tBlog - talking to myself

A Christian Perspective

05.31.05 (9:32 am) [edit]

A Christian Perspective

What Does It Mean to Lead a Spiritual Life? A Christian Perspective The Rev. Dr. Kenneth A. Corr Senior Pastor First Baptist Church Memphis, Tennessee

I am humbled to be asked to speak on this topic because I know that there are nearly as many answers to that question as there are Christians. The different responses from the Christian community to the recent terrorist attacks is an example. Some have called for compassion, understanding, and non-violence; some have called for patriotic support of a military invasion; some have said that it is God's judgment on America; some have suggested it is the beginning of the apocalypse. All of these have claimed to represent the Christian perspective. So, when we ask the question of what it means to lead a spiritual life from a Christian perspective, there is no univocal opinion. If you have ever sat in an adult men's Bible class in a Baptist church, you know that is true. But I am willing to give my opinion as one who wrestles with this question on a regular basis.

Let me begin with a definition. I believe that this definition is true regardless of the faith tradition. The spiritual life of any person is the path that a person chooses to follow in response to the God within.

The spiritual life is a "path." It is more than doctrine or belief. It is the conscious choosing of a direction. Our English word, "belief" comes from the Anglo-Saxon word which means, "by-life." It is an understanding that "belief" is a way of life.

The spiritual life is also a "response." In the Christian tradition, this is called a conversion. It means that we set off on the spiritual path in response to something greater than ourselves. It may be a sudden and dramatic experience. It may be a long, slow process. But something happens to set us on the path.

The "something" that happens to us is "God." The only way that we can experience God is within. All religious experience is an inner experience. Then we have to ask, "What is an authentic religious experience?" The Islamic extremists are saying that the terrorist attacks are an authentic response to the God within. I'm sure that the men who blew themselves up in the hijacked airplanes thought they were doing the "godly" thing. How do we know what is an authentic religious experience? Here is where the different religious traditions take separate ways.

The Christian response is that authentic religious experience is defined by the revelation of God in Jesus Christ. "In the beginning was the Word. And the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. . . . And the Word became flesh, and lived among us and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father's only son, full of grace and truth" (John 1:1-2, 14).

That is a pretty bold statement and the basis for Christian ethics. How can Christians make such a bold statement for the uniqueness of Christianity? How can Christians claim that their understanding of God is more authoritative than the Moslem? It is this Christian claim for uniqueness that becomes a stumbling block for inter-faith cooperation.

On what do we base this truth claim? It is not the moral life of Jesus. It is not the teaching of Jesus. It is not even the death of Jesus. The answer is the Resurrection. In his book, Ethics, Jim McClendon, a Baptist theologian, says, "The resurrection event is in fact the turning point of all Christian thought, the cardinal matter of the New Testament. . ." (Jim McClendon, Ethics, p. 246).

The apostle Paul made the claim this way, "If there is no resurrection of the dead, then Christ has not been raised; and if Christ has not been raised, then our proclamation has been in vain and your faith has been in vain. . . . for if the dead are not raised, then Christ has not been raised. If Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile, and you are still in your sins. Then those also who have died in Christ have perished. If for this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied" (1 Corinthians 15:13-14, 16-19).

If you accept the resurrection, then the life and teaching of Jesus becomes authoritative. What Would Jesus Do really does become the critical question for Christian spirituality. It is a difficult thing for Christians to do. Tony Campolo, the Baptist preacher and sociologist once asked if Jesus would drive a BMW. I read an article by John Grisham, after the had written the book, The Chamber, in which he posed the question whether Jesus would pull the lever on the gas chamber. Fred Craddock, a retired professor of preaching, tells this story. ". . . I heard about a young man in his early twenties dying of that horrible, horrible, frightening, terrible AIDS in a hospital in Atlanta. He had no church connection, but someone said he had relatives who had been in the church, so they called a minister of that church, and the minister went to the hospital. The young man was almost dead, just gasping there, and the minister came to the hospital, stood out in the hall, and asked them to open the door. When they opened the door, he yelled a prayer. Another minister there in south Atlanta, down around Forest Park, heard about it and rushed to the hospital, hoping that he was still alive. She got to the hospital, went into the room, went over by the bed, and pulled a chair by the bed. This minister lifted his head and cradled it in her arm. She sang. She quoted scripture. She prayed. And he died. Some of the seminarians said, 'Weren't you scared? He had AIDS!' She said, 'Of course I was scared. I bet you I bathed sixty times.' 'Well then, whey did you do it?' And she said, 'I just imagined if Jesus had gotten the call, what he would do. I had to go.'" (Fred Craddock, Craddock Stories, p. 86).

That is the essence of the Christian spiritual life.

Jesus announced that the kingdom of God was in our midst. It is a new way of being in the world. It is a "topsy-turvy" world where, the last are first, and the first are last; the weak are strong, and the strong are weak; the foolish things are used to confound the wise, and the weak things confound the powerful; the outcasts are the honored guests, and those who are honored take the lowest place. Jesus said, "What is prized by human beings is an abomination in the sight of God" (Luke 16:15). What our world values, what is important to us, the ways that we measure success, the things after which we strive are worthless in the kingdom of God. William. Willimon says, "You have the world going in one direction, Jesus going in another" (Wm. Willimon, Pulpit Resource, July-Sept., '01, p. 40).

Many of you are aware of the Jesus Seminar. It is an effort by scholars to recreate as best we can the historical life of Jesus. John Dominic Crossan is one of the most influential members of this group. Crossan concludes that historically we can't reconstruct with certainty much of what the New Testament teaches about Jesus. But what we can trust for sure is that Jesus came eating and healing. More than just social occasions, the eating and healing events of Jesus were part of a larger strategy to challenge the values and structures of the world. He was offering a new community with a different set of values and structures.

Every time we share the Eucharist, we reenact in symbol this teaching of our Lord. Those who are welcome at the Lord's Table are not defined by economic discrimination, social hierarchy, and political differentiation. It means that we give up social distinctions that divide. At this table, there is no male or female, no black or white, no rich or poor, no pure or impure. There are only sinners who, by grace, have been adopted into the family of God. In his eating and healing, Jesus was giving a vision of the world in which God's kingdom is now and is a kingdom of inclusion.

