Our Senses as Touchstones of Reality

The Italian Renaissance polymath, Leonardo da Vinci, once wrote, "The spiritual things which have not passed through the senses are vain, and they produce no truth except harmful ones."

Which takes a bit of thinking about... I think he means that our senses provide a kind of touchstone of reality, against which to measure spiritual truths. Ideas are infinite and can be quite nebulous, coming out of who knows where, and striking us with their brilliance. Yet we should not follow them blindly, without testing their truth against the wisdom of our senses. Do our senses include common sense? In which case, I would agree with him.

The Cambridge Dictionary defines common sense as "the basic level of practical knowledge and judgment that we all need to help us live in a reasonable and safe way." Which is another way of describing the Unitarian tenet of reason. I think that most Unitarians would agree that our beliefs evolve, and are tested, through a process of rational enquiry, rather than relying on any external authority to tell us what we should believe. We accept that these beliefs may change over time, in the light of new understandings and insights, and that the best tools for formulating our beliefs are our own reason, conscience, intuitions and life experiences.

Nevertheless, we also accept that some beliefs are not susceptible to rational thought, that there are limits to how far reason can take us on our spiritual journeys. So it is up to each of us to decide what we believe about such mysteries as life after death, the existence (or not) of any divine being, or the nature of good and evil.

So while in most cases, our senses, including common sense and reason, are incredibly useful tools for discerning spiritual truths, they are not always enough. And the truths we perceive through means other than rational thought can sometimes be helpful, not harmful. It is vital that we bounce these new ideas off other people, to provide some checks or balances, but in the end, they can sometimes ring true. 

So, sorry, Leonardo... I have to disagree with you, at least partly.

Wanting What We Don't Have

I believe that this week's quote, by 17th century French writer and moralist, Francois de la Rochefoucauld, is advice which, if taken by the world's governments, by all of us, would transform the world for the better. It reads, "Before you ardently desire something, you should check the happiness of the one who already owns it."

We seem to be driven by a base desire for wanting more - more of everything. I have blogged before about the wonderful concept of Enoughness - of recognising that (at least in the West) we already have more than enough of everything. As John Naish wrote, "There is no 'more'. We have to learn to live 'post-more'."

So why this seemingly bottomless desire to have what the other person has? Perhaps if we learned to pause, and to check "the happiness of the one who already owns it", we might realise that actually, they are not that much better off than we are. And, perhaps more importantly, if we only paid attention to what we already have, we would be far more content, far less acquisitive.

It's hard - we live in a world in which the advertising and marketing industries batter our minds ceaselessly - "You need this", "Your life will be incomplete without that", and, worst of all, the more subliminal, nasty message, "Everyone else is having a better time than you are." I am already weary of the wall-to-wall Christmas adverts on Channel 4 - painting a picture of the "perfect Christmas", which is ours for the getting, so long as we lay out our hard-earned cash on X, Y, and Z. Top of my "non-essentials" list this year is a cocktail-making machine (£100 off!!) and the ubiquitous Quooker. 

This year, our immediate family (me, my husband, my son and his partner, and my daughter and her partner) have decided to do a Secret Santa between us, and only get presents for the children. Which we've done in the wider Ellis family for years, thanks to the wisdom of my sister. Because Christmas is (or should be) about giving pleasure, rather than driving ourselves into debt to buy presents they don't really want for people we only see a couple of times a year. We are opting out of the Christmas rat race and concentrating on spending quality time together instead. Which I believe is far more conducive to long-term happiness than that cocktail maker.

On a national level, the "ardent desire" for something is driven by lust for power and land, and fear of the other. But wouldn't it be wonderful if governments said to themselves, "Are we really going to be happier if we destroy the lives of the people of this other nation? Should we stand back a little before jumping into the familiar pattern of violence, and really think about other ways we could improve the qualities of our own lives, here in our country?" 

Which I'm sure are questions which are never, ever asked. Sadly...

Holding on to our Dreams

There's a wonderful post doing the rounds on Facebook at present, in the wake of the US election result, written by environmentalist, Chris Packham. It reads, "Things have just got a lot more difficult. Here's what I think. I had no control over what just happened. None. But I do have control over how I will react to it. And I am not going to give up on the beautiful and the good, the grip on my dreams just got tighter."

Thank you, Chris. This is such a timely reminder, when the world seems to have gone to hell in a hand basket (incidentally, *why* in a hand basket? - I've never understood that!). Yes, we will need time to grieve, to mourn what might have been. And no emotion is wrong - if we need to scream our woes to the skies, that is fine, or weep quietly in a corner.

But we must not allow this election result to destroy our dreams of a better, fairer, more peaceful and equitable world. A world based around the values of love and compassion, justice and peace. Working towards those dreams, witnessing for those values, is under our control, is in our gift. People like Tr*mp will ultimately only win if everyone else gives up fighting.

Another quote doing the rounds comes from JRR Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings: 

"I wish it need not have happened in my time," said Frodo.

"So do I," said Gandalf, "and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us."

"I am not going to give up on the beautiful and the good, the grip on my dreams just got tighter." "All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us." 

Different words, same message. In the hard, dark days ahead, may we all be given the strength, the passion, to hold onto our dreams.

The Importance of Self-Love

When I read this week's quotation, by the 13th / 14th century German theologian and mystic, Meister Eckhart, I had a strong reaction to it. It reads, "All the love in this world is built on self-love."

No, I thought, surely the point of love is that it is self-less, concentrated on the other. Then I remembered something Brene Brown once wrote, in The Gifts of Imperfection. Part of her definition of love, gleaned from her extensive qualitative research, reads, "Love is not something we give or get; it is something that we nurture and grow; a connection that can only be cultivated between two people when it exists within each one of them - we can only love others as much as we love ourselves." (emphasis mine)

She admits how hard this is to hear, let alone put into practice, because most of us tend to be harder on ourselves than we are on the people we love. She says, "I know I can talk to myself in ways that I would never consider talking to another person. How many of us are quick to think, God, I'm so stupid and Man, I'm such an idiot?"

