SLIDE SHOW MEMORIES

When I was growing up, my family would sometimes go over to another family’s house for dinner or a low-key party that was soon followed by their getting the projector and screen out, along with a brace of Kodak slides, to show us their summer travels.

In those days, we were somewhat awed. These were our friends who could afford the equipment and film and also manage to travel in some kind of style. In other words, it was an occasion, however boring.

These days, of course, photography is, oh, so much easier, and thanks to digital advances, oh, so much cheaper. And the slide show, as I’ve been finding as I blog, is both easier and, well, more intimate – you can watch it when and where you want. You don’t even have to yell out, “Can we back up two?” or “Who was that in the lower right-hand corner?”

Many families now have to figure out what to do with those increasingly fragile slips of film in their cardboard frames – especially the ones that now smell of mildew. They’re history, of course.

As is, it appears as I look around, the custom of families coming together with others.

THE STIGMA OF RELIGION

Intolerance, scorn, and judgmental stereotyping are hard enough to behold in public discourse, but they’re especially painful when they come from my side of the spectrum – people who proclaim themselves to be open-minded and smart. Yet the contempt is there, and nowhere more so than at the mention of religion, as Madeleine L’Engle has already pointedly observed. Even so, the fact remains that we do find individuals for whom belief and wisdom are not mutually exclusive. Indeed, even mutually enhancing. Let me suggest Bill Moyers’ Genesis: A Living Conversation, a Doubleday book based on the PBS series, as a demonstration of intelligence and faith in joint action. (Also available in audio or video, if you prefer.)

Admittedly, much of what we see and hear from the religious front can be superficial thought, convoluted logic, or emotional manipulation – quite simply, bad theology that too often goes unchallenged. (Not that we don’t encounter these in advertising, politics, entertainment, or professional athletics.) Curiously, when I listen to the reasons given by many who turn away from religion altogether, I often hear equally shallow arguments. Those who accuse religion of being the cause of all war, for example, blithely ignore Karl Marx’ insistence that it’s economic injustice instead – even as they invoke his axiom of religion as the opiate of the people. Or the way Sigmund Freud’s atheism is touted, while ignoring the degree to which his two key disciples, Karl Jung and Otto Rank, each turned to unique aspects of religion to advance their depth of human insight. I’m of the camp that contends that good theology is the only cure for bad theology, and is essential for progressing social justice. Rabbi Michael Lerner’s The Left Hand of God: Taking Back Our Country from the Religious Right offers a fine line of reasoning in this direction. (As for advertising, politics, entertainment, professional athletics …?)

And, yes, the best reply to hypocrisy comes from the discipline of faith itself. Whatever happened to corrective rebuke and redirection, within the faithful group? (What old Quakers used to call “close labor.”)

Oh, my, and here I’d started out to reflect on the unfortunate state of religious fiction and poetry in our time, especially from Christian writers. With little support from my side of the spectrum, what appears is typically constrained by an orthodoxy that inhibits candor and rigorous exploration, and what emerges sounds saccharine, hollow, or even a false note altogether. That’s before we get to that matter of being preachy.

Still, I can point to the growing popularity of Rumi, a Sufi mystic of the 13th century, or to Zen-influenced Americans or Jewish novelists and a few obliquely Christian poets as signs of hope.

Care to add to the list?

TRUE HOSPITALITY

The New Hampshire economy – like the rest of New England, actually – relies heavily on tourism. But to put a smiling face on the cash cow, businesses and public officials alike call it the hospitality industry.

Dictionaries, however, say nothing about making a profit on hospitality. In fact, one calls it “behaving in a kind and generous manner toward guests; fond of entertaining; affording or expressing generosity toward guests.” Generosity extended by the host, we should note, and not the guest.

But looking at the word afresh, I’m also seeing another industry arising: the hospital. As in hospitalization. Oh, my.

SOARING AND SWIRLING

In mid-March, the buzzards return, soon followed by hawks.

“Buzzards,” as one acquaintance long ago explained, “is what cowboys call turkey vultures.”

But buzzard is so much more fun to say, fast or slow.

Yes, a few linger around here all winter, along with a number of hawks. But one day, looking up, you realize the balance has changed.

