steve jacobsen – Page 10 – Steve Jacobsen, Ed.D

Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock Sneak Into the Oscars

One of the most popular television shows in my generation was Star Trek. In the year 2256 (“Star date 1207.3”), a multi-racial crew plunges into space to “boldly go where no man has gone before.” In some episodes, they find portals through which they can go back in time. More than once they would visit specific periods in American history like the Wild West or the “Roaring Twenties.” Before beaming down to earth, they would have to dress in a way that they would not be conspicuous when they arrived. They’d be transported down to materialize in some carefully chosen time and spot. They’d then explore, observe, and discuss how people were behaving – something like interstellar anthropologists. When their reason for being there was fulfilled, they’d beam back up to the Enterprise and to the future in which they lived.

I watched most of the Academy Awards this past Sunday. I’d seen some but not all the movies. As the ceremony progressed from category to category, I became aware of the wide variety of themes, issues, and emotions in our contemporary culture that were represented and tried to make sense of it as a whole. As I continued to puzzle over this, I began to imagine what it would be like for some outsiders like Kirk and Spock to show up at this year’s ceremony. What would they think of our culture in 2024?

To begin with, I realized they would not have to create disguises. They could materialize in some alley near the theater and then boldly walk the red carpet dressed in their Star Fleet uniforms. They’d pause for fashion photographers – Kirk smiling and Spock stone-faced — and the press would become desperate to know who designed their costumes. Unlike other such visits, Spock would not have to cover up his pointed Vulcan ears – that would probably become a new fad.

I imagined them sitting through the entire 3 ½ hour show. Here’s a sampling of what they would have seen:

Oppenheimer: a morally complex story of the creation of the atomic bomb and its potential to both win a war and destroy the world.
Barbie: a pink and pastel depiction of what the Barbie Doll has meant and how contemporary feminism can transform it into a message for liberation. They’d see two Barbie songs performed: “What Was I Made For” describing the yearning to find one’s true identity, and “I’m Just Ken,” an over-the-top, extravagant musical number lamenting the limitations of life as a Ken doll.
The Killers of the Flower Moon: based on a true story of the careful systematic murder of Osage Native Americans by greedy white men who want to steal their oil. They would watch a live and powerful of an Osage drum-circle ceremony. (“Wahzhazhe” – “A Song for My People”).
Poor Things: a surreal fantasy of a young artificially created woman who comes of age in terms of her sexuality and personal identity.
Zone of Interest: a group of privileged Nazi families living adjacent to Auschwitz and ignoring the suffering and incineration of countless innocent people while tending their gardens.
Maestro: a portrayal of the musical tour-de-force genius of Leonard Bernstein, with a focus on his complex sexual identity and relationships.
Nyad: the true story of an extraordinary female open-water swimmer.
Perfect Days: a Japanese man finds spiritual peace and meaning as he earns his living cleaning public toilets.
20 Days in Mariupol: the suffering of the Ukrainian people as the Russians needlessly invades their country.
The Last Repair Shop: the dedication of a small of people determined to keep music education alive in Los Angeles public schools.

They would see other vignettes that may have been a bit puzzling: a nude wrestler hiding behind a partition holding an envelope like a fig leaf, an apparent message criticizing the show’s host from the country’s former ruler, and constant shots of a dog named Messi sitting in a theater seat watching the show with greater focus than many of the humans.

I imagine Kirk and Spock skipping the Governor’s Ball and beaming back up to discuss and share their findings.

“What’s human life like on Planet Earth in 2024?” they’d be asked.

It’s full of darkness and tragedy, cruelty and violence.
It’s full of courage and heroism, a longing for justice and a yearning for peace.
It’s full of humor and delight.
It’s full of visual and musical creativity.
People are constantly trying to find meaning in what they do and who they are, and find many ways people to deal with their desires and duties.
It’s a wild and complex world with many moments of tender feeling and transformational insight.

The Enterprise had navigators, communication officers, engineers, scientists, security forces, and medical personnel. But I don’t remember any intergalactic spiritual counselors. If there was such a person, and he or she was asked what they made of this world, they might say:

“Human beings seem to be very complex creatures. In their best moments, they’re magnificent beings. In their worst moments, they’re beasts. It’s hard not to have compassion for them, and I wish we could give them guidance on how to live in peace and mutual respect. But our Prime Directive prohibits us from intervening in the natural development of other civilizations. Let’s hope they can figure it out.”

