Liturgies

Today I've chosen to speak about Radical Acceptance. Letting go into life. In order to illustrate this I would like to share a little about two men. The first one, Terry O'Dea, a long term member of our community who died last week, and a man called Jacob. Terry was a great teller and sharer of jokes. One he shared with me last year and I would like to re-share with you in honour of Terry. “A man goes into a doctor’s office feeling a little ill. The doctor checks him over and says, 'Sorry I have some bad news,you have ‘Yellow 24’ a really nasty virus. It's called ‘Yellow 24’ because it turns your blood yellow and you usually have only 24 hours to live. There’s no known cure so just go home and enjoy your final precious moments on earth.' So he trudges home to his wife and breaks the news. Distraught, she asked him to go to the bingo with her that evening as he's never been there with her before and had always promised that he would. They arrive at the bingo and with his first card he gets four corners and wins $35. Then with the same card he gets a line and wins $320. And then he gets the full house and wins $5000. Then the National Game comes up and he wins that too, getting $780,000. The bingo caller gets him up on stage and says, ‘Son I been here 20 years and have never seen anyone win Four Corners, a line, the full- house and the National Game on the same card. You must be the luckiest man on Earth! ‘Lucky?’ he screamed.  ‘Lucky?’ I will have you know I've got Yellow 24!’ ‘I'll be blowed,’ says the bingo caller. ‘You’ve won the meat raffle as well!!!” Thanks Terry, we will miss your jokes.   Terry and his wife Julie have been members of our community for 13 years since their move from Rockhampton. For the last nine years Terry has been living with cancer, which started in the bowel and moved to the liver and beyond. Throughout the nine years Terry embraced the cancer with an inspiring equanimity and peace despite the many trips to hospital with episodes of chemo and radium. Like most things in his life Terry embraced the cancer, as one of his daughters who spoke at the funeral remarked, as a sort of an adventure. Something to be curious about, to be caught up in its many twists and turns. I believe the poem by the 13^th century Persian poet, Rumi, captures beautifully some of the way Terry embraced his cancer. As another guest in a guesthouse.                                                  The Guest House.   “This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes As an unexpected visitor.   Welcome and entertain them all! Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture, still treat each guest honorably. He may be clearing you out for some new delight.   The dark thought, the shame, the malice, meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in.   Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.   The youngest daughter of Julie and Terry, Colleen, related that mum and dad had a saying on their wall at home that says, “How well did you live? How well did you love? How well did you learn to let go?” Terry learned to do all three well throughout his life but in particular during his final years of living with cancer. I had the good fortune of spending some good quality time with Terry and Julie a week before Terry passed away. He spoke of his being totally at peace with dying and that whatever lay ahead of him before his death he avowed that he was determined to live every moment he had left. Despite his being on his death bed the week prior he declared to me that he would be taking his beloved caravan to Byron Bay to honor a promise to be at his eight-year-old grandson Ronan's birthday. While at Byron Bay they went to the beach and within a minute of them arriving a whale appeared closer to the beach than anyone could remember. It frolicked, breached, slapped its tail and just as it moved past it lifted one gigantic flipper and waved. As Bridget his daughter exclaimed, ‘a grace filled moment of farewell for a wonderful grace filled man’. Within days Terry was gone, but his legacy of meeting his many unwelcomed cancer guests at the door laughing, and of how to live a life of letting go lingers long. Another true story of living a life of Radical Acceptance comes from the Clinical Psychologist Tara Brach, founder of the Insight Meditation Community in Washington DC. She relates a story of a man called Jacob. “Jacob, almost 70 years old, was in the mid stages of Alzheimer's disease. A clinical psychologist by profession and meditator for some more than 20 years, he was well aware that his faculties were deteriorating. On occasion his mind would go totally blank; he would have no access to words for several minutes and become completely disorientated. He often forgot what he was doing and usually needed assistance with basic tasks- cutting his food, putting on clothes, bathing, getting from place to place. With his wife's help, Jacob attended a 10 day meditation retreat I was leading. A couple of days into the course Jacob had his first interview with me. These meetings, which students have regularly with a teacher, are an opportunity to check-in and receive personal guidance in the practice. During our time together Jacob and I talked about how things were going both on retreat and at home. His attitude towards his disease was interested, sad, grateful, and even good-humored. Intrigued by his resilience, I asked him what allowed him to be so accepting. He responded, “It doesn't feel like any think is wrong. I feel grief and some fear about it all going, but it feels like real life.”  Then he told me about an experience he’d had in an earlier stage of the disease.   Jacob had occasionally given talks about Buddhism to local groups and had accepted an invitation to address a gathering of over 100 meditation students. He arrived at the event feeling alert and eager to share the teachings he loved. Taking his seat in the front of the hall, Jacob looked out at the expectant faces before him… and suddenly he didn't know what he was supposed to say or do. He didn't know where he was or why he was there. All he knew was that his heart was pounding furiously and his mind was spinning in confusion. Putting his palms together at his heart, Jacob started naming out loud what was happening; “Afraid, embarrassed, confused, feeling like I’m failing, powerless, shaking, sense of dying, sinking, lost.” For several more minutes he sat, head slightly bowed, continuing to name his experience. As his body began to relax and his mind grew calmer, he also noted that aloud.  At last Jacob lifted his head looked slowly around at those gathered, and apologized. Many of the students were in tears. As one put it, “No one has ever taught us like this. Your presence has been the deepest teaching.” Rather than pushing away his experience and deepening his agitation. Jacob had the courage and training simply to name what he was aware of, and, most significantly, to bow to his experience. In some fundamental way he didn't create an adversary of out of feelings of fear and confusion. He didn't make anything wrong. We practice Radical Acceptance by pausing and then meeting whatever is happening inside us with this kind of unconditional friendliness. Instead of turning our jealous thoughts or angry feelings into the enemy, we pay attention in a way that enables us to recognise and touch any experience with care. Nothing is wrong- whatever is happening is just “real life.” Such unconditional friendliness is the spirit of Radical Acceptance.” As the great teacher Jesus in today’s Luke's Gospel, in his final moments we witness one of Jesus’ paramount instants of teaching, where he embraces his cross with equanimity and poise. Despite his suffering turns to his torturers and exclaims, “Father forgive them they do not know what they are doing.” An ultimate display of Radical Acceptance. And in his final moment, “Father into your hands I commit my spirit.”  A  model for embracing ‘what is’ with love and acceptance and finally a letting go into the great mystery of life and death.