Author Archives: Steve Jacobsen

I worked for 43 years in the nonprofit and spiritual development fields....Executive Director of Hospice of Santa Barbara, Director of La Casa de Maria Retreat Center (before it closed in 2018 following the mud and debris flow event), and as a Presbyterian pastor in a variety of states and settings. I've been active in inter-spiritual work for 20 years, particularly with the Jewish, Muslim and Buddhist communities. I've served on several nonprofit boards and published a dozen articles. I enjoy baseball, classical music, listening to peoples' personal stories, politics, history and my family.

Letting Life Speak Through Us

Sitting quietly in my backyard early on a recent morning, I noticed the roses and shrubs near me. They’d changed since the last time I had seen them. For months they’ve been showing the same dark leaves. But now bright green growth is emerging. They have been waiting for signs the season is changing and now sense the time is right. I wondered: if plants have any level of self-awareness, what’s it like to be so calm and still for so long and then begin to make your move into spring?

Several months ago, I arrived early for mass at the Santa Barbara Mission. I appreciate the respect for privacy and silence which is the norm in Catholic churches. I found a seat in the middle of an empty pew near the rear. Seven or eight others were in solitude, some sitting, others kneeling. I closed my eyes and centered myself, then mentally named blessings and concerns, as well as my wish to be open to new possibilities. Then I opened my eyes and looked around. I thought about the others with whom I was sharing this space and time. I wondered what their own private thoughts and prayers were like. Did their “inner voice” sound like mine? What were they saying or asking for? Here we were, this random group of human beings, each in our own private world of thoughts and feelings. But all wanting to be open to something more.

Recently I gave a presentation to a local men’s group. My topic was how spirituality can be expressed in our everyday work. I shared stories about people who have found meaning in their labor. Afterwards, one of the men came up and handed me a note. He told me it was a question he had used many times to help people find direction: “What is Life trying to express through you?”

I believe the roses and shrubs know: “Our reason is to blossom, flourish and pass Life on.”

At times in my life, I’ve felt clarity about what I am being called to do. Now is a time when I’m not sure what season it is for me. The seasons of our life don’t always follow a set calendar – we must figure them out as we go.

What is Life trying to express through you this season?

A Pie for All Reasons: Tangible Benefits of Doing Good

The small rural church I served in Wapato, Washington needed a new roof. We did not have the money to pay for it. We decided to have a pie auction.

The church was in the Yakima Valley, an ideal region for growing fruit including apples, peaches, nectarines and cherries. Many in our congregation were expert pie-makers. We picked a date and encouraged everyone to bring their best offerings. After the service, we would auction them one by one, hoping to reach our goal.

I got a call from a longtime member asking me to visit. She was no longer able to attend services personally but had heard about the auction. I met with her in her living room. She told me she wanted to contribute to the roof fund and have fun in the process. She told me her plan. I would let the auction get going while choosing a pie that appealed to me. When that one came up, I was to let the bidding build until it felt like it was reaching its peak. At that point, I was to stand and announce that, on her behalf, I was authorized to make a bid in the amount she told me.

On that Sunday, I followed her instructions. I set my eye on a particular cherry pie (I knew the baker had her own backyard tart-cherry tree). The bidding started at $20…went to $25…then $30…then $35…My moment had come. I stood up. The auctioneer called on me. I said, “On behalf of Mrs. –, I bid $2,000.” The room was silent. Then full of laughter and applause. The next day I visited her and told her how it went. She was delighted.

Thanks to her generosity, we raised enough for the roof. We had fun doing it. I got to keep the pie.

You may have heard that if you want to do something for the greater good, there shouldn’t be any personal reward involved – that would be selfish. But it can be a great feeling to know you are doing something good for other people.

Much of what’s best in America is the work of nonprofit organizations. No matter what is happening in our national politics, individuals and communities make a difference. We can help the Girl Scouts and enjoy the cookies. We can support a friend running a marathon, honoring our friendship and the cause they represent. We can support our local school, daycare center, congregation, neighborhood medical clinic, hospice organization, food bank, museum or other cause. What we do can positively impact the lives of others.

When I donate my money or time, I’m proving to myself I’m not helpless. I want to help other people and now I’m putting that desire into action. It feels good.

Sometimes you can have your pie and eat it too.

(The spiritual power of pies seems to be a recurring theme for me…last year I posted The Sky Is In the Pie.)

Pride and Humility

It’s funny how a random comment made by a teacher more than 50 years ago can stick with us.

It was in the middle of a “Spanish 3” class in my sophomore year at UCSB. I don’t remember the teacher’s name, but I remember we all liked him. I don’t remember what the topic was that day – how to conjugate verbs in the subjunctive tense? – or why he got off topic. For some reason he paused and said, “You know, it’s really important to experience both pride and humility in life. One or the other by itself isn’t enough. You need both.”

