I would like you to make a decision about whether or not to practice prayer and/or meditation, either or both, might aid you on your spiritual journey.
Spiritual practices are about growing our heart and spirit, about learning more about ourselves and others, about connecting us with something greater than ourselves. However, talking about spiritual practices can be like the blind men trying to describe an elephant—the one who feels the leg says the elephant is like a pillar; the one who feels the tail says the elephant is like a rope; the one who feels the trunk says the elephant is like a tree branch; the one who feels the ear says the elephant is like a hand fan. For each of us, whether we use prayer, meditation, tea ceremonies, yoga, tai chi, singing meditation, describing the effects of the practice might lead one person to say a spiritual practice is like relaxation; one might say a spiritual practice resulted in my transformation; one might say a spiritual practice helps me learn about myself; another might say a spiritual practice connects me with Goddess. If you were to talk to just one of these people, you might come as close to understanding spiritual practice as the blind men came to understanding an elephant. So experiencing a spiritual practice for yourself and committing to it for a time, is really the only way of understanding what a spiritual practice is, or understanding prayer or meditation.
I both pray and meditate. I pray because I believe there is something out there beyond just the physical things around me, and because I believe that prayer helps me to affirm the values that I try to live by in this life. I meditate to clear my mind of the busyness of the world and open my heart and mind to whatever might be revealed to me. I do both of these most days, and have experienced profound benefits—I am calmer, at least most of the time; I am less pessimistic, again at least most of the time; I consider my values when making decisions and while interacting with others, most of the time; I give more attention to my own body, mind, heart and soul—listening to that still small voice inside. This helps motivate me to take better care of myself, and also helps me be more sensitive to the needs and feelings of others. As I continue these practices, I am aware, in hindsight, of the many benefits they offer.
But don’t go into prayer or meditation looking for the benefits or enlightenment. A martial arts student approached his teacher with a question. "I'd like to improve my knowledge of the martial arts. In addition to learning from you, I'd like to study with another teacher in order to learn another style. What
do you think of this idea?" "The hunter who chases two rabbits," answered the master, "catches neither one.” We cannot hold what we want—goals, benefits, enlightenment-- in our minds and meditate at the same time. When we are focused on the goal or the benefits, we stop looking as deeply or clearly within ourselves. Part of our conscious attention is devoted to the moment where it will all come together for us. Our desire and attachment to a particular outcome clouds the way, and keeps us from actually receiving the gifts, blessings, grace that we might receive from our spiritual practice. The blessings, gifts, and grace, at least for me, are noticed after the fact. And after I receive these gifts, it is part of my practice to intentionally and consciously express gratitude for all that I receive.
I heard someone say once, “I asked God for a bike, but I know God doesn't work that way. So I stole a bike and asked for forgiveness.” I don’t ask for things for myself in prayer because I believe that prayer is about giving voice to my heart—for me that means being grateful, being more aware of what has touched me, sending out blessings and hopes to those in need, wanting to feel connected to others and mystery. My prayers come from the pain, peace, longing, isolation, joy in my heart.
I guess I should talk about how I pray, since I am asking you consider prayer as a spiritual practice. I use a formulaic prayer that I developed—at first I call out to that Infinite Power, whom men and women call by varying names, but whose grandeur and whose love no name expresses and no words can tell. I struggle with this call because while I feel there is something out there, some creative, loving force in existence, I don’t have a name for it; so I use many different names, depending on how I am feeling at the time—mystery, God, Goddess, father, mother, that which is beyond understanding, love, that which causes the flowers to blossom and the stars to shine, the list goes on. Most of the time, I use two different descriptions, acknowledging both my struggle to find words and the desire to connect.
Then I voice what I am grateful for in my life. Sometimes this list is very long and includes such things as the cool breeze on my face, the warmth of the sun, the ability to exercise to be healthy, my family and friends…sometimes the list is short and focused—“I am grateful for being able to write this sermon” or “I am grateful for Peoples Church’s support when facing my father’s death.” I give voice to these. And I have noticed that for me voicing my thanks makes me more aware of the many other blessings, gifts, and grace that I experience in my life. I really hadn’t taken notice of them when I was younger. Perhaps that is why I was more pessimistic when I was younger.
Then I pray for understanding for all that I am experiencing in my life. I do not believe that things are put in my life by some greater power to help me learn or grow or be humble or whatever. I do believe that I am called by my very existence to find meaning in life’s experiences. Sometimes I am better at that then others. Emotionally painful or draining experiences are particularly difficult for me to find meaning in or to learn from or to grow from. Like this process we are going through right now in selling this church. I am opening my heart; I want to understand, to make meaning out of this process that has resulted in pain for some members of our church, that has resulted in disappointment at times, but has also resulted in joy as we move onto some new place and in renewed energy as we pursue change.
Finally, I send out my hopes and blessings for others. “May the winds, the oceans, the herbs, and night and days, the mother earth, the father heaven, all vegetation, the sun, be all sweet to us.” I do believe this makes a difference. There have been studies showing that sending out positive or negative regard affects people, and perhaps creatures and plants, around us. I believe holding a positive regard for others and wishing them well affects my attitude and those I come into contact with. I also hope that my positive regard with all the positive regard expressed by others in the world makes a difference in our world—helps to heal and bring peace to people and all things on our planet.
At times, I don’t know if my prayers are accepted or rejected or just said out into space. But I don’t stop praying because of that. I am committed to this process, and I believe it is making a difference in my life and in those I touch.
No, I didn’t forget about meditation. I also meditate. I focus on my breathing. Sometimes I count my breaths from one to ten and then start over; the Buddha suggested counting your breaths as a starting place for those new to meditation. When I say I focus on my breathing, I mean I sit up straight, let me eyes rest, put my feet on the ground, and attend to all the sensations of my breathing. Often, my breathing is from my abdomen, slow and steady. That is it. I sit there and breath mindfully. I don’t expect anything, but I am grateful for what I receive. My meditation helps me be mindful and live in the moment, not just while I am meditating. Through regular meditation, I have come to learn what many teachers of meditation have always said—that meditation needs to be looked upon “as a teacher rather than a servant,” “a process rather than a goal.” So I just breathe without expectations, without goals; I just practice breathing.
There are many ways that one might meditate. They all require focus: focusing on a candle, a picture, music, a Mandalla, drumming, chanting, sitting or walking. Even focusing on a transcript like the meditation written by Thich Nat Han, the Pebble, which encourages us to be mindful and to live in the moment as part of our meditative discipline. Even a formulaic prayer, like saying the rosary or using prayer beads in Buddhism, can be used for used for meditation.
There are some elements that are consistent from one technique to another in meditation: be relaxed, be comfortable, have a passive attitude, and focus on a “concentration point.” While I have shared some concentration points, I haven’t talked a lot about passive attitude, other than to say don’t have expectations or goals. Let me flesh this out. The idea of a passive attitude does not mean that we just breathe or focus and let whatever happens, happen to us. We have to be conscious of what is happening, and consciously allow distraction to pass through us and away without a struggle, while observing what is going on inside one’s body, mind, and emotions. This can be like we are watching a movie or TV show of our own inner self, while focusing on some concentration point; we are detached, not emotionally involved with or reacting to what is going on inside us in an active way. To be a little clearer, if you focus on your breathing, and if you are distracted by a thought like “this sure is silly sitting here observing my navel,” you observe this thought, then without reacting to it actively, you gently bring yourself back to your concentration on your breathing. Even if you have a revelation that will change your life “like global warming is really harming everyone, and I need to do my part to stop it” you observe it, remember it, then without reacting to it actively, gently bring yourself back to concentration on your breathing or whatever you concentration point is.
Meditation is a process of fully being, or being fully present with yourself, while prayer is a process of the heart. These processes may have some similarities—like they generally require some focus or attention, commitment, and dedicated time, they are also very different. They can both be very significant tools that may help you as you move through your spiritual journey. However it is important to remember these two soul processes do not help you in a straight line or at an even pace. Sometimes when we pray we might feel some peace or relief; sometimes when we meditate, we learn more about our minds, bodies, or souls. Sometimes nothing happens. We cannot know when nor do we even need to predict when we might get something from these two process, we just have to trust the process.
Also there is not right or wrong way to do either of these practices. Alright there might be a few wrong ways—if you hold expectation of the outcome while you practice, if you have negative intent in your heart while you practice, if you practice without self examination and without ever sharing your insight or revelations with others—sometimes we need someone to ground us on the path. And if we practice till it hurts—there is no need to harm ourselves by sitting in Zazen meditation until we pinch a disc in our backs or squeeze into a yoga position that our bodies are not capable of achieving. There may be other things not to do, but with a little time, you might come up them. In the end I would say put your focus on the practice not on the right or wrong ways to practice.
I hope you do make some time for prayer and or meditation in your life. I believe that they offer many benefits for the practitioner, and I believe that we are called to spiritual practices if we are to embrace ourselves as fully living spiritual beings. Keep in mind what Tibetan yogi Milarepa writes: “The affairs of the world will go on forever. Do not delay the practice of meditation [and, I would add, prayer].” There are always distractions, many things going on in the world—prayer and meditation are practices that can help you discern your spiritual path as the world moves on around you.
This life is a journey of the holy, if we just recognize the holy in our experiences. This life offers experiences of transformation, experiences that no words can express, that are just as real as the ground beneath our feet. At one time in our lives our spiritual path may be a journey of the heart, for what the heart knows, we call prayer. At one time in our lives our spiritual path may be a journey of being, for what being knows, we call meditation. This must be our own journey, for it is for us to choose our paths and practices, and for us to follow. Namaste, Shalom, Peace.
Monday, September 13, 2010
Three prayers and a meditation
Below are three prayers and one meditation. I encourage you to read them and notice how you feel as you read them. Then go on to the sermon in the next post on this blog.
The following meditation is called the Pebble by Thich Nhat Hahn. “…follow your breath and relax your muscles. Concentrate on keeping your spinal column straight and on following your breathing. If you want to relax the worry-tightened muscles of your face, let a half-smile come to your face…place your left hand, palm side up, in your right palm…hold on to nothing but your breath and half smile…Image yourself as a pebble which has been thrown into the river. The pebble sinks through the water effortlessly. Detached from everything, it falls by the shortest distance possible, finally reaching the bottom, the place of perfect rest. You are like the pebble which has let itself fall into the river, letting go of everything. At the center of your being is your breath. You don’t need to know the length of time it takes before reaching the point of complete rest on the bed of fine sand beneath the water. When you feel yourself resting like a pebble which has reached the riverbed that is the point when you begin to find your own rest. You are no long pushed or pulled by anything.
Here are three prayers. One is a Unitarian prayer written in the nineteenth century by Reverend Theodore Parker; one is a prayer written in the eighth century by Rabi’a al-Basri, a female Muslim Sufi saint; and the final one is an ancient Hindu prayer. The word God is in or implied in all of these prayer. What I hope is that for those of you who believe in a God, that you embrace your understanding of God; those of you who believe in Goddess or spirit or mystery, that you embrace those, and those of you who do not hold that there is an existence beyond the natural world that you embrace the words love, humanity, the interconnected web of all existence.
(Parker)
O Thou Infinite Power, whom men call by varying names, but whose grandeur and whose love no name expresses and no words can tell.. We thank thee for the lovely day which pourest down on the expecting world…We thank thee for the glories revealed to us—where star after star travels its far course, [while to] the human eye [appearing] ever fixed…we thank thee for the vast progress which mankind has made in the ages that are behind us. We thank thee for the great men and women who have been raised up, the guides and teachers…we thank thee for the philosophers who have taught us truth, and for the great poets who have touched man’s heart with the fire of heaven and stirred to noble deeps the human soul …we thank thee for all the truth that is demonstrated in science, for all the beauty that is writ in poetry or stamped on the rock by art. And finally, we thank thee for the power of gratitude…for the joy which men take in favors received from the highest and humblest on the earth, and the far exceeding delight which comes to our soul from the conscious of receiving [these] blessings.