The spiritual life is one that will follow a path that brings us into contact with the powerless, and brings us into conflict with the powerful.

Is it even possible to live that kind of life?

Let me give two examples of individuals who have become for me models of the Christian spiritual life. They are different as they can be.

One is male and one is female.

One lived in south Georgia, the other in New York.

One worked on the farm, the other worked in the city.

One was Southern Baptist, the other was Catholic.

One was happily married with children, the other had an only child out of wedlock.

One had a Ph.D. from seminary, the other never finished college.

You could not find two people more dissimilar.

But they both came to the same conclusions about the demands of the kingdom of God on their lives.

They both professed faith in Jesus Christ.

They both remained faithful to their church traditions.

They both lived with the poor.

They both believed in non-violence.

They both suffered greatly for their faith.

They both left a legacy that continues to inspire millions.

And they are both my heroes.

They are Clarence Jordan and Dorothy Day.

Clarence Jordan has been called, "a saint in overalls" and "a prophet in blue jeans" (Henlee Barnette, Clarence Jordan: Turning Dreams Into Deeds, p. 2).

He was born in Georgia in 1912, the fourth of seven children. He was raised in the Southern Baptist Church tradition and it was his belief in Jesus Christ that led him to an active concern for the poor, a radical view of social integration, and a belief in non-violence.

Listen to his understanding of the resurrection, "The resurrection places Jesus on this side of the grave-here and now-in the midst of this life. He is not standing on the shore of eternity beckoning us to join him there. He is standing beside us, strengthening us in this life. The good news of the resurrection is not that we shall die and go home with him, but that he has risen and comes home with us, bringing all his hungry, naked, thirsty, sick, prisoner brothers with him" (James C. Howell, Servants, Misfits, and Martyrs, p. 27).

That belief in the meaning of the resurrection, led Clarence to some radical experiments in ministry. He attended the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary where he finished a Ph.D. in New Testament Greek in 1942. He is probably most famous for his folksy translation of the gospels known as, The Cotton Patch Version of the Gospels.

While attending SBTS, Clarence became the director of the Long Run Baptist City Mission Program located in the Haymarket District of Louisville, where he was able to put into practice his concern for social ministry. He once gave an invitation in the chapel of the seminary, "If there is a student in this chapel who isn't looking for the First Baptist Church of Podunk Hollow, there is a ministry for you in this city's Haymarket district where 10,000 people are unchurched" (Barnette, p. 2f).

In 1939, there was an incident in the Haymarket district in which a young black girl was raped by a white man. The angry neighbors gathered at the Negro Fellowship Center. Bob Herndon was there that night and tells this story, "A large black man leading the crowd waved a section of iron pipe saying, 'Just like the whites kill a Negro for this; I'm going to kill a white man.' When the man made this threat, Clarence (who had slipped into the meeting) stepped forward, laid his head on a nearby table and calmly said, 'If a white man must die for this rape, let it be me. Do it now.'" (Henlee Barnette, Clarence Jordan: Turning Dreams Into Deeds, p. 6). That is an example of "belief" as "by life." Jordan believed that the Christian faith had to be lived and not just talked about.

But Jordan's most significant and most controversial contribution began in 1942 with the creation of an interracial farming community in Americus, Georgia, known as Koinonia Farms. Remember this was 1942 in Americus, Georgia. It was a radical experiment in Christian obedience.

He explained that the Christian faith must be lived and not just preached because people can't hear it when it is just preached. He gave this example. "The little country church to which I belonged invited me one summer to hold a revival meeting. They had heard I had graduated from the Baptist Theological Cemetery-uh, Seminary. So I accepted, and I preached to those people and I preached the word of God in south Georgia, and I didn't think that I would survive the ordeal, for when Jesus went back to his little home town to preach not a revival but just one youth sermon on Sunday morning they caught on to what he was saying before he even got to his closing point, and they took him out to the end of town to dash him over the hill. (That's one of the big troubles about Jesus' preaching: you can understand it). Well, I expected to be in that dilemma, but I wasn't; much to my amazement, when I got through preaching, these dear ole deacons came by and said, 'That's a sweet talk.' And I wondered where they were during that sermon! They again asked me to preach and again I tried to make it clear. I supplied for the pastor time and again but somehow I could never make myself heard. But gradually, as Koinonia took shape and the word that had been preached to these people became flesh and they could see it, then they caught on. Not only was I not asked to preach to those people anymore, I was excommunicated, along with all the rest at Koinonia, from the membership of that church. At last the sermon had been delivered." (Clarence Jordan, The Substance of Faith, p. 32f).

When the deacons called for his excommunication, he met with them and said, "'Brethren, if I have violated any teaching of this book (the Bible) in my beliefs or conduct, I will withdraw quietly from this church fellowship. Please point to the text or teaching I have failed to try to live up to!' With that he handed the Bible to the deacon seated next to him who nervously passed it, unopened, to the next. This silent uneasy passing of the Book continued, until finally one deacon explained, 'Brother Jordan, don't pull that Bible stuff on us!'" (Barnette, p. 9). The Christian spiritual life does try to take the Bible seriously. When you do, you get into trouble.

Clarence did not just receive resistance from his community. He also received resistance from his family. He had asked his brother to join him at Koinonia Farms. His brother had political aspirations and eventually became a state senator in Georgia and a justice on the state Supreme court. His brother said, "I can't do that. You know my political aspirations. I might lose my job, my house, everything I've got."

Clarence said, "We might lose everything too."

"It's different for you," Robert responded.

"Why is it different?. . . You and I joined the church the same Sunday as boys. I expect when we came forward the preacher asked, . . . 'Do you accept Jesus as your Lord and Savior?' And I said, 'Yes.' What did you say?"

Robert replied, "I follow Jesus, Clarence, up to a point."

"Could that point by any chance be-the cross?"

"I follow him to the cross, but not on the cross. I'm not getting myself crucified."

"Then I don't believe you are a disciple. You're an admirer of Jesus, but not a disciple of his. I think you ought to go back to the church you belong to, and tell them you're an admirer not a disciple."

