Volume 33, No. 2 - Summer, 2009
Table of Contents
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Seoul Feast
An Act of Lunacy or Freedom?
Horizons
Present Moment Ponderings
The Holy in the Ordinary
A Journey of Discovery
Soul of the Executive in Mexico
Attentive Stewardship - A Word from Shalem's Interim Executive Director Imagining God - A Spiritual Exercise for Believers and Skeptics On the Edges |
Click here or on the image to download this issue in PDF format. |
Seoul Feast
by Carole Crumley
You are here to kneel
Where prayer has been valid. And prayer is more
Than an order of words, the conscious occupation
Of the praying mind, or the sound of the voice praying.
— T.S. Eliot
I woke up early, still on the tail end of jet lag even though we had been in Korea for almost a week. It was dark outside at 5:00 AM. Later in the morning, the quiet of our retreat center would be pierced by teachers shouting instructions over loudspeakers to children exercising in the schoolyard next door. But now, in the darkness before dawn, all was gloriously quiet. “Might as well get up,” I thought, “look for a cup of coffee and prepare for the day.”
The coffee station was just across from the retreat center’s chapel. I inched my way down the darkened hallway. Just outside the chapel, I noticed a familiar fragrance in the air. It wasn’t coffee; it was candle wax. “Yikes!” I thought. “The candles must have been burning in the chapel all night.” Actually, I worried the chapel would catch fire, the retreat center would burn down, and it would all be Shalem’s fault. Already at 5:00 AM, my worrying mind was chasing the fire engine of disaster down the road to an international incident.
I quickly rounded the corner to peer into the room, and just as quickly stopped in my tracks. In front of me, the chapel was aglow. Lit candles were everywhere. There, seated in one of the chairs, was Jonathan. At 78 he was the oldest member of our Korean team. In the silence and solitude of the morning, he was praying—out loud. I didn’t understand the words; I didn’t need to. I slipped in and sat on the other side of the room, caught up in the radiance of his morning prayer.
The chapel was a large room of exquisite simplicity. There were no pews, only two small chairs tucked along the side of one wall and two more against the other wall. Both faced forward toward a small, carved altar. In one corner just inside the doorway, there was a tall stack of cushions and mats for floor-sitting. In two hours, the other 50 participants, an ecumenical group of mostly clergy, would come in to silently sit and dedicate the day, as was our daily practice. Already in the early morning, the emptiness of the chapel was full of devotion and glowing with the fire of prayer. It was a place, as in Eliot’s poem, where prayer had been made valid.
This experience reminded me of a medieval folk tale from The Little Flowers of Saint Francis of Assisi. As the story goes, St. Francis and St. Clare, along with their companions, met for a picnic lunch at the Church of St. Mary of the Angels. They spread a cloth on the ground and sat around it to begin the meal. Before they had eaten anything, Francis began to talk of God. He spoke “so nobly, so wondrous well, that the abundance of Divine Grace descending upon them, they were all transported as it were to Heaven.”
The folks in the surrounding countryside saw that St. Mary of the Angels, and the woods all around it, were aglow. Thinking that everything was on fire, they ran with buckets of water to the church. But when they arrived, they found only Francis and Clare and their cohorts absorbed in the contemplation of God. The fire of Divine Love had set the whole countryside ablaze.
Put another way: “Love looks like fire,” Sufi master Rumi wrote. “Feed yourself into it.” Don’t stand outside looking in, labeling, judging, imagining disaster, racing into the future with fear. Instead, he wrote, “Be the fireplace and the wood.” Be the container, the fuel and the fire of Divine Love. Be ablaze with it. It may be as simple as sitting with others in silent prayer with open hearts, or turning a corner and stepping into the radiance of Love that is already there. “Feed yourself into it,” Rumi instructs. He might also have said, feed yourself with it.
The medieval story ends with Francis, Clare, and their companions eventually coming out of their prayer, so satisfied by their spiritual feast that they had no appetite or need for food. Inside the glow of prayer, all was blessed and holy, full and satisfying. It was heaven on earth.
That early morning in Korea, I left the chapel and wandered back to my room prepared for the day, no coffee needed.
