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Spiritual Wisdom is abundant in this age of communication.
Please check this page for pertinent guest articles, visionary viewpoints, and
food for thought from a variety of spiritual teachers.
Guest Articles:
THE
DOOR THAT ADMITS EVERYONE
Rev. Dr. Rodney R. Romney
Given at the Unity of Church of Bellevue, WA - March 2, 2008
Today
was my mother's birthday. She died several years ago, a loss that I felt
deeply, but this day gives me an opportunity to talk about the doorway of
death that opens to all of us sooner or later.
A few years ago I was attending a meeting in Portland, Oregon in a building
with which I was not familiar. As I went in, I asked the receptionist if
she could direct me to the men's room. She told me to go down the hallway
to the left and enter the last door on the right. I followed her
instructions, only to find that the last door on the right took me into the
janitor's closet. While it had a huge sink, it did not have the facilities
of a rest room. Returning to the receptionist, I told her where her
directions had taken me. Her response was, "You asked for the man's room.
Our janitor is a man. I thought you wanted to see him." I silently
wondered how long she would be able to retain her position as a
receptionist.
Not all doors take us where we want to go, nor do all doors admit everyone.
For years, in this country's history, there were literally different doors
for whites and blacks, symbolic of the racial inequities on which this
country was established. Also in a figurative sense there were different
doors for males and females in terms of professional opportunities. And in
churches, the one place where equality should be expected, doors have
historically been closed on the basis of sexuality, race, and theological
beliefs. Are there still doors in our society that are closed to certain
people? Yes. More specifically do churches open their doors to everyone?
Obviously some do, but some do not.
I commend any institution whose doors are open to everyone. Certainly that
is true for this church to whom I speaking today. Not only are gays,
lesbians and transsexuals welcome here, so are Baptist ministers whose views
have become too liberal to be accepted by many in that denomination. The
doors of all churches should be open to all, if the church is going to be
true to its spiritual heritage. Jesus Christ, as far as we can determine
from past records, declared that everyone was welcome into the realm he
called the Kingdom of God. Indeed, he chastised the religious institutions
of his day for not welcoming everyone, particularly the poor and
disenfranchised. Yet the church today often closes its doors to those who
don't fit into the prescribed norms of its theological belief or
sociological expectations.
While an open door policy is crucial for the church in terms of living up to
its true heritage, I want to expand beyond that today and talk about the
door that opens to each of us at the end of life, the door that we call
death. Death is a subject most of us would rather not think about, because
we prefer to concentrate on life. But to live fully and honestly, we must
face the fact that eventually we will all go through that door we call
death. We watch friends and loved ones die, but to discuss our own death is
a subject we often try to avoid, until life suddenly places us in a position
where we know that our death is imminent and unavoidable. Ernest Becker in
his classic, "The Denial of Death," said that part of the reason for
this is that we are hopelessly narcissistic and basically in need of
self-esteem, so we deny death.
Today I would invite you to look with me at the door we call death, a door
that sooner or later opens to all of us. Is it a door from a bright space
into a dark hallway that marks a complete and final end of life? Or is it a
door that ushers us into a bright new life and a higher consciousness?
No one can answer those questions
accurately, because
none of us here has been through that doorway yet. Nevertheless, death is
something that confronts all of us, and how we approach it may affect and
determine how we conduct our lives while we are still here.
World religions have different views of death. Historically Judaism made no
proclamation about life after death. Death was generally viewed as a
mystery, a mystery that would only be revealed when we die. Many religions
have followed a similar pattern of thought, while others have devised
scenarios of life after death.
In
TheTibetan Book of Living and Dying
by Sogyal Rinpoche we find the word bardos, which simply means a transition
or gap between the completion of one situation and the onset of another.
