prayer – Dwelling in Presence

UN-CENTERING PRAYER

Rev. Dr. Kate Winters, “Dwelling in Presence,” February 8, 2024

Why is it that I feel free to write almost anything personal, sensitive, and embarrasing about most things except when it comes to my spiritual life? Why do I think that somehow that must be kept secret? As if somehow I am violating God or myself if I go there? But, wait a minute, my hope is that my spiritual life spills out all over the page whenever I write!. It certainly is not separate from my everyday world. Everything I experience is shaped by that wide and deep horizon.

So what do I keep to myself? Uh oh…here I go…challenging myself, so here it is. It is about my prayer life, or to be more specific, my attempts at a Centering Prayer life. For those who don’t know, centering prayer is a Christian version of meditation meant to lead to contemplation written extensively about by Father Thomas Keating, Cynthia Bourgeault, and Martin Laird among others in contemporary times. I say Christian version because every recognized major religion has a practice that is meant to lead to some kind of union with what is understood as ultimate reality. And honestly, I haven’t gotten there.

Yes, I have tried different methods of meditation, and I might even make a passable Buddhist. But at the moment, I am following the sage advice of the Dalai Lama who advises that instead of jumping from one path to another trying to find what “works” for you, it is best to return to one’s own tradition and commit deeply to it. There is already some kind of foundation for one there. I remember my beloved New Testament professor at Yale Divinity School, Luke Timothy Johnson, saying close to the same thing adding. ”We all meet at the same center.” And I trust these two implicitly. So for about eight months I have returned (I admit I’ve been here before) to the practice of Centering Prayer.

Let me tell you what I think the problem is. I have the quiet, the open time, and the supportive environment to delve into the silence. My phone provides the timer, complete with Tibetan bells, to get me started. But then I am tripped up in the very simple, one would think simple, centering prayer word. The practice teaches us to choose a word or a brief phrase to return to if your mind cannot quiet down and gives you too many thoughts or images to truly center oneself in silence.

Many choose the Jesus prayer (“Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me”) or the simple name, “Jesus”, or another word like “grace” or even “help.” The word itself is less important than its function as a way to return oneself to the silence. I would hate to tell you how many words and phrases I have chosen to help me silence my mind. It can take only ten seconds into my twenty minute session when my mind starts questioning, then fighting, with my prayer word.

I am supposed to simply note my thoughts, but not engage or converse with them, and let them go. Return to the prayer word. Use it to keep my mind busy until the silence returns. But as soon as I return to the prayer word itself, the cycle continues… ”Why this word? It doesn’t feel right. I can’t synchronize it with my breath. Is there a better word for me?” I can see Father Keating shaking his head from beyond! Certainly I settle down in the session, but decide to try a different word, or phrase, next time.

I know there are people who use the same word for years and years. Cynthia Bourgeault said she does in one of her books on Centering Prayer. I have wondered if there are others like me who struggle with it. Perhaps it has to do with my life-long love of words and the desire to use the right one at the right time. I’ve considered asking someone else to just give me a word. But who am I kidding? The same process would begin and I would berate myself again. What does all this tell me about myself? That I do not trust the practice? That I am a self-defeating perfectionist or a control freak? That I might want to go back to the breath or substitute an image, a candle flame for example, for the word? But I seem to do best with my eyes closed. See, I am fighting already!

Okay, if anyone can relate, I’d love to hear from you. As for now, I will just let my embarrassment be. I am still longing deeply for God. It is what and who I am. That’s got to count for something, doesn’t it? By the way, near the end of today’s meditation, I somehow tripped over a word. I don’t know where it came from. It could be heaven sent, for with it, my mind went silent. Have I found my word? Please pray for me tomorrow!

GALLOP IN GLORY, BEN

Rev. Dr. Kate Winters, Dwelling in Presence, July 4, 2023

This past Saturday morning, Joel and I sat under a wide and glorious willow tree with a dozen or so other people. We were invited by Val and Abe to celebrate the life and mourn the death of Ben, Val’s beloved friend and Abe’s fellow horse and buddy for over 20 years.

Not having been to a memorial service for a horse before, I was curious and happy to be there for this magnificent animal – tall and brown with wild white spots on his hind end. Ben had come through for Joel and me when we were looking for another location for our children’s message during the pandemic. Not very talkative, but fully present, Ben welcomed us into his barn with our cameras and our questions. I remember there was something very soothing in being there with him and Abe. Oh yes, and with Val, who is constantly brimming over with joy in all living things.

The circle that had gathered to celebrate Ben created a most gentle energy from the very beginning. Much like the energy of the horse himself. We were all asked to bring a story about an animal we had loved. One woman rang her Tibetan cymbals three times and then I was asked to begin with prayer. So I called us to note the sacred ground we gathered on, made sacred by the love given and received in this place among all the creatures. And then the stories came, beginning with an “Ode to Ben” written by one of the men. It was sad and funny and full of obvious care.

What is it about our love for our animals that brings out the gentleness in us? Each person spoke with such devotion of a special cat or dog or horse either still with them or gone before. As for me, I am brought to great tenderness looking into the eyes of wild things – the barred owl in the tree, the staring moose across the field, the wolf/coyote who held my gaze coming out of the woods. Val’s description of life with Ben was beautiful, with none of the caveats that usually crop up when describing life with another human being. No down side, no disturbing quirks, just pure appreciation. And deep love.

Just as Joel was about to end the gathering with a closing prayer, someone said “Oh, look!” Abe, who was not visible during the service, came aroud the house and into the field next to the willow tree. He looked over the fence and took in the circle. In silence, he told his story of love and loss. It was a holy moment. The creatures who live alongside of us understand and feel so much more than we know. They have their own wild wisdom. May we watch, listen, and learn.

Keeping Silence

When I first went public with the intent to go into silence for three months, just about everyone asked the same question. “Aren’t you even going to talk to Joel?” Joel is my beloved husband who just recently retired along with me after co-pastoring an active church on midcoast Maine for the last eighteen years. Our personal and work lives have been so intertwined that it seemed impossible that I would make a decision to take this separate path. Especially while living in the same house.

The first thing I want to say is that keeping silence is about more than “not talking.” It is, I think, about attending to life and the world in a more intentional way, including attending to the man who lives in my house. We will not be fully separate in this silence.

But it will be different. We will not be filling our space with words, or at least, I won’t. My own spoken words, the television chatter, music lyrics, all will cease. I will be listening to and for something else, something I haven’t allowed myself much of since entering ministry, which is ironic since I do have a strong feeling that silence is the environment in which God dwells. I love Meister Eckhart’s assertion that there is “nothing so much like God as silence.” So I can pretty confidently say that all of this springs from my deep longing for God, whoever, wherever, and whatever that is!