EXPANDING TIME, CULTIVATING HOPE

Posted on July 12, 2025 by Incarnation Place

“The heart of Tao is immortal,

The mysterious fertile mother of us all,

Of heaven and earth,

Of every thing

And not-thing 

Invisible yet ever-present, 

you can use it forever without using it up.”

(The Tao Te Ching of Lao Tzu translated by Brian Browne Walker, 

St. Martin’s Griffin, New York, 1995, #6)

The news of the day is urgent: floods, earthquakes, and fires create enormous suffering around the globe. In the United States, we see greed, ambition, and cruelty frequently eclipse the pursuit of truth, justice, and freedom in a torrent of human-made conflicts here and abroad.

In the meantime, digital clocks are everywhere, reminding us every minute of every day that time is passing. To avoid being left behind, we feel pressured to “keep up”. We learn to equate our value with our speed — the faster, the better. Our fear is that we are running out of time. 

I long for a new vision of hope.

The language of Tao describes close to what I call “God”. The “mysterious fertile mother of us all” comforts me, invites me to slow down, to see a wider perspective.

In a recent episode of her podcast, On Being, Krista Tippett interviewed Joy Harjo, a musician, visual artist, and member of the Muscogee Creek Nation, who is also aformer Poet Laureate of the United States.

This interview expands my sense of hope during these chaotic days and I will refer to it throughout this post. (I encourage readers to listen to the full interview on the podcast:  

On Being with Krista Tippett: Joy Harjo — The Hope Portal Ep. 6, Jul 3, 2025

https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/on-being-with-krista-tippett/id150892556?i=1000715626215  (This material may be protected by copyright.)

Krista Tippet introduces Ms. Harjo, saying: 

“She has composed a glorious life out of very hard beginnings. But from the beginning of her life, from childhood and even before, she has carried and retained a sense of space and time and life that is so much vaster than present circumstances. She uses this evocative phrase for the sense of time she knows and lives.

She calls it the whole of time, W-H-O-L-E. 

When she does that, she reminds me of Einstein, the way Einstein reimagined the reality of time, which is quite different from how we perceive it with our senses. Time… is relative, not fixed. Seen at a deep level, it’s not a compartmentalized past, present, and future. Past, present, and future are all happening, interacting with each other all the time.

We actually know this. We experience it constantly in our thoughts and in our hearts, in our lives. But the way we structured the modern world and our daily lives hasn’t caught up with this fundamental reality.”

Traditional cultures view time differently. Time is seasonal, cyclical, generational. This view of time is echoed in our religious traditions. 

Krista observes:

“It is the understanding of time in Martin Luther King Jr.’s evocation of the long arc of the moral universe that bends towards justice. And it is stunning to be present to Joy Harjo and see someone who holds this sense of time. She’s always known it, never lost it.”

Joy Harjo presents us with a vision infused with beliefs and images from her Native American family. She links her foundational hope to an expansive sense of time. Her culture measures time generationally. Her teachers instilled in her a vision of time spanning seven generations, encompassing three generations of ancestors—parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents, historically and toward the future. She learned to appreciate children as the “rudder of hope” and to cherish all children as our children. The history of generations pierces our lives in the present and shapes the generations to come.

My mother’s mother was a Russian immigrant. She, her 3 sisters, and their mother fled Russia around 1920 and arrived by boat in New York City. They settled in Chicago, where a large Russian immigrant population had settled. My grandmother and one of her sisters had extraordinary cooking skills. They made their way in this new land as caterers. 

I was born decades later. My grandmother had given up professional cooking long before. But my most vivid memories of her are working tirelessly in the kitchen, preparing food that was elegantly served on a lace tablecloth. There was enough food for the many Russian friends who gathered for celebrations several times throughout the year. 

Her life lives on in me. I learned to cook and care about food presentation because of those childhood experiences. I pass this on to my children, who pass it on to theirs. Along the way, we are all influenced by others and our experiences. My son, for example, worked in restaurants for nearly a decade immersed in the preparation and service of food. Another son loves cooking as a hobby, constantly trying out new recipes. Threads of my grandmother’s life weave through all of us. 

Neuroscience has determined that, in the human brain, the cerebral cortex handles higher-level processes, including language, memory, reasoning, decision-making, forming values, and developing a sense of time. This is where we develop “the capacity to reflect on the past and envision the future.” Hope is a capacity that is developed in the brain. And our brain, barring injury or illness, can continually learn and develop new capacities. This is what neuroscientists call “neuroplasticity.” 