Bardos is a word often associated with death, and the Tibetans gave it a
wider meaning. It was the intermediate step between death and rebirth. In
Tibetan thinking existence was divided into four realities: life, death,
after-death, and rebirth. It was also the Tibetan view that two
people have been living in you all your life. One is the ego, which is the
demanding, calculating and the often hysterical aspect of yourself, and the
other is a hidden spiritual being, which in Buddhism would be called the
inner voice of wisdom and awareness, or in Christianity might be called the
spirit or soul. According to Tibetan wisdom, you have to keep living
as long as it takes for spirit to dominate ego in your life, thus setting
you free to move on.
Among Jewish people life after death was not a popular concept until very
late in their national life. John Shelby Spong in his book,
"Resurrection: Myth or Reality," shows how the early Christians, who
were actually Jews, derived their ideas from the Jewish tradition of
Midrash. Spong encourages the reader to delve beneath ancient descriptions
of Christian myths and touch the authentic message of Easter, which is that
there is actually life after death for all of us. Spong, in trying to
understand life after death from the viewpoint of all religious traditions,
said that Nirvana, reincarnation, the transmigration of souls, the
traditional concepts of heaven and hell, the reward/ punishment aspect of
the afterlife - all of these titillated his interest but eventually lost
their appeal. Despite that, he declared that he still believes that death
is not the end of our lives; rather death is an invitation into a fuller
life, a life where we are freed from the boundaries of human limitations.
Death is the door that admits everyone, regardless of who you are, what
you did, or what you do or do not believe. Edgar Cayce, world-renowned
psychic and seer, described it as two-pronged: death in the material plane
and birth (or rebirth) in the spiritual-mental plane. Robert Grant, a
leading authority on the legacy of Cayce, has written a book entitled,
"The Place We Call Home," which explores the soul's eternal existence.
I find his ideas intriguing, but I am somewhat skeptical when it comes to
detailing what happens to us when we leave this earth.
Here is what I believe today about death. You may be skeptical of my
ideas, because they cannot be proved. They come not only from what I have
read but from what I have experienced, and they are by no means fixed in
stone.
1. Death is not the end of life. Death closes one door but opens
another. We have been involved in the process of dying ever since we got
here.
2. The body dies. What continues to live after the body's death is
something we call the soul. Soul is the essence of who we really are, and
it will never die.
3. The soul came here to grow and explore its own potential. It made
certain choices regarding the family and the circumstances into which it was
born,
4. All religions have some good to offer in the soul's quest for maturity
and wholeness, but no religion is complete in and of itself.
5. Heaven and hell are states of mind rather than eternal places of
existence. Heaven is manifested by love; hell is manifested where love
is missing.
6. There is a Divine Force that loves each of us unconditionally, and
this Force will guide us towards enlightenment, if we become receptive to
it.
7. We are all homesick. We are forever looking for a place we can
call home, the place from which we came, the place where all love and light
emanate, the place where we are all destined to return. Death is the
doorway that takes us from this material world and into the place that some
call Heaven. It is really the Home from which we came and to which we will
all return someday.
Let me now share with you a few of my personal experiences. Each of us is
given what we need in order to grow into the full expression of our own
souls and to complete the work we came here to do. We are, in essence,
souls in migration, trying to find our way home. The experience of one is
not the experience of all, for we don't all need the same experience. But
we are all on our way home, a home that awaits all of us, and along that way
we will be introduced to death.
My first experience with death came when I was very young, probably four
years old. I was born in Arco and grew up on a ranch in Little Lost River
Valley, where one of my dearest friends was an old sheep dog named Bob.
Bob, once an avid dog for driving sheep, was old and decrepit when I knew
him. Unable to work, he spent his days either sleeping in the sun or
limping around after me. That old dog in his latter years and I in my early
years became good friends. Every afternoon when I would ride my horse home
from the one-room school I attended, Bob would be waiting for me at the
gate. But there came a time, as Bob grew older and weaker, when the adults
in my life determined that he needed to be put down, because he was too old
to work. Against my protests, several men dragged him out behind the barn
and shot him to death, leaving me in tears. From that early traumatic
experience I saw death not only as a cruel enemy to be detested and feared,
but also an enemy that we have the power to inflict if we choose to do so.
