Healthy Friendship, Undistorted Mirrors, and Spiritual Growth

During a time of great crisis in my life, my therapist said to me,

"Remember Greg, other people's reactions to you say more about their story than about yours."

I've never forgotten that advice.  I've certainly seen it to be true over and over again.  And it's helped me stay focused and centered and grounded on my truth ... most of the time.

You need to remember this, too, whenever people choose to respond to you in judgmental or critical ways because you've done something or said something they disagree with or oppose.  One of the lessons we learn in life is that people tend to see us through the lens of their own self concept.  They actually are judging themselves vicariously through us.

We are often loved and admired for who people choose to think we are or need us to be rather than who we really are.  And conversely, we are often rejected or snubbed not for who we really are but for who they see us to be and whether we've lived up or not to their projected image of us.

Either way, we are being responded to from their own personal needs not our own.  It's a false self and image.  They're not holding up an undistorted mirror for us to see ourselves as we really are.  They're holding up a picture they've painted of us.  And it's destructive to us if we base our self worth on an illusion.

I love the way Richard Rohr, in his book Falling Upward, puts it:

"Beauty or ugliness really is first of all in the eye of the beholder.  Good people will mirror goodness in us, which is why we love them so much.  Not-so-mature people will mirror their own unlived and confused life onto us, which is why they confuse and confound us so much, and why they are so hard to love."  (p. 153)

For this reason, as Rohr emphasizes, it is a necessity for us to find at least one undistorted mirror that reveals our inner, deepest, and yes, divine image:  a loving, honest friend to help ground us by how they see us in our truth and accept us for our truth.

A Spiritual Dimension of Friendship

This is truly one of the deep spiritual dimensions of friendship and human relationship.  Healthy friendship holds a mirror in front of us so we can see ourselves undistorted, the way we truly are, who we really are.  And that friend who holds the mirror for us says to us, "Whatever you see in this mirror, I love.  I accept you the way you truly are---the real you, not some false image of you that either I or others might project, or even you might project on yourself.  I love and accept You."

I have a friend just like that.  He and I have been on our friendship journey for 15 years or so.  We have talked on the phone or in person whenever we can be together almost every week of those 15 years.  He has held the mirror in front of me through the highs and lows of my life, reminding me of who I really am, no matter how others have responded to me.  That mirror has revealed some ugly things that I tend to shrink away from, as well as some beautiful things I'm drawn to.  But through it all, he has loved, accepted, and affirmed me for who I really am beyond all the externals I and others tend to fixate on.  And that has helped empower my own growth into the person I truly am and want to be.

Rohr makes the observation that

"it is only whose who respond to the real you, good or bad, that help you in the long run" (p. 153).  This is the only kind of love that ever redeems.

That's why my friend Paul has been so empowering and transforming to me through all these years.  Together, we have learned and practiced how to see each other through the lens of our deepest core truth.  And this authentic sight has been instrumental in growing us both spiritually, relationally, and individually.

This is the way God has modeled friendship with us.

"Like any true mirror, the gaze of God receives us exactly as we are, without judgment or distortion, subtraction or addition.  Such perfect receiving is what transforms us.  Being totally received as we truly are is what we wait and long for all our lives.  All we can do is receive and return the loving gaze of God every day, and afterwards we will be internally free and deeply happy at the same time.  The One who knows all has no trouble including, accepting, and forgiving all.  Soon we who are gazed upon so perfectly can pass on the same accepting gaze to all others who need it.  There is no longer any question 'Does he or she deserve it?'"  (Ibid., pp. 159-60)

My friend Paul continues to give God's gift of perfect receiving to me time and again.  I hope I can do the same for him.  After all, it's our deepest human longing and desire---to be loved, accepted, and perfectly received no matter what.  Isn't it?

Are you that kind of friend to someone else?  Do you have this kind of undistorted mirror in your own life?  Is your view of God/the Universe one of perfect receiving of you, who you really are, with no judgment, only acceptance---that you belong here in this world in all of your authentic being---that you truly matter?

Eleanor Rigby and a Common Failure of Institutionalized Christianity

Have you listened to the Beatles' song "Eleanor Rigby" recently?  It's one of my favorite Beatles songs.  I just listened to it again and was struck by it's very poignant central message.

