"Best Society"

When I was a child, I thought,

Casually, that solitude

Never needed to be sought.

Something everybody had,

Like nakedness, it lay at hand,

Not specially right or specially wrong,

A plentiful and obvious thing

Not at all hard to understand.

Then, after twenty, it became

At once more diffiult to get

And more desired -- though all the same

More undesirable; for what

You are alone has, to achieve

The rank of fact, to be expressed

In terms of others, or it's just

A compensating make-believe.

Much better stay in company!

To love you must have someone else,

Giving requires a legatee,

Good neighbours need whole parishfuls

Of folk to do it on -- in short,

Our virtues are all social; if,

Deprived of solitude, you chafe,

it's clear you're not the virtuous sort.

Viciously, then, I lock my door,

The gas-fire breathes. The wind outside

Ushers in evening rain. Once more

Uncontradicting solitude

Supports me on its giant palm;

And like a sea-anemone

Or simple snail, there cautiously

Unfolds, emerges, what I am.

Philip Larkin, Collected Poems

Connecting and re-connecting

Hello again! It's been a while since my last post. The past several months have been emotionally turbulent for me.And when I am overwhelmed by existential stuff, I have a difficult time writing.

But I'm back now-- and I'm glad you are too. If you've never been here before, I hope you will find this to be a place where we can share our ideas of God and nature. This is not a space for arguing, but it is a place for conversation. Please come here with questions about faith and spirituality -- not to find answers -- I don't have them (if ONLY!). But to find the company of other loving, questioning souls.

It is my belief that all humans share the journey to spiritual fulfillment. Our paths diverge in some ways and cross-over and intersect in others. Some folks pay no attention to the path, while others of us carefully make our way examining every little crack or pitfall on the way. As my new colleague and friend Susan would say: "Wherever you are on your journey, you're welcome here."

Wishing you a blessed day.

From "The Way to Self-Meaning" by Gopi Krishna.

Devote one short hour every day
To serve your Maker and your Lord,
Do worship, meditate or pray
Or sow some seeds of Good abroad.

Do something, in His name, to show
That you are mindful of the debt
Which children to their parents owe
For all the gifts they freely get.

Do something noble, something fine
That has no colour of the self,
No shade of ego, me or mine,
No thought of honour, fame or pelf.*

Do something good to benefit
The humble crowds surrounding you,
Whose minds not yet by Wisdom lit
Cannot decide what they should do.

*pelf : middle english for ill-gotten wealth or gain; (yes, I had to look it up. I thought it was a typo...)

Adapted from "God in All Worlds," Lucinda Vardey, Editor, Pantheon Books, 1995. 

A truly sacred space

It was with more than a little trepidation that I stepped onto the NYC bound train. It was a wednesday morning in April 2002 and I was making my first trip into the city since the terror attacks that past September.

The purpose of the trip was to serve as a volunteer at St. Paul's Chapel, the "little chapel that stood." St. Paul's is an Episcopal Church that is literally next to the WTC site. Despite it's proximity to the crumbling buildings, the little stone church suffered only minor damage. I was told it was because it was a warm day and some of the windows were open, thus providing a vent for the enormous pressure of the collapse of the towers.  I don't know if that's true. But the chapel remained standing.

In the moments and days following the attacks on its neighborhood, St. Paul's became an official respite center for First Responders and rescue and recovery personnel. Volunteers served hot meals, gave massages and foot rubs, provided pastoral care, mental health counseling and medical care. Workers from the adjoining "ground zero" could be found praying or sleeping in the pews.

St. Paul's was also the unofficial memorial site for people who wanted to express grief, sorrow, sympathy, empathy, compassion, faith and hope after the terror. Banners, flags, posters, greeting cards, windsocks, and most touching -- photographs of lost loved ones -- covered the church's fence, its stone front walls, the makeshift police fencing and barricades. The flags were delivered by empathetic tourists from other nations who wanted to stand in solidarity with New Yorkers and U.S. citizens. The banners and other items were mostly hand-crafted "love letters" from churches and school children from around the United States and the world to the thousands of volunteers working on the site and in the chapel.

By the time I had screwed up my courage and made the trip into the city, recovery work was nearly finished. Remains of those who perished had long since been uncovered and the city and other governing bodies were focusing on the transition into a re-building phase. Still, the firefighters, iron-workers, construction crews and other workers sought refuge in the stalwart little church building that had provided so much comfort for so many long, arduous, grief-stricken days.

My job that day in April 2002 was to guard the entrance to St. Paul's. In order to provide privacy and real respite for the workers they were serving.  Those managing St. Paul's relief effort (mostly Episcopal Relief and Development) had built plywood walls around the front of the church and left only a couple of entry ways onto the church property. St. Paul's was not open to the general public during that time. Admittance was granted only to those working on the WTC site and visitors who had lost loved ones in the attacks. My job that day was to make sure no unauthorized people entered the building and to make certain that those who NEEDED to enter -- survivors and loved ones of the deceased -- did have access.

