Last night before turning out my light I was reading from one of my many spiritual books, “Awakenings” by Thomas Keating, considered by many to be the father of modern centering or contemplative prayer. He was reflecting on Luke 7:36-50, the story of the “sinful woman” who bathed Jesus’ feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. Jesus explained to his Pharisee host, who had provided none of the customary courtesies, that he or she who sins greatly and is forgiven is more appreciative than one who thinks they sin little. One who is forgiven much has greater love for the one who forgives them. It was a way of reminding the Pharisee that even though he considered himself upright, righteous, correct and pretty much free from sin, there were dark places he refused to go into and so would never find healing and forgiveness.
As I drifted off to sleep I thought about myself in my 20s, 30s, and 40s when I believed I was a good and righteous person who never broke any of the rules and always lived what I considered to be within the laws and bounds of being a good Christian. I was one of the upright people who looked down my nose at people who couldn’t seem to get their act together. I imagined others looked up to me. I was a Martha, to be sure, the older brother of the prodigal son, the workers who put in a full day and complained when the people who only worked an hour got the same wage. Yeah, I still go there sometimes.
Now at 60 I realize how much I had fooled myself then. Or maybe I’ve just gotten “badder” since then. Now, with greater wisdom, I can accept and acknowledge that I have many dark places, many sinful thoughts that often lead to sinful actions. I am filled with sin; it sometimes oozes out my pores. I’m not talking about morality issues here – which is where our minds automatically seem to go when we speak of sin. I have never killed anyone, or stolen anything, told any outrageous lies; I am not a particularly “loose” woman (I rarely have the chance to be, more’s the pity!). But my understanding of sin and darkness have changed significantly since I was young, in that first half of life when I thought I had everything figured out.
Thankfully I can also accept that I am human, very beloved not in spite of my humanness and failures but precisely because of them. Sin is part and parcel of being human, of having free will, and perfection is not in our gene pool. And I am in very good company: most of the saints and mystics talk about their own struggles with sin. But thankfully being lovable and loved unconditionally, being valued is also part of our heritage.
Richard Rohr says sinners are not “moral inferiors” but rather “people who do not know who they are and Whose they are, people who have no connection to their inherent dignity and importance.” I would add – as I’m sure he would approve of -- sinners are people who think they can save themselves by following rules. Rohr calls sin self-erected barriers that cut us off from God and therefore from our own authentic potential: “Fixations that prevent the energy of life, God’s love, from flowing freely.” So do I have fixations? Oh you betcha! And I know when I’m going there and I realize how damaging that is to me, to my relationships with others and most especially with God. But I do it anyway. I can’t seem to stop myself. Well, there I go, thinking I can “save” myself; it’s those times I really must – and usually do – turn to God for comfort and love. But I also have many wise friends I can turn to, as well.
I have toyed recently with the idea of our egos being Original Sin; it seems to be the source of so much of my own sin: my pride, envy, self-righteousness. It is our ego that insists on our moral superiority, that causes us to compare and judge to satisfy that hungry beast. Hmmm, wonder if those are the beasts Jesus sometimes referred to, lions or wolves waiting to devour us. Maybe he was talking about our own dark or shadow sides, the side that is unwilling to let go and let God. My spiritual director reminds me that our egos are part of us, an essential gift to help us through life. However, they can get out of control, overly fed perhaps and become gluttons, and it is then that we want to be gentle and kind to our ego, put it on a bit of a diet with healthier stuff, and help it not be so insecure and needy. It is then that we need to love ourselves and allow ourselves to be loved by God and others.
The journey continues and I have been thinking with all the struggles I’ve had with my own spiritual growth, getting on with my own further journey, perhaps I could someday help others negotiate the wasteland and find the oasis on the other side. (Not that I have yet, at least I don’t live there all the time, but if I were there all the time I probably wouldn’t appreciate it as much as when I return there from time to time. And I think out in the desert is where we learn and grow.) Yesterday, at the recommendation of a dear friend, I had a conference with a man who trains spiritual directors. I am strongly inclined to do this and he was very supportive and encouraging. It was so affirming and yet I know that affirmation appeals to the very ego that so often gets me into trouble. So there will be a little more discerning as to whether spiritual direction of others is a true path on which I am led. But right now it feels like a path on my journey that wasn’t there before. Sometimes those new, intriguing paths are there for a very good reason.
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