SPIRITUAL EXERCISES
by Forrest Church
January 11, 2004
This time of year, one disadvantage of being the sort of minister who feels compelled to convey the impression that he is courageously honest about every significant change in his personal and spiritual life is that my New Year’s Resolutions tend to become public property. Which simply means, rather than a private disappointment, my failure to keep them becomes a public embarrassment.
The truth is, as I get older and less interesting, my New Year’s Resolutions have become easier to keep. At the age of 55 I have now successfully managed to give up almost everything. I no longer drink. I no longer smoke. I no longer eat carbohydrates. Here’s the problem. With my erstwhile cravings either subdued or toothless, between now and my death I have absolutely nothing left to give up. With nothing more to give up, when resolution time comes one has to take something new on. Which is precisely what I have done. My New Year’s Resolution is to start going to the Gym.
You laugh! In the nineteenth century, there was something called "Muscular Christianity." Just imagine the possibilities for "Muscular Unitarianism." I’ll get buff, order a fitted, designer robe, and the fundamentalists will tremble.
Of course, first I have to start going. In the same way that one tries to give up things gradually before finally going cold turkey, I am attempting to start going to the gym incrementally. Which means that I haven’t quite gotten there yet. Here’s what I have done. I have packed my gym bag. And then, two days later, I put it by the door. Which is where it sits—except when we are having company, in which case I put it back in the bedroom. (Clearly, the fundamentalists are not in any immediate danger.)
This, anyway, is how things stood through the first week of the New Year. What could possibly then happen to make me feel even more self-conscious about my failure to make it to the gym? What happened, I swear to you, is this. I got a call from the editor of Men’s Health Magazine. Men’s Health! He asked me to write an article for their May issue: "Ten Quick and Simple Moves to Get Your Soul in Shape." One of the reasons I said yes is that having to write this article on tight deadline gave me another excuse not to go to the gym.
So here it goes. (Some of this may be familiar—but not all, so pay attention anyway).
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Religious snobs may mock spiritual self-improvement as "religion light." They forget that great theologians and philosophers (from St. Augustine to Marcus Aurelius) wrote the first how-to books. Some became instant classics, such as the # 1 bestseller of the 15th century, Thomas a Kempis’s The Imitation of Christ. "It is vanity to wish for a long life, if you care little for a good life," Thomas said. Then he spelled out 116 secrets for spiritual success, breaking his pointers into memory-bite-sized pieces (e. g. "Four Things that Bring Perfect Peace"). Had Thomas published his book today—and many still read it for religious self-improvement—after a little strategic pruning it could well boast the sub-title, "100 Surefire Ways to Find Salvation."
Another thing religious purists might ponder: the word salvation literally means "health." 15 centuries before Thomas compiled his spiritual workout manual, Roman friends and countrymen greeted one another by saying Salve or Salvate ("Good health to you"). In fact, if one group could lay claim to having invented self-help, it would surely be the ancient Romans. From emperor-philosophers to tradesman, Roman citizens dismissed as fanciful any philosophy that lacked a practical application. Since nothing is more practical than health, mental and physical wellbeing lay at the heart of Roman spirituality. The famous Latin adage, Mens sana in corpore sano ("A sound mind in a sound body") sums up the double-barreled Roman view of fitness to a tee:
1. Honor your body as the soul’s vessel. (i.e. "Stay in Shape.")
2. However fit you are, remember that the container won’t be any better than its contents. (i.e. "Your soul needs a daily workout too").
So, to help you get off your spiritual duffs and buff up your souls, I have selected 10 simple spiritual moves from my forthcoming book, Freedom from Fear. Although designed as fear-busters, they work equally well as a ten-step regimen to get (and keep) your soul in shape.
1. Breathe. No multi-tasking! Anyone can breathe and work or breathe and worry at the same time—all you’ll be aware of is the work or the worry. So take a deep, cleansing breath. And then another. Just breathe, nothing more. You will quickly discover that the breath of life communicates the secret to relaxation (that blessed state in which all other spiritual exercises suddenly become possible)
2. Lighten up. "Angels can fly because they take themselves lightly," wrote the English author G. K. Chesterton. By the same token, surely the devil fell on account of his gravity. What works for angels can’t help but be good for us. Levity addresses worry’s tendency to obsess; scoffs at the demon of perfectionism; and exposes (as our enemy, not our friend) the self-absorption that lies at the root of insecurity and unhappiness. When we laugh—especially at ourselves—we fill the present with instant joy.
3. Pray for someone you hate. Hatred stokes the mind’s satanic mills, but it is never good for the soul. For this reason, you should choose your enemies carefully. Odds are you’ll become like them. Lifting the burden of hatred from your soul, however, is surprisingly simple. Close your eyes. Imagine your enemy’s face in your mind. And then (in the best "Love your enemy" spirit) magnanimously pray, "May so and so find peace within his or her soul." Such a move is both "spiritually correct" and self-serving. You are doing yourself the favor. And it always works: you simply can’t hate a person and pray for him at one and the same time.
