Participation in the Life of God

This week, in his daily e-mails from the Center for Action and Contemplation, Fr. Richard Rohr is writing about hope. And on Wednesday, these words jumped out at me: "Hope is a participation in the very life of God. It has nothing to do with circumstances or events going well. It can even thrive in the midst of adversity and trial. True faith, which always includes hope and love, is a predisposition to "yes". I would go so far as to say that a foundational "yes" is the most distinguishing element between an ego- and fear-based agenda, and a Spirit-guided one."

It is commonly during the second half of life that we begin to yearn for something other than earthly goals – a sense of longing can possess our souls, turning us towards the spiritual, towards the divine. This second half of life pilgrimage does not have an end point – we travel on, deeper into the heart of God, letting go of the things which seemed so important in our earlier years – status, belongings, and so on.

I have learned that this second half of life journey towards authenticity and wholeness is about the attempt to become whole, about being the same "me" wherever I am, and whoever I am with, rather than cutting my cloth according to the circumstances. It is also about doing a lot of shadow work, about digging deep to discover the real me, the open and vulnerable person behind the façade I had spent so many years carefully cultivating. Then working out how to integrate that authentic self into the real world out there. It is a tough call, not for the faint-hearted. But so worthwhile.

Part of the journey has been about reclaiming a childlike trust in life. For me, being childlike means being open and vulnerable, trusting and curious, rather than closed down, armoured up, mistrustful and cynical. It is a courageous way to live because it means that we are more vulnerable to being hurt by others. And when we have been hurt in the past, it may be difficult for us to trust others again, to trust that the universe is not (all appearances to the contrary, sometimes) “out to get us.” I found that I wanted to trust that the universe is (on the whole) a benevolent place in which to live. Believing this may be naïve, but it has made me much happier.

I have come to understand that faith and trust are facets of our deepest nature. But as life goes on, and we encounter betrayal in our lives – as we surely will – that faith and trust can be eroded. It can take a lifetime to choose to be sufficiently vulnerable to dare to trust again. These betrayals, which sadly seem to be an inevitable part of life, need not be great ones which bring our whole world crashing down around us.  Any time someone lies to us, even a white lie, or doesn't turn up when they said they would, or is unkind to us, we can feel betrayed. Once we feel that way, it can take a lot of time to build up sufficient faith to make the world seem trustable again. It can even shake our faith in the essential goodness of humankind.

Yet I now realise that if I am to live authentically, with faith, I need to take the bold step of trusting. Otherwise, my soul will shrivel in my body and I will turn into a suspicious, armoured-up person who trusts no-one. I would not be “me” any more.

Part of learning to trust has been often choosing to leap before I look, rather than being sensible and sober and looking before I leap. I have always tended to be impulsive about seizing new opportunities to grow as a person. I’ll see an advert for a new online course (for example) and sign up for it just because it looks interesting. I have always tried to jump in the direction of new opportunities, choosing to say “Yes” to life, rather than “No, I can’t, I’m scared, what if I fail?” (Hence the bungee jump in New Zealand!) I would far rather try something new, something different and not succeed, than rest on my (very few) laurels and not LIVE.

Logic vs Imagination

This week's quote reads, "Logic takes you from point A to point B. Imagination takes you wherever you want."

There is a place for both, in most of our lives. Logic is needed for when we have particular tasks to do, and need to get from point A to point B. And for problem solving, and for keeping a cool head, when all around are losing theirs.

But imagination, which frees our minds from all bonds, is the richer of the two, I think. With my writer's hat on, I recall that the fantasy author, George R.R. Martin, famously divided writers into architects and gardeners - those who plan and outline their novels before writing, and those who make it up as they go along: discovery writers.

I have always considered myself to be a discovery writer, but when I was working on my fantasy trilogy, The Stones of Veylindré, I found myself falling into a third camp, which I christened "landscape gardeners". These I defined as writers who decide what to write as they go along, but also have a clear idea of what the final 'garden' will look like. I spent a good deal of time world-building - drawing a map, thinking about the history, geography, politics, culture and magic systems of my world. And had a rough idea of the journey my characters were going to go on. But as I wrote each chapter, it took unexpected turns as I 'discovered' what happened next.

