Over the past couple of months, this space has been generally reserved for my musings on spirituality, with only one side trip into frustration.

I’ve been relating to this space as a diary, or journal, but one that I willingly shared with any who wished to read. I’ve tried to open my soul to any who might be interested.

Today, that soul is darkened, saddened. I originally decided not to post today because of my inner gloom… But what good is a journal if it’s not a reflection of who I am. Hard to open a window to my soul and then shutter it.

Gloom. Darkness. Despair. Well, gloom and darkness, anyhow. I’m not yet feeling the despair. Who knows? That may come.

This week started off well enough. In fact through yesterday evening, it was progressing along quite nicely. Then we hit the wall.

Well, let me back up just a little. This isn’t quite true. The air got turbulent Wednesday afternoon. Kind of like a medium sized pothole on an otherwise smooth road. My visit with my doctor went well enough, and I’m healthy enough, overall, no really bad news. However, he did leave me with the knowledge that if I continue to experience certain symptoms, I may have to have a relatively small surgical procedure on my heart.

This didn’t really bother me too much. It’s really nothing overly serious, and I’m relatively confident that my medicine will take care of things. But it did make me think a little.

Then, that wall of last night. I got home, and there was a phone message from mom, asking that I call, wanting to know what I’d learned at the doctor’s office the night before.

So, I called. Mom’s response wasn’t quite what I’d expected, a lot calmer than expected. She asked when she’d see me again, and I started to arrange our newly established “Tuesday Night Dinner”. She interrupted me and said “Well, I can’t keep this up any longer.”

She then proceeded to tell me about HER visit to the doctor on Wednesday. She’s been diagnosed with “Squamous Cell Carcinoma”. Upon reading up on this on the internet, I discover that it is an “aggressively malignant” form of skin cancer that can easily metastasize to inner organs and can be fatal. I also learned that it is relatively easy to treat.

Well, I was okay with this news. Sorry for my dad, whom I know is suffering from this news. Sorry for mom, because, along with her Alzheimer’s this is the last thing she needs to have to worry about. But, I felt calm, at peace, knowing that this, too, is in God’s hands.

Then, I got to work this morning. Shortly after arriving, and going through my office email, I checked my personal email.

My friend, David, is pastor of a church in Mexico. His partner, Alberto, who suffers from epilepsy, was admitted to the hospital in serious condition earlier this week. This morning’s emails informed me that this marvelous young man died yesterday from, presumably, complications from the pneumonia, which in turn was the result of the epilepsy.

And now, I’m feeling gloomy and in a rather dark mood. But, I don’t despair. I’m not mouthing platitudes (or, rather, typing them) I’m sincerely not feeling despair over either my mother’s cancer OR David’s loss of his partner. I do, however, feel remarkably sad. Sad for David. Sad for the loss of Alberto. Sad for my dad. Sad for Mom. Sad for me.

For me it’s not a matter of “Life isn’t fair,” as a very dear friend mentioned. Life ISN’T fair. That’s a fact of life. I don’t expect anything in life to be fair. I’d be shocked if it were! It’s really a matter of dawning awareness. Life isn’t only not fair, life is a terminal illness. In the death of a friend, the life threatening condition of my mother, I see my own impermanence. The end of the road is ahead of me. It might be around the corner, or it may be many miles yet. But it’s there, and for a fleeting moment, that realization has been crystallized in my consciousness.

Good start, lousy end to this week. And that’s the way of life.

Aurelius (he of snorting fame) used to refer to Liturgy as dance. Nothing should interfere with the Liturgical Dance, he held. Effort must be taken to minimize unnecessary movement. For several years after I left, I strove to encourage this attitude in the church I attend. Finally, I came to realize that we are not a liturgical community. So what if our liturgical dance resembles more a free-for-all than a finely choreographed music hall piece!

Liturgy isn’t all that’s a dance.

Prayer this morning was going along quite nicely, thank you, until I uttered a phrase that made me stop and think.

“I don’t want to dance anymore.”

What the hell did that mean, I wondered. Which dance was I tired of?

It’s the dance that I do with the Spirit. It’s my entire relationship with that Divine Other that has come to be embodied by dance. The movements are finely choreographed. Some cosmic Choreographer has set before me a set of pre-determined steps the flow of which leads inexorably to… Well, that’s the problem, what does it lead to.