She opened the question on her blog in 2009 which, perhaps not surprisingly, sparked quite a fierce debate. And in her book, she shares one wise comment by Renae Cobb: "Certainly, the people we love inspire us to heights of love and compassion that we might never have achieved otherwise, but to really scale those heights, we often have to go to the depths of who we are, light/shadow, good/evil, loving/destructive, and figure out our own stuff in order to love them better. So I'm not sure it's an either/or but a both/and. We love others fiercely, maybe more than we think we love ourselves, but that fierce love should drive us to the depths of our selves so that we can learn to be compassionate with ourselves."

So maybe Meister Eckhart and Brene Brown are both right: self-compassion is a vital component of being able to love others well. Because when we are continually down on ourselves, even if only inside our heads, it will inevitably affect how well we are able to respond to, love, others. 

The Benefits of Meditation

I'm away from home this week and had forgotten to bring this week's postcard with me. So I appealed to my friend, with whom I am staying, for a suitable quote, and she came up with this: "Buddha was asked, "What have you gained from meditation?" He replied, "Nothing. However," Buddha said, "let me tell you what I have lost: Anxiety, Anger, Depression, Insecurity, Fear of old age and death."

And its truth reverberated in my soul. I find that meditating regularly, whether I simply sit in silence, or walk in nature, or peacefully craft, is such a benefit. A time out of my daily life, a time away from the busy-work that makes up my days, is hugely beneficial. When I return to that daily life, it is with a new feeling of spaciousness, serenity. I am able to cope far better with the small vicissitudes of my normal existence, because I have allowed myself the time to simply Be. As someone once remarked, "We are human beings, not human doings."

I blogged some time ago about the benefits of simply breathing, here. And about the practice of taking a breathing space between activities. And I stand by what I wrote then: "Meditation practices are an excellent way of grounding us in the present, particularly following the breath. Because we spend far too much time of our lives being "walking, talking heads", unaware of our bodies, oblivious to how they are moving through our days. And so we miss all the lovely moments of now-ness which are in front of us."

For me, living in the moment by consciously breathing, by choosing to be aware of the present as it unfolds around me *does* make me less anxious, less prone to anger, more able to let go of the petty insecurities and irritations when they happen. Give it a go -  I hope you will discover that I am right.

Nothing is Certain

The early 20th century German author and painter, Ringelnatz, once wrote, "What is certain is that nothing is certain. Not even that."

And he is right. We humans like to pretend that some things in our lives are certain, because it is more comforting to believe so. But actually, the only true certainty in life is that each of us will die, some day. We cannot be absolutely, 100% sure of anything else - not of the existence of God (or whatever we call the Divine presence in our lives), not of the health of our bodies, not even that the person or people we love will still love us tomorrow. Nothing is certain.

Which is why we have faith. I would not trade certainty for questioning and doubt, and have blogged about this here. For me, the beauty of faith is that it is based on trust, rather than certainty. We can trust that God exists, and then act on that trust. We can do our best to increase the probabilities that our bodies will remain healthy (by eating healthy food and regular exercise and taking our medication). 

I believe that having faith is vitally important for human thriving - we have to act 'as if' the things we believe in are certain. In this way, through faithful work and trust, we can make it more likely that the things we have faith in will come to pass. But we can never, never be certain that they will. We can always and only have faith, trust. And that is fine.

A few years ago, I shared a beautiful poem about faith and trust, by Pierre Teilhard de Chardin. I make no apology for sharing it again, as for me, it sums up beautifully why we don't need certainty.

Above all, trust in the slow work of God.

We are quite naturally impatient in everything

to reach the end without delay.

We should like to skip the intermediate stages.

We are impatient of being on the way to something

unknown, something new.

And yet it is the law of all progress

that it is made by passing through

some stages of instability - 

and that it may take a very long time.

And so I think it is with you;

your ideas mature gradually - let them grow,

let them shape themselves, without undue haste.

Don't try to force them on,

as though you could be today what time

(that is to say, grace and circumstances

acting on your own good will)

will make of you tomorrow.

Only God could say what this new spirit

gradually forming within you will be.

Give Our Lord the benefit of believing

that his hand is leading you,

and accept the anxiety of feeling yourself

in suspense and incomplete.

I find this incredibly soothing...

Using Our Own Reason

The 18th century German philosopher, Immanuel Kant, once wrote, "Enlightenment is man's release from his self-incurred tutelage. Tutelage is the inability to make use of his understanding without direction from another." And it continues, "Have courage to use your own reason - that is the motto of enlightenment."

Of course, we do need to have "direction from another" in the early stages of our quest for truth and meaning in life, but I completely agree that at a certain point along the way, it is up to each of us to examine and evaluate what we know or believe, and then choose our own path, in the light of our own reason, conscience, and lived experience. Rather than blindly accepting what someone else has told us is true.

Which is a great part of what I love about being a Unitarian. Of course, if your desire is for answers, set down in black and white without contradiction, Unitarianism is not the place for you. I know that some may find the lack of a creed, a denomination-wide accepted set of beliefs, daunting. Not me - I *love* the fact that Unitarians do not claim to have all the answers, and accept that there is room for questioning and doubt. We are all on the same journey, supporting each other along the way, and sharing our discoveries and spiritual breakthroughs, in our worship, and in our lives.

We are held together by a shared attitude to religion and spirituality. All of us believe profoundly in the necessity of person freedom of religious belief (with the proviso that those beliefs do not harm anyone else) - the freedom to grow, and to act in accordance with our beliefs, to work out our own answers, using our reason on the path to our own personal enlightenment. We share a devotion to spiritual freedom and find that the insights of others can enrich our own beliefs. 