What Do We Know?

“Even though life is quite a sad business, you can have a good time in the middle of it. I like to laugh, and I think the unsung, real literary geniuses of the world are people who write jokes. Both the Irish and Jews are very fatalistic, but they laugh a lot. Only the Protestants think that every day in every way, life is getting better and better. What do they know? — American writer Mary Gordon (daughter of a Jewish father and Irish Catholic mother)

My beloved mentor Huston Smith once gave a talk at the Lobero Theater here in Santa Barbara. With a smile, he announced his theme: “Five Things You Won’t Agree With.” One theme was “There’s no such thing as progress.”[i]

Huston told the story of being a young American scholar in the 1960s when he was invited to speak on the future of society at a conference In Europe. He spoke glowingly of what he thought the century would bring. After he finished, the next speaker said, “Professor Smith has just spoken out of 200 years of American successes. I’m now going to speak from 1,000 years of European failures.” Huston listened and was humbled.

He went on to say that, to be sure, some things have improved in our modern life. Plumbing, for one. Public health, for another. And there has been some progress in human rights. But in many ways, our human nature has not changed. We have not outgrown the destructive impulses of our ancestors. No century in human history saw as many people die in war as the 20^th – somewhere close to 50 million. Some things are better, but we are a long way from having the world we would like to have. Those “Protestants” who “think that every day in every way, life is getting better and better – what do they know?”

This perspective could lead to being “fatalistic” – why bother trying to make anything better? I don’t think that’s an option.

Social teachings of the Jewish, Catholic, Protestant, and many secular traditions have always included a strong emphasis on “trying to make the world a better place.” Basic compassion and a spiritual calling compel us to do all we can to confront hunger, poverty, injustice, violence, and threats to human dignity. Here and there, there are signs of “progress.”

We moved to Santa Barbara in 1992. With our daughters active in athletics, we became passionate supporters of the UC Santa Barbara women’s basketball team — along with many in my congregation. The team was having great success, making it to the “Sweet Sixteen” in 2004. One year we invited the outstanding center to speak at the beginning of our worship service. She was several inches over six feet tall, and it was striking to see her walk down the aisle and step to the pulpit with poise and ease. UCSB had just won a dramatic game against the University of Hawaii the night before, and someone asked her if she had prayed for a win. She said she did pray at halftime – but not to win. She simply prayed that she would do her best, whatever the outcome. Everyone sensed this young woman possessed great inner strength and character.

A few days later, I ran into Michelle, one of our members. I asked her what she thought of hearing the player speak. Michelle said she had wept. That surprised me and I asked her why. As a woman who was six feet tall herself, as a teenager she was constantly walking bent over with slumped shoulders so she wouldn’t seem as tall as she was. But on Sunday, when this tall, young woman entered to the delight and admiration of the congregation, she realized how much had changed in just one generation. Her tears that morning were tears of gratitude that maybe life for young women was improving.

On the other hand, I remember visiting the “Museum of Communism” in Prague in 2020. The museum was divided into three sections: “The Promise,” “The Reality,” and “The Nightmare.” “The Promise” told the story of the genuine idealism that had convinced many earnest people to support the revolutions in the early decades of the last century. “The Reality” displayed exhibits of how this social experiment was troubled from the start. “The Nightmare” showed how grim and heartless communist societies became. People hoped they could make society “better and better”, but it was not to be.

I believe we should never give up trying to make the world a better place. At the same time, we can recognize our human nature has a dark side that may resist and undo our best-laid plans and hopes. Along the way, we welcome the great artists in our midst who help us laugh:

[i] I previously wrote on one of the other points: “Living on the Back Side of the Tapestry”

Ever Feel Like You’re an Extra in Someone Else’s Play?

“Remember you are just an extra in everyone else’s play.”

–Franklin Roosevelt

Years ago, I took a class on “Organizational Development.” We read a fascinating book, Images of Organizations, by Gareth Morgan. His basic point is that we often use metaphors to describe organizations. But it can be helpful to be aware of what metaphors we are using and to know that we can use different ones.

