Sin just keeps popping up. Not so much in action as simply in conversation. It gets mentioned at church and in religious writings, but you have to expect that. It pops up in other places too. Just for one example, take the day my supervisor said in a humorous context: “…is God-given managerial talent, and it’s a sin to waste it.” Because of the various contexts in which the concept appears, and the ways people express their ideas about what it actually refers to, we demonstrate much disagreement about sin. It’s the “toMAYato, tomMAHto” thing all over again. And when push comes to shove, I can’t do anything but add my own opinions to the confusion.
Besides being a word that functions as noun and verb…what the heck is sin, anyway? Or…what is it not?
My first answer is this – I don’t think sin is just breaking rules. The people who “can’t drink” or “can’t dance” ” or “can’t play cards” because that would be a sin are barking up the wrong tree. Those kinds of rules attempt to address genuine issues, but wind up simply with someone controlling someone else.
I don’t believe it is a sin to make an honest mistake. No one can know all the consequences of their choices. You do the best you can with the information and wisdom you have, and sometimes you are wrong even though your intention was to do the right thing. No wrong was intended. And our motivations matter.
Nor do I think life is all about salvation that basically gets you out of “paying the price” for your sins. Among my objections to that: 1) It teaches us to be afraid of God and 2) It teaches us to despise ourselves. (Without wanting to open another can of worms, I have the feeling that those teachings are more about our fear of death than about the way we live our lives.)
I think life is about relationships. With God who is the Source of our lives. With ourselves. With our families, friends, employees, employers, fellow workers, neighbors, friends, enemies. With the natural world. With our houses, cars, trucks, boats, computers, books, pianos, guitars, lawnmowers. With the place or places where we worship. With our volunteering, use of our free time, our commitments, our recreation. With our sexuality, our bodies. We have relationships with all these things.
Furthermore, I think Jesus was talking about relationships. Relationships with God, with wealth, with those in need, with family and friends. Seek ye first…Do unto others…Give unto Caesar…The Sabbath is for man, not man for the Sabbath…Forgive seventy times seven…Turn the other cheek…
Does that mean I do not think sin exists? Or that it is not an important issue? Not at all. If life is about relationships, it would be sinful to do things that harm or hinder strong and positive relationships. Especially when the choices we make are deliberate and conscious, when we choose actions that we know will be harmful, destructive to others and even ourselves…and we choose them anyway.
People who are contemplatives or mystics realize that we actually are all connected. God is in each of us, and that makes all of us part of that vast Being that we call God. The belief that we are separate, rather than connected, is probably the root of most of our sins. It is our condition, not evil in itself, just how things are. But if we could grasp the truth that we are connected, it would help us correct our issues. No, it isn’t just “New Age claptrap”. Mystics from all traditions tell us the same things. Including those from the Christian tradition. That makes me want to take this concept seriously.
So let me name a few things that when we do them – or don’t do them – I think we are sinning. Missing the mark. Screwing up. It isn’t a comprehensive list, just enough to give the flavor of what I’m talking about.
Anything that promotes the illusion of separation from God or others would be sinful, for that strikes at the very basis of our relationships.
Anything that can divide us, such as discrimination or bigotry (especially in the name of the God of love) is sinful.
Failure or downright refusal to open oneself to spiritual growth is sinful, for we must grow, life is about growth, and this growth nourishes and enhances our relationships. (Is life about growth? Well, how many dead things do you know that are growing?)
Failure or downright refusal to trust our Creator is sinful. How can you have a relationship with someone you don’t trust? Take fear, for instance. Fear is a natural instinct, and it warns us of dangers, but neurotic and unfounded fears are different from the natural instinct. What does fear destroy? Physical and emotional health, our relationship with our Source, and many things that we want to do but are afraid to try.
Anything that can cause harm to another is a sin. This includes all use of sex as a weapon against other people. It includes pornography, which is deeply degrading. It includes child abuse. It includes use of “power over” someone else in an abusive and destructive way. Murder, greed, theft, adultery are all things that can cause harm to others and/or relationships. Addiction to anything, substance (cocaine) or activity (gambling) interferes with both human and spiritual relationships. The things themselves may be safe in moderate amounts; it is the addiction that hurts us.
Failure or refusal to help someone in need is a sin. If God is in each of us, then when we help another person we serve God. And, if you want to link these things with self-interest, helping another also helps you or me.
(I have not included our failure to take care of our soil, air, water, etc. Some think that is a sin; others think it is our right. For my purposes here, the entire issue deserves its own post.)
So there is my take on sin. Not the following of rules, but the harming of relationships. It’s at least as long as a list of rules, isn’t it? And just as challenging. But, I trust, more conducive to growth.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Friday, June 3, 2011
Copping Out
I was just getting ready to develop a book review of Three Cups of Tea when all heck broke loose over Greg Mortensen and the Central Asia Institute. I was going to do a very positive review of the book and state publicly that I was ready to donate money to the institute.
Now…well, I don’t know what I think.
I know Mortensen says the book is factual. I know fact-checkers say some incidents didn’t happen, several of the schools that have been built are going unused, and teachers haven’t been getting paid lately. I heard someone say on PBS that there are no receipts, no audit records, and Mortensen says he is probably not the best administrator for the institute.
For what it is worth, here are my responses to these statements.
I think most of us have noticed that writers cannot leave the facts alone. If they think it makes a better story to compress two or three incidents into one, they will do it. It is still true for them, even if it isn’t quite the way everything happened. It is called artistic license. Mortensen did not write the book by himself; one David Oliver Relin is also listed as a co-author, and I have no idea which man did what to the story between the actual happenings and the account we have read.
So we live in an excessively mean-spirited time, and I hope it runs its course quickly. We need to move on to better and more positive things.
As for the management of the Central Asia Institute, even I would know to leave paper trails, keep receipts, and so on, and it is only good procedure to have regular audits just in self defense, if there is no other reason for it. And the only training I’ve had in such things is what I have picked up in office jobs. I’ve had no formal training in administration of anything.
Mortensen has admitted he is not much of an administrator. If the portrait in the book shows him in anything resembling an accurate light, you couldn’t expect him to be a good administrator. That is not what he would be good at. That part of it did not surprise me. There are a number of poor administrators who have good intentions and simply know nothing about what good administration does. It does not mean they are dishonest.
Just recently I had looked up the Central Asia Institute online and found a rating site that gave this charity a four-star rating, which included numbers about how much of the money raised actually goes to its programs.
But then that person on PBS said there are no audit records.
And I heard someone say that for the CAI, “programs” includes promoting Mortensen’s books.
So I am not sure, now, what I think. I am going to shelve the book review and wait to see what happens. I found it an interesting and even compelling story when I read it. Right now, I choose to say no more until the situation becomes clearer.
I hope Mortensen and the Central Asia Institute are for real. We need people to do such work in the impoverished parts of the world.
Now…well, I don’t know what I think.
I know Mortensen says the book is factual. I know fact-checkers say some incidents didn’t happen, several of the schools that have been built are going unused, and teachers haven’t been getting paid lately. I heard someone say on PBS that there are no receipts, no audit records, and Mortensen says he is probably not the best administrator for the institute.
For what it is worth, here are my responses to these statements.
I think most of us have noticed that writers cannot leave the facts alone. If they think it makes a better story to compress two or three incidents into one, they will do it. It is still true for them, even if it isn’t quite the way everything happened. It is called artistic license. Mortensen did not write the book by himself; one David Oliver Relin is also listed as a co-author, and I have no idea which man did what to the story between the actual happenings and the account we have read.
So we live in an excessively mean-spirited time, and I hope it runs its course quickly. We need to move on to better and more positive things.
As for the management of the Central Asia Institute, even I would know to leave paper trails, keep receipts, and so on, and it is only good procedure to have regular audits just in self defense, if there is no other reason for it. And the only training I’ve had in such things is what I have picked up in office jobs. I’ve had no formal training in administration of anything.
Mortensen has admitted he is not much of an administrator. If the portrait in the book shows him in anything resembling an accurate light, you couldn’t expect him to be a good administrator. That is not what he would be good at. That part of it did not surprise me. There are a number of poor administrators who have good intentions and simply know nothing about what good administration does. It does not mean they are dishonest.
Just recently I had looked up the Central Asia Institute online and found a rating site that gave this charity a four-star rating, which included numbers about how much of the money raised actually goes to its programs.
But then that person on PBS said there are no audit records.
And I heard someone say that for the CAI, “programs” includes promoting Mortensen’s books.
So I am not sure, now, what I think. I am going to shelve the book review and wait to see what happens. I found it an interesting and even compelling story when I read it. Right now, I choose to say no more until the situation becomes clearer.
I hope Mortensen and the Central Asia Institute are for real. We need people to do such work in the impoverished parts of the world.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Paying the Piper
This blog is supposed to be a place for pondering spiritual/religious questions, issues, lessons, observations, and so on. It is not intended to be a political blog. I don’t even consider myself a political person. I tend to say I am more spiritual than religious. I don’t even think about calling myself political.
That being said, I see things going on in our country that I believe have spiritual/religious contexts as well as political contexts, and it is legitimate for me to comment on them from that viewpoint. I am talking about our nation’s debt. And the debts of many of our states as well. Contrary to what some might believe, I do not think it is a sin to be in debt. It certainly is not wise, however, to get into the position that we are in. The Christian Bible has a lot to say about money and money management, and the book called Proverbs has quite a bit to say about debt. One thing it says is that the borrower is the servant of the lender.
You see, our debt is coming due now, and the piper demands to be paid.
As individuals, we have spent probably five decades building up personal credit, borrowing money, not living within our means. Some of this debt is necessary if half a dozen expensive things (such as dental work and car repair and a child being sick) decide to happen at the same time. Some of our debt is simply a matter of convenience. But quite a lot of our debt has happened because we want something and we will have it whether we can afford it or not. And then something happens that we may not have control over and we’re plunged into a pit of deep…well, you know.
As individual householders, we know how it works. Income and outgo have to match. If our expenses go up we either go into debt or find more income and/or change some spending habits. We know that, as individuals, as households and families.
Whatever made us think government can do any differently? As a nation, we have been spending money we do not have. We have borrowed against the future, depending on the strength of our economy to support our recklessness.
Now we have a national budget deficit that scares us – it scares me, anyway – and we’re starting to criticize the President for it. I have news for all of us. So far he hasn’t done much to reduce the deficit, but he didn’t invent it. We have been doing this to ourselves for some 50 years. Presidents and legislators from both parties have been collectively responsible for it. And we as voters have allowed it.
Guess what! The future has arrived! We have to start paying our debt down before we capsize under its weight.
Guess what! The longer we put it off, the harder and more difficult our debt will be to deal with.
And guess what! Blaming others will not help! We have all done it to ourselves, and we will all have to suffer the consequences of our folly. Nobody likes to think of it. That includes me. I have little, and I don’t like the thought of losing even a tad of it.
Recently, we voted a whole bunch of people into office because they said they would cut spending and balance the budget without raising taxes. Of course we want a balanced budget, right?
Sure we do. Until we hear that the budget balancers are going to cut funds for things we want. Then we squeal. “Cut someone else’s thing,” we protest, “and leave mine alone.” Sorry, friends, it doesn’t work like that. Our situation is serious, and everyone will have to feel the pain in order to fix it.
Do we have the courage to make our politicians do what is necessary? Do we understand that the longer we wait, the harder and more painful it will be to fix this situation? Can we accept the teaching in our Bible about living within our means?
Do we?
Can we?
Doggone it, we had better! Do we really want to be the servant to our lenders? Of course not. So let’s buckle down and get to work!
That being said, I see things going on in our country that I believe have spiritual/religious contexts as well as political contexts, and it is legitimate for me to comment on them from that viewpoint. I am talking about our nation’s debt. And the debts of many of our states as well. Contrary to what some might believe, I do not think it is a sin to be in debt. It certainly is not wise, however, to get into the position that we are in. The Christian Bible has a lot to say about money and money management, and the book called Proverbs has quite a bit to say about debt. One thing it says is that the borrower is the servant of the lender.
You see, our debt is coming due now, and the piper demands to be paid.
As individuals, we have spent probably five decades building up personal credit, borrowing money, not living within our means. Some of this debt is necessary if half a dozen expensive things (such as dental work and car repair and a child being sick) decide to happen at the same time. Some of our debt is simply a matter of convenience. But quite a lot of our debt has happened because we want something and we will have it whether we can afford it or not. And then something happens that we may not have control over and we’re plunged into a pit of deep…well, you know.
As individual householders, we know how it works. Income and outgo have to match. If our expenses go up we either go into debt or find more income and/or change some spending habits. We know that, as individuals, as households and families.
Whatever made us think government can do any differently? As a nation, we have been spending money we do not have. We have borrowed against the future, depending on the strength of our economy to support our recklessness.
Now we have a national budget deficit that scares us – it scares me, anyway – and we’re starting to criticize the President for it. I have news for all of us. So far he hasn’t done much to reduce the deficit, but he didn’t invent it. We have been doing this to ourselves for some 50 years. Presidents and legislators from both parties have been collectively responsible for it. And we as voters have allowed it.
Guess what! The future has arrived! We have to start paying our debt down before we capsize under its weight.
Guess what! The longer we put it off, the harder and more difficult our debt will be to deal with.
And guess what! Blaming others will not help! We have all done it to ourselves, and we will all have to suffer the consequences of our folly. Nobody likes to think of it. That includes me. I have little, and I don’t like the thought of losing even a tad of it.
Recently, we voted a whole bunch of people into office because they said they would cut spending and balance the budget without raising taxes. Of course we want a balanced budget, right?
Sure we do. Until we hear that the budget balancers are going to cut funds for things we want. Then we squeal. “Cut someone else’s thing,” we protest, “and leave mine alone.” Sorry, friends, it doesn’t work like that. Our situation is serious, and everyone will have to feel the pain in order to fix it.
Do we have the courage to make our politicians do what is necessary? Do we understand that the longer we wait, the harder and more painful it will be to fix this situation? Can we accept the teaching in our Bible about living within our means?
Do we?
Can we?
Doggone it, we had better! Do we really want to be the servant to our lenders? Of course not. So let’s buckle down and get to work!
Saturday, March 26, 2011
It Ain’t for Sissies
I saw an old family friend at the supermarket over the weekend. We greeted each other, hugged, and began to visit.
“Are you keeping them all in line at the Tower?” she asked, referring to the apartment house I live in, which at six stories passes for a tower in a small farm town.
“Well, I do my best but I have a lot of trouble with it,” was my reply. “They’re all at least as ornery as I am.” Then we got kind of serious as I added, “But you know, I really think you need to be ornery if you’re going to live as long as some of those folks have.”