Carole Crumley and Tilden Edwards were invited to South Korea by Anglican Archbishop Francis Park to lead a regional gathering in September 2008. It was the first-ever ecumenical workshop/retreat on contemplative prayer in Korea, and Shalem’s first visit to the Pacific Rim. They will return this September for a follow-up workshop/retreat with many of the same participants.
An Act of Lunacy or Freedom
by Amy Cole
On October 21 of last year, I sat down to write a check to a charity that I have followed but never supported financially. In the weeks prior to this, the rumors of financial institutions’ collapse had continued to escalate. I live in Charlotte, NC, which is a financial hub—home to the headquarters of Bank of America and the former Wachovia. The mood of our city had been gloomy for weeks. My husband, a home-builder, was particularly in touch with what the gloom would mean for his industry, not to mention our personal finances. I fantasized stashing cash not only under the mattress, but behind picture frames, inside book jackets, in the pockets of overcoats. I even rounded up an assortment of gold jewelry I no longer wear and called to inquire about selling it. I was panicking like everybody else!
But then something came over me that afternoon: a compelling invitation to stop the panic and do something completely other—to give money away. In the moment, I had the mixed sense of “this is slightly crazy…what on earth am I doing?” to “I don’t care what they are saying about the future…I have to trust that there is Life and Freedom in this small act of charity…I am doing this.” Before I could think about it any longer, I had written the check, tucked it into an envelope and taken it out to the mailbox. Done. No turning back. Exhale.
I sunk into my favorite chair and reflected on what had just happened. What had led me to make a spontaneous gift to a charity half way around the world, when I’ve never even given them a cent in my more financially secure days? The more I sat with it prayerfully, the more I realized that the spark behind the flames was a holy inkling. It was a subtle leading of the Spirit to take a baby step of faith by letting go of money instead of hoarding it in fear. It was that Voice that invites radical trust and leads to true freedom for God. It was that inner source of Life and Love Who reminds me that I do care about the thousands of people in the Congo, who have recently been driven from their homes by violence and fear. And although my gift seemed small in comparison to all that it surely must require to serve those people, I believe that my gift matters. I believe that my relatively small donation will have an impact for good, for hope, for God—even if it is simply through a moment of encouragement for the staffer who opens the mail and finds a check from a first-time donor.
I also believe that my intention matters—not only to the recipients but to my own heart. I recall how I felt writing the check. A sense of mysterious hope and excitement came over me. I knew full well that what I was doing might seem ridiculous to many of my peers (and perhaps my husband!), but I knew that I had to do it. At least it seemed that vital to my own soul in the moment.
A few months later, I noticed that I was receiving printed materials from the charity. Then came a solicitation letter. My heart sank a little. Immediately, the cynical voice in me said, “See, now they will never stop hounding you for money. You knew this would happen…as if you don’t get enough solicitation letters in the mail already…how many trees have been lost because of all these letters?!” But I took the letter and vowed not to let that cynical first impression become my final action. I took it to my prayer and asked God, “What is up with this letter? How might you have me respond, today, in this moment? What is it you are seeking to do in me? How might I cooperate with You?”
The whole scenario felt other-worldly. I don’t really go through my day seeking God on every step I make, every word I speak. I’d like to think I am acting with God, in God. That is surely my hope and my intention, even though I am aware of many moments when I am not there. But this money business—giving it away, hoarding it, fearing not having it, being asked to give again—it all had the quality and weight of something that invited a deeper, more intentional prayer. That is about the only way I know how to explain it. I recalled a little card I have with a Gerald May quote on it, “All we have is our desire, which is at once our prayer, our yes, and our hope.” I return to that often. It reminds me to go back to that place of grounding in what my core desire is: to join God in whatever God might be up to in my life and in the lives of those around me. There seemed to be a lot stirring around this issue of money.
I also recalled a passage from a prayer book (Thomas Merton: A Book of Hours) I’ve been using for several years now. He writes: "God makes us ask ourselves questions most often when He intends to resolve them. He gives us needs that He alone can satisfy and awakens capacities that He means to fulfill. Any perplexity is liable to be a spiritual gestation, leading to a new birth and mystical generation."