"Well now, if everyone who felt like I do did that, we wouldn't have a church, would we?" To which Clarence applied the coup de grace: "The question is, Do you have a church?" (James C. Howell, Servants, Misfits and Martyrs: Saints and Their Stories, p. 28).

I believe that conversation is the essence of Clarence Jordan's understanding of the spiritual life of a Christian. We are called to surrender all.

He once preached on the call of Jesus to embrace all races. "After the sermon an elderly woman, as crisp with pride as a dead honeysuckle vine, made her way down the aisle, her blazing eyes telegraphing the tone of her response. Clarence braced, and she delivered-straight from the gut level of her culture.

"'I want you to know that my grandfather fought in the Civil War, and I'll never believe a word you say.'

"Clarence, who was tall and gracious and as Southern as sow belly himself, smiled and replied:

"'Ma'am, your choice seems quite clear. It is whether you will follow your granddaddy or Jesus Christ'" (Clarence Jordan, The Substance of Faith, p. 7).

Clarence died suddenly and unexpectedly on October 29, 1969. When he died, the coroner refused to come to the farm to receive the body. He was buried in blue jeans on the farm in a simple, homemade, wood coffin.

Millard Fuller's two-year old daughter stood with her family at the grave side and spontaneously began to sing, "Happy Birthday, dear Clarence." Henlee Barnette, who wrote a book on Clarence Jordan says, "Once I searched for his grave in that pine grove in Southwest Georgia. But, like the grave of the prophet Moses, there was no marker and I never found it" (Barnette, p. 11). The work that Clarence started continues today through the legacy of Habitat For Humanity.

Dorothy Day is my other example of the Christian spiritual life. She was born November 8, 1897, in Brooklyn, N.Y. She had a very difficult young adult life that included several lovers and one abortion. In March, 1927, she gave birth to her only child, Teresa Tamar. Dorothy never married Tamar's father. But she determined that she would raise her daughter with a religious faith and even though Dorothy was not raised Catholic, she decided that she would raise Tamar as a Catholic. This began a life of discipleship and service.

Dorothy prayed for guidance as to how she could serve the poor and needy, and a Catholic priest named Peter Maurin showed up at her house and announced that he was her mentor. Under Peter Maurin's direction, Dorothy's ministry developed along three ideas: A newspaper to distribute her views; a retreat ministry where people could escape the daily demands of life; and Houses of Hospitality for the poor.

Like Clarence Jordan, Dorothy believed that the resurrected Jesus is on this side of the grave. After a retreat in 1940, she wrote in her journal, "Heaven can begin here" (Jim McClendon, Ethics, p. 296).

Dorothy did not have an idealistic view that she was going to change the world. She knew well that poverty was not going to change. But the rules of the kingdom of God did not wait for heaven. The kingdom of God is now and demands obedience. Sometimes obedience can be very demanding. "Last week a woman came in with a policeman. She was a very difficult alcoholic whom Irene, who has charge of the women's house, had tried to help for the past six months. Over and over again she had cleaned Ann up, had tried to get her on her feet, had helped her to jobs, had forgiven her seventy times seven rather than put her out on the streets. The last time she was drunk, she had lost ten dollars in the house and we found it. Tom has charge of the money of the house, and it was turned over to him and used for 'flop money' for others, for beans for the soup or whatnot. When she next came in, sober, with a job, and asked for her money, we told her that we had found it but used it. We live often from day to day, so there was nothing at that moment in the house to give her. We did not say that she owed us far more for her six months' stay with us. And now here she was, coming in threateningly with a policeman, demanding we give her the ten dollars.

"'Give her your cloak, too,' Bob said." (Dorothy Day, On Pilgrimage, p. 200f).

After being away at a retreat, she came back to New York. She records these words. "It is always a terrible thing to come back to Mott Street. To come back in a driving rain, to men crouched on the stairs, huddled in doorways, without overcoats because they have sold them perhaps the week before when it was warm, to satisfy hunger or thirst-who knows? Those without love would say, 'It serves them right, drinking up their clothes.' God help us if we got just what we deserved!" (Dorothy Day, On Pilgrimage, p. 125).

One of my favorite stories of Dorothy Day is this. "One day a well-dressed woman visited Dorothy Day and donated a diamond ring. Dorothy thanked her and later in the day gave the ring to an elderly woman who took most of her meals at the shelter. A coworker protested, suggesting Dorothy should have sold the ring and used the money to pay the woman's rent for a year. But Dorothy insisted that the woman have her dignity. The woman could choose what to do with the ring. She could pay her rent for a year; or she could just wear the ring, like the woman who donated it. 'Do you suppose that God created diamonds only for the rich?'" (James C. Howell, Servants, Misfits, and Martyrs, p. 52).

Interestingly, Dorothy Day and Clarence Jordan knew each other. She visited Koinonia Farms. During her visit, she took her turn at the all-night sentry, sitting in a station wagon. It was the night before Easter. A car approached and slowed down. Dorothy ducked low in the seat just as a bullet passed through the parked car (James C. Howell, Servants, Misfits, and Martyrs, p. 47f)

She died on Nov. 29, 1980 and was buried in a homespun dress and laid in a plain wooden casket provided by the Trappists. The work that Dorothy began continues today. There are Houses of Hospitality across the country including one in Nashville.

Jim McClendon says, "Her life can only be understood in its wholeness if seen in resurrection light" (McClendon, p. 277). On the casket was one flower, saying, Resurrection (Dorothy Day, On Pilgrimage, p. 64).

Clarence Jordan and Dorothy Day are not lives beyond the reach of ordinary Christians. They are simply individuals who took seriously the call to follow Jesus completely. I believe that is what the Christian spiritual life is.

Bibliographic resources for Clarence Jordan and Dorothy Day: Henlee Barnette, Clarence Jordan: Turning Dreams Into Deed James C. Howell, Servants, Misfits, and Martyrs Clarence Jordan, The Substance of Faith Jim McClendon, Ethics Dorothy Day, On Pilgrimage

Established by his church's Sunday telecast as one of the best-known preachers in the Mid-South, Dr. Corr has pastored First Baptist Church for eight years. Under his energetic leadership, First Baptist Church has become greatly involved in many community outreach ministries such as Calvary Episcopal Church's AIDS Healing Service, A Prayer Response for Concerned Christians (in support of women in ministry), and Friends for Life. Dr. Corr, a renowned speaker and teacher, has led discussion regarding "Leading a Spiritual Life from the Christian Perspective" with groups such as the Rhodes Servant Leadership Team and the Samaritan Counseling Center.

