A Guest of Life

I enjoyed a lovely time, during my week off, mainly with family both biological and none biological. Truth be told though I’ve been enjoying a good few weeks of late. I feel very connected to life, to people, at the moment. I’m looking the world, the people of the world, in the eye and smiling and do you know what they seem to be returning the favour. I feel very blessed...I’m singing joyfully and the world seems to be singing back at me...thank you...

I spent a couple of days with my brother and his family down in Middlesex; I thoroughly enjoyed our time together. This was not the case the last time I visited a couple of summers back. My brother was not in a good place back then and I found this extremely painful. This time he is much better and I feel more accepting of how he is. I have found that the hardest pain in life is that of your nearest and dearest. I suspect that this is not just because you are closer to them and therefore more invested it is also because it mirrors your own suffering. I felt quite a bit of guilt after my last visit. Why? You may well ask, well because truth be told I fled his pain and suffering. This is something I do far less than I used to but I still do so from time to time.

There's no doubt to me that the reason that I've been experiencing a deeper sense of connection these last few weeks is because some more barriers have come down. I am less afraid of life and people and therefore am generally experiencing the joy of living in my daily interactions. Through this I am witnessing the love of God manifesting in life and it is beautiful. How could it not be?

Last week was just so beautiful because I felt welcomed into so many different people’s lives. Now was this because they welcomed me or was it because I embraced the welcome? I cannot be certain; all I know is that I enjoyed my time in the company of so many people. It got me thinking about the time we spend here, our physical lives. It also got me thinking about the intimate relationships we share together.

Our time is always limited. Whether that is in the place we find ourselves or the relationships we form. We are all passing through this time and place. Nothing last forever, no person, nothing. We are all guests of this life. This is perhaps something we ought to consider when we are with one another.

Being a good guest is not as easy as it sounds; I know I’ve not always found it easy. It requires an appropriate level of intimacy between the people involved. It’s about sharing in the life of the person you are with, taking an interest in what they like; it is also about taking an interest in what causes them pain. It’s about entering their world for a short time. It’s about sharing in their loves in a genuine, open and honest way, but it’s also about sharing in their suffering.

I believe that I achieved this last week, as I shared time with people I have known all my life and others I have only known for a short time. Do you know what every moment was deeply meaningful. I also felt the same way as I was wandereing around parts of Yorkshire and Greater London and interacted with a variety of people on so many levels; sometimes merely through eye contact and at others through brief conversations.

The whole week was a delight to every sense as I indulged myself in the indulgences of others. I was a good guest and this is why it was so fulfilling; I was a good guest to the people I shared my time with and I was a good guest to life itself. I fully engaged with everything that came my way, I accepted all that was on offer. I asked for very little, I accepted what was offered and I gave thanks for every morsal.

This may just be the key you know. To ask for very little, to accept what is offered and to give thanks for whatever comes our way. I just need to remember this and when I forget to remember to listen out for the reminders all around me. I need to keep on opening my heart and listening with the ears of my heart.

Now of course there are people places and things that I would rather not listen to; things I would rather ignore, avert from my eyes, than pay attention to. There are things in this world I don’t like and do not approve of. There are actions in my nearest and dearest that I don’t agree with, there are aspects of myself that I wish were different. Should I turn from them? There are those who would say so and I have certainly done so in the past, but I try not to these days. Nobody is perfect, no one is complete, but that does not mean that they should be shunned, they should be locked outside love’s gate.

There is a passage in Luke's Gospel (Ch 18 vv 9-14) that describes a prideful Pharisee, who considers himself better than others, above everyone else. He follows the laws and commandments to the letter. In the same passage a tax collector is also described who recognises his imperfections and does not feel he is worthy of God’s love. In the passage Jesus holds up the tax collector and not the Pharisee as being the exalted one. Jesus says “For everyone that exalteth himself shall be abased; and he that humbelth himself shall be exalted. You see the Pharisee turns from the tax collector and others who he believes are beneath him. He sees their wrongs and thus believes that unlike himself they are not worthy of God’s love. The Pharisee fails to see that by rejecting his neighbour he is also rejecting God. While he is following the laws to the letter he is breaking the "Golden Rule", to love his neighbour as himself.

There is something in this teaching, a theme repeated in the Gospels, about being a good host and good guest. It’s about accepting our humanity and the humanity of one another. It’s about love and acceptance of ourselves and one another; it’s about universal love; it’s about perfect love. I believe that the only thing we can do perfectly is love. This requires us to love all, without prejudice. In my eyes this is how the love that is God comes to life, how it incarnates.

Now of course to truly love someone requires us to get to know them and this can be both scary and at times painful. to know someone requires us to understand what a person loves and what causes them pain. There is a wonderful story told by Madeleine L’Engle in “Walking on Water”, which describes this oh so beautifully.