For instance, if we want to use “organic” or biological imagery, we might say “This place has come alive since she took over…” Or: “There’s a cancer in that organization and it’s growing.” If we use a mechanistic metaphor, we might say “This place runs like a well-oiled machine.” or “…he showed up and threw a wrench into the works.” Other options include a brain, cultures, political systems, and systems of domination. But my favorite metaphor was “psychic prisons” – a rather harsh way of saying that in any place we might work, everyone shows up with their private and personal agendas. (I might have preferred he call this “psychic dramas.”) What we do is determined by our job; but what our work means to us drives much of our behavior and sense of satisfaction.

Another way to put it is this: every day, each of us is writing a drama about our life in which we are the central character. I interpret what my boss or coworker says and does based on what is unfolding in my life. If I need affirmation, are they affirming me? If I’m climbing the ladder of success, are they doing what I need them to do to advance my career? If I’m looking for social support and companionship, is work a place where I can find friends and social relationships?

When I started in my career, I had high hopes for what I would accomplish. I wanted to do what I was hired to do and do it well. But I also wanted to put on a good “performance” so that my career would advance. Even as I genuinely respected others and wanted to serve them, in one way they were playing supporting roles in the drama I was writing in which I was the main character.

This perspective was helpful to me when I became responsible for a staff of employees. I found it enlightening to try to understand what each employee’s life script might be as they came to work so I could look for ways to support them.

It’s fun to consider the possibility that everyone is doing this – everyone has a script they are writing in which they are the main character and the rest of us are “extras” — everybody comes to work as both an employee and a private playwright.

This is also applicable to family dynamics. I had a colleague who described how stressful Christmas was for her and her sister as they were growing up. They lived in the same town as their grandmothers. During the holidays, the grandmothers would compete for the affection of the two girls with gifts and special parties. The girls could sense the competition and were often anxious that they would disappoint one or the other grandmother. Each grandmother was writing a play in which they were center stage, and the grandchildren were supporting actors.

FDR was a skilled leader and shrewd politician. He had a strong sense of what personally motivated other people and how to shepherd them toward a common purpose, letting both their self-interest and higher ideals come into play. He knew that even as president, he was “just an extra in everyone else’s play.”

As life goes on, the role we play in our life-drama can change. I do not need to “build my resume” anymore or impress an employer or board member. I don’t need to be center stage in my drama. Now I can focus on how to be useful to my community and my family, content with being a “supporting actor.”

A few years ago, I was wondering – and worrying — if my grandkids would remember much about the time I was spending with them. Then I realized I was making it about me, not them. They are now the garden where the future is growing. My job is to simply be compost in their lives; I don’t need to imagine my name in the long list of credits when the movie is over. This has become a liberating thought.

What does spirituality have to do with this? I believe spirituality has at least two dimensions: it begins with finding something greater than us that inspires us. We then feel a call to serve that greater reality by serving others. In the process, we find both a joyful humility and a clear call to action. We become part of a larger drama where we are not the star – we’re “just an extra.” But somehow, we discover we’ve never played a more satisfying part.

Answering Mr. Vinegar

In a writing class I took from Marilyn McEntyre, she mentioned we all have different “personas” within us. She encouraged us to experiment with writing from the perspective of each one. Maybe it’s a familiar concept, but it was new to me.

Reflecting on Marilyn’s invitation, I realized the “voice” I usually seek to embody when writing is a thoughtful and patient one. It looks for grace and wisdom in a variety of situations – I could call it the “Mr. Nice Guy” voice. But the more I thought about it, I realized it was not the only voice within me. I can summon up a “bad boy” voice –- one that’s skeptical, judgmental, smug, and cynical. (What some psychologists would call a part of my “shadow side.”) As I began to become more aware of it, I found it to be quite amusing. I’ve given that voice the name of “Mr. Vinegar.”

Recently I’ve been hearing from Mr. Vinegar just as I am finishing writing one of these blog posts. I usually ignore him. But this week, I decided to let Mr. Vinegar have a conversation with Mr. Nice Guy.

Here’s what the conversation sounds like.

