I Still Believe in Love

Three kinds of Love the World Needs Now

Years ago, while complaining to a friend about someone, he responded, after listening to my tirade, “Well, you know Jim, most people are doing the best they can with what they have and who they are.” 

That sentence froze me in my tracks, and it has stayed with me through the years.

Every time, ok, that's not true. Most of the time. When I encounter someone challenging, upsetting, and frustrating, I pause and attempt to recall that phrase. "Most people are doing the best they can…" It helps me remember something foundational to life as a human being. Namely, that we are all broken, flawed, and wounded people. It also helps me pause and remember that my frustration might have more to do with me than with others.

In psychological terms, this is called “projection.” The basic idea is that we project onto another person our shortcomings. But, of course, it's a bit more than that, and you can read a summary on Daryl Sharp’s Lexicon here. Just scroll down to Projection. But you get the idea, or maybe you don’t.

Jesus expressed it well in this parable.

He also told them a parable: “Can a blind person guide a blind person? Will not both fall into a pit? A disciple is not above the teacher, but every disciple who is fully qualified will be like the teacher. Why do you see the speck in your neighbor’s eye but do not notice the log in your own eye? Or how can you say to your neighbor, ‘Friend, let me take out the speck in your eye,’ when you yourself do not see the log in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your neighbor’s eye. Luke 6:39-42

This is another way of getting at “most people are doing the best they can.”

In the last few weeks, I've been delivering sermons in various congregations on the subject of love. It seems that what the world needs now is love – more than ever. Shall I list all the reasons why I believe we need love? You know them. You see them everywhere, from your screens to newspapers, to personal encounters at work or in the grocery store. And the recent events in Uvalde, Texas, and Buffalo, NY are two more examples. My Lord, how long, how long? For a sobering account of school shootings in America, read here.

But if the world needs love now more than ever, we in the English-speaking world have a love problem. Our vocabulary is limited, and one wonders if this limited vocabulary may be connected to our limited ability to exercise and practice love. Our limitations center around having only one word for love. Yet, we use that exact same word for various expressions of love. Consider the variety of meanings behind the word love in these sayings. I love my children. We love our house. I love my new car, oh I love this suit or this dress, don't you love that new song? I've been a Red Sox fan forever. I just love them. Hopefully, we don't view that love of a piece of clothing the same way we love our children.

In Sanskrit, there are 96 words for love. In ancient Persian, there were 80, and in Greek, there are three, but in English, we have only one. I recently learned that the Eskimo people have 30 different words for snow. They find such nuance in the varieties of snow they are compelled to have a vocabulary equal to their environment. Perhaps if we had more words for love, we would be better at its manifestation in our environment.

The Greek language might help us. This ancient language which helped shape western culture, philosophy, democracy, and religion, specifically Christianity, had three words for love.

1. Eros refers to passionate love. 

While some have associated this word exclusively with eroticism and therefore given it a solely sexual meaning, that would be a mistake. Yes, there is erotic love that is sexual, but underneath eros is something more like passion. Eros is the driver, perhaps the instinctual mover in life. What gives you that energy to launch a new venture, whether to begin an artwork or fight for a social justice cause. That's eros at work in you. We need Eros love these days. It has a powerful feeling component. In one of her final lectures, Psychologist Marie Louise Von Franz lamented the loss of the feeling function in Western Society. She understood Eros has that energy that drives people into connection or relatedness. As an expression of love, the recovery of Eroscould help us mend our discordant dialogue, our failure to deeply grieve, and our chronic loneliness, which some have described as the root of many of our problems. We need Eros love now more than ever because it will give power to right wrongs, and energy to engage with one another.

2. Philos means warm affection or friendship.

Philos was commonly used concerning friendships or family relationships. When describing this type of love, I often ask people to think of English words that begin with Philo or Phila. Inevitably, someone says Philadelphia, formerly called the city of brotherly love. Today we might broaden that to make it less gender-specific. The idea of comradeship, friendship, and companions on life's pilgrim might be other ways of describing this Philos love. For example, Philos was the word used for Jesus' love for His friend Lazarus (John 11:3,36) and His love for His disciple (John 20:2).

Each year I spend a week with seven men. We have been friends for 40 years, since first meeting in the early 1980s while working as summer camp counselors and environmental educators at a Lutheran Camp in Southern California. The week together involves bicycling great distances, camping in tents, telling stories, and laughter. Amid all the fun and frivolity, we explore the wounds, disappointments, and sorrows of our lives. I described this once to a group of women, and they all said, “I wish my husband had something like that, he’s so isolated.” I thought to myself, “I know, it is such a rare gift for men in our competitive society. I’m grateful for it, and I too wish more men and women could experience a group of comrades who will walk through life with one another.” We need Philos love now more than ever.

3. Agapē is unconditional love.

This kind of love is challenging for human beings to express because we live in such a conditional and transactional society. Agapē is often used in the New Testament to describe an unconditional love between God and humanity. Agapē is the word for love used in 1 Corinthians 13. Often read at weddings, but it's even more potent at a funeral, as I previously described. If we are fortunate, we get a glimpse of unconditional love during our lifetime, perhaps from a friend, a parent, or a spouse. One person described her experience of unconditional love coming to her from her pet dog of 13 years. She felt completely accepted for who she was by this animal. Non-dog lovers might scratch their head at that one, but others with pets know the experience.

Agape love relates to the holy, the sacred, and the mystical. This is the kind of love St. Tereasa of Avilla describes, or Julian of Norwich when she prays that delightful prayer, “All will be well, and all will be well, and all manner of things will be well.” We need Agape love now more than ever.

Julian pictured with a Cat, since I gave a shout out to the Dog-Lovers, I thought it was only fair to offer equal time.

"Most people are doing the best they can with what they have and who they are." That's a mantra worth repeating for a world that needs love now more than ever.

Holy Curiosity

I'm writing to you today from just over the northern border in Canada. Can you say, "eh?" The hardwood floors in this monastery need some polishing, but the heat seems to be working just fine. Good thing because it's 36 degrees and windy outside despite the calendar. I'm residing at a Carmelite monastery for the final retreat of my Spiritual Direction training program. Unfortunately, I began this two-year process at the onset of the pandemic, so everything switched to Zoom instead of in-person retreats. This weekend I realized how good it is to be in person – it makes all the difference.

Of all the experiences, learnings, readings, and training, I've concluded that a life rooted in spiritual companionship (a better word than direction) celebrates the value of curiosity. We could also call it to wonder. If asked what makes life worth living, I must land squarely on one’s capacity to be curious. That desire to investigate and to learn. Curious and its cousin inquisitive originate in Latin in the 1300s and could move in two different directions. Curious expresses the desire to know, learn, and explore; inquisitive articulates the effort to discover by inquiry. But when either turn toward prying, the attempt to find out secrets involves looking in improper or aggressive ways.

Yet, I’ll stick with my premise that curiosity and wonder are the keys to the kingdom for a life rich and rewarding.

“One cannot help but be in awe when one contemplates the mysteries of eternity, of life, of the marvelous structure of reality. It is enough if one tries merely to comprehend a little of this mystery every day. Never lose a holy curiosity.”

-—Albert Einstein

"Holy Curiosity" What a delightful phrase.

People in the sciences and arts sit pretty comfortably with curiosity. Photographer Mary Ellen Mark once said, "I saw that my camera gave me a sense of connection with others that I never had before. It allowed me to enter lives, satisfying a curiosity that was always there but that was never explored before." While the immensely creative musician, actor, and painter David Bowie commented, "What I have is a malevolent curiosity. That drives my need to write and probably leads me to look at things a little askew. I do tend to take a different perspective from most people.”

So why can’t the realm of spirituality, faith, and the wonders of the sacred embrace holy curiosity?

For the longest time, I've pondered questions about science and theology. I remain dissatisfied with many attempts to reconcile these two ways of explaining life. Then, last fall, I stumbled on a new understanding of God and the Universe. It was new to me, despite being around for a few hundred years. This is the concept of Pandeism. In brief, this is the idea that God created the universe by becoming the universe. The concept became quite intriguing to me, though it still lacked an understanding of God being larger than all of life. This led me to learn of Panendeism, which describes a God who created the whole universe by becoming it but remains beyond the universe simultaneously. Now I faced a challenge because, in this scenario, God has a hand's off approach. These ideas led me to rethink my views on prayer. "Well, why pray then?" If God is hands-off, what's the point of asking for an intervention, which led me to wonder if I do indeed believe in an interventionist deity. I want to, but I must confess to wondering if my prayers for intervention reinforce my desires.

I'm still wrestling with these questions, but I want to point out that holy curiosity leads one to a deeper and richer life.

Perhaps you’re not inclined to be so theologically curious. The good news is there are other ways of expressing curiosity.

The physically curious person hungers to touch, experience, and do. This person often speaks of travel and tends to be impulsive and constantly in motion. We see physical curiosity in those who work with their hands. I recall watching a friend in high school take a part of his father's car and then reassemble it. There were a few parts left over, but it ran, and my friend learned a lot about automobiles. He later went on to work as an auto mechanic and then a college professor in mechanical engineering.

The relationally curious person seeks connection to others; soul-sharing through empathy; words and gestures, painting, poetry, theatre, and songs linking heart to heart. Emotional curiosity is spiritual hunger. Some people are curious about other people. The great journalistic interviewers of the 20th century engaged in conversations that illuminated our lives. I’m thinking of Diane Sawyer, Judy Woodruff, and Barbara Walters, among many others.

The intellectually curious person navigates an ocean of riddles to be solved, connections to be investigated, patterns that whisper secret meanings. My father embodied this type of curiosity. He devoured books, newspapers, and science journals. Later in life, I also realized he knew about Shakespeare, Jazz musicians, Homer's Iliad, and The Odyssey. Along with a degree in Biology and Physics, he had one of those minds that sought to understand the world through intellectual curiosity.

The organizationally curious person discovers what is missing and then proceeds to fill the void. These leaders serve us by creating structure, process, and order. I continue to be amazed by these people who see both the forest and the trees and the intertwined root system. While here in Canada this week, I learned about their excellent health care system and how the founder Tommy Douglas navigated both the intricacies of politics and policy to bring about one of the best national health systems in the world.

Being a spiritually curious person is a central piece of my training in Spiritual Direction. The emphasis has been on Christian Mysticism and the Depth Psychology of Carl Jung. The great saints of the church have all been curious people. There is quite a range of holy curiosities from the ancient desert fathers and mothers to the European mystics such as Teresa of Avila, Julian of Norwich, Hildegard of Bingen, and Meister Eckhart. In our time, it’s been the Depth Psychologists whose curiosity and wonder about the human soul have plunged the depths and learned what moves us and gives us meaning. Carl Jung himself engaged in holy curiosity. His intellectual, imaginative, and spiritual pursuits covered the spectrum.  