This email was cleaned by emailStripper, available for free from http://www.papercut.biz/emailStripper.htm" title="http://www.papercut.biz/emailStripper.htm" target="_blank"http://www.papercut.biz/email...

3 Comments

Where do I look to find God in this world of tradegy and pain?

05.30.05 (6:24 pm) [edit]
Where do I look to find God in this world of tradegy and pain?

Tragedy and pain are disorienting. We don’t want to experience either, yet life keeps bringing them on. Our egos try to keep our lives tragedy and pain-free. In his recently published book, Credo, preacher and writer William Sloane Coffin suggests that we have a God who provides us with minimum protection and maximum support. I agree with him – but I don’t like it. In the face of tragedy and pain, minimum protection from God just doesn’t feel good enough for me. My instinct is to seek – and expect - a spiritual firewall from God. And when I don’t get it, I get indignant, and like millions of others, I shake my fist at the heavens and demand to know why this is happening. I end up looking for a God who will provide protection – and miss out on the God who offers support.

We may want to keep clear of tragedy and pain, but God always moves toward it. Over the years, I have sat with scores of families who have been shredded with grief over the death of a loved one. Especially in the cases of unexpected death, the pain is as deep as it ever gets. In practically every single instance, whenever someone shares a memory, a story – something about the person who just died - people begin to laugh. It’s not nervous laughter, or an exercise in denial, or simply a short break from tears and despair. It is real joy – short-lived, yes, but deep joy for the love that was shared, and will always be remembered. That joy is real; it often surfaces in the midst of tragedy. I can’t say for certain that this fleeting joy is God, but it certainly can be a comfort; and a divine support.

The Rev. Mark Beckwith

This is a world of tragedy and pain. It is also a world of joy and fulfillment. It is my conviction that God is present to us in both worlds. The question always is how these two worlds can exist at the same time. There is no easy answer. The closest I can come to it in my own experience is that only a world of freedom could create that possibility. How could we choose good if evil did not offer us a choice. Creativity always comes out of chaos.

But to return to our question: It is easy to sense God's presence when things are going right. But where is God when things fall apart? Do we not find the divine presence in the very place that Jesus found it during his crucifixion? Could there be a greater experience of tragedy and pain than that? God was there in the loving acts extended to Christ by those who loved him and stayed with him to the end. His mother, Mary Magdalene, the disciples-- all were there in their grief and broken-heartedness.

In our world of pain, we can find God in the loving acts of those who stand by us. In our illnesses we can be grateful for those of the medical profession who fight to restore our health. They are the instruments of God and through them his love comes. All healing really is divine. In our emotional distresses God comes to us through a friend, a family member, a counselor, or a minister to offer us encouragement. God is there through those who care. In moments of deep need, God comes in a mysterious way to give us courage.

No one escapes the struggles of life. Our goodness or our faith do not make us immune from suffering. God never promised that life would be without its painful moments. We are promised that God will be with us no matter what we face. Someone wrote, "Peace does not come with the absence of troubles, but with the conscious realization of adequate resources." God can be found as the supplier of all the resources we need to get through life's difficult moments. We also find God in the messages of hope. This experience of pain will not have the last word. Jesus said to his disciples, "In this world you have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world." (John 16:33)

The ultimate victory belongs to the power of love. Christ came to bring us that message. Something abides beyond the suffering-- the presence of one who has control of the future. The word of hope is that our future is in the hands of God. Love, courage and hope sum up the resources we have to face our personal tragedies and pain.

--The Rev. Dr. Brooks Ramsey

God does not promise to prevent pain and tragedy. If we are fortunate to live long enough, we will experience and encounter pain over and over again. What God does promise is to be with us through the pain; God promises to give us the power of His presence so that we can cope, so that we can have perspective, so that the pain of loss, of heartbreak, of our own dying does not overwhelm.

Look for God in the person who sits and listens with his or her heart when you need to pour out yours. Look for God in hope that grows out of ashes; look for God in the growth and peace that comes to some who have been through dark valleys. Look for God in the laughs of small children and in the confidence of youth. Look for God in every person who is open to God, everyone who seeks and searches for God; look for God in everyone who asks questions such as yours.

--The Rev. William A. Kolb

The part of Christianity that is most meaningful to me is the story of the Good Samaritan. Its message speaks of helping those one doesn't know, maybe those with whom one has never spoken, those who are different from ourselves. There are opportunities to reach out, out of our comfortable lives into those lives of need. At my church, we feed the homeless on Sunday mornings, asking nothing from them in return. These are the ones who are traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho. In their faces are pain and tragedy. They are mostly men but sometimes women and children. They have lost hope. Last week the group of homeless was bigger than ever. I prayed for loaves and fishes, Lord let there be enough so none goes hungry. There were 96 meals and exactly 96 waiting to be fed.

There is God in this world of tragedy and pain. I see Jesus in their eyes on Sunday mornings.

--Christine

Kosovo, Littleton, Oklahoma City - these words bring to mind images of awful human tragedy and pain. Were those victims able to find God in their midst? Where can we find God in this world?

As I thought about this compelling question, I realized that ideas have come to me from a variety of sources:

*First there was Rabbi Harold S. Kushner's book, When Bad Things Happen to Good People.

* Then there was a homily that Doug Bailey, my church's rector at the time, delivered on Easter some years ago. "Christ has died. Christ has risen. Christ will come again in you, and you, and you," he said as he pointed to us in the pews. WOW! That thought had never occurred to me before. Christ coming through me to others? Could that be?

*Marcus Borg's book, The God We Never Knew, helped me more thoroughly comprehend that Easter sermon and helped me grow in the understanding that God is not a judge up in the heavens but is living among and through you and me.

