On Animals
January 13, 2010
By Rev. Barbara S. Eberle, MA, OMC
© Barbara S. Eberle, 2010
I was raised Catholic. I spent some time, as a child, in a Catholic orphanage, along with six of my sisters. From there, I was placed in a Catholic foster home. It was in Catholicism that I found my love for animals.
As a youngster, I use to love to hear the story of St. Francis of Assisi (1180s - 1220s). St. Francis is well known for his love of nature and animals. My favorite story of St. Francis can be found in a collection of folklore called the "Fioretti," meaning "Little Flowers" which was gathered after his death. My favorite story describes a day when St. Francis was traversing along a road. He paused to observe the many birds that filled the surrounding trees. He decided to go and preach to them. It is said that the birds gathered round him and listened to him and that they would not leave him as he said:
"My sister birds, you owe much to God, and you must always and in everyplace give praise to Him; for He has given you freedom to wing through the sky and He has clothed you... you neither sow nor reap, and God feeds you and gives you rivers and fountains for your thirst, and mountains and valleys for shelter, and tall trees for your nests. And although you neither know how to spin or weave, God dresses you and your children, for the Creator loves you greatly and He blesses you abundantly. Therefore, always seek to praise God." (Bonaventure, 1867, pages 78-85) NOTE: You may read a free online copy of "Little Flowers" at http://www.ccel.org/ccel/ugolino/flowers.html
Thus began my great love and passion for animals. I was lucky enough to have a pet rabbit ("Nappy") and a great dog ("Star") in my youth. As an adult, I have never been without a dog. I currently have two dogs, three barn cats and two horses. I just sent my almost 17 year-old golden retriever to God ("Sugar Bear") and I miss her deeply. Still, my love of nature and my love for animals was founded in the beautiful story of St. Francis.
In my adulthood I found out that I am 1/4 Cherokee Indian. This information simply confirmed my connection to Mother Earth, our Creator and all of His creation. My most peaceful and contemplative times are found surrounded by these things. There is a beautiful Cherokee prayer that was written around 1800. It is as follows:
"Let me walk in beauty and make my eyes behold the red and purple sunset. Make my hands respect the things that you have made, my ears sharp to hear your voice. Make me wise, so that I may know the things you have taught my people, the lessons you have hidden in every rock and leaf."
When I contemplate these words, I envision myself deep in the forest, surrounded by God's creation and filled with the presence of Spirit. And so I pray:
Dear God,
Teach me to respect all of your creation. I tend to take it for granted. I do not always walk lightly upon the earth with honor and caring for our planet, Mother Earth. Teach me to respect and honor all of humankind who look to you for direction and communion. I ask this, knowing I shall receive. Amen and again I say, Amen.
To me, the Cherokee prayer above and the following prayer for peace written by St. Francis are one in the same. To complete my contemplation today, I read the words below, and then listened to them on the following link. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=67HczAyQKqM&feature=related
I invite you to do the same. Amen, and again I say, Amen.
Prayer of St. Francis
Make me a channel of your peace.
Where there is hatred let me bring your love.
Where there is injury, your pardon, Lord
And where there's doubt, true faith in you.
Chorus:
Oh, Master grant that I may never seek
So much to be consoled as to console
To be understood as to understand
To be loved as to love with all my soul.
Make me a channel of your peace
Where there's despair in life, let me bring hope
Where there is darkness, only light
And where there's sadness, ever joy.
Chorus:
Make me a channel of your peace
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned
In giving to all men that we receive
And in dying that we're born to eternal
life.
On Boredom
January 12, 2010
By Rev. Barbara S. Eberle, MA, OMC
© Barbara S. Eberle, 2010
It seems that every exciting adventure brings with it the redundant, boring tasks that must be accomplished in order to maintain the adventure. Work in the seminary is no different. There are the numerous phone calls and emails to return with every good intention to provide the best service possible to those who are seeking our assistance. This is not the part of my job that I find boring. I find this part adventurous! It's the filing! It's the bill paying! It's the mundane tasks that I find so boring.
As a child, I was told that boredom fed the work of the Devil. That idle minds performed evil deeds. Thus, I created, in myself, a dislike of mundane things leading me to avoid boring tasks. Yet, procrastination and the avoiding of these tasks can often get me into trouble.
I often refer to the dictionary to look up the meaning or origin of words that describe behaviors I am struggling with. Checking on dictionary.com, I find the word "boring" defined as: "The act or process of making or enlarging a hole." This is, of course, not the definition I am looking for. I am not currently planning on boring a hole through anything. Yet, in an instant, I realize that this is the perfect metaphorical definition for my experience of "boring."
Through my boredom, I actually enlarge a hole that I carry within. By refusing to rest in the mundane, the silence, the simplicity of some tasks, I feed that constant craving and sense of restlessness I feel by constantly looking outside of myself for fulfillment, rather than seeking the connection with my God through the one source within.
Psalm 46:10 States: "Be still and know that I am God." Simplicity leads one into the silence. Mundane experiences can provide opportunities to still the mind and commune with God. Boredom can be transformed into peaceful and joyous time spent with our Creator.