(Rabi’a al-Basri)
[Allah], the night has passed [but] the day has [not yet] dawned. How I long to know if Thou has accepted my prayers or if Thou has rejected them… Thou hast given me life and cared for me…does thou want to drive me from thy door.
(Hindu)
May the winds, the oceans, the herbs, and night and days, the mother earth, the father heaven, all vegetation, the sun, be all sweet to us. Let us follow the path of goodness for all times, like the sun and the moon moving eternally in the sky. Let us be charitable to one another. Let us not kill or be violent with one another. Let us know and appreciate the points of view of others. And let us unite…[Removing] my indiscretions and arrogance…[Putting] an end to the snare of endless desires…[Broadening] the sphere of compassion and [helping] me to cross the ocean of existence.
The following meditation is called the Pebble by Thich Nhat Hahn. “…follow your breath and relax your muscles. Concentrate on keeping your spinal column straight and on following your breathing. If you want to relax the worry-tightened muscles of your face, let a half-smile come to your face…place your left hand, palm side up, in your right palm…hold on to nothing but your breath and half smile…Image yourself as a pebble which has been thrown into the river. The pebble sinks through the water effortlessly. Detached from everything, it falls by the shortest distance possible, finally reaching the bottom, the place of perfect rest. You are like the pebble which has let itself fall into the river, letting go of everything. At the center of your being is your breath. You don’t need to know the length of time it takes before reaching the point of complete rest on the bed of fine sand beneath the water. When you feel yourself resting like a pebble which has reached the riverbed that is the point when you begin to find your own rest. You are no long pushed or pulled by anything.
Here are three prayers. One is a Unitarian prayer written in the nineteenth century by Reverend Theodore Parker; one is a prayer written in the eighth century by Rabi’a al-Basri, a female Muslim Sufi saint; and the final one is an ancient Hindu prayer. The word God is in or implied in all of these prayer. What I hope is that for those of you who believe in a God, that you embrace your understanding of God; those of you who believe in Goddess or spirit or mystery, that you embrace those, and those of you who do not hold that there is an existence beyond the natural world that you embrace the words love, humanity, the interconnected web of all existence.
(Parker)
O Thou Infinite Power, whom men call by varying names, but whose grandeur and whose love no name expresses and no words can tell.. We thank thee for the lovely day which pourest down on the expecting world…We thank thee for the glories revealed to us—where star after star travels its far course, [while to] the human eye [appearing] ever fixed…we thank thee for the vast progress which mankind has made in the ages that are behind us. We thank thee for the great men and women who have been raised up, the guides and teachers…we thank thee for the philosophers who have taught us truth, and for the great poets who have touched man’s heart with the fire of heaven and stirred to noble deeps the human soul …we thank thee for all the truth that is demonstrated in science, for all the beauty that is writ in poetry or stamped on the rock by art. And finally, we thank thee for the power of gratitude…for the joy which men take in favors received from the highest and humblest on the earth, and the far exceeding delight which comes to our soul from the conscious of receiving [these] blessings.
(Rabi’a al-Basri)
[Allah], the night has passed [but] the day has [not yet] dawned. How I long to know if Thou has accepted my prayers or if Thou has rejected them… Thou hast given me life and cared for me…does thou want to drive me from thy door.
(Hindu)
May the winds, the oceans, the herbs, and night and days, the mother earth, the father heaven, all vegetation, the sun, be all sweet to us. Let us follow the path of goodness for all times, like the sun and the moon moving eternally in the sky. Let us be charitable to one another. Let us not kill or be violent with one another. Let us know and appreciate the points of view of others. And let us unite…[Removing] my indiscretions and arrogance…[Putting] an end to the snare of endless desires…[Broadening] the sphere of compassion and [helping] me to cross the ocean of existence.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Evil, Evil, Evil
Scott Reoder, who murdered one of the few U.S. doctors who performed late-term abortions, used his sentencing hearing as a forum to espouse his views in an effort to justify his crime, arguing that he had chosen to obey “God’s law” to save babies. He feels he was preventing evil from happening.
The late Pope John Paul wrote that homosexual marriages are part of "a new ideology of evil" that is insidiously threatening society.
And Pat Robertson said about the Haitian earthquakes, “They were under the heel of the French, you know Napoleon the third and whatever. And they got together and swore a pact to the devil. They said 'We will serve you if you will get us free from the prince.' True story. And so the devil said, 'Ok it's a deal.' And they kicked the French out. The Haitians revolted and got themselves free. But ever since they have been cursed by one thing after another.”
To most of us these seem rather extreme and destructive views of evil. But what do you think, feel, believe when I say: the Holocaust is evil, or that the people who perpetrated 9-11 are evil, or that racism and oppression are evil. What about if I say that serial killers Charles Manson, Jeffrey Dahmer, or Beltway sniper John Allen Muhammad are evil? What do you think, feel, believe then? What about if I say that corporate greed, which includes corporations hiding information about the destructive nature of their products, corporations polluting the planet, and corporate executives making as much money as small countries—what if I said corporate greed is evil? What do you think, feel, believe then? I can imagine that some of you might believe these things are evil, while some of you might think that these things are wrong/selfish/dangerous/destructive/crazy/unjust.
So what is evil? What does it mean? Is it a term that even holds any significance for us as Unitarian Universalists, as post-modern humans? And if this term holds any significance, what can we do about it, or are we just helpless victims to the evil—if we think it exists--around us?
The Merriam-Webster dictionary defines evil as: morally reprehensible, sinful, wicked, or causing harm. Pretty broad definition; pretty unclear if you ask me. It doesn’t even mention the devil. Some Christians believe evil is from the devil, while Muslims believe that both evil and good originate ultimately from their god. Some people believe that humans are called to wage a war against evil to help god. Our story of the devil helping god create the world and people, comes from the Crow people of Montana. The act of creation in this story is a cooperative one. The devil is helping god; god invited him to be there. Now I know that this devil is mischievous, trying to create a nice dry place to hang out and trying to get god to give him a few luxury items—who won’t want a garden of golden fruit or a few angels to help out around the house--but this devil is not about destruction, or about the fall of humankind from god’s graces, or about the temptor of Jesus or Buddha or about a force in the world trying to cause harmful or painful things to happen. The devil may have been given a bad rap. He might be just like us, helpful/brotherly, and just wanting a nice dry place to live with a few luxuries.
So if we believe that the devil is not behind all this evil stuff, again I ask what is evil? Some people believe that evil is a test of faith; others believe it is a punishment from god, goddess, bad karma, the cosmos for bad choices or our sinful nature; others believe evil is a way for us to emulate the suffering of Jesus or some other religious figure; some believe it is a way for us to see the illusion in everything; while others believe evil is the proof that there is no moral order in the universe.
So how do you define evil? Or perhaps another way to ask this is: what do you believe evil is? Unitarian Universalists have struggled with this concept: some say that there is no solution in theism for the problem of evil; others feel that evil is a human creation, and is based on our morality, and that the planet, with its various movements and sometimes destructive changes, is morally neutral, thus not evil. One Unitarian Universalist said, “In defining evil, don't we first need to separate evil from bad…true evil must be intentional. If there's no intent, an event/action that harms someone or something is simply bad. Too many people use evil to describe things that are quantitatively or qualitatively [very harmful or destructive] or things that everyone agrees are very bad.” I agree that intentional destructive or harmful acts are evil actions while unintentional harm is bad, but not evil.
Once upon a time in China, an eagle landed at a riverside that was located near a town where the great Taoist Lao Tzu was living. As the eagle was drinking some water from the river, a mosquito that was also drinking water started talking to the eagle. It said, “Hey you big bird where are you coming from?” The eagle responded, “I live on the other side of town, but I fly around all over, and I come here every day for hunting and drinking water.” The mosquito laughed and told the eagle, “You are a big liar. It is impossible to fly from one side of the town to the other side in one day; it is impossible, I say. It will take at least one month to do that.” The eagle said, “It doesn’t even take me a day, I do it in one hour.” But the mosquito was getting really upset and frustrated with this lying bird, and he said, “I don’t believe you any ways, but I would have appreciated if you told me the truth, because I want to make the trip to meet my friends on the other side of town.” The eagle which was also getting frustrated told the mosquito, “You don’t believe me, then follow me, and I will show you that it takes a lot shorter than one month to get across town.” But the mosquito refused the offer and said, “Whatever! You are just a liar and I don’t trust you anyway.” The eagle got so mad that he wanted to attack and kill the mosquito for his rudeness. But right at that moment he heard a human voice calling him, he looked behind him, it was Lao Tzu.
Lao Tzu told the eagle to stop, and said, “I heard everything that you two said to each other.” The eagle angrily responded, “Then you would agree that I am right to kill this stupid and rude mosquito who is accusing me of lying to him. All I really wanted was to help him. Tell me old man who is right?” Lao Tzu smiled and said, “You are both right to believe what you believe to be possible or not.” He continued by saying “bigger things have ‘bigger’ understanding, little things have ‘little’—not less—understanding. Little thing can’t have bigger understanding, and vice versa.” He continued, “This mosquito is simply not capable of believing your view of the world is possible, because he has not or cannot even think that the possibility of such an action of flying all the way to the other side of town in such a short time exists. Your experience is the basis of your belief, as is his. It is very difficult for him to grasp something which he does not believe, even if its existence is possible.”
So here then is my view of evil. We, each of us, sees the world in our own unique and special way. Sometimes we think that others see, or should see, the world the same way we do. And we act, react, feel, and think as if everyone sees, or should see, the world the way we do. When they don’t, we label how they think, feel, or behave as evil. Our morality is based on how we come to understand the world around us. Our morality is the filter we use to determine whether something or someone is evil.
Now there are several caveats to this definition: there are some people who are severely mentally handicapped or emotionally damaged—please keep in mind that this is an extreme minority of people with mental handicaps or emotional damage—who are capable of doing damage to themselves or others. These people are not evil; many of them are not aware that they are intentionally harming anyone; they may not realize or even remember that they harmed anyone; Mark Becker is a good example of this. Even the justice system recognizes that they are incapable of standing trial because of their handicap.
And another caveat, things are not evil—whether we are talking about the planet, corporations, governments, or religions. You might agree with me that the natural world is morally neutral. But you might not agree with me about corporations, governments, and religions being morally neutral. Corporations, governments, and religions are run by people, flawed, imperfect people, just like us. Sometimes, in the name of profits, democracy, or morality, some people can do bad or evil things, and they can even convince, pressure, manipulate others to do bad or evil things. The genocide in Rwanda is an example of this. In 1994, the Hutu dominated government killed hundreds of thousands of Rwanda’s Tutsis and Hutu political moderates. The process of such atrocious acts involves the dehumanization of victim groups, strong organization of genocidal groups, and the denial of the genocide by its perpetrators. Does this make the Rwandan government evil? I can only speak for me when I say that the government is not evil; the process of coercion, manipulation, control, dehumanization, denial, and murder by the perpetrators are evil actions, but not the government—the government is a system of running a country, just as a corporation is a system of running a company, and a religion is a belief system. These systems are inanimate, but while not entirely morally neutral, they are setup in theory for the good of the people—not intending any harm. And none of the major world religions, and I have studied them, has evil beliefs, evil religious books, or promotes evil actions—though people can twist the beliefs, texts, or traditions to manipulate others into evil or bad actions. All the major world religions advocate the golden rule: do unto others as you would have them do unto you. It is how people manipulate others in the name of these systems that can result in evil or bad actions.
Finally one more caveat, all of us are capable of evil acts—intentional harmful actions—this does not make someone evil; now that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t avoid Jeffrey Dahmer in a dark alley when I am alone. But it does mean that while Jeffrey Dahmer committed several heinous evil acts, he is not inherently evil. People’s evil acts might be based on greed, competition, desire for power, lack of insight, lack of cooperation, lack of compassion, lack of understanding, even extreme emotions or mental illness. All of us are capable of such acts and of such greed, competition, desire for power, lack of insight, lack of cooperation, lack of compassion, lack of understanding, extreme emotions, even such illness.
