The Power of Shared Intent: An Opening for God in the World
by Carole Crumley
Shalem Society for Contemplative Leadership Second Annual Gathering
October 8-12, 2007
Transcript of Monday Evening Presentation by Carole A. Crumley
© Rev. Carole A. Crumley, 2007
Photos courtesy of Ann Kulp, Clare Openshaw
Monday Presentation
Persons of many faiths around the country, led by key religious leaders and religious bodies have joined together today in an interfaith fast for personal spiritual transformation and for peace the world especially in Iraq. Today was chosen because it is on or near other important holy days: Ramadan, Rosh Hoshanna, Yom Kippur, St. Francis Feast Day, and so forth.
Tonight in solidarity with all those who shared in the fast and who pray for peace, we begin with a chant that expresses our desire, our intent for peace-in our lives, our relationships, in the world. Marianne Lewis will lead our chant.
Mir, Miru, Mir
Spirit of Peace,
To your cause we give our strength,
that love may reign and war may cease.
Mir, Miru, Mir
Around our meeting room we have placed some images, reminders of our spiritual ancestors and in your folders is a copy of the historical river of some of our main contemplative ancestors that Jerry May put together some years ago. We asked you to bring pictures/images of those who have been guiding lights for you and they are surrounding us as well. In some traditions this is called the Communion of Saints. The Eastern Orthodox tradition and also the Celtic tradition remind us that there is a very thin veil between heaven and earth, and so when we pray, the veil is thinned and we are never alone.
This long lineage is the foundation on which we build, a legacy of love from which to draw for inspiration, intercession, communion, encouragement. We wanted these visual reminders of the long, living stream of Love that we are a part of to be present here tonight as we reflect together on the power of shared intention.
Staying seated, take a minute to look around at those who are present through their image. (mention names) My talk and Tilden's tomorrow will both be on the web site by the end of the week.
In this talk, I'll be sharing some stories and photographs from Shalem's pilgrimage to Iona which I hope will inspire our thinking about the power of shared intention, especially as it relates to our Shalem Society. I'll start with a little history of Iona, then the stories and photos, drawing connections to our Shalem Society. Finally, I'll lead us into a guided meditation on this, ending our evening with prayers for the night. We'll use the chant we just learned and combine it with some movement for our closing prayers.
A few months ago I took a group of Shalem pilgrims to Iona. This is a tiny island off the coast of Scotland. Many of you, I know, have been there. Its most famous resident was Columba, an Irish monk, who came to this island in the year 563 with a small group of followers. Columba and his 12 companions built a monastery on the site of an old Druid temple on the island's northeast shore.
This small beginning rapidly grew to a monastic community of about 150 monks. Under Columba's leadership, Iona became one of the greatest missionary centers of the Celtic church and also one of its most important seats of culture and learning. From this remote location, came monks who spread out all over Scotland and Northern England bringing the Gospel message/good news of "life in God" to the people of their time.
Columba was known for his love of books and Iona became a great center for the arts. It is thought that the magnificent illuminated book of Gospels known as The Book of Kells was inscribed there. You can still see the original manuscript in Dublin at Trinity College. It is part of a wonderful exhibit now, but for many years it was on display in a simple cabinet at the center of the Trinity College library.
It was the job of one of the library staff to open the display case every day and turn a page in the book. Everyday a new page! Some of the residents of Dublin told me that on their way to work each day, they would walk through the library just to see the new page. It gave them the sense that each day they were turning a new page in their lives, each day gilded and graced by the life of the Spirit.
Why Columba left Ireland in the first place is shrouded in some mystery. There is some dispute about whether he was pilgrim or penitent, or perhaps a combination of both.
Tradition has it that Columba's love of books had gotten him into trouble. The story goes that he had surreptitiously copied a beautiful book of Psalms. The owner of the book demanded that Columba give him this copy. Columba refused. The dispute was taken to the High King who agreed with the original owner and ordered Columba to surrender the book. "To every cow its calf and to every book its copy," said the High King. And thus the beginning of copyright laws.
