History as a moving journey
This morning, Saturday, I was listening for the third time to this week’s podcast of On Being which is the conversation between host Krista Tippett and Rabbi Amichal Lau-Lavie entitled “First Aid for Spiritual Seekers”. As almost always happens every time I listen or read something again I discover something I have missed. This morning I hear Rabbi Lau-Lavie use the phrase “holy, not literal” when referring to the stories which are told and retold in the Jewish tradition.
Once again I was reminded, as I was when attending a 12-step lead meeting with some friends of mine, of the story as a living entity. Lead meetings are meetings at which one person in recovery for addiction shares their story- their experience, strength and hope. If one is lucky one can hear many new versions of the story as the person moves through the healing and growing process.
There are those who need to believe that the stories recorded in their holy books are literally true and contain the only possible version of “the truth” about who we are, how we are to behave and what it means to be a religious or holy person. Thus, many religious bodies have a long list of rules which they tell themselves they have to obey in order to be pleasing to the God of their understanding. Those that do not obey the rules exactly as they are written will face eternal damnation/punishment. This is often the official version but, in fact, every religious body picks and chooses which stories and rules they decide must be taken literally. One, for example would be hard pressed to find a religious institution which makes blood sacrifices or follows some of the other traditions or rules proscribed in the Old Testament.
Some might question the purpose of repeating these stories in churches, temples and synagogues week after week if they are not literally true. If, indeed, these same stories are told week after week, in order to imprint rules or more likely trigger guilt since most of us will be reminded that we broke many rules, the only value may be to serve the needs of the leaders of the institution. On the other hand, if the stories are told as a way of reminding all of us that we are part of a tradition of seekers for the way we can journey together in the process of becoming the best we can be in learning to live in creative harmony with each other and the rest of the universe(s) then they are new and exciting each time we hear them. When I hear, for example, someone reading from Isaiah 40 in the Old Testament, “Comfort, comfort my people, says your God.” I am challenged to think about what this means with regards to health care in the United States and other countries; about what it means for the Israeli’s and Palestinians to find the road to becoming true, loving neighbors; what it means in terms of responding to those with drug addictions or those with power addictions. When I read about King Solomon ordering the baby cut in half, how can I know what justice means for the person unable to consider the needs of others.
When I hear the lead story of someone in recovery for addiction, I hear a story of pain, courage, hope, strength and possibilities. The stories themselves are essentially the same. Addiction takes over someone’s life and they are then unable to consider the needs of others. They sink to lows and new levels of pain they did not think possible. If they are then “lucky” they find the road and the courage to follow that road to recovery- to reclaiming the sacredness of themselves and their journey.
It is the journey which is holy or sacred. A story is just a story if one does not identify with it as part of the heritage of one’s sacred journey to face each day with love and courage within the context of the challenges of today. One may not be wandering in the literal wilderness today. On the other hand, one may be if one is a refugee. The wilderness in which one is wandering today may be the negativity and sense of hopelessness which one hears in many quarters. The wilderness may be the crowded jails in which the community places the poor, the mentally ill, the addicted and those whose brains are not equipped to live in peace in the larger world.
Each time one hears the stories of one’s heritage, whether in a history book, an academic setting, or in a so called holy book one is challenged to help write the next chapter in that history. Each time one hears the story one can choose to hear it with a new openness to possibilities. Each time one tells their story it is a very different story. It may or may not contain some similar so called facts, but one’s understanding of those facts and what one needs to learn from this version of them changes. While it may be true that each of us may have documents, which say we were born in a certain place on a certain date, graduated from various, very concrete schools on certainly dates, and got married and divorced on certain dates, who we were that was born, married, and graduated changes every time we tell the story. It is impossible for our history to be stagnant. It is always an evolving, living, changing history.
Our stories are holy to the extent that we imbue them with the challenge to stretch ourselves to find the kernels such as the search for justice and wrestle with the ways in which we can understand what justice might mean for today as we take our place in the community.