I’ve never forgotten those words.

Sometimes we finish a difficult task or a creative project and take a minute to realize what we accomplished. We feel pride. Pride helps us feel good about ourselves and builds our confidence for other challenges in life. I believe one of the most important things we can say to our children is “I’m proud of you.” I said that to our father in his last days, and I hope he heard me.

At the same time, we know that misguided pride can lead us astray. “Pride cometh before a fall,” was noted 2500 years ago in the Book of Proverbs.

So we want to keep pride in its place. But we don’t want to lose it.

How about humility? Humility can come when experiencing awe before something amazing in nature, or a work of art, or the moral courage someone displays. Sometimes it comes to us after we realized we’ve made a mistake. Or realize we are not capable of doing something we’d like to do. Or seeing someone who has had a much harder life than us. Being humble calms us down and puts our ego in place. Humility opens us to compassion.

At the same time, we don’t want to let life or people humiliate us. That means we’ve lost touch with our dignity.

I’ve thought about how humility and pride appear in music.

Spiritual music expresses a reverent humility – we are grateful for the forces in life beyond our control that have blessed us – e.g., “Amazing Grace.”

I looked at one list of ten of the most popular songs in recent decades – it includes” Yesterday,” “Hey Jude,” “Bridge Over Troubled Water,” and “Let It Be.” They are songs of longing, sorrow, comfort, friendship, and acceptance – songs of tender humility.

What songs express pride? Patriotic songs do. How about at the Olympics award ceremonies when a gold medalist steps to the top step during the award ceremony and their national anthem is played? They’ve accomplished something rare for their homeland and are being recognized. I find it moving.

A problematic song that comes to my mind is “I Did It My Way,” made famous by Frank Sinatra. Here are the lyrics:

And now, the end is near
And so I face the final curtain
My friend, I’ll say it clear
I’ll state my case, of which I’m certain

I’ve lived a life that’s full
I traveled each and every highway
And more, much more than this
I did it my way

Regrets, I’ve had a few
But then again, too few to mention
I did what I had to do
And saw it through without exemption

I planned each charted course
Each careful step along the byway
And more, much more than this
I did it my way

Yes, there were times, I’m sure you knew
When I bit off more than I could chew
But through it all, when there was doubt
I ate it up and spit it out

I faced it all and I stood tall
And did it my way

It’s a stirring song. But I often felt it’s a bit much. What about all the people that helped you along the way? Didn’t you have family members, mentors, teachers, friends, coworkers and supporters? To me it seemed to match Frank Sinatra’s personality and reputation — a big-time guy that got everything he wanted.

But I was intrigued to discover its history. Paul Anka came across it and realized it would be perfect for Sinatra — and it was. But years later, Frank’s daughter Tina said he got to hate the song: “He didn’t like it. That song stuck and he couldn’t get it off his shoe. He always thought that song was self-serving and self-indulgent.”

I misjudged Frank. He knew it went too far.

Is it possible to experience both pride and gratitude at the same time? I think so. I look back on my personal and professional life and am proud of certain accomplishments — but I’m also aware those didn’t happen without the participation and support of many other people.

When it comes to leadership, don’t we want people who can make us feel proud of lasting values we shared and also embody a level of humility that tells us they truly care about other people?

My Spanish teacher wanted us to know something important. It is good to embrace those moments in which we can be proud of what we’ve done. At the same time, we are wise to be humble in response to the blessings in life that come to us. We need both.

Lead Image: Lou Gehrig, known as “The Pride of the Yankees,” speaking at Yankee Stadium on July 4, 1938, as he was ending his career due to his advancing ALCS disease. He said, “Today, I consider myself, the luckiest man on the face of the earth.”

Rising Above the Phone-based Culture

If Jonathan Haidt was a traveling evangelist, I’d count myself a convert.

Last week I joined 2,000 people to hear him speak at the sold-out Arlington Theater here in Santa Barbara. His message: the advent of the smartphone has radically changed the experience of childhood, and if we care about kids we need to do something about it.

Much of what he shared is from his book, The Anxious Generation: How the Great Rewiring of Childhood is Causing an Epidemic of Mental Illness. He cites countless studies showing the advent of smartphones has caused great damage to adolescents, creating widespread depression, anxiety, loneliness and isolation. This is particularly true for girls, who by nature are sensitively attuned to how others view them.

Haidt doesn’t just analyze the problem but is a leader in the movement to have schools, communities and families put limits on how much children are immersed in their devices.

One such initiative is “Wait Until 8^th” in which parents create networks of families that pledge to not let their kids have smartphones until 8^th grade. (Simpler devices limited to calling and texting are OK.) I am grateful our school district has endorsed this initiative and our grandchildren’s family is one of the many that has signed on.

