Faith & Life Inspirational Message

There have been so many articles and opinions written about our time with the virus.  Some are too optimistic and show little realism.  Others spell doomsday for us and makes me wonder whether to get up another day.  I find that I am not reading much about them anymore and I am trying to fast from engaging the news all day long.  We know it will last longer than most people can imagine.  But that is true of most bad news.  It always is worse than we could have dreamed and it lasts longer---or the effects last longer. Recently, however, I spotted an article that piqued my attention.  It was entitled, “Covid-19 will change us as a species.”  Whoa, I thought, that is pretty serious and a big claim.  I was drawn to read it.  It was a piece in CNN written by Marcelo Gleiser, about whom I knew nothing.  With a little research, I found out he is Brazilian by birth and upbringing, but currently is a professor of Physics and Astronomy at Dartmouth College, my daughter’s alma mater.  That means

It was an innocent conversation, but out of it came a gem for me.  The woman who was talking mentioned the word, stillness, as an afterthought.  But it became central for me and, therefore, the focus of some serious reflection.  That is it.  Sometimes the key is stillness…stillness of the spirit.  In some ways I am surprised I never thought about this before.  It is like all those things we come to know; after we know it, we can’t believe we did not figure it out much earlier!  I thought the same thing after I saw my first hula-hoop!  Why could I not have invented that…I could be rich! When I think about stillness, I am thinking about how I approach God or the Spirit.  I know there are many ways to do this---both within Christianity and in the various other non-Christian traditions.  But for me stillness is what works most predictably and, therefore, the best.  But first, let me contrast it with silence and solitude, the two classic spiritual disciplines.  Of course, I have nothi

Every job has its drawbacks and down days.  That I am convinced is true.  Of course, some jobs have more drawbacks and down days than others.  I had a couple of those jobs as I worked my way through college.  I always knew they would not be forever, but in the midst of a job like this, it may seem interminable---it will never end! My current job as a college faculty person is actually quite a nice gig, as my friend says.  In my present context, I have freedom to do much as I like.  I realize this is a good deal and I have no complaints.  I accept that I have it quite good.  But even in a job like mine, there are days I find challenging. One of those days happened yesterday.  It was innocent enough.  I am involved in a teaching situation with some others in my little world.  They are quite nice and very supportive.  But sometimes the topic or subject matter is tricky.  It is often said of parties that one should not talk about religion and politics.  Frequently, I am in discussions

It actually happened.  I was driving the short distance today to my college campus.  I looked to my right and saw this guy walking along the sidewalk with a wooden cross!  It was not a mammoth cross like we often see in pictures and television.  It actually was a manageable cross, if you have to carry it very far.  The whole thing was simple: made from what I would guess were 1x1 wooden pieces.  The vertical piece of the cross was fairly long---I would guess at least six feet or more.  And the horizonal piece was perhaps four feet.  I could describe it as skinny, but sizeable.  However, he was carrying it with little labor.  It was flung over his shoulder. I was fascinated, as I sped by about 35 mph.  There was no sign.  I did not know who he was.  He looked to be perhaps mid-forties, slight build and walking with a purpose.  Obviously, it created many questions in my mind.  Who is he?  But then I stopped my brain.  Would it actually matter if I learned his name was Bob and not Ralph? 

There is no doubt during times of a pandemic---virus or otherwise---bad news and sad news dominate.  The news media spends non-stop hours talking about what is going wrong and pictures back up their claim that things are coming apart at the seams.  And for many of us, it seems to be correct.  And the signs are ominous.  People are suffering and dying.  Even though most people will not die, even those who get the virus will go through a period of suffering or, at least, discomfort.  Jobs are lost by the millions and the end of the story likely is not going to look like the beginning of the story. It is easy to get mad and depressed.  Those of a faith tradition might wonder where God is in all this stuff?  As one who teaches in this area, I recognize that to be a centuries-old question.  The Greeks had a fancy name for the problem---theodicy, which is, why does God allow suffering.  There are answers, but no definitive answers.  And many of those answers are not comforting or satisfying.

