Don’t be satisfied with stories, how things have gone with others. Unfold your own myth. Rumi
Author Archives: Teresa Nizza
Movement from Darkness to Light
Traditionally, Lent has been time for reflection and penance; a time of winter’s cold; and a time of darkness. Yet Lent means the lengthening of daylight hours. Lent is a movement from darkness to light; it leads us to the warmth and new life of Spring. The season of Lent provides a time to grow into the joy of the resurrection.
We are often uncomfortable with the idea of resurrection or the resurrected form. It appears that the death side of things grasps our attention and imagination; it even fascinates us. We need to be taught to look for anything infinite, positive or good which is often more difficult.
In Mark’s Gospel, we hear: They ran away from the tomb and said nothing to a soul, for they were afraid (16:5-8). While this may appear to be a strange response, Richard Rohr tells us that running from resurrection has been a prophecy for Christianity and much of religion, as revealed in early scripture. Rohr interprets this as a human temptation to run from and deny not only the divine presence but our own true selves, our souls, our inner destiny, and our true identity.
As we move through Lent, we have the opportunity to seek a deeper truth and to not be reluctant or afraid. Even the disciples did not initially believe in the resurrection. We find this three times in Mark’s gospel (16:11-15) and that Jesus confronts them (16:14). While some may say this is a difficult start in forming a new religion, doubt is a necessary partner to faith.
We also hear from three women who ask: “Who will roll away the rock from the tomb? (16-3). This question is still our question. Who will help us roll away the rock and dig deeper to find our true self?
Richard Rohr tells us that Resurrection is not just about a man returning to his body. It is about a universal man leading us into a universal future. Jesus does this by making use of all the past and transforming it (Ephesians 4:15-16). We hear the Resurrection accounts in all four Gospels. There are wonderful images of running, rushing, excitement, joy, eating, and jumping naked into the water that speak to a freedom for the future, the past is over, gone and totally forgiven.
There is a capacity, similarity and desire for divine reality inside all humans. What we seek is what we are. Jesus tells us we will find it Mark (7:7-8). In the Eucharist, we receive what we are and we become what we receive.
The full Christ mystery serves as a map for our entire journey of the True Self. The Risen Christ is the icon of full consciousness. In the human mind of Christ, every part of creation knows itself as: 1. divinely conceived; 2. beloved of God; 3. crucified; and finally reborn. He carries us across with him assuring us that it is okay and thereby modeling the full journey and the final consciousness.
Listening as a Spiritual Practice During Lent
Can we commit to listening as a spiritual practice during Lent?
Oftentimes, it seems like we are too busy or distracted to simply listen. We think we already know the answer as we’ve heard the question many times before.
Just when we “think we have it” we realize we don’t. The answer becomes elusive and we miss the message. In our haste and in our yearning, we look for an immediate answer to move ourselves further along the path.
Our ability to listen, to be relaxed, to be confident, and to be present is not easy. Even though we have a pocket of faith and a pocket of hope, fear and doubt often become our closer companions.
Faith and hope provide us with the confidence that we are on the right path, on the way home. Yet oftentimes, fear and doubt emerge leaving us feeling lost and confused. We wonder if we understood the message, heard it clearly, took the right turn or made the right decision.
While this state of confusion can create doubt, fear, and a feeling of being lost, it can also be a joyful confusion leading us to listen more intently and to see more clearly.
There is an ebb and flow to our spiritual journey. Sometimes we have a deep sense of God’s presence and sometimes we can’t even imagine that God exists.
This struggle is a necessary part of the journey. This struggle is about both faith and hope and fear and doubt.
In this struggle, we can slow down and open ourselves to listening in silence. We may be surprised by what we hear if we commit to listening as a Spiritual Practice.
An Alternative View of Lent – A Joyful Lent
Lent is a time when we traditionally think of giving things up; we sacrifice things that bring us joy — a favorite dessert, a glass of wine, a diet coke or a handful of M&Ms.
But what if we were able to give up things that keep us from joy? Could we give up anger or resentment? What would happen if we gave up jealously or hopelessness for Lent?
