http://pages.prodigy.net/kaltomlinson/

This sermon may not be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author.

Lesson 1: "Sickness is an impediment to the body, but not to the will unless itself pleases. Lameness is an impediment to the leg, but not to the will; and say this to yourself with regard to everything that happens. For you will find it to be an impediment to something else, but not truly to yourself."

Epictetus, "The Enchiridion", Section 9.

*************************************************************************************

Lesson 2: "Every moment lived in absorbed attention is simultaneously a beginning and an end, at once a birth and a death. In such attention we are radically open to the unexpected, to letting life live us. Any event, however small or seemingly trivial, properly attended, opens the door to infinity.

Flora Courtois, "The Door to Infinity", Parabola, Vol. 15, No. 2, Summer 1990.

*************************************************************************************

Lesson 3: "When you see anyone weeping for grief, either that his son has gone abroad or that he has suffered in his affairs, take care not to be overcome by the apparent evil, but discriminate and be ready to say, ‘What hurts this man is not this occurrence itself – for another man might not be hurt by it – but the view he chooses to take of it.’ As far as conversation goes, however, do not disdain to accommodate yourself to him and, if need be, to groan with him. […]"

Epictetus, "The Enchiridion", Section 16.

*************************************************************************************

In introducing his book "The Wounded Healer", with its four chapters on suffering, Henri Nouwen writes:

"However, in the middle of all fragmentation one image slowly arose as the focus of all considerations: the image of the wounded healer. This image was the last in coming. After all attempts to articulate the predicament of modern man, the necessity to articulate the predicament of the minister himself became most important. For the minister is called to recognize the sufferings of his time in his own heart and make that recognition the starting point of his service. Whether he tries to enter into a dislocated world, relate to a compulsive generation, or speak to a dying man, the service will not be perceived as authentic unless it comes from a heart wounded by the sufferings about which he speaks.

Thus nothing can be written about ministry without a deeper understanding of the ways in which the minister can make his own wounds available as a source of healing." Henri J.M. Nouwen

And to that I would add: We are all ministers.

*************************************************************************************

Early on in my recovery from several broken bones this summer, two images emerged which have helped guide my thoughts and provide a framework for the experience, as well as for my future as an interfaith minister. They are: Chiron, the wounded healer of Greek mythology, and The Hanged Man, a card from a Western fortune telling deck known as The Tarot. From the moment of my accident to the present, I have never once sought any meaning regarding the accident – such as asking "Why did it happen?"; rather I have tried to see what I could learn from the experience as I lived my way through it minute by minute, day by day, and literally step by step. The images of Chiron and The Hanged Man help me share what I have experienced and learned, and in turn, give back to this community that has given me so much. Let me introduce these images one at a time.

It was just a few days into my hospital stay, when my friend, an astrologer called me. As is her way, upon hearing of my accident (or anything else significant) she immediately turned to her ephemeris – a table of the planetary positions. She reported that on the day of my accident, the planetoid Chiron was squared my sun, that is: within 90 degrees of the sign under which I was born. (Virgo, not "hospital.") My friend elaborated that this was a time of the pragmatic mystic, the wounded healer grounded and yet with freely flowing energy – in a word, she said, "creativity." She suggested looking at past wounds laid to rest in order to use my own healing wisdom to move forward, and to allow personal and community love to strengthen and resolve one another. (Easy for her to say … :- ) And, so, Chiron, the wounded healer – an archetype that I had studied in years past, reentered my life and my awareness.

According to Greek mythology, Chiron was a centaur – half horse and half man, the son of Chronos (or Saturn) a Titan, and Philyra, a horse. He was the grandson of the sky god Uranus and the earth mother Gaia. Unique among the centaurs, Chiron was immortal and was known for his goodness and wisdom.

At their cave on Mt. Pelion, Chiron and his wife helped rear such notables as: Aescalapius, the god of healing – upon whose temples many churches now stand, and the heroes Achilles, Actaeon, King Peleus, and Jason of Argonaut fame. He instructed his charges in herbs, incantations, potions, healing songs, and prophesy, in addition to hunting, gymnastics, music, and good conduct.

Chiron obtained the name "wounded healer", during Hercules’ fourth labor. On his way to his next task, Hercules along with a centaur, opened a jar of wine belonging to all centaurs. Because of this, Hercules was attacked and during the fight, he accidentally wounded the innocent Chiron. The wound to Chiron’s knee (or left foot, according to one source) was incurable. Being immortal, Chiron suffered in pain. Eventually, Zeus let Chiron die in the place of Prometheus, bringing his suffering to an end. Upon death, Chiron became the constellation Sagittarius.

