"Doorways"

Sermon by Mary Wellemeyer delivered at Unitarian Universalist Church of Manchester on January 5, 2003

Reading:Proverbs 9: 1-6 

Wisdom has built her house, she has hewn her seven pillars.

She has slaughtered her animals, she has mixed her wine, she has also set her table.

She has sent out her servant-girls, and she calls from the highest places in the town,

"You that are foolish, turn in here!" To those without sense she says,

"Come, eat of my bread and drink of the wine I have mixed.

Lay aside immaturity, and live, and walk in the way of insight."

Sermon:

Spiritual life is something that happens, if you let it.This is an invitation to let it happen.I'm talking about a felt sense that everything has meaning, that everything is connected, maybe a feeling of joy and peace that comes with that realization, certainly a way of living life with rich, full intensity, while at the same time having a bit of detachment and clarity about it. Maybe there is something in there about the Divine, maybe not.Spirituality to me is not about finding God so much as a way of finding engagement, joy, and peace in the struggles of everyday living.

My belief is that doorways present themselves as we go through life, also that it is possible to go places -- physically, emotionally, or whatever-- where doorways are more likely to present themselves and doors are more likely to open into a deeper spiritual realization.I got interested in these doorways at an early age even though I lived in a family of secular humanists who had turned away from church, calling it a source of division and discord within communities.A generation later, I see church as having potential for leading communities to healing and wholeness, and for me, that has everything to do with the doorway thing.So I really want to talk about the doorways.

You have had experiences of transcendence, I am sure.A baby was born of your body, or the body of one you love.A friend entered into the arms of death.You yourself had a close encounter with death.You lay on the beach with a lover under the stars.You made love outdoors.You caught the perfect wave, gliding along in the curl like a mutant sea creature, or fell freely through hundreds of feet of air before your parachute opened, or saw the way the sun and the sea and the land all slide together at sunset, or rode your bicycle to the top of a mountain and felt the earth slipping away under you on the way down.You found yourself in a desperate situation where you did not think you could get out alive, when every fiber of your being bent to survival, and somehow, you made it through. You made music with friends that somehow moved into a scary and fabulous realm of beauty.Your spouse announced out of a clear blue sky that your marriage was over.A song entered so deeply into your very being until you could only sit and weep. 

And something happened that transformed the moment forever, and you, too.A feeling of spaciousness opened around you and within you.Time stopped.Afterward, you were never quite the same.How did this happen for you?…..Let's go there again, today, and reflect.These moments are important.And most of us don't ever talk about them, not wanting people to think we are crazy.Let me assure you, Wisdom calls out to those who are foolish. Or afraid they might be crazy. In other times and places, people have taken more interest in these matters than most people do here and now. Let's go there today, and reflect.

Doors open, these doors of the spirit, and people go through them, returning somehow changed.The ancient Celtic people believed there was another world that lies somehow below ours, out of sight, at any rate.There were special places of contact with that otherworld, and sometimes people went there. Welsh and Irish myths that have come down to us from ancient, pre-Christian times, tell of strange doings at certain places that can be identified even now, many hundreds of years later.To sit on the Mound of Aberth in Wales is to court an otherworld experience.Likewise the mounds around Newgrange in Ireland.To follow certain animals or birds will lead you to this other realm as well, a place where time runs differently, a place whose inhabitants have special powers.Sometimes you go there more or less on purpose, though it is never exactly of your choosing, and you can never predict what your experience will be.Sometimes you are just out doing something in the woods and you end up following a white dog with red ears or a pair of geese joined at the neck by a length of golden chain and strange, important things begin to happen.

