Moral Vision, Religion, and the Transcendent

Posted on May 5, 2025 by Incarnation Place

“What is certain is that, to this point, most of the unquestionably sublime achievements of the human intellect and imagination have arisen in worlds shaped by some vision of transcendent truth.” (David Bentley Hart, The Experience of God: Being, Consciousness, Bliss, Yale University Press, 2013, p. 6)

I am a lifelong student of religion. The human search for “transcendent truth”, known by many names, including God, Buddha, and the Holy One, captivates me. I am fascinated by the evolution and varieties of religions help followers make sense of reality, and provide purpose and meaning to human life. At best, religion inspires and guides people to become the best version of themselves, and to foster communities that, in Christian language, help build “heaven on earth.”

My faith as a practicing Christian is strong. Yet, I am keenly aware of failings in the institutional church and have been an outspoken critic of the church for much of my life. Often, familiarity with “God language” becomes an escape from facing the real challenges that faith demands through the challenges of human life. For many Christians, church experience becomes overly focused on doctrines and rules, neglecting the lived experience of the faith journey.

At its best, Christianity is a powerful expression of faith in action in the world: caring for others in creating orphanages and schools, hospitals, shelters for those in need of housing, and so on. Christianity has a spectacular history of architecture reflecting the connection between humans and God, a rich tradition of art offering visual imaginings of scriptural figures and stories, and a diversity of glorious music, from Handel’s Messiah, and traditional and modern hymns. Christian communities remain a source of guidance, comfort, and community for individuals and families, young and old. 

However, religions need to evolve as humanity’s vision and understanding shift and change. If a religion relies predominately on its past success and maintaining power, it will not continue to inspire and guide.

Alas, Christianity provides a heartbreaking example of what can happen when a religion becomes too comfortable in its power and loses touch with the hunger and needs of the suffering of the people. We see this in the long history of financial mismanagement of parishes across denominations. Even worse are the global scandals of clergy sexually abusing children and the long-standing cover-up by church hierarchy.

Today, however, theologian Ilia Delio suggests that “…. we are in the midst of a God revolution.” D’lio, The Not Yet God: Carl Jung, Teilhard de Chardin, and the Relational Whole, Orbis Books, 2023, p. 84) Similarly, theologian J. Phillip Newell observes that: 

“…we are living in an age that is characterized by exile and spiritual search. Something new is trying to be born within us and among us.” (John Philip Newell, The Great Search, HarperOne, 2024, p. 6)

The recent death of Pope Francis reminds us what strong leadership looks like when lived as an expression of the basic teachings of Jesus: Love God, care for others, relieve suffering. The example of Pope Francis was a startling contrast to the political landscape we see in our country today. How will Christianity evolve under a new Pope? Time will tell.

In the meantime, the wider landscape of religious life in the United States has changed dramatically in recent decades. The influence of Buddhism has contributed powerfully to this shift. Buddhism offers America a unique experience to explore spirituality outside of the central tenets of Christianity and Judaism. 

In America, Buddhist communities and secular groups now offer instruction in and times of practice for meditation practice. “Mindfulness Meditation” has become a welcome addition to American life, as science continues to show that regular meditation practice supports physical, mental, and emotional health. Buddhist teachers encourage practitioners to explore their doubt, resistance, and struggles, unlike many areas of Christianity which demands of its followers to put questioning aside.

Buddhism does not worship a “God,” nor does it demand acceptance of institutional doctrines. Some argue that Buddhism is more of a moral philosophy rather than a religion. Buddhism emphasizes spiritual practice, guided by the teachings of the Buddha. 

The Buddha taught that the spiritual journey is a transformation of human conscience toward cultivating wisdom and compassion to ease suffering. This is the moral vision that lays at the center of Buddhist practice and something that makes Buddhism especially attractive to American Christians and Jews who became frustrated with institutional religion and yet are hungry for spiritual experience helps alleviate suffering. Christians hear an echo of Jesus’ instruction to “care for neighbor”; Jews hear an echo of Moses leading the people out of exile toward the Promised Land. 

Another example of a spiritual practice that grows beyond a traditional religious framework is the 12 step recovery movement, a spiritual practice that grows beyond traditional religion. This movement began with Alcoholics Anonymous, offering a step-by-step process for building a relationship with an individually defined “Higher Power”, through practicing the 12 steps and traditions. 

Over time, the recovery movement has blossomed to include a focus on many areas of addiction, including food, gambling, finances, sex, and relationship issues. While each program has its own unique way of applying the steps and traditions, the basic teachings include honesty, responsibility, being of service to others, and developing a relationship with a spiritual power greater than oneself. 

For many in recovery, it is a relief to find a spiritual practice that is not connected with Christianity or other formal religion. Others discover that the practice of the 12 Steps and Traditions weaves seamlessly into traditional religious practice. This is not an accident. Religions vary widely in their language, history, culture, images, and statements of faith. But the 12 Steps and Traditions capture the moral and spiritual values that inspire many religions, including a code of ethics that is shared from one person to another, and passed down from one generation to the next. At the center of this foundation is the principle of respect and care for all, no matter who they are or where they come from. 

Ultimately, we are challenged, individually and collectively, how to bring out the best qualities in ourselves and others, qualities like courage, honesty, strength, wisdom, and compassion? And, how do we curb our impulses that cause harm to ourselves, others, and the world? Today, we have access to an array of spiritual and religious practices to help us. The choice is ours. The need to make these decisions is urgent.

QUESTIONS FOR REFLECTION

~ What does faith mean to you? Faith in what? 

~ What form does your faith take? (Within religion? Or non-religious practices? 

~ What helps you bring out your best qualities? What helps you curb your impulses that cause harm?

NOTE: I would love to hear your responses to this essay and the questions offered here. Please feel free to comment below.

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REFLECTIONS ON LEADERSHIP

Posted on April 30, 2025 by Incarnation Place

Quite by chance, I recently discovered this sermon by Mariann Edgar Budde, the Episcopal Bishop of Washington. She offered these thoughtful and eloquent words at the funeral of Madeline Albright, the former U.S. Secretary of State, on April 27, 2022. 

In her opening line, Bishop Budde describes Madeleine Albright as a “colleague, mentor, and friend.” Their close association inspires Bishop Budde to capture and convey the spirit of Albright, her skills and dedication as a public servant, her unshakeable faith in the democratic process, and a deep desire to make the world a better place. Secretary Albright was a leader, infused with strength, honesty, and a willingness to engage with those who disagreed with her. Her powerful gift for life, capacity for self-reflection, and faith shone through. She used confrontation to achieve a common goal, not for retribution, and sought to treat all with kindness. 

I post this sermon below as a reminder of what true leadership looks like, feels like. How it inspires, not degrades. If, like me, you are weary of the chaos, noise, and overt cruelty going on in our political world, I hope you will take refuge in what follows. The sermon is posted on the website for the Washington National Cathedral: https://cathedral.org/sermons/the-right-rev-mariann-edgar-budde-36/)

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This sermon was preached by The Right Rev. Mariann Edgar Budde, Bishop of Washington, on April 27, 2022 at the funeral of former U.S. Secretary of State Madeline Albright:

Let me begin by expressing my condolences to the Albright family and to all who were blessed to know Madeleine Albright as a colleague, mentor, and friend. Thank you for the honor of being part of this celebration of her life. It means more than I can say.

