It has been seven months since the Vicar of the Congregation of St. Saviour at the Cathedral Church of St. John the Divine asked me to be the resource person for the Pastoral Care Committee’s Prayer Group. From the beginning and to this point in our meetings, we used my “Boulder Writings” as an example for comprehending the action, re-action and answer that are the rhythm of prayer. The writings were also an illustration for our need to have a special place and space for prayer, although that met with some disagreement. A boulder in Central Park is my place to pray, weather permitting, and it was from experiences of prayer there that the “Boulder Writings” came into being. We already had several meetings devoted to Listening; the cornerstone of prayer. Then a few sessions in the practice of “Seeing” from within — through the eyes of our hearts. All of this is done to enhance the prayer life of the group and bring them to a more intrinsic form of intercessory prayer beyond just saying words — to lay open the needlessness of words to God (it is really we who need the words) and enter into “Active Prayer — being and becoming an active participant in the unity and oneness of creation.” There we use our imagination, our body and mind to convey our prayer to God on behalf of others; this is “prayer involvement.” The group would realize the ultimate end to these practices later on through music meditation and later still, being a conduit, or better yet, a reservoir of God’s grace to those for whom we pray. This is where our practice of “seeing” becomes valuable; visualizing those for whom we pray, and laying hands upon them all from within the context of a meditation.

For the first music meditation, a small group attended; I really did not expect too many people to come, for I knew that if we did not publicize this meditation, the right people would be there. Before the session, and before too many arrived, I adjusted the volume of the tape player so that the music would be loud enough to be incorporated into our meditation. It would probably carry through the cathedral. I positioned the speakers so that they were facing the altar in the chapel, thus dispersing the sound more evenly.

I start these sessions explaining the progression of steps involved with this process. The goal for the meditation is the act of going to the altar to place your “self” on that altar by means of laying upon it everything that you are. There, place your joys, sorrows, your happiness, hates, disappointments, misgivings and especially your love. Place there also any other thing that you feel would hold you back from becoming more whole. Offer these things to God. At the end of the meditation, when the music stops, keep your eyes closed; I then sound a Tibetan chime. Listen and enjoy the chime's tone until it stops. I continue on with a relaxation and breathing exercise to start a flow of inner creative energy, along with some slow-motion neck-rolls to release tension. Allow the music to carry you wherever you need to go in meditation. I begin to play the tape.

I had prepared and recorded this tape about 11 years ago in preparation for a four-week Advent Series at a church in Staten Island. The tape contains Russian liturgical music sung by The Glinka Choir of Russia, recorded at the Bolshoi Theatre in 1988; it is quite a stunning work of artistry and engineering.

I always joyfully anticipate the sounding of the chime. I can never forget the time, some 30 years ago, when my meditation instructor sounded a similar chime for me. It was quite a surprise and, in retrospect, a gift. I was in deep meditation and within a great silence, and then suddenly the chime rang out. I only heard the sharp strike in the distance, but the knelling that ensued slowly floated in the air across the room toward me, like a fragrance floating on a breeze. The sound came closer and closer, summoning me to greater depth and openness. Cascading rings of sound slipped over and around me, holding me, binding me to a certain unexplainable freedom. It is one of those orgasmic experiences you just never forget. I always hope that someone in each group allows this type experience to happen. To the onlooker, it is like watching a young child in awe and enamored by their first observance of a colorful fluttering butterfly.

To start the sharing process, I ask a simple but non-threatening question — one that will in and of itself lead to deeper sharing. “How did the music affect you when it first began?” It was the first and last question I asked to get the ball rolling.

Two people experienced heat and energy tingling in their bodies. One person had difficulty approaching the altar in meditation, but did so eventually by floating in the air to get there. Another person could not get beyond the steps of the altar. She felt heat in her hands and energy coming from her hands. “But, I am ‘holding’” was the term she used to describe her experience. “Holding back?” I asked. “No, just holding. I can’t explain it. I feel it in my body” as she pointed to her arms and her neck and face. Then later, after she had some thought about it, she said, “It is a resistance ... we know that God loves us, but do we love God?” With that statement her eyes swelled up with tears, knowing she could not attain her goal to be at the altar. “Can I give you a hug?” I asked, with my arms open wide. She nodded a coy yes, her mouth contorted in an effort to hold back emotion. She had come to the threshold of an understanding by seeing a lack within herself but could not step over that threshold to a freedom. She had arrived at a pivotal point but backed away, and what had been a threshold to life now becomes a barrier to life.

Three days later, I phoned to see how she was and if she had furthered her interior exam of that experience. “Oh, well thank you for calling, but that was really nothing, I go through that from time to time,” she said. I answered, “I felt that if you pursued that revelation you would be entering into a type of resurrection.” “Oh, well,” she said with a lighthearted voice, “then I’ll wait for it.” I knew then she had withdrawn and sealed the experience away for another occasion. We do not bide time waiting for resurrection. As we well know, it takes action. It takes faith. It takes sacrifice.

Holy Week and Easter church services are focused on Jesus and His suffering, His death and resurrection, as well they should be. But we, as followers, and dare I say disciples, of Christ need to align ourselves along His pattern with our own suffering, death and resurrection. This is a life-changing event. But the matter of turning is truly in our hands as it was in Jesus’ hands when, in the Garden of Gethsemane, he prayed, "Father, if thou art willing, remove this cup from me." But Jesus had a trusting relationship with God, and he knew that God had a trusting and loving relationship with him, and knowing this in his heart, he was then able to conclude that statement saying, "nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done."