Some years later when I was teaching school in Stanley, a young girl in her
teens drove her car off an embankment into the Salmon River. She was killed
instantly. I was one of those who helped pull her body from the river. We
placed her in the backseat of a car, which we then drove to the mortuary in
Challis. The drive was made even more difficult when we met her parents on
the road returning from Challis. Recognizing their car, we flagged it down
to let them know what had happened. I will never forget that mother
crawling into the backseat of the car and cradling the body of her dead
daughter, as she sobbed out her grief.
As time went by, I experienced death in my own family in profound and
equally heart-wrenching ways. I watched members of my family die:
grandparents, aunts and uncles, my father, my mother, and most recently, two
of my brothers.
As a minister for forty years I conducted literally hundreds of funerals and
sat with people as they died, for I knew what it was like to lose someone.
Death, as I have discovered, is not only universal and inevitable, it is
sometimes an unwelcome intruder and sometimes a friend that removes us from
the intolerable burden of life.
Never was this more powerfully demonstrated to me than in the death of one
of my older brothers about four years ago here in Idaho Falls. He had been
hospitalized for several days, suffering from lung cancer and other
complications. One day, as I sat at his bedside he asked me to pray for
him. I was startled. This brother was the last one I would have expected
to ask for prayer. A rancher, a rodeo performer, an outdoorsman to the
core, he had never gone to church. Yet there was a bond between the two of
us that was solid and strong. In my childhood this older brother had once
slapped around a couple of classmates that took delight in bullying me,
threatening to beat them within an inch of their lives if they did not
stop. Their bullying ended that day. This brother, who never had anything
to do with formal religion, was now asking me to pray. I clasped his hand
and offered a prayer of thanks for his life and the love he had shown to so
many. When the prayer was over, he smiled at me, then reached up and
removed the oxygen mask from his face. I watched the light of life fade
from his eyes as he died peacefully.
Here is an interesting addendum to that story, which I share with some
hesitation. I often feel the presence of that brother with me. It is
strongest when I am driving somewhere alone. It is as though he comes and
sits beside me in the front seat of the car to reassure me that he will
always be there to help me. Once I asked him what death is like, and the
answer I received was this, "Someday you will know that it is even more
wonderful and more beautiful than life." Being a detail person, I wanted to
ask for more, but that was as much as I received. It is enough for me to
know that we never really lose the ones we love, not even in death. I am
fully aware that our rational, analytical, scientific minds cannot begin to
penetrate that mystery. Call it illusion or imagination if you wish. I
only know that for me death is not an enemy to be feared, but a loving
friend who will some day help me make the transition to what we often call
the other side, the place where all the heartaches and miseries of this life
will be healed.
From Robert Grant's book, "The Place We Call Home," comes this
quote: "The doorway to death is just that -- a doorway. We are souls
following a magnificent journey through a material world, on a quest to
learn to love more fully and deeply and to relinquish our fears and the
illusions of our own limitations. We are spirit beings, eternal, divine,
and endless. As we learn to love ourselves and others more fully, then we
can be sure that death will have no sting for us. The love that we realize,
manifest and give to others while on earth, will light the path through and
beyond this world, beyond the valley of the shadow, to the place in spirit
from where we came, the place where all love and light emanate, the place we
call home."
In the end I don't think it matters what religion we claim or do not claim.
We are all children of the divine, and we are all returning to the source
from which we came. That which gave us life will see that we never lose it.
FINDING A SENSE OF SACRED PURPOSE
Rev. Dr. Rodney R. Romney
January 14, 2007
Many of
us, as we were growing up, were encouraged to make resolutions at the
beginning of each year. I suspect that the purpose of that practice was to
help us live better, more responsible lives. While I no longer make New
Year's resolutions as such, from time to time I do take a kind of inner
inventory of my life as a means of trying to decide what I need to let go
and what I still want to accomplish in my life. In that process, I have
come to realize that finding a sense of sacred purpose is probably the most
important task we ever undertake.