The most important words have already been spoken. What we have heard about the one who came into this world as Marie Jana Korbel, or Madlenka, as she was known as a child, is testimony to the theological adage: “the glory of God is a human being fully alive.” Drawing upon every circumstance and experience, both wondrous and harsh, Madeleine learned to live fully and well, as the Apostle Paul wrote of his own life, when she had little and when she had plenty, in times of hardship and times of joy. “I can do all things through Him who strengthens me,” Paul wrote. (Philippians 4:13) Madeleine was more circumspect about her faith in God, though it was the foundation beneath her.

I’ve spent the last two weeks reading her memoirs and some of her speeches, which has felt like a master class in life and leadership. I’d like to share some of what I’ve learned.

I was especially struck by her capacity for self-reflection–her awareness of her strengths and vulnerabilities, her ability to celebrate accomplishments and acknowledge mistakes. “Lives are necessarily untidy and uneven,” she wrote, “It is important, however, to have some guiding star. For me, that star has always been faith in the democratic promise that each person should be able to go as far as his or her talents will allow.”1

I also learned about many of you, as seen through Madeleine’s eyes. She was effusive in her praise and admiration, quick to celebrate your gifts and contributions to this country and beyond. She was generous and respectful about those with whom she disagreed, sometimes vehemently, on policy matters. She was discreet. And she had the capacity to recognize, as criminal justice reformer Bryan Stevenson so powerfully reminds us, that each one of us is more than the worst thing we have ever done, or the best thing, for that matter. We are all more than how we present ourselves publicly or are perceived by others. We are more than our role in each other’s lives, more than our opinions on certain issues, and certainly more than our affiliation in a political party, faith tradition or whatever else might separate us from one another.

Never once in her writings did she describe herself as a godly person, but as I read, I kept thinking of these words from the Benedictine nun Joan Chittister: “The godly are those who never talk destructively about another person–in anger, in spite, in vengefulness–and who can be counted on to bring an open heart to a closed and clawing world.” Chittister goes on: “The holy ones are those who live well with those around them. They are just, they are upright, they are kind. The ecology of humankind is safe with them.”2 The ecology of humankind was safe with Madeleine Albright.

She had very strong words, however, for those who, in her estimation, abused their power and caused others to suffer, particularly those on the world stage whose actions adversely affected millions, and she did all in her power to defeat them.

Speaking of power, Madeleine wrote that her political career began when she served on the board of trustees of Beauvoir, the early elementary school here on the Cathedral Close. “In life one thing leads to another, and in Washington one personal recommendation does too.”3 She described her time serving on the Cathedral’s leadership board, known as the Chapter, during a time when this nave was being completed. At a service when the expanded nave’s cornerstone was laid, she read a lesson from the pulpit, “tasting a bit of my childhood dream of becoming a priest” she wrote, though The Episcopal Church had yet to ordain women. She claimed to have learned as much about politics on the Cathedral Chapter as she did working in campaigns–which you know is true.4 But I daresay she also learned as much about faith in the political arena as she did in church, because that is where her faith was lived.

I’d like to dwell a bit longer on Madeleine’s understanding of power. By way of illustration, let me share a moment seared in my memory that some of you may also recall. It was on the day of President Obama’s second inauguration. We had gathered at St. John’s Church, Lafayette Square for a private prayer service for the president and vice president and their families, with other invited guests. I don’t know if Madeleine was there. The preacher was Andy Stanley from Northpoint Church in Atlanta. He stood at the pulpit, looked at the president, and then at all of us, and asked, “What do you do when you know that you are the most powerful person in the room?” He wasn’t just speaking about the power of the presidency. From parents to presidents, we all know what it’s like to be the most powerful person. And what do we do with our power? Good preacher that he was, Stanley reminded us of what Jesus of Nazareth did on the night he shared a final meal with his disciples before he was arrested and subsequently executed. He was clearly the most powerful person in that room, and he assumed the role of a servant, washing his disciples feet.

For Madeleine Albright, power was an essential tool for making things happen. She felt called to positions of authority and influence, and she pursued those positions unapologetically. (The chapter in which she described lobbying behind the scenes to be President Clinton’s choice for Secretary of State ought to be required reading for every woman aspiring to leadership.) She relished being the powerful person in the room, and she used her power in service to others. When she needed to take on some of the world’s biggest bullies, she did, unflinchingly on the exterior, no matter how she felt inside. When she needed to hold back, pivot, or compromise, she did that, too, mastering the art of what our Presiding Bishop Michael Curry describes as “standing and kneeling at the same time,” which is to say, being at once strong in conviction and humble in spirit.5 She was also aware that with increasing positions of power, one’s mistakes become more costly. Her mistakes grieved her, as did her failures, but she was determined to learn from them and carry on.

I close with a nod toward the mystery of the eternal consequences of our lives, acknowledging the ancient human intuition, embedded in all faith traditions, that there is, in fact, another realm beyond this life. Still on this side of death myself, I know as much about that realm as you do, but I believe in it, what connects us in this life to that realm in those moments of transcendence and grace, of peace surpassing understanding, of unconditional love, of faith as the assurance of things hoped for and conviction of things unseen. The best way to prepare for that other realm is to live fully in this one, to cherish life until the time comes for us to let it go, and to do what we can to make life better for others.

Let me leave you with Madeleine’s closing words from Prague Winter, her exploration of her Jewish heritage and the cataclysmic events that shaped her early childhood.


As you can imagine, she had cited many examples of cruelty and betrayal in that heartbreaking book, but she wrote, “they are not what I will take with me as I move to life’s next chapter. In the world where I choose to live, even the coldest winter must yield to agents of spring and the darkest view of human nature must eventually find room for shafts of light.”6

She concluded with this:

“I have spent a lifetime looking for remedies for all manner of life’s problems–personal, social, political, global. . . I believe that we can recognize truth when we see it, just not at first and not without ever relenting in our effort to know more. This is because the goal we see, and the good we hope for, comes not as a final reward but as the hidden companion to our quest. It is not what we find, but the reason we cannot stop looking and striving that tells us why we are here.”

You don’t need me to remind you that we live in perilous times. And I have no doubt that Madeleine’s final words to us would be ones of encouragement, to keep looking for the truth, striving for good, and cherishing life in all its wondrous complexity and beauty. She would want us to claim our power and use it to serve others. She would want us all to follow our north star–what ultimate purpose guides us in times of grace and adversity and calls us back whenever we stray off course.7

So leave here today resolved, in words attributed to John Wesley, “to do all the good you can, by all the means you can, in all the places you can, at all the times you can, for all the people you can, for as long as you can.”

As you do, the God of compassion will go with you, and rest assured that Madeleine is cheering you on.

Amen.”

________
1Madeleine Albright, Madam Secretary. Kindle Version, p.10.
2Joan Chittister, O.S.B, The Rule of Benedict: Insights for the Ages (New York: The Crossroad Publishing Company, 1992), 24.
3Madam Secretary, Kindle edition, 91.
4Ibid, 96.
5Michael Curry, Love is the Way: Holding Onto Hope in Troubling Times (New York Avery/Penguin Random House, 2020), 181.
6Madeleine Albright, Prague Winter: A Personal Story of Remembrance and War, 1937-1948 (New York: HarperCollins, 2012), 414
7Ibid, 415.

