Celtic Advent - Day XVII - December 1

 

Celtic Advent - Day XVII - December 1

Today marks the first day of the cultural Advent Calendar. 

Little children all over the world are squealing with delight to find something sweet in the first pocket or drawer of their Advent Calendar. Some will find candy or a confection. Others will find fruit or a toy. 

No matter. The little treat points to the wonderful gift that is coming on the 25th day. Oh, great joy!

Today is also World AIDS Day. 

Established almost 40 years ago, it was a time set aside to remember the devastating effects of a virus that silently invaded the body's system of defense, the immune system, rendering it completely ineffective to other diseases that would be able to invade the body: Kaposi's sarcoma. Pnuemocystic carini pneumonia. Crypto which attacks the GI tract. CMV which causes blindness. Histoplasmosis. Toxoplasmosis. 

The list goes on and on but nothing gets better. It's a dreadful, horrid disease which, thankfully, has become manageable through the discovering of a drug called protease inhibitors. 

In Western or so-called "developed" nations, AIDS has become a disease which, with prevention, early intervention, and treatment, has become a chronic illness with terminal implications. 

However, in the rest of the world, this is not the case. Far from it. So far from it, in fact that it seems worse than the worst of the early days of the HIV/AIDS pandemic in the 80s in this country.

There were so many amazing people with whom I was able to minister that it's hard to choose just one whose story I want to share with you on World AIDS Day during this Celtic Advent journey.

I want to tell you about a woman named Anastasia who was an artist, a married woman with a husband and three children who lived a pretty middle class in a pretty middle class neighborhood in Baltimore. Her husband was a music teacher and a jazz musician who, on weekends, was what was known as a "recreational drug user" during the intermission  between sets. 

That meant that he might use heroin once or twice during the weekend, which was one thing. The thing that became problematic, was that, like so many other heroin users, he shared his "fix' or needle and/or syringe. In so doing, he also shared the virus with others, and they with him. 

No one knew this at the time, and whatever information we might have known that would have helped us was not as forthcoming because the focus was on the fact AIDS was considered a "gay disease". Indeed, in the beginning, the disease was named "G.R.I.D." or "Gay Related Infectious Disease."

Anastasia's diagnosis came during the week that she lost her husband and two sons. Their illnesses came on quickly - all of them with pneumocyctis carinii pneumonia - which Anastasia thought was just a bad chest cold. 

Her husband was first to die, followed two days later by her older son and then, two days after that, by her younger son. They were tested for HIV/AIDS and all three tested positive. 

In the midst of those three devastating losses, Anastasia discovered that she and her 18 month old daughter, also named Anastasia, were HIV positive. 

Even all these years later, I can't even begin to imagine what that week in her life was like. And, all the weeks after.

If the Annunciation of Gabriel to Mary was filled with light, this is the dark side of that mirror. 

Anastasia grew up the privileged child of an Ambassador, in a family that was devout Roman Catholic. She rejected the teachings and practices of that religion, however, and was a faithful adherent to Buddhism. 

When I first visited Anastasia in her home, I was instructed to remove my shoes at the door. I was there as a chaplain and was wearing my clergy shirt and collar. To say she was suspicious was an understatement. 

To say I was grilled was an even bigger understatement. I had never been more grateful for the courses I had taken in World Religion. I was able to hold my own in the conversation about Buddhism, enough to convince her of my respect for her spirituality and religion and that I was not going to impose anything of my religion or spirituality on her. 

To my delight, she then taught me the chant she used to pray for her daughter, which I considered a huge compliment

Namu Myoho Renge Kyo, which roughly translated means, "Glory to the Dharma of the Lotus Sutra"  is understood by followers to be the ultimate law which permeates the universe in union with human life which can be realized through Buddhist practices, and following the Buddha's teaching and wisdom.

Anastasia said that the purpose or goal of the chant is to reduce suffering by the eradication of negative karma along with reducing karmic punishments both from previous and present lifetimes, with the goal of attaining perfect and complete awakening. 