MR VINEGAR: “Well, Steve, everything you write is so pleasant. One week you have a nice epiphany while contemplating an oak tree. Another week maybe it’s a little birdie on a branch. Another week it’s all about some amazing spider web. But you know, Mr. Nice Guy, the world we live in is a mess. There’s the war in Gaza and Israel, a war in Ukraine, the breakdown of our politics, the rapid creep of Artificial Intelligence into our lives, global warming, personal tragedies everywhere you look…Why do you avoid these topics? Afraid?”

MR NICE GUY: “Well, Mr. Vinegar, that’s a good question. I’ll tell you why I do what I do.

“I think there are many troubling events in the world. I worry that Russia will overcome Ukraine and we’ll be back in a Cold War that will destabilize a peace in Western Europe we’ve taken for granted for 80 years. I see the immense tragedies in Gaza and Israel – friends on both sides are frantic with concern – and I don’t think anyone knows when or how it will get resolved. I truly believe we need to show respect for all sides in our political discussions, but I am deeply concerned that we may re-elect a man who delights in ignoring and mocking the rule of law and being a corrosive personal force.

“And A.I.? That worries me more than almost anything else. It will certainly have some beneficial effects. But it’s creeping into our lives and millions of people will start depending on it. Many will find it irresistible to use for selfish and destructive ends. Kids aren’t going to know what it’s like to have to labor over writing an essay or a poem. Our “entertainment options” are going to become wild and warped. Unscrupulous political leaders, countries, and crime cartels are going to find A.I. to be an unprecedented weapon to use for their own purposes. It’s the end of an Age of Innocence. We won’t know what news report, what video, what photo, or what information sources we can trust. We will become increasingly enfeebled, dependent, and distrustful.

“And global warming? It’s very sobering. Especially for the poorest people on the planet who don’t have the freedom and resources to adapt.

“So yes, Mr. Vinegar, I see and worry about these things. But I don’t write about these topics much because there are many others more qualified than me to do that, and I avoid the debilitating effect of constantly focusing on bad news and crises.”

MR VINEGAR “What you just said – did that feel a little risky? Is it hard to talk about the scary stuff? Afraid you’ll lose some readers?”

MR NICE GUY: “Maybe. But here’s the deal. There’s so much going on that can get us down. To face and endure the challenges before us, we need to be grounded in genuine, personal experiences where we find glimpses of grace and reasons to hope. We need to be reminded of the importance of the many people in our lives – past and present – who demonstrate integrity, wisdom, and compassion. We need to tap into the insights of our spiritual traditions that have helped guide people for centuries as human life has evolved. I’m not going to write about issues unless I have something hopeful and constructive to say.”

MR VINEGAR “Well, OK, that’s your choice. But just don’t let yourself become a pleasant waste of time.”

MR NICE GUY “OK, point taken. And now that you’ve had a chance to speak out, can I finish writing this?”

MR VINEGAR “Of course. But I’m not going away – I’ll be back. I have too much fun prodding you.”

*****

I remember hearing a Jewish story about a rabbi in a small village. An old man would show up at every event where the rabbi was speaking. He would pester the rabbi with skeptical questions and criticize him time after time. When he died, no one was expected to show up at the cemetery when he was buried. The gravediggers were surprised when the rabbi showed up. They asked him, “Why are you here? We expected you’d be glad this man is gone.”

“I’m going to miss him,” said the rabbi. “He was the one person in town that kept me honest.”

Got Enthusiasm?

After Jim Harbaugh led his Michigan football team to a national championship, he was hired to coach the Los Angeles Chargers professional team and was interviewed in the LA Times:

“The only job you start at the top is digging a hole, so we know we’ve got to earn our way,” Harbaugh said in his statement. “Be better today than yesterday. Be better tomorrow than today. My priorities are faith, family and football, and we are going to attack each with an enthusiasm unknown to mankind.” [i]

As a casual football fan, I know what an amazing career Mr. Harbaugh has had. We used to live in San Diego, and I always felt badly for the Chargers when they were uprooted from their natural habitat and relocated to Los Angeles. I hope Mr. Harbaugh can bring the Chargers back to being a great team. I like the idea that he’s coming not only with a great deal of wisdom and experience but also enthusiasm. I wish him well.

