Thanks, Mom!

I got one of my most important and memorable life lessons from my mother on Saturday, August 11, 1962, the day "Breaking Up Is Hard to Do," by Neil Sedaka, hit No.1 on the American "Billboard Hot 100."  I was 13 years old.  I was alone, listening on the radio - as I often did - to the countdown of popular songs in my room at our home in Mount Carmel, Connecticut, USA. I loved that song.  I was thrilled that it was Number One in the nation.  

After listening to the song all the way through, I rushed downstairs to share my joy.  I found my mother in the kitchen.  As I recall, she was calmly moving toward my approach - doubtless alerted by the sound of my clomping feet - wiping her hands on a dish towel.

"Screeching" to a halt in front of her, I yelled, "Mom! Mom! My favorite song just hit Number One!  That means I have good taste!!"

Looking me in the eye calmly and lovingly, she asked, "It does?"

That's the moment I learned that liking what's popular just means I have average taste.  Whether it's good or bad is just an opinion.  

I still love that song, and I still love a lot of popular music - and other things and activities that are popular.  I like things and activities because I love how they make me feel. But how I choose to fit which things I love into my life - whether and how acting on my love for what I love serves me - is personal, experiential - and important.

 

Heaven: a thought experiment

A dear friend of mine believes that, because I have not accepted Jesus as my Savior, he will not see me in Heaven. His belief makes him sad. To him, apparently, whatever Heaven is - a place, a state, a community, an experience? - those who get there do so only after death and by virtue of having believed certain things during life.

I accept that my friend's beliefs are right and true for him. And if, after I die, some disembodied spirit with my identity discovers that there is a Heaven and that I am disqualified from it, so be it: my post-death identity may have no memory of having striven to live up to my blessings in this life, but I am at peace, now, with doing the best I can see to do to be a good person.

Also, my friend's beliefs about Heaven are not the only rational beliefs on the subject. About what happens after death, most of the people on this planet have different beliefs - to which they are as entitled as my friend is to his. Facts are facts, but I think beliefs are an individual matter which should be judged, if at all, by how well they serve the living soul who holds them, and perhaps, too, by how well they serve the believer's community.

So I suggest a thought experiment.  

Suppose the Gospel of Thomas (one of the "Gnostic Gospels" discovered in Egypt in 1945) is correct that Jesus said, "the kingdom of the father is spread out upon the earth, and people do not see it."*  

Suppose "the kingdom of the father" is Heaven, or as close to synonymous as most of us can grasp or imagine.

Suppose we humans in fact do not see Heaven - the kingdom of God - because we cannot: it is within us, each of us, individually.** I cannot see it within myself or within you.  You cannot see it within yourself or within me.

Suppose next that seeing is not the only way to prove that something exists.

Suppose that experiencing something exists is - for the one having the experience - a completely sufficient proof that that thing exists, even if it is impossible to create that experience in another person so as to give them that proof. 

Now imagine the experience of Heaven; of being in Heaven, whether it is a place, a state, a community, or simply an experience.  Your imagination will be as good at this task as anyone else's.  Indeed, out of the billions of people on this planet, how could your imagination of the experience of heaven - change as it may over time - NOT be the one and only conception of Heaven that is most relevant to your life and choices?  

That's the end of the thought experiment: your own imagining - the best you can do - of the experience of Heaven.  I hope it is for you a most wonderful experience - particularly because it may include wonderful things, even unconscious memories, which are unique to your life experience and indescribable to others.

In case my imagining of Heaven may resonate with yours, I will share it: to me, Heaven is the experience that everything - all that I know and all that I do not know - is all right just the way it is.  I do not expect to have that experience except occasionally, briefly, in this life.  Nor do I expect to have that experience much more often, let alone constantly, after I die - wherever or whatever Heaven turns out actually to be!  But I strive to live - particularly to pay attention to Life - so as to have, to savor, and to be grateful for more and more of the experience that everything is all right just the way it is. Love is always present at such moments. And such moments can include experiencing Heaven in others - whether or not, at any given moment, they experience its presence within themselves.

* Gospel of Thomas, saying number 113. 

** See New Testament, Gospel of Luke, Ch. 17, verse 21: "the Kingdom of God is within you." 

Forgetting the Holy Spirit (however named) within

Vacation: "what's the big deal," when one is retired? But this morning my wife and I were preparing for what is a big deal for us: a rare reunion in a distant town with all 4 of her children, all 3 of mine, all 7 wonderful spouses, and all 12 grandchildren. 

I was rushing - busy with tasks that seemed important, including packing. I was anxious about forgetting things. And I was late: not ready when I told my punctual wife I would be. I was cranky, stressed and feeling sorry for myself. I was not good company. 

Once in the car, driving, I reflected on what went wrong. Here's what I realized: I had been trying to do it all - complete pre-departure tasks, avoid failure (to keep my word), be grateful and joyful at the prospect of the reunion - alone. 

I realized that, for relief, for a return to peace, I had only to pause and remember to ask the Holy Spirit (however named) which is within each of us, even me -

"This I am, but Thou please aid me."* 

The response is rarely in ideas, let alone words.

The response is the experience of the presence of grace.

* Quotation from A Testament of Devotion (1941), by Thomas Kelly.