Reflections on Occupy Oakland: An Exchange between Michael Lerner and Jordan Ashe

I received this thought-provoking dialogue in this morning's e-mail and am sharing it in its entirety, with permission from Rabbi Lerner -- Mary W.

Michael Lerner writes: I think you might find this exchange between a student and me about Occupy Oakland and the Oakland community of some interest. There is a rumor that there may be a new violent confrontation hours from now as the occupiers refuse to leave (the mayor had previously offered for us to be able to stay 24/7 but without tents--in other words, just as people coming to present our ideas, but not as occupiers. Let me hasten to add that I believe that the police riot 12 days ago was totally unjustified, and believe that the police who were involved should be sent to prison like others who violate the law. The violence of Oakland police is a daily reality for people of color in Oakland and many other American cities, and always a shock to everyone else because it is only when it happens to white people that the media stays on the story for more than a day or two!

    So here is the letter I received on email this morning: 

JORDAN ASHE wrote:

Dear Rabbi Lerner:

My name is Jordan Ashe and I am a student member of your Tikkun community.  I attended the Oakland camp yesterday.  I washed dishes, observed, and engaged in conversation.  My children left sidewalk chalk drawings as gifts to the occupiers.  It felt good to be part of the 99%.  It felt good to give of myself to others and to see my legacy--my family--do the same.

To my horror, however, I observed and heard things that left me in a state of great concern.  The 99% need healing, they need repair, they need transformation.  The camp was [rife] with hostility towards police.  My conversations with the occupiers revealed little or any willingness to forgive and seek atonement from the police.  Even more horribly, the occupiers seemed content to forget or even ignore the basic lessons our great non-violent leaders left for us.  Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. said the most dangerous thing about violence is its futility.    This great leader recognized that fighting violence with violent resistance leads to a continuing cycle of inter-generational trauma and hatred.

Yet many of the occupiers seemed ready for a violent fight--some welcomed it--and many more were unready to forgive.  I fear this movement is in need of spiritual guidance less it lead to the same horrible cycles history has witnessed many times over.  This guidance was sorely lacking at the occupation and even as I journeyed throughout the camp, I was unable to find a spiritual center.  It is the lack of spiritual consensus and guidance that, I believe, is responsible for what I observed next.

The highlight of the day was a speech and a reading from the Egyptian movement that was followed by a "Solidarity March."  The reading was disturbing to hear because its focus was on the justification for violent resistance.  Although the need for violent aggression may be debatable in Egypt, it is not here in America.  The activists of our past changed this county by being willing to die, not by being willing to kill.  What shocked me more was that no one (including myself) booed or hissed.  We sat there and many applauded.  Worse followed.

A leader of a Palestinian youth group read his own speech.  "Down with Israel," he said near the end of a speech that focused on past wrongs.  There was resounding applause.  Then one of the leader's crew standing next to me said "fucking Jews," and in the face of this I could stand it no longer.  I told him that I believed it was racist to say that and that forgiveness and atonement is the only hope for peace in the middle east.  I told him that I forgave him and he should be careful with his thoughts and words.  I told him that my best friend is Palestinian and I am close to many Jews and I wished sincerely to see the differences reconciled for the sake of the innocent generations of the future.  Then I had to leave because I was overcome with tears and wanted to scream out to the crowd (I wish I had).  The Solidarity March went out shortly thereafter but some people stayed out of the march for the same reasons I did.  After all, it makes no sense to march in a "Solidarity March," when the speeches before the march openly contradict the concept of solidarity.

 I wish our American youth and people around the world would use the tools passed down by the legacy before them.  Organized Non-Violent Non-Cooperation is a gift of strategy from our greatest activists.  MLK, Gandhi, Cesar Chavez--these are men who changed the world by doing but not by killing and we squander their memory and their message when we ignore their teachings.  How quickly the world forgets.  To the religious and faithful and spiritual around the world (those like myself), I would ask: Does God want us to kill in God's name?  Or, Does God want us to be willing to die in God's name?  Shall we sacrifice the lives of others before we sacrifice of ourselves?  Shall we win the battle against our external enemies yet lose the battle against our inner self?  In the struggle against oppression, against fear, against the machine of death and war, perhaps our greatest weapons will be forgiveness, atonement, selflessness, and love.  I hope people arm themselves with these weapons and I hope they fight back with all their might.  I would give my life to that kind of fight.

I am not sure why I wrote to you.  But I am sure that writing to you helped me put the sadness of this event behind me.  Thanks for reading and for being there.  

-Jordan Ashe

Law Student, Father, Husband, 99%er

Dear Jordan,

     Thanks so much for this letter. I share your sadness at the distortions within Occupy Oakland. I have been participating both in Occupy Oakland and Occupy San Francisco, and I feel that the Occupy movement nationally has made a tremendous contribution to our society. By formulating things in terms of “the 99%” it finally did what many other progressives have failed to do—namely, identify us as having a common interest in protecting ourselves from the class war that has been waged against us, all of us, for the past 30 years by the 1% and their representatives in the government, media, academia and military. So I remain a passionate supporter of this movement.

     Yet some of the strengths that exist elsewhere are notably lacking in the core group that led people into the struggle in Oakland. Let me be clear, however:  I know that at least 90% of the people who marched on Nov. 2nd during the General Strike and marched to the Port of Oakland are people who agree with you. But there is a determined group of violent self-described "anarchists" who ideologically believe in violence and seek it out. They correctly note that destruction of property is not the same as destruction of human beings, and they correctly note that the amount of violence against human beings built into our global economic and political systems makes any violence that they do pale in comparison. Moreover, the violence of the Oakland police has been a central reality in the lives of people of color in Oakland, and only stays in the attention of the media for more than a day or two when the victims are white (or in this case, a former US soldier back from Iraq and Afghanistan). So there is a built in hypocrisy when the media makes the story "the violence of the demonstrators."

      But those arguments are, in my view, not good reasons to allow violence or provoke violence or property destruction by demonstrators,  for two reasons:


1. We should be non-violent because it is the right way to treat other human beings created in the image of God, and should not seek to create circumstances in which police violence is inevitably triggered unless we do so by ourselves being totally nonviolent in action and words.  I'm in favor of non-violent disruptions of oppressive institutions (e.g. a sit-in in the Bank of America or in a Wall Street firm or in a corporation involved in illegitimate foreclosures or in producing military equipment or at the State Dept or the various offices of the Immigration and Naturalization Services given their vicious processes) as long as we keep a 100% non-violent stance. I do not think people need to sit down and get arrested--though that works in many cases; it is also legitimate to do nonviolent disruptions using mobile tactics in which demonstrators disrupt and then withdraw to disrupt somewhere else--as long as the demonstrators avoid destruction of property or creating a situation in which violence is inevitable. Non-violence does not mean passivity, but it must mean a fundamental respect for human life and for the dignity of human beings, including those with whom we strongly disagree. Our actions must reflect that sense of respect for the humanity of the Other--because that is precisely what is absent from the policies and practices of the 1% and those who do their bidding.  