At the same time, we appreciate that humankind must accept responsibility for their choices and their acts. Every time we encounter a new person or situation or way of thinking, we find that some are better and others worse, by trial and error, by measurements of happiness and welfare, by comparison and reflection. This is how we cultivate responsible behaviour - by using reason as our guide.

Yet of course, there are irrational elements in our experience of ourselves and our universe - mysteries that are beyond reason. But how else can we comprehend or respond to them, at least in part, unless by using our reason? The process works like this: find out what commends itself to your reason as truth and then accept that as your authority. If we work at it faithfully, our whole lives long, with help from fellow pilgrims along the way, we might become better, wiser, and more loving human beings. And if we then put our better, wiser, more loving beliefs into action, who knows? It might even lead to a better, wiser, more loving world.

 

Between a Rock and a Hard Place

 I came across a beautiful short poem by John Roedel in my Facebook feed this morning: 

"Between a rock

and a hard place,

let me be water,

let me be water,

let me be water."

And its truth convicted me. Sometimes in our lives, we feel as though we are completely stuck between a rock and a hard place, between two hard and unpleasant things, and that there is no way out. Roedel's words reminded me that water always finds its way through, somehow. That it has the power to seep through the smallest cracks in the reality of our lives, and flow on, undisturbed. And that in the end, it also has the power to wear down those rocks, soften the edges of those hard places, and bring us into a new equilibrium.

There are so many hard places in all our lives. The temptation can be to armour up against them, to protect our vulnerability by enclosing our souls in a carapace of "I'm fine", "I'm dealing with it", "I can cope". It can feel much harder to allow ourselves to feel the feelings, to be open and vulnerable, to trust that life is ultimately good, even if we are not in a particularly good place, right now.

I attended my regular yoga class yesterday evening, and the instructor always begins in the same way. She has us lying on our backs and talks us through a series of breathing and relaxation exercises to open up our bodies, enabling them to stretch and soften. I believe that being open and trusting and vulnerable has the same effect on our souls, enabling them to stretch and soften too. 

So John Roedel's words will be a mantra for me in the days and weeks to come: "Between a rock and a hard place, let me be water."

Coming to Rest in God

This week's quote is by the 20th century German Existentialist philosopher, Peter Wust, whose works have never been translated into English. According to my Google German to English translator, it reads, "Man is the eternal seeker of happiness, the tireless seeker of truth, the seeker of God who never comes to rest."

When I read it in the original German, I mistranslated it to mean that people eternally seek after happiness, tirelessly seek after truth, but are only able to find peace and rest in God. Which I know is not what he is saying, but it is what I believe. It is certainly what I needed to hear, this week.

Otherwise, what is faith for? I believe that my faith in God helps me in times of sadness, when I am unable to perceive the "truth" of a situation, so that I am able to hand whatever it is over to God and know that I am held in loving arms. This may be manifested through the love and concern of other people, but I believe that all humankind have a divine spark within them, which prompts them to reach out to other human beings in pain and offer them consolation. 

And that's all.

Respectful Dialogue

The 20th century German philosopher Hans-Georg Gadamer once wrote, "A conversation presupposes that the other person could be right."

We, as a society, seem to have lost this insight in recent years. Most public "conversation" is fiercely adversarial, with each participant focussed only on their own point of view, on putting over their own agenda, with little care for what the other person thinks or believes. Scoring points seems to be more important than learning about the other.

I think that is so sad. I believe that *no-one* has Got It All Right, whatever "It" is, and that there should always be room and time for listening to what the other person says, for learning from each other.  Even if our lack of listening skills come from a misplaced zeal for our own points of view, it is still wrong to disregard the wisdom of other people. Like Gadamer says, "the other person could be right".

If I was in charge of the world (😀) I would wave my magic wand and stop all conflict in its tracks. Then I would enforce a long process of deep listening on all participants, interspersed with times of stillness and meditation, because in true conversation, where there is give and take, it is possible to come to understand and appreciate that we are not always right, that the other person has a point, if not several points, with which we might come to agree, if only we thought about it long enough. Which would be where the times of stillness and reflection came in.

We all have the innate ability to pause before we leap in with a reaction, but in order to practice this, we need to step back from our immediate gut responses, and take time out to reflect on what we have heard. To understand that "the other person could be right".

And even if we know for sure that the other person is wrong (for example, if they are saying or doing hateful things to other people or the planet) there are still better ways of responding than through instant aggro. Because mutual aggression only leads to entrenchment behind fixed positions. Whereas, respectful dialogue may just lead towards a change in behaviour, to a more enlightened understanding.

I blogged about the art of deep listening a few years ago, here, and I still hold by what I said then: "It takes a lot of practice to put [all the blocks to deep listening] aside and to 'step out of the I' and truly listen to what the other person is saying.... But it is essential, if we are to have 'real', deep, meaningful conversations. For the speaker, it is about being heard, held, and deeply accepted. For the listener, it is about putting all the blocks aside and concentrating exclusively on the other."

I wonder how much more peaceful, how much more harmonious, our world would be, if more of us tried to put this into practice?

Compassion: A Complex Process

This week's quote, by American philosopher, Martha Nussbaum, sums up beautifully the complex process which is compassion. She writes, "In order to feel compassion, you have to have a fairly complex sequence of thoughts: that another being is suffering, that this suffering is bad, that it would be good if it were alleviated."

I have blogged many times about the importance of compassion here - if you go to the tags at the side of this post, you'll find links to those posts. Yet I believe it cannot be emphasised too often that compassion for others is the true basis for a civilised society. It is only when we care for others that we are able to transcend our own selfishness and begin to work together for the good of all.

Having compassion for another involves having a certain level of awareness of them, so that you are able to (at least partly) understand how they are feeling, and not judge them, but empathise with them. It involves deep listening, no blame, and a willingness to sit alongside someone else in their darkness and be with them. Without trying to fix whatever is wrong.