Another initiative is having schools collect smartphones at the beginning of each school day and returning them at the end of the day. Our local schools are now doing this and LA Unified began last month. Early results are strongly positive.

This movement involves more than just limiting digital devices. It’s also about giving kids more independence, real-life challenges, and responsibility.

Haidt’s message isn’t limited to children. We adults can also reclaim the kind of awareness and practices that make life worth living.

Daydreaming, for instance. He cites studies that show when we are in between moments of focused activity — waiting for an elevator, at a stoplight, or in a line at the store — we may feel bored and instinctively check our phone to fill the time. (One of his students admitted she is so attached to her phone she takes it into the shower.) But such times can instead be opportunities when we might daydream, which in turn can lead to creative insights.

The last part of his talk focused on spirituality. He said he does not hold any personal religious beliefs but has discovered much of what spiritual traditions have taught and practiced over the centuries are antidotes to the problems created by modern digital life.

Key points are made in the chapter “Spiritual Elevation and Degradation.” “The phone-based life produces spiritual degradation, not just in adolescents, but in all of us.” (pg.199) Spirituality can “elevate” us out of a relentless occupation with our own impulses and habits.

He identifies seven specific beneficial activities:

“Shared sacredness” – participating in experiences of “collective effervescence” and “energized communion” such as Sabbath keeping, communal worship, participatory music events, etc. (203)
Embodiment: practices that are not just mental but engage the body: kneeling, singing, sharing meals and “breaking bread” with family and others. (I would add device-free walking, hiking, swimming, etc.)
Stillness, Silence and Focus: Taming our compulsion for impulsive scrolling through regular meditation practices.
Transcending the Self: We have a “default mode network” (DMN) in which our attention is focused entirely on our own needs, wants and fears. That has always been a common concern of spiritual traditions; Taoism calls it “bedevilment.” “Social media is a fountain of bedevilments. It trains people to think in ways that are exactly contrary to the world’s wisdom traditions: “Think about yourself first; be materialistic, judgmental, boastful, and petty: seek glory as quantified by likes and followers.” (209)
Be Slow to Anger, Quick to Forgive. Spiritual traditions encourage us to find ways to be calm and nonreactive. Social media often leads us to do the opposite: be quick to condemn other while taking no time to reflect on our own shortcomings. Quoting Martin Luther King: “We must develop and maintain the capacity to forgive. He who is devoid of the power to forgive is devoid of the power to love. There is some good in the worst of us and some evil in the best of us. When we discover this, we are less prone to hate our enemies.” (211)
Find Awe in Nature. Haidt confessed he is an “awe junkie” who loves to experience the natural wonder of the world as often as he can. He describes research on awe by Dacher Keltner. Keltner and his students collected thousands of accounts of “awe experiences” of people around the world and “…sorted them into the eight most common categories, which he calls the “eight wonders of life.” They are moral beauty, collective effervescence, nature, music, visual design, spiritual and religious awe, life and death, and epiphanies (moments in which a new and grand understanding dawns).” (212) Haidt taught a “Flourishing” class at NYU in which students were asked to take slow outdoor walks without their phones, carefully noticing their surrounding; many of them did this in nearby Central Park. “The written reflections they turned in for that week’s homework were among the most beautiful I’ve seen in my 30 years as a professor.” Those opportunities for awe had been there every day, but students had missed them because they were absorbed in their phones. (213)
The God-Shaped-Hole Religious or not, Haidt believes we yearn for something more than just our own selves: “…meaning, connection, and spiritual elevation. A phone-based life often fills that void with trivial and degrading content. The ancients advised us to be more deliberate in choosing what we expose ourselves to.” (218)

I’ve been concerned about the growing influence of digital culture for 25 years. Jonathan Haidt’s work is exciting because it offers a thorough analysis of the problem and shows how we can do something about it – for the sake of our children, our grandchildren, and ourselves.

Haidt’s website: https://jonathanhaidt.com

“It Wasn’t on My Bingo Card” — How One Bite of Salad Can Change Your Perspective on Life

Baseball spring training is underway and schedules for the season are set. As players prepare for the new season, the LA Times recently ran a story that illustrates how unexpected events can change our perspective on life:

Last year was supposed to go differently for Dodgers pitcher Dustin May.

Out since the middle of 2023 following a flexor tendon and Tommy John revision surgery, the hard-throwing right-hander was on track to return to action before the end of the season. By early July he was just a week away from a minor-league rehab stint, and a mere month or so from potentially rejoining the roster…. Even more encouraging was that as May neared the end of his recovery from his second major surgery… he finally was feeling like his old self, hopeful of returning to the shorthanded starting rotation and playing a key late-season role in the Dodgers’ push for a World Series title….’I was pretty close,’ May said.

