The Post Modern Preacher

In addition to the semester winding down, with papers on satyagraha and its ties to liberation along with the existential ascent of Rahner and Tillich, I'm working on filling my summer with preaching. July 8th I'm going to be at May Memorial, and I'm working on dates for First Church Salem and Barnard Universalist. Any ministers or summer worship coordinators still looking to fill Sundays feel free to email me.

Today was my last lecture in New Testament. Narrative, ever the post modern form of communication, showed the trouble with religious leadership. My professor told us this story after he concluded his lecture:

"When I was going through my second masters degree and my doctrate I was a preacher. One night a congregant called me telling me her husband had been killed by her neighbor. They had a property dispute, so the neighbor hid in the bushes and waited for her husband to come home and shot him. A couple of weeks later, she called me saying she needed his help in trying to forgive the neighbor. I was shocked, I'd never thought of forgiving the neighbor."

My professor went on to tell us how he knew more than she did about reading and interpreting texts, but she knew far more about religion than he ever would.

The paperwork for the Career Assessment Profile is daunting. I'd recommend to every future seminarian that one does not try and schedule their meeting three weeks after finals are over because it forces the paper work for the profile on top of final papers. The work is a nice chance for self reflection after my first year of seminary.

I will be preaching in Barnard, VT July 15th, 22nd, August 19th and 26th.
Still need to schedule which Sunday in August I'm preaching at Salem, MA (First Church)
I will be preaching in Syracuse, NY (May Memorial) July 8th

UU World article about UUism and its link with Buddhism

My coworker at the job which helps afford my seminary experience is the Reverend Dokuro Jaeckel, Abbot of Hôun-an, the Dharma Cloud Hermitage. He spent ten years as a monastic with Kyôzan Joshû Sasaki Rôshi, earning his ordination after seven years. How could I pass on the opportunity to meditate with him after he offered the invitation to visit the Cambridge Buddhist Association? I had done chair zazen before, I was prepared. The buzz that went along with the UU World article through the UU blogosphere added to my anticipation of what would happen.

After work, I quickly made it home, reheated some leftovers so I would have plenty of time after dinner to make it to the CBA by the start time. I'm to the bus stop for the 66 line at 6:30. An hour should give me enough time to get from Allston to Cambridge. The bus arrived at 6:50, and my anxiety grew. Ok, if I don't get lost, I should be able to make it. I make it to Harvard Square at 7:04. 26 minutes to go a mile, no problem. I plotted the map on my cell phone's GPS, and started walking. Wait, missing turns left and right because the streets around Harvard Square all turn and curve and don't follow the map. Damnit, I'm going to be late. Sweat seeps into my hair. It is 7:25, I'm still in Harvard Square, I feel panic in my stomach. Where is the unanxious presence that I'm cultivating? Damnit, where is the unanxious presence. Oh look, a hotel with cabs. I get in the cab, give the driver the address. He gives me a funny look. Why am I hiring him for a drive that's about a mile. Well, he takes me there, and I enter just at 7:30. I see Dokuro in his full robes, a sight different from the slacks, shirt, and tie he has at work. He smiles, guides me into the coat room where I take off my shoes and socks. The event starts as I'm taking off my shoes, so I have to wait until the first zazen to enter. I take a seat on the zabuton and take a pillow to sit on. I fold my legs and begin the zazen.

I count my breaths, I concentrate on emptiness, I've done this before, still sitting, in a chair, what difference does it make that I'm on pillows with crossed legs. I'm totally clear, wait, in my body my legs begin to ache. I loose sensation in them and now there are pins and needles shooting through my feet and legs. I feel the sweat rolling down my neck. I'm so not focused anymore. I breathe, I feel the breathe, I feel the pain, I'm very much in my body and not expanding to the absolute nothingness. The bell chimes twice, time to stand for the walking meditation. Wait, I try to stand but my legs won't move. Come legs, work, I'm your body, I'm your master, stand. I struggle to stand and almost fall. Dokuro comes over to make sure I'm ok and tells me if I can not stand I should stay seated. Well, it is time for the kinhin, and I try to walk but my legs are not being as responsive as I would like. This does not feel so meditative.

After the five minutes of kinhin, the bell rings and we sit. This time I take another pillow. Maybe I'll keep circulation with two pillows. I also keep my legs looser. Meditate. Nothingness. Absolute nonbeing in connection with everything. Time slips away. Oh, there are the legs again. This time I cheat. I straighten out my legs. Back to the oneness, back to the nothingness. Bell rings, I am able to stand and walk, score! The kinhin goes without a hitch.

I sit for the final zazen. This includes a dharma lesson for the evening. I sit, I listen, I straighten my legs, this feels meditative. The message is on impermanence. Time slips, when the final kinhin starts I feel actively a part of the atmosphere instead of this alien being observing something seperate. I walk, when the bell chimes, I sit, there is now the formal tea. Ok, I've never done this. I mess up the first time but the second time I think I do it properly. I'm not sure what this is supposed to mean, but the tea itself is tasty. Chanting happens, and then it is over. Dokuro gives me the grand tour, and invites me to come again.

The walk back to Harvard Square is much shorter than getting to the center in the first place. I'm home by 9:30 when I'd left the building by 9. As I walk, I do feel more at ease, more calm. This was much more than a half hour of sitting in a chair thinking of nothingness.

Next time, I'll try not to go in jeans which will rip.

As on CNN.com, Cindy Sheehan is packing it up and calling it quits. I have empathy for anyone who would demand an answer for why her son was killed. It is not natural for parents to outlive their children in this age. Many have villified her. At the end of the day she was a mother of a dead son, she fought for peace, and she tried to walk humbly when others called for Sheehan for president.