Could See Yourself Through My Eyes,” by Andy Pratt. It spoke about trying to see ourselves through God’s eyes, and urged us to “Love our way through it all.”

Can you even briefly glimpse yourself as through God’s eyes? Can you open yourself to this greening? Can you let Easter happen in you?

Easter us, O, God!

This day may you see the greening potential in all you encounter,

and may you trust in your own greening.

Linda Forsberg, Copyright, April 30, 2015

Photos:  Iris, Hawaii; Garden at Enders Island, Mystic, CT; Ted’s vegetable garden; open window, church in Kaua’i;  flower, Maui; Garden of Eden, Maui; Sylvie and John Luca at John Luca’s first birthday party; Sylve; Tree of Life, Hilo, Big Island, Hawaii

Every Day is Earth Day

My husband, Ted, hates Valentine’s Day. This is not a bad thing. He is actually very romantic. He hates Valentine’s Day because he feels that we should express love every day, not just one day of the year when commercialism dictates that we should spend lots of money to express our romantic love. Ted feels that we should express romantic love every day, and he does.
I kind of feel that way about earth day. I feel that every day is earth day. As a young child I would wake up each morning, hurriedly gobble down my breakfast, and head out into the adventure of the new day, a whole world to explore. I would only head home when my hunger told me it was mealtime. Or when it grew dark, and my mother would call me home.
In ancient days, people spent the vast majority of their time outdoors. Every day was filled with wonder at the mystery of the earth’s beauties and treasures. A few years ago I led a retreat at one of my favorite places on this earth: Casa del Sol, at Ghost Ranch, New Mexico.

It was a retreat celebrating the earth through the sacred texts of six of the major world religions: Hinduism, Native American spirituality, Judaism, Buddhism, Christianity, and Islam. Today I share with you a quote about the beauty and sacredness of the earth, from each to these traditions, plus two simple Earth Prayers for you to practice.

From the Bhagavad Gita, one of the most sacred texts of the Hindu tradition:

“I am the taste of pure water and the radiance of the sun and the moon. I am the sacred word and the sound heard in air, and the courage of human beings. I am the sweet fragrance in the earth and the radiance of fire; I am the life in every creature and the striving of the spiritual aspirant. “ Gita, 7:8-9
“That one alone sees truly who sees the Lord the same in every creature, who sees the Deathless in the hearts of all that die. Seeing the same Lord everywhere, that one does not harm self or others. Thus s/he attains the supreme goal.” Gita, 13:27
The phrase in Sanskrit, with which people greet one another, and with which every yoga practice concludes, is: “Namaste,” which means, “May the holy or sacred One in me acknowledge the holy or sacred One in you, and in all things.”

From the book os Psalms, in the Hebrew Bible: “O Lord, how manifold are your works! In wisdom you have made them all; the earth is full of your creatures. Yonder is the sea, great and wide, creeping things innumerable are there, living things both great and small.” Psalm 104:24-25)

In Zen Buddhism, we encourage mindfulness and reverence toward all things, all people, all creatures, everything that exists.
Jesus said, “Do not be anxious about your life…Consider the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly father feeds them…Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even King Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these…So if God so clothes the grass of the field, will God not much more clothe you, O you of little faith?” (Matthew 6: 25-30)

In Islam the Sufi mystic Rumi writes: “Are you jealous of the ocean’s generosity? Why would you refuse to give this love to anyone? Fish don’t hold the sacred liquid in cups! They swim the huge fluid freedom.” And again, “There is no reality but God,” says the completely surrendered teacher, “Who is an ocean for all beings.” (from Rumi: The Book of Love, Edited by Coleman Barks)

Every morning for the past twenty years, I begin my day by going outside, rain, snow, or sunshine, and doing two simple Native American prayers, taught to me by a Lakota woman, who was a teacher of mine many years ago, named Sister Jose Hobday. Sister Jose shared the reverence for this earth taught to her by her own Native American people, but was also a Franciscan nun, following Saint Francis and his love for God in all creation. Over the years I have taught these prayers to many people. Sister Jose returned to her Creator just a few years ago. I share these prayers with you today, in celebration of this earth she so loved.

