HONOR YOUR FATHER AND YOUR MOTHER by Kay Hall
" Honor your father and your mother, so that you my live long in the land the Lord your God is giving you.”
There is no question in my mind that this is the most difficult commandment of all. How can you honor someone who hurt you? What honor could they possibly deserve? As I lay in bed last night this is what came to my mind when I thought of my New Years Eve Resolution to honor this Commandment and call my mother. That thought alone put me in a state of panic. It felt like someone was pressing down on my chest.
There was fear , I became nervous and jittery. What would I say after so many? How could I live up to that commandment and honor this person?With my physical reaction in full force I imagined the conversation, my questions for her. Why didn't you honor my father's wishes? How could you just let me out into the world with no support? What kind of a mother are you? I felt anger, pain, relief and then I decided to call.
As I picked up the phone it became clear to me that as long as I hid behind these anxieties, I could never be whole. Could I finally find it within myself to show her honor? But honor for what?
I always figured that honor was something you impart to someone who does something good, something positive, something greater that oneself. This woman did none of that.Was it possible that if I could find a way to honor this woman I could erase this childhood fear that still plagued me? Was it possible to reconcile this dilemma?
Then slowly it came to me. I would honor her by accepting her decision to reject me. With this thought something was lifted from me. I think it was deep seated. The feeling that somehow I deserved such rejection, or, had done something to deserve this rejection. I began to realize that her decision was all her own, she was responsible, not me. She was an adult and she had a right to make any decisions about anything she choose. Her actions did not have to reflect on me and I decided that I had to find a way to honor her decision as an individual. By doing so I would be honoring her for better or worse and I could finally say honestly to God that I'd honored his commandment.
Armed with this new knowledge I dialed her number. She answered and we chatted casually.
“How are you?”
“Every thing's fine.”
“How are you?”
“Fine.”Through this meaningless dialogue the weeds that had suffocated me for years slowly began to unravel and float away. By honoring her decision I realized that I had the power to make my own decisions and I would.
If there's anything you need", I began. "Give me call". I even told her I loved her and gave her my phone number. Then, I went to the gym to work out.
It started to hit me on the way home. I was not the elated daughter reunited with her mother like I'd seen on Oprah. I could never expect a happy reunion. A painful circle suddenly healed? No, that was not my reality. I felt anger- active pissed-off anger.
First I was angry with her but then I turned on myself. All these years I had let that woman affect my life, my career my decisions. All this time I'd spent trying to explain to people why I had no family life and she still rejected me. Then, like magic. the negative anger I'd been churning inside for years began to metamorphisize into a good anger, a determined anger an anger that I realized I could use to empower myself . An anger that could propel me into adulthood, into accepting my own destiny. A destiny that was now truly my own... and there wasn't a moment to waste.
I reveled in God's wisdom once again. A commandment that was given a commandment that was once an impossibility for me had now become a reality. And , by acting on that reality I was propelled into a new place a place where pain became a thing truly of the past. A place where I could finally separate my past from my present and my future.
Honor thy mother? I did that, so many years later even knowing she'd never honor me. Somehow I'd freed myself and given her a window to free herself and that night I prayed.
“Dear God, thank you for leading me to a commandment that was the key to freeing my psyche I pray that the woman who calls herself my mother will have the courage to do the same”
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Church Junkies
Every second Wednesday of the month I attend a casual Bible education class called "Bibles and Brewskies". It is headed by a female priest named Jennifer who is in her early thirties, with dirty blond hair and, in my opinion, way too sexy for a woman in this position. Jennifer hails from the Church of the Epiphany on 74th and York avenue in Manhattan in New York City. I found this church quite by accident when on one Sunday I happened to be walking by and figured what the heck, I'd tried everything else and my life was still a mess- I figured I had nothing left to loose. After attending a service or two it became painfully clear to me that I didn't have a clue what was going on so I signed up for a Bible class called “Bibles and Brewskies”. A new “church curious” me emerged. There was a whole world out there that I know absolutely nothing about...
