spirituality – Steve Jacobsen, Ed.D

Artificial Intelligence and Mickey Mouse: A Cautionary Tale (I Hope I’m Wrong, Part 3)

On January 20, I joined a packed crowd at the local Granada Theater to hear a leading promoter of A.I., Zack Kass, give a pitch for his new book, The Next RenAIssance: AI and the Expansion of Human Potential. The local Montecito Journal ran an article describing Zack’s background:

Zack Kass has been at the forefront of the rapidly emerging field of artificial intelligence for nearly 20 years…After several jobs in the machine learning field, Kass joined OpenAI in 2021 as one of the first 100 employees. He served OpenAI as the head of their Go-to-Market – the business unit responsible for introducing a new product to consumers. In that role he built sales, partnerships, and customer success teams to commercialize OpenAI’s research and help launch ChatGPT, turning the company’s cutting-edge R&D into real-world business solutions.

… The book and the event draw on his 16 years in the field, exploring the arrival and continued expansion of Unmetered Intelligence (defined as AI’s ability to deliver limitless cognitive power at near-zero cost), and explaining how that phenomenon stands to reshape the foundations of work, education, science, art, and more.

Zack is an engaging young man – earnest, smart, funny, and passionate about A.I.’s potential. His background is a local-kid-makes-good story, as his father, Dr. Fred Kass, has been a much-loved oncologist in our town for decades. Zack believes many of our fears about AI – from the safety of self-driving cars to the threat of taking away jobs to being misused by scammers and criminals – are challenges will be solved. He feels the upside of AI is almost unlimited in making human life more meaningful and satisfying. He may be right.

But I’m not so sure.

On my way home that night, I remembered two pieces I posted in 2023. I noted what we are facing with A.I. is exciting and new from a technological perspective. But the human psyche has not significantly changed for millennia. We may have grown in our ability to create amazing things and devices, but we have not always demonstrated wisdom in using what we develop. We have impulses that can lead us into places we do not want to be.

In those posts I noted many ancient myths and contemporary movies recognize what can begin as innocent, well-meaning choices can unintentionally result in unleashing forces beyond our control. Stories from our cultural past include the Greek tale of Pandora’s Box and the Biblical stories of the temptation in the Garden of Eden. In our own time, fantasy and sci-fi movies include the original Frankenstein, 2001: A Space Odyssey, the Terminator series, I, Robot, and the Lord of the Rings trilogy.

The next day, I thought of one more cultural work to add to my list: the “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice” segment of the 1940 Disney film, Fantasia. I purchased it on AppleTV (only $4.95!) and watched it.

It had been many years since I had seen it. I forgot what a work of art it is. Long before CGI, every image was hand-drawn by Disney artists — 600 alone to create this movie. And they were masters of their craft.

The story begins with Mickey Mouse as an assistant to a powerful Sorcerer who uses his magic to make amazing things happen. He assigns Mickey the job of carrying water back and forth to fill up a cistern and he begins the tedious manual labor. Meanwhile, the Sorcerer takes of his hat, puts it on a table, and leaves. Mickey pauses. He looks at the hat and wonders what it must be like to have such power. He decides to try it on. He puts on the hat and casts a spell on a broom. The broom sprouts two arms and begins hauling water.

As it works, Mickey is pleased with himself and takes a nap. He dreams of having the power to make the stars dance in the sky. But he is woken by the feeling of water surrounding him. It turns out the broom has taken its own initiative and gone beyond the limits of what Mickey had intended. Now the house is flooded. Alarmed, Mickey knows he needs to stop it. He finds an ax and cuts the broom in two. But the broom splinters and becomes a multitude of water carriers working at twice the speed as before. Mickey desperately searches the Sorcerer’s manual for a solution but can’t find one. Just when all seems lost, the Sorcerer returns and sees what has happened. He reverses the spell, the brooms disappear, and the water recedes. He walks up to Mickey and swipes the hat off his head.

Mickey is penitent. Lesson learned.

Poor Mickey. He had seen a compelling opportunity to increase his ability to manipulate the world to make his life easier. But what he creates escapes his control and brings chaos.

Back to Zack’s vision.

More and more people I know are finding A.I. to be useful, delightful and amazing. In many jobs, utilizing A.I. is a requirement. In many areas of our life it is already creating great improvements. I myself have begun to use Claude as an A.I. resource for research and editing. I chose Claude because it does not track, store or sell personal information. Its parent company, Anthropic, is committed to security, safety, and serving the public good. I like it. But I want to be careful.