In his book, A Curious Mind, film and TV producer Brian Grazer (24, A Beautiful Mind, Apollo 13) credits curiosity for driving his life and career. "More than intelligence or persistence or connections, curiosity has allowed me to live the life I wanted," As Grazer explores how curiosity has shaped his life, he sprinkles in numerous anecdotes about the hundreds of people he's sought out for one-on-one sessions he terms curiosity conversations. “I wanted to write about the impulse to have those conversations.” I would also describe this as a spiritual practice of holy curiosity. You could try it on for size. Who are the people you'd like to engage in curiosity conversations within your life?

In his ministry, Jesus often has holy curiosity moments where he asks others what they want. For example, he asks the blind Bartimaeus, “What do you want me to do for you?” (Mark 10:51) On another occasion, James and John approach Jesus, and he asks them, “What is it you want me to do for you?” (Mark 10:36) Both in his healing ministry and with his friends, Jesus displays a kind of openness and curiosity toward others. Until recently, I had never really considered the possibility of a curious Jesus. However, in the Gospels, Jesus models for us a way to treat others. He asks questions.

So I imagine being a person who is genuinely curious about others, about life, about the way things work and don't work. Asking questions, wondering, and learning that's the good stuff.

Holy curiosity leads to wisdom.

Be well, Be Curious.

You may subscribe to these posts by clicking here

On the Radio

I was a guest on WPRO Radio today with John Loughlin discussing Good Friday and Easter. You can check out the brief segment by listening here.

Death May Be a Gift of Life

“The heart that breaks open can contain the whole universe.”

Joanna Macy

Several years ago, I presided at the funeral of an older man. He had lived a long life, and the family gathered for the memorial service. They asked if the man's teenage granddaughter could read a lesson during worship. She approached the lectern with a kind of grace unusual for early teens. She opened a Bible and, before reading, said, "I chose this passage because it reflects the qualities of my grandfather.” She then began to read First Corinthians 13.

 Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

I must have heard that scripture hundreds of times at weddings. It always sounds so naive when two 20 somethings enter into marriage. But, now hearing this grandchild read the passage as a description of her deceased grandfather. I was slain, as was the congregation. Nothing more needed to be said. 

The columnist David Brooks describes two different kinds of virtues for life. In the first half of life, we work on our resume virtues. These qualities help us earn a living, establish a family, and plan a career. We desire to impress people with the capabilities of our competence, education, and keenness for success. However, different questions begin to arise in the second half of life. This is primarily brought on by increasing awareness of the limits of life. We realize we will not live forever. Therefore, our focus shifts from resume virtues to eulogy virtues. What do we hope people will say at our funeral? Were we kind, compassionate, and thoughtful? Were we a good listener, a generous person, or an encourager? Or were we a complainer, a know-it-all, and a braggart? The second half of life brings an opportunity to ask questions of ultimate significance.

Death is a tremendous gift to us. It forces us to face our limits and thereby helps us choose how we wish to spend our time and energy.

This week is Holy Week, and in many ways, it's a week of death. The historic liturgies of the Christian church turn our attention to the brutal death using the ancient form of capital punishment engaged by the Romans, namely crucifixion. We should not trivialize this form of execution. The Romans invented it to inflict maximum suffering on the victims and used it to dissuade other would-be rebels. This event culminates in the Good Friday liturgy.

Holy Week marinates in death. The week's origin centered on the Passover celebration, which marked the events in ancient Israel as enslaved people prepared for their freedom march out of bondage in Egypt. Passover is named from the marking on doorposts so the messenger of death would pass over their homes. The Passover meal recalling the departure across the Red Sea became the center of Christian worship in early precursors to Holy Week. This shape of the week of death we call holy slowly developed over time and formed in the 4th century. Jesus and Paul link the Passover meal with the Last Supper, thus bringing yet another death marker into the week.

All this talk of death may get you a little down. Primarily that's because US Americans are “death phobic and grief illiterate,” as the Canadian palliative care counselor Stephen Jenkinson has noted. Years ago, on departing the house to attend a Good Friday liturgy, my wife asked if anyone wanted to join us. One gentleman declined by saying, "Nah, it's too depressing. I'll wait for Easter. That's more of an upper." His language reflects an almost pharmaceutical quality. As if religion and life are chemically inducing activities for our ever-expanding consumption habits and feel better consciousness.

I believe the crusty Canadian is onto something. “Death Phobic and Grief Illiterate." We seem acutely afraid of death and struggle mightily with sorrow and loss. Our "always up and to the right" pragmatic culture has little time for grief, evidenced by the minuscule days off the average grieving worker receives.

Death intrigued me at an early age. In 1976 the film Annie Hall caught my attention. It spoke to my young adult angst of romances gone awry, confusion regarding vocation, and the ever-present quest for meaning. In the film, there is a scene in which Alvy Singer is trying to convince Annie to read some books on death. So I leaned into death and purchased Ernst Becker's The Denial of Death and read it over a weekend. My college roommate called the campus ministry center out of concern. Three months later, the telephone in our dorm room rang. I picked it up and listened while a friend described how one of our high school friends took his own life with a shotgun. He was 16. I remember the funeral to this day—a line of grieving high school and college kids formed around the block. I can still see all those people, all those tears and all that hurt.

My vocational calling grew out of these early experiences, though I didn’t realize it till years later. Being a pastor roots you in death and its accompanying co-pilot grief. We learn to navigate hospital corridors, confused families, and awkward moments in funeral homes. Working in a hospital cancer ward for a summer remains one of the most exhausting yet life-giving experiences. Death and grief have been my teachers through the years. Their yearning to be expressed, articulated, and shared with others is among the lessons they impart.

To speak of sorrow

Works upon it

            Moves it from its

Crouched place barring

The way to and from the soul’s hall.

            - Denise Levertov

Our unexpressed sorrows, the congested stories of loss, that, when left unattended, block our access to the soul. I would go so far as to suggest that it is in death and grief that we most profoundly connect with God. I won’t say exclusively, but there is something in the human experience of loss that unites us with one another and the sacred.

Who has not experienced loss, heartache, shattered dreams, grave disappointments, all the little deaths of life, not to mention the significant deaths of loved ones who have passed away? In the past two years, a million US Americans have died from Covid19, and globally the number sores to six million. Add to that the grief we bear of all the world’s suffering from the Climate crisis, racism, economic insecurity, and now war. I remain convinced a significant part of our current engagement with lousy behavior on airplanes, school board meetings, and yes, even the Academy Awards is deeply connected to unexpressed grief. Yes, I contend that the growth of mean behavior is a manifestation of unprocessed sorrow.

We need more than a splendid funeral, though that always helps. What we need is a cultural recalibration, maybe even an intervention. This reorientation would center around sorrow, loss, and grief. Every person reading this article could take one step forward to encourage their local church, synagogue, temple, community center, school, or even place of employment to form a grief group. There are free guide books available - One from the United Kingdom, another from the States, and a third from Canada.

Holy Week serves as more than a reminder of the presence of death in life. It suggests a particular way in which death is life and life is death. Like the mystics, theologians, and depth psychologists have all noted, the concept of God embracing death is a most meaningful embrace of life. We do well to see in death the gift of life. The fact that Christ, the fully incarnated human presence of the eternal, dies on a cross brings it all together. Death and life are one.

So death is not something to run from, hide from, or pretend does not exist. Instead, death and grief are to be engaged. Every culture throughout human history has done this work in varying degrees of intensity. In some ways, those cultures were not as advanced as ours in technical achievements. But in other ways, they were far more mature in their use of ritual, community, and spirituality, especially around grief. An example of how those ancient cultures can teach us today can be seen in the work of Ronald Grimes. Watch this short film of his, and follow him on YouTube for some profound insights into the use of ritual.

Holy Week is a perfect name for this week because a week of death is holy. So let's grieve together, not just in the events of 2,000 years ago, but in the ways, Christ dies in, with and under all the current losses and deaths in Ukraine, Brooklyn, Boston, Wakefield, Middletown, Manchester. If we grieve those losses in healthy and kind ways, we can find death as a friend. Death is a unifier of what makes us human. Perhaps that’s why they call it “Good” Friday.

Until next time, be well and be kind to yourself and those you meet.

You may subscribe to these posts at jameshazelwood.substack.com

Ask a Better Question

One question leads to another.

–Mary Oliver from Questions You Might Ask

Typically, when I visit congregations, I get asked: "How can we get young people to come to our church?" For the longest time, I would provide several responses. These ranged from inquiries regarding the demographics of the town to dispelling rumors of quick-fix strategies to stories of what other congregations are doing. I've decided I'm not doing that anymore. Instead, I'll give a different response.

“I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but you ask the wrong question.”

Several years ago, I sat with a friend discussing various topics about the life of the church, the state of society, and our yearnings for a deeper and more meaningful life. He told me of the evolution he and his wife had gone through regarding their now-adult children and the subject of religion. "I no longer ask them about church or religion. It just put us into this awkward conversation with a shaming quality. So now I ask a different question. I ask them where they are finding grace or peace or meaning."

This exchange has stayed with me for a long time. I let it sit within me like a sweet sauce marinating my soul. He's right. His new questions are better. Asking people where they find grace, peace, or meaning is better. After all, isn't that what we want for our friends and family members? Sure, we can ask them about their institutional affiliations, memberships, and community associations, but aren't we hoping they'll find their way in the world through intimacy, service, and soul?

A few weeks ago, I met via Zoom with some folks exploring a house church. They've only met once for conversation, an abbreviated liturgy, a meal, and some healthy discussion. "I'm looking for an intimate group of people to explore the depth of faith. It's not that I'm anti-church. It's just that I'm a tad fatigued by the operational aspect of budgets and building. I know that form of the church means a lot to people. Good for them. For me, I’m ready for something else." That's a rough quote from a lay leader who has spent decades serving in numerous roles as an usher, committee member, and president.

What would happen if we started asking a different question? Instead of "where are you going to church," how about "Where are you finding grace?"

I've started this little experiment myself by asking people this very question. A few responses include:

• "I have a group of friends; we walk every morning. It's my life-saving time as I go through a divorce."

• "I don't know what grace is, but I'd love to learn more about it."

• "I garden. That's where I commune with God."

• "I built an altar in the woods behind my house. That's where I go to pray."

• "Every Friday night, I volunteer at a homeless shelter. It's what connects me to people in a real and honest way."

• "I'm in a book group, a study group, a dream group, a prayer group."

• "I'm a singer, and that's my spirituality…ideally with other people."

