Faith & Life Inspirational Message

Recently I heard a friend speak and one of the things he talked about was the idea of invitation.  I don’t think I ever spent any time pondering that very common phenomenon.  Of course, I have been invited to countless things over my lifetime.  And I have invited multiple people for various things I have done.  There are very standard invitations and, of course, special ones.     Standard invitations would be to things like birthday parties, weddings, etc.  Some invitations to these events are elaborate.  I have seen wedding invitations that seem quite expensive to make.  They are multi-colored, have ribbons and other fancy twists.  At the other end of the spectrum are invitations that I get via email.  There is nothing special about these in any way.  They are very functional.  They simply invite me to something, give me the time and place and that’s it.     Generally, I see invitations as a good deal.  To receive an invitation is to know that I am wanted at some event.  Some invi

I personally enjoy reunions.  And I like watching other people enjoy reunions.  When I was a young guy, occasionally there would be family reunions.  It would be a time when I would see cousins whom I probably had not seen for a couple years.  It was also a time when the adults would sit around and talk about “old times.”  At that juncture in my life, I was sure I would never do that!  It seemed utterly boring to me.  I much preferred running off and playing ball. When we finish our education, we typically belong to some class.  And at some point, you are invited to the reunion of your high school class year.  The same holds true for college reunions.  I remember going to my first high school reunion---it was the 20th, I think.  I was amazed how much so many people had changed.  Even though I was married late in my college years, we went on to graduate school and kids came along later than usual.  At my high school reunion, my classmates had kids and a couple even had grandkids! So

Recently I read something that contained the phrase, “the art of community.”  I have no idea what it was that I was reading and I don’t remember anything about the context of the phrase nor any more points that were made in developing the idea.  So I am hoping I am not committing plagiarism!  I am using a phrase and would give credit if I had a clue where I read it. I have had an ongoing interest in community for decades now.  Maybe it has been a lifetime, but I probably did not have the language for it when I was a kid.  Times were different when I was a kid.  In those days people went to church because many believed, I am sure.  But I am also sure folks went because it was the socially accepted thing to do.  In those days there was far less diversity in my part of the world---or at least, I was unaware of the diversity.  Of course, in a rural Indiana setting in the mid-20th century, there really was less diversity. I am sure the idea of community was important even then, but I do

One of the books I love to re-read when I teach a particular class is by the Buddhist monk, Thich Nhat Hanh.  The book is entitled, Going Home: Jesus and Buddha as Brothers .  It is a wonderful little introduction to basic Buddhist concepts.  Additionally, Hanh continues to pull in Christian ideas.  And not surprising given the book’s title, he goes to some lengths to demonstrate some commonalities of Jesus and the Buddha.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 Again, it should be no surprise that one of the key common themes in these two major faith traditions is love.  Love should be at the heart of all the major religious traditions.  I like the way Hanh talks about love.  In one context love emerges in a discussion about how humans can be renewed.  This is a good remin

The student, who more importantly is also a friend, wanted to see me and talk.  So we made an appointment to meet in my study.  I had no clue what she wanted to ask, share or tell me.  I have done this for so many years, I never try to guess what might come my way.  Too many times in my younger years as a teacher, I tried to guess.  I would guess it might be a chit chat and turn out to be much more serious.  Sometimes, I feared it would be a heavy conversation and it turned out to be light and full of laughs.      Relationships are often complicated.  If it is a business relationship---perhaps transactional in nature---then little is needed to make it work.  A transactional relationship says basically, “I need that and you give me this.”  In a classroom this kind of relationship is the agreement between the student and faculty that some knowledge will be given and learned by the student for some kind of grade and credit.  There is no real relationship---just an exchange.  Of course, I

One of the books I am reading is Jim Forest’s All is Grace: a Biography of Dorothy Day .  I have read Day’s own autobiography and some other things she wrote.  But I have never had a total look at this remarkable woman’s life.  Dorothy Day is on the radar of Pope Francis.  When he visited the United States, he was invited to speak to the US Congress.  In that speech he singled out Day, along with three others, as models of American religious life.  Some think at some point Dorothy Day will be made a saint.     Dorothy Day is best known for founding the Catholic Worker.  In the beginning this was simply a newsletter.  Later there were Catholic Worker houses of hospitality and other manifestations of Day’s spirituality.  Dorothy Day lived a fascinating, bohemian life in the early 20th century.  She was anything but a saint!  It seemed like everything she did was life on the edge.  Consistent through her life, however, was her writing.  Her father was a journalist and it seemed that cam

Occasionally, it is important for me and, probably for all of us, to return to our roots and revel in that.  Tradition is another word for roots.  In my case that is the Quaker tradition.  All of us grow up with some kind of tradition---or with the lack of a tradition.  Not all traditions are religious.  But we grow up with tradition.  However, at some point we usually have to decide whether that tradition is for us.  As an adult, do I still want to claim and be claimed by that tradition? In my case, the answer has been affirmative.  As a boy, I did not learn that much about my own Quaker tradition.  Or what is more likely, I heard a good bit about it, but did not pay much attention!  But as I grew older, I came to appreciate more and more that tradition into which I was born.  There are some really good things about that tradition. However, I do find that tradition challenging.  Sometimes, I am convinced Quakers of old---those founders of the tradition---were so much better at bei

I like to think about mornings as times of expectation.  When I jump out of bed in the morning, I look forward to the day.  I try to have sufficient idea of what I will do, that the day will not be a waste.  At my age, wasting a day seems almost sacrilegious.  But maybe that is true for any age.  I see every day that I live to be a gift of God.  I did not create the day.  But I do get to decide how I will live it.  Wasting the day seems like a poor choice. At the other end of the day comes evening.  I prefer to focus on evening, rather than the night.  Evening is that time when the light of day bleeds into the coming darkness of the night.  Evening is transitional, as the early morning is also transitional.  Even in our technological era when we can make night last as long as we want, nobody confuses day with night.  Evening is the transition from one to the other.  Evening means the light of day is nearly over.  In a figurative sense evening means our day is over. Evening is a tim

In the mid 1950s there was a radio and tv show called “Queen for a Day.”  I don’t remember too much about it, but do recall the basic thrust.  It was part of that era’s fascination with game shows.  Often there was a pot of money or some other big prize to win.  That show usually had mostly women contestants and, I suspect, a bigger female audience. The host of the show would begin by asking, “would you like to be queen for a day?”  Of course, the answer would be affirmative.  And then the host would interview the various contestants and at the end of the show the audience would vote one of them to be queen for a day.  I don’t recall many details. But it often was true the stories of the women contestants were sad and touching. This reminds me of another show at the same time period, namely, The Millionaire.  In this show unsuspecting people were give a million dollars (a huge sum in 1950s currency) and see how a fortune changed lives for better or for worse.  That show had an amaz

In a busy day which involved interaction with a few, separate friends of mine, it hit me that I am obligated in some interesting ways.  I never thought about obligation in the fashion I would like to lay out in this reflective piece.  Normally, I don’t think much about obligations.  I would confess it is not even a word that I like that much.  Maybe that stems from my Quaker suspicion of authority.  Too often, authorities put us under obligation.  Erroneously perhaps, I have tended to equate obligation with orders from somebody! I welcome a chance to think afresh about obligation.  And when I attach the word, mercy, with obligation, it really does take on a different hue.  No longer does obligation suggest rules, orders and unwilling obedience.  With mercy attached to it, obligation becomes invitational and hopeful.  I realize not only do I oblige; I do it willingly and happily. When I think about the word, obligation, it is easy to see the relational aspect.  If I am obligated to

One of my favorite authors, the late monk, Thomas Merton, had a great answer to the person who asked him what he wanted to be? Merton responded, “I want to be a saint.” The first time I read that line, I sat back with the exclamation, “Whoa!” That is an audacious aspiration. I can’t imagine telling someone I want to be a saint. Perhaps, the real reason I would never tell someone that I want to be a saint is the fact that I really don’t want to be a saint! It is probably true that Merton and I don’t really mean the same thing when we say, “saint.” Since I did not grow up Roman Catholic, I never had anything to do with saints. Occasionally, the authors of the New Testament were called saints. Reference would be made to St. John or St. Paul. Since these guys wrote what we now call “Scripture,” there was no way I would have aspirations equal to them. I think the only other saint I would have recognized was St Valentine. He was a great saint, as far as I was concerned. Of

My friend and Director of the Shalem Institute in Washington, DC, Margaret Benefiel, has written some good things over the year.  I have had occasion to go over some of her thoughts, which are found in some books of hers, as well as blogs and other venues.  She is a fellow Quaker, but steeped in the Roman Catholic tradition.  One piece I liked was called, “Cultivating Contemplative Conversations.”  I am not sure I ever heard the term, contemplative conversation, but I like it.      Reflecting on the work of the Shalem Institute for Spiritual Formation, Benefiel says, “we seek a contemplative groundedness and deep listening, to one another and to the Spirit in our midst.  The wider Shalem community, consisting of Shalem program graduates and others, also introduces contemplative groundedness and deep listening in many other settings.  These are contemplative conversations.”  There are a number of themes that resonate with the spirituality I aspire to practice.  The idea of groundedness

Many of us like typologies or stereotypes, as we often call them.  For example, some of us claim to be introverts and others clearly are extroverts.  I belong to the former introvert category.  Of course, most of us have a touch of both within ourselves.  But one tends to be the dominant type.  Being an introvert means that most of us need some time by ourselves to recharge our batteries.  I know that I need some regular time alone.  I like being with people, but at some point I look for some solitude.  Extroverts are different.  Being with people charges their batteries. Another, less scientific typology is the morning vs. night person.  Again, I feel very clear that I am naturally a morning person.  Maybe that is due, in part, to growing up on a farm---a dairy farm no less.  But I have always favored the morning hours.  Even when I don’t have to get up early, it is difficult for me to stay in bed.  Once I wake up, I am ready to hit the floor and get going.  Of course, the other end