“Yes, you do,” my friend agreed. “A good sense of humor helps too.”
That didn’t surprise me; this lady has always been noted for her sense of humor and zest for life.
“And also, don’t you think it helps to be able to give?” she went on. “To give and take? That’s important too.”
I agreed, thinking of the teaching I’d recently reviewed about the staying power of trees in a wind storm. The old tree, the tall and thick and inflexible tree, will be uprooted in a powerful wind. It’s the sapling, young and bendable and flexible, that will survive the storm. And it’s the same with people. You have to be flexible, to roll with the punches, to go with the flow – or the storms of life will uproot you.
We parted and went on our separate ways. Maybe she continued to think about the exchange we’d had. I certainly did. Now that I am getting into the upper sixties, the aging process has become more personal, and I often find myself thinking about it.
Old age really isn’t for sissies. We have to be tough to survive the pitfalls of life. We lose loved ones, we lose money, we may experience a career change we hadn’t wanted to make, maybe we’re in abusive relationships, maybe we lose our homes in a tornado, we have all kinds of setbacks, all sorts of challenges to surviving life. We have to be strong, tough, and able to take the punches and still get up and struggle on. Surviving – and living a good life as we do so – requires every ounce of strength we have.
In fact, a lot of us find that it requires more strength than we believe we possess. That is one of the things that drive us toward religion in any of its multitudinous forms. Belief in God – however each of us conceives and understands that Entity – helps us to handle what seems overwhelming, when we feel so powerless, so puny against the challenges we face. Those of us who don’t turn to that Entity, to the Source of All Things…I don’t know how they get through life. They must be stronger than I am. I tried living that way once, and it was the greatest mistake I’ve ever made.
Is there anything else we can do to help ourselves live and age well? It almost goes without saying that taking good care of body and mind helps. It isn’t a guarantee. One friend of mine spent her entire adult life doing physical and psychological exercises, only to fall to something that seemed to me like the beginning stages of Alzheimer’s.
Continuing to be active, to learn, and to play will also help us. It is important to keep growing. I firmly believe that the day we stop growing is the day we stop living.
We don’t even know that we will live long enough to reach old age. People in the prime of life get struck down by diseases like Parkinson’s or Lou Gehrig’s.
We have control over our own responses and choices, and that’s all we have to work with. The only thing we can do is…our best. And hope it will actually make a difference
“Are you keeping them all in line at the Tower?” she asked, referring to the apartment house I live in, which at six stories passes for a tower in a small farm town.
“Well, I do my best but I have a lot of trouble with it,” was my reply. “They’re all at least as ornery as I am.” Then we got kind of serious as I added, “But you know, I really think you need to be ornery if you’re going to live as long as some of those folks have.”
“Yes, you do,” my friend agreed. “A good sense of humor helps too.”
That didn’t surprise me; this lady has always been noted for her sense of humor and zest for life.
“And also, don’t you think it helps to be able to give?” she went on. “To give and take? That’s important too.”
I agreed, thinking of the teaching I’d recently reviewed about the staying power of trees in a wind storm. The old tree, the tall and thick and inflexible tree, will be uprooted in a powerful wind. It’s the sapling, young and bendable and flexible, that will survive the storm. And it’s the same with people. You have to be flexible, to roll with the punches, to go with the flow – or the storms of life will uproot you.
We parted and went on our separate ways. Maybe she continued to think about the exchange we’d had. I certainly did. Now that I am getting into the upper sixties, the aging process has become more personal, and I often find myself thinking about it.
Old age really isn’t for sissies. We have to be tough to survive the pitfalls of life. We lose loved ones, we lose money, we may experience a career change we hadn’t wanted to make, maybe we’re in abusive relationships, maybe we lose our homes in a tornado, we have all kinds of setbacks, all sorts of challenges to surviving life. We have to be strong, tough, and able to take the punches and still get up and struggle on. Surviving – and living a good life as we do so – requires every ounce of strength we have.
In fact, a lot of us find that it requires more strength than we believe we possess. That is one of the things that drive us toward religion in any of its multitudinous forms. Belief in God – however each of us conceives and understands that Entity – helps us to handle what seems overwhelming, when we feel so powerless, so puny against the challenges we face. Those of us who don’t turn to that Entity, to the Source of All Things…I don’t know how they get through life. They must be stronger than I am. I tried living that way once, and it was the greatest mistake I’ve ever made.
Is there anything else we can do to help ourselves live and age well? It almost goes without saying that taking good care of body and mind helps. It isn’t a guarantee. One friend of mine spent her entire adult life doing physical and psychological exercises, only to fall to something that seemed to me like the beginning stages of Alzheimer’s.
Continuing to be active, to learn, and to play will also help us. It is important to keep growing. I firmly believe that the day we stop growing is the day we stop living.
We don’t even know that we will live long enough to reach old age. People in the prime of life get struck down by diseases like Parkinson’s or Lou Gehrig’s.
We have control over our own responses and choices, and that’s all we have to work with. The only thing we can do is…our best. And hope it will actually make a difference
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Role Models
About a year ago I joined the only adult Sunday school class that my church offers, which does Bible studies with material provided by our denomination. Most of its members are elderly, but there are a few younger members.
I love these people. They are my elders, people to look up to and respect. They were active, working and raising families, while I was growing up. They have known me and my family for probably 50 years. One of them, in fact, knew my parents when I was a toddler. Their beliefs are generally more traditional than mine, but there is still a lot that I can learn from them.
Some of the ladies take turns leading the class. Evelyn, a small woman with a soft voice, believes firmly that the Bible should guide us in all matters. Once in a class we encountered a situation where the Bible has two conflicting statements and while she acknowledged it, she did not really speak to that conflict. Each member just individually decided what we thought about the issue. I found myself wishing that the conflict – which is real – had been addressed either in Evelyn’s comments or in class discussion.
But, while I don’t always agree with Evelyn, I respect her enormously. She walks her talk. She is into mission – which is good and needed – and every winter, she and her husband tour down south as members of Nomads, a group that does volunteer projects. She works hard in the church, and she speaks up for what she thinks is right, and she and her husband are always ready to help someone who “isn’t like us”. I respect her witness and the way she lives her life.
What do I learn from Evelyn? I see that I need more courage to speak up for what I think is right; it’s especially important to speak out, not just in class discussions or normal conversation, but when silence can result in injustice. Right now I’m just picking my battles.
Cathy, a retired schoolteacher, wears a mop of white hair and walks with a cane. She too is soft-voiced. Her views, like Evelyn’s, are traditional. Cathy’s mind is still quite active, and I greatly enjoy visiting with her.
Cathy has become active in environmental issues, speaking out against long wall coal mining. She makes presentations, she writes letters, she attends meetings, she testifies at places. Cathy is very active in this movement. If you want to stimulate the conversation, just ask her what the latest developments are, and she’s off. The lady is a force of nature on the subject.
I learn from Cathy that life isn’t over at 65. She’s still going strong in her lower 80s, physically and mentally. She puts a lot of work and energy into protesting long wall mining. I’ve been struggling not to think that my life is over, that my best years are behind me. Actually, I’m in good health for my age and should still have time and opportunity before my body and mind start to wear out. Cathy is a fine example of the possibilities we can explore as we age.
The wisdom and example we can find from people like these help me get to church every Sunday, even for the early service, even when I’m not sure I belong there anymore.
Being in this class makes me feel a little like a “junior elder,” if there’s such a thing. These folks are strong examples of how the Christian life can be lived. I’m sure they don’t think of it like that. They’re just living their lives the best way they know how. Now that I am in a group of such strong role models, I feel challenged to new growth. Without trying to compare (which isn’t relevant), I feel challenged to become the kind of role models that they are. I take up this challenge because I admire these ladies and would like to truly be like them. It’s a tribute to them, really, rather than a ploy to get attention. You just make the decision to go for it, and put it away, and go on. So like them, I will try to do what they do. Live my life. The best way I know how.
I love these people. They are my elders, people to look up to and respect. They were active, working and raising families, while I was growing up. They have known me and my family for probably 50 years. One of them, in fact, knew my parents when I was a toddler. Their beliefs are generally more traditional than mine, but there is still a lot that I can learn from them.
Some of the ladies take turns leading the class. Evelyn, a small woman with a soft voice, believes firmly that the Bible should guide us in all matters. Once in a class we encountered a situation where the Bible has two conflicting statements and while she acknowledged it, she did not really speak to that conflict. Each member just individually decided what we thought about the issue. I found myself wishing that the conflict – which is real – had been addressed either in Evelyn’s comments or in class discussion.
But, while I don’t always agree with Evelyn, I respect her enormously. She walks her talk. She is into mission – which is good and needed – and every winter, she and her husband tour down south as members of Nomads, a group that does volunteer projects. She works hard in the church, and she speaks up for what she thinks is right, and she and her husband are always ready to help someone who “isn’t like us”. I respect her witness and the way she lives her life.
What do I learn from Evelyn? I see that I need more courage to speak up for what I think is right; it’s especially important to speak out, not just in class discussions or normal conversation, but when silence can result in injustice. Right now I’m just picking my battles.
Cathy, a retired schoolteacher, wears a mop of white hair and walks with a cane. She too is soft-voiced. Her views, like Evelyn’s, are traditional. Cathy’s mind is still quite active, and I greatly enjoy visiting with her.
Cathy has become active in environmental issues, speaking out against long wall coal mining. She makes presentations, she writes letters, she attends meetings, she testifies at places. Cathy is very active in this movement. If you want to stimulate the conversation, just ask her what the latest developments are, and she’s off. The lady is a force of nature on the subject.
I learn from Cathy that life isn’t over at 65. She’s still going strong in her lower 80s, physically and mentally. She puts a lot of work and energy into protesting long wall mining. I’ve been struggling not to think that my life is over, that my best years are behind me. Actually, I’m in good health for my age and should still have time and opportunity before my body and mind start to wear out. Cathy is a fine example of the possibilities we can explore as we age.
The wisdom and example we can find from people like these help me get to church every Sunday, even for the early service, even when I’m not sure I belong there anymore.
Being in this class makes me feel a little like a “junior elder,” if there’s such a thing. These folks are strong examples of how the Christian life can be lived. I’m sure they don’t think of it like that. They’re just living their lives the best way they know how. Now that I am in a group of such strong role models, I feel challenged to new growth. Without trying to compare (which isn’t relevant), I feel challenged to become the kind of role models that they are. I take up this challenge because I admire these ladies and would like to truly be like them. It’s a tribute to them, really, rather than a ploy to get attention. You just make the decision to go for it, and put it away, and go on. So like them, I will try to do what they do. Live my life. The best way I know how.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
When The Pastor is Away
What does a congregation do on Sunday morning when the preacher doesn’t show up? The church I attend suggested an answer to that question recently.
Our pastor was on a mission trip out of the country, and our young youth leader (who is a senior in college) was scheduled to deliver the sermon in his absence. He called to announce that he had overslept, had just gotten up, and would miss the early service.
So there we were. No preacher. A retired minister and several official lay speakers were in attendance at the early service, but nobody was prepared to give an impromptu sermon.
What did we do? In the language of Christianity, the Holy Spirit visited us and urged several of us to go to the microphone and say things. We drew closer together as a church family. We learned about each other. By the time the organist got to the postlude, we all felt the thing had been worthwhile and were glad we had been there.
Yet, it was nothing you would call exciting. It was just regular ordinary people talking about daily living. A farmer told a story that led him to some observations about how we do, or don’t, give. A grandmother told us of her daughter in another state, surrounded by megachurches that did not appeal to her, and how a small congregation began to grow in her own town, and how it is prospering. One of the ushers gave a brief testimony of how his life had been changed when he accepted Jesus as his Lord and Savior. And there were two stories about the answering of prayer. A young mother told a story of a friend praying for tomato soup and getting it under interesting circumstances (when she thought it was going to be a soup she didn’t like, instead); the story has added the expression “tomato soup prayer” to my vocabulary. And an aging data entry specialist (me) told her story of the time she had to drive home from work, a trip of over 50 miles, feeling ill, asking for help in getting home safely—and receiving it.
And there you have it. We had an excuse to just cut the service short and leave (unless we wanted to stay for Sunday school or the later service). That energy or force we call the Holy Spirit had other ways of handling the situation. (I personally think that when the Creator, the Source of All Things, makes his presence felt…that is what we call the Holy Spirit. I am not a Trinitarian—to me, the doctrine of the Trinity does not describe God but the various ways we experience God [or perhaps think we do].)
Be that as it may, the Creator is always ready to take an opportunity to help us grow, and that Sunday morning was a good example of how that works. It was good to have no sermon. I like good sermons, but there are other ways to learn also. We were blessed in other ways, instead. I was glad I was there.
Our pastor was on a mission trip out of the country, and our young youth leader (who is a senior in college) was scheduled to deliver the sermon in his absence. He called to announce that he had overslept, had just gotten up, and would miss the early service.
So there we were. No preacher. A retired minister and several official lay speakers were in attendance at the early service, but nobody was prepared to give an impromptu sermon.
What did we do? In the language of Christianity, the Holy Spirit visited us and urged several of us to go to the microphone and say things. We drew closer together as a church family. We learned about each other. By the time the organist got to the postlude, we all felt the thing had been worthwhile and were glad we had been there.
Yet, it was nothing you would call exciting. It was just regular ordinary people talking about daily living. A farmer told a story that led him to some observations about how we do, or don’t, give. A grandmother told us of her daughter in another state, surrounded by megachurches that did not appeal to her, and how a small congregation began to grow in her own town, and how it is prospering. One of the ushers gave a brief testimony of how his life had been changed when he accepted Jesus as his Lord and Savior. And there were two stories about the answering of prayer. A young mother told a story of a friend praying for tomato soup and getting it under interesting circumstances (when she thought it was going to be a soup she didn’t like, instead); the story has added the expression “tomato soup prayer” to my vocabulary. And an aging data entry specialist (me) told her story of the time she had to drive home from work, a trip of over 50 miles, feeling ill, asking for help in getting home safely—and receiving it.
And there you have it. We had an excuse to just cut the service short and leave (unless we wanted to stay for Sunday school or the later service). That energy or force we call the Holy Spirit had other ways of handling the situation. (I personally think that when the Creator, the Source of All Things, makes his presence felt…that is what we call the Holy Spirit. I am not a Trinitarian—to me, the doctrine of the Trinity does not describe God but the various ways we experience God [or perhaps think we do].)
Be that as it may, the Creator is always ready to take an opportunity to help us grow, and that Sunday morning was a good example of how that works. It was good to have no sermon. I like good sermons, but there are other ways to learn also. We were blessed in other ways, instead. I was glad I was there.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Let it Snow!
