open windows & unlocked doors

In Memory of Daido Roshi (1931-2009)

RichardRusseth@gmail.com (Roshi Doshi) — Sun, 11 Oct 2009 20:14:00 +0000

John Daido Loori
came home from the Korean war
via Japan.

lost his soul
to the Buddha and
became a Zen master,
but that was much later.

moved to Mt. Trempler, NY,
bought an old church,
lit some incense,
made it a monastery,
slept in a leaky vestibule
with two followers,
sat zazen always -

even when he was smoking the cigarettes
that finally killed him last Friday.

I am sure he was not surprised
by that slow ambush.

he had tea with death every day.

he understood
with the clearness
of a cold lake.

earlier today, they scattered his ashes in the garden
by the cottage where he lived his last days,

and where, come spring, they will cut flowers
to offer the Buddha on the main alter.

I once asked him why place flowers before
our graven Buddhas of rock or wood.

“explanations never really explain” he said,
and this was, i think, his way of saying -

“just live your life.”

.

French Potage with Pistou

RichardRusseth@gmail.com (Roshi Doshi) — Sat, 03 Oct 2009 14:42:00 +0000

OK Gang. Here's a great, easy, delicious soup for one of those cloudy fall days when old man winter can't decide whether to stay or go. We had it this week and the recipe lasted for two days. Wonderful with a chunk of solid bread and a big piece of sharp cheddar cheese.

Soup:

2 Tbs. unsalted butter
3 medium leeks (white and pale green parts medium finely chopped (about 5 cups)
1/3 cup dry white wine
5 medium potatoes - russet works but I like gold
6 medium carrots, chopped
5 cloves garlic, minced.
1 Tbs. fresh thyme or 1 tsp. dried
1 Large bay leaf
4 cups vegetable broth
2 cups water

1-3 tsp. truffle oil (to taste)

Pistou:

1 cup firmly packed basil leaves
1/4 cup walnuts (toasted is nice but not essential)
2 cloves garlic
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

What To Do:

1. Melt butter in pan over medium heat.
2. Add leeks and a 1/2 tsp. of sea salt.
3. Cover and cook util leeks are softened. Stir often. Maybe 6 or 7 minutes.
4. Add wine and garlic. Cook uncovered until the wine is mostly evaporated.
5. Add carrot, potato, thyme, bay leaf, broth and water. Cover and bring to a boil...reduce heat and simmer for 35 minutes (until everything is really soft).
6. Remove bay leaf. Add one tsp of truffle oil. Purree in batches in blender or processor or use an immersion blender until smooth. Season with pepper (unless you used low sodium vegetable broth, it probably doesn't need salt). Add a little more water if its too thick. It should be on the thick side of creamy not the creamy side of thick. Taste and add more truffle oil if you like!
7. While all that is cooking you can make the pistou in your processor (hard to do in a blender). Drop the garlic into the running processor. Scrap down. Add the basil and walnut. Pulse to combine. Add oil and blend until smooth. Salt and pepper to taste.

To Serve:

1. Place a dollop (a Tbsp or so) in the bottom of each deep bowl. Ladle 2 cups of hot soup over top to cover the pistou. Sprinkle with a little fresh thyme if you have any. Serve.
2. Your guest then stir the soup to mix in the pistou.
3. Bread and cheese board on the side.

Toast!

First Snow 2009

RichardRusseth@gmail.com (Roshi Doshi) — Mon, 21 Sep 2009 23:47:00 +0000

It won't last of course but fun to see the first real snow of the season! As far as I can tell we've got more than just about anyone so far.

Pasta with Corn and Asparagus

RichardRusseth@gmail.com (Roshi Doshi) — Fri, 11 Sep 2009 01:03:00 +0000

Dinner tonight was corn and asparagus with pasta. Fresh corn stripped off the cob. Fresh asparagus. Mostaccioli pasta. So delicious it still seemed like an August afternoon rather than a chill September evening!