The song features two individuals: Eleanor Rigby, a woman who lives alone, and Father MacKenzie, the priest of the local parish.  The suggested tragedy is that these two individuals never meet up in any meaningful way, never connect with each other beyond perhaps a perfunctory "hello" at the end of weekly mass.

During the week, Eleanor stands at the window of her small apartment looking out at the world, wishing she could be out there among people and be truly seen and accepted for who she is.  Instead, she keeps a "face" inside a jar beside the door to put on whenever she emerges from her lonely little world inside her apartment.  She's afraid of not being loved and accepted for who she is.  So she puts on the "face" she thinks will be acceptable.

The one time the song describes her emerging, it's to attend a wedding.  But that only increases her angst.  She picks up the rice in the church where the wedding has been and wishes it was for her.  "Who is it for?"  She's consigned to live a fantasy of imagining and longing it's her.

Meanwhile, Father MacKenzie spends his week writing his Sunday sermon.  But the song points out that he writes sermons that no one hears.  The implication is that very few people are there at church on Sunday.  And whoever does attend isn't very interested in his words.  He feels useless and meaningless.  But he keeps writing in his little study because it keeps him occupied, away from the lonely reality of his life and his own existential angst.  Better to be alone in his office then out with people who don't "see" him, either.

And at night, all by himself, "Look at him working, darning his socks in the night when there's nobody there, What does he care?"  Like Eleanor who keeps her face in a jar by the door to be able to put on when she might go out or someone might visit, he darns his socks to get ready to use when he goes out.  He must look good, after all, for whoever might notice.  But of course, no one ever does.

As the chorus theme repeats, "All the lonely people, Where do they all come from? All the lonely people, Where do they all belong?"

Two lives, living alone, not really "seen" by anyone.  One is too busy writing sermons to notice the other.  The other is too busy worrying about what others might think about her to notice him.  Two ships passing in the night.

Until finally the end comes when the two meet up.  Father MacKenzie officiates Eleanor Rigby's funeral.  And this tragedy becomes complete:

"Eleanor Rigby died in the church and was buried along with her name, Nobody came. Father Mckenzie wiping the dirt from his hands as he walks from the grave, No one was saved."

The Beatles' indictment against the institutionalized Church is driven home.  A lonely woman is completely forgotten.  Her name is buried with her body.  And all Father MacKenzie is concerned about is whether she or anybody else was saved or not by his sermons.

Here's the way one reviewer put it:  "This song is a bold-faced accusation against the self-righteous and overly religious that refuse to reach out to the all the lonely people and then wonder why so few come to church.  This song is saying that it isn't enough to be friendly. This song is saying that as long as people, especially religious people, remain cold and aloof, the Eleanor Rigby's of this world will continue to die and be 'buried along with her name.'"

Isn't it a tragedy that institutions too often get so self-absorbed with their own structures, rituals, rules, and policies--the "work" they simply have to keep carrying on--that individual people are forgotten or set aside or even neglected.  It writes its sermons in the isolation of the office and study, It conducts Its "business" in the isolation of Its board rooms, oftentimes ironically not connecting to the very people It's suppose to be loving, helping, and paying attention to.  Rather than trying to listen to people's stories, it's easier to preach them sermons.

And whatever attention is given to the people, it's attention more for their "salvation" than their personal needs and interests.  The religious institution allows their faces to remain in the jars beside their door.  In other words, people have to put on the mask in order to feel accepted and loved and embraced by the Church.

And what results?  As Eleanor Rigby reminds us, "All the lonely people, Where do they all come from? All the lonely people, Where do they all belong?"

In contrast, Jesus said, "I have come that people will have life, abundant life."  How different Eleanor Rigby's "song" would be if the followers of Jesus would give the same gifts He came to give:  abundant life now and for ever.  And central to the experience of abundant living is meaningful connections with others, being truly "seen" and "heard" and loved.

If this happened with greater regularity, as part of the very DNA of the Church, the Eleanor's of the world could emerge from their apartments into a world filled with love and compassion and acceptance.  Preachers would feel the courage to connect with others and even themselves without agendas other than to simply love and be loved in ways people and themselves need it the most.

It's time for a new stanza to Eleanor Rigby.