But I couldn’t help but wonder about that last sentence: what is it like to “attack” not just football but your family and your faith with “an enthusiasm unknown to mankind?”

I won’t comment on his family life because I know nothing about it. I do wonder: with this much enthusiasm, it must be quite a sight every time he comes home or starts the barbeque.

But what about faith?

Let’s look at the root meaning of the word: “…from Greek, enthousiasmos ‘divine inspiration…from enthousiazein, ‘be inspired or possessed by a god, be rapt, be in ecstasy,’ …from en = in + theos= god.”[ii]

So, there’s an ancient connection between “enthusiasm” and intense spiritual experience.

What would it look like for someone to “attack” faith in “an enthusiasm unknown to mankind?”

Does that person rush his family to every worship service? Does he sing every hymn at the top of his voice? Is he overcome with excitement when he puts his weekly donation in the offering plate? What would it be like to preach a sermon that spoke to Mr. Harbaugh? Would he leap up and declare, “I feel possessed! Rapt! I am in a state of spiritual ecstasy unknown to mankind!”

I don’t know if I’d be pleased or concerned.

I do know I was often full of enthusiasm early in my spiritual journey. But, in time, most of us experience disappointments and losses. Not every path we take ends up with us holding a championship trophy amid a cheering crowd. We welcome enthusiasm, but maybe with a bit of tempering after we discover how complicated life is.

In one of my congregations, there was a young man who was a gifted communicator. He was also very clear about what was right and what was wrong, and who was on the side of truth and who was not. A friend of mine came to hear him preach. I asked her afterward what she thought. “He’s a gifted young man,” she said. “I’d like to hear him again after his heart’s been broken.”

Over the years, when I listen to people describe personal experiences of “divine inspiration,” they often describe quiet, reflective moments when they saw or felt something in a new way. They don’t feel like they’ve attacked something and triumphed — they feel like they’ve received an unexpected gift. Such experiences humble us and expand our hearts. They don’t so much exalt us over other people as help us see others with respect and compassion.

I wish Mr. Harbaugh great success in his endeavors.

And I can’t wait for baseball season to start. In baseball, it’s not so much about conquering your opponent with unprecedented enthusiasm. It’s all about coming home.

[i] LA Times, Jan 26, 2024

[ii] https://www.etymonline.com/word/enthusiasm

Bird Time

Recently, my attention has been captured by birds sitting calmly by themselves. Sometimes it’s in a tree in our backyard. Sometimes it’s on a telephone line in the neighborhood. We are both away from our fellow creatures and neither of us is in a hurry. It’s as if we are sharing a contemplative moment.

As an example, a sparrow joined me in my quiet time early this past Tuesday morning. It perched on a branch about 15 feet away from where I was sitting and stayed there. I found myself wondering if she (or he) and I had found a shared wavelength. I couldn’t help but ponder: What is that bird thinking about? It’s not singing or building a nest or foraging for food or looking anxious. It’s just sitting there. Is it sensing things beyond my awareness, like the earth’s magnetic fields or subtle shifts in the weather? Is it hearing sounds beyond my capacity and assessing them?

A meditation teacher once said that our body is always in the present moment, but the mind is a time machine – jumping back and forth between the past and the future. One goal of meditation is to let our mind settle into our body so it can dwell in the present. When we do that, we can become open to an inner awareness that opens us up to subtle forms of knowing.

If you have a dog or cat, you know they can spend a long time sitting in an open doorway looking out. I can get impatient. I’ll say, “Well, which is it? In or out?” Then I get a glance that seems to say, “Is it not acceptable for me to just sit here?”

My doctoral dissertation explored what spirituality might mean to 22 leaders in secular organizations identified by their colleagues as ethical and effective. One of my seven questions was: “Describe what part, if any spiritual traditions have played in the formation of your values, beliefs, ethics.” One Native American woman, who led a large social service agency for her tribe, wrote: “My parents had strict behavior expectations for my sisters and brothers. This included being aware of and respectful of the traditional cultural and religious teachings, customs and beliefs of my people. This included the need to be aware of one’s inner self and to do those things to strengthen one’s inner self, so that one’s life would be in balance. This included time alone, meditation, being quiet, listening, and being respectful of others need to do the same.”

