O beautiful . . .

     When I first came to Denver after accepting the position of University Chaplain, a friend and her husband drove me around Denver, showing me the various neighborhoods (mostly south of Cherry Creek) that I might want to take in consideration when relocating.  Washington Park. University Park. Southmoor. They had all sorts of recommendations (for example, "Don't live south of C470 -- too far from DU"). But their final comment was the one that I the best:  "Wherever you decide to live, make sure you can see the mountains every day."* Fortunately, given where we ended up living, every day, I come down a hill looking straight across the S. Platte valley at the Front Range. And, this time of year, as the Rockies put on their white winter coat, the view is spectacular, and guaranteed to lift my spirit.
      This may be, partly, because I grew up in one of the 'burbs of Portland, OR. To the east was Oregon's tallest peak, Mt. Hood. Depending on where we were, we could see mountains on the north side of the Columbia River:  Mt. Adams and (pre-eruption) Mt. St. Helens. These peaks in the Cascade Range are not as high as those in the Rockies (the highest is Washington's Mt. Rainier, the only 14er in the range, I think). But, given that they "start" at sea level, an, as volcanos, are more isolated, they are equally dramatic as those I can see on my commute to DU.
       What is it about "place" that can be so central to who/what we are? My wife didn't like driving through North Carolina (at least the roads) when we lived there because the vegetation kept her from seeing the horizon (she grew up in the Central Valley of California -- no obstructions to the west and the Coast Range; no obstructions to the east and the Sierra Nevadas). On the other hand, I've heard of folks who come to Colorado from the big cities and suffer from a form of agoraphobia -- too much wide open space.

      The question/sense of "space" or "place" is an important feature in the miniseries Gods and Generals (about the beginnings of the Civil War). At one point in the film, Gen. Robert E. Lee tells one of his subordinates that the "Yankees" are only concerned about lines on a map; they have no idea of what the place (i.e., Virginia, for Lee) meant to those in the south. He refers to learning to walk, finding a sweetheart, raising children, cultivating crops, etc. Those everyday things imparted to him a deep appreciation for the land, the scenery, the geography. He spoke of it with reverence.
      Something in that echoed, for me, my friend's directive to "make sure you can the mountains every day." We spend so much time with screens and books. I doubt many of us find "reverence" and "awe" in them, or in much of how we spend our lives. What might be different if we did make certain that we connected with those (pretty much) intangible sacred spaces/places in our lives, whether they're mountains or prairies.?

Namasté,

Gary

* I wish they'd told us one other IMPORTANT piece:  "Make sure your house faces south!"

Our of darkness . . .

      It was a dark and stormy . . . day.  I can't remember exactly what time of year it was, but given that it was Oregon, it could have been almost anytime! I do remember I was home, so it was either a weekend or a school break (I doubt it was summer). I was in the early years of elementary school when being at home on a rainy day was NO FUN! At some point, my mom, getting a bit tired of my restlessness and fidgeting, suggested I call Doug and see what he was doing. Doug's dad was the contractor who'd built every house in our neighborhood, so Doug had been a friend for as long as I could remember. "Great suggestion, mom! Why didn't I think of it?"
       I got on the phone and called him up. He said he was feeling just about as restless as I, and to come on up to his house "in ten minutes". Yes!  Ten minutes wasn't long. Or was it?  It WAS AN ETERNITY! Most of us can remember (or imagine) the drill:  look out the window at the rain, go check the clock, repeat . . . six cycles every minute, probably. But eventually the time did pass, and I was able to head up the hill to his house. I remember few details about the rest of the day, except that the wait was worth it (his mom's cookies were always good!).
     I recalled this experience  yesterday when our "Soul and Role" group spent an hour reflecting on the David Whyte poem "Sweet Darkness". We talked about literal darkness as well as metaphorical darkness. The poem suggests that there is learning to be found in darkness -- which we were able to find in both the literal and metaphorical. But what I also took away was that the darkness will end eventually. And, if one pays close enough attention, the new "light" is of a different quality than previously experienced.
     My childhood "dark and stormy day" was not any kind of profound "darkness". But for an impatient pre-adolsecent, it was DARK! And the "light" that followed wasn't profound, either. I did learn that ten minutes isn't an eternity! And that sometimes, waiting in the "darkness" is worth it.

Sweet Darkness

When your eyes are tired
the world is tired also.

When your vision has gone
no part of the world can find you.

Time to go into the dark
where the night has eyes
to recognize its own.

There you can be sure
you are not beyond love.

The dark will be your womb
tonight.

The night will give you a horizon
further than you can see.

You must learn one thing:
the world was made to be free in.

Give up all the other worlds
except the one to which you belong.

Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet
confinement of your aloneness

to learn

anything or anyone
that does not bring you alive

is too small for you. 

~ David Whyte ~
(House of Belonging)

Namasté,

Gary

The Might of a Horse?