Since I was in graduate school, I have been committed to being involved with more than just my own gang of Quakers.  College and especially graduate school opened me up to a world so much bigger than I had imagined.  Growing up where I did, virtually everyone was a Christian.  And most of them were not Catholics.  There actually were quite a big number of Quakers---which is funny, since Quakers are a miniscule dot on the world’s religion stage.  I knew very few Catholics.  And as far as I could tell, there were no Jews in our community and certainly nobody from the Eastern religions or Islam.      College began to change that and graduate school exploded my little world.  Ironically in graduate school, I lived right next to the Center for the Study of World Religions.  My next-door neighbors were a great mix of the various world religions.  Across the backyard fence, I could see people of all sorts of colors who often were dressed in different kinds of robes or had some kind of religio

Often I am asked what I do.  It’s a fair question.  And I know there are very standard answers that I could give that would satisfy the question and end the conversation.  No doubt these standard answers are accurate.  For example, one part answer to the question, what do I do, is to answer by saying that I am a teacher.  If I want a puffed-up answer, I can say I am a college professor.  Usually this makes those of us who use this answer feel a little bigger---maybe even superior to “other teachers.”  No doubt, that is unfortunate.  I still am sure teaching kindergarten or the early grades---or even middle school---is much more difficult and energy-draining.  Compared to that, my job is a piece of cake!     If I simply say I am a college professor that answers the question and, probably, leaves all too many assumptions in the mind of the person who asked the question.  Such assumptions might be that I am really smart.  Only smart people can be college professors.  I am sufficiently bri

Sometimes I find things I had not expected and I delight in that.  Recently, I was reading a book for some ideas that could supplement my own thoughts for a chapter in a book I was writing.  The book I was reading was fairly heavy.  It was talking about theology, epistemology (question about how we know things), etc.  I read a great deal of this kind of material in graduate school, but I read less of it today.  The level at which I teach does not move in those arenas.  They are important, but not relevant in every situation. I enjoyed following the close argument and watching the author negotiate the nuances involved in the development of his argument.  Even though he was operating at a sophisticated level, there were lessons for all of us who operate at street level.  He was clear about what he thought and was explaining it as clearly as he could.  He was aware that people can have different opinions and he respected that.  He was not insinuating that he was always right. Since mu

Quite a long time ago, I became a Benedictine oblate.  Basically that means I wanted to be affiliated with a Benedictine monastery and live with some guidance from the Benedictine Rule which the founder of that monastic tradition wrote sometime in the sixth century.  Of course, I am not a monk.  Being a monk in today’s understanding means specific things and I won’t qualify for that.  But originally the term, monk, simply meant one who was a solitary.  A monk was someone who withdrew from the craziness of culture and attempted to live with a sense of God’s presence and to do what God desired from that person.  In that sense I still would like to live monastically.     But when you are married, have kids and grandkids, you certainly can’t do it the way real monks and nuns do it.  I am ok with that.  Besides when I was married and having a family, I would not have known as much about monks as I came to know.  When you grow up as a Quaker in rural Indiana, there are not any monks around. 

Some who see the title for this inspirational piece might think I am writing something about the capital city of Rhode Island!  I could do that.  I lived in Boston for six years and was in Providence many times.  It is a fascinating city with a distinctive history of its own, even though it is a mere hour from Boston.  But this piece is not about Providence, RI. Instead I want to share some thoughts about providence---a theological concept.  I know I usually don’t do too much with theology---at least, explicitly.  Basically, I am more interested in spirituality, but I recognize all spiritualities have some kind of theological expression.  This does not mean all spiritualities talk about God in some fashion.  Even Buddhism does not believe in a single, personal God the way many Jews, Christians and Muslims do.  But even those who don’t have a personal God have a sense of theology---an explanation of their fundamental principles. Typically, the three Abrahamic faiths---Judaism, Chris

Yesterday was Super Sunday.  In fact, it was another in the long line of Super Sundays (LIII).  I spent yesterday morning with a bunch of college students…junior and senior leaders on my campus.  As I looked out over their young faces, I realized they never knew life without professional football’s Super Sunday.  In their lives there has always been a Super Bowl!  I think they were a little stunned when I told them I remembered a time in America when there was no Super Bowl!  Of course, that makes me old!  In fact, it is a little difficult for me to remember those early Super Bowl days.  But I do recall (I think) the third Super Bowl (III).  That was the year Joe Namath, quarterback for the New York Jets, prophetically called the victory over the Baltimore Colts, the heavy favorite.  More than anything, that probably made the Super Bowl what it was to become. Yesterday each thirty-second commercial costs $5,000,000!  That blows away my mind.  $5,000,000 is a great deal of money.  But t