Cary Lecture 2011
Becoming authentic: Disillusionment and Enlightenment

Introduction
From deep within, the conviction came. The decision was made. I was clear.  I was prepared to pay the price. I had worn my sword as long as I could. I felt liberated and full of joy. I have not wavered since the day I began to purchase fair trade and ecologically produced bananas. I encouraged the shop to always have these for sale, and I was pretty proud of my witness in the world. Soon, the same decision applied to coffee and chocolate. Wow! Living an authentic life was really easy! 

So I thought. Years later, I recognized a similar movement. From deep within, the conviction came. The decision was made. I was clear. I was in a period of life transition and was re-examining my life. In order to live a more authentic life, I needed to face some truths I had been hiding from. And I needed to speak truth to people close to me. There was a sense of release and relief, but I did not feel joyfully liberated. And I did not anticipate the price to be paid. There was upheaval and pain for me and for others. 

When the call came to deliver this Cary Lecture, I was in that dark and painful place. I doubted that I had anything to say. I was asked to speak from personal experience and to speak to the condition of Quaker Meetings in Europe. I was assured that my current experience could, after all, speak to others.  So, I have prepared this talk for you today in the context of a transitional period in my life, where I am challenged to explore themes of authenticity, disillusionment and enlightenment. Let me share reflections, stories, texts and queries that are meaningful to me--perhaps some of them will speak to you individually and corporately. 

There are three inter-related aspects of the theme. I will consider them in turn. One is about what goes on within me when I see the truth about myself and my life. Another is about the dialogue between you and me when we speak the truth about our lives. Yet another is about learning to live the truth in the context of a Quaker community. In each of these aspects, I have experienced a different face of God. In inward and solitary struggles, God the Creator, life-giver, mother-father has been present. In dialogue and interpersonal struggles, God the Friend, pain-bearer, brother-sister, confessor, has been present. Within my faith community, God the Spirit, love-gatherer, family, has been present, connecting me to the body of God.

Seeing
As with all relationships, my relationship with God has gone through different periods of intensity and meaning. After a spiritual opening in 1995, I felt I was on the mountain top for quite a few years, and the veils between God and me felt very thin. During those years I made some difficult personal choices and was challenged in different kinds of service. In due time, I was led into a difficult period of re-examination and clarity about my life. The leading to see and speak truth felt God-given and I needed to follow that path. Speaking truth, however, threw me and people close to me into a time of turbulence. If it is true that the truth sets us free, it certainly didn't come in a nice gift package. Rather, it led to even deeper challenges. It led to dark places of loneliness, bitterness, self-doubt, grief and anger. I was so disillusioned! It seemed that the rich fruits of my life with God had become spoiled, and I wondered if the years of closeness to God had been an illusion. The truth hurt people I love. They, too, became disillusioned when they learned more about me, my priorities and choices.  I cried out in despair to a spiritual counselor: "Where is God in all this?" and he answered that God is present wherever people are becoming disillusioned―which means being liberated from false illusions. He answered that the hard work is God-given, that it is God working in me and others―that this hard work, in fact, is God. He assured me that when one person takes steps toward living life more authentically, it will in due time liberate others to live more authentically. And I implored, like a woman in childbirth at the end of her strength, when this labour would be over. He answered: Never, even though it won't be this hard all the time. 

Life itself is a continuing and changing process of seeing more clearly, dis-covering what is real, of learning to let go of our illusions, of coming to new light and understanding. Becoming authentic is an ongoing, lifelong process, in seemingly small things like buying fair trade bananas, and in big things like reconciliation with one's past. I became aware of illusions and hidden truths about myself and my life, and I saw that there was much inward work to be done. I understood in a new way early Friends' words like notions, empty forms and shadows. Paul's words came to me: When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways. For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known. And it occurred to me that perhaps I was actually growing up―again, and at over 50 years of age. I am still working at it―this is not something that goes away. Enlightenment comes in bits and pieces. Little bits of me keep dying and new ones keep being born. 

