In my spiritual direction session, I was saying how I wished I had done a better job of preparing for this journey. Yesterday, I ordered a few books from Amazon that I had first looked at back in February but then forgotten about. One of them, called Israel: A Spiritual Travel Guide: A Companion for the Modern Jewish Pilgrim, is written by Lawrence Hoffman (who is a rabbi), and recommends taking three weeks to prepare for a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, the three-week motif borrowing from ancient rabbinic wisdom about preparing for Passover (17).* The rabbi offers two ways of moving through his eighteen reflections -- one each day for three weeks, or six reflections on each of the three Sabbaths leading up to the pilgrimage. As I read the rabbi's words, I felt a twinge of guilt:
"Whether you cover one reading a day or six on each Shabbat, the main thing is to take three weeks to go through them all. Do not cram the night before you leave." (17)
Gulp. This book will arrive on my doorstep tomorrow, May 18. (I'm able to quote from it now by using Amazon's "Look Inside!" feature.) I leave May 19. What was this about not cramming the night before you leave? Whoops. Sorry, Rabbi Hoffman.
My spiritual director asked me what it would look like to be "spiritually prepared" for such a journey -- i.e., what do I wish I had done in the weeks preceding this trip?
My answer was that I wish I had read and meditated on more Scripture, and kept more silence in order to open myself to whatever stirrings within may be communicating God's word to me at this particular moment. I've done a pretty good job of the physical and logistical "preparations" -- hence my frantic day of errands today -- but I have neglected the spiritual preparations.
In the course of our meeting, my spiritual director offered that she thought it might be a good practice for me to remember to be still during this pilgrimage. My mind (and my mouth!) tends to run a million miles an hour at times, and slowing down has always been an important spiritual discipline for me. During my discernment year in Nebraska (2006-07), I discovered the immense spiritual value that silent retreats have for me. I made it a goal to spend one full day in silence each month. I did that for the rest of my time in Nebraska, but once I moved to Atlanta I never recovered the practice and I haven't since then.
Lately I've been allowing myself to go months without a day of silence, relying only on the seminary's required "Quiet Days" twice a year to give me space for silence -- and they aren't really quiet days anyway, considering that at least half the time is spent listening to a speaker. My idea of a quiet day is that NOBODY talks, all day. I don't talk to anyone and I'm not talked to either. I need the intentional stoppage of the constant informational input in order to be still long enough to listen to God. That's not something I can do in one hour of silence between lectures. I need a good eight hours or more before my mind really starts to quiet down.
I've intentionally designated several days during the three weeks to be silent days. After my meeting today, I think I'll give a bit more attention to those days.
The Kabbalists [Jewish mystics] begin their prayers by saying, 'Hin'ni mukhan um'zuman' -- 'Here I am, ready and prepared.' But why both 'ready' and 'prepared'? Why the redundancy? 'Ready' means outfitted physically -- prayer book in hand, dressed correctly. 'Prepared' means outfitted within, like an athlete or musician who knows that running shoes and tuned violin strings are only half of what goes into a great performance. The other half is kavvanah [literally, "directed intention," a rabbinic term used to describe mental devotion in prayer.] .
--Lawrence Hoffman, Israel: A Spiritual Travel Guide (18)
* Numbers in parentheses refer to the page number in the aforementioned book where the material comes from.
No comments:
Post a Comment