And it's closely connected to empathy, which Brené Brown defines like this (in Daring Greatly): "Empathy is a strange and powerful thing. There is no script. There is no right way or wrong way to do it. It's simply listening, holding space, withholding judgment, emotionally connecting, and communicating that incredibly healing message of 'You're not alone'."

So yes, feeling compassion, having empathy for, another person is complex, is difficult, as Nussbaum says. It takes time and trouble and the ability to put someone else ahead of ourselves. Yet I believe it is the glue which holds people together, which enables us (together) to work towards making our world a better place.

The Start of Everything

The Buddha once wrote, "We are what we think. All that we are arises with our thoughts. With our thoughts, we make the world."

Which may be a sobering thought! The ways we think, the beliefs we hold, will condition how we react to other people, to situations in the world, to the experiences we have. So it is no wonder that the Buddha made 'Right Mindfulness' one of the elements of the Noble Eightfold Path which is the heart of Buddhist teaching.

Wikipedia describes 'Right Mindfulness' like this: "sati: a quality that guards or watches over the mind; the stronger it becomes, the weaker unwholesome states of mind become, weakening their power 'to take over and dominate thought, word and deed.' (Rupert Gethin) In the vipassana movement, sati is interpreted as 'bare attention': never be absent-minded, being conscious of what one is doing; this encourages the awareness of the impermanence of the body, feeling and mind, as well as to experience the five aggregates, the five hindrances, the four True Realities and seven factors of awakening."

Yet how often do we actually do this? How much are we aware of what is going on in our thoughts? It seems to be far more usual to react first, think later. How different would our lives be if we were constantly conscious of how our thoughts were influencing our words, our deeds? 

The two spiritual practices of meditation and centering prayer can help us to cultivate this quality of right mindfulness. Regularly practised, they can allow us to access the quiet centre inside each of us which Right Mindfulness needs to function.

I also find the concept of the "pause for thought" useful. It works like this: each time we finish a task, we stop, take a few deep breaths, and re-centre ourselves. Rather than jumping straight into the next thing. This practice can also be used to put a brake on instant reactions: if we choose to take those few deep breaths before reacting to something, our minds will calm down, our higher brain will be able to re-engage, and we will be able to respond to whatever it is in a more considered fashion.

Easily written, less easy to do in the heat of the moment. Yet I find that when I do remember to do it, the outcome is always, always better.

What is Tolerance?

The French Enlightenment writer and philosopher, Voltaire, famously asked, "What is tolerance? It is the consequence of humanity. We are all formed of frailty and error; let us pardon reciprocally each other's folly."

Freedom, reason, and tolerance are the traditional underlying values of Unitarianism. They are also the three pillars of a good society. The news over the past few months has shown only too graphically how the lack of these values can lead to suppression, unreason and intolerance. In both politics, and on the world stage, intolerance of the other has led to fiercely adversarial situations, violence and death. Why do we find it so difficult to pardon each other's "frailty and error"?

The old Unitarian leaflet, A Faith Worth Thinking About, presented values which Unitarians share, including "mutual respect and goodwill in personal relations" and "constructive tolerance and openness towards the sincerely held beliefs of others."

Outsiders may find it difficult to understand how the Unitarian movement holds together, placing, as it does, so much importance on the freedom of individual belief based on reason and conscience. Yet I believe that tolerance, this openness to new thoughts and ideas, and the refusal to "other" others, is a key concept in Unitarianism; indeed it is what has kept it green and growing down the centuries. Our movement has been underpinned by a process of continuous and continuing revelation. At different times and in different countries, different ideas have been considered to be most important. But our tolerance means we have a tigerish determination to fight for the right of others to enjoy the same freedom to worship in whatever way they choose, so long as it doesn't harm anyone else. Our "fellowship in diversity" (happy phrase) aims to be tolerant towards others. As Joyce Grenfell beautifully puts it, we believe in "loving in spite of human imperfection."

But Unitarian tolerance is NOT just another way of saying "anything goes". There was a fascinating article in our magazine, The Inquirer, many years ago, entitled, Tolerance: what's your limit? It covered both the spiritual and practical aspects of tolerance, a distinction which I think it is important to stress. On the spiritual side, for example, Sarah Tinker, lately minister at Kensington Unitarians, wrote of attending a Build Your Own Theology course: "I learnt that Unitarians, by and large, are spiritual folk who can stand the terror of uncertainty - who can accept that, in matters religious, 'We just don't know for sure'. By sitting together in religious education groups Unitarians are doing far more than just 'tolerating' each other. By truly listening to one another - by creating spaces where we can share one another's stories, hopes and fears - we affirm the right of individuals to express themselves fully and to be heard and accepted for who they are, unique human beings."

David Arthur's contribution was more pragmatic and for me, it summarises what Unitarian tolerance is (and isn't) about: "We Unitarians reckon to be tolerant folk. 'Freedom, reason and tolerance' we proclaim from the rooftops. But what does it mean to be tolerant? Is there a line to be drawn, and if so, where do we, or should we, draw it?

        Let me deal with a tolerance that isn't. We all know Unitarians who say: 'Of course I'm tolerant of other religions; if they choose to believe all that nonsense, that's okay by me!' That is not tolerance; that is condescension. Tolerance of other religions means, 'I recognise that your belief is different. Mine works for me, but I accept that yours is valid for you. And if you get benefit and meaning from it, then good for you.'

        Are there limits to tolerance? Oh yes. 'All are welcome here', says our hymn. Well, actually, no. I would not  welcome those whose beliefs advocate paedophilia, female circumcision, slavery, stoning adultererr to death or homophobia, etc. The Pagan motto of 'do as you will, provided you do no harm' is relevant here. So I draw a line. Let's not kid ourselves that there are no limits to tolerance. Where do you draw your line?"