After sitting with these words, and listening for what True Freedom might look like in terms of a response to the solicitation letter, I pulled out my checkbook again. I wrote another check for half the amount of the first, but I enclosed a note saying how much I appreciate the work they are doing, and that I pray for them regularly. Again, I wondered, “What has come over me? Am I losing my mind, or am I staying true to my heart, or is it a combination?” I still don’t know.
But one thing I do know is that I have to keep paying attention here. And with the daily news reminding me that times are going to get tougher financially, I have hope that there is much more going on. I want to be part of it.
Amy is a member of Shalem's adjunct staff and Shalem's Development Committee.
Horizons
by Greg Cochran
Although not nearly as dramatic as Jesus being whisked away to the pinnacle of the temple or to the top of a very high mountain where temptation was waiting, in my recent imagination, I have been taken back to the Southwest high desert—in particular to a natural formation called Shiprock. And more specifically to the natural rock wall adjacent to Shiprock.
First, a little background: With Baltimore pilgrims loaded into their vans early on a September morning, we drove through the northwestern New Mexico desert in awe of its beauty and in reverence of the spiritual gifts the land and native people offered—Shiprock our destination. The Navajo call their sacred place Tse Bitai (“rocks with wings”). This ancient volcanic formation rises 1,800 feet above the high plains floor —out of nowhere—flat land all around save the rock wall that trails off to the south. A dirt road runs parallel to the east side of the wall formation. It was on this bumpy road we drove toward Shiprock until the need for getting back to our hotel later that day out-weighed the need to get as close to Shiprock as we could.
Once out of the vehicles, we had a half-hour to just “be” in this place. It is in my nature to climb, so I immediately headed for the top of the rock wall formation. I was not disappointed. Once I reached the precipice, the view was spectacular: to the east and to the west, flat land interrupted only by mesas in the very distant horizons.
On this precipice, it was my inward view which came most fully into focus. As, I gazed eastward, I looked out over vast lands from where I journeyed. I know the east well…I’ve traveled it and am familiar with its stories. But I do not know it completely. There are vast spaces still unknown to me in the east; yet it has been my journey thus far—my heritage and my home. I carry it with me where ever I go.
As I turned westward and looked over the vastness of space before me, I thought, here are places yet to be for me—places I have never been, stories I’ve never heard, opportunities and possibilities unlimited. And here I stand on the cusp. I was exhilarated and afraid at the same time. What will I do with this God-graced metaphor? How will I live into this God-gifted moment?
So it is with our soul’s journey. We come to moments when we stand on the precipice; we are on the cusp. These moments are given as gifts from God. We know where we have been, though we do not know it all; there is more to explore, but it is our heritage and our home; we carry it with us. Then we turn and look out onto new horizons—exhilarated and afraid, but we are drawn to its beauty and its limitless possibilities. What will we do with these moments? How will we live into these gifts offered?
Horizons are beautiful, but if we continually gaze upon the horizons of our dreams, our calling, of our past, they will always remain the horizons—at times seemingly overwhelming with the illusion that we are making no progress. Paralysis may set in; discouragement desires to become the guide; anxiety our companion. We may lose ourselves in “what could have been” or in the security of “how we like it” and settle for safety and comfortableness, losing site of the daily gifts given, the gifts of the days ahead. We may forget that we ever stood on the precipice—exhilarated and afraid. However, if our gaze only occasionally catches the horizons—to remind us of their beauty; of our hunger for God; of past experiences of “God with us”—we come to trust that the horizons are always with us. We can then focus on the “next step” of possibilities in our journey. We can move forward in the knowledge of and with the trust of God’s presence and guidance. The west becomes the east for us, a part of what we know and a part of us we will always carry. We just have to move off the cusp…one step at a time.
God help us to be open to the vistas granted to us. God help us to give thanks for the rock walls and flatlands in our lives. God help us to keep our gaze on the One who loves us best and most deeply. And God give us strength to walk away from the temptations that anxiety whispers and to embrace the possibilities of land uncharted with trust and faith in God as our guide. Give us courage to move off the cusp of what overwhelms us—one step at a time.
