Faith & Life Inspirational Message

In a recent essay Robert Ellsberg,  a writer whom I know from Thomas Merton circles, offered some thoughts from people in Christian history who have lived a solitary life.  This is meant to offer some advice and solace to all of us who face our own solitariness.  Many of these folks were monks or nuns.  Of course, most of us are not ready to volunteer for life in this monastic setting, but sometimes life puts us in a type of monastic setting without asking us!  But not all of the people he cites would call themselves Christian nor live in a monastery. One such person he cites is Emily Dickinson.  I don’t know Dickinson’s work in any extensive way, but I am attracted to the thinking of this 19th century recluse in Amherst, MA.  Dickinson chose to return to her parents’ house in Amherst, a pleasant town in western Massachusetts, home of UMass, Amherst College and other places I have visited.  She never left her house, except to spend time in the garden behind the house.  I am sure the fo

We all know about stress.  Some of us live with a great deal of it.  “Relax,” they say.  “I wish I could,” is often my reply!  There are so many stress inducers in our contemporary life.  Our jobs are often good at inducing stress.  Traffic sometimes does it while we are trying to get to our jobs.  Health concerns have to be one of the major stress inducers.  And of course, relationship issues are guaranteed stress inducers. There are a few people who seem to me never have to worry about stress.  Maybe that is because they never have to worry.  Or they chose (somehow) not to worry.  I don’t know how they do it.  Perhaps, it is genetics.  Maybe some folks are bred to have no stress inducers.  No matter what happens, they are unflappable.  But I am not like that. Certainly, I think the kind of environment one grows up in has a great deal to do with stress.  No doubt parents teach us a great deal.  I do think they teach us how to stress out.  When I ponder my own home environment, I t

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

In many ways I think I have always been the type to pay attention to what is going on.  Of course, it is impossible to pay attention to everything.  At least this is true if we are living a “normal American life.”  What I mean by this kind of normal life is the “stuff” of our lives.  Surely, there are monks in our midst…and some of us even live more monkish that the average person.  I think there are times I fit this description. But I also recognize I have a car.  I have a radio in the car, which is usually playing some kind of music or NPR as I drive along.  There is the whirr of the traffic.  I am paying attention, but I don’t lock on to every car coming at me, nor all the cars to my right and left.  I have a phone, email, and all the other technology.  When I am sitting in my study at school, folks can call me on the phone sitting on the desk or the cell phone sitting on the desk! I do not paint this picture to condemn it.  In fact, it is a way of life that I have chosen.  It i

Having the opportunity to share some thoughts with other people is always a spur to do some preliminary thinking.  I try to assess what I already think about something.  I ponder how to incorporate new things that I am learning.  Usually, I dip into my own experience to see what I know firsthand from my own life.  I try to be aware of and sensitive to how others might hear and understand what I share.  I recognize in many ways I come from a perspective of privilege, although seldom do I think about it that way.  And others would smile knowingly, because everyone who is privileged just thinks that is how life is. I am not privileged in terms of wealth.  In saying that, I also know as a white American who basically has had a job all of my life, that is a huge privilege.  I see plenty of other people whose bank account is much bigger than mine.  But that even says something about the kinds of friends I might have.  Privileged people don’t always run in the same circles as those with less

Recently, I have had the occasion to re-read one of my all-time favorite books, A Testament of Devotion , by Thomas Kelly.  This Quaker classic was published originally in 1941 right in the midst of a raging world war.  Clearly, Kelly had been affected by the atrocity of another world war.  Kelly had spent time in pre-war Germany.  He spoke German.  He had many German friends.  Surely, his heart broke when the potential of peace and good will was displaced by the actuality of bullets and bombs. From the perspective of the twenty first century, we know that humankind still has not learned to live in peace.  There are still conflicts raging in too many different parts of our world.  Sadly, these are not the only conflicts.  There are also countless inner conflicts raging inside people all around our globe.  Perhaps there are inner conflicts at war inside your best friend…or even inside of you.  These conflicts will not make the six o’clock news.  In fact, many of us are condemned to fi

