Tag Archives: spirituality

The Elephant and the Rider: A Tale About Our Moral Judgments

                  Some people love hot sauce, the spicier the better.  Others like it mild.  Others want none at all.  Are these preferences the result of a logical thought process, or simply an honest report on what peoples’ taste buds tell them?

                  When we make judgments about other people, moral questions, and politics, is it our thinking mind that decides what’s true?  Or is it more often a deep feeling/reaction we have, and our thinking mind comes up with reasons to support that point of view?

When a human rider is on top of an elephant, which one holds the real power to decide what direction to go?

                  Several years ago, I read a book which challenged my understanding of the way we make judgments: The Righteous Mind by Jonathan Haidt.  Haidt draws on extensive research about moral reasoning and comes to many important conclusions.  One of them employs the metaphor of an elephant and its rider.  In this imaginary scenario, the rider does not ultimately decide which path the elephant takes, but, in many ways, is “along for the ride.”  The rider’s job is to come up with reasons to justify which way the elephant wants to go.  Haidt says our moral judgments are like taste buds — more a reflections of our instincts and intuition than a logical process.  This explains why people across cultures, in religion and politics, fall into groups often labeled “liberal” and “conservative;” people may look at the same set of facts or events but draw different conclusions.

                  This explains why we hear people say, “How can they think like that? Why won’t they listen to reason and pay attention to the facts?

                  I grew up in a racist culture.  I didn’t realize it at the time – I just thought this was the way life was.  My view of African Americans came from all directions…comments, jokes, a biased history, commonly accepted racial slurs, and TV shows like “Amos and Andy.” I didn’t think this was point of view was right, it was just the way it was. As I got to know African Americans in school, in the workplace, and through our evolving culture, my views changed.  Personal experiences and compelling stories began to challenge my inherited bias.  My elephant began to go in a different direction, and my rider-mind began to understand the world differently. 

                  I grew up in a homophobic culture which has undergone a similar evolution.

                  After 9/11, I became involved with community interfaith groups that included Muslim and Jewish representatives.  I led a year-long project in which a dozen people from my congregation as well as a dozen from the local synagogue and mosque began meeting every other week for lunch.  In the early meetings, we did not talk about our different beliefs, but focused on getting to know each other as human beings.  We learned about each other’s families, life stories, hopes and dreams.  In the early encounters, my elephant kept tugging at me, saying “This person is fundamentally different than you.”  But over time that changed; the categories I had inherited faded, and I saw each participant as a unique individual.

Looking back, it is interesting to see how the change in my unconscious elephant came about through accumulated visual impressions and how they were tied to judgements. Before the project began, if I saw a woman wearing a hijab face covering, the only realities I could associate with that were the endless news stories about terrorists and the oppression of women; such stories were always accompanied with suspenseful, troubling music. So, when I first met some of the Muslim women, I felt tense.  But over time, as I got to know them, I no longer noticed how they dressed or if they had a face covering — I knew them as friends.  After the project ended, I was traveling to Ghana and had just boarded a plane at JFK airport. I saw five Muslim women coming down the aisle.  My “elephant” said, “Oh, look, some Muslim women…I’d love to get to know them!”  In that instant, I realized my snap judgment had totally shifted because of our project.  The change came about not by rational persuasion as much as lived experience.

                  I currently live in a community that votes very “blue.”  Before coming here, I lived in a community that was politically “red.”  I have friends who hold differing perspectives in both communities, and I can tell you what life experiences has led them to see things the way they do.

                  As we approach the 4th of July, we will be reminded of the words ““We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, and that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” For decades, “all men” meant “all white males” – that was the elephant the leaders were riding at the time.  But through much suffering and striving, we’ve come to realize that the more profound and inspired meaning is not “all white men” but “all people.”  America at its best is not about the dominance of one ethnic group, but a shared dream for the entire human family.

                  Our spiritual traditions were born in cultures with their own sense of tribalism, identity, and biases.  But at their best, they call us to go beyond the brute instincts and assumptions we ride on.  They call us to see all people as created in the divine image, regardless of ethnicity, gender, and social status.  Through powerful teachings and stories, our “riders” can sometimes convince our “elephants” to move towards higher ground. Our progress may be slow and the obstacles never ending, but the ethical summons and divine vision is nonnegotiable.

Lead image: https///usustatesman.com

Lower Image: elephant_and_rider_by_ohmygodfatherscat_d1oxikr-fullview.jpg

Are You Being Lazy? Or Just Resting?

                  I came across an article on the business philosophy of Jeff Bezos, founder of Amazon:

Company data showed that most employees became less eager over time, he said, and Mr. Bezos believed that people were inherently lazy. “What he would say is that our nature as humans is to expend as little energy as possible to get what we want or need,” Mr. Niekerk said. That conviction was embedded throughout the business, from the ease of instant ordering to the pervasive use of data to get the most out of employees.[i]

Apparently, Amazon is built on the conviction that we are “inherently lazy.”  While sitting at my desk on a summer day, surrounded by books I’d ordered on Amazon, I decided to explore what “lazy” means.