2. Though breaking windows or destroying property is not the same as breaking bones, it is perceived by much of the American public as a wrongful act, and a movement that engages in that activity quickly loses public support and isolates itself no matter how much the American public agrees with its goals. That is why the FBI and other elements of the "security apparatus" of the US government have consistently planted their youngest employees inside social movements with the goal of trying to encourage acts of violence so as to provide an excuse to repress those movements with public approval.

 
      But non-violence has not been the stance of the inner core at Occupy Oakland. I was deeply disturbed, and have withdrawn from active involvement with, a group of clergy who were meeting to discuss how they could assist in Occupy Oakland. At the third meeting I attended I proposed that we urge Occupy Oakland to officially endorse non-violence, train monitors to non-violently restrain violence-oriented demonstrators, and appeal to the majority of demonstrators to support these monitors to restrain the violence-oriented ones. To my shock, the clergy voted that down. They were only willing to endorse a resolution saying that they themselves supported non-violence, but they objected to the notion that they should call upon OO to share this same orientation.

     
     Not surprisingly, then, a few days later when one of the participants at OO suggested a resolution for non-violence, without the active support of this clergy group the people who agreed with him felt silenced after some part of the crowd actively booed when he mentioned Martin Luther King Jr. and Mahatma Gandhi's commitments and teachings for non-violence.

     
     The dominant reason given by the clergy for their cowardice was that "we have no right to impose our view on those who are taking the risks of sleeping outside at Occupy Oakland; we should respect their process." But advocating is not imposing, and a movement that claims to speak for 99% of the population ought to have some mechanism to pay attention to the sensibilities of the people whom they claim to be speaking for! If those of us who have been in the movement, marched with the movement, and publicly advocated for the movement, do not have a legitimate voice in that movement, it seems transparent that such a movement cannot claim to be fighting for democracy. It thus undermines itself.

       
     I watched this same thing happen in the 1960s and early 1970s when a small group of violence-oriented Weathermen, and the FBI agents who infiltrated the anti-war movement and a few of their more suggestible followers, managed to play an important role in undermining support for the entire movement by demeaning people who weren't ready to "prove their commitment" by violent or property-destroying acts. Not only did the violence provide public justification for an increase in repression of the anti-war movement, it also soured the millions of people who were attracted to the possibility of building a different kind of world based on love, kindness, generosity and caring for others. The mass of participants in our movement abandoned it once the violence-prone got the attention of the corporate media, and I fear that the same thing is happening now.

       
     There's yet another twist in our current situation. The Occupy movement is meant to challenge the class war  being waged against the 99% by the 1%. Sitting in front of a particular building to make that point was a useful tactic. But the people who are there have turned the tactic into a fetishization of the encampments, as though the movement was really about their right to set up tents and stay there all night, rather than about challenging the materialism and selfishness of the global marketplace and the lack of democracy in a society that allows the wealthy and the corporations to give endless monies to elect people (in both major parties) who in turn support the corporate agenda and the tax benefits for the rich. I personally believe that the city governments should actively help the demonstrators find a place to demonstrate in an area adjacent to the forces they are demonstrating against. But if they don't, we should not make that the center of the struggle, because there are a myriad of other tactics to keep the issue on the front burner.

           
     I share with you a deep distress at the hatred toward Israel and/or toward Jews you encountered. I've seen little of that in the days that I've been down there, but I'm not surprised that a handful of people retain those feelings. Again, I feel it is the obligation of the clergy and the adults to stand up to this publicly, raise the issue and challenge those who misuse legitimate outrage at the current policies of the current government of the State of Israel as their excuse for delegitimating the State of Israel itself or for expressing anti-Semitism. While I fully reject the attempt to label all criticism of Israel as anti-Semitic, and have myself been subject to attacks and death threats from right-wing Zionists who have labeled me a "self-hating Jew," I do think that we should insist that our friends in the Occupy movement or any other activist movement of progressive bent challenge anti-Semitism or the double standard applied to Israel by a handful of people who thereby sully our movements and give ammunition to those who seek to discredit us entirely!

           
             Warm regards,

             Rabbi Michael Lerner,  

             Editor, Tikkun &  Chair, The Network of Spiritual Progressives
             RabbiLerner@Tikkun.org

P.S.: Here's a related article by Rebecca Solnit on the power of nonviolence, posted on Common Dreams and shared by my friend Arthur G. on Google+: "Throwing Out the Master's Tools and Building a Better House: Thoughts on the Importance of Nonviolence in the Occupy Revolution." 

Contagious and Nourishing

Well, yes; I really have been on somewhat of a hiatus from my blog. It's hard to believe how busy the life of a work-at-home editor, writer, and contemplative practitioner can be. But my plans are to keep on keepin on, one way or another.


In the meantime, here is something I want to have easily at hand for a dose of nutritive laughter. I know it's been posted millions of times, and it's readily available on YouTube, but I like having it here when I need something bellylicious. Cheers and giggle-spasms to you.

A Prayer for All Our Lands

God, give us faith and wisdom
To be your healing hands;
Give open minds that listen
To truth from all your lands.
Give strength to work for justice;
Grant love that casts out fear.
Then peace and not destruction
Will be the victor here.

--From "O God, Our Hearts Were Shattered,"
Carolyn Winfrey Gillete
www.carolynshymns.com

Re-Seeing the Church

 This is from Contemplative Outreach's August 2011 e-bulletin -- "Questions and Answers with Father Carl Arico."

Q:  Dear Contemplative Outreach:  I am so appreciative of your programs. I am a convert to Catholicism by way of my missionary time in Ethiopia and an experience at Lalibela, the hidden holyland. I returned home (because my doctor husband died in Ethiopia) and joined the Catholic Church.  I am feeling now after 15 years a sense of LACK OF JOY in the Church; I found it more in the Protestant Church. However, now once again listening to your programs, I am thinking that perhaps I am entering into a new realm of the church, that I am leaving the roteness of spiritual practices that have become somewhat empty and entering into a way to still be in the church but at a different level of practice. Or....does one really have to leave the church to find JOY in another place? I am just interested in your evaluation of this conclusion.