I speak from time to time about the experience of Malidoma Some, who returned to his village in Burkina Faso after years in a French-run boarding school to undergo a traditional initiation into manhood among his people.His story of initiation has much of the same quality of those ancient Celtic myths, of a journey into the underworld, a place that looked much like the world of everyday, but where distances could be crossed in a short time that should have taken days to cover, where strange encounters with powerful beings occurred.He returned much changed, considerably de-Westernized, ready to take up his responsibilities as an adult in his community.They had worried about him because his sie, his soul, had seemed to be outside his body when he came back from boarding school.They said of him after the initiation that his sie had returned inside him, where it belonged.What I mean to tell you is that there is a whole world beyond that moment of hearing the song and weeping with joy and pain.There is a whole world beyond the moment when the car accident was somehow happening in slow motion.Those who traveled there and left us stories say it is an important world, also that it is full of mystery and danger.

Our little steps through these doorways are experiences of what is called transcendence, moving out of our little selves into something that is somehow more spacious, or sensing that something larger than our little selves inhabits our being. There are people who deliberately go to places where these doorways can be found, who deliberately go through them to wherever they lead.

Some of those who pass through these doorways are shamans, people who work within traditional systems for finding the way in the otherworld.These are the ways most closely aligned with the way of the ancient Celts or Malidoma Some's village.There are modern Western shamans who have recreated a system that allows wisdom and healing to be gathered by people in our culture in ways similar to those used by traditional shamans in Africa, Siberia, Australia, or the Americas.They return with their souls inside their bodies, where they belong, considerably de-Westernized, with a wisdom they find hard to put into words glowing in their eyes.

There are also systems that have been in continuous use for a long time among people of the great religious traditions.Many Buddhists and Hindus follow cultural religious practices that have little to do with these doorways, but some have kept alive systems of practice that move consciousness to a very different dimension.The union of a person's spirit with the vastness of the universe is called "yoga" in Hindu tradition.The tradition identifies six different types of yoga, of which what we think of as yoga -- a system of exercises for flexibility and breath control -- is part of a subbranch of one.In fact, the Buddha was a yogi, and the two traditions are intertwined.In the Buddhist way, that experience of spaciousness beyond the small self is called "realization" or "enlightenment", and the masters of ways of moving into it have much detailed and subtle knowledge of the path beyond the door.

The fundamental technique of yoga in the larger sense and of the Buddhist way is meditation.Just sitting turns out to be a dependable way to get to the place where the doorway beckons.Just sitting can not only put you in the place of ecstatic transformation, it can help you journey to the wisdom beyond.Chanting, walking, work periods at the monastery, use of yoga postures and breath control, all these are aids to the basic discipline of meditation.Other disciplines may complement meditation as well, tai chi, martial arts, long-distance running or cycling, musical training, to name a few. 

The yogis tend to convey their wisdom through amazing stories you pretty much have to be Indian to understand.Mighty battles and crazy plotlines let you know they are stories of the otherworld, but what they mean is way hard to interpret.Back in the nineteenth century, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry David Thoreau, and Walt Whitman, our own Unitarian ancestors, tried to understand the way of yoga, and I think they actually did. Still, their insights got tangled up by their followers in a short time, leaving us a tradition of rather narrow self-culture, a self-indulgent kind of navel-gazing, rather than the real thing.

Emerson, Thoreau, Whitman-- they were called transcendentalists, and that's what they were, practitioners seeking transcendent meaning in this very world. They wanted to get out from under the shadow of traditional Christian teachings and be present to the wholeness and wonder of the universe now.They wrote of the Self, with a capital S, --the yogis would say Atman, the self of all that is.But soon, the spaciousness of that Self with a capital S came to be understood as the little, ordinary self, and the ability of their writings to guide us toward enlightenment faded.

The link with what we now know as yoga in this country is not hard to find. The body is at the center of it.Soul is not something imprisoned in the body that will be released to fly away to God when you die.Body is an expression of Self with a capital S.The divine is within each of us.That's what they mean by "Namaste" -- "The divine within me greets the divine within you."

