The Next Piece
This piece follows my last entry from my writings on forgiveness..thank you for reading.
I. Washboqlan (Forgive Us Our Sins)
Gandhi said, “...be the change you wish to see in the world.”5 This power that can change the world, begins within us. Untying the threads that bind us, or forgiveness, is the meaning of the Aramaic word washboqlan, (pronounced Washboklan) found in the Aramaic version of the Lord’s Prayer.6 The threads that have gotten all tangled up all around my heart, by the grace of God, have begun to untie themselves. It was dark in there. And it is by holding the light of grace, that I could even begin to see what, and where, the bunches of knots were. And because of the power of this grace, it is with humility that I approach the Washboqlan of my life. I am invited to create space for the light to shine on the darkness within. Jim Garrison, in his book Civilization and the Transformation of Power, says, “We are called upon to be strong by being receptive vessels through which the Spirit can work. Our life, our ego, must be offered up upon the altar of the Great Alchemist.”7 When Jesus would heal, it is said he would command, Efutah!, which in Aramaic means, create space for God to heal.8 It was not Jesus doing the healing. He reminds us to open, to be receptive. He taught us by who he was, to trust the Feminine, the receptive and healing nature of Life. Errico speaks to this healing saying, “[Jesus] knew, through his own experiences of life and through his study of the Scriptures, that Nature does not blame or “point its finger” when things go wrong. Nature always endeavors to heal or correct an injury or hurt...and, the life force in [the] body immediately rushes to the aid of the injured area...The body does not attempt to seek out the one who did the damage. Its only interest is to repair the wound.”9 The Hebrew word, kadosh, means space created for God to heal in.10 We must face pain and discomfort to create space for God. Through self reflection, spiritual practice, and solitude we till this land of kadosh, open space. It is in this open space that we may come to know exactly what Jesus taught and embodied. And from that open space, we serve this world with a great, big Love.
What do I fear? What takes me away from tilling the soil of my heart? Death is the ultimate darkness. And in our culture, death is something we fear, rather than embrace as a cycle of our lives. As William Bridges, author of Transitions: Making Sense of Life’s Changes tells us, “First there is an ending, then a beginning, with an important empty of fallow time, in between. That is the order of things in nature. Leaf-fall, winter, and then the green emerges again from the dry, brown wood. Human affairs flow along similar channels, or they would if we were better able to stay in that current.”11 We have sanitized death, put it behind closed doors and, as a culture, we keep our mouths shut about it. It is amazing that such a natural part of life could be so shunned.
In addition to fearing death, we as a culture would much rather be right, than be humble. And, in the cultural landscape of right and wrong in which we live, loving our enemy seems about the last thing any of us wish, or even know how, to do. Embracing death, and loving that which we detest, has everything to do with the grace of God. And everything to do with forgiveness and reconciliation. Can we reconcile that we are not permanent? When we recognize this impermanence, we are invited to wake up to the fragile gift that this life is. Mary Oliver, asks us, in her poem The Summer Day, “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”12 What do we plan to do? Are we willing to listen to that whisper and follow that star into the unknown? And, can we consider the possibility of loving what we hate? And committing to all of life, not just the parts that we prefer? Is grace that powerful that, if we allow it, will transform our hatred, our anger, our darkness? Will it open our hearts to possibilities well beyond anything our minds could ever dream of? We are told in John 1:5, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.”13 Forgiveness leads us to the light. Redemptive power is born from this light, and planted in our reconciling hearts.
I. Washboqlan (Forgive Us Our Sins)
Gandhi said, “...be the change you wish to see in the world.”5 This power that can change the world, begins within us. Untying the threads that bind us, or forgiveness, is the meaning of the Aramaic word washboqlan, (pronounced Washboklan) found in the Aramaic version of the Lord’s Prayer.6 The threads that have gotten all tangled up all around my heart, by the grace of God, have begun to untie themselves. It was dark in there. And it is by holding the light of grace, that I could even begin to see what, and where, the bunches of knots were. And because of the power of this grace, it is with humility that I approach the Washboqlan of my life. I am invited to create space for the light to shine on the darkness within. Jim Garrison, in his book Civilization and the Transformation of Power, says, “We are called upon to be strong by being receptive vessels through which the Spirit can work. Our life, our ego, must be offered up upon the altar of the Great Alchemist.”7 When Jesus would heal, it is said he would command, Efutah!, which in Aramaic means, create space for God to heal.8 It was not Jesus doing the healing. He reminds us to open, to be receptive. He taught us by who he was, to trust the Feminine, the receptive and healing nature of Life. Errico speaks to this healing saying, “[Jesus] knew, through his own experiences of life and through his study of the Scriptures, that Nature does not blame or “point its finger” when things go wrong. Nature always endeavors to heal or correct an injury or hurt...and, the life force in [the] body immediately rushes to the aid of the injured area...The body does not attempt to seek out the one who did the damage. Its only interest is to repair the wound.”9 The Hebrew word, kadosh, means space created for God to heal in.10 We must face pain and discomfort to create space for God. Through self reflection, spiritual practice, and solitude we till this land of kadosh, open space. It is in this open space that we may come to know exactly what Jesus taught and embodied. And from that open space, we serve this world with a great, big Love.
What do I fear? What takes me away from tilling the soil of my heart? Death is the ultimate darkness. And in our culture, death is something we fear, rather than embrace as a cycle of our lives. As William Bridges, author of Transitions: Making Sense of Life’s Changes tells us, “First there is an ending, then a beginning, with an important empty of fallow time, in between. That is the order of things in nature. Leaf-fall, winter, and then the green emerges again from the dry, brown wood. Human affairs flow along similar channels, or they would if we were better able to stay in that current.”11 We have sanitized death, put it behind closed doors and, as a culture, we keep our mouths shut about it. It is amazing that such a natural part of life could be so shunned.
In addition to fearing death, we as a culture would much rather be right, than be humble. And, in the cultural landscape of right and wrong in which we live, loving our enemy seems about the last thing any of us wish, or even know how, to do. Embracing death, and loving that which we detest, has everything to do with the grace of God. And everything to do with forgiveness and reconciliation. Can we reconcile that we are not permanent? When we recognize this impermanence, we are invited to wake up to the fragile gift that this life is. Mary Oliver, asks us, in her poem The Summer Day, “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”12 What do we plan to do? Are we willing to listen to that whisper and follow that star into the unknown? And, can we consider the possibility of loving what we hate? And committing to all of life, not just the parts that we prefer? Is grace that powerful that, if we allow it, will transform our hatred, our anger, our darkness? Will it open our hearts to possibilities well beyond anything our minds could ever dream of? We are told in John 1:5, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.”13 Forgiveness leads us to the light. Redemptive power is born from this light, and planted in our reconciling hearts.
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