Greg is a recent graduate of Shalem's Spiritual Guidance Program.
Present Moment Ponderings
by Martha Campbell
I awakened from sleep early this morning with a deep awareness: I am immersed in a world, a culture, a life situation in the throes of change. Claiming the anxiety I feel as my truth, I open to prayer. I acknowledge that, everywhere I turn, I see a dying process at work. Structures that I thought were immutable are changing, people I have loved and counted on have died, situations I claimed as secure are falling apart. Reading the morning paper as part of my prayer, I am greeted with more reports of war, political maneuvering and spinning the truth, church violations and betrayals, criminal behavior, corruption and malfeasance by money lenders, investment firms, and government regulators. I know first hand the effects of ethical violation as I witness the diminishment of my savings, my retirement account and a sense of emotional and financial security. I sit in this unrest and witness as well the financial challenges at Shalem and all non-profits. Instability. Everything is shifting and changing.
Immersed in reality, I come to see that the process of dying seems to define much of my living these days. While dying is an emptying process from which new life emerges, it takes a great deal of faith to claim this. As a Christian I believe that death leads to new life and change leads to transformation. My experience supports this over and over again. During the remaining time of my morning prayer, it is this possibility of new life that becomes my resting place in God.
As I get ready for the day, my thoughts continue. The challenge I face personally is not simply psychological or economic but spiritual. I do not want to allow my anxiety and lack of trust to paralyze my present or influence my hope for the future. I choose to reclaim the hope that this period of economic distress and insecurity offers. In hope, I realize that there are other ways of being rich beyond the financial and material. I turn to God for help. Peace.
Arriving at work, I am aware of the personal suffering of several members of our staff. It is my practice that day to send blessing to everyone I meet. “The blessing and peace of God be with you.” Painfully aware of my own vulnerability and fragility, it’s so much easier for me to appreciate the vulnerability of others. The words of Lao-Tzu are on a card on my desk: “Stay in the center of the circle and let all things take their course.” God. Center. Stay there. Yes. I am reminded of Jesus’ words as I live out my day, “Remain in me and I in you.” I sense more peace welling up from within. I am in God in the midst of the day, in the change all around me. Joy.
At the end of the day, I read about a Hopi elder who gave this message at a Summer Solstice gathering:
“There is a river flowing now, very fast. It is so great and swift that there are those who will be afraid. They will try to hold on to the shore. They will feel they are being torn apart and suffer greatly. Know that the river has its destination. The elders say we must push off into the middle of the river, keep our eyes open and our heads above the water. See who is in there with you and celebrate. At this time in history we are to take nothing personally, least of all ourselves, for the moment we do that, our spiritual growth comes to a halt. The time of the lone wolf is over. Gather yourselves; banish the word ‘struggle’ from your attitude and vocabulary. All that we do now must be done in a sacred way and in celebration. We are the ones we’ve been waiting for.”
I am touched by the image of living in the river with everyone else. It speaks to a deepening awareness—the river has its destination. I am not alone on this journey. I am in God with you. I want to “push off into the middle of the river, keeping my eyes open and my head above water.” I want to follow the course of the river as it rushes to its destiny—the Ocean—and to let go of any fear. I want to find myself in a ship with everyone as we awaken to wholeness, knowingly or not. I want to live into Thomas Merton’s awareness of God’s message, “Why worry about shipwrecks if I am the ocean?” I want to learn to sail the ocean of God with you … or swim ship-less if we are so fortunate, to rest knowing deeply that God is all in all and that because of this, all’s right with the world. “So many ‘wants.’ So many desires,” I observe in critique. And I hear a whispered message from deep within, “I am at the root of your desires. I am your deepest desire.” I lean back into God, letting go of my cares, critiques and judgments. My heart is praying …
God of my journey,
help me to let go of old ways of security.
Allow me to fall into your presence and find there my only security.
Help me to do all in a sacred way.
Give me joy in discovering that all I’ve been waiting for is here
because you are here. You in me and I in you.