When I was growing up, I kept hearing a song called, I believe, “Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.” At least those words made a line in the song, whether or not that’s the title of it. I thought a lot about that song the other day during the Blizzard of 2011.
When I looked out my window at 10:30 that morning and saw some snowflakes in the air I thought, Well, it’s beginning.
When I looked out my window at 12:00 noon I thought, Okay, we’re settling in for the long haul.
But when I looked out my window at 1:30 I thought, Boy, am I glad I didn’t go to work today!
The storm developed much more rapidly than I could have expected, by 2:00 it was well established, and it only grew stronger and nastier throughout the afternoon. Some of my neighbors gathered in the community room downstairs and watched through the picture window. I, hermit that I am, stayed in my apartment and watched it from there. By dark, you couldn’t see much out of the window wherever you were watching the storm.
You really could call it a howling blizzard. The wind was blowing so hard that the snow fell horizontally, not vertically. And it was so thick that I could just make out the flag dancing and snapping around in the winds. The houses across the street were pretty visible, but beyond them the view was blurred.
I watched it and marveled. Truly, I was filled with gratitude that I wasn’t out in that storm. I wasn’t homeless. I wasn’t holding a job that forced me to be out in it. I could stay safe and snug in my tiny apartment. And I remained safe and snug because we didn’t lose our electricity.
One thing we can do in response to such a storm is take a moment to remember our blessings, and we all had ample opportunity to do that. I took full advantage of that opportunity as I watched the snow piling up on the ground below my fourth-floor windows.
And once again I was reminded how puny we humans really are. We have built all these marvels—highways, railroads, airports, machines to roll on the roads and rumble on the rails and soar through the air, power grids, telephone systems…All Mother Nature has to do is twitch, and we are paralyzed. We would really be in for it if Mother Nature fully unleashed her energy against us.
So I concluded that another response we can make in such a blizzard is to allow the fury of Mother Nature to humble us, to show us the true perspective of our achievements. I am not putting down our achievements; we have come a long way in the last couple of centuries. However, when all Mother Nature has to do is twitch in order to paralyze us, we need to realize that our achievements are nowhere near permanent.
Perhaps if we could think in terms of working with the natural world, rather than trying to oppose and dominate it, we might be in a stronger position when Mother Nature twitches. It would surely be worth a try.
When I looked out my window at 10:30 that morning and saw some snowflakes in the air I thought, Well, it’s beginning.
When I looked out my window at 12:00 noon I thought, Okay, we’re settling in for the long haul.
But when I looked out my window at 1:30 I thought, Boy, am I glad I didn’t go to work today!
The storm developed much more rapidly than I could have expected, by 2:00 it was well established, and it only grew stronger and nastier throughout the afternoon. Some of my neighbors gathered in the community room downstairs and watched through the picture window. I, hermit that I am, stayed in my apartment and watched it from there. By dark, you couldn’t see much out of the window wherever you were watching the storm.
You really could call it a howling blizzard. The wind was blowing so hard that the snow fell horizontally, not vertically. And it was so thick that I could just make out the flag dancing and snapping around in the winds. The houses across the street were pretty visible, but beyond them the view was blurred.
I watched it and marveled. Truly, I was filled with gratitude that I wasn’t out in that storm. I wasn’t homeless. I wasn’t holding a job that forced me to be out in it. I could stay safe and snug in my tiny apartment. And I remained safe and snug because we didn’t lose our electricity.
One thing we can do in response to such a storm is take a moment to remember our blessings, and we all had ample opportunity to do that. I took full advantage of that opportunity as I watched the snow piling up on the ground below my fourth-floor windows.
And once again I was reminded how puny we humans really are. We have built all these marvels—highways, railroads, airports, machines to roll on the roads and rumble on the rails and soar through the air, power grids, telephone systems…All Mother Nature has to do is twitch, and we are paralyzed. We would really be in for it if Mother Nature fully unleashed her energy against us.
So I concluded that another response we can make in such a blizzard is to allow the fury of Mother Nature to humble us, to show us the true perspective of our achievements. I am not putting down our achievements; we have come a long way in the last couple of centuries. However, when all Mother Nature has to do is twitch in order to paralyze us, we need to realize that our achievements are nowhere near permanent.
Perhaps if we could think in terms of working with the natural world, rather than trying to oppose and dominate it, we might be in a stronger position when Mother Nature twitches. It would surely be worth a try.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
What Is Wrong With Christmas?
All my life, I have loved Christmas. The colors. The activities and the swirling crowds. The stories. The parties. The generous spirit which, alas, disappears by December 28 every year. The music. Ah, the music. What can I say? I’m in heaven at Christmas time with all the wonderful music that comes out. I enjoy most of the traditional songs, and I positively drool over the seasonal classical music you can find on NPR or PBS, or at local concerts.
Although my beliefs have been transformed so that they no longer embrace many standard Christian teachings, I have continued to love Christmas. Probably for the more “pagan” aspects of the season, for the Bible stories become stranger to me each year. (None of that affects my love of the music.)
Musicians are usually very busy at Christmas and Easter, including me this year, for with a week’s notice I was resurrecting a piano piece and my half of a duet to help my sister out She had been asked, at the last minute, to provide ten minutes of preludes before her church’s Christmas Eve service.
So on top of everything else I do at Christmas, I was seriously practicing.
It really crowded everything else I generally do: cards by snail mail, cards over the internet, shopping, wrapping, baking (not a lot, usually, but some), putting up and decorating my small tree. In fact, there was no baking. I barely got the punch made that I consume during the season, especially when putting up and taking down the tree.
And this year, doggone it, I didn’t really enjoy any of it. I enjoyed Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. That was it.
What really gets me is that everyone else feels the same way I do. When was the last time I heard someone say they were sorry that Christmas was over? Why? What makes us rush around cramming all that activity into a few weeks when we don’t enjoy it? Is there a way I can streamline this, so that Christmas can be enjoyable again?
One thing I might do is start earlier. Which means, before Thanksgiving. I refuse to do that. Thanksgiving is too meaningful for me, and I will not let it get buried in yuletide busy-ness. There has to be another way.
One thing I might do to ease Christmas stress is send cards only to people that I don’t keep in touch with throughout the year. And send as many e-cards, and as few snail-cards, as possible. Local telephone calls would also help to cut the “card load”.
The thing that would really reduce the time and pressure for me is…cutting out that shopping. I can bake presents for local friends, as needed. As for the family, my young great-nephew and I may try to push for a change in the way the family does gifts. That might give us all something new to think about during the season, while easing some of the pressures for all of us. Of course, that all depends on the willingness of the family to go along. Except for my great-nephew who is college now, we have enough stuff anyway.
I will have to think about it this coming year. I love Christmas too much to tolerate being unable to enjoy it. For me, the stories will make a little less sense next year than they did this year. There’s nothing I can do about that. I can’t go backwards, which would undo the marvelous moment that turned me into this Creator-besotted person. But I can work to ease the stresses and re-open myself to the joys of the season.
Christmas is supposed to be a celebration, after all. So let’s enjoy it!
Although my beliefs have been transformed so that they no longer embrace many standard Christian teachings, I have continued to love Christmas. Probably for the more “pagan” aspects of the season, for the Bible stories become stranger to me each year. (None of that affects my love of the music.)
Musicians are usually very busy at Christmas and Easter, including me this year, for with a week’s notice I was resurrecting a piano piece and my half of a duet to help my sister out She had been asked, at the last minute, to provide ten minutes of preludes before her church’s Christmas Eve service.
So on top of everything else I do at Christmas, I was seriously practicing.
It really crowded everything else I generally do: cards by snail mail, cards over the internet, shopping, wrapping, baking (not a lot, usually, but some), putting up and decorating my small tree. In fact, there was no baking. I barely got the punch made that I consume during the season, especially when putting up and taking down the tree.
And this year, doggone it, I didn’t really enjoy any of it. I enjoyed Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. That was it.
What really gets me is that everyone else feels the same way I do. When was the last time I heard someone say they were sorry that Christmas was over? Why? What makes us rush around cramming all that activity into a few weeks when we don’t enjoy it? Is there a way I can streamline this, so that Christmas can be enjoyable again?
One thing I might do is start earlier. Which means, before Thanksgiving. I refuse to do that. Thanksgiving is too meaningful for me, and I will not let it get buried in yuletide busy-ness. There has to be another way.
One thing I might do to ease Christmas stress is send cards only to people that I don’t keep in touch with throughout the year. And send as many e-cards, and as few snail-cards, as possible. Local telephone calls would also help to cut the “card load”.
The thing that would really reduce the time and pressure for me is…cutting out that shopping. I can bake presents for local friends, as needed. As for the family, my young great-nephew and I may try to push for a change in the way the family does gifts. That might give us all something new to think about during the season, while easing some of the pressures for all of us. Of course, that all depends on the willingness of the family to go along. Except for my great-nephew who is college now, we have enough stuff anyway.
I will have to think about it this coming year. I love Christmas too much to tolerate being unable to enjoy it. For me, the stories will make a little less sense next year than they did this year. There’s nothing I can do about that. I can’t go backwards, which would undo the marvelous moment that turned me into this Creator-besotted person. But I can work to ease the stresses and re-open myself to the joys of the season.
Christmas is supposed to be a celebration, after all. So let’s enjoy it!
Saturday, February 20, 2010
James Was Right
The tongue is a fire. At least, it has that potential.
It was the writer of the Epistle (Letter) of James in the New Testament of the Bible who called the tongue a fire. He said that it is very small but can create immense blazes with a tiny spark. He went on to say that we cannot tame our tongues. I’m here to tell you that he was right on the money.
All my life I have had to live with a tongue that has a mind of its own. It goes into action of its own accord. I don’t have to decide to say something; my mouth is open and the words are coming out before I know what I’m going to say. (Friends ask me how I think of those things, and the truth is that I don’t “think” of them at all. I’m as surprised by my words as they are!) In fact, occasionally I don’t even know I’m going to say anything at all until I hear words coming out of my mouth. It’s all the worse if I’m saying something about things I don’t have all the facts about. I have, mostly unintentionally, done quite a little hurtfulness with my tongue during my life.
But that was predominantly in my first (pre-Encounter) life. I still have the difficulty, but it isn’t as bad as it used to be, in my second (post-Encounter) life, because one day I got smart and asked my Source to help me with my tongue. Sometimes He holds it so I can’t blurt out the wrong thing. Sometimes He puts words on it. Even now, if I am surprised by something, you can get the full flavor of my reaction or opinion. But overall, I have learned to recognize and heed the promptings Source has given me about my tongue. My speech can still get me into trouble, but I have had a much simpler life overall since Source took over my tongue.
I will never forget the first time Source rescued me from my, shall I say, straightforwardness. I had recently signed for a house and moved in. It was late spring and I was trying to plant some grass in the strip of lawn behind the house. Weeds had to be dug up, pulled up by the roots, soil had to be hoed and raked, and so on, and I was not accustomed to doing yard work. I asked a friend to come and help me. It was warm of course, downright hot in fact. (This was in Dallas, and even if you start in the morning you’re soon hotter than you want to be.) We hoed and dug and raked and pulled out weeds and I sweated and sweated. There was a moment when I became utterly exasperated with the heat in general and the project in particular. I needed to say something really nasty about how I was feeling, and I actually opened my mouth and drew breath to use language that was as hot as I was…and at that moment I thought, Good heavens, I can’t say that around Ken. Words started to come out, and they astonished me, for they said something like this: “I cannot believe that the pioneers cleared the land and started their farms without the tools we have today!”
Neither could I believe I had said that! It expressed what I was feeling, but it was totally removed from what I had intended to say. (Ken wouldn’t have said anything, but that language would have bothered him.)
There have been many times like that since.
There have been a few times also when I was apparently given messages for the people I was with. This time I was with Bill, in the car one time. We were driving home from work. (Sometimes he and I carpooled.) He was, like me, a trained musician and he was discouraged about his efforts to find work in his field. The car radio was playing “The Ride of the Valkyries”, and abruptly I was saying something like this: “I have no idea what’s going on in the opera here, when they’re doing this music, but it always makes me think of an army of grim-faced female warriors riding their horses to a big battle. Nothing will deter them. They will prevail one way or another.” And somehow the words connected that to Bill and his discouragement. I don’t remember what Bill said, but I think the words helped him. As I continued to drive, I started to feel as though I were breaking out of a dream or some odd waking state, and I was thinking, Did I really say that? Where did that come from, anyway? For lack of a better explanation, I concluded that Source had probably put those words on my tongue and spoken to my friend through me. He will do that; He speaks to us in all sorts of ways, often through others’ words or actions.
There have been moments in pressure situations – oral exams, job interviews – when I really didn’t know what I should say in answer to a question, but when I opened my mouth to try to come up with an answer…there it was, tripping out as though I had planned it.
There is a promise in the Bible that if we have to testify before the authorities, what today we might call the thought police or religion police, our words will be given to us. Now that is a Biblical promise I trust. I’ve experienced it too many times to react otherwise. We often have trouble with Biblical promises that we haven’t experienced in our own lives, or seen in the lives of those close to us. I do, at least. But this one I bet on. When I need control it is there. When I need words they are there.
It’s cool.
It was the writer of the Epistle (Letter) of James in the New Testament of the Bible who called the tongue a fire. He said that it is very small but can create immense blazes with a tiny spark. He went on to say that we cannot tame our tongues. I’m here to tell you that he was right on the money.
All my life I have had to live with a tongue that has a mind of its own. It goes into action of its own accord. I don’t have to decide to say something; my mouth is open and the words are coming out before I know what I’m going to say. (Friends ask me how I think of those things, and the truth is that I don’t “think” of them at all. I’m as surprised by my words as they are!) In fact, occasionally I don’t even know I’m going to say anything at all until I hear words coming out of my mouth. It’s all the worse if I’m saying something about things I don’t have all the facts about. I have, mostly unintentionally, done quite a little hurtfulness with my tongue during my life.
But that was predominantly in my first (pre-Encounter) life. I still have the difficulty, but it isn’t as bad as it used to be, in my second (post-Encounter) life, because one day I got smart and asked my Source to help me with my tongue. Sometimes He holds it so I can’t blurt out the wrong thing. Sometimes He puts words on it. Even now, if I am surprised by something, you can get the full flavor of my reaction or opinion. But overall, I have learned to recognize and heed the promptings Source has given me about my tongue. My speech can still get me into trouble, but I have had a much simpler life overall since Source took over my tongue.
