Cross-posting (from a Christian blogger)

I really appreciated this blog entry:

http://wakingupnow.com/blog/bryan-brown-hates-himself-so-gays-cant-marry

I am baffled by Christian theology, but am able to appreciate Christian music, and Christian stories, and Christian liturgy. This blogger gives words to some of that.

Believing and Belonging (Stewardship sermon at St John's, 1995)

Sermon delivered at the Church of St John the Evangelist
Stewardship Sunday - October 1995

You may gather that I'm trying to make a point by wearing a sari this morning. Bear with me, and I'll tell you how I came to be witnessing in a Christian church, dressed as a Hindu.
I was baptized and raised as a Roman Catholic, but from the late 1960s on, described myself as a card-carrying atheist. I was seriously opposed on principle to all things religious . . . and I reserved particular venom for Christianity and for the Christian God who had apparently abandoned me.
In 1984 and 1985, I became deeply interested in Eastern spiritual practices, and in Hinduism; in April of 1985, I became a disciple of an Indian teacher. In the West, we draw distinctions between theology and philosophy and physical health and getting through the day. We have a special word, "religion," which refers to things which are about God. There is no such word in Hindi or in Sanskrit, since it is simply inconceivable that there could be anything about anything which would not also be about God.
In 1987, my friend Jennifer suggested that I might enjoy visiting her parish. At first, I came to St. John's as a skeptical and cynical visitor. I kept coming back for several reasons . . . first, because I found God here, in a way I thought possible only via an eastern path. Perhaps equally important, I visited again because I found something here I had not known, or had forgotten over the years . . . what it means to truly live the gospel, to find Christ in living and in dying, in fellowship and in loneliness, in prayer and in sexuality and in problems and in joy and in anger. Spiritual work in the Eastern traditions is often interior and solitary . . . there is a maxim that you cannot save others who are drowning until you yourself have learned to swim. Here at St. John's, I found a community which took the dictate "Love one another" very seriously indeed. If others are drowning, physically or emotionally or spiritually, this is no time for swimming lessons… Yell for help! Grab a rope! Do everything you can . . . and do it now. This sense that "we're all in this together" pervades this community, transcending differences of lifestyle and income and even faith. There is a saying . . . when we teach a child not to step on a caterpillar, it is as good for the child as it is for the caterpillar. When a body begins to understand that its boundaries are illusory, and that there is room enough, and nurturing enough, for all, and all are welcome... it is as good for the body as it is for those who might otherwise have been excluded.
Please do not get the impression that some years ago I just arrived at St. John's, felt right at home, joined right in. Not so at all. To say that I was less than comfortable here understates the situation considerably. I continually questioned whether I wanted to be here, and why. I was not at all sure I belonged. I was trying to unravel my complicated feelings about Christianity, both emotionally and intellectually. Richard and Jennifer were endlessly patient with my endless questioning. They just kept reassuring me that I was in a safe place with them and with their church and with this community. So I kept coming back .. . but also kept the faith and the community at arm's length. I drew limits for myself. First, I just worked on remaining in the church through the entire liturgy . . . and for some months, that was quite hard enough. I sat in a back pew and listened and watched and kept quiet, and bolted out the front door immediately after the liturgy. But then it started to feel O.K. to sing a little. Then some of the prayers started to seem familiar and even comfortable. After a year of tiny, tentative steps toward involvement in worship here, I finally felt comfortable sharing communion at your table.
Then it was pointed out to me that since I was now attending regularly, and putting small sums of money into the basket regularly, it would be helpful to the church if I would pledge my tiny offering so that my contribution could be included in planning for the next year. Pledging felt too much like "joining" my first year here… I wanted to avoid any hint of commitment to the parish! By the second year, I understood that I did not need to "join" in order to belong… and I finally got my own little envelopes. By then, my self-imposed limits around participation were receding rapidly. One of the last limits involved my assertion that I would do anything at St. John's which did not require my wearing an alb, an act which seemed altogether too Christian for my Hindu self. But then I became friends with Karl. When Karl died, I wore an alb for the first time so that I could carry a torch the night we received his body here at the church.
I wear my Hindu prayer beads all the time. I am open about my strong ties to Hinduism. Even so, as I began to get to know some people here at St. John's, I felt a bit like an imposter . . . waiting for a heavy hand to land on my shoulder while a loud voice said "You don't really belong here, you know." But every time I tried to talk to members of this community about how I didn't really belong here because I wasn't really a Christian, they all just told me not to worry... of course it was fine for me to be here.
In a wonderful sermon several years ago, Jennifer preached about the tree of heaven which is big enough for all the birds of heaven . . . even the odd ducks. Some people fly into St. John's seeking God, or community, or peace . . . and rest here for just a minute, leaving before we've even learned their names. For others, St. John's offers a haven... a branch to rest on, out of the rain, with nourishment and support for the eventual continuation of the journey. For some, the haven becomes safe enough for a nest, and St. John's becomes, in a very real way, home.
When I first found Hinduism, I thought I loved it because it was so different from Christianity. After I came to St. John's, as I prayed and meditated and tried to integrate these very different spiritual practices and traditions, the differences became less distinct. The three ash marks on my forehead remind me that the Holy One is creator, sustainer, and transformer... not so very different, after all. I still struggle with theological questions... but when I can quiet my mind, and listen to my heart, I find myself nurtured and content here. I am most grateful to have found a safe haven in which to reestablish diplomatic relations with Christianity. I am grateful to have found a place where diversity is not merely tolerated, but welcomed. And I am profoundly grateful to have found a Western Christian community where we almost do not need a separate word for religion... because it is inconceivable that anything about anything would not also be about God.
In India, the word "namaste'" is used for both greeting and farewell… Namaste means "I bow to you. I honor you. I honor the divinity which I see shining in and through you." And I do honor all of you here at St. John's. Namaste.