I have been thinking about hope.  I know within the Christian tradition, hope is a virtue.  The Apostle Paul’s words at the end of I Corinthians 13 are well known.  He identifies faith, hope and love.  Of course, there he says that love is the most important.  Basically, I agree with the first century saint of the church.  But there are times when it seems hope is out in front of love.  Maybe we can say that love is how we are called to be at work in the world.  And hope is how we are to view the world and where we are heading.  I feel better thinking God may be involved in all this with us. I do know that hope is one of those things which is easy to talk about as an idea, but every one of us knows hope is as much a feeling as it is an idea.  I can imagine being in despair, while holding forth in a conversation about hope!  I am always looking for ways to sharpen how I think about it, how to cultivate it and, more importantly, how to live a life grounded in hope, rather than despair. 

I have read many times my friend, Alan Jones’ book, Soul Making .  Jones is the retired Dean of the Episcopal Cathedral in San Francisco.  Before that position, he taught spirituality at an Episcopal seminary.  He was quite helpful to me in the early days when I was trying to combine my studies in Christian history with the emerging spirituality discipline in the educational world. I am sure it is true of all good books.  Regardless how many times we might read the book, we keep finding new things that we did not notice on an earlier read.  Maybe that is an argument for keeping a few of the favorites in our library.  Soul Making came into my life when I was ready for both what Jones was doing and how he was doing it.  At some level, I knew much of the stuff, since I already had done a Ph.D.  At another level, spirituality is always about more than simply ideas, doctrines, and the like.  It always has to do with experience.  In the last chapter of his book, Jones focuses on the doctrine

Recently I was sitting in the silence of a Quaker meeting for worship.  I appreciate the chance to do this.  I enjoy the silence of a group together.  It is so countercultural.  When they are together, Americans have a difficult time not talking all the time.  Sometimes it does not even matter if someone is listening.  It reminds me of watching people talk on their phones while they are doing another task.  Of course, they are not really listening.  They hear a voice on the other end of the connection and they may even be nodding their heads, but nothing in really going in the ears attached to that head! Quakers historically gathered in expectant silence so they could wait for the voice of God, whom they believed would “speak” to them.  It is either a stupid exercise or an audacious move on their part.  Silence is not the goal; it is the means.  We are waiting for a word---even the Word.  But we don’t want chatter---even if it is religious chatter---going on to distract us.  It is not

I appreciate how many sources of inspiration there are in the world if we are aware and pay attention.  Of course, that is easy to say, but not always easy to put into practice.  We want to pay attention, but we get distracted.  We want to pay attention, but we get busy.  We would like to pay attention, but we are bored.  All of these are very effective to derail our attention.  But as long as I want to pay attention, there is hope.  I can bring myself back to attention.  I do it gently and frequently. An incident happened recently in class that I hope makes my point.  It was an innocent remark in the middle of a less-than-profound discussion.  I don’t think I was at my best that particular day trying to lead a class discussion.  During the pandemic, we have seen all of our classes move to the online format.  I am dearly grateful for the technology that makes that possible, but it also makes me pine for “the good old days” when we would gather in a room and be present to each other.  M

There are some authors I know I will take away something significant every time I read them.  Most of them do not come from the same tradition as I do.  Indeed, some of the most profound thinkers who offer me jewels of wisdom do not even come from the Christian tradition.  I know that might bother some folks, but for me it is a gift.  Actually, I think it is pretty cute of God to use a Buddhist or Hindu to teach me something about wisdom, truth, and meaning in life.  When I am given a gift, I say “thanks” regardless of the source or giver. Abraham Joshua Heschel is one of those writers who I know will always deliver memorable lines.  When I read him, I know that I am engaging a man who lived very deeply the life God gave to him.  He is now dead, but his life lives on in his words.  Those words keep on giving. One of my favorite books of his is entitled, Quest for God .  It originally appeared in the mid-50s and was first called, Man’s Quest for God .  I like the fact that the re-is