As we witness the decline of the institutional expression of religion, maybe we are also seeing a resurgence of the original meaning of religion. The word religion means to connect again. Legio is similar to the word for ligaments, those connecting fibers in our joints. Are we going back to connecting with a more substantive aspect of the sacred?

Despite our secular world, there seems to be a deepening interest in the sacred. David Tacey suggests we live in a Post Secular Sacred world. I love that phrase. It indicates that despite all our scientific and technological advances, we still long for the sacred. Since we are, by nature, meaning-seeking creatures, we yearn for story, ritual, song, and community. The careful reader of this little essay would stop right now and say, "wait a minute. Did you write: Story, ritual, song, and community? Isn't that religion?"

Yes, those four-plus acts of service would form the marks of a spiritual community. What I see and hear is a hunger for those but fatigue from the operational elements of maintaining a building, keeping programs going, and dealing with the institution's struggles. This has been particularly exacerbated in the last four or five years and most intensely around the pandemic. Decisions around masking alone have caused people such angst that a few have walked away. One part of me is sympathetic, while the other part notes these as the struggles of living in the community. People like to point to Jesus' words about where two or three are gathered to justify holding onto a gathering despite the poor attendance. What they miss is that Jesus is saying, "where two or three are gathered, you are going to have conflict." Ask anyone who has gathered two or three people to decide on something, and you'll have a pattern of flight, fight, or freeze.

So, what do we do about this dilemma? Is the answer just letting everyone go off and do their own thing?

I'm putting my energy into a recovery of sacred practices. Story, Song, Ritual in community for the sake of the world. That's a theme, a purpose, a direction I can embrace. I think it can help a broken world desperately seeking wholeness, hope, salvation, peace, grace. (In my view, those are all words that essentially point to the same thing.)

A few weeks ago, about 30 people gathered at our Conference Center in New Hampshire to explore some of these topics, which I call Weird Wisdom. We read ancient folk tales, walked with Jonah to the sea and back, discussed a dream, released symbols of stuck-ness into a fire, reflected on our intended legacy. It was a kind of entre into a new chapter in my life and work as a spiritual guide, teacher, and storyteller. For some in the group, it confirmed some ideas brewing in the basement kettle for some time. For others, it was an opportunity to consider some new steps forward, perhaps by letting go of some old ideas. It was firmly not a weekend of TRANSFORMATION with all those overhyped promises of a radically new life. We were all too full of life experience to buy into that advertising. But it was a bit of metanoia (A Greek word meaning turning). We'll do it again next year. I'll let you know the details later in case you like to join us.

These kinds of events grow out of asking a different question.

One last story. I'm recounting this one from a memory of a story I heard from Will Willimon.

One Sunday morning, a woman woke up and decided, spontaneously, to go to Sunday worship at a nearby church. Later that afternoon, she was at a BBQ picnic hosted by friends. When she mentioned she had been to worship that morning, an older person asked, "well, what was said?" She engaged her nieces and nephews a short while later and mentioned her morning activity. They looked at her and inquired, "well, what happened?"

“What was said” is a question assuming the purpose is information gathering.

Instead, “what happened” is a question expressing the hunger for an experience.

I think our post-secular world is looking for an experience, an encounter with the sacred.

So, where are you finding grace?

Why we Need Ash Wednesday

Prelude: As the world witnesses the horror of war and violence once again, this time with Russia's aggression against the people of Ukraine, I'm mindful of our human propensity to justify our actions, our lust for power and control over others. The example given below is a stark reminder of the horrors of war, which we are seeing on our screens once again. This essay which I began before the recent events unfolded, takes a personal look at the origins of human deceit, and suggests a remedy rooted in an ancient practice of confession. 

 In the opening to his book, The Forgiving Self, Psychologist Robert Karen recounts the story of the famous Vietnam War-era photo of a small girl running down a road, her clothes burned off and her body scorched with napalm. The man who claimed to have coordinated the raid on the child’s village in 1972 was a twenty-four-year-old U.S. Army helicopter pilot named John Plummer. When Plummer saw the photo a few days after the attack, he reported an overwhelming sense of devastation. Decades later, he told a reporter from the Associated Press: “It just knocked me to my knees. And that was when I knew I could never talk about this.” The guilt he experienced became a lifelong torment.

The young girl in the photo, Pham Thi Kim Phuc, survived seventeen operations, relocated to Toronto, Canada, and became a goodwill ambassador for UNESCO. In 1996, Plummer heard Kim speak at a Veteran’s Day observance in Washington DC, not far from his home. In her speech that day, Kim included these words: “If I could talk face to face with the pilot who dropped the bombs, I would tell him we cannot change history, but we should try to do good things for the present.” At the end of her speech, Plummer made his way through the crowd and found Kim. “I fell into her arms sobbing. All I could say is, ‘I’m so sorry. I’m just so sorry.’”

Kim responded, “It’s all right, “I forgive. I forgive.” The two began a friendship with occasional visits, and public appearances report Dr. Karen in his book, where he writes: “When I called Plummer four years later, Kim had just been to visit.” 

While this is such a fantastic story of forgiveness in human relations, it is not that at all. It’s a story of human deception. You see, Plummer lied. He was not the pilot. In fact, according to reports from military officials, Plummer, while in Vietnam at the time, was assigned elsewhere and not involved in the raid that resulted in Kim’s devastating injuries. When confronted with the evidence in 1997, Plummer admitted to his deception and explained that he had gotten so caught up in the emotion of the Veteran's Day observance and Kim's speech that he acted as if he had been the pilot, even though he was not. Equally curious is how Dr. Robert Karen could report the above incident as the lead narrative in his introduction years after the truth had been revealed. It makes a compelling story to introduce an excellent text on forgiveness. But Karen's book was copyrighted in 2001. And he reports, "When I called Plummer four years later, Kim had just been to visit ." implying a verification of the story as Dr. Karen writes it. That would have been in 2000. Yet the evidence discrediting Plummer's role in this story was revealed in 1997. Which raises several questions: Did Robert Karen call Plummer in 2000? If he did call him, did Plummer perpetuate the lie while caught up again in the excitement of a reputable and published Psychologist asking him about the incident? Did Dr. Karen read/hear about this story and decide it was such a good illustration for his book and just inserted himself into the narrative for impact? Did everyone just want this story to be true, so they went along with it?

What’s going on here, and how does it relate to Ash Wednesday? 

I came across all the above by pure accident. While searching for a topic for this issue of Notebooks, I heard the story of Kim and Plummer referenced in a podcast. That led me to research, including reading Dr. Karen's book. But just before hitting “send” for this email to all of you, I engaged in a quick Google search, which led me to reference the Plummer incident of deception. Dr. Karen’s version of the story is still up on the Oprah Winfrey website, albeit without the reference to calling Plummer, which is in his book on page 2. Dr. Karen’s book is a fine treatise on the psychology of human forgiveness. I’m not disputing his work. But I am intrigued by Plummer’s deception and Dr. Karen’s perpetuation of it. The heroic version of Plummer continues to be told in newspaper articles and books. It's as if we want it to be true. Heck, I wanted it to be true. I wanted to write you all this remarkable story of human forgiveness as a reminder of its power in our lives. My goodness, don't we all need a good account of grace and forgiveness these days? To her credit, Kim is on record as having said, “Whether or not he played a major or a minor role, the point is I forgive him,” She keeps us centered on the power of forgiveness as well as her resilience in the face of the horrors of war.

But this little tale is why we need Ash Wednesday. We need to face ourselves, reflect on our lives, come clean with an honest declaration of our vulnerabilities. The church version of this is called confession, which has unfortunately been misused and abused. I recall a friend of mine raised in the Roman Catholic tradition reporting to me once that she just manufactured things to say in the confessional booth as a teenager. Additionally, there are many reports of other misuses of this practice. Yet, confession has another more noble aspect to it. More akin to telling a good friend of one's regrets, lost dreams, great disappointments. Then receiving a comforting acknowledgment, touch, or another gesture with the promise that grace does indeed abound. "Your story is safe with me."

Most of us are cautious about revealing such personal wounds. We may also be reluctant to make the inward turn to reflect and gaze upon that mysterious inner world the ancients called the soul. Yet anyone who has ever gained the slightest bit of wisdom made that turn at some point.

“It is a bewildering thing in human life that the thing that causes the greatest fear is the source of the greatest wisdom.”  C.G. Jung

Ash Wednesday marks the beginning of the Lenten season of penance. It is forty days leading up to Holy Week and Easter. While Easter dates to the New Testament era, the traditions of Ash Wednesday aren’t quite as old. Ash Wednesday officially dates to the 11th Century following hundreds of years of various worship practices. The power of Ash Wednesday is in the imposition of ashes on the forehead. The minister makes the sign of the cross at the place where in our baptism we are sealed with the sign of the cross. The symbol of ash connects us with our mortality. "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust" and the many references in Hebrew literature suggest all manner of human frailty and penance. (Look here for a quick reference) 

Ash Wednesday marks the beginning of a turn away from one way of being in the world toward reconciliation and atonement… to be at one with God, neighbor, and self. We make a metanoia (an embodied turn toward a new life). In the Lutheran tradition, the liturgical movement moves us from Ash Wednesday, with its strong emphasis on personal self-reflection and confession, to the reconciliation of the Holy Week Maundy Thursday rite, where the Last Supper is reenacted. A meal filled with the Shakespearean drama of betrayal, denial, and yet a sacrament of forgiveness.

For me, Ash Wednesday has always been the day of honesty. It’s the day of “Let’s get real with ourselves, our relations, our world, and with the Holy.” It is a day to recognize that I can just as easily deceive myself, inflate myself even hide from myself. It’s a day of sobriety. Maybe Ash Wednesday is the religious version of the first step of a kind of A.A. program. Perhaps the liturgy for the day should begin with that kind of confession. 

1. We admitted we were powerless over our addiction— that our lives had become unmanageable.

2. Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.

3. Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.

4. Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.

5. Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.

The parallels between the 12 steps of A.A. and the model of Christian life have been developed quite thoroughly by author Keith Miller.

The traditional liturgy of the Ash Wednesday service in the Episcopal Church can be found here. I find these words in the liturgy particularly poignant as we confess.

Our self-indulgent appetites and ways and our exploitation

of other people,

We confess to you, Lord.

Our anger at our own frustration and our envy of those

more fortunate than ourselves,

We confess to you, Lord.

Our intemperate love of worldly goods and comforts, and

our dishonesty in daily life and work,

We confess to you, Lord.