Ever been to a gay bar, recently? Or watched scenes from Queer as Folk? You know the dance there? Those dances, too, are finely choreographed… though never taught. The rhythm of the music itself teaches the participants the steps; the bodies flow and undulate to the mystic, primal beat.

That music, that dance, as often as not is foreplay. It heats the blood, drives the heart, exercises that part of our mind responsible for the flow of testosterone… I digress.

The spiritual dance of my spirit with The Spirit is like that… It flows to the mysterious beat of the love song sung by that Divine Other. And I want out. Out of the dance.

I want into the bed. I’m tired of the foreplay, I want to immerse myself in that beat, feel the spiritual blood surge against me, hear the pounding of the Other Heart. I want to engage fully in the undulating, primal surge of Spirit love.

“No,” my Partner whispers. “You don’t get it.”

And it dawns on me.

The dance… It IS the bed.

The dance… It ISN’T foreplay.

The dance… It IS the flow of the love song sung since the dawn of time, coursing through my veins, drawing me to that center place. That Center Place. It’s the beat, that spiritual blood surging, the Other Heart pounding against me. That Other Love entering me, taking me, possessing me… filling me.

The Dance is Life.

The Dance is Unity with Other.

Now is.

Then can’t be until I see it, feel it, sense it, know it as Now.

I need a cigarette.

This week seems to be off to a much better start. Except, this morning, the coffee machine was broken. That’s a bad thing… got the jitters! But, it’s fixed, so all’s well, that ends well!

I just posted a facetious response to another blog. The question was posed “If Jesus was shopping at Amazon.com, what would he buy (‘WWJB’)” My response was that he’d most certainly buy “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance” and “The Gay Man’s Kama Sutra.”

Okay, maybe he wouldn’t buy the “Gay Man’s Kama Sutra”, but I bet he’d buy some edition of the Kama Sutra.

Some years ago, I became interested in the relationship between spirituality and sexuality. Our society has retained such an odd mix of the old Puritanical revulsion for the latter. Sex sells everything these days, and yet, as a society [America] we have completely divorced it from our view of humanity.

We tend to think of the elements of personal well-being, for example, as being “Emotional”, “Mental”, “Physical”, “Spiritual”… and the like. Seldom do we read a list of human attributes that stipulates the Sexual nature. If we do consider the sexual, we think of it as part of the Physical. I think that’s invalid. (Oh, and by the way, I am quite aware that when I speak of “we” in this regard, there are many who ARE aware of the sexual.)

My first realization of this elemental part of my being didn’t come to my until well into my life. In fact, it’s really only started developing in the past 3 years or so.

But it really hit home one sunny, lazy Saturday afternoon. I had a spiritual experience. My partner and I were engage in slowly, passionately making love when I became aware of that Divine Other present with us. I knew Love at that moment.

I’ve frequently experienced that Other’s Love and presence in the ensuing years.

We are not merely physical or spiritual beings… we are sexual beings, and our sexuality is given us to celebrate our life. Rather than hiding from this, we need to embrace our sexuality. I don’t mean promiscuity, though I don’t judge that, either. We need to live true to ourselves, physically, emotionally… sexually.

In the beginning, God created… and saw that it was good. It wasn’t humanity’s nakedness that created the rift. It was humanity’s turning from God and allowing externals to come between themselves and God… between humanity and Creation.

!Snort!

So. There!

What a crummy week.

TGIF doesn’t even begin to express how I feel about today being Friday… And yet, that fact doesn’t inspire any real hope, today. I just get to spend a weekend dealing with more of the “same old same old”.

I haven’t really had much time to write this week, which is too bad, because I’ve got a couple of different topics bouncing around my intracranial block.

Two come to mind… one, Rage, I’ll have to deal with later. Today, a good topic seems to be BETRAYAL.

Because, while on Tuesday my overriding emotional balance was interfered with by a recurring bout with rage, today, my universe is rocked by the realization of betrayal.

Until very recently, I assumed that the people I served on a board of directors with were a team, a cohesive unit dedicated to one thing… service to our organization. I trusted them.

It is a shock to come to the conclusion that I am so utterly naive.

At a meeting this week, 5 of us were present. A decision was reached that a certain situation would be dealt with in a particular way, a way that was pastoral and appropriate… or rather, the person in charge indicated she would deal with said situation in a particular manner, and no one expressed disagreement with that approach.

And yet, one of those five individuals felt it incumbent upon them to run off and, for all intents and purposes, go behind the backs of the board and deal with the situation in a totally different manner… one that was both UNPASTORAL and INAPPROPRIATE.