They’ve mostly headed for Florida again. Along with the rest of the “snow birds.”

PARKING LOT DRAMA

I’m sitting in the car on a sunny afternoon, waiting for my wife or a daughter to emerge from the supermarket.

I watch a young woman pace nervously (am I being redundant), then climb on the trunk to look around or perhaps be seen by someone. She repeats this several times.

Finally, I break the ice, offer to make a phone call or help in some other way. She laughs and declines the offer.

“I’m waiting for some guy,” she says.

Oh, yes, I should have known. I think of all the other times I was waiting for some girl or woman. We know it’s a common scene.

And then he pulls up, much older than I’d expected. He goes to the driver-side window, waves a coat-hanger, and goes to work.

So it wasn’t just some guy, after all. So much for the romance that usually accompanies the story. Unless that happened somewhere down the road once she got going.

ENDLESS PRAIRIE

As a child, we could listen to the grandfathers and uncles talk about the good old days and their friends on the farms they left behind. Those conversations have been lost but remain a part of my heritage, my shaping — I have renounced those things, but return with a sense of ambivalence, that something more is lost — that there is no direction or depth in the changes.

The prairie was endless for the Amerindian, who lived securely within its radiance of circles, rippling harmonies, its ecologies — man, four-legged brothers, and spirits. Then the white man broke this, with straight lines: plows and axes. Like a bottle, the endless prairie was broken; its essence oozed away, like a bleeding wound.  In breaking the tall grassed prairie, the white man created a new one — a desert of desolate spaces he could not understand, replenish, or be replenished by. He was depleting that which he came to find, forever. The history we consider is blazed by changes — turmoil, revolts, new kingdoms overriding the old; the Israeli history of ancient tentacles — it is not a history of land and people eternal, but rather a history of decay, of individual men or, at best, their generations as the whole thing changes in directions no one can foresee — the concept of PROGRESS with its central OGRE . . . the hidden desires to somehow make static or permanent the very creations of the destruction, which must obviously fail. In this new prairie the automobile was created and perfected — a means for fleeing, for destroying the COMMON UNITY of persons living through necessity in some kind of harmonic chord with the land (even the pioneers who broke the prairie and its Indian harmonies, had at least the peasants’ sense of the value of earth to man — they knew the traces of tribe in themselves and could still revere Mother Earth) — but with AUTO the prairie could be leveled even more — consider the vertical element that had been eliminated when BUFFALO were exterminated!  enclaves of community become vulnerable, to escape as well as invasion — The Endless Prairie we have now can be broken. Pilgrimage made. The mind freed. We have our options, to fly away, or to enter inner circles. Either way, to become Indians (of America or Asia — both have ways). To focus, not upon the flatness, but on the hidden paths appearing in the Small Things.

As I used to chant: Hari Om Prasad!

RETHINKING FUNERALS

A few Saturdays ago, I attended an all-day workshop at the meetinghouse that addressed alternatives to America’s modern funeral industry. Yes, we Friends advocate simplicity and equality and environmental sustainability, among other things, but this was quite an eye-opener.

If you’re like me, you’ve probably assumed that much of the practice is simply not up for discussion – that you have to go through a funeral director, have a corpse embalmed, use a casket and vault, for instance. Not so, at least here in New England, as we learned.

For starters, my big shock came at looking at the price-tag on funeral services – and even though the Federal Trade Commission requires establishments to hand out a general price list to all who ask, two of the largest funeral homes in our area refused to provide that information. So much for comparison shopping on a major expenditure. Even so, we could see that the billing starts at a “basic fee” of about $2,000 or more … and then every activity or product gets added on. As I sat there, I calculated that even without embalming, dressing, casketing, hearse and limo, or a funeral home ceremony, simple cremation could run over five grand. Huh?

You can imagine what a full funeral begins to run. Me, I’d rather leave my heirs a new car.

This was before we even considered the heavy pollution arising from either embalming and burial or cremation or other negative social costs.

Compounding all this, of course, is the fact that few people are willing to look directly at the inevitability of death, especially their own. (Otto Rank, one of Freud’s two major disciples, saw the fear of death as the central psychological problem, rather than sex.) To consider these issues calmly and clearly, then, becomes a spiritual or religious act that embraces the totality of life itself.

