PRAYER SHAWL

Growing up, my son had a hard time being away from home. He didn’t usually attend sleepovers and when he did he would often call me up around 4 in the morning asking me to come get him because he ‘couldn’t sleep’. Because he had trouble sleeping anywhere besides his own home, his own bed, his weaning process might have been just a bit longer than most cubs.

When he was about 11, I made him attend church camp for the first time. I knew he would have a hard time adjusting to living in a cabin in the woods with a bunch of other boys he didn’t know so I prepared the camp dean and educated the camp nurse on how best to handle his anxieties. And before he left, I secretly mailed him the first of a long series of  ‘hugs’, long letters detailing how much I loved him and letting him know I had faith that he could get through whatever he was going through.

The ‘hug’ was constructed from several sheets of plain paper taped or glued end-to-end and then laid out on the floor under my outstretched arms. A friend or colleague would then draw the silhouette of my arms on to the page into which I would write whatever was in my heart. When he received my letter, he could read the letter and then ‘wrap’ himself up in my love. My way of bringing the comfort and safety of my arms when he was far away from home. I really didn’t know it at the time, but this was my version of a prayer shawl for my child.

Last week, one of my son’s friends began the long recovery from a trauma suffered several years before. In the middle of a long night of distress that accompanies such healing, she called my son asking him to come over to stay with her through her dark night. My son, as he had with so many other friends before, responded immediately and stayed to provide what comfort he could. He was very worried and touched by her turmoil and wanted desperately to help but knew, through his own struggles, that in the end there was no quick cure or easy path through the pain.

As he left church that next Sunday, he passed by his church’s prayer shawl ministry table as he had many times before. This time, however, for the first time, one of the ladies called out to him “Do you know of anyone who might need a prayer shawl?” Coincidence or intervention?

The prayer shawls his church ladies create not only have their loving prayers but also little Christian sayings embedded into and onto them. He knew his friend is an atheist. He wondered how she would take such a spiritual gesture but he felt the prayer shawl, just like the hug, might have powers beyond its material existence. He knows ‘things’ can be imbued with special powers when they have been gifted from someone you care about or created with intention and love. He decided a prayer shawl might be helpful to her healing and asked the prayer shawl ladies if they would make a slightly less ‘religious’ one for his friend, the atheist. Responding with love, the ladies happily agreed.

A few days later, he picked up her prayer shawl and nervously delivered it to his friend, worried that such a gesture might be unwanted but firm in his belief of its power. As he handed it to her, he explained what it was and how it was supposed to work. She held it close and cried. The prayer shawl had already begun working its special brand of magic.

Perhaps there is a good reason prayer shawls have survived as a symbol of comfort and solace over the centuries. Perhaps we humans are just superstitious. But in the books on Jesus’s ministry there are many stories that detail his followers and others hopeful of being ‘cured’ by touching his cloak. His actual garment was thought to have healing powers.

I imagine that Jesus, an observant Jew, would have worn a garment, called a Tallit, ‘thrown over his shoulders’ as God had commanded male Israelites wear during their long journey in the desert (Numbers 15:38-40). These garments, with requisite tassels on each corner, came to become known as prayer shawls. You may have seen these often white and blue cloths worn over the shoulders of Jewish men if you have ever visited a Synagogue or perhaps you have seen them in a painting or a movie. The shawls were commanded in order for the Israelites to be reminded of God’s commandments and, by extension, God’s favor.

Prayer Shawls are a perfect example of the syncretic nature of religion. Although very much a Jewish tradition, prayer shawls have become symbols of the security and comfort found in God’s love in the Christian tradition as well. In 1998, two women, alumni of the Hartford Women's Leadership Institute, seeking to apply their Feminist Spirituality founded a ministry based on Prayer Shawls. They promoted a program which encouraged women of spirit to knit, crochet or sew warm shawls for those needing comfort or solace or even joy and celebration. And with each stitch, with each loop a small prayer for the wearer would be imbedded.

There is magic not only in the intent and prayers placed into the shawl by its maker but in the idea of someone else spending so much time and effort to create such a thing – especially for a complete stranger who does not share the same beliefs. What we do for others benefits the doer and the receiver. From my perspective, gestures like this bring us closer to the Way. They remain a reminder that even perfect strangers care about us. One doesn’t need to be a person of faith to ‘get’ the love that is delivered with the Prayer Shawl.

GENESIS

“Dan, you left your Bible in my backpack.” NEVER the words I would have expected to come from my mouth as they pertained to my wild child son. I’m not sure my backpack (any of them) had ever even SEEN a bible much less held one. But my son Dan had been working hard but was stressed about money so I had invited him to fly back home on my dime for a camping weekend with a bunch of my outdoor adventure cronies.

By then, Dan had already told me that he felt the One we name God had called him to champion justice and that he felt he could do that best as a minister – a man of the cloth – a preacher man – a pastor– Clergy – the shepherd of some flock. Honestly, I had begun to see some tell-tale signs before he called me that Saturday morning to break the news he would not be entering law school or become a history teacher. I had already suspected he might want to follow some path that let him work for social justice – after all, he was already doing that and had done so for quite a few years already.

I had become used to him being a ‘community organizer’, a usually poorly paid position helping others realize not only their potential but their basic human rights. I could see him as a lobbyist for progressive causes or even as an elected official. But never, I mean never in a million years, would I have believed he would be tapped by the One to be a ‘fisher of men’.

