"LEARNING
FROM LIVES"
A Sermon by the Rev. Bruce Clear
Sunday, March 14, 2004
All
Among the most popular metaphors of life for Unitarian Universalists is life as a journey. Part of our uniqueness as a religion is that we tend to focus less on life's destination, and more on life's journey. How we live holds deeper significance than where we end up.
Think of a journey, for a moment, in a very literal sense. We hop in a car to go on the journey, and either we head straight to the freeway and race to a destination, or we look for the leisurely path, the side roads and country highways. These are two very different ways of travel, of course. One is best if the purpose is the destination itself. The other is best if the purpose is to enjoy the journey.
This metaphor helps identify two differing attitudes toward life. One
attitude might suggest the goal of life is to arrive at the end where you want
to be. In many religions, the goal of life is, when it ends, to have achieved
nirvana or heaven or some other kind of cosmic reward. If that is what you're
seeking, then on life's journey you should follow the freeway - it is the
safest, most direct way to reach where you're going. There is another attitude,
though, that sees life's goal not in the end of life, but in the living of it. And not just the living of life, but the learning from it.
Where you end up is not nearly as significant as what you learned along the
way. Those with this attitude are not so concerned with some personal cosmic
destiny, but are rather are interested simply, as Thoreau said,
"in learning what life has to teach, and not,
when I come to die, discover that I have not lived."
Those who are interested more in how life is lived rather than how life ends are more inclined, as the journey proceeds to leave the safe and efficient highway, to explore the side roads along the way. There are risks and there are hazards and there are unanticipated dead ends on this route, but for those who wish to explore life, rather than simply to complete it, the side routes make a lot more sense than the freeways.
I'm going to let the metaphor of journey go for now. It has been squeezed for most of its usefulness. But what I hope to do is to focus on the learning part of the journey, and suggest, as I believe, that some of the best learning we can receive on our life journey is by looking at the lives of others.
My thoughts this morning have been inspired by the fact that next Friday we will be visited by one of the great writers of spiritual journeys. In two books in the last decade, William Elliott has explored religious ideas by interviewing some of the leading thinkers in the world and asked them about their religious thinking. These interviews included Mother Teresa and the Dalai Lama, Rabbi Harold Kushner (who wrote Why Do Bad Things Happen to Good People), Elizabeth Kubler-Ross (who is the best known writer on the subject of death and dying), psychologists B.F. Skinner and Albert Ellis, Hindu Swami Satchidananda, Sikh teacher Jagir Singh, positive thinking preachers Norman Vincent Peale and Robert Schuller, and counter-culture guru Ram Dass. (There are about ten other people interviewed in the book).
It is difficult to imagine any one person personally meeting all of these
people in one lifetime. It is even more astounding that this person sat down
with them, often in their home over a cup of coffee or tea, discussing the
deepest philosophical and spiritual questions. All of them were asked many of
the same questions:
There were other questions - and some people needed specific follow-up questions, but this gives you a sense of what the interviews were like. The book provides a catalogue of learning - diverse forms of wisdom from diverse people, but all of it cumulatively gives us something to learn on the journey of life.
But Elliot's own life story offers as much learning as his interviewees.
He begins the book telling of the most profound event in his life. His father died when he was twelve years old. Six months later, he was alone in the house with his mother when she died. His family was Catholic, and when he asked the priest why his parents had to die, he answered simply, "It was God's will."
The answer was not quite good enough for twelve year old Elliott, and from that point on he turned away from the simple creeds of his childhood and devoted his life to finding meaningful answers to life's most perplexing questions. That quest took him on a spiritual journey - not on a highway to a determined destination, but on a meandering road weaving through the world's great religions and philosophies.
In college he determined that the search for answers to life's deepest
questions required real travel. He spent several years in Napal
and
The heart of this book is the interviews, of course, but an intriguing
introductory chapter offers anecdotes about his time in Napal
and
"Every few years in Napal, there is a special spiritual celebration called the Kumbamela. All the yogis who have been meditating in caves and hiding out in the mountains come to this festival. I figured there might be someone there who would know something.