One definition is from Dictionary.com: 1) tending to avoid work, activity, or exertion: “She was too lazy to take out the trash, so it just continued to pile up;” 2) causing or characterized by idleness or inactivity: “I’m having a lazy day today, just lounging and watching movies…”

                  Looking for the origin of the word, I found: The adjective lazy is thought to come from the Low German lasich, meaning “idle or languid.” Ex: “You were offended at being called lazy, but you just didn’t have the energy to defend yourself.”[ii]

                  Another source says that to be lazy means you just “…can’t find a reason to make any effort.[iii] 

                  I thought about phrases that include “lazy,” like “lazy bum.”  And how about “Lazy good-for-nothing?” One source says this means: “having no ambition, success, or value to society… (for example)” he refused to leave anything in his will to his good-for-nothing grandchildren.”[iv]

                  So, signs that we are lazy would include not taking out the trash, watching movies all day, not having the energy to dispute someone who calls you lazy, not caring if you are doing nothing, and not getting any money from grandpa.

                  2,500 years before Mr. Bezos started his business, the Book of Proverbs had its own perspective:

  • Proverbs 6: 6 “Go to the ant, you lazybones; consider its ways and be wise.”
  • Proverbs 10:26: “Like vinegar to the teeth and smoke to the eyes, so are the lazy to their employers.”
  • Proverbs 19:24 “The lazy person buries a hand in the dish and will not even bring it back to the mouth.”

So, in ancient days, signs that you are lazy include recognizing a need to look to ants for inspiration, being useless to your employer, and feeling it’s too much work to feed yourself.

It didn’t get any better in the Middle Ages: one of the Seven Deadly Sins was acedia, which means “without care.”  In modern English, we call it sloth, a kind of slur on the slow moving South American mammal who spends the day hanging upside from trees.

                  But the more I sat in my chair and pondered all this, I discovered being lazy isn’t all bad.

In the 1920s, some businessmen in Monroe, Michigan designed an ideal chair in which people could relax.  They held a contest to come up with a good name. The result was the “La-Z-Boy” chair.[v]  We have two in our living room.

                  Who, sitting at a table and desiring a condiment, wants to stand up and reach for it?  The solution is a Lazy Susan – just give Susan a spin and she brings the olives right to you.  (This is not meant as a slight on anyone named Susan.)

                  Here’s a positive perspective: “Former President of Poland Lech Walesa once considered the benefits of being lazy when he said, “It’s the lazy people who invented the wheel and the bicycle because they didn’t like walking or carrying things.”[vi]

                  So, clearly, being lazy is good for Amazon, furniture manufacturers, listless dinner guests, and people who design bicycles. 

But most sources would say being lazy is not a virtue to cultivate or encourage.  One should instead pursue the art of “resting.”

                  Going back to the Bible, the fourth Commandment says: “Remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy. Six days you shall labor and do all your work. But the seventh day is a Sabbath to the Lord your God; you shall not do any work… (Exodus 20:8-10) Taking at least one day off every week becomes one of the blessings humanity is encouraged to claim.  Doing so is not a waste of time, but instead helps us replenish our energy and cultivate a reverence for the gift of life.

Why exactly is resting a good thing and being lazy is not?

The distinction seems to lie in what our motivation is.  Have we fulfilled our responsibilities and would benefit from taking a break to find fresh energy before returning to them?  That’s called “rest.”  But if we are lying around to avoid what needs to be done, that’s being “lazy.” 

I thought about developing this idea further, seeking a more profound perspective, but decided not to.  Instead, I’m going to go outside – beyond the reach of Amazon — put my lounge chair in the shade and relax.  I won’t be idle, though; I plan to think about ants.

Person with Acedia in the Middle Ages — Notice the uncomfortable chair

La-Z-Boy Platinum Luxury Lift:
Would have been popular in the Middle Ages

Images:

Sloth photo, “42 Slow Facts About Sloths,” factinate.com

“The Seven Deadly Sins: Acedia,” Hieronymus Bosch, c, 1500

Chair: Platinum Luxury Lift® PowerReclineXR+ with Power Tilt Headrest and Lumbar

[i] Bezos says people are lazy

[ii] https://www.vocabulary.com/dictionary/lazy

[iii] https://www.quizexpo.com/am-i-lazy-quiz/

[iv] https://www.merriam-webster.com/thesaurus/good-for-nothing?pronunciation&lang=en_us&dir=g&file=goodfo01

[v] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/La-Z-Boy

[vi] https://www.vocabulary.com/dictionary/lazy

It’s Ok to Re-Vise Your Life Story (You’re Not Testifying in Court)

              We live life within the stories we create about ourselves.  But, unlike testimony we give in a court of law, we can change our stories if we choose.