I will never forget the first time Source rescued me from my, shall I say, straightforwardness. I had recently signed for a house and moved in. It was late spring and I was trying to plant some grass in the strip of lawn behind the house. Weeds had to be dug up, pulled up by the roots, soil had to be hoed and raked, and so on, and I was not accustomed to doing yard work. I asked a friend to come and help me. It was warm of course, downright hot in fact. (This was in Dallas, and even if you start in the morning you’re soon hotter than you want to be.) We hoed and dug and raked and pulled out weeds and I sweated and sweated. There was a moment when I became utterly exasperated with the heat in general and the project in particular. I needed to say something really nasty about how I was feeling, and I actually opened my mouth and drew breath to use language that was as hot as I was…and at that moment I thought, Good heavens, I can’t say that around Ken. Words started to come out, and they astonished me, for they said something like this: “I cannot believe that the pioneers cleared the land and started their farms without the tools we have today!”
Neither could I believe I had said that! It expressed what I was feeling, but it was totally removed from what I had intended to say. (Ken wouldn’t have said anything, but that language would have bothered him.)
There have been many times like that since.
There have been a few times also when I was apparently given messages for the people I was with. This time I was with Bill, in the car one time. We were driving home from work. (Sometimes he and I carpooled.) He was, like me, a trained musician and he was discouraged about his efforts to find work in his field. The car radio was playing “The Ride of the Valkyries”, and abruptly I was saying something like this: “I have no idea what’s going on in the opera here, when they’re doing this music, but it always makes me think of an army of grim-faced female warriors riding their horses to a big battle. Nothing will deter them. They will prevail one way or another.” And somehow the words connected that to Bill and his discouragement. I don’t remember what Bill said, but I think the words helped him. As I continued to drive, I started to feel as though I were breaking out of a dream or some odd waking state, and I was thinking, Did I really say that? Where did that come from, anyway? For lack of a better explanation, I concluded that Source had probably put those words on my tongue and spoken to my friend through me. He will do that; He speaks to us in all sorts of ways, often through others’ words or actions.
There have been moments in pressure situations – oral exams, job interviews – when I really didn’t know what I should say in answer to a question, but when I opened my mouth to try to come up with an answer…there it was, tripping out as though I had planned it.
There is a promise in the Bible that if we have to testify before the authorities, what today we might call the thought police or religion police, our words will be given to us. Now that is a Biblical promise I trust. I’ve experienced it too many times to react otherwise. We often have trouble with Biblical promises that we haven’t experienced in our own lives, or seen in the lives of those close to us. I do, at least. But this one I bet on. When I need control it is there. When I need words they are there.
It’s cool.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
About Lists
I am a lover of lists. I make shopping lists. I make lists of household tasks to complete over a long weekend or a vacation. If I am traveling, I make a list of the things I want to pack for the journey. Lists order these things, provide a way to see what needs to be accomplished, and helps you track your progress as you work through the items.
I have a friend who is a mystic. She is a minister, a counselor, a teacher of centering prayer, and I value her wisdom. We met a few months before I left the big city to return to my rural roots, but we have kept the friendship alive via email and telephone calls. There were two or three emails that she sent me in which she wrote about the things she needs to do regularly in order to feel strong and healthy in all respects. I couldn’t help noticing that she always mentioned the same things. This lady really does know what she needs to do. Her lists usually began with centering prayer and sleep, and the other things assumed different places under those two priorities. I would call it a list on maintaining health, or self-maintenance. The complete list would be:
Centering prayer
Sleep
Diet
Exercise
Nature
Drinking water
At that time, I was going through a period in which I was trying to order my life around priorities, and I allowed her list to be one of my guides. But as I did my prayer journaling and worked through various things that happened, I came to develop my own list. If I call my friend’s list a “road map” to self-maintenance, I could call my own list a “road map” to restoring flagging energies, or self-restoration, because after I had followed her list, I still needed to restore energy. There is a smidgen of duplication in my own list, which I call a self-restoration list:
Centering prayer or prayer journaling
Creative activities of all kinds
Personal relationships
Closeness to nature
Solitude and silence
I went so far as to make a sign that shows both lists and tape it up where I see it several times a day. I honestly believe that a person who does these things daily will be healthy physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. (Although I am a voracious reader, I do not include reading or study or even Bible study on the list because all this sneaks in through the other activities. Centering prayer can be done over a passage of scripture or some other writing, for instance, and in solitude and silence I will read and reflect.)
My friend with the brain tumor is having memory difficulties, and for some time I’ve known that she has a birthday present for me but forgets to bring it to church, which is where we usually see each other. (My birthday was in December.) The other day she gave me the present. I cherish the present itself, but it is the card that really got to me. My friend included in her note a list of qualities that a “Godly” life should have, and her list consists almost entirely of words of one syllable:
“To live a life of love, hope, peace, joy, health, trust and faith, and many prayers.”
Now there is a list for you! I would say that if I work to follow the first two lists, my life might actually come to illustrate the qualities on the final list.
So I took my sign down, re-did it to include the third list, and now it looks complete.
I have a friend who is a mystic. She is a minister, a counselor, a teacher of centering prayer, and I value her wisdom. We met a few months before I left the big city to return to my rural roots, but we have kept the friendship alive via email and telephone calls. There were two or three emails that she sent me in which she wrote about the things she needs to do regularly in order to feel strong and healthy in all respects. I couldn’t help noticing that she always mentioned the same things. This lady really does know what she needs to do. Her lists usually began with centering prayer and sleep, and the other things assumed different places under those two priorities. I would call it a list on maintaining health, or self-maintenance. The complete list would be:
Centering prayer
Sleep
Diet
Exercise
Nature
Drinking water
At that time, I was going through a period in which I was trying to order my life around priorities, and I allowed her list to be one of my guides. But as I did my prayer journaling and worked through various things that happened, I came to develop my own list. If I call my friend’s list a “road map” to self-maintenance, I could call my own list a “road map” to restoring flagging energies, or self-restoration, because after I had followed her list, I still needed to restore energy. There is a smidgen of duplication in my own list, which I call a self-restoration list:
Centering prayer or prayer journaling
Creative activities of all kinds
Personal relationships
Closeness to nature
Solitude and silence
I went so far as to make a sign that shows both lists and tape it up where I see it several times a day. I honestly believe that a person who does these things daily will be healthy physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. (Although I am a voracious reader, I do not include reading or study or even Bible study on the list because all this sneaks in through the other activities. Centering prayer can be done over a passage of scripture or some other writing, for instance, and in solitude and silence I will read and reflect.)
My friend with the brain tumor is having memory difficulties, and for some time I’ve known that she has a birthday present for me but forgets to bring it to church, which is where we usually see each other. (My birthday was in December.) The other day she gave me the present. I cherish the present itself, but it is the card that really got to me. My friend included in her note a list of qualities that a “Godly” life should have, and her list consists almost entirely of words of one syllable:
“To live a life of love, hope, peace, joy, health, trust and faith, and many prayers.”
Now there is a list for you! I would say that if I work to follow the first two lists, my life might actually come to illustrate the qualities on the final list.
So I took my sign down, re-did it to include the third list, and now it looks complete.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
How to Have an Argument
A friend and I got into a discussion about global warming recently at church, and I am glad because it helped me to clarify my thinking and, at the same time, demonstrated that we really can have civilized disagreements about these issues.
I don’t remember now how it got started. But I said something supportive about global warming, and that was when he interrupted me.
“Well, we are at polar opposites there because I think global warming is a big, fat lie!” He looked straight into my eyes and added, “Who is really in charge of the temperature of the earth anyway?”
My heart sank, because I sensed his answer would be the theistic God that I no longer believe in, and I wasn’t entirely sure how I could get out of this one without really getting into an argument. Global warming is a safer argument in church than your interpretation of God! (Even if we do each have our own interpretation of God, mine is off the charts in a farm town. Fewer people are more conservative than farmers.) “That’s okay,” I said, “but then how do you explain the melting glaciers? How do you explain the fact that when they talk about the 10 hottest years or summers in the last 100 years of record, around half of them are in the last 15 or 20 years?”
He went on to explain his belief that the earth’s temperature has always fluctuated and it is just doing that now. And “they” will slap the taxes on us to fight global warming when human beings have absolutely no control of global temperature. And all this debating will achieve is to throw a lot of money at the problem without doing anything to solve it. (I can’t deny that is often the way these things turn out!) He thinks that, while the earth may be warming, God is in control and man can’t do anything about it.
So what he really doubts isn’t the warming itself, but the belief that we cause it and can do something about stopping it.
At that point I sensed the beginnings of common beliefs, and I was able to proceed with an open mind. “I will agree that no one really knows what is causing the warming,” I replied, “and I honestly don’t think anybody really knows if we are the cause or not. But I do think we should do whatever we can.”
That was the point of clarification in my thinking. I believe in global warming, and I think we should do what we can to slow it down (I doubt we can stop it entirely). But whether it is a fact or a myth, there is a real issue underlying it.
“I think the real issue is the environment,” I went on.”We are poisoning our water, our soil, and our air. We have to get that cleaned up. We can’t spoil our home; we have nowhere else to go.”
My friend, a farmer, agreed entirely that the environment is the real issue. We spent a few minutes agreeing on various aspects of that, and then went off toward the parlor, and he was saying, “Now, see? We found common things.”
I grinned. “Of course, you’re either a bad American or a bad Christian because you disagree with me. And that is the kind of talk we need to get rid of. People should be able to have civilized disagreements.”
“I agree wholeheartedly!”
That is the way to have an argument. Try to be open-minded, try to have respect for the other (not hard in this case, I think the world of this man and his wife), and find the things that are common. You might even learn something. What I learned is this: While I do believe global warming is a genuine issue, the total environmental picture is the issue I’m really concerned about, and whether the globe is warming or not, whether we can do anything about it or not, we still need to be cleaning up our pollution.
When I saw this friend at choir practice a couple of days later, we got to talking about our conversation on Sunday, and it turned out that we both had given it a lot of thought. We both concluded it was a very positive and constructive discussion.
Now that is a really spiffy way to have an argument!
I don’t remember now how it got started. But I said something supportive about global warming, and that was when he interrupted me.
“Well, we are at polar opposites there because I think global warming is a big, fat lie!” He looked straight into my eyes and added, “Who is really in charge of the temperature of the earth anyway?”
My heart sank, because I sensed his answer would be the theistic God that I no longer believe in, and I wasn’t entirely sure how I could get out of this one without really getting into an argument. Global warming is a safer argument in church than your interpretation of God! (Even if we do each have our own interpretation of God, mine is off the charts in a farm town. Fewer people are more conservative than farmers.) “That’s okay,” I said, “but then how do you explain the melting glaciers? How do you explain the fact that when they talk about the 10 hottest years or summers in the last 100 years of record, around half of them are in the last 15 or 20 years?”
He went on to explain his belief that the earth’s temperature has always fluctuated and it is just doing that now. And “they” will slap the taxes on us to fight global warming when human beings have absolutely no control of global temperature. And all this debating will achieve is to throw a lot of money at the problem without doing anything to solve it. (I can’t deny that is often the way these things turn out!) He thinks that, while the earth may be warming, God is in control and man can’t do anything about it.
So what he really doubts isn’t the warming itself, but the belief that we cause it and can do something about stopping it.
At that point I sensed the beginnings of common beliefs, and I was able to proceed with an open mind. “I will agree that no one really knows what is causing the warming,” I replied, “and I honestly don’t think anybody really knows if we are the cause or not. But I do think we should do whatever we can.”
That was the point of clarification in my thinking. I believe in global warming, and I think we should do what we can to slow it down (I doubt we can stop it entirely). But whether it is a fact or a myth, there is a real issue underlying it.
“I think the real issue is the environment,” I went on.”We are poisoning our water, our soil, and our air. We have to get that cleaned up. We can’t spoil our home; we have nowhere else to go.”
My friend, a farmer, agreed entirely that the environment is the real issue. We spent a few minutes agreeing on various aspects of that, and then went off toward the parlor, and he was saying, “Now, see? We found common things.”
I grinned. “Of course, you’re either a bad American or a bad Christian because you disagree with me. And that is the kind of talk we need to get rid of. People should be able to have civilized disagreements.”
“I agree wholeheartedly!”
That is the way to have an argument. Try to be open-minded, try to have respect for the other (not hard in this case, I think the world of this man and his wife), and find the things that are common. You might even learn something. What I learned is this: While I do believe global warming is a genuine issue, the total environmental picture is the issue I’m really concerned about, and whether the globe is warming or not, whether we can do anything about it or not, we still need to be cleaning up our pollution.
When I saw this friend at choir practice a couple of days later, we got to talking about our conversation on Sunday, and it turned out that we both had given it a lot of thought. We both concluded it was a very positive and constructive discussion.
Now that is a really spiffy way to have an argument!
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Imaginary Journal Entry
This morning was wonderful. Cold. Not just crisp, but cold, bone-chilling, nose-running cold. Scraping frost off the windows of my car in a brisk wind. Wearing the warmest clothing I possess. You really need to do that when you sit in a warehouse at work.
But it started with last night.
During the Christmas weekend, I was visited by insomnia two nights out of four. Every other night was wakeful. It seemed to be the peak of a trend that has grown more and more obnoxious over the best part of a year.
Last night as bedtime approached I was thrumming with unwanted energy, tired but nowhere near ready to go to bed. I did centering prayer. I went to bed with Taize chants in my head. I was still having trouble getting to sleep and I dreaded the boredom of another sleepless night along with the resulting energy issues at work the next day. (When you have to drive 50-plus miles to get home, you don’t need energy issues at work.) Finally, trying to center, I felt compelled to talk with my Source…and was tongue-tied. No words wanted to come out. After a few moments I resorted to my prayer language, and for several minutes words spewed out of my mouth.
Finally I got to sleep. Slept heavily all night. Slow start this morning.
But I felt wonderful. Some inner work must have been going on in the night because there I was, out on the road on such a cold morning as the sun came up, and I felt so blessed I could hardly stand it. I really do not like being up so early. I love dawn, it is gorgeous and I love to watch the quality of light, but in my opinion it should all be happening at 10:00 am.
This morning it was downright splendid. All that frost on the trees, tall grasses, power lines, gleaming in the pre-dawn light. The golden pre-dawn glow reflected off sheds. The rising sun made the frost on the tops of the trees glow pink. It was a fine morning to be up so early. Somehow, the extra cold just made it more spectacular.
And I mused about lessons regarding surrender. I didn’t cause that to happen with the Christmas Eve duet, but in letting go of it I may have allowed it to happen, somehow. Maybe I’m starting to figure this principle out. Is that why I felt so good this morning? Released? As though something healed in the night, as I slept, after I said those things in my prayer language?