The desire of most persons is to find answers to the following questions:
Who am I? What did I come here to do? What is the ultimate meaning of
life? What must I do to find that meaning? What do I really believe?
These questions represent the search for a sacred purpose in life, a search
that is always with us.
A minister friend, recently retired, wrote this to me recently: "I am not
sure anymore what I believe." I wrote back applauding him for his honesty
and assuring him I was going through a similar process. I told him that I
had experienced retirement as a time to look honestly at all my beliefs. It
became an ongoing and inner process of modification and change.
After retirement ministers find themselves totally free from the critical
observations and strict expectations of a congregation. At that point they
are independent, perhaps for the first time since entering the ministry, so
they can explore their theology and other faith systems more critically than
ever before, discarding what doesn't work for them and perhaps seeking in
new directions. In that respect, I am grateful to have come to a place in
my life where I can test out what I do or don't believe, while continuing to
seek the sacred purpose of my life.
Every person is on this earth for a special purpose, and that purpose is
essentially spiritual. That spiritual purpose remains and defines the main
reason for being here on earth. It represents the work we have come here to
do.
A writer, whose name I have temporarily lost, once said, "We are not on this
earth as physical beings having a spiritual experience, we are here as
spiritual beings having a physical experience." In other words, we are here
to explore and to acknowledge the spiritual aspect of our being, which we
brought with us. That spiritual aspect is different for all of us, but at
its highest it is always rooted and grounded in a love that is supreme and
all-inclusive.
Author Stephen Levine once wrote, "If you had one hour to live and could
make only one call, to whom would it be, what would you say, and why are you
waiting?" Under-lying his question was the assumption that the one we
most need to get in touch with is our own soul. That raises an even more
penetrating question, "What is the soul?"
I remember many years ago asking that question of one of my seminary
professors. I can still hear his answer: "Each of us is a trinity: a body,
a mind, and a spirit. If we disregard this trinity of being, and focus only
on the body and mind, we fall into the trap of an ego-centered life, where
we concentrate primarily on our own wants, needs and accomplishments. But
if we accept and cultivate the spiritual dimension that lives in all of us,
we will then become who we came here to be, and we will focus on the wants
and needs of others, not just our own." That professor obviously equated
soul with spirit. He went on to say to me, "In seminary you will be offered
many challenges to stimulate your mind. Make sure that in the process you
also nourish your soul. It will be the most important thing you can do."
That professor is no longer living. I hope he knows how important his
answer has been to me through the years.
Fundamentalist Christianity teaches that we are all born sinners and at some
point we have to repent of our sins or we will spend eternity burning in a
fiery place called hell. I long ago abandoned that kind of theology. What
I have embraced instead is a belief in the sacred quality of all life, a
belief that extends to each of us a deeper sense of meaning and purpose, and
which inspires us to work for the good of each other and for this earth
which we all share.
I have learned over the years that every life circumstance, even tragedies
and crises, can nourish my soul, if I will allow it. They help me discover
something about myself, and they enrich my life. Through the death of one
of my older brothers a few years ago, the recent illness of a second older
brother, and the death this past week of a dear and close friend in
Seattle--through all of these recent losses I have learned that one of the
most important relationships in my life is not with my family or friends,
dear as they may be. It is with my own soul. My soul teaches me to be
loving and forgiving, rather than resentful or harsh. It teaches me to give
thanks for those who have blessed and enriched my life and to let them go
when the time comes. It encourages me to believe that behind every mistake
and tragedy a divine purpose is at work bringing good out of whatever has
happened. It is often in our darkest times that we learn the most.
Nurturing the soul is what helps us get through those dark times.
In my darkest hours, I have eventually been able to see what an incredible
journey I am on and how lovingly I am cared for as I journey.
Generally in religious thought when we speak of the soul, we are talking
about the immaterial essence of a person that precedes one's earthly
existence and which continues after the body has died. But I think soul is
more than that. I like the definition given by Robert Fulghum, who wrote:
"Soul is found in the quality of what I am doing. If my activities have
a sense of truth and integrity, if they are deep in meaning, then they are
rich in soul, and so am I."