              In a writing workshop, Marilyn McEntyre encouraged us to revise our life stories as often as needed.  She points out that the original meaning of “re-vise” is to “look at again, visit again, look back on.” [i]  She encourages anyone (including the people with serious illnesses whom she works with), to not get stuck in our old narratives. You are the author of your life, she says. Events beyond your control may impact you, but you’re free to decide how you will respond, what role you will play, and who you become.

              Thinking about this reminds me of similar insights I’ve heard over the years.

In a blog post two years ago, I shared a comment attributed to Jonas Salk, the creator of the polio vaccine.  When asked what had enabled him to become a successful experimental scientist, he credited his parents.  If he would spill milk in the kitchen, Salk said, they would not get angry with him. Instead, they’d ask, “What did you learn from that?”  This perspective guided Salk in his scientific career, encouraging him to not be afraid to try things.  If we make a mistake, we can re-visit the experience, see what we can learn from it, and decide what to do differently next time.

I have also shared a comment Parker Palmer made about the term “disillusionment.”  When we say we have become disillusioned, we often say it with a sense of sorrow or defeat.  But, he said, think of what the word means: to be dis-illusioned means we realize we had an illusion and it’s been “dissed.”  Instead of feeling discouraged, imagine we’ve been liberated from mistaken assumptions, open to a clearer sense of the truth. 

Looking back on my life, there have been times when I have trusted some people too soon and too much.  When I eventually recognized it, I felt frustration for having been naïve.  But I can “re-visit” the experience and accept I was the one who created the “illusion” of what to expect.  I can be grateful my illusion has been dissed, and plan to be more careful next time.  (I’m still working on this.)

I remember a hospice study in which a medical team examined why some people die in misery and others — with the same illness — die with a sense of peace. One of the factors they identified was “Experience of a sympathetic, nonadversarial connection to the disease process.”[ii]  I can see cancer as a dark, malignant force that is attacking me as a personal aggressive act; if it “wins,” I have not only lost my health but been humiliated and defeated.  But I can see it from a different perspective: cancer is a common occurrence with living beings and there’s nothing personal about it. I will still do all I can to send it into remission, but cancer doesn’t define who I am as a person, nor will it ever be able to harm my spiritual essence which will survive death.  It’s not easy to navigate this process, but I have seen people “re-vise” their understanding of life and illness and find a sense of peace.  A new perspective is powerful medicine.

A common teaching in the spiritual traditions is to be honest about our short-comings and mistakes, but not be bound by them.  Instead, we accept the grace, compassion and forgiveness that comes from a source beyond our egos while remaining thoughtful about our own behavior. Re-vising our life stories does not mean we are avoiding or denying the facts of what happened; instead, we are finding a fresh perspective that can empower rather than diminish us.

[i] https://www.etymonline.com/word/revise

[ii] “Healing Connections: On Moving from Suffering to a Sense of Well-Being,” Balfour Mount, MD,Patricia Boston, PhD, and S. Robin Cohen, PhD; Journal of Pain and Symptom Management, April 2007 (Other factors named in the study: “Sense of connection to Self, others, phenomenal world, ultimate meaning; Sense of meaning in context of suffering; Capacity to find peace in present moment; Ability to choose attitude to adversity; open to potential in the moment greater than need for control)

Marilyn’s publications and workshops, including her work with people dealing with illnesses, can be found at MarilynMcEntyre.

Lead Image: “A Lady Writing,” Vermeer, 1665, National Gallery of Art; lower image: “Quadrangulus,” Milra Artist Tools, LLC

Is “Follow Your Dreams” Bad Advice?

              In a season when many young people are hearing commencement speeches, I was intrigued by a recent column: “’Follow Your Dreams’ and Other Terrible Career Advice.”

              The writer is Bonnie Hammer, an executive at NBC Universal.  She begins by acknowledging that many young people find work is not as rewarding as they had expected.  Here are some excerpts:

Having worked in most facets of the entertainment industry since 1974, from a bottom-rung production assistant to the top of NBCUniversal’s headquarters at 30 Rock, I agree that the problems in today’s workplace are real. But I also think many management experts have identified the wrong problem. The real problem is that too many of us, young and not so young, have been told too many lies about what it takes to succeed at work—and not nearly enough truths. All those bright, shiny aphorisms that are spoon-fed to young employees, like “follow your dreams” and “know your worth” and many more? Well, the truth is that they don’t really work at work…

“Follow your dreams” is the exhortation of many college commencement speeches, but it is nightmare job advice. Americans are already raised on a diet high in dreams, from fairy tales to superheroes…

The larger truth is that professional dreams can be incredibly limiting, particularly at the start of our work lives. When we enter the workplace convinced that we already know what we want to do in a specific field and are committed to it at all costs, we’re saying, in essence, that there is very little left for us to learn, discover or be curious about. That nothing else could make us happy or fulfilled…

…I learned my “workplace worth” fresh out of graduate school when I was hired as a production assistant on a kids’ TV show in Boston. Each PA was assigned a cast member, and as the most junior employee, my cast member was Winston, an English sheepdog. My primary responsibility was to follow him around the set carrying a pooper scooper. I had two university degrees. Winston, on the other hand, was a true nepo-baby, the precious, unhouse-trained pet of one of the show’s producers. Plus, as an on-camera star, Winston out-earned me…