Being an amateur violinist is a good training ground for illusion, disillusionment and enlightenment. I was self-taught, and after 25 years of playing I decided that I needed to learn properly. I found a teacher who would be honest about my abilities and help me develop further. He told me I had become very good at hiding my weaknesses and not exposing myself to situations where the weaknesses could show. How good we are at hiding! It started early. As soon as Adam and Eve became aware, they hid their nakedness with fig leaves. And then they hid from God. Well, I spent the next years learning to play all over again, and I have come to understand that I will always, in one sense, be a beginner. This is also true for the inner life. We come to a measure of clarity only to understand that there is more to become clear about.

Emilia Fogelklou, one of the first Swedish Friends, wrote: People are constantly tempted to flee from the bold venture of being themselves and flee into some generally accepted way or script of life. The path to one’s self leads first deep into loneliness and solitude, then out into the life of the time.

Saying 'yes' to the bold venture of being oneself will include both dis-covery of self-deception and un-veiling of hidden gifts and new possibilities. It will impact other people in various ways. In choosing to say 'yes' to the challenge, I choose to be faithful to the God of truth, liberation and transformation.  A passage from the Gospel of Matthew need not be taken literally, but it does say something about remaining faithful to God, no matter where it takes us.  Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law; and one's foes will be members of one's own household. For whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it. 

How do we go about finding our life? Swedish Friend Sven Ryberg, my father-in-law, wrote: We need a stillness that first and foremost uncovers reality within and outside ourselves. It is not until we are able to see that we know in which direction we must go to begin the journey toward the highest reality.  For me, that stillness was found in a place of solitude, in a symbolic desert. It is my nature to seek company, but now I craved solitude. 17th century Quaker theologian Robert Barclay wrote that 'truth proceeds from an honest heart.' I needed space to examine the contents of my heart. I needed some tough wrestling matches with God to open my heart, examine it, subject it to the light of truth. In the darkest of times, the 23rd Psalm has been with me me, even when I haven't felt its comfort: The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside still waters; he restores my soul. He leads me in right paths for his name's sake. Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and your staff--they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord my whole life long.

Solitude is blessed. Meeting for Worship is another blessed opportunity for inner examination of heart. The guided meditation called Experiment with Light, developed by a former Cary Lecturer, Rex Ambler, is a modern adaptation of what early Friends were doing in Meeting for Worship. The meditation guides us to: 
Be still...let your mind become quiet. 
Wait in the Light...allow the important questions in your life to emerge. 
Open your heart to the truth...let the Light show you what is really happening. Keep a little distance as you focus on what is significant for you.  
Stand in the Light...watch what is being revealed. 
Submit to the Light...accept what is being shown and acknowledge it. Welcome it. 
Allow yourself to be open to new possibilities...Be glad and thankful for your experience, whatever it has been.

One of Britain Yearly Meeting's Advices and Queries challenges us: Be honest with yourself. What unpalatable truths might you be evading? When you recognize your shortcomings, do not let that discourage you. In worship together we can find the assurance of God's love and the strength to go on with renewed courage. Yes, if we are open, we will see the unpalatable truth about ourself, but we will also be given strength and courage to work with it. When I was in the dark time, a Friend ministered in worship. He said he had often felt guilty for enjoying life so much. Was it OK with God to enjoy life as much as he does? The Friend reflected that we are all created in the likeness of God, and that God probably wants to see God-self reflected in us. The ministry spoke to me. This must apply even to me in my dark state, and what was God seeing in my reflection? Was it time to lift my eyes from the ground and let light and joy in? Was the time of lamentation coming to an end?  Another Friend ministered to me when I was overcome with self-doubt. He encouraged me to spend lots of time with my little grandchildren, reminding me that they see me as God sees me―my true nature is reflected in their eyes. Indeed, my spirits are lifted when I am with them, and I realize that getting stuck in desolation can be a veil that separates me from joy, from the happy child within, from the faith that all is well―even though it is not easy. I faced an unpalatable truth: I was not living in faith that God the Creator and life-giver would, in time, lead me out into joy.

Time for silent reflection: What is your experience of seeing the truth?

Speaking
So far I have spoken about seeing inwardly, of coming to insight, and of our relationship with God in this process. Meeting for Worship is a precious opportunity for the inner conversation between the individual and God. Veils of self-illusion can fall away and we come to insight. It can be a place of great inward healing. Sometimes simply seeing the truth about oneself is enough. Not everything that is given to us in the silence of Worship is meant for others' ears. Like Mary, when she had heard the shepherds' eager talk about the significance of her newborn, we can treasure what we learn and ponder the truth in our heart.  Often, however, we need to share our insights with others. I will focus now on speaking truth with another. 

