Let go of the self.

Before Christmas, the following parable was shared with our school.  It has stuck with me.
 
A SIEVE AND WATER (A Buddhist Story)

The Zen master and his disciple made their way across the sand to the shore. The disciple carried a cup and a sieve. At the water's edge, they stood on a rock, the sea breaking around them in great, frothy swirls. 'Show me how you would fill the sieve with water,' the master said. The disciple stooped and filled the cup with water. He poured it into the sieve. Cup after cup he poured into the heart of the sieve but no matter how quickly he poured, only the smallest remnant caught in the bottom. Even that soon formed a drop and was swallowed in the vastness of the ocean. All the time the master watched, saying nothing. In the end, the disciple faced the master and shrugged. The task was hopeless. Now, the master spoke: 'It is thus with the life of the spirit also,' he said. 'So long as we stand on the rock of I, of myselfness, and seek to pour the divine life into that shell, so certainly shall that life escape us. This is not the way to fill a sieve with water, nor the human spirit with the life of the divine.'

Then the master reached out his hand and took the sieve from the hand of the disciple. He thrust his arm far behind him then launched the sieve as far as he could, out into the face of the deep. For a moment, it lay glinting in the morning sunlight on the face of the water. Then it slipped far below. 'Now, it is full of water,' the master said. 'It will always be so. That is how you fill a sieve with water and the spirit with divine life. You throw the myself, the I, far out and away to sink into the deep sea of the divine life.'
 
Maurice Lynch


When I first heard this story told, my first thought was: Idiot, you can't fill a sieve with water; put the sieve in the bowl.  When I shared this on Wednesday morning, Sara shared that she had thought to hold the sieve under water.  Neither of us wanted to let go of the sieve.  As a metaphor for how tightly we hold on to the self, this says much about our desire to be filled up with "the life of the spirit."  We want to be filled; we do not want to let go of that useless sieve.

Bev

Willing to Forget Self

"My practice of the Rule regularly challenges me to be "humble."  I don't know about others, but it is difficult for me to give up my need for self-esteem and the esteem of others.  

During the Holiday season, when there is so much giving, and most of mine going to people I know and love, I am reminded that the season of being impoverished in our culture, of being hungry, of being homeless is sadly a year-round one.  And what must it be like for the poor to see all of the affluent going around to all of the wonderful stores of Williamsburg, buying last minute gifts when the poor are wondering where they will sleep tonight?  

I came across this poem recently and was moved by how relevant it is the Benedictine study we practice together.  What could we all accomplish in the world if we could just be "willing to forget your self?"

Tom Hale

The Good Son

by Jason Shinder

If God had come to me and said,
if you are willing to forget your self

you will find the cure for heart attacks and compose
the greatest symphonies,

I wouldn't have been sure of my answer.
Because there wouldn't have been enough

attention to my suffering. And that's unforgivable.
But I keep on forgiving myself

with God's love. And it's strange I should say this
because my mother died of a heart attack

after months in a hospital room full of a silence
that lodged itself like a stone in her throat.

And she thought I was wonderful

and would do anything for her.

"The Good Son" by Jason Shinder, from Stupid Hope. © Graywolf Press, 2009. 

Enoughness

"We live in a culture that sees having things as a measure of our success." Joan Chittester

Our conversations over the last month seem to center on the weight of our material goods, the things that "tie us to the earth."  This is much on our minds as two of our group have children who are struggling to find jobs in a world with few. Our children our struggling to find their way in the world, to make a success of their lives, to feel that they are enough -- and this has little to do with conspicuous consumption and accumulation of goods.  They struggle to find meaningful work, work which contributes to the community and to the world, work which uses the talents and gifts.  Many of those out of work have abandoned such lofty goals; they struggle simply to find jobs to feed their families, to subsist; this would be enough

So each gave thanks for the bounty we have; we are grateful for our bounty; we are aware that we have more than enough.  But we also realize these things don't make us who we are in the eye of God.  We pray for those who are seeking jobs, for those who do not have enough. 

We ask God to temper our greed, to help us to be content with less and know that this is enough.

Things that tie us to earth

Early in November, our group here at St. Martin's talked about Benedict's chapter on private ownership.  We are merely passing through.  Sr. Chittister writes, "On our journey to heaven, things tie us to the earth."  We watch TV shows about hoarders; even in early November, we become bombarded with fliers and mail to buy and buy more for Christmas. As we build our homes and communities, we also begin to accumulate more and more, and these things demand our time and attention and care.  We urged one another to clean out or throw out or donate something, to untie and unburden ourselves of something that ties us down or wastes our time and energy.  As the readings of November focused on the end times and our church calender ends its year, we prepare for the coming of Advent; we prepare the way of our Lord. 

This conversation has extended through a discussion on the need for silence, the use of bells to call the Benedictines to prayer. If the things of this earth and the material excess tie us down, we asked ourselves what reminds us to lift our eyes to heaven.  We challenged ourselves to create daily reminders to stop in silence or prayer.  We challenged ourselves to keep our eyes on heaven.  Suggestions: computer or phone reminders to stop; post-its on the morning mirror; the car's engine as you warm up the car on these cold mornings.

So this week, as we enter the season of Advent -- the stores leaflets and fliers multiply and rampant dialogues about Black Friday and Cyber Monday fill the airwaves.  We spoke of the work.  What are we working for?  What are our priorities?  Where do we spend our time?  Where should we spend our time?  Do these things tie us to the earth or do this things lift our hearts to heaven?

Ironically, our readings today focus on Lent, a time of fasting.  We again speak of our priorities; we discuss the temptations of the world around us.  We challenge ourselves to keep our hearts and minds on the season as a time of waiting and preparing for Christ, keeping our lives in readiness, being alert to the moments when Christ calls us.  In the midst of the flurry of Christmas, we challenge ourselves to mindfulness and awareness of Christ in our midst.