Usually I am hesitant to write about things like pain.  On one hand, it is more fun and popular to write about things like joy.  But there is always that other side of the coin.  Of course, most of us would prefer joy to pain.  But if we live long enough, we will get some pain in life.  There are many levels when we think about pain.  There is the obvious physical level.  Additionally, there is the psychological and spiritual.  No doubt, there can even be a corporate level and, even, societal.  In this reflection I want to deal with the physical and spiritual. I am prompted to think a little more deeply about this after reading the wonderful chapter in Barbara Brown Taylor’s 2009 book, An Altar in the World .  I use this in one of my spirituality classes and the students like it.  I suppose some of my colleagues would dismiss it as being too lightweight for academic considerations, but I figure pain is heavy enough!  And it certainly seems to be part of life.  Taylor uses her own exper

If you are a Quaker, no doubt you have seen the painting called “Presence in the Midst.”  Some Quakers may know nothing about it or, perhaps, that it is even famous.  So, let me give a bit of background and then I want to relate it to my life today.  The painting is by the Irish painter, Daniel Penrose.  The painting portrays a group of Quakers in what we call a Quaker meetinghouse (some folks simply would call it a church).  The Quakers are gathered in worship.  The Quaker style of worship was to gather and sit in silence.  Some kids might simply say they were very quiet.  Of course for most contemporary Americans, this would drive them nuts in about two minutes!  Since I have done that many times in my life, it seems perfectly normal.  I have been in gatherings of some two or three hundred men and women---and sometimes, children---and we were all silent together.  The silence has a point.  Quakers are confident that if we begin to get quiet and wait, the Spirit will come to us.  That

I had to smile as I typed the title for this inspirational journey reflection.  In my building the Lost and Found boxes are right outside my door.  Routinely, I have to push them back under the table where we store them because students are always coming in to look for lost books, hats, etc.  Of course, at the end of the year there are at least two big boxes full of stuff that is forever lost.  We have books for a baby library, umbrellas, gloves (often only one!), etc.  So I know exactly what Lost and Found is and where it is located. But you might guess what I want to ponder is not the two boxes under the table outside my door.  Indeed, I had a new idea pop into my head as I was reading my favorite Buddhist author, Thich Nhat Hanh.  I am using one of his books for a class.  I like the book; I love the perspective Hanh brings, the challenges he poses to me and the students, as well as the potential spiritual growth he provokes. I was working my way through a chapter entitled, “Let

When I saw the title of an article about communion of saints in a periodical I read, I was immediately drawn to it.  And then I saw the author of the article was my friend, Franciscan Dan Horan, so I knew it would be good.  I know a fair amount about the idea of the communion of saints, but some of my knowing is different than Dan’s.  Dan is a lifelong Catholic, a Franciscan brother whom I love to see in his brown robe, and he is a priest.  And yet, I think he feels reciprocally good about having me as a Quaker buddy! I know the idea of communion of saints is part of the Catholic creed tradition.  Obviously, I don’t get my grounding there, since Quakers have not used creeds as part of our worship.  But that does not mean I don’t believe what the creeds say.  In fact, much of the affirmation of creeds seem quite fine to me.  This is one doctrine to which I can enthusiastically say yes.  I may have gotten my first whiff of the notion of communion of saints from reading the New Testament.

During this tumultuous time of COVID-19, human behavior becomes really wacky.  Of course, there are the saints who always emerge and serve as a role model.  They stun us with their selfless acts and genuine concern for others.  Sometimes they pass by the second mile and go the third mile.  Instinctively it seems, they know what to say and what to do.  There is a grace in the way they go about even little things.  Blessings somehow exude from their very presence. And then there are the rest of us---me included.  For us, grace is the name of some girl in high school!  Our actions seem choppy and clunky compared to the holy ones.  Instead of eloquence, we stammer our weak words of encouragement or help.  Rather than the ease of our dominant hand, we apparently are stuck with the less fluid other hand---in my case, the left hand.  Our timing is not as perfectly executed as the saints manage to do.  They seem flawless and we are covered with flaws.  We try; it’s not our motivation.  We just