I used to think that God's presence would come to me like a bolt of lightening and zap me. Now I know that I need to reflect many times each day and take an inventory at the end of the day. How has God tried to touch me today? Was it in a stranger's smile, a new flower, an e-mail message, scripture, words in a hymn? (During my first Sunday visit to Calvary, I felt God's presence in all the smiling faces.) Could it be possible that I have helped others know God's presence today? What might I or could I have done to help God's presence be felt by others? Could I have done more?

God's presence may not be packaged in the way we expect. Taking the time to make that mental inventory helps me recognize that presence. I hope it helps you.

--Barbara

In my experience, God is everywhere. On the rare occasions when I've been able to focus on Him, I've felt His presence. It is amazingly difficult to do. The pressures of work, family, friends, schedules, deadlines, wants, needs, and fears all flood my mind and crowd out God. Sometimes tragedy and/or pain has been the catalyst that allowed me to turn off the noise of my everyday life and focus on God.

When I've allowed myself to be open to God, I've seen Him all around me. I have seen Him in other people, in acts of kindness, in the faith of another fellow Christian, in my children, and in my wife. I have felt His presence in worship, in nature, in meditation, in scripture, and especially in prayer. My spiritual life sometimes seems like a roller coaster. In times of great despair when I yearn for God's presence, I often find I'm too busy dealing with the problems at hand to stop and listen to Him. Not that He speaks words; I experience God in a spiritual joy and comfort that is more powerful than mere words. I have found that when I sincerely put God above all else and look He is there.

-- Nick

Sometimes people become disillusioned by tragedy and pain. They attempt to explain it away by saying that everything has a purpose. I like to think that God manifests himself in our solutions. It is our responsibility to make the proper response. Crisis can be opportunity. In Search for Meaning Victor Frankl refers to the concentration camps stating,

"…it is just such an exceptionally difficult external situation which gives man the opportunity to grow spiritually beyond himself…an accomplishment which in ordinary circumstances they would have never achieved."

Based on human potentiality, I firmly believe that everything can have a purpose. Glory be to God.

--Louise

We look for God in prayer, in close relation with others, and in the church. Most of all we find the face of God in the tears, the hugs, and the words of comfort others bring to us in times of great sorrow and pain. Here we can experience authentic moments of God's pure and unconditional love.

--Major

Copyright ©1999-2005 explorefaith.org

This email was cleaned by emailStripper, available for free from http://www.papercut.biz/email...

3 Comments

A Jewish Perspective What Does It Mean to Lead a Spiritual Life?

05.30.05 (10:40 am) [edit]

What Does It Mean to Lead a Spiritual Life? A Jewish Perspective Rabbi Micah D. Greenstein Senior Rabbi Temple Israel Memphis, Tennessee

The theme of my talk tonight is Jewish Spirituality. I'm going to give you my Top Ten list of what it means to be a spiritual person today, and also a glimpse of a wonderful new book by Rabbi Larry Kushner (a brother to Rabbi Harold Kushner, who wrote When Bad Things Happen to Good People) titled, Jewish Spirituality, A Brief Introduction for Christians. It's an illuminating, insightful text on Jewish spirituality. It is published by Jewish Lights Publishing, which has a very helpful Web site I would encourage you to check out: www.jewishlights.com.

Spirituality--whether you are Christian, Muslim, a Jew or a Hindu--is religion experienced intimately. You might say it's the core, the essence of religion. Spirituality is where you and God meet and what you do about it. It doesn't have to be, as Larry Kushner says, "other worldly," such as in Handel's "Hallelujah Chorus." For most people, spirituality is ordinary and every day. It's a buzzword today. Earlier generations probably called the same idea sacred or holy. One of the great Jewish philosophers of all time, Abraham Joshua Heschel, who is a great mystical theologian, suggested that spirituality is life lived in the continuous presence of the divine. I like Heschel's definition a lot.

The English word "spiritual" has its roots in Greek thought, and it implies a split between the material world and the realm of the spirit, because the opposite of spiritual is material. By definition, in English, spirituality seems to invite the spiritual seeker to exit this everyday, material world to attain some higher spiritual level. But tonight I am here to tell you that in classical Hebrew Jewish spirituality, there is only one world, that is simultaneously material and spiritual.

Many of you know Psalm 24:1, "The whole world is full of God. The Earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof." Everything is a manifestation of God--from prayers to garbage, and everything is connected. Everything conceals the Holy One of Being. When Jews recite Deuteronomy 6:4, "Here oh Israel, the Lord our God; the Lord is one," what we are saying is that everything is connected to God. Jewish spirituality is an approach to life in which we strive to become aware of God's presence and purpose in everything. It doesn't imply a removal from the everyday. In fact, it's in some ways finding the extraordinary in the ordinary--in your work, in your exercise, in your quiet times, in material things.

For a Christian, seeking an understanding of Jewish spirituality, the task is complicated, because Judaism and Christianity share a great deal. But because there are so many Christians and so many varieties of Christianity, it can be easy for Christians to fall into the habit of thinking that Judaism is just another, albeit an earlier, form of Christianity without Jesus. And this distorts Judaism's teachings and deprives Christians of what might be a unique and vital perspective of their own faith. Rabbi Larry Kushner says in his new book, that by studying another religion, whether it be Judaism if you are Christian, or Islam if you are Jewish, you can learn to see your own spiritual tradition through a new lens.

Jewish spirituality, as I said before, is a matter of seeing the holy in the everyday, and invites us to wake up and open our eyes to the holy things happening all around us every day. A lot of them are so obvious they are taken for granted unless, God forbid, you are struck with illness or have experienced misfortune. When we wake up and see the morning light, that's a spiritual moment according to Judaism. When we taste food and are nourished. When we learn from others and grow wise. When we embrace people we love and receive their love in return. When we help those around us and feel good. All these and more are there for us every day, but you have to open your eyes to see them. Otherwise, you miss it. Remember the famous phrase from Genesis when Jacob wakes up from his dream? "God was in this place, and I did not know it."

