Category Archives: Spiritual

Finding Quietness

Rereading parts of Glynne Robinson Betts’ 1981 book, Writers in Residence, recalled simpler, deeper times, when finding places of quietness and taking time to think was part of the routine many people used in order to hear themselves and others. In fact, reading this again prompted me to expand the time I spend without Internet interruptions. Steps as simple as ignoring email for extended periods or as comprehensive as turning the computer off for the entire weekend, are emerging as a necessary part of reclaiming quietness and time to think.

There is nothing profound in these decisions to disconnect — whatever is profound happens as a result of taking that time to see and listen and think.

When I do slow down, every pause, every quietness, every moment taken to see, to listen, to think, rewards with a rich, living connectedness and depth that cannot be exhausted. The fabrics of the past and future join with the present, without seams, without a sense that I am working to recall, to see, to feel. Time opens up, I enter, to travel my own path, to sit or stand or walk … stopping time, finding passage to places beyond space and time.

To the strictly modern intellect, what I have just said probably seems like non-sense. Reason, based on easily observable facts, will find little irrefutable evidence that a skeptic would find compelling.

I therefore offer no argument to convince the skeptic. Instead I say, “Come and see”.

When we begin to let go of dogma, the regard of peers, and the comfort of the in-group, room for discovery is created. Launching into quiet spaces, where fear is replaced by stillness, a boundless infinity surprises. We find flow.  In this personal place without limits, I find an overflowing garden, teeming with life. On the living path, everything is illuminated.

Yet this is something I cannot really transmit. It is only something I can hint at in what I write, faintly, incompletely. The experience of discovery, of knowing, of traveling to those places that are here and beyond at the same time, cannot be captured in words.

To see, you must see though your own eyes. To see, you must choose to slow down, find quietness, and dwell there.

I believe that most – possibly all – human beings have, at one time or another, experienced immersion in flow and a connection to the place without limits. There is a resonance emerging from any such experience, no matter how brief, that enables those with that experience to hear each other.  But life often seems to conspire to crush those memories, to remove our ability to hear and see. In the quiet, we can be moved to remember, to see, to hear. In the quiet we remember the place without limits.

In writing something of what I see and hear, there is a chance that faint recollections will be stirred in those that read, in the way Writers in Residence stirred my memories, my recollections of a time when quietness and time to think was plentiful.

The thought of this possibility brings a subtle sense of connection, of silent conversation, with those as yet undiscovered friends. Lingering in rediscovered quietness, we move against the flow of noise and commotion and modern distraction, encouraging all those in our circle of influence to rediscover for themselves their own place without limits.

Heresy and Freedom

Reading the words of Albert Schweitzer and bits of the life of Roger Williams is both inspiring and motivating: inspiring because they were both independent thinkers and motivating because their writing and lives ask for reflection and response.

I especially like the Epilogue in Out of My Life and Thoughts, Schweitzer’s autobiography; It seems more important today that it could have seemed in 1931 —

I am in complete disagreement with the spirit of our age, because it is filled with contempt for thought … The organized political, social and religious associations of our time are at work convincing the individual not to develop his convictions through his own thinking but to assimilate the ideas they present to him. Any man who thinks for himself is to them inconvenient and even ominous. He does not offer sufficient guarantee that he will merge into the organization. Corporate bodies do not look for their strength in ideas and in the values of the people for whom they are responsible. They try to achieve the greatest possible uniformity. They believe that in this way they hold the greatest power, offensive as well as defensive.

Yet I disagree with Schweitzer’s theology on significant points: I believe in Jesus the Messiah, that he was in fact God and Man, the His death did provide a way through annihilation for all of creation and a path to eternal life, that he was raised on the third day, that he is coming again. Further, I believe in the literal creation of the earth by the actual word of God and I believe in a struggle between God and Satan/evil centered on the existence of free will and God’s claim that free will is harmonious with good and life. And I believe that only in that context — of a cosmic struggle, that history begins to make sense. But I do not retreat into magic for explanation (the first part of this paragraph not-withstanding), neither do I believe that Jesus came to establish a religion, nor do I condemn in any way those that fail to believe as I do.

All this clearly begs for a much longer discussion, though more immediately it most likely triggers strong responses in many readers.

The facts that I have so many differences with what has become traditional Christianity — to the point that I find most of the dogma of Christianity to be unhelpful,  and that I am clearly at deep odds with the religion of science (and that is precisely what science has become — a religion) , often lead to me feeling isolated and politely ignored.