Help me to discover, with all my brothers and sisters, the peace that comes in acknowledging
that
we are the ones we’ve been waiting for.
You in each one and in everything.
In this realization, may we embrace your gift to us,
the gift of change as transformation
as you form us anew in your image.
Together. No fear. Just you.
May it be so.
I rest in a new security, my heart filled with gratitude. Silence. Deep silence. Peace. Profound peace. Joy. Unrelenting joy. All is gift.
Martha, Director of Shalem's Spiritual Guidance Program for the last five years, will be leaving the Shalem staff after completing work with the Class of 2010.
The Holy in the Ordinary
by Ann Siddall
It is early morning at Stillpoint Spirituality Centre in the Adelaide Hills in South Australia. A cool breeze stirs the gum trees, the kookaburras are laughing joyously, and the earth is fragrant after the first soaking rain for three months. As I set up for a small retreat, check the diary, and respond to e-mails, a deeper part of me is continually drawn back to engage with the splendor of God’s creation—the holy in the ordinary.
I have been engaged in spiritual direction and formation work for over 25 years, and I am still learning that the most important personal spiritual discipline I need to observe is the cultivation of a deep, contemplative awareness of God in the ordinary environment and experiences of each day. In struggling to stay true to this I take heart from the writings of Thomas Merton, who found himself frequently filling the time for contemplation by searching for more books about contemplation to “satisfy my raffish spiritual appetite.”
However, two factors conspire to keep me awake to “the holy in the ordinary.” One is that I work for the Uniting Church in Australia, a denomination with a strong orientation towards practical ministry in mission and justice. Over the years I have frequently needed to find the language to convey that spirituality is not so other-worldly that it is a distraction from mission, in fact quite the opposite!
The other factor is that Australians have a wonderful way of bringing things down to earth, and any tendency to introduce people or congregations to practices couched in the traditional or more monastic language of Christian spirituality quickly draws a request for explanation.
I will never forget an early foray into a country congregation where I led an afternoon workshop on nurturing spirituality. Most of the group were women accompanied by a few reluctant males dragged away from watching “footie” on TV. I hadn’t gone too far in my introduction before one of these males told me, “I don’t think I’ve got a spirituality!” As we talked I realized that he was one of Australia’s true contemplatives—spending long hours alone on his tractor, on a large and remote farming property, thinking deeply about life and staying closely attuned to the earth and its seasons.
A woman came to talk about her fears—which she was confronting with constant prayers and positive Scriptural quotes—and the inner guidance that came was to turn to her ordinary, everyday life and ask how she would respond if her child cried out in fear. Without hesitation she said, “I would go and comfort him” and from there we were able to look at a kindly God who comforts the fearful, and at the Jesus who knew fear.
Initial formation as a spiritual director, ongoing, in-service training and conferences, and many books have been and are important. But the invitation to stillness, silence and contemplative awareness is insistent. Mary Oliver (from “Entering the Kingdom.”) puts words around my longing:
"The dream of my life/is to lie down by a slow river/and stare at the light in the trees …/to learn something by being nothing."
To give serious attention to contemplative awareness requires that I practice trust. I am invited to trust the empty spaces, to be poor in spirit, to not know all the answers, to resist writing denominational reports that imply success (because success can equate with continued funding), to trust that this person before me has innate wisdom for their life, to trust that God will act, that this ministry will continue and I am to sit lightly to present structures.
My practice of contemplative awareness is simply to pause, to quiet myself, to remember the presence of God, and to begin to pay attention at successively deeper levels—from noticing (and savoring and enjoying) what is around me, to noticing what is going on within me, and then noticing a deep sense of connectedness to of all of life, in God. Sometimes this is done not in a silent place, but in the vibrant, exotic old market in Adelaide town centre, or the noise of children coming from the Conference Centre, or in the midst of a small group retreat conversation.
Then, as attuned to the holy as I am able, come the moments of recognition that a conversation, a retreat, or a prayer has become like an ordinary bush bursting into flame, and I want to take off my shoes because I stand on holy ground.
