Tag: Religion

THE NAYLER PRAYER FLAGS

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 2 Comments

I’ve mentioned my love of Tibetan prayer flags, from long before they became so popular and easily purchased. One Christmas, though, I was given a kit for making my own, which left me wondering what to design. Early Quakers would have scoffed at the practice, mostly as vanity and superstition, but I do like the reminder to be more prayerful and attentive. So I turned to one of the early major voices of the movement, James Nayler, and began extracting a few words for each square.

Here’s what emerged:

To
ALL
HONEST
HEARTS

Stand still
in the Light
of Jesus.

Come to
SEE
the Life.

If the EYE
be single
NO
darkness.

One power
WORKS
in the
LIGHT.

Believe
and
WAIT.

HAVE
the
LIGHT
of
LIFE.

To
MAKE
MANIFEST

THIS
COVENANT
OF
LIGHT.

TRUTH
PEACE
RIGHTEOUSNESS

THE
FRUIT
YOU
BRING
FORTH

ONE
is the
POWER

Receive
the
LIGHT.

SHINE.

FOLLOW
the
LIGHT.

CONSIDERING THE COMPETITION

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

After I moved from the ashram, I spent a year-and-a-half in a small city that very much resembles one I call Prairie Depot in several of my novels. And then I returned to my university as a research associate.

While our institute was set in a town very much like Daffodil, there was one difference I omitted. By this time, the town had a large urban ashram and, for several reasons, I chose not to attend classes or other activity there but instead began sitting with the Quakers in their mostly silent worship in a country meetinghouse.

Still, as the joke went, the ashram owned a third of the town. It had a vegetarian restaurant or two, maybe a bakery by this point, a house painting company, art gallery, significant real estate, and maybe much more.

The university, of course, owned the rest.

Or so the joke went, back in the mid-’70s.

My own experience is much more along the lines of what I describe in my novel, Ashram. We barely owned anything.

HOLIDAY GREETINGS

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 2 Comments

We’re in that time of the year when we receive cards and letters. Personal ones, I mean, rather than direct-mail advertising.

Each year, I find myself reflecting on differences among generations regarding this custom. My dad’s circles, for instance, would send out and receive about two hundred cards apiece – keeping touch long after their high school and Air Force years, and trailing off only with illness and death. My generation, in contrast, falls away quickly. Each year, more lost connections, often with a pang of disconnection. There are, of course, a few who cling on, often with nothing personal included. There are also some older friends of my parents or a handful of relatives, in some sense of duty. (Only one of my first cousins has kept in touch). There are even a few correspondents who have reconnected, after years of silence. My wife and kids, being of a practical mindset, figure the folks we see regularly know what’s up with us (and so there’s no sense in mailing greetings), while those we don’t see, well, they’re history (so what’s the point?).

I think a lot of my dad’s era was a continuation of an earlier awareness, before cheap long-distance phone calls and then email. Those connections were special. My kids, on the other hand, don’t send letters of any kind, but they do have a wide range of online correspondents and texting. (Should we ask what will happen to the timeless art of the love letter?) What all this says about American society is another matter.

Quakers in some measure maintain an ancient practice of epistles, typically sent from one Meeting to another or even from a Meeting or “weighty Quake” to individuals. Some of our most powerful expressions survive there, and not from George Fox exclusively. Still, in an email world, how do we extend our faith? What efforts will survive? What will be read over the years? How do we reach out with something personal and special? Suddenly, I notice how many people are buying candles, especially at this time of year! Candles, in an electronics age. Remarkable! A spark of Light in the dark!

ADVENT AND MORE

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

This is the time of year when many people work themselves up into a frenzy of festivity, inevitably followed by a letdown. For whatever reasons, it has me reflecting on the contrasts between many of the expectations and realities in our surrounding culture. For instance, Christmas is supposed to be a holy occasion, but the fact is that one can eliminate all mention of religion and still engage fully in its revelry and spending. Family gatherings, too, are emphasized, although at the office, what we’ve noticed, listening to the police radio scanner, is how family structure is drifting: “live-in boyfriend or girlfriend,” becomes “fiance or fiancee” after their second child together. Maybe that’s a reflection of a widespread fear of commitment in America today – as if having a child isn’t a commitment. Those calls, too, typically arise in domestic abuse or breakdown, in turn arising in other fears. Think, too, of the troops overseas, and their families at home. We might ask, then, what is the real Christmas message.

Here I believe we can look to small children for a clue – those who are old enough to sense that something special is about to happen, but not old enough to equate it with receiving particular products. (Hmm, might the latter suggest something about the expectation of prayer many people seem to hold? Well, that’s another topic.) What I’m thinking about is that tingling anticipation that’s full of wonder and discovery and emotional overflow. Everything is new or newly repeated, from last year or maybe two. Full of hope and questioning, as well. Their exuberance and obsession are contagious. And, yes, they crave the stability of a loving family.