What it comes down to, for me anyway, is that there is no evil in the natural world. There does exist the things and people we label as evil—due to our own sense of right and wrong and due to our lack of understanding of others--and all humans carry the potential for evil in our own hearts. So the only evil in the world is the potential for evil we all carry in our own hearts. There is no devil leading his minions to destroy our way of life, we’re perfectly capable of that on our own.
What this means, at least for me, is that I am responsible for my evil acts—that I must always try to be aware of my own desires as well as my own limited understanding of others, so that I can, to the best of my ability, keep myself from intentionally harming others. I must to the best of my abilities be aware that I cannot live in another’s skin, and know how they perceive the world, the frailties they struggle with, the pain that they experience, the fears that control them. I can try to empathize with them, but more importantly, I must take the extra time to be compassionate with them, attempt with all my heart to try to understand their words, and not judge them by my standards. I must try to be at peace and be cooperative with them, by holding peace in my heart when I am with them. And when I am aware of an eagle/mosquito conflict, I will not try to manipulate or coerce them to my way of understanding the world. I will know that in our own ways, through our own lives in this world, we are both right. And ultimately, I will try to be patient and loving even when we cannot agree on the way we understand particular situations or even the way we understand existence. I will not label them as evil or bad or put any label on them—for they are human just as I. They are imperfect as am I. I will try to always believe them to be worthy of love, trust, and compassion, as I would have them try to believe of me.
No my friends, I do not think there is a devil perpetrating evil in our world. When we look inside ourselves, if we’re honest, we will see both good and evil motivation, good and evil potential, good and evil hearts. Russian novelist, dramatist, and historian Alexander Solzhenitsyn wrote of his time in Soviet Union’s forced labor camp: “It was granted to me to carry away from my prison years…this essential experience: how a human being becomes evil and how good. In the surfeit of power I was a murderer and an oppressor. In my most evil moments, I thought I was doing good. It was only when I lay there on rotting prison straw that I sensed within myself the first stirrings of good. Gradually it was disclosed to me that the line separating good and evil passes not through states, nor between classes, nor between political parties but right through every human heart. This line shifts. And even within hearts overwhelmed by evil, one small bright bridgehead of good is retained. And even in the best of all hearts, there remains... an unuprooted small corner of evil. I say without hesitation, ‘Bless you, prison, for having been in my life.” May we take the time to be aware of our own hearts, aware, no matter how good we feel we are, that there is always an unuprooted small corner of evil in us all. And to be aware of how fragile and inaccurate our perceptions and understanding of others and the world can be.
The late Pope John Paul wrote that homosexual marriages are part of "a new ideology of evil" that is insidiously threatening society.
And Pat Robertson said about the Haitian earthquakes, “They were under the heel of the French, you know Napoleon the third and whatever. And they got together and swore a pact to the devil. They said 'We will serve you if you will get us free from the prince.' True story. And so the devil said, 'Ok it's a deal.' And they kicked the French out. The Haitians revolted and got themselves free. But ever since they have been cursed by one thing after another.”
To most of us these seem rather extreme and destructive views of evil. But what do you think, feel, believe when I say: the Holocaust is evil, or that the people who perpetrated 9-11 are evil, or that racism and oppression are evil. What about if I say that serial killers Charles Manson, Jeffrey Dahmer, or Beltway sniper John Allen Muhammad are evil? What do you think, feel, believe then? What about if I say that corporate greed, which includes corporations hiding information about the destructive nature of their products, corporations polluting the planet, and corporate executives making as much money as small countries—what if I said corporate greed is evil? What do you think, feel, believe then? I can imagine that some of you might believe these things are evil, while some of you might think that these things are wrong/selfish/dangerous/destructive/crazy/unjust.
So what is evil? What does it mean? Is it a term that even holds any significance for us as Unitarian Universalists, as post-modern humans? And if this term holds any significance, what can we do about it, or are we just helpless victims to the evil—if we think it exists--around us?
The Merriam-Webster dictionary defines evil as: morally reprehensible, sinful, wicked, or causing harm. Pretty broad definition; pretty unclear if you ask me. It doesn’t even mention the devil. Some Christians believe evil is from the devil, while Muslims believe that both evil and good originate ultimately from their god. Some people believe that humans are called to wage a war against evil to help god. Our story of the devil helping god create the world and people, comes from the Crow people of Montana. The act of creation in this story is a cooperative one. The devil is helping god; god invited him to be there. Now I know that this devil is mischievous, trying to create a nice dry place to hang out and trying to get god to give him a few luxury items—who won’t want a garden of golden fruit or a few angels to help out around the house--but this devil is not about destruction, or about the fall of humankind from god’s graces, or about the temptor of Jesus or Buddha or about a force in the world trying to cause harmful or painful things to happen. The devil may have been given a bad rap. He might be just like us, helpful/brotherly, and just wanting a nice dry place to live with a few luxuries.
So if we believe that the devil is not behind all this evil stuff, again I ask what is evil? Some people believe that evil is a test of faith; others believe it is a punishment from god, goddess, bad karma, the cosmos for bad choices or our sinful nature; others believe evil is a way for us to emulate the suffering of Jesus or some other religious figure; some believe it is a way for us to see the illusion in everything; while others believe evil is the proof that there is no moral order in the universe.
So how do you define evil? Or perhaps another way to ask this is: what do you believe evil is? Unitarian Universalists have struggled with this concept: some say that there is no solution in theism for the problem of evil; others feel that evil is a human creation, and is based on our morality, and that the planet, with its various movements and sometimes destructive changes, is morally neutral, thus not evil. One Unitarian Universalist said, “In defining evil, don't we first need to separate evil from bad…true evil must be intentional. If there's no intent, an event/action that harms someone or something is simply bad. Too many people use evil to describe things that are quantitatively or qualitatively [very harmful or destructive] or things that everyone agrees are very bad.” I agree that intentional destructive or harmful acts are evil actions while unintentional harm is bad, but not evil.
Once upon a time in China, an eagle landed at a riverside that was located near a town where the great Taoist Lao Tzu was living. As the eagle was drinking some water from the river, a mosquito that was also drinking water started talking to the eagle. It said, “Hey you big bird where are you coming from?” The eagle responded, “I live on the other side of town, but I fly around all over, and I come here every day for hunting and drinking water.” The mosquito laughed and told the eagle, “You are a big liar. It is impossible to fly from one side of the town to the other side in one day; it is impossible, I say. It will take at least one month to do that.” The eagle said, “It doesn’t even take me a day, I do it in one hour.” But the mosquito was getting really upset and frustrated with this lying bird, and he said, “I don’t believe you any ways, but I would have appreciated if you told me the truth, because I want to make the trip to meet my friends on the other side of town.” The eagle which was also getting frustrated told the mosquito, “You don’t believe me, then follow me, and I will show you that it takes a lot shorter than one month to get across town.” But the mosquito refused the offer and said, “Whatever! You are just a liar and I don’t trust you anyway.” The eagle got so mad that he wanted to attack and kill the mosquito for his rudeness. But right at that moment he heard a human voice calling him, he looked behind him, it was Lao Tzu.
Lao Tzu told the eagle to stop, and said, “I heard everything that you two said to each other.” The eagle angrily responded, “Then you would agree that I am right to kill this stupid and rude mosquito who is accusing me of lying to him. All I really wanted was to help him. Tell me old man who is right?” Lao Tzu smiled and said, “You are both right to believe what you believe to be possible or not.” He continued by saying “bigger things have ‘bigger’ understanding, little things have ‘little’—not less—understanding. Little thing can’t have bigger understanding, and vice versa.” He continued, “This mosquito is simply not capable of believing your view of the world is possible, because he has not or cannot even think that the possibility of such an action of flying all the way to the other side of town in such a short time exists. Your experience is the basis of your belief, as is his. It is very difficult for him to grasp something which he does not believe, even if its existence is possible.”
So here then is my view of evil. We, each of us, sees the world in our own unique and special way. Sometimes we think that others see, or should see, the world the same way we do. And we act, react, feel, and think as if everyone sees, or should see, the world the way we do. When they don’t, we label how they think, feel, or behave as evil. Our morality is based on how we come to understand the world around us. Our morality is the filter we use to determine whether something or someone is evil.
Now there are several caveats to this definition: there are some people who are severely mentally handicapped or emotionally damaged—please keep in mind that this is an extreme minority of people with mental handicaps or emotional damage—who are capable of doing damage to themselves or others. These people are not evil; many of them are not aware that they are intentionally harming anyone; they may not realize or even remember that they harmed anyone; Mark Becker is a good example of this. Even the justice system recognizes that they are incapable of standing trial because of their handicap.
And another caveat, things are not evil—whether we are talking about the planet, corporations, governments, or religions. You might agree with me that the natural world is morally neutral. But you might not agree with me about corporations, governments, and religions being morally neutral. Corporations, governments, and religions are run by people, flawed, imperfect people, just like us. Sometimes, in the name of profits, democracy, or morality, some people can do bad or evil things, and they can even convince, pressure, manipulate others to do bad or evil things. The genocide in Rwanda is an example of this. In 1994, the Hutu dominated government killed hundreds of thousands of Rwanda’s Tutsis and Hutu political moderates. The process of such atrocious acts involves the dehumanization of victim groups, strong organization of genocidal groups, and the denial of the genocide by its perpetrators. Does this make the Rwandan government evil? I can only speak for me when I say that the government is not evil; the process of coercion, manipulation, control, dehumanization, denial, and murder by the perpetrators are evil actions, but not the government—the government is a system of running a country, just as a corporation is a system of running a company, and a religion is a belief system. These systems are inanimate, but while not entirely morally neutral, they are setup in theory for the good of the people—not intending any harm. And none of the major world religions, and I have studied them, has evil beliefs, evil religious books, or promotes evil actions—though people can twist the beliefs, texts, or traditions to manipulate others into evil or bad actions. All the major world religions advocate the golden rule: do unto others as you would have them do unto you. It is how people manipulate others in the name of these systems that can result in evil or bad actions.
Finally one more caveat, all of us are capable of evil acts—intentional harmful actions—this does not make someone evil; now that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t avoid Jeffrey Dahmer in a dark alley when I am alone. But it does mean that while Jeffrey Dahmer committed several heinous evil acts, he is not inherently evil. People’s evil acts might be based on greed, competition, desire for power, lack of insight, lack of cooperation, lack of compassion, lack of understanding, even extreme emotions or mental illness. All of us are capable of such acts and of such greed, competition, desire for power, lack of insight, lack of cooperation, lack of compassion, lack of understanding, extreme emotions, even such illness.
What it comes down to, for me anyway, is that there is no evil in the natural world. There does exist the things and people we label as evil—due to our own sense of right and wrong and due to our lack of understanding of others--and all humans carry the potential for evil in our own hearts. So the only evil in the world is the potential for evil we all carry in our own hearts. There is no devil leading his minions to destroy our way of life, we’re perfectly capable of that on our own.
What this means, at least for me, is that I am responsible for my evil acts—that I must always try to be aware of my own desires as well as my own limited understanding of others, so that I can, to the best of my ability, keep myself from intentionally harming others. I must to the best of my abilities be aware that I cannot live in another’s skin, and know how they perceive the world, the frailties they struggle with, the pain that they experience, the fears that control them. I can try to empathize with them, but more importantly, I must take the extra time to be compassionate with them, attempt with all my heart to try to understand their words, and not judge them by my standards. I must try to be at peace and be cooperative with them, by holding peace in my heart when I am with them. And when I am aware of an eagle/mosquito conflict, I will not try to manipulate or coerce them to my way of understanding the world. I will know that in our own ways, through our own lives in this world, we are both right. And ultimately, I will try to be patient and loving even when we cannot agree on the way we understand particular situations or even the way we understand existence. I will not label them as evil or bad or put any label on them—for they are human just as I. They are imperfect as am I. I will try to always believe them to be worthy of love, trust, and compassion, as I would have them try to believe of me.
