Epistle Articles

FROM A DREAM GROWS A JOURNEY

Last Updated on Friday, 13 May 2011 13:15 Written by Administrator Wednesday, 11 May 2011 21:42

By June Jelm
Via a personal dream at age 5, this message was emblazoned on my psyche: in the basement bunker of the family home, I was trapped with a raging stallion and with all exits barred; I faced a struggle without either a burning bush or great light to guide, but yet with a bare light-bulb hanging from the basement ceiling.  Not fully conscious of these prophetic meanings, I somehow understood that my journey had begun.  And across the decades, the brilliant light bulb continues to present itself in adapted forms within various dream contexts, assuring me that, regardless of the seeming brutality of the moment, sustaining the journey remains a non-negotiable contract.

The great religions of history agree that each of us faces an individual journey, which by all measures, is beyond our own egoism. Western Christianity understands this journey to be lifelong and self-created. Our Eastern Christian traditions add that the aim of this personal journey is to distance and protect the inner Self from inherent primitive darkness.  Islam perceives this inescapable journey to proceed as unique experience within God’s cosmic reality, and demands both self-analysis and personal re-adaptation. Buddhism implores us, whatever the time or place, to just get on with the personal journey of enlightenment.   Secular psychology is in agreement with all: life-journey both presupposes and demands a personal commitment toward wholeness and Self-actualization, without which we are left childlike, unfit and disabled.

Making some form of committed journey seems unavoidable. Even the Faustian compromise or negative choice, which intends to evade the higher life-journey, carries with it a non-negotiable commitment.  In his Hero of a Thousand Faces, cultural anthropologist Joseph Campbell reminds us of this historical truth, that humanity cannot escape either voluntary or forced journeys.  Current humanitarian situations in Japan, Cote d’Ivoire, Libya, Mexico and the United States remind us daily how this conundrum is made clear.

At the time of my early dream, I was also galvanized by the stories of the biblical Joseph: his family’s deadly dis-functions, his possible death in the well, the child slave trade and many other adulthood betrayals. Stories of “baby Moses on the water,” his escape from mass infanticide, survival in the desert alone and flight from military pursuit, were realities filled with both terror and hope. Of course, their personal struggles demanded keeping the mind and eyes on higher plains. This meant everything to these mentors and somehow articulated a fabric-design of deliverance for myself.

As a struggling young adult, St. Paul’s soulful contrition, his intelligent universalism and love of liberty, at last allowed me joyful laughter. Understanding Christ as a copy of God who bent to know human suffering (Job) made great sense; but beyond this understanding, Christ stood difficult. I can only continue to appreciate the certainty of human limitations and the necessity to stand in awe of The Greater Reality in which Christ plays a central role.  Across these times, a piece of secular literature Kipling’s IF, a dissertation on finding the will to go on, when too much or all is lost, has provided a modern template for contemporary realities of loss, suffering and positive struggle.    

As with Paul, the itineraries of the journeys have carried me both high and low.  First, there are many losses: safe parenting, safe and permanent married relationship, house-flood, house-fire, illnesses, sacrificed dreams and a treasured home.  Yet, I have been gracefully swept to fortunate and unimaginable heights: personal, academic and career experiences in the U.S., the Pacific, Eastern and Western Europe and Northern Africa, unexpected places where a muse in human form always appeared to point the way. 

Engaging the multiple losses, unending sufferings and unresolved struggles of others on my journey; seeing and knowing the prices that others chose to pay to preserve and distance the Self from darkness, forces me only to cover my mouth (Job).  On these journeys, we do indeed pay with sacrificial blood.  But at the same time, payment constitutes a Great Fulfillment: that is, seeing the reality of the many who sustain themselves on day-to-day faith.  Seeing a universal distribution of the Children of Great Light around the planet, affirms the existential reality of the Great Network that is the Kingdom; and at the same time verifies the existential dark power that works its own reality of abject evil, one that competes to rule what was once Paradise.