That is the energy early Friends had when they were known as Children of the Light. May we, too, be filled with a revived sense of that vitality and urgency –the ecstasy of apocalyptic faith that shakes the world for miles around, and brings change. And brings us together.

THE STIGMA OF RELIGION

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 5 Comments

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?

RETHINKING FUNERALS

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 6 Comments

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?

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 2 Comments

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?

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 4 Comments

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.

UNMASKING THE IDOLS?

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 2 Comments

I suppose most Americans think they have an understanding of what “religion” is. Their definition likely starts with a statement about believing in God, perhaps qualifying that in some context with Jesus or some other touchstone.

The matter of belief and practice, though, can be quite distinct – one doesn’t necessarily entail the other. Many claim to believe yet do nothing meaningful in response. Where’s the faith that redirects and transforms lives? Where’s the love and hope and joy?

Douglas Gwyn titled a 1989 volume Unmasking the Idols, and while the work was addressed to Quakers, I love his awareness of the importance of “unmasking the deep-seated problem of idolatry in our lives [as] necessarily our first task” in our spiritual lives.

Quite simply, it starts with us individually. But I also sense we as a nation need to identify all of the false religion that shapes our public policies and priorities. We could start with celebrities, professional athletics, consumerism, the workplace, corporate enterprise, military expenditures, personal success … well, you get the idea. We worship a lot of things – a lot of things we shouldn’t for our own long-range health.

For one thing, I want us to have other measures of worth than a dollar sign. (Or, in terms of organized religion, an IRS tax deduction.)

We can even look at stripping away the superstitions and customs that accompany our traditions.

The idols even appear when we’re objecting to what is perceived as religion in the public schools. I could, for example, point to the objections to anything mentioning Jesus in relation to Christmas, while substituting carols to witches for Halloween. (I’m with the fundamentalists on that one.) Or the ways we’ll bend in our claims of tolerance, but only in one direction.

Jesus was oh-so-right about that plank in our own eye!

Still, the question of exactly what defines religion is elusive. “Preparation for death” comes as close as anything I’ve heard, once I realized it’s really talking about preparation for life – whatever that mysterious state is – and then life more abundantly, as Jesus promises.

I would take it a step further. Not belief in a Holy One, but a daily, personal relationship. But how do you define that? And how do you keep it pure? Maybe we’re back to the exercises, one way or another.

JUST WHERE IS RELIGION IN AMERICAN LIFE?

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 1 Comment

Discussion over whether yoga is or isn’t a religion – and whether the physical exercises have any place in a public school curriculum – triggers another of my emotional hot buttons. This one has to do with the marginalization of religion – authentic religion, at least – from public consciousness.

I think we’re poorer as a consequence. If we can’t talk openly about our deepest experiences of life – birth, love, family, failures and successes, and especially death – and the ecstasy and despair that can accompany them, how are we to comprehend and direct our place in the wider world? In America, sex is no longer a taboo subject – just listen to the celebrity gossip, for starters – but don’t you dare talk about spiritual faith or ask someone their income and spending. (Never mind that I do address those matters in the Talking Money category at my blog Chicken Farmer I Still Love You.)

Let me point out that the kind of discussion I’m encouraging precludes dogmatic or doctrinaire pat answers. It’s based in direct experience, rather than speculation. It’s not a matter of arguing one’s correctness or trying to convert another, but rather to relate the personal struggle with the greatest questions and challenges of life.

What does it mean to do good? To love? To seek peace? To pursue justice? And how does your faith make you a better person or create a more just and humane society?

Bill Moyers’ Genesis: A Living Conversation series on PBS in the 1990s demonstrated how this could work, and led to some of the most profound discussions I’ve ever heard in the public arena.

Too often what I see in terms of religion in America is a kind of generic homogeneity. I much prefer those who see importance in what the Amish call the distinctives – the practices that set us apart and strengthen our particular awareness. We can’t all live like the Amish, but we can learn from them. We can learn from those who make room to pray seven times a day or who feed the homeless or observe a strict Sabbath.

Settling for the lowest common denominator in this case means settling on nothing at all. I much prefer celebrating the alternative.

I also prefer listening to those who are finding joy and lightness in their spiritual encounters rather than those who are laboring under guilt or gloom. I’ll let you go ahead and quote chapter and verse on that.

What I do know is that when there have been coworkers and others along the way who can tell me about their daily faith, and welcome my replies, we’ve both been encouraged and strengthened. It’s been a special bond unlike any other.

So, is yoga a religion? Well, first we need to be more specific! Just what do we mean by religion?