"Bibles and Brewskies" takes place at a bar called David Copperfield's right across the street from the church. . Since I love beer I figure this is a real stroke of genius on Jennifer's part. This way I can drink and do some good at the same time- the perfect combination for a functional alcoholic. Seated at the table is Amy who looks like a knock off of Marcia Cross. She and I make up the core of this small yet devoted "Bibles and Brewskies" group. On this particular evening however, there are two new people in attendance. I am introduced to Lilly, a spitting image of the short dark haired girl with glasses on the Scooby Doo Show ,and a young gentleman who calls himself Chris. Chris is in his twenties, medium build, with black hair and an overbite that keeps him from being handsome.
I sit down at the table still very unsure of myself. This is only the second bible class I have ever attended. The bible is a very big book and I have no clue what it's all about. For the first time in a long time I am placed in the position of being a student, and although I was never a big fan of college ,being on the learning side of the coin was at once familiar, a little uncomfortable and a lot embarrassing. I feel like I am the only one on the planet who has not read the Bible.
I grew up in Communist household and the Bible and any religious education was banned. In fact our family sport was to make fun of people who “believed”. I learned that Communism and God do not mix.
Naturally, I am uncomfortable being around a Priest especially a woman like Jennifer. I always thought Priests were shriveled old men like you see in movies, held up in stone castles in the middle of nowhere. Not only is she a woman wearing a black shirt, but what really throws me for a loop is the white collar. It seems very stiff and uncomfortable like a woman wearing high heels. I don't remember ever in my life sitting or talking with anyone who wore that collar. As I stare at her I wonder what hand God had in designing Priest garb? Wouldn't God want his Priests to be comfortable?
Our agenda is to read round -robin from the Bible and then discuss the passage at hand. As we settle in we order our beer from a very long list of options. Copperfield's is the place to go for beer lovers so it is a perfect match- Jennifer has really hit on something here..anything to get them to the table. The beer brings me the bible keeps me.
Jennifer begins, “Turn to Mathew 18, lines ten through fourteen.
I pick up my NIV study bible that I purchased because the footnotes were so good. I've only read Mathew once before so I'm really not sure where to find him in this big book.
I turn to Amy who really knows her stuff. She sees me floundering. “It's toward the back” she says.
I flip around till I find this Mathew. I turn to chapter eighteen and then look for the small numbers that direct me to ten. I am there. The passage is called,“The Parable of the Lost Sheep”.
Amy, seated at Jennifer's right begins to read. “See that you do not look down on one of these little ones. For I tell you that their angels in heaven always see the face of my Father in heaven.”
I notice that these lines are written in red which means the words are a direct quote of what Jesus himself had said which Mathew in turn had written down.
The Scooby- doo girl reads next. “What do you think? If a man owns a hundred sheep, and one of them wanders away, will he not leave the ninety-nine on the hills and go to look for the on that wandered off?”
Then it's my turn and I continue..”And it he find it. I tell you the truth, he is happier about that one sheep than about the ninety-nine that did not wonder off.
Chris finishes. “In the same way your Father in heaven is not willing that any of these little ones should be lost.”
Jennifer looks around.. “Well what do you think?
I pause for a moment and then Amy adds, “I think he' 's saying that finding the one lost sheep is just as important as the entire flock.
I wonder aloud. “Why would anyone go out to find one sheep, and leave the entire flock in danger just to save one?”
“I think”, Jennifer begins...”that the sheep that are saved are safe and so venturing out to save the wanderer is a Christian thing to do.”
It doesn't take long for Chris (the overbite guy) to break up our studying structure and it becomes clear to me that he is here with an agenda of his own. Before we can begin he breaks in...
"How is it" he begins." That, I've prayed for something for seventeen years and have still not gotten what I wanted?"
I groan inwardly. I bring my beer mug to my lips and take a sip. It is nice and light, just like I like it -a wheat beer, cool ,with a little slice of lemon on the side.Jennifer immediately takes the lead.
