Attend to your own heart I read an article recently that caused me to ponder my own spirituality. The article described how both of the conservative candidates for WI Supreme Court graduated from the same evangelical based law school founded by the TV evangelist Pat Robertson. It further described how Wisconsin judge Jennifer Dorow begins each weekday by reading her bible and praying.
My theology is this: if you open yourself up to the Divine, then you will be led to the work you were meant to do to realize the Kingdom of God on earth. Now. My experience of the Spirit is that the Divine is a God of love, of relationship, of preferential options for the poor, of justice, of mercy. I do not doubt that Judge Dorow’s faith is real. But how can someone who sits in the presence of the Spirit every day come to a place where she says the worst decision by the U.S. Supreme Court was the one striking down Texas anti-sodomy laws which opened the doors for legal same-sex marriage? Is Judge Dorow praying to God and not listening for God? Or, am I listening for God but mistaking my own voice for that of the Divine? Is one of us wrong? Can both of us be right? Can God be leading us both in ways unfathomable to our conventional understanding? I brought this conundrum with me to my Quaker Meeting for Worship where I can hand over my concerns and wait in expectant silence to see if a path forward emerges. On this topic I received a clear and compelling answer; one that is so simple that it made me chuckle to myself while sitting in silence. The answer was this: Don’t worry about it. Don’t concern yourself with why or how others may be led. Simply listen for your own leadings and act on them. Attend to your own heart and give everything else over to God.
1 Comment
Often in life it may feel as if we are climbing a mountain in darkness The phrase “we lift as we climb” has a powerful pull on me. It assumes that the goal of climbing is not to reach the summit alone, but to ensure that everyone else ascends to the top of the mountain as well.
I have been fortunate to experience this type of community effort at multiple stages of my life, mostly while working as a community organizer in numerous places across New England and in the Midwest. I have also found it, in a more quiet and peaceful version, with the Quaker community here in Milwaukee. At the Milwaukee Friends Meeting (Quakers), where I’m a member, we have no clergy to lead us or to manage the day to day activities of the congregation. Everything we do can only get done if someone from the congregation steps forward to make it happen. For example, Adult Religious Education is led by a committee of volunteers. Care for those who are sick or those who are in crisis, or those who are in need of food or financial assistance is managed by committees. Upkeep of the building and the 3.5 acres of nature preserve under our care is managed by volunteers. We donate generously to the broader community and work to feed the hungry and homeless in our midst. We have a vibrant Meeting as evidenced by the fact that we are roughly 130 members (including children and teens), but yet we have more than 30 active committees. But the most evident way we lift as we climb is in how we nurture the spiritual growth of each other. We Quakers have a wonderful tradition of helping people who are struggling with questions about life or spirituality. It is called a “clearness committee,” and it is the most empowering activity that I have ever encountered. The wisdom of the clearness committee is the fact that wisdom is not imparted from one person to another, but rather, wisdom is discovered within oneself. The only thing a seeker may need is a small group of friends to sit with them – asking open ended questions - to help them come to clarity. During the clearness committee process, there is no attempt to fix, or advise, or counsel the person seeking guidance. Rather, it is a deeply spiritual encounter where everyone present strives to hear their inward voice whispering from the depths of their soul, having faith that clarity will come from that voice. The other kind of lift as you climb community building I have seen up close was through my years of experience as a community organizer. I loved being a community organizer. I was taught that an organizer’s job was NOT to win on issues – although that was a critical component. But that the primary job was to build up new community leaders and to create a neighborhood powerbase that city hall and drug dealers and absentee landlords were forced to deal with. I wasn’t allowed to talk at public meetings, as that was a job reserved for community leaders. If a decision was to be made, it was my job to bring it to the neighborhood leaders and help them work through the various scenarios to arrive at a solution that would be supported by the broader community. But the decision was theirs, and the leaders were required to bring the decision to the community to garner support. We were all climbing forward – trying to build a new power dynamic in the community – each helping the other while each holding the other accountable for the commitments they made. No one got a free ride. If you were a community leader, you got the most doors to knock on and the most phone calls to make. If you were a community leader, you were expected to bring your recommendations to the