Adam and Eve have just had their eyes opened and know they are naked. They are shameful, and they hide when they hear God walking in the garden. But when God calls, 'Adam where are you?', Adam can do no other than come out and confess. 'I was afraid, because I was naked; and I hid myself.' We hide from ourselves and from each other. But there comes a time when we long to confess our shortcomings and to ask for forgiveness, to share hope and our experience of God.

It is not only our shortcomings that we hide. We also hide our talents so well under the bushel barrel that we  have lost sight of them ourselves. When we become more fully who we are meant to be, we liberate others to do the same. For example, one of the Advices in Britain Yearly Meeting's Faith and Practise says: 'Do not assume that vocal ministry is never to be your part. Faithfulness and sincerity in speaking, even very briefly, may open the way to fuller ministry from others. When prompted to speak, wait patiently to know that the leading and the time are right, but not let a sense of your own unworthiness hold you back. Pray that your ministry may arise from deep experience, and trust that words will be given to you…' William Penn described the early Friends: 'They were changed men themselves before they went about to change others'. Now, I know very well that we cannot change anyone but ourselves, but I do know that our own growth toward authenticity can have a liberating impact on other people. However, we cannot expect anything of another person that we are not prepared to undertake ourselves.

By nature, I am an optimistic person, and I hardly recognise myself in periods of darkness and disillusionment. By nature, I long for the company of others. And I hardly recognise my craving for solitude. It was disturbing to discover new facets of myself. I was reminded of the experience of George Fox, who was tormented by horrible inward visions of human suffering and evil. He called out to God, asking why he should be experiencing such awful things that were so contrary to his nature and experience. God answered that Fox needed to have a sense of all conditions in order to speak to all conditions. So, when I lift my eyes up from the ocean of darkness, I can understand the value of the really hard times. I do believe it makes me more able to understand the experience of others. Being brought low is a necessary part of the faithful and authentic life. And periods of solitude can equip me better for authentic interaction with others.

A dear Friend ministered to me simply: 'Pain is a good teacher'. The image of the wounded healer has become part of my reality. When I think about the Friends and family who have faithfully carried me in their hearts, I realize that they have all had their fair share of pain and sorrows. Their hope, joy and optimism has come from a deep place. We are here to carry each others' burdens. I cried bitterly to my spiritual counselor, who had been listening with professional distance to my lamentation:  'Do you have any idea what I am going through?' The answer came with a comforting smile and direct gaze: 'Do you think I would be sitting here if I didn't?'
 
Many years ago, the violin teacher in our small town died suddenly and the music school asked me, a local folk fiddler, if I would serve until they could hire a new violin teacher. I had no training and was truthfully not at all qualified, but they had no one else and I agreed. It was actually rather fun! But I felt terribly inadequate. A new, highly qualified teacher was hired. I continued to be involved in the music life of the town and we had opportunities to play together. I was afraid that she would discover just how inadequate I was. It almost paralyzed me, and I decided to speak with her about how I felt. What happened then was quite amazing. Tears came to her eyes and she told me how utterly afraid she was to speak the English titles of music pieces in my presence because of her poor English skills. It was a liberating release for us both, as we shared our fears and stopped hiding from each other. We decided to give each other lessons--she in violin and I in English. Our friendship deepened until she died prematurely of cancer. 

Some surprising things have happened when I have shared my deepest truth with a Friend. Once there was a long silence when I had finished speaking. Then, my listening Friend struggled to form the words around a truth that had never been voiced and had been hidden away for decades. It was an overwhelming experience for us both. Our bond deepened. Another time, after I had shared the troubles in my life, the listener gave a deep sigh of relief. She admitted to being under the illusion that my life was problem-free. Her life had offered more than her fair share. Now, she said, we are truly sisters. Yet another time, a Friend eldered me sharply, speaking truth about myself that I had been avoiding. It hurt to hear it.  Barclay wrote that truth proceeds from an honest heart. Although my Friend's words hurt, I was completely clear that the truth had proceeded from her honest heart and been spoken in love. I acted on the truth I had heard, and it may literally have saved my life. Years later, that same Friend eldered me again. This time, however, the words felt very different and caused a painful distance between us. In due time, my Friend asked for forgiveness: she had come to insight that her words had not come from an honest heart. They had not been spoken in love but in frustration and envy.