I remember reading her response with amazement – and envy. No one taught me how to be quiet and alone. Did anyone teach you?

When I was at Hospice of Santa Barbara, one of our Spiritual Care Counselors was working with a woman who lived alone and was dying of cancer. The woman had a strong Buddhist meditation practice and was content to spend most of her days in solitude. Our counselor established a rapport with her, and at times they would meditate together. The counselor got a call from the woman’s brother in Minnesota. He was on the staff at the Mayo Clinic and a devout Christian. He said he had offered to come to Santa Barbara to be with his sister. Though they were close, she declined. The brother asked if there was anything he could do. After some thought, our counselor suggested that he and his sister pick a time every day when she would be in meditation, and he could set aside that exact ime to pray for her (adjusting for the two-hour time difference.) After the woman died, the brother contacted us to say how grateful he was for that suggestion. Up to the time of her death, in that coordinated silent practice, they felt a deep connection despite the distance.

St. Francis was famous for preaching to the birds. I wonder how much time he spent with them in silence before he knew he had something to say.

Image: “St. Francis Bird Bath Bowl,” catholiccompany.com

Who Are We?

“Human beings are animals. They are sometimes monsters, sometimes magnificent, but always animals. They may prefer to think of themselves as fallen angels, but in reality they are risen apes.” — Desmond Morris, The Naked Ape [i]

“We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human experience.” – attributed to the priest and paleontologist Teilhard de Chardin

Well, which is it? Are we apes fooling ourselves that we are angels? Or are we spiritual beings inhabiting a body provided for us by our biological cousins?

My favorite movie when I was kid was Tarzan and my favorite character was the chimpanzee, Cheetah. Cheetah was Tarzan’s best friend. They talked to each other in a special language. If Tarzan was in trouble, Cheetah might dash through the jungle and summon a herd of elephants. Or find some lions and persuade them to save his friend. I formed the Monkey Club in second grade and was its first (and only) president. I would have traded all my baseball cards to have a friend like Cheetah.

I was a teenager in 1967 when The Naked Ape came out. It was a popular bestseller describing how similar we are to apes. I loved it. I wanted to be a filmmaker at that time. I took our Kodak Super 8 movie camera to the San Diego Zoo and filmed chimpanzees grooming each other. Then I went back home to San Bernardino and planned to secretly film customers at our local barber shop getting similar treatment. I planned to cleverly edit the clips so the movie would alternate between the human and primate footage, showing how similar we are. But I never did have the chutzpah to secretly film at the barbershop. And I didn’t know the first thing about film editing. Unlike the Steven Spielberg character in The Fabelmans, my cinematic career ended early.

Growing up and going to college, I did not believe in “spiritual” or “religious” experiences. I believed everything could be explained through science.

Then I had a spiritual experience. In a time of personal desperation, I prayed without believing in prayer because I had nowhere else to turn. Three days later, I realized something like a quiet light was now present at the center of my inner emptiness. It was an unexpected and vivid experience that opened my mind to the possibility that there is a divine presence surrounding us, and it means us good. Maybe we are “spiritual beings having a human (or biological) experience.”

I had heard some folks say science and religion were incompatible — you either believe God created the world in seven days or you are a heretic. But that never made sense to me. Science was not shutting out wonder but uncovering more and more for it. What’s wrong with “descending” from apes? I considered that a compliment.

This is not to say everything in nature is pleasant.

In 2015 I attended the Parliament of World Religions in Salt Lake. There were many interesting speakers from around the world, but no one drew as large a crowd as Jane Goodall. I was thrilled to listen to her – she has come as close to any of us as having friends like Cheetah! She said she first wanted to study chimpanzees because she was disillusioned with human behavior and felt that chimps in the wild must have greater nobility. But after living with them, she realized they could become vicious and violent when attacking a rival tribe. Her idealism ended, but not her reverence for our fellow primates.

