Some of you have heard me mention Lama Norlha Rinpoche, the Tibetan Buddhist Monk with whom I took teachings for a few years. One of my favorite memories with Lama Norlha was when Brendan and Kiki were ten and nine years old. Lama, his fellow monks and nuns were in our guest bedroom chanting their morning ritual. Brendan and Kiki were lying on the carpet outside of the guest room, trying to see what was happening from under the door. As I was running up the stairs to reprimand the kids for spying, one of the monks opened the door and invited them, and me to join them.
We all sat cross-legged on the floor as the ritual continued. Ani Palmo, one of the nuns, explained to us in English what they were saying in Tibetan. Brendan and Kiki adored Lama Norlha for a number of reasons, not least of which was his childlike nature which betrayed his sixty-plus years. At the end of the chanting I was busily rounding up the kids to get ready for school. Lama Norlha interrupted me and called each one over to him to say "goodbye" because he would be leaving while they were at school. Lama placed his hands on Brendan's cheeks and leaning forward, touched his forehead to Brendan's. Smiling, he repeated the same gesture for Kiki, bestowing a tender blessing upon each of them.
Years later, Rabbi Rami Shapiro was visiting on a Friday night when I asked if he would perform a Shabbat Service for us. Graciously he agreed. Somewhere in the mix of blessing wine and bread and lighting candles, Rami looked at me and said, "It is customary for you to bless your children." Surprised, I stood and placed my hands on Brendan's head. Isn't it crazy that I had never thought to do this before? This beloved child of mine had been at my table many a Friday night and it never entered my mind to close out the week by placing my hands on his head and giving thanks for him in this special way; to ask for God's protection and blessing upon him.
I remember feeling self-conscious about saying the "right thing," as well as grateful for the moment of remembering...remembering that he belongs to me...and I belong to him...and yet neither of us is of the other...that we both belong to the BELOVED.
Sure, every morning and every night I pray for Brendan and Kiki. But this outward manifestation of my inward feelings gave Brendan, Kiki, and me the chance to experience blessing together.
After years away from liturgical Christian worship, returning to the Episcopal Church has been a "coming home." When the cross is carried down the aisle at the beginning and end of each service, we bow...an outward sign of our inward devotion. At various parts of the service we kneel, sit, and stand...our bodies praying along with our hearts. Service concludes with the priest standing at the altar, right hand raised, making the sign of the cross, blessing his or her flock, "In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit." Sometimes, receiving this blessing is the most peaceful moment in my week.
Who would you like to bless? Are they in a proximity where you could lay your hands on their heads and acknowledge how sacred they are to you? What words of thanks do you want to give for who they are? What special blessing would you like to bestow on him or her? I encourage you to take a risk and not waste this moment to bless another. This outward manifestation of what we hold dear in our hearts has power...gives meaning, in ways we may never completely comprehend. Bless you and Namaste.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment