On Thursday night at 10:00 PM Eastern time, PBS will feature a fabulous movie as part of their “Independent Lens” programming. Written by Eric Neudel, the film is “Lives Well Lived,” about the disability rights movement; it features, among others, my cousin Frederick Allen Fay, who died last month at his home in Concord, MA.  It was one of my greatest honors to be asked to lead the worship service for him, for he changed the lives of many — including mine.

Here is a portion of my remarks:

How does one do justice to a man who is so much larger than life? How does one do justice to a man who spent half of his life flat on his back and yet was more powerful than a phalanx of soldiers?

As we ponder that, I need to tell you that, as a child, Fred wasn’t my favorite cousin.  He was a few months older than my brother Peter, which meant that both of them were two years older than I. Peter and Fred were into sports and girls and … teasing me.   I really liked Bruce and Margaret and Jean and Aunt Janet and Uncle Allan and their wonderful dog Bandit. Fred was OK, but no, he wasn’t my favorite.

That all changed after his accident.  Or, I should say, after he transformed his life – and mine, and many others – following the accident.  He was not only my favorite, he became a personal hero. Except that he didn’t like the idea of being put on a pedestal.

Now, in my life, I’ve been fortunate to meet – if only in passing – Desmond Tutu and Martin Luther King, Jr.  And I’ve read a lot about Jesus and Gandhi, Mother Teresa and Nelson Mandela, the Dalai Lama and Franklin Delano Roosevelt and others who changed the world. Speaking for myself, Fred is way up there with these other luminaries – so much larger-than-life, so able to make wise and loving choices especially when they’re difficult or unpopular. What is it that they have-or-think-or-believe that gives them the faith or the vision or whatever-it-is to become pioneers in courage?

Ever since Trish and Derick asked me to develop and speak at this service – one of the great honors of my life – I’ve struggled to discern what makes a hero. In addition to Fred and Jesus and Gandhi et al., I’m thinking about 9-11 and the firefighters in New York and the airline passengers in Pennsylvania who looked death in the eye and decided that a brave life was more to be treasured than a long life.  So, for two weeks, Fred, 9-11, hope, and heroism have all been spinning together like the makings of a milkshake in the blender of my mind.

It took a while, but I finally “got” it. Some of it has to do with opportunity, but there’s more.  I finally “got” why Fred, powerless by the world’s standards was the most powerful man I ever had the privilege of knowing up-close-and-personal. I finally “got” what underlay Fred’s “can do” attitude even when he – physically at least – “could not.”  I finally “got” why my young and rambunctious children preferred to spend the day at home with Fred than out sightseeing or going to the playground or a movie.

Namely this:  what Fred had in common with Jesus, Gandhi, FDR, MLK, the Dalai Lama, Mother Teresa, Desmond Tutu, Viktor Frankl, and other champions of justice has everything to do with power – specifically, the use and misuse of power.

It is often the case that someone abused as a child grows up to become an abuser himself. Physically and emotionally, one inflicts the injury upon one’s children that was inflicted up them. That goes for groups and countries also: a few crazy Muslims that were oppressed by their US-supported governments felt justified in lashing out against their tormenters – to whit 9/11.  We, the most powerful country in the world, then felt victimized and retaliated against those countries that harbored the abusers. It’s a perpetual seesaw of victim – abuser – victim – abuser…

And if it’s not the seesaw of violence, it can be the less obvious but equally destructive iron triangle of victim-abuser-enabler.  People involved in Al-Anon or other codependency programs know how easy it is to accommodate those who are addicted or abusive. When we’re caught in that victim-abuser-enabler triangle – and most of us are at one time or in one way or another – we identify ourselves by our lack of power.  We think of ourselves as “less-than” – less-than-perfect or less-than-powerful in a cruel and unjust world, whether because we are black, female, physically challenged, of the wrong religion, or children of alcoholics, or the child who wasn’t the favorite, or one who lacked the advantages of his peers… well, you get the idea.  We self-identify by what is missing – our lack of influence and power. We don’t recognize, embrace, or live our God-given power in healthy ways.  When we do claim our power, it’s often at the expense of others, making them into victims or enablers.