Finding time in my day for God

I wear a mala of rudraksha beads. When I put them on, I pray that my mind will be quiet, my lips guarded, and my heart open - so that I will find God everywhere in my day.

But on all too many days, that and grace before meals (in Sanskrit. I like that.) pretty much comprise my formal practice. Not enough time for reading, or puja, or sitting quietly in meditation and prayer.

Even blogging here can be a form of practice for me... my posts from 2007 include both my travels to India and my thoughts and feelings about Hinduism. If I start posting regularly on the latter, that would be a good first step.

The spiritual part of me is not being nourished. I need to work on that. In the 1980s, I found myself (to my great surprise) sitting in the presence of God, after a long, long time of estrangement from that Presence. That was the most important thing that had ever happened to me, and I decided that I really needed to pay attention to that - so I resigned from my high tech job and went off to Divinity School to study and pray for a couple of years. That was the right thing to have done, and I have never regretted it. Now... I do not need to make a dramatic change like dropping everything... but being in that Presence is still the most important thing in my life, and I need to pay more attention to that.

SYDA Yoga - the (mostly) good parts

In 1988, my friend Prajna introduced me to SYDA Yoga (aka Siddha Yoga), the tradition founded by Baba Muktananda based on teachings from his guru, Nityananda. By the late 1980s, Baba had taken samadhi, and SYDA Yoga was led by Gurumayi Chidvilasananda. As I began attending programs at the Boston Ashram, I was strongly attracted to the practice. Much of the focus was on chanting, which I love... also meditation, and what might be considered academic study, and only a tangential interest in hatha yoga. I began to learn the chants... the Guru Gita, the Shiva Arati, Jyota se Jyota, and all of the call-response chants. I was in the ashram most Sunday mornings for the Guru Gita -- and when I traveled, I took a chanting book and a tape with me. Chanting the Gita by the ocean was a special joy for me.

