Faith & Life Inspirational Message

Recently I bumped into a poem by Mary Oliver. I like poetry, but I don’t spend as much time as I would like reading poetry. But I found this poem of Oliver’s arresting. It is entitled, “When Death Comes.” The title is self-explanatory. I don’t want to share the whole thing. But I would like to focus in on a particular few lines that grabbed me. At one point in the poem, Oliver says, “When it's over, I want to say all my life I was a bride married to amazement.” Of course, I have never literally been a bride…wrong gender for that. But metaphorically, it is easy to imagine. Oliver’s line is one way to imagine it. I, too, would love to say that when it is over, I want my life to have been married to amazement.” If I am honest, I confess that at one level, I have blown it. I have already lived too much of life without amazement. I have too many days that were anything but amazing. It would be easy, therefore, to throw up my hands in self-disgust and give up. But maybe the trick i

I was settling into the evening. Dinner was out of the way and I was ready to begin the reading for the classes the next day. Then the phone rang. There is a great deal to like about modern phones. For one thing, if you have entered names of people, it shows who is calling. I glanced at the ringing phone and saw the name of my friend. Instead of simply saying, “Hello,” and waiting for the sound of the other voice, I knew whose voice I would hear. It was my friend calling. I was delighted. Not all phone calls delight me. But when my friend calls, I am delighted. It was good to hear from him. It was good to hear the latest news. He is one of the regular readers of this inspirational journal and always has comments that I find very welcome. I like it when he queries me about a particular piece. Sometimes, I think he knows more about what I have written than I do! Just last night, he picked on a single paragraph in a recent offering I had made. I could not immediately remember the piec

Sometimes I feel very fortunate. I am quite fortunate to be able to engage on a daily basis a group of young, bright women and men in interesting discussions. Well, most of the time they are interesting. Some days I do get the feeling that I am in the minority of those in the room who have read the assigned reading. At one level, I understand that. Not all classes are equally important every day. Some days if a student has a huge examination in one class, I can understand that the reading for my class may have been ignored. That is the way it works in the world, too. If I have a significant public presentation the same day as classes, I might not be as prepared for them as I otherwise would be. Clearly one of the keys to community life is shared responsibility. And that might mean some days I am more responsible and other days you might be more responsible than I am. It is a matter of balance. So most days, the joy of being able to walk into a room of young folks is rewarding. I am qui

I am not sure where my fascination with words began.  Like most folks, I don’t remember those early days of beginning to speak.  I loved watching my two girls learn to talk and now I have enjoyed watching grandkids reach that very human plateau of communicating meaningfully with words.  Maybe when I began learning a second language---in my case Latin---I began to appreciate the meaning of words.  Anyone who translates a foreign language into English knows there is an art to choosing the right English word to communicate what you think that foreign word is wanting to say. I am fairly certain I began at an early age to appreciate the power of words.  Of course, I could not have put it that way.  No doubt, when we tell our first lie, we realize we can manipulate how people think and feel.  With luck, we also feel a little guilt when we lie.  But we do learn about the power of words to shape a world---maybe our parents’ world in the first place.  Another stage that fascinates me is the que

I have a few friends who write regularly.  Some write books; some write blogs.  And a few of my friends seem to write all the time because so much stuff comes from their pens.  One of these friends is Franciscan Dan Horan.  Compared to me, he is still a relatively young guy.  He has not only signed up to live life as a Franciscan, but also managed to do his doctorate in theology.  He teaches in a seminary and bops around the country giving lectures, retreats, etc.  He wears me out simply reading about him! I count myself a friend of Dan, so I think I have a sense of how the thinks about things.  I also consider Franciscan spirituality to be akin to Quaker spirituality, so we share some sentiments when it comes to this area of life.  And yet, Dan is an ordained Catholic priest, so he clearly has been trained in ways I can only imagine.  He obviously has a relationship with the sacraments in a way I will never have, even though I have studied sacramental theology and have come to appreci

The simple graces are riveted in my mind.  I can hear my dad and mom still asking me those questions.  “Did you say please?”  “Did you tell them ‘thank you?’”  And on went the courtesy lessons, as I might call them now.  I do not know that I really cared whether I said “please” or “thank you,” but I did care not to make my folks unhappy with me.  It was one of those deals where happy parents were the primary thing and if “please” and “thank you” did the trick, then doing the trick seemed like the right way to go! This early lesson probably came when I was only three or four years old.  Logic was a skill that was only in its baby form.  As I grew a little older, I began to make some connections to why saying, “please,” was a good thing to do.  In my adult logic, I can offer at least two good reasons for saying “please.”  In the first place, it has utilitarian value.  That means we actually have a better chance to get what we want if we say “please!”  And in the second place, saying “p

For no reason at all, the music and words of an old hymn entered my head and got stuck there.  I like the hymn, so it could be worse.  It is an upbeat hymn.  I don’t remember singing it as often as many of the other old hymns, but it is one I liked better than most of the others. The hymn begins with the catchy words, “This is the day.”  Somehow that always resonated with me.  Of course, I would think, this is the day!  In fact, this is the only day I have.  And if you are alive, this is the only day you have, too.  I have already had yesterday.  It might have been one of the greatest days ever.  Or, it might have been absolutely lousy.  In either case, yesterday is over.  You can remember it, but it is over---it is past tense.  And of course, tomorrow has not yet come.  There is hope that I will get to tomorrow, but it is future tense.  This is the day. As if that were not sufficient, the hymn repeats the little sentence: “This is the day, this is the day…”  And then comes one of

I know many people claim to get a song or some lyrics “stuck in their head.”  They can’t help humming or even singing it.  They can’t seem to think about anything else.  Sometimes it is even irritating.  Maybe it is because I am musically challenged, but this seldom happens to me. But yesterday I did get a phrase that popped into my head and I could not seem to let it go.  The phrase was “making all things new.”  It was odd.  I had not read anything that contained this phrase.  I had not heard anything that would have suggested it.  It is like something happens between putting the toothpaste on the brush and actually starting to brush.  One second you are not thinking anything; the next minute you have the words of this phrase bouncing off the walls of your brain. At some point, the phrase received some focus.  It was familiar and, I thought, biblical.  I had a hunch and, sure enough, it is from near the end of the final book of the New Testament, namely, Revelation.  I certainly a

Sometimes I read something that reminds me why I began my engagement with studying religion.  That interest emerged in an inarticulate form as I finished high school.  Often that is the first time young folks begin to think about life in new ways.  It can be precipitated by the fact that leaving home for college is an impending reality.  I think that was the case for me. However, I don’t think I realized my emerging questions were really of the religious kind.  In part, this is because of the rather narrow understanding I had of religion.  In retrospect I realize I had almost solely indentified “religion” with “going to church.”  Of course, there is nothing wrong with that association, but today I would never equate the two.  And of course, I know enough today never to assume “religion” was exclusively tied up with Christianity.  But given the fairly narrow provincialism of my Indiana farm context, I was limited. Somehow that little world began to expand.  College was part of it. 

As I was listening to a friend talk yesterday, I was struck by one of his sentences.  He was making some comments on the theme of happiness.  I don’t know anyone who does not want to be happy.  Of course, many of us are not happy.  Some of us might not even know what it would take to make us happy. And there perhaps is the first rub.  I am not really sure anyone else can “make” someone happy.  No doubt, if you do what I want you to do, that raises the chances I will be happy.  For sure, if you give me what I want, that also increases the chances I will be happy.  That is probably why so many of us go around looking for people to do what we want and to give us what we want.  And I don’t doubt for a moment that many people are happy when they get what they want.  It is better than getting what we don’t want! We also know that our happiness tends to be elusive.  If I am happy today, that does not guarantee happiness tomorrow.  In fact, if I am happy in the morning, the afternoon and e

One of the things I began to realize as a Quaker boy growing up in the middle of last century was that I was deprived!  When your world is small and provincial, you have very little to compare.  It is easy to assume people are all basically just like you are.  You assume most people live just like you live and have relatively the same amount of money, etc.  I figured I was normal and that was the deal life dealt to most people.  I was ok. But then I went to school.   Back then, going to school was usually the window out of one’s provincialism.  I suddenly confronted “difference.”  Of course, I have to smile.  Back then, difference consisted of farm boy having to spend time with very small town “city kids.”  But they were really different.  They seldom wore blue jeans.  They did not have to milk cows nor drive tractors.  They did not know a bull from a heifer!  I was farm-smart, but they did not care.  They had a city, street-kind of sophistication---or so it seemed to m

We live in a sea of ideas.  We usually don’t think about our lives that way, but it is true.  What this means is many of us live lives of unawareness.  We go about our routines without much attention to the sea of ideas we encounter.  Of course, some of us deal with more ideas than others.  Certainly in my job as a college professor, I am surrounded by a myriad of ideas.  Not all ideas are profound.  In fact, the majority of ideas probably are mundane---pretty much run of the mill.  And not all ideas are novel.  In fact, most ideas are not novel.  For sure, not all ideas are useful or practical.  I have had my share of dumb ideas in the past!  And I have had my share of bad ideas. Recently, I was reading a piece just for the fun of it.  I was not intending to use any ideas for a class or anything else.  It was really just for the fun of it.  But I noticed the piece was using a couple of my favorite authors.  My attention was alerted when I saw that Stanley Hauerwas was commenting o

When one reads the title of this inspirational piece, many things must go through the mind.  If I am into revivals, some form of this experience must be the reference.  Maybe if I am a scientist, others kinds of converting come to mind.  Neither of these were in my mind when these two words jumped into my mind.  Instead, I thought about this as I sat listening to my friend from the Conservatory of Music describe his experience.  Let me elaborate.     My university is fortunate to have a first-rate Conservatory.  We have access to high class music and theater that would be rare for a smaller campus like ours.  The Conservatory brings some musical talent to our campus that typically we would have no reason to expect or even dream of enticing here.  Since I claim not to know that much about music, it has been a wonderful place to get to know and to explore.  It always has something to reveal to me.     Because the Conservatory is here, I have some friends, the kind of which I probably wou

If everyone could read Latin, it would not be necessary to translate the Latin word, credo.  I could give you a hint and use an English word that comes from that Latin credo.  It would be our word, creed.  “Ah,” you would say, “a creed is something someone believes…or something a whole group believes.”  “Correct,” I say. I am at that bi-annual time that I love and don’t like at the same time.  It is the end of another semester.  I love reading the final papers submitted by students in my classes.  Of course, there seems to be too many papers and, of course, I ask for papers that are fairly long.  So it is a great deal of work…and I don’t like that.  But it is a blast to see what the students have learned, to see the place to which they have come, to appreciate the growth they have experienced. Every time I begin to read a student paper---or a new book, for that matter---I recall my younger daughter’s approach.  When she began to read, she always would see what the first sentence sa

Sometimes in the life of a person on their spiritual journey is the chance actually to believe what you say.  I am currently in one of those places.  To be aware I am in one of the places where I will decide some course of action is both sobering and humorous.  My issue is certainly not life and death.  The good news is whatever I decide will be good.  It is such a luxury to have a choice between two good things.  But sometimes that kind of choice feels quite difficult.  I am sure I will chafe under the weight of deciding, but I want to remember ultimately, I am lucky to have choices that will turn out well. I have been on a faith journey for decades now.  Early on had I been asked about living this long and having this much time to grow in my faith, I would have guessed I might be further along.  I probably figured at that younger age, I would not have as many questions as I actually do.  Surely, I assumed by now I would have figured it all out.  Actually, I do not have it all figured