Until now, I did not link hope with a sense of expanding time. Yet, intuitively, perhaps we experience this. For example, life seems to slow down as we gaze at a beautiful sunset. For just a moment, “all is well”. Or, when during a time of suffering, the welcome touch of a friend or loved one offers great comfort. In their touch, time seems to slow down, and a sense of relaxation emerges. These experiences leave us feeling more calm and, with a glimmer of hope, however fleeting.

How can we intentionally expand time toward enlarging our sense of hope? Krista offers the following “thought exercise” which was passed on to her from her teacher John Paul Lederach, passed on to him from his teacher, the sociologist Elise Balding. It pairs beautifully with the teaching from Joy Harjo: 

“It is called the 200-year present, and it’s a way to cultivate a reality-based, longer sense of time and ancestry and the possibility that comes with that…

First, take your mind back to the youngest age you can remember and the oldest person you can remember holding you, holding you. Calculate back to their date of birth, their year of birth, roughly.

Second, bring to mind the youngest person you have held in your arms and the year to which they might live, which is a fascinating exercise in a century in which it is projected that people born in the early part of this century might well in great numbers live for an entire century. The span of time that you will be able to calculate from these two, from this date of birth and this projected date of death, is going to be roughly a 200-year present that is very tangible, a 200-year present that your life on this earth spans, that you have literally touched and been touched by. See how this stretches your imagination, which we have explored as so powerful.

See how it stretches your sense of the possibilities of the imprint and agency of your span on earth. It doesn’t make what we stand before easier, but it absolutely makes it more spacious. And that is a great gift.”

QUESTIONS FOR REFLECTION

~ What inspires you toward hope, especially during these days?

~ Are you willing to try the exercise given above by Krista Tippett? If so, what did you learn?

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To contact Joy Harjo:

https://www.joyharjo.com

To learn more about Krista Tippett:

https://onbeing.org/series/podcast

To listen to the podcast quoted here:

On Being with Krista Tippett: Joy Harjo — The Hope Portal Ep. 6, Jul 3, 2025

https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/on-being-with-krista-tippett/id150892556? i=1000715626215  (This material may be protected by copyright.)

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BLESSINGS: WHERE FAITH & BODY MEET

Posted on June 28, 2025 by Incarnation Place

As I began writing this post, the US launched 30,000 pounds of bombs on Iran. A few short days later, a ceasefire was announced. Now what? While I am grateful for signs of diplomacy, I feel sad, anxious, bewildered. Humanity continues to step closer and closer to annihilating ourselves. 

As readers of this blog know, I am not a political analyst and leave it to those who are skilled in it to speak out. My focus here at Incarnation Place is to explore where faith and the body meet. How do we live our journey of faith, be that within religion or not? How does faith affect our day-to-day lives, and how does it weave through our thinking, feelings, words, and actions? 

Where faith and my body meet these days is this: My Christian faith fuels my journey, yet I am endlessly frustrated, disappointed, and outraged by the thoughts and actions of many Christians. 

I’m passionate about theology and have a master’s degree in it. I support my Christian journey with a heavy dose of Buddhist teaching and practice. As the book title by Paul Knitter, a well known Christian theologian, says, “Without Buddha, I Could Not Be a Christian.” And periods of intensive yoga training have threaded through my journey as well. 

Today I am 70 years old, in excellent health. My husband and I just celebrated 40 years of marriage, with two grown sons, their wives, and 4 grandchildren. I love to travel, to write, and to walk among the trees of southern Washington where I live. My favorite activities come with being “Grandma” and spending time with these four little ones who are just embarking on their journeys of life. 

I easily become consumed by the news and work to keep myself “off the ledge”, so engrossed with matters that I cannot control yet I ignore daily tasks that I can. Perhaps in my reaching for some moment of hope at this fractious time, I am drawn to the language of blessings, a language I heard first in church. In typical Episcopal, Roman Catholic, or Orthodox services, the priest opens with words some version of:

“Blessed be God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.”

And the congregation responds:

“And blessed be His Kingdom, now and forever. Amen.” (BCP, p 355)

At the end of the service, the priest offers a version of this blessing:

“May the peace of God which surpasses all understanding keep your hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of God, and of His Son, Jesus Christ; and the blessing of God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit be among you and remain with you always.”

In religious services and gatherings, blessings acknowledge the holiness of life and presence of God. They express thanksgiving, and offer assurance and comfort. 