4 ears of corn
1 bunch of asparagus
3/4 pound of mostaccioli pasta
Olive oil
Salt/Pepper to taste
Tablespoon dried oregano
3 cloves of garlic minced
1 teaspoon red pepper flakes
1/2 teaspoon dried dill
Dash of ground dried thyme
1/4 cup of white wine
Vegetarian bouillon cubes.

1. Strip the corn off the cob. Cook in a little olive oil, salt and pepper until almost done. Remove from heat.
2. Cut asparagus into 1/2 inch or shorter pieces. Cook in the boiling pasta water until just heated through. Drain and rinse with very cold water until chilled.
3. Add pasta to water (add bouillon cubes to make a broth to cook the pasta in) and cook according to package directions. Add a little olive oil to the water!
4. Heat a few tablespoons of olive oil in a big saute pan. Add the corn and bring to a simmer. Add the garlic, oregano, red pepper flakes, dill and pepper to taste. Stir to prevent browning.
5. When corn is heated through add the wine and bring back to a simmer
6. Add the asparagus and stir and shake until its heated through.
7. Hold until pasta is ready. Drain pasta (reserve a little liquid) and add to the corn asparagus mixture. Toss and shake until its all heated through. Add a little of the reserved liquid if it seems a dry.
8. Serve.

Namaste.

Hiking Gray's Peak

RichardRusseth@gmail.com (Roshi Doshi) — Tue, 11 Aug 2009 06:52:00 +0000

Had a great time hiking to the top of Gray's Peak on Saturday (an official Colorado 14ner!) with friends from church (www.houseforall.org). Some lovely fotos were taken by our expedition photographer (more on Facebook). On the bottom of the pile is Bill, then moi, to my left is Victoria, to the right is John and above is the photographer herself Sheralee. Charlotte was MIA due to her Mom's illness but Nanny is out of the hospital and doing well. We all expect Charlotte along on the next trek!!

Stand By Me

RichardRusseth@gmail.com (Roshi Doshi) — Mon, 10 Aug 2009 03:07:00 +0000

Chilled Curried Coconut Corn Soup

RichardRusseth@gmail.com (Roshi Doshi) — Fri, 31 Jul 2009 19:55:00 +0000

Fresh corn in an Amish market in OH today. Here is a picture of Nanny and me shucking it.

But what to do with it. Sure we'll eat some of it with lots of butter and salt but for a little more adventure may I suggest this marvelous soup!

Ingredients:

Five ears of corn, shucked.
5 tablespoons minced cilantro
1/2 cup finely diced red onion
1 tablespoon butter
1/2 tsp ground turmeric
1 tsp ground coriander
1/2 tsp paprika
1/2 tsp garam masala or mild curry
Salt/Pepper
1 tbsp flour
1 can coconut milk (13.5 oz)
Juice of one or two limes (to taste)

Method

1. Cut the kernels off the cob.
2. Scrap the cobs with the dull side of a knife to get out the "milk".
3. Break up the cobs and add to 5 cups of water with chopped cilantro stems, red onion trimmings and simmer for at least 30 minutes. Strain.
4. Heat the butter and cook the onion until soft but not brown.
5. Add the spices and stir for a bit.
6. Stir in flour, then coconut milk, and the corn, milk and scrapings. Bring to a simmer.
7. Add 1 tsp. salt and 1/2 tsp pepper ( I like lots more actually).
8. Add cilantro and 1.5 cups of the strained "stock."
9. Bring to a simmer and cook for 10 minutes. If too thick add more of the "stock" until you get a consistency you like.
10. Puree a cup of the soup in the blender for a minute and then add back to the pot.
11. Add the juice of one lime.
12. Stir and adjust seasonings.

Cool. Refrigerate until cold.
Serve with a sprinkle of chopped cilantro and a swirl of plain yogurt on each serving.

Deeeelishious.

Namaste.

Rob Bell Makes Me Want To Be Reality Fierce!

