There Is a Thread

Last week I reminded us that "wherever we go, there we are." Today I am going to add some nuance to that observation: "wherever we go, there we are–but sometimes we get lost anyway." Sometimes we lose track, not so much of where we are geographically or in physical space, but where we are, the us of us. We lose ourselves in shifting circumstances or upheavals of our accustomed situation or in the blur of busy-ness and the boredom of routine. Or, if we don’t get hopelessly lost, perhaps our bedrock sense of who we are becomes shaky, murky, thin or insubstantial.

Parents, who were the primary stay at home caregivers to their small children might say something like, “once the kids were all in school I didn’t know who I was anymore.” Married or partnered parents might say something like, “once all the kids moved out, we didn’t know who we were as a couple anymore.” Retirees might wonder who they are without the classroom or field, the office or military service.

But, as you probably know, significant life-cycle transitions such as these are not the only times we might lose track of ourselves, become a bit fuzzy about who we are. Encounters with a new culture, whether here or abroad, engagement with social justice, a book, film, lecture or play that introduces new ideas or present new questions, witnessing great and mundane injustice, illness, a near miss, tragedy or a great joyous event–any of these might call us to question who we are, who we really are, in ways we never have before. The bubbling up of that question, the lying awake at night mulling it over, the quiet dis-ease that tints all our days once we first begin to consciously wonder who we are, bring us, David Blanchard would say, to deliberately set out to remember or hear more clearly our own song. William Stafford would say, to reach out to grasp again and more tightly the thread we each follow–to feel it taut and sturdy in our hands and heart.

We do this in many ways. Some of us may seek out a religious community, if we’ve previously been unchurched (so to speak) or to explore new religious communities if the one we’ve been active in doesn’t lead to clarity or at least to a helpful way of engaging the question. Some of us may turn to genealogical research–either the historical kind or the genetic kind or both. We might return to or leave our home town. Embark on a course of philosophical, theological, or spiritual self-study. Or have a mid-life crisis.

Ignatius of Loyola wrote a number of prayers and meditations, and developed a set of exercises to deepen an individual’s relationship with God. They are, of course, explicitly Catholic in theology and spirituality, and also require sustained practice, daily, over a period of weeks. Nevertheless, small parts of the exercises can be meaningful and revelatory, even to Unitarian Universalists, in small chunks of time. My internship supervisor and mentor, the Reverend Dr. Laurel Hallman introduced me to an exercise based on three questions (these can also be found on line by searching for Ignatian Exercises):

Who am I? Who do I want to become? Who has God made me to be?

The person seeking to find their center, their song or their thread through these questions follows a simple, repetitive process. It can be done with a partner, on one’s own with journaling, or in a group–we’ll see how that works in just a moment. The questions are asked one at a time. Perhaps one a day for three days. Or one for each period of a day-long retreat. Or whatever segment of time fits.

The question is asked “who are you?” or “who am I?” if journaling. A brief one word or phrase answer is given. The answer is acknowledged and honored by the response, “God be merciful.” And then the question is asked again. This process repeats throughout the predetermined time set aside for the exercise. If done with a partner, after the allotted time, the partners switch roles, questioner and answerer. There is no ‘cross talk’ or conversation.

On subsequent days or in subsequent sessions the seeker engages the second and third question in the process.

Now is the time for you to get out your pen and paper, if you brought them, or pull up a note taking app on your device. But before we get started, a word about language. God may not be part of your religious language or experience, and the refrain ‘God be merciful’ may sound discordant in your ears. I invite you to sit with that discomfort, listen to it, reflect on it at a later time. Also note that the response will hit a different emotional note depending on the answer that preceded it:

Who are you? The parent of a teenager. God be merciful.

Who are you? The president of a Unitarian Universalist congregation. God be merciful.

Who are you? A banjo player. God be merciful.

I’m going to lead us through ten repetitions of the exercise now. You can write your answers or simple murmur them and let them go.

Who are you?

God be merciful.

Who are you?

God be merciful.

Who are you?

God be merciful.

Who are you?

God be merciful.

Who are you?

God be merciful.

Who are you?

God be merciful.

Who are you?

God be merciful.

Who are you?

God be merciful.

Who are you?

God be merciful.

Who are you?

God be merciful.

God be merciful, indeed.

If you found this introduction intriguing or promising to yield insight I hope you will continue it at a later time–either as a solo exercise or with a partner. Let me know if I can be helpful.

Some of you with good memories may have noticed that today’s reading from William Stafford, The Way It Is, was the meditation I offered my first Sunday here back in August. As the congregation transitioned from Reverend Susan Karlson’s pandemic era interim to my COVID-endemic era contract ministry, and as I transitioned from a long time settled ministry in Minnesota to a time-bounded contract ministry here in Savannah, it seemed wise to invite us all to envision a throughline in our individual and collective lives. I brought it back today, as we turn in earnest toward January’s theme of Finding Our Center, because "wherever we go, there we are–but sometimes we get lost anyway." I don’t know if you are currently in a period of active reflection on who you are, who you really are, or if this is a period of stability and centeredness for you–any one of you. But I know this life is full of events and situations that will knock us away from center, time and again, in ways both significant and seemingly insignificant. And the more practiced we are in holding the thread and hearing our song and answering the question of who we are, the closer we will stay to our center and the more easily we’ll find our way back when we do get lost. May it be so for you as this new year continues to unfold. Amen.

(lmd)