A:  In every relationship there comes a point when joy wanes.  It is a shock to our system.  We reach crossroads which suggest that we move ahead, go backwards or just leave and wash our hands of the relationship. These crossroads are wakeup calls and I am sure you have experienced them. These experiences can also be applied to our relationship with the Church, which I see as the mystical body of Christ.


I sense that you cannot go back to where you were and you do not have a desire to wash your hands, so lets talk about "moving ahead."  Let's describe it this way: "I have come to a point where I cannot continue as I am - there must be something more to this Church that I have not experienced. I cannot continue in this routine."  Along comes Contemplative Outreach and you begin to hear and enter into the contemplative dimension of the Church. You begin to meet spiritual masters - John of the Cross, Teresa of Avila, Thomas Merton and Thomas Keating - who speak a language that is deeply rooted in the Church tradition, but they speak it in such a way that you are beginning to hear it with new ears. They begin to speak about contemplative prayer, and a practice that you can bring into your daily life.

In hearing with new ears, you begin to look back at the practices that supported you through the years and see/experience them in a new way - the Sacraments, the Creed, the Commandments, the devotions, etc. You have heard "the rest of the story" and it has changed the way your hear with your head and with your heart.  It is not only about doing, pondering and responding, but it is also about resting, intimacy, surrender, transformation, oneness etc, etc. You get in touch with the awesome intimate mystery of it all.

Yes, you need to leave the Church in the way you have perceived her.  Now with new eyes, see her for the first time once again. Just like a relationship where you are able to see the person with new eyes and the relationship begins to grow again.


As the scriptures tells us, "I do not want your burnt offerings, I want your heart."  Therein comes the joy which has been described as an abiding sense of well-being, based on the experience of a conscious relationship with God.
- Fr. Carl

Thereminamagic

I just love the weird and sweet gorgeousness of this. That is all.

Delighting in the View

This is an essay by Gregory Boyle, the Jesuit priest who founded Homeboy Industries, an organization that provides training, jobs, and encouragement  "so that young people could work together and learn the mutual respect that comes from collaboration." It's excerpted from his book Tattoos on the Heart, a collection of essay-parables distilled from his twenty years in the barrio. One reviewer aptly describes it as an  "artful, disquieting, yet surprisingly jubilant memoir."

On an early Saturday morning, several members of an enemy gang, with faces obscured in ski masks, enter a part of the projects where they are certain to catch some rivals "slippin'." They turn a corner and see three brothers enjoying the bright early morning sun right outside their kitchen door. Clearly, the older two, Rickie and Adam, twenty and eighteen, are targets for the invading masked men, but in the frenzy of bullets flying, their twelve-year-old brother, Jacob, not from any gang, is felled, and his brothers' lives are altered immeasurably and forever.

I had known this family since 1984 and watched how, almost imperceptibly, the older brothers would dance close to the gang life and then drift back to other, safer boundaries. Eventually, they were in, and the death of their baby brother, from a bullet inscribed with other names, would be their pervasive and enduring wound for some time to come. 

I hired them both shortly after their brother was killed, and they worked in our Homeboy Merchandising division, selling T-shirts, mugs, mouse pads, and a variety of items sporting the Homeboy logo. They worked closely with enemies--even those who belonged to the gang surely responsible for their brother's death.

A speaking gig to San Francisco came up, and I invited them both--thinking a change of scenery would restore them. They were very excited but completely confounded to discover (once we were at the airport) that, well, we were going to fly and not drive. I guess I thought I had made this clear. Seeing their panic, I decide not to calm them down. Instead, I stop under the wing of the Southwest Airlines plane (at Burbank Airport you walk the tarmac and climb the steps) and stare up, with consternation. "Uh-oh," I say as they rush to my side in a breathless "What?" "What?" unison. I point. "I don't know--is that a crack in the wing, or am I seeing things?" It takes them both a while to see what I'm doing, and they say in brotherly chorus, "You ain't right." "Damn, don't be doing that."

We climb the stairs and find our seats. Rickie lets his younger brother, Adam, get "SHOTGUN" (which I suggest is usually not a thing one tends to yell on planes nowadays). Quickly they discover the laminated emergency cards in the pouch before them, and Adam thinks they're menus and that we're in a flying Denny's. "Two oxygens, please, when you get a chance," he says to the "waitress," who fortunately for all involved does not actually hear him. The pilot speaks over the intercom and drones on in his pilot cadence, "We'll be traveling at an altitude of, etc. . . thank you for flying Southwest Airlines." I shake my head with some force. "Damn, I hate that." Again they turn and begin the "What?" "What?" refrain. "It's ten a.m., and I think our pilot has had a couple of 40s already," making tippling gestures with my hand. "OK . . . cut . . . that . . . out." They seem to be catching on more quickly now.

"Well, what I want to know is, where's the parachute at?" Adam asks, searching everywhere one might search for such a thing. "Well, there is no parachute," I say, becoming Mr. Rogers on a dime. "NO PARACHUTE?" Adam squeals, a bit worked up. "Well, what we sposed ta do if THIS SHIT CRASHES?" Now I'm Mr. Rogers on Valium. "Well, I'll tell you what to do in the event of a crash." They could not be one bit more attentive. "Are your seat belts securely fastened?" They check and nod earnestly. "Okay, now lean forward." They are very compliant. "No, you have to lean as far as you can--is that as far as you can go?" They are so low, I can barely register the nodding of their heads. "Okay," I say, steady and calm as she goes, "Now . . . if you can reach . . . kiss your asses good-bye . . . cuz that's all you'll be able to do if this thing goes down." They can't even believe that their chain has been yanked so egregiously. "Que gacho, right there." "You . . . ain't . . . right."

Takeoff (as is always the case with novice homie flyers) transforms these two big gangsters into old ladies on a roller coaster. As usual, there is great sighing and clutching and rapid signs of the cross. Adam and Ricky can't take their eyes off the tiny window to their right and manage plenty of "Oh, my God's" and "This is proper." Terror melting into wonder, then slipping into peace. The peanuts and sodas are delivered, and they feel special (they were later to report to those back at the office, "They EVEN gave us peanuts!"). Then, after we climb above the bounce, Ricky pats Adam's chest, as they both look out above their own clouds, and whispers, "I love doing this with you, brother."

Life, after unspeakable loss, becoming poetry again. In this together, two brothers, locked arms, delighting in the view from up here.