Yes, I know that this job is provision. I truly appreciate the provision. And this morning I realized that I’ve had a number of experiences that I can only call mystical, experiences I’ve never had before. I’ve had a few, yes, but since I began this job I have had several within a comparatively brief period of time. Something about this job, the work, the commuting time – two hours a day for thinking on some level beyond the conscious – something has opened me up to these experiences. Gratitude flooded me as I realized that my job has created this openness in me.
After the layoff last summer, I have continually struggled to accept going back to a job I had left behind in my heart and thoughts. Here is an excellent place to work on surrender. Detaching. Letting go. There is a belief that your thoughts create your reality. I think there’s some truth to that, although I’m not yet convinced that it “explains everything.” I believe the spoken word also plays its part.
But my Source has taught me that as long as I cling to something, especially with any kind of negative thoughts or feelings, I’m holding the thing in place. I have to let go of it, entirely, before it will have any chance to change. Now, with this incident about the duet, I have seen the principle working and providing such prompt results that I can’t possibly miss the connection. The only thing I will desire to hold onto about this job is the openness it has created within me. The rest I can let go of.
So this is grand. I can begin 2010 by applying something I have learned. Often, for me, the learning is the easy part. Applying it is the place where I fall flat on my, well, you know. It’s a lesson I truly feel grateful for. And it gives me a strong, positive way to begin this brand new year.
And what the heck. I have two hours every day, five days a week, of “inner work time.” That ought to help me make some progress.
This looks like an interesting year!
But it started with last night.
During the Christmas weekend, I was visited by insomnia two nights out of four. Every other night was wakeful. It seemed to be the peak of a trend that has grown more and more obnoxious over the best part of a year.
Last night as bedtime approached I was thrumming with unwanted energy, tired but nowhere near ready to go to bed. I did centering prayer. I went to bed with Taize chants in my head. I was still having trouble getting to sleep and I dreaded the boredom of another sleepless night along with the resulting energy issues at work the next day. (When you have to drive 50-plus miles to get home, you don’t need energy issues at work.) Finally, trying to center, I felt compelled to talk with my Source…and was tongue-tied. No words wanted to come out. After a few moments I resorted to my prayer language, and for several minutes words spewed out of my mouth.
Finally I got to sleep. Slept heavily all night. Slow start this morning.
But I felt wonderful. Some inner work must have been going on in the night because there I was, out on the road on such a cold morning as the sun came up, and I felt so blessed I could hardly stand it. I really do not like being up so early. I love dawn, it is gorgeous and I love to watch the quality of light, but in my opinion it should all be happening at 10:00 am.
This morning it was downright splendid. All that frost on the trees, tall grasses, power lines, gleaming in the pre-dawn light. The golden pre-dawn glow reflected off sheds. The rising sun made the frost on the tops of the trees glow pink. It was a fine morning to be up so early. Somehow, the extra cold just made it more spectacular.
And I mused about lessons regarding surrender. I didn’t cause that to happen with the Christmas Eve duet, but in letting go of it I may have allowed it to happen, somehow. Maybe I’m starting to figure this principle out. Is that why I felt so good this morning? Released? As though something healed in the night, as I slept, after I said those things in my prayer language?
Yes, I know that this job is provision. I truly appreciate the provision. And this morning I realized that I’ve had a number of experiences that I can only call mystical, experiences I’ve never had before. I’ve had a few, yes, but since I began this job I have had several within a comparatively brief period of time. Something about this job, the work, the commuting time – two hours a day for thinking on some level beyond the conscious – something has opened me up to these experiences. Gratitude flooded me as I realized that my job has created this openness in me.
After the layoff last summer, I have continually struggled to accept going back to a job I had left behind in my heart and thoughts. Here is an excellent place to work on surrender. Detaching. Letting go. There is a belief that your thoughts create your reality. I think there’s some truth to that, although I’m not yet convinced that it “explains everything.” I believe the spoken word also plays its part.
But my Source has taught me that as long as I cling to something, especially with any kind of negative thoughts or feelings, I’m holding the thing in place. I have to let go of it, entirely, before it will have any chance to change. Now, with this incident about the duet, I have seen the principle working and providing such prompt results that I can’t possibly miss the connection. The only thing I will desire to hold onto about this job is the openness it has created within me. The rest I can let go of.
So this is grand. I can begin 2010 by applying something I have learned. Often, for me, the learning is the easy part. Applying it is the place where I fall flat on my, well, you know. It’s a lesson I truly feel grateful for. And it gives me a strong, positive way to begin this brand new year.
And what the heck. I have two hours every day, five days a week, of “inner work time.” That ought to help me make some progress.
This looks like an interesting year!
Thursday, January 7, 2010
One Battle That Ego Lost
“I don’t usually feel my musician’s temperament,” said my sister, L, “but I’m not a happy camper right now.” And with that statement, she offered me the paper in her hand.
My own musician’s temperament began rising too, as I saw that our piano duet was scheduled to be the postlude at her church’s Christmas Eve service. What’s more, someone else was singing the same song that we were planning to play. Neither of us wanted to be childish about a comparatively minor thing, but obviously it wasn’t that minor to us.
A couple of weeks ago, while I was attending a funeral, my sister’s pastor asked me to play at the upcoming Christmas Eve service. I was happy to do so. It is, after all, flattering to be asked. But since L attends this church (she shares the responsibility of playing the organ for services) I thought it was appropriate for her to be involved, so I talked to her and we agreed to play a duet.
I need to digress for a moment. People who start out in life as music majors, or in any type of live performance field, and often in any creative field whether or not it involves live performance, tend to have large egos. It isn’t always the best and easiest quality to live with; even the person with the ego has trouble with it. But how would you manage to go out in front of a few hundred or a few thousand people and risk making a total fool of yourself…without a strong ego?
The problem I have with it, personally, is that in situations that do not involve performance, I still have to deal with an ego that sometimes leads me down the garden path. At times it can be downright embarrassing, and at other times it can be the source of temptation. As it was that evening.
You see, the postlude, being “post”, is at the end of the service, when people are putting on their coats, wishing each other a Merry Christmas, and heading home to bed. (This service lets out around 11:00p.) In other words, they wouldn’t be paying any attention to the music. In fact, usually this service doesn’t even have music going on while the people are leaving.
Unless I’m playing at a reception or some other social situation, I am never happy when people presumably would listen to the music but choose not to. (It doesn’t matter who is playing. Some church ladies whispered once all through our organist’s performance at a church dinner, and I wanted to physically carry them out of the room. It was part of the program after we had eaten, and they should have been listening.) I take music seriously and I want others to respect it. The most obvious way to do that is to listen to it.
My ego, however, had to get involved because I had been specifically invited to play as a sort of guest performer. And my ego did not appreciate being relegated to a spot on the program where the music wouldn’t be heard. How much of my upset was for the sake of the music, and how much was for the sake of my ego, I honestly can’t say. It was probably a mix. It’s likely that the majority of it was ego, even so.
This pastor intended nothing malicious or insensitive. However, he wasn’t in charge of planning the music, and I doubt that he communicated with the lady who was. And my sister and I were trying to determine how we wanted to respond to the situation.
My sister decided to play, be gracious, and take it from there. I agreed with that, but I also planned a polite protest, after a long cooling-off period.
But the more I thought about it, the more dissatisfied I became with my solution.
I’m reading a commentary on the Tao Te Ching right now (Change Your Thoughts – Change Your Life, by Wayne Dyer), and one of the points the book makes is that the best thing to do is … nothing. Here is a quote from Verse 48: “When nothing is done, nothing is left undone. True mastery can be gained by letting things go their own way. It cannot be gained by interfering.”
So I was thinking about that the next day while walking after work. There isn’t much to look at when you’re walking back and forth in hallways of an apartment building, so I use the time to think about creative projects or life problems that I need to work out. I asked myself: “Who is this for, anyway, my Source or myself? It should be for my Source.” Using my musical talent expresses something Source has given me, and it is first and foremost done to love and praise Source.
That led to: “OK, when did Jesus ever take action to defend his ego?” The stories we have, as I understand them, paint a picture of a man who clearly knew who he was and was comfortable with that, to the point that he never felt insecure or threatened where his ego lived. Though I no longer subscribe to Christian theology, I still seek to follow Jesus’ example, and that thought simply showed me the thing to do: Let it go, play, and move on.
So I did.
And guess what. A couple of people backed out of the program at the last minute, L and I we were moved up, and our duet didn’t have to be the postlude after all. It was well received, I told my sister’s pastor that I appreciated being asked to play, and the thing slipped harmlessly into the past.
What is the lesson to learn here? Did I, in fact, “change my thoughts and change my life”? Is it possible to conclude that I can affect things like that? If so, I clearly need to learn this lesson and apply it. You wouldn’t believe the life issues I would like to see resolved!
My own musician’s temperament began rising too, as I saw that our piano duet was scheduled to be the postlude at her church’s Christmas Eve service. What’s more, someone else was singing the same song that we were planning to play. Neither of us wanted to be childish about a comparatively minor thing, but obviously it wasn’t that minor to us.
A couple of weeks ago, while I was attending a funeral, my sister’s pastor asked me to play at the upcoming Christmas Eve service. I was happy to do so. It is, after all, flattering to be asked. But since L attends this church (she shares the responsibility of playing the organ for services) I thought it was appropriate for her to be involved, so I talked to her and we agreed to play a duet.
I need to digress for a moment. People who start out in life as music majors, or in any type of live performance field, and often in any creative field whether or not it involves live performance, tend to have large egos. It isn’t always the best and easiest quality to live with; even the person with the ego has trouble with it. But how would you manage to go out in front of a few hundred or a few thousand people and risk making a total fool of yourself…without a strong ego?
The problem I have with it, personally, is that in situations that do not involve performance, I still have to deal with an ego that sometimes leads me down the garden path. At times it can be downright embarrassing, and at other times it can be the source of temptation. As it was that evening.
You see, the postlude, being “post”, is at the end of the service, when people are putting on their coats, wishing each other a Merry Christmas, and heading home to bed. (This service lets out around 11:00p.) In other words, they wouldn’t be paying any attention to the music. In fact, usually this service doesn’t even have music going on while the people are leaving.
Unless I’m playing at a reception or some other social situation, I am never happy when people presumably would listen to the music but choose not to. (It doesn’t matter who is playing. Some church ladies whispered once all through our organist’s performance at a church dinner, and I wanted to physically carry them out of the room. It was part of the program after we had eaten, and they should have been listening.) I take music seriously and I want others to respect it. The most obvious way to do that is to listen to it.
My ego, however, had to get involved because I had been specifically invited to play as a sort of guest performer. And my ego did not appreciate being relegated to a spot on the program where the music wouldn’t be heard. How much of my upset was for the sake of the music, and how much was for the sake of my ego, I honestly can’t say. It was probably a mix. It’s likely that the majority of it was ego, even so.
This pastor intended nothing malicious or insensitive. However, he wasn’t in charge of planning the music, and I doubt that he communicated with the lady who was. And my sister and I were trying to determine how we wanted to respond to the situation.
My sister decided to play, be gracious, and take it from there. I agreed with that, but I also planned a polite protest, after a long cooling-off period.
But the more I thought about it, the more dissatisfied I became with my solution.
I’m reading a commentary on the Tao Te Ching right now (Change Your Thoughts – Change Your Life, by Wayne Dyer), and one of the points the book makes is that the best thing to do is … nothing. Here is a quote from Verse 48: “When nothing is done, nothing is left undone. True mastery can be gained by letting things go their own way. It cannot be gained by interfering.”
So I was thinking about that the next day while walking after work. There isn’t much to look at when you’re walking back and forth in hallways of an apartment building, so I use the time to think about creative projects or life problems that I need to work out. I asked myself: “Who is this for, anyway, my Source or myself? It should be for my Source.” Using my musical talent expresses something Source has given me, and it is first and foremost done to love and praise Source.
That led to: “OK, when did Jesus ever take action to defend his ego?” The stories we have, as I understand them, paint a picture of a man who clearly knew who he was and was comfortable with that, to the point that he never felt insecure or threatened where his ego lived. Though I no longer subscribe to Christian theology, I still seek to follow Jesus’ example, and that thought simply showed me the thing to do: Let it go, play, and move on.
So I did.
And guess what. A couple of people backed out of the program at the last minute, L and I we were moved up, and our duet didn’t have to be the postlude after all. It was well received, I told my sister’s pastor that I appreciated being asked to play, and the thing slipped harmlessly into the past.
What is the lesson to learn here? Did I, in fact, “change my thoughts and change my life”? Is it possible to conclude that I can affect things like that? If so, I clearly need to learn this lesson and apply it. You wouldn’t believe the life issues I would like to see resolved!
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Being Different
On the way to work the other morning, in a dense fog (I mean a real fog, not a mental one), I was singing along with the radio. In fact, I found myself singing about Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer. It’s a cute song, and we all know it. If it contains a lesson, it is this: The individual who isn’t like everyone else still has value.
That morning, I began to think about all the things it says.
Have you really noticed how the song starts? The other reindeer make fun of poor Rudolph because he has such a funny nose. They laugh at him. They also discriminate against him, not inviting him to play with them. The poor little guy is left all alone, without friends, soaking in unhappiness.
But then one day…they need him. Ah! What a difference that makes! “Oh, Rudolph, won’t you help us tonight so we don’t run ourselves into any mountains or airliners?” “Pretty please?” Rudolph graciously consents to guide the sleigh, and he comes through. All of a sudden, he is popular. Even legendary, for he will go down in history.
Don’t you wonder how it would have turned out if Rudolph had said, “Well, if I’m not good enough to play with you, I’m not good enough to guide the sleigh.” You wouldn’t blame him if he made them beg him to help. The fact that he didn’t do that reflects his goodness. Or it may simply reflect the fact that it was Santa, not the other reindeer, who asked him. Even at the North Pole, you don’t say No to your boss.
And don’t you wonder what the other reindeer did after the excitement wore off? Did they start to like Rudolph? Did they remember that he had value? O or did they just go back to making fun of him and shutting him out of the games?
I hope that, after the story in the song is over, Rudolph became permanently accepted into the herd. If the reindeer continued to reflect human nature, however, that happy ending wasn’t guaranteed.
For this song reflects our own nature. We discriminate against those who are different from the majority. That means there is a whole bunch of discriminating that we do – on the basis of race, skin color, religious belief, sexual orientation and/or lifestyle. And if we need these folks, we use them and then we frequently throw them out with the trash when the need has passed. And the only thing “wrong” with them is that they aren’t like us. They are Different.
We live in a time, however, when some people have a different conception of the way the universe is set up, and they make an astonishing claim: We are not separate at all. We are actually all One, One with the universe and with each other. It erases our differences. You can’t be serious. We’re all One? You’re not kidding me? You mean I have no genuine reason to discriminate against anyone else?
