Seeking Solace (part 2)

I was faithful even when I said, “I suffered terribly;”

I said in my panic, “All people are unreliable!”

 (Psalms 116:10-11)

Grace:

I too am struck by the suffering Psalmist’s human declaration of faith undercut immediately by blame. For the cry of why is inevitable, the search for someone or something to blame natural, and the fear of God’s abandonment keen. From my Christian faith, I take comfort in observing that Jesus too, in his loneliest and most bitter hour, echoed another Psalm as he cried in anguish, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Psalms 22:1) That moment of human agony, transformed by a divine spirit of compassion and forgiveness, shows me the redemptive power of love. I can affirm that the grace of God, often working in and through the caring of others, enables us to endure and, if we are willing, to grow spiritually through suffering; to find, even amid suffering, a “peace that passes understanding.” (Philippians 4:7)

This reflection was originally posted in September 2011 as a response to Tziporah's post. What texts do you turn to when seeking solace? 

Seeking Solace

I was faithful even when I said, “I suffered terribly;”

I said in my panic, “All people are unreliable!”

 (Psalms 116:10-11)

Tziporah:

I am struck by the unflinching honesty of the Psalmist, who readily admits to human frailty in suffering.  Often, when we are distracted by pain, we allow its attendant anger to overtake us, and we blurt out terrible things about each other which we later regret. We seek relief in blaming someone else for our situation.  Sometimes we accuse each other; other times we denounce God.  This verse begins with a declaration of faith—I believed in God despite my suffering—and concludes with an admission of loss of faith.  The Psalmist reflects on a previous experience of suffering, when pain caused him to lose faith in humanity. Yet he maintained an unshakable faith in God.  I find solace in repeating this verse as a mantra; I feel my pain begin to dissipate.  I am confident that when I look back on this difficult time, my faith in God and others will have endured. 

This reflection was originally posted in September 2011. Rereading it nearly 2 years later, I find that my faith in God and others has endured and that the words of the Psalmist still speak to me, Tziporah

God Consciousness (Part 3)

“Verily, God orders justice and kindness (Ihsan), and giving [help] to the relatives, and He forbids all shameful deeds, and evil and tyranny. He admonishes you, so that perhaps you may take heed.” (al-Nahl 16:90)

Grace:
I am stirred by Yasmina’s emphasis on “God consciousness” in the exhortation all Muslims hear weekly.  The sheer variety of Christian denominations means that the experience of a living God is likely to be evoked for Christians in many different ways.  Benedictions that conclude Christian worship are expressed as blessings. Some churches also include a dismissal or sending forth which is reminiscent of al-Nahl 16:90, calling upon worshipers to be “doers of the Word and not hearers only.” (James 1:22) Quoting the Hebrew prophet Micah, Christians also affirm the need for hearts that are attuned to “do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with your God.” (Micah 6:8) Interestingly, it is an opening prayer in my own tradition that lifts me most powerfully to God consciousness: “Almighty God…from whom no secrets are hid…cleanse the thoughts of our hearts […that] we may perfectly love you, and worthily magnify your holy Name.”

This is Graces's response to Yasmina's reflection on "Raising Our God Consciousness," originally posted in Sept. 2011 and re-posted earlier this month.

God Consciousness, Part 2

“Verily, God orders justice and kindness (Ihsan), and giving [help] to the relatives, and He forbids all shameful deeds, and evil and tyranny. He admonishes you, so that perhaps you may take heed.” 

(al-Nahl 16:90)

Tziporah:

Reading Yasmina’s reflection, I thought about rabbis who end each Sabbath service with a closing benediction. This practice is now considered outdated by many, but was fairly standard in the synagogues of my youth.  The closing benediction was often an opportunity for the rabbi to summarize the sermon and to remind the community to live by its message in the coming week. As I grow older, I can better appreciate the appeal of a ritual in which religious leaders offer guidance to the community and establish clear expectations for daily behavior.  In Jewish liturgy, individuals often recite a biblical verse at the conclusion of their personal prayers in the Amidah: “May the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable to you, God, my Rock and my Redeemer.” (Psalms 19:15) Perhaps this would be a fitting conclusion to any sermon; a reminder to both listeners and speakers that God is present in our lives and attentive to our words and actions.  

This is Tziporah's response to Yasmina's reflection on "Raising Our God Consciousness," originally posted in Sept. 2011 and re-posted last week. 

In Song & In Silence

“Shout praise to God, all the earth. Serve God with joy; come before Him with singing….Enter His gates with thanksgiving, His courtyards with praise.”