"Well", she says, "If God's not answering your prayer that I think you have your answer. Your answer is no".
I take another sip. That makes perfect sense to me. What an annoying little gnat in God's ear this guy must be, praying everyday, begging ,asking the same thing everyday for seventeen years- as if God had nothing better to do. Then I get curious. "What are you praying for?" I ask.
The gnat looks me directly in the eye. "I want to date Carmin Electra".I spit the beer from my mouth, and back into the glass. I look at Jennifer who remains stoic, serious, and compassionate at once. I glance at the "Scooby- Doo" girl, who is looking down into her beer in a state of shock. I look at the Marcia Cross look alike. Her eyes roll back into her head. Marcia has been around a lot of church stuff and I'm sure had see her share of such situations.
Then I think to myself, "Wow for seventeen years God had to hear how overbite guy wanted to date Carmin Electra? Everyday, every night. No wonder he wasn't answering. This kid is looped".What amazes me however is Jennifer's concern and sincere compassion. She doesn't make fun, she doesn't laugh or mock she reaches out to this obviously hurting kid and explains to him that God's answer is no.Chris's face drops I hold back a laugh and Jennifer reaches out to pat his hand in comfort.
Satisfied ,Chris looks around the table and announces." I've been to twenty-two churches in two weeks"."I do the math. That would be about two churches a day. Where did he find the time? Doesn't this guy work? How could one person go to two churches a day? And say what? "Dear Priest why won't God answer my prayer to date Carmin Electra?"
As I take another drink and stare at his bad haircut it becomes to clear to me that there must be a whole population of people who run from one church to another asking or praying of bugging priests with their problems. For the first time since I met Jennifer the priest, I began to understand what comes with the territory of this job.Priests, as far as I understood the job can't turn away people in need . They have to listen, they have to be patient, they guide and understand even the biggest stupidest idiot. I am slowly forming a whole new respect for the role of priest in my community.
On top of it all this was New York City, there were a lot of nuts here and consequently,there must be a whole bunch of church junkies. It was no joke choosing to be a priest, this was not an easy way out of life at all. They deserve a break. I mean I would snap doing this kind of work- with that uncomfortable collar and all.It occurs to me that Jennifer not only is a priest, but she has to be a psychologist as well. I wonder if they teach this in priest school? "Dealing with nuts 101"Chris however, is just warming up.
"You know about September 11th?" he asks. (Like it is possible to live in New York City and miss the event)."Well", the boy with a hope and prayer begins. " I was cooking on that day".
Curiosity gets the best of me and I can't resist. Bringing the frothy beer to my lips I beg the question."What were you cooking?"He looks at me angry. The kind of anger people get when the details of their false stories are exposed."I was making", he says definitively. "Macaroni and Cheese".Marcia Cross starts chugging her beer and Scooby girl does her best to stare directly ahead so as not to catch my eye and loose her composure.But this guy is not finished with us yet.
"A true miracle happened" he continues. " I was cooking macaroni and cheese and suddenly I no longer needed to wear glasses."I look at Jennifer now obviously concerned. Her composure fascinates me. This is obviously not her first nut.I ponder on the statement. So, I was to believe that this guy who wined in God's ear for seventeen years had experienced a miracle? I was to believe that this annoying gnat was granted God's favor?
I think to myself that if I were God I would have blinded the boy.The table is silent for a moment and then kind Jennifer begins to explain what the Church of Epiphany was about. The rest of us order another much needed round. As Jennifer continues her discussion with him I am lulled into reflecting on my own self and the state I was in when I came to this church. I was a mess.- a spiritual and physical mess. Chris couldn't hold a candle to me. It's amazing when I see a creature in pain it's so obvious... but when that pain is mine I think no one notices. Sitting there with my beer and my bible something in me changes. I begin to experience spiritual healing.