As I stood outside, many visitors to "Ground Zero" -- folks from the NY metropolitan area and tourists from around the world -- came by. One woman from Germany told me she had come because her son had been killed in the attacks. I pushed the folding table that served as our "gate" out of the way and led her inside where a more knowledgeable volunteer gave her a tour and an opportunity to visit and pray.

Another woman, Pearl, from Israel, asked me why I wasn't carrying a weapon as I guarded the entrance. Her question shocked me. Why would I need a gun? Pearl told me that if the site were in Israel, I would have been carrying a gun. Thinking back now, she must have thought I was so naive. But I just smiled at her and said, "I don't need a gun. It's safe." In just a few short hours at St. Paul's I had begun to think of the "little chapel that stood" as a sanctuary, a safe place of peace in the midst of chaos.

That day at St. Paul's changed forever how I look at the "function" of a church -- or any other house of worship. Yes, they are sacred places where we honor, praise and give thanks to our glorious Creator. But I also believe that they are the most holy of spaces when they help us to share God's love with one another.

What could give God more happiness than seeing the aching, tired, feet of a firefighter be massaged by a volunteer podiatrist in a makeshift clinic in the aisles of a church building? I believe God longs for the moments when we treat one another with such tender loving care.

Imagine how it delighted God to see banners and flags and posters filled with loving prayers and expressions of faith, hope and sympathy draped on the fences, walls, steps and doors on the inside and outside of a chapel! I like to think that God was as touched as I was by the banner filled with a rainbow of children's handprints that was sent from a church school in another part of the country.

I believe that that banner was just as sacred and gave as much glory to God as even the most intricate Russian icon. And those foot massages? They were sacraments of healing.

For more information on St. Paul's Chapel, click on the link above.  Meanwhile, please share your comments about places that you think of as sacred.

I wish you peace.

Do Not Look with Fear*

Do not look with fear
   on the changes and chances of this life;
   rather look to them with full faith that as they arise,
   God -- whose you are -- will deliver you out of them.

He has kept you hitherto.
Do not but hold fast to His dear hand,
   and He will lead you safely through all things;
   and when you cannot stand, He will bear you
   in his arms.

Do not anticipate what will happen tomorrow.
The same everlasting Father who cares for you today
   will take care of you tomorrow and every day.
Either He willl shield you from suffering or
   He will give you unfailing strength to bear it.

Be at peace, then, and put aside all anxious thoughts
   and imaginations.

* St. Francis De Sales

shaken and stirred

Here in the Northeastern U.S. we were surprised and a little "shaken" (pun intended) by an earthquake a few days ago.

By some standards, the event  -- a relatively minor jolt at only 5.8 at its epicenter and a little over 2.0 here in NJ/NY -- was no big deal. But to those of us who had never experienced an earthquake, it was a big deal. Yes, there was some fear and concern. But most of us were also amazed and excited! This was a major natural event and we got to experience it as something fun, exciting, and for the most part -- harmless.

Of course, we were lucky. There were no aftershocks to be felt and for now, no more quakes. In fact, our seismic event became fodder for some pretty funny stuff online (see  http://www.buzzfeed.com/).

That being said, our fear was not unfounded.

While we have not suffered a major devastating earthquake in this region in some time, we have witnessed -- albeit from a distance -- the horrible destruction, injury, and death that an earthquake can cause.

It's been 20 months since an earthquake leveled most of the infrastructure of Haiti. A May 31, 2011 NY Times article reports that over 66,000 people are still living in camps during this current hurricane season; and over 300,000 are still displaced -- no longer living in the camps, but not in there own homes, either. http://www.nytimes.com/2011/06/01/world/americas/01haiti.html?ref=haiti0

In Japan, where a dangerous earthquake was followed by an equally -- if not more -- devastating tsunami in March, the death toll as of July was 22,000 people. Tens of thousands of Japanese people are still being housed in shelters because of the damage to their homes and towns by the natural disaster; others have been evacuated because of the threat of radiation from a nuclear power plant that had a meltdown as a result of the quake. http://topics.nytimes.com/top/news/international/countriesandterritories/japan/index.html

As I write this morning, we on the eastern seaboard of the U.S. are awaiting the arrival of Hurricane Irene. While I was in the supermarket on thursday night, I heard a woman saying "you'd think it was the end of the world." She obviously was not worried about the oncoming storm. I was more than a little dismayed by her contempt for her fellow shoppers. Another woman with a shopping cart loaded nearly to overflowing with water and other non-perishables, looked at me sheepishly and whispered "I'm trying not to look like I'm nervous." I told her: "If you are, you are not alone." How sad that she needed to be embarrassed by her drive to protect herself and her family!