Buddhist seekers have been teaching Westerners about their way through the door for generations, and their teachings begin to be more accessible than the fantastic stories of the yogis.In fact, Christians and others who have studied Buddhism have returned to their own traditions to find fragments of the same kind of wisdom and build on them.Thomas Merton, Trappist monk and social critic, pursued Buddhist meditation as well as Catholic practice. St. Theresa of Avila and St. Francis of Assisi and others can be read with the journey beyond the Doorway in mind.St. Theresa's famous work, "Interior Castle," reads very much as a map for a journey in the otherworld. 

It's not about being out of the body.It's about resting body and mind to allow something else to happen.Shunryu Suzuki, founder of the San Fransisco Zen Center, compares meditation to using the rest room.(I have to cite an important authority in order to make this comparison)[1]You eat, then after awhile, it's good to use the restroom.The feeling of eating is good.The feeling of using the restroom is good.You have an active life, engaged with the world and other people in many ways, and that's like eating.After awhile, it's good to meditate.Just to sit and let all that engagement lift off your mind and your body. 

It takes some doing, to let all that engagement lift off your mind and your body.Deep feelings arise, sometimes tears, sometimes groaning, as the busy-ness is released.What has been buried under the pile of everything you have to do?But if you keep sitting, they pass.Feelings of ecstasy come, too, feelings you wish you could stay with.And as you keep sitting, they pass, as well.There comes an acceptance of the ten thousand joys and the ten thousand sorrows, to use the words of the Chinese tradition. (I'm told this happens.I haven't gotten there).The breath becomes a reminder, even away from meditation time, of the constant alternation of taking in and letting go.

Most of us are not going to become contemplatives.We have things to do, lives to live.But for most of us, there could be more spaciousness, more presence, more zest.More moments of transcendence.The yogis and the Buddhists say, meditate.Action -- then reflection -- then return to action.Then, maybe, gradually over the years, maybe something happens.Besides, being a contemplative does not get you out of hiding from yourself.Jack Kornfield, whose book After the Ecstasy, the Laundry, was part of the inspiration for this sermon, wrote:

The first woman I became involved with after [I left the monastery] was a college friend who was newly teaching at Harvard.Inside I still felt like a monk who had no preferences for or against anything, taking whatever was put in the begging bowl.When she would ask what I wanted for dinner or what movie I would like to see, I answered, 'Whatever you like, dear; for me, it doesn't matter.' …This wasn't just a wise spiritual detachment; she observed that I was afraid of engagement and out of touch with feeling, and reminded me that I had been that way before the monastery too.It was true.I didn't know what I felt.So she got me a small notebook with the suggestion that I write down ten things each day that I liked or disliked, until I could start to know my own feelings.Recovering my feelings was a long and life-changing process.[2]

I think that for me, recovering my feelings will take a lifetime.For other people, it's other stuff, like seeing clearly how you relate to others.It takes withdrawing from everyday activity for a period of reflection to begin to see what's going on.Not to think it over, just to let go of it all.It also takes the company of other people, like the woman in Jack's life.And not too tight a community -- in the monastery, Jack didn't have a chance to find out that he was out of touch with feeling. 

In the end, it's not about detachment, it's about letting the heart be opened, about giving up all the protections the mind has placed around the heart, and just letting love and all the other feelings be.It's about empathy and compassion.These things happen as a life of action has spaces of reflection and meditation opened up in it.Gradually the sensible person grows foolish enough to hear Wisdom calling. "You that are foolish, turn in here!" "Come, eat of my bread and drink of the wine I have mixed. Lay aside immaturity, and live, and walk in the way of insight."I'm not at all sure what happens after that. I haven't gotten there yet.There are masters in many traditions who know the subtle paths of the world beyond the doorways.Will we be foolish enough to step inside?



[1] Shunryu Suzuki, Not Always So, Edward Espe Brown ed., New York:HarperCollins, p. 43.
[2] Jack Kornfield, After the Ecstasy, the Laundry, New York: Bantam, 2000, p. 199.