Friday, August 21, 2015


      I suppose I should call it the new shackle.  Ever since I "won" my Fitbit in a drawing last spring, it has been difficult to know whether it served me, or I served it.  I have made sure it was fully charged.  I have "synced" it to the Fitbit Dashboard.  I have linked it to various other health-oriented applications and websites.  I've learned how to tap it just right so that it will measure how well I sleep (of course, I have to tap it just right in the morning, too, to tell it I'm awake).  I've given myself a high-five when I've felt it do a happy dance on my wrist as I pass the 10,000 step level (and stress over why the Fitbit and my step-counting iPhone don't agree).  And, I've found myself looking at others' wrists to see if they're part of the similarly-shackled club.
       The Fitbit, of course, is just the latest piece of exercise/fitness related technology to which I've succumbed (fortunately, at least, I didn't have to pay for it!).  It supplements my heart-rate monitor -- one that "talks" to my iPhone  via bluetooth, of course!.  The iPhone, too, uses GPS to help record my daily commutes (and I wonder why there might be a one one-hundredth of a mile difference between Tuesday and Wednesday morning's identical trips!).  And let's not forget the bluetooth cadence counter on my bike that tells me that my pedalling rate slows down when I go uphill 
(duh!). Now, I'm certain that all of this data could be useful to someone, but if I spend any time thinking about it at all, I have to wonder whether it's helpful to ME!  I suppose if I were to pay for a highly-qualified personal trainer, that person might correlate my heart rate, number of steps, average elevation gain and cadence to arrive at some spell-binding conclusion:  "For an old guy, you're not in too-bad of shape." But I'm a data guy. I love the numbers -- especially if I see the "right" ones go up, and the others go down.  And so I look at the results . . . for the results' sake.
       It's not just the constant looking down at my wrist that has caused my musing about this piece of rubber and circuitry.  I've recently read a blog-post and listened to an interview -- both of which have me re-evaluating my attitudes towards "fitness".  The blog-post suggest that we have "militarized" fitness; we are waging war on our bodies. We're supposed to "feel the burn!"  If we miss a workout, we're washed out!  On the other hand, the subject of the interview suggests that we ought spend less time "plugged in" while we're running/cycling/lifting, and more time just being in our environment.
      The question of "struggle" to prepare, or tame, one's body is just about as old as our recorded history.  Greek philosophy speaks of the agon, the struggle or contest -- often referring to a contest between two parties, but also as a metaphor for an internal struggle.  St. Paul, in 1 Corinthians 9.27 writes of "pummeling his body into submission". Many Muslims will point to an interpretation of jihad as implying a struggle against oneself.*  The Hindu classic Bhagavad Gita is ostensibly about a great battle, but is also read as a parable about the battle within one's own person.  
      So, I get it.  The imagery is potent; it is easy to understand. But, does it lead to an overall better state of health, or quality of life?  Do I miss the scenery (let alone an on-coming car) as I stare down as my iPhone cycles between heart-rate and speed?  If I'm busy listening to music, or a podcast (gotta multi-task, you know!), do I miss bird-song or the rush of the river next to which I'm riding?
      I mean, I DO want to be fit, but . . . .   As Jonathan Angelilli asks in the conclusion to his post referenced above: 

Are you willing to destroy your body to look super hot at age 30? Or are you willing to take a deeper look, explore the “less is more” philosophy, let go of your “no pain no gain” programming, and let your health, strength, and goals evolve in a natural way so that you're having new adventures and movement experiences well into your 90s?  All health and fitness goals require sustained motivation. It’s an adventure, not a destination, and you’ll enjoy the adventure way more if you make it your own instead of following the herd.

What is health, anyway?  I've always found it instructive to remember that the various roots behind the English word "salvation" have to do with health and wholeness.  Being shackled, therefore, to the health of only one facet of my being may not help me be whole.