Coca Cola And A New Humanity: Drawing Circles Instead of Lines

Did you see this Coca Cola advertisement during the Super Bowl this year? It was definitely one of my favorites! "Coca Cola Border" tells the story of two soldiers from rival nations who are able to put aside their differences and, for the briefest of moments, see each other as individuals as they share an ice-cold bottle of Coke. Check it out. [youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k-STkFCCrus]

The primary intent of the ad obviously is to promote Coke as a great tool to "open happiness" as the ending tag line says. Drink and share Coke to bring people together. I love the sentiment, even though I'm not a super Coke fan.

But the part of the ad that visually depicts the strongest message, in my opinion, is when the one soldier is trying to find a way to give an extra Coke bottle to his thirsty enemy without crossing the boundary between them. It appears that there's just no way to bridge this boundary without violating their national military and political rules and causing an international incident. Until the soldier, in a moment of creative desire to cross the gap, puts the bottle of Coke on the ground next to the boundary, takes his sword and redraws the line to encompass the Coke bottle within his enemy's territory. Mission accomplished. Cokes can now be enjoyed by both parties.

This powerful ad painfully reminds us how real life is filled with many boundaries that separate people, boundaries that keep people afraid of or wary of or angry with others and deprived of mutual blessings. These boundaries produce a kind of "I'm better than you" attitude or "You're not as good as me" belief or "You might contaminate me if I let you into my world" paradigm" or "I need to teach you what I know so you can be as spiritual and holy as I am" philosophy or "Giving to you might diminish me" fear. We draw lots of different kinds of boundaries to make sure the world is easy to define for us - there's an inside and an outside that helps us label people and behaviors and morals. It produces a check list religion so that we can chart our and other people's progress more easily, aids to making quick judgments about ourselves and others, ways to compartmentalize life so we can understand it more clearly.  And so, as the ad depicts, by George, if some of your trash floats into my space, I'm obligated to hurl it right back at you where it belongs!  I don't want your mess messing up my world!

But the sad truth is that living life by drawing clear lines in the sand separates us from others. It often keeps us from sharing what we have with others in life-giving ways. It denies our common humanity.  We can end up spending our whole lives like these two soldiers, walking back and forth beside the boundary between each other, guarding our side and never even acknowledging the other person meaningfully. Their only identity to us is "enemy."

Until one person finally gets the courage to change the "rules." The soldier stops his marching because he's thirsty. He starts drinking his Coke. And then he feels the gaze of the enemy on him, looks up, and notices the expression of extreme thirst and desire on his counterpart's face. So he takes courageous action by finding a way to share what he's enjoying with the Other. How? By drawing new lines that include rather than exclude.

I'm reminded of the powerful poem by Edwin Markham: "He drew a circle that shut me out, Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout; But love and I had the wit to win; We drew a circle that took him in."

True spirituality is about drawing circles of inclusion rather than exclusion. That was Jesus' approach, wasn't it? He courageously chose to confront the religious and political systems of his day by speaking and practicing a radical mission of inclusion into the Kingdom of God. Those who had been deemed "outsiders" (unholy sinners not worthy of equal life within the religious community; the poor and disadvantaged left behind by an empire of power and riches) Jesus deliberately encircled and blessed as special to God. Jesus redrew the lines, broke the accepted rules, turned the pyramid of righteousness upside down, and gave drinks of the water of Life to all who were thirsty.

Paul, the author of many of the books in the Christian testament, codified this radical theology by writing, "Messiah has erased the line that was used to designate insiders and outsiders and made us all one. He tore down the wall we used to keep each other at a distance. He started over. Instead of continuing with two groups of people separated by centuries of animosity and suspicion, he created a new kind of human being, a fresh start for everybody." (Ephesians 2:14-15)

A new kind of humanity where we first and foremost embrace and acknowledge our common humanity with all others.  And then we use our differences to enhance our experience of each other rather than to separate and divide.

So what are the lines and boundaries you tend to use to separate people from your acceptance? What labels for people who are different from you do you use to keep them at a safe distance? Do you have the courage to draw circles instead of lines, circles of inclusion rather than lines of separation?

Sadly, the "Coca Cola Border" ad ends once the soldiers have enjoyed a short Coke reprieve together by the soldiers redrawing the original lines and going on with life as usual.  Jesus calls us to a higher standard of love than that.  After all, once you've had a Coke together, you can't go back to the way it's always been!  We must keep drawing the lines into bigger and bigger circles until everyone is included on the inside.