Then, over the course of one frightening evening, everything changed.

On the night of July 10, while he still was rehabbing at the Dodgers’ Camelback Ranch facility in Arizona, May went to dinner and ordered a salad. After one bite, he felt lettuce stuck in his throat. Trying to wash it down, he took a quick swig of water.

Moments later he could tell something was wrong…In what May described as a “complete freak accident,” he unknowingly suffered a serious tear in his esophagus — one that required emergency surgery that night, dashed any hopes of him returning before the end of the season and left him with a new perspective on not only baseball but also the fragility of life…

“It was definitely a life-altering event,” May said Friday, recounting the ordeal for the first time publicly. “It was definitely very serious. It’s not a very common surgery. It was definitely an emergency. “So much so, he added, “I probably wouldn’t have made it through the night if I didn’t have it…”

“It was extremely frustrating,” May said. “You can’t plan for it. You can’t try to prevent it. It just happened.” With a shake of his head, he continued: “It wasn’t on my bingo card for 2024…”[i]

We’ll come back to Dustin’s experience, but first a few thoughts about bingo.

Bingo emerged as “lotto” in Italy 1539. By the 1940s, it had become standardized in the U.S. I remember playing it in school and at home. It’s a popular game in church halls, Elks clubs and nursing homes.

The game itself is simple. Everyone receives a card with a grid of 25 spaces. There is a “free space” in the center and random numbers assigned to the other 24. A designated person draws a number and announces it. Anyone who has that number puts a marker (a bean in the early days) on the spot. If you get five occupied squares in a row, you announce “Bingo!” and receive a prize – cash, a toaster, or simply the personal thrill of victory.

Unlike poker, blackjack, bridge, Monopoly, and other games which involve strategy and choices, what happens in bingo is completely random. Maybe that’s why the phrase made sense to Dustin May. One moment he had a clear roadmap for his career and life. In the next, a bite of salad changed everything.

For centuries, human beings have wondered: Why do events like this happen to us? Is it fate? Or chance? Or some combination?

Romans believed in the goddess Fortuna. She was blind. Without rhyme or reason, she created events that could make or break someone’s life. By the Middle Ages, the belief evolved into an all-powerful “Wheel of Fortune” that turned and turned, rewarding some and damaging others.

In the east, a strong belief in karma arose – everyone’s situation in life must be shaped by the actions of our ancestors.

Jesus taught that “the rain falls on the good and evil alike,” discouraging anyone from attributing someone’s condition in life to divine direction.

We can’t change the family we came from. We can’t change our DNA or many of our physical aspects. We can’t control what cultural realities are shaping our environment. But we can do our best to navigate it all. Some events will occur to us that may seem like strokes of “good fortune” and some that will seem totally unfair.

I can imagine bingo cards that include two new squares: one labeled “U.B.” for “Unexpected Blessing” and the other labeled “U.C.” for “Unexpected Challenge.” Every day we need to be prepared for one or the other to be called. We don’t want to live in fear of the unexpected challenges we may face – but we do want to be mentally and spiritually ready when they come.

“It just kind of gives me a different viewpoint on a lot of things in life,” May said, still striking a tone of disbelief. “Just seeing how something so non-baseball-related can just be like — it can be gone in a second. And the stuff it put my wife through, it definitely gave me [a feeling] of, ‘Wow, stuff can change like that.’ It was definitely very scary.”

Next week we are taking the grandkids to Arizona for spring training. If I see Dustin May, I will know how much it means to him to be present. He’s a great ballplayer and now has a personal story for us all to remember.

[i] “One bite of salad derailed Dustin May’s return to Dodgers. He’s thankful to be back.“

Note: When I worked at Hospcie of Santa Barbara, we developed a list of six statements we can use to let others know what they mean to us — not just at a bedside but in the midst of daily life. Here’s the post: “Six Things That Matter Most”

George Washington Died a Worried Man

How many times have we held a quarter in our hand and seen his profile? There he is: calm, strong and confident.

Every February, teachers would tell us the story of how young George went to his father and confessed he could not tell a lie – he was the one who had chopped down the cherry tree. We were encouraged to follow his example of honesty.

History books often include the painting of him standing in the middle of a rowboat full of soldiers crossing the icy Delaware River on a winter’s night. They won a daring victory which became a turning point in the Revolutionary War. We were encouraged to be inspired by his courageous leadership.

After winning the war, he was elected our first president, then reelected, then peacefully stepped down. He was honored as “First in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen.” We were taught to revere his life and example.

But nobody told us he died a worried man.

