Tag Archives: religion

“Welcome to Freedom?”

                  As I’ve been watching Dodger baseball games recently, I have seen the same ad over and over.  The camera is behind a well-dressed woman in an elevator. We see her press the button for the “Casino” floor. The elevator doors open. She steps out into a vineyard. In the middle of the vineyard is a slot machine.  As she walks purposefully toward it, these words appear: “Welcome to Freedom. Chumash Casino Resort.”

                  The ad does not entice me to visit the casino.  It does make me wonder what “freedom” means in our current culture.

                  I recently attended a fascinating class at the local synagogue taught by my dear friend and colleague, Rabbi Steve Cohen.  The topic was the kosher laws.  We began by reading some of dietary restrictions recorded in the book of Leviticus, going back at least 2,500 years. These instructions clearly describe the animals a faithful person should not eat, including camels, rabbits, and pigs.   For the next hour, Rabbi Steve led the class through a survey of how scholars have interpreted these laws over time (including the 11th, 12th, 13th, 16th, and 17th centuries). Why these animals and not others?  Was it all about healthy eating, or something else?  It seemed to me each commentator had an interesting point of view.  I also learned that, in the last 150 years, leaders in the modern, Reformed tradition had decided the faithful did not need to continue strictly observe these guidelines as in earlier times. 

                  But I was intrigued by the comments of a 20th century British scholar, Dr. Isadore Grunfeld:

To the superficial observer it may seem that men who do not obey the law are freer than law-abiding men, because they can follow their own inclinations. In reality, however, such men are subject to the most cruel bondage: they are slaves of their own instincts, impulses, and desires. The first step towards emancipation from the tyranny of animal inclinations in man is, therefore, a voluntary submission to the moral law. The constraint of law is the beginning of human freedom…

The three strongest natural drives in man are for food, sex, and acquisition. Judaism does not aim at the destruction of these impulses, but at their control and sanctification. It is the law which ennobles these instincts and transfigures them into the legitimate joys of life. The first of the three impulses mentioned is the craving for food; it can easily lead to gluttony, and what is worse, to the fundamentally wrong conception that man “liveth by bread alone.” This natural, but dangerous food- instinct, is transformed by the dietary laws into self-discipline. It is no accident that the first law given to man – not to eat of the Tree of Knowledge of good and evil – was a dietary law.  … Self-control and self-conquest must start with the most primitive and most powerful of human instincts – the craving for food. Thus the Dietary Laws stand at the beginning of man’s long and arduous road to self-discipline and moral freedom.[i]

                  I had never thought of it this way.

                  From an evolutionary perspective, these impulses are part of our drive to survive.  But as we became more aware of our instincts, we can develop an ability to manage them instead of blindly following them.

                  In my late teens, I adopted a common cultural practice of the time: smoking cigarettes. I ended up using a pack a day for 5 years.  I finally decided to quit. It was not easy.  I began to realize that, up to that time, every time I reached for a cigarette, I thought I was making a “free choice.”  But the nicotine in my system was demanding the next one, cleverly disguising itself and instead convincing me I was making a free choice.  I am grateful I was able to break the habit.  I also developed empathy for anyone who becomes dependent on such substances and habits. 

                  I have good memories of playing poker with friends.  Many people go to casinos and have a good time.  But I also know that not everyone who walks into a casino is as “free” as they think they are. (That is why gambling ads, like cigarettes, include a message like “Always game responsibly. Call 1-800-GAMBLE.”)  What is true for gambling is true for other aspects of human behavior.  What looks like freedom can, in fact, be bondage.

                  For centuries, some religious traditions have told people they are inherently sinful because they experience such desires.  But what I like about Grunfeld’s perspective is the assumption that having such desires is not bad in itself, but simply part of our biological inheritance.  Spiritual practices, traditions and communities can help us manage them.  And in that mastery, we discover a freedom we did not realize we were missing.  As Huston Smith said, “We are free when we are not the slave of our impulses, but rather their master. Taking inward distance, we thus become the authors of our own dramas rather than characters in the them.” In the process, we can savor even more the simple pleasures of our lives.  It’s not about a slot machine or a ham sandwich – it’s about becoming wise in the ways of living.