No my friends, I do not think there is a devil perpetrating evil in our world. When we look inside ourselves, if we’re honest, we will see both good and evil motivation, good and evil potential, good and evil hearts. Russian novelist, dramatist, and historian Alexander Solzhenitsyn wrote of his time in Soviet Union’s forced labor camp: “It was granted to me to carry away from my prison years…this essential experience: how a human being becomes evil and how good. In the surfeit of power I was a murderer and an oppressor. In my most evil moments, I thought I was doing good. It was only when I lay there on rotting prison straw that I sensed within myself the first stirrings of good. Gradually it was disclosed to me that the line separating good and evil passes not through states, nor between classes, nor between political parties but right through every human heart. This line shifts. And even within hearts overwhelmed by evil, one small bright bridgehead of good is retained. And even in the best of all hearts, there remains... an unuprooted small corner of evil. I say without hesitation, ‘Bless you, prison, for having been in my life.” May we take the time to be aware of our own hearts, aware, no matter how good we feel we are, that there is always an unuprooted small corner of evil in us all. And to be aware of how fragile and inaccurate our perceptions and understanding of others and the world can be.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Disabled?
Disability researcher and health writer, Marsha Saxton, wrote an article called “Born and Unborn,” objecting to pre-natal testing that might lead to aborting fetuses for detected disabilities. She wrote: “We live in a culture obsessed with health and well-being. We value rugged self-reliance, athletic prowess, and rigid standards of beauty. We incessantly pursue eternal youth, and the treatment of our elders attests to an ingrained denial, fear and even hate of our own aging and accompanying physical limitation. The disabled person is the target of attitudes and behaviors from the able-bodied world, ranging from gawking to avoidance, pity to resentment, or from vastly lower expectations to awe. Along with these attitudes disabled persons confront a variety of tangible barriers: architectural inaccessibility, lack of sign language interpreters for deaf people, insufficient taped or brailed materials for blind persons. In addition, disabled persons confront less tangible barriers: discrimination in employment, second-class education, and restricted opportunities for full participation in the life of the community.”
Martha and I decided to bring children into our family when we reached our 30’s. We lost our first two children very early in each pregnancy and were beginning genetic testing when we became pregnant a third time—against medical advice. At this point the focus of the testing switched from our own genetics to those of our child. We were told by medical experts that there was a high probability that our child would be born with some significant genetic disorder, but that we wouldn’t know for sure until the tests came back. And, indeed, the first tests came back with sobering results. Now we faced a whole series of decisions we had never even considered before. We retested, and this time the results were within “normal” ranges, and now we have two adult children. But we have never forgotten what those few weeks were like when we were considering the very different path our lives might have taken. We still ask ourselves: “What would we have done if the pre-natal testing had detected a catastrophic disability?”
There are many parents today who struggle with that question. If you were told that your child might have a significant disability what would you do, knowing that your life and his/hers would probably be more challenging and take considerable time and resources. Perhaps some of us would say this is my child and I will support him/her through whatever challenges may arise. Perhaps some of us would not choose this life path. This is a deeply personal decision, for which no-one should judge you. But it is undeniable that a child who enters the world with a disability: will face challenges; and will face prejudice. This is inevitable. And just as inevitably the affirmation, love, and encouragement that child receives makes a difference in how they live with that disability.
I have met many people over my years as a psychotherapist who have had to face these challenges—whether they were born with them or whether disability was thrust upon them by life. Some have achieved a great deal despite these challenges, while others have had great difficulty coping with the limitations that their disabilities have put on their lives.
I met a woman, a supervisor at her company, who could only get around with two canes; her legs were virtually useless due to Multiple Sclerosis. She was fired from her job because she couldn’t get out of the building in time when there was a fire drill.
I knew a young man who wanted to be a world-class tennis player, and was making real progress, until he was hit by lightning, and lost a leg. He went through a depression facing the loss of his dream. And after a couple of years he was able to find a new dream, working in computer science.
I had a friend who was a NASA engineer. He had a psychotic break with paranoid delusions. He lost his job because he broke into the company offices believing his supervisors were out to get him. He also lost his family because he continued to have delusions and would not stay on his medication. He still struggles with keeping a job.
I also know many people who are on anti-depressants, anti-psychotics, or anti-anxiety medication that keeps their symptoms under control, and who lead normal, sometimes very successful, lives as teachers, managers, engineers. They need these medicines to function.
My younger son has to take insulin to live a normal life, and he is finishing up his second year of college. My older son has dyslexia, has learned to manage it, and is planning to graduate from college within the next year.
And finally, while I have not met him, Stephen Hawkings, a world renowned theoretical physicist, is restricted to a wheelchair due to neuro-muscular dystrophy. While physically restricted, he wrote the bestseller A Brief History of Time, developed theories about blackholes emitting radiation, and received the Presidential Medal of Honor.
We think of these people as disabled. Say the word “disability” to yourself. What does that bring up in your mind? Perhaps it brings up mobility impairments that require a person to use a wheelchair to move around. Disabilities may be physical, emotional, or cognitive, may be readily observed or hidden-- such as epilepsy, depression, fibromyalgia, or diabetes--and may result from a variety of causes. In looking for definitions of disability, I found this one to be most inclusive: being significantly limited either physically, cognitively, or emotionally in the performance of one or more activities of daily living (ADLs). An ADL is something like being able to work, keep oneself clean, dress oneself, feed oneself; activities many of us take for granted, things we do without thinking everyday as we function in the world. In many cases this condition is long-term. And a disability can be one of the following types: mobility, cognitive, hearing, visual, or speech.
Shortly after Jacob was diagnosed with diabetes, we were filling out some forms for college. One of the questions had to do with disability and when we checked the box which indicated “yes”, Jacob protested, “I am not disabled.” We explained to him that in the eyes of the government he was. He could not wrap his head around this. At about this time, Aaron, who is dyslexic, asked if he were disabled, and was shocked to find out that—at least as far as the government was concerned—he was too. Neither of them had a very high opinion of the government after that.
People with disabilities protested from the 1970’s to the 1990’s to get equality; they fought just like the women who fought for women’s rights and the African Americans who fought for their civil rights. They fought to get the Americans with Disabilities Act passed. They want the same rights that everyone else takes for granted in society. The American Association of People with Disabilities and other such cross-disability groups continue to fight for equal access to education and employment. They also work to help those with disabilities achieve self determination—to make their own choices about how and where they will live.
People with disabilities are generally protected by the Americans with Disabilities Act. Governments are required to provide ramps into public building for people with mobility limitations, provide Braille and sound signals for crossing the street for those with sight limitations, closed captions on television for those with hearing limitations, schools must provide equal educational opportunities for children and adults with disabilities, and employers must not discriminate against people with disabilities, and the list goes on. And it is unlawful to retaliate against an individual for opposing employment practices that discriminate based on disability or for filing a discrimination charge, testifying, or participating in any way in an investigation, proceeding, or litigation under the ADA; however sometimes the ADA is ignored by employers, educators, and others. Sometimes this is due to prejudice, sometimes due to financial reasons, concern about the extra equipment or time they believe adhering to the ADA will cost them.
When the disability act is ignored, it requires resources and time to fight for the rights of the disabled. The woman I mentioned who couldn’t get out of the building quick enough because of her crutches, needed to work just like the rest of us. She didn’t have the money or time to go to court, though she would have won the case. She just got another job and moved on. The new job didn’t pay as well as her old job, but she had to work. Many people with disabilities don’t go to court because they have to prove to the court that they have a significant disability—this is sometimes costly and difficult. The ADA can be used to help a person get their job back and get accommodations at work, but it does not fine the employer or get the person any monetary damages.
There are prejudices in our society against people with disabilities. As Unitarian Universalists, we say we affirm and promote the worth and dignity of every person. And I don’t believe we should beat ourselves up for the sins of the past or the ills of society. If all we do is focus on is how badly women, African Americans, gays, lesbians, or people with disabilities have been treated or are treated, we might just wallow in our own irrational guilt, which is not really going to change anything.
If we choose, and this is a choice, to help those with disabilities, we need to recognize our own prejudices, recognize and expose the prejudices we do see and hear, and we need to listen to and ask those with disabilities what we can do to support them, not assuming that we know what would make their lives better or more equal.
We all carry within us some prejudices—some irrational attitude, most often based on insufficient information, that affects how we behave toward people who are different than us—or even people who are similar to us, when we are unable to accept aspects of ourselves. For instance, we may be embarrassed because we have to take anti-depressants, and thus don’t talk about it. And we are also likely to react somewhat irrationally or reactively toward others who take anti-depressants. We all must try to recognize our prejudices so that we can manage them—not let them control our behaviors, how we treat others. What do you think and feel when I say: paranoid schizophrenic, blind, deaf, wheelchair bound, major depression, epileptic, diabetic, agoraphobic, paraplegic. Identifying your thoughts and feelings about these words can help you begin to cope with your own prejudices. Don’t beat yourself up for having these thoughts and feelings. Understand that we all have them and the more we acknowledge them, the less control they have over us.
What do you do when you hear a person make a joke about a disabled person? What do you do when you hear someone say that a person with fibromyalgia is just faking it because they are lazy? What do you do when you hear someone say any person with schizophrenia is dangerous? What do you do when you hear someone say we have gone too far providing accommodations for the disabled—with all the ramps and adapted crossings signals and requirements for any show on television to have closed captions? What do you do when you hear someone say there shouldn’t be insurance protections for people with long-terms medical conditions, it costs too much? Do you join in these conversations to fit in? Do you say to the person that you don’t feel the same as they do? Do you walk away from the conversation? We cannot always change the attitudes of others, but we can choose not to participate in, encourage, or affirm negative prejudicial statements that we hear. We can state that we feel differently; I know this is risky, but if we don’t take a stand, if we don’t say something, who will. And who knows, maybe someone, even if it is not the person talking, maybe someone near you may be listening and be transformed. Or maybe someone who feels the same as you do will see you take that risk and pass it on—standing up next time, not letting prejudicial statements stand.
Joan Tollifson is a writer and life teacher. She wrote: “[As I absorbed the lessons from my Zen teacher, it was] like realizing that we’re all put here in various bizarre costumes: black skin, white skin, amputations, old age, cerebral palsy, Down’s syndrome. Some people get more bizarre costumes than others, but everyone gets one, without exception. And then no one really sees anyone else. We see the outcome. We can’t get past it. Some people never even realize they’re at a costume party. I experience myself as a regular person who happens to be wearing this strange costume without a right hand.” We are all one people. We are all wearing strange costumes, but we are all the same humanity. The people I talked about at the beginning of this sermon are just like us. They may have had to cope with M.S. and loss of a job; they may have had to face the loss of a limb and depression, and then find a new dream; they may have limitations and still excelled in life, or they may have may still be struggling with their limitations; they may have to take medication and to live life fully. Just as we, each of us, have to face life’s challenges, so do they. They do not need to be, and we shouldn’t, treat them differently, special because they have a disability. Would you want to be treated differently because you have a disability? We cannot assume that we know what is best for them; this smacks of paternalism. But we can listen to them when they tell us how we can support them or help them. Or we can ask them if they don’t tell us. There is pain in all our lives, pain we cannot take away. What we can do, what is most helpful and loving is to be with them, in relationship with them, treating them as we would any other friend, through the pain.
And if we meet someone with a disability and perhaps become his/her friend, we can acknowledge in our hearts and minds that though we cannot save them from trials or sorrow, we can show how much we love them. Though we cannot make them into people of our choosing, we can be generous with positive recognition and celebrate their triumphs and support what is unique and special. They will learn from their time with us, and we will learn from our time with them.
I don’t know you will take away from this writing. But perhaps you might remember when someone, someone who is different from you in any way, puts their hand out to be shaken, or says hello, how are you doing, or smiles at you, that the least you can do is return in kind. We are all people, some of have much to bear and bear it well, some of us struggle a great deal with what life has given us, most of us are somewhere in between. Let us express love toward one another, let us not ignore prejudice toward our brothers and sisters, and let us lift each other up in dignity and worth whenever the opportunity presents itself.
