Tag: faith

Conversion Blues

~ Deb ~ 1 Comment

In the almost 40+ years I’ve been deconstructing my inherited faith and discovering a lived and meaningful spirituality, I’ve known a shit-ton of people.  Each of those people brought a unique perspective from a unique place on a unique path. One of my core beliefs is that all paths lead up the mountain. I deeply value the insight others bring, and I only ask the same respect in return for my own path.  

Overwhelmingly, the people I’ve met along the way have been those who, much like me, walked away from a rigid, one-pointed belief where they were taught to accept a particular ideology completely and put all others into a pile labeled “evil.”  Not “unimportant,” or “useless,” or even “rejected.”  “Evil.”  The evangelicalism of my youth taught me that if I was not 100% pro-Jesus as they understood him, then I was worse than neutral; I was on Satan’s payroll and guided by demons.  

It takes a lot to shake that.  So those of us who do and then find each other are often immensely grateful to have encountered kindred spirits.  And because the deconstruction has included an opening of the heart and mind to the beauty in so many spiritual paths, this group is usually quite diverse.  While often eschewing specific labels, most of my spiritual tribe tends to be those who take inspiration and comfort in Buddhism, Christianity, Hinduism, Islam, Judaism, Paganism, Sikhism, Wicca, and whatever other path one might add to the mix.     

But here’s where it gets weird.  A couple of times, rarely and randomly, someone will come into my circle, usually a younger person, who displays great open-mindedness and a natural bent toward the esoteric and mystical.  About the time I’m thinking, “oh, how wonderful it would be to have been that free so young,” they post something to social media announcing their conversion to Christianity.  And then it builds. They post more and more. Eventually, they share pictures of the mega-church they now belong to.  Instead of the latest Tik-Tok dance, they’re now posting Bible verses.  

Now that, in and of itself, is wonderful.  All paths lead up the mountain, and if this is their path, then I’m so happy they’ve found it. The rub comes, though, when they’ve bought in so completely that their posts begin condemning all other paths.  New Christian converts seem to pass into the “I’ve got to save everyone from hell” phase quite quickly. 

They’ve moved from joy to condemnation without skipping a beat, which makes an awkward dance-move.  

In full disclosure, I’ve seen this happen twice in 40+ years, so we’re not talking about a tsunami here.  I often find that people who open their minds rarely close them again.  And for fear I am misunderstood, let me emphasize that the closing of the mind is not in converting to Christianity; it’s in the off-putting and judgmental sense of spiritual superiority that sometimes accompanies it. 

I’m curious about their path.  I wonder if this will stick or a more expansive appreciation will return for them.  I wonder what the twists and turns will do to them in the dark nights of the soul they are undoubtedly yet to experience — not because they’re Christian but because they’re babies.  I wonder if they will ever again have a moment of darkness in which they see light coming from a Rumi poem or a Buddhist idea or a new moon.  I wonder if they’ll leave room for the mystic Yeshua, the Jesus of the Gnostics.  

So many places they will go.  So many miles down the path that is theirs to trod.  

I don’t judge their path.  I wish them well on it.  I wish them eyes that see and ears that hear.  I wish them peace and freedom.  I wish them an experience of the Sacred that renders them speechless and transformed.  I wish them enlightenment, nirvana, moksha, even if they only ever call it sanctification.  

Mostly, I pray they will see the Jesus they love as a champion for compassion rather than a measuring stick for judgment.  

Oh, To Have Been ‘Round the Moon

~ Deb ~ Leave a comment

How jealous we all were of the crew of Artemis II. To leave this third rock for even an abbreviated fortnight, to see the world without borders, to be pleasantly news-less.

We think we live in unprecedented times. On one hand, we do, and on the other, these times are grossly precedented. We still fight over religion and land and power and politics, like the ancient Sumerians and Egyptians did. Like the Britons and Vikings did. Like the Muslims and Christians did. Oops . . . do.