As Christians, we begin our journey into Lent focusing on the somber and solemnness of the season. It is a time for reflection and penance; a time of winter’s cold; and a time of darkness.
But Lent literally means the lengthening of daylight hours. Lent is a movement from darkness to light; it leads us to the warmth and new life of spring.
While the season of Lent is a time to grow into the joy of the resurrection, we are often uncomfortable and afraid of the idea of resurrection or the resurrected form.
In Mark’s Gospel, we hear: They ran away from the tomb and said nothing to a soul, for they were afraid (16:5-8). Our human tendency is to deny and fear the divine presence, our own true selves and our inner destiny.
Even the disciples did not initially believe in the resurrection. We hear this three times in Mark’s Gospel (16:11-15) and Jesus confronts them (16:14). While this may appear to be a troublesome start in creating a new religion, doubt is an essential partner to faith.
We also hear from three women who ask: Who will roll away the rock from the tomb? (16-3). This question is still our question. Who will help us roll away the rock find our true self? As we journey through Lent, we have the opportunity to seek a deeper truth without fear.
Richard Rohr, Franciscan priest and author, tells us that resurrection is not just about a man returning to his body. It is about a universal man leading us into a universal future. Jesus does this by making use of the past and transforming it.
In all four Gospels, there are amazing images of the resurrection: running, rushing, excitement, joy, eating and jumping naked into the water that speak to a freedom for the future, the past is over, gone and totally forgiven.
There is a capacity, similarity and desire for divine reality inside all humans. What we seek is what we are. In Mark, Jesus tells us we will find it. In the Eucharist, we receive what we are and we become what we receive.
Rohr notes that the mystery of Christ serves as a map for our journey to the true self. The risen Christ is the icon for full consciousness. In the human mind of Christ, every part of creation knows itself as divinely conceived; beloved of God; crucified; and finally reborn.
Christ carries us across with him, assuring us and thereby modeling the full journey and the final consciousness.
It is possible to have joyful Lent.
Portland Press Herald March 1, 2014
March 1
Reflections: Listen for the intimate voice of our
shepherd calling us
How many of us hear the Divine voice in our daily lives?
By Teresa Schulz
As I wait in line early in the morning at Starbucks, I hear the voice of a customer at the front of the line placing her order. It’s loud and the barista responds: “Excuse me, can you please repeat your order. I couldn’t hear you.” The customer speaks louder placing her order and moves along. As I wait my turn, I hear many voices as music streams in the background. I listen to the voices, yet I cannot hear the specific content in the sea of voices and conversations.
We encounter many voices in the course of our day. We speak and listen as large volumes of information are exchanged. Even when we sleep, we sometimes hear voices in our dreams. We often desire a voice at the table, a wish to voice our concerns, a longing to hear a familiar voice, and sometimes, we feel like a voice in the wilderness.
Yet I wonder how many of us hear the Divine voice in our daily lives. This voice who calls us to listen or to speak up. Do we listen intently to this voice that is calling us – a voice like no other? How do we recognize this Divine voice? How do we sort through the many voices? The question for many of us becomes: How do we discern the Divine voice among all the other voices?
First, we must understand that God’s voice is not absent from our daily lives. If we are attentive, we will hear and discern this voice that is guiding, directing, calling and in conversation with us all the time. God’s voice may come to us through other people, a song, nature, prayer, in our loneliness and in our brokenness. It comes to us in the bitter cold of a New England day, in our success and in our failure, in our asking and in our receiving, in our resting and in our sleeping.
Secondly, God provides an invitation and calls us by name. In the gratitude, in the joy, and in the sorrow of our daily lives, we experience God’s voice and this invitation.
In his most recent book on prayer, Ronald Rolheiser, OMI, a member of the Missionary Oblates of Mary Immaculate and president of the Oblate School of Theology in San Antonio tells us: “God is the author of everything good … whether it’s religious or not …”
As a writer who desires to provide a voice to God’s presence in the world, I am reminded that God is also the greatest author. God provides a narrative and a voice that models a way for us to live in the world.
