An Altar in the World, Chapter 1: The Practice of Waking up to God
Reflections and Discussion
Vision
MaryAnn McKibben Dana
Focus Scripture:
Genesis 32:22-30, 33:18-20 (Jacob wrestles with an angel; Jacob erects an altar)
I. Reflection
Wake up!
What a perfect place to begin a book on spiritual practices. Without waking up to the world, there’s not much chance of participating in the other practices Barbara discusses with any kind of intention or integrity. The first chapter invites us out of a spiritual sleepwalking into embracing the holy in the ordinary moments of our lives.
In chapter 1 Barbara talks about “cracking our shins” on all the altars in the world—all the sacred places that are around us all the time. My children are my best teachers in this. Caroline in particular is awake to the world in a way that I can only aspire to be. Her gift is finding four-leaf clovers. We have dozens of them, pressed between the pages of our children’s Bible. She has an almost supernatural ability to see these rare beauties. Sometimes she will crouch down and search for them, often straightening up with a fistful. Other times she will just be walking along and suddenly stop, reach down, and pluck one up, all in a single fluid motion. She is awake to the possibility of the magic of a four-leaf clover, long after I have given up the search as “too hard.”
Barbara encourages us to cultivate a sense of vision, of seeing with the eyes of the Holy.
As I read her call to action (or perhaps contemplation) in chapter 1 of this book I am reminded of Mary Oliver’s poem “When Death Comes”:
When it’s over, I want to say:
all my life I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom,
taking the world into my arms…
I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.
Let us begin!
II. Application
Quotes from the chapter that warrant further thought:
“Who had persuaded me that God preferred four walls and a roof to wide open spaces? When had I made the subtle switch myself, becoming convinced that church bodies and buildings were the safest and most reliable place to encounter the living God?” p. 4
“We wanted More. We wanted a deeper sense of purpose. We wanted a stronger sense of God’s presence… And yet the only way most of us knew to get that was to spend more time in church. So we volunteered more, dreamed up more programs, invited more people to more classes where we could read more books.” p. 6
“In biblical terms, it is wisdom we need to live together in this world. Wisdom is not gained by knowing what is right. Wisdom is gained by practicing what is right, and noticing what happens when that practice succeeds and when it fails.” p. 14
“Human beings may separate things into as many piles as we wish—separating spirit from flesh, sacred from secular, church from world. But we should not be surprised when God does not recognize the distinctions we make between the two. Earth is so thick with divine possibility that it is a wonder we can walk anywhere without cracking our shins on altars.” p. 15
III. Questions for Discussion
Barbara writes: “In my experience, every place has its own spirit, its own character and depth. If I had grown up in the Arizona desert, I would be a different person than the one who grew up in a leafy suburb of Atlanta.” p. 2 Do you agree about the spirit of a place? In what ways have you been formed by the place you’re from?
What do the words “secular” and “sacred” mean to you? Do you agree that there is a distinction between the two? What makes something “sacred” to you?
In what ways does the church teach us to be suspicious of the world?
How do you respond to Barbara’s claim that wisdom is to be found in practices rather than knowing?
Where does God “show up” for you?
IV. Closing
Hymn: “Be Thou My Vision”
An Altar in the World, Chapter 2: The Practice of Paying Attention
Reflections and Discussion Questions
Reverence
Leslie A. Klingensmith
Focus Scripture: Exodus 3:1-5
I. Reflection
My two sons and I step into the hothouse, eager to see the profusion of color of thousands of butterflies swooping around a confined space. There is a hush in the room, as people observe the splashy orange, blue, black, brown, red, and green creatures flying around them. Young as they are, my boys understand that this place is special. Their eyes widen in wonder, and they speak in whispers. As we shift into a mode of looking more slowly, we begin to see the intricate patterns and subtle colorations of the butterflies.
At first we move a lot, trying to see everything. Then we become still as statues, waiting for the coveted experience of a butterfly delicately landing on an arm or shoulder. I look down at my 3-year-old, and a magnificent viceroy, all splendid orange and black, has landed on his head. He cannot see the creature, but he senses its presence. His eyes light up and his face bursts into a grin. “Mommy,” he says with awe, “this butterfly wants to be my friend.”