Ann is Director of the Stillpoint Spirituality Centre in South Australia, which offers retreats, spiritual direction and resourcing of congregations. http://mrn.sa.uca.org.au and click on “Stillpoint”
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A Journey of Discovery
by Mimi Saayman
Sharing about Shalem is something quite daunting because I cannot adequately put into words something so profoundly transformational. An analogy that is helpful, though, is that of a pilgrimage. About four years ago, I experienced a calling and longing, which lingered in my heart for ten months before I sent in my application for Shalem's Leading Contemplative Prayer Groups & Retreats Program (LCPGRP). It was a stepping out in faith since I had neither the financial resources nor the logistical support for such a journey. The impossible became possible and I started my program in January 2006. I experienced many small miracles along the way and throughout my 18 months pilgrimage I received hospitality from many and am convinced that God sent angels to support and guide me. I was being transformed into a new being and placed on a new way that made any return impossible. The gifts of this Shalem pilgrimage were a personal love encounter with Christ and a community who loved (and continues to love) me into being who I am.
I had such a sense of homecoming at my first residency that I would have moved to the USA if I could have. But by the end of the program I had come to know that home is not a place or even a specific group of people but rather a community to whom I am irrevocably linked in spirit and Love. I often close my eyes and pause for a moment to remember this community, and in that moment I sense the threads that bind us. My heart fills with gratitude for all I have received, and I am strengthened with the knowledge that I am linked to people all over the world who, with me, are fostering a deeper contemplative grounding for all our life together.
The pilgrimage through the LCPGRP set me on other journeys, chief among those a journey of discovering my authentic self. This brought a lived meaning to being made new in Christ. Because of the family circumstances I was raised in, I have always been efficient, organized, task-orientated and responsible. As I moved through the program, I became aware that it didn’t feel good being this efficient, task-orientated person and that it caused me to disconnect from God and others. I have experienced such freedom letting go of the extremes of these characteristics and allowing God to show me how to slow down and let go of control.
With the guidance of my peers and supervisor, I realized that, while we all have been blessed with many gifts, I need to discern which gifts God is calling me to use. I started seeing spaces I could step out of, and into, and am learning what it means to be me and to listen continuously to God’s voice. Through this process I resigned from my job, became a stay-at-home mom and part of the ministry team of a conservative church. These are not things I would have chosen for myself and yet they have brought me joy and peace and drawn me towards Life.
My experiences with Shalem, my continued contemplative practices, and the accountability and support I have as a member of the Shalem Society help me to remain authentic, to realize my connectedness to the whole of creation and to learn daily what it means to live, move and have my being in God.
The second big journey my Shalem pilgrimage set me on is discovering what word it is that God speaks through me into the world. This has helped me to discern God’s call on my life and to respond to this call and develop my ministry.
As one of the graduates outside of the USA, and living in a small rural community, I could not avail myself of the physical support and resources Shalem offered and had no one in my community with a similar ministry or calling. This deepened my trust in God, taught me to allow for opportunities to be surprised by the Spirit, and helped me be present every day to my community and my work.
While I moved out of this community at the beginning of the year, the contemplative prayer group that I started as part of my program requirement continues to meet and grow. I believe that God, with Shalem, planted that seed in that small town in South Africa. Now I live in a city and am starting a weekly contemplative prayer group and regular quiet days here since here too there is such a great need.
Ultimately Shalem offered me a doorway into a spaciousness filled with the beauty of God. This door continues to provide openings for others (many miles away) to awaken to Divine Love.
Mimi is a graduate of Shalem's Leading Contemplative Prayer Groups & Retreats Program and a member of Shalem's Society for Contemplative Leadership.
Soul of the Executive in Mexico
by Nicolas Mariscal
Participating in Shalem has been a very enriching experience that has helped me both in my personal and professional life. In my workplace in particular, I have created a space, called "The Soul of the Executive," for people to express themselves, which helps improve the atmosphere at work and impacts people’s lives by fostering their spirituality.