RichardRusseth@gmail.com (Roshi Doshi) — Tue, 21 Jul 2009 17:21:00 +0000

I've always liked Rob Bell. Sometimes more than others but his style and insight is really compelling, more often that not. His book "Velvet Elvis" got me on the path of following Jesus. This video has Rob talking about the Good News and how that message is based communicated by example, not laws. Great stuff.

one perfect day (mark 6:53-56)

RichardRusseth@gmail.com (Roshi Doshi) — Mon, 20 Jul 2009 03:32:00 +0000

I've rewritten this poem about a dozen times and finally got to read it during service today at House For All Sinners and Saints. It was a bluegrass service to boot!

__________________________________________________________
one perfect day (mark 6:53-56)

i walk into intensive care

and see my sister lying under
crisp white sheets.
a dozen beeping monitors gathered
closely around her bed.

i sit down.

she is still but waltzes.
she rushes to the respirator, then steps back.
she flows with the whirring dialysis and then pirouettes
around her suitor.

i daydream.

i watch her breathe for hours. the nurses come and go, i touch
the hems of their white skirts. they do not turn about.
the night nurse touches my sister’s brow
with a cool cloth. she does not stir.

i feed dollars to the coke machine at 2 AM.

we sleep on sofas in the family waiting rooms.
we wait for the doctor to tell us something. “she is no better,” he says
“she is growing worse.” as he leaves, i touch
his clothes. he does not turn about.

we go home to our beds.

the stars come out.
they orbit her.
she breathes them in.
she is in her bed but far away,
climbing mountains beyond mountains.

the nights come and go.

we lie awake. we are still.
we listen to the snow as it covers the prairie with sleep.
we wait for it to cover us. grateful for its soft numbing cold.
we fold our hands. we wait.

we bargain.

in her deep chemical sleep,
does she feel my fingers on her forehead? does she dream?
does she listen in on our unspoken prayers?
does she dream of the one perfect day she'd like to have

if she wakes up?

will she remember the god with whom she laughed
about all our fleeting lives?
did she ask for her one perfect day?

the one with sun on water, children and husband, song and dance?

did she grasp at the fringe of his cloak?
did he turn to her then, just as he was fading?
and was that the very same moment
that she at last opened her eyes

and looked so puzzled?

august 6

RichardRusseth@gmail.com (Roshi Doshi) — Wed, 15 Jul 2009 06:06:00 +0000

the light
that instantly
prevented
every
chance to turn away.

the searing
pain
just before
ashes.

how the earth
believed itself
shot.

vast forests of
memories
vanished.

vast futures
now unattainable.

worlds lost.

Delusion and Enlightenment

RichardRusseth@gmail.com (Roshi Doshi) — Tue, 14 Jul 2009 03:58:00 +0000

Too lazy to be ambitious,
I let the world take care of itself.
Ten days' worth of rice in my bag;
a bundle of twigs by the fireplace.
Why chatter about delusion and enlightenment?
Listening to the night rain on my roof,
I sit comfortably, with both legs stretched out.

-Ryokan

zen christians unite

RichardRusseth@gmail.com (Roshi Doshi) — Sat, 11 Jul 2009 03:45:00 +0000

Visit Zen Christians

one perfect day (mark 6:53-56)

RichardRusseth@gmail.com (Roshi Doshi) — Thu, 09 Jul 2009 03:22:00 +0000

i walk into intensive care

and see my sister lying under
crisp white sheets.
the beeping monitors around her bed
playing a chamber piece of uncertain meter.

i sit down.

she is still but waltzes.
she rushes to the respirator, then steps back.
she flows with the whirring dialysis and then pirouettes
around her suitor.

i daydream.

i watch her breathe for hours. the nurses come and go, i touch
the hems of their white skirts. they do not turn about.
the night nurse touches my sister’s brow
with a cool cloth. she does not stir.

i feed dollars to the coke machine at 2 AM.