Martha and I decided to bring children into our family when we reached our 30’s. We lost our first two children very early in each pregnancy and were beginning genetic testing when we became pregnant a third time—against medical advice. At this point the focus of the testing switched from our own genetics to those of our child. We were told by medical experts that there was a high probability that our child would be born with some significant genetic disorder, but that we wouldn’t know for sure until the tests came back. And, indeed, the first tests came back with sobering results. Now we faced a whole series of decisions we had never even considered before. We retested, and this time the results were within “normal” ranges, and now we have two adult children. But we have never forgotten what those few weeks were like when we were considering the very different path our lives might have taken. We still ask ourselves: “What would we have done if the pre-natal testing had detected a catastrophic disability?”
There are many parents today who struggle with that question. If you were told that your child might have a significant disability what would you do, knowing that your life and his/hers would probably be more challenging and take considerable time and resources. Perhaps some of us would say this is my child and I will support him/her through whatever challenges may arise. Perhaps some of us would not choose this life path. This is a deeply personal decision, for which no-one should judge you. But it is undeniable that a child who enters the world with a disability: will face challenges; and will face prejudice. This is inevitable. And just as inevitably the affirmation, love, and encouragement that child receives makes a difference in how they live with that disability.
I have met many people over my years as a psychotherapist who have had to face these challenges—whether they were born with them or whether disability was thrust upon them by life. Some have achieved a great deal despite these challenges, while others have had great difficulty coping with the limitations that their disabilities have put on their lives.
I met a woman, a supervisor at her company, who could only get around with two canes; her legs were virtually useless due to Multiple Sclerosis. She was fired from her job because she couldn’t get out of the building in time when there was a fire drill.
I knew a young man who wanted to be a world-class tennis player, and was making real progress, until he was hit by lightning, and lost a leg. He went through a depression facing the loss of his dream. And after a couple of years he was able to find a new dream, working in computer science.
I had a friend who was a NASA engineer. He had a psychotic break with paranoid delusions. He lost his job because he broke into the company offices believing his supervisors were out to get him. He also lost his family because he continued to have delusions and would not stay on his medication. He still struggles with keeping a job.
I also know many people who are on anti-depressants, anti-psychotics, or anti-anxiety medication that keeps their symptoms under control, and who lead normal, sometimes very successful, lives as teachers, managers, engineers. They need these medicines to function.
My younger son has to take insulin to live a normal life, and he is finishing up his second year of college. My older son has dyslexia, has learned to manage it, and is planning to graduate from college within the next year.
And finally, while I have not met him, Stephen Hawkings, a world renowned theoretical physicist, is restricted to a wheelchair due to neuro-muscular dystrophy. While physically restricted, he wrote the bestseller A Brief History of Time, developed theories about blackholes emitting radiation, and received the Presidential Medal of Honor.
We think of these people as disabled. Say the word “disability” to yourself. What does that bring up in your mind? Perhaps it brings up mobility impairments that require a person to use a wheelchair to move around. Disabilities may be physical, emotional, or cognitive, may be readily observed or hidden-- such as epilepsy, depression, fibromyalgia, or diabetes--and may result from a variety of causes. In looking for definitions of disability, I found this one to be most inclusive: being significantly limited either physically, cognitively, or emotionally in the performance of one or more activities of daily living (ADLs). An ADL is something like being able to work, keep oneself clean, dress oneself, feed oneself; activities many of us take for granted, things we do without thinking everyday as we function in the world. In many cases this condition is long-term. And a disability can be one of the following types: mobility, cognitive, hearing, visual, or speech.
Shortly after Jacob was diagnosed with diabetes, we were filling out some forms for college. One of the questions had to do with disability and when we checked the box which indicated “yes”, Jacob protested, “I am not disabled.” We explained to him that in the eyes of the government he was. He could not wrap his head around this. At about this time, Aaron, who is dyslexic, asked if he were disabled, and was shocked to find out that—at least as far as the government was concerned—he was too. Neither of them had a very high opinion of the government after that.
People with disabilities protested from the 1970’s to the 1990’s to get equality; they fought just like the women who fought for women’s rights and the African Americans who fought for their civil rights. They fought to get the Americans with Disabilities Act passed. They want the same rights that everyone else takes for granted in society. The American Association of People with Disabilities and other such cross-disability groups continue to fight for equal access to education and employment. They also work to help those with disabilities achieve self determination—to make their own choices about how and where they will live.
People with disabilities are generally protected by the Americans with Disabilities Act. Governments are required to provide ramps into public building for people with mobility limitations, provide Braille and sound signals for crossing the street for those with sight limitations, closed captions on television for those with hearing limitations, schools must provide equal educational opportunities for children and adults with disabilities, and employers must not discriminate against people with disabilities, and the list goes on. And it is unlawful to retaliate against an individual for opposing employment practices that discriminate based on disability or for filing a discrimination charge, testifying, or participating in any way in an investigation, proceeding, or litigation under the ADA; however sometimes the ADA is ignored by employers, educators, and others. Sometimes this is due to prejudice, sometimes due to financial reasons, concern about the extra equipment or time they believe adhering to the ADA will cost them.
When the disability act is ignored, it requires resources and time to fight for the rights of the disabled. The woman I mentioned who couldn’t get out of the building quick enough because of her crutches, needed to work just like the rest of us. She didn’t have the money or time to go to court, though she would have won the case. She just got another job and moved on. The new job didn’t pay as well as her old job, but she had to work. Many people with disabilities don’t go to court because they have to prove to the court that they have a significant disability—this is sometimes costly and difficult. The ADA can be used to help a person get their job back and get accommodations at work, but it does not fine the employer or get the person any monetary damages.
There are prejudices in our society against people with disabilities. As Unitarian Universalists, we say we affirm and promote the worth and dignity of every person. And I don’t believe we should beat ourselves up for the sins of the past or the ills of society. If all we do is focus on is how badly women, African Americans, gays, lesbians, or people with disabilities have been treated or are treated, we might just wallow in our own irrational guilt, which is not really going to change anything.
If we choose, and this is a choice, to help those with disabilities, we need to recognize our own prejudices, recognize and expose the prejudices we do see and hear, and we need to listen to and ask those with disabilities what we can do to support them, not assuming that we know what would make their lives better or more equal.
We all carry within us some prejudices—some irrational attitude, most often based on insufficient information, that affects how we behave toward people who are different than us—or even people who are similar to us, when we are unable to accept aspects of ourselves. For instance, we may be embarrassed because we have to take anti-depressants, and thus don’t talk about it. And we are also likely to react somewhat irrationally or reactively toward others who take anti-depressants. We all must try to recognize our prejudices so that we can manage them—not let them control our behaviors, how we treat others. What do you think and feel when I say: paranoid schizophrenic, blind, deaf, wheelchair bound, major depression, epileptic, diabetic, agoraphobic, paraplegic. Identifying your thoughts and feelings about these words can help you begin to cope with your own prejudices. Don’t beat yourself up for having these thoughts and feelings. Understand that we all have them and the more we acknowledge them, the less control they have over us.
What do you do when you hear a person make a joke about a disabled person? What do you do when you hear someone say that a person with fibromyalgia is just faking it because they are lazy? What do you do when you hear someone say any person with schizophrenia is dangerous? What do you do when you hear someone say we have gone too far providing accommodations for the disabled—with all the ramps and adapted crossings signals and requirements for any show on television to have closed captions? What do you do when you hear someone say there shouldn’t be insurance protections for people with long-terms medical conditions, it costs too much? Do you join in these conversations to fit in? Do you say to the person that you don’t feel the same as they do? Do you walk away from the conversation? We cannot always change the attitudes of others, but we can choose not to participate in, encourage, or affirm negative prejudicial statements that we hear. We can state that we feel differently; I know this is risky, but if we don’t take a stand, if we don’t say something, who will. And who knows, maybe someone, even if it is not the person talking, maybe someone near you may be listening and be transformed. Or maybe someone who feels the same as you do will see you take that risk and pass it on—standing up next time, not letting prejudicial statements stand.
Joan Tollifson is a writer and life teacher. She wrote: “[As I absorbed the lessons from my Zen teacher, it was] like realizing that we’re all put here in various bizarre costumes: black skin, white skin, amputations, old age, cerebral palsy, Down’s syndrome. Some people get more bizarre costumes than others, but everyone gets one, without exception. And then no one really sees anyone else. We see the outcome. We can’t get past it. Some people never even realize they’re at a costume party. I experience myself as a regular person who happens to be wearing this strange costume without a right hand.” We are all one people. We are all wearing strange costumes, but we are all the same humanity. The people I talked about at the beginning of this sermon are just like us. They may have had to cope with M.S. and loss of a job; they may have had to face the loss of a limb and depression, and then find a new dream; they may have limitations and still excelled in life, or they may have may still be struggling with their limitations; they may have to take medication and to live life fully. Just as we, each of us, have to face life’s challenges, so do they. They do not need to be, and we shouldn’t, treat them differently, special because they have a disability. Would you want to be treated differently because you have a disability? We cannot assume that we know what is best for them; this smacks of paternalism. But we can listen to them when they tell us how we can support them or help them. Or we can ask them if they don’t tell us. There is pain in all our lives, pain we cannot take away. What we can do, what is most helpful and loving is to be with them, in relationship with them, treating them as we would any other friend, through the pain.
And if we meet someone with a disability and perhaps become his/her friend, we can acknowledge in our hearts and minds that though we cannot save them from trials or sorrow, we can show how much we love them. Though we cannot make them into people of our choosing, we can be generous with positive recognition and celebrate their triumphs and support what is unique and special. They will learn from their time with us, and we will learn from our time with them.
I don’t know you will take away from this writing. But perhaps you might remember when someone, someone who is different from you in any way, puts their hand out to be shaken, or says hello, how are you doing, or smiles at you, that the least you can do is return in kind. We are all people, some of have much to bear and bear it well, some of us struggle a great deal with what life has given us, most of us are somewhere in between. Let us express love toward one another, let us not ignore prejudice toward our brothers and sisters, and let us lift each other up in dignity and worth whenever the opportunity presents itself.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
I am back!
Well, I haven't posted in a while, but I intend on getting back to it now that summer has arrived. I watched a movie last night with the line "I want this hardened arm to stop dragging a cherished image." I eventually found the poem it was from:
Working People
O that warm February morning!
The untimely south came
to stir up our absurd paupers' memories,
our young distress.
Henrika had on a brown
and white checked cotton skirt
which must have been worn in the last century,
a bonnet with ribbons and a silk scarf.
It was much sadder than any mourning.
We were taking a stroll in the suburbs.
The weather was overcast
and that wind from the south
excited all the evil odors of the desolate
garden and the dried fields.
It did not seem to weary my wife as it did me.
In a puddle left by the rains of the preceding month,
on a fairly high path,
she called my attention to some very little fishes.
The city with its smoke and its factory noises
followed us far out along the roads.
O other world, habituation
blessed by sky and shade!
The south brought black miserable memories
of my childhood, my summer despairs,
the horrible quantity of strength
and of knowledge that fate has always kept from me.
No! we will not spend the summer
in this avaricious country
where we shall never be anything
but affianced orphans.
I want this hardened arm
to stop dragging _a cherished image._
Arthur Rimbaud
This poem, mostly this last line, touched me very deeply. It helped me focus on losses and grief in my life as well as the losses and grief that Peoples Church is going through right now as the congregation moves through selling a building to finding a new home. Grief is a very complicated process; it is not just emotional--with anger, depression, resentment, relief, etc.--and behavioral--with the possibility of being more reactive, lethargic, vigilant, etc.--grief is also a very spiritual process.
Often I have heard people say that when someone in their life dies, they question their beliefs--not just belief in a god, but many of their beliefs about life. Loss can be a severe shock to the system, and because it is, one's core values and beliefs can come into question. Sometimes this shock can be transformational, giving the person an opportunity to become more than they were, helping them find a deeper understanding of themselves and the world, or forcing the person out of the routine and mundane that life may be for them. A shock can also paralyze a person, oftentimes with fear, being afraid that nothing will be stable in their lives or that they are unable to discern what is really important, what they can really hold on to, that is meaningful in their lives.