Three Step Prayer:
Step One. Take a step, and feel yourself planted in this sacred earth. Using your five senses, give thanks this day for all the beauty that your eyes see; all the sounds of creation (birds, gentle breezes, etc) your ears hear; all the smells that you breathe in from this verdant earth; all that you taste; all that you feel. Give thanks to our Mother earth for these gifts.
Step Two. Take a step. With this step leave behind anything negative from the previous day. Wipe the dust of yesterday from your feet, from your spirit, and let go of it.
Step Three. Take a step into the gift of the new beginning that this day brings, that each day brings. Amen.

Prayer of the Seven Directions:
Begin facing the East. The East is the direction in which we see the sun rising, so for Native Americans, the East is the direction of new beginnings. Give thanks for the the hope, promise, and potential of the new day.
Turn a quarter circle to the right. This is the South. For Native Americans (and for all of us) the South is the direction of warmth, growth, fertility, creativity. It is also the direction of faith and faithfulness in relationships. Pray for those gifts in your life this day.
Turn a quarter turn to the right. This is the West. The West is the direction in which we see the sun setting or going down, so for Native Americans this is the direction of night, or rest, or sleep and restoration. It is also the direction of endings that need to take place in order for there to be new beginnings. Pray for those gifts in your life this day.
Turn a quarter turn to the right. This is the North. For Native Americans (and for all of us) the North is the direction of cold, of strength, courage, fortitude, and also for clarity, focus, purpose, single-mindedness. Pray for those gifts this day.
Return a quarter turn back to the East, but this time look up. For Native Americans, the upward direction reminds them of Father Sky. For all of us this is a a reminder to always look up, to see that we are part of something much bigger than we are. Pray for an expansive view this day, to always see the bigger picture.
Bend down and touch the earth below us. Give thanks for the gift of our Mother Earth, and pray that all that you do this day may be in honor and reverence of our Mother Earth.
Place your hand on your heart, and pray that all that you do this day may be true to the Spirit of God that is within you. Amen.

This Earth Day, may you realize that every day is Earth Day.
May you see the Holy One in all you encounter,
and may you reflect the Holy One to all you encounter.
Linda Forsberg, Copyright April 22, 2015

Photo Credits:  Ted in Grand Canyon, AZ; Sylvie, planting flowers with me for Earth Day; Casa del Sol, Ghost Ranch, Abiquiu, NM; Martin Luther quote; Stray Dog and Luke, Newport, RI; flowers at Glacier National Park; Newport Bridge at Sunset; Second Beach, Newport, RI; top of Kitchen Mesa trail, Abiqui, NM; Linda in Grand Canyon, AZ

Jesus Got Highjacked

I was in New York City last Saturday. I went to see my daughter, Juliana, in a play. She has been living in New York City since she graduated from college, trying to live out her vocation of acting. She was one of the fairy godmothers in the play Sleeping Beauty. Even though my husband, Ted, hates the city, we went into the city to support our daughter’s acting career. We met up with my nephew, John, his wife, Nicolette, and their two and a half year old son, John Luca, and went to the play together. We walked from their apartment on the upper East Side, to the theater, which is off, off Broadway (yes, two “offs”), on the upper West Side. As we passed through Times Square I felt my husband recoil. The crowd was thick.
One thing I love about New York City is the diversity. People from all over the world, of every age, race, ethnicity, religion, size, shape, language, you name it, are all there together, a relatively tiny microcosm of the macrocosm.

There, next to the fat, hairy man in a women’s string bikini, was a man with a sign, “Repent!” I heard the name Jesus, and was about to walk up to the guy to tell him that I too worship this Jesus, when all of the sudden he began to spew forth venomous verbal attacks about hell, fire, damnation. “You are all pigs!” he shouted, and then began grunting and roving about like a wild boar. The crowd jostled me away, and I lost Ted for a few moments. I recoiled from this street preacher, and thought to myself, “How did Jesus get highjacked?”