Well, we all put our shoes on one foot at a time, as far as I know, and we all bleed red stuff. That ought to go toward confirming this concept.
Today is Christmas Eve. Today and tomorrow are the days when we celebrate that man who is hailed as the Prince of Peace. It isn’t about presents or feasts or even being with family. It’s about love. Peace. God’s toward us, and ours to share with one another. The way Jesus did – with everyone.
Even if they are different. Especially if they are different. The different ones have the greatest need.
Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer would say the same thing.
Merry Christmas!
That morning, I began to think about all the things it says.
Have you really noticed how the song starts? The other reindeer make fun of poor Rudolph because he has such a funny nose. They laugh at him. They also discriminate against him, not inviting him to play with them. The poor little guy is left all alone, without friends, soaking in unhappiness.
But then one day…they need him. Ah! What a difference that makes! “Oh, Rudolph, won’t you help us tonight so we don’t run ourselves into any mountains or airliners?” “Pretty please?” Rudolph graciously consents to guide the sleigh, and he comes through. All of a sudden, he is popular. Even legendary, for he will go down in history.
Don’t you wonder how it would have turned out if Rudolph had said, “Well, if I’m not good enough to play with you, I’m not good enough to guide the sleigh.” You wouldn’t blame him if he made them beg him to help. The fact that he didn’t do that reflects his goodness. Or it may simply reflect the fact that it was Santa, not the other reindeer, who asked him. Even at the North Pole, you don’t say No to your boss.
And don’t you wonder what the other reindeer did after the excitement wore off? Did they start to like Rudolph? Did they remember that he had value? O or did they just go back to making fun of him and shutting him out of the games?
I hope that, after the story in the song is over, Rudolph became permanently accepted into the herd. If the reindeer continued to reflect human nature, however, that happy ending wasn’t guaranteed.
For this song reflects our own nature. We discriminate against those who are different from the majority. That means there is a whole bunch of discriminating that we do – on the basis of race, skin color, religious belief, sexual orientation and/or lifestyle. And if we need these folks, we use them and then we frequently throw them out with the trash when the need has passed. And the only thing “wrong” with them is that they aren’t like us. They are Different.
We live in a time, however, when some people have a different conception of the way the universe is set up, and they make an astonishing claim: We are not separate at all. We are actually all One, One with the universe and with each other. It erases our differences. You can’t be serious. We’re all One? You’re not kidding me? You mean I have no genuine reason to discriminate against anyone else?
Well, we all put our shoes on one foot at a time, as far as I know, and we all bleed red stuff. That ought to go toward confirming this concept.
Today is Christmas Eve. Today and tomorrow are the days when we celebrate that man who is hailed as the Prince of Peace. It isn’t about presents or feasts or even being with family. It’s about love. Peace. God’s toward us, and ours to share with one another. The way Jesus did – with everyone.
Even if they are different. Especially if they are different. The different ones have the greatest need.
Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer would say the same thing.
Merry Christmas!
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Another View
After all that I said a few weeks ago about people having a fear-based relationship with God, even as I acknowledged that traditional Christians can have a love-based relationship with God individually even though the theology is still based in fear…I have found a person who clearly has a love-based relationship with what we call God.
Recently I spoke with this lady while we were on break at work. We are acquainted with each other. We have seen each other around the building for several months, briefly visited in the break room, gotten to know each other a little. When I ask her how she is, she tends to say that she is blessed. (What a lovely way to be! It’s positive, which is all people really want to hear, and it’s still personal.) She was collecting stuff for a mission project abroad last summer, and when I hinted for more information, she said, “I didn’t want to go there, but God said, “Yes, you do.’” I laughed and replied, “Well, if God says you should go, then you should,” and she agreed. (Do I think we are commanded? Not as such. But if you love God, and you believe He is telling you to do something, then you need to do it in order to be true to the love you hold for God. I don’t look on it as Obedience, but that doesn’t mean I do it for the relationship and for personal growth, not just to Obey.)
I saw her yesterday in the ladies room and asked her in the usual way how she was, and she replied, “I’m blessed, I know it, and I thank God for it!” I’ve heard her give several variations on that theme, so I wasn’t surprised by this response. But then the conversation expanded.
“We really are blessed,” I said, “and so many people take it for granted. Just being able to walk or breathe normally is such a blessing, and we take those things for granted.”
She replied, “I’m trying not to, and I hope God knows that because I keep trying to remember to tell Him so.”
“He knows your heart,” I said. At this point I want to add a clarification. I can talk to traditional Christians (and she is one, I know which church she attends) in their language because I am still comfortable in it as long as it doesn’t have to be conceptualized in certain ways. And God, whatever it actually is that we call God, certainly does know our hearts and minds and thoughts.
“He’s so great!” she exclaimed. “I love Him so much!”
“I know,” I said. “You just keep reaching and reaching for Him and you can’t get close enough.”
She understood that. “And it’s eternal!” she added, pumping her fist the way athletes do.
“And eternity starts now,” I added. “We don’t even have to wait until we die.”
“Yes!!” And we both pumped our fists.
I thought a lot about that exchange throughout the rest of the day. This friend belongs to a fairly conservative denomination and she still conceptualizes the Creator in traditional ways. I know that because of the other things I’ve heard her say from time to time. Even so, she has the energy and enthusiasm of love, and she clearly knows that this is a 24/7/365 commitment, not just a “one or two hours on Sunday and then life goes back to normal after church” type of thing. She clearly has a love-based relationship with the Higher Power that the 12-step programs talk about, the Creator that I talk about, God or Jesus that the traditional church talks about. She has met and responded to Eternal Unconditional Love.
It’s the Love and our relationship with its Source and all the creation that matters. Knowing you are loved, responding with your own love. That’s what “salvation” is all about. It doesn’t matter what we call it or how we conceptualize it. The theology is still based in fear. But guess what. Perfect love can cast out fear.
Yes! [Pump fist!]
Recently I spoke with this lady while we were on break at work. We are acquainted with each other. We have seen each other around the building for several months, briefly visited in the break room, gotten to know each other a little. When I ask her how she is, she tends to say that she is blessed. (What a lovely way to be! It’s positive, which is all people really want to hear, and it’s still personal.) She was collecting stuff for a mission project abroad last summer, and when I hinted for more information, she said, “I didn’t want to go there, but God said, “Yes, you do.’” I laughed and replied, “Well, if God says you should go, then you should,” and she agreed. (Do I think we are commanded? Not as such. But if you love God, and you believe He is telling you to do something, then you need to do it in order to be true to the love you hold for God. I don’t look on it as Obedience, but that doesn’t mean I do it for the relationship and for personal growth, not just to Obey.)
I saw her yesterday in the ladies room and asked her in the usual way how she was, and she replied, “I’m blessed, I know it, and I thank God for it!” I’ve heard her give several variations on that theme, so I wasn’t surprised by this response. But then the conversation expanded.
“We really are blessed,” I said, “and so many people take it for granted. Just being able to walk or breathe normally is such a blessing, and we take those things for granted.”
She replied, “I’m trying not to, and I hope God knows that because I keep trying to remember to tell Him so.”
“He knows your heart,” I said. At this point I want to add a clarification. I can talk to traditional Christians (and she is one, I know which church she attends) in their language because I am still comfortable in it as long as it doesn’t have to be conceptualized in certain ways. And God, whatever it actually is that we call God, certainly does know our hearts and minds and thoughts.
“He’s so great!” she exclaimed. “I love Him so much!”
“I know,” I said. “You just keep reaching and reaching for Him and you can’t get close enough.”
She understood that. “And it’s eternal!” she added, pumping her fist the way athletes do.
“And eternity starts now,” I added. “We don’t even have to wait until we die.”
“Yes!!” And we both pumped our fists.
I thought a lot about that exchange throughout the rest of the day. This friend belongs to a fairly conservative denomination and she still conceptualizes the Creator in traditional ways. I know that because of the other things I’ve heard her say from time to time. Even so, she has the energy and enthusiasm of love, and she clearly knows that this is a 24/7/365 commitment, not just a “one or two hours on Sunday and then life goes back to normal after church” type of thing. She clearly has a love-based relationship with the Higher Power that the 12-step programs talk about, the Creator that I talk about, God or Jesus that the traditional church talks about. She has met and responded to Eternal Unconditional Love.
It’s the Love and our relationship with its Source and all the creation that matters. Knowing you are loved, responding with your own love. That’s what “salvation” is all about. It doesn’t matter what we call it or how we conceptualize it. The theology is still based in fear. But guess what. Perfect love can cast out fear.
Yes! [Pump fist!]
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Memories
It was only a casual phone conversation. My sister and were just visiting about the usual stuff when suddenly she dropped a bomb on me. “By the way, you knew that E died?”
The world stopped for a couple of beats, but finally I managed to say, “No, I didn’t.”
“It was last Monday. The funeral was Friday. I’m sorry, I thought of calling you but I thought you would have heard.”
Somehow I got through the conversation without losing my manners, but the news plunged me into a “downer” that went on for a full 24 hours. E and I went a long way back. When my family first moved into the town (from the farmhouse we had been renting) E and her family lived across the alley from us. There were two kids, C and her brother T. My sister “sat” for them in the summers while the kids were out of school and the parents were at work. C became one of my closest friends in high school. She and her brother and I, with a couple of other kids, formed an instrumental combo that played together a lot, mostly big band tunes. We weren’t wonderful, but we had a grand time. When C had health problems and had to miss school, I was the one who went around to the teachers and got assignments for her so she could keep up. We were together when I had my first (and last!) taste of beer.
Through all of that, there were her parents. E was the dominant family member. She was wonderful. She was short, dark-haired. Snapping black eyes. Sort of a pugnacious chin. She didn’t take any guff from anyone. Spoke her mind. Very much grounded in that rare quality that we call common sense. Used plain language.
E was the oldest child in her family, and when their mother died E took on the responsibility of caring for the family and raising her siblings. The natural result was that she grew up accustomed to taking care of others and she spent her whole life doing that. She was a pretty strict parent, but it was clearly done in love for her children. She was a caring person, warmhearted, ready to help. I think she considered me her half-daughter. I know I considered her my half-mother.
We all kept in touch over the years. When C and I were home, we visited. Otherwise, we exchanged letters. Eventually life went downhill for her, and she moved back to our home town with physical and mental health issues. She died while I was living in Texas, and I wasn’t able to get home for the funeral.
Some of the clearest memories I have of E that come from my adult life:
I was sitting on the front porch of my parents’ house just after my dad had died, watching as E pulled up to the curb and got out of the car with a large baking dish full of food.
There was the time she and her husband were in the Dallas area, and she called me up to say Hello.
The first time E saw me after C died, she asked me: “What did I do wrong, honey?” More than once she asked me that question. The main problem the two had was that they were both strong personalities and too much alike. They always chafed each other, even at the best of times. But nothing a parent does can affect degenerative physical conditions or the development of mental illness. Not as far as I know anyway. I could tell her honestly that I didn’t think she had done anything wrong.
There was the time my sister and I sat at E’s kitchen table, visiting. My sister had a few questions about how some people were connected, and was asking E about them. I think E knew just about everyone, who was whose child, who had married whom, how all the connections went. And she knew about every road and place as well.
When I moved back to my home town a few years ago, E and I talked on the phone and I took her for rides or on errands a few times.
And then I wound up living in the same apartment house as she was, for a while, before her health deteriorated and she had to move to the local nursing home.
The news that E had died and been buried before I even found out about it was hard to take. I had counted on being there for her funeral. I had missed her husband’s funeral. I had missed C’s funeral. I needed to make some kind of formal good-bye to this family that was such a part of me. How much of my reaction was grief? How much was simple disappointment and frustration that I hadn’t had the opportunity to go to the funeral? I can’t say. Like E herself, I rarely cry very much, but that evening I cried fairly copiously and was depressed the next day. It wasn’t until I tracked E’s son down over the internet and talked to him that it started to ease.
I no longer believe in “heaven” as I was taught about it. I no longer believe that when we die, we go to “heaven.” I do believe we enter some other level of existence, a plane, a dimension, whatever we might call it, which is a vast improvement over this existence, and in my view it is a state in which we can be as close to the Source of Life as we desire to be. I have had two experiences that allowed a tiny bit of communication to me from that existence. (I suppose they both can be interpreted in other ways, but their timing and nature made it impossible for me to make any other conclusions about them, and the more experienced [and unbiased] people I asked confirmed that.) And I am not shy about asking the Source of Life to pass on a greeting once in a while, when I feel a need to touch base with someone who is no longer here. I trust that somehow I can get word through to E, to tell her I love her and miss her and am sorry I missed the good-bye. I think she will understand.
The world stopped for a couple of beats, but finally I managed to say, “No, I didn’t.”
“It was last Monday. The funeral was Friday. I’m sorry, I thought of calling you but I thought you would have heard.”
Somehow I got through the conversation without losing my manners, but the news plunged me into a “downer” that went on for a full 24 hours. E and I went a long way back. When my family first moved into the town (from the farmhouse we had been renting) E and her family lived across the alley from us. There were two kids, C and her brother T. My sister “sat” for them in the summers while the kids were out of school and the parents were at work. C became one of my closest friends in high school. She and her brother and I, with a couple of other kids, formed an instrumental combo that played together a lot, mostly big band tunes. We weren’t wonderful, but we had a grand time. When C had health problems and had to miss school, I was the one who went around to the teachers and got assignments for her so she could keep up. We were together when I had my first (and last!) taste of beer.
Through all of that, there were her parents. E was the dominant family member. She was wonderful. She was short, dark-haired. Snapping black eyes. Sort of a pugnacious chin. She didn’t take any guff from anyone. Spoke her mind. Very much grounded in that rare quality that we call common sense. Used plain language.
E was the oldest child in her family, and when their mother died E took on the responsibility of caring for the family and raising her siblings. The natural result was that she grew up accustomed to taking care of others and she spent her whole life doing that. She was a pretty strict parent, but it was clearly done in love for her children. She was a caring person, warmhearted, ready to help. I think she considered me her half-daughter. I know I considered her my half-mother.
We all kept in touch over the years. When C and I were home, we visited. Otherwise, we exchanged letters. Eventually life went downhill for her, and she moved back to our home town with physical and mental health issues. She died while I was living in Texas, and I wasn’t able to get home for the funeral.
Some of the clearest memories I have of E that come from my adult life:
I was sitting on the front porch of my parents’ house just after my dad had died, watching as E pulled up to the curb and got out of the car with a large baking dish full of food.
There was the time she and her husband were in the Dallas area, and she called me up to say Hello.
