I was recently corresponding with a friend who had just returned
from a week-long silent meditation retreat.
Such periodic experiences are a special opportunity to put aside the
noise of our normal daily routine and spend a weekend, or particularly a week,
in a quiet environment focused on reconnecting with ourselves and with the
greater Universe. Regardless of the
specific emphasis of such retreats, we cannot help but experience some change
in how we think, feel and act from this time well spent. Such was the experience for this friend. But her other observation was that, “I have
wanted to continue this silence after coming home, but it has been difficult.” It is a common lament and frustration – after
the creative bliss of a dedicated spiritual time, how do we keep that
experience going after we are back in “the real world”?
One way is by focusing on the fact of the quiet, of the silence.
If we really seek to pursue this continued state of quiet, we will find
that we actually have more control over our noise than we may like to
admit. All audio and video equipment has
an “off” switch that we can use; it is our choice whether to switch it to
“on.” Do we really have to check our
email, Facebook and Twitter pages every few minutes of the day? Do we really need our cell phones on 24 x 7
and have to answer it the moment it rings at someone else’s convenient
time? (We managed to miss calls for over
one hundred years quite successfully; the inventor of the telephone refused to even
have one in his house!) Do we really
need to watch television shows that educate or entertain us very little, but
simply instead serve to occupy or distract our thinking? At work, do we really need to work through
lunch, versus go out for a few minutes for a quiet walk by ourselves? (The work will always be there no matter how
many hours we put in.) When we drive our
car, do we listen to the radio or listen to our thoughts? Like anything else in our external
environment, we can be the victim of our circumstances or the determiner. We may not have complete control over our
time and schedule, but we have more than we like to admit. It is all about our choices and commitments.
But there is another kind of quiet that we experience at our spiritual
retreats. It is not the fact of the
quiet that surrounds us there. It is the
spirit of the quiet that comes to
reside in our heart and mind. The quiet
of the retreat allows us to infuse our thinking with an unfamiliar pause. A pause to reflect about our thinking, a
pause to consider our actions. A moment
to re-identify what we are truly about, what God wishes for us, and what we
wish to be with God. It is a quiet of
mind and spirit that enables us to act from a thoughtful decision rather than
making a reflexive action.
That is the quiet we truly seek at our retreats. The external quiet nurtures us, but it is not
really why we are there. It only helps
us practice for the spiritual quiet that
we truly seek; the quiet of spiritually listening to often unheard voices. We can do much towards turning the outside
noise switch to “off” and getting some measure of emulated quiet. But when we take a moment to stop and hear
and consider before we act, seeking to act in God’s way, that is when we truly
“keep the silence” of the retreatant.
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Sunday, April 8, 2012
The Easter Message
Today is Easter Sunday, the holiest day in Christian practice. The day Christians believe Christ rose from his earthly death, transcended his crucifixion, and affirmed his divinity with God.
Whether one is a believing and practicing Christian or believes in Jesus’ resurrection or not, there are powerful lessons and inspiration in the Easter message. A message of steadfastness in the face of threats and accusations from one’s enemies, silently holding fast to the spiritual purpose of our life. A message of commitment to one’s faith, commitment that would go so far as to choose death rather than yield to the constant pressure to deny that faith. A message of forgiveness towards those who knowingly or unknowingly cause us harm and pain, for “they know not what they do.” A message of compassion for our human frailty and doubts in times when we question whether God has forsaken us in our faith. A message of knowing when it is time to leave God’s work to others as we move on to a new existence unknown but undeniable. A message of recognizing when we have done what God has asked of us, and “it is finished.”
These messages can be found in some form in the lessons from all of the Great Teachers we have been blessed to have guide us, reflecting the same exhortations and challenges toward our committing to faith. These Teachers taught not by rules, not by the laws of the state, not by force or domination. They taught from the heart of goodness, directed to the hearts of others. They taught to the eye by showing themselves to be true living examples of that heart. They taught to the mind by illustrating in understandable stories the irrationality of our limited human thinking, and the higher thinking that can be available to us.
We approach Jesus as one of those Great Teachers. We approach him not on the basis of labels, ritual, church structure, and theological argument. We approach him simply on his words, on his teachings, on his proofs by his actions. As we do with all of God’s Great Teachers. It is the body of Jesus’ teachings that we honor and celebrate on Easter, teachings that require neither an interpreter nor an intermediary. They are lessons for all of us; lessons for each of us; lessons in harmony with God and all of God’s Great Teachers. And the lessons start with Good Will Towards All Men And Women.
Whether one is a believing and practicing Christian or believes in Jesus’ resurrection or not, there are powerful lessons and inspiration in the Easter message. A message of steadfastness in the face of threats and accusations from one’s enemies, silently holding fast to the spiritual purpose of our life. A message of commitment to one’s faith, commitment that would go so far as to choose death rather than yield to the constant pressure to deny that faith. A message of forgiveness towards those who knowingly or unknowingly cause us harm and pain, for “they know not what they do.” A message of compassion for our human frailty and doubts in times when we question whether God has forsaken us in our faith. A message of knowing when it is time to leave God’s work to others as we move on to a new existence unknown but undeniable. A message of recognizing when we have done what God has asked of us, and “it is finished.”
These messages can be found in some form in the lessons from all of the Great Teachers we have been blessed to have guide us, reflecting the same exhortations and challenges toward our committing to faith. These Teachers taught not by rules, not by the laws of the state, not by force or domination. They taught from the heart of goodness, directed to the hearts of others. They taught to the eye by showing themselves to be true living examples of that heart. They taught to the mind by illustrating in understandable stories the irrationality of our limited human thinking, and the higher thinking that can be available to us.
We approach Jesus as one of those Great Teachers. We approach him not on the basis of labels, ritual, church structure, and theological argument. We approach him simply on his words, on his teachings, on his proofs by his actions. As we do with all of God’s Great Teachers. It is the body of Jesus’ teachings that we honor and celebrate on Easter, teachings that require neither an interpreter nor an intermediary. They are lessons for all of us; lessons for each of us; lessons in harmony with God and all of God’s Great Teachers. And the lessons start with Good Will Towards All Men And Women.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
The Lessons of THAT Religion
We have innumerable religions across our globe, some with millions of adherents down to individual enclaves set in a single rural or tribal village. Most of the larger groups break down into subsets, sub-subsets and more, finally into micro-sets. These religions may differ over allegiance or interpretation of their founding or current teacher; over dogma and teachings; over ritual and practice; over how the religion integrates (or not) into the secular culture of one’s everyday living. But some form of difference from among myriad possibilities drives them apart from each other.
When two different religions meet, the all-too-often response is division. One might reasonably presume that religion should be the great unifier and bridge among humankind. Inexplicably, it is more often the separator. One seeks to dominate the other rather than to celebrate the other.
God created all of these many religions and their variations for two reasons. One, given that each human is an individual being with unique thinking and response mechanisms, these many religious options give each of us the ability to find the best possible vehicle to envelope and express our unique spiritual self. Second, this diversity of religious thought gives us a tool by which we can better understand, and therefore practice, the religion we do ultimately choose.
This available tool is why we are called to examine religions other than our own. Not to be pulled away from our religion, but in fact to be pulled deeper into it. As children we accepted without thought, without question, without experience the religion presented to us. When we later use the beliefs of other faiths and dogmas to ask questions about our own, use other religions as a reflection towards our own, we do not betray our religion. Instead, we are forced to move from our current limited understandings and practices and instead dig more deeply through what we think we believe, and as a result come away with knowing we do believe.
It is by reflecting our own experiences and beliefs off of others, by entertaining questions from those who have different beliefs and experiences, that we can see things that we had never seen before. From these reflections, we begin to ask ourselves the questions that we had never even thought needed asking. We see familiar images in a new, fresh way, from a vantage point we had never considered.
It is just as we use a mirror to confirm or deny what we think we look like; the mirror leads us back into ourselves now knowing what we do look like. From that deeper knowledge of ourselves we can now move into a better, more informed spiritual place. The mirror guides us; it does not swallow us. There is nothing to fear from learning, but there is much to be gained.
Even if we choose not to use reflection to understand our spiritual selves, we can still learn to better understand our neighbor of a different faith. An understanding based upon information, not superstition and inherited prejudice. From that, perhaps we can then become one of the links in a bridge of human understanding that we are currently missing. That which is unfamiliar is that which teaches us. Perhaps that alone is worth reflecting on.
When two different religions meet, the all-too-often response is division. One might reasonably presume that religion should be the great unifier and bridge among humankind. Inexplicably, it is more often the separator. One seeks to dominate the other rather than to celebrate the other.
God created all of these many religions and their variations for two reasons. One, given that each human is an individual being with unique thinking and response mechanisms, these many religious options give each of us the ability to find the best possible vehicle to envelope and express our unique spiritual self. Second, this diversity of religious thought gives us a tool by which we can better understand, and therefore practice, the religion we do ultimately choose.
This available tool is why we are called to examine religions other than our own. Not to be pulled away from our religion, but in fact to be pulled deeper into it. As children we accepted without thought, without question, without experience the religion presented to us. When we later use the beliefs of other faiths and dogmas to ask questions about our own, use other religions as a reflection towards our own, we do not betray our religion. Instead, we are forced to move from our current limited understandings and practices and instead dig more deeply through what we think we believe, and as a result come away with knowing we do believe.
It is by reflecting our own experiences and beliefs off of others, by entertaining questions from those who have different beliefs and experiences, that we can see things that we had never seen before. From these reflections, we begin to ask ourselves the questions that we had never even thought needed asking. We see familiar images in a new, fresh way, from a vantage point we had never considered.
It is just as we use a mirror to confirm or deny what we think we look like; the mirror leads us back into ourselves now knowing what we do look like. From that deeper knowledge of ourselves we can now move into a better, more informed spiritual place. The mirror guides us; it does not swallow us. There is nothing to fear from learning, but there is much to be gained.
Even if we choose not to use reflection to understand our spiritual selves, we can still learn to better understand our neighbor of a different faith. An understanding based upon information, not superstition and inherited prejudice. From that, perhaps we can then become one of the links in a bridge of human understanding that we are currently missing. That which is unfamiliar is that which teaches us. Perhaps that alone is worth reflecting on.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Spirituality Is Hard
On February 20, 1962, 50 years ago, John Glen blasted off into America’s first orbital space flight. Only seven months later, John Kennedy spoke at Rice University and committed the country to landing a man on the moon and safely bringing him home “by the end of the decade.” It was a heady statement given such limited success and proof-of-concept to date. Why take the risk and go? Obviously this was yet another battlefield in the running cold war with the Soviet Union. But as Kennedy famously went on to say, “We choose to go to the moon … not because [it] is easy, but because [it] is hard. Because this goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone.” Doing the hard thing demands of us to focus our energies, explore the real depths of our creativity; it moves us from dreamer to doer, from “wanna be” to “being.”
Living spiritually should be easy. Spirituality is knowing that we are, at our core, a good human being. That we live responsible to and interdependent with other forms of life. That we should live as a positive impact on ourselves and others. That we live within a source, a presence, an energy greater than just our self, a form of being that exerts some level of influence in how our life unfolds. That we are the object and outcome of a creation, and we have likewise within us a creative capability. That in some manner or another, our life will transcend, if not extend, the life we are experiencing at the moment.
Given all of these positive affirmatives, it would seem that living spiritually should be easy, natural, and consistently rewarded. But it is not easy. It can, in fact, take all the energy we can muster. External adversity comes our way. Others in our interconnected web do not live spiritually in their interactions with us. Living spiritually requires constantly making choices among options about what to do, what actions to take, what to conclude. But there is seemingly little time left in the day for such reflection and judgment. The thoughts we do have seem filled more with old concerns, rehashed memories, and disturbing feelings than with calm clarity of thinking.
Most of the time it is easier to just drift along, spontaneously reacting to what comes at us than expending effort truly thinking about what we should be doing. It seems easier to just do “something” quickly, check it off the list, and move on to the next demand-of-the-day than to stop and figure out the best right thing to do. It is easier to be content with where we are than to challenge ourselves to shed old beliefs in order to incorporate new learning. It is easier to believe we are right than to assume there is something more for us to learn – about ourselves and others. It is easier to stand pat than to challenge ourselves to reach for the stars.
The actor Martin Sheen has been an engaged activist for social justice all his life. When asked how he manages to stay committed to “the cause,” he replied, “You fight for social justice not to change the world. Not even to change your family and your friends. You do it from inside of you. Because you cannot not do it.” So it is with living spiritually. There is always not enough time, not enough energy, not enough … But at some point in your life, you simply do it anyway. Without excuses. It becomes your true priority. All else drops to second position. You do what is hard, because you cannot not do it.
Living spiritually should be easy. Spirituality is knowing that we are, at our core, a good human being. That we live responsible to and interdependent with other forms of life. That we should live as a positive impact on ourselves and others. That we live within a source, a presence, an energy greater than just our self, a form of being that exerts some level of influence in how our life unfolds. That we are the object and outcome of a creation, and we have likewise within us a creative capability. That in some manner or another, our life will transcend, if not extend, the life we are experiencing at the moment.
Given all of these positive affirmatives, it would seem that living spiritually should be easy, natural, and consistently rewarded. But it is not easy. It can, in fact, take all the energy we can muster. External adversity comes our way. Others in our interconnected web do not live spiritually in their interactions with us. Living spiritually requires constantly making choices among options about what to do, what actions to take, what to conclude. But there is seemingly little time left in the day for such reflection and judgment. The thoughts we do have seem filled more with old concerns, rehashed memories, and disturbing feelings than with calm clarity of thinking.
Most of the time it is easier to just drift along, spontaneously reacting to what comes at us than expending effort truly thinking about what we should be doing. It seems easier to just do “something” quickly, check it off the list, and move on to the next demand-of-the-day than to stop and figure out the best right thing to do. It is easier to be content with where we are than to challenge ourselves to shed old beliefs in order to incorporate new learning. It is easier to believe we are right than to assume there is something more for us to learn – about ourselves and others. It is easier to stand pat than to challenge ourselves to reach for the stars.
The actor Martin Sheen has been an engaged activist for social justice all his life. When asked how he manages to stay committed to “the cause,” he replied, “You fight for social justice not to change the world. Not even to change your family and your friends. You do it from inside of you. Because you cannot not do it.” So it is with living spiritually. There is always not enough time, not enough energy, not enough … But at some point in your life, you simply do it anyway. Without excuses. It becomes your true priority. All else drops to second position. You do what is hard, because you cannot not do it.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
In Pursuit Of Perfection
“Perfection is not attainable. But if we chase perfection we can get excellence.” (Vince Lombardi, legendary NFL coach.)
Perfection, like most things in life, can be a double-edged sword. Our pursuit of perfection can help to stimulate our energies and focus our concentration so as to move beyond mediocrity, beyond just getting by, and help us to extract the full measure of possibility available within a task. Yet when we put an expectation on us of achieving perfection we can be demoralized when that perfection is not achieved, and be blinded to the good we have nevertheless done. Where do we set that bar of perfection, and where do we position ourselves towards that bar?