I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Freeing the Unique Song in Our Souls

Twentieth century Afrikaner author and political advisor Laurens Van der Post tells the story of two brothers who lived in South Africa.  The older brother was strong, tall, handsome, intelligent, an excellent athlete.  His parents sent him away to an exclusive private school where he soon became an admired leader of the student body. His younger brother, six years younger, was neither good looking nor capable, and was also a hunchback.  But he had one great gift.  He had a magnificent singing voice.

Eventually the younger brother joined the older at the same boarding school.  They were so different from each other no one knew they were related.  One day in a cruel outbreak of mob psychology, a group of students ganged up on the younger brother, started making fun of him, tore off his shirt to reveal his hunchback, and then taunted, jeered and laughed at him.

The older brother, as it turns out, was in the chemistry lab trying to complete an assignment when he heard the commotion outside and went to the window to see what was happening.  He saw the ugly scene with his brother in the middle of the gang being humiliated by those sadistic students.  He made a painful decision – afraid of losing his popularity with the student body, he chose to not go out and face the crowd and acknowledge that the strange hunchback was his brother to put an end to the whole sorry mess.  Staying in the lab and going back to his assignment, he left his brother to the mob and out of fear betrayed him by what he failed to do.

The younger brother was never the same again.  He returned home to his parents’ farm where he kept to himself and refused to sing, his humiliation and embarrassment locking the song in his soul .  After graduating, the older brother became a soldier in WWII, stationed in Palestine where every night his painful betrayal ate away at his heart.

One night, lying outdoors in the middle of Palestine in the midst of the war, and gazing up into the starlit sky, the older brother thought about his younger brother, how defeated and pained he had been when he went back home, and how he had refused to sing again – his heart and soul had been betrayed.  The older brother lay there night after night imagining the pain and suffering of his brother that he had caused.  He began to feel that hurt keenly.  And his heart told him that he would never have peace until he went home and asked his brother’s forgiveness.  And so he made the incredibly difficult, dangerous wartime journey from Palestine to South Africa.

The brothers talked long into the night, the older one confessing his guilt and remorse.  They cried together, embraced, and the breach between them began to heal.

Late that night, after the older brother had fallen asleep, he was startled awake by a sound.  He went to the window, and there out on the open lawn was his brother, face lifted toward the stars, singing again, the beautiful song soaring into the night sky.  An act of compassion had set the song in his younger brother’s soul free again and had unlocked his own soul, too.

Spirituality is the journey of being set free - free to sing the God-given, unique and personalized song that is often trapped in our souls, free to learn how to truly sing that song again unabashedly, shamelessly, courageously, truthfully, authentically.

And what tragic consequences, as the story reminds us, when we live in fear or judgment of others.  The song we have always been meant to sing to the world becomes trapped inside.

It continues to amaze me how much influence you and I have over each other in our journeys, for good or for ill, for freedom or for bondage, for expression or for suppression.  I'm in awe of the power of compassion, forgiveness, acceptance to free our songs.  It impresses me how people in my life have related to me in a way that has empowered me to sing my song in a way that's truly me and in a way that no one else on earth can sing just like me.  It hasn't been their criticism and judgment of me that has set my song free.  It has been their tender compassion, acceptance, and encouragement that have made the difference.  It has been their nonanxious presence to hold space for me in a spirit of unconditional support.  It has been their undying belief in me as a worthy human being and their confidence in my calling and purpose in the world.  These gifts have set my song free again and again.  And I've been empowered to sing with joy, courage, and more and more abandon.  And when I sing my song authentically, others are empowered and emboldened to sing their song, too.  The cycle of life.

I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Spiritual Transformation: Liquify Or Petrify

[If you enjoy this blog, please SHARE it with your friends and others who might be interested.  You can click in the column to the right and choose how you want to share this.] As we talked about in last week's post, the butterfly's metamorphosis process is quite a profound metaphor for spiritual transformation and life development.  At the end of the post, I listed several lessons we can learn from those stages.  Let me comment on one of them that is particularly challenging for many of us.  I hear from people I work with all the time about this issue.  And having gone through a major transition in my own life, I can relate to this stage quite well.

One of the staggering things that takes place in stage three of the caterpillar's metamorphosis to becoming a butterfly is that once a caterpillar goes into its cocoon, it literally liquifies—completely changing itself all the way to the molecular level before it can recreate itself into a butterfly.  It basically loses everything, not just shedding its outer layer but a profound internal transformation - a complete disintegration of the old in order to take on the new original design for its ultimate purpose, a butterfly.