I also attended many programs in South Fallsburg, the US home of SYDA Yoga. At that time, SYDA Yoga was huge and growing, due to Baba's strong foundation of the community, and Gurumayi's charisma. The ashram in Fallsburg consisted of the original ashram plus several adjacent hotels. I would stay in one of the hotels - sometimes alone, sometimes with my friend Jennifer or my friend Prajna. I would rise around 4 to take a shuttle bus to the main ashram for Arati and the Guru Gita, then breakfast. The ashram encouraged all devotees to perform seva -- selfless service - from 9-noon and 1-5 -- I was not willing to work quite that much, so would schedule some seva but also some down time for relaxation and meditation. When Gurumayi was there (rather than traveling or staying at the ashram in Ganeshpuri, north of Mumbai), literally thousands of devotees would be at the ashram on a summer weekend. In the evenings, there would be a chant, a dharma talk, then hours of darshan, when devotees waited in line for the opportunity to bow at Gurumayi's feet.

I attended meditation intensives, a wonderful course on Kashmir Shaivism, and many weekend programs. Attire for women was Indian formal - the evening programs were filled with women in gorgeous gold-trimmed saris. Attire for the temple was either a sari or at least salwaar kameez.

The practices felt like coming home. The single-point focus on the guru... not so much. In the temple, the primary murti was not Shiva, but Nityananda. When the folks chanted the Guru Gita, many of them had small photographs of Gurumayi in their chanting books. The best way I can explain this -- I saw the Guru as the stained glass, not as the light. Baba's writings made sense to me. Gurumayi's writings and her dharma talks made *much* sense to me. But I felt that they were teachers, showing the way to God... and it seemed that for many, the gurus were themselves the object of devotion.

This did not really impact my practice.... it was just a point of interest for me, and "You pray your way, I will pray my way."

Every practice ends with Sadgurunath Maharaj ki Jai -- loosely -- Life/Victory/Praise to the True Guru -- when I chant that, I see Mahadev in His ring of fire... but I think that is not the perception of the majority of SYDA Yoga practitioners.

Hanumanji

What a perfectly lovely way to spend an hour... chanting the Hanuman Chalisa with friends at my friend Prajna's house. Blissful.

Hanuman is the hero of the Ramayana, the Indian epic which tells the story of Rama and Sita. The matchbook cover version of that story: Rama loses his throne and is banished; his wife Sita is kidnapped to Lanka by the demon-king Ravana; Rama, his brother Lakshman, and an army head for Lanka to rescue her. Hanuman plays a pivotal role in the story - he flies ahead to Lanka with Rama's ring to tell Sita that help is on the way. With his tale ablaze, he sets Lanka on fire. When herbs are needed for healing, he flies to the mountain to the the herbs... and brings back the entire mountain. Many of the images of Hanuman show him flying, carrying the mountain back to Rama. After Rama rescues Sita, they all return to Ayodhya. (Fair warning -- the story does not have a happy ending... )

Hanuman is the perfect servant of God... living only to serve Ram.

Some of my favorite Hanuman things...

The Hanuman Chalisa, available on many chant CDs. (Particularly recommend Flow of Grace by Krishna Das)

"Where did you get that ring?" Delightful contemporary song about Hanuman - on Flow of Grace, and also on other Krishna Das CDs.

Hanuman's Tales -- fascinating book of His stories.

I have a lovely batik of Hanuman, which I think I found in Benares.

Hanuman is just... sweetness. Hanging out with him, reading about him, chanting about him -- bliss.

Factoid about India

India is approximately one-third the size of the United States.

300 million people live in the US.

India has 1.2B people -- four times as many people in 1/3 the area.

Hmmmm. No wonder it seems crowded there....