The two factions, those who supported Columba and those who supported the High King, chose to make the ruling a cause for war and the two sides fought it out. This, of course, was not just about a book. It was a conflict fraught with politics and power struggles. The results were tragic - the deaths of many followers on both sides.
It may be that the religious leaders required him to leave Ireland as a penance for his involvement in this terrible affair. Or it may be that Columba himself decided to leave. Whichever...Columba was looking to start over.
He didn't seem to have a clear idea of a destination, only that he wanted this new place to be so far away from Ireland that when he looked back, he couldn't see Ireland any longer. Possibly because Ireland represented all that he loved and longed for as well as the darkness, shame and terrible memories of that dispute. And so he set out with a small band of followers in their little coracle boat, braved the swells of the ocean and came to Iona where, when looking back, he could no longer see his beloved Ireland.
But just turning away from the past, was not enough. Columba needed to turn towards the future.
For Columba turning towards the future meant establishing a monastic community that had a mission to the surrounding countryside. His prayerful intent was to convert/claim as many souls/lives for Christ as had been lost in the terrible battles back home in Ireland. This was perhaps wishful thinking, impractical, an impossible hope. He had only 12 companions on a tiny remote island. Success was certainly not guaranteed. And yet...Columba's prayer was realized beyond even his dreams as Iona became the motherhouse of a great missionary effort, bringing Christianity to all of Scotland and northern England. This Abbey Church stands on the foundations of Columba's original monastery.
One historian, Ian Bradley, writes that the Columban mission was so successful because it was a pilgrim church, by that he meant, a community and movement rather than an institution or establishment. "It sat lightly in the world," he wrote. "It practiced a ministry of presence...witnessing to God, not by rushing around proselytizing and preaching but simply by being there, available when needed." A major element of this was a good deal of listening, of quiet and patient healing of broken souls.
Bradley identifies spiritual counseling as a distinctive characteristic of the community. Crucial to this was the anamchara, or soul friend, who combined the roles of confessor, spiritual guide and buddy. As is true for all religious communities, shared spiritual practices undergirded all of their ministry and life together.
I always love being on Iona because even now, over 1400 years after the Columban mission, there seems to be a quality of freshness, peace, beauty, a wellspring of prayer that is layered into the ground and available to any seeker who comes.
It is part of our custom on Iona to take a pilgrimage walk around the island. The whole walk is about seven miles from beginning to end. We start in the Nunnery, a gentle and beautiful ruin. The nuns arrived on Iona about 800 years ago, maintaining their communal life in the face of extreme hardship and uncertainty. However, their most essential work was prayer, of intercession for others and for the world. Over the years, some have suggested that this ruin should be rebuilt. But to me, it seems especially appropriate that we begin our pilgrimage walk with prayer in this place where the walls are open to all of creation.
We leave the Nunnery and make our way to the Machair, the common ground used by the farmers and crofters for grazing, as well as by others as a golf course. The resident sheep are the grounds crew, keeping it in wonderful shape. The Machair is a significant place in the landscape because of the co-operative way in which it is used. The islanders have called it a parable of community and shared intent.
Then up some steep slopes, across a plateau and finally down to the Bay, the place where Columba and his band of 12 disciples landed.
The bay area is covered with stones, small, medium-sized and large, amazing in their variety and colors. On that sacred site, we ask pilgrims to pick up a stone and let it represent all that they would leave behind - any falseness, defeat, fear, anger, resentment, shame - anything they are still carrying, anything that separates them from God, neighbor and their truest selves, whatever is behind them, the past. It is a soul-searching form of confession.
They are then invited to toss that stone into the sea - the vast sea of forgiveness, knowing that whatever is past is forgiven and washed in the sea of God's love and mercy. In a sense, they are turning a new page in their book of life.
In this sacred place we also seek new beginnings for our lives. After this ritual of relinquishing, the pilgrims are invited to pick up a second stone touching into what is invited now in their lives, letting the stone represent their intention and prayerful dedication to the future. Intention literally means a "stretching into", a "stretching out for," we might say stretching into Love/a turning toward the source of Love/a saying "yes" to Love, (The Awakened Heart, Jerry May). So we invite pilgrims to listen for the invitation that comes to them. The invitation to say "yes" to Love's stirring in their hearts.