Open heart, honest heart. There is another movement of the heart. Thomas Kelly writes about it. The heart is stretched through suffering, and enlarged. But O the agony of this enlarging of the heart, that one may be prepared to enter into the anguish of others! Yet the way of holy obedience leads out from the heart of God and extends through the Valley of the Shadow.

Swedish Friend Emilia Fogelklou expresses it in the context of the Easter story. Easter day. Our hearts―most of them―are born blind. The experiences, the sorrows create organs to see, understand, share sorrow. First: a channel of bitter pus, longer, worse, the deeper we are structured. But when the pus has been emptied: new channel, cable, organ. A being cannot share sorrows it has never sensed. Like our senses develop with their organs, these “eyes and ears of the heart” are also organized. One day the orchestra of all sorrows, as they flood into Good Friday life and expire in death, will be consciously gathered up and experienced in light.

It is hard not to experience disillusionment, despair and suffering without reflecting on the Passion story in the Gospels. For me, that story is also about human suffering in general. I have reflected on the story of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane. He pleads to the disciples to keep watch with him and pray, but they keep falling asleep. My experience is different: There have always been Friends who stayed watch with me in nights of anguish, often by distant upholding in the Light, telephone, e-mail and text message. If we follow Jesus all the way through, we will walk the Via Dolorosa through disillusionment, vulnerability, suffering, death―and into enlightenment and new life, again and again. 

I am thankful to theologian Marcus Borg for introducing me to the concept, from Celtic spirituality, of thin places.  Thin places are events, periods of time, places, literature, music, people―anything where the Divine seems to break through the veils that keep us from God. They might also be described as holy ground. Prior to my struggles, my thin places had been nearly exclusively in joy: work, worship, small children, lovemaking, nature, music.  Now I know that periods of crisis and darkness can also be very thin places. A text message, the touch of a hand, a time of holy listening―and I have suddenly felt God near. In the post-resurrection Bible stories, there are accounts of people being accompanied by Jesus but not recognizing him. God the Companion and pain-bearer comes to us when we share deeply with another person, even though we sometimes do not recognize it.

Time for silent reflection: What is your experience of speaking the truth?

Living
It is liberating to see clearly. It is liberating to share insight with others. Further liberation comes as we faithfully live the truth we have seen and spoken. Truth longs to be embodied in our lives. Regardless of how we understand the Incarnation, there is something fundamentally Quaker about the line in the beginning of the Gospel of John, 'the Word became flesh and lived among us'. It can also be expressed as  'Let your life speak' or  'Walk the talk'. Jesus says, If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples; and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free. I live my truth in the context of family, and I will focus now on the family that is the Quaker community. 

When giving a presentation recently to a group of Swedish Friends, I looked out over the group and realized that the majority of them knew me very well. They share in my ongoing process of becoming more authentic. There were few illusory veils between us. I had very little to hide from them. First I felt vulnerable, but then I relaxed. What I say and do in the light of being fully 'known' by others takes on another authenticity. I am accountable in a new way, challenged to live what I have seen and spoken.  

Last year I was asked to play at a festive occasion where many Friends were gathered. I knew the solo piece by heart and decided I didn’t need the sheet music. At the beginning of the performance my mind went blank and I had to start over. The same thing happened again and the audience waited patiently while I dug out the music stand and sheet music. I started a third time and then, thankfully, played the rest of the piece as I had hoped. I was so embarrassed and wanted to disappear from the face of the earth! I felt I had ruined the party. To my surprise, some Friends thanked me later for the courage to keep on and for taking the episode with grace. Some said that it was meaningful for being tenderly human. I had been under the illusion, the hubris, that I could manage without the sheet music. Now I know better. I had also been under the illusion that I had spoiled the party. Instead, what I saw as failure turned out to be a tender experience for us all and a mutual gift of love. 