Dr. Martha Beck, a monthly columnist for O Magazine and the author of several international bestsellers, recently at a large women's conference, talked about this life transformation process and put it this way, "In a very real sense, when we begin a cycle of transformation, we have to experience the disintegration of our old self before real change can take place. The meltdown can take many forms, but often it has to be cataclysmic—break up of a marriage, loss of a job, or a deep physical crisis like a diagnosis of cancer or a very sick child. For many of us personal shock sends us into the cocoon."

We end up forming a cocoon in order to feel safe during these crisis or difficult times.  The cocoon experience often is like circling the wagons - trying to construct a safe place against the threatening forces around us and sometimes even in us.  We need to come to some clarity about what all this chaos means to our lives.  We need to figure out what our next steps are.

But there's a simultaneous danger from a huge temptation within.  Dr. Astrid Sheil, who blogged about Martha Beck's presentation at the women's conference, commented, “Here in square one, we have a tendency to want to become bigger caterpillars. In other words, we try to hold onto the status quo as  long as possible. Maybe if we just work 80 hours a week instead of 75, we won’t get fired. Maybe if we subsume our needs, we can keep a failing marriage from coming apart at the seams. But of course, we are just fooling ourselves. When it is time to begin the transformation process, there is no capitulation or compromise that can divert the process. However, transformation can be delayed if we are unwilling to accept ourselves the way we are. The key to beginning the process is to 'totally' accept ourselves and the reality of our situation. We must surrender to the truth—the old way doesn’t work anymore, we can’t go back, and the future is unclear and unknown."

I can relate to that temptation to simply want to become a bigger caterpillar.  The radical metamorphosis into the butterfly, which involves the complete disintegration of our selves, is too painful, too risky, to uncertain of the ultimate outcome.  Status quo is so much safer, or so we try to deceive ourselves into believing.  But the reality is, if the caterpillar remained inside the cocoon without its meltdown (its internal transformation), it would never end up fulfilling its ultimate destiny - flying and soaring as an adult butterfly.

My personal struggle of trying to figure out who I was as a professional outside the religious organization I had spent 25 years serving within was painful and challenging.  I  had dreams regularly of being back leading spiritual communities where I had been before.  I would wake up and be tempted to think, "That must be a message to me that I need to go back somehow.  I need to simply be a bigger caterpillar.  Stay inside the cocoon where I was so safe all my life."  I would wake up from those dreams with feelings of fear, forboding, insecurity, uncertainty, a sense of doom.  In that paradigm, growth and transformation were simply within the cocoon rather than from cocoon to the outside world.  The emerging was too scary a thought.  But ironically and counter-intuitively, that paradigm was not in harmony with my ultimate purpose.

Dr. Sheil described it this way:  "We have all experienced these dreaded feelings. Limbo is scary. Not knowing is exhausting. Loss of identity can lead to depression. Why would anyone choose to go through the process of transformation? According to Beck, we have no choice. This is a cyclical process and we all go through it at different times and for different reasons. But like the caterpillar, when we get through the four stages of (1) crash and burn, (2) expansive imagining, (3) this is harder than I thought, and (4) the promise land—we are forever changed and expanded."

On a spiritual note, I'm reminded of how Jesus referred to the radical nature of this transformation experience.  Talking to a religious leader who came in the darkness of night to interview him, Jesus said to this man who of all people would have been considered to be living the "butterfly" life (surely he had already "emerged" to occupy the top of the religious-social totem pole, the pinnacle of the significance pyramid):  "Unless you are born again, you cannot enter the kingdom of God."  (John 3:3)

Now that's a shocking message to a person who thought he'd already arrived.  But in essence, Jesus was informing him that he was simply still a caterpillar who was trying to be a bigger, more fancy caterpillar - he thought being a caterpillar was enough - and that of all the caterpillars, he certainly was the biggest and best.

But being a caterpillar isn't enough.  Because the caterpillar is suppose to become a butterfly.  But if it wants to become a butterfly, it has to allow itself a radical, complete transformation inside its cocoon.  It has to let go completely of itself, allow whatever needs to disintegrate to disintegrate, in order to finally re-form and emerge as the intended butterfly.