When I got home, I picked up Henri Nouwen’s book The Wounded Healer – the source of today’s second reading. Had I not spent some time first re-researching the Chiron myth, I’m not sure I would have given this book another chance, but I did. About four years ago, it was recommended to me by an Apostolic Catholic priest and co-worker. At the time, I was disappointed by this book with the tantillizing name but greatly outdated language and themes rooted in the 1960s and early 1970s – a time period, I for one, don’t need to relive – even if bell bottom pants and platform sneakers have made a comeback. As Nouwen admits, it isn’t until his final chapter that he addresses what is meant by ‘wounded healer’. To help understand this term, consider this: in the West it’s fashionable and desirable to be able to say "my son or daughter the doctor". However, in Native American tradition when a child is born and pronounced to be a Bone or other healer, the parents are greatly saddened. They know that their child will be a healer only if he or she survives all that lies ahead. They understand and acknowledge the depth of suffering that makes one a healer, one who can "minister" to others. But it is during times of suffering that our own strength and energy can flow: unexpectedly, unimpeded – right there in the midst of great pain, fear, and confusion.

If then, as Nouwen says in today’s Reading, having suffered and healed allows us to help others by being authentic in our support, how can we ever hope to help those whose wounds are so severe, so numerous, or so tragic that they exceed our own experience or even comprehension? We can by continuing to be authentic; to be with another person in their moment of pain. As the words of the song Testify to Love go: "I’ll be a witness in the silences when words are not enough." To be there for another person provides hope, whether it be one-on-one in a life and death situation or the wonderful and broad community such as we have gathered here each week. But there’s a caution: to be there with another and not fall prey to your own fears, or take on another’s fears requires strength, courage, and yes, even practice. And, don’t worry, life will give us plenty of the latter! For some, there’s another more accessible image of strength and hope whose example models behaviors of compassion, healing, and witness. For those people, the Greek image of Chiron finds expression in another wounded healer: Jesus. To this day you can see images of Chiron carved into cathedrals symbolizing that very connection. For Christians, Jesus is the ultimate wounded healer and it is to this image that Nouwen, a Catholic priest, ultimately turns in his concluding chapter.

So where does The Hanged Man come in you may wonder? Imagine if you will: lying on your back in great pain with a broken pelvis, one leg paralyzed from trauma, and an arm in a sling. Now find a comfortable sleeping position. There is one, and only one: the pose of The Hanged Man, the 12^th card in a Tarot deck. [Hold up picture.] (Trust me on this one, OK? :-)

Modern Tarot cards are a divination system dating from the 14^th century, with various unproven origins. The 78 card Tarot consists of 22 Major Arcana cards, which always represent the individual in question and of which The Hanged Man is one. The remaining 56 Lesser Arcana cards are the functional equivalent of the four suits of today’s standard playing deck.

So what does this symbol represent? Well, the Tarot literature suggests: suspension, but not life and death; transition, powerlessness, surrender to higher wisdom, as well as ecstasy and deep entrancement. One writer compares it to the Green Man or Winter King who must die to ensure regeneration, the Western equivalent of a shaman’s death. For me, the pose of The Hanged Man symbolizes cycles or phases of life and energy, which can be viewed as a continuous wave – ebbing and flowing, but which also can be seen as "poised-inaction". To illustrate, consider the point of intersection found at the middle of the figure 8 or infinity symbol, or the intersection of two paths before one has been chosen. I will call the lessons of these life phases and this ancient image: Suspension or Surrender, Here and Now, and Rebirth.

Lesson 1: Suspension or Surrender

Life – any life, can be put on hold or extinguished at any time. [Given recent events, we are all painfully aware of this. But prior to September 11th,] maybe you were like me and thought, "Yeah, yeah, sure, whatever …" or maybe you’ve had some serious interruptions in your life or in the lives of those you love: a fire, a car accident, an unexpected illness, a mugging or violent crime, a death, or some other suffering. But ‘though your life and plans were temporarily side-tracked, perhaps you could still drive or take care of yourself in ways that gave you some sense of independence or control. Me, too – that is, until the day that in the blink of an eye, I was on the ground unable to move knowing full well what I’d broken and fearful of what I didn’t yet know about. As I noted the time on the ambulance clock above me, many things flashed through my mind: the bad timing with school – missing exams [bummer! I missed exams], our year-end retreat and initiation; the music at church the next day where I was to play and sing, the summer opportunity to sing Christian rock that I had waited for all year, the chance to find a new, more fulfilling job. After a passing split-second of disbelief and questioning, the only other thought in my mind was the resignation that if this is what Great Spirit, God, the universe, the Tao, life, or whatever wanted of me right now – this is where I was. It would have to be – for the first time in my life, I had no choice.