"As I approached the main temple, a yogi stopped me. 'What do you expect to find here?' he asked. I told him I didn't know, but then I mumbled something about the Truth. We smiled at each other, and he walked off.
"The gathering (of yogis) took place outside the Hindu temple. . . . In one area where a crowd was gathering, I pushed through in order to get a better look. It was "yogi alley." There were about a dozen of the most intense guys I've ever seen. One was standing on one leg. His other leg was terribly withered and bent at such an angle that the foot rested against the standing leg. I was told he had been standing like this for twelve years as an 'austerity' spiritual discipline. . . .
"Another yogi had both legs wrapped around his head. They, too, were so withered from disuse, he couldn't stand on them if he wanted to. As I said, these yogis had really intense eyes, but who wouldn't look intense with legs wrapped around their head?
"I pulled out my camera when I got to the most intense yogi. He had no
legs and one arm, he was covered with ashes, and there was a trident next to
him. He was a Shiva devotee. Shiva is the God of destruction. I asked him if I
could take a picture. He agreed. Then he looked at me with those intense eyes
and said, '
I offer one other story from this introductory chapter about the time he
visited the city of the Dalai Lama:
"The Dalai Lama is considered by some people to be a manifestation of the quality of compassion. Another lama there was considered the manifestation of wisdom. I was told he was giving initiations that were critical to obtaining enlightenment in a short time. After he initiated our group into Tantric practice, he asked us to take a vow. This vow consisted in saying a mantra, a short prayer, a number of times each day for the rest of our lives. The sound to the mantra, along with the motivation behind the recitation of the mantra, changes the consciousness of the person who repeats it.
"The lama approached the members of the group and asked them to make a commitment as to how many mantras a day they would say. As he came nearer me, I heard the pledges of others. One woman said, 'Two hundred mantras a day.' The man behind her said, 'One hundred mantras.' The bliss-filled woman seated in front of me said, 'Five hundred mantras.' As each person said their number, the lama gently smiled.
"'One mantra,' I said softly. Some people laughed; others just looked disgusted.
"'One?' asked the lama.
"I paused and thought to myself. 'One mantra,' I repeated.
"The lama looked at me with a big smile. It has been seven years since
I made that promise, and I've kept it ever since."
I report these stories, not because they directly reflect the interviews that are the heart of the book, but rather because they tell us something of the person who pursued those interviews. It is clear that Elliott was on a quest, and the way to get to the answers to life's deepest questions was direct experience with the lives of others who are also seeking such answers.
Biography has long been my favorite form of literature. It has been so, I think, because there is so much to be learned from the lives of others. So much of learning comes from experience and none of us can experience all there is to life.
Cumulative experience provides some insights. I'd like to offer a few
examples of some of the questions and answers in the book. Dr. Jean Houston is
a scientist and philosopher, past president of the Association for Humanistic
Psychology, and Director of the Foundation for Mind Research. When Elliott
asked her "On what beliefs do you base your life?" this is part of
what she answered:
"I base my life on the fact that I am a citizen in the universe, which
is larger than my aspiration and far more complex than all my dreams. I am a
co-creator of this universe, but human beings are not the only ones minding the
store. Spiritual realities are the underpinnings, the
very template of existence. As I refine my body, mind, and spirit, I have more
and more access to these realities."
When Rabbi Harold Kushner was asked, "What is the purpose of
life?" this was the beginning of his answer:
"We are born with the potential for humanity. The purpose of life is to
realize that potential. The purpose of religion is to create a community
through which we learn what it means to be human. The highest ideal is to
become a human being. There's a catalog of traits that only humans possess:
charity, learning, sharing, exerting self-control. . .
These are things that animals cannot develop. One becomes human to the degree
that one's life is based on developing these things."
