On Losing a Friend

This is a blog that has been wanting to be written for a while now. I'm not sure that it's appropriate as "pastoral blog," as it is about a personal quandry in which I have found myself. Yet, it addresses an issue that I think may be faced by many of those who follow Brigid in the Desert as well as any other Interspiritual, Pagan, Christopagan, or even Progressive Christian individual. It's about the nature of friendship and the struggle when someone we consider a friend judges us and finds us wanting.

As you may have guessed, I think I've lost a friend. This is a person I met in my "mundane" life; that is, outside of the religious path I have been following. There is no "outside" of my spiritual life. My spirituality is all that I am and is reflected in most everthing I do, especially my writing. Those who have been close to me or who have followed along as Brigid in the Desert has been developing know I have struggled a bit with my religious identity. They know that I spent a long time attempting to balance my perception of the expectation of others in regard to religion with the spiritual reality that resonates within me.

Those who have been with me all along know I am a follower of the teachings of Jesus.They know I am also one who honors the Divine Feminine. They know I am a Panentheist, that I believe that God is in everything. They know I am also a Polytheist in that I believe that all concepts of deity are culturally derived and represent God in ways that meet the needs of the people. They know that I am a practitioner of magick, that I believe that prayers and spells are both forms of energy work. They know I am also a bit of a Jungian, finding the various personifications of God to be useful archetypes of the various aspects of the human psyche. I'm not a psychologist by any means, nor am I an academic theologian or a philosopher. I am a believer in a greater force that pulls us towards our better selves. In that, I can be considered a process theologian. I believe that the stories of the gods and goddessess of all peoples tell a piece of the Truth. They reveal the relationship that the people in a given culture has had with God, with one another, and with the others they have encountered throughout history. This includes the stories in the Hebrew Bible. This includes the stories of Jesus in the Gospels. This includes the stories written as letters and included in the Christian New Testament. This also includes the letters, codexes, and scrolls that are not included in the Bible. Yes, it also includes the tales handed down through The Mabinogion of the Welsh people and the stories written down as the Prose Edda by the Christian writer Snorri Sturluson and the Poetic Edda of the Codex Regius, written down by an Icelandic Christian priest. In fact, it includes the many tales of many peoples, from the Sumerian/Mesopotamian Gilgamesh to the Sanskrit Vedas to the Native American tales of Grandmother Spider and Coyote. It includes the tales and teachings of Buddha. I believe that human history is the unfolding revelation of the relationship of humanity to one another and to an ineffable yet somehow relational God.

Those who have been close to me understand that this is my spiritual identity. I am a priest in an interspiritual denomination of Christianity because my spiritual identity fits with the religious identity of this denomination. Since finding the UAIC and being ordained, I have not hidden my spirituality. In fact, I have reached out to others who find themselves no longer fitting into the boxes they have been trying to squeeze into, spiritually speaking. I've written poetry and prose inspired by my spiritual experiences, my walk in the Craft, and my connection to various deities across a mythological spectrum. I have shared some of this work at public readings, where many people have an opportunity to hear what I have to say. Yet, this friend of mine must have misunderstood me. We met for tea and a good chin wag many a time, and we discussed God and Jesus. I knew that my friend believed differently than I, yet I was able to connect with them and felt that they had with me as well. When I published my collection of short stories about individuals healed by Jesus, this friend encouraged me and ordered copies. Perhaps I should have realized that we hadn't understood each other as well as I thought.

A few months ago my friend asked to be added to the Brigid's Arrow newsletter mailing list, so I added them. For those who aren't on the list, I will just say that the newsletter deals with various topics appropriate to the time of year from different cultural and religious perspectives. For example, an issue in the spring may have a story about Easter and the resurrection of Jesus, a story about Eostara, and a story about the traditions of springtime in various cultures. I try to write the articles in a manner that includes those who believe, for instance, in a literal physical resurrection and those who believe that it is a metaphor for spiritual rebirth. A winter issue will deal with both Christmas and Yule, the winter solstice. You get the drift, I'm sure.

One day I received a message from my friend telling me that they no longer read the newsletter and that they were concerned for my soul. I haven't heard anything else from them. I have not responded, either. I don't know exactly what to say. It is my heartfelt belief that the state of my soul is a concern between myself and God. I took the person off the mailing list, of course. I'm not trying to be contrary. I think there could have been conversation around the issues that bothered them. In fact, that is the point of the newsletter, of the meetings, and of the discussion page on Facebook. I am not a teacher, I'm a facilitator. I think we all grow more with exploration and discussion.

Much time has passed since I received that message. The friend is still my "friend" on my personal Facebook. Sometimes, I see their posts and "like" or "love" them, but I never comment. I can't help but wonder if they were ever really a friend. Or, perhaps it is I who have fallen short, for perhaps I was not as honest as I thought. If I had been, they would have know me better.

Have you ever found yourself pondering your friendships? What does it mean, to be a friend?

The Redemption of Food

Food.