It could safely be said that on St Patrick’s Day, everyone is Catholic.  Of course, that is not really true, just as much of the so-called history about St Patrick is not true.  Much of it is legendary.  If I were simply a historian, I would care.  But there are times not to worry too much about historical accuracy.  When it comes to St Patrick, I say let’s wink and go with it. Usually, there are parties, parades and an extremism that on most days would not be tolerated.  But today is going to be different.  Because of the Covid-19 virus, parades and parties are forbidden.  Oh, I know, there will still be house parties and people will figure out a way around some of the legalities of what is permitted.  People will still likely dress in green and some will go to extreme.  But there likely is going to be a sober aspect to this St Patrick’s Day that is unusual, if not unique. Patrick is likely a historical figure.  Tradition says he is a fifth century Briton and Roman, as he said, who fe

We are living in some strange times right now.  Some folks are quarantined in their homes.  Others in are a virtual lockup in nursing homes or other like places.  Many others have so restricted their movements as to be at least semi-quarantined.  All this is caused by an invisible virus we now know as Covid-19.  It is ironic that something so miniscule could be wrecking such havoc on a global scale.  It is unlike a tornado or hurricane, which weather folks predict days in advance.  This virus is a sneaky little devil. For too long, people in the US might hear some report of Wuhan in China and feel some slight sorry that “those poor folks” were suffering.  Our lives were fine and we smugly carried on as if we would never have to deal with that little thing.  And then, some reports came from Korea, but that’s not very threatening.  It is still in Asia, so no problem.  But wait a minute.  There are many folks among us who are Chinese and Korean.  Sadly, the diabolical reaction of racism a

Some of the work I am doing these days focuses on imagination.  And with so many things in which I get involved, I do not have that much background in dealing with the topic.  I have never taken a class on imagination.  I have never done a workshop on imagination.  And sometimes I doubt that I have any imagination!  But I am dauntless; I move ahead. One does not need to be a linguist to know that the key word hiding in the term, imagination, is image.  To have imagination is to have images.  But more specifically, imagination is having an image of something not available to the senses.  Or imagination can be an image of something in the future…something which has not yet come to be.  It is in these two senses that we talk of kids having “great imaginations.” I remember very well the imaginary playmate I had when I was a little boy.  Typically, this imaginary playmate was an ideal objectification of what I thought the model boy/adolescent would be.  Of course, that imaginary playmat

Every day I usually do quite a bit of reading.  Most of it is fairly interesting.  At one level, it could be said this is what I do for my job and that would be true.  In an odd way what I do for my job is not unlike what someone who works in a factory does for his or her job.  Reading is the routine of my job.  It is just different than what others do as routine for their jobs. Certainly not everything I read is of equal value (to me, at least).  And not everything I read is equally engaging to me.  I do feel lucky, however, in the sense that most of what I read probably has something to do with life (at least, as I want to try to live it).  For an atheist most of what I read might be pretty silly.  I am ok with that.  I know most of what I believe theologically cannot be proved.  It really could be an illusion…and I am ok with that gamble.  But I am convinced there is a difference between life and a meaningful life.  I want to opt for the meaningful life.  And I am sure for mysel

One of the things I am convinced is true about spirituality is that it is not always about sunshine, laughter, and good times.  Anyone who has lived knows that life is not just sunshine, laughter, and good times.  I suppose many of us might wish that were true.  But it is not and there is no use in hoping for something that is not realistic. Maybe the one place where the illusion that life is sunshine, laughter, and good times always seems true is in the first blushes of a romantic relationship.  When you meet “that one” who becomes the sole center of attention, then life does seem to be sunshine, laughter, and good times.  For a short while, this may well be true.  In fact, it often seems too good to be true.  And it is! I don’t know how many times I have heard people tell someone who has experienced death in a family or some other tragedy that “time heals.”  Of course, that usually is true…but it does take time for the healing to take place.  And in the beginning it seems unbelie

The title for today’s inspirational message sounds a bit like the romance novel you might pick up at the drugstore. But alas, there is nothing comparable to that kind of true love and the kind of true love I would like to give focus. And I found my inspiration while reading one of my favorite Buddhist authors. Thich Nhat Hanh is an aging Vietnamese Buddhist monk living in France. His teachings and writings are strikingly simple, but so challenging. When I read him, I am quick to agree with his sentiments. And then when I try to put them into practice, I realize the immediate difficulty of trying to live spiritually in a secular culture like mine. I think it is safe to say I did not turn to Hanh to figure out what true love is. Rather, it jumped off the page at me when I was reading him for an altogether different purpose. It comes in his book, Going Home , a book I use in one of my classes. The subtitle of the book reveals a great deal: Jesus and Buddha as Brothers. To me that is a