In recent years, many forces in the private sector and government wanted to establish safeguards to make sure the rapidly expanding power of A.I. is not misused. But last spring the Trump administration appointed David Sacks to oversee government policy. Sacks tossed aside the regulatory initiatives and ever since has been encouraging unhindered development.

That’s exciting to some. But is it wise?

We see what Smartphones did to a generation of children and teenagers. Few people saw that coming. Now, in many schools and communities, restrictions are in place and the results are universally positive. But A.I. dwarfs Smartphones in its capacity to enchant, engage, coopt and overwhelm us.

Since reading his fascinating history of humanity, Sapiens, I have been closely following the opinions of the Israeli historian, anthropologist, and commentator Yuval Noah Harari. In recent years he has been an articulate spokesperson regarding the hidden dangers of A.I.. He spoke last week at the Davos conference in Switzerland. Here’s what a reporter from Forbes Magazine had to say:

I have just had the pleasure of listening to Yuval Noah Harari at Davos 2026. I spend my life thinking and writing about AI, but this still landed with real force. Harari didn’t offer another prediction about automation or productivity, but questioned something deeper: whether we are sleepwalking into a world where humans quietly surrender the one advantage we have always believed made us exceptional.

Harari’s opening was as simple as it was disruptive. “The most important thing to know about AI is that it is not just another tool,” he said. “It is an agent. It can learn and change by itself and make decisions by itself.” Then he delivered the metaphor that cut through the polite Davos nodding. “A knife is a tool. You can use a knife to cut salad or to murder someone, but it is your decision what to do with the knife. AI is a knife that can decide by itself whether to cut salad or to commit murder.”

That framing matters because most of our technology rules assume the old relationship: humans decide, tools execute. Harari’s argument is that AI is beginning to break that relationship, and once it does, the usual models of accountability, regulation and even trust start to wobble. (https://www.forbes.com/sites/bernardmarr/2026/01/21/when-ai-becomes-the-new-immigrant-yuval-noah-hararis-wake-up-call-at-davos-2026/

In Mickey’s case, the Sorcerer reappears and saves the day. But as A.I.’s powers expand far beyond what we can envision and it becomes something more than we could have ever imagined, who or what will be able to stop it from becoming a destructive force?

Zack Kass may be right – the future with AI will be an amazing new world to celebrate. But I’m not so sure. In the recent history of our species, we human beings have often created things with the best intention. But in the process, we conjure up forces that don’t produce the results we intended. There is no Sorcerer who’s going to miraculously show up, take the magic hat off our head, and get everything back to the way it was. This is it.

I’m hope I’m wrong. #3.

The prior posts: https://drjsb.com/2023/04/29/i-hope-im-wrong; https://drjsb.com/2023/05/06/i-hope-im-wrong-part-2-artificial-intelligence-pandoras-box-the-lord-of-the-rings-and-the-garden-of-eden/

Personal Thoughts on “The Two Most Powerful Emotions: Humiliation and Dignity”

Last month, two long-time columnists of the New York Times, David Brooks and Thomas Friedman, were interviewed about how they are viewing the world we are living in. One of the comments caught my attention:

Friedman: … Let me start with what is a bedrock thing in my identity, and I think it’s in yours, too. For me, the two most powerful emotions driving human beings are one: humiliation and dignity. The quest for dignity and the revulsion of humiliation.That’s why I changed my business card back in 2015 from “New York Times Foreign Affairs Columnist” to “New York Times Humiliation and Dignity Columnist.” I felt that’s really what I was covering, whether it’s about China or Russia or Palestinians or anything else…”[i]

Brooks and Friedman continued discussing how this idea applied to politics, and it’s an impressive discussion. Leaving world affairs to them, I decided to see how this perspective might also illuminate everyday experiences.

I can start with something as trivial as being aware of the kind of car we drive.

Some years ago, I was invited to an event at “The Ritz-Carlton Bacara,” a 5-star luxury hotel here in Santa Barbara. I had been there before and remembered they had valet parking. I was driving a used Prius at the time, and my ego started thinking about how most other cars would be Porsches, Bentleys, Mercedes Benz and Land Rovers. I thought, “People will see my car and know I’m not a person of high status.” I decided not to care.

I thought of pets. If you have a dog or cat, the animal is not at all concerned with your social status. In their eyes, you have a full measure of dignity and deserve every ounce of their devotion. What’s not to love?