There are many stones to choose from, many possible ways that Love may be lived and made real. "Be still," Thomas Merton wrote, "listen to the stones...Be silent, they try to speak your Name," reminding us that intention is connected to calling and for each of us it may be different.
With prayerful intention, pilgrims select a second stone and carry it with them as they continue the journey. "Our intention turns our hearts to love," Jerry May wrote, "and in our choosing to move towards our intention, God makes our intention holy ground."
I never know what intentions/prayers are planted in the hearts of our pilgrims but I secretly hope they are as wildly impractical, seemingly impossible, as magnificently hopeful as Columba's were on those same pebbled shores long ago.
On that particular day last June, we had begun the pilgrimage walk under threatening skies and blustery winds. As soon as our ritual of the rocks was completed, the rain started. Showers of blessing? More like buckets -- a deluge of blessings. Drenching rain, pouring rain, unrelenting rain coupled with gale-force winds between 30 and 40 miles per hour. Some of the group decided to turn back and return to the hotel for hot baths and cream teas (God is merciful). Others stayed long enough to eat soggy sandwiches and rest beside water-soaked rocks before turning back.
Amazing to all, and perhaps most to themselves, a remnant decided to press on for the rest of the journey, slogging along beside sheep who were desperately seeking shelter. It was very slow going, as you can imagine, over rugged and slippery terrain.
Towards the end of the seven mile walk, the winds gathered strength, turning the rain into icy stinging pellets that cut into any exposed skin. The final challenge for the pilgrims was a 320 foot hill, rigorous enough on a fine day, but on that day, exceedingly treacherous for everyone. Slowly, carefully, everyone made it up and down. Finally the weary group of pilgrims returned to the hotel, soaked through and through yet triumphant in completing the walk. I breathed a sigh of relief. Everyone safely home!
One member of our community surprised us all by finishing the whole walk. She had called me about ten days before the trip began to tell me that she was facing two serious operations. She hoped to convince her doctor to give her steroid shots to ease her back pain so that she could at least make the trip. She was determined to come. And so she did. When she showed up for the pilgrimage walk, I was amazed. When she completed all seven miles of the journey over rough terrain in that driving rain, I was flabbergasted.
Her explanation was simple. She thought of the pilgrimage walk as a prayer walk, she said, a walk for peace. When she thought of it this way, she said, she knew that she had to go as far as she could. "I wanted each step to be a prayer for peace," she said. "There is so little we can do in the face of so many tragic realities in our world, but we can pray for peace. Each step I took was a prayer for peace. And I wanted there to be many steps. So I had to go on to the end."
There was a singularity of purpose and a steady intention, solid as the rock she carried from Columba's Bay. There were other things too that supported her intention. When I talked with her after returning home, she said that she knew she would make it to the end because she felt so uplifted by the group. She could not have done this by herself alone. She needed the strength, collective prayer, helping hands and spirit of the other pilgrims.
She also commented on the stormy weather. "It was a perfect storm," she said. I asked what she meant. And she replied, "it was perfect in that it exposed us to some of the extreme weather Columba and his followers must have experienced during their years here. I felt closer to their communities through this storm." She also said, "of course, we had beautiful sunny days on our pilgrimage, but the storm reminded me of some of the worst conditions that others who lived and prayed here had known. It challenged me to press on through the storm - as they had. That had particular meaning for my situation," she said.
I believe that Columba and all the others who had ever prayerfully walked on that island were cheering for her that day. All were lending their strength for peace.
I was reminded of her story recently when reading an article submitted by one of our Shalem graduates. You can read the whole piece in our fall newsletter. Carl Smith wrote that in February he was diagnosed with leukemia. During one of his hospital stays for treatment he began to walk what he called "circles for peace-slow walks for peace." And he has continued this practice.