After the 2016 election, the historian Thomas Hicks wrote First Principles: What American Founders Learned from the Greeks and Romans and How That Shaped Our Country. He wanted to know what values guided and inspired our first four Presidents: Washington, Adams, Jefferson, and Madison.

I learned Washington was not as well educated as the other three – they could read Greek and Latin and speak French; he spoke only English. They had spent extensive time in Europe, he never left America. They read books on philosophy and political theory while he preferred books on farming.

He believed you can always learn from your mistakes, which served him well as a military commander. He believed in the importance of personal and civic virtue, which he saw embodied in the great leaders of Classical Rome. He sought to be honest in all his dealings and respected the opinions of those who didn’t agree with him, refusing to be dragged into political factions. Personal integrity and selfless service to his country were of utmost importance.

These ideals served him well in his 45 years of leadership. But after he left office, he saw the rise of political parties which seemed to disregard all he stood for.

A month before he died, he wrote, “I have for some time past viewed the political concerns of the United States with an anxious and painful eye. They appear to me to be moving by hasty strides to some awful crisis…”[i]

“He would die a worried man. On Thursday December 12^th, 1799 and the following day, Friday the 13^th, he did farm oversight work on horseback, even though the weather was an atrocious mix of rain snow and sleet. That evening he was hoarse. Between two and three in the morning of Saturday December 14^th, he woke Martha to tell her he felt ill and that his throat was painfully sore. Doctors came and during the course of the day bled him four times, which probably sped him toward his demise that evening. His secretary Tobias Lear reported to President Adams that Washington went out like a Roman: ‘His last scene corresponded with the whole tenor of his life — not a groan nor a complaint escaped him in extreme distress — with perfect resignation and in full possession of his reason he closed his well spent life.’”[ii]

Hicks’ book gave me a new respect for the complexities of George Washington. It also cast a light on one of his closest followers, James Madison.

Madison had a different view of humanity than his mentor. He did not believe you can count on political leaders being virtuous. (“…it’s not saying that humans are wicked and have no virtue, just that virtue alone is not sufficient.”[iii]) People will be motivated by self-interest and gravitate to others who share their interests, forming factions and parties to advance their aims. We need a system of government with checks and balances that assumes and sets boundaries on such behavior. Madison became the primary architect of our Constitution.

The book was published in 2020, and in the closing chapter Hicks asks: “What would the founders say about the America of today? Is our nation what it was supposed to be, or what they hoped it would be? He answers, “The picture is mixed.”[iv] That was in 2020. I’m guessing he’d give the same answer this year.

George Washington has been called the “Father or Our Country.” Many fathers and mothers come to their last days looking back and wondering what they could have done differently. They are often deeply concerned about how life will go for the people and institutions they have loved and served. They worry. But they’ve done their best. What happens after them depends on the action of those who follow.

Washington Crossing the Delaware, Emanuel Leutze, 1851

Postscript: In light of recent debates regarding the history of American slavery, I found this worth noting: “In his will Washington tried to free as many of the enslaved people on his plantation as legally possible. Some were the property of Martha and her heirs. Others were married to those owned by Martha. He was the only founder involved in human bondage who tried to emancipate so many enslaved people.”[v]

[i] Hicks, pg. 243

[ii] Hicks, pg. 243

[iii] Hicks, pg. 207

[iv] Hicks, pg. 285

[v] Hicks, pg. 243

Our Motivations Don’t Have to Be Pure to Be Good

When I first began my spiritual journey, I was enthralled with the idea that I could escape the influence of my selfish ego and achieve some kind of saintly purity. I’d seen what complete self-centeredness could do to my life, and like a prisoner for whom the jail door suddenly flew open, I couldn’t wait to find freedom. I read accounts of saints and sages. I experimented with meditation, recorded and analyzed my dreams, memorized Psalms, and sought spiritual guides. I read the Sermon on the Mount, which includes strong statements to discourage us from publicly displaying our spirituality when we are fasting, giving to charity, and praying. [i]

Fifteen years later I was driving downtown to volunteer at the local soup kitchen. Two different voices within me began a conversation:

Inner Voice One: “I’ve been meaning to do this for some time. Glad I finally signed up and am on my way.”

Inner Voice Two: “You know, be sure and tell your congregation you are doing this. You’ll look good in their eyes.”

Inner Voice One: “What a selfish thing to think! I’m not doing this to show off. I’m doing it because it’s the right thing to do.”

Inner Voice Two: “Of course you are. That’s great. But it won’t hurt your reputation to let people know you are doing this.”

I didn’t like Voice Two and could not silence it. I was frustrated.