How did the part about “God so LOVED the world” get cast aside, as well as the next verse, “God did not send the son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him?” (John 3: 16 & 17) Isn’t this image of God as a God of hate and wrath and condemnation the very reason why God came among us in the humanity of Jesus to set us straight? To say “You’ve got it all wrong – I so LOVE this world! I did not come into this world to condemn it, but in order to save it by showing you another way to live and treat one another?”
How did Jesus ever get associated with such vile contempt? We are talking about Jesus, who broke bread with lepers and prostitutes and outcasts, because he so loved us. Jesus, who told us to forgive seventy times seven times, who fed the hungry, healed the sick, and invited all to live a life of true repentance (which literally means “turning”), turning away from those things which are not of God, turning our whole heart, soul, and mind to God, and the new and resurrected life God desires for us.
If Jesus were walking through Times Square today, he would look upon it all with eyes of love, not condemnation. He would look upon the crowds, now as he did then, with eyes of saving love, even the fat, hairy guy in the bikini.

I saw Christ last Saturday inside the theater, where families with young children came to see a play. It was a play where actors poured out their gifts before a small audience of mostly small children, who aren’t even able to write them reviews. It was a play where everyone in the audience was invited to reach down deep inside and grab hold of the strength and love within us and breathe it out to bring back to life the sleeping beauty, who’d been condemned to a truncated life by a misguided misanthrope.
It was a play, in fact, about true love which has the power to resurrect us. It was a play about the beauty which resides in all of us.

I wish the street preacher had come inside to see the play. I think he needs to hear about the true love of God which does not condemn, but heals; which does not slay, but resurrects.

When Jesus gets highjacked, it is up to us, who have experienced his saving love, to breathe it out into this world, even to breathe it upon those who’ve highjacked Jesus. Today let us all reach down deep inside and grab hold of the strength and love of God within us, and breathe it out to bring back all of the beauty that is sleeping, condemned by the misguided misanthropes of this world. Oh, street preacher, with all of your grunting and talk about hell and condemnation, guess what? Jesus even loves you!

This day, may you see the beauty and love of God in all you encounter,

and may you reflect the beauty and love of God to all you encounter.

Linda Forsberg, Copyright, April 15, 2015

Photos:  Times Square, NYC; NYC skyline from Staten Island Ferry; cross and sky from Christ in the Desert Benedictine Monastery, Abiquiu, NM; the fairy godmothers; the hateful misanthrope and the sleeping beauty; John Luca concerned about the hateful misanthrope; John Luca breathing hope, resurrection, love, and new life; John Luca and his beloved fairy Godmother, “Ju-Ju”

Surprised!

I always thought Jesus knew. I thought he knew he was the Messiah, knew God’s bigger purpose for his life, knew that the cross was inevitable, but also knew that the resurrection would follow. It wasn’t until a bout ten years ago that I thought about a different possibility. What if Jesus didn’t know the outcome? What if, as fully human as well as fully divine, Jesus was limited? What if he didn’t know what was happening to him? Didn’t know he would be executed, crucified? What if, in his great love for this crazy world, he just yielded to the consequences of loving without limits, come what may? What if he had no idea of the resurrection, but gave himself over to the process of torture and death, as he had seen so many martyrs do before him? What if, on Easter morning, he was the first one to be surprised?

Ten years ago I began a four-year program in spiritual direction through Sacred Heart University. Nothing expanded me the way this four-year program did. One of the books we read for this program is a little book called Consider Jesus: New Waves in Christology, by the Roman Catholic theologian, Elizabeth Johnson. Since then I have shared this book in numerous courses I have taught. Many people say that it has profoundly deepened their understanding of Jesus. It profoundly deepened my own understanding of Jesus. The chapter that struck me the most was the one entitled, “Jesus’ Self Understanding.” Here Johnson says what we have long known, that in the early church, there were struggles as to how this guy Jesus could be both fully human and fully divine. Some fell down on one side of the spectrum, that as fully God, he certainly could not have experienced the literal suffering and ignoble, humiliating death on the cross, for that would diminish his divinity. Others said that as fully human, as God made flesh, of course he experienced the full spectrum of our humanity, including literal suffering and death. I have always fallen into the latter camp, but I still thought he knew, knew that his suffering and death on the cross was a step he had to undergo in the process which would ultimately lead to resurrection.