Thomas Merton writes, "No despair of ours can alter the reality of things, or stain the joy of the cosmic dance which is always there . . . We are invited to forget ourselves on purpose, cast our awful solemnity to the winds and join in the general dance." The cosmic dance is simply always happening, and you'll want to be there when it happens.

--Gregory Boyle, from Tattoos on the Heart: The Power of Boundless Compassion. New York: Free Press, 2010, pp 163-166.

Thirteen Moments from my Thirteenth Year

In honor of Friday the 13th, I offer these excerpts from entries in the diary / log I kept during my thirteenth year. (From age 12 to 13, to be more specific).

Jan. 6, 1973

Today we still had no electricity because of the ice storm. We’re one of those 30,000 homes. I hope ours comes on tomorrow. Didn’t do anything much today. Listened to the radio for a very long time and mom told me to turn it off so I wouldn’t use the batteries up. (They are used up, but she doesn’t know it.)

Jan. 12

Today I had to go to the orthodontist to see what kind of braces my teeth need. He put these metal bands on, and then, he filled this mouth piece with gooey white stuff and put it in my mouth. This way, he got the shape of my teeth. It’s gross, though.

Jan. 14

Our Siamese fighting fish jumped out of his bowl! We found him dead on the table.

Jan. 28

Well, I found out that what people called the “end of the Vietnam War” just meant the Americans were out of it. I’m still glad, though.

Feb. 15

When I went shopping I got two new records. One is “Superstition” by Stevie Wonder, and the other is “Could It Be I’m Falling In Love,” by the Spinners. Mom likes them too! She’s moving with the generation gap and has been in very good moods.

March 14

When I came home I caught an earthworm and named him Einstein. I caught him for my science class, and I’m going to take him to school tomorrow.

March 20

We had Personal Growth today. (That’s Sex Education and the emotional changes that happen). Mrs. Kinnard asked how many girls had started. I haven’t. Last summer Mom said I would start soon. It doesn’t seem that way, though. I’m sort of flat. Not as flat as when I was 3, though. I can’t wait to start!

May 24

At school today, we were about to see a movie, when it got very dark and quiet outside. Mrs. Ryan was looking out the window. Then she suddenly said, “Lou-Ann, come here!” The class started to get up, but she told us “Sit down!” Miss McGee (Lou-Ann) went over to look outside. It got very, very windy and suddenly it started hailing like mad. It got so windy, I thought we were having a tornado. The hail was as big as marbles and golf balls. It broke 3 windows – 2 in the chapel. We wanted to look out our homeroom window but they wouldn’t let us. I was scared to death!

July 5

I’m in a rut now. Marty invited me to a party and so did Pearl. Pearl’s is a boy-girl party. I’m sure I can’t go. I’m going to have to tell her.

August 1

Pearl came over to hang out and we listened to records. We read more juicy parts in the book Tomboy. Of course I have to read it in secret because I know Mom wouldn’t let me read any kind of book like this. It would probably be a rated R or X movie.

Sept. 19

Oh, you know what? We’re having a Mass for the opening of school (ha!) and since they want the “Spirit to blow in us,” they compared us to sailboats with wind blowing in them. So for Mass we have to pin paper sailboats on our uniform to remind us of the blowing Spirit! Isn’t that crappy?

In religion class I just couldn’t be serious. It was very boring.

October 23

Today Sister J.H. IRKED me – and the whole eighth grade! Today was the first day of swimming, and all the 8^th graders except Linda forgot their swimsuits. Sister automatically accused us of forgetting on purpose so we could get in more volleyball practice. We didn’t do it on purpose! We wrote a note to her and she said that was an immature way to approach this. That made me mad. Also, a Watergate hearing was on and Richard Nixon was speaking. Everyone HAD to watch it. Just because I didn’t have my eyes on the TV (I was listening to it and couldn’t see through Margaret’s big head anyway) she said, “Mary, you’re in the 8^th grade, you should be watching this!” Ooooooh!!!

Nov. 3

Whew! I’m sleeping in the den since I saw the spider in my bed last night. Good Night!

Holy Foot-Washing, Jesus!

Ten years ago I was a candidate, one of the adults to be confirmed at the Easter vigil, and I was to have my feet washed on Holy Thursday. This ritual is a commemoration of Jesus' washing of the apostles’ feet before his final Passover meal, the night of the Last Supper.

We, the catechumens and candidates, were told to wear easily removable shoes so we could quickly free our feet for the washing. A priest would be pouring rose-petaled water on our toes. Sometimes, Sister Ruth told us, the feet are kissed after being washed.

Whoa.

I thought of my crusty, rough-skinned feet—closer to hooves, really, the overgrown nails, callouses, corns, and other unnameable vegetables growing down under, wondering if I could stand to expose such horrors to a pedicurist so that I wouldn’t create an ordeal for whoever was to bear the unlucky chore of having to view, much less touch, my feet.

This was a dilemma for several of us candidates (the women, at least). We each seemed sure that our feet were the worst looking specimens of human flesh on God’s green earth, and we carefully planned our own personal cures: an extra-special pedicure at a nail salon, witch hazel and wax, fungal ointments, that Dead-Sea mud that folks use for facials, minty foot creams. My choice: a salty soak and pumice-stone scrub followed by a vaselined self-massage of both feet and light cotton socks worn all night. The finisher: a spritz of Calvin Klein Eternity perfume on my sandaled toes just before heading out to Holy Thursday Mass. If my feet were not ravishing, at least they would be made kissable by smelling like Eternity.

So it was with silently chuckling chagrin that I listened to Father Eddie's reflection about the ceremonial washing of the feet. He compared the water pouring on the feet to the Living Water of the Spirit, flowing through and quenching all the dry places in our soul that harbor shame – the memories, sins, wounds, and secrets that we want no one to see or to touch.

My carefully scrubbed and oil-softened feet were now so presentable – fuchsia toe-nail polish to boot – that they could no longer candidly represent my inner woundedness and shame. Still, the tenderness of that kiss on my foot felt like a blessing breaking through the vanity that had finally driven me – thank God! -- to treat my own woebegone tootsies with great care.

Okay: I know this isn't the most profound example of how grace can paradoxically tease out healing and blessing from shame and untouchability. But it works for me.

Some Thoughts on Good Friday, Easter Sunday, and Beyond

A reflection by Matthew Fox --

Michael Lerner has asked me to write a few thoughts about the message of Good Friday and Easter.  I appreciate his invitation, a sign of the meaning of deep ecumenism and what we have to learn from each others' faith traditions.  