In these trying times, it is wonderful to read stories about pubic heroes in our society.  No doubt, they have always been doing heroic work, but when things are normal, most folks don’t take time to recognize what might be called “ordinary heroism.”  Of course, there are the physicians, nurses and countless other health care workers.  But just as importantly are the quiet heroes and heroines.  We count those who are janitors, cleaning people, trash haulers, truckers and everyone still doing their part to make life possible and, for some of us, relatively easy.  It makes complaining about no sports seem infantile! It is a rather odd time for me personally.  For most of my life, I have been the kind of person who would be at the front of the line for helping in ways that made me impervious to potential danger.  Some of it probably was due to the arrogance of youth and my own invincibility.  Some of it, I hope, would be the Quaker tendency to be committed to service and care for all folk

When some of you see the title for this one, you may have thought, What!  Since I am a Quaker, as I have proclaimed so many times, what do I know about purgatory?  At one level, I would say I know absolutely nothing.  I doubt that I ever heard it when I was growing up as a Quaker.  In fact, I would be fascinated if somehow I could remember the first time I ever heard the word.  I assume we can’t use a word we never hear, unless of course, we make up words, which kids do routinely.  But a kid can’t create the word, purgatory.  It already exists! When I talk about “escaping” purgatory, I suspect that is not a very good verb.  What I do know about purgatory, as I learn from my Catholic friends, is not that folks escape from there.  It is not like jail where someone can break out.  As I understand it, we don’t volunteer to go to purgatory, nor do we escape.  God is the one who sends us there and, doubtlessly, releases us.  If someone opens the door, it hardly can be called an escape! The i

Recently I read a fascinating essay about resurrection.  Actually, it was more about getting ready for death and resurrection.  The story comes to us from Donna Shaper, but she was doing nothing more than sharing the sentiments of E.B. White who began his thoughts about his soon-to-die wife, Katherine.  “There she was, calmly plotting the resurrection.”  White is the author of the famous children’s book, Charlotte’s Web.  This I knew, since my two girls loved that book. What I would not have known is White’s wife, Katherine, was also a writer---the fiction editor for The New Yorker Magazine.  Apparently, she was quite the formal woman.  I enjoyed learning about her and letting her become my teacher.  Shaper’s words described her, “She had a stately calm, a formality, a belief in the future, even if she herself was not going to be alive in it.” I began to picture a spunky woman who, indeed, could teach all of us. I almost laughed out loud when I read that White’s wife “was known to gard

Even if you are a Christian, I have concluded it depends on where you are---what is your context---how aware of Holy Week and the impending Easter you are.  If you are a Christian and work in a mainly secular environment, you may be relatively unaware of Holy Week.  For many it does not dawn on them until at least Thursday.  And of course, in the secular world there is absolutely nothing special about Thursday. But even in the secular world, Friday often assumes special connotations.  It might be a holiday---a day off.  It is at my College.  So, I suppose it is the one day Jews, Muslims, atheists, and other non-Christians are thankful for their Christian brothers and sisters!  But for the Christian, Friday---Good Friday---is an interesting one. I suspect that for many Christians Friday is simply skipped.  They see Easter as very special and nothing else really matters.  The resurrection is key for them.  Why bother with anything less?  Let’s skip sadness and depression and go straight

Occasionally something just comes into my head and I know that I have to give it consideration.  Such was the theme, “icon and idol.”  I have no reason why it plopped into my brain.  I don’t know why I have it in that sequence.  It could just as easily have been reversed.  But I think I know why it is in the sequence I put it. I think it is icon in the beginning.  At least, the Genesis text on creation says that God created human beings.  We were created in the “image and likeness” of God.  Perhaps, this does not connect.  It did not for me in the beginning.  But then, I began studying some foreign languages.  At one point in Greek class I became aware that the word, “icon,” is the Greek word for “image.” So if Genesis says we are created in the image and likeness of God, then we are “icons” of the Divinity.  Somehow the word, icon, takes it to a whole new level for me.  Perhaps it is because the word, image, is such common place in our English common language.  It is not unusual t