This sermon was preached by The Right Rev. Mariann Edgar Budde, Bishop of Washington, on April 27, 2022 at the funeral of former U.S. Secretary of State Madeline Albright. It appears on the website for the Washington National Cathedral: https://cathedral.org/sermons/the-right-rev-mariann-edgar-budde-36/)

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RECLAIMING MORAL VISION

Posted on March 22, 2025 by Incarnation Place

“…in American history, the defenders of freedom have always prevailed. They are beginning to raise their hands.” (Robert Reich, March 11, 2025) 

May we join our hands with the hands of others. 

Our freedom is under attack. Leaders rule by intimidation and executive orders, with little regard for the rule of law. Revenge and retribution replace respect for the dignity of all, while obsession with power replaces care for the common good. Rather, groups splinter into warring factions. We are quick to blame and we refuse to accept responsibility for actions that cause harm. Opponents are enemies to be destroyed.

Our society is fracturing. We are losing touch with our moral vision, values that inspire and guide our thinking and behavior, our life values, what we care about, what we will fight for. We hear it in our public discourse, where healthy debates that respect and welcome opposing views are no longer possible. This animosity seeps into our relationships with family members, friends, and colleagues. Our personal relationships become strained from the weight of perpetual chaos, confusion, and overt cruelty. The people closest to us may feel like our enemies because we no longer seem to find a common set of values. 

And yet, I believe in the American vision first expressed by our early founders in 1776: 

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”  Declaration of Independence, July 4, 1776

Yes, the vision was limited to white men, most of whom were slave owners. Our country has been challenged again and again to live up the spirit of its own ideals. We fall asleep, we wake We evolve, we change things. Voting rights, civil rights, women’s equality, gay rights, religious freedom are among the many signs of progress toward becoming the democracy we envision.

In the 1930’s, Hitler’s vicious authoritarian rule was initially seductive to some. Heather Cox Richardson is a scholar of American History, Professor of History at Boston College, author of many books, and a frequent public speaker. In her book, Democracy Awakening: Notes on the State of America, she observes:

“America took a different course in the 1930s not because Americans were immune to authoritarianism, but because they rallied around the language of human self-determination embodied in the Declaration of Independence. They chose to root the United States not in an imagined heroic past, but in the country’s real history: the constant struggle of all Americans, from all races, ethnicities, genders, and abilities, to make the belief that we are all created equal and that we have a right to have a say in our democracy come true. People in the U.S. had never lost sight of the promise of democracy because marginalized people had kept it in the forefront of the national experience.” (page xviii)

This belief in the equality of all people is a spiritual principle that echoes teachings from religious teachings from around the world. In Christianity, each of us is a precious child of God. Our life purpose is to become like Jesus, to love one another as God has loved us. 

In the Book of Exodus, chapter 20:1-21, God speaks to the people in what we know as “The 10 Commandments”. These passages form foundational teaching for Jews and Christians around the world. The 10 Commandments offer a succinct moral vision for all humanity. 

 Buddhism and other eastern religious traditions are “non-theistic”, meaning they do not worship a god. Instead, they offer clear guidance and teaching for us to live compassionate lives, balanced with wisdom.

Religions differ in their images, language, practices, history, and cultural identity. But most offer a spiritual vision of human beings as essentially good (original sin not withstanding), capable of enormous creativity, production, and care. Religions also teach, as history shows, that humans cause horrific harm to one another, to other living creatures, and to the very earth we call home. The essence of religion is to guide humanity toward developing our highest virtues, such as courage, strength, honesty, discernment, and kindness, while steering us away from our human vices, like pride, anger, jealousy, and greed. 

How we live in our private lives shapes our decisions and behavior in public life and vice versa. Positive moral vision lays the foundation for creating communities — in our private lives and in the public square —that care for one another and respect the dignity of all. Without this vision, human vices unleash the worst in humanity. 

Now is the time, it seems to me, to pause, to focus. To reflect on what we most care about in our lives today, and look for ways to embody these values, privately and publicly. Maybe it’s about finding fresh voices on podcasts, or books, or trainings. Perhaps you want to try a new activity, or return to one that you’ve neglected, like art, dance, music. You may want to re-kindle an old friendship, or join a community in order to make new friends. 

This is a journey of recommitting to our values. It is also a journey of self-care. What activities, people, or groups do I need to pull back from? What voices do I need to put on “silence” for now?

Dan Harris is a former ABC news journalist turned podcaster. He is a longtime practitioner of Buddhism and a dedicated student of the well known Buddhist teacher Joseph Goldstein. Dan’s podcast, 10% Happier, focuses on applying Buddhist thinking and practice to life. In his March 12 newsletter, Dan urges we focus and strive to live with compassion, especially during these challenging times. He writes: 

“The key is to understand exactly what I mean by compassion. I am not talking about being passive or supine. Compassionate is not synonymous with doormat. 

Perhaps another way to define compassion would be ‘non-hatred.’ It comes down to this: What’s going to make you most effective in these divisive times? Anger and hatred may get you off the couch, but these emotions will eventually burn you out and degrade your cognitive capacities. Rage can even temporarily reduce your peripheral vision. By contrast, compassion—for yourself, for the vulnerable, even for your “enemies”—is a cleaner-burning fuel. It sustains you through the inevitable ups and downs. Compassion actually improves your peripheral vision.

If you wish for people on the ‘other side’ to be happy and healthy, that doesn’t mean you are rooting for them to succeed in whatever destructive plans you think they might have. Happy and healthy people tend to not want to destroy stuff. In fact, people who harm others are harming themselves. Hard as it may be to swallow, they deserve our compassion.They do not, however, deserve our complicity. Compassion in no way precludes taking decisive action.”  (Dan Harris, 10% Happier, March 12, danharris@substack.com) 

Elaine Heath is an ordained Methodist minister, a former professor of theology, and is the Abbess of Spring Forest, a new monastery that reflects a re-envisioning of Christianity in the world. This new reformation, she writes on her website: 

“is all about the emergence of a generous, hospitable, equitable form of Christianity that heals the wounds of the world. I believe much of the work for the church in the years ahead must focus on healing the wounds inflicted by Christendom so that the beauty and inclusive goodness of the Gospel can be heard, seen, and experienced.” (website: https://www.elaineaheath.org/)

In a recent post reflecting on the challenges in our current climate, she observes:  “If we learn to listen and watch for the divine, we will encounter God in the chaos.” 

Mystical Islam teaches that the Love of God shows us the way toward mercy and justice. The tradition leaves behind a history of extraordinary guides whose teachings are increasingly popular today. Rumi’s poem, The Guest House, appears frequently in churches, synagogues, Buddhist meditation halls, yoga studios, and other community events:

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes

Welcome and entertain them all!

As an unexpected visitor.

Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out

for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,

meet them at the door laughing,

and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond. (https://allpoetry.com/poem/8534703-The-Guest-House-by-Mewlana-Jalaluddin-Rumi)

QUESTIONS FOR REFLECTION

~ What struggles do you encounter living through this time? 

~ What choices, activities, and relationships support you now? What helps you return to balance?

~ Dan Harris’ question: What’s going to make you most effective in these divisive times?