When the Dalai Lama was asked by Elliott if he believed in God or Ultimate
Reality, here is what the Buddhist said:
"That depends on your interpretation of God. If God is Truth or
Ultimate reality, then there is a God according to Buddhism; there is a Final,
Ultimate Truth. If God is the Creator and, at the same time all-knowing or
all-merciful, then the Buddhists do not believe in God. From the Buddhist
viewpoint, the self is the ultimate creator. We believe in self-creation. If
one interprets God as compassion and love, then of course there is a God."
Elliott does not analyze or critique. He searched the world for wisdom, seeking to learn from the lives and thoughts of others. People's lives do give messages and insights from which we each can benefit.
Last year, I delivered a series of sermons with the umbrella title,
"Learning from Lives." They were brief stories of Unitarians and
Universalists who made an impact on the world, though they are not widely
identified as UUs. The lives included such names as
Frank Lloyd Wright, Florence Nightingale, and Bela Bartok. I believe some of our greatest lessons in life
come, not just from our own direct experiences, but from examining the message
of other people's lives.
There is a book on my shelf entitled, "Biography as Theology," by James McClendon, Jr. It is McClendon's thesis that people' life stories can reveal certain spiritual principles. He invites us to examine biography, life story - even our own life story - as a spiritual journey.
According to McClendon, some people's lives reveal a single "controlling image," a defining story, that gives a unity to who they are. Two of the individuals he identifies in this way are Dag Hammarskjold and Martin Luther King, Jr.
Dag Hammarskjold was the much respected Secretary General of United Nations during the 1950s and early 60s. After his sudden death in an airplane crash, there was discovered in his home a journal of deeply spiritual writings, connecting his passion for world justice with his inner sense of human spirituality. Hammarskjold, he said, lived with the image of himself as "servant." This image defined his character and shaped both his relationships and life goals. Drawing heavily from the posthumously published book "Markings," Hammarskjold's private journal of prose, poetry and inspirational writing, MacClendon quotes him as saying, "I must shift the dividing line in my being. . . so that my whole being may become an instrument for that which is greater than I."
Another person McClendon examines is Martin Luther King, Jr. He finds in King a controlling story more than a controlling image. It is the story of Exodus, the ancient story of bringing slaves out of bondage into freedom. It is a story filled with cries against injustice and oppression. It is at the same time a tragically sad story, and a fundamentally hopeful one. King personally experienced the story of bondage, and devoted his life to reenacting the liberating exodus to freedom.
King and Hammarskjold were exceptional people, and we can only expect exceptional stories. In the case of both, the controlling image (of "servant" or "exodus," respectively) is a profoundly and self-evidently religious image. Their story, their life journey, regardless of its ultimate impact on the world, was fundamentally religious.
Other great souls come to mind, and it would be interesting to speculate on
the controlling spiritual images of great names. Albert Schweitzer, of course,
named his own controlling image: he called it "Reverence for Life."
Bertrand Russell, in his autobiography, identified three themes of his life. He
wrote:
"Three passions, simple but overwhelmingly strong have governed my
life: the longing for love, the search for knowledge, and unbearable pity for
the suffering of humanity.... "
Most people, however, are not a King or Hammarskjold
or Schweitzer or Russell. Most of us fall far short of such giants. I must
confess great difficulty in examining my own life, in looking for a controlling
image or metaphor. What is promising, however, is that examining the journey of
other people adds to the resources of understanding myself,
of knowing my core being.
William Elliott published a second book last year, and though it again is structured around interviews with well-known religious leaders, the theme is quite different from his firtst book. It is entitled A Place At the Table and his interest is to explore various and diverse ideas about who Jesus was.
Again, he opens the book by telling the story of when he was twelve and experienced the death of his parents. Again, he tells that when he asked the priest for an explanation, the only thing the priest could say was, "It was God's will." This time in telling the story, he focuses on the fact that a painting of The Last Supper hung on the wall above the place where his mother died, and he had ever since he had turned away from the Jesus of his childhood.