For years, I assumed only clergy members offered blessings during worship services. I was wrong. Today, I know that giving and receiving blessings is a gift that each of us can take part in, any time, any place.

I dare say all of us — especially during these challenging times — are hungry to receive a blessing. We long to be acknowledged, seen, and heard; to know that we matter.To offer a blessing is to affirm the inherent goodness in life, the movement of Life that connects and transcends us. Blessings express the energy of Love.

We may offer blessings in words. The specific words are not as important as the intent to bless another. 

But blessings extend beyond words. People can give blessings in many other ways, such as with a kind gesture, like a smile, or by holding the door at the post office. A blessing be holding the hand of a friend who is suffering. We can extend blessings through images shared with one person or many others. In some moments, the greatest blessing is offering a space to be silent. 

Imagine if 50% of people posting on social media commit to only posting blessings! 

As a Christian, my intent is to follow Jesus. For years, this was very simple. His instruction is: “Love God with all your heart, mind, and soul. And love one another as I have loved you.”(Matthew 22: 36-40, Luke 10:27, John 13:34) This is a reminder to keep love in the center; to return to love when I stray from it; and to remember that I am loved unconditionally by God, love that extends to all. Jesus tells us that unconditional love is God’s gift, not something we can earn. Our journey is learning to receive this love, care for, and extend this precious gift to others. 

Giving and receiving blessings is about how we relate to life. Blessings are a simple form of human caring, an affirmation of the other as worthy of the goodness in life. Buddhist teaching talks less about “love”, more about “compassion.” Blessing is a path for developing compassion for ourselves, for one another, for Life itself.

If there’s one thing I have learned, it is that all things are passing. Whatever is happening today, things will change tomorrow, regardless of whether I like or dislike the changes. This movement is the fundamental flow of life, true of plants, fish, and animals, mountains, rivers, and oceans. And it is true of human life. Buddha expressed this fundamental truth nearly 3,000 thousand years ago (4th-5th century BC). 

Another profound truth that the Buddha taught is that suffering is a part of life. Everyone experiences painful loss, illness, and death. We cannot change that, but we can change how we relate to the truth of suffering. We can commit to using our minds and bodies to live fully, embracing these truths rather than fighting or ignoring them. A practice of giving and receiving blessings is a way to live into this. 

QUESTIONS FOR REFLECTION

~ What blessings have you received recently?

~ What blessing do. You need right now? How might you reach out to receive it? (For example, ask a trusted friend or family member, offer a prayer, create a picture, poem, or other artistic expression…)

~ What blessings can you offer to another?

Feel free to post comments, questions, or observations in the comments section below. I appreciate “hearing” your voices!

RELATED BOOKS THAT MAY BE OF INTEREST:

Blessing by David Spangler

My Grandfather’s Blessings by Rachel Naomi Remen, M.D.

To Bless the Space Between Us by John O’Donohue

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BROKEN PROMISES

Posted on May 30, 2025 by Incarnation Place

“Your promise preserves my life…” (Psalm 119:50)

A promise made…. a promise broken. 

Broken promises can be devastating. Some are life-altering. This is especially true for children who rely on parents and caregivers to be caring, trustworthy, and supportive. Neglect, abuse, illness, or death fracture these relationships, breaking the child’s heart. This can shake her trust in others and herself. Without some form of repair, this pain can follow the child throughout life, hindering her from fully living. 

Sometimes, broken promises may become fuel for a child to grow to be of service. Losing her mother to cancer, a child may become a pediatric oncologist. A child of divorce may become a psychotherapist specializing in relationships involving divorce. A child who loses a parent to crime may become a police officer. And so on. 

These childhood experiences provide a window into how we adults may experience our political climate, in the United States and the world. Awakening to a sense of betrayal by the government is nothing new. I grew up during the McCarthy trials. The government wrongly accused thousands of American citizens of treason. One of the most well-known was Robert Oppenheimer, who led the effort to develop the nuclear bomb that ended WWII and ushered in a new era of threat to human life. 

In the 1970s, the release of The Pentagon Papers detailed how the US government continued to fund the Vietnam war, sending hundreds of young men into the battlefield, despite clear evidence that the U.S. could not win this war. 