As we age, we can become disabled, dependent and frail. It’s not who we used to be, and we never thought this would be us. When we go out in public, it’s easy to feel humiliated. How meaningful it is when people interact with us in a way that recognizes our inherent dignity.

In my own career, I’ve attended many memorial services which are instructive and inspiring events. We often hear why the person being honored made a difference in the lives of others. A common theme is how they treated people – family members, employees, friends and strangers – with care and honor.

At their best, spiritual traditions affirm every person’s dignity.

In the Hebrew Bible, we read that human beings are created “in the image of God.”

Jesus was notorious for associating with people who were looked down upon – prostitutes, tax collectors, people with diseases and troubling spirits. He spoke to them with respect and broke bread with them. In those encounters, they began to release what society had said about them and instead discover their inherent worth. His form of execution was meant by Roman culture to be the ultimate display of humiliation. But instead, it became a paradoxical display of how divine love transcends the dehumanizing forces of life, conferring eternal dignity in the process.

In The Autobiography of Malcom X, the author describes his first visit as a Muslim to Mecca for the great hajj pilgrimage. Every person – no matter their race or social status in their home country– put on identical robes and joined the masses circling the Kabba and praying. After a lifetime of discrimination and humiliation as a black man in America, for the first time in his life he felt he was truly an equal: “There were tens of thousands of pilgrims, from all over the world. They were of all colors, from blue-eyed blonds to black-skinned Africans. But we were all participating in the same ritual, displaying a spirit of unity and brotherhood that my experiences in America had led me to believe never could exist between the white and non-white.”[ii] The experience changed Malcom’s life. From then on, he saw the common humanity of all people.

In human affairs, politics and everyday life, there are forces at work which are used to humiliate other people. How powerful it is to reject those forces and instead affirm the dignity of others. This is what America’s best leaders have done. This is what Dr. King stood for. This is what our spiritual traditions call us to do.

Image: “Mother and Child,” Kathe Kollwitz, Kollwitz Museum, Berlin

[i] “Thomas L. Friedman Says We’re in a New Epoch. David Brooks Has Questions. Two columnists debate this strange moment.” New York Times, Dec. 12, 2025

[ii] “Letter from Mecca,” Malcom X, April 1964; https://malcolm-x.org/docs/let_mecca.htm

Five Tips for Your Spiritual Journey

On the first Sunday of the year, I was asked to give a sermon marking “Epiphany,” a day which focuses on the story of the Three Wise Men. As I kept reflecting on the story, five lessons emerged which I feel can be “wise” guidelines for our own journeys: Be Curious, Go With Friends, Be Careful, Give Your Best, and Be At Peace. As I resume my blogging practice for the year, I decided sharing this list would be a good beginning.

Be Curious In the Magi story, I see three forms of curiosity at work. Their quest began as they were studying the stars – it is rooted in a fascination with nature. They got as far as Jerusalem but then needed local scholars to give them their next clue – they needed to refine their search by turning to spiritual writings. And they choose to go home by another route after one of them had a dream – they knew how to listen to inner promptings. We can follow their lead:

Nature: whether it’s a daily practice of outdoor mediation or walks, studying any dimension of natural sciences, or simply being ready to ponder the mysteries of life that surround us, we can be open to moments of awe in the natural world that expand our mind.

Scriptures: Spiritual writings from long ago and the present day can open us to see new meaning in what we experience.

Inner promptings: We can gather important information from science and spiritual writings which can be complimented by paying attention to our own intuition, dreams and feelings.

Go With Friends Sometimes we need to go on a journey by ourselves to find what we need. But other times it’s best to go with friends – people who share our values and hopes and are open to new discoveries. There were at least three Magi. Spend time with good friends as you navigate your life this year.

Be Careful The Magi were warned in a dream not to return the way they had come – Herod was not to be trusted. We go through life wanting and wishing for the best, but we don’t want to be naïve about possible deceptions and wrong turns. Some leaders, institutions and people can pretend to want to help us, but they may be using us for their own ends. Be careful as you make important decisions.

Give Your Best The Magi offered gifts with specific significance: gold for a king, frankincense for a spiritual leader, and myrrh for a prophet who will be facing death. In our lives, sometimes material gifts we give can make an important difference in the world. But there are other ways to give. If we are part of a family, we give our support, love and attention year after year. This doesn’t guarantee outcomes we may prefer – over time we may have many sleepless nights as events unfold in the lives of people we love that we cannot control. But we still give our best. We are asked to love our neighbor, which is not always easy. But making a good effort to meet, understand and befriend people in our communities is what creates authentic social life. And our spiritual traditions ask us to honor the stranger in our midst, for they too are part of the human family. We can seek to do that in our jobs and in volunteer work. And we can do that by supporting worthy causes with our time and talents. Since retiring, I have been helping raise money for a new community medical clinic in town that serves people who would otherwise be unable to receive such care. I may never know personally anyone who will be served, but I believe it’s the right thing to do.