broader community so that everyone would be involved in the decisions shaping their lives. I will never forget one of my most proud moments as an organizer. I had been working in South Providence, Rhode Island with this tiny block club that was fighting with the city to clean up the 15 or so vacant lots on the block. These lots had become a midnight dumping ground and a breeding ground for rats. The city wasn’t responding, so our leaders convinced their neighbors to march to city hall where they stormed into the office of the Commissioner of Public Works. We had 20 or so residents ignoring the pleas of DPW office staff who tried to stop us as we walked straight into the Commissioner’s office. When all were in the office, our block captain loudly shut the office door and locked it. She then turned to the Commissioner and said, “My name is Connie Carter and I’m not leaving here until you agree to clean up our block.” She locked the door! She announced her presence. Everyone in the room felt the power shift immediately from the Commissioner to the people in general, and to Connie in particular. In that moment, Connie lifted her entire block as we all climbed together, one step closer to a better neighborhood. Often in life it may feel as if we are climbing a mountain in darkness. If we are fortunate, we will hear the voice of a friend saying “don’t worry, I’ve got you,” as a firm hand reaches down to guide us safely forward. What is clear to me is that we only get to the mountain top together, and to do so, we must each lift as we climb. every group has an insider clique. My smart aleck quip is that there were only 12 Apostles I feel like I’ve spent my entire life straddling the line between the “inside group” and the outsiders. In high school, I was friendly with the “cool kids” but felt more at home with the mountain boys and the greasers. As a public policy advocate, I got to the point where mayors and governors and many elected officials knew me by sight and by name, and were friendly (for the most part) but I never had any delusions that I was ever really at the table with them (except for my stint as chief of staff to the mayor of Milwaukee. But that’s a story for another day.)
It has been my experience that every group has an insider clique. My smart aleck quip is that there were only 12 Apostles – while the crowds following Jesus sometimes numbered into the hundreds. Did you ever wonder about the 13th Apostle; that liminal soul who was close enough to the “insider group” to have a sense of what was going on, but who remained an outsider - acknowledged but not fully accepted into the heart of the band of believers. In fact, we do know who was the 13th Apostle (Acts 1:21-23). His name was Matthias and he was chosen (by casting lots) to replace Judas. In order to qualify for the position a candidate needed to be among the group from the beginning when Jesus was baptized and up and through the time he was taken away. And only two men made the list: Matthias and Joseph. One has to wonder whether any women met the criteria but who were excluded because of gender bias. Inner circles, outer circles, who is in and who is not. These are issues plaguing groups since our early ancestors fought over who slept close to the fire and who was relegated to the cold and frightful dark of night. What does this dynamic tell us about the human condition? And what does it say about each of us as individuals who crave to be included? The mystics tell us that our need to be acknowledged and accepted is nothing more than our little ego crying out for attention. And, that if we were spiritually grounded, we would realize that we are magnificent transcendent beings playing hide and seek in a human body. I must admit, I’m often not that enlightened. I try, and sometimes catch a glimmer of the warm light of the Divine. But for the most part I fail to live a life rooted in the knowledge that I am one with the Spirit. I find myself craving love and attention. I often measure my worth against others who seem to have it more together. I realize that this self-doubt is directly related to the amount of time I spend in contemplative prayer. Little time in prayer results in a lot of time in doubt. What I learn in prayer – and must relearn time and again – is that I am God’s beloved. And nothing I do or say can change that. God’s love can’t be earned and it can’t be lost. It just is. Whether there were 12 apostles or 14 is immaterial. Creating an inner circle and an outer circle is a human construct that reinforces a false sense of self. The secret is that we are all apostles. We are all part of the inner circle. It was Voltaire who said “God is a circle whose center is everywhere and circumference nowhere.” For all of us who have spent most of our lives on the outside, yearning to be on the inside – like Joseph and Matthias - I’d like to say that being an apostle is a big deal. But, it’s a group to which we all already belong. Given my dreary disposition, it was clear something had to change. I turned 70 this summer, and it wasn’t an easy transition. I found myself thinking about all the potential losses I had in front of me. For example, I’m pretty sure I won’t be around to see any great grandkids and I’m not sure I will be able to “dance at my granddaughters’ wedding” since the oldest is six and the youngest will turn two in December.