I agree. So while I would agree with Voltaire that we need to recognise each other's frailty and error, we have to draw a line when that frailty and error leads people to harm others. We must be intolerant of others' intolerance.

  

 

The Path to Contentment

This week's quote, by Roman emperor and Stoic philosopher, Marcus Aurelius, really speaks to my condition, as the Quakers say. It reads, "Think of what you have, rather than of what you lack! Of the things you have, select the best, and then reflect how eagerly you would have sought them if you did not have them."

The basic idea is about appreciating what we have, rather than continually chasing after what we don't. To appreciate what we have, we need to be awake and aware of the multiplicity of good things all around us. For example, I just (a couple of minutes ago) took the above photo of this week's postcard using my iPhone and sent it to myself via e-mail. A few seconds later, it was in my inbox and I was able to download it to my laptop, then select it and put it into this blogpost.

Which today, it is tempting to take completely for granted. But honestly - wow! At times like this, I am stunned by the miracle of modern computer technology. That I am able to take a photo of a physical object using my phone, and can then edit said photo, before sending it instantly to my inbox, download it, and use it. I am old enough to appreciate what a miracle this is. To realise how completely impossible it would have been in the days before the IT revolution. 

And that is one small and fairly frivolous example. I could offer a multitude of others - the instant connectivity that mobile phones bring us; the blue sky, white clouds and large and magnificent tree outside my window; the fact that I will be going to visit my two beautiful grandsons later this morning; that my husband has made a wonderful recovery from major surgery. There is so very much to appreciate. So very much to be grateful for. I realise how very blessed, how very privileged I am, to be me.

A wise Unitarian, John Naish, once wrote, "Enoughness is the path to contentment." And I think that is the nub of Marcus Aurelius's message. At times like this, I remember a prayer quoted by Rachel Naomi Remen in her book, My Grandfather's Blessings, which I have shared on here before:

Days pass and the years vanish

and we walk sightless among miracles.

Lord, fill our eyes with seeing 

and our minds with knowing.

Let there be moments when your Presence,

like lightning, illuminates

the darkness in which we walk. 

Help us to see, wherever we gaze,

that the bush burns, unconsumed.

And we, clay touched by God,

will reach out for holiness and

exclaim in wonder,

"How filled with awe is this place

and we did not know it."

May we all have the sight to perceive and appreciate the everyday miracles in our lives. Amen

Mary - an Extraordinary Mother

Mary, the mother of Jesus, is perhaps the most enigmatic of all mothers. Her story is simply told. According to the Gospel accounts, she was a young Jewish girl, betrothed to an older man, Joseph. She received an angelic visitation informing her that she was to be the mother of the saviour of the world, whose father would be God. The first thing about her that takes my breath away is her great faith - instead of having hysterics on the spot, which I think would have been quite justified in the circumstances, she accepts her fate: "Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word."

(image: Wikimedia Commons)

I have often wondered what it must have been like for her, bearing and raising such an extraordinary person. Even if we don't believe that Jesus was the divinely-begotten son of God, which most Unitarians don't, he was still very far from an ordinary man.

Mary has complete faith in him and continues to follow him, wherever he goes. She is there at the foot of the cross when he is crucified at the end of his ministry. And according to the Gospel of John, one of his last thoughts is care for her, when he hands her over to "the disciple whom he loved." In the Book of Acts, she is mentioned as being one of those in an upper room with some of the apostles, devoting herself to prayer.

And then she disappears from Biblical accounts. Yet she went on to become one of the most venerated figures in Christianity, not to mention Islam. Later Church traditions argue that not only was she a virgin when she conceived Jesus, but remained one for the rest of her life. Some go even further and state that she was born free of original sin, so that she could be a suitable vessel for the carrying of the son of God. Catholics in particular reverence her as the Blessed Virgin Mary, and she is often prayed to, to intercede on behalf of humankind.

But it is as a mother, an ordinary human mother, that she moves me. She brought him up, took care of him, taught him the best she knew, did her best to give him a good start in the world. Then, as all parents must, let him grow into adulthood. I know that 2000 long years separate us from Mary, but I believe that parenting has not changed. Her concerns must have been much the same as ours. I wonder with what mixture of pride and stomach-knotting fear she watched her son embark on his public ministry? In spite of the message from the Angel Gabriel, at the beginning of it all, it must have taken an awful lot of faith to stand by and let him get on with it, knowing the dangers he would face, and feeling powerless to do anything about it.

I believe that mothering, that parenting, of whatever kind, is the most important job in the world. All of us need somebody we can depend on to love us unconditionally. As Dave Tomlinson writes in How to Be a Bad Christian, "The heart of Christ's message was the love of God. He brought to ordinary people - downtrodden by ruthless rulers - the sense of their belovedness. Each person Jesus touched knew, perhaps for the first time, that their life mattered; that they were loved and cherished."

I cannot believe that he would have been able to do this, had he not experienced this kind of love for himself, growing up. So I think that the most we can do for anyone we care for is what Mary did for her son, to love and cherish them, so that they know they are beloved. So that they in their turn can go on to love others, as Jesus did. As we do, the best that we can.

 

Tempering Our Passions

The other day, I was talking with a friend, and she mentioned that she was planning to begin a doctorate in a couple of years' time, about the life of a little known person whom she'd become fascinated by. While she was speaking about it, her whole body became animated: her eyes lit up, her voice grew warmer, and it was easy to tell how passionate she felt about sharing this man's story with the wider world.

And I noticed my own reaction: I was delighted that she'd found something she felt so strongly about, yet relieved that it wouldn't be my job to put in all those years of effort. Which surprised me. A few years ago, my reaction would have been quite different. I would have been thinking, "Oh, wow! I wanna do a doctorate too!" Instead of, "Meh. Sounds like too much hard work to me." This passion was hers, not mine.