I will begin by speaking about me: I live in Mexico City, one of the largest cities in the world, with more than 22 million inhabitants. Just as many other people in the world, we live a hectic life and the environment in our city poses more and more complex challenges in different areas, such as the economy and security, employment, values, climate change, pollution and technology, among others. In the midst of this kind of tsunami, I feel the need to look for spaces of silence and reflection, in an attempt to strengthen my inner spirit, refresh my soul and find peace.
My father was a multifaceted, charismatic, tenacious man with an enormous capacity to give. He was my best friend. Among other things, he taught me to love life and look after my fellow men. My mother was always there to give her support to my father, and she also taught me many things through her example and discipline.
I received my education from the Jesuits, who gave me the spiritual basis that has been with me through my life. Some years ago I was part of Shalem's Soul of the Executive Program, and this was a landmark experience as after finishing the course I was able to implement the following actions in my life: (1) daily meditation—I try to give myself that space; (2) group support—I meet with seven friends and my wife once a month for meditation and discussion of spiritual matters; (3) having a spiritual guide, with whom I meet once a month also; and (4) the monthly meetings at my workplace to listen and talk about topics not related to business. I would like to elaborate on this latter in the following paragraphs.
In my company approximately 40 come to these monthly luncheon meetings that are known, quite simply, as the Soul of the Executive. Members of the group are directors, executives and key staff members. Sometimes we invite a speaker from outside the company, but most of the time, the presentation is made by one of us.
We began these meetings in May 2001 and to this date we have had more than 100 events, including those that take place outside Mexico City, such as in Guatemala. We have had speakers on topics in which they are experts because they are passionate about them or because they have some personal experience to tell. The goal of our meetings is to get to know each other better and to share matters related to our soul and spirit. For instance, once one of our younger directors spoke about mourning and told us about his own experience when he lost his wife from brain cancer, which was detected during their honeymoon. His story and the way he told it touched every fiber of those who were there to listen to him. I also remember when a renowned cello player told us about his cello. With his words he took us to remote places and shared with us different anecdotes.
Recently, we asked participants what the Soul of the Executive was to them. The majority described it as a space for personal integration and formation; a place to get to know one another, to learn and have fun; a forum where opinions and points of view are freely expressed, where we share experiences and get to know better the human side of people working for the company. The majority also think that these meetings help improve the working atmosphere and that these meetings have been a source of enrichment.
Of all the things I have learned from Salem, I have most enjoyed the personal improvement themes, for I feel that if I am a better person I can help others be better too. In my company, the way we have been able to implement the recommendations given to me in Shalem's Program has been a great satisfaction, because it is a way of reaching out to more people and to share from the soul.
Nicolas is a graduate of Shalem's Soul of the Executive and a member of Shalem's Society for Contemplative Leadership.
Attentive Stewardship — A Word from Shalem's Interim Executive Director
by Leah Rampy
At Shalem Institute for Spiritual Formation, we are committed to attentive stewardship of the resources with which we have been entrusted. In these challenging economic times, this means that we must make clear distinctions about what’s most important to the fulfillment of our mission. With a desire for spiritual discernment in all things, we are seeking to ensure that our time, energy, and money are focused on nurturing contemplative living and leadership. Many of the changes we are making are “behind the scenes” and will not be apparent to you. I want to highlight a couple of changes that you will notice.
We are moving from print newsletters to Shalem e-News, an online resource of spiritual commentary, contemplative practice and upcoming events. Shalem e-News will be shorter, more frequent, sent to you directly online, and available on the Shalem website. This change will enable us to keep you better informed about new program offerings. Our hardcopy, mass-mailed Shalem News will be replaced with a “.pdf attachment” version as you see here. These changes will reduce our costs by $37,000 and have the added benefit of reducing paper. Last year we asked those interested in continuing to receive a print newsletter to contribute to helping us fund it. We received $505 and will use those funds to print and mail copies to our Shalem friends who do not have access to e-mail. We will also focus on revising our website so that it will be current and easier to use.
Our programs are the cornerstone of our call, and we want to ensure that our resources are directed to them. Creating and facilitating programs that help to transform lives is vitally important, often time-intensive, and frequently expensive. We have never passed on the full cost of a program to participants; doing so in this economic climate would preclude many individuals from participating in programs to which they are called. We trust that the sustained contributions of our wonderful supporters and the elimination of other expenses will enable us to continue to offer programs that are needed more than ever in today’s world. We will continue to explore ways to use our resources wisely; we look forward to your suggestions and to staying connected in this new way.