I believe the same dichotomy applies to our spiritual / religious journeys. Unitarians used to be known as 'Rational Dissenters'. According to Wikipedia, "In the 18th century, one group of Dissenters became known as 'Rational Dissenters'. In many respects they were closer to the Anglicanism of their day than other Dissenting sects; however, they believed that state religions impinged on the freedom of conscience. They... desired an educated ministry and an orderly church, but they based their opinions on the Bible and on reason rather than on appeals to tradition and authority. They rejected doctrines such as original sin or Trinity, arguing that they were irrational. Rational Dissenters believed that Christianity and faith could be dissected and evaluated using the newly emerging discipline of science, and that a stronger belief in God would be the result."

This summary was generally true of Unitarianism in Britain right up to the 1960s, I think. However, since then, a more mystical strain has arrived and, while we still insist on the primacy of freedom of conscience, we have also found room for diverse spiritual paths, and are far less likely to "dissect and evaluate" our faith. We have found that there is room for imagination, for mystery, for embracing all kinds of spiritual practices from diverse faith traditions, for faith working alongside reason. And I think we are all the better for it.

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...

The Opium of the People

Karl Marx's famous words about religion being "the opium of the people" have been quoted so often, they have become a cliché. So it was interesting to read it in its wider context today:

"Religious suffering is, at one and the same time, the expression of real suffering and a protest against real suffering. Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the sentiment of a heartless world, and the soul of soulless conditions. It is the opium of the people. The abolition of religion as the illusory happiness of the people is the demand for their real happiness. To call on them to give up their illusions about their condition is to call on them to give up a condition that requires illusions. The criticism of religion is, therefore, the criticism of that vale of tears of which religion is the halo."

In other words, he is not against religion per se, but against the harsh conditions under which people live which, for him, necessitate a turning to religion as a solace for the hardships of the world. I think he also believed that religion kept people docile, more accepting of the "vale of tears" which was their daily lives. 

And yes, I see his point. Or at least, I do up to a point. If someone's life is miserable and hard, it may be a comfort to reflect that there is something better to come in the next world. That they will somehow be rewarded for their stoic acceptance of misery and harsh circumstances in this world. And I can understand that his real concern was to alleviate the "real suffering" of the people, so that they would not need this solace. Marx believed that if people's lives were more comfortable, less bleak, they would not need religion as a solace.

And to some extent (some would say, to a large extent), his thesis has been proved, here in the privileged West, in the last seventy-five years or so. As people's lives have become more comfortable in material terms, there has been a great turning away from religion. A fascinating article about religion in the UK on Wikipedia states, "The familiar starting-point, a classical model of secularisation, argues that religious faith becomes less plausible and religious practice more difficult in advanced industrial and urbanized societies. The breakdown or disruption of traditional communities and norms of behaviour; the spread of a scientific world-view diminishing the scope of the supernatural and the role of God; increasing material affluence promoting self-reliance and this-worldly optimism; and greater awareness and toleration of different creeds and ideas, encouraging religious pluralism and eviscerating commitment to a particular faith, all form components of the case for secularisation."

And yet, many of us persist in believing in something "more", something "other" than what we can perceive with our five senses. There is a sense that there is something beyond the material world, some spiritual connection to something greater than ourselves. I believe that if in one sense, religion can be called the "opium" of the people, having a religious or spiritual faith can also be strengthening. It can help the individual to stand their ground on issues they care about and to work for good in the world. It can help them to cope when "shit happens" (as it surely will), but can also add an extra dimension to joy.

I can only speak for myself, but my life has been rendered immeasurably richer by my religious faith.

God Beyond Proof

Dietrich Bonhoeffer was a Lutheran pastor, theologian and passionate campaigner against the Nazi regime. For this "crime", he was imprisoned by Hitler's regime in April 1943, and executed by them on 9th April 1945.

But his faith in God, in God's grace, was untouched by his sufferings. As the Wikipedia article about him comments, "His writings on Christianity's role in the secular world have become widely influential; his 1937 book, The Cost of Discipleship, is described as a modern classic." 

When his fellow dissident pastor, Martin Niemöller, founded the Pastors' Emergency League in 1933, to protest against Nazi interference in church affairs and theology, Bonhoeffer swiftly came on board. The League eventually evolved into the Confessing Church, which stood for traditional Christian values against the German Christians, who supported Hitler's policies.

He once wrote, "A God who let us prove his existence would be an idol." Which is a neat expression of the central paradox of any deistic faith. Because belief in God is essentially a matter of faith, which the anonymous author of the Epistle to the Hebrews in the New Testament defined as, "the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen."

I agree with him, up to a point. Yes, none of us can prove (or disprove!) the existence of God. For people who believe in Him / Her / It, God exists; for people who don't, God doesn't. But I believe that we can know (in a certain sense) that God exists for us, through faith.  And I, along with so many thousand others, have spent considerable time and energy trying to work out what God means to me, as a Unitarian.

Over the past decade or so, I have come to appreciate that for me, God's presence is everywhere, in our ordinary, everyday lives, if we had but eyes to see and ears to hear. And is also eternal, infinite and real; not unknowable. Or at least, not entirely. I believe we can only get glimpses of the Divine, but we can become aware of Her / Him / It in everything around us, in ourselves, and in each other.

This belief makes me a panentheist, which is defined in Cross's The Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church as, "the belief that the Being of God includes and penetrates the whole universe, so that every part of it exists in Him [sic.] but that His [sic.] Being is more than, and is not exhausted by, the universe."

So for me, the Divine is not only beyond proof and eternal and infinite, but also immanent, within all things. As the Quakers would say, there is "that of God in everyone". To which I would add, "and in everything."

The presence of the sacred in the natural world was first shown to me by my father, when I was a little girl. He showed me a flower and asked me to really look at it, to become aware of its intricate and complex design, having petals, sepals, stamens, carpels; each element working together to form that flower and enabling it to reproduce. He asked me, "How can we look at the design of that flower, and not believe in a creator God?" And I felt an inner jolt, which has always accompanied my understanding of a revelation of the truth. The beauty and intricate coherence of the natural world still fill me with awe and delight, and I often stop, on my walks in the forest near my home, to give thanks.

The understanding that this Divine indwelling presence also extends to humankind has taken longer to penetrate. But today, I honestly trust that there is that of God in everyone; and that God is Love at the centre of everything. And that the best way of worshipping Him / Her / It is to recognise that, and to try to live in the world in response to this sacred presence. 

Proof and trust are very different ways of approaching difficult ideas, such as the existence of a Divine Being. It is, perhaps, natural to want some proof, and many Christians cite a list of belief statements as proof of God's existence, in the form of various creeds which summarise Christian beliefs.

But I say again, belief is not the same as proof. We cannot prove the existence of God, but I honestly don't think it matters. What matters is that we live our lives in the best way we can, try to make a positive difference in the world, and do as little harm as possible. And I appreciate that belief in a divine being is not necessary to resolve to do this, but I find that it helps me, as it helps countless others.

      

   

Wonder and Faith

 The German philosopher Ludwig Feuerbach wrote, "Wonder is the outer face of faith - faith is the inner soul of wonder."

I had to think about that for a while... because I don't believe they are necessarily so closely related as he seems to think. I believe we can experience wonder without faith, for example. Many non-religious people would say that they can feel a sense of wonder about such matters as the size of infinite space, or the beauties of nature. But they would deny that their wonder had any component of faith in it.

But sometimes, if we are people of faith, it can perhaps make it easier for us to feel a sense of wonder. l don't think I'd make much more of it than that. 

I have blogged before about faith and wonder here, as recently as January. I don't think Feuerbach's quote has added much to my understanding...

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 Path of the Night

 The Lebanese mystic and poet, Khalil Gibran, once wrote, "Dawn can only be reached by following the path of the night."

Dawn is one of my favourite times of day - if I'm awake in time to witness it. The night sky begins to lighten slowly as the sun begins to rise. Sometimes gold, sometimes orange, sometimes red, sometimes purple, and all the shades inbetween - sometimes, I stand at my bedroom window for minutes together and watch the eastern sky change before my eyes. It is never the same twice and always a source of gratitude and wonder. Here is one from a month ago (although my photo does not do it justice):

I think the point that Gibran is making is that we will not really appreciate the beauty of the sky at dawning unless we have experienced the darkness that comes before it. And as in the real world, so in the spiritual world.

I do not know anyone who has not gone through dark periods in their lives, companioned by gloom, depression and despair. Which makes the return of the light even more precious, because we know what it is to be without it. 

And I think we can take his words as a promise too - that there *will* be a time of light and beauty after the darkness, that our night will not last forever. But that we have to walk along the path of the night to get there, have to do the shadow work first.

Which is probably one reason why I find such value in stories - the stories in which the hero/ine has to go through all kinds of trials and tribulations before attaining their goal. But at the end, the goal is reached or achieved and the light can return. Reading such stories is a promise of future light to come, that the darkness will have an end, if we have faith in the possibility of dawning. I know that when we are in the middle of the darkest passages of the night, the darkest times of our lives, it can be difficult to believe that better times are ahead. But they always are. We just have to hang on to hope, hang on to faith.

One Step at a Time

 Martin Luther King Jr once wrote, "Faith is taking the first step, even when you can't see the whole staircase."

Yes. We have to learn to trust in ourselves, in what is important to us, and take that first step anyway. I believe that faith and trust are facets of our nature which we are born with. But as life goes on, and we encounter betrayal in our lives, that faith and trust can be eroded. It can take a lifetime to choose to be sufficiently vulnerable enough to dare to trust again.

And these betrayals, which sadly seem to be an inevitable part of life, need not be great ones which bring our whole world crashing down around us.  Any time someone lies to us, even a white lie, or doesn't turn up when they said they would, or is unkind to us, we can feel betrayed. Once we feel that way, it can take a lot of time to build up sufficient faith to make the world seem trustable again. 

In her book Daring Greatly: How the Courage to be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent and Lead, Brené Brown explains that, "it's a chicken-or-the-egg issue: We need to feel trust to be vulnerable and we need to be vulnerable in order to trust. There is no trust test, no scoring system, no green light that tells us that it's safe to let ourselves be seen. The research participants described trust as a slow-building, layered process that happens over time."

So it is wonderful to see people like Martin Luther King Jr, who have faith in what they believe, have faith in what they are working towards, and take that first step anyway, regardless of the consequences. It takes courage to have faith, courage to trust, courage to be vulnerable. But if we choose to live with faith and trust, the rewards can be wonderful, wonder-ful.

A Love of Mystery

The Unitarian and Transcendentalist writer, Ralph Waldo Emerson, wrote, "I prefer to live in a world surrounded by mysteries, rather than in one so small, that my mind can comprehend it."

 And one of my best-loved non-fiction authors, Brené Brown, wrote in my favourite book of hers, The Gifts of Imperfection, that she initially believed that "faith meant 'there's a reason for everything'" Then she discovered that "faith meant something else to [the men and women living the Wholehearted journey]." Which led her to redefine faith, based on the responses she was hearing from them, "Faith is 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."

I believe that our lives are richer if we can find that courage, and love the mystery, the sacred not-knowing of life. Theologican Frederick Buechner 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 about not being sure where you're going, but going anyway. And theologian Paul Tillich wrote, "Doubt isn't the opposite of faith; it is an element of faith."

Unitarians have a great capacity for mystery, for "living in the questions", as Rainer Maria Rilke put it. 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 I think is what Emerson meant when he said he preferred to "live in a world surrounded by mysteries." 