In 1912, Aldo Leopold was working for the Forest Service in New Mexico. His duties included hunting wolves. One day he shot a wolf on a rimrock canyon: “He reached the still breathing wolf and saw something that forever changed him. In his classic text, A Sand County Almanac, Leopold describes the experience, “We reached the old wolf in time to watch a fierce green fire dying in her eyes. I realized then, and have known ever since, that there was something new to me in those eyes—something known only to her and to the mountain. I was young then, and full of trigger-itch; I thought that because fewer wolves meant more deer, that no wolves would mean hunters’ paradise. But after seeing the green fire die, I sensed that neither the wolf nor the mountain agreed with such a view.”[ii]

Leopold had sensed something profound in the wolf’s eyes and her being – something that inspired reverence. He became an early prophet of the environmental movement.

Have you ever looked into the eyes of an animal and felt a deep kinship?

Would Native and indigenous people believe you must choose between the natural world and spiritual beliefs?

I look at myself and my fellow human beings: we “are sometimes monsters, sometimes magnificent.” And I look at life all around us: it can be messy at the same time it is permeated with the miraculous mystery of life.

So which is it? Are we “just” animals or are we essentially spiritual creatures? I’m not choosing sides. I vote for both.

[i] The Naked Ape: A Zoologist’s Study of the Human Animal, 1967

[ii] http://www.nationalforests.org/our-forests/light-and-seed-magazine/aldo-leopold-in-the-gila-wilderness

The Platinum Rule

One spiritual principle our mother taught us was the Golden Rule: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” It’s a simple concept, and some say it’s an almost universal teaching in global spiritual traditions.

But I once took a leadership class where the professor encouraged us to think of a variation, the “Platinum Rule:” “Treat others the way they want to be treated.”

I don’t know who first coined the phrase. Searching around, it seems to be a common notion in psychology and leadership material. Whatever its origin, the point is easy to grasp: if I follow the Golden Rule, I may assume someone else would want the same thing I would want. In broad terms that may be true: all people would like to be treated with respect, for example. But when it comes down to specifics, what someone else prefers may be very different than me.

When I was Director at La Casa de Maria, our much-loved gardener Francisco was going to retire after years of faithful service. I asked our Office Manager to come up with some ideas for a special staff event. She suggested a luncheon in the dining room, followed by playing some games we could all enjoy. We announced that plan to the staff. Later that day, the Landscape Supervisor asked to speak to me. He politely suggested that what we were planning may not be the ideal event for Francisco. He offered to organize an outdoor bar-b-q by the pool with some of Francisco’s favorite dishes. He also wanted to schedule a mariachi band to make a surprise appearance. That’s what we did. We were all visiting with each other as the meal was being prepared, and an amazing mariachi band suddenly appeared, singing a popular song in Spanish that referred to someone retiring. It was wonderful. I am grateful that we had changed our plans.

Two stories come to mind from my days at Hospice.

I was at a national conference and one of the breakout sessions was on the spiritual care of the dying. While the presenter reviewed some of the common principles in helping people share their spiritual concerns, he said the topic isn’t for everybody. When his dad was in his last days, he had no interest in talking about spiritual issues. He just wanted to have his son come so they could read the daily newspaper together and discuss sports and the news. That’s what he did. His father died in peace.

Our staff was very creative finding ways to do whatever was meaningful for the patients. One man said he had always enjoyed driving around town in an open convertible smoking a cigar. We had a volunteer who was happy to do that. Once a once a week the volunteer picked him up and they cruised around town puffing. The man was very grateful.

There are endless stories of how different cultures show respect in different ways.

In 2000 I was in India on a sabbatical project, interviewing tech people and academics about how digital technology was beginning to reshape personal lives. I was careful to call ahead to make appointments with whoever I was going to interview, which I took for granted was the proper thing to do. But one of my hosts took me aside and said that was not necessary. He said calling ahead to make an appointment suggested that the person would not welcome me if just showed up, when in fact, welcoming an unannounced visitor was an honored practice of a good host.

My congregation established a partnership with a congregation in Ghana. Five of us traveled there first and were warmly welcomed wherever we went. The next year a group of Ghanaians came to Santa Barbara. We had arranged for members to host guests in their houses. One of our hosts had two spare bedrooms, and she welcomed two women to her house, showing each of them the room they would be staying in. After a while, one of the women approached the hostess and – very respectfully – asked if she and her friend could share a room instead of being alone. Not everyone wants to be by themselves like Americans often do.