Returning to India -- 2001

I live in Massachusetts, but I spent about a year working three or four days each week as a project manager on a large customer engagement in Charlotte, NC. I decided to focus the air travel on Delta -- and at the end of that gig, I had quite an impressive collection of SkyMiles. So for our next trip to India, we used SkyMiles to purchase two business class seats. Delta flies to Mumbai from Kennedy, via Paris... so we started in Boston with a short hop from Logan to Kennedy. Arrived at the airport way, way early, as is our custom. If memory serves, we were scheduled for about a two hour wait between flights once we arrived at Kennedy. Our Boston flight was late... and later... and later. There was barely controlled pandemonium at the gate, since it seemed that just about every traveler was taking that flight only to make some complicated international connection out of Kennedy.... and now all of those connections were in jeopardy. We waited in the line to talk to the agent.... but it was pretty clear that our flight from Boston to NY was not going to arrive in time for us to make our connection to Paris. So, being calm and reasonable sorts of travelers, we returned to our comfy plastic chairs to see when/if we would make it to NY, and just figured that we would figure it out from there.. probably spending the night near Kennedy, and going into NYC for a while the next day until it was time to go to Paris. Then a voice above the melee called my name - and there was an agent, beckoning us urgently to the desk. She asked if we would be willing to fly Air France to Paris instead of Delta to NY to Paris, connecting in Paris with our originally scheduled flight. Sure! You bet! Absolutely! The Air France flight was in a different wing of the airport, and was leaving immediately. Our agent zipped us up to the main ticketing desk, where another (very, very confused) agent could not understand why we were switching, where we were switching... and the minutes were ticking by. Finally our first agent managed to get it straightened out... and then zoomed us through security (again), and we literally ran up to the gate for the Air France flight which was at that point being held for us. We entered the plane and the door slammed shut behind us.

We figured that our business class seats were a memory... but were happily surprised to be seated in business class on the Air France flight. Now we knew that our luggage was on the flight to NY, and that we were now luggage-less.... but we were prepared for a luggage emergency, and had toiletries and some clothing in our carry-ons. No problem at all.

Six or so hours later, we're at Charles de Gaulle, several hours ahead of our original flight from NY. I checked with ticketing, explaining the whole story... that we were NOT on the flight we were supposed to be on from NY, but would need to join that same flight when it left Paris for Mumbai. No problem, they said. I checked several times, with different people. Each told me No Problem. When our flight to Mumbai was called, we joined the pushing crowd ready to board the plane. Got all the way up to the desk... and then (imagine my surprise... ) were told that we were not on the manifest from NY. Went through the story two or three more times... and then mirabile dictu, we boarded the plane and again, our business class seats were available.

Another uneventful flight, and we landed in Mumbai. Now we *knew* that we had no luggage. We also knew that we had a flight to Jaipur the following morning which would need to be rescheduled, since our luggage would not arrive until the following night. As we deplaned, a Delta guy was looking for us. He was full of apologies for our missing luggage... I mean, this man was just abjectly apologetic about the situation. This was intriguing and amusing, since we had no idea that anyone would even *care* about our luggage problem! He walked us over to Air India, and explained that we needed to move our flight out one day... the Air India agent gave us (I kid you not) a *note* to bring back with us. (Ha, we said, as if THAT has any chance of working!!!!) Our friendly Delta guy booked us a reservation at a lovely hotel near the airport, and saw us to a cab. The surprising part of Delta's extraordinary customer service - these tickets had cost us nothing, we were flying all on miles.

We spent the next day sleeping a bit, and also hired a car to drive us around Mumbai just so that we could see where we were. At midnight I returned to the airport (no one seems to know why all flights in and out of India are between midnight at 3AM), and with only a minor scuffle with security (who did not want to let me in to get my luggage, since I did not have a ticket for that day... sigh.... but we straightened that out), was able to find our luggage and return to the hotel.

Quite an adventure. The next day... back to the airport, with our luggage and with our note from the night we arrived.... and to our great relief, the agent took the note, and with no difficulty, turned our note into two tickets.... and we were off to Jaipur.