“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.
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