This type of healing never existed in me before and I know it's because of my newfound relationship with God. I'm excited, I feel stronger, somehow better, and I begin to feel like I can translate this to others- even annoying overbite guy. I finally understand. No one is too annoying for God. I see that through Jennifer, through her actions towards Chris, just as she reached out to me. She reaches out naturally, without judgment.
That night I pray. Dear God, give me the wisdom to not mock or jump to conclusions about other people. Help me live this way as a natural state of being. Thank-you God, for taking so much time to find your lost sheep. I must have been a real pain. And please God, if you can't give Overbite a date with Carmine Electra- maybe a good dream would do.
Love Kay
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Rocking on 42nd street
Yes it's true there is a church on Broadway and 42nd street right smack dab in the middle of Manhattan! Last Friday a friend,( who may be my third husband) invited me there. I have experienced anything like this before. I was used to the sparse meditative services at the Church of the Epiphany. This was the total opposite. The main room which used to be the stage for the musical Jesus Christ Superstar was fully packed. So the ushers ushered us up to another floor with at huge conference room.
Here I was on a Friday night in Manhattan, in a church on 42nd street that was so crowded there was standing room only. My friend and I grabbed two of the last seats available.
In front of me were ten huge television screens that showed the action taking place in the main room. And action is a mild word. I starred ahead at footage of a huge choir, the words of the songs flashed on the screen encouraging people to sing along. I turned and looked around me. People were on their feet, clapping singing, hand raised to the Lord, hands raised in prayer. It was like being at a rock concert. I got into it for a moment and then my head began to ache. I much prefer a quieter more meditative worship style.
After about a half hour of singing the crowd settled in to listen to a middle aged African American man. He was here as part of the bible study program that drew me here in the first place. Being Easter weekend he picked the passage in the Bible that discussed the Last Supper. He began to speak about an emotion that was all to familiar to me. He began to speak of fear. There was fear at this last supper. Jesus was not dining at Les Hales. This was a military time a time when anyone could barge through the door and torture and maim and kill. This was a somber supper, a supper filled with fear.
I was taken aback for a moment. It's a funny thing when I hear someone say something that I've never considered before and at the same time it rings true deep inside my soul. Of course, there must have been a lot of fear around that dinner table. Why had I never considered this?
For me that is a sign of a great priest, preacher, rabbi, teacher, someone who points out a truth that I never considered before and imparts that knowledge unselfishly to others.
That's one reason I never went into teaching. I figured I'd learned all this stuff the hard way and had no intention of passing it along without a fight.
Anyway the idea of fear stuck with me and I sadly realized that my entire life was filled with fear. I feared my parents, and brothers and I wore that fear like a badge in my adult life. Most of my decisions were made in fear, out of fear, fearing fear. And quite honestly, most of my adult decisions turned out badly. How could I expect anything less? My motivating factor was an emotion so myopic for self preservation it led to excessive poor judgement.
Yes I understood a little of the fear involved in the last supper. I knew fear... too well. But what was I supposed to do with this fact? I was aware it existed within myself, but I just couldn't wish it away. It was stuck to my ribs like greasy chicken and no Palmolive in the word could break that mess down.
Then this preacher or teacher said something that opened a door for me and my fear. He said that when good things happen we thank God. We should tell God how much we love him and we praise him. But when bad things happen we turn from God. We beg him to make things better and we wonder what we did to deserve such punishment.
I nodded my head in agreement with the other of hundreds of people in attendance. Yep,that was about right. And then he turned this around. Instead of blaming God for our misfortune we should thank him. That's right. We should thank God when things go wrong, because God doesn't make mistakes. He hold all planets in the solar system and hasn't dropped one yet and he won't drop us.
It struck me that idea- thanking God for the bad stuff in my life. I decided that I would experiment with this. For the rest of the week I went around thanking God when Peter and I had a fight- thanking god when I pricked my finger on a rose, thanking God for my fear, and the most difficult of all, thanking God for my horrible excuse for a family. I thanked God for everything that I'd previously begged him to expunge from my life. And then a strange feeling overcame me. I felt relaxed, peaceful. I felt it was not me against the world and I realized I really realized that God had no made no mistakes in my life otherwise I wouldn't be writing this words right now.