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BOB THE DOG - AND THE MESSAGE OF THE SEASON

Last Updated on Friday, 24 June 2011 18:03 Written by Administrator Tuesday, 29 March 2011 15:11

By Craig Wirth

Some time ago, I wrote the story of how Bob the dog taught me the meaning of faith. It was the story of how Bob faithfully waited for the day to be rescued from his horrific life as a medical research animal 14-years ago. It was at a time medical research animals were seldom if ever rescued, but Bob had faith in miracles. My recounting of that story chronicled his journey through faith, uncertainty, and the realization of joy at becoming my 70-pound lap dog. All were difficult steps for both of us although he "got it" long before I did. I keep falling back into believing we can only expect what we can predict. Bob seems to know ALL things are possible.

Bob hasn't quit his theological teaching at his elderly age of 16-years old. It was October. The vet had the terrible news that Bob had cancer of the bladder. I authorized chemotherapy, but I agreed I would stop if it caused other problems. It did. Bob's kidneys began to fail. By mid-November, he stopped eating for the most part, except when being handfed small pieces of food from a frustratingly small and changing menu. I learned of BUN numbers. These measure the amount of toxins in the blood that kidneys should remove. Bob's BUN should be around 30. He went up to 40, then 50, then 80 and peaked at 104, as December started. Once again, Bob should not have survived, just as he shouldn't have survived the day last March when he ate 113 chocolate espresso coffee beans— a lethal dose of a deadly combination. With his kidneys failing on a dark December day, I put my hand on Bob's head and asked the Lord if there was anything else I needed to learn from Bob.

Now, to back up a bit. At about the same time, Bishop Scott Hayashi started short morning services before our diocesan staff meetings. Advent had just started. Advent has always been a nice pre-Christmas time for me with a little bit of a theological tug and pull over how much Christmas stuff to put out during Advent—and how much to wait for the actual Christmas season. The Advent morning service readings started the same way as they always started. How could those people of Biblical times keep missing the obvious signs that the Christmas miracle was just around the corner. Why couldn't they open their hearts and minds to the obvious possibility of the baby Jesus miracle, rather than just expecting the usual false prophet sighting. Wow, I realized I am no different than them. Why can't I open my mind and heart to be open to what is possible, not just what I am resigned to expect!

It is pretty easy to expect the worst with canine bladder cancer. However, Bob the dog didn't occupy his time reinforcing the worst by reading medical internet sites or talking to others who are quick to doubt. He wouldn't give up as he struggled to eat what were now smaller and smaller pieces of toast and a deli slice of meat now and then. His shrinking frame of skin and bones kept leaping at the door when I would come home. He ran down stairs and up mountains and played in the snow—yet his BUN number was going the wrong way The vet started pumping IVs into him as we agreed only painless treatments should be given. Bob kept his head high living in the possibility of recovery rather than in the expectation of being in his last few days. He never stopped running and leaping about. The vet was so moved, that he came in on Sunday to give him one more IV bag to flush out his kidneys in hopes that the number could drop below the fatal range. Kidneys don't mend on their own, but they sometimes can respond with a little more efficiency after lots of fluids. There is no way to heal a kidney in a 16-year old piece of skin stretched around bones. With me expecting the death of Bob, what could I learn? I cancelled vacation. I expected the purpose was to prepare for Bob's departure.

On Monday, the second week of Advent, it was time for Bob to get his checkup with the vet. I heard the vet scream from the back room. He burst through the door to announce Bob's kidneys were at a 35 BUN number. That was a miracle. It is darn near puppy normal. Bob came home. I spent hours trying to explain how this could happen. Why couldn't I just accept it? Bob ate bowl after bowl of food. It was a gift in the present moment. It was the gift of learning that YES, be open to possibilities!