To his statement I would add this, "If what I do comes from a sincere sense
of love, love for myself and love for everyone and everything, then I am
working from the level of my soul." When unconditional love and acceptance
emerge from within me I equate that with soul work. That work brings me to
a sense of sacred purpose.
A striking example of a person working from a sense of sacred purpose would
be Martin Luther King, Jr. He saw beyond the boundaries and hostilities of
race, beyond the limitations of violence and vengeance, and found his way to
a vision of universal peace and love. That vision (or dream, as he
expressed it) defined his work, and because what he did was a gift to
everyone, his sacred purpose lives on for all future generations. The civil
rights movement that he started laid the groundwork for many subsequent
movements of a similar nature. I still can hear him say, "Our lives
begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter." I
heard Martin Luther King speak at an American Baptist Convention in the
Midwest a few years before his assassination in 1968. What I did not know
immediately was that I was sitting beside his father. Later when Martin
Luther King, Sr. introduced and identified himself, he said to me, "My son
has found his sacred purpose, and we are all blessed because he has."
Indeed we are.
Several years after Martin's death, his widow, Coretta Scott King, was asked
what he would have said about the gay/lesbian struggle for equality and
acceptance. She replied, "He would have given it his full support, because
he ardently believed we need to work against all injustice and
discrimination."
I like the passage from Isaiah who said in the 40th chapter of his book,
"Those that return to God shall have their strength renewed." When we
work from a soul level, in essence we return our life and our work to the
guidance and renewal of God, whoever or whatever God may be to us. While
today I no longer view God as a Person, I do see God as a mysterious and
loving presence that inhabits all life and links us together in mysterious
but undeniable ways. I would like to suggest the following ways as means by
which we might find the sacred purpose for our own lives.
1. Pay attention. The Buddha calls it being mindful. Look around
you and take note of what's going on in the world. Look within and see how
you are reacting or responding. Look for meaning and purpose in everything,
no matter how evil or mundane it seems. Remember the aphorism: As within,
so without. As we learn to pay attention to life and what goes on around
us, we may discover ways by which we can help make the world a better
place.
2. Look at everyone and everything with love, including yourself, thus
eliminating your need to judge. Make a conscious effort to be gentle
with others. Perform acts of loving kindness wherever possible, with no
expectation of being repaid. Listen to what is going on in the world, and
allow your soul to speak to you about what you need to be doing. You cannot
do this all at once, but as you practice it, you will find yourself climbing
a little higher on the spiritual ladder each day that you live.
You may ask, how can I love the rapist, the child molester, the murderer,
when what they do is so incredibly horrible? Loving does not mean ignoring
the evil that is committed. It means looking beneath the scarring and hurt
that has created the dysfunction in the person creating the crime. It means
knowing that those we label as sinners are also those who in many ways have
been sinned against. They have been terribly hurt, and sometimes the only
way they can deal with that hurt is to hurt others.
Look at them with love and understanding, as best you can.
3. Look for the deeper reality in everyone and everything. There is
a spark of divinity and a core of goodness in everything that is. That
goodness may be hidden and unrealized, thus unexpressed. But nevertheless,
it is still there, waiting to be recognized and called forth. Someone in
your life--a parent, a teacher, a minister, a friend, a mate-saw that
divinity in you and silently called it forth. Our greatest work is to do
that for others. Do this for all forms of life. Everything on this earth
has a divine purpose. Do what you can to encourage rather than deter that
purpose.
4. Learn what it means to be forgiving, both towards yourself and others.
This does not mean that we approve stupid or evil behavior in ourselves or
in others. But as we learn to forgive, the good as well as the bad, we will
gradually lift ourselves to a higher and more compassionate level. We are
all learners and students in this venture called Life, and we all make
mistakes from time to time, for which we need to be forgiven. Forgiving
ourselves and others is an act of redemption in and of itself, because it
has the capability of bringing about freedom and hope.