…But while many days I felt like working for Winston was beneath me, I never showed it. I acted like I was pursuing an honors degree in pet sitting, and each poop pickup was an extra-credit opportunity. The work and the attitude paid off. When an associate producer position opened, I was promoted. I pursued a similar strategy for much of my early career: If I wanted to be a valuable asset to my colleagues and bosses, I knew I needed to add concrete value to their days by showing up, staying late and doing whatever needed to be done. So maybe we need to set aside the current myth that remaking the workplace will somehow unleash a wave of professional success. Instead, it might be time for a healthy dose of truth. For young employees who want to feel “engaged” at work, the truth is, you need to engage with your work first. On the job, our worth is determined not by how we feel but by what we do. 

… Looking back, I was only able to work my way up to the top because I started at the very, very bottom. Not only did this starting point allow me the opportunity to really understand the TV and entertainment world, but I also had real empathy and appreciation for the people now doing the work I once did.[i]

              I think of the many times someone receives an Oscar, or wins a sports championship, or has become successful in the arts or business, and they say something like, “This is my dream come true! For all you out there with a dream, don’t give up!” That passionate plea may motivate others to achieve “greatness.” But for most of us, despite hard work and discipline, we may never “succeed” like we thought we would when we were younger.

I dreamed I was going to play shortstop for the Dodgers. Then I dreamed I would be a millionaire lawyer in San Francisco. Then I dreamed with just a little effort I could speak four languages.  I had some dreams.  But I didn’t know how much hard work, focus, stamina, and good luck it can take to realize lofty dreams.  It was a big disappointment.

But along the way, I discovered that I could still enjoy sports without being a star.  I could enjoy being in a city without being a millionaire.  I could have empathy for someone from another country struggling to speak English. I experienced many blessings that I could not have dreamed of when I was young.

Life has a way of showing us our limitations.  It also can teach us that “it’s not about me.”  We can find a kinship working with and serving people who aren’t superstars.  Our youthful dreams may disappear, but we may find we can appreciate life without being in the spotlight.

Ms. Hammer says she has “reached the top.”  I have met some people who have “made it to the top” and been able to keep their humanity and integrity.  I know others who have been consumed by work and dreams of success and are blind to other sources of meaning and purpose.  “What does it profit a person to gain the whole world and lose their soul?”[ii]

Dreams about who we can become and what we might accomplish can serve an important purpose: they can motivate us to see what we are capable of.  But if it doesn’t work out as we had hoped, it doesn’t have to be the end of the world. It may be the beginning of finding something more lasting and rewarding: a deeper connection to the human family and purposes larger than ourselves.

(Note to readers: Some of you have told me you’ve tried to make comments but had issues with the website.  You can always email me directly at steve@drjsb.com)

[i] ‘Follow Your Dreams’ and Other Terrible Career Advice  (WSJ, May 4, 2024)

[ii] Mark 8:36

In Praise Of Gracie, My Red Wiggler Compost Worm

                  This is my friend Gracie. She is a red wiggler worm that lives in our compost bin. She’s a hard worker and important part of our household.  Recently I’ve been telling her what she does is a rich metaphor for the spiritual power of grace.  I asked her if I could tell you her story. She agreed but wants you to know that all the spiritual talk is not her idea, but stuff I’ve made up.

                  Her story begins seventeen years ago when I decided to explore organic gardening. I read articles and attended classes. I planted a variety of heirloom tomatoes.  I experimented with lettuces, beans and peas.  And I created my first worm composting bin.  I don’t do much gardening anymore, but I’ve stuck with the worms.

                  Let me tell you why Gracie and her clan are so amazing:

  • Unlike other pets, you start with one batch (donated by a friend or purchased at a nursery), and you never have to get new ones; they just keep reproducing.
  • You never have to take them to the vet or pay for vaccinations or neutering.
  • They work around the clock in total silence – no barking.
  • They don’t scratch on your door to get out or damage your furniture.
  • They don’t poop on your lawn.
  • You never have to take them to a groomer.
  • You can leave them at home when you go on vacation – no need to hire a Worm-sitter.
  • You never have to buy food for them. They survive on scraps and garbage. Here’s a sample of what I give them: coffee grounds, coffee filters, stale bread, expired tortillas, broccoli stems, banana peels, apple cores, asparagus ends, abandoned quesadillas, moldy cheese, watermelon that has exceeded its firm stage of life, and used paper towels.
  • While Gracie’s clan does much of their work on their own, they do need to be fed and lightly watered occasionally to keep making compost and new worms.  And they don’t like food that’s too acidic.
  • You’ve heard the phrase from computer people, “Garbage in, garbage out?” Not so with compost worms.  They take what you give them and turn it into what organic gardeners call “black gold” – a pure, dark organic compost that is full of all kinds of nutrients for plants.  You can let the material dry and spread it. Or you can shovel it into a bucket and fill it with water and let it soak; in a day or two, you have “worm tea” that can be sprayed or poured around the base of your flowers, vegetables and fruit trees.  Gracie and her gang have their own motto: “Garbage In, Gold Out.”
  • The #1 most amazing thing to me is that if any of material they are given contains organic toxins or harmful bacteria, the compost they create is free of any undesirable elements.  They’re not afraid of anything.  “Give that stuff to me,” Gracie says, “I’ll take all the bad stuff out and give it all a second chance to be something worthwhile in the world.”