I recognize that many people have been hurt by the Christian church and the inappropriate and harmful ways it has communicated concepts of sin, confession, and repentance. That practice is something we should repent and amend. I am also aware that U.S. American society tends to have an overly inflated view of our goodness, righteousness, and ego. We do well to face our self-indulgent appetites, envy, and dishonesty. In other words, we are facing our self-deception. Ash Wednesday reminds us of our human fragility, lust for power, and desire to always be in control and place ourselves in the best light. But there on our foreheads is the reminder of our tendency toward self-deception. And here is the clever thing about this ritual. Since the ashes are on our forehead, we can only see them by looking in a mirror.

Perhaps that’s the point of the whole ritual.

Until next time, be well

 You can subscribe to this Bi-Monthly Essay at Substack (click here)

How do I Pray?

A reader of Notebooks recently emailed and asked a significant question. “How do I pray?” It’s a question worth answering. The problem is there is no easy answer. We each need to find our own way.

Perhaps poet Mary Oliver is a good place to begin.

Praying

It doesn’t have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just
pay attention, then patch

a few words together and don’t try
to make them elaborate, this isn’t
a contest but the doorway

into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.

—  Mary Oliver

That’s the kind of grace I need when it comes to prayer.

Rather than described my own approach to prayer, I thought it best to offer a glimpse at my practice. Click on the video link below to watch a short four-minute video where I let you in on my practice of walking prayer and meditation. 

May it be helpful to you.

Be well

Share The Notebooks of James Hazelwood

You Walk on Holy Ground

“Nobody can know what the ultimate things are. We must, therefore, take them as we experience them. And if such experience helps to make life healthier, more beautiful, more complete, and more satisfactory to yourself and to those you love, you may safely say: This was the grace of God."  CG Jung Psychology & Religion 1937

Opportunities abound for hikes near my home in Rhode Island. Years ago, someone had the good sense to set aside land in the form of various conservation efforts. So last week, on a frigid day, I made a tour of the Trustom Wildlife Refuge. In the middle of that trail stands a large white oak tree. A part of my solo hikes always includes a time with that tree, thanks to a convenient bench nearby. I've had many conversations with this grandfather. (I know. The tree does not have gender the way we think of gender, but this is my projection. If you visit, feel free to reference the tree as you wish.) The wonderful thing about talking to a tree is the lack of interruption. He’s a good listener. This giant oak is also willing to have young people climb and play on its branches.

I imagine this tree could tell many stories and has heard the longings, prayers, and dreams of many a sojourner. I’m not alone. During my recent walk and meditation, a thought or voice burst into my mind while sitting in silence by my friend. “Take off your shoes, for the ground you walk on is holy ground.” Those are words YAHWEH spoke to Moses as he approached the burning bush. While reluctant to take off my shoes in 20-degree weather, I got the message. This is sacred land, a holy place, and YAHWEH spoke to me. Maybe not from the freezing bush, but I heard the voice.

“The creative urge lives and grows [us] like a tree in the earth from which it draws its nourishment. We would do well, therefore, to think of the creative process as a living thing implanted in the human psyche.” CG Jung, Spirit in Man, Art and Literature

As late modern inheritors of the materialist worldview, we seem reluctant to openly share our experiences of the sacred in 21st-century western civilization. Yet, as one who chooses to venture out and risk a little embarrassment, I'm finding more and more people have had their encounters with the Holy. But they’ve not shared them with anyone. Many of those encounters occur in nature, and trees seem to be a dominant theme. 

Belden Lane describes his enchanting relationship with an old Cottonwood situated in the town park near his home in Missouri. He has even slept in its branches one evening despite discouragement from local officials. Lane describes the beauty and joy of a tree-like mysticism in his thoughtful book The Great Conversation: Nature and the Care of the Soul. While our culture conceives of nature as a product to be utilized for material benefit, Lane makes the case that trees, and indeed all of nature, contribute to soul-making. His retelling of this ancient Taoist story from Chuang Tzu, a fourth-century BCE Taoist sage, provides fresh insight. 

 One spring, as peach blossoms filled the valley below with a spray of white fragrance, an ancient sage wandered the heights of Shang. He noticed a massive tree on a hillside where all other trees had been chopped down. The others had been cut to build a palace for the emperor. This remaining tree was so enormous that it could shelter the horses drawing a hundred chariots under its shade. It was amazing that it had never been felled. He marveled at how much timber it must contain.

But as he looked up into its branches, he noticed how they were all twisted and crooked, growing in every direction. None were straight enough to be cut into rafters or beams. He broke off a twig and tasted the sap, finding it bitter. The tree would be useless for tapping, producing no syrup of any worth. The leaves, as he crumpled them, gave off an offensive odor. They broke too quickly to be woven into mats or braided into baskets. They wouldn’t even make good mulch. The roots, moreover, were so gnarled that you’d never be able to carve a bowl or fashion a fine decorative box out of them.

"This indeed," said Chuang Tzu, "is a tree good for nothing! That's why it has reached such a great old age. The cinnamon tree can be eaten, so it is cut down. The varnish tree is useful and, therefore, incisions are made in it. We all know the advantage of being useful, but only this tree knows the advantage of being useless!”

The Taoist master sat under the great tree's shade for the rest of the day as a light wind drifted up from the valley below. He breathed the scent of distant peach blossoms and sat in studied silence, contemplating his uselessness. Then, finally, he stopped making judgments about the tree's worth its market value. He sat instead in its welcoming shadow, realizing that his worth had nothing to do with what he was able to produce.[1]

The tree is a powerful image in the world's religions. The tree in the Garden of Eden is a source of knowledge. Jesus' crucifixion is depicted in ancient icons on a tree. He also describes himself as the vine and the branches in John's gospel. The Buddha sat beneath the Bodhi Tree, where he attained enlightenment. In his vision of paradise, Muhammad noticed a great plum tree on the outskirts of heaven. The ancient Celts, that tribe delightful Irish faithful of the land, regarded the oak, the willow, the ash, and the holly as sacred. 

In 1990, the Thai Buddhist monk Pharkru Pitak began ordaining trees. (See the video and story here) While witnessing with despair the deforestation, soil erosion, and subsequent break up of families, Pitak began wrapping trees in saffron robes, ritually investing them with the status of a Buddhist monk. Due to the honor given to Buddhist monks in Thai culture, cutting down one of these ordained trees was equivalent to killing a monk. The resulting karmic impact caused a behavior shift as people chose not to cut down the trees and not to allow others to do so. "The sacred values conveyed by the saffron robe had trumped the monetary value of the timber for the market." Writes Larry Rasmussen in his book Earth-Honoring Faith. 

As Psalmist sings about the blessed one,

That person is like a tree planted by streams of water,

    which yields its fruit in season

and whose leaf does not wither—

    whatever they do prospers. (Psalm 1:3 NIV)

Trees recur in my life again and again. As a teenager hiking in the Los Padres National Forest mountains, I learned that to get the water, it needs, the towering Ponderosa Pine would extend its taproot deep into the earth, down as far as six feet and a lateral root system over 100 feet. They can only grow in the arid western climate with an extensive root system. Later in my return to New England, I discovered the majestic-looking birches in their vast groves and interconnected root system. “One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.”  (Birches The Poetry of Robert Frost, 1969.) 

Carl Jung compared the human soul to a tree with its branches reaching high and its roots diving deep. But I’m wondering if this tree metaphor for our human development doesn’t go far enough. Maybe the trees around us are connected to our souls in some inexplicable way.

Maybe Tolkien had it right, and the trees are alive. Ah, what we could discover on a stop for a conversation.

So yes, I am a lover of trees - the white oak, the birch, the Ponderosa, the Bodhi Tree, and the Christ Tree. I am a tree hugger because when I walk in their midst, I walk on holy ground.

The Orthodox Icon of Christ and the Branches aka The Tree of Life

[1] Adapted by Belden Lane from James Legge The Texts of Taoism (Oxford: 

 Oxford University Press, 1891), book 4, number 7. This version appears in The Great Conversation Belden Lane, Oxford University Press, page 96

An Inner and an Outer Journey

Over the Christmas holidays, I enjoyed the opportunity of spending five days with my grandsons. The week filled fast with hikes, playing around the yard, and the viewing of Encanto. This is the latest animation from Disney and features the musical genius of Lin-Manuel Miranda, who brought us the musical Hamilton. “Encanto" tells the tale of an extraordinary family, the Madrigals. They live hidden in the mountains of Colombia, in a magical house, in a vibrant town, in a wondrous, charming place called Encanto. The magic of Encanto has blessed every child in the family with a unique gift from super strength to the power to heal—every child except one, Mirabel. But when she discovers that the magic surrounding the Encanto is in danger, Mirabel decides that she, the only ordinary Madrigal, might be her family's last hope.

If you’d like to watch the trailer, it’s here.

There is a subtle shift in the narrative in Encanto from the Disney movies of the past. The past pattern for many a Classic Disney film has been to portray the evil villain as a one-dimensional nothing but bad character. Think of those movies from the mid-20th century, Snow White, Cinderella, Peter Pan, and 101 Dalmatians. However, in Encanto, a more nuanced presentation of evil is presented. The film does this in several ways, but one focuses on the main accomplice to the protagonist, named Bruno. Combined with Mirabel, the movie's principal character, we find ourselves in a story of flawed, misunderstood, or cast aside characters forming the bedrock of a tale of redemption. This more complex and subtle storytelling might reveal something a yearning in our collective psyche.  

Encanto continues a shift in recent Disney films where the complexity of life and the nature of the "bad guy" motif are presented more nuanced. In Disney's "Frozen” (2013), the identity of the “bad guy” ends in a twist. “Frozen II” is interesting in this journey, too - it's about truth and reconciliation and giving up power to right old wrongs; the villain is the consequence of oppressing people. In Raya and the Last Dragon, the theme of evil is more overt, and one character makes a significant shift toward the end of the film that aids in the redemption motif. Still, the movie's principal theme centers around the protagonist's discovery of the community around her as the source of healing. I'm a big fan of "Soul," the 2020 animation about identity and its Platonic view of the soul as a dominant archetype within each of us. Plus, it's got a quirky appearance of a Carl Jung cartoon early on.

In this recent film, Encanto, the mysterious evil villain, though labeling him in that way is unfair, eventually becomes Bruno, a member of the family. Due to a series of circumstances, assumptions, and misunderstandings, he turns out to be an integral part of the resolution to the conflict. He is a Wounded Healer character. A concept that suggests the places within each of us that bear the wounds, injustices, and violations can often be the source of healing, redemption, and a return to wholeness. This is a way of acknowledging that the full range of human capacity is within each of us; good and evil.