we sleep on sofas in the family waiting rooms.
we wait for the doctor to tell us something. “she is no better,” he says
“she is growing worse.” as he leaves, i touch
his clothes. he does not turn about.

we go home to our beds.

the stars come out.
they orbit her.
she breathes them in.
she is in her bed but far away,
climbing mountains beyond mountains.

the nights come and go.

we lie awake. we are still.
we listen to the snow as it covers the prairie with sleep.
we wait for it to cover us. grateful for its soft numbing cold.
we fold our hands. we wait.

we bargain.

in her deep chemical sleep,
does she feel my fingers on her forehead? does she dream?
does she listen in on our unspoken prayers?
does she dream of the one perfect day she'd like to have

if she wakes up?

will she remember the god with whom she laughed
about all our fleeting lives?
did she ask for her one perfect day?

the one with sun on water, children and husband, song and dance?

did she grasp at the fringe of his cloak?
did he turn to her then, just as he was fading?

and was that the very same moment

that she at last opened her eyes

and looked so puzzled?

namaste.

Bible Verse Fave Of The Week

RichardRusseth@gmail.com (Roshi Doshi) — Wed, 24 Jun 2009 04:11:00 +0000

The Lord is good to those who wait for him, to the soul that seeks him. It is good that one should wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord. Lamentations 3:25-26

I wait. I seek. I am quiet. As for salvation, I am quiet...

I sit zazen. Shikantaza.

For a long time, I did not sit zazen or sat only occasionally with no particular regularity. Then, in trying to follow Jesus, I tried praying (and still try) but there is a lot of noise and distraction in Christianity! Singing. Preaching. Prayers. Twitter. Facebook. Hard to hear or sense God sometimes. Plus I never know what to say and besides I'm probably interrupting something Very Important.

So, I have returned to zazen.

Not because I'm trying to work out my own salvation as Paul discussed in Philippians 2:12: "...work out your own salvation with fear and trembling" nor as the Buddha stressed in his final words before his final nirvana: "work out your own salvation with diligence" (Though other translations read: "Work hard to gain your own salvation." (wait...Paul and Buddha?)), but because I need the silence. The awareness of shikantaza. God seems to be in the spaces between my thoughts. Or maybe more accurately, in the simple awareness between my thoughts.

When I pray or think about God I put myself in the way. When I sit zazen, I get out the way. I don't know that I hear God, but at least I stop talking to myself.

As the Buddha said: "You cannot travel the path until you become the path itself."

Or, to put it another way, you cannot hear God until you shut up.

Namaste.

rain

RichardRusseth@gmail.com (Roshi Doshi) — Mon, 22 Jun 2009 02:53:00 +0000

the thunder comes first,
and wakes me from
my reading.

just up the valley, i can
see white curtains
of rain fluttering in the wind.

the first drops are so tentative,
leaving little marks in the dust
on the deck. just tiptoeing
across that stage.

then the deluge comes, the
entire ballet all at once,
washing away all
the warmth of the day.

then rain settles in
for the long haul -
like our black dog does for a nap -
first slumping down and then
stretching out sideways on the hardwood floor.

the rain
falls and falls
and falls
until sleep spreads across the day.

the yellow flowers,
just to the side
of the garden pond,
bend under the
weight of the water.

their thirst quenched
in a way the pond

will never know.

Namaste.

Fresh Herb Risotto: Summer On A Plate

RichardRusseth@gmail.com (Roshi Doshi) — Sun, 21 Jun 2009 00:24:00 +0000

Didn't exactly seem like the first day of summer at our house today (rain/60 degrees) BUT enjoying this Fresh Herb Risotto made us feel all summery anyways!