My dictionary defines passion as "a very strong feeling", whether it is an emotion, e.g. love, hate, anger, enthusiasm; or of liking something e.g. a hobby or activity; or of sexual love; of a "state of being very angry". Whichever definition you go with, passion is a Very Strong Feeling. 

On the positive side, our passions can motivate us, enthuse us, keep a bright flame of desire burning in our hearts and minds, as we labour to achieve a particular goal. Which is marvellous, if that goal is a positive one, like my friend's, to share an important true story with the world. In which case, we can safely give our passions free rein and follow where they lead.

The danger can come when the passion is ignited by words of hatred, words of fear. When we are swept up by another's originating emotions and find ourselves acting irrationally, hatefully, harming others, inflamed by falsehoods and lies. Or when we find ourselves losing our temper or being impatient with someone else, because they hav annoyed us or don't agree with us or dare to oppose us.

As has been happening only too frequently in the past week or so, when the Far Right has inflamed people's passions, inciting riots and acts of vandalism and violence. 

So we need to learn to temper our passions. "Temper" in this context means to "act as a neutralizing or counterbalancing force to something. e.g. 'their idealism is tempered with realism'" In much the same way as a blacksmith tempers steel by reheating and then cooling it. 

(image: PxHere)

We need to apply the cold water of reason and fact checking to our passions, rather than letting another's words or images inflame them.

You may have noticed that most of the descriptive phrases in this post have been elemental - to do with the fire of passion, or its tempering in cold water. Which reminded me of the words of John Greenleaf Whittier, a Quaker hymn writer:

"Drop thy still dews of quietness,

till all our strivings cease:

take from our souls the strain and stress,

and let our ordered lives confess,

the beauty of thy peace."

Amen

Nurturing Stability

Benedictine monks and nuns take a vow of stability, as the website of Mount Michael Abbey in Elkhorn, Nebraska explains: "Benedictine monks vow stability to the community in which they choose to live. This vow helps the monk persevere in the search for God. The promise is that the monk will stay with the other members of the community for mutual support in searching. While an individual monk may at times become discouraged in his search for God, the vow of stability helps him to see that others are searching as well and have a sense of the proper direction for that search."

(image: PxHere)

This kind of stability is rare in today's world. Most of us do not live in the place where we were born, and will move into different communities many times during our lives. Yet I believe that when we find a nurturing community, a safe and sacred space in which we can explore what gives our lives truth and meaning, that is very precious.

Because it is much easier to find, and then maintain, some spiritual stability in community than alone. Yet even if we are members of a spiritual community, it is still likely to be somewhere we only go once (or perhaps twice) a week. For the rest of the time, we are thrown back on our own resources and must find ways to nurture stability in our lives. Which is much more difficult to do alone than with the support of another (or others).

I have to admit that I am a little envious of those of my friends whose life partners are on the same spiritual path as they are - it must be wonderful to be able to meditate daily (for example) with someone else. It is easier to hold ourselves to account, if someone else is expecting us to show up. Which is why (in one sense) members of monastic communities have it easy. The very stability which restricts them to one community also provides that community. And being in community with friends is wonderful and spiritually enriching - which is why I used to come back from Summer School each year with my spiritual batteries recharged, feeling on top of the world.

I think our modern lives can easily become unbalanced: it seems to be almost our default wasy of being to be always on the go, always chasing the next item on the To Do list, and never taking time out to reflect, to meditate, to spend time with the Divine. And that is what the Benedictine vow of stability enables.

It is somewhat ironic that, the more we love our jobs, the more we see them as a vocation rather than a job, the less time we seem to have to just do nothing. Do Nothing. Sit. Relax. Simply Be. But it is vitally important to make that time. Because if we simply carry on beavering away, not looking after ourselves, we will eventually burn out. And then wonder why...

Time for spiritual reflection, time out of our everyday lives, is such an important thing. It brings our lives back into balance, back into stability, helps us to take a long, reflective look at the matters which are concerning us, and hopefully allows us to move back into our lives with lower stress levels. I honestly believe that it doesn't matter what form this "time out" takes, so long as we have the intention to step away completely from our mundane, everyday lives. For me, a walk in the woods is a vital part of my life. As I walk, I notice God's creation all around me: the trees, the bushes and hedges, the wild flowers, the birds singing - so loud and present, but so difficult to spot. It reconnects me with the Divine, with God's presence in my life.

How do you nurture stability in your own life?

 

A Challenge for Us All

The Black American Marxist and feminist political activist, philosopher, academic and author, Angela Davis, once wrote, "You have to act as if it were possible to radically transform the world. and you have to do it all the time."

This fits in well with the Unitarian saying, "deeds, not creeds", but it is easier said than done. Most of us are very good at being indignant about injustices in the world (and there are far too many) but less good about actually doing something about them. We sigh and tut and say, "That shouldn't happen" or "Isn't that a shame?" But how often do we take that sense of injustice, of indignation, and transform it into radical action?

Words, in this sense, are empty. They have huge persuasive power, but if they do not lead to concrete actions to correct the injustices we see, they are no use. In the Letter of James, the early Christian apostle wrote, "Be doers of the word, and not merely hearers... For if any are hearers of the word and not doers, they are like those who look at themselves in a mirror; for they look at themselves and, on going away, immediately forget what they were like." (1:22-24) He further wrote, "Doers who act - they will be blessed in their doing." (1:25)

Later on in his Letter, he also wrote, "What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if you can say you have faith but do not have works? Can faith save you? If a brother or sister is naked and lacks daily food, and one of you says to them, 'Go in peace; keep warm and eat your fill,; and yet you do not supply their bodily needs, what is the good of that? So faith by itself, if it has not works, is dead." (2:14-17)

Of course, very few of us *can* "radically transform the world". Yet we can behave as though it were possible, and do what we can where we are, with the skills and tools we have. And we have to keep on doing it, whatever it is, because "every little helps". 