5. Be an explorer, rather than a settler. Keep studying and
exploring new avenues of thought. Allow each day to direct you to new
experiences, new concepts and even to new friends. Use your unique and
marvelous gift of creativity in such ways that you will leave this world a
kinder, more beautiful place just because you have been here.
6. Honor your past and anticipate your future, but always know that your
life is not your own. Each of us has been influenced and directed by
others, and we have the capability and power to influence and direct
others. Our lives are mysteriously linked together and to a higher creative
source which some may call God. Whoever or whatever this source may be
called, no matter the name we give it, it is an eternal and loving force
that inhabits and unites all life, wanting only the highest and the best for
each of us.
7. Finally, in all things and in all ways give thanks. To be
grateful for everything, the good as well as the bad, is the greatest act of
all, for true gratitude springs from a loving heart and emerges from a
wisdom that is able to see all life as precious and sacred. Yes, people
sometimes behave in foolish and destructive ways, and sometimes that
behavior needs to be restrained. But in clear but almost indefinable ways
we are all linked together and parts of one another. Give thanks for this
invisible connection, for it means we are never alone. Give thanks for the
fact that together we can always do more than we can do alone.
The one who has inspired me most to live in this manner is Jesus. He was
as fully human as you and I, yet his life is a clear example of one who
found his spiritual purpose and dared to live it out, even though it brought
about his death. Loving everyone and everything unconditionally, as he did,
is the most difficult task we ever undertake. It is also dangerous, as
assassinations historically have proved. Yet love is the most important and
the most powerful thing we ever do. Love is the only way we will ever find
the sacred purpose of life and the only way we will ever achieve world
peace.
Our country is now involved in a violent sectarian civil war in Iraq. The
United States has had 3000 U.S. military deaths in that war, and thousands
have been sent home injured for life. Greater numbers of Iraqi soldiers and
civilians are being killed and maimed each day. And now President Bush is
calling for a gigantic increase of American troops in Iraq. This war will
probably go down as one of the worst cases of bungling in American history.
We need to change our direction in Iraq, and we need to do it now. We need
to find a way to bring our troops home. Thomas Paine, writing more than
two-hundred years ago about the American crisis of his time, said, "These
are the times that try men's souls." It is true for us today. The crisis
in Iraq is trying the soul of this country, as well as the souls of all of
us.
In spite of our present predicament and our lack of competent leadership, we
live in a wonderful country with magnificent people. Let's do what we can
to bring an end to this war and ensure that future generations will be able
to live in peace and enjoy the quality of life that everyone wants.
That is why we need spiritual communities. It is in community that we test
out the precepts of love and peace. It is in community that we stretch our
vision and learn to accept and share the sacred work we came here to do.
Together we can recommit ourselves to being expressions of love, generosity,
open-heartedness, and ethical and ecological sensitivity. Together we can
work for peace-peace in our lives, in our country, and in the world.
Together we can express love and acceptance of all people, regardless of
sexual orientation, the issue that today is tearing churches and
denominations apart in this country. Together we can continue to be
catalysts for religious freedom, for social justice, and for a responsible
stewardship of the earth. Together we can be peacemakers in this time of
conflict. Together we can help the world find its own sacred purpose.
This is our calling, our work, our sacred purpose. Don't turn back. Don't
give up. We're on our way.
*************
The Invitation
by Oriah Mountain Dreamer
It doesn’t interest me what you do for a
living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting
your heart’s longing.
It
doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking
like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.
It
doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you
have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s
betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain. I want
to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own,
without moving to hide it or
fade it, or fix it.
I
want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with
wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes,
without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic, to remember the
limitations of being human.
It
doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if
you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the
accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul; if you can be faithless and
therefore trustworthy.
I
want to know if you can see beauty even when it’s not pretty, every day, and if
you can source your own life from its presence.
I
want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on
the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, “Yes!”
It
doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want
to know if you can get up, after the night of grief and despair, weary and
bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done to feed the children.
It
doesn’t interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if
you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.
It
doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know
what sustains you, from the inside, when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone with
yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.
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