by Eric Diekhans
Rebecca Langer
was a student at San Francisco Theological Seminary while raising three
children, and she needed to find a place of grounding within these demanding
roles. One of her professors—a Jesuit priest—taught a class about prayer and
took students on silent retreats. That invitation to silence helped Dr. Langer
discover a path to spiritual renewal that went beyond traditional prayer and
Bible study.
Ordained as a minister of discipleship and mission, Dr. Langer
found her calling as a “caregiver to caregivers,” helping those who serve
others. She will share her toolkit for reviving our spirits while confronting
unprecedented attacks on creation during the Presbyterians for Earth Care
Conference workshop, “Spiritual Practices and Personal Renewal in a Threatened
Creation.”
Even before seminary, Dr. Langer felt a strong need to develop
spiritual practices that would help her and others. “Before
I went to seminary in my early 40s,” Langer says, "I was working with
children. I had a master's in education, and all along, I noticed that people’s
self-esteem makes a difference in how they survive and thrive in life.”
For Dr. Langer, taking care of ourselves is essential during
difficult times when we often feel helpless to effect positive change. “We need
to reflect rather than react,” she says.
Silence is an essential part of Langer’s spiritual practice,
along with being in nature, something she finds outside her Northern California
home.
But prayer is central to a revitalizing spiritual practice, a
conviction Dr. Langer developed during her years as a church pastor, serving
both large and small congregations. She believes that we find personal renewal
through being present and connected with God. “We don’t need to make it
complicated. We need to ask ourselves, what’s my way of being connected to the
Holy One?”
“You need to find your own rhythm of prayer that allows you to
thrive,” Dr. Langer continues. “Do you need to be moving, or do you like to sit
still? Everyone needs to find their path.”
Prayer can take many forms. Dr. Langer suggests trying pop-up
prayers, short, spontaneous conversations with God. She also suggests art,
music, poetry, and books as ways to connect with God. Currently, she is reading
Brian McLaren’s Life After Doom and MaryAnn McKibben Dana’s Hope: A User’s Guide. She also finds
solace and inspiration in short lines of scripture, particularly in the Psalms.
Dr. Langer sees other ways to work unconventional forms of prayer
into our busy lives. “We can also take small breaks in
our day to find peace, such as taking a short walk,” Langer says. “Find
the rhythm that works for you.”
Community is vital
during these times, and she suggests paying attention to the needs of others,
offering encouragement to a co-worker or friend.
It’s also helpful to counter our constant connectedness,
temporarily silencing phones that ping with the latest bad news from
Washington. “Take fasts from information,” Dr. Langer says. “I don’t feel
guilty. It’s a boundary that I put around me.”
During the workshop, Dr. Langer aims to create a safe space for
rest. “I want to create a space where people can nourish their spirits, while
engaging them with spiritual practices they can take with them to use during
chaotic times.”
Eric Diekhans’
fiction has appeared in numerous magazines and the anthology Uncensored
Ink. He is the recipient of a local Emmy for Children’s Television and an Illinois Arts
Council Fellowship in screenwriting. He is a member of Lake View Presbyterian
Church in Chicago. (www.ericdiekhans.com)
Dr. Langer suggests several online resources for busy people.
Pray As
You Go App is a 10-12 minute daily prayer time with music. The
Presbyterian Church (USA) also has a Daily
Prayer app. Abbey of the Arts offers
arts-oriented resources.
Books also make great prayer/meditation time. Dr. Langer
recommends Marjorie Thompson’s Soul
Feast and Sam Hamilton
Poore’s
Earth
Gospel: a Guide to Prayer for God’s Creation.
Three poems Dr. Langer recommends to help find peace:
“The Gates of Hope” by Rev. Victoria Stafford
Not the prudent gates of Optimism,
Which are somewhat narrower.
Not the stalwart, boring gates of Common Sense;
Nor the strident gates of Self-Righteousness,
Which creak on shrill and angry hinges
(People cannot hear us there; they cannot pass through)
Nor the cheerful, flimsy garden gate of
“Everything is gonna’ be all right.”
But a different, sometimes lonely place,
The place of truth-telling,
About your own soul first of all and its condition.
The place of resistance and defiance,
The piece of ground from which you see the world
Both as it is and as it could be
As it will be;
The place from which you glimpse not only struggle,
But the joy of the struggle.
And we stand there, beckoning and calling,
Telling people what we are seeing
Asking people what they see.¹
“Praying” by Mary Oliver
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just
pay attention, then patch
a few words together and don’t try
to make them elaborate, this isn’t
a contest but the doorway
into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.
"Praying" by Mary Oliver, from Thirst. © Beacon Press, 2007
“Wild Geese” by
Mary Oliver
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting—
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
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