Trinity@7: An encounter with God without all the religion
Trinity Church Buffalo, January 22, 2012
Text: George Harrison’s Death
I had the privilege of attending
a death this week.
That may seem like an
oxymoron
if you don’t hang out with death
on a regular basis,
but standing in the presence
of the coming
of death
brings forth
the full flavor of life’s preciousness.
Of course, there is all kinds of dying.
The kind of death I am talking about
is when illness
drags us toward the end
and we are brought into
a kind of reverse labor –
the body struggling
to hold onto breath
just as the infant
resists leaving the womb.
In either case,
labor or death,
resistance is overcome
and birth happens.
The sense of privilege for me
is being invited into
such a precious moment
for those who hold vigil, and,
for the sacredness of the one who is dying.
The infusion of
love,
memory,
bittersweet joy,
horrendous pain,
and the presence of the holy,
all of it into a single moment,
is as awesome
as it is grievous.
Experiencing that again this week,
coupled with the fact that my youngest son
has become an avid Beatles fan
and is playing their music non-stop,
caused me to remember the story
of George Harrison’s death.
In the Hindu Wisdom Literature,
The Bhagavad-Gita,
we are told that there was never a time
when we did not exist.
And according to the Hindu concept
of Moksha,
if we live well
and die in a state of God consciousness,
we will find release from the cycle
of birth and death.
George Harrison wrote a song called,
“Art of Dying”
in which he describes
death as life’s greatest opportunity.
Most of us don’t think of death
as an opportunity, do we?
“Art of Dying” ends with this line:
‘There’ll come a time
when most of us return here /
Brought back by our desire to be /
A perfect entity /
Living through a million years of crying /
Until you’ve realized the Art of Dying.’
…a million years of crying
until you’ve realized the art of dying.
The art of dying, of course,
is to lose any desire
to be a perfect entity.
George Harrison gave great credence
to this idea of the art of dying.
I have read and heard accounts
of Harrison’s struggle against cancer,
and of his deep valuing of life;
but also of his refusal to cling to life at all cost.
When it was clear that treatment could no longer
resist the progression of his disease,
he limited the amount of painkillers
he would receive
so he could be fully conscious
and aware while dying,
and put himself into a state of God consciousness
at the moment of death.
“Death,” he said,
‘is just where your suit falls off
and then
you are in your
other suit.”
In the end,
George Harrison went to Los Angeles
with his wife, and invited their closest friends
to be present at his death.
Ravi Shankar and his daughter
played sitar,
incense and candles burned,
his favorite images of Krishna and Rama
adorned his room,
and he chanted, they say,
to his last breath.
His body was burned immediately,
his ashes taken to India
and poured into the sacred Ganges River,
and then
only then,
the world was told of his death.
But even more interesting that his death,
was a near-death event earlier in his life.
Quite a few years before he died,
a knife-wielding intruder
broke into Harrison’s home.
A fight for life ensued
between George Harrison and the intruder,
but at some point during the struggle,
Harrison had the presence of mind to realize
that if he were killed while fighting
he would not end his life
in God consciousness.
So, amazingly,
he just gave up.
He simply stopped fighting
and focused his mind upon God
and the goodness of life.
He was severely wounded
but lived to die another day, years later.
I mention it
because it is an interesting story,
and the “art of dying” an interesting idea;
but truthfully,
I am not big on the life-after-death ideas
especially the complexity of re-incarnation.
I am an agnostic about all of that –
I don’t think anyone really knows what happens
after the body dies,
and in the absence of knowing
it seems better to simply
trust God,
or the universe,
or wherever you invest your hope,
and let it be.
Trust in God,
not ideas
is my motto when it comes to death.
But Hindu faith
embodied in Harrison’s amazing presence of mind
in the face of death – both times –
is a compelling critique against the anxiety
most of us have,
most of the time,
around the idea of death.
“There’ll come a time,” he wrote,
“when most of us return here,
brought back by our desire
to be a perfect entity…
Living through a million years of crying
until we’ve realized the Art of Dying.”
In other words,
until we let go of the need to “get it right”
and simply let go,
we are doomed
to an eternity of “Ground Hog Days”
in which we try,
over and over and over and over again
to get it right.
But that really is a kind of crazy thinking,
a pattern of thought
that holds us hostage to ‘getting it right.’
I’ve got to get myself situated just right.
I’ve got to get my breathing just right.
I’ve got to empty my mind just right.
I’ve got to repeat my mantra
or say my prayer just right.
I’ve got to achieve balance just right.
I’ve got to let go of my shame and guilt
so I am emotionally just right.
I’ve got to get my parenting just right.
I’ve got to get my life just right…
a gazillion things
all which will somehow,
supposedly,
make us just right…
You know, there are so many forms of perfectionism
that it defies easy definition or description;
and many of us resist the diagnosis anyway,
because perfectionism
would mean we are not just right.
But what it comes down to,
is that we never get quite present with ourselves
to receive the God
who is present with us in every moment,
because we are too busy
trying to get ourselves right first –
before we allow ourselves to get present.
Yet we will never be just right.
Not any of us.
Just right is not an option for us,
any of us,
any time.
We know that of course,
it is the acceptance of it that is so hard;
the gentle acceptance of ourselves just as we are;
acceptance of ourselves
just as we are
with all of our maddening imperfections;
our frustrating weaknesses;
our reoccurring failures;
all the things we should have learned
or should have done…
Many of us, if not all of us,
struggle with this violent intruder
who wrestles us
out of our own best efforts at
God Consciousness.
Taking a cue from George Harrison’s example,
when we are attacked from within
by this knife-wielding intruder of perfectionism
who cuts open our wounds
over past failures,
and grimaces at our on-going brokenness;
the thing to do is have the presence of mind
to accept these things as
just so many marbles in a bag full of marbles;
and allow ourselves
to stop wresting,
stop resisting,
and simply center our thoughts on God
and the goodness of life –
even the utter goodness
of our own life.
So let’s take a few moments of silence,
to sit and recite a mantra
before the musical interlude,
and repeat it to ourselves
in our very kindest voice,
over and over and over again:
“Thank you for my goodness, Beloved,
and for loving me this way.”
Thank you for my goodness, Beloved – as we breathe in;
and for loving me this way – as we breathe out.
Let’s just take a few moments
to breath slowly,
to inhale our gratitude
and exhale gratitude.
Thank you for my goodness, Beloved – as we breathe in;
and for loving me this way – as we breathe out.
Inhaling slowly…and exhaling…
And when the music begins,
and if you want to,
I invite you to come forward
and light a candle
to the goodness;
to the gentle,
sweet goodness
of all that is,
including the goodness that is you.
©R Cameron Miller
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