The first time E saw me after C died, she asked me: “What did I do wrong, honey?” More than once she asked me that question. The main problem the two had was that they were both strong personalities and too much alike. They always chafed each other, even at the best of times. But nothing a parent does can affect degenerative physical conditions or the development of mental illness. Not as far as I know anyway. I could tell her honestly that I didn’t think she had done anything wrong.
There was the time my sister and I sat at E’s kitchen table, visiting. My sister had a few questions about how some people were connected, and was asking E about them. I think E knew just about everyone, who was whose child, who had married whom, how all the connections went. And she knew about every road and place as well.
When I moved back to my home town a few years ago, E and I talked on the phone and I took her for rides or on errands a few times.
And then I wound up living in the same apartment house as she was, for a while, before her health deteriorated and she had to move to the local nursing home.
The news that E had died and been buried before I even found out about it was hard to take. I had counted on being there for her funeral. I had missed her husband’s funeral. I had missed C’s funeral. I needed to make some kind of formal good-bye to this family that was such a part of me. How much of my reaction was grief? How much was simple disappointment and frustration that I hadn’t had the opportunity to go to the funeral? I can’t say. Like E herself, I rarely cry very much, but that evening I cried fairly copiously and was depressed the next day. It wasn’t until I tracked E’s son down over the internet and talked to him that it started to ease.
I no longer believe in “heaven” as I was taught about it. I no longer believe that when we die, we go to “heaven.” I do believe we enter some other level of existence, a plane, a dimension, whatever we might call it, which is a vast improvement over this existence, and in my view it is a state in which we can be as close to the Source of Life as we desire to be. I have had two experiences that allowed a tiny bit of communication to me from that existence. (I suppose they both can be interpreted in other ways, but their timing and nature made it impossible for me to make any other conclusions about them, and the more experienced [and unbiased] people I asked confirmed that.) And I am not shy about asking the Source of Life to pass on a greeting once in a while, when I feel a need to touch base with someone who is no longer here. I trust that somehow I can get word through to E, to tell her I love her and miss her and am sorry I missed the good-bye. I think she will understand.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Giggling Lelah.
I live in housing that is subsidized by the federal government. Most of us who live there, like me, don’t have very much money. Most of us are elderly, because the elderly tend to have limited financial resources. There are a fewer younger folks, but they are not in good health. Me, I am almost 66, and I’m one of the youngest and healthiest. While living here, I have had to confront my fears of old age, my prejudices against the aged, and other unlovely aspects of my attitudes. (I have learned them from our society, of course, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t confront them.) Slowly, although I am not there a lot of the time, I am coming to know and appreciate my neighbors.
Take Lelah, for instance. Lelah lives across the hall from my next-door neighbor. I don’t know a whole lot about Lelah. She is, I think, 87 years old. She has a kind face and a ready smile, and she is almost as deaf as a fence post. She has a cat, which she has named Oreo presumably because the cat is black and white. I have heard Oreo; I haven’t officially met her.
I have discovered that I can get Lelah to hear me if I raise the pitch of my voice, and with that I have begun to get to know her a little. Helped her with our new laundry machines. Greeted her in passing. Little things like that. One night recently, I was gifted with an entirely new view of this elderly lady. It was just before the Thanksgiving holiday, and I was on the way downstairs to mail an insurance payment when I noticed Lelah out in the hall. I stopped to chat for a moment. She had found an old cornucopia in her apartment; she had put some grapes in it and was setting it outside her apartment on the little table she keeps for seasonal decorations. (Many of the residents keep decorations in the hall.) I stopped to admire it, and to agree that it made her display look like Thanksgiving was coming.
Lelah began to reminisce about the days when she was younger. Her sister-in-law always cooked the Thanksgiving meal for the entire family, which was held on the Sunday after the holiday because some of the younger family members didn’t want to be there on the actual holiday. “I remember one year,” Lelah went on, “when my sister-in-law said, ‘I don’t know where Molly goes but she is never here on Thanksgiving Day.’” Then a glint appeared in the elderly lady’s eyes. “I didn’t say anything, but I knew where Molly went.” She chuckled. “You know, you can’t always say what you’re thinking. It just doesn’t do. It makes bad feelings.”
“Yes,” I agreed, “we can’t always tell everything we know even when it’s the truth.”
She began to giggle. She is 87 years old, and she stood in the hall that night giggling her head off. I don’t know what memories had been awakened by our conversation, but I know she was enjoying them in that moment. It was delightful. I enjoy hearing people laugh, I just like the sound of a good laugh, and I very much enjoyed hers. I was laughing too, mostly because she was. The more she laughed, the more I enjoyed hearing and watching her, and the more my own pleasure grew. For a while we just stood there laughing. When I pulled myself away to get in the elevator to mail my insurance payment, she was still giggling. I hadn’t known she could be so mischievous, but she certainly was at that moment. Yes, mischievous and even impish.
We often ignore the elderly, but they have lived many years and they have their stories to tell, and their experience and wisdom to share. They like to talk about the things they remember, and often we younger people are impatient with that. But if you can be open to it, you may find yourself learning or enjoying it just as much as the elderly person does. It is a good process, to listen to them tell about their experiences. It validates life.
Lelah has a kind face and a ready smile. And there is still a touch of mischief inside her. She is going to be fun to get to know.
Take Lelah, for instance. Lelah lives across the hall from my next-door neighbor. I don’t know a whole lot about Lelah. She is, I think, 87 years old. She has a kind face and a ready smile, and she is almost as deaf as a fence post. She has a cat, which she has named Oreo presumably because the cat is black and white. I have heard Oreo; I haven’t officially met her.
I have discovered that I can get Lelah to hear me if I raise the pitch of my voice, and with that I have begun to get to know her a little. Helped her with our new laundry machines. Greeted her in passing. Little things like that. One night recently, I was gifted with an entirely new view of this elderly lady. It was just before the Thanksgiving holiday, and I was on the way downstairs to mail an insurance payment when I noticed Lelah out in the hall. I stopped to chat for a moment. She had found an old cornucopia in her apartment; she had put some grapes in it and was setting it outside her apartment on the little table she keeps for seasonal decorations. (Many of the residents keep decorations in the hall.) I stopped to admire it, and to agree that it made her display look like Thanksgiving was coming.
Lelah began to reminisce about the days when she was younger. Her sister-in-law always cooked the Thanksgiving meal for the entire family, which was held on the Sunday after the holiday because some of the younger family members didn’t want to be there on the actual holiday. “I remember one year,” Lelah went on, “when my sister-in-law said, ‘I don’t know where Molly goes but she is never here on Thanksgiving Day.’” Then a glint appeared in the elderly lady’s eyes. “I didn’t say anything, but I knew where Molly went.” She chuckled. “You know, you can’t always say what you’re thinking. It just doesn’t do. It makes bad feelings.”
“Yes,” I agreed, “we can’t always tell everything we know even when it’s the truth.”
She began to giggle. She is 87 years old, and she stood in the hall that night giggling her head off. I don’t know what memories had been awakened by our conversation, but I know she was enjoying them in that moment. It was delightful. I enjoy hearing people laugh, I just like the sound of a good laugh, and I very much enjoyed hers. I was laughing too, mostly because she was. The more she laughed, the more I enjoyed hearing and watching her, and the more my own pleasure grew. For a while we just stood there laughing. When I pulled myself away to get in the elevator to mail my insurance payment, she was still giggling. I hadn’t known she could be so mischievous, but she certainly was at that moment. Yes, mischievous and even impish.
We often ignore the elderly, but they have lived many years and they have their stories to tell, and their experience and wisdom to share. They like to talk about the things they remember, and often we younger people are impatient with that. But if you can be open to it, you may find yourself learning or enjoying it just as much as the elderly person does. It is a good process, to listen to them tell about their experiences. It validates life.
Lelah has a kind face and a ready smile. And there is still a touch of mischief inside her. She is going to be fun to get to know.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
The Forgotten Holiday
Christmas decorations have appeared once again. Someone is playing Christmas songs on their sound system here at work. The small towns I go through on my daily commute have hung their downtown things up. Houses have begun to display lights and plastic inflatable Santas. A local mall has held its Santa welcoming ceremony. Christmas season is here. All we need now is some snow, and even that is on the way according to local forecasts.
But wait!
Aren’t we forgetting something?
Oh, yes. Thanksgiving. Hey, that’s tomorrow! It’s time to meet with relatives, stuff ourselves with the traditional foods, watch football games, take a nap, and then hit the early sales. Right? That’s what Thanksgiving is, isn’t it?
The Christmas shopping season has grown so that it now begins on Halloween, and I fully expect that in another decade it will begin on Labor Day. I am not going to go into the crassness of the way we have commercialized Christmas. Even at a time in my life when I am not sure what I think about Christmas as a religious holiday, it is still more than a shopping frenzy. I chafe at Santa, but at least he personalizes a spirit of caring and giving.
Today I am totally out of step with everyone else because I am focused on giving thanks.
Thanksgiving is a national holiday with its roots in the gratefulness of a group of early settlers who, after a tough year, threw a party to celebrate being alive and settled in their new colony.
I, too, celebrate being alive on Thanksgiving Day. I, too, am alive, in good health, and able to live normally - able to walk, able to work, able to eat and talk and breathe just as everyone else does. It could have been a totally different story, and I am constantly aware of how much I have to be grateful for.
It was on Thanksgiving Day in 1980 that I almost died. (I found out later that an experienced ER doctor who was working that day said he had never seen anyone closer to death than I was…who lived.) It was on Thanksgiving Day in 1980 that I woke up with tubes in my mouth and down my throat, and thought, “It’s Thanksgiving Day, and I’m alive.” How did I know that? How did I sense that I had almost died? How do we know those things even when nobody tells us until six months have passed?
I have, in my thoughts, an “anniversary season” that extends from the anniversary of the day I went into the hospital to the day I was dismissed. It was literally three months to the day from the day the whole thing had begun, when I went back to my apartment. The anniversary season includes Thanksgiving Day, when I (with failing kidneys) was transferred to the care of a new hospital and new doctor; a birthday that could have been my last; and the day early in the new year when I woke up as a new person after meeting the Source of Unconditional Love in the night.
I could have come out of that situation with all kinds of physical impairments, but I did not. I am blessed with a normal life. I am blessed with good health for my age. And above all, I am blessed by the fellowship and compassion of Unconditional Love, Whom I have sought and adored ever since I woke up that morning 29 years ago.
So I have much to be thankful for. It is important to remember our blessings and to give thanks for them. Whatever the Source of that Love might be, He is the Source of all that I have, all that I am, and all that I may yet become. And as I have said before, staying in a strong relationship with this Source is the most essential thing I do. Nothing else makes sense. And I have found that the more thanks I can give, the more I appreciate the things I am thankful for. So how can I lose?
Thank You, Source!
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
But wait!
Aren’t we forgetting something?
Oh, yes. Thanksgiving. Hey, that’s tomorrow! It’s time to meet with relatives, stuff ourselves with the traditional foods, watch football games, take a nap, and then hit the early sales. Right? That’s what Thanksgiving is, isn’t it?
The Christmas shopping season has grown so that it now begins on Halloween, and I fully expect that in another decade it will begin on Labor Day. I am not going to go into the crassness of the way we have commercialized Christmas. Even at a time in my life when I am not sure what I think about Christmas as a religious holiday, it is still more than a shopping frenzy. I chafe at Santa, but at least he personalizes a spirit of caring and giving.
Today I am totally out of step with everyone else because I am focused on giving thanks.
Thanksgiving is a national holiday with its roots in the gratefulness of a group of early settlers who, after a tough year, threw a party to celebrate being alive and settled in their new colony.
I, too, celebrate being alive on Thanksgiving Day. I, too, am alive, in good health, and able to live normally - able to walk, able to work, able to eat and talk and breathe just as everyone else does. It could have been a totally different story, and I am constantly aware of how much I have to be grateful for.
It was on Thanksgiving Day in 1980 that I almost died. (I found out later that an experienced ER doctor who was working that day said he had never seen anyone closer to death than I was…who lived.) It was on Thanksgiving Day in 1980 that I woke up with tubes in my mouth and down my throat, and thought, “It’s Thanksgiving Day, and I’m alive.” How did I know that? How did I sense that I had almost died? How do we know those things even when nobody tells us until six months have passed?
I have, in my thoughts, an “anniversary season” that extends from the anniversary of the day I went into the hospital to the day I was dismissed. It was literally three months to the day from the day the whole thing had begun, when I went back to my apartment. The anniversary season includes Thanksgiving Day, when I (with failing kidneys) was transferred to the care of a new hospital and new doctor; a birthday that could have been my last; and the day early in the new year when I woke up as a new person after meeting the Source of Unconditional Love in the night.
I could have come out of that situation with all kinds of physical impairments, but I did not. I am blessed with a normal life. I am blessed with good health for my age. And above all, I am blessed by the fellowship and compassion of Unconditional Love, Whom I have sought and adored ever since I woke up that morning 29 years ago.
So I have much to be thankful for. It is important to remember our blessings and to give thanks for them. Whatever the Source of that Love might be, He is the Source of all that I have, all that I am, and all that I may yet become. And as I have said before, staying in a strong relationship with this Source is the most essential thing I do. Nothing else makes sense. And I have found that the more thanks I can give, the more I appreciate the things I am thankful for. So how can I lose?
Thank You, Source!
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
Saturday, November 21, 2009
New Commitments
My church has just completed an every-member study program this fall. Well, it was intended to be, anyhow, but there were some books left over. Hopefully the vast majority of the members are following this program at home, even if they don’t make it to the weekly small group discussions.
It was been an interesting study with an introductory section, a wrapping-it-up section, and in between we studied the Wesley Quadrennium, as some people call it. This means that John Wesley established four things about church participation: your prayers, your presence, your gifts, and your service. I was a little concerned at first, for the section on prayer didn’t say much that I hadn’t already discovered for myself. Since then, however, the book consistently taught and challenged me to be more aware of the others who are at church (especially to notice who is not there as well), to give more in terms of financial gifts, and to give more in terms of working in the church’s programs. I have heard many comments from various people to the effect that they liked the study and thought it was valuable. Even transforming, which is its claim.
So here I come, wanting to put in a disclaimer or two. I feel an urge to begin by saying that I no longer feel the need of an external authority to tell me what to think or what to do. And I clearly do not feel any more that Christianity is about right belief; it is, however, in a very real way, about trying to become more like Jesus, because that is what Jesus shared with us. I love this church because I grew up in it. It is in a crisis. I want to do all I can to support it, so I have taken this study seriously in spite of my attitude toward the church as an institution.
In every section the book talked about motivations for praying, attending, financial giving, or giving of time and abilities. Not just motivations, but reasons why. Why we should do these things and how we can feel motivated or motivate ourselves.