Another example of opening your eyes to see the holy in the everyday is the story of Moses and the burning bush found in Exodus. There is an open question of whether the burning bush was a miracle or whether it was a test to see if Moses would notice it or not. If you go to the Biblical gardens outside of Jerusalem, you'll see this bush that looks like it is burning when the sun shines on it. Maybe God spoke to Moses because Moses saw mystery in something as ordinary as this bush. Moses had to look at that bush long enough to see that. As you know, the bush was not consumed. Maybe once God saw that Moses could pay attention, God spoke to him.

Let me give you another famous example, Exodus 24:2. When God was ready to give Moses the Torah on Mt. Sinai, he said to Moses, "Come up to me on the mountain, and be there." Judaism is a tree of tradition. The Bible is just the beginning, with two thousand years of branches and leaves. One of those great branches was in Poland, which was pretty much wiped out by Hitler. One of the great Rabbis of Poland, the Kotzker Rebbe, said about this verse, "If God told Moses to come up on the mountain, then why did God also say be there? Where else could he be?" Well, the answer, according to the Kotzker Rebbe, is that not only did God want Moses to be up on the mountain, God wanted him also to be fully present. God wanted him to pay close attention. Otherwise, Moses would not really be there. I think you can relate to this idea where you are physically in one place, but because you are not paying attention, you might as well be somewhere else, and you may even be.

How do you open your eyes and pay attention in Judaism? Well, we do it by way of a b'racha, which I guess, you'd call a blessing. It's the best English translation. It begins the formula Baruch ata Adonai, "Holy One of blessing," Eloheinu melech ha'olam, "Your presence fills creation," and then you fill in the blanks. "Holy One of blessing, your presence fills creation, who shares your wisdom through great teachers." There is a blessing to be said when you learn from a teacher. There is a blessing to be said upon seeing a rainbow. There is a blessing to be said, as I said before, when you see the morning light. There is a blessing to be said for waking up in the morning, "Holy One of blessing, your presence fills creation, who removes sleep from my eyes in the morning and slumber from my eyelids." There is another one, "Holy One of blessing, your presence fills creation, who spreads over us the shelter of peace."

The word baruch--blessing--is different than the word for prayer. To pray, from the Latin, is to beg, to plead. The spiritual implies, in English, separation between the material and the spiritual. In Judaism we use the a b'racha, and it comes from the same word for your knees. The idea is when you bless God, it is not begging or pleading. It is an act of gratitude, bending the knee for God, symbolically. Whenever you recite, "Holy One of blessing, your presence fills creation," you are acknowledging an act of gratitude. Each time a Jew recites a blessing, they are basically saying, "Pay attention, something awesome is happening all around us." In this way you realize, again and again, that our everyday world is full of mysteries and wonder.

Where do we turn for our teaching? We turn to Torah which, narrowly translated, are the five books of Moses. But Torah refers really to The Way, just like the way to God would be through Christ in the New Testament in Christianity; the way to God would be through the Koran in Islam, which includes the Old and New Testaments. Torah is not just the Old Testament; it is the totality of Jewish teaching. You are not even allowed to read the scriptural verse in Judaism, unless you also have a Jewish commentary with it. You never read a verse in isolation. That's why you don't see Jews at football games holding up signs that say Genesis 24:6. (That's also interesting because some translations are really not translations, but it's what our Torah tradition says about that verse.)

We've never found a better way of finding out about God and coming close to God than by finding new meaning in the Torah and trying to understand its teaching. That's the way you become a better person. And the definition of a good Jew is someone who is always trying to be a better Jew. We sometimes argue about the meaning and the commentaries, but it is not fighting. When you argue about the deeper meaning of a verse or a spiritual saying, you are actually helping one another become a better Jew. (That's why in our greatest books--The Talmud, all the law codes and all the sacred writings--the minority opinion is always recorded with the majority opinion.)

Let me give you an example of how by arguing, we find the deeper meaning of a verse. What does it mean when the Torah says that God created the world in six days? Could it mean that there was a twenty-four hour day just as we have now--that there was a sun, one earth, and that God created it in twenty-four hours times six? Or does it teach that every week our world is created anew, and that on the seventh day, the Sabbath, we should stop creating just as God did? Obviously, it means the latter in our tradition. Again, as I said before, for Christians it is complicated because so much of one's understanding of Judaism is seen through the lens of Christianity. For instance, Torah is often mistakenly translated as "nomos" which means "the law." A more accurate translation of Torah would really be "teaching" or "way." Torah is the sacred story and Way of God of the Jewish people.

The main point I want to make tonight is that Jewish spirituality is practical. This may sound counter-intuitive, because usually when we think about spirituality, it's about being inside yourself--maybe removing yourself from the everyday material world and going to a spiritual, higher plane. But Judaism teaches that spirituality is practical. When you see something that is broken, fix it. That's spirituality. When you find something that is lost, return it. When you see something that needs to be done, do it. In that way you will be taking care of the world and fulfilling your role as God's partner. If spirituality is about a deeper connection with God and you are literally God's helping hand, then your job spiritually is to repair what needs to be repaired in this broken world.

Larry Kushner in Jewish Spirituality, A Brief Introduction for Christians, expresses the idea that if everyone in this world has a piece of one gigantic jigsaw puzzle, and we take our piece of the puzzle and make it fit wherever we can, then all the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle would fit. Our world would be the way God meant it to be, and that's what the Garden of Eden is all about.

When I say spirituality is practical, what is the way? The way is really the way of mitzvah, usually translated "commandment" (mitzvot is the plural.) It is a commandment, but not in the legal sense. Legislation is something that is written on the law books, that's not what this is. This is more like a commandment that you feel is being addressed to you personally. You do misvot because you believe God calls on you personally to do them.

Let me give you the following metaphor from Rabbi Arnold Jacob Wolf, who is retired in Chicago and a great teacher. He says, Being a Jew means you walk along a street that's studded with precious stones, and the goal is to gather as many stones as you can or a few of them that are beautiful. Each of those stones is a mitzvah, a divine commandment or sacred deed. This street is about three thousand years old, so there are a lot of precious gems in it. Some of the jewels are easily dislodged from the pavement, so you can easily put them into your life. But others will remain stuck in the pavement. Some are so obviously beautiful, you can understand them just by looking at them. Some of them are very obscure and hard to appreciate.