Be At Peace: After the Magi worship the child and offer their gifts, they go home and are never heard from again. It will be 30 years before that child in the manger will begin his work in the world, and it’s unlikely the Magi would still be alive to learn what unfolds. But they did what they could with what they had in the time they had, and they did it well. As we get older, we realize there are many things we care about and want to know “how it all will turn out.” But life is never finished. What we can do is to stay curious, travel with friends, be careful along the way, and give our best. And then it’s OK for us to be at peace. We’ve earned it.

Photo credit: pixabay.com

Visualizing the Christmas Stories

Over the years, I’ve grown in appreciation for the different ways artists imagine and portray traditional stories. The Advent and Christmas season is a great example. Here are a few of the works I have come to treasure over the years.

The Angel Visits Mary

A young peasant girl named Mary receives a surprise visit from the angel Gabriel, who announces she has been chosen to bear a child with a divine destiny. In 1485, Botticelli imagined it this way:

…the incoming of the divine Spirit seems to almost be knocking the angel over as it travels towards Mary.

In 1898, the English painter Tanner imagined it this way:

…the “angel” appears as a shaft of pure light; Mary seems to be contemplating what she is experiencing.

Joseph’s Dreams

Mary was engaged to Joseph, and when he discovers she is pregnant, he decides to break the engagement. But an angel appears in a dream and changes his mind.

In 1645, the French painter Georges de La Tour imagined it this way:

Joseph has fallen asleep in a chair while reading, and the unseen messenger is near him with an unseen candel illuminating the space between them as the dream is transmitted.

After the child is born, the family must flee due to threats from the government. In the process, Jospeph is twice more guided by dreams. In 1645, Rembrandt imagined one of those times this way:

…the angel is in the room with Mary and Joseph as they sleep. The angel extends the left hand to Mary while touching Joseph’s shoulder to impart the dream.

“The Visitation” — Mary Visits Her Older Cousin Elizabeth

In this episode, the newly pregnant Mary travels south to visit her older cousin Elizabeth, whom the angel Gabriel had told her has also become pregnant. When Mary arrives and greets Elizabeth, the baby in Elizabeth’s womb senses Mary’s presence and “leaps” in response; the women share an intimate moment of mutual knowing.

In 1440, the sculptor Luca Della Robia created this scene:

…here’s a close-up of the two women looking into each other’s eyes:

In 1530, the Italian painter Pontormo envisioned it this way:

…this image also merits a close-up of the faces as they behold each other:

That woman between the two of them who is looking at us — what does she want us to understand? No one knows for sure. I was excited to view this in person recently when it was at the Getty Museum a few years ago.

The Birth of the Child

In 1500, Botticelli created this scene, which he called “Mystic Nativity:”

…the manger is in the center of the picture…Joseph is asleep…Mary and the child are gazing at each other…while above, below, and around them, angels dance in celebration.

In 1646, Rembrandt created this contrasting version:

Simple, earthy, quiet, intimate.

And in 1865, the pioneering British photographer Julia Margaret Cameron created a “Nativity” scene in her studio using working class people as her models:

Great spiritual stories can contain a “surplus of meaning” – there is not just one way they can be interpreted or portrayed. Just as scientists use math to reveal important truths, artists engage our imagination. Our souls welcome this. Imagination allows us to see beyond the surface of life into the mysteries and wonder which surround us.

Merry Christmas, dear readers!

Lead image: “L’Annuncio” (The Annunciation), Salvado Dali, 1967

The Fragrance of a Christmas Tree

The holiday season can be full of sensory experiences that call forth memories and emotions. I recently came into a room that had been decorated with an advent wreath, pine tree cuttings, and a live Christmas tree. The fragrance was inspiring, and I’ve been thinking about why. Do any of these associations resonate with you?

