Cresting Worship

"Woe is he who has gathered riches and counted them over, 

thinking his riches have made him immortal!"

         Islam. Qur'an 104.1-3 

"No one can serve two masters; for either he will hate the 

one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one 

and despise the other.  

You cannot serve God and mammon."

    Matthew 6:24 

"Riches ruin the foolish, but not those in quest of the

Beyond. Through craving for riches the ignorant man 

ruins himself as he does others." 

             Buddhism. Dhammapada 355

A light dusting of snow in the Willamette Valley turned the drive from Portland to Eugene into a magical place, tinted by winter's lighthearted antics. The late afternoon sun illuminated the Cascade mountains, etched in snow in the east, as it slipped across the Pacific ranges in the west, cradling the valley in shadows of light. 

The 100-mile stretch between these two very different cities is often a time to shift out of the big city attitude of Portland into the laid back hippie hospitality of Eugene.  The drive usually takes close to two hours, time well spent in reflection, accompanied by Mother nature's unpredictable display. This time was unique only because it was her show that took top billing as she languidly spun around, dancing in sun and wind and snow and rain cast against the landscape, swelling and dipping in the ancient volcanic waves of earth.

Concerns about the slipping U.S. economy weighed heavily on my mind as I reflected on a conversation I'd had with a friend back in Portland.  As usual, the conversation turned theological bringing a ray of hope into the mix of meaning these treacherous times are experiencing, indicating a time of spiritual purification was underway.  

"You know I don't care about money," he said, suggesting his simple home, even with its lovely and carefully chosen belongings, did not take priority over his faith, his worship of what or who is eternal.

"I don't either," I agreed. "Money is only the means to purchase the tools for our creating." 

I wondered privately if I was somehow selling out to the nation's obsession with wealth, that has seeped into absolutely every cell and fiber of American life, if I justified money at all, even as a means to a creative end.  

"Isn't it what we worship that matters," I added to the random thoughts we were sharing, again personally thinking about the final chapters in the Book of Revelation, though disturbing in many of its mythic archetypal images and metaphors, which reveal a startling message. It challenges even the most devout by offering a strong warning not to worship the religion, rather only to worship God, Allah, who is on the throne of heaven (and our hearts) and not even to worship God's messenger or Son. 

"Who we worship is of highest importance," my Muslim friend softly suggested.

"Yes," I agreed.  "Absolutely," and then wondering exactly  how does one authentically worship. "Authentically worship?"

"We pray five times a day," he said.  I knew he did and admired his devotion. 

"I admire that.  It  takes a lot of dedication and a real focused commitment to do that.  I wonder if Christians and Jews also prayed five times a day, what kind of world would we have?"

He smiled, nodding, listening.

Silently we knew about the megalithic boundaries that separated the major world religions and yet if we all went to the center of our religions, we would all enter the throne room of God, Allah, and find that the doors to all the major religions all opened into that throne room and together we would all kneel before our Creator, who has drawn us to Himself through the power of His love: the  Holy Spirit,  the Spirit of Truth, the Shekina, Holy Wisdom.

"If we worship the form of our faith, we remain separated, but if we worship the essence, the center of our faith, we find union," I said, again wondering what authentic worship entails.

Not rote prayers, not reading sentimentally from the Book of Common Prayer, not reciting Hail Mary's or Our Father's on a string of beads, not sitting cross legged for hours contemplating nothingness, none of it is worship.  So, "what is worship?" I wondered even long after we left that conversation and moved on to political and economic issues forcing the world to its knees.

The question lingered long after I left.  

It was getting cold out, nothing like the battering winter gives the eastern U.S., but a damp chill was in the air.  I knew what was coming as I wrapped a scarf around my neck and slipped my hands into gloves.  As I approached my car, I was grateful that at least there wasn't frost on my windshield. A dark sky hung in the west, and I was eager to get home, even welcoming the long drive ahead.

I turned up the music, and headed for the interstate.

As the bustling malls fell away into my review mirror and the traffic lightened, I began to relax and forgot about the question.  I forgot about the worry.  I forgot about everything and found myself entering into the magnificent landscape that greeted me again, welcoming me back as I entered the beautiful grand valley that stretched from Oregon's stem to stern.

As the cresting farmland melted into the day's last amber embrace, I slipped into another dimension of time, of space, of light, of feeling and of absolutely nothing tangible, totally ineffable.  Even now, as I reach for the words, they escape me.  Yes, it was beautiful, but that wasn't it, really.  It was something that spoke through just being....... ah ...... ah ....... la...la... there You are...

No words, no name, nothing .... just a simple human being witnessing something indescribable and the only worship, the only word is simply breathing out ah...la..... ah......le....lu....ia.........