As part of our grief, we hold onto cherished images of what was important to us. Sometimes these images can be like a hardened arm that we are dragging around with us everywhere--like images of a parent who was always there to help us. If we hold onto the image of our parent always helping us, we may never realize that we can manage life without them; we might end up feeling the insecurity that we have no one to help us now. Sometimes these images can be helpful--remembering a father for the legacy of helping others he passed on to you. Then we go on to bring that legacy into our lives.
I am starting to looked at the cherished images from my own losses right now, and wondering are they helping me or are they dragging along beside me as I move through life.
Blessings,
Reverend Tom
Working People
O that warm February morning!
The untimely south came
to stir up our absurd paupers' memories,
our young distress.
Henrika had on a brown
and white checked cotton skirt
which must have been worn in the last century,
a bonnet with ribbons and a silk scarf.
It was much sadder than any mourning.
We were taking a stroll in the suburbs.
The weather was overcast
and that wind from the south
excited all the evil odors of the desolate
garden and the dried fields.
It did not seem to weary my wife as it did me.
In a puddle left by the rains of the preceding month,
on a fairly high path,
she called my attention to some very little fishes.
The city with its smoke and its factory noises
followed us far out along the roads.
O other world, habituation
blessed by sky and shade!
The south brought black miserable memories
of my childhood, my summer despairs,
the horrible quantity of strength
and of knowledge that fate has always kept from me.
No! we will not spend the summer
in this avaricious country
where we shall never be anything
but affianced orphans.
I want this hardened arm
to stop dragging _a cherished image._
Arthur Rimbaud
This poem, mostly this last line, touched me very deeply. It helped me focus on losses and grief in my life as well as the losses and grief that Peoples Church is going through right now as the congregation moves through selling a building to finding a new home. Grief is a very complicated process; it is not just emotional--with anger, depression, resentment, relief, etc.--and behavioral--with the possibility of being more reactive, lethargic, vigilant, etc.--grief is also a very spiritual process.
Often I have heard people say that when someone in their life dies, they question their beliefs--not just belief in a god, but many of their beliefs about life. Loss can be a severe shock to the system, and because it is, one's core values and beliefs can come into question. Sometimes this shock can be transformational, giving the person an opportunity to become more than they were, helping them find a deeper understanding of themselves and the world, or forcing the person out of the routine and mundane that life may be for them. A shock can also paralyze a person, oftentimes with fear, being afraid that nothing will be stable in their lives or that they are unable to discern what is really important, what they can really hold on to, that is meaningful in their lives.
As part of our grief, we hold onto cherished images of what was important to us. Sometimes these images can be like a hardened arm that we are dragging around with us everywhere--like images of a parent who was always there to help us. If we hold onto the image of our parent always helping us, we may never realize that we can manage life without them; we might end up feeling the insecurity that we have no one to help us now. Sometimes these images can be helpful--remembering a father for the legacy of helping others he passed on to you. Then we go on to bring that legacy into our lives.
I am starting to looked at the cherished images from my own losses right now, and wondering are they helping me or are they dragging along beside me as I move through life.
Blessings,
Reverend Tom
Monday, February 8, 2010
Who Am I?
Who am I? Are we our souls, our character, our personality? Is who we are determined by biology or by the songs sung by our mothers before we were even conceived, or by some divine being? Is who we are a process of learned reactions to situations? How do you figure out who you are? And where do you find your inner nature, your core? Perhaps our youth gave us a clue today: wherever we are is where we’ll find ourselves. Whether we are at work, church, home, or walking down the street, we are still ourselves; or perhaps wherever we are, whatever we are doing, we have the opportunity to learn more about ourselves. We may seem to behave differently or even think or feel differently in certain situations; we may notice changes in how we act, think, and feel as we face changes in life, or as we age, or as we have certain experiences, but we are still ourselves. Or are we?
So this journey of finding who I am is not so easy, not so simple. But I had to start somewhere. So I started, as many of you probably have started, with labels. I am a father, husband, brother, child, worker, minister, counselor, but that didn’t seem to go deep enough. That seemed superficial. Then I started thinking about words to describe myself like smart, happy, good laugh, extroverted, good listener. Yet, even that seemed like I wasn’t really finding what I was looking for. So how was I going to find who I really am, what my deepest nature is.
So I started reflecting on my past experiences with people whose answers to the question “who am I” might not be so clear, people whose lives have dramatically changed after some significant life event. Something had happened to them physically or emotionally that made me question if they could ever answer the question who am I with any clarity.
As a chaplain at Southwest Memorial Hospital in Sugarland, Texas, I was called to a hospital room by the daughter of a patient. The patient, Jill, had a stroke and was recovering in the hospital. Since the stroke, Jill had not been able to feel emotions, talk about emotions, or even recognize significant life events as such. Her daughter, Jane, called me to Jill’s room because another one of Jill’s daughters had just been diagnosed with terminal cancer. Jane was concerned because Jill did not want to talk about her other daughter’s terminal cancer; Jill did not cry or show any emotion or even recognize the significance of her daughter’s diagnosis. Jane felt there must be something I could do to help her mother recognize and deal with her daughter’s imminent death from cancer. There was nothing I could do, that part of Jill was gone. All I could do was help Jane cope with the loss of part of her mother.
This experience has made me wonder how much of who I am is subject to change. I know if I had a stroke or a brain injury then I could change; with certain physical conditions, the person I am now could become someone very different. And it is not just the possible change in a person’s physical condition that can affect their answer to Who am I, at times I have seen people dramatically change who they are at their core after a profound emotional experience.
I worked with a woman in therapy many years ago who was ritually abused in a cult. She developed a dissociative disorder known as multiple personality disorder. Dissociation means that the person goes away for a period of time. For some of us, this might happen when we are driving and space-out, go on auto-pilot, daydream, not being aware where we are for a minute or two, maybe even missing an exit on a long drive because we were somewhere else. For this woman, when she dissociated, or left or spaced out, someone else took over her body. Each part of her took on a different role—some part of her dealt with conflict, another with work, another drove—each part had different reactions, motivations, even behavioral characteristics—one had a facial tic, another stuttered, another had a southern accent. Over time, I became aware that there were even biochemical changes—one part of her could be given medication, such as an anti-anxiety medication, and if another part came out, the medicine would have had no effect on that part. So how would someone with this disorder be able to identify who am I?
Perhaps who I am is based partly on my physiology and partly on my experiences and what I take away from those experiences. Well, I am a human being, my body seems to function pretty well, five fingers, five toes…I am a little overweight, at times I feel emotions—anxiety, sadness, anger, happiness. I have a tendency toward hypertension and my LDL is a little low. I realize all these biological things about me affect me, but unless something seriously affects my brain or body, this doesn’t seem to help me answer who I am deep inside.
How about my experiences? While I have had some significant life experiences, I am not sure I would call any of them traumatic enough to change who I am. I grew up in an alcoholic home with a father got drunk and sometimes raged. Reflecting back on that now, I do think I am more compassionate and more empathic because of those experiences. I do think that I probably chose to help people because I felt helpless at times, and also saw my family helpless at times during my father’s alcohol abuse. I was called on to stand up to my father, even when I was afraid, I was the oldest, because no one else would, so I probably am more assertive because of those experiences. While I think understanding how my life experiences affect me is important—this knowledge helps me identify my strengths and weaknesses, helps me manage reactions that have been programmed into me from my past, and helps me make peace with my past, I still don’t think this understanding answers the question who I am clearly enough for me.
Friday while riding my bike, a man in a truck slowed down and yelled at me about riding on a main road. I felt like expressing myself physically using a single finger to show my disagreement with him, but I did not. Some part of me felt that wasn’t who I am. When Martha and I were walking on the Sac and Fox trail last week, we came upon a new foot bridge next to Mount Vernon road. The bridge was complete, but was about five feet off the trail, requiring us to climb up to and down off the bridge. During the climbing down part, I felt afraid, momentarily paralyzed, but something inside me said that is not who I am, and I climbed down despite my fear. When Mary Alice Erickson died, and I was asked to do her memorial service, I wondered how could I possibly put together a memorial service that would do justice to this incredible woman. But something inside me said you can do this, you do not have to say everything, those who knew her and loved her will be there to bring memories of her to life. And that is what happened.
I have come to believe that who I am deep inside is revealed to me if I take time to listen, if I don’t just react, let myself be paralyzed, doubt myself. If I pause and listen to that still small voice inside, I find who I am at my core, what my true deepest nature is. Will that change; does that change? I realize I might have a physical injury or ailment, or I might have an experience or trauma that might make who I am different—perhaps making it more difficult to find my core or to hear that still small voice inside. I realize that as my life unfolds, my core, who I am, might be changing, but I am not sure. But what I do know about myself becomes clearer when I stop and listen, who I am comes up within me no matter what I am doing or where I am.
I cannot tell you the answer to who you are. I am still learning who I am. But for me whenever I experience something, whenever I have a strong feeling or want to react, whenever I have a decision to make, I try to remember to listen for that which is inside me, that which I recognize as my truest nature, before I respond or decide. This is my answer to Who am I? What is yours?
So this journey of finding who I am is not so easy, not so simple. But I had to start somewhere. So I started, as many of you probably have started, with labels. I am a father, husband, brother, child, worker, minister, counselor, but that didn’t seem to go deep enough. That seemed superficial. Then I started thinking about words to describe myself like smart, happy, good laugh, extroverted, good listener. Yet, even that seemed like I wasn’t really finding what I was looking for. So how was I going to find who I really am, what my deepest nature is.
So I started reflecting on my past experiences with people whose answers to the question “who am I” might not be so clear, people whose lives have dramatically changed after some significant life event. Something had happened to them physically or emotionally that made me question if they could ever answer the question who am I with any clarity.
As a chaplain at Southwest Memorial Hospital in Sugarland, Texas, I was called to a hospital room by the daughter of a patient. The patient, Jill, had a stroke and was recovering in the hospital. Since the stroke, Jill had not been able to feel emotions, talk about emotions, or even recognize significant life events as such. Her daughter, Jane, called me to Jill’s room because another one of Jill’s daughters had just been diagnosed with terminal cancer. Jane was concerned because Jill did not want to talk about her other daughter’s terminal cancer; Jill did not cry or show any emotion or even recognize the significance of her daughter’s diagnosis. Jane felt there must be something I could do to help her mother recognize and deal with her daughter’s imminent death from cancer. There was nothing I could do, that part of Jill was gone. All I could do was help Jane cope with the loss of part of her mother.
This experience has made me wonder how much of who I am is subject to change. I know if I had a stroke or a brain injury then I could change; with certain physical conditions, the person I am now could become someone very different. And it is not just the possible change in a person’s physical condition that can affect their answer to Who am I, at times I have seen people dramatically change who they are at their core after a profound emotional experience.
I worked with a woman in therapy many years ago who was ritually abused in a cult. She developed a dissociative disorder known as multiple personality disorder. Dissociation means that the person goes away for a period of time. For some of us, this might happen when we are driving and space-out, go on auto-pilot, daydream, not being aware where we are for a minute or two, maybe even missing an exit on a long drive because we were somewhere else. For this woman, when she dissociated, or left or spaced out, someone else took over her body. Each part of her took on a different role—some part of her dealt with conflict, another with work, another drove—each part had different reactions, motivations, even behavioral characteristics—one had a facial tic, another stuttered, another had a southern accent. Over time, I became aware that there were even biochemical changes—one part of her could be given medication, such as an anti-anxiety medication, and if another part came out, the medicine would have had no effect on that part. So how would someone with this disorder be able to identify who am I?
Perhaps who I am is based partly on my physiology and partly on my experiences and what I take away from those experiences. Well, I am a human being, my body seems to function pretty well, five fingers, five toes…I am a little overweight, at times I feel emotions—anxiety, sadness, anger, happiness. I have a tendency toward hypertension and my LDL is a little low. I realize all these biological things about me affect me, but unless something seriously affects my brain or body, this doesn’t seem to help me answer who I am deep inside.