To me, the “paschal mystery” of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus the rabbi is an archetypal reminder about how, as science now teaches us, all things in the cosmos live, die and resurrect.  Supernovas, galaxies, solar systems, planets, beings that inhabit our planet—we all have our time of existence and of passing out of existence.  But we leave something behind for further generations and that constitutes resurrection.  Supernovas leave elements behind in a great explosion that seed other solar systems, planets and ever our very bodies.  Every being leaves something behind as food for others—[Albert] Einstein said no energy is lost in the universe and Hildegard of Bingen said no warmth is lost in the universe.  I like to say that no beauty is lost in the universe.  The universe has a memory for energy, warmth and beauty.  Nothing our ancestors accomplished is lost—so long as we remember.  Hopefully, as humans, we leave beauty behind and wise progeny, maybe books or paintings or scientific breakthroughs or insights, or healed souls or bodies, etc. etc.  Our resurrection is very much a part of our creativity.  Otto Rank: "The artist is one who wants to leave behind a gift."

Jesus left behind the gift of his teachings, a distillation as I see it of the basic teachings of his Jewish ancestors: That compassion and justice are what link us to the Divine and that we are to look not to empires or to objects for the Kingdom of God but within ourselves and among others in community for the love that is at once our love of neighbor and our love of God, a love “that the world cannot give.”  In other words, to “all our relations.”  The fact of his being tortured and killed in a most ignominious way by the Roman Empire is a stark reminder that we do not take on the powers of darkness as our prophetic vocations require without paying a price.  But the story is that life triumphs over death, even if it has to succumb to powers of death at times and the form that a resurrected life takes is diverse.  It often surprises!

We do not die once.  We all die many times.  Life does that to us with our losses, our betrayals, our own mistakes and emptying out.  But we also resurrect on a regular basis as well.  We forgive, we are forgiven, we bottom out, we move on, we give birth anew thus that life and death are more synergetic that we usually imagine them to be.  “God’s exit is her entrance,” as Meister Eckhart put it.  The depths of the valley of death do not overcome the power of life which makes things new again.  Injustice seems to triumph so often but justice will have the last word provided we live and work for it.

To me these are some of the passages that the Good Friday/Easter Sunday archetype bring to awareness.  There is no resurrection without visiting Hades (the story is that Saturday following his death Jesus visited the underworld).  Good Friday rules for a short period.  But the longer period is the new life and the victory over death and the fear of death that Easter Sunday represents.  It is that hope that rises daily with every new sun.  Moving beyond the fear of death we can live fully again and cease our immortality projects, our empire building and pyramid constructing (wall street too) and get on with…living.  Which is sharing.  [Abraham] Heschel: “Just to be is holy; just to live is a blessing.”  Now our fear of death does not have to rule our lives.  Now we can live fully, generously and creatively.

Father James Martin on "Of Gods and Men"

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Thich Nhat Hanh's Message to Japan after the Earthquake-Tsunami

"Dear friends in Japan,

As we contemplate the great number of people who have died in this tragedy, we may feel very strongly that we ourselves, in some part or manner, also have died.

The pain of one part of humankind is the pain of the whole of humankind. And the human species and the planet Earth are one body. What happens to one part of the body happens to the whole body.

An event such as this reminds us of the impermanent nature of our lives. It helps us remember that what's most important is to love each other, to be there for each other, and to treasure each moment we have that we are alive. This is the best that we can do for those who have died: we can live in such a way that they continue, beautifully, in us.

Here in France and at our practice centers all over the world, our brothers and sisters will continue to chant for you, sending you the energy of peace, healing and protection. Our prayers are with you."

--Thich Nhat Hanh

Ode to Daylight Savings Time

  

 O Daylight Savings Time --

I salute and greet Thee!

For Thou hast restored

Diurnal sanity!

Ash Wednesday: Waking Up

"In the New Testament, whenever Jesus eats with or encounters the rich he always, without exception, challenges them to come beyond where they are. Yet he never accuses them of malice. He instead shows them their blindness.

Always the judgment is blindness. The rich man just can't see the plight of Lazarus (Luke 16: 19-31). The rich man is not evil, he didn't cause the poor man at his gate to be poor. He simply wasn't aware. He couldn't see. That spiritual blindness is the primary sin.

Spirituality is about waking up. Eastern religions know this. The word Buddha means 'the awakened one.' Spirituality has come upon hard times in the West, where legalism so often took over that we didn't need spirituality. We lost the spiritual disciplines and tools to know how to remain awake. We lost the disciplines that show us what's happening, what human relationships mean, the effects of what we do to one another in our relationships.

The Church must continually be taught by the poor. Those who are oppressed and kicked around, who are not beneficiaries of the system, always hold for us the greatest breakthrough-truth and the greatest wisdom. In mythology they are imaged as blind beggars who in fact are true seers.

The same is true inside ourselves. That part of ourself that we most hate, that we are most afraid of and most reject, is the poor, oppressed woman or man within. That hated person within holds our greatest gift. We must hold out a preferential option for our own poverty. Our poverty has the key; it offers the breakthrough moment for us to wake up. It's the hole in the soul, that place where we are radically broken, where we are powerless and therefore open."

--Richard Rohr, from Breathing Under Water: Spirituality and the 12 Steps. Re-excerpted in Radical Grace: Daily Meditations with Richard Rohr. Cincinnati: St. Anthony Messenger Press, 1995.

"Even now, says the Lord, return to me with your whole heart . . . " -- Joel 2:12

The Practice of Simple Regard

On February 17 (last Thursday), I facilitated a small-group day of prayer and recollection, focused on A Taste of Beauty, Truth, and Goodness, the title of a 2007 videotaped dialogue between Richard Rohr and Thomas Keating. In addition to engaging in communal centering prayer, the group viewed segments of this Rohr-Keating talk. Two variations on another contemplative practice were also introduced:  a receptive form of prayer inspired by Keating's reference to Brother Lawrence in his book Intimacy With God. This practice incorporates imagination and sensory perception as a means of heightening one's awareness of -- and gratitude for -- the ever-pouring "flow" of beauty, truth, and goodness from God.

"Brother Lawrence fine tuned the 'practice of simple regard'-- the noticing of God looking at me! Although my attention may wander, I can be assured that God's attention does not. Nor does God waver, nor does God condemn, nor does God dislike us for our wavering. . . . God is present to everything like the eye of a camera that sees everything just as it is. Yet we, in our turn, may not be present to God. Like the subjects of a casual photograph, we may not perceive that someone sees a marvelous value and beauty in us and is taking our picture." 