[i] “The Dietary Laws: A Threefold Explanation,” https://traditiononline.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/The-Dietary-Laws.pdf

Images of Our Lives: Resumes, Eulogies, Compost

(Dear Reader: I was on the road this week and working on two presentations for this weekend, so I’m reposting this piece from 4 years ago. I picked it because I continue to find these perspectives on our lives (resume/eulogy/compost) to be interesting and helpful. — Steve)

   PBS and New York Times commentator David Brooks has experienced a major spiritual transformation in recent years.  One of his epiphanies is that many of us live with two sets of virtues in play.   As he wrote in a column entitled “The Moral Bucket List”:

            It occurred to me that there were two sets of virtues, the résumé virtues and the eulogy virtues. The résumé virtues are the skills you bring to the marketplace. The eulogy virtues are the ones that are talked about at your funeral — whether you were kind, brave, honest or faithful. Were you capable of deep love?

            We all know that the eulogy virtues are more important than the résumé ones. But our culture and our educational systems spend more time teaching the skills and strategies you need for career success than the qualities you need to radiate that sort of inner light. Many of us are clearer on how to build an external career than on how to build inner character.[i]

            From the first time I read this column, I appreciated this distinction and its implications. In this post, I’m going to comment on my own experience with resumes and eulogies, then add an additional thought.

Resumes: Much of my career was spent building my resume, and it was always interesting to read the resumes of others. Earning degrees, seeking accomplishments that I could quantify, publishing articles and serving on boards were all facts to add to the resume. This is what it takes to create a meaningful work life in a competitive society. It’s part of life in the modern world. But a resume does not a life make.

            Eulogies: One of the activities I treasured as a pastor was participating in memorial services.  I was always keen to hear what would be said about the person being remembered, and how the stories would cause each of us to pause and reflect on our own lives.

            If I was organizing the service, I would work with the family to create a simple outline of the person’s life: where they were born, what they did, and what they accomplished – something like their resume.  But that just set the stage for the stories people would share about the person: how they treated other people, and what moments friends and family look back on with appreciation. As David Brooks noted, in eulogies we often hear examples of the virtues of kindness, bravery, honesty or faithfulness – many ways in which people manifest “deep love.” 

            So far, so good.  I like identifying these two important aspects of our lives.

            But as I’ve been thinking of this distinction, I kept feeling like there was something missing, and only recently felt like I knew what it is.

            Resumes exist in print and are plain for all to see.  The “eulogy virtues” may be affirmed as part of a memorial service or obituary.  But what if the person lives a very long life, and dies when there is no one left to hear the eulogy?

            I think of my own father.  He lived to be 91, and almost all of those years were lived in Redlands and San Bernardino. He was active in many civic organizations and a well-known man in his day. In his last few years, my sister and I brought him to a retirement home in Santa Barbara so we could see him more often.  When he died, we arranged for a service back in San Bernardino.  We published an obituary in his hometown paper and spread the word as well as we could. But on the day of the service, only 3 or 4 people showed up besides family.  It was understandable – he had outlived most of the people he knew – but it was also disappointing.

            I’ve done services for people who die in relative obscurity. There’s no one there to describe and affirm the virtues and integrity they saw in the person. It doesn’t seem right.

            A similar thought arises when I’m with my young grandsons.  We share meaningful and fun times.   I find myself hoping they’ll remember our time together when they are older.  But what if I die before the memories take root? Will the time we share “count?”

            It reminds me of the familiar riddle, “If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?” We could rephrase it: “If someone dies and no one is there to give a eulogy, is the life a waste?” 

            Ruminating on this question has led me to think of compost.

            Compost  Many years ago in seminary a preaching and communications professor challenged us to think about how we envision the preaching task.

            “You might tend to think of your sermons as roses,” he said. “A masterpiece that you cultivate it until it’s a thing of beauty.  Then you carefully cut it, and bring it to display before the congregation on a Sunday morning . As people leave the service, you hope people will tell you what a beautiful rose you created.  Well, I invite you to not think of preaching that way.  Think of your sermons as compost.  Compost you work into the soil of peoples’ lives you are serving. The beauty comes from what flowers in their life.”

            The purpose of compost is to disappear into the soil, freely giving itself to produce new life.  It doesn’t need to be named to be real and everlasting.  So it is with our lives.  The good we do for others may not be quantified on a resume or be lauded in a eulogy, but that doesn’t mean it’s of no value. It’s a gift we can give, and then let it go.

[i] https://www.nytimes.com/2015/04/12/opinion/sunday/david-brooks-the-moral-bucket-list.html

Where’s Your Axis Mundi?

It’s a word I liked the first time I heard it:  axis mundi. 

I encountered it in graduate school reading The Sacred and Profane, a study of world religion and mythology by Mircea Eliade.  It means the “axis” around which the earth “turns” — not physically, but spiritually and psychologically.  It’s a place where people believe heaven and earth meet.