The only path to peace I know in the midst of it all is to regularly and meaningfully transcend. Exit the gravitational pull. Step away. The Buddhist Heart Sutra gave us the perfectly concise mantra Gate, Gate, Paragate, Parasamgate, Bodhi Svaha. The meaning is simple: Gone, gone, gone beyond, gone completely beyond. Oh, what an enlightenment.

The most consistent question I receive as an interfaith minister is the question of how we live in this world, how we juggle politics and family, how we maintain bliss in the face of chaos. SHOULD we maintain bliss in the face of chaos. Honestly, I don’t have one go-to answer. I often respond based on how the day feels, what has been shown to me, and/or how the inquiry is couched. I do think we have to be artful with this question — what works one day may not be the next day’s answer.

I do know, however, that the way to be ready for what each day holds is to remember who we are, go into the silence, enter the inner spaciousness where Divine Presence lives in us as us. Succumb to the stillness. Sit still and listen with ears of the heart.

The German poet, Rainer Maria Rilke, wrote a poem that serves as a good reminder of what is real in the beyond. Here it is translated into English by Stephen Mitchell:

BUDDHA IN GLORY

Center of all centers, core of cores,
almond self-enclosed, and growing sweet—
all this universe, to the furthest stars
all beyond them, is your flesh, your fruit.

Now you feel how nothing clings to you;
your vast shell reaches into endless space,
and there the rich, thick fluids rise and flow.
Illuminated in your infinite peace,

a billion stars go spinning through the night,
blazing high above your head.
But in you is the presence that
will be, when all the stars are dead.

The Modern Mantra

~ Deb ~ Leave a comment

“I don’t want to be here anymore.” 

I’ve been hearing this phrase more often lately.  I’m not talking about a literal determination to end one’s life*, but rather a whale-size disillusionment with the world.

When my spouse hears or reads yet another instance of overt and grotesque racism in our society, for instance.  I’ve tried to be understanding of her position, one I will never fully understand, no matter how hard I want to or try, but it still makes me wince to hear it come from her mouth.  

When she first said it a couple years back, I didn’t know what to do with it.  At first, I took it personally.  How could she possibly desire to leave this life, i.e., ME? After I surgically excised my ego’s narcissistic belief that everything in the world was about me, I was a little better at just letting it be, even while still not completely comfortable with the statement.  Sometimes this world is too much.  I understand that. 

Just this past week, though, I heard a friend relaying a conversation he had wherein the other person said, “I don’t want to be here anymore.”  My friend said, “I told her, ‘Honey, none of us want to be here!’” And then he laughed, and the group laughed, and the moment passed, but I sat there trying to take it in. 

What was I to make of this apparent upward trend in general dismay about existence?  

I get it, of course.  We live in times I never thought I’d see.  We seem to be revisiting ideologies and demagoguery so unevolved and outdated that their return is a sad surprise. The marginalized are more marginalized every day.  The vulnerable, more vulnerable. How can happiness, contentment, peace, and self-actualization live in the midst of all the crapitude around us?

We’re tired of the cage of this era and ready for any freedom escaping it might provide.

A 1997 Italian film called Life is Beautiful tells the story of a Jewish man and his son who are imprisoned in a concentration camp during World War II. To protect his son from the horrors of the Nazis, the man pretends it’s all a game. They are simply playing, and there is still reason to laugh. 

The movie is not really about the Holocaust, despite the setting.  It’s about the strength of the human spirit to overcome obstacles to peace.  It’s about salvaging whatever hope and joy can be found in the midst of trauma and war.  It’s about hope, the hope every generation has held, that we have the power to build a better world for our children.

And, historically, we’ve been right to hope.  The moral arc of the universe really does bend toward justice in the long run. Despots often reach their demise in bombed-out bunkers and international tribunals. The goodness of the human heart ultimately does prevail. 

