Making Room – From "Small and Full" to Spacious

ESR Director of Supervised Ministry Stephanie Crumley-Effinger delivered the following message in ESR Worship on February 20, 2014. You can read more from Stephanie on her blog, Surgery and Since.

Reading:

                    Indwelling
If thou couldst empty all thyself of self,
Like to a shell dishabited,
Then might He find thee on the Ocean shelf,
And say — "This is not dead," —
And fill thee with Himself instead.

But thou art all replete with very thou,
And hast such shrewd activity,
That, when He comes, He says — "This is enow *
Unto itself — 'Twere better let it be:
It is so small and full, there is no room for Me."

* enough

(Thomas Edward Brown, Old John and Other Poems, 1893 )

Scripture Readings:

Philippians 2: 5-7  NRSV
Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness.

Luke 10: 41b-2a
“you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one."

Mark 4: 39
[Jesus] got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, “Quiet! Be still!” Then the wind died down and it was completely calm.

Psalm 46: 10a
“Be still, and know that I am God . . ."

We live in a period of high demand for our energy, attention, and time. Multitasking, efficiency, and accomplishment are widely held up as virtues for all to achieve. In middle-class American culture, overworking is expected, and is typically a source of admiration, bragging points and self-esteem.

Communities of faith are no exception; I can’t find the source but see much evidence for the quote that "work is the drug of choice for the church". The sense of responsibility to live our faith by doing more for God and our needy world  tends to drown out the voices calling for centeredness, contemplation, and balance in life. While stewardship of the earth and of our time and finances are often addressed, there is relatively little said about stewardship of our bodies. In Christianity in general and in my own context of Quakers in specific, the influence of the ancient Gnostic anti-body attitude greatly affects us still.

Even while Quakers admire 18^th century John Woolman in changing his occupation so as to have less business responsibility and more time for centered listening and responding to God's leadings this is seen as an exception rather than a model for us.

My Christian formation and practice resulted in my seeing faithfulness as something that required a great deal of activity, to which my body needed to be a quiet and obedient servant. When it would protest, usually in the form of back pain, I was annoyed at having to give in to its insistence. After years of chiropractic care and then physical therapy, adding daily exercises and being careful about certain activities such as carrying heavy things or sitting for long periods of time were my only concessions to my body's needs.  I resented the limitations and felt a general sense of annoyance at my body, akin to how I experience a computer when it malfunctions or the washing machine when it breaks.

Then two years ago, in February of 2012, a number of small tumors were discovered in my liver, and after additional tests I was diagnosed with a slow-growing malignancy, carcinoid cancer, which had metastasized to my liver from a primary tumor in my intestines. Unlike most cancers, carcinoid, in the form that I have, develops very slowly and it can be years before treatments that are typically used for cancer, such as chemotherapy or radiation, are needed. That June I had surgery to remove the original tumor and, following a summer of recovery, returned to teaching. But after a few weeks I was experiencing tremendous fatigue and had to make major modifications to my activity level (such as sitting instead of standing) to get through my days. Another round of testing resulted in every test for a reason for this disabling lack of energy being negative. Last summer my oncologist concluded that I had cancer-related fatigue, which according to the National Comprehensive Cancer Network is found in 75% of people with metastatic cancer. A medical leave this past fall semester was devoted to seeking recovery. With the assistance of a clinical health psychologist who specializes in working with people who have fatigue, it was a valuable time of learning and growth such that I am able to be here this semester. It was successful not in eliminating the fatigue, but in diminishing it and in teaching me ways to manage it more effectively.

One of the most helpful parts of the treatment was an eight week course in Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction (MBSR), at the I. U. Simon Cancer Center in Indianapolis. Early in the course we were given the homework assignment for each day of the next week to sit for ten minutes in silence focusing on our breath. When thoughts came we were gently to release them rather than get drawn into thinking. I could hardly stand it. I was very restless and constantly distracted with thinking.  Despite being a quiet-appreciating Quaker for almost forty years, in learning mindfulness practice I discovered the extent to which, even in the silence of waiting worship or individual centering, my still body harbors a relentlessly busy mind.

For many years I had appreciated the [above] poem, especially the lines “thou art all replete with very thou, and hast such shrewd activity” and being “small and full”. Indeed I had often prayed to be large and spacious so that there would be more room for God. What I had failed to appreciate, though, was that my very ways of seeking God were themselves part of being small and full and “replete with very thou.” I had largely mastered the first level of being able to sit quietly, the second one of being less reliant on words, and the third step of moving my thoughts from making “to do” lists to focusing on spiritual questions and themes where God was working with me. But now I was being challenged to move to a fourth level of making room, that of stilling even my theological questions and thoughts, so as to present my mind and heart fully to God in the silence.

This was very helpful, although challenging but I wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that mindfulness practice and thus the MBSR course developed out of the Buddhist tradition. What did it mean for me as a Christian? Two questions became forcefully present -- How can I be both faithful and well?  What does it mean for living sustainably, as a good steward of my time, energy, gifts, commitments, and body, that the central figure of the Christian faith died?

I wondered the resources in Christian tradition for careful and kind stewardship of our bodies, since there is so much that reinforces a body-negating view. While that remains something for further exploration, I have been drawn to the theme of incarnation, of Jesus being present in a body. The first passage [above], from Philippians 2, is set in the context of Jesus’ diminishing of himself from divine to human, and Paul’s model for acting in mutually caring ways toward one another. But what I lift out for our consideration is that Jesus being present in human form can be seen as an affirmation of the importance of being embodied. Presumably God could have simply sent a spiritual resource, but instead we are told that God’s method was to provide a person, a someone, a presence integrating bodyspiritmind. Or as John I:14 states, “the Word became flesh and lived among us”. Similarly, the Genesis stories of God creating the world celebrate in loving detail the physical, material creation. This is especially visible in the Genesis 2: 7 account of God forming the first human being by hand and breathing life into this being.     

The call to be still and focused is a gift of the other three scripture passages -- from Luke, Jesus inviting Martha to stewardship of that moment, from Mark the story of Jesus stilling the storm, and from Psalm 46 the admonition to be still and know God. In these and many other sources, the Christian tradition is replete with guidance to take time from the fullness of activity and thoughts, to make room for God.

Some of the words of the guided imagery CD that my friend loaned me were a bit startling to hear: “ . . . my body has been teaching me something useful, that this cancer has been challenging me to learn and change and grow.” “I tell this cancer these things: ‘thank you for teaching me to stop and listen. Thank you for reminding me of what is truly important. You can go now.’" These words were a bit startling to hear but they are absolutely true to and resonant with my experience of the past two years.

I encourage you, especially if being “small and full” and treating your body like a machine are issues for you also, to make room for God by stilling yourself and seeking to be a faithful steward of God’s gift of your own precious and unique incarnation in this your body in this and succeeding moments. May it not take a “wake-up call” from your body, such as I have gotten, for you to do so.

To lead into open worship, here are words of George Fox, adapted by Paulette Meier:

“Be still and cool in thy own mind and spirit, from thy own thoughts. Then thou wilt feel the principle of God, to turn thy mind to the Lord God, whereby thou wilt receive God’s strength and power from whence life comes; whereby thou wilt receive God’s strength, to allay all blustering storms and tempests.”

FLGBTQC Mid-Winter Gathering

ESR student Justimore Musombi reflects on his trip to the Friends for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, and Queer Concerns 2014 Mid-Winter Gathering in Portland, Oregon:

A view at the Menucha Retreat & Conference Center

I recently attended my first FLGBTQC Mid-Winter Gathering at Menucha Retreat & Conference Center in Portland, Oregon. I treated it as a mini-vacation from my busy and stressful everyday school life. Well, that was my initial take on my retreat day until I finally came to the realization I had during my time there. It wasn't just a vacation. It was a time for me to be able to take a break from my usual life and take a step back to take a look at where I am at the moment and where I want to be in the future.

This was a spiritual growth retreat which blends contemplation and community. Emphasis was on the worship sharing groups, along with ample time for the solitude of prayer, meditation, and reflection. This was a time for all of us delegates to come together to renew our spirits and re-center ourselves through time in the Christian community and intentional time with God.

The theme of the conference was about “Inclusivity” which was well expounded by Mariana Ruybalid. Another topic that we studied was semi-programmed meeting for worship on the theme of theological diversity led by Alivia Biko, pastor of Freedom Friends Church. I also had an opportunity to lead a workshop based on my spiritual journey as a Kenyan Quaker. I shared about my life history, my conversion and call in the ministry, and my understanding of the Bible and homosexuality based on the Kenyan context.

As I am about to finish my Master's of Divinity degree with hopefully two semesters left, I needed that time to know what God intends for me to do as I begin a new chapter in my professional/work life. The retreat was an eye-opener for me. I got to know myself better through the questions asked in our worship sharing groups, each of which had different intentions. An example was the the question “What is my passion?” This made me think of what I would love to do or what I am interested in, disregarding the degree I am taking and what is it about. Honestly, I am not happy with where I am right now and knowing my passion could help me find another path that I could take because doing what I love to do could or might be the best thing.

Justimore (2nd from left) marching in the Indy Pride Parade in 2013

Another question asked was “What is my biggest or most important question in my life as of the moment?” My answer to is was “Why is there need for me to suffer, be dishonored with my family, friends, and church based on my sexual orientation?” My reason was, “I'm just curious to know why because why do I need to suffer if we are all Christians and the Bible says that God is Love and we need to love all people even the unlovable ones? Can't we just all be happy instead?” I don't know but my question sounds cliché. Maybe I am to suffer for me to remember that God is always there for me. And that  I can always find refuge, security and rest in Him.

The retreat also reminded me that in everything that I do, do it for the greater glory of the Lord. There are times when it is hard for me to be productive with God in my mind because I get caught up with mundane things. The solution I was presented during the worship sharing groups was that I need to let go that which holds me back and hinders God's spirit to be manifested in my life.

I am so grateful for Earlham School of Religion for the traveling assistance and West Richmond Friends Meeting for my registration fees. I was given chance to share about ESR. I discovered that most people at the retreat didn't know much about ESR. I was lucky to find friends who showed interest of coming to ESR for further studies. It was such a wonderful moment in my life to connect with my tribe and my new family. Glory be to God!

Bringing Them Home: Warriors Becoming Citizens, Citizens Becoming Companions

Thomas Swann shares his thoughts on Earlham School of Religion’s 2014 Willson Lectures featuring Rita Nakashima Brock:

A person can be hard pressed to pigeon hole Rita Nakashima Brock into a single label: feminist, theologian, reverend, protester; she moves with intention but also with the grace of an adventurer that knows the road often brings us to the unexpected, which is a gift of grace.  Her arrival to her current work as the co-creator of the Soul Repair Center at Brite Divinity School brings her journey to an issue exploding on our country's fabric of moral wholeness.  This year alone some 140,000 soldiers are expected to return from Afghanistan and start the journey back towards becoming the individuals they once were. “Without a new social, emotional, spiritual system that can help veterans of war move from a military system to civilian life, we sentence many of them to military cocoons or lonely states of limbo from which transition is nigh impossible.”

