Wayside Pulpit

Not to stand alone

I will miss Mass today; I do not feel sad about it, or guilty about it, more that I have missed out on something special. It is a kind of jealously for those that were able to go. I think it was better that I stayed home and worked on next weeks presentation, but I do wonder if I could just have managed the same productivity this afternoon.

It is that draw toward Mass that drew me towards Catholicism. Though, I have to say, there is not much difference from Catholicism and Mass (at least in my mind). When I was attending protestant churches there was little that actually drew me towards a Sunday service. Even when I was preaching or involved in the liturgical process (as minimal at this is in most protestant churches), I was never drawn toward Eucharist.

I think that was that draws one toward the Eucharist cannot really be explained but only experienced. This is why progressive non-Catholics are so mystified about why anyone would actually want to be Catholic. Yet, even for those of us who ignore many aspects of Catholic moral teaching, despise much of the arrangement of the church hierarchy, and are frustrated by the silence and lack of accountability regarding clergy sexual abuse, we are still drawn to the Eucharist.

The Eucharist is magical. One of its most magical properties is that it does not matter how creepy, old, conservative, misogynistic the priest who consecrates the bread and wine. The Eucharist stands, not alone, but really with the community in which it is embraced

Awareness

I sat talking yesterday at lunch with a friend. In the midst of our conversation a medium sized bumble bee joined our table. The creature buzzed over the water glasses, the cup of lemon grass tea and then seemed to tread air between us. I watched my fear rise. I have nasty reactions to bee stings and when I see a bee, any bee, my mind latches on to the last bee sting, the last time I felt the pain and the swelling. Then last time becomes this time – what the bee might do, what the bee could do. Soon, all I see is the bee and what in fact it will most certainly do if I don’t swat it away or move myself to a different location.

I watched this all go on inside my head and did nothing, I just observed the process. Though it took a huge effort I turned my awareness, even with the bee floating in our midst, back to the friend, the conversation. In the turning I realized how much my anxiety is caused simply by the focus of my attention. It is not caused by the content; by the bee, the snotty waitress or the salad missing the sliced beets. Any experience that I have that is uncomfortable is only uncomfortable because I pay attention to that which is causing the state I call uncomfortable.

I’ve been meditating for about six years. Six years of sitting down on a meditation cushion twice a day. Six years giving an hour of time to silence and simply watching my breath. Honestly, in these six years not much has changed in my life except for the fact that I meditate. I am no less high-strung and no more relaxed. However, every once in awhile a flash of insight will hit the pages of my life and I’ll say, “Ah, hah!” It will be an insight that I know would not have found me without my mediation practice.

Meditation has both increased my awareness of the world and at the same time has taught me how to turn my attention. I knew the first part. Meditation has made me more aware, but I didn’t see the second part until the bee flew into lunch yesterday. I never realized that I could watch what was wanted rather than what was given to me. If I can watch the breath instead of the thoughts when I meditate, then I can turn my attention, even while not meditating, to anything I choose. The “Ah, hah!” was this: I can choose not to be a victim of my own mind.