A few months later I was on a long drive north on Interstate 5. I thought again about the persistence of self-centered Voice Two. I decided to try an experiment. I visualized Voice Two as a separate person standing in front of me. I stared at him. He looked uncomfortable and embarrassed being examined so carefully and kept looking downward. I began feeling compassion for Voice Two. I realized it had never meant me any harm. It was there to speak up for me, protect me, always wanting to help me be somebody I could feel good about. I stood in front of him. I put my right hand on his shoulder. “You know,” I said, “I now realize you work very hard on my behalf and always act with the best of intention. I’m not going to get angry with you anymore. I’m not going to try to get rid of you. Let’s be friends. I’ll let you offer suggestions whenever you wish. I just don’t want you to be in charge.”

It was a moment of inner reconciliation that brought me a sense of peace. I gave up trying to be a saint. I accepted being someone who may often have mixed motivations that I need to sort through. I would continue to engage in activities for a higher purpose but not get upset if I also hear Voice Two whispering to me how this might affect my reputation and self-esteem. If I personally accomplish something that has been challenging for me, I am going to welcome feelings of pride and satisfaction.

Several years later, as part of my Hospice training, I attended a retreat at the Metta Institute which included Buddhist meditation practice. I learned one key principle: “Welcome everything, push away nothing.”[ii] Rather than try to control everything our busy mind comes up with, we let all our thoughts arise; we then calmly examine them and choose which ones are worth engaging. I have found that to be a practical way to manage all the different ideas, motivations and strategies that can arise within.

I do think there are saints in this world whose motives are always pure. They don’t know they are saints. They meet those Sermon on the Mount standards without thinking about it. I know I’m not one of them. But I don’t want my mixed motives to keep me from joining other people to get good things done and enjoy life along the way.

[i] Matthew 6: 1-8, 16-18

[ii] The Five Invitations: Discovering What Death Can Teach Us About Living Fully, Frank Ostateski

The Clothes We Wear

Do you remember being in Junior High and desperately needing to wear exactly the right clothes? Or how it felt the first time you dressed up for a prom or wedding? Do you notice how we go out in public and instinctively evaluate people based on what they are wearing?

January was a month where extra attention was given to what people were wearing – from the First Lady’s hat at the inaugural ceremony to the elaborate outfits stars wore at the Golden Globes. I recently came across two passages illustrating the significance of what people wear – one from 1990s New York and the other 1390s London.

In 1993, Ruth Reichl began a career as a restaurant critic for the New York Times. “As a critic, she went to extreme lengths to try and make sure the restaurant owners and chefs didn’t recognize her. She made reservations under different names and switched credit cards regularly. She had 12 different personalities with full disguises for each. There was Molly, a retired public school teacher who had suddenly become wealthy from her husband’s work in real estate. There was Betty, a frumpy old woman. And there was Chloe, a beautiful blond interior decorator. She said, “I did not know I had that person inside of me. Chloe can get a cab; stop traffic; doors are opened for you; everything changes for you. Not only that, Chloe knew how to flirt, something I didn’t think I knew how to do.” She wrote about how differently she was treated at classy restaurants depending on her disguise — Betty, especially, got treated poorly. And she would write about that in her reviews, exposing the snobbishness of fancy New York restaurants, and how they would suddenly fawn over her and offer to move her to a better table if they figured out who she was mid-meal.”[i]

Six hundred years earlier, England passed detailed laws dictating what people could wear based on their income and social status:

Following the broadening of prosperity after the plague epidemic and the upsurge in trade following the development of charged trading guilds, demand for fine clothes is high amongst the prosperous citizens of London. Moreover, by the 1390s, you’ll find a wider range of clothes available than ever before due to some mid-century quantum leaps in tailoring, namely the arrival of the button and new ways to tailor clothes to hug the body rather than have them hang more loosely …

All of which unsettles the ruling elite. The problem is that fashion- fueled judgments are inevitably based upon fleeting perceptions. And perceptions are very easily manipulated if people dress ‘above their station’ as they are wont to do. This is less of a problem in tight-knit rural communities where it’s generally pretty obvious who is a villain, who are yeomen (farmers) and who is a lord. But a city with a resident population of about 40,000 and a daily headcount of many more is in danger becoming a catwalk of deceit, giving people ample opportunities to reinvent themselves…

To this end …. the government tries to regulate what people wear in London … a Europe-wide phenomenon which used to limit what you can wear according to your social status, and to prevent grooms (people who care for horses) dressing like craftsman, craftsman like gentlemen, gentlemen like esquires, esquires like knights and so on.

