A Reflection on the New Year

Good-bye 2020

 

            I used to love making resolutions.  Every New Year’s Eve, there was something I knew I had to change, to try harder at, to give up or add in so that I would move in the direction of becoming the person I wanted to be.

            In these waning days of 2020, I thought that I had given up on resolutions.  Unlike many people, I am greeting the New Year with my immediate family healthy (knock wood) and still here, with a job that still provides health insurance and pays for our needs and wants.  Like many people, I realized last year how little control I have over many of my life circumstances, and more humbling, how little power I had in my own tiny microcosm.  As a teacher at a college that continued to meet in person, which would not have been my choice, I learned something about making due in challenging circumstances.  I found myself walking in darkness and looking for greater peace, and thanks to many friends and deep faith in this unfolding Mystery, I believe I am kind of, sort of, ready for 2021.

            One of the great things about the Spiritual path is that while there are many commonalities to our journeys, we each travel slightly different roads.  I wish I were a naturally cheerful person—I am, kind of, but depression and anxiety have been lifelong struggles for me.  This year, more than at any other time, I have prayed for a gentle spirit.  I have worked at cultivating hope.  The daily meditations from the Henri Nouwen society turned out to be the sustenance that I needed in this season, and I would not be entering 2021 with any degree of energy without the friends I have made on this spiritual journey.

            Much in our lives is beyond our control, but many of us still have choices—not only about what to do, but how to feel.  Cultivating hope and praying to see *every person, no exceptions* that I meet as one of God’s beloved are my challenges for 2021.  As with most resolutions, I will probably fail a bit along the way, but I think goals matter, so those are mine.

            As I look back on 2020, I feel exhausted, but also heartened—I tried harder than I ever have to encourage my students to succeed and to affirm their resilience.  I was more honest with my spiritual directors and small accountability groups, and tried to listen to their wisdom even when it was hard to hear.  When my life started drifting into anger and despair, I made myself wake up early, make time for God, and take the steps to move it back on course.  And I saw so many fellow travelers do the same.

             I truly pray that 2021 will be a year to move America itself towards a more common and hopeful vision, with greater racial and social justice enacted with both righteousness and love.  I will try to show up with daily faith that we can change ourselves, our families, our friendships, our country, and this world, by living more simply and with greater love.  There is no need, at present, to wonder if any of our work is needed.  It is.  The challenge for each of us, this year, is to stop waiting and start becoming the people we need to be for this world to be better.

            As 2020 draws to a close, take a minute to review the year.  Who and what sustained you?  Can you thank those people?  Thank them.  Where did you see God at work?  Maybe it wasn’t obvious at first, but keep looking.  Pay attention.  Be grateful for those moments of insight and consolation.  Where was God missing?  Where did you lose connection?  Where did you do less than you could have to move your own life and this world towards greater faith, hope and love?  Pray over those moments.  Ask for strength and insight to do something different this next year, knowing that God is present.

            And if you are seeking greater spiritual guidance—find it!  When we ask with an open heart, we receive.  If you are looking for perfection in your fellow humans on this journey, good luck—but if you want fellow travelers with sincere hearts and kindred spirits—they are out there.    What is your deepest desire for 2021? 

— Alison Umminger Mattison

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Lament

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I started writing this post a little over a week ago – before Trump became ill, before the debate, before Amy Coney Barrett was nominated. I was writing a post about the emotions that we are all feeling - anxiety, stress, depression. I wondered, what do we do with all this chaos? How do we keep a steady course even though the pandemic is raging around us, the environment is in flames, racial reckoning is taking a toll on us and our politics make it a challenge to love our neighbors? One week later these questions are even more pronounced, and we are more unsettled than ever.