We leave the butterfly house and wind around the park, stopping to examine any garden or fountain that catches our fancy. We linger at the turtle pond, leaning down from the Chinese gazebo and staring into the murky surface of the water. At first it looks just like greenish pond water, but our eyes adjust and we see the flash of koi swimming under us and bobbing up to the surface. We begin to see unbelievable numbers of turtles, all different sizes and shapes. The boys try to count the turtles, but there are too many of them and they are moving around too much. I watch them watch the turtles. Impatience and exasperation from earlier in the day fall away. My heart aches with love for them, and I hope to always remember this day.
Back on the path, we run into a labyrinth. This must be new, I think to myself. It hasn’t been here before. “A maze!” the boys shout with glee. “Can we walk around in the maze?” “Sure,” I reply. “Can we take off our shoes?” I am about to say no, that their feet will get dirty and the ground will be hot. Then I think “Why not? I still love to go barefoot.” So we all take off our shoes. We walk from the outside of the circle to the center, and then back out. Samuel and Greer are fascinated by the experience and want to do it again. This time, I lean against a large rock, the sun warming my face, and watch them. “I hope it is always like this for them,” I think to myself. I hope they always jump into the unknown with this kind of joy. I hope they come to understand that you do not have to know the whole way to the center, you just have to trust yourself to take the next step.”
It’s time to go home. We are thirsty and nudging up to crankiness, but still euphoric over our time at Brookside Gardens. We stop and the water fountain on our way to the car, and the ice cold water revives us. After settling the children in their carseats, I buckle my own seatbelt and turn the key in the ignition. “Surely the Lord was in this place today,” I think to myself. “And for once I DID know it.”
II. Application
I took my children to the butterfly show at Brookside Gardens about a week after I read An Altar in the World for the first time. Something about the setting, the opportunities to observe the loveliness of so many different aspects of Creation, brought Barbara Brown Taylor’s words to mind. I took the opportunity that day to practice the practice of paying attention, the cultivation of reverence. So often we move through life in such a hurry that we miss the moments of grace that surround us, if we only take the time to be aware. A close friend of mine once said in her own spiritual journey “I am increasingly committed to noticing. Perhaps that is one of the better definitions of reverence I have heard – a commitment to noticing.
Quotes from the chapter that warrant further thought:
“I learned by my father’s example that reverence was the proper attitude of a small and curious human being in a vast and fascinating world of experience (p. 19).”
“The practices that nourish reverence in a human life: paying attention, taking care, respecting things that can kill you, making the passage from fear to awe (p. 20).”
“Classical philosopher Paul Woodruff argues that true reverence cannot be for anything that human beings can make or manage by ourselves (p. 21).”
Reverence stands in awe of something-something that dwarfs the self-that allows human beings to see the full extent of our limits-so that we can begin to see one another more reverently as well (p. 21).”
‘“I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don’t notice it,’ says Shug Avery, one of the wise women inn Alice Walker’s book The Color Purple.” (p. 26)
Regarded properly, anything can become a sacrament, by which I mean an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual connection (p. 30).”
III) Questions for Discussion
1) Are there places or times when you feel particularly reverent?
2) What are the most common distractions that prevent you from paying attention?
3) From whom can we learn to pay attention?
4) Of what do we stand in awe?
5) Do you agree with Paul Woodruff’s quote that true reverence cannot be for anything that we human beings can make or manage by ourselves? Why or why not?
6) What are some “sacraments” that bring you spiritual fulfillment or joy?
IV) Closing
The group prays together for discernment in experiencing the holy in everyday life.
An Altar in the World, Chapter 3: The Practice of Wearing Skin: Incarnation
Scripture:
John 12:1-8 (Mary anointing Jesus’ feet)
Song of Solomon (pick a verse!)
I. Reflection
Have you ever stood in front of a mirror, naked, as you prayed? It sounds like the makings for a “come to Jesus” moment, doesn’t it?