Saturday, August 8, 2015

No debating

      I have to say that I have mixed feeling about missing the debate this week between the   ten (considered) front-runners for the Republican presidential candidacy. On the one hand, I would have been interested to see/hear how they answered the moderator's questions, as well as how they responded to one another. On the other hand, I had few expectations that I would learn anything useful, and feared that the spectacle would turn bizarre -- as it apparently did in some instances.
      The various reactions on social media were fairly predictable, given which of my "friends" were commenting on the debate. Most of my friends on the left side of the political spectrum bemoaned the negative overall tone of the evening. Those on the right didn't deny it, and seemed to revel in it. From the news reporting I saw or heard in papers and on broadcast media the following day, it would appear that my friends' assessment was fairly accurate. One of them distilled the debate into: "Anti-xxxxxx; No-yyyyyyy; Opposed to-zzzzzz." It would seem that the debate was simply following the now-normal pattern of political discourse: point out the bad, heighten anxieties, provoke fear, and lay it all at the feet of one's opponents (inside, or outside, one's political party).
      I couldn't help thinking about an article I read some months back about the language often employed those who wish to protect the environment. The article was entitled, "Saving the world should be based on promise not fear." In short, the author, George Monbiot, suggested, based on research, that focusing on real or perceived threats makes people anxious and likely to, mentally, put up their dukes or disengage: "It's an issue taken up in a report by several green groups called Common Cause for Nature. 'Provoking feelings of threat, fear or loss may successfully raise the profile of an issue,' but 'these feelings may leave people feeling helpless and increasingly demotivated, or even inclined to actively avoid the issue'. People respond to feelings of insecurity 'by attempting to exert control elsewhere, or retreating into materialistic comforts'".
       The opposite, however, is equally true: "Surveys across 60 countries show that most people consistently hold concern for others, tolerance, kindness and thinking for themselves to be more important than wealth, image and power. But those whose voices are loudest belong to a small minority with the opposite set of values. And often, idiotically, we have sought to appease them." Monbiot doesn't believe we should avoid talking about the threats; they're real. But, he concludes: "[W]e should embed both the awareness of these threats and their scientific description in a different framework: one that emphasises the joy and awe to be found in the marvels at risk; one that proposes a better world, rather than (if we work really hard for it), just a slightly-less-[crappy]-one-than-there-would-otherwise-have-been."
      I can only wonder how our political process would be different if those who hold (or seek) office would focus on how we might build a better, more just, economy/society instead of pointing fingers at each other and casting blame (and calling names). Or, in religious terms, fear of hell (or a bad reincarnation) may be a motivator for some to get "saved" or to "behave themselves", but does it increase compassion and openness and hope.
      I'd much rather see the latter as the desired outcome in all of our debates.

Friday, July 24, 2015

It's popular, but . . .