She said that she chanted this "many times a day" for her daughter, Anastasia, to keep all negative energy away from her so she could have a chance to live long enough so that there would be a cure. 

With that understanding, I gladly sat za-zen in Anastasia's living room and chanted with her. 

I don't know how long we chanted, really. I remember that the first five minutes felt like an eternity. Seriously. And then, I lost track of time for another, maybe 3 or 4 minutes but it felt like a lot longer than that. I'm not sure what happened but I guess I sort of zoned out. 

I came back startled to hear and see Anastasia still chanting. 

It took me a few minutes to regain my rhythm, and get back into the chanting which lasted for another 10 minutes or so. Unfortunately, I got a bad case of "monkey brain" - my mind jumped from one thought to another. 

I think "zoning out" for even those few minutes was disturbing to me on some level. I found myself in conflict with private prayer and my professional role in my capacity as a chaplain. Was it okay to "zone out" while "on duty"? 

Was that unprofessional? Was it any more unprofessional than when I prayed fervently to Jesus with Christian patients? Or, was it just that I had never had this sort of experience before? My "monkey brain" jumped from question to question as I chanted and tried to match my rhythm to hers.

Baby Anastasia began to stir in her crib and her mother was up like a flash to check on her. Slowly, gently the 18 month old began to open her eyes and smiled radiantly when she saw her mother's face. She also smiled at me and reached out her chubby hand to hold mine.

"She likes you," said Anastasia. "She likes your energy. This is good. You did good chanting. She heard you. Her spirit heard you. You can come back again."

And, so I did. At least once a week. Sometimes, more. 

Always, we chanted for at least 15-20 minutes before we talked. And, again at the end of my visit. I actually got pretty good at it. 

Until the morning, about 3 months later, that Anastasia called. She had awaken with a start at six am, realizing that she hadn't heard a peep from her child. When she went to the crib she said, before she looked down, she knew that Anastasia's spirit had already left. 

Anastasia said that her baby was at peace, that she had found her father and her brothers and they were happy to be together. "And I," she said, "will be seeing them again soon."

About six months later, she did. 

My faith is pretty strong, but I don't know if I could have been as strong as Anastasia in the face of such devastating losses. Within a little over a year's time, five souls had departed from this life. A whole family of people. Honestly? It felt like a form of genocide. 

When I remember the story of Anastasia and her family, my mind often wanders to the story of the Annunciation, and Visitation, the Journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem and the flight through Egypt. 

I wonder what Mary and Joseph must have made of the visit by three wise men from the Orient who lavished them with expensive gifts.  And then I consider the dream that came to Jospeh which caused the flight of the new family through Egypt to avoid the possible murder of their newborn child by Herod, 

Conversely, when I consider the story of the Holy Family, I admit that my thoughts often wander to another holy family of Anastasia and her husband and children. Oh it is a "negative image" of the Holy Family, to be sure, but the sense of human anxiety and terror and the strength of their faith is much the same.

Anastasia chanted to be in unison with the center of the universe. 

Mary sang Magnificat to be in unison with the God who was at the center of her world and her faith. 

And, I am always struck by the fact that Anastasia's name means, "resurrection". 

Here's the thing about the Lotus flower that Anastasia taught me: It is regarded as one of the most sacred flowers in Eastern religion because even when its roots are in the dirtiest water, it still produces the most beautiful flower. 

Here is the Namu  Myoho Renge Kyo chant which you may want to try for tonight's meditation:

Here is the Hail Mary, which many Christians, especially Roman Catholic, say 10 times as part of reciting The Rosary. 

Hail Mary, 

full of Grace,

the Lord is with thee.

Blessed art thou among women,

and blessed is the fruit

of thy womb, Jesus.

Holy Mary, 

Mother of God,

pray for us sinners now,

and at the hour of our death.

Amen. 

And here is how to pray the rosary, which includes a decade (10) repetitions of the Hail Mary. The whole thing will take you about 20 minutes, which is about the same amount of time it will take you to chant Namu Myoho Renge Kyo.