Imagining God — A Spiritual Exercise for Believers and Skeptics
by Sarah Clark
"Praying is not necessarily best described always as looking towards God; sometimes and especially in intercession, it is equally a learning to look at the world as if with God's eyes." (Rowan Williams, Archbishop of Canterbury)
What strikes me about Rowan William's statement are the words: "It is equally a learning to look at the world as if with God's eyes." Shedding all the baggage of other people's imagination, let yourself imagine what the world looks like through God's eyes…how the world touches God's heart. Imagine you are God looking at the world, what would you imagine yourself doing?
Would you be a superhero God zooming from hemisphere to hemisphere in rescue mode: cures for cancer, jobs, good harvests, passing grades, winning scores, zapping from your fingertips to those whose cries appealed to you? What would be your criterion for answering prayers? On what grounds would you allow a child to die in Africa and live in Sweden? Superhero God springs from the imagination of the rescued, "God saved me from the flood." But for those drowned in the flood, such a God is a colossal failure of imagination.
When I imagine looking at the world through God's eyes, with God's heart, I imagine being filled with an amazing, painful compassion, an aching heart that compels my arms to reach out to embrace the suffering world, to send steadfast, kind, healing love to everyone. Not love that kills microbes but love that kills fear and loneliness and despair. I imagine a God who hears all prayers and can answer none with superheroics, only with compassionate love. I imagine a God who prays that we will open our hearts to receive that compassionate love, a God who aches when we answer love with hate. A God who brightens with hope when humans act with compassionate love. This is the God of my imagination, the God of the dark hours of a sleepless night and the brilliant sunshine of an October day.
How about you? Believers and skeptics, imagine the world through God's eyes. With God's heart. What God does your imagination create?
Sarah is a graduate of Shalem's Clergy Spiritual Life and Leadership Program. This is an excerpt from her book, Out of the Fog: Meditations for Believers and Skeptics, Xlibris Corp, 2007. Used by permission of the author and available at Amazon.com.
On the Edges
by Zoe White
Perched on the edge of the back seat of my parents' car, I'm gripping the seats in front with small hands to steady myself as we swing round the bends. My stomach is leaping and lurching, full of holiday anticipation. Approaching a hill, I watch through the windscreen frame of vision anticipating the moment when we will bounce over the brow of the hill and earth will appear again on the other side.
Up and over we go! My insides lift and flop deliciously and then the unthinkable happens. Earth has vanished! In the place where earth should be stretching out before us with hills and trees there's something other; something unexpected and immense. A sparkling expanse of grey, silver and lilac-blue fills and empties the space before me. And this unbelievable blue runs—the way my paints run when I use too much water—up and out into the pale yellow misty-blue of sky-space above.
My mother is excited, pointing through the windscreen: There it is! Look! That's the sea!
As if I could have missed it.
Sea is a sound my mother’s voice makes, a scratch on the surface of consciousness. She seems confident that sea explains it. I on the other hand, still staring and breathless, am not so sure. I know in my heart that this splendid, speechless, looming blue can't possibly be reduced to sea. But as children we are generous, we let our mothers’ words make sense for us. And very soon, before we know it, before we even realize what we've lost, sea has replaced speechlessness.
Language acts like an inoculation. The word inoculation comes from the Latin inoculare (in + oculus, 'eye') meaning 'to graft'. Language is, as it were, grafted onto the eye to produce immunity from life’s immensities. The language-inoculated eye helps me get on with life by giving the illusion that I am protected from chaos; safe from the dis-ease of the unknown and the turbulence of the elements.
Contemplation weakens the power of the inoculation. Little by little, over the years, contemplation eases me back into that other relationship with the world, the one I knew that day in the car when I was little and when sea was the terror and exhilaration of light sweeping through me.
Zoe lives in the Netherlands and is a graduate of Shalem's Leading Contemplative Prayer Groups & Retreats Program.