      A couple of weeks ago I heard a phrase that I really found thought-provoking.  The context was a sermon at St. John's Cathedral in Denver.  The preacher was Jadon Hartsuff, one of the clergy on staff.  The phrase was "spiritual but not rigorous".  NO, not "spiritual but not religious", but "spiritual but not rigorous". I must apologize to Jadon that I was so taken by the phrase that I remember little else about the sermon; I do, however, want to credit him!
      Two days before, I had written the reflection for this newsletter where I had discussed the "Nones" -- those who claim to have no religious affiliation.*  I had wondered whether or not, based on a piece by Rabbi Rami Shapiro, their dissatisfaction with religion might have had something to do with a superficial/shallow worship experience.  But I know, too, that many folks--especially the last couple of generations--are hungry to put their convictions to work.  In other words, religious traditions that demand little have shown marked declines in affiliation. And those that make demands seem to grow.  And the demands may, or may not, be to our individual likings; they may be demands to participate, for example, on opposite ends of the socio-political spectrum.  The underlying theme seems to be "walk the talk!"
      I had these thoughts rattling around in my head this morning as I went to Metro Caring, the hunger relief organization where I take volunteers every month.  This morning, aside from the usual Friday crowd, there were three young women -- probably middle-school age -- who were a part of the volunteer corps.  I observed them all morning.  They chipped in wherever they were needed, seemingly without a lot of direction.  They helped stock shelves; they helped with the folks who were coming through to get food; they were cheerful.  I didn't have a chance to ask them WHY they were there.  (I think one of their moms was along, and helping.)  But I couldn't help but think that they were learning, at a young age, both what it meant to be in need -- and how that condition can strike "all sorts and conditions" of people -- as well as how, concretely and immediately, to help address that need
      When I left Metro Caring, I turned on the radio.  One of the songs that played as I was returning to DU was singer/songwriter John Mayer's "Waiting on the World to Change."  It was released in 2006 and made its way to the top ranks of many of the music charts, spending some time at #1 on the US Billboard American Contemporary list. The 
lyrics catalog a lot of the ills of society and the world that face "our generation" (i.e., Mayer's generation).  It's a popular song, but . . . it's the refrain that has always stuck in my craw (to use an OLD phrase!):  "So we keep waiting, waiting on the world to change".  He sings that "One day our generation is going to rule the population".  I must say that a generation that simply "waits" for the world to change isn't one that I'd want to rule.
      I would hope that the three girls I saw this morning are not going to "wait for the world to change"; they seemed to be engaged in making some change.  I think that is what we need to be doing, both as spiritual and educational leaders: educating and preaching--demanding--some rigor.  My reading of the demographics is that Mayer's generation wants to do more than "wait" (despite his hubris in speaking for it).  It is up to all of us to ensure that there are plenty of concrete opportunities and compelling rationale to give them hope that there is valuable work to do . . . AND THAT THEY--AND WE-- CAN DO SOMETHING.  If we don't take up that challenge, we are simply like a penny, waiting for change.  We'll wait in vain. 

       And we don't have to.


* To (re-)read that last reflection, see "Lead to Gold".

Friday, July 10, 2015

Lead to Gold

     In this issue of the newsletter, I'm going to start with a long piece from Rabbi Rami Shapiro's column from the July/August issue of "Spirituality and Health" (p.17).  His column is generally a series of questions posed to him, and his answers:

I attend [my place of worship] every [week] and love my faith, but find the worship lacking.  Any idea what might be missing?

What's missing, I suspect is alchemy--transforming the lead of self into the gold of spirit. Too many houses of worship have replaced poetry with propaganda, spontaneous passion with scripted emotionality, and self-transcending ecstasy with self-conscious piety.  Religion has been robbed of its punch and purpose.  Myth and story are mistaken for science and history.  Teachings to wake you up are replaced by cliches that put you to sleep.  Music to melt the ego is exchanged for kitsch that reinforces it.  Chanting that uplifts the soul is reduced to responsive readings that flattens it.  And silence, the true leaven of the spirit, is banished almost completely.  If religion is to be more than an arm of commerce and politics it must reclaim and reimagine its ancient and timeless tools--myth, story, parable, music, chant and silence--and use them to challenge ignorance, injustice, barbarism, and uncritical thinking rather than promote these in the name of faith.

         There's much in what Rabbi Rami writes that resonates with my experience of, and research about, contemporary religion.  I suspect that the increase in the "Nones" (those people who identify as "None of the Above" on the faith-tradition checklist is a reflection of shallow, or substance-light, religious experiences.  But I also think that the questioner above is representative of all of us at some point or another.  We do face periods of stagnation or derailment   And it might be just those times when stepping away and re-evaluating what we're seeking and why might the ticket home again.  We may realize that the questions and answers of one period of our life may no longer be the same as those we face now.
         The sense of dis-ease may be the meditation bell that calls us back to ourselves.