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SERMON ON JOHN 1:1-18

Posted on March 4, 2025 by Incarnation Place

Offered by Amy Russell on the 1st Sunday after Christmas on December, 29, 2024

St. Mark’s Church, Hood River, Oregon

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I speak to you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

Good morning! I’m delighted to be with you. And it’s a special treat to have Kelly Carlson with us. Kelly is an ordained Episcopal priest who came to Hood River to be the Chaplain at Providence Hospital. And she is finding a home here among us at St. Mark’s. Welcome!

Today, I’ll reflect on our Gospel reading from John. I won’t try to unpack the whole thing. But I hope you will find a meaningful connection between something in John and your own lives. Here we go….

John’s Gospel begins…..: 

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being.”

In these opening words, John sets the stage and invites us into his mysterious, poetic, mind-bending way of speaking, cutting across time and space. I leave it to others wiser than I to debate exactly who John is, where he came from, and when he lived. But in these opening verses, we begin to catch John’s sense of intimacy between God and Jesus. We know he’s focused on Jesus from verse 14: “the word made flesh.”

Three points here:

First, why does John use the word “WORD”. “Jesus was the WORD? Huh? In Greek, “WORD” refers to LOGOS which has a long history in Greek philosophy meaning “wisdom.”  More important for John is the way LOGOS is used in the Hebrew Scriptures. 

In what we call the Old Testament we’re familiar with language like “The word of the Lord God came to so and so. Think of Moses, Abraham, Isaiah for instance. The “word of the Lord God” comes to humans. “God’s word” is language that describes a way of mediating between the invisible Lord and humans.  For John, he is using language of the WORD is a way that would be familiar. 

Second, John uses the word “with” (as in the WORD was with God) has a special meaning for John. In this context, “with” is from the Greek “pross” which means “face to face.” So Jesus is “face to face” with God. But the intimacy here is not like sitting across from God at the dinner table. Jesus the Word who is “with God” is more like baby and mother intertwined in the womb.

Third, John opens with the words “In the beginning….” intentionally. He is pointing to Genesis…. “In the beginning…. God created.” John’s point is to proclaim that Jesus the Word made flesh was with God, engaged in the process of creating all that is, at the beginning of time.

Whoa! If you begin to feel a little dizzy, you’re not alone. John is zipping through space and time and, more than the other Gospel writers, is putting the mystery of the incarnation of Jesus — Jesus Christ, the Word made flesh — at the center. It’s a lot to take in. This is mind-bending stuff!

Having set the stage, Johns now shifts, to say something about the purpose of this intimacy between God and the Word made flesh. “What has come into being in him was Life, and the Life was the Light of all people.” And it’s here where I hope we can connect in with John, not so much with our rational minds, as with our hearts, with our faith and our experience of being in the flesh.

Here, John tells us that this is the Word who comes to give Life, and give it fully to all, including each of us. John tells us that not everyone will accept this Word made flesh. True then. True now. But the truth remains: we — the people then, and all of us here, are created for life, to live life, fully alive!  Jesus who brings this aliveness out from within us. We will know darkness. John says: “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.”

The holiday season is one of lights, music, family, and Church celebrations. To celebrate the birth of the infant Jesus is wondrous. But joy of the holidays for many are marked by very real darkness. I suspect that is true for many of you sitting here. I know what it’s like when the darkness feels overwhelming, even more so during the Holiday season. 

Sometimes the darkness in our lives may be a gradual numbing out. A loss of vitality with changes in aging, for instance. But other times the darkness comes roaring in through illness, injury, death of a loved one, or death of a dream or career or sense of identity. Or we may be especially grieved over the suffering of others in war, or natural disasters, or politics.

We may feel overwhelmed. We may feel that the darkness is winning. This is where John’s message is so powerful. No matter how overwhelming the situation, Jesus the Word is the Light that the darkness cannot overcome. Living in to that truth may be the most challenging parts of our faith. We may fail at times. Jesus’ hand is steady. And as we engage with Him in this journey of faith, he draws us continually toward new Life, and we come to know ourselves more and more as children of God. 

Each year during Advent Kelly offers the Blue Christmas service. It’s a quiet place; one that opens the door to human suffering in the presence of Jesus. The Blue Christmas service honors what John says here. Jesus brings the Light that the darkness cannot overwhelm. 

SOME QUESTIONS TO REFLECT ON:

Reflect on times of darkness in your own life. May be something pressing on your now or something from the past. Have you witnessed God’s light shining through? Or not? Did you feel the darkness overwhelmed God’s presence?

Are you willing to ask Him/Her to infuse this situation with Light?

Why? Because this is what Jesus the Christ, the Word made flesh, does. He brings Light into the darkness, to heal broken hearts, bind up wounds, and comfort those who mourn.**  No matter how dark the darkness, He calls us to new life, no matter our age. As Isaiah proclaims: ““The Lord heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” (Isaiah 61:1-3) In this healing process we come to know ourselves as His children.

In closing, I offer this prayer that may be familiar, often given at the close of a Eucharist Service: 

May the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, guard our hearts and our minds in the knowledge and love of Christ Jesus. AMEN  (Adapted from Philippians 4:7)

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John 1:1-18 

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it. 

There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light. The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world. 

He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God. 

And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth. (John testified to him and cried out, “This was he of whom I said, ‘He who comes after me ranks ahead of me because he was before me.'”) From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace. The law indeed was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. No one has ever seen God. It is God the only Son, who is close to the Father’s heart, who has made him known.

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TRANSFORMING HATE

Posted on January 18, 2025 by Incarnation Place

“Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me?” (Psalm 42:5)

The holidays have come and gone. A new year is upon us. I find myself burdened with an ever present anxiety about the world. Chaos and loss dominate the news. Rage and greed merge in political discourse which is increasingly laced with threats of retribution. The 24 hour-a-day news cycle shout these grim messages, headline after headline, podcast after podcast. I’m not alone in feeling weary and anxious. 

In our world today, perhaps nothing is more damaging than the pattern of separating groups into “us vs. them”. This divisiveness fractures our sense of social community. We become a society of enemies, composed of the “good guys” and the “bad guys.” These patterns breed hatred, based on whatever division we choose, race, ethnicity, religion, sexual orientation, geography, political parties, money, education, geography, or how we look, to name just a few.

And yet, hatred of one individual against another, or one group against another group, is as old as humanity. Humans are hard-wired with a potential for hate that, for some, becomes addictive. We may feel a sense of excitement when we hate others and a feeling of superiority supported by (perhaps unconscious) inner voices that proclaim, “I am better than you are.” If we receive hate from others, we feel dismissed, put down, shoved aside. We may respond in anger, fueling more hate to the other. Or, we may turn the hatred toward ourselves, believing an inner voice that says, “I am never enough.”

This cycle of hate offers only pain and causes harm. Hate attacks the fabric of the human soul. We are social creatures and, like all animals, need to be held, comforted, and nourished. Humans need teaching, guidance, and friendship that come through relationships and communities with others. Theologian Richard Rohr says:

“For the planet and for all living beings to move forward, we can rely on nothing less than an inherent original goodness and a universally shared dignity. Only then can we build, because the foundation is strong and is itself good. Surely this is what Jesus meant what he told us to ‘dig and dig deep, and build your house on rock.’ (Luke 6:48)” (Richard Rohr, The Universal Christ, Convergent Books, copyright 2019, page 67)

Lately, I started watching nature documentaries of lions in the wide-open grasslands of Africa. There is great caring in the wild, as mothers nurse their cubs, hunt for food, and keep the little ones safe. But caring is pragmatic, secondary to survival. If a small cub cannot keep up with the pride, the lionesses leave the cub behind. And the tribe survives only by killing other animals.