Which is perhaps what Angela Davis meant: "You have to act as if it were possible to radically transform the world. and you have to do it all the time."

Effective Anger

The Ancient Greek philosopher, Aristotle, once wrote, "Anyone can get angry, that is easy. But to be angry with the right person, in the right measure, at the right time, for the right purpose, and in the right way, that is hard."

There is much wisdom in that. We live in an angry world, in which most people get angry with the wrong person, too much, at the wrong time, for the wrong reason, and in a non-productive way. And all that does, is to make the world around us a little more toxic, and (potentially) a lot more dangerous. It doesn't do the person getting angry much good either, most of the time: we end up feeling thoroughly frazzled, with upset stomachs, headaches, and high blood pressure. And, whatever has made us angry in the first place, is still happening. Our anger hasn't made a positive difference.

Don't get me wrong: I'm not for a minute advocating lying down and giving up. I believe that when we see injustice in the world (and there is far too much of it) we have a duty to "stand on the side of love" as the Unitarian Universalists say.  But I think that what Aristotle is saying is that we have to be considered in our anger, so that it has a fruitful outcome. Which is indeed, as he said, difficult. Because the first thing that anger does to us, is to turn off our higher brain. We come out, fists swinging, determined to beat whoever or whatever it is that is making us angry.

It takes an awful lot of discipline and self-knowledge to step back and say, "Hang on a minute. Is there a better way I could be responding to this? A way which would lead to the outcome I desire?"

When I am angry, I find that the most effective way of stepping back, becoming more considered, is to breathe. Just that. Breathe slowly and deeply, to recentre myself and turn my higher brain back on. Of course, there are situations in which this wouldn't be appropriate - in the case of immediate violence, for example. But most of the time, the things I get angry about are not immediately life-threatening, so there is time (if I remember) to step back, breathe.

Then, I can work out why I'm angry, and decide what steps I want to take to remedy that. Which is, as Aristotle said, hard.

The Power of Conviction

The 20th century American philosopher, Donald Davidson wrote something like, "Nothing can be considered a valid reason for a conviction except a conviction" (which is how my Google translator rendered the German).

Hmm. I'm not sure about that. People may have various valid reasons for being convinced by something: they might trust the person who told them about it; they might have experienced whatever it is for themselves, and hence be convicted by their experience; or they might be convicted by faith. Which may not be based on reason at all. Many religious converts have a Eureka! moment, when they come to faith, which stays with them for the rest of their lives. 

Nevertheless, for Unitarians, who were once known as Rational Dissenters, reason does have a part to play in our faith. We are able to choose to believe something / be convinced by something because it makes sense to our reason, our lived experience, and our conscience. James Martineau, in his seminal work, The Seat of Authority in Religion, speaks of the authority of conscience. And, insofar as this is a kind of inner conviction of the rightness of something, I suppose it agrees with Davidson.

Yet, our beliefs as Unitarians are able to change and evolve in the light of new knowledge, new experiences. I think that this is where reason comes in - we have the humility to understand that our knowledge of the world is imperfect and that new knowledge and insights may change what we believe. It can be very difficult to let go of old, cherished beliefs and embrace new ones, which may be part of the reason why the Unitarian path is not a popular one - most people would rather be convinced once, and then rest on those ideas, those beliefs, for the rest of their lives. That door is closed to us. It is our bounden duty as Unitarians to keep our minds and hearts open to new knowledge, ideas, and insights, and then to embrace them, and incorporate them into our lives, so that we might continue to grow on our spiritual journeys. 

We are All Complex Beings

The 15th century Renaissance Cardinal, philosopher and scholar, Nikolaus von Kues (or Nicholas of Cusa) once wrote, "We recognise the greatness of a man by how many opposites he unites in himself."

This is not the same as Thomas Carlyle's Great Man Theory, which states that certain people are born with exceptional qualities, which enable them to become great leaders.

We are all complex beings, with many disparate character traits. I would rather interpret von Kues' words by remembering the Native American tale about the two wolves, which is delightfully re-told by Unitarian minister, Bill Darlison, in his compilation of stories, The Shortest Distance:

"Why is it that sometimes I feel that I want to do helpful things, but at other times I just want my own way?" a little Cherokee boy asked his grandfather one day.

"It's because there is a battle inside every human being," replied his grandfather. "The battle is between two wolves. One wolf is kind and gentle, full of peace, generosity, compassion, and trust. The other is wicked, full of anger, hatred, greed, selfishness, pride, and arrogance."

The young boy thought for a moment, and then he asked: "Which one will in the battle inside me?"

"The one you feed," replied his grandfather.

In other words, a person will better be able to achieve greatness, or at least, to become their best self, when they learn to nurture their own positive qualities, rather than allowing their negative ones to take hold and run their lives. I believe that all of us have negative attributes - we all have moments when we are tempted to listen to the "bad" wolf and take the self-serving route. It does take greatness to acknowledge that wolf's existence and to consciously make the decision to choose a better path.

All of Us Are Responsible

It is General Election week. Next Thursday, the population of the United Kingdom will be voting in its next government. 

I believe very strongly that we have a moral responsibility to stand up and be counted. The system of democracy which we have in this country may not be the best, the most effective, but it is what we have, and the right of everyone over the age of 18 to cast their vote is a precious one, which has only been in place in comparatively recent times. I did a bit of digging, and discovered that it was only in 1918, with the passing of the Representation of the People Act, that all men over the age of 21 and all women over the age of 30, were given the right to vote. That playing field was only levelled ten years later, in 1928. So, less than one hundred years ago.