I was going to talk about spiritual practices to reduce anxiety, but it seems to me that before we can talk about relieving anxiety, we need to acknowledge where we are at. The world we live in seems to be far from God’s Kingdom and careening off the rails. Things are messed up and we need help. Fortunately, the Hebrew scriptures provide a model for reaching out to God in the midst of turmoil and distress. The psalms are full of the voices of people pouring out anger, frustration and despair to God. “Where are you God?”” How could you let this happen?” “Destroy our enemies.” “Save us.” I think that God wants our honesty and can handle our complicated emotions. It is noteworthy that after the psalmist rants, rages and begs, almost all of the psalms of lament end with praise for God. It seems that after we let go of all that negative energy, we are more spiritually free and in a better position to acknowledge that we don’t have all the answers and to let God be God.

I invite you to open your heart to God and write your own psalm of lament. Here is mine:

Blessed are you LORD God, creator and sustainer of all that is.

We come to you knowing your special concern for the poor and the oppressed, the

migrant, the homeless, the sick and suffering.

We come to you knowing your delight in all that you have created,

the creation that you called “good.”

We come to you as your children, frightened and confused.

We come to you aware of our privilege and obligation to

work towards the establishment of your kingdom.

We have tried LORD.

We are trying; but we are confounded.

Where are you God?

Are you listening to us?

 

Look at us O God.

Look at our distress and have pity on us.

We are frightened. The pandemic rages around us.

Your children are sick and dying.

You have given us doctors and scientists to help us, but we don’t listen.

Masks and social distancing are viewed as evidence of weakness rather than love.

How can this be?

Where are you God?

Are you listening to us?

 

Look at us O God.

Look at our distress and have pity on us.

Do you see the fires raging and the storms battering us?

Do you see that this earth and its creatures are in danger?

Do you see how profit is put ahead of care for the earth?

Do you see how science is ignored?

Do you see how care for the earth is being replaced by having more at any cost?

Where are you God?

Are you listening to us?

 

Look at us O God.

Look at our distress and have pity on us.

Do you see the Proud Boys?

Do you see the swastikas and hate crimes?

Do you see all the black and brown people who are terrified?

Terrified that it is open season on them?

Terrified that in this world Black Lives don’t matter.

Where are you God?

Are you listening to us?

 

Look at us O God.

Look at our distress and have pity on us.

Do you see the children in cages at the border?

Do you see the little girl in an elementary school hallway being surrounded and

told to go back to Mexico?

Do you see the innocent elementary school children, their views distorted by hate

and fear, chanting: “Build a wall.”

We are frightened for these children and their parents.

We are disappointed that discrimination and hate have become the norm.

Where are you God?

Are you listening to us?

 

Look at us O God.

Look at our distress and have pity on us.

We are deeply sad that people in authority are still able to demean and assault women

with impunity.

How is it possible that so very many people are willing to turn a blind eye?

How is it possible that these same people say that they are your followers?

Where are you God?

Are you listening to us?

 

Look at us O God.

Look at our distress and have pity on us.

We are perplexed and bewildered.

We are angry, disappointed and sad.

We are sad that so many people can choose hateful rhetoric

instead of kindness and tolerance.

We are sad that rudeness and bullying are deemed acceptable.

We are sad that our children and grandchildren are exposed to models of

authority that are so opposed to your “sedeq” and “mishpat.”

Where are you God?

Are you listening to us?

 

We are afraid.

We feel abandoned.

We want to blame all of this on "others:"

-those who choose hate over love,

-those who choose greed over compassion.

Help us to make sense of this.

Help us to recognize how we are complicit in the hate and oppression.

Forgive us for the part we have played.

 

Help us to choose hope over despair, understanding over judgment,

inclusion over exclusion and compassion over bitterness.

Help us not spread resentment and instead choose integrity,

truth, kindness and love.

Help us to move forward, delighting to do our small parts in bringing forth

your kingdom.

 

We remember your promises and we praise you for your fidelity.

Even though we feel frightened and alone,

we know that you have not abandoned us

and we praise you for your never-ending

love, mercy and compassion.

We wait in joyful hope for the establishment of your kingdom

- the kingdom of justice and peace.

 

 Suanne