Which brings me to Roger Williams (1603-1683), one of the early proponents of true freedom in the new world. His life was one of innovation with concrete results that continue to this day. In addition to insisting on true freedom of conscience, and as a result being exiled to Rhode Island that he later obtained a charter for from the King of England, he was a friend to all those that did not fit in with the dogma and narrow way of life prescribed by the Puritans. Yet his defense of freedom to choose what we believe was not founded upon an idea that truth was somehow elusive. Neither was that freedom relegated to only those areas in which he had no strong opinion. Rather, it was his position that liberty of conscience was fundamental and God given. As a result, it was something that men could not withhold without grave consequence. And it is this that made his ideas so powerful.

Moving forward to the present, I find it disconcerting that the liberals and progressives with whom I agree on many fundamental principles, have such trouble applying what they believe when it comes to acceptance and tolerance as a practice rather than a theory. It reminds me of the same sort of dissonance between the theory and practice of Christianity.  There are of course many kind and respectful (and therefore tolerant) Christians and many similar liberals (some of whom are Christian) — in fact they might even be the majorities. But the minorities in these cases are loud and, sadly, often unchecked by their more reasonable brethren. And in both cases, underneath, separate from the individuals, there is that institutional desire to bend the wayward ones towards the “truth”. To me, this is the hallmark of a formal religion — the desire to bend the will of others to my way of thinking, the fear that somehow if others do not believe as I do, very bad things will happen to my tribe, my organization, or even me personally.

Ridicule that those who feel superior heap upon the “unenlightened” follows quickly. The stupid creationists and the unsaved, deceived evolutionists, the godless atheists and the ignorant bible-thumpers. And so on and so forth. Resorting to labels instead of real conversations based on a deep respect for life, freedom and a shared humanity, we retreat into our own smaller tribes. We view others through a montage of the worst of the loud proponents of the “others”. And because of the fear we gather and cultivate, we do not seek to find grounds for conversation.

Of course, there are terrible ideas and histories that beckon us to the side of fear: the atheist Stalin generating extreme suffering, the (unbiblical) doctrine of hell and the horrendous implications of what that would mean about God, the deep loss of freedom that results for various people on the fringes when socialists get the upper hand, the equally deep loss of freedom for the poor and the economic heretics when unfettered capitalism holds sway, the demonic inhumanity of the inquisition and the horrors of the Nazi experiment. These are indeed strong inducements to side with fear.

Yet there are also examples of real freedom and the alternative power of discourse based upon deep respect, not the least of which includes the life of Roger Williams. The path to  connections which illuminate and defeat fear all involve listening and talking and writing and reading and thinking and more listening and talking and listening … conversations of the right type are at the center of this model of positive change.

While I do believe that some conversations only work in very small settings due to the complexity of the subject matter and the fact that these conversations trigger deep fears that can shut down thinking and spiritual insight, there is still room for writing things down, for conversations that are slow and deliberate and open. Even though it is unwise to “cast your pearls before swine” — meaning that communication without the preparation of a history of respect and real connection can be worse than pointless — one can and should opt for the hope that there are those out there that do in fact seek real conversations, that are seeking to explore and will appreciate co-travelers, co-explorers. As long as we do not try to speak to each other from on high, from the perspective of one who is enlightened, but rather from a position alongside others, ready to listen and see, especially when in disagreement — so long as this is true, we will find ample opportunity for connection and progress.

To disagree is the extent to which my freedom, when combined with respect and love, permits me to fall out with others. And in this version of falling out, there is no reason that the conversation has to stop. While some ideas and ideologies must be restrained from crossing the line and actually hurting others, that line is not something that we are usually dealing with when focused on the present, local circumstances, whatever they are.

But to disagree and ridicule and belittle, to disagree and use force of any kind — spiritual, intellectual, physical — to try to bend others to my will, is a serious abuse of freedom. In fact, I believe that this abuse is the root of many problems in the present and the past, but that is another discussion.

So while I disagree with the theological conclusions of Albert Schweitzer, I also find deep inspiration in his writings. I find that in this falling out, nothing is lost and much is gained.

I think that Roger Williams would approve.

 

Beginning Again

I am beginning to see tiny, yet brilliant slivers
of something that happened at the Cross that was so
enormous, so full of wonder, so full of illumination,
so powerful that it brings a deep stillness to everything
it touches.

A defeat of death and sin and all that is evil, a defeat
so complete that time held its breath, so awesome that
everything changed in that instant.

The tearing of the veil was the beginning of a tearing,
of a cracking, a disintegration of all the separates us
from God.

We were at that moment in a completely new era.

Time had begun its transformation, back to where it
began.

Face to face, in the silence that sings and heals, with
words that speak without words, nothing is withheld.

Nothing is withheld.

---

KRV