Regarding what you can wear, they are detailed and unequivocal. Knights with an annual income of 135 pounds may wear cloth up to a value of four pounds, but not cloth of gold, nor a cloak or mantle aligned with pure miniver or sleeves of ermine. They should stick to other types of fur. Esquires with land yielding 200 pounds per year and merchants with goods worth over 1,000 pounds can’t wear anything made with cloth exceeding three pounds six shillings in price nor jewels, unless in their hair. Cloth of silk and silver though is fine. Craftsman and yeomen must stick to the native rabbit, fox, cat, or lamb fur. Those lucky enough to have lands worth 1000 pounds per year can wear whatever they damn well like, though swineherds, dairy maids, oxherds, and the like, who have 40 shillings to their name must settle for blanket and russet (a coarse cloth) — and rope girdles.[ii]

What fun Ruth Reichl would have had in Medieval London — one day dressed up as Lady Chloe, the beautiful wife of a knight dressed in gold cloth and ermine fur, and the next as poor peasant Betty with only a blanket and rope.

Ruth Reichl wore a dozen different disguises at New York restaurants and people treated her differently based on her appearance. But she was the same person underneath.

While we may always be aware of how other people are dressed, spiritual perspectives invites us to look beyond someone’s outward appearance to see their inner dignity:

“… ‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you or naked and gave you clothing?And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you? And the king will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did it to me.’[iii]

In every culture, it’s fun to dress up for special occasions.

In every culture, it’s a gift to see people for who they are and not judge them by what they are wearing.

[i] Ruth Reichl

[ii] London: A Travel Guide Through Time, Dr. Matthew Green, 2011; pgs.104-105

[iii] Matthew 25: 37-40

The Way of Nature and the Way of Grace

I’ve been ruminating over these words for fourteen years:

Τhe nuns taught us there are two ways through life-

the way of nature… and the way of grace.

You have to choose which one you’ll follow.

Grace doesn’t try to please itself.

Accepts being slighted, forgotten, disliked.

Accepts insults and injuries.

Nature only wants to please itself…

– Get others to please it too.

Likes to lord it over them…

To have its own way.

It finds reasons to be unhappy…

when all the world is shining around it,

when love is smiling through all things.

Τhey taught us that no one who loves the way of grace

ever comes to a bad end.

We hear this in the voice the mother of the O’Brien family (Jessica Chastain) at the opening of The Tree of Life. As she recites the first six lines, we see dream-like images of her with her young sons in 1950s suburban Texas. At the line, “Nature only wants to please itself…” the camera shifts to the father (played by Brad Pitt) at their dinner table. After several viewings, I realized the shift in focus suggests the mother embodies the grace the nuns talked about while the father embodies “the way of nature.”

“The way of grace:” self-less, tolerant, forgiving. The “way of nature:” self-centered, willful, domineering. Those living “the way of grace” experience a world shining with love; those living the way of nature are blind to all that shines, and instead “finds reasons to be unhappy.”

From the beginning of my spiritual awakening in my twenties, I wanted to “live in the way of grace.”

As a pastor, living “in the way of grace” felt like the ideal job requirement. I strived to lift that up and live that out with the people I was serving. It brought me joy.

As time has passed, I am less certain one can always live in the way of grace.

As Malick uses the phrase “way of nature,” it feels selfish, insensitive, and destructive. But we can think of it another way. I am going to interpret it as our biological and evolutionary history. We carry primal instincts within us that recognize our need to survive. We can draw on a stubborn stamina that enables us to endure hard times with grit and determination. If we lose at something and it hurts, we may resolve to recover instead of giving up. Winning and accomplishing a goal feels good. We find ourselves in a position of power and appreciate what that offers – not only for ourselves, but for others. Are these moments we want to run from?

I once organized and participated in an Earth Day retreat at the La Casa de Maria Retreat Center. We had invited a local trail guide to lead a tour of our property. He had an interest in both the natural world and ways we can listen to our ancestors. Our group took an hour to make a slow walk around the 26-acre property, stopping along the way.

We came to the organic garden and paused. He reminded us human beings have been farming for several thousand years. He asked us to close our eyes and visualize our own ancestors farming and what their life was like. Most of my ancestors came from Scandinavia. I found myself traveling back in time, watching them work in the cold climate and bare soil.

We came alongside the San Ysidro Creek. Before agriculture, our ancestors were hunters and gatherers. We closed our eyes and imagined their life. I realized my ancestors survived by learning to fish the North Sea and hunt elk. A hard life.

Living “the way of nature” involves cunning and a strong will. That can get messy when it demeans other people. But those instincts in themselves are not bad.

In 2008 I transitioned from parish work to leading nonprofit organizations. I discovered I could not be, in the eyes of everyone, always “full of grace.” Sometimes I had to make unpopular decisions. We had to let some people go, and as they left they didn’t feel like “love was smiling through all things.” But these actions had to be done. Looking back, I don’t regret them. It was part of my job.

The spiritual life is not an unending experience of grace and beauty. Jesus was more a lion than a lamb. Many of his conversations comforted, healed and renewed. But other times he confronted people with their self-righteousness, and they walked away dejected or angry. He told people what they needed to hear.

