Whole Earth God

Listen to Clark Strand Being Interiewed on The God Complex

Today Carol Howard Merritt of The God Complex devoted an hour-long show to HOW TO BELIEVE IN GOD: Whether You Believe in Religion or Not. To hear Clark's fresh interpretations of a variety of Biblical stories and themes, download the show here: Download Convertplaylist.

Green Meditation: The Practice of Hitbodedut

Hitbodedut (also hisbodedus)  is a Hebrew word meaning "to be in solitude."  It is an ancient form of prayer which, in recent centuries, has become a favored method among Hasidic Jews. We find evidence of its practice as early in the Bible as Genesis, when "Isaac went out to meditate in the field at the eventide." (Gen. 24:63). In fact, hitbodedut is probably the oldest living spiritual practice in the West, if not in the world.

Simply put, hitbodedut is a spontaneous "pouring out" of the heart to God. It is performed in solitude, often in the woods or an open field, and often in the middle of the night when there are fewer distractions, thought of course it can be done in daylight as well.

Green Meditation: The Narrow Bridge

Know! This world is a very narrow bridge. The important thing is not to be afraid.

 --Reb Nachman of Breslov (1772-1810)

This is one of the most famous sayings by the great Hasidic master Reb Nachman of Breslov. He tells us that the journey through this world is like crossing over a dangerous bridge. He then offers sound advice on crossing such a bridge: Whatever you do, don't panic! Just proceed carefully in the confidence that all shall be well.

Or, at least, that is what he seems to be saying. Actually, there is a deeper teaching embodied in the rebbe's metaphor. To find that teaching, however, we must be willing to ask an important question: WHY is life like a narrow bridge? It isn't just the universal fear of falling that makes Reb Nachman choose an image of this kind.

The Way Nature Prays

On my car radio the weather service had just pronounced the official end of the growing season in the Adirondacks and warned that here, further south in New York's Catskill Mountains, the temperature would drop below freezing in Frost Valley, where I would be attending a men's retreat.

At check-in, I was offered the choice to either camp in solitude in a far off field at the edge of the YMCA property or to join in community and conversation in a cabin assigned to other men.  I chose the field.

 I'm busy enough, for a retired guy.  Mondays and Tuesdays I baby-sit for twin grand-daughters.  On Wednesdays, I run a men's spirituality group.  And every Thursday I participate in our Woodstock Bible Study group.  So, given the opportunity, I went into the field, pulled out my sleeping bag, set up my tarp, and gathered wood for a fire.

About half an hour after darkness fell, ten or so guys came up the trail.  They'd seen the fire, and were gathered to it, the way that seekers have always gathered for the warmth of fellowship and for the fire light that has always set the stage for the telling of stories.