But not Fred.  Not Jesus or MLK Jr. or Mandela or FDR or the other truly great men and women in history. They never self-identified as “less than.”  They never got trapped in the vicious triangle of abusive power. What makes Fred so remarkable is that he never felt sorry for himself; he owned his power without oppressing others. Further, it upset Fred when folks put him on a pedestal because that necessarily meant that he was “more-than,” and the other was “less-than.”

But this only half the equation. Too often, we think of power as a limited resource, like money and food, without enough for everyone to be comfortable.  For me to enjoy as much power as I want, you need to have less.  It’s a dog-eat-dog world – right?

This is what I realized while thinking about Fred, Jesus, Gandhi, et al. – true heroes declare their power AND teach others how to claim theirs.  They empower those who think of themselves as “less than.”

So where do we go with this?  Before answering that question, I’d like to share Fred’s response when I asked how he managed to stay positive and playful.  (I was feeling sorry for myself after some life challenges and wanted to know how Fred avoided self-pity.) “How do you do it,” I asked.

“Granddaddy,” said Fred. “Huh?” I replied, to which he continued: “When I came out of the surgery and realized I was a paraplegic, I thought about our grandfather after that terrible car accident that broke his pelvis when he was 83.  No one expected him to live, or, if he did, it would be in a wheelchair. But other people’s assessments of what Granddaddy could not do didn’t stop him from doing what he could.  It took six months, but he was up and walking with the help of braces and special shoes.  He sometimes used a cane, but rarely. He never stopped hobbling out to pick blueberries, or make a fire, or serve people food and drink.  He never complained, and he never stopped enjoying life.  So whenever I feel sorry for myself, I remember how much fun Granddaddy had in living and how much he enjoyed people and vice versa.  So I consciously work on being grateful and it brings joy.  I wouldn’t change my life for anyone’s.”

In closing, Stephen Covey talks about the four aspects of a quality life: living, loving, learning, and leaving a legacy.  The legacy Granddaddy left was a can-do spirit and a joy in living regardless of physical challenges. Fred’s legacy is all that plus an awareness that we don’t need to be trapped in a victim-abuser-enabler triangle.  We can embrace our power and we can give it away.  As Granddaddy was a transforming image for Fred, so was Fred for me – and I hope you.  By sharing our gifts and power with others, we, like Fred – and Jesus and Gandhi and the others – can and will change the world.  And the saints and heroes in heaven and on earth will cheer.

If you’d like to read more about Fred, please go to my brother Peter’s website (http://www.wrightslaw.com/info/memory.fred.fay.htm) or do a Google search — you’ll be amazed at the range of his influence.  Though physically limited to a wheel bed in a Boston suburb, his moral and spiritual presence has been felt throughout the world. Truly, we give thanks to a life very well lived.

My cousin Frederick B. Fay died on August 20, and the world both grieves and delights. For Fred — who lived most of his life in a wheelchair or wheel bed — was a hero of great influence. If you or a friend or relative of yours with physical impairments can use public transportation to get where you want to go, thank Fred. If you are grateful for public buildings that are now handicapped accessible, thank Fred. If you are able to live a life of quality despite physical limitations, thank Fred. If you believe that ALL Americans should be able to enjoy our country’s blessings — regardless of race, age, gender, or physical capabilities — thank Fred.

As we consider the heroes of 9/11 (about which I’ll be writing in the next week), let us also give thanks for the heroes we know, up close and personal. These are the heroes who change our everyday lives by the courage they show and the lives they improve. They are soldiers and firefighters and doctors and teachers … and cousins. They are people who, by the power of their passion and the force of their “irrepressible optimism” (a phrase commonly used to describe his indomitable spirit) break through all of the usual crud and improve the world in dramatic ways.