Friday, June 26, 2015

Caitlyn, Coke, Charleston, & Courage

       The word that had been struggling to rise to the top of my thoughts the last few weeks was "fear".
        It finally broke through as I was listening to an podcast/discussion about an article in a recent New York Times Sunday Review by Elinor Burkett in which the author, a noted feminist, dismissed much of Caitlyn Jenner's "womanly feelings".  One of the callers-in suggested that what underlay Ms. Burkett's negative article was fear.  A fear that the work that her generation of feminists had done to dismantle gender stereotyping was being undone by Jenner and Annie Leibovitz's Vanity Fair cover.  Several other callers spoke more positively about another dismantling, that of ALL stereotyping (including Burkett's), that allowed for Caitlyn Jenner to own and express her feelings/opinions out of her own reality.
        And, then, I recalled the recent uproar over the 
experience of my friend Tahera Ahmad, who, on a flight from Chicago to Washington, had to endure a humiliating act of discrimination  . . . all 
because she, a Muslim woman (and a very progressive one at that) was wearing a hijab.  She was told that she could not be served an unopened can of Dit Coke because "it could be used as a weapon", at the same time a fellow passenger was served an unopened can of beer.  As if that weren't enough, another passenger shouted religiously-motivated slurs at Tahera.  The awful, negative, experience of Tahera, other Muslims, Sikhs -- indeed many religious groups -- speaks of fear.
        Then, last Wednesday evening, the Charleston shootings.  An act of hate, hate born out of some fear, a fear we may never know.  A fear-driven act in an environment of love; an exclusionary act in an environment of inclusion.
        And the aftermath.  The "discussions" over how to deal with the Confederate flag.  The discomfort some presidential hopefuls have evidenced when they realize that doing the right thing in supporting the removal of that flag from statehouses may have challenging 
political consequences -- i.e., fear that they'll lose electoral support.  And underneath those discussions, it seems to me, lies a fear that a way of life is slowly, but surely, eroding.
       I'm afraid, too.  Certainly not of the same things that are reflected above.  But I have my fears; we all do.  The challenge is to not give in to them, not to let them fester into cowardice, prejudice and hate.  None of our religious traditions, at their core, would counsel this.  They would all seek to push us to courage, to address our fears honestly so that, held in the Light of Divine Wisdom, we might overcome them.  And, in overcoming our own fears, we might better dismantle unjust structures born of the fears of others.       In the words of the New Testament book of I John, "In love there is no room for fear; indeed perfect love banishes fear" (4.18, Revised English Bible).  That is the ideal to which we all -- regardless of tradition -- are called.  Love is courageous.  We saw it reflected in the voices of those victims' families who spoke, courageously of forgiveness to Dylan Rooff.  May we be so bold!


Friday, June 12, 2015

Where do you plug in?

     Okay, there's one at my desk in my office. There's one at my desk at home. There's one next to my bed. There's one in my car.  And I'm trying to figure out how to rig something on my bike so I can have one there in case my bike ride goes longer than I expected.  All are indicators of my concern that my portable electronics might be under-charged when I need them.
      And my concern is not just my concern! The photo above would have been quite the novelty just a few years ago, but most of us who travel fairly often know that, as soon the plane arrives, or folks enter into the concourse, many make a beeline for the charging station. Get the laptop and smartphone charged before the next segment of the journey. Why? Because, as the sign suggests, we want to "Stay connected - keep in touch - never miss a beat!"
      On the other hand, it's not just a case of "staying connected" or "keeping in touch".  We depend on those little amazing glass, metal and plastic boxes for so much. So much so that, yesterday, as I was getting ready to leave my house for work on my bike, I was delayed as I tried to get my phone to recognize my heart rate monitor, the cadence detector on the bike, AND link up with my bluetooth headphone so I could listen to a podcast on my commute.  I finally gave up, and, rode to work with only the sound of the traffic, birds . . . and the constant in-my-head conversation to keep me busy.  Harrumph!
      So that little tool has, in fact, enslaved me. I am keeping it charged and recharged, in some respects to keep me from being recharged.  My personality may predispose me to this malady, but I suspect that, in a mostly-hard-charging-academic-environment, I'm not alone.  Of course it's not just academics; some might say this is a problematic inheritance from our "Protestant-work-ethic ancestors".  I mean, golly, if we miss that call, or tweet, our lives will fall apart.
      If we settle back a moment, we probably would realize how wrong that is. And, yesterday, as I was riding to work WITHOUT benefit of headphones, I had a lot of time to ponder my own descent into that perdition of productivity!
      Many of us will remember the novelty of MTV's experiment showcasing musicians "unplugged".  A pretty big hit.  So much so, that the idea of "unplugging" has entered the cultural mainstream.  And I think that's a great first step.  But what's next?  Simply re-plugging into the same source?  Or, perhaps, taking the opportunity to plug into an entirely different resource -- be it the Divine, or nature, a restorative soak in a hot spring, or a deep conversation with a loved one.  Recharging may not need a cord. This closing photo arrive in my Facebook feed (yes, I'm guilty!) as I was writing.  It seems a fine ending:


Chaplain Gary

Friday, May 29, 2015

OMG! Change the Conversation!


     The first class I (co-)taught at the University of Denver was an honors seminar, titled (assuming my memory hasn't failed me) "Science and Religion".   My "partner in crime" was a biology professor, and a leader in teaching science teachers in Denver.  After some thought, we realized it probably should have been called "Evolution and Creation", since we rarely ventured beyond questions of human origins.  We didn't, for example, consider issues of morality (some scholars, such as Marc Bekoff, are raising questions about whether or not non-human animals have a morality all their own).  Nor did we take up the conversations between string theorists/quantum physicists and theologians.  No, we stuck to the ongoing debate between biologists and those religious folks who assert that the first few chapters of Genesis contain irrefutable scientific information.  In other words, the conversation was about creators/creation.
        What a small conversation!  I was reminded of this last week while when I overheard someone remark that "Creator" was only one possible attribute of the Divine. This person mused that "Redeemer" was an equally valid, and potentially more powerful attribute of God.  And that got me thinking . . . .  Why are many of our of cultural conversations about God limited to the question of "creation"?  in various parts of the US, school curricula are being challenged/changed to include creationism and/or intelligent design.  And many of the so-called "New Atheists" delight in pooh-pooh-ing the "out-dated" views of fundamentalists -- to the delight of the media, sensing a juicy battle.
        But I wonder, what if we DID add some other attributes of God to the conversation? Let's, for example, take up just some of Islam's one-hundred "Names of God".  What would happen if we spent time considering:  "God the All-merciful"?**  What might that imply:  "Oh, you mean we need mercy?"  Why would we need mercy?  What does that say about human nature?  Does science answer that question?  Or, "God, the Provider"?  What IS the source of all that we consume, from the air we breathe and water we drink and love we cherish?  is there a scientific answer to that?  Or, equally problematic for the "other" side, do religious people have a responsibility to preserve that which God has provided?  What about "God, the Guide to the Right Path"?  Along what paths does science lead us?
       And, that's only three percent of the names!

       I am certainly NOT one to mount a critique of science. My co-instructor and I saw the underlying points of our class from pretty much the same position (which meant the class didn't get as "exciting" as we may have hoped).  And I am not necessarily denying 
that there may be scientific "answers" to some of the questions I raised above.  I am only suggesting that, by limiting our cultural conversations about God to questions of "creation" or other biological issues (e.g., bio-ethical debates or gender/sexual controversies), we are avoiding some, potentially, much more useful areas of our lives and times.
       I think it's time to change the conversation!  We 
should all benefit!



*  "OMG" = "Oh, my Glory!" (Sr. Joan Chittester)
**   Al-Rahim
***   Ar-Razzaq
****   Ar-Rashid