For the ancient Greeks, perfection was an idealized state, rising above one’s inherent flaws, separate from the reality of how things actually are. Hence human, animal and inanimate things were portrayed in an unnatural way – how things were imagined should be. This perspective permeates the thinking of Western humankind in its judgment of “quality.”
On the other hand, for the Buddhist perfection is a state of absolute reality. Things are inherently perfect just as they are, as they were created, with no need to add to them or make them something else that they are not. We need only to understand what things truly are versus their distortions that we see. For the Greek, symmetry – rarely found in nature – is all important in design; for the Buddhist, symmetry is a jarring unnaturalness in conflict with nature. The Greek loves angles; the Buddhist loves meandering curves.
For many, God (by whatever name) is the only perfection. In God all things are correct; from God all things are intentional, without shortcomings. Yet the danger in believing that God is “perfect” is that we attribute a static-ness to God, that in being perfect God is fixed and unchanging. Someone once wisecracked that “an expert is someone who thinks there is nothing else to be learned.” We risk that same trap when we equate perfection with “nothing else to learn,” that perfection is absolute, that God is perfection and unchanging. Change does not imply that the old was wrong; change simply brings us the next phase and understanding of what can and is intended to be.
I personally believe that God is not perfection in a “fixed” sense of being. The one constant in the whole of the Universe is that nothing is static; everything is always changing, evolving. If the Universe is God’s ultimate creation and intention, why would God be separate from this fundamental truth, this basic physical / metaphysical law? So I believe that God also learns, changes, and grows in wisdom just like the rest of us. It is just that God starts from a much broader and more knowledgeable starting point of wisdom. Which is why I am undisturbed by the seeming conflict in the God of Genesis, of the Gospels, and of Revelations. The distinctions simply reflect God’s own growth over time, of God’s extreme excellence from a pursuit of perfection even now not yet achieved.
Perfection is not a destination or endpoint. It is not a standard of measure or judgment. It is an important moving vehicle on which we travel on our human journey, through which we fulfill our possibilities and perhaps inspire the journeys of others. All is perfect at its creation; all is perfect when it remains true to itself; all is perfect when it moves to the next level, as is intended.
Perfection, like most things in life, can be a double-edged sword. Our pursuit of perfection can help to stimulate our energies and focus our concentration so as to move beyond mediocrity, beyond just getting by, and help us to extract the full measure of possibility available within a task. Yet when we put an expectation on us of achieving perfection we can be demoralized when that perfection is not achieved, and be blinded to the good we have nevertheless done. Where do we set that bar of perfection, and where do we position ourselves towards that bar?
For the ancient Greeks, perfection was an idealized state, rising above one’s inherent flaws, separate from the reality of how things actually are. Hence human, animal and inanimate things were portrayed in an unnatural way – how things were imagined should be. This perspective permeates the thinking of Western humankind in its judgment of “quality.”
On the other hand, for the Buddhist perfection is a state of absolute reality. Things are inherently perfect just as they are, as they were created, with no need to add to them or make them something else that they are not. We need only to understand what things truly are versus their distortions that we see. For the Greek, symmetry – rarely found in nature – is all important in design; for the Buddhist, symmetry is a jarring unnaturalness in conflict with nature. The Greek loves angles; the Buddhist loves meandering curves.
For many, God (by whatever name) is the only perfection. In God all things are correct; from God all things are intentional, without shortcomings. Yet the danger in believing that God is “perfect” is that we attribute a static-ness to God, that in being perfect God is fixed and unchanging. Someone once wisecracked that “an expert is someone who thinks there is nothing else to be learned.” We risk that same trap when we equate perfection with “nothing else to learn,” that perfection is absolute, that God is perfection and unchanging. Change does not imply that the old was wrong; change simply brings us the next phase and understanding of what can and is intended to be.