The early church didn’t really help us too much, in that it eventually adopted a both/and rather than an either/or in the paradox we proclaim in the Nicene Creed, that Christ is both fully divine AND fully human. In fact, the biblical witness itself falls down on both sides of this argument. The earliest biblical witness, Saint Paul, poses the profound hymn from Philippians 2: “Not counting equality with God as something that can be grasped, God emptied Godself and took on our human flesh…even to the point of death, even death on a cross.” The Greek word for this complete self-emptying is Kenosis. The three Synoptic gospels Mark, Matthew and Luke, all present a Jesus who in this Kenosis, was limited in his understanding. But John, the latest of the gospels, falls down on the other side of the equation, and presents a powerful Jesus, who knew what he was doing every step of the way: “I have the power to lay down my life, and I have the power to take it up again.” The bible scholar’s “rule” is to place more weight on the earliest witnesses. In other words, on Paul’s and the Synoptic writers’ depiction of a fully human Jesus, who, in complete Kenosis, like us, is limited in his understanding. To me this does not lessen Jesus. In fact, it deepens his love for the cosmos.

Johnson quotes the great Roman Catholic theologian Karl Rahner, who holds onto the paradox when he says that, like us, Jesus had two “poles of being: categorical and transcendental.” Like all of us, Jesus had his categorical pole of being. I wake up in the morning and am aware that I am Linda, married to Ted, the mother of Zach, Victoria, and Juliana, the pastor of First Lutheran Church. That is my categorical pole of being. But I also have moments when I glimpse my higher purpose, my divine purpose, the Linda God created me to be, my transcendental pole of being. So do you, if you really think about it.

For our kids’ sermon on Easter Day we sat with the children in the chancel area filled with gorgeous flowers. We asked the kids if they wanted a plant to take home Of course they all said “Yes.” So I asked them to put our their hands, and dropped a seed into each of their hands. They were surprised, and disappointed. But then I talked about how the seed, when buried in the earth, becomes the plant, and how there is a connection between the kind of seed and the plant it becomes (read 1 Corinthians, chapter 15). This would explain why even Jesus’ closest friends did not recognize him in his resurrected form, and then, it dawned on them, and they did. Something was different, but something was also the same. The seed had become the plant. We ended up giving the kids both a packet of seeds, and a plant to take home.

What if, that first Easter morning, Jesus was the first to be surprised by the resurrection? For me that “not knowing the outcome” does not diminish Jesus. Rather it reveals the depth of his love for this cosmos, in that he surrendered himself to something bigger, as must we all at those pivotal moments in our lives, those moments of birth and death, which are so intimately connected (see last week’s blog). Christ emptied himself into our humanity, even into our death, and only on Easter morning did Jesus realize what resurrection is!

Now, the question is, can we? Can we also fully live this paradoxical life? As human beings who contain within ourselves that imago dei, that spark of divine life, can we open ourselves to that something bigger, come what may? Can we let ourselves be seeds, can we let ourselves die and be buried, can we let ourselves be cracked open by this human life? And can we trust that we will be surprised by resurrection?

This day, may you be surprised by resurrection in all you encounter,

and may you surprise all you encounter with your resurrection life!

Linda Forsberg, Copyright April 8, 2015

Photos:  Easter Sunrise service, Sandy Point Beach, Potowomut, 2015; Easter Sunrise Service, Potowomut, 2015; Stations of the Cross Walk, Good Friday, 2015; Stations of the Cross Walk, Good Friday, 2015; Kids Sermon, Linda with John Luca, 2015; Easter Garden, First Lutheran Church, East Greenwich, RI, 2015; Linda with Emily, Brenton Point, Newport, RI; Ted in the Caves, Negril, Jamaica, 2013

Walking into the Mystery of this Holy Week

My son, Zach, just celebrated his birthday. My kids good-naturedly make fun of me because every year, on their birthdays, I get out the photo album from when they were born, and we look at it together, they to humor me, me to remember. My son, my first child, was born on the Wednesday of Holy Week.

That year Holy Week took on a whole new meaning for me. There were some minor complications during his birth, enough to make me realize that even in our modern medically and technologically sophisticated world, the veil between death and life is still very thin, very flimsy. Once in the midst of the process of death or of birth, there is no turning back. You simply must surrender yourself to the mystery of what is happening to you, in you, and through you. You do not know if the end result will be death or life, but you do your part, resigned to the fact that something bigger is going on, and will happen whether you resist or yield. So, I yielded, surrendered, opened myself to that something bigger, come what may.