Life is movement and change; oddly The Hanged Man is a symbol of suspension. Is this also a part of the rhythm of life? To stop and cease movement? Of course, but this image symbolizes more than taking a moment out of ones’ day to "stop and smell the roses" (which you have plenty of time to do in a hospital room – by the way); it is more, too than alluding to periods of meditation or even a day of rest in one’s work week. How ironic, that I wrote in a seminary paper about the Sabbath that "My aim is to extend the pause in between the inhaled and exhaled breath – not only in meditation, but in my life as well." (What was I thinking!?!) As a student of Native American Medicine Wheels – circular blueprints for all aspects of life, I was reminded of the center of the wheel – the junction of the cardinal directions. What is the center of the Medicine Wheel, but a crossroads at two paths. As Jamie Sams writes, "Everytime a person reaches a cross-roads and a decision must be made, that change in attitude marks the death of the old and the birth of the new [Sams, p.300]." But there’s much to do while on the road to rebirth and that’s the next lesson.

Lesson 2: Here and Now

Lesson 3: Rebirth

Hand anyone The Hanged Man card, and invariably they will turn it so that the figure is upright. Try it sometime, it’s quite interesting. My understanding of this phenomenon came from Mesoamerican beliefs symbolized by the bat – that other mammal found hanging upside down. To the Mayan and Aztec peoples, bats hang upside down in a dark cave, just as a baby lies positioned upside down in the dark womb waiting to be born. Bats and babies are "born" when they emerge into the light from the darkness. This emergence can be seen as the result of the struggle with the fears and the side of the self we’d rather not look at unless forced to as described in the previous lesson. No matter who the healer, or how good, the right to heal must be earned, and it is always preceded by hard work symbolized as ritual death and rebirth. The image of this card then can also signify the healed healer. Oddly, as I lay in the Emergency Room for eight hours, I kept thinking of a Mayan initiation ceremony – a shaman’s death where the initiate is buried up to the neck for 24-hours and subjected to verbal and physical abuse. The shaman’s death is a time to address your fears and shadows (for example, abandonment and being alone, helplessness, old age, loss of faculties, loss of abilities, and even insanity). Regarding this ritual, Jamie Sams writes that, "The finest shamans in our world today are those healed healers who have walked the path of death and rebirth destroying the shadows that have blocked their inner-clarity. Once a person has experienced the hard-fought road to wellness, it becomes easy to assist others in doing the same." [Sams, 303]. Henri Nouwen echos this when he says that the healed healer is someone who through their personal experience, can help others move beyond a place of being afraid of life but equally afraid of death. Through hope, you or another can move beyond this place of paralysis and as Sams and Nouwen agree: "to become your future".

As you leave today, think about your past wounds and past healings; the times when you’ve been the wounded healer; the times when another has used their healed wounds to help you. Perhaps some of you feel as though you are bearing a wound that hasn’t yet healed and like Chiron, are awaiting Zeus’ rescue. Perhaps you feel like a perpetual victim, perplexed about your situation and what to do next. Like the Tarot card, "hang" in there – there is always hope because each and everyone of us is a healer, a minister to ourselves and to others, and our greatest medicine is Love.

Ho Mitakuye Oyasin. Thank-you all my relations. Amen.

ã 2001 Kristine A.L. Tomlinson

Clow, Barbara Hand, Liquid Light of Sex: Understanding Your Key Life Passages, Sante Fe: Bear & Co., 1991

Frazer, James George. The Golden Bough: A Study in Magic and Religion. Volume 1, abridged edition., New York: The MacMillan Company, 1958

Hamilton, Edith. Mythology. New York: The New American Library, 1940

Rouse, W.H.D., Gods, Heroes and Men of Ancient Greece, New York: The New American Library, 1957

Andrews, Ted. Animal-Speak: The Spiritual & Magical Powers of Creatures Great & Small, St. Paul: Llewellyn Publications, 1995

Gearhart, Sally. The Feminist Tarot, Watertown, MA: Persephone Press, 1977

Javane, Faith and Bunker, Dusty. Numerology and the Divine Triangle, Atglen, PA: Whitford Press, 1979

Kaplan, Stewart R., Tarot Classic, New York: Grosset and Dunlap, 1973

Sams, Jamie and Carson, David. Medicine Cards, Sante Fe: Bear & Co., 1988

Sams, Jamie. Sacred Path Cards, San Francisco: Harper Collins, 1990

Waite, Arthur Edward. The Pictorial Key to the Tarot Being Fragments of the Secret Tradition ... New York: University Books, Inc., 1959

Tam, Ekman P.C. "Wounding, Doubting, and Trusting in Suffering", The Journal of Pastoral Care, Vol. 55, No. 2, Summer 2001, pp. 159-166

Epictetus. The Enchiridion, Indianapolis: The Bobbs-Merrill Company, Inc., 1948, 1955

Flora Courtois. "The Door to Infinity", Parabola, Vol. 15, No. 2, Summer 1990, pp. 17-19 (available on the World-wide web).