Jerusalem has long been seen as an axis mundi, a city sacred to Jews, Christians and Muslims.  For traditional Japan, it has been Mt. Fuji.   For Catholics it’s Rome.

Some indigenous tribes in Australia are always on the move, and they carry a sacred pole with them which they erect each place they stay – a portable axis mundi. 

In 2000, I had a 3-month sabbatical project that focused on how digital technology was beginning to affect everyday life.  I visited and conducted interviews in two locations.   

Silicon Valley was already becoming the axis mundi of the tech age. In my interviews and observations, one could already sense that digital tech was becoming something close to a religion.  In the Tech Museum in San Jose, I purchased a computer mouse pad made to look like a Muslim prayer rug.  I visited one of the largest Fry’s stores (in the pre-internet retail era, Fry’s was a “Mecca” for electronic parts and gadgets.)  Some were designed to look like Mayan temples:

One month later I went to India, which was becoming part of that revolution.  After interviewing tech professionals and academics in Bangalore, I spent time in the ancient city of Varanasi on the banks of the Ganges River.  In Hindu belief, there is no place on earth where heaven and earth come closer, and therefore no better place to bathe, die, be cremated and have your ashes scattered.

                  By 2006, I had realized the most sacred religious site in the Western Hemisphere was the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe in Mexico City. Growing up in California, I had seen the Guadalupe image all my life but knew nothing about what it meant.  I learned that, in Catholic tradition, the Virgin Mary appeared to an indigenous peasant, Juan Diego, in December,1531.  She looked more like a native woman than a European and spoke to him in his own dialect: “Am I not here, I who am your mother?” She gave Juan Diego her robe or tilma.   When he took it to a skeptical archbishop and unfurled it, pink roses fell to the floor and her image had become imprinted on the garment.  The tilma is preserved in a glass case in the cathedral.  I spent a week in the city that summer, making several visits to the Basilica.   I watched thousands of faithful pilgrims arrive to worship and celebrate, and was moved by their joy and devotion.

Mt. Shasta is just south of the Oregon border. We’d driven by it many times over the years as we traveled between Washington state and California, but I hadn’t considered it anything more than an impressive volcanic formation. In 2009, we spent a week at a yoga/hiking retreat in the town of McCloud at the base of the mountain. We could see the peak every morning from our window.  As we hiked during the week, we saw it from many angles.   On the last day of the retreat, our group hiked to Squaw Meadows, an alpine meadow on the side of mountain at an elevation of 7,900 feet. I felt smaller and increasingly insignificant in the presence of the mountain’s mystery and majesty; I began to appreciate why both native people and contemporary spiritual seekers from around the world consider it an axis mundi.  We’ve returned to the area every summer for 15 years.

In 1233, St. Francis returned to Italy from the Holy Land where he had visited a cave that was the traditional site of Jesus’ birth. Wanting people to appreciate the setting of the Christmas story, he created the first outdoor nativity scene including live animals.  Nativity scenes have become a familiar axis mundi in countless households and sanctuaries ever since.  When viewed with reverence, candlelight and song, a nativity scene affirms that divine presence can be sensed not only on mountaintops, but also in the lives of humble people in unexpected places.

Some traditions have steered away from emphasizing any particular physical place where we encounter the divine and instead look within our individual awareness.  Quakers affirm that every person has within them an “inward light” or spark of divine energy.  By practicing silent introspection, we can access and experience that light and find guidance from it.

I have visited many sacred sites in my life.  I always try to understand and appreciate the beliefs and imagination of the faithful who are drawn there.

 At the same time, the purpose of visiting such places doesn’t end with the personal encounter. Recent studies have established a powerful connection between experiences of awe and an increased capacity to care for others.[i] Coming into the presence of axis mundi sites can have that effect.  The purpose of spiritual life is not to have a specific experience, but to discover within us a deep reverence for life and others and let that form our character.  As Huston Smith said, “Spirituality is not about altered states but altered traits.”

[i] https://drjsb.com/2022/09/03/starstruck-the-relationship-between-awe-and-caring/

Spiritual or Religious? A Guide for the Perplexed

“Are you religious?”

         “No, I’m spiritual.”

         Over recent decades, fewer and fewer Americans describe themselves as “religious.” Many say they are “spiritual.” What does this mean?

         I’ve been reflecting on those two words for 35 years.  I’m going to offer one way to understand the difference between them.