I can almost hear you say . . . “but in the meantime . . .”  I know.  I know. In the meantime, lots of shit goes down. 

The times are tough, and people are suffering.  More may suffer before this season passes. A lot is required of those who choose to stand in solidarity with democracy and hold the high watch for immigrants and women and the LGBTQ community.  It takes equal doses of courage and compassion to do this work. 

But we are up to the challenge. Just as generations before have answered the call, we have what it takes to meet the moment and direct it back toward justice. We have the strength of will and the strength of heart to make our world safe for democracy again.  We have the fortitude and determination to return our society to one that values its diversity and is proud of its inclusion.

And I, for one, want to be around to see that day.   

*(Note: If you need emotional support, call or text the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline at 988 or online at 988lifeline.org)  

Be Your Own Guru

~ Deb ~ Leave a comment

Sometime back in the early 2000s, I had that sentence flash through my brain – be your own guru. I thought it was deeply profound and a unique insight. It had arisen in my spirit in an organic fashion, and it seemed to spring from Source itself. Surely, I was a prophet. 

I briefly considered buying the domain name, writing a book, starting a movement, and being the guru that brought “be your own guru” to the people. Briefly. Very briefly.

Come to find out, a person named Betty Bethards wrote a book by that title way back in 1982 (a book I haven’t read, by the way, so this is not a plug, but it could be awesome for all I know). Then I found another book with the same title. And then several books with almost the same title — How to Be Your Own Guru, Be Your Own Change Guru, Find Your Inner Guru. It seems I wasn’t all that special.

Or, perhaps, we were evolving together and a bunch of us were getting the same message: It’s time to take ownership of our spiritual journey.

Evolutionary shifts are often messy, and the leap to being our own guru seems to have its own share of fits and starts. One of the byproducts seems to be some disenchantment with spiritual teachers. I’ve seen several instances lately of people turning away from gurus they once revered. And I’ve noticed that when people reject teachers I don’t resonate with, that is fine with me, but when they turn against those I respect, I feel an internal pushback. I want to parse the ways in which the teacher’s message must have been misunderstood. I want to bring the person back into harmony with the teacher. 

But when I move beyond that initial moment, I start to accept that everyone’s journey is valid, and their rejection of a teacher is what they need in this moment, and learning to listen to our intuition, learning to be our own guru, is often a herky-jerky affair.

On my journey to self-guided spirituality, I’ve learned to hold loosely to those I revere. We’re on this journey to begin with because we’re seeking answers, and when we find someone who seems to have them, we tend to clutch their teachings with a tight grip. We become a disciple, and we want to spread the gospel of our guru. But every single time I believe I’ve found a guru who has transcended this life and the ego completely, I’ve soon been given the opportunity to witness their humanness.  If I hold them loosely, though, I leave room for what rings true to wiggle into my spirit, and I stop wasting the energy of holding them hostage to my delusion of their perfection. 

If we don’t hold them loosely, then when we see their humanness, we tend to reject them, call them a false prophet, and even wage our own little smear campaign. We call them narcissists and money-grubbers. We sneer when someone mentions their name. Our newfound insight into “truth” might even cause us to judge someone else’s journey just because they are currently listening to that teacher. 

Please note, I’m not talking about the true charlatans. Those who have put on a spiritual disguise to collect wealth and power are their own special kind of repulsive. Preying on a person’s desire for spiritual growth is the lowest of all cons in my book. 

No, I’m simply talking about the many, the increasing many, who have had an insight and felt called to share it with the world. Some might even suggest that I am in that number, and in my very small way, I suppose I am. I’ve learned some important lessons on my journey, and for whatever reason, I feel so led to make them public. So, for those who are listening, and I’m glad that you are, I urge you to hold anything I say loosely. Let it roll around in your spirit. See how it feels. Take it for a test drive. If it feels like truth, you are welcome to it, free of charge. If it doesn’t, well, I’m only human.