How about my experiences? While I have had some significant life experiences, I am not sure I would call any of them traumatic enough to change who I am. I grew up in an alcoholic home with a father got drunk and sometimes raged. Reflecting back on that now, I do think I am more compassionate and more empathic because of those experiences. I do think that I probably chose to help people because I felt helpless at times, and also saw my family helpless at times during my father’s alcohol abuse. I was called on to stand up to my father, even when I was afraid, I was the oldest, because no one else would, so I probably am more assertive because of those experiences. While I think understanding how my life experiences affect me is important—this knowledge helps me identify my strengths and weaknesses, helps me manage reactions that have been programmed into me from my past, and helps me make peace with my past, I still don’t think this understanding answers the question who I am clearly enough for me.
Friday while riding my bike, a man in a truck slowed down and yelled at me about riding on a main road. I felt like expressing myself physically using a single finger to show my disagreement with him, but I did not. Some part of me felt that wasn’t who I am. When Martha and I were walking on the Sac and Fox trail last week, we came upon a new foot bridge next to Mount Vernon road. The bridge was complete, but was about five feet off the trail, requiring us to climb up to and down off the bridge. During the climbing down part, I felt afraid, momentarily paralyzed, but something inside me said that is not who I am, and I climbed down despite my fear. When Mary Alice Erickson died, and I was asked to do her memorial service, I wondered how could I possibly put together a memorial service that would do justice to this incredible woman. But something inside me said you can do this, you do not have to say everything, those who knew her and loved her will be there to bring memories of her to life. And that is what happened.
I have come to believe that who I am deep inside is revealed to me if I take time to listen, if I don’t just react, let myself be paralyzed, doubt myself. If I pause and listen to that still small voice inside, I find who I am at my core, what my true deepest nature is. Will that change; does that change? I realize I might have a physical injury or ailment, or I might have an experience or trauma that might make who I am different—perhaps making it more difficult to find my core or to hear that still small voice inside. I realize that as my life unfolds, my core, who I am, might be changing, but I am not sure. But what I do know about myself becomes clearer when I stop and listen, who I am comes up within me no matter what I am doing or where I am.
I cannot tell you the answer to who you are. I am still learning who I am. But for me whenever I experience something, whenever I have a strong feeling or want to react, whenever I have a decision to make, I try to remember to listen for that which is inside me, that which I recognize as my truest nature, before I respond or decide. This is my answer to Who am I? What is yours?
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
How Shall I live Knowing I will Die?
Preached on 10/04/2009 at Peoples Church Unitarian Universalist
Reverend Forrest Church, acclaimed author, theologian, and Unitarian Universalist parish minister died September 24, 2009. He had served All Souls Parish in New York City for thirty years. He struggled with esophageal cancer for three years, but did not let this interfere with his ministry. He preached his farewell sermon on the verge of his death five times on five consecutive Sundays—saying, “After two or three poignant farewell sermons, I am almost embarrassed this morning to be seen in public upright.” Reverend Dr. Forrest Church wrote much about facing death and about living life knowing that he was going to die. In his latest, but not last, book, Love and Death: My Journey through the Valley of the Shadow, he speaks eloquently about how the love we share is the most thing that lives on past our physical death. In 2008 speaking to the New York Times about his life, he concluded, “I look back without regrets, and I look forward without fear. I have never been more present.”
We will all die some day. You could die today. We all know this on an intellectual, rational level, but how often do we really reflect on our own mortality, and the legacy we will leave behind? Today, as I ask you to consider your own death, could you say that you look back on your life without regrets, look forward without fear, and be fully in the present? Most of us don’t even think about our death, until we are forced to face it because the death of a loved one, our own illness, or old age.
Psychologist Erik Erickson described our final stage of psychological development as Integrity vs. Despair. We generally enter this stage when faced with death or our old age. It is during this stage that we contemplate our accomplishments and develop integrity if we see ourselves as having led a successful, meaningful, purposeful life. However, if we see our life as having been unproductive, lacking purpose or meaning, we may feel dissatisfied with our life and develop despair, which can lead to depression and hopelessness. I often wonder why we wait until we are forced by circumstances to consider our life, to reflect back on what our life has been, to consider how we live our lives now, and discern whether we have left anything undone. Are we are afraid of death? Perhaps a lingering painful death? Do we fear the pain our death will cause others?
But I ask you today, to put aside for a moment, the fear that might rise up in you thinking about your death. And focus on this question: what would change if you did pause from your routine and busy life and, at least once, reflect on the limited amount of time you are given to live your life? Would you live your life differently is you deeply embraced the inevitability of your death?
Forrest Church upon given his diagnosis of cancer, wondered, “Every minister worth his or her salt spends a lifetime preparing for death’s exam. A year ago this month, [I asked myself] just how strong the theological framework I had built for myself met the test. With compelling reason to believe that my number had been called, I finally got the chance to see if the balm I had brought over the years to the bedsides of your loved ones would salve my own fresh wound. During the days after my diagnosis, through my brain, as if on a Mobius loop, cycled my theological mantras: religion is our human response to the dual reality of being alive and having to die; we are the religious animal; knowing that we must die, we cannot help but question what life means; we are more alike in our ignorance, than we differ in our knowledge; God is not God’s name. God is our name for that which is greater than all and yet present in each; whether or not there is life after death, surely there is love after death; the one thing [that] can never be taken away from us, even by death, is the love we give away before we die; the purpose of life is to live in such a way, that our lives will prove worth dying for.” Even after facing his imminent death, Forest felt his framework standing strong, though it was severely tested.
As Unitarian Universalists, we have varied understandings/beliefs about what happens after we die, but I think it is safe to say that few Unitarian Universalists align their everyday existence preparing for an afterlife. I also think it is safe to say that most Unitarian Universalists live their lives in the here and now, concentrating on what they can do to make their world a better place for themselves and for others. I would take this a step further to say that many Unitarian Universalists don’t think about death, because death is an ending, not the beginning of another existence. Even Unitarian Universalist memorial services, which I think are very moving and healing, don’t focus on death—Unitarian Universalists celebrate the life of the deceased.
So why am I asking a group of Unitarian Universalists to think about their death. Because I believe affirming our limited lifespan, we are more likely to live our lives, not only fully and richly, but also with more relishing and reminiscing, and with more gratitude.
Let’s take a moment to reflect on the story of the tigers and the strawberry. This man was running from a tiger, he comes to a cliff, climbs down on a vine; the tiger that was chasing him, now is looking at him over the edge of the cliff. The man notices that below him are more tigers; he also notices that little mice are eating away at his vine. This could be the end of the story, as it seems his death is imminent, but this story doesn’t end with the man’s death. This story ends with the man relishing a big luscious juicy strawberry that he sees growing near him.
The story could have focused on the man’s fear; perhaps his being scared that he would not die instantly up on hitting the ground, but suffer as the tigers tore him to bits. Forrest Church could have focused on the pain and struggle he was facing, but he said of his cancer, “It’s all just stuff; it doesn’t matter” instead he focused on love and life, on living fully right up to the end—preaching, writing, loving those around him. Forrest Church didn’t focus on the tigers—he didn’t have to, because his tigers were a painful presence every waking moment-- he took the strawberry and relished it to the very end of his life.
Recognizing and accepting the tigers doesn’t mean you dwell on them or let them control you. Recognizing and accepting the tigers, can set you free. Awareness of your mortality gives you the opportunity to choose more deliberately how you will live your life. Holding the inevitability of our death in our hearts, I believe that we are more likely to live mindfully each experience we have, slowing down, to taste all the subtle flavors and textures of every strawberry in our lives and be grateful for them. I know that life is not made up entirely of strawberry experiences, but perhaps accepting the limited time we have to live, we might look more intently for or notice more frequently the strawberries that exist around us.
Thursday at lunchtime, I attended another meeting, AMOS—A Mid Iowa Organizing Strategy, which was lead by a member of the IAF—the Industrial Areas Foundation. This meeting was to help the Cedar Rapids/Iowa City Corridor begin to develop a community action organization to identify and work on social issues important to members of our community. Members of local labor unions, faith communities, as well as others came together over a sack lunch to learn how to put this organization together. Now I am very committed to working to affect positive change in our community, but there were also wonderful strawberries right there in that meeting. I got to know some new people and hear what was important to them in their lives. You see this grassroots organization advocates positive social change through people talking to one another and getting to know one another; two people talking to each other, then four or five people getting to know one another, then larger groups, sharing what the important issues are in their lives, before trying to work together to make any change happen. I could have focused only on the problems that people talked about—needing health care reform, needing a better wage, needing a stable economy, and I did pay attention—but I also relished getting to know wonderful new, different people. Realizing that I have a limited time to live this gift of life, I try to notice every strawberry I can, and express love to all those I meet.
As Forrest Church reminds us: “whether or not there is life after death, surely there is love after death,” so I have chosen to express love to everyone I come into contact with. I love them, even though at times I may not like them. I love you all, as I believe you all love me, though there may be times we may not like each other very much, that is pretty much guaranteed if we are in a long term relationship with one another. But we must love one another even when we don’t like one another, and we must express that love. I check in with people I know, here at this church, and in the community, to see how they are doing; I let them know they are cared about; I share openly with them, and listen attentively to them; I let them know that they are important and they are important to me. This is how I express my love. And I do with without looking for anything in return, it is unconditional love. I do this intentionally because I know I have a limited time, just as we all have a limited time, to share love with others.
How does the past fit into this picture of how we should live knowing we will die? I believe that reflecting on our past is essential to living fully. Reflecting on our past gives us the opportunity to learn more about ourselves and to grow from that new understanding. And reflecting on the past lets us keep fresh the wonderful awe inspiring and loving experiences we have had and be grateful—not to live in the past, but to gratefully carry the past with us in our hearts and minds. Again many people don’t do this until they are forced to by life’s circumstances. Once, many years ago when Martha and I were walking through the neighborhood, our very young boys running and laughing before us, a friend of our said, “There go Martha and Tom, making memories.” She didn’t mean it particularly nicely, but that was OK. We were making memories. And I re-experience the joy from these experiences and affirm my gratitude for these experiences and for my life. And in my prayers, I reflect on my most recent experiences, the blessings that life gives me everyday, and express my gratitude. This ritual does two things for me; it helps me to be mindful of all the little strawberries around me, and it helps me feel more joyful and grateful, rather than depressed and pessimistic.
As a psychotherapist, I noticed that people tend to more easily and frequently remember the bad times, the pain, the hurt in their lives—replaying them over and over again—to the exclusion of the joys and positive memories. If we don’t make time to remember the joys and loves in life, we will forget them, we may lose them, we will let the pain in our lives be more important and have more influence in our lives than the joys and loves we have known. We are more likely to feel depressed and pessimistic, focusing on the tigers in our lives to the exclusion of the many strawberries. The gift of life is but a short span of time, to me it seems such a waste to focus on the tigers, and miss the many strawberries.
As I have said from this pulpit before, when I was a member of Bay Area Unitarian Universalist Church, one of our ministers was asked to leave the church and leave the ministry because he had done something unethical. At that moment, I wondered if I lost everything, like he did, if my life were over, would I have left anything undone that I felt called to do in my heart. This is a question that many people don’t ask until they reach the end of their lives. Have I left anything undone? The movie, The Bucket List, with Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson, is about this. In this movie, these two men meet in a hospital after getting diagnosed with terminal lung cancer. They begin traveling around the world having experiences that they want to have before “kicking the bucket.” I have met people who actually have developed a bucket list—generally they are older, but these are not only old people. I have met some young people, who are asking themselves, ‘what do I want/need to do before I die?’ For some these are things like bungee jumping, parachuting, visiting exotic places; and for some it is getting my college degree(s), becoming a minister, doctor, fill in the blank; for others it is working for marriage equality or woman’s reproductive rights, causes that are important to them; and for others it is simply loving people as much as they can. What have you left undone, knowing that you will die? Perhaps nothing, but I feel it is essential to ask yourself this question at least once in your life, and wait patiently for your heart to whisper its answer to you.