         “Religion” is a word that combines “re“ with “ligio.”  “Ligio” is the root for the word “ligament,” which means a binding.  So re-ligio means “bound again.” A religion binds someone to a set of beliefs, traditions, and practices. When I was a kid, every Friday the cafeteria served fish sticks. Why? Because Catholics weren’t allowed to eat meat on Friday. If I’m an Orthodox Jew, I’ll only eat kosher food. If I’m a practicing Muslim, you can expect me to be praying five times a day and fasting during the month of Ramadan.  

         “Spiritual” is very different. Let’s go back in time to appreciate its origins.

         In the Hebrew Scriptures, the common word for “spirit” is “ruah.” Here’s a famous passage:

         In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth,the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God[b] swept over the face of the waters.[i] Did you notice the footnote, (b)? The footnote says: “Orwhile the spirit of God orwhile a mighty wind.” Spirit is synonymous with wind and breath.

         The New Testament was written in Greek.  Just like Hebrew, the original word pneuma (as in pneumatic tire, pneumonia, etc.) can mean spirit, wind, breath. Here’s an example:

              The wind[f] blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes.[ii]  The footnote for “wind” reads: “The same Greek word means both wind and spirit.”

         So “religion” implies a binding, a strong and secure connection.  “Spiritual” implies something more elusive and mysterious, but real. You can’t attach a ligament to the wind; a breeze can be felt but doesn’t bind you. 

         For centuries many people were bound to religious traditions.  But in the 60s, people started questioning authority.  Many began leaving such traditions altogether or picking and choosing which beliefs and practices they’d embrace and which they’d ignore.  A steady decline in membership and influence of religious communities began and continues – the ligaments became weak or were never developed.

         Being cut loose from such restrictive bonds can be exhilarating.  We can begin finding for ourselves what is true and authentic.

         As we’re searching, we may have moments when we sense there is something important beyond everyday reality. Maybe we come upon something in nature that fills us with wonder.  Maybe we are awe-struck as we look into the eyes of a newborn child. Maybe we sense something transcendent in a piece of music.  Maybe we go through a personal crisis and feel we’re being led by something beyond ourselves. Maybe we’re in recovery and find the value of a higher power.  Or, maybe we experiment with ancient Eastern techniques of inner exploration, such as meditation, mindfulness, yoga, or Tai-chi and find an inner peace, strength, and serenity that we never experienced in one of those liga-mented institutions.

         We certainly don’t believe there is an old bearded white guy in the sky in charge of everything. But what about “… an energy field created by all living things. It surrounds us and penetrates us; it binds the galaxy together,” as Obi-Wan Kenobi explains to Luke Skywalker.[iii] This “Force” gives us courage, helps us do what is right, connects us to others and calls us to fight against forces of repression.

         If any of these experiences resonate, we might say we are “spiritual.” We sense something, believe something, feel something that is of great personal importance. And no external authority will control how we experience it or what it means.

         So much of this speaks to me personally.  I don’t believe in something just because someone tells me to. I am curious about every kind of journey people are on and learn new things whenever I can.  I’m fascinated by all things “spiritual.”

         And yet there’s something lost when we have no ligaments.

         Last spring, I was feeling discomfort in my right upper arm while doing yoga. One day, I was playing golf and noticed it was swelling dramatically and my arm was turning purple. I went to Urgent Care. They diagnosed it as a torn ligament, which leads to a swelling known as a “Popeye arm” along with contusions.  Apparently, we have two ligaments connecting shoulders to elbows, and one of mine had become disconnected.  They told me they couldn’t repair it and referred me to physical therapy to begin strengthening the surrounding muscles to compensate.

         A year later, I’m still doing the exercises and feeling fine. But I’ve learned what it’s like to be “de-ligamented.”

         I’ve been around congregations for many years.  Communities that worship and serve together week after week are like bodies that are consistently forming strong ligaments of connection. In a tragedy – a death, a disaster, an urgent social need — those bodies are ready to act decisively.  And they do.

         We can see this principle at work in the war in Ukraine.  After World War 2, NATO was formed, creating voluntary bonds of commitment between participating nations to defend each other against aggression. Some recent politicians wanted our country to be free from our NATO commitment. But we now see those ligaments in action as thirty nations quickly united to oppose Russian aggression.

         I rejoice in the freedom spirituality provides to find what is authentic. I can also sing the old hymn “Blest Be The Tie That Binds” when I see social bonds being used to inspire, strengthen and protect the human family.

[i] Genesis 1: 1-2, New Revised Standard Version

[ii] John 3:8, New Revised Standard Version

[iii] Star Wars, Episode IV: A New Hope

Image: Fall Colors at Kebler Pass, Colorado USA.JPG; aspen groves are now understood to not be individual trees, but one unified biological entity.