It reminds me of childhood. Going to a Christmas tree lot which smelled amazing. Bringing the tree home and letting it fill our home with that aroma. The odor became the olfactory backdrop for all the joy of the season.
It calls to mind being in a forest. It could be the Sierra Nevada, the Cascades, or any other forest — places many of us have gone for vacation and renewal. The trees could be pine, fir, cedar, or redwood, but the association is the same: we have left our distracted lives and are now in a natural cathedral of quiet and timeless living beings.
Smelling the fragrance calls forth the color green – always a sign of life.
The fragrance smells clean. Maybe it’s the association with being in nature. I don’t know why but that comes to mind.
And the more I thought about it, another word that comes to mind is pure. The fragrance of a live Christmas tree is evocative on its own; it doesn’t need anything added. But the aroma at this time of year complements the visual experience of gazing at lit candles in a darkened room or quiet sanctuary: they both suggest the mysterious source of life is with us, fresh and full of promise. Our eyes behold a symbol of that truth, and the fragrance of a Christmas tree, wreaths and cuttings confirm it. Light and life arise in darkness and the darkness will never overcome it.

Deleting Photos as a Spiritual Practice

How often have you looked at a digital photo and immediately deleted it? It may have been a totally accurate image but may not show the person “in their best light.” Maybe they looked disheveled. Or upset. Or confused. Or looking older than they want to be. Instead, we find the very best ones to save and possibly share – moments when the person appears happy, relaxed, confident and grateful.

Of course, many times “that person” is us.

Recently I’ve been wondering about that process and how it could become a spiritual practice. After all, don’t those deleted photos reveal an aspect of who we really are? Do we want to pretend otherwise?

It reminds me of going through boxes of old family photos from the pre-digital age. We want to find and keep ones that capture the best memories and gladly toss those that don’t. But then I think about what minute-to-minute, day-to-day was really like. There were many good times. But there were also times when someone was angry or confused or depressed or uncertain. Those don’t get memorialized with a camera. But weren’t they part of life? Looking back, can we find some empathy for every person, knowing now what they were going through then?

Years ago, I taught a religious studies class at Heritage College in Washington. The reading list included a book by the Dalai Lama. At one point he discusses how we can cultivate deep compassion for others. He notes that we may all think of ourselves as loving and caring people. But it is easy to love people who act in ways we like. If we want to develop a more profound sense of compassion and love– one that transcends our own needs and moods — we can try to cultivate within ourselves those feelings for people we may not like at all.

He suggested a specific meditation practice. We choose two photographs: one of someone we love unconditionally and one of a person we dislike. We place them next to each other in a place we’ve chosen for meditation. We sit before the two photos. We look at the first person and recognize how positive we feel about them. Then we gaze at the second person and notice how our reactions change. We patiently go back and forth, seeing if we can summon any of the positive feeling we have for the first person for the second. It is not easy to do, and he acknowledged it may take many sessions to experience a shift. But he believed if we can stick with it, we can tap into a well of compassion and care that arises from a place not tied to our ego or preferences, but from somewhere more transcendent and profound.

A core Biblical teaching is to love your neighbor as you love yourself. A wise pastoral counselor once said it’s good to start with the second part – to regularly practice loving yourself. This means accepting who you are, your best qualities as well as your faults. Love it all. Then take that same approach towards other people.

That doesn’t mean we accept or condone every behavior that surfaces in ourselves or others. It does mean we can tap into a reverence for people that goes beyond our self. As one mystic said, “God does not love as we love. God loves as an emerald is green.”

Years ago, I led a memorial service for a parishioner who had lived with cancer for an extended period of time. In her last months she had endured a series of surgeries and treatments. After she died, I met with the family to plan the service. Her son, a young filmmaker, volunteered to share a video he’d made of her as part of the service. When we came to the point in the service for the video, I expected a series of scenes showing his mother over the years in her “best” moments. But that was not what he gave us. Instead it was clips of his mom in her final weeks. Some shots were in the living room and some were in the backyard. From a superficial point of view, she did not look “her best.” What he captured were moments when she turned and looked right into the camera and smiled. In her eyes and in her face, we could see her soul shining through the illness; in those fleeting moments we recognized the person we loved.

Let’s continue to delete those unwanted photos! But as we do so, we can pause and summon love and compassion for the imperfect people we are. And if we accept that for ourselves, perhaps we can see others through that same lens.

Holiday Perspectives: Sunsets and Family Gatherings

Some friends offered us their condo in Coronado for this past week. The unit is on the 9th floor with impressive views of the Pacific, and one night I took this photo of the sunset.

Seeing our environment from a higher vantage point helps us see beyond our up-close, on-the-ground view of life. We see where we are and what’s around us more clearly.

While here, we celebrated Thanksgiving with some of our own family and my wife’s sister’s family. Altogether there were 14 adults and 9 children.