7 cups veggie stock
4 garlic cloves, minced
2 cups FINELY chopped herbs (parsley, chives and arugula were my choices)
2 tbsp. olive oil
1 med. onion, finely chopped.
Salt
1 1/2 cups arborio rice
1/2 cup white wine (some like dry, I like Riesling)
Fresh ground pepper
1 tbsp. lemon juice
1 tsp fresh minced lemon zest
1/2 freshly grated parmesan (splurge on the good stuff, it does make a difference)

1. Combine the herbs with one of the minced cloves in a small bowl. Add a grind of pepper.
2. Heat your stock so its hot but not simmering.
3. Heat the olive oil and add the onion. Cook stirring constantly until soft. Do not brown!
4. Stir in the rice, garlic and onion. Stir until well mixed and add the wine. Cook until the wine is absorbed.
5. Add the stock in ladlefuls (1/2 cup or so at a time) and stir until absorbed. Repeat. After about 20 or 25 min the rice should be done and you should have a 1/2 cup or so of stock left.
6. Stir in the herbs, pepper, lemon zest and juice and cheese.
7. Remove from heat and stir until everything is nicely incorporated. If it seems a little thick add stock until it seems creamy but not at all runny.
8. Serve immediately with a little minced herbs and lemon zest on top.

Serves 4.

A nice variation is to add a 1/2 cup of fresh shelled and cooked peas at the last minute along with everything else!

Namaste!

parable

RichardRusseth@gmail.com (Roshi Doshi) — Wed, 17 Jun 2009 05:31:00 +0000

in church this week,
charlotte read my poem out
loud as part of the liturgy,

which was, like the poem,
a flawed attempt to describe
the unseen.

“he did not speak to them except in parables.”

it was disconcerting to watch charlotte
take my words by the hand,
and guide them through the church,
one by one, like small children.

in a voice as steady as rain,
she spoke of denial and loss -
how bitter they lie on our tongues –
and redemption.

“they ... may indeed listen, but not understand”

words have meanings - many found in webster’s -
though for poets and prophets there
are always meanings known only to them.
ciphers that beg the listener
to bestow coins of understanding into
their tiny, outstretched hands.

“but he explained everything in private to his disciples.”

“words are not just words,” He must have said to them,
“they have consequences.”
something
poets already know, and whether prophet or poet,
we will admit, in private at least,
that all poems are, without fail, prayers
beseeching god to restore

what we never had.

on being denied the eucharist (for r. pater)

RichardRusseth@gmail.com (Roshi Doshi) — Fri, 12 Jun 2009 12:27:00 +0000

when prophets are denied,
as they so often are,
they shake the dust from their sandals
and board when their rows are called.

watching from your plane, you see
the mountains shepherd the sunset into darkness.
lightning drives cracks into the midnight sky.
just for a moment the vast forest
is there -
a revelation
followed by thunder that rolls away
like a resurrection.

when a wind comes hurling accusations
against your plane, the trees huddled
on the mountainside suddenly seem
alarmingly close.

in denver, brushing tears
from your eyes, you exit the plane, and
discover you were never in
any real danger after all

for in a room at the airport,
in a gathering of two or three,
the bread and wine are
freely given to you
so that the darkness is pierced,

and through this wound in the sky,

the moon rises.

-------------------------------
Visit sarcastic lutheran to read the post that inspired the poem.

Namaste.

the virtues of being sick

RichardRusseth@gmail.com (Roshi Doshi) — Wed, 10 Jun 2009 23:07:00 +0000

being sick with a cold is not without its virtues

for example – time slows down to a manageable pace
and tea seemingly stays hot
for a much longer time.

your bed feels more comfortable.

sleep lays heavier on you,
so to get up is a struggle -
one you therefore avoid.

a sunny day is lovely
but a cloudy one is nurturing.

the sound of raindrops
provide a steady rhythm
to the doing of nothing.

laziness is not just accepted
but required.

one can make grandiose plans
without any need to actually
do anything at all.

books are hard work
so magazines become the sandbox of choice.

and nothing ever tastes so good as
a piece of toast
with a little butter and jam
and a spot of tea does
when you have a cold.

but perhaps best,
if you lose your voice,
you don’t have to justify

your silence.