Unitarian faith often includes a healthy dollop of doubt - not taking anything for graned, not accepting anything without questioning it first. We have always been in the habit of questioning beliefs and cherishing doubts. I would guess that many of us came to Unitarianism precisely by that path - by starting to question some of the beliefs we grew up with. In my case, I realised that I could not accept the divinity of Jesus as the unique Son of God, and also struggled with the idea that his death on the cross somehow put me back into right relationship with God. But to quote Jan Carlsson-Bull, Unitarians have learned to "hold faith and doubt in reverent balance". 

Which means actively searching for and working out what gives your life meaning, putting your whole heart and mind and soul into it, and yet at the same time, totally respecting the right of every other member of your Unitarian community to disagree with you. It can be a tough call, sometimes.

Holding faith and doubt in reverent balance, living and loving in mystery, also means being open to new ideas, from wherever they come. Unitarianism at its best is a wonderfully open way of approaching life and religion, based on an appeal to reason, conscience and our own lived experience. It is an ongoing process - you don't just experience a one-off conversion and then rest on those fixed beliefs for the rest of your life; every Unitarian has a duty to approach all new ideas and concepts reverently and critically, and take from them what speaks to our own reason and conscience, and what makes sense in the context of our own lived experience, in order to live out our lives in the best and truest way we can, making room for mystery, for uncertainty, along the way

Faith *and* Persistence

Samuel Johnson wrote, "Great works are accomplished not through faith, but through persistence." Hmm. Not with you on that one, Mr. Johnson.

Let me explain. I completely agree that any great work can only be accomplished "through persistence", BUT I believe that without faith, the persistence will be much harder to maintain. And I don't necessarily mean religious faith either. I mean belief in yourself, in the project, in why it is necessary to add it to the world's treasures. Whether the project is a book, a poem, a picture, a craft item, a piece of music or a stunning building, such as those in the Forum in Rome (pictured above). 

All creators, of whatever stripe, need both faith and persistence to complete their creations. All creations begin with an idea, an inspiration. And I believe that there are many, many unfinished creations lurking in desk drawers, dark cupboards, or which never "left the drawing board", either because the creator and/or their financial backers did not have faith in it, or because the creator lacked the persistence to carry on working on the project until it was complete.

Beginning a creative project, a "great work" is relatively easy. Bringing it to successful completion is another. I think that both faith and persistence are needed to accomplish this goal. The creator needs faith in themselves, and in what they are creating, not to listen to what Brené Brown calls "the gremlins" - those little voices in your head that sneer at you, saying that your work is rubbish, that you are no good at it, that "Who do you think *you* are, to call yourself a writer / artist / creator of any kind?" 

And they need persistence, to get through the inevitable dry times, when the Inspiration Fairy has gone AWOL, and the blank page or blank canvas is taunting them about their lack of accomplishment. A great deal of persistence is needed to break through this wall and continue to create, putting word by word down on the page, paint stroke by paint stroke, stitch by stitch, note by note. 

And people need both, to bring whatever work they have in hand to completion. Which may mean working on a relationship, practising a piano piece, exploring their inner selves. It applies to all areas of human activity, not creation alone.

Faith *and* persistence. Both are needed.

The Bliss of Not Knowing

This week's quotation, by Oscar Wilde, reminds me of Rilke: "It is the uncertainty that excites us. A mist makes things beautiful."

Compare that thought to Rilke's famous quotation about living in the questions... "Live your questions now, and perhaps even without knowing it, you will live along some distant day into your answers."

So many of us are far more comfortable with certainty, than in wrestling with uncertainty. It takes a certain amount of courage to be able to sit with uncertainty, having faith that an answer will be vouchsafed to you, in God's own time. Even if that answer is, by then, far from what you expected it to be.

There is an (I think) erroneous belief that, faith and reason are polar opposites. I believe that using our reason is part of the path of "living into the answers". My belief is that the true opposite of faith is certainty.

Mr Google's definition of faith is "strong belief in the doctrines of a religion, based on spiritual conviction rather than proof." And the Epistle to the Hebrews, in the New Testament, says, "faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen."

