Lending an Ear...to Everyone

Two ordinary events occurred in my life over the past two days, and I think there’s an extraordinary connection between them.

On Friday, I was reading posts on an e-mail list of advertising creatives (it’s associated with www.commercial-archive.com) when I discovered that one of our regulars is a Gnostic priest. Knowing absolutely nothing about Gnosticism, I asked him about it, and he referred me to some posts on his blog, like egina.blogspot.com/2004/12/gnosticism-101.html. I was delighted to discover how much our faiths share: the ineffability and the immediacy of God, the need to seek God out, the importance of Jesus, etc.

Then, on Saturday, I ran into a young woman from our old (Reformed) church in the local supermarket. Her faith could be described as evangelical Christian, and it always touches me, because she experiences God so intimately and so enthusiastically. We discussed the new pastor, his passion for Bible and spiritual studies, her praying for (and receiving) direction on a new job opportunity, etc.

Now here’s the connection: If you were to put all their beliefs side by side with all of mine, we certainly wouldn’t agree on everything. On some things, we might disagree vehemently. But I find that, when I listen, it gives my own faith an opportunity to expand. There might be something in Jordan’s Gnosticism, or Beth’s evangelicalism, that sheds light on a mystery, gives me a new perspective on an old issue, or simply reveals another detail about how God works.

That means that we do ourselves an injustice when we refuse to listen. Of course, refusing to listen is our stock in trade as Americans these days. Somehow that forces us to focus narrowly on the issues that separate us—and ignore the far broader common ground that we share.

God’s way too big for any of us to understand. We need all the help we can get: from people on every side of every creed. That requires some intense listening. I hope, as this blog develops, that it becomes a place where that kind of listening can happen.

St. Dunstan and Our "Ordinary" Lives

During our usual Wednesday mass at St. Paul’s in Albany, our priest delivered a homily on St. Dunstan, who served as Archbishop of Canterbury in 960. Among his many accomplishments, Dunstan apparently reformed the monastic culture of his day and engaged fully in the details of everyday life, from politics to metalworking. Why? Because all life belonged to God, not just time spent in prayer or worship or “Christian service.”

For me, this had a familiar and comforting ring. The Rule for Associates at Holy Cross Monastery, where I have made my spiritual home, includes a section on balance as a monastic value. The section begins with “Our ordinary life is our spiritual life.” Another passage refers to the fact that “all life is holy.”

Of course, it’s easy to say this. But what joy, and freedom, come in those occasional times when I can get myself to live it. There is a freedom to relax, to be present to whatever crosses my path, to accept the now as God’s gift and respond to it accordingly. At the end of the day, I can look back and see that my activities—while often insufficient for my silly standards—harmonize well with God’s.

It’s life as pull. Our culture, by contrast, drives us into life as push: we plan out everything to the second, feel compelled to accomplish more than one day can possibly hold, ignore what’s in front of us because we’re on our way to the next thing.

It does cost to get off the merry-go-round. Maybe we’re not as efficient, or we get less done. But if we don’t get off, we lose something of the richness of God. And that richness is surely worth savoring.

What If This Is It?

Last month, I joined my family in attending a memorial service for my parents, both of whom died last year. More precisely, we attended memorial services: one for the public, and a more intimate one for just the family. The family service consisted of walking in the rain up a small hill to a memory garden; there my nephew placed the urn with my parents' ashes in a small hole, and we proceeded to cover it with earth.

As I stared at the urn with the dirt on top, a thought struck me with full force. This is it. No matter what we do, where we go, we all end up here.

Over the years, I've come to believe that a deep acceptance of death--our own death--is a game-changer in life. The resurrection, the reality of life beyond the grave, makes that all the more true. If our ultimate destiny is union with God, nothing can rob us of our freedom in this life. In any given situation, what's the worst that can happen? We'll die and go to God! Big deal! It allows us not to worry about status or success, but simply to hear and do the will of God, regardless of the consequences.

But this thought was different. Even if we end here--if somehow God created the cosmos so there is no resurrection--it is enough. Enough, that is, to follow God throughout this earthly life, with no thought of reward. The relationship itself, the chance to pour oneself out in doing good: these are reward enough.

Allow Me to Introduce Myself...

This blog is not about me. Nonetheless, you might want to know where I’m coming from, at least from a spiritual standpoint.

At the most basic level, I am a Christian, specifically an Episcopalian. For the last 10 years I’ve read and pondered some of the deeper thinkers of the contemplative life—people like Thomas Merton, Meister Eckhart, Teresa of Avila. This interest has led me deeper into monastic and contemplative practices, like silent and centering prayer.

About a year ago, I became an “associate” of Holy Cross Monastery in West Park, New York, an Episcopal order. In essence, associates take a modified version of the Rule of Life that the monks live by, and tailor it to their life in the world. So, for instance, I’ve committed myself to daily prayer of various sorts, spiritual reading, life balance, and being present to those around me, but I still own a house, love my wife, and run a business (as I mentioned before, I write ad copy for a living). I am no priest or theologian: just a regular guy who can’t get enough of God.

While I identify myself as Christian, that by no means excludes the truths found in other faith traditions. I find myself enthralled by what I read of Hinduism and Buddhism, for instance. The fact that both Christians and Hindus essentially revere one ineffable God who appears in three persons quite amazes me.

So that’s me. In this space, we’ll very likely talk about many of these things. Come on along for the ride.

Beginnings

God told me to start a blog.

OK, that’s a smart-aleck way of putting the matter. But there is something to it. Let me explain.

Not long ago, it came to my attention that I’d been at my career—copywriting—for 20 years. What had been a life-changing asset (building and running my own business) was now beginning to wear me down. A friend suggested I might want to do something to nurture my spiritual life.

It took me about five seconds to realize what that something was. In short, I needed to write about things of the spirit: not just individual practices (though those factor in substantially), but also a spirit’s-eye view of our modern world. Most important, I needed to engage in a dialogue—or, even better, a multilogue.

This is a passion with me. I look at the world and see a place that’s starving for real, honest dialogue. Our politicians and pundits talk at each other at best. Perspectives on any issue, no matter how complex, get oversimplified to black and white. We can’t even begin to address these issues until we hear everyone…and explore together. Plus, we learn when we listen. How bad can that be?

Obviously, one person and one blog won’t make that happen. But many voices, speaking and listening to one another, just might make a small dent.

So let’s talk.