Let me put it in specific terms: honoring your parents, helping others. They're relatively easy to understand. Others--like not eating forbidden foods or gossiping-- are more difficult. We have 613 of these mitzvahs, give or take a few. When you do a mitzvah, you say a prayer. Some don't say it, but it's to be said. "Holy One of blessing, your presence fills creation, and you've made my life sacred by giving me the mitzvah of ______________." (Helping others. Honoring parents. Giving tzedekah--"charity".) By performing a deed that is counter-intuitive with the spiritual, by performing a material deed, it can bring you closer to God and change you. These Holy deeds are Judaism's way of realizing the holiness hidden everywhere, and a way of repairing creation. The world and everything in it is a manifestation of God's presence. The physical and the spiritual are all part of this one world. There is no Gnostic dualism.

Why do Christians bless the food before they eat? Did you ever think about that? Well, the reason is because there is sin in this world and everything is tainted with sin. When you bless the food, you are basically changing the sinful state of that food into a blessing. In Judaism, the classical teaching is that sin is a state of being, it's not something you do, so you don't have to bless the food. Everything in the world is good or has the potential for goodness. So, what you do is you say a b'racha thanking God for the food. You don't have to bless the food. You thank God for being the One who brings forth materials from the earth with which we can make bread.

Since everything is a manifestation of God's presence, the challenge and goal is to recognize that manifestation in such a way as to help other people find it, too. This is why there are no Jewish monasteries. We could use some monks, actually. I am a big believer in contemplation, and there is a whole art of Jewish meditation. Jewish meditation is a discipline, but only if it leads you to action.

And now it's time for my Top Ten list of what it means to be a spiritual person today:

Number One - to view the world as an ultimate mystery rather than as a mechanized machine. Either the world is an accident or it has a purpose. I think spirituality is a matter of your outlook on life, relationships, and the world itself. Whenever anybody tells me they are an atheist, I say two things: First, in Judaism, God actually created atheists for a very important reason. If you break your leg and someone who is a holy-roller comes by, they'll just pray over your leg. But if an atheist comes by, they'll fix your leg and make it better, so they are doing God's work without even realizing it.

The second thing I say to someone who is a devout atheist, is that I realize as a religious person and a believer in God that I have to account for evil. But your problem is you have to account for everything else. You have to explain whether your 58-year marriage is an accident; whether it is just all atom smashing; whether your love relationships or your life has really just been a matter of happenstance. The minute you begin to say that there is a mystery behind life--even if you can't explain it or understand it--I think you've entered the realm of the spiritual.

Number Two - which is closely related to number one, is to view life as meaningful rather than meaningless. It's not just a cliché. It's purposeful. If you believe that life is meaningful and purposeful, then you are saying that life can't be meaningless.

Number Three - to view life as a lesson in gratitude. That is where I come back to prayer in Judaism, which doesn't mean to beg or plead as it does in Latin. The root word for prayer comes from the root word for bending the knee, which is a sign of humility and gratitude before God. Prayer is not an easy way of getting what you want. Prayer is a difficult way of becoming what God wants you to be. I think the daily life of a spiritual person involves prayer of some kind. It does not have to be organized. It can be, but I think the daily life of a spiritual person involves prayer of some kind--From a Jewish viewpoint, it can also be the prayer of a single woman who wants to meet Mr. Right.

Before I met my wife, I dated this Jewish comedienne named Karen in Los Angeles. She used to do a routine on how her Jewish upbringing was a source of humor. This is how one of her routines went: One day Karen was walking along Venice Beach, and this older woman with a veil, dressed in black, came up to her and said, "Karen, you're in your late twenties. You haven't met the right guy. You're not going to meet the right guy. You are going to be miserable for the rest of your life." At which point Karen turned to the older woman and said, "Ma!"

But how would Karen's or any woman's prayer be answered if that was what she wanted--to meet Mr. Right? In Judaism her prayer would be answered if two things happened: Not if Mr. Right walks in, but if, after praying, she realizes that she is not alone, that God loves her; and, two, if she realizes that she is worthy regardless of what happens. It's counter-intuitive to the way the world uses the notion of prayer. The world would say your prayer is answered if you get what you want. But really, prayer is a way of becoming what God wants us to be, and that is aware of God; aware that we are not alone; and aware that we are worthy. This is why the whole prayer in school thing to me is ridiculous. So long as there are Physics courses, there will always be prayer in school. At least I felt that way. I know I took Physics for Poets, and I still had a tough time.

Number Four for what it means to be a spiritual person today is giving as a matter of obligation for what you owe, not as something that is nice to do. This is the difference between the charity you know, and tzedekah, which is the Jewish word for charity. Charity comes from caritas, which means "love." And it's something nice to do. Tzedekah comes from the same word for justice. You know that phrase in the Bible, "Justice, justice, shall you pursue"? That's the word, and it refers to what one ought to do whether you feel like it or not, whether it's nice or not.

This is why, even though Judaism gave the world the idea of tithing, Jews don't tithe. The Rabbis thought that any person who is aware of God and is alive and Jewish would realize that they get to keep 90 percent of what they earn, and that ten percent is something you owe. Well, they were a little naïve. I often hold up my Christian friends as exemplars of tzedekah, even though Christians use the word "charity." And some Jews give charity, even though they are supposed to give tzedekah. I'll give you one example.

Let's say down at St. Jude's Children's Hospital there is a girl who is dying. She needs a liver transplant that's going to cost $30,000. Two women from your congregation with the same net worth, the same income, walk in. The first one is absolutely hysterical. She can't concentrate. She can't sleep. Her heart just goes out to this girl. The more she hears about what the death of this child is going to do to the family, the more she cries. With tear-stained cheeks, she writes out a check for $15,000, and then she leaves. The second woman comes in and is very gruff. She really couldn't seem to care less about this little girl. The woman is distant and detached, but she writes a check for $30,000 and leaves.