I see this same process happening when I am with people at the time of their death. My father, who died a little over a year ago, said resolutely, “Well, let’s hope this is it.” He set his jaw on that stoic Swedish face of his, and knowingly walked into the mystery of his own death. I hope I die like that.

This week is the week that Christians all around the world call Holy Week. At our church we try not to do much else during this week, except focus solely on walking straight into the heart of the mystery of our faith: death, and then…new and resurrected Life. In the gospels they say that Jesus set his jaw, set his face, and walked the Road to Jerusalem, into the mystery of his death on the cross.

Growing up in a Christian family, I somehow always thought that Jesus knew the outcome, that he knew somehow that the end result would not be the finality of death, but of resurrection. Then about ten years ago I read a wonderful book, which I have used in many classes, called Consider Jesus: New Waves of Christology, by the Roman Catholic Theologian, Elizabeth Johnson. In this book she opened me to a new possibility: that Jesus, as fully human as well as fully divine, did not know the end of the story when he surrendered himself to death. Like all of us, in our humanness, his sight was limited. He only realized what resurrection meant after he surrendered himself completely to death.

Easter morning was a surprise for him as well as for his disciples! For me, this heightens the story, intensifies it. I am always struck deeply by his prayer to God in the Garden of Gethsemane, the Thursday night of his arrest, the day before the cross: “Oh God, if it is possible, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but Thine, be done.” Resistance, then yielding, opening himself to the something bigger, come what may.

Over the years, I have grown to deeply love Holy Week. I love it because we do not just read or hear about Jesus’ death and resurrection. No, we walk it. We follow the Way of the Cross. We begin with Palm Sunday, Jesus’ joyful, triumphant entry into the holy city of Jerusalem. On Holy Thursday we share a Seder Meal together with our friends from the local synagogue. After our Passover celebration, we go up into the church, and recall the story of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane. On Friday we Walk the Way of the Cross, a Good Friday Stations of the Cross Walk through our town of East Greenwich, stopping at places of human suffering/Christ still being crucified today. Then on Holy Saturday, during our Easter Vigil, we “pass over” with Christ from death to new life.

I love Holy Week because the older I get, the more I realize that it speaks to us about the Road of this human life. Each of our lives is filled with joys and loves, beauty and blessing, celebrations and triumphs. Each of our lives is also filled with struggles and hardships, grief and loss, suffering and death. There are so many things in this life which we do not understand. There are things we resist valiantly. There are things to which we learn to yield, trusting somehow, that which is beyond our understanding, but speaks to our lived experiences, our many little deaths over the course of our lives, that lead to this moment, this ultimate yielding.

Shortly before my son was born I read a poem in McCalls Magazine, by a woman named Leslie Garcia. This is remarkable because I never read magazines. This poem affected me so deeply that I have it committed to memory, all these years later:

The day you were born
I cannot remember
whether the sun was shining
or rain slashed across the sky
confused by pain and doubt
But this I know
that I held you, gazed at you for hours
Felt the warmth assault me
Until I was not sure
Which of us
Had just been born.

This Holy Week, may the death of Christ mark your death to your old self, to those things in your life to which you need to die. This Holy Week, may the resurrection of Christ mark your rising to new and resurrected Life with Christ.

Pastor Linda Forsberg, Copyright March 31, 2015

Photos:  Paschal Candle, Christ in the Desert Benedictine Monastery, Abiquiu, NM; Linda about to give birth, Brigham and Women’s Hospital, Boston, 1986; Linda, birth pangs, 1986; Dad and Mom at Ted’s and my wedding, July 30, 2006; the Road to Christ in the Desert Benedictine Monastery, Abiquiu, NM; Trees before sunrise, Casa del Sol, Ghost Ranch, Abiquiu, NM; sunrise, Casa del Sol; flowers growing in rocks, Glacier National Park; Stations of the Cross Walk, Christ in the Desert Benedictine Monastery; Zach and Linda, newly born; Flowers, Glacier National Park