You must be reborn, Jesus said.  You have to allow yourself to let go and become a new person - be re-formed inside the spiritual womb in order to be reborn into the person you've been designed all along to become.  There's certainly nothing wrong with being a caterpillar.  After all, that's one of the important stages of the metamorphosis process.  But we can't stay caterpillars because it's not in alignment with our ultimate destiny.  And the caterpillar that stays inside the cocoon ultimately dies, turning into a shriveled up, petrified skeleton.

We have to allow ourselves to go through the painful ordeal and struggle of letting go of whatever it is that might keep us from transitioning adequately to the next stage.  Often times these are limiting beliefs that if held onto disempower us from forward movement.  Some times they are relationships that are dragging us down or disempowering us spiritually or personally or emotionally and unless those relationships themselves are transformed or ultimately let go of, they continue holding us like heavy weights from running the race.  Most of the time, they are self-identities that are false or limiting or not accurate - we have become accustomed to connecting our sense of self with our productivity, or our accomplishments, or our connection to an organization, or our reputation with others, or our status in society - so that when those external circumstances change, we lose our sense of self and get side-lined and side-tracked and disillusioned.

Jesus said to that religious leader, if you want to enjoy life in the kingdom of God, you have to go through a radical transformation process that involves developing a whole new identity - a rediscovery of your true identity as a child of God who has inherent value, not based on your associations or accomplishments or reputations, but based upon who you truly are as that divine child.  Only then will you emerge from the cocoon, not as a bigger caterpillar, but as a beautiful, unique butterfly ready to lift off and soar into the skies of your ultimate God-given, God-designed purpose and destiny.  So maybe one of the most significant steps of being a caterpillar inside the cocoon is to learn how to embrace ourselves with love and compassion and acceptance for who we really are!

Our choice in life is to liquify or petrify.  Pretty starkly stated.  But clear.  It's okay to feel lost in the cocoon stage, to feel disoriented, to lose a sense of direction and purpose, to feel afraid and uncertain.  I certainly have in my times of radical transition and change.  But the good news is, that's all in preparation for the next stage.  As long as we don't let ourselves stay in status quo inside the cocoon - as long as we end up using that time to rethink, replan, reassess, refocus, restore, and embrace ourselves in the process - we'll be ready to emerge, not as bigger or different caterpillars, but as magnificent flying butterflies.  I'm all for that!

Developing A Faith That Works, 3: Two Metaphors

[Please SHARE this blog with people who might be interested!  Hit the button on the right to subscribe or to share the post] We're talking about faith and the different meanings attached to that word.  We've discovered that faith is more than just a matter of the head - what you believe about God and life - notional propositions.  Faith is a matter of the heart.  And there are three words for faith used to describe this picture.  The first word is "fiducia" which means "trust, confidence."  See my blog entry about that word. Now we're dealing with the second word for FAITH, "fidelitas" - which literally means fidelity, allegiance, loyalty, faithfulness.  How does this word define "faith" as a part of the spiritual journey?  What nuances does this word "fidelity" suggest about the faith life?  Scripture uses two intriguing and very personal metaphors to describe the faith experience.  These metaphors provide a glimpse into what genuine faith is not.  The first is adultery and the second is idolatry.  Let's consider these a bit.

Fidelity vs. Spiritual Adultery

Here's the way one author describes this metaphor:  “When the Bible speaks about adultery, most often it is not speaking about human sexual relationships.  Sometimes it is, as in the Ten Commandments and in some other passages.  But when the prophets indict the chosen nation of Israel as adulterous or Jesus speaks of ‘an evil and adulterous generation,’ they are not saying that there is a lot of spouse swapping going on.  Rather, they are referring to unfaithfulness to God and God’s covenant [which involves their personal and corporate calling and identity].” (Marcus Borg, The Heart of Christianity)

So what does this say about faith?  Let's unpack the metaphor.  I have a bit of credibility with this since I can speak from a very painful personal experience.  But the lessons I've learned are hugely significant to life and spirituality.  I can understand more clearly and deeply why scripture uses this metaphor to talk about the spiritual journey.

What is the nature of adultery?  At its simplest, adultery is a loss of loyalty and faithfulness to a covenant.  Right?  It’s a shift in loyalty, steadfastness, and allegiance from one person to another.  Sometimes it’s very subtle and invisible.  Adultery in a relationship happens long before the bed is involved.  Small shifts in attraction or connection.  And with every shift to another, there’s an equal shift away from the other.  So adultery isn’t simply something a person does in a new relationship, it’s also something that person isn’t doing in the covenanted  relationship – and usually that shift comes first.