      The clichés are out there:  "Keeping up with the Jones's" or "The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence". The underlying message is a nagging sense of dis-satisfaction with one's current situation.  "The Jones's have just purchased a Lexus; we need one!" "This relationship isn't satisfying; maybe I should ask that person out." "Look how much better they're doing than we are; we should adopt their way of doing things." Certainly, discontent can be an impetus to change a bad situation. But that's not always the case, for we know that much advertising is built on the premise that a "need" needs to be created (or discontent needs to be created) so that the advertised product will be purchased . . . whether we REALLY need it or not.
       To be sure, there is a long history of acting on this desire for what the other has. I think of the early history of the Israelites. After their arrival in the Promised Land, they were "ruled" by a series of "judges", folks "chosen" by God to lead them. As the last great judge, Samuel, saw the end of his time draw near, he appointed his sons to be judges. They, however, were not just; rather than seeking Israel's best interests, they were more interested in lining their own pockets. As a result, the elders of Israel came to Samuel and demanded that he appoint a king over Israel, just like the other nations (1 Samuel 8.5).  Despite Samuel's objections, God tells Samuel to do as they request; they are not rejecting Samuel, but God (8.7). And Samuel warns the people of all that a king will do:  levy taxes, draft sons as warriors, etc. But the people refused to listen to the warning: "There must be a king over us. We too must be like other nations, with a king to rule us and to lead its in warfare and fight our battles" (8.19-20).*
       A corollary to the "I've got to have what THEY have" syndrome is the idolization of glamour/celebrity/charisma:  "Let's make sure our leader has panache!"  The continued story of Saul illustrates this as well.  Saul turned out to be disobedient to God, as well as a bit of a wacko. And God directed Samuel again to anoint a successor. Before starting the selection process, however, God warns Samuel, "Do not judge from his appearance for from his lofty stature . . .  Not as [a person] sees does God see, because [a person] sees the appearance but the Lord looks into the heart" (1 Samuel 16.7).  Samuel does NOT choose one of the good-looking big brothers, but rather David .     These stories came to mind this week, in the aftermath of the Golden Globe awards, and the acceptance speech given by Oprah Winfrey.  By almost all accounts it was a very powerful speech. She was clearly able to address a timely issue in a very moving and persuasive way. Almost immediately, on social media and in print, voices called for her to consider a run for the presidency in 2020. Now, I think Oprah is an amazing human being who has had an incredible career (or several careers!). But her celebrity and passion, in my mind, are not sufficient qualifications for the highest office in the US. I don't believe we should let our discontent with the current situation propel us past good sense. It may make us feel good in the moment, but the "moment" is only  . . . momentary. We need to take a longer, more sober, view, and select leaders based on their qualifications to lead the complex systems that are governments.       We are very prone to look for a quick fix. And we often look to "success" elsewhere as a potential model for our own, whether that "success" is couched in terms of "power" or "celebrity". The history of that is long, of course, as I've noted above. And I think about it every time I read the Psalms, where the Israelite "envy" of other's armies is put it in its place. The psalmist contrasts that selection criterion with a bit more lofty one.
There is no king that can be saved by a mighty army;
   a strong man is not delivered by his great strength.
The horse is a vain hope for deliverance;
     for all its strength it cannot save.
Behold, the eye of the Lord is upon those who fear him,
     on those who wait upon his love . . . (Ps 33.16-18)**

God is not impressed by the might of a horse;
     God has no pleasure in the strength of a man;
But the Lord has please in those who fear him,
     in those who await his gracious favor. (Ps 147.11-12)

Namasté,

Gary

* Quotations from 1 Samuel are from the New American Bible.
**  Quotations from the Psalms are from the 1979 Book of Common Prayer.

Humbled by Hubble

        The other day I got involved in a "comment dispute" on Facebook (I know, I know . . .  I should be bigger than that). But I am particularly susceptible to folks who make sweeping generalizations about ANYTHING "religious". In this particular case, a friend had posted an article about the 100 largest megachurches in America and whether they are welcoming of LGBTQ folks. The first commenter wrote: "One reason more people are leaving the bigotry of religion behind." That blanket statement was like throwing a raw steak to a lion (hungry or not). Subsequent "conversations" in the Comments section clearly suggested that the commenter has "anger issues" with "religion" (Christianity in particular)!

      In my responses to the commenter, I tried to point out several things (among others). First, "religion" is bigger than even megachurches, let alone Christianity, and it's a logical fallacy to generalize from the specific. Second, every religion has, well, "traditionalists" who hold fast to the original text as it has been received (either in terms of literal words, or "traditional" teaching), but that not everyone within that religious stream follows the same line of thinking. And I suggested that the more we learn/know/understand/investigate, the more we're able to see nuance, and context, etc. [None of that made any difference to the commenter . . .   Sigh]
      Later that evening, I was lucky enough to watch the wonderful PBS Nova show "Invisible Universe Revealed", a look back at the twenty-five years of the Hubble Space Telescope. I will set aside the fact that I can remember all of those twenty-five years, and all of the controversy and drama associated with the launching, repair and maintenance of that amazing piece of engineering; that's a story in-and-of-itself. What struck me -- yet again -- were the amazing images Hubble was able to send back to earth of the astonishing beauty of the cosmos. The commentary accompanying the visuals pointed out how mind-blowing, how revolutionary, were these images, and the realities they represented.
      Given my Facebook-war, and my stress (in that conflict) on context, I had to wonder what our ancestors, regardless of their "religion", would have done with this Hubble-knowledge when they were trying to understand THEIR place in the universe -- when the best they could do was give "names" to configurations of stars. Would it have increased their "social awareness" about the mysteries of human development? Probably not. But, given the transformation that the Hubble images have made in our understanding of the universe, I have to hope that we can begin to see the limitations of OUR declarations of certainty -- whether religious, or anti-religious.
       We never know what the future may reveal. I would like to think that being humbled by Hubble would teach us something.
Namasté,

Gary