(Psalms 100:1-2, 4)

Tziporah:

I have been reading this psalm regularly because one of my resolutions for the New Year was to express my gratitude daily.  I even set my phone’s alarm to alert me—with the soothing strains of the harp—to draw my mind away from the tasks before me and toward God.  Although I have been pretty successful at establishing prayerful moments, I still lack the motivation to attend synagogue services.  I love the idea of entering God’s gates with song, but find myself craving solitude and silence.  For Jews, the ideal is to worship God together with at least 9 other Jews. And Jews pray loudly—with plenty of communal singing—from a prayer book that contains many words.  Praying alone is permissible, but even then the ideal is to say the words aloud, if only in a whisper.  As a result, the opportunity for silence in synagogue is scarce. Recently, I reluctantly admitted to Yasmina that I suffer from spiritual envy: her mosque is such a peaceful environment and so conducive to prayer. At the same time, I long to hear the familiar melodies; to sing boldly and joyously in God’s courtyard. My soul yearns to shout praise to God but, for the moment, my mouth won’t cooperate. 

Grace:

Tziporah, I love your New Year’s resolution, especially your "call to prayer" with the harp! During times of Christian celebration, as in the recent season of Christmas, I am eager to sing, and to do so boldly and joyously in communal worship.  In times of sorrow or penance, however, I may enter God’s courtyard with thanksgiving but without song. For example, during the penitential season of Lent we deliberately omit the singing of “Alleluias.” But I, too, feel the craving for deeper solitude and peace, apart from community.  In those times, I love taking private retreat, usually in total silence, for the renewal of my spirit.  Silence often opens my heart to the many ways I can serve God with joy and allows me to enter God’s gates—whether in a house of worship or elsewhere—with singing and praise from the soul, even as my voice is silent! 

Yasmina:

I regularly listen to my favorite Quran reciter and love the opportunity to feel the resonance of the words; the meaning, the sounds, the rhythm and the melody. My appreciation of each recitation is a little different, depending on where I am physically, emotionally and spiritually. Like both of you, I enjoy solitary prayer time, as well as prayer in community. Some communal prayers are said aloud by the prayer leader, while others are offered in complete silence. For this reason, I get a taste of different prayerful moments every day, as the echo of the sounds of the Quranic recitations, the calls to prayer, and the silent praise of worshipers is preserved in time and space. As a Muslim, I believe that the sense of peace at the mosque that you alluded to, Tziporah, is a result of these daily occurrences, which have no ultimate goal other than to grant those taking part in them entry into the gates of the All Merciful.

Seeking Solace

I was faithful even when I said, “I suffered terribly;”

I said in my panic, “All people are unreliable!”

 (Psalms 116:10-11)

Tziporah:

I am struck by the unflinching honesty of the Psalmist, who readily admits to human frailty in suffering.  Often, when we are distracted by pain, we allow its attendant anger to overtake us, and we blurt out terrible things about each other which we later regret. We seek relief in blaming someone else for our situation.  Sometimes we accuse each other; other times we denounce God.  This verse begins with a declaration of faith—I believed in God despite my suffering—and concludes with an admission of loss of faith.  The Psalmist reflects on a previous experience of suffering, when pain caused him to lose faith in humanity. Yet he maintained an unshakable faith in God.  I find solace in repeating this verse as a mantra; I feel my pain begin to dissipate.  I am confident that when I look back on this difficult time, my faith in God and others will have endured.

Grace:

I too am struck by the suffering Psalmist’s human declaration of faith undercut immediately by blame. For the cry of why is inevitable, the search for someone or something to blame natural, and the fear of God’s abandonment keen. From my Christian faith, I take comfort in observing that Jesus too, in his loneliest and most bitter hour, echoed another Psalm as he cried in anguish, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”[1] That moment of human agony, transformed by a divine spirit of compassion and forgiveness, shows me the redemptive power of love. I can affirm that the grace of God, often working in and through the caring of others, enables us to endure and, if we are willing, to grow spiritually through suffering; to find, even amid suffering, a “peace that passes understanding.”[2]

Yasmina:

Although the second part of the Psalmist’s statement sounds negative, I can read a more positive meaning; one that is deeper and parallel to my own belief.  He is saying that no “good” would come out of any human if it were not for the grace and mercy of God, and it is this trust in God that brought back his faith in others eventually. Personally, I take comfort in the words “for God is with those who patiently persevere,” which are repeated several times in the Quran. This notion is echoed in many of the sayings of the Prophet [Peace and Blessings be upon him], including “acknowledge God in ease and He will acknowledge you in distress.”[3]

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[1] Psalms 22:1

[2] Philippians 4:7

[3] Imam an-Nawawi’s 40 Hadith, Chapter 1, No. 19