I wonder whether uncertainty is actually the true basis of faith? That we have to take a "leap of faith" in order to believe in something, someone. And that it is the very *un*certainty which excites us about God, the divine, the Source of All Being... Who by His / Her / Its very nature cannot be known by us, but only believed in, hoped for...

A mist makes things beautiful...

Control versus Faith

For the first time, I disagree root and branch with Baltasar Gracian y Morales, the author of this week's quotation. He writes, "The only time we can really control is the future. We can shape it according to our wishes."

Um, no, we cannot. Brené Brown explains this beautifully in her Sounds True course The Power of Vulnerability, when she says, "How many of you love someone? Hands across the room. How many of you can be sure that person loves you back? That they will love you tomorrow?" (I'm paraphrasing from memory).

The fact is, we have NO control over the future. None. The only time we can really control is the instant of the present, when we can choose to respond to whatever is in front of us in this way or that way. And even then, we can get hijacked by our emotions, and respond in a way we didn't want to, didn't plan to.

We may, perhaps, influence the future, by our actions and words in the present. We may have faith that something is going to turn out one way or another, and may work towards that goal. But because we live in the infinite complexities of the real world, full of other people and a myriad of events, we cannot control the future.

To give a mundane example, I have organised many conferences and courses - booked the speakers and the venue, publicised the event as best I can, done all the paperwork to ensure that the day runs smoothly. BUT when the day comes, I cannot control how the speaker(s) and the participants will interact, nor what the participants will learn or gain from their attendance. I have to take that on faith.

Perhaps faith is about letting go of the need for certainty, and going forward joyously into the unknown, keeping ourselves open to respond to whatever happens.

Discovering the Source

In the last couple of days, two memes by very different writers have been posted on Facebook. The first was by Richard Rohr, one of my favourite religious authors, who is a Franciscan monk, and Director of the Center for Action and Contemplation:

"Love is the source and goal; faith is the slow process of getting there; hope is the willingness to move forward without resolution."

(image: Center for Action & Contemplation, shared by Contemplative Monk)

The other was by Geneen Roth, whose books about women's relationships with their bodies have had a huge impact on me, particularly Women, Food and God, which taught me to love my body, rather than hating her. She wrote: 

"You already have everything you need to be content. Your real work is to do whatever it takes to realize that."

(image: Geneen Roth)

It strikes me that they are both talking about the same thing. For me, the recognition that God is Love, and that my whole life should be about growing into a more loving relationship with Him/Her - both source and goal, is a life-changing revelation. 

Having faith is the realization that God *already* loves me, just the way I am - I already have "everything you need to be content". My "real work" will be to be aware of this every day, so that I can grow closer to God, and grow into the sort of person who walks lovingly through life, cherishing that of God in everyone, and in the the natural world..

It will take a lifetime, but now I know where I'm going.

Food, Faith, and Fellowship

I came home from our General Assembly of Unitarian & Free Christian Churches Annual Meetings on Saturday, feeling quite uplifted. The Meetings are a wonderful opportunity to see "Unitarians at their best" - to meet old friends, make new ones, and learn more about our beloved Uncommon Denomination.

When you get 300+ Unitarians together all in one space, there are bound to be differences of opinion (come to think of it, this happens when there are 3!) but this year, there seemed to be a spirit of tolerance and respect around, which was lovely to experience and behold.

The title of the Anniversary Service summed up these Meetings for me - it was a Feast of the Heart. A feast of good food, vibrant faith, and good fellowship. From the Peace Fellowship's Opening Celebration to the investment of Dot Hewerdine as our new President, it was a very special few days.

I know that our numbers are dwindling at an alarming rate, but I refuse to give  up hope. I believe that what Unitarianism has to offer is so special that we need to positively articulate what we *do* believe in - freedom from subscription to a particular set of beliefs; an opportunity to share our spiritual journeys in the company of like-hearted folk, a broad, inclusive, welcoming community, and compassion and respect for those different to ourselves. What's not to like?