Bringing the warrior back home to their family starts at the end of the gateway at a local airport each and every day as deployments come to a close. Familiar scenes of joy, tears and relief are just the start however. Brock believes that bringing them to a place of wholeness is a journey demanding the cultivation of long-term friendships, which are as intentional as the course that molded them into the effective soldier that they became during 8 weeks of warrior formation known as boot camp.  As the soldier is trained to act upon a moral code of conduct essential to successful war campaigns with automatic response to orders of destruction, “moral reconditioning creates new moral systems” that does not eliminate the warrior code but lays upon it a new set of understandings that can bring healing and repair to the moral injuries of war.

In a series of lectures delivered at Earlham School of Religion she developed layers of understanding as to what is necessary to accompany returning soldiers in the often foreign journey of reentering a peacetime culture.   The tools to accompany this traverse come from a diverse palette ranging from the latest neuroscience to the ancient rhythms of ritual as displayed in the Navajo “way” blessings that draw a community into a 9-day healing focus of singularity and commitment. At the heart of moral injury is a brokenness that goes well beyond the body of the individual and leaves families and cultural institutions in a shambles. However it is the soldier with the broken soul who often reaches a place of lifeless existence and in alarming rates takes his or her life to end the pain.

Brock sees the church as a place where communities can step into a common energy of decompression and healing.   “The church is the only institution that commits to an individual from life to death” and thus has the potential to walk as a companion in this uncharted territory. At a time when the church seems to be seeking redefinition as its relevance is questioned by declining participation, the opportunity of forming new alliances and ways of bringing comfort to anguished souls cannot be missed. A warrior nation that does not return its warriors to full societal participation does not sustain itself. Hopefully, the sharing and acknowledging of the deep spiritual injury to our humanity may also shift the paradigm of aggression that dominates our current measures of choice in conflict resolution.

No one must look far into his or her own family or along the street to see the consequences of our country's inability to welcome back our soldiers to a world of wholeness, hope and possibility. We, even if a conflicted we, drove them into a place that has horrors that must be released and relived towards a place of return to something new and full of the marrow of life. The journey, as for Brock, has interesting turns for each of us and moves across boundaries of comfort. 

Rita Nakashima Brock is an accomplished woman of substance who finds a certain irony that her life has led her into conversations of partnership with people that once were on the other side of protest lines and now she sits with them at tables looking into the same pool of neglect and carnage. Generals and poets, scholars and citizens all can help to bring these injured souls back into the presence that they left behind not all that long ago. As we learn to serve these wounded warriors with our deep listening to their stories we may actually be taught by their companionship that good work can lead to new creation, bringing old and new into a flow of formation, which heals beyond our imagination. This is not a journey for the meek or self-absorbed. Anger will accompany this journey; silence, bewilderment and amazement. The narrative stories of these warriors are piling up on the shelves but so also are their bodies. The bodies, the loss, comes from not embracing “our body”, not to treat, but to walk, heart to heart, one single step at a time until they truly are home. Until our morality shifts and becomes inclusive to the wounds of moral injury their lives are bleeding a slow death.

Rita calls out in many directions, firmly and with penetration. One of her convictions is “that congregations are one place that should be welcoming veterans home, but few have committed to this work. It should not be undertaken with just simple good intentions, though good intentions matter a great deal. To welcome veterans into a community's life, we need to understand how to assist the transition from the values of military life to religious life. We must advocate for better services for treating PTSD, and we must support veterans' families and all they go through to welcome veterans home.” If we can spend endless resources to make them warriors what is the fair equivalent upon their return?

After sitting through a day of captivating and thought-provoking presentations the truth is that it is estimated that another 24 victims of moral injury have taken their lives to ease the pain. Yes, one an hour, day after day. I am left wondering if I can I say this is important enough to my sense of morality, important enough to move out of comfort and join in the discomfort. It only matters if my yes is followed by a step towards this new walk in a way different than we have chosen to this point in this war and all the others that have occupied our history.

Thomas Swann is a member of the Earlham School of Religion community and studies writing as ministry. This piece is a combination of information noted during the Willson Lectures and the reading of a series of posts by Rita Nakashima Brock in a BeaconPress Broadside. Thomas may be reached at swannth@earlham.edu and tomasswann.wordpress.com. 

Media as a Mirror of Faith

Incoming MDiv student Angela Nevitt Roesler reflects on being mindful in a world of information:

When it comes to recognizing how our faith affects our daily lives (our choices and our behaviors), S. Joan Chittister makes a wonderfully powerful and concise observation in her book, In Search of Belief:

“Until I discover the God in which I believe, I will never understand another thing about my own life.  If my God is harsh judge, I will live in unquenchable guilt.  If my God is Holy Nothingness, I will live a life of cosmic loneliness.  If my God is taunt and bully, I will live my life impaled on the pin of a grinning giant.  If my God is life and hope, I will live my life in fullness overflowing forever.”

I have been thinking about this particular statement lately, and about the indicators around me that can help me see what kind of God I’m allowing to manifest in my life.  Since the information we ingest on a daily basis has such a huge impact on the way we understand and interact with the world around us (including our God!), I wonder if we can assess it as a spiritual checkpoint, or mirror?  

What do our patterns of media consumption say about our relationship with God?  Who is the God we seek to animate in our lives via the media we choose to feed our minds?  Is it a God of life and hope, leading us to fullness in our own lives?

After all, the age-old adage goes, we are what we eat… and as it would seem, we consume more media/ideas than food!  (Interesting statistics here.)

These questions remind me a lot of the Cherokee Legend of the two wolves where a grandfather teaches his grandson how to know whether "good or evil" will win over the struggles of one's inner life.  In the end, the spirit that wins is the one that we feed... If we apply that same analogy to the case of media consumption, we know that what we seek will begin seeking to connect with us in return thanks to evolving marketing tools.  What a striking and specific example to be mindful of what we attract!

On a broad scale, TV and radio adjust content to majority ratings – so you may not personally see more of what you like if you aren’t in the majority, but what is playing is always indicative and ever adjusting to social trends and desires.

The Internet, on the other hand, works via its intelligent search and social media engines to give us each more of what we individually want (and less of what we ignore) – without us ever having to think about it.  That being the case, we can easily find ourselves in a “small world” of our own design where our exposures are more or less limited by our likes, subscriptions, and “follows.”  How important to recognize the world we are creating for ourselves – and that we are significantly empowered to influence and improve the quality of our environment.

So, back to my original question, if we take time to assess our online interactions and news, what can we learn about our relationship with God?  What do our followings, interactions, and activities reveal to us about our beliefs?  Are they harsh and critical?  Taunt and bully?  Filled with life and hope?  Does the reality of the picture they paint jive with the God of our hearts?  If not, what new "seeking" (liking/following/ subscribing) or pruning might we do to change the flow of information and create an opening for a more expansive God to shine through for us?

I think when we are indoctrinated in a certain way of seeing the world that it can be hard to believe that any other way exists – but when we really pause and seek change, new things emerge.  One of my friends who I love following posted a beautiful quote on Facebook today... "Always believe that something wonderful is about to happen."  I think that's a great thought to feed upon.

In 2014, let’s be mindful of the world of information that we submerse ourselves in and seek to consciously shape our surroundings in the image of our most loving creator God.  If we pay attention to the clues of our informational surroundings and adjust what we “ingest” (and generate!) to help us stay connected with the God we believe in, I wonder what new things will emerge!

Ultimately, if we believe, like Joan, in a God of life and hope, hopefully the environments we submerse ourselves in (including media) will reflect and support us in that!

Beyond Beliefs

ESR Director of Recruitment and Admissions Matt Hisrich reflects on John David Geib's recent book Beyond Beliefs:

“This book of words is for all of us who are seeking for more than just words.” With this invitation, retired Malone University theology professor and founding dean of the Logos Institute John David Geib begins his exploration of a Christian faith that is not hostile to postmodern culture. “Post-modernity opened the door to personal experiences,” says Geib, and “[f]or me, this means Our Present Time is a time to return to the experiences, beyond words, pointed to in the original writings of the first followers of Jesus” (emphasis original).

The lengthy introduction is an embrace of this idea. Geib shares openly about his own struggles with faith and culture and how the nonreligious environment in which he was formed shaped how he ultimately came to a strong faith. He sees the development of atomic energy and LSD as key moments that both marked the zenith of the modern era and the beginnings of the postmodern era, as humanity saw that scientific progress could bring destruction with it. This is the most personal section of the book and also the most successful in dialoguing with those from a postmodern perspective.

Already, though, postmodern readers might sense cause for concern when Geib employs phrases to describe them such as “Post-Modern humans” (xxvii). To whom is this book really addressed?  I think it’s fair to say that the primary audience is not “Post-Modern humans.” He makes this clear toward the end of the book when – apparently addressing another audience – he says that “Experiential story sharing, or narrative communication, may represent an initial contact point with those who consider themselves Post-modern.”

To some extent, this helps explain the structure of the book. On the one hand he seems to be offering an empathetic historical account of how postmodern thinking came into being so as to help those from other perspectives gain some understanding rather than simply being dismissive. On the other hand, though, he clearly operates out of - and argues for - a very clearly defined orthodoxy. He emphasizes a non-denominational perspective, but one that (while it may cut across denominations) is nonetheless arranged (book title aside) along a fairly specific belief set.

The transition from chapter one to subsequent chapters is jarring in this regard. Almost immediately Geib shifts from personal experience as his point of reference to a heavy reliance on proof-texting scripture to establish his position.

“Irreligious readers may get bogged down,” The Kirkus Review of the book cautions, “by continual references to biblical passages.”

This approach creates a tension between what Geib says he is trying to do – getting beyond words and beliefs to a direct experience of Christ – and what he actually does on the page – outline a set of words and beliefs about what that direct experience looks like. Here, for example, he describes what we might call a “beyond belief” experience:

“Many in our Post-modern age have stopped believing that words can describe reality or objective standards. They are not primarily logocentric, or word centered, in their lived experience. I am returning to the experience of the supernatural persuasions of The Holy Spirit. I now see more than ever that depending primarily on the supernatural, interior persuasions of The Holy Spirit that are beyond mere words will ultimately lead people to authentic experiences with Jesus” (emphasis original, 32).

But later, he shares what can only be described as a doctrinal statement of belief:

“Jesus taught His first friends and followers that The Father, Jesus, and The Holy Spirit shared with one another Oneness, their common Eternal Deity, from all eternity. Jesus temporarily gave up the use of this type of Oneness with God, the use of Jesus’ Deity, and assumed the limitations of living as a human. As a true human, Jesus exchanged His human life for us so that we would receive His eternal Life.” (53)

This latter statement is chock-full of specific theological viewpoints about trinity, atonement, and the nature of God and Christ. These are positions that Christians have discussed and debated since the earliest days of the faith. If we are to get “beyond beliefs” to genuine relationship with Jesus, then why is it so important to articulate this particular conception of the life and work of Jesus? Geib continues in this vein later as he explains how God’s eternal, omniscient, and omnipotent nature resolves many theological concerns – again advancing a particular understanding of who God is (86-87).

His view of scripture provides another example. On page 59 he states in an open-ended way that, “The words of the scriptures, as signs on a highway do, point not to themselves but to the way, or in the case of the scriptures, to The Way, Jesus” (emphasis original). Several pages later, though, he follows this by describing “Jesus as believing that the teaching Jesus gave before being glorified was also inspired by God and thus authoritative” (62-65). This, Geib says, is “clear beyond dispute ” (65).

Modern and post-modern distinctions aside, of particular theological concern to this reviewer is Geib’s repeated emphasis on the very limited value of humanity. “God needs nothing from humans in any way to bring about God’s sovereign plans” (87). This is a strong theological claim, and certainly not an uncontested one. A reader might justifiably ask why humans exist at all, and why God seems so interested in working with and through us.

With reference to Jesus, Geib argues that “Exchanging Life with Jesus is Jesus giving repeat performances of His Life in anyone who allows Jesus to do so” (49). Geib’s vision of God (at least as presented here) seems fairly self-referential, leaving little room for God’s love of individual human beings in all of their uniqueness operating in unique times and places in the world.

Geib, left, with fellow retired Malone professor John Oliver. The new company Oliver House Publishing, launched by Geib, Oliver, and Stanford Terhune - published Beyond Beliefs.

Geib’s association with Malone University, which was founded by Friends, and his listing of Robert Barclay’s Apology as one of several “Specific Christian creedal beliefs that I agree with,” on his Logos Institute bio page, indicates a potential point of contact with current Quakers, postmodern or otherwise. Much of what Geib says about direct experience with the divine should actually resonate strongly with Quaker theology. The whole effort to get “beyond beliefs” and move toward personal narrative and an inward experience of Christ rather than the mere repetition of scripture is one that the Religious Society of Friends has been working on for centuries.

It was Margaret Fell, after all, who in the 1600s became a convinced Friend after hearing George Fox raise the challenge, “You will say, Christ saith this, and the apostles say this; but what canst thou say?”  While there are points of connection with Quaker ideas, though, many Friends – again, postmodern or otherwise – might bristle at some the creedal language informing the bulk of his theological statements. This, of course, gets us back to the heart of the general tension at work in the book.

One way to read this book would be to see Geib holding these two pieces together – postmodernism and doctrinal, textual authority – as a way to accomplish a tactical maneuver. Maybe this is really a manual for how “moderns” might try to more successfully evangelize “post-moderns.” My sense, though, is that he is genuinely speaking from his experience and trying to begin a dialogue. Perhaps a better way of reading “Beyond Beliefs,” then, is as a memoir – an account of one man’s effort to reconcile his upbringing with where he finds himself now. He makes it clear that he has been wrestling with the boundaries of belief his whole life when he shares that “My parents raised me in a loving home without any formal religious beliefs… Little t truths existed for me, but Capital T truth? No!” (14-15).

If readers approach “Beyond Beliefs” in this way, and understand Geib’s intent as “an initial contact point with those who consider themselves Post-modern,” then it becomes easier to set aside the lack of engagement with real-life, flesh-and-blood postmodern humans in this book. Readers can hope that this initial contact point then becomes the first title in a series.

Perhaps Geib could take up this task through an open and honest dialogue with those he is writing about. Would he consider, for instance, co-authoring a book with someone who considers themselves postmodern? Or maybe he could begin some small group discussions and one-on-one interviews with this group and share these along with his own processing and reflections on the matter.

This is important, because there really is worthwhile work to do in building a bridge between a culture of skepticism toward orthodoxy and textual authority on the one hand, and one rooted in those very attributes. This is a project “for all of us who are seeking for more than just words,” and I am confident we all have much to learn. As Geib reminds us:

“Whenever we focus on the letter of the Bible, no matter how well-intentioned, we can supplant and can even kill the unity of The Spirit and faith in Jesus. Whenever we begin to confuse Jesus The Word with our understandings of the Bible and our third-level understandings of the Christian faith, our sermons, teachings, doctrinal statements and stories, we can supplant and even kill the unity of The Spirit and faith in Jesus... When that happens, we may allow the letter of the words of God and our own words to kill our possible experience of oneness with Jesus and one another” (emphasis original, 65-66). 

Gratitude, Justice, Mystery

Earlham School of Religion Assistant Professor and Ministry of Writing Program Director Ben Brazil delivered the following message in ESR worship on Thursday, November 21: 

Let me begin with a surprise:  On the last programmed worship before Thanksgiving, I have opted to speak about  … wait for it … gratitude.

Creative right?  No, creative it’s not.

But it is current.  The word gratitude has kind of an old fashioned ring to it, but among writers on spirituality and scholars of human happiness – or, scholars of positive psychology as it’s also known – gratitude has made a come back.   

For example, I was pretty sure I’d find something when I Googled “Oprah” and “gratitude.”  And, sure enough, there it was - I found a page on Oprah.com explaining “what Oprah knows for sure about gratitude.”  In this post, Oprah describes how she used to keep a gratitude journal, where she listed, daily, things for which she was grateful.  