“(There is) a story of a Hasidic rabbi, renowned for his piety. He was unexpectedly confronted one day by one of his devoted youthful disciples. In a burst of feeling, the young disciple exclaimed, “My master, I love you!” The ancient teacher looked up from his books and asked his fervent disciple, “Do you know what hurts me, my son?”

The young man was puzzled. Composing himself, he stuttered, “I don’t understand your question, Rabbi. I am trying to tell you how much you mean to me, and you confuse me with irrelevant questions.”

“My questions is neither confusing nor irrelevant,” rejoined the rabbi, “For if you do not know what hurts me, how can you truly love me.””

Now of course we cannot know everyone in a deep and meaningful way. It takes time and effort to form intimate bonds. This is exemplified almost perfectly in an ancient Chinese proverb that says: The fifth cup of tea between friends is the best.

I believe that one purpose of religious communities is the development of intimacy, real intimacy, something that is lacking in our increasingly isolating culture. Something that modern day consumerist spirituality does not offer. It does not offer the intimate encounter that community brings. Real spirituality cannot occur in the privacy of our lives or hidden away on mountain tops it can only come to life in real lived encounters with other people. In awkward difficult encounters with people like you and me, perfectly imperfect people who know both joy and pain. In community we practise love; In community love comes to life.

The purpose of community is to welcome the stranger exactly as they are. My Unitarian traditions says that we welcome all, but I suspect we do this imperfectly. We say "come as you are exactly as you are...but don’t expect to leave in exactly the same condition." We say we accept people exactly as they are in their faith, doubt and confusion, in their joy and sadness. This is true hospitality. Welcoming the weary traveller with open arms, whoever they are and where ever they have come from. Welcoming them wholly body, mind and soul; that they leave no part of themselves at the door. All that we ask is that those welcome are good guests and hosts themselves. That they accept we as we are and others who come as they are.

To be a good guest of life is to practise perfect love, I believe it is the only thing that can be done perfectly. I have not yet achieved this myself, but I aspire to it each day. I believe that everyone of us is capable of this. Why don't you give it a try. It can begin with your next encounter. It can begin by you being both a good guest and a good host. It begins by welcoming one another into each others lives, both your joys and delights and your pains. It begins by listening with the ears of your heart and speaking the language of your heart. The language of the heart will break down every barrier...let it speak in and through you.

The shortest distance between a human being and Truth is a story."

Anthony DeMello wrote...

The Master gave his teaching in parables and stories, which his disciples listened to with pleasure — and occasional frustration, for they longed for something deeper.

The Master was unmoved. To all their objections he would say, "You have yet to understand, my dears, that the shortest distance between a human being and Truth is a story."

Another time he said, "Do not despise the story. A lost gold coin is found by means of a penny candle; the deepest truth is found by means of a simple story."

Every Sunday during worship I like to share one or two stories from the different spiritual traditions of the world. I love stories, life is all about stories. Muriel Rukeyser has said "The universe is made of stories, not atoms." Now I'm sure many will argue, but I can see the truth in what she says. Life is made up of more than its physical components, or so I have begun to discover.

We all love a good story. It is not just for children, it is for all people, all ages.

On Monday I received a phone call from one of my neighbours. She rang to ask me about a "Wayside Pulpit that had recently been replaced from the front of Dunham Road Chapel, where I live. The woman couldn’t remember exactly what it said but wanted to write it down and use it in a speech she hoped to deliver at her son’s wedding. She said her son and his partner were academics and were really competitive and thought this little gem of wisdom would benefit them. She then thanked me for the messages and said they often helped her.

The Wayside Pulpit read:

“Life is not a problem to be solved, but a mystery to be experienced” by Joseph Campbell

Now of course Campbell loved stories, especially the great stories. He saw in them universal qualities that could speak to everyone regardless of time and place. They revealed something of the mystery that is life. He taught comparative religion for four decades and authored a series of books on the archetypes that shape our human psyche and our relations to the cosmos. That said it was not his academic genius that he is best remembered for. Instead he is best known for being the consultant of George Lucas who helped him envision Star Wars as a myth for modern times.

Stories and story-telling have been distilling wisdom throughout the generations and I have no doubt that this will continue on into eternity. They have revealed universal truths, they have spoken deep into the soul of those who have cared to listen, introducing them to magic, mystery and the possibility of otherness. These stories have expanded the imagination and have been windows onto something beyond the confines of pure reason. Life is far more than the sum of it's parts.

The following story is an adaptation of a Sufi tale by the same name. It comes from Bill Darlison’s excellent anthology “Concentration and Compassion: More Stories from the World’s Spiritual Traditions” In this story Bill has transported the tale from a Persian river over 1,000 years ago to an Irish beach in contemporary times. That said the truth that it reveals and the message it teaches is universal.