I think of relationships. A colleague recently gave a sermon on marriage. He said that marriages often begin following the idea that “opposites attract.” We fall in love with someone different than us and make our commitment. Then we spend the rest of our marriage trying to make the person like us. An alternative, he said, was to ask, “How can I support my partner in becoming not who I want them to be, but who God wants them to be?” Relationships are often an endless journey in finding the balance between meeting our own needs and that of our partner. I have great respect for my therapist friends who help couples negotiate that journey.

Applying the Platinum Rule begins with our desire to serve, honor, or support someone else. It requires an open mind and careful attention to discover what the other person truly values. When someone treats us that way, we feel both valued and respected.

Private Thoughts

A dear friend died last week at age 96. I’d been visiting her for eleven years. Her health had been declining and she recently went on hospice care, so it was not a surprise. But it’s hard to accept.

In my visits with her, we explored a wide range of topics: timeless spiritual questions, great works of art, music (Bach, Mozart, old hymns, and popular songs), politics, and her rich personal history, among others. We’d often jump from one topic to another and lose track of time. We were frequently surprised at how quickly the time passed and exhilarated by all the ground we’d cover.

I know she is “gone.” I simply can’t believe I’ll never have a chance to visit her again. I can’t believe a light that burned so brightly in my life has disappeared from my sight.

I play hide-and-seek with our two-year-old granddaughter. One of us disappears around a corner in the house, and the other comes searching. When the seeker finds the hider, we share an exclamation of delight. I want to go looking for my departed friend, but I know I will not be able to find her. Where did she go?

And every time we go out in public, how many people do we pass by who are having similar thoughts as they go thorugh their day?

When will it be time for me to disappear? Will I see it coming?

(Top photo: Night sky over our house; lower photo: UCSB Lagoon at sunset)

Is the Sky in the Pie?

In the eighties, a seminary friend underwent a kind of conversion. He’d been raised with an older form of theology which held that this life is full of sin and suffering, and our best response is to focus on the hope of heaven. But he became convinced that this perspective was misguided. It had led our culture into an attitude of disregarding the integrity and sanctity of creation, which in turn contributed to the degradation of the environment; it also kept us from appreciating the blessings present in everyday life. He began to see divine life embedded in the natural world and became an early supporter of the “eco-spirituality” movement. “Faith isn’t just about the pie in the sky,” he’d say, “the sky is in the pie.” In other words, the divine presence surrounds us, and a primary spiritual calling in our time is to protect and nurture the earth and appreciate all that it offers.

A turning point for me was reading Original Blessing, by the feisty priest and scholar, Matthew Fox. Fox pointed out that Western theology had mistakenly become fixated on the doctrine of “original sin” in the fourth century and has never let it go. But the Hebrew Scriptures – and Jesus’ teaching — are pervaded with the theme of life being a miraculous gift, not a curse.

I appreciate the times in human history when peoples’ lives were full of suffering and focusing on future life in heaven – “pie in the sky” – made sense. There are many great spirituals with that theme, and no doubt they were powerful medicine. I honor and appreciate that experience. But if that is the sole focus of our spiritual life, we are missing so much.

I confess I come to this theme with a formidable bias – since the time I was a kid, I’ve loved pies. It started with Mom’s apple pie. Then it expanded to lemon meringue pies at Denny’s. It grew further with a masterpiece made with home-grown pie cherries from the baker’s tree in her backyard. These all tasted “heavenly” to me; literal affirmations that “the sky” can be experienced “in the pie.”

I remember the first time I stayed at a monastery — St. Andrew’s Priory near Pearblossom. I was expecting to be served some kind of thin gruel. But when I came into the dining room, a great, multicourse feast was laid out. It turned out they were welcoming a new novice to their community, so it was my good fortune to be there as they celebrated with this banquet. I later learned that the monk who cooked that night had been a chef with the Hyatt Regency before taking his vows.

Several years later I was spending a day at Mt. Calvary Monastery here in Santa Barbara. Before lunch was served, the host said, “We don’t know if God has taste buds, so we consider it a spiritual duty to enjoy what we eat.”

I’m hoping I can have it both ways. If there is “pie in the sky” after this life is over, I’m all for it. But I’m not missing any opportunities on this side of the great mystery. I’m hoping to have my pie and eat it too.

What’s for dessert?