Believe in the Light

 I'm not sure I agree with the French poet and dramatist, Edmond Rostand, who wrote, "It's only at night that it's nice to believe in the light."

Unless I'm misunderstanding what he's saying... 

From a theological and spiritual point of view, of course, the Light often stands for the Divine Other. Quakers in particular frequently speak of the "Light of God", of "holding yourself and others in the Light" and about "experiences of the Light".  And one of the Christian views of Jesus is as the Light of the World. 

I find this way of referring to the Divine Other, to God, helpful. My imagination can picture God as a warm, yellow Light which is all around us and also emanating from us, because I believe that God is both transcendent and immanent, both "here" and "everywhere". And in some special way, it also holds us - holds the divine essence of who we are as individuals. 

One of the Quaker advices (no. 32) suggests that we "bring into God's light those emotions, attitudes and prejudices in yourself which lie at the root of destructive conflict, acknowledging your need for forgiveness and grace." Which I guess is why psychologists and spiritual teachers call the process of acknowledging our inner failings "shadow work". It is our job to bring the bits of ourselves we would much rather ignore out of the shadows into "God's light" so that we can be helped to acknowledge them and overcome them, to integrate them, so that we can become whole.

So no, Monsieur Rostand, I believe in the Light all the time, not only at night.

What's the Hurry?

 This week's quotation, by Austrian writer, Marie von Ebner-Eschenbach, is true, but so counter-cultural for us to hear. "Whoever says patience, says courage, perseverance, strength."

Because we live in a world of do it now, get it done, then on to the next thing. But sometimes (I would say, more often than not) it would be better if we could find the patience to take the time needed to do a good job. And also time to appreciate what we have just done. A breathing space.

In her wonderful book, The Gifts of Imperfection, Brene Brown writes about "the new cultural belief that everything should be fun, fast and easy [which] sets us up for hopelessness. When we experience somthing that is difficult and requires significant time and effort, we are quick to think, This is supposed to be easy; it's not worth the effort or This should be easier: it's only hard and slow because I'm not good at it. Hopeful self-talk sounds more like, This is tough, but I can do it."

Which requires patience, courage, perseverance and strength. Brown goes on to write, "We develop a hopeful mind-set when we understand that some worthy endeavours will be difficult and time-consuming and not enjoyable at all. Hope also requires us to understand that just because the process of reaching a goal happens to be fun, fast, and easy doesn't mean that it has less value than a difficult goal. If we want to cultivate hopefulness, we have to be willing to be flexible and demonstrate perseverance. Not every goal will look and feel the same. Tolerance for disappointment, determination and a belief in self are the heart of hope."

So when we're getting bogged down in and/or impatient about whatever we're working on, let's try to remember that we're here for the long haul. I find it helpful to ask myself: "Will this matter in a month? in a year? in five years?"

Which helps me to regain some perspective and to be sufficiently patient and persevere with whatever it is.

Every Little Makes A Difference

 The 17th century French polymath, Blaise Pascal, once wrote, "The whole sea changes when a stone is thrown into it."

The mind may boggle at that thought - how could something as enormous as the sea, which covers more than 70% of the blue-green planet we live on, be affected by a single stone? And that may be true. But, that is a single stone. The problem is, an awful lot of us are pouring and throwing far more damaging things than a single stone into our world's seas. I'm sure many of us will have seen or read  distressing news of beaches strewn with plastic, animals tortured by plastic they have become entangled with, birds with their feathers caked with oil, whole coral reefs dying, the entire marine ecosystem being damaged by our carelessness, or worse, wilful vandalism.

So we have a duty of care towards our oceans, not to add a single thing to them, that could harm them, and to try to clean up the immense damage that has already been done.

But back in the 17th century, our seas were still relatively unpolluted. I think the point Pascal was trying to make is that each one of us can make a difference, through our smallest actions. Each time we do something kind or good, or helpful, the ripples spread out into the wider community. Conversely, each time, we do something unkind, bad, or malicious, the same thing applies.

When I was a teenager, I came across the following quote:

"There is a large grey rock:

One thousand miles long,

One thousand miles wide,

One thousand miles high.

Once every thousand years,

A bird comes and sharpens its beak on the rock.

And when the rock has crumbled away,

Only one moment of eternity

will have passed."

Which puts our little lives into a very large, very long perspective. But my point is, even a little bird, coming along once every thousand years, can make an enormous rock crumble into nothing. We live in the world and our every action has an impact on the world around us and on other living beings.

May we strive to have a positive impact on our world - knowing that every little makes a difference.

What is Faith?

 Novalis, the 18th century German poet, mystic and philosopher of Early German Romanticism, once wrote, "All faith is wonderful and miraculous."

And yes, I would agree with that, up to a point. But I think it depends on what we have faith in. If, like Alice, we try to believe "six impossible things before breakfast", we are going to get spiritual indigestion. I believe that faith has to be supported by reason.