Human evolution has changed the structure of our brains. Unlike lions, we have the freedom to choose how we think. Our freedom of consciousness carries an enormous responsibility. It can be both terrifying and exhilarating to recognize the power of our minds to affect our lives and the lives of others. Learning to use our freedom of thought wisely means that we train our minds toward compassion.

The impulse to hate lives in our “reptilian” brain, which houses our instinct to survive. When we hate another, it’s as though we fear for our own survival. Deep suffering often lies behind our impulses to hate. Transforming these can be a slow process that requires time, effort, and perseverance. The point of spiritual practice is to help us do this transformation, prioritize our instincts to care above our drive for survival. We find these teachings in religions around the world, including Christianity, Judaism, Buddhism, Taoism, among others.

One way to move toward compassion is to engage in activities that you enjoy, that generate a sense of vitality, and/or bring a feeling of peace. This year I was especially grateful for the Christmas decorations. They helped me slow down and reminded me of the power of Light to point to a universal reality that holds us all in a loving embrace.

The ancient words of Psalm 139 echo, for me, this Light-filled reality:

1 O Lord, You search me out and You know me.

2 You know my sitting down and my rising up; 

you discern my thoughts from afar.

3 You know my path and my lying down,

and are acquainted with all my ways.

4 Even before a word is on my tongue,

     O Lord, You know it completely.

5 You hem me in, behind and before,

     and lay Your hand upon me.

6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;

     it is so high that I cannot attain it.

7 Where can I go from Your spirit?

     Or where can I flee from Your presence?

8 If I ascend to heaven, You are there;

    if I make my bed in the depths, You are there.

9 If I take flight on the wings of the morning

     and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,

10 even there Your hand shall lead me,

     Your right hand shall hold me fast.

11 If I say, ‘Surely the darkness shall cover me,

     and the light around me turn to night’,

12 even darkness is not dark to You;

     the night is as bright as the day,

     for darkness is as light to You.

13 For You formed my inward parts;

     you knit me together in my mother’s womb.

14 I praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.

     Wonderful are your works;

 And that my soul knows very well.

15 My frame was not hidden from You,

     when I was being made in secret,

     intricately woven in the depths of the earth.

16 Your eyes beheld my unformed substance.

     In Your book were written all the days 

     that were formed for me,

     when none of them as yet existed.

17 How precious to me are your thoughts, O God,

     How vast is the sum of them!

18 If I were to count them, they would surely

     outnumber the grains of sand;

     when I awake, I am still with You.  (Psalm 139 : 1-18)

QUESTIONS FOR REFLECTION

~ What triggers episodes of hate for you? (toward yourself or others; or experiencing others’ hate toward you)

~ How have you learned to transform the energy of hate, in yourself and/or with others?

~ What is a life giving activity that you can do this week?  month?  year? 

Here are some ideas:

  • take a walk
  • call a friend 
  • make a piece of art, just for the fun of it 
  • dance to a favorite song; invite a friend to join you
  • help a friend in need
  • volunteer at an organization you believe in
  • learn something new
  • spend time in nature 
  • attend a meditation retreat or worship service

Feel free to share any reflections or comments on this post.

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REACHING FOR OUR BETTER ANGELS

Posted on November 19, 2024 by Incarnation Place

“The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all over this land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely, they will be, by the better angels of our nature”. (Abraham Lincoln’s First Inaugural Address, delivered on March 4, 1861)

We are out of sync with our “better angels.” In our fractured public discourse, we’ve become cartoon caricatures of ourselves. We are angry and defiant; lost in the stance of “I’m right, you’re wrong.” Not only is the “other” wrong in their opinion, but we claim the other as bad. We attack the other in their personhood; at the extreme, calling them “evil”. 

We ignore that this dehumanizing rhetoric is pushing us further away from our better angels. To put it sharply, we are losing our humanity. 

Abraham Lincoln understood this negative tendency in human beings and urged us toward a different path: 

“We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection.” (from Abraham Lincoln’s First Inaugural Address, delivered on March 4, 1861, when America was on the brink of civil war)

Recognize what happens when we demonize others, either within our group or another group. The more we fear others, the more isolated we become. We seek desperately for another tribe to grab onto. Often we become frustrated with the new group and the pattern repeats. Life becomes a downward spiral of battles with winners and losers, offering little joy or peace. These patterns are soul killing. We thwart our essential need to belong. This is how we lose touch with our capacity to develop bonds of affection.

How do we re-orient ourselves toward our better angels, reclaiming our capacity to reach out with bonds of affection? 

We are social creatures who require affection if we are to thrive. In the language of Christianity, love creates us. We offer and receive love, and love sustains us.

Humans are born with a central core of goodness. Psychological and spiritual traditions refer to this core by various names: essential self, true self, Buddha nature, bodhisattva, or soul. Our deep core is where we are most authentic, where we experience the aliveness of being alive. This is where essential human qualities emerge and flourish, such as love, compassion, generosity, kindness. 

Our core is the realm of our better angels. The point of the spiritual journey is to discover this inner core, to recognize the multitude of ways we turn away from it, and practice re-orienting toward this path of goodness.

What hinders us from accessing our core self more fully? 

Each of us lives with some version of inner conflicts. One part of us wants to be kind, another part is angry. We feel sad and want to feel happy. We long for companionship, yet prefer to remain alone.

These inner conflicts can become much more consequential. For example, one part says, “My life is in danger if I do not have the surgery.” Another part says, “But I do not want to have surgery.” In our country, it’s easy to find inner conflicts described continually in the media. “I wanted to vote for one candidate, but feared what would happen if I did. I had a hard time deciding what to do.” Or, “I was sure X would be the outcome. That didn’t happen. It’s all my/your, his/her fault.” And on and on. 

Inner conflicts do not always shows up in words. Sometimes they appear as tension in the body, like nausea, or aching shoulders or back, or extreme exhaustion. This separation into inner parts is a dynamic of the human psyche. 

Our inner conflicts are not only about our private inner world. They spill out on others. 

In our polarized environment, day-to-day interactions can easily become explosive. This is especially true with those we disagree with. Often, our disagreements trigger an inner conflict in one or both parties. One person may feel anger, fear, disappointment, or some other powerful emotion. The person may struggle to maintain a calm demeanor, all the while feeling a torrent of emotional energy inside. This pressure builds and either or both parties can become abrupt and ill tempered. The negative interactions take on a life of their own and easily dissolve into “I’m right, you’re wrong!” Productive conversation becomes impossible.

Connecting with better angels means seeing the truth of who we are, our conflicts and our essential goodness, and choosing to behave from our core goodness. It demands that we discern how to continue to nurture bonds of affection, especially toward those with whom we disagree. Discernment urges us to slow down and sort through my opinions and take responsibility for my inner conflicts. When I do, I tap into a reservoir of sanity that enables me to approach the person with whom I disagree with respect and willingness to listen. Here we turn the tide and move toward friendship rather than the enemy.