Which woman is more meritorious? The one who felt in her heart for the sick little girl and wrote the check for $15,000, or the one who really seemed to be somewhat cold and wrote the check for $30,000? In Judaism it's a no-brainer. The second woman gave the more meritorious gift. Why? Because the first gift was charity, but the second one was tzedekah. The girl is going to die unless she gets a new liver, so how you feel about it doesn't really matter. It'd be nice if the heart followed the hand, but the hand doesn't always follow the heart. The bottom line, in terms of giving, is making a difference in this world. We need to work on the second woman and help her feel a little warmer, but she is going to save that kid's life. That's all that matters in terms of that situation. She understands what it takes to be God's partner. You also can't see feelings. You can't see motivations. All you can really judge are actions. And that's not to say that feelings don't matter, but they matter less than deeds in terms of outcome.

Number Five in my Top Ten list of what it means to be a spiritual person today is to realize that mind, body, and soul are all gifts of God. To live up to the highest image in which we were created means to cultivate these gifts to the best of our ability. Exercise. Diet. Seeing the body as sacred. In Judaism, again, the body and the mind and the soul are all inter-connected. You take care of the mind by always learning. The fact that you are here on a Monday night learning, and none of you have to be in school anymore, is an example of this--what grows never grows old. The soul is where we usually talk about spiritual life. The body and the mind are also part of it, though.

Number Six - to be a spiritual person today means to acknowledge life's mysteries, even the questions that have no answers. It means to entertain doubt. You can even cherish your doubts and acknowledge that within the limits of life there can be found great purpose and meaning even if the limits are somewhat arbitrary and unjust.

Remember that the name Israel itself means "one who wrestles with God." Jacob's name was changed to Israel after Jacob had the wrestling match. So it's okay to cry to God, yell at God, curse God, praise God. Acknowledge the mysteries of why things happen that we don't understand. You just can't ignore God.

Number seven - to be a spiritual person today means to trust in the goodness of life and all the potential this implies. I can prove that to you in Judaism by the way we toast. At life's greatest moments we don't toast by saying "cheers" or "bottoms up," which are fine toasts, we say l'chaim, which means "to life." So, to be a spiritual person means to trust in the goodness of life.

Number Eight - to be a spiritual person means to always hope and never succumb to despair. Although far from perfect, the world is a good world with many possibilities. When we are faced with a challenge, why not hope for the best? Why assume that you are going to receive anthrax in the mail tomorrow? Despite centuries of persecutions, we Jews are still here. Many civilizations have come and gone, but Judaism is alive and well. Despite problems and pressures for coping and succeeding--we may have questions, we may have doubts, but we never lost our hope.

There is a great religious expression you may have heard: "Where there is life, there is hope." Israel's national anthem means literally "the hope," Hatikvah. Here's a country that's only a little over fifty years old--besieged in the media, besieged in the world; six wars; there isn't an Israeli who hasn't had a father, uncle, brother, or relative killed in battle--wanting just to live in peace. Yet, they haven't given up their belief in the goodness of life. That's what's most remarkable.

Number nine - to be a spiritual person today is to strive for goodness, not things--to believe that honesty, integrity and dignity matter more than anything else. The goal of the spiritual person is to strive for goodness because ultimately, in Judaism, God is good. Yes, God is love. Yes, God is compassion. But God is good first. That's the highest image of God whose principal demand is ethical behavior. That's ethical monotheism. Judaism believes in one God whose principal demand is ethical behavior. That's the leap of faith we take.

It's not enough to believe in one God. Sadaam Hussein believes in one God. Every night when he signs off, he prays to Allah. Sure he believes it, but he also believes it's okay to kill members of his own family. There has to be an idea of a God who cares about the way we treat each other more than anything else--ethical monotheism.

When Cain kills Abel, the phrase is, "Hark, your brother's bloods," plural, not singular. Your English translations may say, "your brother's blood cries out from the earth." But the text literally says "your brother's bloods"--which means that it's not just Abel you've killed, but all future generations, all images of Me. Therefore we get back to the idea of hope, and that the good will prevail somehow, some way. The spiritual person strives for goodness no matter what.

There is a shortage in the world today of good people. It may say sound simple, that to be a spiritual person is to strive for goodness, but there are not enough good people in the world. I've often pointed out to high school and college parents that it's a lot easier to find a great doctor today than it is to find a great person. There are a lot of fine doctors, but try finding a person of integrity, honesty, goodness, and decency. When I used to visit my grandmother, may she rest in peace, I remember her friends used to show off pictures of their grandchildren. It's a big thing to take pride in your grandchildren--this is my granddaughter, the doctor; this is my grandson, the successful lawyer. None of them would say, "This is a picture of my grandson, one of the kindest and most decent people you'll ever meet."

Doing good is a much worthier and more satisfying goal than doing well. You have to be willing to give of yourself and some of what you have to others to achieve greatness and goodness. To achieve success, you either make money or you become well-known in your field. But to achieve goodness and greatness in order to make a difference in the lives of others and in the world, you have to be willing to give of yourself and some of what you have to others. That's part of the spiritual life, too.

Finally, Number ten. To be a spiritual person today entails the belief that every person carries with them the special signature of God. This may sound Japanese to you, but it's actually an old Jewish tradition. There once was a Rabbi who used to bow to everyone he met in the street. When he was asked to explain this conduct, the Rabbi replied, "Every time I see people, I am reminded that they are created in the image of God, so I have to bow to that part of the divine in every person." What a remarkable insight. People aren't white or black or rich or poor or male or female. They are all "sparks of the divine," if you think of it this way. Each has feelings and hopes and aspirations and fears, opinions and attitudes. Each person is a unique entity and always important. If you recognize this in your daily relationships it can be transforming. It even becomes possible to discipline lovingly, but also spiritually.

One of my teachers, Rabbi Abraham Twersky (who is also a psychologist, you can get his books), wrote that when his father wanted to reprimand him as he grew older, he didn't say, "What you did was bad." Instead, he would say, "What you did was not worthy of you." The beginning of the father's reprimand was an acknowledgement of his child's importance.

To believe in the sanctity of each human life created in the image of Life, will result in our judging people less harshly and treating our friends and even strangers more fairly. For Judaism, that is also a way to lead a spiritual life.

Individual books are linked to Sacred Path Books and Art. Links are provided as a service to explorefaith.org visitors and registered users.