In the Bible passage that gives our religious Society its name, Jesus says to his disciples that they are his friends, because he has let them know all that he has heard from God. He even says that his disciples will do greater things than he. Jesus levels himself with them―and with us. I have thought a lot about the concept of leveling in Quaker Meetings. Sometimes Friends need to be lifted up, and sometimes Friends need to be brought low. Throughout the years in my Meeting, I have witnessed Friends coming into periods of spiritual opening and power. I have witnessed how this spiritual strength spreads into the Meeting, infusing it with new life. It is important to listen carefully for callings this person may have, offering him or her a support group, perhaps giving the Friend tasks to do in the meeting that use the spiritual gifts that are emerging. The Meeting will grow if we integrate each other's spiritual openings into our corporate life.

The nature of my work is such that I agree to lead retreats a long time in advance. I have said 'yes' to future service during a time of strength only to find that I was exhausted when it was time to serve. I have chosen to honor commitments. It has felt wrong to offer an illusion of being in good form, so I have been honest with participants about being worn out. It seems that participants have more generously shared both their joys and sorrows. It has been a special gift to serve from below and those opportunities have energized me.

Years ago a Swedish Friend shared that she felt so useless in the Meeting, comparing herself to others, like me, who serve more actively. She has a debilitating and painful illness, is wheelchair bound, and it is a real effort for her to come to Meeting for Worship―and that is all she has the energy to do. I told her how much her faithful presence meant to me. It was a decisive moment for me in my understanding of what the 'priesthood of all believers' means. From then on, I have been clear that the ministries of presence, of coffee brewing, of carrying chairs and cleaning are just as important as being a Clerk, being an Elder or a representative to FWCC. 

At an international Quaker gathering, some young Friends reported on their activities. I found myself feeling a little envious of their youthful energy and witness. Suddenly the wave of envy was transformed into a rush of thankfulness and joy when I saw the truth: these Friends are members of my own body. Their power, radiance and ministry are part of my body. The Spirit in them feeds me. Paul wrote: For by the grace given to me I say to everyone among you not to think of yourself more highly than you ought to think, but to think with sober judgment, each according to the measure of faith that God has assigned. For as in one body we have many members, and not all the members have the same function, so we, who are many, are one body in Christ, and individually we are members of one another. We have gifts that differ according to the grace given to us: in prophecy, ministry, teaching, exhortation, giving, leading, in compassion.

Things are not always this inspiring in Quaker Meetings, and I have thought a great deal about the illusions that Quaker Meetings are under. One involves resting on the laurels of past Quaker witness. Sven Ryberg wrote:  The Society of Friends has a history that obliges, but it is easy to take advantage of the spiritual glory of the past. We have no priests, no confessors, no dogmas or sacraments, nothing that can take us by the collar and hold us under the arms when we begin to be pulled into the depths. Our freedom leaves us dangerously close to stumbling into pridefulness, into willfulness, into snobbery, to spiritual sloth and many, many excuses. We do not notice when we have shrunk away from the glimpse of reality, of truth we once saw. Quaker history is a fateful pitfall if it is not reclaimed daily from within.

And what is the Quaker history that needs to be reclaimed daily? I believe that we need to reclaim and rediscover the commitment to Gospel Order, a concept that seems unfamiliar to many modern Friends. To avoid excessive individualism, George Fox set up a system of meetings for church affairs where individual insight was tested against corporate insight. This system of Gospel Order is in large part still used among us, but it is not an end in itself.  It makes a space where the Spirit can lead us in the way it led the early church, which was what the early Friends believed they had rediscovered. Most of the Meetings I know try to be faithful to the outward aspects of Gospel Order. To what extent, though, are we striving to remain faithful to the inward aspects of Gospel Order―making space for the Spirit to gather us in love and guide us?

Another illusion can be that we are honest and loving communities. An observation from BYM's Faith and Practise reads: In our desire to be kind to everybody, to appear united in spirit, to have no majorities and minorities, we minimize our divisions and draw a veil over our doubts. We fail to recognise that tension is not only inescapable, however much hidden, but when brought into the open is a positive good.  Being a part of a Friends Meetings does have its challenges. I thoroughly believe that there is that of God in everyone. I am ashamed to say I sometimes am so frustrated that I wonder how much of God there is and where exactly it might be located in some Friends! Yet, I am reminded that even Friendly finger-pointing leaves three fingers pointing at me. 

