Loving the Shadow Within
by Judith Liro
Judith Liro is the priest of the St. Hildegard's
community, an innovative liturgical community located at St.
George's Episcopal Church.
During the last three Sundays, we have talked about God's inclusivity.
To remind ourselves again: The kindom of God depends on this gathering
up of everyone, including those who have been throw-aways, invisible,
unappreciated, even despised and rejected. We remember the parables
of the lost sheep and the lost coin where so much effort is expended
to find what is missing. We remember the way Jesus invited the
excluded ones - prostitutes and tax collectors and poorest-of-the-poor
to eat at table with him. Today and each Sunday of this season,
we are going after the forgotten, the sorrows we would rather forget
and avoid. Most of our focus this season is outward; today, we
remember that we, too, are the anawim. The little ones are not
only out there but also in here, in us.
"But what if I should discover that the least among them all,
the poorest of all the beggars, the most impudent of all the
offenders, the very enemy himself - that these are within me, and that I myself
stand in need of the alms of my own kindness - that I myself
am the enemy that must be loved - what then?"
This theme that Carl Jung articulates so eloquently - both the
radical insight into the Christian story and the transformation
that occurs when we do begin to love the anawim within - is the
most amazing key to wisdom's door. I let out an involuntary gasp
when I read it again as I do when I see the full moon or a mountain
view. It may not be new but it still takes my breath away. It is
not so much that we take the key and open the door into a new life
although we certainly have a crucial role. It is rather that this
door begins to open and we are never the same again.
Antonio Machado's poem, "Last Night", points to this
quality of surprise, that new life appears in secret while we
are apparently doing nothing:
Last night, as I was sleeping,
I dreamt - marvelous error! -
that a spring was breaking
out in my heart.
I said: Along which secret aqueduct,
O water, are you coming to me
water of a new life
that I have never drunk?
So we are truly blessed when there comes a time when we become
aware of the poorest of the poor within and the opportunity to
find compassion and self-love. Of course, our first response is
usually not joy but dread. Of course, we keep coming back to the
same self-hatred and same self-rejection over a lifetime. It isn't
a once-for-all inclusion but a spiraling journey that includes
coming back and learning one-more-time as well as finding new aspects
that need to be welcomed.
Jung and depth psychology have helped to bring an understanding
of the importance of the recognition and integration of the shadow.
John Sanford, Jungian and Episcopal priest, has brought this light
to bear on Jesus's stories and the important spiritual insight
of full-inclusion at all levels. He reflects on Jesus's command
to become perfect as God is perfect, understanding this command
as a call to wholeness and completeness:
"To become a complete person involves the inclusion of what
was hitherto unrecognized in the norm.
"This is by no means always a pleasant or enjoyable experience,
since so much of what must be included appears at first objectionable,
inferior, unwanted, and consequently even devilish. Yet without
these lost aspects of ourselves, the wholeness of the kingdom
cannot be established within us. For these lost aspects constitute our
unredeemed humanity which must now be found. All of this undeveloped
self is the unlived life that, for the kingdom to be realized
within us, must get out into life, must get out into life in a legitimate
way. We are saved when the lost part of our personality is recovered.
We become integrated, we become widened, in touch with the deeper
springs of life. The recognition of the despised one within brings
with it the Saviour, the King, the one who brings us joyfully
into the kingdom of God."
Again, Antonio Machado's poem points the way:
Last night, as I was sleeping,
I dreamt - marvelous error! -
that I had a beehive
here inside my heart.
And the golden bees
were making white combs
and sweet honey
from my old failures.
Of course, this sentiment connects deeply to what we mean here
at St. Hildegard's about being beloved and living from a sense
of belovedness. Belovedness involves everything. It means including
what we reject and despise about ourselves and about each other
and extending this belovedness into the way we experience the world.
We are to be compassionate and responsive to ourselves, toward
our community, toward those anawim in the world. It is the way
of life.
Machado's third stanza describes coming to the warmth of belonging
- to oneself, to community, to God and to the world.
Last night, as I was sleeping,
I dreamt - marvelous error! -
that a fiery sun was giving
light inside my heart.
It was fiery because I felt
warmth as from a hearth
and sun because it gave light
and brought tear to my eyes.
The most stunning thing is that God is found not so much through
our strengths as through the welcoming of our anawim.
We see, after all, that it is not so much a duty to love as the
entry into the community of Love. The love of other and our own
belonging to Love are inextricably intertwined. Of course, this
wisdom is ancient. In the gospel, Jesus answers from Torah, "You must love the
Most High God with all your heart, with all your soul and with
all your mind. You must love your neighbor as yourself." Ancient
wisdom must be rediscovered again and again and we must experience
the miracle of inclusion ourselves in whatever form is uniquely
our own.
Sanford writes: "We are saved when the lost part of our
personality is recovered. We become integrated, we become widened,
in touch with the deeper springs of life. The recognition of
the despised one within brings with it the Saviour, the King,
the one who brings us joyfully into the kingdom of God."
Machado's last stanza:
Last night, as I slept,
I dreamt - marvelous error! -
that it was God I had
here inside my heart.
Being aware of finding "the least among them all, the poorest
of all the beggars" within ourselves is not a new thing
for many of us but it is a place of pilgrimage during the Anawim season,
a necessary pause so that we can remember.
I'd like to ask you to reflect on your forgotten selves, the
sorrows you would rather forget and avoid. I've set the stage
but it is really the community's work to bring what is crying
out in you into our circle. Let's take time to listen to our
hearts - to the inner spring, the bees, the fiery sun, to God
within.
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