So, here is a partial list of things Oprah was grateful for on Oct. 12, 1996:  “sorbet in a cone,” “eating cold melon on the beach in the sun,” and Maya Angelou calling me to read a new poem.”

And I get it.  I mean, I always feel grateful when Maya calls me.

But after 1996, Oprah became even more successful and became more of a mega celebrity.  But  - yes, you guessed it – she let her gratitude journal slip.  So you know how this is going to go:  Oprah ultimately realized she was more successful, but not nearly so happy.  So Oprah tells us what she knows for sure:  I quote:

“I know for sure that appreciating whatever shows up for you in life changes your personal vibration. You radiate and generate more goodness for yourself when you're aware of all you have and not focusing on your have-nots.”

Gratitude makes us happier. Oprah knows it for sure.

But it’s not just Oprah that thinks so.   The University of California at Berkeley’s Greater Good Science Center funds research that “ studies the psychology, sociology, and neuroscience of well-being, and teaches skills that foster a thriving, resilient, and compassionate society.”

Want to guess one of the core themes of the Greater Good Science Center?  Yes, I’ve got another surprise: one of them is gratitude.  And what they’re finding is striking – that people who practice gratitude consistently report benefits.   These include:

•         Stronger immune systems and lower blood pressure;

•         Higher levels of positive emotions;

•         More joy, optimism, and happiness;

•         Acting with more generosity and compassion;

•         Feeling less lonely and isolated.

So they’ve put $5.6 million into a three year project to “expand the scientific database of gratitude” and “promote evidence-based practices of gratitude” throughout society.

So let me summarize where the trends are for this Thanksgiving 2013:  Discontent is out, and gratitude is in. 

So, naturally, I’m suspicious.  I’m suspicious of a lot of things, including trends and style.  But I’m also suspicious of happiness and, well, happy people.  Are you happy all the time?  You might make me suspicious.  Sorry, just saying.  So if someone tells me gratitude makes me happy, I start to wonder if maybe I should consider being more ungrateful – just, you know, to be on the safe side.  As kind of a hedge.

Also, all this talk about gratitude puts my bad theology sensors on high alert.  Are we really being grateful so we feel better about ourselves?  Is this just another way to ignore all the structures of sin in the world and feel better about our own narcissism?  Is this just an addendum to our self-satisfaction?  “Not only do I have mine,” we crow, “but I’m also happy, because I’m grateful.

Like I said, I’m kind of a suspicious person. 

But here’s the problem, at least for me:  I have a ton to be grateful for.  I have a happy marriage and two healthy boys.   I have a level of financial security.   And at a time when lots of my grad school friends are in deep, existential despair over the possibility of never getting a job despite 10 years of school and a ton of debt, I am here doing what I want at a school I love and whose mission I believe in.

Of course, there are sources of gratitude other than family, security and work.  That’s obvious.  But if I can’t be grateful, I’ve got problems. 

I know it.  People, including me, have described these turns in my life as blessings.  And they feel like blessings.  To consider them anything else feels – well – ungrateful.

But then the suspicious guy, the cynic, the theologian chimes in – why a blessing for you and not for others?   If you consider yourself blessed by God, must you consider others cursed by God?   What, exactly, are you grateful for.  Why are you grateful?

So, somehow, instead of meditating on gratitude, I end up pondering theodicy, more popularly known as the problem of evil.  In its classic form, it runs something like this:  How can a God who is both all-powerful and good permit – even cause – all the suffering in the world?

 If God causes blessing, doesn’t God also cause suffering?  And then we’re into the much larger question of how God relates to God’s creation.

So, in a really informal way, I started playing with options.   Disclaimer:  These are not academic theology, but my own back of the envelope, mulling-things-over-in-the-shower thinking.   But here they are:

First, maybe I was just lucky.  Maybe what I call blessings are nothing more than dumb luck.   As I was considering this option last night, Jason Griffith emailed me a quote from Douglas Adams, author of the Hitchhiker’sGuide to the Galaxy.  Adams says this:

What to do if you find yourself stuck in a crack in the ground underneath a giant boulder you can't move, with no hope of rescue. Consider how lucky you are that life has been good to you so far. Alternatively, if life hasn't been good to you so far, which given your current circumstances seems more likely, consider how lucky you are that it won't be troubling you much longer.

It’s funny, but it points to something.    In a world driven only by luck, with no purpose, does gratitude make any sense? To whom are you grateful?  After all, your luck may be about to change.

Or here’s a second option:  maybe I have these so-called blessings only because of structural inequality.  I was born a white guy, to a doctor, in our modern American Empire, at something like it’s peak.   Maybe what I called blessing was simply injustice in a thin disguise.

Now, this one I really have to think about.  After all, understanding blessing as injustice is not a bad read of the American mythology of Thanksgiving, is it?  God provides, and pilgrims and Indians sit down together for a bountiful Thanksgiving feast.   All is well, all is providentially provided.

I don’t think I have to explain, to this group, that there are other ways to tell the story of Pilgrims and Indians.

So maybe structural injustice explains my blessings.  But if I have the life I have only because of injustice, does it make any sense to feel gratitude?  Isn’t guilt the appropriate response?

So, Happy Thanksgiving !  Go eat turkey, be with family, and feel really, really guilty.  Then have another glass of wine.  Or two.

No.  I still think the Christian tradition calls us – calls me – to gratitude.  I think the Holy Spirit calls me to gratitude, and I think scripture does the same.  I’m not willing to trade gratitude for guilt.  It feels wrong.  And – what’s more important – it just utterly saps the energy I need to resist those same structures of oppression.  Even if guilt were appropriate, I’m just not convinced it works. 