One of the best things about teaching my class on Spiritual Disciplines is the fact that I get to engage in practicing some discipline myself.  I try to do this all the time, but like so many people, I find it is not easy to do by yourself.  When I am teaching the class, that semester’s practice of discipline goes much better.  Being responsible to myself and others in the class makes my motivation higher.  We use a number of books to help both students and myself understand the nature of spiritual disciplines.  One of the books I use is by Barbara Brown Taylor, An Altar in the World .  This book offers a simple look at all the possible disciplines within our reach.  One such discipline is walking.  In her chapter, “The Practice of Walking on the Earth, Taylor leads us through a deeper sense of how walking can be a spiritual discipline.  And then, she assists us in making it a discipline of the Spirit.  I try to walk every day, so this was a huge help for me.  Let’s take a closer look

I am amazed how easy it is to go through life without the slightest awareness of how rich life can be.  We all know the effect the erosion of routine can have on life.  We can all bring to mind, I’m sure, those individuals who are chronic complainers about life in general.  I wince because I can well recall those times I am aware of my own whimpering. I am not talking about all the poor souls to whom tragedy and deep suffering have befallen.  They deserve all mercy and understanding we and God can muster.  We all know that life can sometimes be cruel and deal folks unseemly blows.  I can only pray that ultimately grace and love have the last word. However, the last couple days I have become delightfully aware of the gift of diversity I have enjoyed.  On the surface it might not seem like it.  The gift of diversity has brought its own fair share of long hours and some hard work.  But the gift of diversity has been present nevertheless.  The gift of diversity showed up in a turban

The strange title of this inspirational piece is the same title for a brief essay I read in a periodical I routinely check out.  Like you, I had no idea what this author, Verla Wallace, wanted to tell me.  I did not know this author, so I did a quick check to see who she is.  I found out Wallace is a business woman, journalist and broadcaster in the Chicago area.  Because I found the title of the essay so intriguing, I jumped into reading it. She opens the essay by citing the Irish author, Cormac McCarthy, who apparently says somewhere “that insights spring from the subconscious and require a lot of ‘staring at your shoes.’”  Obviously, I had to read on---just as you have to read on.  Wallace begins to share her own view of what McCarthy means.  She says, “I don't think he literally meant we must stare stupidly at our shoes, waiting for something magical to happen.  I suspect it was his way of saying we need to stop and give our minds some breathing room and often answers will come

One of the pleasant things that can happen while you are reading is finding something you had not been seeking.  It happens to me quite frequently.  It can make me feel like a kid who finds a treasure.  Usually, I want to yell, “hey, look at this!”  But normally there is no one around…or worse, I am sitting somewhere with some people and if I yelled that, they would think I am daft or, perhaps, throw me out the door! Last evening I hit one of those gems that made me want to yell to someone.  But no one was at home with me.  And the neighbor above me already thinks I am crazy enough…no need to add evidence!  So let me share that tidbit with you. It comes from Dorothy Day.  Fewer and fewer people these days know when Dorothy Day was.  Dorothy was a Catholic saint, although she obviously has not been canonized.  I doubt that she will be, but to me she is a saint.  In her early life through the 1920s and 30s, she was active with the communists.  She was an agnostic and, as we would say

I still go to the mailbox with high expectations.  Sadly, I think that is a leftover from the old days.  Or maybe my mind is muddled with real memory vs. creative fabrication of what I thought was true.  My memory is the mailman (as it always was in my day) sometimes did bring interesting things to the house.  Going to the mailbox was always a bit like Christmas.  You opened the little door to see what was in store.  Of course, there were always bills.  And there were some advertisements, but not like today.  But there were usually some kinds of letters and official other kind of stuff.  You would get acceptances and rejections from those places, like colleges, that you hoped to get a positive response.  I even kid people by telling them I actually picked up a Ph.D. from Harvard at my local post office in Indiana!  It is actually true that I did get the diploma there, but only because I could not make the actual graduation. But our electronic age has changed that.  Most days I am disap