The Dutch artist MC Escher (1898-1972) captured this well in his ink etching Angels and Devils, though its technical name is "Circle Limit IV ." A copy, not an original, now hangs on the wall of my office here in Rhode Island and serves as a reminder of the integrated aspects of our human nature. It's likely difficult to see in the small image above, but this print portrays a both/and optical integration of devils and angels. It isn't easy to see where one begins, and the other begins. In fact, the artwork shows they are reliant on one another. This suggests a simultaneity of angels and devils. (As a brief comment here, I want to acknowledge the unfortunate use of black for devils and white for angels. Like many of us of European origin or descent, Escher has this stereotypical imprint. We default to it today and it can contribute to a form of racial profiling.)

Though lacking an artistic image, Martin Luther developed an understanding of human anthropology using the phrase simul iustus et peccator, Latin for simultaneously saint and sinner. Luther is holding the tension of the opposites in his understanding of a person's relation before God and other human beings. This paradoxical way of thinking has been most helpful to me personally through the years. It allows me to recognize in both myself and others that we each have a quality that lifts and a quality that descends. There are multiple metaphors for this idea, and I continue to look for the most all-embracing ones. St. Paul captures an aspect of this in his letter to the Romans Chapter Seven "For I know that nothing good dwells within me, that is, in my flesh. I can will what is right, but I cannot do it. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do.” I once had a child following worship one Sunday, tell me that sounded like a Dr. Seuss rhyme. Since then, I’ve not been able to get that image out of my head.

In a variation on this idea, I once had a Jungian Analyst remind me in one of our sessions, where I invariably got sidetracked talking negatively about a person. "You know, Jim, most people are doing the best they can with what they have and who they are." Ouch! Convicted. That hit home. Now every time I become critical or judgmental of another, I try to return to that comment.

Carl Jung’s understanding of the human psyche includes the concept of the unconscious shadow. An aspect of the unconscious contains elements that lie outside our conscious awareness. Jung called this part of the psyche our shadow, including everything from neglected parts of ourselves. “Hidden or unconscious aspects of oneself, both good and bad, which the ego has either repressed or never recognized." Daryl Sharp's Lexicon "The shadow is composed for the most part of repressed desires and uncivilized impulses, morally inferior motives, childish fantasies, and resentments, etc.--all those things about oneself one is not proud of. These unacknowledged personal characteristics are often experienced in others through the mechanism of projection."   

The most helpful illustration of the human shadow I encountered over the years comes from the poet Robert Bly and analyst Marion Woodman. Their work together resulted in the idea of the backpack we all carry. It contains a collection of personal life encounters as described above and aspects of the collective cultural biases, anger, and wildness. We walk around life with this backpack of stuff. The thing about a backpack is that you can't see it. It's on your back. But it is there all the time. It impedes your movement, slows you down, and periodically causes you to fall down, and then some of the stuff spills out. A significant task of the second half of life is opening that backpack up, examining its contents, discovering both the junk and the hidden treasures.

Our characters in the film “Encanto”, both Bruno and Mirabel, discover their gifts, and the redemption of the whole community is found in these outcasts, flawed and ordinary people. Life is like that more often than we wish to admit. Creativity, generosity, and compassion flow from the hidden, the flawed, and the inferior. We do well to view the shadow, not as our adversary, but as a teacher.

This weekend of Martin Luther King, Jr’s birthday, it seems fitting to turn to some of his wisdom. King wrote and spoke about injustices of racism, economic inequality, and peace during wartime. He understood the forces of hatred from firsthand experience. Ask any person of color today, and they will tell you of many such encounters. Yet, MLK also knew the power of love as a countervailing force. He would not minimize the need to hold people accountable, but he also believed in the redemptive power of love.

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”

“I have decided to stick with love. Hate is too great a burden to bear.”

“Love is the only force capable of transforming an enemy into a friend.”

Source

The challenge for all of us is seeing that at our core, we are all vulnerable sinner/saints carrying around a backpack of stuff from our own and the collective underground. The extension of loving compassion to ourselves inwardly begins the healing we all need. Martin Luther King Jr. believed in the power of that kind of love when exerted in the world around us. It's my experience that this is a both/and process – an inward one and an outward one. It’s also my experience that the healing of the world and the healing of our souls go hand in hand.

Until next time

Subscribe now

A New Year, A Weird Year

A New Year, A Weird Year

A Focus, a Book and a Retreat

James Hazelwood

I’m taking a week off from the writing, but knew you’d be missing the latest issue of “Notebooks.” Since it’s a new year, the time has come for resolutions, commitments to exercise, diets, and self-improvement. Most of mine went out the window by 9 a.m. this morning. However, I do have hopes of releasing a new book in 2022.

Most of the first draft is completed, except that stinkin’ chapter on relationships. I’m in need of help. Stories of relationships, friendships, community are appreciated. Why are they important to you? What relationships have been the hardest? The most rewarding? How have they changed as you’ve aged? Send me your ideas, thoughts, and stories. Click here

The book explores the stages of life through the work of psychologists Erik & Joan Erikson and Carl Jung, then uses a sacred story to illustrate the wisdom we can gain through the years. The wisdom is WEIRD because it’s not the typical stuff you find such as saving money, exercising and eating well, moving to a single floor housing unit, and trimming your nose hairs. (Though those are important) Instead, I look at the inner realm of the second half through these five themes.

Wisdom

Enchantment

Integrity

Relationships

Destiny

In March of 2022, I’m leading a retreat for people interested in this topic. You are welcome to join me at the Calumet Retreat and Conference Center in New Hampshire. All the details can be found here. Click away.

Topics include:

The Stages of Life according to Erik & Joan Erikson and Carl Jung: Where are you and what's going on as you move from one stage to the next?

The Cultivation of Wisdom as the goal of life: We are meaning-seeking creatures, and as we get older the pursuit of wisdom can provide that meaning.

Enchantment, Integrity & Relationships form the opportunities for growth in the second half of life. Using biblical stories, ancient texts and dreams from modern people we'll find ways to add depth to our lives.

Destiny is something more than a quote from Star Wars. As we grow we become more aware of time. How do we make the best of what is left so that we leave a legacy that serves God, others and our souls?

As I write this, I recognize we are in the midst of yet another burst of Covid-19, and you might be cautious about registering for a retreat. Fair enough. But, Calumet has a very generous refund practice. If we can’t meet in person, we’ll figure out an alternative. But for now, I’m hopeful this current wave will pass us by rather quickly.

Looking forward to a WEIRD year, until next time

Jim

Subscribe now

Birth in the Dark of Night

Birth in the Dark of Night

"The supreme purpose of God is birth" Meister Eckhart 13 cent.

To Know the Dark

     by Wendell Berry

To go in the dark with a light is to know the light.

To know the dark, go dark. Go without sight,

and find that the dark, too, blooms and sings,

and is traveled by dark feet and dark wings.

Among the darkest places in North America is the little-known Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park in central Colorado. My wife and I spent two nights camping there last summer. Besides its steep canyons, it is also one of the darkest places, thus ideal for stargazing. We awoke on the second night around 2 a.m. and lay on our backs watching a dramatic display of the Perseid meteor shower amid the backdrop of the Milky Way Galaxy. Because it was so dark, we could see the light in surprising ways. This poem from Wendell Berry featured prominently on a park sign at the visitor center.

We are in the darkest time of year here in the northern hemisphere. The sun is now setting around 4:20 p.m at my home in Rhode Island. It’s not an accident that Christmas, the time the light came into the world, is situated on December 25, just three days after the winter solstice with its long night. The date also follows nine months after March 25, which is the date of the annunciation by the angel Gabriel to Mary. You’ll note how that March date also corresponds with astronomical movement as it follows the spring equinox. 

The early Christian church established these dates in the 4th century to merge the Christian calendar with the Greek, Roman, and Egyptian religions. For example, the ancient Persian sun-god Mithras was born or reborn each year around the Winter Solstice following a long Saturnalia festival. The Romans later merged this mythology with Sol Invictus, their Sun festival. When Christianity became the official religion of the Roman Empire in the 330's CE, early church leaders merged the many traditions actively practiced with the story of Christ.  Thus, the birth of the Son of God replaced the sun god's birth. This all took place some 300 years after the events written down in Luke & Matthew’s gospels.  

Sometimes, people read the above description and view it as discrediting the Christmas story. That's not my intent here. Instead, I find all this history tremendously validating of the story. I say that because I read the scriptures as inspired and metaphorical truths instead of literal truths. I believe we can embrace the history of an event while mining it for deeper truths. Religious scholar Karen Armstrong summarizes these two ways of reading sacred texts as Mythos and Logos.

Logos (“reason”) was the pragmatic mode of thought that enabled people to function effectively in the world.  It had, therefore, to correspond accurately to external reality.  People have always needed logos to make an efficient weapon, organize their societies, or plan an expedition…..  In popular parlance, a “myth” is something that is not true.  But in the past, myth was not self-indulgent fantasy; rather, like logos, it helped people to live effectively in our confusing world, though in a different way.  Mythos(Imagination) may have told stories about the gods, but they were really focused on the more elusive, puzzling, and tragic aspects of the human predicament that lay outside the remit of logos.  Myth has been called a primitive form of psychology.  When a myth described heroes threading their way through labyrinths, descending into the underworld, or fighting monsters, these were not understood as primarily factual stories.  They were designed to help people negotiate the obscure regions of the psyche. (Karen Armstrong, The Case for God p xi)

I'm reading the Christmas story and this season of Advent as something true in the realm of mythos, as originally understood.  For me, there is profound meaning in the stories of the nativity and the season of Advent. Clearly, there is some historical basis for the birth of this divine child, but we just don’t know with precision – even the Gospels have conflicting accounts. I’m not relying on the historicity to see the power of the symbolism and meaning of the Christ born in a stable, with visits from shepherds and the stars aligning to point the way for Magi from the East. Just pause and take in all that is here: eternal and temporal, divine amongst manure, astronomy, and gastronomy, visitors from important places coming to backwater villages. The imagery, symbolism, and paradox are just too rich to be ignored.

Both Freud's and Jung's gift to modern people is a new way of embracing mythos. Understanding our human need for narrative and meaning, we can now read the sacred texts of long ago and understand their inner depth.

These days of increasing darkness are matched with hope for light. The season of Advent is a paradox of darkness and light symbolism. Advent darkness stirs up fears, a desire for freedom, and all that something new may bring. In this time, we are representing something that goes on in each of our souls. Darkness, as I experienced on that night last August, is frightening. When the evening came, and I walked around that campground known to have wild animals, including bears and other predators, I was keenly aware of what ancient people experienced in the night. Fear becomes very real. There is a yearning for the safety and security of others, of something to illuminate the darkness. If I can see, then I have a greater degree of confidence. I reached for a flashlight. Ancient people knew the darkness, perhaps better than we.

