So, breathing meditation helps with fear. How about anger?
Maybe you don’t get angry – but probably, you do. And at inappropriate times and places. Maybe certain issues push you over the edge and your heart is racing and your palms are sweaty and your breathing is shallow and fast. Maybe you too can go from peaceful to raging in less than 6 seconds.
One recent Sunday afternoon found me in the pulpit of a funeral home, leading a very eclectic memorial service for a friend’s sister and brother-in-law who had died in a climbing accident. American-born Koreans, first generation Koreans, and Koreans who just flew in for this service and didn’t speak English were joined by the yoga community to honor these two beloved people. I was trying to hold together a multitude of world-views, traditions, faiths, and spiritual practices, and I’d be lying to say I wasn’t a tiny bit nervous and self-conscious. We would recite the comforting 23rd Psalm along with a responsive reading from the Bhagavad Gita. “Nothing in life or in death can separate us from the Love of the Divine,” from Paul’s letter to the Romans would be joined by chanting in sanskrit. Then 20 minutes before the service was to begin, I was told that the pastor from a local, large, well-known non-denominational church had been invited to say a few words – Could I find a time in the service to have him speak? Yikes. I was not a happy camper.
My anger started to build. I don’t much care for non-denominational pastors. I am too Presbyterian, too connectional. I believe pastors need outside accountability. I believe churches need to be less pastor-centered. Such churches present as liberal when they are anything but. They tend to have very narrow interpretations of scripture. They easily become all about the personality of the pastor. But mostly, I firmly, passionately believe God calls women to ordained ministry, and take it extremely personally when told otherwise.
It’s now one minute before the service is to begin and in he walks, and I am now very ticked. I had worked hard on this service; I was anxious; I really did not want to have Jesus shoved down people’s throats as this time, as I assumed he would. In retrospect, I realize I did not want my Christian faith represented by him. After introducing myself, I invited him to stand up and speak. And my blood started boiling. All my buttons were getting pushed – It wasn’t his fault, I just have issues with (usually men) establishing their credentials in the pulpit – Naming his church, how long he had been there, how he knew just what people needed to hear at times like these, how Jesus loved them, how the week before he had been leading his own mother’s funeral service. I unkindly thought, this isn’t about you, Mister!
Thankfully he spoke long enough I had plenty of time to breathe. Deeply. Over and over and over. Inhale – this isn’t about me – Exhale – It still isn’t about me. Inhale – what does it matter what he thinks about me – Exhale – It still isn’t about me. Inhale – de-personalize. Exhale – trust the Spirit is at work. Inhale – I am here to help this family – Exhale – it will all be okay. Over and over and over. Inhale – who cares how long he’s served – Exhale – I too am called by God.
And finally, my self-righteous anger subsided. Never mind how inappropriate or poorly timed. When we’re angry, we’re angry, and denying we are can just make it worse. But letting the beast be in control isn’t the way of compassion; in fact it’s downright selfish. And so I breathed. And so my nervous system found a balance. And so I was able to lead the rest of the service from a place of calm and compassion.
Yep, guess I’d better keep on meditating. Give it a try – maybe it will help you through some of your own tough times when your own less-than-best self shows up.