So adultery in scripture is referring to unfaithfulness to the covenant between the people and their God.  What would the Hebrew prophets be referring to by using this metaphor – how were the people unfaithful to the covenant?  What were subtle shifts taking place in their attention and commitment to the God of their covenant?  What were things they stopped doing in that covenant that led them to shift allegiances?  Significantly, often in the context of this accusation is a reference to the people’s refusal to honor the poor, widows, orphaned, and marginalized among them – a neglect of taking care of those in need – they were dishonest in their financial dealings, they robbed people by charging interest – the religious bureaucracy would enforce their own views of religion and God on the people, setting up impossible rules esp. for the poor and economically disadvantaged, portraying God as a vengeful Judge. Their role was suppose to be to represent the truth about God by how they treated each other.  And yet they built a very exclusive community and religion, considering other people less than themselves.

So when Jesus came along and made the profound declaration, "If you've done it to the least of these people (the poor, orphaned, hungry, captives), you've done it to me," the fact that they were not taking care of these disadvantaged among them meant that they were not being loyal to God.  And that shift away from the needy was a shift away from God.  Which led to shifts in loyalty to other gods (we'll see this in the next metaphor).  All of this was called by the prophets spiritual adultery – unfaithfulness to God and the covenant with God.   Here's a classic passage from one of the Hebrew prophets about this (Jeremiah 7):

⁷ “How can I pardon you? For even your children have turned from me. They have sworn by gods that are not gods at all! I fed my people until they were full. But they thanked me by committing adultery and lining up at the brothels …

²³ But my people have stubborn and rebellious hearts. They have turned away and abandoned me.

28 They refuse to provide justice to orphans and deny the rights of the poor.

³¹ the prophets give false prophecies, and the priests rule with an iron hand. Worse yet, my people like it that way!"

Notice the powerful emotional shift the people are experiencing away from God - the last line:  "My people like it that way!"  The allegiance has completely turned, a new loyalty has been formed away from God - they actually like "the other" better.  And it's being revealed by how they live their lives with the disadvantaged and needy among them.  They no longer value what their God values.

So faith as loyalty, fidelity, and faithfulness to God (in the context of this metaphor of adultery) involves keeping focus on God, not allowing shifts in devotion and loyalty away from God; it involves paying attention to what God pays attention to; centering one’s self on God’s intent for life; being true to our calling and purpose and God-given identity; valuing what God values by living in alignment with the highest values of life.  Placing your heart on God by placing your heart on what God places the divine heart.  Which leads to the second metaphor.

Fidelity vs. idolatry

Here's an interesting take on the meaning of "idolatry" in the context of our faith journey.  I came across a fascinating connection with fidelity in the electronic and technology world.  Here's the definition:

“FIDELITY is the degree to which the output of a system accurately reproduces the essential characteristics of its input signal. Thus, high fidelity in a sound system means that the reproduced sound is virtually indistinguishable from that picked up by the microphones in the recording or broadcasting studio. Similarly, a television system has a high fidelity when the picture seen on the screen of a receiver corresponds in essential respects to that picked up by the television camera. Fidelity is achieved by designing each part of a system to have minimum distortion, so that the waveform of the signal is unchanged as it travels through the system.” (Sci-Tech Encyclopedia)

So the concept of fidelity in electronics is about achieving a pure alignment and congruency between the input signal and the output signal.  What comes in is what goes out.

What does this say about faith as fidelity?

Scripture also uses the metaphor of idolatry to describe the opposite of fidelity in faith.  So using the above illustration of fidelity from the electronic world, idolatry would then be a lack of alignment or congruency between the input and output of our lives.  In other words, we’re not being true to ourselves, to the divine image in us, which is another way of saying we’re not being true to God and God’s purpose/design for us.  We have allowed a disconnect to exist.  Idolatry is incongruence – a shift in our allegiance from who God made us to be to who we think we're suppose to be (perhaps someone else's image of us or who they think we should be).  Either way, we’re “worshiping other gods” by not being ourselves.