Foundations of Faith

The other day, a Unitarian friend commented: "A religion or a faith (any faith, or any philosophy for that matter) that needs to be defended with aggression or arrogance is not a faith or religion that I recognise as true and it is not a 'strong' faith with a good foundation but a weak one that seeks to cover up its own shakiness."

In the light of recent terrorist activities around the globe, this really rang true with me. Although I would not describe the DAESH / ISIL terrorists as representing anything but their own extremist insecurities - they are certainly not representing Muslims. Practically every post I have seen on Facebook since the bombings in Paris and Beirut have sought to express the outrage that ordinary Muslims feel about these attacks, which are being perpetrated against everything they believe in.

But I think these words also have wisdom for my own Unitarian context. While Unitarians on different parts of the belief spectrum are not likely to descend to actual bodily violence against each other, there can be some pretty fierce altercations on Unitarian pages on Facebook.

Which I find very ironic, since, in the words of the founding father of Unitarianism in Transylvania, Francis David: "We need not think alike to love alike." Cliff Reed, Minister Emeritus at Ipswich, puts it this way;

" The Unitarians are a community of people who take their religion, or their spirituality, liberally. That is to say, we hold that all people have the right to believe what their own life-experience tells them is true; what the promptings of their own conscience tells them is right. We say that each person's spiritual or intuitive experience deserves respect; that everyone's deep reflection and reasoning on religious and ethical questions should be taken seriously.

Unitarians form a movement that tries to put these affirmations into practice. Our local religious communities offer a setting where people can worship, explore, and share faith together in an atmosphere of freedom and mutual respect."

A few years ago, I would have said that I agreed with Cliff's statement completely. But I now believe that while people have the right to *believe* what their life experience and conscience tells them to be true, it is *essential* that these ideas pass the Pagan test of "so long as they don't harm anyone else."

In other words, if anyone feels the need to defend their beliefs with aggression or arrogance, as my friend said, then perhaps they need to go back to the Golden Rule, and consider whether what they are writing or saying is likely to upset or offend others. This is not to say that people should not stand up for their beliefs, but that they should do so in a respectful manner.

We are all human beings - surely we can at least try to live together in peace?

The Power of Dreams

Human beings are born with a great capacity for belief. Small children believe everything their parents say, which is how they construct a meaningful picture of the world they live in. In our particular culture, this also usually involves belief in what Terry Pratchett calls "anthropomorphic personifications" such as Father Christmas and the Tooth Fairy. How many of you went to see Peter Pan in pantomime as a small child and clapped to save Tinkerbell's life? - I certainly did.

But as you get older, your parents start to introduce you to "the real world", in which money is not in infinite supply "D'you think money grows on trees?" and someone in the playground will tell you that "Father Christmas is your parents really." This evolution of belief is necessary in order to fit into our complicated modern society - it is generally accepted that if you believe in too many things, you are bound to become disillusioned in the end.

I find this widespread cynicism quite sad, and ask myself the question "Whatever happened to people who believed in things?" I think that there are very many people who used to be idealistic and believed that the world could be made a better place, but there are also many who have become disillusioned over the years, and who dare not believe in anything much any longer, in case they are let down.

Leonard Nimoy, whose recent passing saddened me, once wrote "I am an incurable romantic:I believe in hope, dreams and decency. I believe in love, tenderness and kindness. I believe in mankind." He proved this with his life.

Daring to believe that way involves trust and faith. If you have those, anything is possible. In the words of Martin Luther King, Jr. "I've decided that I'm going to do battle for my philosophy. You ought to believe something in life, believe that thing so fervently that you will stand up with it till the end of your days." Fifty years ago, we saw how far that philosophy took him, as a champion of human rights, whose leadership changed the whole course of history, brought a new dimension of dignity to human life, new hope for freedom and the community of man. Such people are inspirational, because they have dared to dream, and then spent their whole lives working to make their dreams come true.