Because I couldn't see past my nose I was creating anxiety and fear and making desperate attempts to control everything around me. But no more, thanking God somehow released me from myself thanking God and allowing God to make decisions for in my in my life somehow liberated me and literally washed away that fear that had been plaguing me for years.
That night I prayed. Thanks the for the fear God... it lead me straight to you. Amen.
Love Kay
Here I was on a Friday night in Manhattan, in a church on 42nd street that was so crowded there was standing room only. My friend and I grabbed two of the last seats available.
In front of me were ten huge television screens that showed the action taking place in the main room. And action is a mild word. I starred ahead at footage of a huge choir, the words of the songs flashed on the screen encouraging people to sing along. I turned and looked around me. People were on their feet, clapping singing, hand raised to the Lord, hands raised in prayer. It was like being at a rock concert. I got into it for a moment and then my head began to ache. I much prefer a quieter more meditative worship style.
After about a half hour of singing the crowd settled in to listen to a middle aged African American man. He was here as part of the bible study program that drew me here in the first place. Being Easter weekend he picked the passage in the Bible that discussed the Last Supper. He began to speak about an emotion that was all to familiar to me. He began to speak of fear. There was fear at this last supper. Jesus was not dining at Les Hales. This was a military time a time when anyone could barge through the door and torture and maim and kill. This was a somber supper, a supper filled with fear.
I was taken aback for a moment. It's a funny thing when I hear someone say something that I've never considered before and at the same time it rings true deep inside my soul. Of course, there must have been a lot of fear around that dinner table. Why had I never considered this?
For me that is a sign of a great priest, preacher, rabbi, teacher, someone who points out a truth that I never considered before and imparts that knowledge unselfishly to others.
That's one reason I never went into teaching. I figured I'd learned all this stuff the hard way and had no intention of passing it along without a fight.
Anyway the idea of fear stuck with me and I sadly realized that my entire life was filled with fear. I feared my parents, and brothers and I wore that fear like a badge in my adult life. Most of my decisions were made in fear, out of fear, fearing fear. And quite honestly, most of my adult decisions turned out badly. How could I expect anything less? My motivating factor was an emotion so myopic for self preservation it led to excessive poor judgement.
Yes I understood a little of the fear involved in the last supper. I knew fear... too well. But what was I supposed to do with this fact? I was aware it existed within myself, but I just couldn't wish it away. It was stuck to my ribs like greasy chicken and no Palmolive in the word could break that mess down.
Then this preacher or teacher said something that opened a door for me and my fear. He said that when good things happen we thank God. We should tell God how much we love him and we praise him. But when bad things happen we turn from God. We beg him to make things better and we wonder what we did to deserve such punishment.
I nodded my head in agreement with the other of hundreds of people in attendance. Yep,that was about right. And then he turned this around. Instead of blaming God for our misfortune we should thank him. That's right. We should thank God when things go wrong, because God doesn't make mistakes. He hold all planets in the solar system and hasn't dropped one yet and he won't drop us.
It struck me that idea- thanking God for the bad stuff in my life. I decided that I would experiment with this. For the rest of the week I went around thanking God when Peter and I had a fight- thanking god when I pricked my finger on a rose, thanking God for my fear, and the most difficult of all, thanking God for my horrible excuse for a family. I thanked God for everything that I'd previously begged him to expunge from my life. And then a strange feeling overcame me. I felt relaxed, peaceful. I felt it was not me against the world and I realized I really realized that God had no made no mistakes in my life otherwise I wouldn't be writing this words right now.
Because I couldn't see past my nose I was creating anxiety and fear and making desperate attempts to control everything around me. But no more, thanking God somehow released me from myself thanking God and allowing God to make decisions for in my in my life somehow liberated me and literally washed away that fear that had been plaguing me for years.
That night I prayed. Thanks the for the fear God... it lead me straight to you. Amen.
Love Kay
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