There is an Alleluia in Lent. The season of repentance is designed to bring us to this hidden Alleluia, although we seem to miss this mark and skid right past it; the wealth of it for us being entirely overlooked. For me, it seems we jump right into Easter without taking a breath, and my interior pace can not keep up with the rigid prescriptions laid out for us in the church calendar for the various aspects of Lent, particularly Holy Week. The Lenten Alleluia rests at a crucial pivotal point in our Christian Life, whatever the season or hour. It occurs when we come to the precipice of change. There, teetering on the edge, we either regain our balance and stand upright, seizing the moment, running the race and gaining the prize, or we retreat and fall flat into our own old self. This precipice of change is not our future, nor it is our past; it is an interim place to be, our own type of interior Garden of Gethsemane. It is here that the pros and cons of our direction will be played out in very quick fashion. It is here that our willfulness is meant to be employed. This is the Holy Thursday in our lives.

For us this Alleluia comes upon us as abruptly as a drinking glass suddenly slipping from our hand and smashing into pieces on the floor — completely unexpected and out of our control. At that moment, we display an uncontrollable exclamation, a kind of surprised but sorrowful sound. So it is in our spiritual life as well. We become aware of the hidden Alleluia when we come face to face with a shortcoming, and the “Light” of it comes abruptly into consciousness. At that moment, in a split second, in the blink of an eye, we have made room within us for God to enter. Simultaneously, we are given a choice to do one of two things: betray our full potential by falling back into our old self, or move forward toward a personal transformation, a resurrection to new Life. Let us look at each of these choices.

One. We can choose to back away from our revelation out of fear of change and fear of letting go, thereby allowing revelation to fizzle out on us. This benefits only the ego of its owner, keeping the person from a wholeness. This stumbling-block, coupled with resistance and fear of change, makes for an ongoing repeat performance. The discomfort is great, yet at the same time the discomfort is at least familiar. Compared with the frightening unknown, our old discomfort is a comfort. This scenario becomes the “comfortable” resolve until the tumultuous winds of life return again. In the interim, we retreat and brush off the experience as “nothing,” and it saddens me to see this happen.

Two. We can blast through the hesitation, forcing ourselves to push on past fear and resistance in order to have a whole relationship with ourselves, our Lord and our God and with all creation. Choosing this fork in the road is most difficult, but it is the most rewarding since it transforms the stumbling block into a stepping stone. In this way, we break free from its hold, which had kept us from reaching our goal of a greater loving relationship with our Lord and God and with all creation. This resolve is very necessary for our Christian living and for our prayer as intercessors.

Jesus came into the world for what actually was, comparatively speaking, a split second in time. He is “the Light that comes into the world,” the “Anointed One” who comes into salvation history to change the very direction of our lives toward a mutual loving relationship with our God and a wholeness for us. How paradoxical that in the process of Crucifying Him, we actually killed ourselves. We cut ourselves off from the One who came to teach us, to heal us and to love us. We cut ourselves off from an intimate loving relationship and from wholeness, instead of changing the woof and warp in the flimsy fabric of unfulfilled life.

How easy it is even for us today to say, “Crucify, Crucify” when it comes to killing off the very “light that comes abruptly into consciousness,” an awareness that can change our lives to a mutual loving relationship with our God and a wholeness for us. The very vehicle that comes unexpectedly into existence for a split second in time that can change our lives forever we still kill!

We simply cannot share the “fruit of our being,” obtained by our being with God for the good of all humanity, if we constantly run and turn back from the freedom that becomes open to us in that relationship. That is where we bud, bloom and blossom. The world is drawn to the fragrance of that blossoming fruit, and in it the apostolic work we are called to do is love.

I don’t believe anyone ever said that following Jesus was going to be easy, but without an active relationship with Him, we of ourselves can do nothing. Without sacrifice of self, we can have no relationship with Him. And if we have no relationship with Him, we have no prayer in us.

The hidden Alleluia is never said; it is not verbal. Granted, it takes a certain gutsiness to come to openness and wholeness by the reordering the priority of our ego, that part of ourselves that keeps us back from becoming more than we are. By keeping ego in its proper perspective and place (certainly not first), we begin to face our failings and to face our resistance and hesitation to personal and spiritual growth. This sudden and acute awareness of our imperfection alone is worth all of life, and it is at this pivotal point of awakening, in that split second awesome awareness that we experience the hidden Alleluia in Lent. We are taken by surprise and make a sharp inhaled exclamation kind of sound, just like when a glass slips out of our hand and breaks, like when our old self slips out from our control.

Immediately and unexpectedly, we become free — we break open. Free to become free. We break open and breathe the new breath of new life. We become free to become more. We become more to undergo our own transformation and a resurrection from those things that are our death in us. From this we celebrate our Easter, sharing and gifting away our newly found prize, but only if we dare to let it happen.

Now, you’ve got to admit, transformation of self is far better and more rewarding than hesitating or stopping the birth pangs of a renewed spiritual life. And better yet than giving up chocolate, candy bars or movies for Lent. However, what you wish to give up is entirely up to you, since it is your action that dictates the outcome.

Knock, and it will be opened to you. Step across the threshold, our Lord awaits you. We need to take the initiative and go for it, for as Jesus warns us, “Once the hand is laid on the plow, no one who looks back is fit for the kingdom of God” (Luke 9:52). Give your gift of self to Him without reservation, and you will become more than you can possibly imagine. So, why hesitate?

I appeal to you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship. Do not be conformed to this world but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that you may prove what is the will of God, what is acceptable and perfect.
— Romans 12:1, 2 RSV

. . . if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation, the old has passed away, behold the new has come.
— 2 Corinthians 5:17 - RSV

BACK