We in the United States are processing the results of the recent presidential election. The results surprised and perhaps confused many people on all sides. Each of us can reflect on what went well, what we did not. Whether our favorite candidates won or lost, we can strive to recognize what all the candidates did well. Can we strive to keep building bonds of affection with ourselves and with others, increasing our capacity to work across the aisle?

As we look to reach our better angels, we learn to embrace all of who we are, joy, sorrow, faults, and our needs for social communities in whom we trust. May we also remember that each of us has an enormous capacity to help one another. In the language of the ancient poet Rumi, 

“Our greatest strength lies in the gentleness and tenderness of our heart.”

REFLECTION QUESTIONS 

~ What qualities do you value in someone who holds opinions that strongly differ from yours?

~ How do you connect with your better angels? What hinders this process? What supports you?

~ Have you experienced becoming friends with someone who you previously viewed as an enemy? If so, how did that happen? 

~ What act of kindness can you offer to someone else (or yourself) on this day?

Feel free to post your responses.

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9/11: 23 YEARS AGO

Posted on October 7, 2024 by Incarnation Place

Last month marked the 23rd anniversary of 9/11. Memories and reflections of my own healing process since that day flooded my mind. I offer this to you, dear reader. May my words support you in naming your experience. 

It was a beautiful day that Tuesday in September. The sky was a brilliant blue, not a cloud in the sky.   

I began jury duty the day before. The courthouse was in lower Manhattan, a 20-minute subway ride from my apartment. At day’s end, the judge instructed the jury to arrive at the courthouse at 11am rather than the usual 9am because the court was being used for some other purpose. 

On that Tuesday morning, I was at my computer. About 9:30, my husband called to warn me that there was a disturbance downtown, something about a plane crash and the World Trade Center. It may have been a small plane that got off course and crashed. 

I heeded Bret’s warning. To catch the bus that would go across town, I walked a couple of blocks to the bus stop. My plan was to transfer to the eastside subway that would take me to the courthouse.

The bus arrived, I stepped on, paid the fare, and noticed the strain on my fellow passengers’ faces. Several people had radios and were deliberately turning up the volume.  

I looked around the bus, grateful not to be alone. These strangers with their radios had become a community, a strange sort of lifeline. We barely breathed, sharing these precious moments of a new reality unfolding. “What did they say? The second tower is hit? What tower?”

Information came piecemeal. “They’re bombing Washington too,” a passenger reported. “A plane hit the Pentagon.”

Suddenly, the bus stopped. In a shaky voice, the bus driver announced: “All NYC public transportation is stopped indefinitely. New York City is under terrorist attack.” 

Shock covered me like a blanket. “Who flies airplanes into skyscraper office buildings?” It seemed the stuff of bad video games. 

One by one, each of us got off the bus. We were all dazed, not sure where to go. 

It took my brain a few moments to catch up to the situation. My first thought was, “How can I get downtown to jury duty?” I quickly ran through various options, another bus, one of several subways. 

More of this new reality sank in. All public transportation was on hold. No buses or subways were running anywhere in Manhattan. Just as startling, the New York City court system was on hold. No trials, period. Jury duty stopped.

Indeed, New York City was under terrorist attack. 

I knew the World Trade Center complex and the surrounding neighborhood well. A few years before, I’d lived a short block away and worked around the corner. Occasionally I had meetings in Tower 1, the North Tower. The elevators shook as they climbed to the higher floors: 102, 103, 104.

One of my delights in living downtown was exploring the floor beneath the World Trade Center towers. This was a vast shopping complex, full of stores, pharmacies, and food counters where you could get a coffee and two donuts for a dollar. 

Business people flooded these corridors all day long, moving from one building to another. This was the energy of New York City that drew millions of people, money, and commerce. This was the home of artists, filmmakers, dancers, and musicians. In New York City, you could find human beings at their very best and worst, sometimes living side by side. I loved it! 

But on this day, September 11, 2001, plumes of black smoke enveloped lower Manhattan. The strange mix of smells — burning fuel, steel, and human flesh — wafted through the air miles away. 

My kids had just started the school year. They attended The Cathedral School, a small school on the grounds of the Cathedral of St. John the Divine, the largest Episcopal cathedral in the U.S. The Cathedral of St. John the Divine is an imposing structure which has long been a place alive with music, dance, and art. The Cathedral invites people to celebrate the wideness of God.

Shortly before noon, a call came from the school. The voice on the phone said the school was closing and parents should pick up their kids immediately. I ran there as fast as I could.

I arrived on the Cathedral grounds and ran up the long driveway to the school. Matthew and Mark were waiting expectantly, looking confused and scared. I looked up at that piercingly clear blue sky and saw F-16 fighter planes flying overhead. The Cathedral bells chimed every few seconds. 

The contrast between the sound of the bells and the vision of the jets was terrifying. And yet those bells carried a message of hope. Their sound pointed toward a world beyond suffering and chaos, a world that transcended the reality we were in. 

I hoped that transcendent reality was true. 

The kids and I arrived home and turned on the tv. We saw the images that would haunt our society for generations to come: the World Trade Center towers collapsing, imploding into heaps of rubble like two giant stacks of dominos. 

No measure of objective truth could penetrate the wall of disbelief. The state of disconnection that forms when the psyche is overwhelmed enveloped us.

Peter Jennings’ calm, intelligent reporting was enormously soothing as the foundations of reality were shifting and changing before our eyes. Now we live in a world where people crash giant airplanes into skyscrapers filled with people. 

An age of innocence died that day, for New Yorkers, Americans, the world…. and me. 

9/11 changed our sense of reality. The communal aspect had a powerful impact because people around the world felt the effects of the attacks.

Yet, on a smaller scale, each of us experiences life-altering situations that change how we view ourselves and the world. These may be joyful or sorrowful experiences. For example, we may marry, move to a new town or country, or become a parent or grandparent. We may have a traumatic accident or illness, or we may become a full-time caregiver for a loved one. Death of a beloved partner, parent, sibling, or friend is one of the most challenging life experiences.

Our sense of reality changes and our identity shifts when we go through any of these experiences. We may feel unmoored, as if the ground is shifting beneath our feet. We begin to feel emotions that are often buried beneath the shock. Moving through these situations is challenging, but healing is possible. Like all healing, though, this is a transformational process takes time, support, and self-compassion.

In time, a new normal emerges, and we regain a sense of stability. The ground feels solid and supportive beneath our feet. We who survive major traumatic events discover that indeed we have survived. We can clarify the life values we care about and decide how to live according to our values.

Faith can be a powerful support during challenging times. These ancient words may offer comfort:

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.”   (Psalm 23:4)

Yet, the pain of difficult life experiences may stretch the limits of our faith. Difficult life experiences may challenge us to dig deeper, clarify our beliefs, and admit doubts. In my healing process, I find stability in the grains of wisdom that I know to be true. 

QUESTIONS FOR REFLECTION

~ What life-changing experiences have you had that altered your sense of reality? 

~ How were you changed?  

~ What positive affects on your life did these experiences make?

~ What role did faith play in your journey?