Of the five, I know which three did NOT do it. That leaves two, one of whom I consider a dear friend, and the other whom I like very much.

I am so hurt and disgusted by this that I don’t even know what further to say.

I will be so glad when my office expires in one month.

Funny, betrayal leads directly to that other topic, RAGE. I guess I won’t go into that.

Friday I went flying.

It was my first experience flying (as a passenger) in a small plane. The opportunity arose at almost the last minute. I certainly hadn’t expected when I got up Friday morning that by noon I’d be in the air.

Friday was a chilly day, relatively strong winds (20 mph) with gusts to 35 mph. I don’t like turbulence when I’m in a jet… so, I was a bit concerned prior to takeoff. Sure enough, as our little plane plunged into the sky, things got rough. I grabbed hold of the bottom of my chair, and the back of the pilot’s seat, holding on for dear life… but after a few minutes, I was able to calm down enough to enjoy the experience.

At one point in our flight, we approached a sizeable airport runway at a 90 degree angle, then banked left and nosed down to align with the runway. For a brief moment, it felt as though we hung, motionless in the sky.

The key to this is trust. As my stomach churned through that first rough few minutes, I had to rely on the laws of aerodynamics, trusting that those wouldn’t change! I also had to trust in my pilot’s skills. Surely he wouldn’t have taken me up if he wasn’t confident in his ability to manage the plane!

I think life is like that. I’ve seen a few bumper-stickers that read “God is my co-pilot”. I’ve always silently nodded to that thought. After this flight, I was inclined to write that God shouldn’t be our copilot, but rather our pilot.

But more reflection has shown me a lot about that. In a way, God IS our pilot… but God is also our copilot. Perhaps, the best comparison is between that of a rookie pilot, learning how to fly, still striving to earn his pilot’s license, who is partnered with a far more experienced copilot/instructor.

A copilot can only fly the plane if the pilot relinquishes the controls. In the case of a rookie or student pilot, when conditions become far too extreme for the limited experience of the pilot, the wise thing to do is to relinquish control to the far more experienced pilot. And yet, the rookie always has the right by virtue of the law and tradition, to resume command of the plane at any time.

From my perspective, our daily journey is a lot like that situation. When life is easy, it’s fun to fly solo. But at times, life’s experiences can get out of hand. Turbulence becomes unbearable, and it seems like our life is going to come crashing down about us… it’s normal to seek out the smallest things that we can control. By doing so we hope to gain control of the larger picture. But in times like that, it’s good to surrender control to our COPILOT. God is ready to help through those times, but is always ready to give us control back when we want.

To paraphrase scripture, “But for me and my plane, we’re turning it over to the copilot!”

!snort!

So. There!

Spirituality; Faith; That’s what my blog has pretty much taken on as a focus. It’s what I dwell on, where my thoughts lead me inexorably day by day.

Religion. It’s part of that issue of spirituality and faith. But it’s not synonymous. For me, and I highly doubt this is unique or original to me, Religion is the cultic manifestation of a belief system, comprised of the rites and practices associated with a particular set of beliefs, dogma and doctrine. In my view, religion is organizational, comprising a plurality; it’s corporate practice that may or may not be rooted in actual belief so much as a desire to belong to something meant to give meaning.

Spirituality, on the other hand, while not excluding the organization or plurality, is concerned with things of the spirit that may or may not involve rite, practice, dogma and doctrine. While belief is not an essential element of religion, it is essential to spirituality. Spirituality is relational to Other. It’s how we each, as individuals, relate to that Divine Other.

For many, religion and spirituality are exclusive of each other… or seem to be.

In the USA, we’ve spent 3 years reeling from an act of violence that, at first, united us like we’ve seldom been united before, but has ultimately led to great disunion. It was perpetrated by a group of individuals who aligned themselves with a group that proclaims itself to be supportive of a particular religion; indeed they view themselves as perveyors of the truth of that religion.

We Americans buy into this, and thus proclaim that the religion in question is evil, that it is a religion of hate and violence. Educated people of faith from that religion, however, deny these claims, proclaiming their faith to be one of peace, one that we westerners don’t understand. Yet, each day more and more acts of violence are performed in the name of said religion, reinforcing for us in the USA the belief that it is the terrorists behind the acts that are the true spokesmen for that religion.