And yet, the voter turn-out in the 2019 General Election was only 67.3%... in other words, nearly one-third of the UK’s eligible voters decided not to bother. I find this baffling – why wouldn’t you? Even if you have little (or no) faith that your vote will make a difference (for example, if you live in a “safe seat” constituency long held by the party you disagree with); if you are disillusioned with the current system (and honestly, why wouldn’t you be?); or if you genuinely can’t make up your mind between rival candidates; you should Still Vote. Even if you choose to spoil your paper, as my father did once, scrawling “A plague on both your houses” across it, you are still exercising your democratic right to vote and that vote will still be counted.

Voting is about caring what happens in our society. We may “vote with our feet”, as the popular saying goes, by choosing any number of ways to make our opinions known. As Unitarian minister Cliff Reed once wrote, “This means, for some, active involvement in campaigns, marches, and demonstrations. It may mean lobbying politicians and making legislators aware of Unitarian concerns in particular areas of policy. It means using one’s democratic rights responsibly and purposefully for the common good. It means focusing on political and social issues in worship in order to explore their spiritual implications.”

What I’m saying is, that as conscious human beings, we are in a unique position to influence the world around us. In fact, we have a responsibility to do so – to strive to make a positive difference, so that we leave our society, our planet, in a better state than we found them. What we do, or don’t do, matters, at a fundamental level. It is in our power as human beings to answer the prayers of the struggling and grieving world – to feed the hungry, heal the sick, look after the marginalised, strike against oppression, care for our planet. Or not.

 We Are Responsible.

And even if the vote on Thursday doesn’t go the way we hope, we are *still* responsible. It is no good if we simply shrug our shoulders at a policy we don’t agree with, saying “Well, I didn’t vote for them.” I believe that as responsible human beings, who care about the future of the Earth and its myriad inhabitants, we need to stand up and be counted. We need to be active, not passive. And I believe that is a spiritual position, as well as a political one.

We are all responsible for making up our own minds about the social and ethical issues of the day. And the tools we have to do this are our hearts, our minds, and our souls. We may discuss our decisions with others, but ultimately, only we can decide, as individuals.

May we at least decide to exercise our democratic rights, and vote on Thursday. Because each of us is responsible for the outcome, one way or another. 

 

At Midsummer

I love this time of year - the long days, the blue skies, the sunny weather. (Apologies to any readers who are suffering under less clement circumstances!). Today is Midsummer Day, and the photo below is of St John's Wort in a neighbour's garden, a true representative of the season.

Perhaps it is difficult for us to truly understand how important this time of year was to our ancient ancestors, living as we do in a world in which (if we have the money) we can buy any vegetable, any fruit throughout the year. As Unitarian author Cliff Reed, wrote, “We live too far apart from the turning seasons, / the earth’s rhythm and nature’s lessons. / We forget our dependence on the plenty / that we take for granted – few of us plant the seeds, / watch growth and ripening, reap the harvest.” 

But in those times, the ancients celebrated the time of the triumph of the light with great bonfires, when the whole community would gather on the hilltops to celebrate life through feasting, dance, ritual and song, rejoicing in the sun at the height of its power. And perhaps also to pray that it would not decline too soon, because a poor summer meant a poor harvest, which in turn could lead to starvation in the long cold winter months. And yet, the urge to celebrate the middle of summer still lingers. 

When I was a small child at primary school, we learned that beautiful Middle English round, Sumer is icumen in. Walking through the woods this morning, I found myself singing the first few lines: 

“Sumer is icumen in 

Lhude sing cuccu 

Groweth seed and bloweth mead 

and spring the woods anew. 

Sing cuccu!

Ewe now bleateth after lamb 

Loweth after calf the cu.” 

Because it summed up how I was feeling. For the past few days, I have been entranced by the sound of a cuckoo in Salcey Forest. I walk in there most mornings of the year. We are so very blessed to live where we do, five minutes' walk from the edge of the Forest. At the time I went out – at seven in the morning – I had the place pretty much to myself, apart from the birds, who were filling the air with their song, and I was filled with wonder at the beauties of God's creation. The cow parsley still lines the path, its heady scent filling my nostrils, and there are dandelions and buttercups, pink and white clover, cow parsley, elderflower, and many waving grasses, as well as the ubiquitous nettles. Also some gorgeous pink and white wild roses. And of course, the trees themselves. Too many shades of green to name. Glory, glory, glory!

#feelingblessed

To Have the Truth

This week's quotation is from Liji, also known as The Book of Rites, one of the five classics of the traditional Confucian canon. It reads, "To have the truth is the way of heaven, to seek is the way of man."

I'm not sure I agree... I'm not convinced that it is possible for anyone to "have the truth", if having the truth means being 100% certain that what we believe is right and true at all times. As I wrote back in February, "Truth (somewhat ironically) is a slippery word, with various shades of meaning."

I know that for the adherents of some religious / faith traditions, it is an essential part of being a Christian / Muslim / whatever, to accept certain truths as absolute. For example, most Christians believe that Jesus is the Divine Son of God, second Person of the Trinity, whose death on the cross brought humankind back into right relationship with God the Father. They would argue that if someone doesn't believe that, they cannot call themselves a Christian. If you "have" that truth, you are a Christian, if you don't, you're not. Simple as that. 

Whereas, for people like Unitarians, truth has a far more nebulous quality. We seek it, for sure, but, as I wrote in February, "we are open to discovering new truths, which may (indeed, should) influence our beliefs and behaviour... Our whole lives are a quest for truth, which we must uncover / discover step by step."

If this is the "way of man", then I am happy to follow it. It is more difficult than resting on "inalienable" truths, but I believe it can be far more rewarding. It means being "open to new Light", as the Quakers would say: new truths which can illuminate our lives and change them for the better. The tricky part is letting go of long-held "truths" which we come to understand are false, in the light of new knowledge and experiences. It takes a certain amount of spiritual gumption to do this, and to keep on doing it, over and over again. Yet if we are to grow into our best selves, I believe it is necessary.