Namaste.

My Zombie Project

RichardRusseth@gmail.com (Roshi Doshi) — Wed, 03 Jun 2009 03:25:00 +0000

Taking dinner with my stepson Brad and Charlotte at the Avenue on 17th (terrible food!) this evening after Leonard Cohen at Red Rocks got canceled due to a little rain. He'd had a meeting this afternoon with someone pushing a zombie flick script. He doesn't want to get involved 'cause it might interfere with his zombie flick script he's working on [background: Brad is a budding producer in L.A.]. I said "You have a zombie project?" Brad says: "Everyone has a zombie project in the works." I said: "I gotta get me a zombie project..."

Inspiration strikes, EUREKA (though I did not shout this out during dinner) - Gospel Zombies. Its a band. Its a movie. Its a line of clothing.

It's a book about unthinking adherence to any set of religious beliefs!

I am so proud of myself. Home I go to begin writing the best damn self-righteous holier than thou up on my high horse and looking down at you book ever written on the topic of intolerant believers (a/k/a far right fundies). But just to be sure I google "Gospel Zombies" and discover - crap - its been done. As a band anyway or album title.

All the good band names really are taken...

So now I'm thinking Zombie Pastors... Zombie Monks... Ah, shit, Gospel Zombies would have been sooooo great...

Namaste.

Empty

RichardRusseth@gmail.com (Roshi Doshi) — Tue, 02 Jun 2009 21:00:00 +0000

Searching for words, hunting for phrases,
When will it end?
Esteeming knowledge and gathering information,
Only maddens the spirit.
Just entrust yourself to your own nature,
Empty and illuminating
Beyond this, I have nothing to teach.

- Bankei (1622-1693)

Sending Postcards To The Buddha

RichardRusseth@gmail.com (Roshi Doshi) — Sat, 30 May 2009 03:42:00 +0000

in my rush to follow jesus
i have forgotten to send postcards
to buddha, which he likes.

mona lisa master.
his serene smile. his amused eyes.

empty mind
prayer on his still lips.

unlike the letters I write jesus
the postcards are best left blank
except for the address:

buddha,
jack pine tree
end of long dusty road
far up the mountain

novelty photos
or landscapes or miniature golf
courses with odd themes are
favorites.

in upstate new york, years ago,
i saw a small buddha statute
observing the ninth hole of a
putt-putt.
after all,
enlightenment
can come at a stroke...

under the bright lights that click on
at sunset, no doubt jesus could beat
the final “free game” hole
without cheating,
while buddha would keep an honest score.

after, on the long drive home,
they would smoke cigarettes,

listen to Elvis
on far away AM stations,
and sing along:

“...Please don’t ask me what’s on my mind
i’m a little mixed up, but i’m feelin’ fine...”

Namaste.

Bible Verse Fave Of The Week

RichardRusseth@gmail.com (Roshi Doshi) — Wed, 20 May 2009 02:26:00 +0000

While I was with them, I protected them in your name that you have given me. I guarded them, and not one of them was lost except the one destined to be lost, so that the scripture might be fulfilled. - John 17:12 (NRSV)

I always feel bad for Judas.

He was "destined" to be lost to fulfill scripture.

30 pieces of silver was a trifling sum; the mere cost of compensation to one whose slave has been killed.

For the author Jorge Francisco Isidoro Luis Borges Acevedo, it is Judas who gives the greater sacrifice. In the story "Three Version of Judas" Borges' says: "The ascetic, for the greater glory of God, degrades and mortifies the flesh; Judas did the same with the spirit. He renounced honour, good, peace, the Kingdom of Heaven, as others, less heroically, renounced pleasure."

Did Judas act without desire for personal gain, I mean thirty pieces of silver - come on - and sacrifice everything for the Logos? Body? Spirit? Soul? Is that possible? He dies in a variety of ways depending on which Gospel account you read, and likely is damned for either his betrayal or suicide...which hardly seems just in either case... or did he?