Those of us who are Christian see ourselves as people of peace, that peace is one of the central points our Jesus tried to get across. Yet, people in the mideast who hold to another religion have experienced the vicissitudes of war and oppression that those of nominally Christian background have visited upon them. Around the world, many look at Christianity, and are reminded of forced conversions, and enslavement by Christians. From outside, I suspect, an observer can look at both of these religions and draw the conclusion that neither are religions of peace; both are equally violent, with long histories of killing and acts of inhumanity.

Religions really serve best as focal points for individuals. It is the private spiritual lives of the citizens of this world that matter. I’ve known muslims who were kind, loving, peaceful people. I know Christians who are the same. I’ve known, or known of, folks of both religions who are hateful, angry, bitter and vengeful. But when we take the time to get to know each other, and look at how individuals relate to that Infinite, Divine Other, we’re all much more alike than we realize. All this can be said of all world religions, I suppose, Buddhist, Hindu, Jew, and a host of others I can’t recall to name at this point.

All of us are in process of becoming. Some have chosen a road or path towards becoming kind, loving, peaceful folk striving to live at peace with the world around them; others have chosen a road or path towards lashing out at those who do not hold to their own beliefs, or whom they perceive to have wronged them.

In the long run, I suppose, it’s not going to be how I practiced the rites of my religion, but how I interacted with that Divine Other, and the world about me. Can I stand apart from myself and perceive one who has tried to walk with integrity a life pursuing union with Divine Other, or will I see a bitter, angry, and spiteful person who demands of others that which I don’t generally live myself?

!snort!

So. There!

Another day, another mile along the journey. Another panel on the window of my life.

I was contemplating this journey this morning on my drive into work. To be a bit more specific, I was considering what I think God expects of us.

It began, really as I lamented that my walk was less than perfect… that I found it too easy to forget to communicate with that Divine Presence in us all. Days go by, sometimes, when I neglect my spirit.

It seems the Christian life as espoused by my childhood church, and most Christian churches, for that matter, spend far too much effort focused on that. Perfection. Perfection is the ideal. It’s what is held up to us. My childhood churches has it’s saints which are held up to us as examples of what we should strive for.

Posh! Perfection is not possible. Those saints were not perfect. They were ultimately just as flawed as am I or anyone who might stumble upon this blog. It’s not the result that matters. In the great scheme of things, from a spiritual perspective, it’s not the result that matters to the Divine Presence, and it’s not the result that matters to me.

When it comes to spirituality, not religion, mind you, but spirituality… when it comes to the journey with Divinity that I seek, the result is merely the effort. Process. Our journey, our spiritual actualization, is process, not attainment or destination.

The real sin isn’t to be imperfect or even to fail to strive to attain perfection. The sin is to not enter into the process.

My friend today told me she’s trying to “focus on finding out who I am, defining me… because I don’t know who I am.” She’s decided to enter the process. Because, I believe that ultimately, it’s that quest to “find out who I am, define myself” that IS spirituality, it is process. It’s participating in the journey to the Divine Presence, the Other Within.

Reflecting on her comments it comes to me that most of humanity spends a good share of our existence not only not knowing who we are, but also not even trying to find out… or for that matter most are unaware that there is something TO find out.

So, once more, l dive in to this process of seeking that Inner Other that is my destiny. Care to join me?

!Snort!

So! There!

Wednesday, I met with my pastor about some church business. As we were wrapping up, I brought up my issues with Spong. During the course of our discussion, she told me she thought Marcus Borg’s writings on God and Jesus might help me understand Spong better.

Both of us agree that Spong has focused much more on his deconstruction of a theistic God without reconstructing who/what God in actuality is for him. It’s not difficult in reading Spong to realize he has a deep love for, and spirituality rooted in, God; But his works, at least those read by us, haven’t given us what we need to comprehend his view of God in a Post-Christian milieu.

Anyhow, I left that meeting determined to pick up Borg once I’ve struggled through the Spong work I’m currently reading (“Why Christianity must Change or Die”)

Thursday morning, as I drove to work, I prayed about the spiritual dilemma my study has brought me to. It was one of my better prayer experiences of the past few weeks.

Then, yesterday at noon, I met with my Spiritual Director. In no time at all, we were embroiled in discussion about this dilemma, and about Spong. Once again, that name came up: “Read Marcus Borg”, Don instructed me. “He’s much more focused on a spiritual re-creation of the Divine.”