Thirdly, God’s only begotten son Jesus used narratives and metaphors to model a way of life. Rolheiser reminds us that the metaphor of the Good Shepherd provides us with a wonderful example of a voice unlike any other. The shepherd, whose life is dedicated to guarding his sheep, provides a voice to guide, direct and protect his sheep. The shepherd’s voice is clear to his sheep. The sheep have been trained to be attuned to this voice.
When the shepherd calls his sheep – individually or as a group – the sheep is so attuned to his voice that they follow only him. Even if a shepherd tried to replicate another shepherd’s voice, the sheep would only follow its real master. This intimate voice provides a safe refuge – the sheep knows who to follow.
Wouldn’t it be great if it were that easy for us – if we could discern the “one voice” among all other voices – the intimate voice of our shepherd calling us?
Someone recently reminded me that the words “listen” and “silent” contain the same letters. As we reflect on these letters in a new way, in a different order, perhaps we can listen in a new way – a way that is more attentive and intentional, training ourselves to be attuned to the voice that is calling us by name.
As I make my way to the front of the line at Starbucks, the barista greets me with a smile and asks for my order. As I reply, placing my order, I am reminded that my voice is one of many heard by the barista in the midst of her day.
Finally, I am reminded that I am one voice in the sea of many on a spiritual journey who speaks and listens, always open to the one voice that is calling me by name.
Teresa Schulz is a sdpiritual director, author, retreat facilitator and health care chaplain. She is the Founder of Tools for Intentional Living and Transformation and co-founder of MaineSpiritus. She can be reached at: taschulz56@gmail.com
From the archives of Portland Press Herald
September 10, 2011
Reflections: In waiting, we can find our way
By Teresa Schulz
REFLECTIONS is a column written by members of Maine’s faith-based community. Opinions expressed in the column reflect the author’s view and not necessarily that of the newspaper.
Dan and I have a spiritual friendship; it evolved from a simple friendship. Our spiritual paths often cross. When this happens, we get together for a cup of coffee and talk about our spiritual journeys. We believe our spiritual journeys are a path to our authentic selves. In our search for our authentic selves, we often ask each other: “Where is God in all of this?”
As I sipped my iced coffee and Dan removed the lid from his steaming dark roast, I realized this had become a ritual — coffee followed by sharing our recent encounters and discoveries. A theme usually organically emerged from our conversations and this day was no exception. The theme was being lost — losing our direction, our way, our focus and our path. Throughout the day, I reflected on this feeling of being lost.
What does it really mean to be lost? It has been said that as human beings, the idea of being lost is one of our most basic fears. This fear is woven into the very fabric of our being. Our experience of being lost is often met with frustration, confusion, fear, panic, anxiety or pain.
It is not often that our experience of being lost is embraced or met with a sense of adventure. As a result, many of us have a number of tools to help us stay connected, to stay on track and to avoid getting lost. These tools have become commonplace in our lives, including text messages, instant messages, emails, Google, Blackberrys, iPhones, Androids and GPS devices. In spite of these tools, we continue to miss the highway exits while talking on our cell phones or we enter the wrong addresses into our GPS devices.
While there are many ways to be lost, we also can become lost theologically by being separated from God. When we are separ-ated from God, we become separated from ourselves and from our relationships with others. We all are lost at times, but we often are unaware of how far we have wandered from ourselves, from others and from God.
We often look for quick solutions to ease our confusion and our fear. We want the fastest and the straightest path. We are lured by the seductive power associated with instant resolutions. Much of our energy is spent on shortcuts to get back on track so we can move even faster. “Quick and easy” becomes our mantra.
Our culture is not a culture of waiting; we simply don’t like to wait. We don’t like to wait in line, wait for an answer, wait for a purchase, wait for a meal or wait for others to speak. We also don’t want to wait in our relationship with God or with others.
We want a quick answer regarding our spiritual path or our spiritual journey — we want to know the next steps or what we are being called to do or to be. We think of waiting as unintentional. We do not think of waiting as a place that can be at the center of our lives. We simply believe that we should not have to wait; therefore it is difficult for us to be present in our own waiting.
In her book, “When the Heart Waits,” Sue Monk Kidd speaks to the spirituality of waiting. She shares that the sacred intent of life, of God, is to move us continuously toward growth, toward rediscovering all that is lost within us and restoring the divine image — the divine DNA imprinted on our soul.