But late modern people like ourselves know darkness as well. Who among us has not experienced a dark night of the soul? A time when our path into the future became unclear following a loss of employment, the breakup of a relationship, or the death of a loved one. We seem to wander around aimlessly in our own darkness. We are seeking some light, some companionship, and some wisdom to move into the future. Indeed we hope for something new to come along. Deep down, we hope for a new birth.

This brings us to the birth of the divine child as an incarnation of hope. The narratives in scripture describe different stories of a child born of mysterious circumstances in ordinary locations. We have stars and wisdom figures in Matthew; angels, sheepherders, and a bed of hay in Luke. The divine and the sublime come together.

The Christ-child captures the wholeness we desire to be born, not just 2,000 years ago, but again and again in each of us and our world. The many titles ascribed to Jesus capture the different yearnings of humanity - Prince of Peace, Emmanuel (God with us), Light of the World. This powerful and instinctual drive toward hope focuses our attention on the divine Christ child. As CG Jung pointed out: “One of the essential features of the child motif is its futurity. The child is potential future.” (CW vol 9i, p. 164)

Regardless of your formal religious identification, be it Lutheran, Jewish, agnostic, or none, we all share a common longing for hope. It strikes me hope may be a unifying theme of humanity.

Hope for Peace              

Hope for Reconciliation

Hope for Companionship            

Hope for Justice

Hope for Meaning             

Hope and birth go together.

The Christian mystic Meister Eckhart writes: “The supreme purpose of God is birth. God will not be content until God’s Son is born in us. Neither will the soul be content until the Son is born in it.”  For Eckhart, this eternal birth is always beginning anew as God comes to us in our inner “stable.”

What do you hope will be born in you this year?

This post was also published today via my bi-weekly newsletter. It’s free. If you’d like to subscribe. Click here

Varieties of the Spiritual

The second issue of my sub stack newsletter is out now. Find it here. You can subscribe here

"We are lived by powers we pretend to understand." W.H. Auden

Have you ever had an experience where you sensed you were in the presence of God?

I'm guessing the answer might be yes, but perhaps you've never thought that your experience was spiritual. These are the unexplained encounters and involve phenomena that run counter to our everyday life experience. Some people have wildly bizarre encounters with the holy while others have more ordinary events, and still others may have had some sort of "thing" happen that they believe they cannot share with anyone. I'm convinced almost everyone has had some type of encounter, but some may be reluctant to describe the experience. 

The US American psychologist William James discusses this idea in his classic book, The Varieties of Religious Experience. He distinguishes between primary religious encounters, direct personal experiences, and secondary religion, which involves teachings about the faith or organizational aspects. Most of what happens in American church life today is secondary religion – information, analysis, and description. When I preach or teach on a scripture passage or describe a theological concept, I am practicing secondary religion. It's secondary because it's about the religious experience, both the experience itself. 

Primary religion is the direct experience of the holy, such as encounters with phenomena, hauntings, numinous creatures, conversations with angels, or experiences of gentle calm. Those encounters can be mountain-top experiences or subtle reminders of the blessing of being alive. They can be out in nature, inside your living room, or around the corner from your place of work. 

The quote above from the poet W.H. Auden is from a longer poem titled "In Memory of Ernest Toller." The line "We are lived by powers we pretend to understand" has broader application to the two realms I wrote about in the last issue of Notebooks. Auden captures in just a few words the profound truth that we humans are influenced by forces that lie beyond our rational, conscious, and materialist perspective.

Auden's words suggest something other than our rational ego-centered mind is influencing our thoughts and actions. Namely, that there is a presence that is among us, within us, and around us. We could give many names to this presence, but I'll focus here on its spiritual significance. We encounter glimpses of this Spirit throughout our lives - a feeling, an intuition, perhaps a vision, or even a voice. For example, in my book, Everyday Spirituality, I describe an experience of my friend David who "saw" a nurse at the foot of his bed as he recovered in a hospital. Yet, the person he described was not an employee at the hospital.

Australian philosopher David Tacey recently defined spirituality as "The power of eternity yearning to be in time," echoing William Blake's "Eternity is in love with the productions of time."  I contend that people in our time seek the spiritual. We yearn for encounters with the infinite because it helps give our lives a sense of meaning and purpose.  

The expansive interest in astrology to yoga can be understood as a desire to encounter mystery, wonder, and the infinite.Experiential forms of religious experience are on the rise in Buddhism and Hinduism, emphasizing meditation. In the Christian tradition, we see this in the global increase of Pentecostal expressions, focusing on one's encounter with the divine. I recall a visit years ago to a Vineyard worship service that included a wide range of people speaking in tongues, rolling on the floor, and dancing in the aisles. A recent article in the NY Times by Ruth Graham described new alternatives to baptism, including ocean baptism, horse troughs, and even hot tubs. When asked to describe the motivation behind the trend, one Pastor indicated, "We live in an age where people like experiences," said Mark Clifton, Pastor of Linwood Baptist in Kansas, "It's not that it looks better, but it feels better. It feels more authentic. It feels more real." One could easily argue with this trend as gimmicky, but my point in highlighting it here is to illustrate the desire for an experiential religion.

The advertising industry has watched this growth as well. Products and experiences are marketed to us with a clear message: "Satisfying your personal desires is the ultimate fulfillment. Just buy this product, vacation or automobile." Perhaps this explains that surveys consistently reveal the number one recreational activity for US Americans is shopping. We seek our re-creation in the acquisition of goods and services.

But late-modern people find acquisition to be inadequate for living a whole and meaningful life.  We long for something more profound. 

How can we humans, living in a digital age, rediscover and reconnect with God?  I offer the following as possibilities. Of course, there are likely other ways, but I'll focus on five ways we connect with the Spiritual Realm.  

Arts – I consider music, paint, sculpture, dance, and drama among creative expressions that have a sacred quality. My wife often describes singing as her spiritual discipline. It feeds her and gives her great joy, but it also somehow connects her with something deeper. My brother is an artist in the San Francisco area. Through various print imaging, he reveals insight into both ancient and contemporary events. A friend just took up pottery, and another has returned to her love of dance. "I don't care if I look like a fool. I'm feeling a Spirit alive in me while I move," she said.

 "I think of mythology as the homeland of the muses, the inspirers of art, the inspirers of poetry. To see life as a poem and yourself participating in a poem is what the myth does for you."

-       Joseph Campbell

Relationships – I'm thinking of the long-lasting relationships we have with significant people in our lives. Through these, we learn more about ourselves than in any classroom, book, or therapeutic exchange. Is God present in that life of loving relations?  I think so. The Greeks had three words for love. In Sanskrit, there are over 100 words for love, yet in English, we really on modifiers to help us explain love. Romantic love is different than brotherly love. Erotic love is not the same as compassionate love. What we experience in those first few weeks and months of a romantic relationship evolves after ten years, thirty years, or longer. We grow and change as individuals and as a relationship. If God is Love, as the bible says, our lifelong experience of evolving love is a spiritual encounter. 

I Corinthians 13 is a well-known passage about love frequently read at weddings. It even made it into a scene in the 2005 Movie The Wedding Crashers. When read at a wedding, this passage reminds us of the romantic aspects of love. But when I heard it read at the funeral of an 83-year-old man by his granddaughter, I wept. Love took on an entirely different significance. It spoke of resilience and endurance, compassion, and gentleness in ways I had not considered. A piece of scripture that had become rather lifeless for me as one who has attended hundreds of weddings suddenly leaped off the page a pierced my heart.

Love is kind and patient,
never jealous, boastful,
    Proud, or rude.
Love isn't selfish
    Or quick-tempered.
It doesn't keep a record
    Of wrongs that others do.

Nature – A walk in the woods, a swim in the lake, a bike ride along a country road. What is it about the natural world that opens us up to the sacred? Perhaps more than any other vehicle, people report mystical encounters taking place in the natural world. We now have scientific evidence of the benefit of simply being outside for twenty minutes. But before all the neuroscience, humans lived in the environment of trees, rivers, and open plains. As late modern people in a technological age, we forget that we are animals, and our roots are in the natural world. People encountered God in a burning bush, underneath a Bodhi Tree, in the river Jordan or a desert cave for most of human civilization. Looking for a way to connect with God, take a walk outside.

Are you looking for a way to connect with God?  Take a walk outside.

Dreams – Dreams provide opportunities to experience a sacred realm and possibly an avenue to the soul. One author called them God's forgotten language, while another wrote of dreams as unopened letters from God. The realm of night visions that cross our awareness while we sleep allows us to experience the holy. I look forward each night as I hit the pillow and often ask myself, "what will the dream maker show me tonight?" Next to my bed sits a small journal where I can record my dreams. They come to us without charge…a symbol of the ongoing gift of grace from God. It is in dreaming that we enter a world of mystery and wonder. While some comment that they do not recall their dreams, and others write them off as insignificant, there is ample evidence of the healing and meaning of dreams.

"Most dreams are representations of what goes on inside the dreamer.

Dreams usually speak of the evolution of forces inside us,

The conflicts of values and viewpoints there,

The different unconscious energy systems that are trying to be heard,

Trying to find their way into our conscious lives."  

Robert A. Johnson, Inner Work

Prayer/Meditation – While words can shape our experiences, I fear they can also cover up the direct encounter with the holy. I've read beautiful prayers for decades, but not one can match the experience of the sacred. Our meetings with the numinous are ineffable. So often, when we hear the word "prayer," we think of written or spoken prayers. Sadly, many prayers seem to be telling God what we want, need, desire. Is it possible that a healthy relationship with the divine involves a two-way conversation?  Previously I wrote of the practice of contemplative prayer as a practice that might connect us with God.

But prayer should not be something we seek to perfect, as the poet Mary Oliver reminds us

It doesn't have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just
pay attention, then patch

a few words together and don't try
to make them elaborate, this isn't
a contest but the doorway

into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak."

I've illustrated a few practical ways we can seek out the numinous, but let's be clear that it is more often the case that God finds us rather than we find God. Therefore, the holy often surprises us in its appearance. But we can put ourselves in a place of awareness and openness.

"Are we linked to something infinite or not?" CG Jung

Citizens of Two Realms

My BiWeekly Notebooks is now on Substack. Subscribe here

"We do not leave the shore of the known in search of adventure or suspense or because of the failure of reason to answer our questions. We sail because our mind is like a fantastic seashell, and when applying our ear to its lips, we hear a perpetual murmur from the waves beyond the shore. Citizens of two realms, we all must sustain a dual allegiance."

– Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, Man is Not Alone: A Philosophy of Religion

Abraham Joshua Heschel (January 11, 1907 – December 23, 1972) was an American rabbi and one of the leading theologians and Jewish philosophers of the 20th century. Heschel, a professor of Jewish mysticism at the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York City, authored numerous books and was deeply involved in the Civil Rights movement. He argued that spiritual encounters with the divine are fundamental to human life.

The quote above comes from his book Man Is Not Alone: A Philosophy of Religion. This writing is essentially a treatise on how human beings can understand God.  While recognizing a difference between humanity and the divine, Heschel suggests that encounters with the Holy are a part of human experience.  The book explores the problems of doubts and faith and the human yearning for spirituality. While distinctively Jewish in its theological frame, the book has much to offer the contemporary seeker, Jewish, Christian, Muslim, or another faith. Even the agnostics among us, who are many, would appreciate Heschel's writings, for he is far more universal than one might suppose.

I'm particularly attracted to that last sentence from the opening quote. "Citizens of two realms, we all must sustain a dual allegiance." Heschel seems to be suggesting that we humans live in two realities that are of equal value. This idea is very much in keeping with the writings of the great wisdom traditions as well as the field of depth psychology. While most of us today live very much consciously aware of a realm of paychecks, grocery stores, and automobiles, we also have an intuitive sense that there is something else.

That something else is difficult to describe, so we do not tell it or even talk about it most of the time. Yet, given an opportunity and a safe environment, I have found people willing and eager to tell of their encounters with the sacred realm. Years ago, I preached an unusual sermon while visiting Trinity Church in Chelmsford, MA. The homily consisted of four stories of encounters by people who experienced something out of the ordinary. In conversations with congregation members after the worship service, an older man described a time in his late 20s when he heard a voice caution his over-obsession with his career. That encounter, which he described as holy, changed his entire approach to his family. "I vowed to spend more time with my wife and children." He said. "In fifty years since that voice spoke to me, I've never regretted that decision." I also learned that he had never told anyone about that experience.

Increasingly, I hear stories like this from people. They had something unusual happen, but they never told anyone. It's as if that old joke rings true, "why is that when someone says they talk to God, we call it prayer, but if they say God talked to them, we call it crazy?" For a long time, that had been a prevailing attitude in our society, but it’s beginning to change. More people are coming forward with their stories of an experience of this other realm.

Last week, I spent three days with Andy Root, the US American theologian who has written extensively about the secular society as a context for ministry. He outlined the gradual shift from the sacred to the secular over the last 500 years. He made the case, obvious to many, that we no longer live in a culture that lives in a fully sacred framework. Today our experience of life is guided by the rational and the scientific. One example that illustrates this shift: If your child got sick in the 1400s, you thought it to be an attack of the devil or demons and sought out a healer, shaman, or priest to rid the child of the demons. One lived in a spirit-infused time. Today if your child is sick, you take them to a medical doctor. You think it might be an infection and need antibiotics or another treatment. While we welcome the prayers of friends, it's unlikely you will rely on prayers alone.

Dr. Root pointed out that we are grateful for many of the accomplishments of living in a secular worldview. For example, antibiotics, indoor plumbing, food safety, and transportation make our lives safer, longer, and more comfortable. I'll be honest. I like living in this secular scientific worldview. I’m writing this on a computer that allows me to edit with ease, in a room that’s heated following breakfast that was easily procured. Life is good in the secular world.

Yet, has the secular gone too far?  Have we so emphasized rationality that we have pushed away from the sacred? This brings us to the Swiss psychiatrist Carl Gustav Jung, an early founder of modern psychology, along with Sigmund Freud. Jung parted ways with Freud primarily over the latter's insistence that all neurosis is about repressed sexuality. Jung then set about a lifelong project that focused on our need for a spiritual dimension. While there is much in his Collected Works about psychology, we can find a great deal about Jung's efforts to help the modern world rediscover a new way of accessing the sacred. Unfortunately, Jung was misunderstood in his lifetime, though today, his work is receiving a more favorable audience.

He often wrote of his efforts to provide modern people with a new sense of the sacred. One example comes from a book he published just a few years before his death.

"This is not to say that Christianity is finished. I am, on the contrary, convinced that it is not Christianity but our conception and interpretation of it that has become antiquated in the face of the present world situation. The Christian symbol is a living thing that carries in itself the seeds of further development. "C. G. Jung in The Undiscovered Self © 1957

Jung, like Heschel, advocated that we all must find a way to live in two realms and hold a dual allegiance. Our society has neglected the realm of wonder, mystery, spirit, the holy; call it what you wish. Instead, we have become one-sided in valuing only the world we can see, touch, taste. Another way to think of it is our emphasis is on the five senses, to the neglect of the sixth sense. This causes us to be heavily ‘materialist’ in our orientation. The word ‘materialist’ because it seems to describe our orientation toward things. It also results in a materialistic emphasis that pairs well with consumer capitalism.

I’m deeply concerned about this imbalance. If Heschel and Jung are correct, and we do indeed live in two realms, yet increasingly ignore or deny the realm of mystery, wonder, and God, where will that lead us?  An exclusively materialist worldview leaves people bereft of meaning. Or simply meaning found solely in the acquisition of more stuff. I’m not against the comforts of modern life, but almost anyone with enough life experience recognizes that more stuff, new stuff, and bigger stuff does not lead to fulfillment.

Much of what you'll be reading in these Notebooks will circumambulate these ideas. "Man cannot live a meaningless life," wrote Jung. Today, we are engaged in multiple activities that seem to be distractive and self-destructive. I can't help but wonder if this is rooted in our need to regain a balance of the two realms in which we live.

We have found meaning for most of human history when our individual lives are connected to a larger story. That larger story is a realm beyond the day-to-day of life. The good news is that we have at our disposal multiple ways of reengaging with that realm. The long history of wisdom traditions points us to many options. These “Notebook” writings will be practical as well as poetic and philosophical. I intend to amplify the opportunities to rekindle meaning and connection with God in the coming issues. Through story, cinema, dreams, the arts, meditation, folktales, and such, I'll describe ways people can connect with the larger story of life.

I'll leave you with a delightful reading from William Stafford

The Way it Is

There's a thread you follow. It goes among
things that change. But it doesn't change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can't get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time's unfolding.
You don't ever let go of the thread.

Until next time…

Jim

Changing up the Newsletter...here we come Substack

It’s Time for a Change

There’s an old Joke: 

“How many Lutherans does it take to change a lightbulb?”

CHANGE ?!?!?! (screamed with fear and trembling)

Originally my E-Newsletter started with the intent of bringing reflections on a changing church particularly from my perspective as Bishop of the New England Synod. Then it evolved to include thoughts on the ways spirituality is showing up in our world. This was most clearly articulated in my book Everyday Spirituality. Regular subscribers of this E-Newsletter may have noticed an inconsistency of late - Issues have been released with greater infrequency and a lack of clarity and direction. That’s because I’ve been at a loss for how to use this medium. You’ll also notice that the Podcast has gone into hibernation. 

It’s clearly time to shake things up!

Therefore, I’m switching to both a new format and a new focus. Going forward my writings will focus on the intersection of religion, culture and the soul. This grows out of my studies at the Haden Institute for Spiritual Direction. You got a glimpse of this in last month’s issue of this newsletter where I focused on “Contemplative Prayer”

The new format will be in the form of a Substack Newsletter. Huh? What’s that? Basically, Substack is a website and a newsletter combined. It’s used by writers who want to generate content and put it all in one place. It’s not a fancy schmancy website with pretty pictures, it’s mostly text on a white background.

Why make the change? Well, there are two reasons. 1) I’m board of this E-Newsletter format, it’s a bit clunky to assemble an issue and the cost of maintaining a subscriber base of 2500 is increasing. 2) My writing interests are shifting from writing about the church to writing about spirituality more broadly. While I could make the shift within this format, I think the new venue allows for a transition. A break, if you will, from something old to something new. 

What’s next? In the next week or so you’ll receive the first issue of the new “Notebooks of James Hazelwood” Substack Newsletter.  If you don’t want it, no worries, just unsubscribe. No harm, no foul. I’ll not be offended. If you do nothing it will keep coming to your inbox as long as you wish. If you are reading this blog post and don’t already receive the E-News and now want to subscribe to the new “Notebooks” substack letter. Click here to subscribe.

For those of you connected to me through the New England Synod, I’ll continue my communications through our E-Newsletter there. If you don’t already receive that you can subscribe at this link.

Still in One Peace,

James Hazelwood

The first issue will engage this quote, more to come soon.

“We do not leave the shore of the known in search of adventure or suspense or because of the failure of reason to answer our questions. We sail because our mind is like a fantastic sea shell, and when applying our ear to its lips we hear a perpetual murmur from the waves beyond the shore. Citizens of two realms, we all must sustain a dual allegiance.” 

– Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, Man is Not Alone: A Philosophy of Religion (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux,1976), 24.

What's going to happen to the institutional church?

No, this didn’t start last month. It’s a 50-year trend.

In many churches, synagogues, mosques across the US American landscape, people began returning to their houses of worship this summer and fall. Those that have returned look around and notice something. They see a third of the people that were present back in January of 2020. The Pandemic accelerated trends that were already in place. The high watermark of most institutional expressions of faith was 1967. Yes, that’s the peak in worship attendance in my own denomination. Other traditions will have similar dates. In other words, this decline that took up speed in the Covid19 era has been in place for some time.

What’s the future look like? Increasingly, I’m less interested in statistical trends. I wrote and spoke with others who have made predictions in an earlier podcast. What I’m more interested in now is how we shift to entering into the new expressions of faith, spirit, and service.

I think there are two.

The first is in the area of faith in action. The following paragraph from an online article in ministry matters captures this well.

That’s what we asked ourselves at this little, old church in Metamora, Ohio. We put our energy into throwing barn parties, creating third spaces for the community to gather, starting a food cooperative to support local farmers and producers, and offering opportunities to be and learn together that reflected the context of where we were and who we were with. We stopped trying to do the normal conception of church better, and we started imagining how we could do church differently; which wasn’t about being new or cool or exciting. Rather, we embraced the ancient art of being meaningfully adapted to our place as thornbushes.

Basically, we are talking about the church as a networker or collaborator with others in an effort to serve people particularly people in poverty, but also in areas that concern us all, such as climate change and racism.

The second is in recovering religion as a center for deepening and exploring the numinous, the sacred, the holy…what I’ll call God. My previous blog post on Contemplative Prayer is in this direction. Following its release, I heard from two congregations that have regular contemplative prayer groups. Another is the growing practice of small groups working with Dreams and Spiritual life. Spiritual Direction is a growing movement, and while quite varied in its form and structure (and likely needing some criteria for credentialling) nevertheless offers a way to think about how religion can reconnect to its roots.