I recently saw an article that talked about restlessness.  The article promised advice from Kathleen Norris.  Immediately, I knew what the topic was and how she would provide some insight.  I have read a great deal of Norris’ work.  She is a poet and writer on spirituality.  One of her earliest books, Dakota , talked about space, landscape and the like.  Then followed the book that probably made her famous, The Cloister Walk .  This book recounted the two times she spent at a Theological Institute which is part of St. John’s Abbey, a Benedictine monastery in Minnesota.  That is a great book and one I still use in classes. I know Kathleen personally.  In fact, I was able to entice her to my campus some years ago to offer a couple lectures and speak with a panel of students I put together.  She is a fascinating woman with a great mind.  People loved her.  Even then, she had been thinking about acedia, the fancy Greek word which has been translated as restlessness.  She later came out wit

It was an innocent thought and, then, a sensible follow up.  Since I am spending more than the usual amount of time at home, I have been in the process of creating a new routine.  I am a person who likes routine and who functions better in that kind of structure, I knew making routine would be inevitable.  And I am quite fine with that. Like many folks, I spend a good deal of time on the computer.  So I need a comfortable place to set up shop.  Since we downsized a few years ago, there are fewer options in my place.  I thought about a little area of a room that would put me out of the main traffic of the house.  It is a place where we typical don’t spend any time.  So of course, that is precisely the place we put all the stuff that we don’t regularly use.  Somehow it keeps growing.  It is the only organic thing in the house!  I am not sure who is feeding it, but it is almost intimidating now.  But it might just work. So I began.  To start a project like this is like going on an archaeo

I like to read fairly broadly.  I figure if I only read things in my field of interest or from people with whom I agree, I will learn very little.  I keep telling students, I am more likely to be provoked to think if I read someone I don’t understand or don’t really like.  Then I am forced to do the hard work of figuring out what I want to think and hold true for myself. Recently, I was reading an article from a Catholic periodical.  I like reading things from a Catholic perspective, because I respect so much of what they have to say and, yet, reading this material usually has the effect of reminding me why I am a Quaker.  Oddly, I can jump to the head of the line to tell you all about the shortcomings and stupidities of Quakers!  But they are my tribe, so that is where I hand my hat and call home. The article was by Michael Sean Winters, whom I don’t know, but I do read him regularly and like what he says.  Most of the article is irrelevant for what I want to reflect on and so I am go

I have been teaching a class called “Contemplative Spirituality” for a few years now.  It is one I love doing.  Normally, the students who sign up for it have little, or no, clue what it is going to do---or do to them.  If they know anything about the word, contemplate, they assume it means to think something over or to think rather deeply.  I agree that this is the way it typically is used by people in the world.  I don’t quarrel with that meaning of the word. In the spiritual realm, however, it comes to mean something a bit more precise.  It is also like a number of things in the world of spirituality, that it can be rather slippery to nail down a particular meaning.  In some regards this is because spirituality begins with human experience, rather than doctrines or beliefs.  And we all know human experience can often be difficult to describe.  That points to the real difficulty.  If we are trying to describe something that may be as much mystery as clearly revealed, it can be tough

I saw a guy walking his dog.  There is nothing unusual, much less stunning, in that sentence.  People walk dogs all the time.  But the story is about more than a guy walking a dog.  It is a story about human encounter.  For me it is a spiritual story.  It is a story I want to tell, because I don’t want to forget it. In these trying times, I have been getting regular exercise.  But that’s not unusual; I have been doing this all my life.  It is deeply ingrained in my way of living, that I figure only a serious illness will finally spell the end of this part of my life.  So far, I have been fortunate.  For a long time, I could claim to be an athlete.  I am not sure that applies anymore.  The occasional golf game does not really make me an athlete.  I am both very grateful for so many years ardently engaged in all kinds of sports and I am a little wistful for those days and sorry they are over. In these trying times, I typically head out for a walk about the same time of the day---late