Friday, December 22, 2017

Drop Your Expectations


“Those who sowed with tears will reap with songs of joy.  Those who go out weeping, carrying the seed, will come again with joy, shouldering their sheaves.”[1]  Amen.

A couple of Sundays ago Shari was presiding and I was assisting at Communion. She had the bread; I had the chalice of wine as we moved around the altar.  Holy Communion was being distributed with the usual quiet reverence when I came upon Isaac.  Isaac is five years-old.  When I bent down to give him the chalice, he looked at me with eyes like great big saucers and his cheeks were all puffed up like a squirrel with a passel of nuts stuffed in its mouth.  He could barely speak but he managed to say, “Just a minute, my mouth is full.”  Chomp, chomp, chomp. Chomp, chomp, chomp.  “Not yet.” Eventually, he took a long swig from the chalice, gulping it to wash down that big chunk of bread.  He would have emptied it if I’d let him.

It totally cracked me up.  Later, I remembered Shari saying to me once that kids like to receive big pieces of bread at Communion.  If that is the case, then Isaac was a very satisfied communicant.  Good job, Shari! 

There is a point to this little story, and it is about expectations.  If I had encountered Isaac in that moment with a set of expectations of what reception of the Sacrament of Holy Communion should be like: that it should be solemn and dignified, for example, I might have felt disappointed by Isaac’s response; even a little angry with Shari for “giving him too much;” embarrassed that it had “caused a scene.” Trust me, I’ve seen priests like that.  I’m sure I’ve been that priest at one time or another.  And Isaac might have come away from the experience having internalized my expectation, at the cost of feeling ashamed. 

Instead, at least on that Sunday, I simply was present to what was happening, rather than trying to force it to conform to some set of expectations.  In being open to what was given, I was in communion with Isaac – just as he was, and just as I was in that moment – and experienced the joy of that communion.  Isn’t that the whole point of the sacramental celebration?  It is in such moments that we recognize Christ in each other.  

In reflecting on that experience, I was reminded of a simple truth: if we wish to experience joy, then we have to drop our expectations.  Let them go. They just get in the way of living.  Expectation says: “Everyone must receive Communion reverently for me to be happy.”  Hope says: “I would like people to receive Communion reverently, but my happiness doesn’t depend upon it.  I’m even open to the possibility that my hope may be fulfilled in an entirely unexpected way, or not at all.”  Do you see the difference?  It is the difference between living life and trying to control or avoid it. What makes this time of year difficult for many people is that it is loaded with expectations:  expectations that we want to fulfill and expectations that we want to avoid.  They can feel heavy and they can make us feel really stuck.  
 
Some of you may be haunted by the ghost of Christmas past.  I know I have been.  When I was a kid, my father was an active alcoholic (thankfully, he stopped drinking about 10 years ago).  We never knew how he was going to show up at family gatherings.  I often felt humiliated by his behavior, and felt a lot of anxiety as the holidays approached. For many years, I approached Christmas walking on eggs, wondering when the other shoe was going to drop, and feeling vaguely responsible for other people’s feelings about the season.  “If only my father didn’t drink, then I could be happy” was the story I told myself.  So, guess what?  I wasn’t happy, especially at Christmastime.  I had expectations.

My heart became closed.  The emotional energy of those childhood experiences hit me like a wave, but rather than letting them pass through me, I adopted a defensive posture, closing my heart and blocking the flow of energy.  The energy kept moving, but rather than being released I trapped it and kept it circling around itself.  

As Michael Singer notes, everything is energy and energy will expand outward if it is not contained.  For physical reality to be manifest, energy must get in the dynamic of circling around itself to create a stable unit: this is one way to describe an atom, the basic building block of the universe.  Atoms have enough energy harnessed in them to blow up the world if it is released.  But unless forced open, the energy remains stable in its equilibrium state.[2]
 
This cycling energy happens with emotional energy as well.  It can become trapped in our heart, harnessed by our resistance to letting it go.  Our expectations: that it will always be like this, that it must not be like this, that I must avoid or control what happens to be happy is the lock on the door of our heart that keeps this energy circling around itself.  It is exhausting keeping all that emotional energy stored up.  It prevents us from being open to the renewal of energy, what we call Spirit, that continually emerges from the abyss of God’s love.  The solution is to open our hearts to release the flow of energy and receive the inpouring of the Holy Spirit available in each moment. 

There are a variety of spiritual techniques or practices that help us to do this.  Sometimes, the emotional energy trapped in our hearts can be overwhelming, the result of trauma that requires very careful healing support to release.  This is where psychotherapy, or 12 step work, or spiritual direction, or all of the above can be an important resource.  We don’t have to do this work alone.  Yoga, meditation, and other contemplative practices are enormously beneficial.  They help us to claim our identity as “the Witness,” the observer of thoughts, feelings, and sensations that provides perspective and healthy detachment so that we can let go and be in the flow of energy, rather than blocking it.  We can accept the past.  We can release the energy.  We can open our hearts and be present to what is given now.  

The season of Advent is a time set apart to prepare to for the birth of new life, the renewal of the energy of love, symbolized by the birth of the Christ Child.  This preparation requires patience.  It requires repentance – changing our minds.  But another important part of this preparation is simply giving ourselves – and others – a break, by letting go of our expectations and allowing the past to be the past so that we can be open to the present moment.  

So it is OK to grieve what needs grieving.  It is OK to acknowledge what has been lost and give thanks for what has been received.  It is OK to forgive what needs forgiving so that we can be free.  This is how we open our hearts again.  This is how Christ is born in us again.  The realization of our hope for the world does not require perfection, or the absence of pain, or the realization of our expectations.  It only requires us to be open.  Just keep your heart open.  Let the energy flow through you, releasing into the world the love that is the only hope for the world.  

St. Paul tells us, “Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. Do not quench the Spirit.”[3]  Keep the flow of energy open and we will discover the joy that is present in all circumstances.   Don’t quench the Spirit!  Keep your heart open!

As I drop my expectations and release the ghost of Christmas past, I find myself noticing a deep joy here and now.  I’m not the little boy clinging to patterns of energy that lock me in circles of fear and shame.  A new wave of energy is washing through me, washing me clean. 

Today, my associations with this season are of the moment: sharing a cup of tea with my husband in the living room at the end of the day as the last rays of winter light come through the window; the joy of my son’s homecoming from college for winter break; the sense of awe accompanying my sense of loss as I ponder the quiet dignity and acceptance with which our sister Nancy walked through the valley of the shadow of death.  Talk about letting go of expectations!  She said she was not afraid of the journey, but she was curious about the final destination. “Curious,” she said, her heart still wide open.  Somehow, I can find no other way of thinking about her death, other than as the release of great souled energy making space for new birth, new life to come roaring in.  If we let it.  Maybe not today.  But we will get there.

Don’t quench the Spirit!  Stay in the flow of the energy of love.  Those who sowed with tears will reap with songs of joy.  Those who go out weeping, carrying the seed, will come again with joy, shouldering their sheaves.”  Amen.




[1] Psalm 26:6-7.
[2] Michael Singer, The Untethered Soul (Oakland, CA:  New Harbinger Publications, Inc., 2007).
[3] I Thessalonians 5:16-17.

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