Walking Each Other Home
"Healing is not the same as curing, after all; healing does not mean going back to the way things were before, but rather allowing what is now to move us closer to God."
Ram Dass (Richard Alpert), after his stroke
This past Sunday I was in New Mexico with good friends. It's rare that I have a Sunday off, so it was a blessing to be able to worship in a religious tradition that is not my own. My friends took me to an Ashram where the worshipers seemed to be one part "old California hippies" and five parts "young professional Indian immigrant families." I was transfixed and moved by the chanting of praise to God, the offering of generous gifts, the tangible expressions of humility, the primary desire to be more loving toward all and the outpouring and sharing of abundance, with a delicious and savory Vegetarian meal (not an oxymoron!) provided for everybody at no charge.
I have traveled to India several times but was still mostly unfamiliar with the spiritual traditions I was witnessing. As "different" as it was, there was also a real "familiarity" to it all. The mostly acapella singing of praises and the outdoor shared lunch reminded me of growing up singing simple hymns without instrumental accompaniment (though there was a bit of percussion and a few bells here and there) and of those Sunday "dinner on the grounds" where the casseroles and pies prepared by my favorite church ladies always brought me much closer to the Lord.
After the lovely prayers, fervent singing and delicious lunch, my friends took me to the orchard where the ashes of Ram Dass were spread. The name Ram Dass, by the way, means simply "servant of God." I knew just a bit about him and had always been moved by his profound spiritual observation that "we're all just walking each other home." As we say in my faith tradition: That'll preach!
My friends shared with me his ongoing awareness of his own humanness and his overarching desire simply to love. He had a sense of humor that did not take anything (especially himself) too seriously. He found it funny when his brother pronounced his name by moving the "d" to the end of the "ram" leaving only an "ass." And his encouragement to "treat everyone you meet like God in drag" is as profound as it is irreverent. His gravestone reads: Loving Awareness. It's not much different than what I affirm every Sunday at Saint Cecilia's: If it's not about LOVE, it's not about GOD!
But for me, going through a rough patch myself in life, it's his understanding that suffering "is part of our training program to make us wise" and that negative experiences are simply steps on the way toward total dependence on God, that truly resonates. My understanding is that, initially, he was anything but sweetness and light after his debilitating stroke. But he eventually came to consider his condition a kind of gift. As unfair as it was, it left him spiritually unfazed - or perhaps even more spiritually grounded and aware.
Experiencing this new way of discerning the divine and worshiping God made me even more grateful for my own tradition and my personal relationship with the Suffering Servant I trust to get me through every rough patch that life might throw my way. But it would not have been the same deepening spiritual experience had I gone there alone, without my faithful friends. For I know too well this truth: We're all just walking each other home. I'd never get there all by myself.