4. Pray for the right miracle. If healthy, pray for health. Anyone who is ailing will remind you what a blessing health is. Then pray for sight, hearing, smell, touch, and taste—whichever of these senses you are blessed with; millions of people aren’t, you know. Finally, pray for the sympathy of those who are concerned about your plight, whatever it may be. The love of those who love you is a gift. Say "Thank you." Miracles happen.
5. Pool your tears. The ancient Hebrews kept tear cups on their mantles, little porcelain cups where they saved their tears, both those of sorrow and of joy. Tears are precious, reminding everyone of how deeply we care. At times of loss the grief we feel is the truest measure of our love. So bless your tears as they fall. And, when others grieve, recognize your own tears in their eyes. When we pool our tears, they do everyone a world of good. When we wallow in them, we drown alone
6. Hang up your troubles. Before entering your house at night, walk over to a tree (in the front yard or on the sidewalk), bow your head and close your eyes for a moment. "What are you doing?" a neighbor may ask. "That’s my worry tree," you reply. "When I come home after a hard day, rather than bringing my worries in with me, I hang them there." Explain that your worries had become a distraction. You wanted to be sure your family got the attention they deserved during the few hours you were together, (or, if living alone, that you didn’t spoil your own evening). So hang up your troubles rather than bringing them home with you. "Does it work?" your neighbor will wonder. "You won’t believe how well," you say. "When I pause in the morning on my way to work to collect my worries from the evening before, most of them are gone. I ignore them for a few hours and they vanish into thin air.
7. Unwrap the present. You may remember the magic mirror in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. It reflects the fondest dreams of anyone who gazes into it. For instance, Ron sees himself being crowned the Quiddich champion. Harry imagines himself reunited with his parents, both of whom are dead. The wizard tells Harry, "It is bad for you to spend so much time in front of that mirror." He explains that only when we look into the magic mirror and see ourselves as we actually are can we be accounted truly happy. Why? Because the past is over and the future uncertain. Nostalgia dwells on loss; and expectation is often nothing more than premeditated resentment. Rejecting both—by wanting what we have, doing what we can, and being who we are—the gift of time is ours to savor and to save
8. Remember "The Secret to Everything." When you feel singled out as life’s favorite target, comfort yourself with the simple reminder, "It’s not about me." Rev. Bill Coffin once quipped, "There is no smaller package in the world than someone who is all wrapped up in himself." You know the mantra. Life is stupid. I’m worthless. Or a victim. Or the subject of a vast, hidden conspiracy. Clearly, the over-examined life is not worth living either! When you feel like this, the only way to improve the picture is to remove yourself from the middle of it. It’s easy. All you have to do is remember "The Secret to Everything": "It’s not about you!
9. Wish on a star. You have two trillion personal stars. That’s right: by latest reckoning there are two trillion stars in the universe for every single living human being. Not only that, but your very appearance among them is predicated upon almost impossible odds. Go back to the beginning of human history: all your ancestors lived to puberty, chose the only mate they could have chosen for you to exist, made love at the only possible moment and united the only possible sperm and egg to keep your tenuous prospects alive. Then go back billions of years before that. A single, unbroken thread connects you to the very moment of creation. The universe was pregnant with you when it was born. So how about a quick and simple cosmic move. Go out this very evening. Wish on one of your two trillion stars
10. Let go for dear life. What do you worry about most? Is it your children? Or maybe your parents, suddenly like children in their dependency on you? Is it your health—a disease or condition you have now or fear contracting? How about death—or does the pain and possible bondage associated with dying worry you more? After doing what we can to shape our destiny, the best response to life’s slings and arrows lies in ceding power that was never ours to exercise in the first place. We can do this begrudgingly or with grace, one day at a time, wanting what we have, not lamenting what we lack. The results will be almost the same in either case. Our parents will pass on; our children will leave home in pursuit of their own lives and dreams. The only difference is that fear will not preside over each departure, and love will be free to reign in its stead.
Each of these ten rules represents the opposite of wishful thinking. Happiness doesn’t follow when we long for what we lack—for things we have lost or will likely never find. The past is over. What we pine for is very different in selective memory than it was in reality. And longing for something we may find in the future distracts us from enjoying the present. Wishful thinking is both sloppy and sentimental. We should think to wish instead for things closer at hand:
° The courage to bear up under pain
° The grace to take our successes lightly
° The liberation that comes with forgiveness
° The energy to address tasks that await our doing
° The meaning to be found in giving ourselves to others
° The patience to surmount things that are dragging us down
° The joy to be gained in even the smallest tasks
° The pleasure of each other’s company
° The wonder that lies between the sacred moments of our birth and deathI call this thoughtful wishing—wishing for that which is already ours to have, do, and be. It’s like dreaming the possible dream. All you have to do is put your heart into it. And the results are almost instantaneous. There’s one further bonus. With but the slightest cooperation on your part, thoughtful wishes always come true.
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That, more or less, is what I’ll send the good folks at Men’s Health tomorrow morning, right on schedule. And then I’m going to the gym.
Amen. I love you. Salvate. And May God Bless us All.