How do we really feel about the skin we’re in? L’Oreal tells us to slather lotion on ourselves, Dove exhorts us to accept ourselves with their pro-age line, and Botox assures us that we can fool the clock. But how many of us really embrace the bodies we inhabit?
Christianity has a long tradition of being suspicious of bodies, at best. Why else would the Catholic Church insist that Mary was a Virgin all of her live-long life, despite the existence of Jesus’ brother, James? Why else would evangelicals embrace “abstinence-based sex education” despite the above-average conception rate of their teens? Maybe we’re more than a bit embarrassed about the incarnation!
And yet, there are gifts in incarnation: Jesus’ and ours. Perhaps one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever witnessed was at the deathbed of a very old woman. As her very old husband stroked her forehead with a liver-spotted hand, there was some sort of shift in my vision, and I saw her as he did: a body that had pleased him countless times, that had borne him two children, that had been his companion for more than fifty years. She, with her sunken eyes, thinning hair, and bluish cheeks, was as beautiful to me as my own infant daughter at home, she with her rounded curves and engaging dimples. I realized they were both female bodies, equally beautiful, and equally loved by God.
II. Application
Quotes from the chapter that warrant further thought:
“Sometimes when I was praying, my body could not tell the difference between that and making love. Every cell in my body rose to the occasion, so that I felt the prayer prick my breasts and warm my belly.” (p 39)
“It is easier to lie with the lips than with the body.” (p 41)
“Wearing my skin is not a solitary practice but one that brings me into communion with all these other embodied souls. It is what we have most in common with one another.” (p 42)
“The questions people ask about God in Sunday school rarely compare with the questions we ask while we are in the hospital. . . . Why me? Why now? Why this?” (p 43)
“Daniel Berrigan once said, “It all comes down to this: Whose flesh are you touching and why? Whose flesh are you recoiling from and why? Whose flesh are you burning and why?” (p 45)
“The practice of wearing skin is so obvious that almost no one engages it as spiritual practice, yet here is a place to begin: with tears, aches, moans, gooseflesh, heat. The body knows — not just the individual body, but the cathedral we make when we bend our bodies together over one as good as dead. Doing that, we act out the thing we know for sure: it is God’s will that these bones live.” (p 51)
III. Questions for Discussion
1. Barbara begins the chapter by describing a stained glass representation of Jesus. Do you remember being mesmerized by pictures of Jesus’ body throughout your life? Which ones grabbed your imagination, or, conversely, were disturbing to you? Why?
2. Barbara writes, “I am not sure when Christian tradition lost confidence in the body, but I have some guesses.” (p. 40) What are your guesses? How do you see Christianity moving away from an embrace of the body?
3. If you felt really grateful for your body, would that change your daily routine of self-care? How?
4. Is a pedicure as close as we come to the ritual of footwashing? And if it is, what have we lost?
5. Have you ever wondered why we pray publicly for diseases of the body, rather than the soul, but only if they occur in non-embarrassing body parts? Spleens can be mentioned in church, but not prostates. How could we change our practice of public prayer to be more body-affirming?
6. After a catastrophe like an earthquake or tsunami, how is your response shaped by the physicality of the suffering?
7. Has the act of lovemaking ever seemed holy to you?
IV. Closing
“Making a Fist” by Naomi Shihab Nye
We forget that we are all dead men conversing with dead men.
-- Jorge Luis Borges
For the first time, on the road north of Tampico,
I felt the life sliding out of me,
a drum in the desert, harder and harder to hear.
I was seven, I lay in the car
watching palm trees swirl a sickening pattern past the glass.
My stomach was a melon split wide inside my skin.
"How do you know if you are going to die?"
I begged my mother.
We had been traveling for days.
With strange confidence she answered,
"When you can no longer make a fist."
Years later I smile to think of that journey,
the borders we must cross separately,
stamped with our unanswerable woes.
I who did not die, who am still living,
still lying in the backseat behind all my questions,
clenching and opening one small hand.