Although he is walking by himself, he says that he has a great sense of "we-ness" whenever walking for peace. Step by step, the sense of being accompanied by a great, powerful host has grown. There is a sense of a shared intent. "Walking these circles is a 'we' thing". "We know we are not alone." Amongst those he senses are walking with him are: other people around the globe who sit and walk in meditation; light workers and energy workers; not just those on the earth plane but heavenly forces -- angels and archangels, saints and mentors; he includes the birthright energies of - love, compassion, healing, the whole web of prayer and support that has made itself known including Jesus, Mary, Buddha, and creation.
As he walks, Carl says he calls on all these forces and gives voice to their shared intent. Carl wrote, "each day we utter these intentions: we thank you God that we are peace; we are nonviolence; we are compassion; we are healed and healing; we are sustainability; we are living in such a way that all other beings may also live; we are shift of consciousness with billions of people around the globe; we are breakthrough."
That sense of "we-ness" and shared intent is powerful. As I read over the responses that so many of you sent about the value of the Shalem Society, its intent and shared practices, there was a clear sense of "we-ness" growing through our Spirit-vessel, the Shalem Society. There is a sense that in our calling to contemplative leadership, we are so much more together than alone.
Last year and again this year, every room is filled for this annual gathering. Many others sent notes wishing they could be here. In the course of the past year, the number of Society members has doubled, from almost 100 to almost 200 today. All 200 of us are joined together in dedicated prayer this week.
As we begin this second year, we have a tiny glimpse of what the Shalem Society is and can be. To me, it is in many ways like the Columban community, a contemplative movement, sitting lightly in the world. Our members practice a ministry of presence...witnessing to God, not by rushing around proselytizing and preaching but simply by being there, available to God, available to others as needed.
Shalem is the "motherhouse" so to speak, through which we have been formed and grounded in our contemplative orientation. As sons and daughters of this contemplative way, we are engaged in ministries all over the country and in other parts of the world, ministries of listening, of quiet and patient healing, of discernment and response to the loving Spirit at work in us all. We even have our own beautiful illuminated manuscript, our Book of Record.
We might think of it as the scripture of our life together. And today, we are turning a new page, beginning a new chapter in the life of the Society. Like me, you may be wondering what this new page will look like and how the Society will change/grow. Together we can trust that this new page will be beautifully inscribed and gilded with the Spirit of Love.
In our calling to contemplative leadership, we are so much more together than alone. More because of dedicated commitment, more because of mutual support; more because of shared intention -- to every day/moment by moment turn towards the source of Love, say "yes" to Love, risk into Love, trust into that Love.
In The Awakened Heart, Jerry said, that the great spiritual leaders of our world, past and present, have not preached fear and paranoia. They have said that we can trust divine goodness, we can risk vulnerability if our intent is toward love. In other words, we can dream BIG. We can "go big for God," as Patience says. We can trust and risk that grace will be given as we step into the landscape of intention. Last year, Tilden called the Society "a larger beachhead for contemplative orientation in our religious institutions and larger culture." We might just think of it as a wider opening for God in the world.
Many years ago, I read a small book by Agnes Sanford, a classic on the healing ministry. One thing I have remembered is that she always encouraged those engaged in this ministry to join with a few others with a similar calling and shared intent. She used the image of an electrical wire. Individually, she wrote, we are like electrical wires through which flows the empowering/healing light and love of God. But together, we are an even wider opening, a larger conduit for God's healing power, a stronger light in the darkness of our time.
She noted that even Jesus always took at least 3 others with him, Peter, James and John on occasions of particular need. And in Matthew's Gospel, Jesus instructs his followers that where two or three meet together in his name, he is there among them. The great I AM is present. Where two or tree are gathered, there is a bigger opening for God's power, healing energy, purpose. When 75 of us gather for a week and another 120 are with us in prayer, there is a huge opening for God, for the who-knows-whatness-of-God.
On that pilgrimage day in Iona, after the storm, came a beautiful rainbow, a benediction to the day. We stood outside in awe for long minutes just gazing on this sight. Our souls couldn't get enough of this beauty. And I wished that the whole world could be like this - soaring in beauty, in harmony with creation. At one with All. A friend of mine recently returned from Medjugoria. She said she experienced a quality of peace there that she had not known anywhere else. Peace seemed to blanket the whole village. She wished the whole world could be like that. All we have to offer is our desire, our willingness, our openness, our selves for authentic life and leadership in God.