And so I pray.
Dear God,
I ask this of you, knowing that I will surely receive. When I feel bored, remind me that it is because I have forgotten my true connection with you. Help me learn to embrace my quiet times, my simple tasks and my mundane chores as times to rest in you. With you as my core, help me to realize that it isn't really important what task I am performing at any given moment that matters. Help me to realize that the remembrance that you are guiding my every action is all that matters. Let me feel your presence in my heart, my soul and my mind and radiate your presence through my actions each and every day of my life. Amen, and again I say, Amen.
On Grief
December 31, 2009
By Rev. Barbara S. Eberle, MA, OMC
© Barbara S. Eberle, 2009
Today's contemplation focuses on a subject we have all experienced--grief. You might be wondering why the subject of grief would be chosen, especially on New Year's Eve. New Year's Eve is considered a time for celebration, but it is also symbolic of letting go of the past. The old year is leaving and a new one is almost born.
Last night I woke up from a bad dream. You know the kind. I had a dream that someone I love very much had died. I woke up with tears running down my cheeks, and my heart pounding. Then, I realized, of course, that it was just a dream. Still, I had to get up and “shake off” the feeling.
My thoughts found their way to three individuals I have lost due to death over the past two years—one of my sisters, my mentor and a dear friend. The tears and the pounding of my heart were familiar feelings, and shaking them off was not easy.
“Pain is not a punishment. It is a call to become conscious, to raise your hidden suffering into awareness.” Pg. 163
My dream certainly had accomplished waking me up, so to speak. Now, I knew my task. I just needed to feel the pain, observe the pain, and let it pass right through me. Fighting it’s reality—my sister, my mentor and my friend were gone—would only prolong the grief and keep me stuck in wanting to change the reality of what had happened.
I next picked up the Course in Miracles. I read the following:
“Nothing real can be threatened.
Nothing unreal exists.
Herein lies the peace of God.”
And so I prayed,
Dear Lord,
On this, the eve of a New Year, I find myself carrying so much unresolved grief. I am reluctant to accept its reality. I resist its reality. Help me to understand that when I resist what is, I resist you. I resist the one and only true reality—your love. I resist aligning myself with your mind—Christ Consciousness. I resist acceptance of your greater plan for all the teachers of God. I resist detaching myself from earthly things. I resist detaching myself from longing for the bodily presence of my lost ones. I resist the reality that they are not really gone, but alive in spirit. I resist your peace.
On this, the dawn of a new year and a new beginning, I ask of you, knowing that I will surely receive, that I learn to align my heart, my soul and my mind with yours. With such a gift, I will face each day, free from illusion, living instead content within our peace.
Amen, and again I say, Amen.
After prayer and contemplation, I reflected on the message from the Course once again. “Nothing real can be threatened” seemed to be telling me that the only thing that is real is love. I knew that the love I felt for my departed ones was still alive and growing. “Nothing unreal exists” seemed to be telling me that the pain of loss through death, or any other loss, dissolves under the light of love, for only love is real. “Nothing unreal exists” seemed to be telling me that my pain was only as real as my thoughts about it…and of course, I can always change my thoughts…thus experiencing “the miracle.”
On Christian Contemplation
December 30, 2009
By Rev. Barbara S. Eberle,
MA, OMC
© Barbara S. Eberle, 2009
Today’s contemplation reflects upon one of the sayings of Abba Poemen, a radical Christian Monk of the Fourth Century. A member of the hermits known as the Desert Fathers, Poemen’s words are profound, even today, not only for Christian contemplation, but also for the contemplative practice of individuals of all religions and spiritual orientations.
Some old men went to Abba Poemen and asked, "If we see brothers sleeping during the common prayer, should we wake them?"
Abba Poemen answered, "If I see my brother sleeping, I put his head on my knees and let him rest.
"Then one old man spoke up, "And how do you explain yourself before God? "
Abba Poemen replied, “I say to God: You have said, 'First take the beam out of your own eye and then you will be able to remove the splinter from the eye of your brother’.'"
The Desert Fathers
For today’s contemplation, we will consider Poemen’s words as they apply to our need or desire to judge others. Take a moment of silence to examine your conscience.
Conscience is defined on dictionary.com as: the inner sense of what is right or wrong in one’s conduct or motives, impelling one toward right action: to follow the dictates of conscience.
Do not judge yourself when you realize
that you hold these prejudices in your heart. We are all human and our walk with God is a daily
challenge—one that brings us ever closer to manifesting God’s nature—one of
pure love.
You may wish to close your contemplative practice with prayer. You may use your favorite verse or prayer or create your own by way of speaking with God. Following, I share my closing prayer.
Dear Lord,
I give to you all my burdens--everything that darkens my heart. I trust that when I ask, I will receive. I ask that you take away from me all hatred, prejudice and judgment and reveal the light of your love that you placed in my heart and soul, knowing that it guides me each and every day. May all be blessed. May all be one, through your light and love. Amen, and again I say, Amen.