I sat in the office of local high school waiting for the student to come to get me and lead me to her classroom. Since this was not the first time I have done this guest visit to this high school, I had a pretty good idea what to expect. I know the teacher pretty well and always welcome the invitation to come and be part of the honors’ class for seniors. My escort appeared and dutifully whisked me away through the halls toward our room. My friend and teacher greeted me and I made my way to the front of the room to turn around and look into the faces of strangers. It is always an interesting moment. I have no clue what they are thinking and they probably don’t care what I am thinking. I am confident they had been told I would be speaking about Quaker spirituality. I am also confident that prospect had not seemed thrilling to very many of them! I am not sure it is thrilling to me either. But when I think about it, I don’t think that is the role of spirituality: to be thrilling. Spi

I have had the occasion again to read the bold words of the late Jewish rabbi and theologian, Abraham Joshua Heschel. Heschel was one of the dominant Jewish figures in the middle of the last century. He had lived through the experience of the Nazi era---surely an experience for a Jew which would be unlike any other person. When I think about Heschel, I think about a man---a religious man of the modern era---standing firmly in his world and his culture and, yet, a man addressing the God of the universe. He stood within an ancient tradition, Judaism, but also knew the potentialities and problems of modernity. To me he has always been a model of piety. It took me a long time to learn to appreciate and, even, to like the idea of piety. For a long time in my life, pious meant a very conservative, narrow-minded religious fuddy duddy. As usual, it began to change for me when I studied some foreign languages and began to appreciate its root meaning. It comes from the Latin, pietas, which m

I am always happy when my friends help me both think about and provide some information for me to learn about both new topics and deep topics which continue to demand our thinking.  One of these topics is suffering.  This is not my favorite topic, but it is inevitable.  Most of us in life have to deal at some point with suffering.  Most of us are going to do some suffering ourselves before we escape this world.  And if we care about others, we will doubtlessly endure some suffering with them. I don’t think suffering is usually something that you can solve.  In that sense it is different from pain.  Often if we are experiencing pain---especially the physical kind---we can take something for it to alleviate it.  How often folks have headaches, for example, and take some aspirin.  Soon the headache subsides and they feel much better.  But seldom is there anything comparable to aspirin for suffering.  I can be relatively healthy and still suffer.  Aspirins don’t do much for emotional suffe

Occasionally someone in the world dies---sometimes a famous person---and I regret that I never had a chance to meet him or her.  One such death has occurred.  The famous Nicaraguan poet, Ernesto Cardenal, left this world at age ninety-five.  Cardenal was a poet and a Catholic priest.  And it also fair to say, he was very political.  In fact, more people will remember him for his political involvements than will remember him for his poetry. Those of us old enough know the whole Latin American scene was a hotbed of revolutionary action, particularly in the 1980s.  Part of this scene was the rule of dictators, who often were supported, if not propped up, by American money and interests.  This was especially true in Nicaragua, which is still a rather poor country.  I recall visiting that country and its capital city, Managua, nearly two decades ago when my daughter spent a number of months working in an internship at a women’s health center.  The poverty was palpable.  There were still sig

Often I have confessed that I enjoy returning to the classics. To return to the classics is to go back to a source. A classic becomes a classic for good reason. If it is some form of classical literature, that means a particular piece of literature made an impact when it originally was written. And for some good reasons, that same piece of literature continues generation after generation to make an impact. That means I put little stock in “instant classics,” as some Americans are wont to label things. Because of a recent class assignment, I was given the opportunity to return to one such classic, namely, Augustine’s Confessions , which was written about the turn of the century, 400 C.E. I have read this piece before, but part of the appeal of a classic is somehow it always speaks afresh. I was not disappointed. One could argue that after Jesus, Augustine is the most important figure in Christian history. After a very wayward youth, Augustine was sought by God, relented, and became