 In my experience, hope, community, and even anger are what bring me to protests, what encourage me to get involved, what motivate me to fight (non-violently, of course).   Yes, we need a moment of conviction, of seeing things anew, and that may involve a recognition of guilt.  I think of Jesus appearing to Saul on the road to Damascus, and asking “Saul, why do you persecute me?”  Now, there’s a moment for guilt, right?   But Paul, somehow, moves past that into hope, passion, and action.  

And – as much as it makes me suspicious – the gratitude researchers also find that gratitude makes us more generous and compassionate.  And I DO believe those are fruits of the spirit.

So what do we do?  How do I – do we – reconcile with gratitude in good faith?   Now, some people don’t need a metaphysics or a systematic theology to embrace gratitude.   They just do it.  God bless them, I wish I worked that way.   But if I did, I wouldn’t have ended up teaching at a seminary.  I have to think things through.  Maybe you do, too.

So, in the time I have remaining, I am going to put forth my own, systematic theology of providence.  Naturally, doing so will also require me to describe how God creates, sustains, and relates to the world.  I think I can do it.  We have like 15 or 20 minutes before Peace Forum, right?

No.  Obviously, I can’t answer my questions or calm my doubts about blessing and providence.  That would take nearly an hour, and we just don’t have it.

So I’m going to continue to think, and read, and ponder.  But I do think it’s important to say, at least in passing, that there are interesting theological answers to this problem.  Sallie McFague, for example, has argued that we focus too much on the whys and hows of God’s creation and governance of the world – which are theoretical questions -- and not nearly enough on the “where” – on the creation right here, in front of us.   That’s a practical question.

So, to shift our focus, she asks us to consider all of creation God’s body.   We don’t try to explain God’s body – which includes us – we just know we need to care for it – all of it.   No part of the body can be healthy if other parts are sick, neglected, or starving.  Gratitude means loving where you are -- linked, as it is, to everything else that is.

Many, many other theologians have taken on the question of how God relates to suffering, blessing, and everything else that goes on in God’s world.

Of course, we could also try something novel - listening to scripture.  Let’s listen again to Philippinas 4: 4-7:

Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! 5 Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. 6 Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. 7 And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

If we listen carefully, we hear Paul linking thanksgiving to prayer, to joy, and to gentleness,  Paul does not say that giving thanks means you – or your world – has everything it needs.  He says give thanks as you continue to ask, as you continue to pray, as you continue to trust, to hope against all evidence that the Lord is near.

This attitude is an antidote to anxiety, Paul tells us.  But I think it’s also an antidote to another vice Paul writes about – pride.   To be grateful is to acknowledge that whatever you have, you did not get it by yourself.   Gratitude has a direction – it points outside of you.  If you have blessings, something outside of you provided them.   Maybe it’s God, maybe it’s others, maybe it’s even structural injustice.  But surely the very fact that gratitude suggests our dependence – our interdependence – on creation and on each other makes it a virtue.  Certainly, it can be a counterbalance to the heartless version of capitalism that currently structures our world.

So, I can’t explain how providence works.  Who knows?  One of the theologians could be right.   Some theories are probably better than others.  But, as a good Catholic – or as good a Catholic I can be in this job – I am drawn to an explanation we Catholics use all the time – mystery.  We don’t know how God reconciles blessing and suffering, but somehow God does.  But we do know we are not self-sufficient.  So if we are alive, if we are not in pain, if we have some source of joy, we can and should say thank you.  It leads us beyond ourselves.

And, again, I think that’s key – it leads us beyond ourselves.  Here I am, a member of the American Empire’s most privileged group, at something near that Empire’s Peak.   That means I am one of the most privileged – blessed? – people ever to live on this planet.  So are most of us here.

So, living with mystery, I am grateful.   And I pray that that gratitude does lead me outside of myself, does give me the hope and energy to cast off anxious concern for my own security and instead to live generously,  to live justly.  I pray that I  -- we – can care for the rest of God’s body – the sick part.  I pray that we can use our luck, or fortune, or blessings, or unfair privilege not in a way that guiltily frets, or that anxiously hordes, but in a way that insists on spreading blessing.

So, I do not understand.  But I am grateful.  Thanks be to God.

More Words Will Not Work

ESR alum and current Richmond First Friends pastor Derek Parker delivered this message during worship there on Sunday, November 3, 2013:

          When I served the Friends meeting in Irvington, I had 3 different occasions to travel to Washington, DC for programs run by the Quaker ministry center named William Penn House.  Each time that I traveled, I traveled overnight by train.  And because I didn’t want to park my car in the somewhat disreputable, downtown, Indianapolis parking garages…  I would park at the Irvington meetinghouse, and call a taxi-cab.  Every time I did this, the same thing happened.

          The cab driver, seeing that he was picking me up in front of a house of worship, would look at the sign in front of the meetinghouse.  And each driver said to me, “So this is a Quaker church.  So what do Quakers believe?”

          This is a common question.  Many of us probably have faced this same question.

          Its not an easy question to answer.  And I wonder if it is perhaps not the most helpful question to ask, but it is the question we often begin with. 

          And how do we answer the question, “What do Quakers believe?”  The diversity of opinion can be staggering.  I’ve joked that if you ask 4 Quakers the question, “What do Quakers believe?”, you will get at least 5 answers.  One person will present one list of beliefs, and somebody else will present another list of beliefs.  If we are lucky, those lists will have some overlap.  Others among us will be even more nuanced and say, “Well on one hand this, but on the other hand that.”   