Here’s a photo of Gracie’s Clan at work:

                  Now we can turn to the spiritual meaning of composting worms.

                  When I talk about grace here, I’m thinking of the divine spiritual force known as agape, which transcends all our pettiness; it simultaneously humbles us and fills us with a quiet joy.  I’m also thinking of the Buddhist concept of deep compassion, which can help us see, accept and deal with whatever comes our way. 

                  The way spiritual grace works is that it can take all the stuff of your life – the good decisions and the bad, the traits you like about yourself and those you don’t, your victories and defeats – and turn it all into something useful and positive.

  • Once you first experience it – once you realize you’re forgiven for your mistakes, that you are loved despite your imperfections, and that you’re always being drawn forward into your future and not chained to your past – you find a kind of inner freedom that you didn’t know was possible. 
  • You don’t have to pay for it. It’s free.
  • If you keep turning to it and trusting, it will work silently within you whether you are awake or are sleep.
  • It will never leave you…it’s with you forever.
  • You may forget it’s there, but it will never forget you.
  • It doesn’t make messes – it cleans them up.
  • It can do most of its work on its own.  But it does become stronger when we engage in certain activities, like long walks in nature, taking time for music and art, quiet time in meditation and contemplation, conversations about life with trusted and caring friends, participating in uplifting worship services, and actively serving others.
  • When given a chance, the right conditions, and enough time, it can take really bad stuff and take the poison out; “Garbage In, Grace Out.”

There is a legend that St. Francis offered sermons to the birds, and they listened attentively. I tell Gracie all the ways in which I think she symbolizes grace, but I don’t think she’s listening. She’s too busy making all things new.

Gracie’s House (she’s been working at home long before COVID and Zoom)

For a more detailed explanation of what Gracie’s Clan is about, go to https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vermicompost

Is Life Meant to Rival Paradise? Or Be a Vale of Soul-Making?

“The purpose of life is not to rival paradise but to be a vale of soul-making.”

Global religion scholar Huston Smith

 I wrote these words in my journal over a decade ago while on retreat with Huston Smith. At the time, I wasn’t certain what this quote meant.  I decided to explore it this week.

“The purpose of life is not to rival paradise…” 

I thought about the earliest years of my spiritual journey.  After a transformative mystical experience in my early twenties, I saw the world as something more than just physical matter — it was infused with divine presence. I found a spiritual community where people were truly caring for each other and seeking to align themselves with a higher purpose.  I discovered sacred texts that can possess the power to reveal hidden thoughts and fascinating possibilities.  I learned hymns and songs that filled me with joy. I went off to seminary keeping much of this early enthusiasm. Three years later I was ordained and began serving congregations.  It felt like the world had become a “paradise.” 

As my life and work unfolded, I encountered events that challenged this belief: a mother, standing on the porch of the family’s vacation cabin, watched the private plane carrying her husband and two teenage children crash and burn; a young mom was on her way to work at the local hospital when a semi-truck crossed over the center divider and killed her instantly; parents struggling every day with adult children living with mental illnesses or addiction issues.  Life was no longer a “rival to paradise.” 

“The purpose of life is not to rival paradise but to be a vale of soul-making.”

Since I first heard these words rather than saw them, I wondered if he meant “veil,” like a fabric that partially hides something. But this week, I realized he meant “vale” rather than “veil:”

Vale: river-land between two ranges of hills, early 14c., from Old French val “valley, vale” (12c.), from Latin vallem…”valley”… Now “little used except in poetry” [Century Dictionary]. 

So “vale of soul-making” means a “valley of soul-making.”

If you are making your way through a “vale” or valley, your path is bounded on both sides by mountains or hills. If the land formations are steep, you can’t go up or around…you must find a path through, bound by those limits. It’s hard, patient work.

How is navigating life like traveling through a “vale (or valley) of soul-making?”

There is a sense in which our “soul” can evolve as we go through life.  We see the suffering of others, and instead of turning away, we grow in empathy.  We discover there are situations we cannot fix, but that doesn’t mean we can’t care for the people involved.  There is more ambiguity in life, less black-and-white.

As a pastor, I was sometimes asked, “Who are your favorite theologians?”  In my early years, I would cite scholars who seemed to have everything figured out – as if they held maps to paradise.  But in time I found myself offering a different answer; I would say “Rembrandt, Bach, Wendell Berry, and the older people I’ve known in my congregations.” 