Was Judas simply made up out of whole cloth?

Theologian Aaron Saari contends "Mark 16:14 and Luke 24:33 state that following his resurrection Jesus appeared to "the eleven." Who was missing? After all that had transpired one would just naturally think it was Judas. Apparently not, because in John 20:24 we learn that the one missing was Thoms. Therefore the eleven had to include Judas. To further confuse things,, Paul says in 1 Corinthians 15:5 that following his resurrection Jesus was seen by “the twelve.” This had to include Judas because it wasn't until after the ascension, some forty days after the resurrection (Acts 1:3), that another person, Matthias, was voted in to replace Judas (Acts 1:26). So, apparently Judas neither committed suicide nor died by accident. In Acts 1:25 we are told that Judas "turned aside to go to his own place." [copied from Wikipedia "Judas Iscariot"]

If he is simply cut from the cloth of the Old Testament, why bother? If he is a historical disciple, why the various modes of death and Gospel ambiguities? And if he was necessary to fulfill the scriptures - why is this sacrifice a sin? Why would Christ's death not atone for even this?

I'm not saying the Gospel isn't true...

I'm just sayin'...

Namaste.

other

RichardRusseth@gmail.com (Roshi Doshi) — Sun, 17 May 2009 00:40:00 +0000

in the moment

when the bread and wine become

other,
something is made whole,

and we take it,

hoping it is us.

Namaste.

Holy Doubt

RichardRusseth@gmail.com (Roshi Doshi) — Wed, 13 May 2009 05:47:00 +0000

The basement of St. Mark’s coffee house was filled with Holy Doubt tonight.

We were reading from Acts, 1 John and John.

But it was John 15:16 that set the Spirit free and the debate poured out and flooded the basement. Here’s the Scripture that set off the debate about prayer, whether it works and why we pray: “...the Father will give you whatever you ask him in my name.”

This promise of God granting our prayers occurs again and again in the Gospels.

“If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you.” - John 15:7

“If in my name you ask me for anything, I will do it.” - John 14:14

And so on. You can look up the others on your own, I’m sure.

One woman spoke of her mother dying of cancer. One man spoke of runaway children not returning. One spoke of fear that doesn't go away. And I could not help but think of my Mother’s suicide. All spoke of prayer and prayers not answered.

Yet, we all still pray though no one thought it quite worked like Jesus promised it would. But what did he promise? Is Jesus a liar? Deluded? Mistaken? No one thought any of those things either. But what then?

I am sure that there are lots of clever explanations for the dichotomy between what Jesus pretty clearly promises on a multitude of occasions, and what He actually appears to deliver. Is it a dichotomy? Were the cancer, suicide, fear, and runaway child God’s will? If not, whose was it?

Still, we pray. We even prayed at the end of BYOB Bible Study. We asked for things to be done, be undone, to happen or not happen.

Did Jesus mean God is a cosmic Santa Claus? That God is just an extra special episode of “I Dream Of Jeannie?”

Or does He only answers prayers that are good for you or accord with his will as 1 John 5:14-15 seems to suggest:

“And this is the boldness we have in him, that if we ask anything according to his will, he hears us. And if we know that he hears us in whatever we ask, we know that we have obtained the requests made of him.”

So if I pray what He wants me to pray He'll give me what He wanted to give me in the first place. If so, what's the point? Does this mean when someone asks Him to cure their cancer and He doesn’t, it’s because this is not in accord with His will? That’s just mean. Isn’t it?

So why do we pray anyway? Despite it all?

I think because not praying is unthinkable. Because in praying we seek to understand. Because prayer is hope manifested. And I think that no matter what we pray we are always asking the same thing: show me that I am, am loved, and am safe.

Whether you want your cancer cured or a Mercedes-Benz, it’s really all the same prayer isn’t it?

Namaste.