One thing is clear, there are no easy answers and the road ahead is very challenging from an institutional perspective, but there are opportunities as well. I’d be curious to hear from you. What’s the new/old thing emerging in your world?

Contemplative Prayer

Sometimes I think I should have been a Quaker. It’s taken me a lifetime, now 62 years, to realize that worship for me takes place in silence or very minimalistic atmospheres. I knew this as a child, but for various reasons have been distracted from that initial calling. Now, in the second half of life, I'm reclaiming aspects of life that have nourished me but I abandoned. 

There are typically two distinct, though related approaches to spirituality in the Christian tradition. First, the kataphatic practice uses tangible things to help us understand and experience God. Second, a kataphatic spirituality employs words, images, sounds, symbols, and ideas to express what God is. For example, we might say that "God is love" or “God is passionate about the poor” or “God is always and everywhere present.” Many practices feed the kataphatic path, such as singing, preaching and teaching, petition/intercession/thanksgiving, liturgy, Bible study, and service. This path is the dominant expression of spirituality in western Christianity. It's also particularly favored in places like the United States, which is a highly extroverted culture.

Markedly less dominant but equally valuable is apophatic spirituality, which explores the ineffable reality of God, which lies beyond our ordinary comprehension. In the apophatic tradition, we attempt to express or describe what God is not. A simple understanding of this would be to use phrases that describe God is not, such as "God is not a male being" or “God is not finite.” But it extends to other attempts such as "God is unknowable" or "God is beyond names." Again, one thinks of Moses' conversation with God in the burning bush story from Exodus. When asked by Moses for God's name, the response is Yahweh, which is Hebrew for "I am" God is existence, life or as the late Paul Tillich put it, "God is not so much a Supreme Being, being itself."

The apophatic spirituality is attractive to persons who enjoy and appreciate silence, solitude, nuance in language, and simple expressions of prayer and meditation. For example, suppose you are attracted to time spent alone on retreat, walking by yourself in nature, or simply sitting with a single candle in a sparse room. In that case, you likely prefer an apophatic spirituality. You may also think there's something wrong with your spirituality if you attend worship in a US-American congregation. Rest assured, there is nothing wrong with you; it's just that you are in a community that values kataphatic spirituality.

The words “apophatic” and “kataphatic" are derived from Greek words—apophasis, to move away from speech or "unsaying," and kataphasis, to move toward speech or “saying.” It's important to note that not one way is better than the other, and no matter your personal preference, there is value for all of us to engage in both. As for me, I've come to the awareness of my strong preference for apophatic spirituality. But, I also benefit from public worship gatherings that include singing, preaching, and the rites and rituals of a community gathered.

Contemplative prayer is the practice of listening to God, listening to the sacred, listening to the mystery. As I practice it, this takes the shape of a distinctively apophatic spirituality. There are more word and image and structure-based forms of contemplative prayer. For example, one thinks of Ignatian Spirituality that has a different series of steps and practices. My approach doesn't resonate with those methods, but I can see how kataphatic spiritual practitioners value them. Here's a link if you think you might prefer that approach.

My practice of contemplative prayer sits comfortably in the apophatic school. I find profound comfort in the breathing prayer outlined by others, but I learned it from Richard Rohr, the Franciscan priest. Simply put, I sit comfortably and in silence. As I breathe in, I say to myself, "Yah," the first syllable of that phrase given to Moses so long ago. As I exhale, I say, "Weh." Most often, the saying of these syllables is silent, but you can also do it aloud. The simple repeating of this breathing in and breathing out with Yahweh is an expression of apophatic spirituality. I can practice this meditation anywhere, sometimes on a walk, sometimes sitting in a restaurant, or lying down on a couch.

In recent years, I’ve found other tools for apophatic contemplative prayer. Two apps for my phone have been resources.  The first app is called Centering Prayer. You can find the link here. This resource grows out of the work of Father Thomas Keating, whose numerous books have brought centering prayer to thousands of people. The second resource I use comes from Plum Village, the monastery founded in France by the Vietnamese Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh. You can find that app here. These tools have distinct flavors, but they share a simple, soft, and gentle approach to prayer and meditation.

Another somewhat unorthodox form of meditation I use is while bicycling.  This form of meditation is similar to walking meditation, which is ideal for those who find sitting or lying down particularly challenging. There are many forms of walking meditation with roots in both the east and the West. My form of cycling meditation is adapted from these practices. Simply put, I pick a portion of a bike ride where I choose a theme or a word or phrase. Then, as I ride, I let that phrase tumble over my brain and sometimes say it out loud. For instance, “gratitude” or “beauty" are a couple of recent examples. I'll repeat those words and then see what I notice. I find the combination of exercise, maybe pushing hard on the peddles up a hill, combined with thoughts of gratitude, results in connection with aspects of life I've come to appreciate or need to appreciate.

But, I'd be remiss if I did not mention the bodily component of this type of prayer. It may be another form of physical movement for you, but cycling is something I love, and my body loves. A steep hill is a challenging climb. Yes, the muscles in my legs scream out in pain, but they are also praising the engagement. My quadriceps sing out hallelujah as I peddle up a long 6% grade. My lungs expanded as they converted oxygen into the fuel needed to keep moving. All the components of what make me me are alive and on fire. There is something life-giving in that process, something profoundly spiritual. I'm reminded of a central tenant of the Christian understanding of God- Namely, that the eternal sacred became temporal in the incarnation. God takes a bodily form. Let's not miss the richness of this. The holy wants a body. Engaging in physical activity, whether it be cycling, walking, swimming, surfing, hiking, rock climbing, as we embrace a contemplative practice, can be a gift.

            Contemplative prayer roots us in mystical traditions. All the major religions of the world have expressions of mysticism. I think of the Jewish Kabbalah, Sufi's in the Islamic tradition, the Greek Orthodox monks of Christianity, and the eastern wisdom traditions of Buddhism and the Hindu faith. For years, mysticism and such contemplative prayer practices were dismissed in the West as eccentric or even heretical. But, that is all changing. Today, people crave an experience of the divine, not simply a doctrinal creed to intellectually comprehend. There is a hunger for experiential religion, and contemplative prayer in its kataphatic and apophatic forms are gifts for post-modern persons.

Our Real Work by Wendell Berry

It may be that when we no longer know what to do
we have come to our real work,
and that when we no longer know which way to go
we have come to our real journey.
The mind that is not baffled is not employed.
The impeded stream is the one that sings.

from his 1983 book Standing by Words

911 The 2021 Emergency Call

Like some of you who read this blog, this weekend is serving as an opportunity to remember the events of September 11, 2001. We also remember the people who lost their lives on that day, and in the subsequent wars.

In 2021 I’m realizing that another 911 call needs to be made. This summer I personally experienced the impacts of climate change. This included watching the remnants of two hurricanes fly over my house. In addition, while on vacation this summer out west I experienced a ferocious heat wave along with the smoke from millions of acres of forest fires. Those fires are still burning as I write this post.

Climate change is in my opinion our number one crisis. It’s an environmental, economic and spiritual crisis. I believe that at its core is our disconnect from the natural rhythms of life. Seventy years ago, when another crisis began with the Second World War, the vast majority of US Americans, not to mention the global population, lived of the land much more directly than we do today. This disconnect from nature, from where we get our food and water, from the cycles of life, death and rebirth is a core factor in our behavior.

Witnessing the dramatic changes in our environment is causing me to make changes in my lifestyle in the hopes of impacting climate change. This is another way of saying, what can one person do?

• Drive less and/or drive a vehicle that gets better gas mileage

• Eat less beef. A diet less dependent of meat is good for your body as well as the planet

• Grow a garden, walk in the woods/park, get outdoors.

• Advocate for policy changes in both state and federal government

• Meditate, pray, reflect using the great wisdom traditions to connect with Creation

These are my five actions. I invite you to consider adopting one or more in your own life. Our planet and our souls will be grateful.

"How Long… O Lord……How Long?"

"How Long… O Lord……How Long?"

That's the phrase that comes to mind as I think about this pandemic.  I had hoped that this fall would bring a clear path forward for all of us. Yet, clarity seems to be in short supply.

 "What are other congregations doing?"

This question is likely the number one question we receive. It's in reference to the practices regarding worship and fellowship in the 170+ congregations of the New England Synod, plus campus ministries and other places where people gather. 

There is no singular answer.  It varies and ranges on one end from a very small number of congregations that have not held any kind of worship in-person, online or hybrid, to the other end where congregations that are worshiping indoors without masks. 

The most common practice is somewhere in the middle where congregations are holding some form of in-person worship indoors with masks or outdoors with masks optional combined with an online presence via the internet. 

Beyond worship, some congregations have moved council and committee meetings for the foreseeable future to an online platform while others are meeting indoors with precautions. Most are not hosting larger events in their buildings but have been finding creative ways to gather outdoors for fellowship and to welcome some community groups back to their buildings with masks and distancing. Here, too, I encourage you to think through each situation with your team in conversation with local and national guidance

 There are no easy answers, but here are the suggestions I encourage:

1.     Have a team of people that regularly monitors both CDC guidelines, State Health Department Guidelines, and also seeks out your wisdom as you care for the people in your congregation. I think strong people balance that three-legged stool.

2.     Realize that the “new normal” is not back to a “past practice”, but instead living in to a time of fluidity. In the past, we were fixed and frozen in our practices (worship always at 10 a.m. since the time of Jesus), but the “new church” is liquid (adapting to changing contexts and health concerns).

“Life” has changed radically, and while some want that to not be the case, reality points to change as the constant.  I suspect that we will be going forward for another year or two of this pandemic.  I know none of us want to hear that, but everything I read says that until we get close to 80% of the planet vaccinated, this Covid19 remains with us. 

I encourage our congregations to be compassionate and wise. I'm also asking that people be kind to one another. We do not make smart decisions or model our call as Jesus’ disciples when we treat one another cruelly.

Let's be patient and kind!

Is Religion Headed for Extinction?

I’ve been invited to respond to questions on Religion and Social Justice through the online magazine “The Good Men project.” Questions are submitted, and then the editorial team ships them out to various contributors. The first question is

Q: I was raised in the Christian religion and consider myself a person of faith, but I cannot accept the systemic sexism promoted by many of the patriarchal religions, and I am offended by the idea that God rejects LGBTQ people as his own creations. Now the religious right seems to hold center stage in the conversation about God, making church-going and even prayer seem entirely suspect. If religion won’t adapt to our evolving world, doesn’t it deserve to die out as a cultural expression of faith?

Today, they published my response/article. Check it out. Here’s the link

https://goodmenproject.com/featured-content/is-religion-headed-for-extinction/