It seems like we obsess over food. I know I do. For all of my adult life, I have been in a love/hate relationship with food. I love to cook. I hate being overweight. I went on diets. I didn’t have time to cook properly, so I bought packaged foods. When I was on food stamps, the first day they came in my kids and I shared a giant meal of steaks and baked potatoes. My children went in and out of dietary phases with me throughout their childhood years. I went in and out of dietary phases as I felt more comfortable or less comfortable with my life. When I felt out of control of my finances, for some reason I would spend money at the grocery store and cook one of those giant steak-and-baked-potato meals. Attempting to become a better person, I tried to act on small convictions: vegetarian, vegan, pescatarian. I tried to treat my physical ailments with food choices: sugar free, gluten free, soda free.

More recently, in an effort (successful, I might add) to lose weight and become healthier and stronger, I went on an almost solid-food-free diet. Two shakes or smoothies*, a couple of “smart” snacks and one actual meal a day – small portions only – along with some heavy duty boot camp style exercise brought me to a manageable weight. I feel good about how my clothes fit. I don’t want to gain back my weight, but I’ve also decided I don’t want to avoid great food anymore.

There has been a lot of talk around diet and the way we use food to connect with one another. Much of this talk has been negative – like using food as a vehicle to social interaction is a bad thing.

It isn’t.

Friends Gather To Enjoy
Good Food & Good Fun

In fact, breaking bread together is one of the oldest ways of connecting with one another. It is a means of communication, of conveying love, and of supporting and nurturing one another. In one of the most famous bread breaking events in history, Jesus, son of Mary, fed over 5,000 people on a hillside. He broke unwritten rules of law by breaking grain to feed his disciples on the Sabbath. He shared meals and drink with the people others loved to hate – tax collectors, sinners, resident aliens, people in other cultures, women, prostitutes. According to some, Jesus "ate his way through the Gospels." There’s the wedding where he made the water into the best wine, the gathering of disciples where Martha flitted about, the dinner in the house of a Pharisee, and the feast at the home of a descriptively short tax collector who climbed a tree just to see Jesus. Finally, Jesus joined with his closest friends, the Apostles, and probably a few more disciples and family to celebrate the Passover meal one last time. When sharing that meal, Jesus literally broke the bread to share it with his followers. In doing so, he invited them to remember him every time they ate. “Whenever you do this,” he said, “remember me.”

In his teachings, Jesus told his disciples that “When I was hungry, you fed me. When I was thirsty, you gave me drink. Whenever you feed the least of these, you are feeding me.” “When two or more are gathered, there I will be also.” Whenever we gather with others to share a meal, we are gathered with Jesus. We need not be in a religious setting; the Christ is with us always. When we break bread together, we invited the best of who we are to connect with the best of who our companions are. We meet as equals, sharing the same food and drink, sitting at the same table. It doesn’t matter if we believe the same things. What matters is that we are sharing a good meal, good conversation, and laughter.

Photo from https://www.pinterest.com/
100acrefriends/old-cook-stoves/

In a not so distant past, the kitchen was the heart of the home. Spirit flowed around the stove, where those who cooked kept a soup pot bubbling and the family gathered to review their days and make plans for future times. Friends were invited to cocktail parties, dances, bonfires, and barbeques. As good food filled the stomach, good Spirit filled the soul.

Recently, as I sat with a close friend over an excellent meal at a wonderful Middle Eastern café next to the local mosque, it occurred to me that too much time has been wasted on worrying about food. Too much of my time was wasted on weighing the bites and assessing the calories. My friend and I began to discuss the idea that perhaps if we simply lived our lives, finding the places where happiness touches our hearts, and sharing those times with others, the calorie content of the food we ate would no longer matter. What if we simply enjoyed our meals, punctuated with forks raised to illustrate points, stopped eating when the holes in our stomachs were filled, and continued the conversation over a good cup of tea? Would we find ourselves sated by the combination of food and friendship?

What if I had a smoothie for lunch not because it’s part of a “nutrition plan,” but because it’s delicious and I feel good about it? Believe me, I can make pretty good smoothies from scratch! I think that letting go of the obsession with food comes with a side effect, at least for me. Once I begin to let go of the need to control food to the point of obsession, it becomes less likely that I will crave the “bad” foods and the giant servings. If I eat good, real food, I no longer crave unnecessary foods. If I enjoy good meals with good friends and relatives, I will so look forward to those times together that I will no longer find the need for the shallower sustenance of unnecessary snacks.

The Reagan Family at Dinner
Image from biggerthanyourhead.net

There is a television show I like to watch sometimes, called "Blue Bloods." It's about a family of New York City police officers and attorneys whose jobs often intersect with one another. My favorite part of this show is the ending, in which the family gathers together with all generations at the dinner table. They begin with prayer that we in my family call "grace;" that is, a thanksgiving for family, the food we eat, and those who prepared that meal. In my family, this grace is an invitation for the Grace of God to be with us, for the Christ, Lord Jesus, to join us at the meal. The family on this show, the Reagans, are people whose integrity and strength are worthy of emulation. The culmination of their trials and troubles around the breaking of bread is a beautiful symbol of something that is passing away in our culture. It is sad to lose this tradition of family, friends, and food. Perhaps, it is a tradition worthy of resurrection.

I look forward to many excellent meals in the future; not just food, but exquisite moments, shared with good people. Bon appetite!

Image from www.anthropologyinpractice.com

*I used Herbalife products to kick off that weight loss. If you're interested, contact my sister Jane Rogers at janerogers6444@gmail.com