I’ve heard that all photographs have three levels: bottom, middle and top. In my photograph, the bottom is the pool and shoreline; the middle is the ocean; and the top is the sky. As I looked at our gathering, I realized there were three groups: the 9 kids all under the age of 10 who are coming up in the world; the group of adults and parents who are in the middle of their journeys; and the four of us grandparents. I also became aware of who was not there…parents, grandparents, and friends with whom I’ve shared holidays over the years who now live only in my memory.

I recognized that I was the oldest person present. I’m in the top third of that photo — I am approaching my sunset. But I am also beholding the sun rising and shining in the lives and faces of the children and younger adults we were with.

It again brings to mind a talk I once heard at the local Lobero Theater given by my beloved mentor and scholar of world spirituality, Huston Smith. Someone asked him what he thinks will happen when we die. He said there are two common ideas. One is that we will be able to forever experience something like the sun rising. The other is that we will be absorbed into the sunlight. He smiled and said if he was given a choice, he’d watch the sunrise. But after a few thousand years, he assumes he will have had enough. At that point he’d be ready to merge into it.

Third Things

I first heard about “Third Things” through the work of Parker Palmer. Palmer used “Third Things” to build relationships and trust in retreats and programs over the years, and marriage and family counselors often recommend it to their clients. It can work well with two people and in small groups, with those who have known each other a long time and with those just getting acquainted.

Palmer’s underlying assumption is that our soul is shy like a wild animal.[i] It prefers to remain in the background in everyday conversations and encounters. But “Third Things” can create an atmosphere in which our souls can emerge. It may be a poem, a story, a case study, a spiritual reflection, a piece of music or art, or a shared activity. People take time to focus on the “Third Thing” with one another and give each soul a chance to surface and speak. Here are some personal examples.

Food Preparation My mother suffered several tragedies early in her life and often seemed overwhelmed by the stress of raising four kids; it was rare to have opportunities for more reflective conversations. But one of her gifts was making apple pies. When I was old enough, I would sit with her, observe, and help. She’d peel and cut the apples, add sugar and cinnamon, and let it sit. She’d create the crust, working it until it was just right, spreading it out with a rolling pin, cutting it to the right size, then making “pinwheels” out of the trimmings. The aroma of the baking pies was wondrous, and the pies were always delicious. But focusing on the pie-making calmed and opened her soul, and set the tone for some memorable conversations. As I grew older, I treasured those moments of shared presence as much as the pies themselves.
Commuting. When my daughters were teenagers, it was difficult to get them to talk about what was going on in their life. But on the mornings I’d drive them to school, we would be looking at the road ahead while music played on the radio. Meaningful conversations emerged when it didn’t feel like Dad was putting them on the spot.
Spiritual studies in small groups. A significant time in my spiritual journey came when I started attending a small Bible study group in my early twenties. I went into the Sunday School classroom reluctantly — I was expecting to be told what I was supposed to think or believe. A dozen or so people were gathering in a circle. Most were in their forties and one woman was in her 70s, so I didn’t expect we’d have much in common. But someone in the group would read a chosen passage, make a few comments about the context, and people would take turns reflecting on what it might mean for them. They spoke openly about their struggles, questions and hopes, as well as their desire to do the right thing in whatever situation they were facing. The Scripture passage was not an end in itself – it was an open door through which people entered each other’s lives with care and concern. I’ve experienced that many times since, both in classes I’ve led and ones where I’m a participant. It’s a beautiful thing to be with other people as we are finding our way together.
Travels and work projects. Early in my career I accompanied youth groups to build houses in Mexico. On the six-hour road trip we’d start talking. As we were pounding nails, we’d talk some more. And after each day of shared and satisfying labor, we’d sit around a campfire, exploring whatever was on their hearts and minds. I learned to appreciate how insightful they were — it was a privilege to be with them.
Bearing One Another’s Burdens. Our local representative, Lois Capps, experienced the loss of her young adult daughter while serving in Congress. Lois became part of a support group of other mothers in the House — Democrats and Republicans — who had also lost children. They would meet every other week for breakfast. When apart, they may have voted differently. But when together, they supported each other in their personal journeys of loss.
Sports and activities. When I am out on a golf course with my buddies, part of the focus is on our game. But, being outdoors and away from distractions, between shots we often engage in genuine conversations about what’s going on in our life. That same experience can arise when we are with someone else walking, hiking, camping, fishing, doing art, and going on pilgrimages.