So what is fidelity in this case?  A willingness to be a transparent and unobstructed channel through which the Divine Spirit flows.  Letting God’s Spirit continue creating the divine image in us so that we manifest God’s love and goodness in clearer and clearer ways.  And the divine flow through us is always manifested most accurately and powerfully when we're living in alignment with who we are, our true identity, our God-given purpose.

Here's the point:  When we allow and discipline ourselves to focus on these qualities we are placing ourselves in direct connection with God’s Spirit and we become transformed – the disconnect between the source of the input and our output is removed.  We become congruent with God.  THAT’S THE PROCESS OF FIDELITY.  It's a deliberate and intentional choice to be in harmony with God - to allow the heart of God to shape our heart, to value what God values, to live in alignment with the divine passion to show compassion, care, support, and loving action toward ourselves, others, and the world - and to all of this in our own unique, special, and God-designed way.

Jesus made this point when he summarized the entire Hebrew scriptures (what Christians often refer to as the Old Testament):  love God with all your heart, mind, soul and body, and love your neighbor as yourself; on these two commandments rests the entire law of God.

Idolatry (the opposite of fidelity) is about allowing our hearts, our attention, our values to shift away from God and what God values to other interests - when we try to live someone else's life instead of being who God made each of us to be - when we become preoccupied with ourselves to the exclusion of caring for others - when our egos take control and we become unable to live beyond ourselves in self-forgetfulness and compassion - when we become obsessed with fear, anxiety, insecurity in our relationship with God and the world.  Interesting picture of idolatry, isn't it!

God's Fidelity and Faithfulness

In the end, what is it that empowers us toward fidelity and faithfulness?  Sacred scriptures make clear that our loyalty and faithfulness with God are radically empowered by a recognition and embracing of the central core truth of the divine nature:  God’s unconditional compassion and faithfulness.  One of the great theologians, Paul Tillich, defined faith as “the courage to accept acceptance.” Imagine what your confidence level in living life would be like if you lived from the truth of your complete and unconditional acceptance - if you truly knew your self and uncategorically accepted your self the way God accepts you!

Fidelity is not about never sinning, never being selfish and self-centered, always doing everything perfectly and never failing.  Fidelity is about faithfulness to the journey.  Staying on the journey with Life, with God.  Having the courage to accept God’s acceptance so that we give it gently and patiently to ourselves and to others.  Fidelity is about staying on the journey!

And what is the most powerful motivation for us to keep on keeping on is the central truth of scripture:  God’s faithfulness (even in the midst of our unfaithfulness).  Here’s how one of the Hebrew prophets put it in the context of one of the most beautiful love stories in scripture.  God reaffirming his commitment to his people after they have been so unfaithful to him.  Listen to a piece of this powerful poem from Hosea 2:

¹⁴ “But then I will win her back once again.  I will lead her into the desert and speak tenderly to her there. ¹⁵ I will return her vineyards to her and transform the Valley of Trouble into a gateway of hope. She will give herself to me there, as she did long ago when she was young, when I freed her from her captivity in Egypt.

¹⁶ When that day comes,” says the Lord, “you will call me ‘my husband’ instead of ‘my master.

¹⁷ O Israel, I will wipe the many names of Baal from your lips, and you will never mention them again.

¹⁸ On that day I will make a covenant with all the wild animals and the birds of the sky and the animals that scurry along the ground so they will not harm you. I will remove all weapons of war from the land, all swords and bows, so you can live unafraid in peace and safety.

¹⁹ I will make you my wife forever, showing you righteousness and justice, unfailing love and compassion.

²⁰ I will be faithful to you and make you mine, and you will finally know me as the Lord.” (Hosea 2)

I know this faithfulness personally!  What has kept me going with boldness and courage and persistence, even through the darkness of my own failures and stumbles, is experiencing in the very core of my self that commitment and loyalty God has for me.  It continues to transform and empower my life!  Faith is about staying on the journey with a faithful God.

Here's my prayer:  “God reminds me, no matter what I’ve done, whether great or ungreat, successful or unsuccessful – my faithlessness to God or anyone else doesn’t negate God’s faithfulness to me!  God is committed to me forever, no matter what!  So I will live in this truth!  Embrace it!  Let it melt my heart and fill it with hope and courage and relentless trust!  God believes in me, period!  And with this loyalty together, we will go on to change the world!  Amen.”

Stay tuned for word three for faith in my next blog.  Thanks for staying on this journey of exploration about faith.