160 Dec. 12 2023
I’ve got to finish this and get it out. Before I change my mind. Again. I claim to be honest and sharing, yet I find it so easy to hide my deepest experiences and emotions. “I’m not a hypocrite,” I tell myself, “I’m just being careful. They probably wouldn’t understand.” But then again, we rarely understand the most important things in life. Like love. All we can do is share them. Here it goes.
For me, dreams come in three levels. The deepest holds Truths and connections with the ‘universal/God/More’ and the basic understandings that are usually hidden and masked by the mundane day-to-day necessities. Three nights ago, I had one of those.
A large, strong, good looking young man is in hot pursuit, trying to kill me. In a hazy memory, I think of my last two books. But no matter. My one thought is to escape, to survive. There’s a small chance I could overcome him, but I must try. It seems like I’m in an ally. Stop and pick up a large stick. He finds a two-by-four. I run. How can I hide a weapon on my body if I have the chance? Maybe a scapple-like knife hidden in my long hair? I wake.
Thoughts and ponderings the next day or two.
I try to base all my ‘stuff’ on the non-violent teachings of Jesus of Nazareth. My last two books, Bread Versus the Sword: How the Inherent Schism Within Christianity Threatens Our World and The Unspoken Cause of Auschwitz explore the two main sources of violence that have come from within Christianity. I think of myself as a non-violent kind of guy. We are sharing our house with others, trying our best to live as did the early followers of Jesus. Many have told me how ‘good’ I am in doing and saying all that I do.
Yet, that dream brought out the truth: I was as ready to kill my antagonist as anyone else would have been. My level of ‘non-violence’ is only skin deep. Thinking about this has been informative, disruptive, disappointing, yet, finally, enlightening.
The early followers of Jesus were certainly, as a group, non-violent. One reason the Roman Emperor Constantine adopted and adapted the Jesus Movement in the early 300’s was that he was having trouble finding soldiers for his eastern army because of the growth of that non-violent group. What is the difference between their situation/belief and mine? How could they have been so non-violent when I’m not? There are many possible answers. This is one.
As my dream showed, it’s instinctive to defend ourselves, even if it means the death of another. Survival trumps anything else – unless there is something even more important. What could that be? What did they have in those early times that I (and we) don’t know? They had each other. We don’t. One person alone, no matter what they believe, will rarely have the faithfulness to choose death over survival-with-violence, no matter that they believe in a non-violent Jesus. But, if they are truly in community with others who also know and live by this assumption, if they are acting and reacting, not only for themselves but for all those others, things can change so much, be so different, that their actions can change.
Lesson learned: non-violence can only flourish, within groups. It must be shared in order to take root and grow. If kept alone, it remains a good idea, nice noise and even good seeds. But the planting and growing of non-violence need others. Like everything else concerning love, how-ever defined, it takes more than one. We might believe in the power of love on our own, but we can only grow with others.
This is not good news. For we are used to having most aspects of our spirituality being kept private. We may talk, sing, pray and meet together, and return to our solitudes a bit refreshed and enheartened, but to share enough on such a deep level that we’d support each other in death? That’s for zealots, and for Jesus, of course, but we’ve made him into a half-God, and we can’t be expected to take his actions seriously. We’re supposed to believe in him and his actions, right? But he did them, so we don’t have to. We’re free to go ahead and believe in love, but to not question violence that we think is warranted. He was the ‘holy’ one. Not us.
The basic model of Christianity since Constantine has been to keep us apart, except for worship, where we are under the control of the clergy class, however named. True community has always been frowned upon, limited to monasteries and the recluse. True community is dangerous, where we begin to share and question, enabled, at last, to find the truth and power behind non-violence.
Unfortunately, the rise of non-violence is the only thing that will save our world from mass destruction. This is not a path that affects mere individuals but a choice that affects the whole earth. Hence the necessity of the rise of true community, people willing and eager to grow in love, knowing that their lives and the lives of all others will be greatly benefitted by their actions.
What does this mean for me, I’m wondering. Are my writings good for anything? Is it mere noise? Am I delusional? I hope not. I guess they are more like seeds, lying on the ground, vulnerable, with potential, but of no use until something is done with them. What I know is that I must do so much more than make noise. If I’m not doing my best to plant the seeds, my time has certainly been largely wasted. Yes, Judy and I are providing housing and a better life when we are sharing our lives with others, but so what? If we aren’t living toward a deeper vision with others, in a manner that will even support true non-violence, we’re only scratching the surface of a need that is critical to the whole of human existence.
(Added just this morning.)
If I view my life as a race or a journey, I feel like I’ve only crossed the starting line. Here I am at nearly 82 and I realize I don’t know much more than I did at twenty. Where has my life been spent? I’ll tell you. At church. Not that they were bad years, but I really didn’t learn anything or grow in positive ways. I chose the accepted and safe ways, nearly killing myself in the doing, always knowing that there was so much more, but lacking the strength and wisdom to pursue that More. Better to stay in the limited folds of familiarity then venture into the unknown.
It’s been a crazy three days since the dream, filled with great Christmas stuff, so I’ve been able to just dot down a few words before now. This morning, all this finally came together. Judy got up and I remained in bed, pondering and praying, in my fashion. God was with me, however named or understood. Reality surrounded me and I saw my life much more clearly. It wasn’t pretty. Not that it was bad. It was just so very ‘partial’ and small, compared to what it might have been.
I understand death as do many Jews, believing that only which is ‘of love’ goes beyond this life. Only Love is eternal because the God of Love is eternal. I know that there is much beyond this existence, but that is God’s business, not ours. Our ‘business’ in this life is to grow in love. All else is smoke, a waste. There I was, curled up, still underneath the covers, realizing how much of my life had been spent on ‘smoke’, ….. when a miracle happened.
Our bedroom faces east. It’s been cloudy for most of the past month or so. We’ve rarely seen the sunshine. At 9:04, my eyes barely peeking out, very aware of the Holy, around and within me, but understanding my regrets more than anything else, the sun came shining through the window and lit up the room. My world changed.
My favourite saying is from ancient Judaism, “Don’t expect miracles, but recognize them when they happen.” A miracle, in the Jewish understanding, is when the Holy becomes real and present. That ray of sunshine qualified in all respects.
Does it answer my questions? Of course not. Does it simplify anything or make paths any clearer? Why would it? But, better yet, it reminds me of the most important fact, that God is with me, giving me courage enough to continue to share myself, so that my self and other selves might support each other, knowing all creation is changed, even as we change, even a little bit.
This is enough. Each little step, question, and understanding is more important than we can imagine. The challenge is to not allow the immensity and impossibility of the whole task keep us from the enjoyment of simply being on the journey. The miracle we must stay open to is God’s ‘image’ within us that enables this to happen.
So yes, even if an elder, I’m still a kid, still wet behind the ears. No, I haven’t really learned much. Yes, I’m still violent in my core. But so what? I’m more aware of it now, and in the sharing of this ‘deficiency’, perhaps I can help myself and others to grow in love. What is more important? Just one more wounded healer trying to find other ‘walking wounded’ so that we might hold each other up enough to take another step.
Anthony