 “Written on Sand”

Two friends, Sean and Patrick, were walking together on the seashore when they started to argue. The argument became so heated that Sean slapped Patrick across the face. Patrick didn’t retaliate. Instead he took a stick and wrote in the sand, “Today Sean slapped me.”

They made up, of course, and some months later they went for a swim in the sea. Patrick’s foot became entangled in some seaweed and he couldn’t free himself. The sea was becoming rougher, and Patrick started to panic. ‘Help!’ he called, ‘I’m drowning!’ Sean, who was much the stronger swimmer, heard his friend’s cries and swam over to him. He disentangled Patrick’s foot and then pulled his half-drowned friend safely back to shore.

When he had recovered, the grateful Patrick took a hammer and chisel and carved into a rock, ‘Today Sean saved my life’.

‘After I struck you, you wrote about it on the sand but today you chiselled words on a rock. Why?’ asked Sean.

‘When someone hurts us we should record it on sand where the winds of forgiveness can erase it. But when someone does something good for us it should be recorded on rock from which it can never be removed.’

Jesus carried his message of universal love through telling parables. Lukes Gospel Ch 10 vv 25-37 recounts one of his most famous, "The Parable of the Good Samaritan"

25 Just then a lawyer stood up to test Jesus.^* ‘Teacher,’ he said, ‘what must I do to inherit eternal life?’ ²⁶He said to him, ‘What is written in the law? What do you read there?’ ²⁷He answered, ‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbour as yourself.’²⁸And he said to him, ‘You have given the right answer; do this, and you will live.’

29 But wanting to justify himself, he asked Jesus, ‘And who is my neighbour?’ ³⁰Jesus replied, ‘A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead. ³¹Now by chance a priest was going down that road; and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. ³²So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. ³³But a Samaritan while travelling came near him; and when he saw him, he was moved with pity. ³⁴He went to him and bandaged his wounds, having poured oil and wine on them. Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. ³⁵The next day he took out two denarii,^* gave them to the innkeeper, and said, “Take care of him; and when I come back, I will repay you whatever more you spend.” ³⁶Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbour to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?’ ³⁷He said, ‘The one who showed him mercy.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Go and do likewise.’

The great sages such as Jesus and the Buddha excelled in storytelling. They knew that through a story they could reach every aspect of the person receiving their truth; they knew that the listener could relate to a story and it could open them up to new and deeper truths. A story really does put flesh on the word. Shaman and elders of every tradition also shared their wisdom through telling the tale around camp fires and other gatherings. They drew their listeners to deeper visions of life with imagery and symbolism. So you see the story teller has always been with us and is with us today. In fact you could say that perhaps today there are so many stories it is difficult to discern what is useful and what is not.  

Post-modernism would claim that today there is no longer one narrative. The French philosopher Jean-Francois Lyotard has defined post-modernism as ‘the death of metanarrative’. He claimed that we no longer have nor need the big stories ‘that tell us who we are, where we come from, and what we are called to do.’

Personally I am not convinced by this argument as I do see universal qualities in these tales. Whether it’s the one I’m told of in a coffee shop, or the one I see on the big screen, or the one I read in some ancient text. The stories may be told in different ways but they still connect us, with one another, through time and space. They do more than connect us though, they heal us, they renew us and spur us on to greater things. Regardless of when they were first told and by who they still have the capacity to tell us who we are, where we come from and what we are called to do. Well they do if we have ears to hear them; if we listen with the 'ears of our hearts.'

The beauty of our modern age is that these stories, these truths come from so many sources. There is no longer the single authoritative source, in this sense I believe that the "Post Modernists" are correct.We all tell our stories today. We can communicate them instantly and throughout the world. This is the beauty of modern media, it enables us to share and spread these stories instantly and universally. Ok there is an awful lot of junk out their but you can still discern the gems. All that you need to do is sift through the muck; you just need to pan for the gold.

In many ways social media is just an extension of the garden fence. Is it really any different to those two Les Dawson characters Cissi and Ada, those immensely comical gossiping Lancashire housewives?  There is a place for gossip in its right context, it is a way of distilling knowledge, passing on information, telling the tale. It only becomes a problem if the information passed on is designed to cause damage, is a deliberate lie or is breaking a confidence. As in all aspects of life it is the spirit in which the tales are told that really matters.

In “The Man Who Loved Seagulls” Osho  said:

“Human beings give meaning to existence; that's what a myth is all about. Man is a gossip-creating animal. Small gossips, just about the neighbourhood, about the neighbour’s wife ... and big gossips, cosmic, about God.”

Kathleen Norris in “Dakota” explains this further in the following passage on living in a small community.