     --Thomas Keating, from Intimacy With God

Variation #1:  Be attentive to the Presence that is aware of you, watching you like a loving grandparent, ready to catch your fall, admiring your work and your struggles, waiting breathlessly for even a slight glance. Receive this gently watchful Presence. Experience yourself as a focus of God's loving gaze. Let this gaze flow over you and through you. Inwardly communicate to God what you are thinking and feeling.

Variation #2: Allow your awareness to be drawn to something beautiful in the present moment -- an image that crosses your field of vision, a sound that you hear, a caress, the smell and taste of food, words that you encounter in a book or through another's speech or song. Do not "seek out" something beautiful -- instead, wait patiently and allow it to "find" you. Receive it as the outflow of God's goodness and truth. Let your gratitude well up and flow back to God.

Socks and Underwear

A cupidian anecdote -- originally shared on my previous Gaia blog in response to the Question of the Day: "How Did You Meet Your Partner?"

About two weeks before Valentine's day in 1990, I met the man who eventually became my husband -- all thanks to our Friendly Neighborhood Laundromat.

I had maybe five loads of laundry to do, and the machines in my apartment complex weren't working. I also had a batch of Freshman English papers to grade, so I had hauled my five loads and pile of papers down the street and settled in for an evening of work at the Fluff and Fold.

I ended up using a dryer next to a guy who seemed homeless to me - he was unshaven and wearing a jacket that looked like the remnants of a dog attack, funky brown polyester pants with the hem coming out of them ... (I wasn't looking so hot myself, adorned in shapeless dark pink sweatpants and faded alma mater T-shirt), and when he walked by me, trying to catch my eye to say hello, I was sure he was going to ask me for some change. I did have a couple of quarters to spare and thought I would give those to him if he asked, as he had a woebegone and sweet vibe about him.

And yes, I’ll admit: in spite of his disheveled robing, he was good-looking.

He did not ask for change. Instead, he asked me if I was in Amnesty International (which was actually true, and I still have no idea how he might have known) and we ended up talking about human-rights activism for a bit. He turned out to be Kirk T., the local AI group's anti-death penalty coordinator. As we talked, I noticed at one point that he was spending quarters to finish drying just two pairs of socks. Bachelor drying clothes, I chuckled to myself.

He eventually finished with his socks and left.

Perhaps 15 minutes later, I had also finished and was carrying my clean laundry back to my car. Kirk had returned to the laundromat - I figured he had forgotten something - and he walked up to me with a silky tattered cloth in his hand. This was actually a pair of newly clean panties that had just fallen out of my laundry basket onto the asphalt. "I think you dropped these," he said, holding them out to me. I was embarrassed because they were raggedy and garish - so I shook my head, "Um … no, those aren't mine," while wondering what kind of weird guy was this, picking up strangers’ undies off the ground...

Then, still gingerly holding the panties, he asked me if we could meet again to talk. (This, I discovered later, was the reason he had returned to the laundromat). I was about to say no, because, well, the panty thing was kind of freaking me out. So I looked into his eyes - and completely changed my mind. His gaze radiated warmth and kindness.

Thus, after relieving him of the panties and tossing them in a nearby dumpster (what else could one do?) I agreed to meet him for a meal at a nearby restaurant the following week. We had a great time, but I still wanted to meet him maybe once or twice more before giving him my phone number. (FYI: this was before the time of widely-used internet and e-mail, etc. Yes: That long ago). A single girl's gotta protect that phone number, ya know ...

Valentine's Day, which was about a week after our restaurant date, was a busy day for me. I rushed out that morning, late to class, and found a dozen yellow roses propped up next to my curbside-parked car – de-thorned stems vulnerably leaning on the left front tire.

Kirk didn't have my phone number or address, but he knew what my car looked like and that I lived a few blocks from the Fluff and Fold. So he had wandered around the neighborhood with those roses until he found my car, and laid them there.

As I unlocked my car door, he was walking back to his place and was about a half block away when he turned around in time to see me picking up the roses. So he jogged back to my spot, startling me as I stood there trying to figure out what to do with the unexpected flowers. A part of me thought: you mean he put the roses there and then waited for me to show up? I don't know about this guy.

Stalker? Or romantic warm-hearted fellow?

I decided to give him my phone number.

Nekkid (Part Three)

Nekkid Part One
Nekkid Part Two

How could I have thought that there was ever anything to want or anything to fear in this wild, holy world?

...And yet so often, these past few years, I am fearful. Fearful of and appalled by my first tastes of a deeper, more distressing nakedness, a persistent stripping away of pleasant illusions about myself that leave me feeling even more “exposed” than any exterior gross-body nudity could.

People on meditative and contemplative paths eventually encounter (and re-encounter) this fear. It may first emerge several weeks or months after taking up a contemplative discipline, when the initial “honeymoon” period of the seeker’s journey has started to wane. Any feelings of consolation, bliss, luminous clarity and joy that may have accompanied the heart-opening inrush of unconditional divine love—various revels in the mystical love-flood -- eventually wind down. After regularly returning to prayer (or meditation) day after day -- releasing distractions, resting in silence, consenting to the dynamic presence of God, watering the hidden garden of the soul – fresh shoots emerge. This is one of the first appearances of the gifts of the Spirit: knowledge. Not so much an intellectual awareness, but knowledge that begins as a kind of “unknowing,” or relinquishing of veils and veneers.

What was once hidden begins to come into view. The feeling is very similar to standing uncomfortably naked in front of others, except that it is interior flaws, weaknesses, and illusions -- rather than unappealing physical bulges and warts – that appear. Instead of embarrassment over a pock-marked stomach, I notice my deep-seated addiction to the approval of others. Where I once winced at my unveiled cellulite, I recognize the subtle manipulative control-games that I play. And my attempts to hide a wide behind are upstaged by a painfully bright awareness of how I try to disguise my own greed and envy. 

Initially this intensified awareness can be, at best, uncomfortable, and at worst, psychically nauseating and searing. I find myself interiorly recoiling and contracting – similar to the way I might squirm and curl my arms around my bodily flaws while physically naked in front of others. The light is painful to my inner eyes, and I cannot help but squint and try to turn away from what is being revealed. I am tempted to flee – to withdraw again into the soft shadows, to return to a protective corner of the room, to clothe myself once again in all kinds of appealing distractions that might buffer me from this un-knowing knowledge of my own "wretched" being.  

But that would be to no avail, really. If I am to remain on this journey, what has been seen cannot be un-seen.