Rembrandt chose to paint portraits not of flawlessly attractive people (the kind displayed these days in fashion shows, on red carpets, and at Met Galas).  He preferred ordinary people in whom he recognized a quiet integrity deep within; they had a beauty that transcended age, social status, and physical appearance. 

“Johann Sebastian Bach lost both of his parents when he was nine and watched ten of his children die young. He was, in other words, well acquainted with death, and may have been uncommonly sensitive to the emotional chaos that it engenders. …Bach possessed a “consciousness of catastrophe”—a feeling for the suddenness and arbitrariness with which suffering descends on unsuspecting souls.”[i] But he took his grief and somehow transformed it into hundreds of pieces of music that miraculously express both the pain of shattered hearts and the joy of sacred knowing. 

Wendell Berry left a high-status academic position in New York to return to his family farm in Kentucky.  In his novels, poems, and essays, he brings to light the endless miracles hidden in the earth and the rugged dignity of people who work the land and revere it. 

And the many older people in my congregations.  As I got to know them, I gained great respect for all they had gone through — wars and hard times, hardships and heartaches, sacrifices and disappointments.  They had given up on naïve illusions or easy answers.  They didn’t have life figured out. Yet they seemed always ready to serve and care for others.  These people spent decades finding their way through the “vale of soul-making,” their own possibilities bounded by the steep terrain they traveled through.  But they endured. In the process, their souls somehow expanded to silently embrace life with all its tragedies and moments of wonder – moments that can feel like glimpses of paradise.

“Jacob Blessing the Sons of Joseph,” Rembrandt, 1656

[i] “The Book of Bach,” Alex Ross, The New Yorker, April 4, 2011

Letting Your Soul Catch Up With You

                  Perhaps many of you know this story, but I only heard it recently.  Here is one version:

Westerners traveling in a foreign country hired indigenous people as porters to help carry supplies. The porters went at a slower pace than the Westerners desired, so after the first two days, they pushed them to go faster. On day three of the trek, the group went twice as far as day two. Around the campfire that evening, the Westerners congratulated themselves for their leadership abilities. But on day four, the workers would not budge.

“What’s wrong?” asked the Westerner.

“We cannot go any further today,” replied the lead porter.

“Why not? Everyone appears well.”

“Yes,” he said, “but we went so quickly yesterday that we must wait here for our souls to catch up with us.”

An easy place to begin is to affirm how busy we are and our need to slow down.  We’ve heard that many times. What makes this story memorable is the spokesman’s reply.

Huston Smith said the difference between our soul and our ego is that our ego always feels a need to control our life, while our soul wants to experience it, whatever comes.

What happens when we slow down and let our soul catch up? Sometimes we become aware of an underlying sadness we’ve been evading.  As Psalm 42 says, Why are you cast down, O my soul?
And why are you disquieted within me? (Ps 42:5) The writer then recounts memories of when his life and faith seemed well-aligned and the hope that he will experience that sense of wholeness again.  But the first step to a satisfied soul is to acknowledge when it is “disquieted.”

This goes against our culture’s relentless expectation to be “happy.” But who can be “happy” all the time? Sometimes we have experienced hardship, loss, and disappointment.

I once collaborated with an academic colleague who was a psychology professor.  She had grown up in Ukraine during the Soviet era.  The government was always pressuring people to feel optimistic, despite what they were enduring and the official falsehoods that surrounded them. She grew to resent that pressure.  After coming to America, she was annoyed with popular schools of thought that encourage us to be happy all the time.  Sometimes we feel “cast down” and our soul is “disquieted.” We do well to let our soul reveal what we need to know.

On the other hand, there are times when we take time to let our soul catch up and we find a fresh awareness of blessings we’ve been too busy to acknowledge. Rabbi Harold Kushner wrote a book on Psalm 23. About the phrase “…surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life…,” he asked why the writer says goodness and mercy shall “follow” us? Because, he said, we are often so busy that we have run out ahead of them. When we take time to let our soul catch up, goodness and mercy can finally find us and climb into our lap. 

A few days ago, I realized I did not know where I’d left my iPhone. After looking in the obvious places, I took my iPad and brought up the “Find My” app.  From the menu, I touched the “Steve’s iPhone.” I then heard the phone chiming.  It turned out it was ten feet away — in the same room as me— but in a place I had never put it before.  I wondered if there could be a “Find My Soul” app that would alert us when we are spiritually lost.  What tone would capture our attention?

I was in Vienna in 2020.  Ubers and taxis were available to get around town, as was the subway system.  But there was also an old-fashioned electric streetcar system.  You’d often see the trams patiently making their way around the city in a large circle known as the Ringstrasse.  A city guide told me that Viennese often prefer to use the streetcars even though it’s not as fast as the other options; she said it helps them slow down between destinations.

In Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, the author and his friend are riding their motorcycles cross country.  At one point he thinks about the term “making good time.” When we say, “You made good time!” we usually mean “You made the trip about as fast as possible!” But when we rush somewhere to make “good time” we often arrive stressed out, tired, and oblivious to where we’ve been.  Instead of opting for freeways and interstates, he preferred taking country roads and older two-lane highways. That way he could appreciate unexpected vistas and new experiences along the way. That kind of traveling may take more time, but one can enjoy the time while you’re doing it.  For Pirsig, this was “making good time.”

“Making good time” means you haven’t left your soul behind in the pursuit of speed and efficiency.  Your soul has a chance to be present with you as you travel. And maybe goodness and mercy will join you instead of being left in the dust.

Parts Wear Out

                  A good friend of mine shared words of wisdom he often heard from his father, a cardiologist. When patients would wonder why their heart needed work, he’d simply say, “Miles on the vehicle.”  And I’ve heard a similar response at the office of an orthopedist, “Parts wear out.”

                  We know this is true with cars.  With our Honda CRV, we faithfully follow the service schedule, and often it needs nothing more than an oil change and lube.  But there are times of “major service” when key parts need to be carefully inspected and possibly replaced. Our mechanic says if we stick to the maintenance schedule, the car can easily reach 200,000 miles and beyond.

The same is true for furnace filters, water filtration systems, and roofs.  We want them to last as long as possible but know they will eventually need to be replaced.

What’s true in the realm of mechanics is true of our bodies.

                  One of the joys of childhood was losing baby teeth.  That meant you were getting older.  It also meant you could exchange a worn-out part for some hard currency by depositing the tooth under your pillow.  (This may be the last time we will show a profit from having parts replaced.)

                  Life goes on … parts wear out.

For several years, I had pain in my right arm that increased over time. I went through the usual exams and X-rays, and eventually an MRI.  I met with a surgeon.  He recited a list of what was causing my problem: bone fragments, torn tendons, arthritis, etc.  I was surprised at how much wear and tear there was under the surface.  But I also thought, “It’s pretty amazing all these moving parts have been functioning without complaint day after day for 70 years.”  We scheduled the surgery. He made the repairs.  I wore a sling for a month and went through the usual physical therapy. Now I’m pain-free. I can pick up our granddaughter with ease.  Parts were wearing out, and I’m grateful for the repairs.

                  In the meantime, what of our spirit?  Does our spirit wear out like our bodies?

One theory is that our inner awareness dies with our body.  That may be the case.

Many spiritual traditions assume that the awareness that dwells within us does not die when the body dies.  Neither does it wear out.  It’s not a part we ever replace. 

                  St. Paul was not only a scholar but also practiced an important trade in the first century: tentmaking. Roman armies required canvas tents, and all the ships that sailed the Mediterranean used canvas sails.  Paul earned his income making and repairing them.  As he cut and sewed, he must have had plenty of time to think about what wears out and what endures.  In one of his letters, he wrote:

16 So we do not lose heart. Even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day. 17 For our slight, momentary affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure, 18 because we look not at what can be seen but at what cannot be seen, for what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal.  For we know that, if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens… 5 The one who has prepared us for this very thing is God, who has given us the Spirit as a down payment.

I’m not quite sure if there are heavenly houses for us out there somewhere.  But I get the point: we live in our “tents,” but are not limited by them.  Our true essence is this mysterious presence we call spirit or soul which is not subject to the same wear and tear as our bodies.

                  Native cultures assume that the spirit outlasts our “parts” and is fundamentally connected to our ancestors.  In some schools of Buddhism, the practice of meditation can lead us into the limitless field of “open awareness” that is untouched by death.  This field can absorb all our fears and pain and give us a sense of profound peace. 

As I think about these teachings, I think of the concept of “agape,” a divine love that underlies all life.  Our everyday emotional “loves” may ebb and flow, but “agape” is timeless.  We do not create it or possess it; we access it through an open heart and mind and can experience a “peace that passes understanding.”

I bought a Prius in 2008.  Five years later I used it as a trade-in for the CRV.  When it was time to drop it off, I took all my personal possessions out and drove it to the dealer.  We finished the paperwork, and I handed the salesman the keys. I started to walk away, then paused and looked back.  I thought of how much life I had lived in that car, and now I was leaving it behind. I was struck by how worn and empty it looked.  I wondered, ‘Is this what it’s like when we die?”

                  Parts wear out.  But we are not just our parts or the sum of our parts.  We are not our thoughts, fears, or feelings.  We are something more.  Something subtle. Mysterious.  Wondrous. And beautiful.

“Eyes Wide Roaming”

Dear Reader: 

This week I want to introduce you to a new blog: “Eyes Wide Roaming.”  It’s written by a friend, Brad McCarter.  Brad is a commercial airline pilot who flies internationally.  When he has a 24-hour layover, he finds a spot like a coffee house or a pub and settles in.  He studies the environment, the people, and his own thoughts and feelings as they arise.  He then captures the essence of his experience in some beautifully crafted words and verses.  Every two weeks he shares a new piece from somewhere in the world.