I wondered how many years of sailing I have left, as my knees are becoming increasingly stiff and I’m not as nimble as I once was scurrying around a moving boat. I don’t want to become a liability and I don’t want to end up as one of those skippers who can only (and barely) just sit and steer the vessel. My father died at age 66 from early onset of Alzheimer’s disease. And now – every time I forget a name or why I walked down to the basement - I pause and wonder: is this how it starts. I remember being a teenager, lounging in my bedroom reading a Sargent Rock comic book and hearing my dad talking downstairs. I went down to see who happened to visit – only to find my dad reading a book out loud. Now, there were two things odd about this: one, that he was reading a book at all as that’s not something I ever saw him do before or after; and two, the fact that he was doing so – out loud. When I asked what he was doing, he just shrugged it off and said he wanted to “hear how the words sounded.” In retrospect, it is clear that he could feel his mind slipping and he was trying to find a way to stave it off. At the time, Alzheimer’s disease wasn’t commonly known, at least not in the circles I ran with in rural Western Pennsylvania in the late 1960s. You see where this was going. I mentally ran through every malady I knew of in my family’s history and imagined how each was a sentence hanging over me. Will I end up with macular degeneration like my mother– or kidney disease that incapacitated my grandfather? My uncle died from heart failure and my maternal grandmother became senile in her advanced years. Is that my fate? Clearly, as I approached turning 70, I became focused on a life of diminishing returns: one of lost opportunities, physical incapacitation, and mental instability; a life of increased strife and an absence of joy. Given my dreary disposition, it was clear something had to change. Since becoming a Quaker, I have a touchstone reading that helps to ground me. It is from Isaac Pennington – a 17th century Quaker: “Give over thine own willing. Give over thine own running. Give over thine own desire to know or be anything. And sink down into the seed God placed in thee and let that be in thee and grow in thee and act in thee. And know, through sweet experience that God knows that, God owns that, God loves that and will provide your life’s inheritance according to his portion.” For me, this quote reflects a Zen teaching: Acknowledge your feelings and desires, but don’t own them. Give them over and then, focus on the present. Upon contemplation, what I realized is that I have little control over what illnesses may befall me or how long I may live. What I do have control over is my ability to appreciate the here and now: the amount of love I share with my family and friends and my ability to drink in and savor the moments – whether playing with my granddaughters or sailing or sitting in the yard watching the butterflies or talking about the day with my wife over a cup of coffee. I am healthier now than I likely will be in 20 years. The same can be said for my mental capacity or my sailing skills. It is easier for me now to crawl around on the floor with my granddaughters than it will be years from now. From that perspective, I don’t want to waste the joys of the present in painful fear of a debilitated future. Now, I see 70 as the youngest I will be for the rest of my life so I plan on enjoying every minute of it. Or as my favorite poet Mary Oliver wrote: “It is a serious thing / Just to be alive / On this fresh morning / In this broken world.” This is getting serious The crew of sailing vessel IMUA battled wind, waves and broken equipment to win first place in the Cruising Division of the Milwaukegan Regatta; a 50 mile race from Milwaukee, WI to Waukegan, IL. It was a race that saw nearly 60% of the fleet drop out due to weather. The weather forecast for race day was ominous. Meteorologists were calling for rain, possible thunder storms with SSE wind gusting to the mid-20s causing 4-6 foot waves. The forecast was the subject of much discussion among the race committee on Friday evening, as they contemplated postponing the start from Saturday to Sunday, but decided to proceed because of all the logistic complications a postponement would bring. Our start was set for 8 am on Saturday morning. The four of us on the team arrived at 6:30 in order to stow away gear, do a final boat check, and get underway so we could motor the 1.5 miles to the start line. We arrived at the start line by 7:30 as planned and checked in by radio with the race committee. As our start time neared, we hoisted sails and shut off the motor so we could test the conditions and craft a starting strategy. We were definitely in heavy air but not up to the mid-20s as predicted and the waves were a manageable 2-3 feet, so we decided to start with a full set of sails. As our five-minute start sequence began, we tacked and jibed in order to position ourselves for a start at full speed and in clean air. We had a good start, first off the line, but further down than we hoped. Our first dilemma came up fast, as one of the double-handed boats in the division that started in front of us was foundering and began drifting right into our path. We hailed them, but as we got closer we realized they were in trouble and we ducked under them – losing valuable distance and time. Shortly after the start, the wind began to build quickly and it felt like the gusts were certainly in the low to mid 20s. As the wind increased, so did the waves. We buried the rail of the boat several times as the edge skimmed under water and the helmsman used both hands on the tiller, like he was rowing with an oar, to keep the boat edge out of the water and moving forward. The skipper asked for the mainsail traveler to be dropped so we could spill wind and stay more upright, as the swells grew larger and came in batches of three to five consecutive waves, one right on top of