I personally believe that God is not perfection in a “fixed” sense of being. The one constant in the whole of the Universe is that nothing is static; everything is always changing, evolving. If the Universe is God’s ultimate creation and intention, why would God be separate from this fundamental truth, this basic physical / metaphysical law? So I believe that God also learns, changes, and grows in wisdom just like the rest of us. It is just that God starts from a much broader and more knowledgeable starting point of wisdom. Which is why I am undisturbed by the seeming conflict in the God of Genesis, of the Gospels, and of Revelations. The distinctions simply reflect God’s own growth over time, of God’s extreme excellence from a pursuit of perfection even now not yet achieved.
Perfection is not a destination or endpoint. It is not a standard of measure or judgment. It is an important moving vehicle on which we travel on our human journey, through which we fulfill our possibilities and perhaps inspire the journeys of others. All is perfect at its creation; all is perfect when it remains true to itself; all is perfect when it moves to the next level, as is intended.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Treat Others, Treat Myself
Treat others as you would treat yourself. A simple thought. Treat others in the way you would want them to treat you. A powerful thought. How we treat others is the mirror image of the treatment that will come back to us. (“What goes around comes around.”) A highly difficult practice.
There are few of us who desire to be treated poorly, without understanding or compassion. Unless we are in a period of time or state of mind when we are caught up in our own drama, our own self-abuse. In these difficult times, we can put ourselves into a trap of negativity which feeds on itself and feeds upon our hopelessness, drawing in all that we futilely protest that we do not want. So in its own deceptive way, we still choose to treat others in such a way that they will give back to us the negativity that we in fact are wanting in that moment.
But that kind of negativity is not how we are to live our lives. It is not the environment in which we can emotionally thrive, mature, create, and reach peace and fulfillment. But as with all things, we have to create the environment for ourselves that we truly desire. If everything moves in a circle – which it does – we need to send out that which we wish to receive back. The headlights coming toward us are the other end of the taillights we sent out ahead of us.
It is simply the Golden Rule. It applies to our close individuals, the casual acquaintances we encounter, the societies and nations which need to coexist. One presidential candidate proposed the Golden Rule as a new basis of U.S. foreign policy: “treat other nations as we would like them to treat us.” It inexplicably brought boos from a debate audience filled with people who would otherwise no doubt describe themselves as “a religious person.”
In virtually all religions the Golden Rule shows up in one form or another. In his book Toward a True Kinship of Faiths, the Dalai Lama tells of receiving a printed card at an interfaith gathering, on which was written:
· Hinduism: “This is the sum of duty; do naught onto others what you would not have them do unto you.” (Mahabharata 5:1517)
· Judaism: “What is hateful to you, do not do to your fellowman. This is the entire law; all the rest is commentary.” (Hillel, in the Talmud for the Sabbath 31a)
· Zoroastrianism: “That nature alone is good which refrains from doing to another whatsoever is not good for itself.” (Dadisten-I-dinik 94:5)
· Buddhism: “Since others too care for their own selves, those who care for themselves should not hurt others.” (Udanavarga 5:20)
· Jainism: “A man should wander about treating all creatures as he himself would be treated.” (Sutrakritanga 1.11:33)
· Daoism: “Regard your neighbor’s gain as your gain, and your neighbor’s loss as your own loss.” (Tai-shang kan-ying P’ien)
· Confucianism: “Do not do to others what you would not like yourself. Then there will be no resentment against you, either in the family or in the state.” (Analects 12:2)
· Christianity: “So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets.” (Matthew 7:12)
· Islam: “No one of you is a believer until he desires for his brother that which he desires for himself.” (Hadith of al-Nawawi 13)
The Jewish Torah/Old Testament gives us Ten Commandments for ethical and spiritual living. Similarly, it would worthwhile for each of us to identify the ten specific ways we would like others to treat us. It is not necessarily an easy list to write. But our ten ways also tell us ten specific ways we should treat others. Ten criteria to reflect on before we make decisions or take actions involving others. I have my list. What items are on yours?