We left, having determined the best course for my next few weeks would be to put Spong aside, and read Borg’s “Meeting Jesus Again for the First Time.”

So, I dashed off to my favorite bookstore here in Omaha “Soul Desires”. Yes, I was informed, they did have 3 copies in stock. But, they were nowhere to be found. Seems one of the owners had taken the entire Stock to some conference.

Man. I wanted that book, and I wanted it THEN. The other owner convinced me NOT to rush off to Borders but to wait until Monday… promising me I could borrow her copy (hopefully tonight). In the meantime, I picked up another Borg book… “A Portrait of Jesus”. Thing is, I’m sometimes a bit too focused for my own good… I WANT MEETING JESUS AGAIN FOR THE FIRST TIME AND I WANT IT NOW!

In other news, met with the doctor yesterday. I’m having recurring chest pains again. We’re going to do some tests and increase the Beta-Blocker I’m on. Probably more nothing!

On another note… years ago in my seminary days, I had a professor, Aurelius, who had a humorous habit of snorting through his nose… a sound totally unrepresentable in writing. He’d end his classes with that snort, followed by “So There!”. Gave us all something to chuckle about, and no end of fuel for good hearted mocking in our private moments.

Well, that’s about it.

!snort!

So! There!

It’s been a slow week. Really, I seem to be devoid of thoughts… like an automaton, I proceed about my life either dully performing necessary tasks, or drifting off into some pointless, mind-numbing exercise in fantasy.

So, I guess that’s not totally devoid of thought, but it is of any thought worthwhile to be written down.

I think part of this is because I find myself slipping deeper and deeper into some dark night of spirituality.

I recently took up an interest in reading Bishop Spong’s “Why Christianity must Change or Die”. His thesis is challenging me immensely. It has called into question my entire faith structure and theology. I haven’t fully comprehended his understanding of who/what God is, yet he successfully called into question my own view of who/what God is. I find myself on scary, and shaky, ground. And I’m totally confused as to his christology.

Jesus to me has been at once, through the years, companion, friend, brother, savior, master, and most recently I’ve come to relate to Jesus as “lover.” As hard as it may be for some to conceive of this, I’ve found some of my deepest moments of communion with the Divine Presence to be when I am enfolded in my earthly lover’s arms, approaching that ecstatic moment of release…

But, if I permit Spong to de-deify the Jesus of History, then what does that do to my theology, my christology, my entire understanding of that Divine Presence. How long will it take me to process all that needs processing to reconcile my faith with this new picture of Divinity? Gracious, it’s scary!

I began this walk into such uncertain territories last summer… 2003, that is, when I opened my mind enough to listen to a presentation of the concept of Original Blessing as outlined by Matthew Fox. Roughly and poorly summarized, the point of this is that God created all things and blessed them. Far from humanity being conceived in/through original sin as espoused by much of mainstream Christianity, Fox challenges us to accept that all things are created in/through Original Blessing. I think once I get my mind wrapped around Spong, I need to revisit this concept. Because, as I understand it, I have little problem wrapping my mind around this concept. Original Sin as a doctrine is an ugly doctrine… albeit seemingly necessary for an understanding of current Christology.

The other thing that brought me into contact with Bishop Spong was this doxological formula:

“I experience God as that which is beyond all human categories, the Infinite Other. That is what Christians call the “Father and Almighty Creator.” I experience God as Depth within, closer than my breath. That is what Christians call the Holy Spirit. Lastly, I experience God as a reality flowing through human lives and, for me, uniquely present in the life of Jesus. That is what Christians call ‘The Son’…”

This one resonates with me.

When I came to MCC Omaha, I was confronted with the UFMCC policy of “inclusification”. I stopped hearing references to God as Father only, but also as Mother, as Parent, and a plethora of other images. It caused me to confront my understanding… I always knew “Father” to be metaphorical, that God is spirit, and thus Father was too limiting for the Divine Presence. But I continued on with that way of thinking. I still do… when it suits me, when it doesn’t Mother often works, as does Parent. But when I truly consider this parent, I realize how limiting any of these images… ALL of these images… really is.

We used to say “God is no gender, thus we can’t call God ‘Father’ or ‘Him’… or Mother, for that matter.” Yet that is so limiting in itself. God I think is ALL gender, perfect gender. God is the synergistic totality of both genders… God is more than both female and male… God is totally all. I’m not sure I know how to take it beyond that.

So. There!