          Sometimes I’ve been tempted to answer the question by resorting to bibliography.  I’ve wanted to hand the person asking the question, about 20 Pendle Hill Pamphlets, a copy of the Jounral of George Fox, and a few Parker Palmer books.  But that would not be helpful.  Most sincere seekers don’t know where to begin with all those writings, and more casual seekers are demanding an answer that is concise.

          Then there is the historic phenomenon that Friends as a faith community have largely avoided using creeds and written formulas of faith.  In the Catholic, Lutheran, and Anglican traditions there are creeds named the Nicene Creed and the Apostle’s Creed; which consist of lists of things those Christians are supposed to believe. 

For example, the Apostle’s Creed says…

I believe in God the Father almighty, maker of heaven and earth.  I believe in Jesus Christ his only son our Lord.  He was conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit and born of the Virgin Mary.  He suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried.  He descended to the dead.  On the third day he rose again.  He ascended into heaven, and is seated at the right hand of the Father.  He will come again to judge the living and the dead.  I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy Catholic church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting.

Those are a lot of words about a lot of beliefs.  And in my opinion not a bad list, but perhaps not the list that every faithful Quaker would write down if asked to speak in our own words.  So our community doesn’t use the Nicene Creed nor the Apostle’s Creed – and so we don’t have such creeds to hand to people who ask us the question.

          What do Quakers believe?  I wonder if that question leaves out something important.

          How a question is asked, can frame the answers, and thus limit our answers.  If somebody asks you the question, “Wouldn’t you be happier with a different job?” … the natural answers are yes and no.  Either “yes” you would be happier with a different job, or “no” you would not be happier with a different job.  Issues around quality of supervision, fairness of compensation, and scheduling are all left off the table because of how the question is asked about your job.  And it then takes a lot of work to move those other issues on to the table.

          What do Quakers believe?  The question is common, but it won’t take us very far.  We need to reach for those things that have been left off the table because of the limitations present in the question we’ve been asked.  We could begin with a belief that God is at work in all people, whether or not we know what that work is.  But then, what do we bring from elsewhere onto the table?

          People of many ages have demanded religious formulas that would make understanding Christianity very easy.  In the time of Paul, the formulas were not always about what one believes, as it was about who one followed as your pastor.  At the church in Corinth some people would say “I am a Christian because I follow Paul”…  “or because I follow Apollos”…  “or because I follow Cephas.”  And Paul told the Corinthians to set aside the formulas that were based on who your pastor was.  Christ was the only pastor that mattered.  Paul then asked people to reach beyond the wisdom of their age, with its focus on who your leader was.  What they needed to reach for was the Spirit that searches everything: that searches the inner thoughts of people, that searches the depths of God, and that searches our relationship with God.  And these things can not be taught by mere human words.  They can only be taught by our first-hand experience of the Spirit.

          Formulas are not enough.  They can be intellectually interesting, but are not compelling across the long run.  They may give us a place to begin, but each belief we begin with needs something more.  It isn’t enough to say we believe in peace, nor to hand somebody a Parker Palmer book.  We could begin there.  But something more is needed.

          BenjaminFranklin once asked Michael Whohlfart (an obscure German Pietist who converted to Quakerism) why his sect did not publish a creed.  Michael replied in words strikingly familiar to modern Quakers…

We are not sure that we have arrived at the end of this progression.  And we fear that if we should print a confession of faith we would feel ourselves bound by it, and confined to it, and perhaps become unwilling to receive further improvement.

Franklin replied that this degree of spiritual modesty is perhaps “singular” – almost unique - in a world where the wisdom of Franklin’s age demanded that one Christian sect had to be the sole owner of the truth. 

          There is good news here for you and me.  Beliefs matter, even if truth has no singular human owner.  If any of us believe in peace, or God, or forgiveness…  it does make a difference.  But simply creating a list of religious ideas, and saying they are true, is not enough.  No more sufficient than Paul’s Corinthians, who felt satisfied by claiming Paul, or Apollos, or Cephas as their pastor.  They also needed something more.  And that something more is a very good thing.

          Christian faith is not a set of ideas we simply stand on top of.  Christian faith is a response to the experience of the God of Jesus Christ.  We have experiences that inform beliefs.  And from those experiences and beliefs, we respond with the whole of our lives.  And this is the additional very good thing.  Quakers and some others have known that faith is not a belief to stand on top of, but that faith is a spiritual practice that compels us forward as we are moved by the Spirit.

          If again I find myself on a cab ride, and the driver asks me “What do Quakers believe?”  I’m going to do something different than I did in the past.  No nuanced statements about “some say this, and others say that.”  No history lessons or book suggestions – at least not to begin with.  No formulas of beliefs, beyond saying a basic sentence about my belief in God, peace, integrity, equality, and simplicity. 

But I will quickly move onward from my beliefs, to also say this.

          The Quaker experience is that God is at work in every person (Christian or not, Quaker or not).  And so we believe that the most important questions all people should ask are…

·        What is your experience of the Divine?

·        What do you believe about that experience?

·        Based on those experiences, how will you live your life?

To paraphrase Paul…  What human knows what is truly human, except the spirit that is within.  Receive not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit that is from God, so that we may understand the gifts bestowed on us by God.

Derek is a former geologist, and 2004 ESR graduate.  He previously served Friends meetings in Muncie and Irvington; as well as ministries with the Episcopal Church, Unitarian Universalists, and the United Church of Christ.