There are few of us who desire to be treated poorly, without understanding or compassion. Unless we are in a period of time or state of mind when we are caught up in our own drama, our own self-abuse. In these difficult times, we can put ourselves into a trap of negativity which feeds on itself and feeds upon our hopelessness, drawing in all that we futilely protest that we do not want. So in its own deceptive way, we still choose to treat others in such a way that they will give back to us the negativity that we in fact are wanting in that moment.
But that kind of negativity is not how we are to live our lives. It is not the environment in which we can emotionally thrive, mature, create, and reach peace and fulfillment. But as with all things, we have to create the environment for ourselves that we truly desire. If everything moves in a circle – which it does – we need to send out that which we wish to receive back. The headlights coming toward us are the other end of the taillights we sent out ahead of us.
It is simply the Golden Rule. It applies to our close individuals, the casual acquaintances we encounter, the societies and nations which need to coexist. One presidential candidate proposed the Golden Rule as a new basis of U.S. foreign policy: “treat other nations as we would like them to treat us.” It inexplicably brought boos from a debate audience filled with people who would otherwise no doubt describe themselves as “a religious person.”
In virtually all religions the Golden Rule shows up in one form or another. In his book Toward a True Kinship of Faiths, the Dalai Lama tells of receiving a printed card at an interfaith gathering, on which was written:
· Hinduism: “This is the sum of duty; do naught onto others what you would not have them do unto you.” (Mahabharata 5:1517)
· Judaism: “What is hateful to you, do not do to your fellowman. This is the entire law; all the rest is commentary.” (Hillel, in the Talmud for the Sabbath 31a)
· Zoroastrianism: “That nature alone is good which refrains from doing to another whatsoever is not good for itself.” (Dadisten-I-dinik 94:5)
· Buddhism: “Since others too care for their own selves, those who care for themselves should not hurt others.” (Udanavarga 5:20)
· Jainism: “A man should wander about treating all creatures as he himself would be treated.” (Sutrakritanga 1.11:33)
· Daoism: “Regard your neighbor’s gain as your gain, and your neighbor’s loss as your own loss.” (Tai-shang kan-ying P’ien)
· Confucianism: “Do not do to others what you would not like yourself. Then there will be no resentment against you, either in the family or in the state.” (Analects 12:2)
· Christianity: “So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets.” (Matthew 7:12)
· Islam: “No one of you is a believer until he desires for his brother that which he desires for himself.” (Hadith of al-Nawawi 13)
The Jewish Torah/Old Testament gives us Ten Commandments for ethical and spiritual living. Similarly, it would worthwhile for each of us to identify the ten specific ways we would like others to treat us. It is not necessarily an easy list to write. But our ten ways also tell us ten specific ways we should treat others. Ten criteria to reflect on before we make decisions or take actions involving others. I have my list. What items are on yours?
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Seven Virtues of a Spiritual Life - Wisdom
There are, I believe, seven core virtues that we see in those who live a truly spiritual life: Patience, Lovingkindness, Forgiveness, Humility, Commitment, Trust, and Wisdom.
The truly Spiritual Person is not defined by the clothes and accessories she may wear. She is not proven by her quoting of spiritual texts. The Spiritual Person is not qualified by the certificates on her wall or the number of workshop receipts in her desk drawer. The truly Spiritual Person may look very different from others or live in a special enclosure; or she may look like everyone else, undistinguishable in appearance, living among us out of the spiritual spotlight.
Yet when we encounter a Spiritual Person, we somehow just know that we are in a special presence. We sense in that person all of those spiritual virtues discussed previously - Patience, Lovingkindness, Forgiveness, Humility, Commitment, and Trust. But we sense them not as separate distinguishable qualities, but as somehow all blended together into a larger whole. Each virtue interacts and melds with each other, informing and shaping and expanding, smoothing the edges and sharpening the content. All so effortlessly, naturally, without effort, without pretense. They are “just there” because they are all fully genuine.