The Watergate scandal followed shortly after the release of the Pentagon Papers. Watergate was the name given to an event in which members of President Nixon’s 1972 re-election campaign broke into the Democratic National Committee headquarters at the Watergate Hotel in Washington, D.C. An investigation followed that uncovered a sprawling “campaign” of spying and sabotage, led by senior members of Nixon’s staff and funded by illegal donor contributions. The investigation into the Watergate scandal led directly to President Nixon’s resignation on August 9, 1974.

For Americans, these political scandals broke fundamental bonds of trust that have only gotten worse in recent years. However, more than just our political institutions betray our trust. In health care, we may feel betrayed by doctors who spend more time filling out forms than listening to patients; or offer drugs that may be helpful but come with a price tag that is prohibitive. Economic, cultural, and political constraints increasingly hamper our educational systems, diverting them from their primary mission to educate. The enormity of crises that affect our environment is dizzying. And the sexual and financial scandals that plague religious institutions, coupled with decades of cover-up by those in authority, are among the most blatant examples of institutional broken promises.

Today, many of us feel a deep sense of betrayal by individuals and systems beyond our control. Finding even small pockets of stability is difficult in our perpetually chaotic world. Some days, we may feel as though we are swimming in a sea of enemies and become plagued by fear of the future. We feel helpless to change the dynamics of our world, which increasingly plays havoc with our relationships with others. What we can alter is our relationship with ourselves, our minds, and bodies.

I maintain this blog in part because I am a writer. As a career book editor, my father trained me from a young age to care about language, “mean what you say and say what you mean.” Once in college, I brought home a paper for my father to read. I proudly showed the paper to him, having received an “A”. Instead of showering me with praise, he took out his red pen. He crossed out sentences, re-wrote paragraphs, and circled phrases that were confusing. I felt crushed. 

Years later, I realized the great gift Dad gave me. He taught me to write, to care about my words, to know that words matter.

How can words help us now as we navigate through these challenging times?

Words are an essential currency of human thought and communication. We communicate with others. We also communicate with ourselves. Some of our self-communication may be unconscious. We may not recognize thoughts and beliefs that we hold dear because we do not articulate them. Learning to name this subterranean realm can be enormously helpful. We discover more deeply the truth of who we are and what we believe. In this process, we learn we can change our beliefs. 

Theologian John Philip Newell tells the story of the Scottish poet Edwin Muir (1887-1959) who lost his Christian faith early in the twentieth century. Newell writes:

“In Muir’s case (his loss of faith) was precipitated by the deaths of four members of his family within a few years, as well as the experience of poverty and human degradation in the heavily industrialized city of Glasgow. Muir eventually came to see, however, that what he had lost was not faith in God but faith in what the church had taught him about God and humanity and Earth.”

“For Muir, the journey back (to faith) was… not simply a return to traditionally held religious belief. It was an imaginative reclaiming of his first vision of reality as a child in which he experienced the universe as flooded with light. Faith for him was about being faithful to the immortal presence that shines. In all things. And he also came to see that deep in his Christian inheritance were symbols and myths and wisdom that could serve this faithfulness. This is the recovery of faith that Muir invites us into, and to allow our first experiences of light in nature and in human relationship to be born anew in us and guide us in our living and thinking and acting.” (John Philip Newell, The Great Search, HarperOne, 2024, pages 163-4)

Muir’s story reminds me of my own. Deep inside, I held a belief that God would protect me from unbearable suffering. This wasn’t conscious. But it came from messages I heard in church that if I became overwhelmed with suffering, my faith was faulty. I was doing something wrong. I was a failure “at” faith. 

Alas, this way of internalizing some church teachings is common. I have heard versions of this story again and again through the years. Messages that add guilt and shame onto people who are suffering, destroys the soul. It sets us up to feel betrayed. Muir’s lesson that as adults we can distinguish our embodied sense of God from church teachings that limit our access to God or actually cause harm is a tremendous life lesson of faith. We can clarify our beliefs, choosing beliefs that are life giving, and changing or deleting beliefs that cause harm. This lesson is especially powerful now, as our politics often become obscured by a distortion of religious imagery.

QUESTIONS FOR REFLECTION

~ As a child, Edwin Muir experienced the universe as “flooded with light.” What were some of your “first visions” (as a child) of “true” reality? How do these impact you today? 

~ Have you ever felt betrayed by God? Describe the experience. How has your understanding of the experience changed, if at all, over time?

~ Today, what inspires, motivates, or excites you? What are you curious about?

~ What do you long for? What one action can you take to bring you closer to what you long for? 

Feel free to comment below, offering any responses to these questions or anything else in this essay.

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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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