In our current culture we can feel as if we live in a country “divided by algorithms” –much of how we see the world and other people is filtered by the digital news sources we rely on and comments by people who think like us. When we are around people who may see the world differently (sometimes at holiday gatherings) we can feel that gap is unbridgeable. But when we can find “third things” to focus on, we discover we don’t have to remain prisoners within those digital worlds. We can create common ground with one another. Maybe that’s one way we can strive to come together instead of being driven apart.

There is something about having a “Third Thing” that allows our souls to emerge and be present with one another.

[i] Note: In an earlier post, I described in more detail Parker Palmer’s metaphor: “Your Soul Is Like A Wild Animal”

Lead Image: “Walking Together,” unsplash.com

Arrivals and Departures

A friend and fellow blogger dropped his daughter off at college in Eastern Washington state, then boarded a plane going home to southern California. He recently described how it felt as the plane rose into the air:

Casting a shadow moving away from there. That’s us down there, pointing back toward where the 18 years happened. Watching the long-planned departure take place. Mulling that our part in her life is getting smaller. This is what we hoped for, right? That’s us down there, shrinking.[i]

Brad’s imagery lingered with me. I began imagining how some life experiences are like being on an airplane as we arrive or depart.

Arrivals

The birth of a baby: I remember the moment when the doctor lifted our first daughter from the womb. She looked my way, our eyes met, and she seemed to be thinking, “Where in the world am I?”

A child’s first laugh: My nephew and his wife recently shared an enchanting video of the first time their infant son looked at them and smiled. That week my wife and I had been watching “Dark Winds,” a detective series set in a Navajo community. In one episode, an infant laughs for the first time, which, in Navajo culture, signifies the infant has become a person. The family holds a traditional ceremony to mark that moment.

First personal memory: I was probably 4 years old. I was standing in a bedroom in our house. I had taken three eggs from the refrigerator, snuck into the room, and was carefully dropping them one by one onto the linoleum floor. Just as I dropped the second one, my mother came down the hall, saw me, and said, “What in the world are you doing!?!” I said, “I wanted to see what it looked like when they cracked.” She took the third egg away from me. I can still see the yellow yolks floating in the puddle of egg white on the floor. That is the first time I remember being self-aware. I was watching myself; that same observer is me now, thinking about the words I am typing.

First spiritual awareness: In 1991, the child psychologist Robert Coles published The Spiritual Life of Children, in which he described how children in different cultures wonder about God and the meaning of life. Many of these experiences happen before a child is eight years old. Perhaps you have such a memory.

Landing in a far away country: In 1975, I flew to Europe on Icelandic Airlines. I remember looking out the window as the plane descended from the clouds; we were crossing the English Channel, then suddenly were over the green French countryside. It seemed like a dream.

First day on a new job: My most memorable first day of work was the day I began to serve as Executive Director at Hospice of Santa Barbara in September 2008. I had never imagined being in that role, but there I was. I sat down at my desk feeling both exhilarated and anxious. For months after, I felt like an impostor, as people expected me to know things I had yet to learn. I was a stranger finding his way in a new land.

Departures

Dropping kids off at Junior High: More than once, I drove away remembering what a hormonal and emotional roller coaster that time in life had been for me — and hoping for the best for our offspring.

Sending kids off to college: We did it twice by car, once at an airport. Like Brad says, after so many years it’s a curious feeling to realize you’ll no longer be providing daily oversight. They are on their own, come what may. “That’s us…shrinking.”

Retirement: My last full-time job was Director at La Casa de Maria Retreat Center. I had planned to retire in the fall of 2018. But on January 8, the Montecito Debris Flow swept away eight buildings on our property, including my office where I had posted my diplomas and favorite photographs; it all disappeared and was never found. In the months that followed, we worked on the recovery until the decision was made to shut the Center down indefinitely. I left in June of that year. After saying goodbye to the staff, I drove out the back gate, thinking about how some chapters in our life end so much differently than we had imagined.

Last Call: I don’t know where I will be for my final “departure” – at home, in a hospital, or in a facility. Some hospice nurses have told me that, when someone is in their final days, they suggest the family leaves a window partly open so the spirit will be able to ascend freely when it’s time. I have asked for that. The lyrics of an American folk hymn come to mind:

When the shadows of this life have gone — I’ll fly away
Like a bird from prison bars has flown — I’ll fly away (I’ll fly away)

I’ll fly away, oh glory — I’ll fly away (In the morning)
When I die, Hallelujah, by and by — I’ll fly away (I’ll fly away)

Life for me hasn’t felt like being a bird behind bars, but more like being a pilgrim in a land of mystery and wonder. Until that final boarding, may we appreciate all the arrivals and departures we have witnessed and those still to come.