What we found in the workshop was that rather than morbidity, we were celebrating life as an entire cycle.

There were two separate parts under consideration, and each could be done independently of the other.

  • Home funeral: This is the option of keeping the deceased’s body in the home before burial or cremation, and of arranging ceremonies or observations that fit the family’s desires. This includes cleansing and preparation of the body, as desired.
  • Green burial: This is chemical-free, without a vault, and allows the body to decompose naturally. The coffin may be made locally, or one may prefer to use a shroud alone.

As we “walked through” the preparation of a body (a volunteer from our circle), we began to feel how loving and caring the activity could be, especially as part of a community. We were especially moved by the simple beauty of a shroud and its outer wrapping as an alternative to a coffin. (I’d long been intrigued by the Amish use of a shroud, and now I’m sold – it’s elegant and far more natural than a traditional casket.)

We have much to think about and examine. Among them is what steps we need to take to assure we can do this in our own burial ground – is the soil proper, are there any zoning restrictions, do we want to let one section revert to forest after burials?

But at least we’re thinking.

If this strikes a chord with you, feel free to check out National Home Funeral Alliance for contacts and directions.

WHAT ARE THE DEEPER VALUES?

I like a faith that values questions. Especially the ones that elude easy answer. The ones that keep us on our toes. The ones that keep us digging.

What have you done today has much more meaning than one that asks what you believe.

Questions of where have you encountered the Holy One? … and where have you served? … are more fitting.

The matters of peace and joy and hope and justice and, well, it’s a long list – are meaningless unless we manifest them in our daily encounters. Like St. Paul’s insistence on praying without ceasing, it’s an impossible task, which is precisely the point. Keep trying! And maybe you find out it’s not just up to you alone, but the Holy One as well. Again, we return to relationship.

I began these reflections as a matter of yoga and the question of whether it’s religion. Are you letting go of yourself (and your tensions and anger and desires and …) as you exercise? In your meditation? In your service to others during the day? Are you sensing the presence of the Holy One throughout?

Are you aware of the obstacles and barriers that arise as well?

If you are, it’s religion.

As for teaching kids in a classroom, what’s wrong with that? Just don’t confine it to a box with labels and wrapping.

So now we’re down to the core conundrum in the separation of church and state issue. How do you live your faith without demanding others do it for you? Or, to a lesser extent, live it the way you would?

Inhale, stretch. Exhale, touch your toes. You still have to do it! Close your eyes, then, and feel what’s happening within.

FEEL GOOD OR SIMPLY FALAFEL?

I can understand the temptation to sell religion as a matter of improving yourself, whether it’s self-esteem or self-worth or, well, treasures on Earth (the “name it and claim it” version of praying). Churches have by and large shifted from emphasizing damnation versus eternal salvation, and in sweetening the message, have also seen attendance plummet. Along the way, they’ve lost much of what makes them unique as faith communities, as well. Still, as I center down on Sunday morning into the silence of our worship, I hear all the traffic on the highway outside the meetinghouse and wonder just where everyone’s racing to. For many, I know, it’s the mall, as if that has anything they really desperately need that much one day of the week, much less life everlastingly.

I hear a similar message in many of the yoga enthusiasts, who preach the heightened self glories emerging from the practice, and once again, I sense something else is missing.

What it comes down to, essentially, is whether one’s being self-centered or selfless in one’s focus. The selfless version, I’ll argue, demands a faith community – a circle of kindred souls who are committed to helping one another along the way, including listening to their perceptions of our own efforts, pro and con.

The role of a teacher – whether a guru or a pastor or a minister or elder – is also important, as well as the circle of discipline that individual submits to.

The self-centered version, in contrast, needs no one else – or many just an audience.

As I ponder the nearly empty churches on Sunday morning – and other places of worship on Friday night or Saturday – I’m left wondering just what is being fed to the spiritually hungry or what invitation is being issued to the wider world. It’s not a matter of shaping our message to popular marketing, but of being true to an alternative way of living.

And, as I see it, that demands a circle of faith – not just a solitary individual. As Jesus said, where two or three are gathered. For starters. Or a bit of what I experienced living in the ashram.

Let me add, it’s anything but easy. Far from it.