Closer to the Reason

    If you are at all like me, you may have a number of guardian angels in human form, people who look out for you in unexpected and tender ways. One of my angels is my brother-in-law. Among the countless things he does to help keep me functioning well in life is to provide me with music; not just any music, but the kind that appeals to the 17-year-old in me, the one who chose folk concerts at Passim's in Cambridge over drinking with my buddies at the German brew-house. He is a genuine folk person from "back in the day", as my grown children would say, a supporter of the folk scene in its finest hour.

    This week he sent me off on my two-hour commute to school with a copy of the newest CD release from the Canadian group, the "Wailin' Jennys". I listened to it once towards the end of my ride in and was captivated by the melodies. Today, on my way home, as I listened again, I was stopped in my tracks by a song entitled "You Are Here". Before I knew it, I'd put it on repeat, even stopping for tea at a rest area so I could listen without the road noise.

    
    I have a mantra practice that I love dearly, a practice that fills me up to overflowing. This was like that. I have no doubt that this mantra of many verses provided nearly the same energetic healing and protection as the Sanskrit mantras I chant nearly every day. With wisdom, beauty, and stunning harmonies, its message and melody filled me to overflowing, as it played over and over all the way home.

    The shock of being turned away from the denominational path to ministry that I was following until just a few weeks ago is very, very gradually wearing off. But underneath there is a rawness, a tenderness that catches me off guard. Its similar to the experience I have when I unexpectedly find something of my mother's among my things and realize that her hands were the last to hold it. There are no words for that, not that are adequate to capture the layers.


    But somehow this song did, with lyrics that touch into the wisdom at the core of all of the great religious traditions the world over. Start right here, they say, on this ground, with the truth of who you are and where you've been. Start with the  truth of your wanting it to be different, of your wanting it to be someone else's responsibility, with your wanting to just trade this life in for one with no pain. And then stay there; no bargaining; no escaping. Stay until you know, until you know in your bones that the only way out is through. 


"You wonder why, you wonder when, how you became who you've become.   
...Every darkened hallway, every fallen dream, every battle lost and every shadow in between, will bring you to your knees and closer to the reason....And every broken arrow, every hardened smile, every foolish gamble and every lonely mile, will bring you to your knees and closer to the reason. 

And there's no making cases for getting out or trading places, And there's no turning back. No, you are here...And every sign of love, every seed that's growing, every sweet surrender to that silent knowing, will bring you to your knees and closer to the reason...and there's no turning back, no you are here." (Ruth Moody- SOCAN 2009)


    This is Holy Week, a time when Christian churches the world over retell the story of Jesus' death and resurrection. "The truth is right here", say the lyrics and the gospel stories, The Word, that tells of Christ's last days. Both describe the deepest truth we can know, a reality we glimpse around the edges of the experiences that catch us up short. We are more than meets the eye, more than flesh, more than bones. We are, even when our dreams or our bodies die. The who of who we are is without physical substance, yet is an overflowing fountain of love and joy. 

    That we are each a spark of the creative force of the universe, right here in this human body, in this precious life, on this holy ground, right here, is the truth that brings me to my knees. 

    It's what gives me the words.