One final question posed by Forrest Church as he was facing his death, I will pose to you. Is the meaning and purpose of your life to live in such a way, that your life will prove worth dying for? What have you done in your life to make it worth dying for? Forrest Church has again and again reminded us that showing love for others is part of this answer, expressing unconditional love to humanity, or at least all the people you come into contact in your life. But what else in your life, what other purpose makes your life worth dying for? This question calls us to great purposes in our lives, to live beyond our own personal needs and wants. This question asks us to consider what have we done to make our community, even our world, more just, more equitable, and to make our community, even our world, a safer, healthier and ecologically stable place to live.
Unitarian and Transcendentalist, Henry David Thoreau wrote: “I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck the marrow of life…” My friends, I ask, I implore you, at least once in your life to ask yourself, ‘how shall I live knowing I will die’ then listen patiently for the answer. Once the answer is received, live deeply and suck the marrow of life. Do not practice resignation unless it is quite necessary; instead live deliberately with acceptance of your inevitable death in your heart. A little advise though, remember to reminisce, be joyful and grateful, give love freely, live each moment fully, find and live meaning and purpose, and eat all the strawberries you can. Blessed be.
Reverend Forrest Church, acclaimed author, theologian, and Unitarian Universalist parish minister died September 24, 2009. He had served All Souls Parish in New York City for thirty years. He struggled with esophageal cancer for three years, but did not let this interfere with his ministry. He preached his farewell sermon on the verge of his death five times on five consecutive Sundays—saying, “After two or three poignant farewell sermons, I am almost embarrassed this morning to be seen in public upright.” Reverend Dr. Forrest Church wrote much about facing death and about living life knowing that he was going to die. In his latest, but not last, book, Love and Death: My Journey through the Valley of the Shadow, he speaks eloquently about how the love we share is the most thing that lives on past our physical death. In 2008 speaking to the New York Times about his life, he concluded, “I look back without regrets, and I look forward without fear. I have never been more present.”
We will all die some day. You could die today. We all know this on an intellectual, rational level, but how often do we really reflect on our own mortality, and the legacy we will leave behind? Today, as I ask you to consider your own death, could you say that you look back on your life without regrets, look forward without fear, and be fully in the present? Most of us don’t even think about our death, until we are forced to face it because the death of a loved one, our own illness, or old age.
Psychologist Erik Erickson described our final stage of psychological development as Integrity vs. Despair. We generally enter this stage when faced with death or our old age. It is during this stage that we contemplate our accomplishments and develop integrity if we see ourselves as having led a successful, meaningful, purposeful life. However, if we see our life as having been unproductive, lacking purpose or meaning, we may feel dissatisfied with our life and develop despair, which can lead to depression and hopelessness. I often wonder why we wait until we are forced by circumstances to consider our life, to reflect back on what our life has been, to consider how we live our lives now, and discern whether we have left anything undone. Are we are afraid of death? Perhaps a lingering painful death? Do we fear the pain our death will cause others?
But I ask you today, to put aside for a moment, the fear that might rise up in you thinking about your death. And focus on this question: what would change if you did pause from your routine and busy life and, at least once, reflect on the limited amount of time you are given to live your life? Would you live your life differently is you deeply embraced the inevitability of your death?
Forrest Church upon given his diagnosis of cancer, wondered, “Every minister worth his or her salt spends a lifetime preparing for death’s exam. A year ago this month, [I asked myself] just how strong the theological framework I had built for myself met the test. With compelling reason to believe that my number had been called, I finally got the chance to see if the balm I had brought over the years to the bedsides of your loved ones would salve my own fresh wound. During the days after my diagnosis, through my brain, as if on a Mobius loop, cycled my theological mantras: religion is our human response to the dual reality of being alive and having to die; we are the religious animal; knowing that we must die, we cannot help but question what life means; we are more alike in our ignorance, than we differ in our knowledge; God is not God’s name. God is our name for that which is greater than all and yet present in each; whether or not there is life after death, surely there is love after death; the one thing [that] can never be taken away from us, even by death, is the love we give away before we die; the purpose of life is to live in such a way, that our lives will prove worth dying for.” Even after facing his imminent death, Forest felt his framework standing strong, though it was severely tested.
As Unitarian Universalists, we have varied understandings/beliefs about what happens after we die, but I think it is safe to say that few Unitarian Universalists align their everyday existence preparing for an afterlife. I also think it is safe to say that most Unitarian Universalists live their lives in the here and now, concentrating on what they can do to make their world a better place for themselves and for others. I would take this a step further to say that many Unitarian Universalists don’t think about death, because death is an ending, not the beginning of another existence. Even Unitarian Universalist memorial services, which I think are very moving and healing, don’t focus on death—Unitarian Universalists celebrate the life of the deceased.
So why am I asking a group of Unitarian Universalists to think about their death. Because I believe affirming our limited lifespan, we are more likely to live our lives, not only fully and richly, but also with more relishing and reminiscing, and with more gratitude.
Let’s take a moment to reflect on the story of the tigers and the strawberry. This man was running from a tiger, he comes to a cliff, climbs down on a vine; the tiger that was chasing him, now is looking at him over the edge of the cliff. The man notices that below him are more tigers; he also notices that little mice are eating away at his vine. This could be the end of the story, as it seems his death is imminent, but this story doesn’t end with the man’s death. This story ends with the man relishing a big luscious juicy strawberry that he sees growing near him.
The story could have focused on the man’s fear; perhaps his being scared that he would not die instantly up on hitting the ground, but suffer as the tigers tore him to bits. Forrest Church could have focused on the pain and struggle he was facing, but he said of his cancer, “It’s all just stuff; it doesn’t matter” instead he focused on love and life, on living fully right up to the end—preaching, writing, loving those around him. Forrest Church didn’t focus on the tigers—he didn’t have to, because his tigers were a painful presence every waking moment-- he took the strawberry and relished it to the very end of his life.
Recognizing and accepting the tigers doesn’t mean you dwell on them or let them control you. Recognizing and accepting the tigers, can set you free. Awareness of your mortality gives you the opportunity to choose more deliberately how you will live your life. Holding the inevitability of our death in our hearts, I believe that we are more likely to live mindfully each experience we have, slowing down, to taste all the subtle flavors and textures of every strawberry in our lives and be grateful for them. I know that life is not made up entirely of strawberry experiences, but perhaps accepting the limited time we have to live, we might look more intently for or notice more frequently the strawberries that exist around us.
Thursday at lunchtime, I attended another meeting, AMOS—A Mid Iowa Organizing Strategy, which was lead by a member of the IAF—the Industrial Areas Foundation. This meeting was to help the Cedar Rapids/Iowa City Corridor begin to develop a community action organization to identify and work on social issues important to members of our community. Members of local labor unions, faith communities, as well as others came together over a sack lunch to learn how to put this organization together. Now I am very committed to working to affect positive change in our community, but there were also wonderful strawberries right there in that meeting. I got to know some new people and hear what was important to them in their lives. You see this grassroots organization advocates positive social change through people talking to one another and getting to know one another; two people talking to each other, then four or five people getting to know one another, then larger groups, sharing what the important issues are in their lives, before trying to work together to make any change happen. I could have focused only on the problems that people talked about—needing health care reform, needing a better wage, needing a stable economy, and I did pay attention—but I also relished getting to know wonderful new, different people. Realizing that I have a limited time to live this gift of life, I try to notice every strawberry I can, and express love to all those I meet.
As Forrest Church reminds us: “whether or not there is life after death, surely there is love after death,” so I have chosen to express love to everyone I come into contact with. I love them, even though at times I may not like them. I love you all, as I believe you all love me, though there may be times we may not like each other very much, that is pretty much guaranteed if we are in a long term relationship with one another. But we must love one another even when we don’t like one another, and we must express that love. I check in with people I know, here at this church, and in the community, to see how they are doing; I let them know they are cared about; I share openly with them, and listen attentively to them; I let them know that they are important and they are important to me. This is how I express my love. And I do with without looking for anything in return, it is unconditional love. I do this intentionally because I know I have a limited time, just as we all have a limited time, to share love with others.
How does the past fit into this picture of how we should live knowing we will die? I believe that reflecting on our past is essential to living fully. Reflecting on our past gives us the opportunity to learn more about ourselves and to grow from that new understanding. And reflecting on the past lets us keep fresh the wonderful awe inspiring and loving experiences we have had and be grateful—not to live in the past, but to gratefully carry the past with us in our hearts and minds. Again many people don’t do this until they are forced to by life’s circumstances. Once, many years ago when Martha and I were walking through the neighborhood, our very young boys running and laughing before us, a friend of our said, “There go Martha and Tom, making memories.” She didn’t mean it particularly nicely, but that was OK. We were making memories. And I re-experience the joy from these experiences and affirm my gratitude for these experiences and for my life. And in my prayers, I reflect on my most recent experiences, the blessings that life gives me everyday, and express my gratitude. This ritual does two things for me; it helps me to be mindful of all the little strawberries around me, and it helps me feel more joyful and grateful, rather than depressed and pessimistic.
As a psychotherapist, I noticed that people tend to more easily and frequently remember the bad times, the pain, the hurt in their lives—replaying them over and over again—to the exclusion of the joys and positive memories. If we don’t make time to remember the joys and loves in life, we will forget them, we may lose them, we will let the pain in our lives be more important and have more influence in our lives than the joys and loves we have known. We are more likely to feel depressed and pessimistic, focusing on the tigers in our lives to the exclusion of the many strawberries. The gift of life is but a short span of time, to me it seems such a waste to focus on the tigers, and miss the many strawberries.
As I have said from this pulpit before, when I was a member of Bay Area Unitarian Universalist Church, one of our ministers was asked to leave the church and leave the ministry because he had done something unethical. At that moment, I wondered if I lost everything, like he did, if my life were over, would I have left anything undone that I felt called to do in my heart. This is a question that many people don’t ask until they reach the end of their lives. Have I left anything undone? The movie, The Bucket List, with Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson, is about this. In this movie, these two men meet in a hospital after getting diagnosed with terminal lung cancer. They begin traveling around the world having experiences that they want to have before “kicking the bucket.” I have met people who actually have developed a bucket list—generally they are older, but these are not only old people. I have met some young people, who are asking themselves, ‘what do I want/need to do before I die?’ For some these are things like bungee jumping, parachuting, visiting exotic places; and for some it is getting my college degree(s), becoming a minister, doctor, fill in the blank; for others it is working for marriage equality or woman’s reproductive rights, causes that are important to them; and for others it is simply loving people as much as they can. What have you left undone, knowing that you will die? Perhaps nothing, but I feel it is essential to ask yourself this question at least once in your life, and wait patiently for your heart to whisper its answer to you.
One final question posed by Forrest Church as he was facing his death, I will pose to you. Is the meaning and purpose of your life to live in such a way, that your life will prove worth dying for? What have you done in your life to make it worth dying for? Forrest Church has again and again reminded us that showing love for others is part of this answer, expressing unconditional love to humanity, or at least all the people you come into contact in your life. But what else in your life, what other purpose makes your life worth dying for? This question calls us to great purposes in our lives, to live beyond our own personal needs and wants. This question asks us to consider what have we done to make our community, even our world, more just, more equitable, and to make our community, even our world, a safer, healthier and ecologically stable place to live.
Unitarian and Transcendentalist, Henry David Thoreau wrote: “I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck the marrow of life…” My friends, I ask, I implore you, at least once in your life to ask yourself, ‘how shall I live knowing I will die’ then listen patiently for the answer. Once the answer is received, live deeply and suck the marrow of life. Do not practice resignation unless it is quite necessary; instead live deliberately with acceptance of your inevitable death in your heart. A little advise though, remember to reminisce, be joyful and grateful, give love freely, live each moment fully, find and live meaning and purpose, and eat all the strawberries you can. Blessed be.
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