In the next few minutes, let's take these thoughts into some guided silence and prayer. Let's try to recover some of our own impossible hopes, the endless array of impracticalities that our hearts yearn for:
peace for our world;
justice and freedom for all who are oppressed;
food and shelter for everyone on earth;
complete love, beauty, freedom in yourself and your relationships.
We'll begin with some body stretches. Then a time of silent listening for the prayerful hopes that God has planted in our hearts for ourselves, our communities, and the world, the ways in which we wish "the world could be like that." Those wishes may have clues in them for our own particular calling. Perhaps there is a particular hope for the Shalem Society and how it might serve "going big for God." Then I'll invite us to move around the room, to connect with our spiritual ancestors and with each other, this larger community we are a part of. Finally some reflective sharing with one other person.
Meditation
First some stretching. Intention is stretching out for, stretching into love, but because love comes as a gift, intention toward love involves yielding as well as stretching. It is reaching out with open hands, stretching oneself, open in willingness, ready to receive grace that is given. Let's practice that now.
Body Stretches, standing.
Seated again, pay attention to your breath. Notice the same rhythm of stretching and releasing
In a relaxed, open posture, perhaps your eyes are closed, and in silence now, touch into your desires - for yourself, community, world, Shalem Society
Sit with some of these hopes for a while, just be aware of them.
See if there is an expansion of space inside of you, a certain enlarging, an opening sense of possibility.
Perhaps you sense a need to let go of something that is holding you back from that sense of bigness and possibility. If so, offer this to God and know that all is forgiven and washed in the sea of God's mercy.
Perhaps there is a prayer that rises in your heart now, an invitation to say "yes" to something, something that calls your name. If so, just let it be there.
Now plant a word/sense of thanksgiving for all that has been shown you/given you.
Let's take a minute now to look around the room, noticing again that larger circle that surrounds, encourages, loves, prays for and inspires our contemplative leadership. These are intensely human figures with faults and weaknesses as well as extraordinary depths of gentleness, humility and wisdom. Despite, and even through, all their limitations and brokenness, these vessels of Spirit brought the gifts of their spiritual awakening to humanity.
Just silently and slowly move around the room, noticing which of these spiritual ancestors invites you to linger a little longer. Now pause for a few seconds with one of these. We in this generation, stand on the shoulders of those pioneers in the Spirit.
Let's take a moment now of silent appreciation for their witness...perhaps ask them to inspire our ongoing awakening, encourage us to do what is needed today and go beyond them.
Now let's look at each other, around this circle, a community of dedication and shared intent. We are part of divine beauty and love and community.
Walk around now slowly and silently acknowledge each person you come to, look into their eyes - perhaps a smile, a touch, a bow. letting that person represent all the others in the Society, the saints, mentors, Jesus, Mary, Buddha, all of creation - all who are encouraging us, there for us, with strength, power, love, compassion.
And now, just stand in place. Open, willing for God's Love to live in you and through you for the sake of the world.
Return to your places now and spend the next few minutes in silence, either for continuing this meditation, journaling, or just resting in God's loving spirit.
Now turn to the person next to you, and share with them anything that has particularly struck you tonight about the power of shared intent - anything said, seen, thought, experienced.
Despite, and even through, all our limitations and brokenness, we are part of the divine circle, taking our place in the lineage of Love. The Living Spirit is shaping new saints today and we are among them. "Glory to the Gracious One whose power working in us can do infinitely more than we can ask or imagine, glory to the Gracious One, now and forever." Amen.
Let's return to the chant from earlier this evening and close our time together with movement and prayers for peace. Marianne will lead us again. Let me ask that this be a quiet night, mindful of those who want to continue to deepen in silence.
Spirit of Peace,
To your cause we give our strength,
that love may reign and war may cease.
Mir, Miru, Mir
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