“Shadow of an airplane on a field,” freepik.com

[i]Brad McCarter, “Departing: College Dropoff #3,” Eyes Wide Roaming” blog; https://bradmccarter.substack.com/p/departing

Three Gifts America Has Given the World

“… when they study our civilization two thousand years from now, there will only be three things that Americans will be known for: the Constitution, baseball and jazz music. They’re the three most beautiful things Americans have ever created.” – writer and essayist Gerald Early, interviewed in Ken Burns’ documentary, Baseball

Having just endured an incredible World Series amid our current cultural and political climate, I will comment first on baseball.

Baseball may have roots in the English games of cricket and rounders, but by 1900 it had become 100% an American creation. 125 years later, it may not be a universal sport like soccer or basketball. But it has a passionate following in certain parts of Asia – particularly Japan and Korea – and in the Latin American countries that surround the Gulf of Mexico. At a time in our history in which “immigrants” are seen as “other,” the recent series included three superstars from Japan (Ohtani, Yamamoto, and Sasaki), a terrific first baseman from Tijuana (Alejandro Kirk), a Canadian playing for Los Angeles (Freddie Freeman), a star from the Dominican Republic (Vladimir Guerrero), a Puerto Rican (Kike Hernandez), a refugee from Cuba (Andy Pages), a Venezuelan (Miguel Rojas), and an African-American from Nashville (Mookie Betts), among others. The Dodger manager Dave Roberts was born in Okinawa to a Japanese mother and an active-duty African American Marine.

This American game has become a showcase for talented players from many backgrounds and cultures. It’s a game of opportunity, celebrating players no matter where they come from. It’s a game that can focus moment to moment on a particular individual player, but it’s a great team that wins and inspires. It’s a beautiful thing.

And then there’s jazz. One person who has helped me understand the deeper meaning of jazz is Wynton Marsalis. Ken Burns turned to Marsalis often in his Jazz documentary series, and everything he said struck me as revelatory. I saw him in concert several years ago and was again grateful for the insights he shared with the audience. Here is one of his observations:

As long as there is democracy, there will be people wanting to play jazz because nothing else will ever so perfectly capture the democratic process in sound. Jazz means working things out musically with other people. You have to listen to other musicians and play with them even if you don’t agree with what they’re playing. It teaches you the very opposite of racism and anti-Semitism. It teaches you that the world is big enough to accommodate us all.

Seeing and hearing gifted musicians express their individual gifts and voices while being a part of a larger group and delighting in the give and take with one another creates an experience in which the whole becomes greater than the parts. That’s jazz. When we experience it, it’s a beautiful thing.

And so is the Constitution.

Years ago, I was having lunch with a young Muslim grad student from Egypt as part of my community interfaith project. He told me he first learned about American culture while watching “Mighty Mouse” cartoons as a child. He shared favorite stories about growing up in Egypt, including how, during Ramadan, he and his childhood friends would wait for the signal that the time of daily fasting was over, then race from home to home enjoying the food set out by neighbors. He had come to appreciate all that America offers — particularly the constitution. “Do Americans realize how amazing it is that your country is ruled by a constitution instead of a dictator?” he once asked me.

The constitution was created by people who did not want to live in a political system like they had known in Europe – one in which some people would dominate others based on family ancestry, social position or a state-sponsored religion. The founders wanted to create a society in which people would experience a new level of freedom and opportunity. They worked long and hard to create the legal framework. It assumes people will let their deep passions be balanced by mutual respect and personal restraint. Like baseball, it assumes people will understand that to participate, everyone must follow established rules and customs until they are changed by due process. Like jazz, it teaches you this country is big enough to accommodate us all. When it is disrespected, it’s an offense to our ancestors who have given so much to honor and preserve it. When it is honored, it’s a beautiful thing.

America may leave the world more treasures – after all, there’s Broadway, rap, country music and Hollywood. But I will always celebrate baseball, jazz and the Constitution for what they offer and what they mean.

Lead image: “The raising of the American flag as the composer-conductor John Philip Sousa leads the Seventh (“Silk-Stocking”) Regiment Band in playing The Star-Spangled Banner during Opening Day of Yankee Stadium with the Boston Red Sox and New York Yankees on April 18, 1923 at Yankee Stadium in the Bronx, New York.“