“We are interrelated in a small town, whether or not we are related by blood. We know without thinking about it who owns what car; inhabitants of a town as small as a monastery learn to recognize each other’s footsteps in the hall. Story is a safety valve for people who live as intimately as that; and I would argue that gossip done well can be a holy thing. It can strengthen communal bonds...

Like the desert tales that monks have used for centuries as a basis for a theology and way of life, the tales of small town gossip are often morally instructive, illustrating the ways ordinary people survive the worst that happens to them; or, conversely the ways in which self-pity, anger, and despair can overwhelm and destroy them. Gossip is theology translated into experience. In it we hear great stories of conversion, like the drunk who turns his or her life around, as well as stories of failure. We can see that pride really does go before a fall, and that hope is essential. We watch closely those who retire, or who lose a spouse, lest they lose interest in living. When we gossip we are also praying, not only for them but for ourselves.”

The point Norris is making is that when we pass on these stories and observe one another we are learning from each other and we are connecting to each other on a deeper level. We are realising that we are one; we are the one undivided whole.

 “The Perfect Woman”

Nasrudin met an old friend whom he had not seen for twenty years. They sat down together in the cafe and talked over old times. "Did you ever get married Nasruddin?" asked the friend.

“No I’m afraid I didn’t.”

“Why not? I’ve been married many years and I’ve never regretted it.”

“Well”, said Nasruddin, “I was always looking for the perfect woman. I wanted my wife to be beautiful, intelligent, and sensible.”

“And you never found her?”

“I thought I had, when I was twenty. Her name was Ablah.

She was beautiful, just the kind of woman I like, but I’m afraid she wasn’t very intelligent, and her language was atrocious! I was embarrassed to be with her! She certainly wasn’t the perfect woman.”

“Was she your only girlfriend?”

“No. When I was twenty-five I met a woman called Bahira. She was good looking and intelligent, but she wasn’t very sensible. She spent all my money on frivolous things, and she couldn’t even boil an egg! She wasn’t the perfect woman either.”

“Were there any more?”

“Only one. At thirty I met Haddiyah and she was truly a gift from God! She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, and the most intelligent. What’s more she was prudent and sensible, a good cook, and a brilliant conversationalist.”

“She sounds like the perfect woman you were looking for.”

“Then why didn’t you marry her?”

“Unfortunately, she was looking for the perfect man!”

I love Nasruddin, the holy fool. I love the un-commonsense that his stories reveal. You will find characters like him in most cultures. Through humour they reveal deep truths, ones that are too often hidden.

So many of the great stories have laughter and humour within them. Sadly humour can at times be absent in the spiritual life, it ought not to be. There is something lacking in a spirituality that takes itself too seriously. The spiritual life can at times be perceived as an arid and serious world, utterly devoid of humour and lightness. Many of us look at the spiritual, the religious life, as if were a dose of rather distasteful medicine. We may well see the benefits of it, but aren’t sure we would like the way it tastes. We are frightened that it might actually reduce our experience of life. We can easily become too intense and earnest in our approach to spirituality; by doing so we can view laughter as sacrilegious and end up apologising for the freedom that it can breed. We should never apologise for experiencing joy and laughter. The spiritual life needs humour. There is humour in the ancient tales, so surely there is a place for it in our age. There is always room for Divine humour. As I often remind myself “life is too serious to be taken too seriously.”

When we listen to the great stories and when we listen one another’s stories we connect not only to each other but to all people at all times, past, present and future and of course to that greater reality present in all life. These stories bring a zest to life; these stories help us to see ourselves reflected in a different light. Through identifying we also see our own absurdities and we can laugh at our own holy foolishness. This helps us see a new, a different, perspective. A great story builds a bridge from our particular life to the timeless, the universal, they connect us to the whole. They are windows that give us a glimpse of something way beyond ourselves.

These stories nourish us. They reveal profound spiritual and psychological realities. They illuminate the inevitable difficulties that every human life faces. Great stories reveal new vistas, they shine a light on a new path, a new way and they teach us how to see this new path, they remind us that there are always new possibilities. They open up our hearts, our minds and our souls. These stories are an invitation to laugh, to awaken, to journey with others. These stories have the power to touch us deeply, to move us intensely and to inspire us to fully live our lives.

These stories are also our stories!

In “Crow and Weasel” Barry Lopez said

“The stories people tell have a way of taking care of them. If stories come to you, care for them. And learn to give them away where they are needed. Sometimes a person needs a story more than food to stay alive. That is why we put these stories in each other’s memory. This is how people care for themselves.”

I will continue to listen to the stories as they come to me and I will nurture them. I will take care of them and I will continue to give them away. I believe that that we all need them, to share them, to keep on passing them on. Why you may well ask? Well because by doing so we will take better care of ourselves.

These stories are our stories!

I have glimpsed the truth that "the shortest distance between a human being and Truth  is a story."

Can you see it too?