another. With the waves coming in batches the helmsman could surf some of them but not all, and eventually the boat would crash from the top to the bottom of a six foot wave. The team thinks it was one of those crashes that bent the boom vang extension to a 90 degree angle. There was nothing we could do about the Vang, but cross our fingers and hope that the bend wouldn’t inhibit the mainsail from tacking when needed. It was at this point that the skipper said “this is getting serious” and called for the mainsail to be reefed, shortening the amount of sail exposed to the wind in order to reduce heel and make the boat a bit easier to steer. For this race, the boat was equipped with safety lines and the crew all wore harnesses, so that anyone leaving the cockpit could attach a tether to their harness and the other end to the safety line which would prevent them from going overboard in the wind and the waves. Kurt volunteered to clip in to the safety line and crawled to the mast so the crew could reduce sail. Jake and Wayne stayed in the cockpit ready to lower the main halyard when Kurt was ready. I struggled to surf up the crest and down the trough of each wave, trying to keep the boat from violently crashing down a wave while Kurt was at the mast. The reef was done without a hitch and Kurt crawled back to the cockpit – wet from the waves - but safe. The wind and waves weren’t subsiding and The strategy was to stay on this starboard tack long enough so that when we did tack over to port, we would be aligned with the finish and we wouldn’t need to tack again until the end. It was early enough in the race that we could still see plenty of boats around us. We were even able to pick out one of our competitors who was a bit ahead. After 2.5 hours of hard sailing at the tiller I was tired. My shoulders hurt, my hands were stiff and my jaw ached from clenching my teeth. Kurt, an experienced long distance racer, took his turn at the helm, trying to keep ahead of the waves and fighting the wind. Shortly into Kurt’s watch, we saw one, then another of the fleet give up the race and turn around. I’m sure we all thought about doing the same. I know I did, but no one said a word and we sailed on. We drew even with our competition, but they were more than a mile east of us. They tacked onto port and headed west, eventually passing in front of us. We discussed tacking to cover them, but decided that we liked where we were and stayed with our strategy, slogging through the waves on starboard tack. This was a long race and we couldn’t avoid using the head down below. As the boat sailed on a 30 degree angle and bounced around with the waves, it was a struggle to peel off your foul weather gear and get to the head. Three of the four of us came back from our respective trips below, feeling nauseous. I couldn’t eat for the rest of the day and only sipped on water in order to hold off another trip to the cabin. All but Wayne – who seemed impervious to the sea state below – avoided the trip at all costs. By avoiding drinking water, we risked becoming dehydrated, but the alternative was to risk sea sickness and all that entails. Not a good trade in our book. We were about 10 miles east of the shoreline when the wind began to slow and then shifted to our bow, forcing us to either tack or fall off. This wasn’t the place we planned to make our tack for the finish but decided we should take advantage of the lift we would see on the other end of the tack. We called for a tack and crossed our fingers that the bent Vang would accommodate. It did, and after the tack we shook out the reef to increase our sail area. This felt good. We peered below us and to the west to see if we could spot our competition. They were no where around. Did they surge ahead? Did they fall hopelessly behind? Did they abandon the race? We didn’t know. What we did know is that this was the best ride of the day so far. Jake and Wayne took their turns at the tiller as we either picked up speed or slowed down with the fickle wind. It was surprising how quickly the waves changed with the wind speed; growing when the wind picked up and shrinking when the wind lessoned. And it was like that for the remainder of the trip.
Finally, we could see the finish line off on the horizon. We had been trailing a boat that wasn’t in our division and found ourselves mirroring their path. It was clear that we would need to do two more tacks in order to cross the finish line, which we did. We finished the race in 10.5 hours. We saw one boat finish about 15 minutes in front of us and another about 15 minutes behind us, but neither was in our division. We had no idea where we finished in the standings. We were just happy to have safely arrived. Later that evening, after we settled the boat and ate supper, we walked to the Waukegan Yacht Club to take advantage of the free beer they provided to the racers. It was in the bar that we ran into the crew of the competitor boat we had been watching all day. We learned that they finished nearly two hours behind us. We figured we had a good chance to trophy after hearing that, but we never really dreamed it would be first place. We were happy but tired and a bit beat up, so we decided to motor sail the 8 hours home the next day. During that trip Wayne looked up the results on his phone and announced: IMUA – first place in the Cruising Division. We competed in challenging conditions. We pushed ourselves beyond our comfort zone and we didn’t give up – even though each of us contemplated doing so. The win felt like an affirmation. After all, the name of our boat is IMUA, which is Hawaiian for “go forward with spirit.” No miracles will be forthcoming other than the ones we create on our own. The war in Ukraine has caused many of us to struggle with the Quaker Peace Testimony. Below, I share some of the questions that arose in my own discernment, the act of which brought a sense of peace with where I have landed on the Quaker Peace Testimony.