Written July 15, 2017
This morning, Saturday, I was listening for the third time to this week’s podcast of On Being which is the conversation between host Krista Tippett and Rabbi Amichal Lau-Lavie entitled “First Aid for Spiritual Seekers”. As almost always happens every time I listen or read something again I discover something I have missed. This morning I hear Rabbi Lau-Lavie use the phrase “holy, not literal” when referring to the stories which are told and retold in the Jewish tradition.
Once again I was reminded, as I was when attending a 12-step lead meeting with some friends of mine, of the story as a living entity. Lead meetings are meetings at which one person in recovery for addiction shares their story- their experience, strength and hope. If one is lucky one can hear many new versions of the story as the person moves through the healing and growing process.
There are those who need to believe that the stories recorded in their holy books are literally true and contain the only possible version of “the truth” about who we are, how we are to behave and what it means to be a religious or holy person. Thus, many religious bodies have a long list of rules which they tell themselves they have to obey in order to be pleasing to the God of their understanding. Those that do not obey the rules exactly as they are written will face eternal damnation/punishment. This is often the official version but, in fact, every religious body picks and chooses which stories and rules they decide must be taken literally. One, for example would be hard pressed to find a religious institution which makes blood sacrifices or follows some of the other traditions or rules proscribed in the Old Testament.
Some might question the purpose of repeating these stories in churches, temples and synagogues week after week if they are not literally true. If, indeed, these same stories are told week after week, in order to imprint rules or more likely trigger guilt since most of us will be reminded that we broke many rules, the only value may be to serve the needs of the leaders of the institution. On the other hand, if the stories are told as a way of reminding all of us that we are part of a tradition of seekers for the way we can journey together in the process of becoming the best we can be in learning to live in creative harmony with each other and the rest of the universe(s) then they are new and exciting each time we hear them. When I hear, for example, someone reading from Isaiah 40 in the Old Testament, “Comfort, comfort my people, says your God.” I am challenged to think about what this means with regards to health care in the United States and other countries; about what it means for the Israeli’s and Palestinians to find the road to becoming true, loving neighbors; what it means in terms of responding to those with drug addictions or those with power addictions. When I read about King Solomon ordering the baby cut in half, how can I know what justice means for the person unable to consider the needs of others.
When I hear the lead story of someone in recovery for addiction, I hear a story of pain, courage, hope, strength and possibilities. The stories themselves are essentially the same. Addiction takes over someone’s life and they are then unable to consider the needs of others. They sink to lows and new levels of pain they did not think possible. If they are then “lucky” they find the road and the courage to follow that road to recovery- to reclaiming the sacredness of themselves and their journey.
It is the journey which is holy or sacred. A story is just a story if one does not identify with it as part of the heritage of one’s sacred journey to face each day with love and courage within the context of the challenges of today. One may not be wandering in the literal wilderness today. On the other hand, one may be if one is a refugee. The wilderness in which one is wandering today may be the negativity and sense of hopelessness which one hears in many quarters. The wilderness may be the crowded jails in which the community places the poor, the mentally ill, the addicted and those whose brains are not equipped to live in peace in the larger world.
Each time one hears the stories of one’s heritage, whether in a history book, an academic setting, or in a so called holy book one is challenged to help write the next chapter in that history. Each time one hears the story one can choose to hear it with a new openness to possibilities. Each time one tells their story it is a very different story. It may or may not contain some similar so called facts, but one’s understanding of those facts and what one needs to learn from this version of them changes. While it may be true that each of us may have documents, which say we were born in a certain place on a certain date, graduated from various, very concrete schools on certainly dates, and got married and divorced on certain dates, who we were that was born, married, and graduated changes every time we tell the story. It is impossible for our history to be stagnant. It is always an evolving, living, changing history.
Our stories are holy to the extent that we imbue them with the challenge to stretch ourselves to find the kernels such as the search for justice and wrestle with the ways in which we can understand what justice might mean for today as we take our place in the community.
Written July 15, 2017
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