Minute Meditations

We live continuously with a chasm between the haves and the have-nots, the healthy and the sick, the smart and the dull, the gorgeous and the ugly, the slim and the fat, the lucky and the cursed. It’s what we mean by “the world.” The question is how deep and wide this chasm should be allowed to become. The wider it is, the more unreal we become; the deeper, the more painful is the chasm. If we don’t work now to narrow the gap between the rich and the poor it will increase exponentially and we will be irreparably divided. In Gospel wisdom, the end is always a beginning. A change of heart, in the hard of heart, is the beginning of compassion, of active concern for the needs of others. When the spring of compassion is released, the human chasm, the ego, the isolated self, is reconnected. In reconnection (the literal meaning of the word religion), the great healing happens.

The Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many It’s amazing how the Church can repeat these words of Jesus from a place of hierarchy and privilege. The only thing that exonerates the Church is the presence of people within the system who are well and painfully aware of this inconsistency. The spirit of service and the true humility, which is the mystical–moral core of the Gospel, is inevitably linked to the knowledge of mortality. In meditation as well as in the lessons of life, mortality and immortality totally invert the power structures that Jesus is exposing. If you haven’t yet seen this aspect of Lent, I hope you do soon.

We trust Jesus because of his suffering and its transcendent aftermath, and because he spoke from a passionate addiction to truth that is the only kind of addiction that sets us free. Religion itself is laid bare, not just one denomination. The corruption of the best is the worst, and so deserves the highest level of exposure and condemnation. You are all brothers and sisters—how are we going to square that uneconomic idealism with the need for hierarchy and privilege masquerading as service and humility? Jesus is so radically disruptive. How can we domesticate him, how can the Church put a spin on this disturbing so-called "good" news that turns the world as we know it—and our minds as we use them—upside down? That’s easy too. Create systems that have the labels of truth but not the healing touch of the truth. Then idolize the systems. How can we resist this inevitable tendency to the counterrevolutionary? If you don’t know yet, let’s pray this Lent will teach you as you learn how radical meditation really is.

Morality says to do to others what you want done to you. This can lead to saying that if that doesn’t happen, then it’s an eye for an eye. So we need to see the mystical, the transcendent underlying the moral; justice tempered with mercy. Learning to meditate is a journey into the mystical depth of morality. It’s here in the expression about the good measure “running over [that] will be put into your lap.” It is a measure that cannot be measured because it spills over the container into which it is being poured. Transcendence. The mystery of the altruistic gift of genuine generosity. Not earned income, not harvested produce, not accidental or merely cause and effect. What pours? And not into your cosmic karma account. Into your lap. 

We tend to diverge from the truth the more we analyze, complicate and define. We usually speak too much about things we don’t understand but much less about things whose truth we really feel. This is why meditation is so economical, cutting out the waste of thoughts and words in the work of silence and getting directly to the simple end. In the Transfiguration story, Peter (typically) got it wrong by talking, but without knowing what he was saying because “they were terrified.” Why does the truth—and the simplicity that is the medium of truth—scare us so much? Why is silence (the letting go of thoughts) so challenging? Why do the simple disciplines of Lent that we started recently often seem too much? Is it because we find it too simple to harmonize the means and the ends in a way that brings us to ourselves in the radiant glory of the present?

Ask, and it will be given to you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you "There must be a catch." Of course there is. Do you think God, the universe, whatever, is going to give you what you want, when and how you order it, like a home delivery? Is God a pizza boy? No, of course not. You're thinking, "If I get what I ask for I will be a really happy person and then it will be easy to be generous and nice to others. Material and emotional security, good health, and a nice home in which to enjoy it all. I could do so much good in the world if I had that." Well, it’s not impossible you will get that—even for a few decades if you’re lucky. But you know you asked, “Is there a catch?” Yes. Here it is: Whatever you wish that others would do to you, do so to them. "Now? Even before I get the delivery?" You said it.

To change a small thing makes some people feel insecure about many things and even sends warning signals down deep into the caverns where their fear of death lurks. When it comes to our character or personality, as shaped by years of experience, it seems even more difficult to effect change. We have all kinds of means to resist changing our mind—denial, aggression, and procrastination being among the favorites. To change or repent means not only the content of our beliefs and ideas, but the actual mode of perception by which consciousness operates. Saying a mantra in our daily Lenten practice tricks us out of these resistances and fears by first affecting the quality of awareness through seeing what is really there. Then behavior changes. Then thoughts. Radical change without force. Radical simplicity with unbounded love, in daily increments. The meaning of repentance.