Ordination Sermon and Guided Meditation
Each of us has our own spiritual language
for connecting with the divine.
Mine is painting.
I know Spirit not through words or storyline,
but in how I feel when music is playing inside me
and my paintbrush is marking its pulse.
I know Spirit in the way
my logic becomes blindfolded,
willing to ride the notes
without regard to destination.
My ministry is to lead others
to know for themselves what I know:
the discovery when I open my eyes
in front of a sheet of paper
covered in colors and lines that map
where Spirit has come to play.
I find certainty in the feeling
I have in my body
that speaks of
suspension,
surrender and
surprise.
Even though it is my hand that has held the brush,
it is not my planning or desire that is executed.
I echo the Sufi mystic, Rumi who says,
Sell your cleverness and buy bewilderment!
__________________________
I invite you to close your eyes now
for a short, guided meditation.
In fact, please stand up.
Don’t worry if you’ve never done this before.
There’s no right or wrong.
Just take a deep breath
and feel everything around you drop away.
With your in-breath,
breathe in light,
and with your out-breath,
let distractions flow out through your fingertips,
through the soles of your feet.
In… again.
See yourself filling with golden light.
All your cares have slipped away.
You’re alone now with Spirit.
Imagine that you’re standing before an easel
with a big, clean sheet of paper.
There’s a tray of paints and brushes,
like surgeons’ tools arranged beside you.
Your mission is to cut out
all logic,
all self-consciousness, and
all seriousness
for the next sixty seconds.
Pick up your virtual paintbrush.
It can be tear-drop-shaped,
or skinny and fine—
whatever pops into your hand.
Start with one mark—any color!
then let it tell you what comes next.
Ready?
(Put on drum music.)
Let the drumming
come through your body,
out your arm,
onto the paper.
PAUSE for a minute...
Now you can sit down,
but continue to keep your eyes closed.
What do you see on your paper?
Know that each of you has made
a unique portrait of Spirit,
shaped by the experiences and knowing
that rest in the cells of your body.
You can open your eyes now.
If you adopted this
as a meditative practice,
you would start to recognize
a unique spiritual signature that emerges.
You would notice that
the same colors and shapes
claim you over and over again
until they’ve had their fill.
Your role is simply to observe
and notice how you feel
when you’re in that intuitive state.
When I teach children,
I tell them that God
laughs onto their paper.
Music, rhythm, and color
are the consonants
of the divine language
we have understood since infancy.
They call us to be perfectly aware
of what wants to come through us
in the present moment.
Through them, we learn
that all events in our lives
are only paint-deep.
I close with a blessing from Rumi:
May you
stop the words now.
Open the window into the center of your chest,
and let the spirits fly in and out.
May this be so.