That Saturday morning is burned into my brain. He called me early – much earlier than usual for a Saturday. He sounded like he had slept little and thought a lot. “Mom, I decided I am going to apply to Divinity School.” I asked him if he was sure. Yes, he was. Or at least he thought he was. I reminded him pastoring is not all babies and baptisms. He told me he knew that but he still wanted to pursue this. He asked me to be happy for him and I honestly told him I would support him but couldn’t be happy about him being a magnet for the sick and the homeless and the lost and the dis/spirited. “Dan, there are a lot of really sick and hurting people out there who will be looking for you to fix things.” I told him.

Still, he said it just ‘felt right’. And the days have turned into months, I realize that Saturday was the opening of Dan’s Chrysalis – his morphing from concerned activist to spiritual advisor. I remember I kept suggesting to Spirit that someone else’s child might be better suited. But as Dan grew in faith and certitude, I felt my own spirit open to the very idea that someone is ‘called.’

I’m not a very good Christian. I’m a pretty good Taoist. Taoism is about always trying to be in sync with The Way and knowing that this is quite difficult at times. It’s an easy philosophy to explain and believe and an extremely hard one to live. Because it doesn’t have rules. You are either interested in being in the Way or are just not in the Way.

To me, Christianity has always been very much about rules. Only certain people are going to get to heaven. Only certain people deserve to sit on the side of God. Moses delivered the Ten Commandments to a Nomadic people who had to have social order and we humans thought that meant it was a mandate forever. I’m not particularly good with rules.

And here is my wayward wild child ready to step up to the pulpit and tell people how they should live their lives. Honestly, the thought made me more than a little uncomfortable. My love of Spirit is very meaningful and personal to me. I don’t expect or want to tell other people how to greet Spirit. I was a bit appalled my son thought he had something to tell everyone about how to find/follow/love Spirit. Really? This is the same kid that drove the after-school care program Director to seriously consider retirement. Why in the heck did Spirit choose him anyway?

But I can’t deny the growing glow around him. I can’t deny the reaction of his friends who have enthusiastically endorsed his decision. He is becoming more confident that he made the right choice. Of course, he is human and wanting at least sometimes to push this off until his next lifetime but I have witnessed an increasing assurance that he finally listened to an urge way bigger than him to seek the credentials that would put him in front of crowds of people to help them figure out their way to Spirit. God to him is as addictive as crack to an addict. He just can’t get enough.

Today, Dan received his first letter of acceptance to one of the four schools to which he applied. He is both very gratified and scared at the same time. No doubt being a minister is a huge responsibility. And this path was given to a kid who couldn’t be bothered to pick up after himself without a prod.

World, I can completely tell you with confidence that this messenger is flawed. But as he is quick to point out, most of God’s messengers were. Moses stuttered. Peter had a serious breakdown of confidence. Jonah had to sit in the body of a whale for three days before he was ready to listen. Martin was a Southern black man at a time being black was not an easy path to power. Mother Theresa constantly wrote of her lack of faith in her private journals. The history of faith is full of people who feel like they weren’t ready or didn’t deserve to be called. I’ve often wondered if this is somehow God’s little joke on the rest of us.

So am I finally ready to accept this whole notion of being called? Hell if I know. But I am prepared to acknowledge (barely) that my son is very different than he was before he opened his heart and mind to ministry. I just hope he remembers that although as willing as I was to go toe-to-toe with even the school district Superintendent to protect my wild child, even I can’t beat up an entire congregation. For that, he’s going to have to rely on the One who called him there in the first place.

NUMBERS

My son Daniel is in the candidacy process for the United Methodist Church. This kid was the prototype for Dennis the Menace. He wasn't a bad kid at all; he could just think of more creative ways to get in trouble than the adults around him could make rules for. So when he called me one Saturday morning and told me he had definitely decided NOT to apply to Law School or become a high school history teacher because he felt he had a 'calling', I cried for three hours.

It's not that he wouldn't make a good one but my son has always had a very soft spot for the downtrodden, the hurt, the sick, the homeless, the disabled.....he is an empathetic kind of kid (he's 25 now) who will inevitably reach out to those who others have forgotten. But I'm getting used to it and have started recording our conversations that I never in my wildest dreams thought would occur.

My son called me this morning and I answered with a cheerful "Hello Son" even though I was very busy with stuff.

In his usual just-needing-to-share way he said "Did you read my (FP) post yet?"

Me: "No, I've been busy."

Dan: "Well I couldn't sleep so I read Numbers."...
 
Me: "is Numbers the name of a book? Like from the TV show?"
 
Dan: "No Mom, Numbers - the book in the Bible."
 
Me: "There's a book in the Bible called Numbers?"
 
Dan: "Yeah, it's right after Deuteronomy."
 
Me: "Is that about stars or something?"
 
Dan: "No. Numbers is all about how Moses gets all pissed off at the Israelites because they were tired of Manna and wanted to go back to Egypt so they could have meat. Moses gets really 'why do I have to put up with this sh!?' and asks God to just shoot him now."
 
Me: "Was that around the part about the golden idol?"
 
Dan: "No Mom that's another book. But God did send them all the meat they could eat but they still complained so God smites them."
 
Me: "Doesn't God do that a lot in the Old Testament? That smiting thing?"

Dan: "Yeah."
 
Me: "You could use that for a sermon like 'Aren't you glad you don't live in Old Testament times? You could be dead."
 
Dan: "The whole thing makes me laugh."

I'm a little unclear how Numbers makes my son laugh and a little uncomfortable that the reason might not be a good one for a minister.