It is in our waiting that we can often discover and understand feelings of being lost.
Dwelling in the unknown frightens us. While feelings of being lost and separated can cause us discomfort and pain, they can also bring forth transformation and rebirth.
Kidd identifies a threefold cycle of waiting: separation, transformation and emergence. During this cycle, we can embrace our spirituality and our relationship with each other and with God in a deeper way.
The spirituality of waiting has a long history. We read about the spirituality of waiting in sacred scripture. Noah waits for the flood waters to retreat, Jonah waits inside a whale’s stomach, Sarah waits for a child, the Israelites wait in Egypt, the apostles wait for Pentecost, Mary waits for her child to be born, Paul waits in prison, Jesus calls the Apostles to wait, even Jesus waits for 30 years before he begins his ministry.
In their waiting, they all feel lost at times, lost on their journey, lost to themselves, lost to others and lost to God. Noah, Jonah, Sarah, Mary, Paul and Jesus experience both the joy and the sorrow associated with waiting — awe, surprise, wonder, amazement, frustration, impatience, doubt, fear, loneliness, abandonment and even death.
As we reflected on waiting and being lost, Dan and I recalled how we sometimes take the wrong turn, we miss the point, we bump into things, we can’t see the light, we don’t trust and we can’t immediately find our way back. However, when the waiting is over, there are feelings of joy, renewal, relief, calm, freedom and peace.
The Bible urges us to wait: “For thee do I wait all the day” (Ps 25:5); “Wait for thy God continually” (Hos. 12:6); “Wait for it; because it will surely come” (Hab 2:3); “My soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen wait for the morning (Ps 130:6); “But if we hope for that which we see not, then do we with patience wait for it” (Rom. 8:25).
In that last sip of coffee, we were reminded that waiting precedes the celebration. We must be present and we must be prepared to wait — if not, we may miss the transcendent.
I recall hearing a quote recently: “Lost is a place too.” This place can be spiritually fulfilling if we recognize it and we embrace it. While we all long to find our way — and to arrive at our destinations — the spirituality of waiting and being lost — can teach us many things. People of faith recognize that we will be lost at times, and at times, we are called to wait.
1st Sunday of Lent
Today is the first Sunday of Lent.
We know Lent is about transformation. We are often inspired and motivated but what does it mean to be transformed? Richard Rohr, OFM tells us that if we come to depend on being emotionally inspired or newly motivated, we will need a daily dose.
While the Gospel messages are inspiring and motivating, they are really about re-grounding, re-shaping, and re-directing us at our very core. We may gain an “aha” moment when we are inspired or motivated but real transformation is about more than an “aha” moment.
Transformation shakes us at our foundation and provides us with an alternative self-image, world image, and God image. This, my friends, will reframe our entire reality and transform us.
The word Lent is derived from an old English word meaning springtime. In latin, lente means slowly. Therefore, let us remember that Lent points us to spring and we are invited to slow down and reflect. This intentional reflection prepares us for the Feast of Easter.
Let us also remember that God provides us with the love we need for this transformation. God’s love is complete and unconditional. Let’s reach into our pocket of hope and our pocket of faith to accept God’s love that will open us up to transformation during our Lenten journey.
Ash or Sackcloth Saturday
Ash Wednesday marked the beginning of Lent. Lent is a time to reflect on our own death so we can truly embrace life. While many of us fear death, others fear life. During my time as a chaplain in a residential treatment facility for people suffering with addictions, a patient asked me if I believed many people fear death. As I thought about my experience with people at end-of-life, I shared it was true that many people fear death. He responded by saying that people suffering from addictions fear life. It was a life-changing moment for me as I was transformed to see things differently.
Today, on Sackcloth Saturday, let us take our sackcloth – the ancient sign of penance – and embrace our fears of life and death. Remember there are two pockets sewn into the garment – a pocket of hope and a pocket of faith. Let us have hope and faith that we can accept the grace God will give us during this special time of the year that will lead us to transformation. As the inspired Word of God in the Bible tells us: “Do not be afraid” as you are not alone in your Lenten journey.