And, let me be clear: it’s not that I ever thought I was free of flaws and illusions. No. It is, instead, a greatly enhanced recognition of those flaws. What was merely glimpsed before (and forgotten and re-forgotten) in brief flashes of lightning is now laid out in full noonday sunshine. What was previously viewed on a two-dimensional screen in grainy black and white has now been re-released as an extended director’s cut in technicolor 3D with surround sound.

Here is another description of the surfacing of contemplatively-informed self-knowledge, from Fr. Thomas Keating’s book Open Mind Open Heart:

“As the deep peace flowing from [contemplative] prayer releases our emotional blocks, insights into the dark side of our personality emerge and multiply. We blissfully imagine that we do good to our families, friends, and business or professional associates for the best of reasons, but when this dynamism begins to operate in us, our so-called good intentions look like a pile of dirty dishrags. We perceive that we are not as generous as we had once believed. This happens because the divine light is shining brighter in our hearts. Divine love, by its very nature, accuses us of our innate selfishness.

            Suppose we were in a dimly lit room. The place might look fairly clean. But install a hundred bulbs of a thousand watts each, and put the whole room under a magnifying glass. The place would begin to crawl with all kinds of strange and wonderful little creatures. It would be all you could do to stay there. So it is with our interior . . . .

            Self-knowledge in the Christian ascetical tradition is insight into our hidden motivation, into emotional needs and demands that are percolating inside of us and influencing our thinking, feeling, and activity without our being aware of them. When you withdraw from your ordinary flow of superficial thoughts on a regular daily basis, you get a sharper perspective on your motivation, and you begin to see that the value systems by which you have always lived have their roots in prerational attitudes that have never been honestly and fully confronted.”

            Some contemplative teachings make reference to a “false self” -- the small “s” self or overly-ego-identified self. According to Keating, this is the aspect of the self that seeks happiness and release from suffering through the garnering of security, approval and esteem, or power—primal needs that must be met for healthy living but which, when clung to beyond basic necessity, morph in to egocentric motivations and addictions. Greed; dances for approval; excessive attachment to control; addictions to pleasure; apathy and withdrawal – these become the strategies one uses to avoid suffering or to defend against conscious and unconscious wounds, past and current.  Since this tendency of the self seems to be universal to the contemporary human condition, the term “false self” may be a misnomer. “False” sounds too much like “wrong,” “phony,” or “inauthentic.” If this so-called “false” self is the one we are most familiar with, then for all practical purposes, that is who we “truly” are! It might be more accurate to speak of the undeveloped or unaware self – or – here’s my current preference: the (metaphorically) de-centered self. That is, the aspect of the self that lives as if its own separate individual ego, rather than the ever-unfolding Divine Mystery, was the “center,” or heart, of the cosmos.

(Another alternative: the overly-adorned self. The self that too closely identifies with the layers of  “clothing” that are donned in an attempt to be, or be perceived as,  powerful, strong, genuine, compassionate, happy, secure, brave, aware, authentic, etc. all on one’s own steam – without a genuine connection to the Source of All That Is.)

In his book Return of the Prodigal Son, Henri Nouwen describes what it is like to catch the de-centered self in action. It is a kind of uneasy double-awareness, a painful embarrassment upon reading one’s own diary:

     Constantly falling back into an old trap, before I am fully aware of it, I find myself wondering why someone hurt me, rejected me, or didn’t pay attention to me. Without realizing it, I find myself brooding about someone else’s success, my own loneliness, and the way the world abuses me. Despite my conscious intentions, I often catch myself daydreaming about becoming rich, powerful, and very famous. All of these mental games reveal to me the fragility of my faith that I am the Beloved One on whom God’s favor rests. I am so afraid of being disliked, blamed, put aside, passed over, ignored, persecuted, and killed, that I am constantly developing strategies to defend myself and thereby assure myself of the love I think I need and deserve. And in so doing I move far away from my Father’s home and choose to dwell in a “distant country.”

How I long to be as unashamedly naked – as nekkid – as is Jesus in those paintings depicting his baptism: naked heart, naked being, humbly accepting his gift, inheritance, and responsibility as Son of Man and Child of God. But, mystical adolescent that I am, I am still reeling from the painful awareness of my de-centered self as it continues to cling to its ego-absorbed dreams and nightmares. It’s a strange, liminal half-nudity, a predawn sleeplessness, the time when the chrysalis turns uncomfortably inside the cocoon. I see my illusions and wish to be rid of them while simultaneously perceiving my desire to be rid of them as another facet of my de-centered, egoically-driven cravings! All the concern over "how I'm progressing" or "evolving" (or perhaps not!) on the journey seems suspiciously narcissistic and spiritually materialistic. And it seems I find subtler and subtler ways to hide disquieting truths, be they ugly or lovely, from myself and others – always pushing those breasts below the water line, always holding that big security towel in front of this startling nakedness. . . really, I’m not as vain, as ashamed, as pained as all THAT . . . am I?

How long, Lord, how long? How long before the towel fully drops? How long before I am finally nekkid?

Charter for Compassion

I saw this today via a Facebook link posted by my friend Bruce A., and I signed the charter.

Egypt

Compassionate Heart,

let your mercy flow to those

immediately exposed to peril.

Comfort the imprisoned,

relieve the sufferings of the wounded, 

and show mercy to the dying.

Deliver us from the wrath 

of threatened leaders.

Protect us from any harsh zealotry

residing within our justified anger.

Hear the resounding cry

of all peoples for freedom.

Amen.

The Value of Ritual in Sustaining Prayer

Several years ago, Fr. Justin Langille, who was then the coordinator of Contemplative Outreach of San Diego, shared this piece of wisdom by Ronald Rolheiser with local centering prayer group leaders. I'm re-sharing it today.

In a homily at a wedding, Dietrich Bonhoeffer once gave this advice to a young couple: “Today you are young and very much in love and you think that your love can sustain your marriage.  It can't.  Let your marriage sustain your love.” 

     Love and prayer work the same.  Neophytes make the mistake of thinking that they can be sustained simply through good feelings and good intention, without the help of a ritual container and a sustaining rhythm.  That's naive, however sincere.  Love and prayer can be sustained only through ritual, routine and rhythm. Why? 

     What eventually makes us stop praying, John of the Cross says, is simple boredom, tiredness, lack of energy.  It's hard, very hard, existentially impossible, to crank up the energy, day in and day out, to pray with real affectivity, real feeling and real heart.  We simply cannot sustain that kind of energy and enthusiasm.  We're human beings, limited in our energies, and chronically too tired, dissipated and torn in various directions to sustain prayer on the basis of feelings.  We need something else to help us.  What? 