In their sum, yet another virute emerges – Wisdom. The Spiritual Person knows that ultimately it is in Wisdom that we most closely approach our godliness, and it is Wisdom that we are here on earth to develop. Wisdom is not a “smart.” It is a knowing derived from thoughts, moving to action, generating reflection, interpreting to learning, repeated in a continuous cycle in every moment. Learning feeds the Seven Virtues of the Spiritual Person; the Seven Virtues nurture and give life to the Spiritual Person.
The Wisdom of the Spiritual Person is shared, not held jealously within. This Wisdom is not loud, not pushed out to where it is not welcomed, not overbearing. It is given when asked, a gift given freely and lovingly, selective to be exactly right for only this person in that particular moment. Once given, it is turned loose, left to flower or wither in the recipient’s own spiritual soil as appropriate.
In the Spiritual Person, Wisdom is easily recognizable. It speaks from a depth and breadth of experience and understanding; it is not shallow, superficial, cursory or flippant. This Wisdom is consistent, oblivious to current time and fashionable circumstances, yet always thoughtfully growing, never completed. This Wisdom is always mindful of its consequences and impact, spoken fully in this moment but drawn from a lifetime of continual learning. This Wisdom is at the core of the truly Spiritual Person.
The Spiritual Person is potentially each of us. We have only to listen to our Wisdom and let it grow in every moment, intertwined with all of the other Virtues. We let these Virtues grow until they envelop our every thought, our every word, our every action, in every circumstance, inclusive towards all people.
The truly Spiritual Person is not defined by the clothes and accessories she may wear. She is not proven by her quoting of spiritual texts. The Spiritual Person is not qualified by the certificates on her wall or the number of workshop receipts in her desk drawer. The truly Spiritual Person may look very different from others or live in a special enclosure; or she may look like everyone else, undistinguishable in appearance, living among us out of the spiritual spotlight.
Yet when we encounter a Spiritual Person, we somehow just know that we are in a special presence. We sense in that person all of those spiritual virtues discussed previously - Patience, Lovingkindness, Forgiveness, Humility, Commitment, and Trust. But we sense them not as separate distinguishable qualities, but as somehow all blended together into a larger whole. Each virtue interacts and melds with each other, informing and shaping and expanding, smoothing the edges and sharpening the content. All so effortlessly, naturally, without effort, without pretense. They are “just there” because they are all fully genuine.
In their sum, yet another virute emerges – Wisdom. The Spiritual Person knows that ultimately it is in Wisdom that we most closely approach our godliness, and it is Wisdom that we are here on earth to develop. Wisdom is not a “smart.” It is a knowing derived from thoughts, moving to action, generating reflection, interpreting to learning, repeated in a continuous cycle in every moment. Learning feeds the Seven Virtues of the Spiritual Person; the Seven Virtues nurture and give life to the Spiritual Person.
The Wisdom of the Spiritual Person is shared, not held jealously within. This Wisdom is not loud, not pushed out to where it is not welcomed, not overbearing. It is given when asked, a gift given freely and lovingly, selective to be exactly right for only this person in that particular moment. Once given, it is turned loose, left to flower or wither in the recipient’s own spiritual soil as appropriate.
In the Spiritual Person, Wisdom is easily recognizable. It speaks from a depth and breadth of experience and understanding; it is not shallow, superficial, cursory or flippant. This Wisdom is consistent, oblivious to current time and fashionable circumstances, yet always thoughtfully growing, never completed. This Wisdom is always mindful of its consequences and impact, spoken fully in this moment but drawn from a lifetime of continual learning. This Wisdom is at the core of the truly Spiritual Person.
The Spiritual Person is potentially each of us. We have only to listen to our Wisdom and let it grow in every moment, intertwined with all of the other Virtues. We let these Virtues grow until they envelop our every thought, our every word, our every action, in every circumstance, inclusive towards all people.
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