May these words from the poet Rilke support you: 

“(Y)ou must not be frightened if a sadness rises before you larger than any you’ve ever seen, if an anxiety like light and cloud shadows moves over your hands and everything that you do. You must realize that something has happened to you; that life has not forgotten you; it holds you in its hands and will not let you fall. Why do you want to shut out of your life any uneasiness, any miseries, or any depressions? For after all, you do not know what work these conditions are doing inside you.” (From Letters to a Young Poet (The Eighth Letter) by Rainer Maria Rilke)

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LONGING TO BE SEEN

Posted on September 10, 2024 by Incarnation Place

 “… I have now seen the One who sees me…”  (Genesis 16:13)

All of us long to be seen. Being seen is relational. It requires another to be the “seer”. When people see us, they actively listen, they hear us. We understand we matter, that someone cherishes us.

We are naturally wired with the longing to be seen, beginning in childhood. Children learn to know themselves through the reflection of their adult caregivers — including parents, teachers, coaches, and others. When our caregivers see us well, they provide a sturdy platform for us to become healthy adults. But if our caregivers do not see us well, our sense of ourselves suffers. We may become fiercely critical of ourselves and others, overly responsible, and perfectionistic. Shame, depression, and loneliness may become companions, no matter the actual circumstances of our lives.

Our longing to be seen is not only a childhood need. Adults need to be seen as well. Relationships flourish when we genuinely see one another. This is true in partnerships of all kinds, among family members, friends, co-workers, and neighbors. When someone sees us, our hearts open and reveal our secret longings. This is sacred terrain. Howard Thurman writes:

“The secrets of the heart are the raw material of the genuine spirit of the individual. They are the stuff of the Spirit that dwells deep within each one of us.” (Howard Thurman, Meditations of the Heart, Beacon Press, Boston, page 199)

We can think about seeing and the longing to be seen in our animal friends. For example, I walk down the street and pass someone walking their dog. The dog may approach me, looking to be seen, to be acknowledged. This may be a pat on the head, or a scratch under the chin, or a gentle stroking of the back. Being seen by our animal friends works the other way too. I had a dog friend who intuitively knew when I need his companionship. If I was sad, he would jump up on the couch and cuddle up with me. 

The secrets of the heart may include desires about the future or regrets about the past. We may have long buried these secrets of the heart, especially if others have dismissed or neglected us. Trauma of any kind, at any age, shuts down the heart. Yet the longing to be seen never goes away, no matter how deeply hidden. 

My parents meant well. They loved me and gave me many gifts: love of reading, concern for others, hunger for learning. They encouraged me to help make the world better for others. While my family lived through financial struggles, there was always enough money for food, rent, and a new pair of sneakers when the old ones wore out.

But trauma cast a dark cloud. My mother’s mental illness and eventual disappearance left me with a sense of loneliness, of being abandoned and confused. My father’s alcoholism and failed second marriage pierced me. I became hyper-vigilant, overly responsible for others, trying desperately to please in order to feel safe. I emerged from childhood with deep scars.

I began drinking alcohol in my early teens. Initially, drinking was a way to relax and be social. Over time, drinking became a requirement, no longer a choice. Alcohol kept buried powerful emotions, like fear, anger, and grief.

Years went by before I could admit that I needed help. The gift of recovery came to me and changed my life. Looking back, I recognize that my deepest longing was to be seen, heard, and cherished. Recovery brought this gift of being seen as I had never known. Recovery also showed me how to offer this gift to others. 

And the cycle continues. As I open my heart to seeing others, my heart opens to myself as well. I discover more of what brings me joy and fulfillment. Recently, I spent a few weeks with my grandchildren. They are growing up in a loving home, with attentive parents who set boundaries. As a result, these children are delightfully free to express their desires, creativity, and enthusiasm for life. They know they are worthy of love, of life. They are a joy to behold!

This deep longing to be seen propels us — children and adults — toward life, awakening to the aliveness of life. We live authentically, in line with the values we hold dear, because we know that someone sees, loves, and cherishes us. This is a gift that we can quietly offer to one another, a gift that honors the goodness of humanity. 

FOR REFLECTION

~ Reflecting on your life, is there a relationship in which you did not feel seen, heard, and cherished? How has this relationship affected your life?

~ Reflect on a relationship in which you did (or do) feel seen, heard, and cherished. How has this relationship shaped you?

~ Consider offering the gift of being seen this day. Perhaps you can offer this gift to someone you know, a neighbor, friend, or family member. Or, to a stranger whom you pass on the street or in the grocery store. Or turn the gift of being seen to yourself. 

Offer any reflections or comments in the comments section below.

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ENTERING TIMELESSNESS: A MOMENT OF PAUSE

Posted on August 29, 2024 by Incarnation Place

“… that, with you as our ruler and guide, we may so pass through things temporal, that we lose not the things eternal…” (From the Collect of the Day, Lectionary of the Episcopal Church, Proper 12, Sunday closest to July 27)

We’re in a whirlwind here in the U.S.A. A few short weeks ago, an assassination attempt threatened the life of a presidential nominee, while killing one person and injuring two others. Eight days later, the President stepped aside and endorsed his Vice President. If she wins, she will become the first woman — a Black woman — to hold the office of President of the United States. And she has picked a Vice-Presidential candidate who is a Midwesterner and knows rural America well. 

Suddenly, new energy soars through our political environment. While chaos continues, hope for a bright future shines forth. I am delighted to see a groundswell of leaders show civility and respect in our political discourse. They remind us that welcoming differences of opinion strengthen us.

For all the excitement, I am exhausted from the chaos, vengeance, name-calling, and threats of violence. Perhaps you are too. Our collective nervous systems are in overdrive! I am taking time to slow down and recover from this era of chaos.  

When we slow down, we create an opportunity to tune in. This can be hard to do. Tuning in means we put aside our to-do lists that keeps us focused on the clock. I often catch myself trying to go faster, fearing that time is “running out.” Time, of course, is not running out. 

Many of us are living in this doggedly time-bound state. The Greeks had two words for time. Chronos is chronological, or what we call clock time. This is where we spend most of our daily lives. The other Greek word for time is kairos. Kairos is eternal time, or what we may call timelessness. This is the sense of time when everything seems to slow down. We feel part of a larger reality held in nature, like when watching a sunrise. 

Film directors are skilled at using their medium to suggest slowing down time. Amidst all the upheaval in our recent politics, many of us watched some of America’s premier athletes offer stunning performances at the Paris Olympics. The exhilarating gymnastic routines captivated me. Gymnasts seem to fly at the speed of light, while performing complex sequences of moves.

After the performance, the sportscasters often display a slow-motion replay. The slower film allows us to better appreciate the details of the gymnast’s moves. We see how different parts of the body twist and turn, how one movement leads into the next. The film director helps us tap into a kind of “timelessness”.

Many people in the creative arts regularly enter timelessness. They have learned the power and freedom that comes from translating imagination into physical reality. They release themselves from the tyranny of time and discover the power of love that fuels Life. We have much to learn from these artists, musicians, and others in the creatives! They tap into a world without time, a sense of timelessness. This world is open to us all.

