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