That woman was right to be concerned. If you were an adult in 1999 when hurricane Floyd hit, you remember that some sections of New Jersey were left relatively untouched. Other areas, however, were completely flooded out. Homes, businesses and lives were lost to the rising waters. Many had no power for weeks. And let's not forget that 6 years after Katrina and Rita hit the gulf coast, residents are still working to rebuild and revitalize their hometowns.

We humans are made of pretty tough stuff.  After the "earthquake" last week, most people in Manhattan went right back to work in their high rise office buildings. There were some however -- no doubt still struggling with the memories of a locked down NYC after the terror attacks of September 11, 2001 -- that took the opportunity to get out early.

I don't blame them. I would most likely have left too. And like many of them I would have walked rather than go down into the subway. After all, news outlets were reporting that the 3 area airports and the Holland tunnel were closed. Cell phone service was interupted and loved ones could not be reached for comfort or for information about their well-being. Watching folks walking across the Brooklyn Bridge, one couldn't help but be reminded of the painful exodus of emotionally battered souls who walked miles to their homes as dust and tears and terror filled the streets of lower Manhattan ten years ago. It was eerie.

As I watched the earthquake coverage, it occurred to me that 10 years after the terror of 9/11, I could still involuntarily recall the feelings of sorrow and fear that I felt that day. But those memories also made me think of the inate compassion and courage that most people didn't even know they had until given a reason to share it. Courageous and humble first responders, medical personnel, clergy, and thousands of "average citizens" from all walks of life all risked their health and lives and pitched in to help.

Time after time, a horrific event occurs that causes immeasurable hurt, pain and suffering -- only to be met almost immediately by the faith, courage, strength and compassion of neighbors, friends, and community members who come together to rebuild their lives and restore hope to the survivors. That's what happened around the country 10 years ago.

Yes, the human psyche is quite amazing. We may encounter hardship and endure suffering.  But we have also been blessed by our Creator with a life-giving Spirit that moves in us and through us and connects us to the divine in one another. So even in the throes of a disaster like an earthquake, a hurricane, or human-made terror, we can come together in strength and love to give one another much needed hope and reassurance.

In that recovery of hope, we don't lose our memories of the tough times. If we are wise, we use them to provide us with the faith and courage we need to handle the next frightening or hurtful event. And if we are truly open to the growth and experiential wisdom that those times provide, we know that when we tap into the divine within our very souls, we can help one another get through even the most terrible situation.

writer's block

I haven't posted in a while. I have had a very bad case of writer's block. It wasn't that I didn't have anything to say -- that's just never the case for me.  It was that I had too much to say and couldn't properly filter out my thoughts!

The past few weeks of following the U.S. debt crisis in juxtaposition with the horrible tragedy of drought and famine in the Horn of Africa just caused my brain circuitry to melt. Every time I turned on the news and the lead story was the Dow Jones Industrial Average and not the story of starvation in Africa, I became less able to make sense of human nature.

Don't get me wrong: I do understand the seriousness of our economic situation right now. I am a member of the demographic known as the "the sandwich generation." I have an ailing mother in assisted living that she barely afford; I am about to send my 18 year-old off to college -- a college that we can afford only because of a generous scholarship from the university; My husband and I are in our mid-50's and have watched in horror as the statements for our 401k plans became awash in a sea of red ink. So I do get it.

I also get this: that while I may be having a slightly bumpy ride financially right now, my life is very good. I have a cozy home in a suburb in New Jersey. We both have jobs. We have two cars that we use to take us to those jobs and also to Costco, and to the pizza parlor on Saturday's and to church on Sunday. We can help my mom with her pharmacy bills and with sundries; and we can send our son to college. We are in good health. And most important of all -- we have each other. We have extended family and we have a network of friends, acquaintances and colleagues. We are blessed and we are grateful. Cranky sometimes, but always grateful.

I guess what I'm trying to say here is this: there are real people both here in the United States and elsewhere in the world who are really struggling just to stay alive. And those of us who have the luxury of complaining about temporary losses in the stocks and bonds in which we've invested need to get a grip and put things in perspective. There are millions of people who would be happy to have our "problems."

I hope my "scolding" doesn't offend you. I just had to get this rant off my chest so I could get on with it!
Thanks for letting me unburden myself! And by all means -- feel free to reply with a comment.

And now, I hope you will take a moment to pray for clarity in your own life; for perspective, for patience, for forgiveness, for a spirit of generosity and love and for help if you need it. Whatever your faith tradition, please pray for guidance on how you, we, all of us -- can help ease the burdens of those who are truly suffering.

Let us join our thoughts and prayers and hearts' desires in asking God how we can best use our humanity and "an attitude of gratitude" to extend life-giving and life-saving compassion to those who are not as lucky as we are.

May God's peace be with you.