We spend all our lives seemingly preparing for the day we die and seldom for the miracle of the days we live. If we live to be 75 years old, we have 27,395 days of life. Bob is teaching me to spend more time accepting them, than trying to prepare for the one day that results in death. For example, we spend far more time preparing out of the fear of being hit by lightning than we do preparing ourselves for the possibility of those life saving miracles that ALL of us have experienced. The National Weather Service reports only 460 Americans out of our 300 million people will be injured in a lightning storm this year, yet ALL of us will have a miracle where we wake up form almost nodding off while driving, where we will just be a step away from something that could have killed us, or have a medical miracle that no one can explain. We will spend hours trying to explain away those miracles rather than face accepting them. We simply have a hard time accepting the possibility of miracles. We don't have a hard time accepting doom- we expect it! We are no different than those people of Biblical times in our readings of the season. HOWEVER, miracles will happen, and they will come in the most unexpected places—in the eyes of an old dog, or even in a manger.

I know the Prophets were frustrated over trying time and time again to get people to look for the possibilities to witness God's presence in our daily lives. I hope Bob doesn't give up on me either. I AM learning! Thanks Bob, for an incredible gift of the season!

Postscript: Postscript: Bob did die - his cancer was elevated in places they didn’t diagnose, but he remained a miracle through the Christmas season and past his expected lifespan. I think it is still a wonderful story, and Easter is an appropriate time to tell it. Bob will never be replaced in what he brought to me and taught me.

LOSING FAITH, FINDING HOME

Last Updated on Friday, 24 June 2011 18:03 Written by Administrator Tuesday, 25 January 2011 12:01

By Dennis Tesch

It has been two months since I was asked to write something about my faith/religious journey and I have for two months made it a very complicated task. So many different ways to go with my thoughts and experiences and to write them down only made it more convoluted. As I was contemplating my New Year’s resolutions and waking up to a new year, I realized I just need to write what I know.

There was moment in my life a few years ago when I was having a nice talk with an older lady, I presume in her 70s, about our common Utah ancestry. During this conversation she expressed her concern with my decision to the leave the religion I was raised in. She looked at me quite concerned and stated, “When did you lose your faith?” I have always found this statement to have so many levels of meaning. Was she asking why I left the LDS church? Maybe she wanted to know what happened in my life that I was no longer religious. There were so many different ways I could take this conversation, but I chose to answer the question by saying that I have never lost my “Faith.” I continued to explain that I have never looked at my life as belonging to something or having one set of religious understandings; that I have always been on a journey of faith discovery; and that I thought I was stronger than ever in my faith.

I find that our world is in such an interesting time. With so many different religions professing their own unique viewpoints and the science/ math professionals continually coming up with new conclusions that seemingly counter religious ideals, I can’t help but think that we are barely breaking the dawn of a greater understanding of what it is to be human. I believe there is truth in everything and I completely respect all those who follow their hearts and minds in their discovery of religion and science.

My journey has been an up-and-down one regarding organized religion. Although my LDS experience was generally good, it was that one-sided viewpoint of Mormonism that turned me off to organized religion. I found that same viewpoint in many other religions as well. I must praise my parents for being what I would call very “liberal” Mormons who taught me to always follow my own path so that I could find what is right for me.

I figured I would probably never find a congregation that embraces the freedom of thought I was searching for in my life. My wife Maggie and I decided to start searching for churches. Since she is cradle Episcopalian, we looked at Episcopal churches, hoping find a fit. We tried the Cathedral, but that didn’t feel right. Then we came to St. Paul’s for several months but didn’t make any kind of connection. We were ready to try another church, and driving to church, had decided that day would be our last unless something changed. That something was Janet Frasier, who turned around in the pew and introduced herself to us during church. Not long after that, we were invited to her house for dinner with her and Patrick — the first couple we’d done anything with at St. Paul’s. That was the beginning of 13 wonderful years at our new parish.

I have since found a very comfortable — yet challenging — life at St. Paul’s. I find I can fulfill my yearning to hear people’s experiences on how they view God, religion, our society, and a thousand other subjects.

I remember being in a small group at St. Paul’s discussing what the Holy Spirit meant to each of us sitting around the table. I was amazed that each of us had a unique and completely different description and understanding of the Holy Spirit and that it was OK to have these differences. I was confirmed an Episcopalian a few years ago to the surprise of my wife. I look forward to learning more from the community at St. Paul’s.