I enjoy seeing how Brad expresses his experience so succinctly.  And after I read his posts, I feel like I’ve inhabited that space and time with him. This isn’t Lonely Planet or Rick Steves (both of which I enjoy.) This is soulful, personal, and fascinating.  For me, reading his posts is a way to “travel” to places I hope to visit someday.  It’s also about the inward journey we can experience when traveling. You can subscribe if you wish. (Like me, Brad isn’t out to “monetize” his work; it comes from a personal desire to observe the world and then share what one finds.)

I encourage you to take a look at his page and sample one of his pieces. Where would you like to go — Hong Kong, Munich, the Lower East Side of New York, London, or Tel Aviv (as it was before October 7?) Think about it — you don’t have to fasten your seatbelt, straighten your seat, or put the tray table back.

Here’s the link: “Eyes Wide Roaming”

Steve

(The top image is a pub in London, the lower a street in Hong Kong.)

“Ungainly Resurrections”

We’ve had some intense rainstorms in Santa Barbara in recent years which have caused many trees to fall. This eucalyptus fell over San Jose Creek several years ago.  I see it every morning when I walk over the bridge near my home.  When it fell, one of its branches landed on the ground on the opposite side of the creek and became a support for the rest of the tree:

I’ve been fascinated to watch new growth rising skyward from the fallen branch. I remind myself that this branch began its life going vertical, then fell to its current horizontal position.  But that unexpected event did not change its purpose — it’s thick with new growth.

I recently came across this poem from Catherine Abbey Hodges who lives in Springville on the western foothills of the Sierras.  She witnessed something similar in her “neck of the woods:”

After the Flood

They looked like goners,

the cottonwoods and alders

downed when the river

went wild. And no wonder:

for two days we’d heard

the boom of boulders

above the water’s roar,

heard the crash and snap

of sturdy trees.

But now they’re sprouting

branches, new green

thrusting skyward

from prone trunks.

It’s a strange sight, hopeful

though not yet beautiful,

this ungainly resurrection,

early days of a miracle

etched in the seed.

I kept rereading the last stanza:

  • such trees are indeed a “strange sight” – something that defies our everyday expectations. 
  • It’s “hopeful though not yet beautiful” — it’s impressive not because it fits some pre-determined idea of what it should look like, but because it demonstrates the raw power of hope.
  • It’s an “ungainly resurrection” – it looks more clumsy than graceful, yet the impulse to thrive and be reborn shines.
  • This “miracle” is manifesting itself day after day, but the power to do so was given long ago when a regenerating life force was “etched in the seed.”

I began to imagine how such trees are metaphors for the lives of many people I’ve known in my life and career. 

Most of us begin life full of optimism, confident we will keep growing according to our plan as we reach for the sky. But storms come.  Branches break.  We fall. It’s tempting to give up.  Can we find some new way to live? 

The German mystic Meister Eckhart said, “The soul grows by the process of subtraction.”  I take this to mean that when we are full of our selves and rigid expectations, there’s no room for soul.  But when losses come and we break open — as our illusions are “subtracted” from our sense of self — the divine Spirit comes near to offer us a chance to experience new life that is “etched in the seed” of our soul.  We may never stop grieving for what we’ve lost along the way, but shoots of regeneration begin appearing. 

In my Goleta congregation, we would have annual retreats called “Crossroads” which would include 15 or 20 people. We’d begin Friday night by sharing a meal and getting to know each other. On Saturday morning we’d study a story from Scripture that I had chosen for its potential to offer insight into the experience of living.  I’d then give everyone a large sheet of newsprint and a box of markers and ask them to go off for two hours to create a “life map” — a visual representation of how their life had unfolded.  People would often draw a winding pathway with many ups and downs, then draw pictures or choose words to describe key events. (Some of our engineers were more comfortable with bar graphs.)  You’d see things like, “depression” or “fell in love” or “divorce” or “new job.”  When people were finished with their maps, I’d ask them to go back and mark any places on their road where they encountered God. 

We’d regather.  Each person had a turn describing their map and journey.  They would then tape their map to the wall of the meeting room. When everyone was done, we’d take time in silence to survey the range of life experiences in our group.  There was always a sense of awe at what people had been through and how, in many ways, they’d experienced unexpected growth and blessings.

The human spirit is like a seed, and etched into it is the potential to heal, integrate, grow, and adapt. 

I once traveled with a group to Ghana. In many cultures, if someone asks, “How are you?” the response is something like “I am well” or “I am fine.”  But our host said when someone in Ghana asks, “How are you?”  a traditional response is “Yesu Adom,” which means “By the grace of God” or “By the grace of God I am well.”

I imagine standing on the San Jose Creek bridge asking my friend, “How are you doing, Fallen Tree?” I would not be surprised to hear: “By the grace of God, I am well. I have not given up. I am determined to thrive.  Join me.”

By the grace of God, I will. May we all.

“After the Flood” by Catherine Abbey Hodges in Empty Me Full.  (forthcoming by Gunpowder Press, 2024) Used with permission.