ode to becoming: yes, virginia, that is all there is

On Thursday, I received my weekly email update/letter from my church minister.   In the hopes of encouraging congregants to attend a service on Christmas Day, he wrote,

I confess that I sometimes have a feeling of emptiness and incompletion on Christmas Day. The presents are opened, and now what? Do I turn to football or a nostalgic movie? This is Christmas Day, yet the magic of the season seems already gone. How I wish for a brief time of real meaning, contemplation, for the spirit of the season in company with those who will be glad to see me.

Now, I think it's interesting to compare that sentiment to some lyrics from Peggy Lee's song, Is That All There Is:

And when I was 12 years old, my father took me to the circus, the greatest show on earth.
There were clowns and elephants and dancing bears
And a beautiful lady in pink tights flew high above our heads.
And as I sat there watching the marvelous spectacle
I had the feeling that something was missing.
I don't know what, but when it was over,
I said to myself, "Is that all there is to a circus?"

Is that all there is, is that all there is
If that's all there is my friends, then let's keep dancing
Let's break out the booze and have a ball

Actually, all the lyrics are pretty interesting.  http://www.lyricstime.com/peggy-lee-is-that-all-there-is-lyrics.html

The thing is, I think a lot of people, whether they are traditionally religious or not, have this feeling (not necessarily about breaking out the booze and having a ball). There's a lot of build up for something to happen - maybe Christmas, maybe a vacation, maybe a new job, maybe just a night out with friends. There's preparation, planning, hoping for and anticipating the best...and then when it happens, it's kind of like one of those "dud" fireworks on the Fourth of July. 

It's notable to me that probably a half dozen to a dozen of my patients when I worked in hospice talked about the song, Is That All There Is? as they faced their own deaths.  We feel that let down about individual events in life, but as Peggy Lee points out at the end of her song, we don't want it to end either.

One idea, a way of approaching the Moments of life (with a capital M) links, for me, with a theology that I learned about from another minister; it's called Process Theology.  Here's the gross oversimplification (so please forgive me if you know more about this than I do):  the idea is that God is Becoming, that God is a process.  If you don't believe in God, I think it still works...we hear it all the time, even at the Hallmark store:  the journey is the destination.

I'll give this Christmas season as an example - like many of us, I've had a ridiculously long 'to do' list.  Ever since Thanksgiving, there's been this momentum.  Also, irritations - for example, I yelled at my son this afternoon for hitting his sister with a kebab skewer.

But, I'd like to propose that the momentum, the build up, is just as much Christmas as what I'll celebrate with my family on December 24/25.  I am not building up for some moment to happen, the moment is happening.  So rather than feel harried and resent my obligations and think, "I can't wait for Christmas to get here, then I'll know this effort is all worth it," it's much more content and enjoyable for me to soak in what I'm actually doing at the moment as part of what I hope for when I think of what I love about a holiday:  traditions, family time, good food and music, appreciating one another, feeling connecting to and honoring something bigger than ourselves. 

We can even draw this out to our sense of self.  If we think, one day I'll be the person I want to be, we're missing out.  We are becoming who we are and/or who we want to be!  It's happening right now.  It's not always comfortable, but I think that is so cool.

I am trying to keep in mind that every moment is "all there is.".  I've enjoyed myself this month, including all the running around.  But maybe I better go just now, I think I heard the kitchen drawer open.  The one where we keep the kebab skewers.

Happy Holidays and Love to Everybody!

thoughts on forgiveness

I think forgiveness is one of the most misunderstood virtues. (If you can call it a virtue - maybe it's more of a 'quality.' Still, it's misunderstood). For what it's worth, my opinion is that forgiveness is not: 1) the feeling that everything is fine; or 2) the feeling of being happy with the person you've forgiven..

In fact, I think forgiveness is probably not a statement.

In church Sunday, the minister talked about Process Theology - a theological concept in which God is understood as a process. God, rather than being a person-like, but spiritual being, is a verb and is continually "happening." Martin Luther King, Jr. studied and considered Process Theology, but ultimately put his faith in a more personal God, an image of God that is in a sense more 'human' - and certainly in which humans are created in His image. All interesting ideas and not to be wishy-washy, but on any given day, God to me, can be any and all of these things/ideas.

But the idea of PROCESS and forgiveness is what's hitting home this week, as I continue to think about the shootings in Tucson, ongoing racial and gender injustice in our world, and also the personal/interpersonal concerns of my own life.

One amazing example of large scale forgiveness can be found in Rwanda - where in 1994 in 100 days over 1 million minority Tutsi's were massacred. I encourage you to take a look at this abstract from a 2009 New Yorker: http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2009/05/04/090504fa_fact_gourevitch
Basically, because those who committed genocide are living side by side in villages with victims of the genocide, the state has implemented a policy of forgiveness courts. Here, perpetrators stand before families of their victims and their communities and publicly ask for forgiveness. Their apology is publicly accepted. Those involved seem to report that they just go through the motions, but that this gives them a place to start. Having a place to start the process is better than not having a place to start.

As I think about what kind of a world I want my kids to inherit and I think about what brings me peace I am more convinced that as crazy as it sounds, justice must look like forgiveness. Forgiveness doesn't mean saying, 'what you did is okay,' it means saying - what you did to me, I'm not going to do back to you - literally or figuratively.

A couple years ago, I remember feeling kind of proud of myself because I felt like I had reached a place of forgiveness with someone that I'd found it difficult to forgive. I'd been reading some codependency literature and liked this idea of detachment - it's said, "detach with anger or detach with love, but just detach." In this particular case, I felt that I was able to detach with love. In reflecting on it, I was both proud and very, very aware that I was standing on a metaphorical thin line of forgiveness - kind of like, "You and I are good now, but if you hurt me again, this whole forgiveness thing goes out the window!"

Maybe that's why I feel that affinity for forgiveness as a process, rather than a point we reach of enlightenment and some sort of inoculation against being hurt by others. Forgiveness is often tenuous and I believe we can move in and out of it, but our intention to forgive is really, very important.

So. A day late, but here's to Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., whose message of nonviolent protest and vision for people of all races is still happening.