The “reasons why” were usually given thoughtfully and with Biblical references to support them (a practice known as proof-texting). The ones that stand out for me now are: because God commands it, because it is a response to God, and because when we give selflessly we receive back. Actually, they also double as motivations. The idea of believing in Jesus as Lord and Savior also came into these discussions.
Should we give because God commands it? I suppose that if you believe God commands you to give, then you had doggoned well better give. But if it is true that we actually don’t “have to” do anything (and I’ve run into that statement also, not in the church but in other readings) then I want to ask, “Who says that God commands it?” And of course there it is in the Bible, stated in a number of places, contexts, and sets of words that we are expected to give, to tithe in fact. Sometimes it appears as an actual command. It is also likely to be a “When you…” statement (when you fast, when you pray, when you give alms). It is made clear that people are expected to do these things. (The passages I am thinking of, to be literal about it, refer to the Jewish people, not to the Christians who didn’t actually exist yet, so much of this discussion comes to us through that heritage.)
But I also have this question: Does God command that we give? It makes sense to me that we have free will. We are always taught that we are free to choose to disobey God, but after we have done that we have sinned and will suffer the consequences. This makes our free will a sham. It makes sense to me that the Source of Everything, the Creator, can’t really need anything from puny us because He could just create it if He wanted it. That leads me to conclude that if He cares one way or the other, He probably desires us to do these things for our own benefit rather than for His. In that context, it makes sense to give because God tells us to, if one needs to be told what to do by another authority.
Should we give because we receive back? That is a principle, but not a reason to give, and I am suspicious of it as a motivation. One might want to experiment with it, sometime, and see how it works out. I do not think, on the face of it, that it is wise to give in order to receive. In fact, it probably won’t even work if that is your only motivation.
And I am becoming bolder even in church about saying that I believe this is about relationships – with God, with Jesus, with oneself, with others, with all the aspects of our lives, with our environment, with nature – rather than believing specific things. What we believe will inform the way we live and the choices that we make, and that is good. But when Jesus himself talked about believing, it tended to refer to believing and trusting God rather than himself. (I don’t include the teachings in the Gospel of John, which is mystical, not one of the “synoptic” Gospels.)
I am grateful that this study gave attention to the motivation that I feel personally, because otherwise I would think very little of what I have read and talked about these past six weeks. As far as I am concerned, there is only one genuine motivation to give anything to the church or to any other institution or in any other context: in response to God, in response to and gratitude for what God has done in my own life. I know Self still gets in the way – doubtless she always will - but I hope and pray that at least 50% of the things I choose and do come from this desire.
If, in expanding my commitments for the coming year, I am obeying God, that’s OK. I can handle that. But I don’t think of it as obeying. I think of it as responding, and growing in the ways I respond, and as ways to inch a tad closer to the Source of the wonderful Love that gave my life back to me on a night when I was ready to throw in the towel. Obedience couldn’t be further from my thoughts if it tried. And certainly, obedience to the institutional church is not a motivation for me.
With all that said, the study promised to transform lives. I have been changed. I am ready to expand my commitments in all four of those areas that Wesley established. Some of those commitments will go back to my church on pieces of paper. The rest are simply between God and me. I hope that the other church members are preparing to follow through in the same way, for the sake of the church we attend. I hope that many of us (all of us would be too much to ask for) have come to understand the story of the merchant who sold everything he had so he could buy a field with a humongous treasure buried in it. That is what we are offered by the Source of Love, a vast treasure of permanent wealth that starts today, not when we die. We respond to that Love by reaching out for it, going toward it, regardless of what we must brush (or maybe, sometimes, kick) out of the way. Nothing, in the end, can possibly be more important than a relationship with that Love. That is the response I hope we all will make.
It was been an interesting study with an introductory section, a wrapping-it-up section, and in between we studied the Wesley Quadrennium, as some people call it. This means that John Wesley established four things about church participation: your prayers, your presence, your gifts, and your service. I was a little concerned at first, for the section on prayer didn’t say much that I hadn’t already discovered for myself. Since then, however, the book consistently taught and challenged me to be more aware of the others who are at church (especially to notice who is not there as well), to give more in terms of financial gifts, and to give more in terms of working in the church’s programs. I have heard many comments from various people to the effect that they liked the study and thought it was valuable. Even transforming, which is its claim.
So here I come, wanting to put in a disclaimer or two. I feel an urge to begin by saying that I no longer feel the need of an external authority to tell me what to think or what to do. And I clearly do not feel any more that Christianity is about right belief; it is, however, in a very real way, about trying to become more like Jesus, because that is what Jesus shared with us. I love this church because I grew up in it. It is in a crisis. I want to do all I can to support it, so I have taken this study seriously in spite of my attitude toward the church as an institution.
In every section the book talked about motivations for praying, attending, financial giving, or giving of time and abilities. Not just motivations, but reasons why. Why we should do these things and how we can feel motivated or motivate ourselves.
The “reasons why” were usually given thoughtfully and with Biblical references to support them (a practice known as proof-texting). The ones that stand out for me now are: because God commands it, because it is a response to God, and because when we give selflessly we receive back. Actually, they also double as motivations. The idea of believing in Jesus as Lord and Savior also came into these discussions.
Should we give because God commands it? I suppose that if you believe God commands you to give, then you had doggoned well better give. But if it is true that we actually don’t “have to” do anything (and I’ve run into that statement also, not in the church but in other readings) then I want to ask, “Who says that God commands it?” And of course there it is in the Bible, stated in a number of places, contexts, and sets of words that we are expected to give, to tithe in fact. Sometimes it appears as an actual command. It is also likely to be a “When you…” statement (when you fast, when you pray, when you give alms). It is made clear that people are expected to do these things. (The passages I am thinking of, to be literal about it, refer to the Jewish people, not to the Christians who didn’t actually exist yet, so much of this discussion comes to us through that heritage.)
But I also have this question: Does God command that we give? It makes sense to me that we have free will. We are always taught that we are free to choose to disobey God, but after we have done that we have sinned and will suffer the consequences. This makes our free will a sham. It makes sense to me that the Source of Everything, the Creator, can’t really need anything from puny us because He could just create it if He wanted it. That leads me to conclude that if He cares one way or the other, He probably desires us to do these things for our own benefit rather than for His. In that context, it makes sense to give because God tells us to, if one needs to be told what to do by another authority.
Should we give because we receive back? That is a principle, but not a reason to give, and I am suspicious of it as a motivation. One might want to experiment with it, sometime, and see how it works out. I do not think, on the face of it, that it is wise to give in order to receive. In fact, it probably won’t even work if that is your only motivation.
And I am becoming bolder even in church about saying that I believe this is about relationships – with God, with Jesus, with oneself, with others, with all the aspects of our lives, with our environment, with nature – rather than believing specific things. What we believe will inform the way we live and the choices that we make, and that is good. But when Jesus himself talked about believing, it tended to refer to believing and trusting God rather than himself. (I don’t include the teachings in the Gospel of John, which is mystical, not one of the “synoptic” Gospels.)
I am grateful that this study gave attention to the motivation that I feel personally, because otherwise I would think very little of what I have read and talked about these past six weeks. As far as I am concerned, there is only one genuine motivation to give anything to the church or to any other institution or in any other context: in response to God, in response to and gratitude for what God has done in my own life. I know Self still gets in the way – doubtless she always will - but I hope and pray that at least 50% of the things I choose and do come from this desire.
If, in expanding my commitments for the coming year, I am obeying God, that’s OK. I can handle that. But I don’t think of it as obeying. I think of it as responding, and growing in the ways I respond, and as ways to inch a tad closer to the Source of the wonderful Love that gave my life back to me on a night when I was ready to throw in the towel. Obedience couldn’t be further from my thoughts if it tried. And certainly, obedience to the institutional church is not a motivation for me.
With all that said, the study promised to transform lives. I have been changed. I am ready to expand my commitments in all four of those areas that Wesley established. Some of those commitments will go back to my church on pieces of paper. The rest are simply between God and me. I hope that the other church members are preparing to follow through in the same way, for the sake of the church we attend. I hope that many of us (all of us would be too much to ask for) have come to understand the story of the merchant who sold everything he had so he could buy a field with a humongous treasure buried in it. That is what we are offered by the Source of Love, a vast treasure of permanent wealth that starts today, not when we die. We respond to that Love by reaching out for it, going toward it, regardless of what we must brush (or maybe, sometimes, kick) out of the way. Nothing, in the end, can possibly be more important than a relationship with that Love. That is the response I hope we all will make.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Was It Condescension or Just Inexperience?
A few weeks ago, in the absence of our pastor, our young pastoral assistant gave the sermon for the Sunday service that I attend. (We have two services, a “traditional” and a “praise” or “contemporary” service. I normally attend the first one.) This assistant is a good kid, enthusiastic about his work with our new youth program, excited about his relationship with God (however he might understand God to be) – but I mean it when I say he is a kid. We hired him as a part-time staff member a little over a year ago, just as he was graduating from high school, because he wanted to work with the youth program and he is interested in becoming a minister.
I’ve heard a couple of his sermons. My basic impression has been that his thoughts are all right but not well developed, and his delivery can use some work. His greatest weaknesses as a speaker and preacher are his youth and inexperience, and those will dissolve as he studies and matures.
But that sermon a few weeks ago wasn’t like the others I have heard him give. It sounded to me like he was repeating things he had heard our pastor day. It didn’t seem well organized. I wasn’t sure exactly what he thought he was focusing on. The woman sitting next to me in the pew said later that it was condescending. My own opinion, however, was that our young pastoral assistant was basically parroting what he has been taught and has not yet begun to take his faith and make it personally appropriated. I think he will be much stronger as a minister and speaker once he has gone through that process. So again, I thought his youth was his major “obstacle.”
It got me to thinking about sermons. What should a sermon do? Inspire you to change your life? Teach you about the contents of the Bible? Teach you about Jesus? Relate the scriptural text to the way you live your life throughout the coming week? All of those are good for a sermon to do. It may depend on the situation you are in; any speech, sermon or otherwise, is shaped by the occasion and the audience.
The text and sermon should be clearly related to each other. The pastoral assistant’s text that morning was the one after the Beatitudes where Jesus talks about not hiding your light under a bushel but letting it shine before men to glorify God. We heard a sermon about the moon and also watched a video about lamps. At least the text mentioned lamps. It said nothing about the moon or even about the sun, whose light the moon reflects. It would have been clearer – also noticeably shorter – if he had just left the moon out of it. A more experienced speaker might have been able to make it work.
The sermon should focus on its object and not get diverted into side avenues. That was the other tension created by the example of the moon. In his hands, the sermon just lost its focus and its point.
And a sermon will reflect the maturity and life experience of the speaker, along with that speaker’s faith. It can do nothing else. Giving a sermon, like giving any other type of public speech, has a performance element, and every live performance forces the performer to bare his or her soul. Between preparation, content, and delivery, that is what happens in performance. At least, that is how it has been for me whether I am playing the piano, singing, or speaking. If your performance hasn’t done that, it hasn’t been effective.
I didn’t think the young man’s sermon that day did any of those things. What it revealed, I thought, was an unformed kid who has not yet begun to question and develop his own personally appropriated faith. I don’t mean to be hard on him. I’m just making an observation. If he is serious about becoming a pastor, he should be starting to understand what he believes and why he believes it. I hope his mentor is guiding him into doing that.
Just for grins, I took his text and started trying to develop my own sermon on it. Lo and behold! I too would like to talk about the moon! Maybe that’s because he got me to thinking about it. It’s tough to make the moon relevant with such a text; it would be better to find a text that talks about the moon, if I want to go ahead with this plan. I may wind up with as confused a sermon as our pastoral assistant did. But one thing I can be sure of – whatever my own sermon’s weaknesses might be, it will at least reveal a speaker with a personally appropriated faith.
I’ve heard a couple of his sermons. My basic impression has been that his thoughts are all right but not well developed, and his delivery can use some work. His greatest weaknesses as a speaker and preacher are his youth and inexperience, and those will dissolve as he studies and matures.
But that sermon a few weeks ago wasn’t like the others I have heard him give. It sounded to me like he was repeating things he had heard our pastor day. It didn’t seem well organized. I wasn’t sure exactly what he thought he was focusing on. The woman sitting next to me in the pew said later that it was condescending. My own opinion, however, was that our young pastoral assistant was basically parroting what he has been taught and has not yet begun to take his faith and make it personally appropriated. I think he will be much stronger as a minister and speaker once he has gone through that process. So again, I thought his youth was his major “obstacle.”
It got me to thinking about sermons. What should a sermon do? Inspire you to change your life? Teach you about the contents of the Bible? Teach you about Jesus? Relate the scriptural text to the way you live your life throughout the coming week? All of those are good for a sermon to do. It may depend on the situation you are in; any speech, sermon or otherwise, is shaped by the occasion and the audience.
The text and sermon should be clearly related to each other. The pastoral assistant’s text that morning was the one after the Beatitudes where Jesus talks about not hiding your light under a bushel but letting it shine before men to glorify God. We heard a sermon about the moon and also watched a video about lamps. At least the text mentioned lamps. It said nothing about the moon or even about the sun, whose light the moon reflects. It would have been clearer – also noticeably shorter – if he had just left the moon out of it. A more experienced speaker might have been able to make it work.
The sermon should focus on its object and not get diverted into side avenues. That was the other tension created by the example of the moon. In his hands, the sermon just lost its focus and its point.
And a sermon will reflect the maturity and life experience of the speaker, along with that speaker’s faith. It can do nothing else. Giving a sermon, like giving any other type of public speech, has a performance element, and every live performance forces the performer to bare his or her soul. Between preparation, content, and delivery, that is what happens in performance. At least, that is how it has been for me whether I am playing the piano, singing, or speaking. If your performance hasn’t done that, it hasn’t been effective.
I didn’t think the young man’s sermon that day did any of those things. What it revealed, I thought, was an unformed kid who has not yet begun to question and develop his own personally appropriated faith. I don’t mean to be hard on him. I’m just making an observation. If he is serious about becoming a pastor, he should be starting to understand what he believes and why he believes it. I hope his mentor is guiding him into doing that.
Just for grins, I took his text and started trying to develop my own sermon on it. Lo and behold! I too would like to talk about the moon! Maybe that’s because he got me to thinking about it. It’s tough to make the moon relevant with such a text; it would be better to find a text that talks about the moon, if I want to go ahead with this plan. I may wind up with as confused a sermon as our pastoral assistant did. But one thing I can be sure of – whatever my own sermon’s weaknesses might be, it will at least reveal a speaker with a personally appropriated faith.
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