It also depends on what we mean by the word "faith". It is a strange word, with many different meanings. The classic Biblical definition is in the Epistle to the Hebrews: "Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen." This seems to imply that it is a quality which, once you have it, you don't lose it. I have friends who have this kind of unshakeable faith, and a small part of me envies them their certainty. They *know* that God exists and that they have been saved by Jesus.

But if this certainty translates into what one might call blind faith ("There's a reason for everything" or "It's all part of God's plan") then I baulk. I'm with Brene Brown, who defines faith as "a place of mystery, where we find the courage to believe in what we cannot see and the strength to let go of our fear of uncertainty." This definition encompasses the classic "conviction of things not seen", but rejects the "assurance of things hoped for".

Because I believe that real life just isn't like that. I find the words of Richard Rohr, one of my favourite theologians, on this subject fascinating. He says: "My scientist friends have come up with things like 'principles of uncertainty' and dark holes. They're willing to live inside imagined hypotheses and theories. But many religious folks insist on answers that are always true. We love closure, resolution and clarity, while thinking that we are people of faith! How strange that the very word 'faith' has come to means its exact opposite."

This view is shared by Frederick Buechner, another Christian theologian, who wrote, "Faith is better understood as a verb rather than as a noun, as a process rather than a possession. It is on-again-off-again rather than once-and-for-all. Faith is not being sure where you're going, but going anyway. A journey without maps. [And Paul] Tillich said that doubt isn't the opposite of faith, it is an element of faith. Perhaps this understanding is more palatable to the Unitarian way of thinking.

For example, we can never prove that God exists (or doesn't exist) but we can have faith that He (or She or It) does. And live our lives as though we believed it. Which includes a healthy dollop of doubt - not taking anything for granted, not accepting anything without questioning it first. Unitarians have always been in the habit of questioning beliefs and cherishing doubts. I would guess that many of us came to Unitarianism exactly by that path - by starting to question some of the beliefs we grew up with - our childhood faith. 

In my case, I realised that I could not accept the divinity of Jesus as the unique Son of God (although I have since come to the faith that we are all sons and daughters of the Divine). I also struggled with the idea that Jesus's death on the cross somehow put me back into right relationship with God. When my father gave me Alfred Hall's Beliefs of a Unitarian to read, it was such a relief to learn about a denomination that "holds faith and doubt in reverent balance", to quote Jan Carlsson-Bull.

I have come to believe that faith is a spiritual journey and that it is our willingness to open ourselves to that journey that is "wonderful and miraculous."

The Straight Path

 French novelist Andre Gide once wrote, "A straight path only ever leads to the goal." And I guess that could be true. Sometimes.

But, oh my! How boring life would be if we lived in straight lines. For the first nearly fifty years of my life, I was one of those people who worked tirelessly towards a goal and did not allow myself to deviate from it. And it led to all kinds of bad things - stress, and measuring my self-worth against whether I had managed to achieve the present goal (and, if I'm honest) whether other people noticed all my hard work and praised me. The praise of others was vitally important to my sense of self.

Then I was introduced to the Enneagram, back in 2010 and discovered that I was a Three, an Achiever. As I wrote in Gems for the Journey: 

"During the session, it became very clear that I was an almost archetypal 3, much though I hated to admit it. 3s are driven by their desire to succeed, so that others will approve of them. They believe that effort is all, and that people are rewarded for what they do. [I learned early on] that love and approval have to be earned, rather than being free, unmerited gifts. Understandably, with this mind-set, I have always striven to be the best Sue Woolley I can be, and have always been a hard worker, with lots of energy. 

    On the plus side, this has made me someone who is enthusiastic, good at leading others, very competent, with great organisational skills. I can inspire others to work and have good attention to detail. On the down side, I used to believe that I have to keep driving myself to achieve, because unless I can show others how well I'm doing, and can bask in their approval, I can't be happy. I will do almost anything to garner praise and approval. It has also made me intolerant of people who are disorganised, inefficient, unpunctual or indecisive."

Those words were written in 2015, when I was still wrestling with the down sides of my Threeness. Discovering that true friends like me "just the way I am" and that it is who I am, rather than what I do, that matters has been a meandering path, rather than a straight one. I have backslid often. But I can truly say that today, I am much happier in myself, with myself, and with others.

And that is because the spiritual path of the last decade, far from being a straight one that "only ever leads to the goal", had taken me in all sorts of unexpected directions, which have enriched my life no end. I think (I hope!) I have become more laid-back, more tolerant of the different ways of others, more willing to meet others where they are in a spirit of compassion, less achievement focussed. I have learned, in the words of the Quakers, to be "open to new light, from whatever source it may come." And I have finally understood that God loves me anyway, and that nothing I can do will destroy that love.

And that is so precious. I wish everyone a Happy, Peaceful and Meandering New Year.