Trying to be gracious every moment doesn’t guarantee ideal outcomes. Sometimes things just go badly. But we do the best we can.

Is it true — “…there are two ways through life – the way of nature… and the way of grace. You have to choose which one you’ll follow?” I’m not so sure it’s that simple. I believe there is a third way, one which draws on both nature and grace. There are times when we need instincts for survival that nature has given us so we can protect ourselves and others and do the right thing. But that doesn’t exclude “the way of grace.” Grace is always worth striving for, and when it emerges it comes with a radiant awareness.

Images: The Tree of Life, Terrence Mallick

Last October I wrote another post inspired by Tree of Life: Where Were We?

Dreams and Realities: Thoughts on the LA Fires

In the aftermath of the recent Los Angeles fires, LA Times theater critic Charles McNulty shared his impressions in a column titled “Shakespeare’s ‘The Tempest’ illuminates an existential truth revealed by the Los Angeles fires.”[i]

McNulty writes from a neighborhood just east of the decimated neighborhoods. He’s been reassuring friends back East that he is OK as he tries to make sense of what he has witnessed. He says, “Shakespeare helps me envisage the unimaginable, and a speech from “The Tempest” has been running through my mind since images of charred sections of Pacific Palisades and Altadena started circulating.”

In the play, the exiled Duke Prospero has put on a “supernatural pageant” to entertain his daughter and her fiancé. But at one point Prospero realizes his enemies are plotting to take his life. He abruptly ends the performance. Speaking of the imaginary world the play created which has suddenly disappeared, he says,

“And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-cappped towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And like this insubstantial pageant faded
Leave not a rack behind.[ii] We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.”

McNulty describes how the things that make up everyday life can seem so solid and permanent but are, in fact, subject to disappearing at any moment. “The grief of those bearing witness to the fires is more than sympathy. We’ve all been given a shocking lesson in the “baseless fabric of this vision” we call reality but which Prospero recognizes is no more solid than a dream.”

Have you ever had an experience in which something that seemed so “real” suddenly disappears like a dream?

My parents built our home in San Bernardino in 1953. They stayed after my siblings and I moved away. After mom died in 1993, dad lived there on his own there for more than a decade. Eventually he sold it and moved to a retirement residence; at that point it had been our family home for fifty years. A year later, the house burned down in a wildfire (after the new owners evacuated). Months later my sisters and I visited. All that was left was the partially collapsed chimney. I took a charred brick as a memento. Now I look at old family photos taken there and wonder: ‘Where did it go?”

I was Director at La Casa de Maria Retreat Center in 2018; our work was thriving and the future was bright. On January 9, the Montecito Debris Flow destroyed eight buildings and left half the property a barren field of mud. La Casa has yet to reopen. Sometimes when I can’t sleep, I imagine giving a tour of the property like I used to. I can clearly see everything as it was. It’s still hard to believe that all those structures, oak trees and our vital work could disappear in an instant.

How many of us have suddenly lost a loved one or treasured friend and find it hard to accept the person is really gone?

Is everything tangible in life nothing more than a dream?

Like Shakespeare, the spiritual traditions teach us that what seems so real one minute can be gone the next.

One of the foundational truths of Buddhism is the impermanence of all material reality. Much of our suffering arises from our tendency to ignore that. The path to enlightenment begins with this understanding.

Jesus teaches a similar truth:“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal, but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. (Matthew 6: 19-21)

Are we to avoid being attached to anything that might perish? If so, how do we live?

For centuries, one path has been to become a monk or a nun. You give up all your possessions and don’t own anything apart from the clothes on your back. You become celibate. Being unattached to long-term relationships and material goods means you can totally focus on the path to enlightenment and “treasures in heaven.”

But there is another path. This path does not forget how quickly things can vanish but does not shy away from embracing them . This path means we remember that many things in life that seem permanent may disappear at any moment. But we don’t turn away from them. We invest ourselves in relationships that matter. We obtain and care for basic material things, including the dwelling in which we live. We plan for the future, knowing nothing is guaranteed. We remember that everything material is subject to change. But we appreciate what we have while we have it and are ready to share it with others. We know the deepest meaning in life is found in pursuing spiritual values, yet we also allow ourselves to be grounded in the material world in which we live.

Life is like a dream. But the people, dwellings, possessions, and commitments in our life are, at this moment, not a dream; they are real. We hold both perspectives as true. And we go on.

The brick from our home.

[i] https://www.latimes.com/entertainment-arts/story/2025-01-13/los-angeles-fires-shakespeare-tempest

[ii] McNulty notes the word “rack” meant “a wisp of a cloud’

Lead image: “Still Life with Ham and Fruit,” Jan Davidsz de Heem,1656