One of the best things about teaching my class on Spiritual Disciplines is the fact that I get to engage in practicing some discipline myself. I try to do this all the time, but like so many people, I find it is not easy to do by yourself. When I am teaching the class, that semester’s practice of discipline goes much better. Being responsible to myself and others in the class makes my motivation higher.
We use a number of books to help both students and myself understand the nature of spiritual disciplines. One of the books I use is by Barbara Brown Taylor, An Altar in the World. This book offers a simple look at all the possible disciplines within our reach. One such discipline is walking. In her chapter, “The Practice of Walking on the Earth, Taylor leads us through a deeper sense of how walking can be a spiritual discipline. And then, she assists us in making it a discipline of the Spirit. I try to walk every day, so this was a huge help for me. Let’s take a closer look of some of Taylor’s counsel.
Taylor shares some of her own walking experiences and, more importantly, things she learned in the process. She does not offer advice so much as suggestions. One of the more significant ones she provided me had to do with promises. She says rather bluntly that spiritual practices make only one promise: “The only promise they make is to teach those who engage in them what those practioners need to know---about being human, about being human with other people, about being human in creation, about being human before God.” These are such simple phrases, but they are worth picking apart and pondering.
I like the fact she says the spiritual practices only teach one thing, which is exactly what we need to know. It turns out, what I need to know is what every other human being needs to know. Let’s look at each one respectively.
The thing we need to know is about being human. This is either so general as to be useless. Or it is so profound and deep, it may take a lifetime to know. I opt for the latter choice. Spiritual practices should help us learn about being human. We all know there are many ways to be human. There are saints and there are a host of sinners. I have been in one camp; I hope to learn a little about the other saintly camp. I don’t think Jesus or Paul thought being a saint was being perfect. But becoming a saint did mean becoming better and more valuable than we are now.
The practice of walking teaches me I don’t have to always have a destination. I can use walking as a form of centering, as Quakers call it. If I can center myself, I leave behind the preoccupations of worldly things. These things are not bad in themselves; but they are not important enough to be preoccupied with. The Buddhists call this detaching. They warn us against our incessant cravings that lead to unhealthy attachment and potential addictions. At my center I discover a self that is ready for authentic encounter and deep engagement.
The second things spiritual practices will teach me is about being human with other people. It is easy---and probably wrong---to assume I already know all there is to know about this one. I have some friends and no real enemies. So what’s to learn? A great deal, I believe Taylor would say. What does it mean for me to be authentically and deeply human with another one? So many times, I relate to people out of whatever role I play: husband, father, teacher, etc. Am I real in each of these relationships? I assume I am, but maybe I need a walk to think it through more thoroughly.
The third thing spiritual practices teach is about being human in creation. I have to admit I have a ton to learn about this one. I am also confident that most folks think we have done this one well. But the clarion call of climate danger should alert all of us to realize what we are doing and how we do it needs to change. Maybe I am not human, but manipulator, sinner and destroyer of creation. I think there is some humility coming in the lesson. To walk is to enter the creation and spend some time in prayer and meditation. Open your heart to what is to be learned. I want to see myself a part of creation, not lording it over creation.
Finally, we engage spiritual practices in order to learn about being human before God. As a spiritual person, it is easy to assume I already know what this means and I do it. Therefore, I conclude I have nothing to learn. Actually, what I discover is I need some remedial learning! And maybe the first step is some unlearning. That funny word declares that some of what I think I know is either outdated or irrelevant. I like books. Maybe the practice I can better use is to go for a walk. Let God meet me in my movement.
I can practice a form of walking prayer, just as the Buddhist practices meditative walking. Maybe each step can be a form of prayer where with one step I say “please” and the other step “thank you.” I can be cynical and think: what are you going to learn about God that way? What this cynicism covers up though, is perhaps a fear or hesitancy to go for a walk. What if I do find God and discover God is someone different than I thought or wants something I don’t want?
That is the risk of faith. And the risk of the spiritual practice is it teaches us what we need to know.
We use a number of books to help both students and myself understand the nature of spiritual disciplines. One of the books I use is by Barbara Brown Taylor, An Altar in the World. This book offers a simple look at all the possible disciplines within our reach. One such discipline is walking. In her chapter, “The Practice of Walking on the Earth, Taylor leads us through a deeper sense of how walking can be a spiritual discipline. And then, she assists us in making it a discipline of the Spirit. I try to walk every day, so this was a huge help for me. Let’s take a closer look of some of Taylor’s counsel.
Taylor shares some of her own walking experiences and, more importantly, things she learned in the process. She does not offer advice so much as suggestions. One of the more significant ones she provided me had to do with promises. She says rather bluntly that spiritual practices make only one promise: “The only promise they make is to teach those who engage in them what those practioners need to know---about being human, about being human with other people, about being human in creation, about being human before God.” These are such simple phrases, but they are worth picking apart and pondering.
I like the fact she says the spiritual practices only teach one thing, which is exactly what we need to know. It turns out, what I need to know is what every other human being needs to know. Let’s look at each one respectively.
The thing we need to know is about being human. This is either so general as to be useless. Or it is so profound and deep, it may take a lifetime to know. I opt for the latter choice. Spiritual practices should help us learn about being human. We all know there are many ways to be human. There are saints and there are a host of sinners. I have been in one camp; I hope to learn a little about the other saintly camp. I don’t think Jesus or Paul thought being a saint was being perfect. But becoming a saint did mean becoming better and more valuable than we are now.
The practice of walking teaches me I don’t have to always have a destination. I can use walking as a form of centering, as Quakers call it. If I can center myself, I leave behind the preoccupations of worldly things. These things are not bad in themselves; but they are not important enough to be preoccupied with. The Buddhists call this detaching. They warn us against our incessant cravings that lead to unhealthy attachment and potential addictions. At my center I discover a self that is ready for authentic encounter and deep engagement.
The second things spiritual practices will teach me is about being human with other people. It is easy---and probably wrong---to assume I already know all there is to know about this one. I have some friends and no real enemies. So what’s to learn? A great deal, I believe Taylor would say. What does it mean for me to be authentically and deeply human with another one? So many times, I relate to people out of whatever role I play: husband, father, teacher, etc. Am I real in each of these relationships? I assume I am, but maybe I need a walk to think it through more thoroughly.
The third thing spiritual practices teach is about being human in creation. I have to admit I have a ton to learn about this one. I am also confident that most folks think we have done this one well. But the clarion call of climate danger should alert all of us to realize what we are doing and how we do it needs to change. Maybe I am not human, but manipulator, sinner and destroyer of creation. I think there is some humility coming in the lesson. To walk is to enter the creation and spend some time in prayer and meditation. Open your heart to what is to be learned. I want to see myself a part of creation, not lording it over creation.
Finally, we engage spiritual practices in order to learn about being human before God. As a spiritual person, it is easy to assume I already know what this means and I do it. Therefore, I conclude I have nothing to learn. Actually, what I discover is I need some remedial learning! And maybe the first step is some unlearning. That funny word declares that some of what I think I know is either outdated or irrelevant. I like books. Maybe the practice I can better use is to go for a walk. Let God meet me in my movement.
I can practice a form of walking prayer, just as the Buddhist practices meditative walking. Maybe each step can be a form of prayer where with one step I say “please” and the other step “thank you.” I can be cynical and think: what are you going to learn about God that way? What this cynicism covers up though, is perhaps a fear or hesitancy to go for a walk. What if I do find God and discover God is someone different than I thought or wants something I don’t want?
That is the risk of faith. And the risk of the spiritual practice is it teaches us what we need to know.
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