Is God active in the world – performing miracles – in answer to human prayers? With this theology, one may be able to support the Peace Testimony at all cost. If we pray earnestly enough, and often enough, and in community with as many people as possible, will the Divine answer our prayers and convert the heart of Vladimir Putin or his soldiers and generals in the field to halt the war? Is prayer and the rock solid belief in prayer the answer to this carnage? Do we believe that Ukrainian mothers and fathers and children and soldiers and clergy are already praying fervently – hour upon hour – day upon day? Do we believe that others around the world are also praying with heartfelt intent to petition God to end the war? I suppose the basic question is, why does the Divine need our prayers and petitions in order to act? In fact, Jesus tells us “your Father knows what you need before you ask Him.…” (Matthew 6:7-8) I suspect there is no scarcity of prayers, and that God isn’t in need of guidance from us in order to know what to do. Which led me to the next set of questions. Is God’s plan somehow unfolding with Russian aggression against the Ukrainian people? We hear some version of this tenet often in sayings like: “God doesn’t give us more than we can handle,” or “The Divine has a plan and who are we to question it,” or “God’s plan will unfold eventually, we must remain prayerful and patient,” or “There is certainly evil in the world because of mankind’s dark impulses and God-given free will, but goodness and light will overcome.” If the Russian invasion of Ukraine is somehow the result of God’s plan, then perhaps yes, I could stand firmly with the Peace Testimony, knowing that the Spirit will prevail. I suppose on a macro level one can argue for the idea of “God’s Plan” but to me it seems cruel on the micro level. For example – why does the Divine choose some children to die from leukemia while others survive? Same for every other cancer victim and cancer survivor. Why do some people walk away from a car accident while others die? Why do some people die from a bombing attack while others survive? Is God picking sides? Are those who died somehow unworthy of God’s love and protections? Are they paying for the sins of their fathers – from generations long gone? What if God is not directly active in the world? I had a “dark night of the soul” moment a short while back when I came to the realization that it is we who must choose the Divine in order to bring forth the kingdom of God on earth. We are already chosen. The Spirit is already within each of us, but that’s the full stop of it all, that’s where everything ends – according to my spirituality. The spirit of the Divine is infused into every molecule throughout the cosmos – from the furthest galaxy to the microbes under out feet. And that spirit is emanating love. That spirit is love, a love that each individual can choose to believe in and embrace or to ignore. For me, the freedom to ignore the spirit of God is how we end up with evil in the world. It is how we end up with greed and murder and war. Some choose to not embrace the spirit of God within, and to act on the impulses of the ego. The spirit hasn’t gone away – it is just drowned out by the self-driven cravings for possessions, money, prestige and power. For some, the siren call of the realm is louder than the soft whisper of the inward teacher quietly calling each of us to manifest God’s love. For those of us whose faith is formed by an understanding that the spirit of the Divine is already present but, that each of us is free to embrace or ignore it , then helping Ukraine to arm itself in defense of an aggressor intent on violence, destruction, and domination makes sense. We don’t need to pray for God to be present because the spirit of God emanates throughout the cosmos, softly exhorting each of us to manifest love. We cannot wait for the Divine to intervene into the matters of the world because God is already doing so, but only through our actions. No miracles will be forthcoming other than the ones we create on our own. There is certainly “that of God” flowing freely through us all, including both the Russians and the Ukrainians. Some choose to embrace that love while others choose to ignore it in favor of amassing worldly gains. Some believe it is an act of love to recognize the Spirit within each person and thus to oppose all acts of war. Others – like me – believe that it is a greater act of love to aid those who are fighting – in real time – to protect the innocent. It is difficult for me to support the idea of treating the aggressors and their victims alike. I will always come down on the side of the victims. I can’t fathom loving someone so much that I am prepared to relegate them to slaughter rather than supporting them to take up arms and defend themselves This Video captured my heart, and not just because my paternal grandparents emigrated from western Ukraine in the 1920s. It features a host of folk singer legends singing about the heroism of the Ukrainian people in the face of unimaginable devastation. If you like this piece - please share it with others.
Peace is a seed that is already planted in the soul of each of us I read a news story of a Ukrainian woman confronting a Russian soldier, telling him to “put sunflower seeds in your pockets so when you die in Ukraine, at least sunflowers will grow here.” At first I was impressed with the bravery and the imagery this woman conjured up. In my mind, the soldier was a young man, likely wondering what the hell he was doing invading Ukraine and killing its people. And that was the power of this woman’s image. She was the one planting seeds in the thought process of this fellow, with a clear intent to impress upon him that he may very well die here.