     Ritual — a rhythm, a routine.  Monks have secrets worth knowing, and anyone who has ever been to a monastery knows that monks (who pray often and a lot) sustain themselves in prayer not through feeling, variety or creativity, but through ritual, rhythm and routine.  Monastic prayer is simple, often rote, has a clear durational expectancy, and is structured so as to allow each monk the freedom to invest himself or hold back, in terms of energy and heart, depending upon his disposition on a given day. That's wise anthropology. 

     Prayer is like eating. There needs to be a good rhythm between big banquets (high celebration, high aesthetics, lots of time, proper formality) and the everyday family supper (simple, no-frills, short, predictable).  A family that tries to eat every meal as if it were a banquet soon finds that most of its members are looking for an excuse to be absent.  With good reason.  Everyone needs to eat every day, but nobody has energy for a banquet every day. 

     The same holds true for prayer.  One wonders whether the huge drop off of people who used to attend church services daily isn't connected to this.  People attended daily services more when those services were short, routine, predictable and gave them the freedom to be as present or absent (in terms of emotional investment) as their energy and heart allowed on that given day. 

     Today, unfortunately, we are misled by a number of misconceptions about prayer and liturgy.  Too commonly, we accept the following set of axioms as wise:  Creativity and variety are always good.  Every prayer celebration should be one of high energy.  Longer is better than shorter.  Either you should pray with feeling or you shouldn't pray at all.  Ritual is meaningless unless we are emotionally invested in it. 

     Each of these axioms is over-romantic, ill thought-out, anthropologically naïve and not helpful in sustaining a life a prayer.  Prayer is a relationship, a long-term one, and lives by those rules.  Relating to anyone long-term has its ups and downs.  Nobody can be interesting all the time, sustain high energy all the time, or fully invest himself or herself all the time.  Never travel with anyone who expects you to be interesting, lively and emotionally-invested all the time.  Real life doesn't work that way.  Neither does prayer.  What sustains a relationship long-term is ritual, routine, a regular rhythm that incarnates the commitment. 

     Imagine you have an aged mother in a nursing home and you've committed yourself to visiting her twice a week.  How do you sustain yourself in this?  Not by feeling, energy or emotion, but by commitment, routine and ritual.  You go to visit her at a given time, not because you feel like it, but because it's time.  You go to visit her in spite of the fact that you sometimes don't feel like it, that you sometimes can't give her the best of your heart, and that often you are tired, distracted, restless, over-burdened and are occasionally sneaking a glance at your watch and wondering how soon you can make a graceful exit. 

     Moreover, your conversation with her will not always be deep or about meaningful things.  Occasionally there will be emotional satisfaction and the sense that something important was shared, but many times, perhaps most times, there will only be the sense that it was good that you were there and that an important, life-giving connection has been nurtured and sustained, despite what seemingly occurred at the surface.  You've been with your mother and that's more important than whatever feelings or conversation might have taken place on a given day. 

    Prayer works the same way.  That's why the saints and the great spiritual writers have always said that there is only one, non-negotiable rule for prayer: "Show up!  Show up regularly!" The ups and downs of our minds and hearts are of secondary importance.

Ronald Rolheiser, a Roman Catholic priest and member of the Missionary Oblates of Mary Immaculate, is president of the Oblate School of Theology in San Antonio, Texas. He is a community-builder, lecturer, and writer.

The Discipline That Liberates

"Prayer is not an effort to make contact with God, to bring God to our side. Prayer, as a discipline that strengthens and deepens discipleship, is the effort to remove everything that might prevent the Spirit of God . . . from speaking freely to us and in us. The discipline of prayer is the discipline by which we liberate the Spirit of God from entanglement in our impatient impulses. It is the way by which we allow God's Spirit to move freely."

--From Compassion: A Reflection on the Christian Life, by Henri J.M. Nouwen, Donald P. McNeill, and Douglass A. Morrison. New York: Doubleday, 1982, p 102.

Peace and Civility Pledge

The pastor of my church (you go, Fr. Mike!) encouraged the congregation to check out and sign this pledge made available through Sojourners, a Christian organization seeking to build a movement of spirituality and social change. Here is the text of the pledge, which is available at www.sojo.net:

The church can offer a message of hope and reconciliation to a nation that is hurting and deeply divided. We urge those who claim the name of Christ to "put away from you all bitterness and wrath and anger and wrangling and slander, together with all malice, and be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ has forgiven you" (Ephesians 4:31-32).

We pledge to God and to each other that we will lead by example in a country where civil discourse and peacemaking are rare. We will work to model a better way in how we treat each other in our many communities, across religious and political lines. We will strive to create safe and sacred spaces for common prayer and community discussion as we come together to seek God's will for our nation and our world.

1.) We believe Jesus' teaching that "Blessed are those who make peace" (Matthew 5:9). We acknowledge that most of us have been guilty of violence in our hearts and with our tongues. We hold ourselves to the higher standard to which Christ called us: to refrain from not only physical violence but violence of the heart and tongue. "Do not commit murder. Anyone who murders will be judged for it," and "Do not be angry with your brother or sister" (Mathew 5:22-23).

2.) We commit that our dialogue with each other will reflect the spirit of the Scriptures, which tell us, in relating to each other, to be "quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry" (James 1:19).

3.) We believe that each of us, and our fellow human beings, are created in the image of God. This belief should be reflected in the honor and respect we show to each other, particularly in how we speak. "With the tongue we bless the Lord and Father, and with it we curse those who are made in the likeness of God....this ought not to be so" (James 3:9,10).

4.) We pledge that when we disagree, we will do so respectfully, without falsely impugning the other's motives, attacking the other's character, or questioning the other's faith. We will be mindful of our language, being neither arrogant nor boastful in our beliefs as we strive to "be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love" (Ephesians 4:2).

5.) We recognize that we cannot function together as citizens of the same community, whether local or national, unless we are mindful of how we treat each other. Each of us must therefore "put off falsehood and speak truthfully to his neighbor, for we are all members of one body" (Ephesians 4:25).

6.) We commit to pray for our political leaders - those with whom we agree or disagree. "I urge that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made -- for kings and all who are in high positions" (1 Timothy 2:1-2).

7.) We believe that it is more difficult to hate others, even adversaries and enemies, when we are praying for them. We commit to pray for each other, those with whom we agree and those with whom we may disagree, so that we may be faithful witnesses to our Lord, who prayed "that they may be one" (John 17:22).

--Sojourners, www.sojo.net