Meditation is another technique that allows us to enter “timelessness.” All forms of meditation suggest that we set aside time away from our usual schedules to be quiet, to tune in, and to practice regularly. As we take this time to be with our inner terrain, our experience of time itself shifts. We shift our focus from daily life activities to the complex terrain of our inner world. Time is no longer measured by what we do, but by what we experience. We discover how our minds work beyond our usual awareness and we experience thoughts, emotions, and sensations that we usually ignore. Our experience of time itself shifts. We tap into timelessness. 

“In the process of entering timelessness, familiar ways of thinking make way for awareness of deeper layers of truth beneath these habitual patterns of thinking. Deeper and deeper layers can be unraveled, and finally there is just silence.” (Images of the Soul by Dean van Kampenhout, published by Carl-Auer-Systeme Verlag, Heidelberg Germany, page 57)

Meditation is sometimes called a process of awakening. We awaken to more of who we are, or who we think we are, and who we are not. For example, I may discover sensations like a frozen tension in my stomach that never quite goes away; or a depressed mood that becomes a steady companion; or a mental thought pattern of planning every small detail. As I allow myself to breathe into these experiences, they begin to release, and deeper layers emerge.

In time-bound daily life, our usual perception is that there is a clear boundary between our inner world and the outer world. Inner world refers to the realm of thoughts, feelings, and sensations that seem to exist inside our body/minds. Outer world refers to other people, places, things, and events that we perceive as outside the boundaries of our body/minds. Our sense of time is defined in terms of past, present, and future. 

When we shift our awareness from daily activities inward, the complexity of our inner life becomes clearer. The boundary between inner and outer seems to dissolve. We become more focused, compassionate toward ourselves and others, and more resilient. We are better able to set boundaries as our connection with others deepens. As the journey of awakening continues, we are less defined by language like inner and outer, past, present, and future. These are the effects of timelessness.

Here’s another way to describe timelessness in the process of meditation:

“Attention can also be trained to focus deeper and deeper, and then timelessness becomes not just an absence of linear time, but a distinct present of something else; something which feels good, full, and rich.”  (Images of the Soul by Dean van Kampenhout, Published by Carl-Auer-Systeme Verlag, Heidelberg Germany, page 54)

Spiritual traditions around the world use the language of eternity to point toward an experience of timelessness. For Christians, to be a child of God is to know ourselves as held in the timeless eternity of God. According to Christianity, we go beyond our usual time bound frame of past, present, and future. The Christian journey is learning to take on the mind of Christ. This involves discovering the endless ways we come short of this lofty goal while holding the aspiration to reach toward it.

Prayer is the practice of recognizing eternal reality in daily life. To live in this awareness is transformational because the eternal is the reality of love, transcending all time and space. This is timelessness. 

QUESTIONS FOR REFLECTION

~ How have you experienced timelessness? How do you describe your experience? 

~ If not, what do you think (or sense) may hinder you from experiencing timelessness? What might help you?

Feel free to post your responses to these questions and/or anything in this post.

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EMERGENCE

Posted on July 23, 2024 by Incarnation Place

In the late 1990s, a movement began within Christianity called the “emergent church”. It sought to clarify the core principles of Christianity that lay beyond warring denominational differences. The Emergent Church aimed to be a path toward Christian unity. Emergent Church was an attempt to re-invigorate the church. Emergent worship services frequently included these words from Isaiah:

“Behold, I am doing a new thing;

 now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?

I will make a way in the wilderness

and rivers in the desert.”  (Isaiah 46:19)

Over twenty years ago, I was part of a team that created a Sunday evening worship service, called simply “Emerge”. There was a simplicity to the service, and a pointed message: “God’s love is for all, the journey is challenging, we journey together.” No pretension. People felt safe to be vulnerable, encouraged to persevere, and strengthened for the journey. 

To this day, I keep an Emerge service announcement card and Isaiah’s words on my desk. They remind me that God is doing a new thing, right here, right now, bringing forth new life no matter how much chaos, harm, and destruction we may perceive.

The secular world of philosophy and science also has a long history of seeing emergence as a principle inherent in all living things. Emergence describes the distinct patterns and behaviors that can arise out of complex systems. For example, an embryo begins with a single cell, out of which come bones, muscles, and organs carefully shaped into what we call a “baby”. 

Emergence is the principle underlying medical science: our bodies are programmed to heal. This isn’t to deny death. Rather, in the miracle of life, new cells are created, while old cells die off. This creative process goes on quietly, moment by moment, until we take our last breath.

Scripture offers a theological perspective. Emergence is God’s force of Love expressed throughout creation. We become the best humans we can be when we nurture love in ourselves and with others:

“Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God.… God is love, and whoever abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him. By this is love perfected with us.”  (1 John 4: 7, 16-17)

I am old enough to remember 1967 when The Beatles album “Magical Mystery Tour” came out. And John Lennon’s song, “All You Need Is Love”, played on every radio in the United States and Europe. The words go like this: 

ALL YOU NEED IS LOVE

Lyrics by John Lennon

“Love, love, love… Love, love, love… Love, love, love

There’s nothin’ you can do that can’t be done

Nothin’ you can sing that can’t be sung

Nothin’ you can say, but you can learn how to play the game

It’s easy

Nothin’ you can make that can’t be made

No one you can save that can’t be saved

Nothin’ you can do, but you can learn how to be you in time

It’s easy

All you need is love… All you need is love… All you need is love

Love is all you need”

As a teenager, I believed these words. Now, the message appears quaint, too simplistic, a mere fantasy. And yet John Lennon’s lyrics capture a thread that runs deep within the religions and spiritual traditions around the world. We are created of love and intended to love.

Medical science affirms the power of love to promote healing in children and adults. So too for those who are dying. Hospice care has become more widely available as we learn what ancient communities have always known: people die more peacefully in an environment of care and compassion.  

Consciousness remains a mysterious reality for science to define. Yet our everyday experience shows us the magical mystery of our thinking minds, with the proliferation of thoughts, inherent creativity, and endless imagination that is present in the very young and continues throughout our lives.

When we do nothing but fight with each other, proclaim our self righteousness, treat one another as the enemy, we are emerging as creatures who are less than who we can be. We violate our nature as loving beings. 

We emerge, moment by moment, day by day. And, except for the harshest conditions, we are free to move in directions that support emergence toward life or direct it toward harm.

How shall we handle this precious quality of emergence? When we listen, care for, treat each other with kindness and respect, strive to work collaboratively, we align with the best of who we are. These words from St. Paul summarize what I believe to be true:

“Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.”  (St. Paul’s Letter to the Philippians 4:8-9)

Emergence is the principle behind growth and creativity. For example, I witness my children emerge from little ones into adulthood. I witness myself emerge as a grandmother. And I continue to witness that an environment of love quickens the emergence toward new life.

In our human lives, we all witness a new period emerging from what has gone before. Sometimes the “new thing” is wonderful, joyous, and exciting, even if daunting. Other times the new emergence is unwelcome, like an illness, death, or loss of home or job. The scriptural promise is that God is present at all times, in all things, no matter what.

QUESTIONS FOR REFLECTION

What does emergence look like in your life? You may notice it in raising children or plants, creating or learning something new. You may notice emergence within a painful period, as you realize that something once treasured (such as a relationship, career, living situation, or political ideal) is slipping away. 

What does emergence look like as you look outward, toward your community, the country and the wider world?

Feel free to offer your responses to these questions or anything in this post in the Comments section below.

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