As a Quaker, I am conflicted by this war. It is easy to be against Russian aggression: the bombing of civilian targets, the hegemony, and the greed so grossly on display. But it is also easy to pray for the efforts of the Ukrainian people: their courage in standing up to an aggressor, their care for each other, their staunch defense of democracy. I have often struggled with the Quaker Peace testimony, and this war is a good example of why. I am certainly for Peace – but I am also for self-defense. While the bible exhorts us to “turn the other cheek” when struck – such an act on the part of Ukraine would have allowed Russia to quickly take over the country and accomplish its imperialistic goals with little cost to the aggressor. While I support the efforts of Ukraine to defend itself, I also realize that Russian soldiers aren’t really the enemy. They are victims, as well. The Russian army is comprised of both conscripted soldiers and professional military volunteers, all of whom were misled on the need and purpose of this invasion by the Russian central government. In war, everyone is a victim – one way or another. I keep coming back to the image of giving sunflower seeds to the Russian soldiers. Perhaps our prayer should be for the soldiers to realize that they don’t need to be fighting in this senseless war and that they can plant sunflower seeds as a sign of peace as they put down their arms and return home. I come from Russian/Ukrainian heritage. I know this because I completed one of those ancestry tests and discovered that 42% of my DNA hails from Russia, Ukraine and Eastern Poland. Me, and my children are proud of this heritage, to the point that all three kids – years ago – went out and together had the words “My Family” tattooed on their bodies in Ukrainian: MoR-Cim’R I wish there was a way to send sunflower seeds to the Russian soldiers – who are my family, and to the Ukrainian freedom fighters – who are my family and ask them all to put down their arms and plant seeds of peace. But I understand that peace must rise up from the soul just as a seed must rise up from the dark and nourishing earth in which it is planted. It’s pretty clear that the cry for peace won’t be coming from Russian leadership; that it will have to rise up from the Russian people; from the mothers who fear their soldier sons will die in a senseless war; from the young men and women who fear their loved ones will be lost; from the fathers who know the brutality of war and want no part of it for their sons and daughters. Peace is a seed that is already planted in the soul of each of us. It is our job to nourish it until its roots grow deep and its stalk grows strong as it thrives in the light of the sun. Peace is planted everywhere. Pray for it to grow. The world's on fire...the sky is full of dragons She couldn’t wait to tell him
That now a child was growing An unseen soul was forming And soon he’d be a father. The world’s on fire, he sighed The sky is full of dragons. With trees and cities burning It’s no time to raise a daughter. The world was always danger With war and famine looming, With thieves and wild men roaming, Yet you and I were born. Because all seems to falter, and The thought of dragons haunting, No better time there be than now To raise a dragon fighter. “God comes to us disguised as our life” (Paula D'Arcy - writer) I read the above quote in one of the daily meditation emails I receive, and found that it spoke to me.
Perhaps what appeals to me about the quote is that it mirrors a core Quaker belief: there is that of God within each person. In my ongoing spiritual journey, I have found that the essence of the divine is found in our hearts; in the world where we walk, and in the people with whom we meet. The image of an omniscient god who resides in the kingdom of heaven is as alien to my unfolding spirituality as is the worshipping of a sacred golden calf. I once had an insight while in contemplative prayer which was this: Most of the time I walk around unaware of the spirit which surrounds me, yet there are few but precious moments when I become aware that I am swimming in the deep ocean of god; that the light of the divine radiates from every atom in the cosmos like heat radiating off of a black car sitting in the midday sun. Sometimes during meditation, my mind wonders fiercely and I catch myself struggling to “get it under control.” And then I laugh at myself and at my futile attempt to catch a light that is already there; one that I can absorb by simply sitting back and basking in its warmth. The God I know doesn’t hide from me. The spirit isn’t one that withholds love until I have earned it or that comes and goes for reasons too grand for me to comprehend. No, the spirit of god is upon me – just as it is upon each of you – just as it is upon the dust that we see drifting through the sunlight. God comes to us disguised as our life. Our job, is to simply say hello. |
AuthorMike Soika has been a community activist for more than 30 years working on issues of social and economic justice. His work for justice is anchored by his spiritual formation first as a Catholic and now as a Quaker. Pre 2018 Archives
|