This weekend, friends and colleagues from the Unitarian Universalist Association will be marching from Selma to Montgomery, to commemorate the fiftieth anniversary of the marches in 1965 which led to the passage that year of the Voting Rights Act, an important achievement of the American Civil Rights Movement. To quote Wikipaedia: "Activists publicized the three protest marches to walk the 54-mile highway from Selma to the Alabama state capital of Montgomery, as showing the desire of black American citizens to exercise their constitutional right to vote, in defiance of segregationist repression." Very many white Unitarian Universalists and other activists joined their black brothers and sisters on the march.

The dream, or the vision, or the ideal, is only the beginning of the process. To turn that dream into something concrete and real involves a lot of hard work. It is very easy to lose sight of the dream, and to give up half way. But if your belief in your cause or vision is strong enough, then anything is possible.

People need something to believe in , something to strive for, something to give life a deeper meaning. Fifty years ago, on the road from Selma to Montgomery, that became real.

Belief and Faith

"Belief" and "faith" are two words that are much used in religious circles.

The Concise Oxford Dictionary defines belief as "trust or confidence (in); acceptance of any received theology; acceptance (of thing, fact, statement, etc.) as true or existing."

It defines faith as "1. reliance on or trust in; belief founded on authority. 2. (Theol.) belief in religious doctrines, esp. such as affects character and conduct, spiritual apprehension of divine truth apart from proof; system of religious belief."

So are they much of a muchness? Well, no, according to a fascinating book I've been reading this week, called Writing the Sacred Journey. The author, Elizabeth J. Andrew, points out that what you believe and how you orient your life (what you put your faith in) can be two very different things. She writes: "Belief can be an extension of faith, but it can also exist in our heads and our verbalised convictions, quite separate from the true alignment of our hearts."

To take an example from my own life, I believe that our planet is endangered because of our profligate use of, well, just about everything, but I do not always make the most eco-friendly choices when I'm shopping, perhaps because I'm in  a hurry, or it's less convenient, or the greener product is more expensive. In which case, my actions are contrary to my stated beliefs.

I think that this is an important distinction to make, and to be aware of, as for me, the whole point of our spiritual and religious journey is to move towards living as authentically as we can, in accordance with our most deeply held beliefs and values. Whenever we *say* that we believe something or believe in  something, but our actions are quite different, there is a dissonance between belief and faith, and we are not living authentically, as I believe that God / the Spirit wants us to.

The Reverent Balance

Unitarians, like Quakers, 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 that we grew up with. In my case, I realised that I could not accept the divinity of Jesus as the unique Son of God, and also struggled with the idea that his 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. 

www.inspirably.com

What does holding faith and doubt in reverent balance mean? I believe that it is a very delicate balancing act, which certainly needs to be undertaken with reverence. It means actively searching for and working out what gives your life meaning, putting your whole heart and mind and soul into it, and yet at the same time totally respecting the right of every other member of your Unitarian community to disagree with you. It can be a very tough call sometimes.

Because it is only human nature to feel passionately about religious and spiritual matters, about things that touch us deeply. And when we feel passionately about something, it can be difficult to remember that our fellow Unitarians are absolutely free to disagree with us. And that it is our job as Unitarians, as folk who are aiming to "live Unitarianly", to use Michael Dadson's wonderful phrase, to not only tolerate their different views but also to wholeheartedly accept and cherish them. And to not feel aggrieved because Reverend X or Mrs. Y has written something on Facebook with which we disagree. 

Holding faith and doubt in reverent balance also means being open to new ideas, from wherever they come. Unitarianism at its best is a wonderfully open way of approaching life and religion, based on an appeal to reason, conscience and your own life experience. And it is an ongoing process - you don't just experience a one-off conversion, and then rest on those fixed beliefs for the rest of your life; every Unitarian has a duty to approach all new ideas and concepts reverently and critically, and take from them what speaks to our own reason and conscience, and what makes sense in the context of our own life experience, in order to live out our lives in the best and truest way we can.

Some Good Advice

I have not had a good couple of weeks - lots of stress about various things. So I was uplifted by the picture below, which was posted by Joy Happiness Love Family:

So I am going to really try to not think, not wonder, not imagine, not obsess; just breathe and have faith that everything will work out for the best.