As I said earlier, his journey in life took him to
Elliott rebelled. He had no interest in returning to Jesus, whom he left
after his childhood. But as he thought about it further, the concept began to
interest him. Here is part of what he said.
"In hindsight, I realized that Jesus had always been too much a part of me to ignore, I grew up with Jesus, and our lives were intertwined in the same way that a vine grows around a trellis. While I had often tried to ignore and reject my Christian roots as many people do, I couldn't really separate Jesus from who I am without injuring myself. That kind of rejection only leads to a resentment and anger that never dies.
"Thus, there was only one way to be free. Forgiveness.
"I am on a search to find the real Jesus, so that I can accept myself
and forgive others. . . . In my search for Jesus, I am looking for my friend,
not my master. I want to meet a Jesus I can wrestle with. Someone
to argue and fight with. Someone I can play with. A man I can love. . .
. I want to meet a Jesus I can lie down at night in the desert with, and
looking up, see the same stars together. I want to see the joy and profound awe
in his face that came from witnessing the birth of a child. . . . I want to cry
with him, laugh with him, and live like him . . ."
As I say, this book, like his last one, took him on journeys of interviewing well known spiritual leaders. He met again with some he interviewed before, like Rabbi Harold Kushner. This time, he included quite a number of prominent Christian leaders, like the very liberal priests Matthew Fox and John Shelby Spong, scholars like Marcus Borg, the leader of the Jesus Seminar of biblical scholars, and John Meier, Notre Dame professor of theology, New Age teachers Deepak Chopra and Marianne Williamson, and prominent conservatives like Billy Graham and Jerry Falwell.
Like his previous book, he was not judgmental about the people he interviewed. He made it clear when he agreed and disagreed, but always - even in the case of Falwell and other fundamentalists so different from him - he was able to learn something from what he heard. Sometimes that meant learning something about himself.
And perhaps the most interesting part of the book is that in this very narrow topic, the journey succeeded. He found the Jesus he was looking for. No one person had it, but each person he met could supply something that made Jesus acceptable once again - something he thought was lost forever.
The meaning of the book's title,
"'No - you are not a Christian,' the minister said (to me). 'You don't believe Jesus died for your sins.'
"'Well,' I said, 'I believe he died because humanity was too ignorant
to understand his message, and he may also have known that his death would
change the trajectory of history."
Elliott reports on a long discussion then, concerning not just Christianity,
but also Eastern religions, which the minister clearly misunderstood. Then he
summarized the conversation this way:
"Even though the minister and I disagreed on a few things, we agreed on many more. . . . He listened and I listened. We weren't trying to convince heach other - we were expressing and sharing with respect. . . .
"Jesus said, 'The truth will set you free' and the Truth may come through someone who is seen as being outside our religion - as the parable of the Good Samaritan showed. . . .
"I felt spiritually invigorated as I walked back out to my motor home.
The warm
In the end, Elliott was able to find the Jesus he was looking for, though it was substantially different from the one who seemed so offensive when he was a child. It was a very different Jesus, one who was comfortable with the wisdom of Eastern religions, and open to the journeys of so many diverse people.
In following Elliott's journey, I was reminded of the famous lines from T.S.
Eliot:
"The end is where we start from. We shall not cease from exploration,
and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know
the place for the first time."
Dag Hammarskjold, whom I
mentioned earlier, was another seeker who learned so much through exploring the
lives of others. He offered an interesting metaphor to explain the process of
learning from life:
"(It) is like playing blindman's bluff:
deprived of sight I have, in compensation, to sharpen all my other senses, to
grope my way and recognize myself as I pass my fingers over the faces of my
friends, and thus find what was mine already and had
been there all the time."
William Elliott has shown how we can learn about who we are when we pass our fingers over the faces of others, and engage ourselves in the ideas and experiences of others.