When visiting Friends Meetings around Europe, I have become aware of some of the illusions that keep groups from growing in Spirit and in number. Many attenders are under the illusion that they need to be perfect before they can be members. Some groups put their hopes in outreach efforts without dealing first with internal conflict and tensions. Some Meetings have individual Friends who are so difficult to work with that the nominations process becomes blocked. Some Meetings have interpersonal conflicts, new and old, open and hidden, that make spiritual and numerical growth very difficult. Sometimes new and excited members of older, tired Meetings are given responsibility prematurely and outrun their Guide, to the disillusionment  of all. Small groups are especially vulnerable. Friends often have assumptions about each others' theologies, but I have experienced the deep discovery of common ground when space was made for deeper sharing. In fact, I cannot imagine any group that would not benefit from honest, gentle sharing using the Quaker resources we have readily available.

I would like to suggest that our Quaker worship groups are only as strong as the individuals who are prepared to see, speak and live more authentically. As Paul writes:  I appeal to you therefore, brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship. Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God―what is good and acceptable and perfect. I would also like to challenge and encourage Quaker groups to undertake the process of seeing, speaking and living more authentically. Let me echo Paul's call to the communities he served! But speaking the truth in love, we must grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, from whom the whole body, joined and knit together, by every ligament with which it is equipped, as each part is working properly, promotes the body's growth in building itself up in love. In speaking and doing the truth, we can expect disillusionment and pain. But we are also promised clarity, enlightenment, liberation and wholeness. We have wonderful tools and plenty of corporate experience at our fingertips. Meeting for Worship, with its components of individual seeking, vocal ministry and corporate inspiration is central. Worship sharing, Meetings for threshing and clearness, faithful use of Meetings for Worship for Business, educational opportunities, new technologies that keep us connected and informed―we are well-equipped!

As individuals and communities, we are called to follow the way of Jesus―regardless of who we believe him to be. This way, universal in nature, leads through disillusionment, lots of hard work, death to self and past truths into enlightenment and new life. Communities that follow this way will contribute to the building of the realm of God.  

A passage by Thomas Kelly gathers the themes of this talk:  The relation of each to all, through God, is real, objective, existential. It is an eternal relationship which is shared in by every stick and stone and bird and beast and saint and sinner of the universe. On all the wooing love of God falls urgently, persuadingly. But he who, having will, yields to the loving urgency of the Life which knocks at his heart, is entered and possessed and transformed and transfigured. The scales fall from his eyes when he is given to eat of the tree of knowledge, the fruit of which is indeed for the healing of the nations, and he knows himself and his fellows as comrades in Eden, where God walks with them in the cool of the day. As there is a mysterious many-ing of God, as He pours Himself forth into the universe, so there is a one-ing of those souls who find their way back to Him who is their home. And these are in the Holy Fellowship, the Blessed Community, of whom God is the head.

Emilia Fogelklou said it very simply: We are each other.

Time for silent reflection: What is your experience of living the truth?

Conclusion
I will end with a meditation on a passage from the Gospel of John  that embodies the message of this talk. Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. 

A grain of wheat sways proudly on her stalk, golden brown and fully fed in the late summer sun. She is happy and thankful for being the object of the ploughman's care  and of a favorable growing season. The grain longs for the harvest, when her life's task will come to fruition. She will be threshed and ground and become part of a fragrant, nourishing loaf of bread at the ploughman's harvest fest. What joy to be a chosen grain for the ploughman's table!

The ploughman harvests. To her dismay, the grain of wheat becomes seed for next year's harvest. She is trampled into the earth, which is packed suffocatingly around her. She is in darkness and cold, deserted, crushed, humiliated. Alas, she thought, I who was ripening so well! I who was meant for the ploughman's table!

Around her in the darkness, gentle whispers are heard. 'Be comforted, little grain! You are chosen. You will bear a rich harvest, but until then you must endure this cold winter. And the darkness will become Light, and the cold will become warmth. Your emptiness will once again swell with Life. There will be a rich harvest!' The grain senses the presence of many other resting, waiting grains of wheat around her. And the pressing, suffocating earth becomes a firm and loving hand around her.

God, you who plough and harrow the soil of my life, who plant and harvest me, sometimes you have other plans for me than I believed. I must then die from understandings of myself, leave behind what is old and outgrown. The new life that you have in store for me is not apparent, and I must learn to rest and wait, sometimes in darkness and cold. Whisper to me then, my God, say my name! Hold me close until I am born anew.