My brother, Peter Wright (an attorney specializing in special education law) and his wife Pam are more skilled  at updating websites and blogs and they have  posted several articles that tell of the power of Fred.  (See below.) Or you can wait until October 27 to see the film “Lives Worth Living” on PBS that will feature Fred and others in the disability rights movement.

Here are Peter’s comments:

When Fred was 17, he launched his disability advocacy career. Today Fred is widely recognized as one of the most significant leaders in the disability rights and independent living movements in the nation.

As you read this story and follow the links, you can hear Fred tell his story. 

As a teenager, Fred was an accomplished gymnast. At age 16, he fell from a trapeze and landed on his head, suffering a severe spinal cord injury. Despite his injuries, Fred was determined to live a full life. He wanted to show that a person with quadriplegia could be active, own an apartment, drive a car, get married, have children, and earn a Ph.D. In the video links below, you’ll see and hear Fred tell his story.

Fred accomplished his dreams, while also working to secure unprecedented access to civil rights for Americans with disabilities.

As a disability policy adviser to the Administration and Congress, Fred was instrumental in winning passage of Sections 503 and 504 of the Rehabilitation Act of 1973, the Education for All Handicapped Children Act, the ADA of 1990, and the IDEA of 1997.

When President Johnson invited Fred to the Rose Garden for the signing of the the Urban Mass Transportation Act 1964, his wheelchair had to bebumped up the steps - the White House was not accessible.

“Lobbying to get access for the disabled became his life’s work, achieving it has become his life’s triumph.“

At home in Washington, DC, Fred found “every single curb was like a Berlin Wall telling me that I was not welcome to travel farther than a block.” When Fred read about the new DC subway system to be built he thought “Why don’t they build it so that everybody can ride it?…”

Fred’s life proves that one man can change the world, even though he has to lie flat on his back just to stay alive.

Lives Worth Living - In this trailer, Fred as he tells you about his life after a devastating spinal cord injury, and his alliance with a small group of dedicated activists who formed the Disability Rights Movement and helped drive the nation towards equal rights.

An Incomparable Tinkerer

Fred “assumes no barriers in how innovative he can be in designing the technology in his environment.” – Judy Brewer, Director of the Web Accessibility Initiative of the World Wide Web Consortium.

Fred was a pioneer in the development of assistive technology and has been instrumental in the development of adaptive computer technology. For millions of people with disabilities, Fred’s innovations have provided access to the world around them.

UC Berkeley’s Bancroft Library has recorded the stories of individuals who have made significant contributions to disability rights and the independent living movement. Read more about Fred here…

Fred Fay: Community Organizer and Advocate for Equal Access and Equal Rights

(This paragraph revised on 8/20/2011) If you would like to send Fred’s family a note of thanks, please send an email to:

thankyou.fred | at | wrightslaw.com

After the final no there comes a yes

And on that yes the future world depends.

No was the night. Yes is this present sun.

Wallace Stevens, “The Well Dressed Man with a Beard”

I just returned from New York City, where I spent a delightful – and challenging – day with my dear friends and literary agents Michael Larsen and Elizabeth Pomada. Ours is a special relationship where we can be direct and loving, knowing that honest criticism comes only with respect. (I hope that you have people like Michael and Elizabeth in your life, for they are a gift.)

In my case, they are enthusiastic about my writing and supportive of my book In God We Tryst. But Michael (author of How to Write a Book Proposal, now in its third edition and the award-winning blog http://sfwriters.info/blog) emphasizes that publishing is about writing and promotion.  And so, he encouraged me to become more proactive about public relations, specifically developing and offering workshops, writing blogs more frequently, and encouraging people to sign up and comment on them.  (Please do so, if you haven’t already; publishers need proof of a ready “audience” of interested people who will purchase what they print.)

Then, upon reading my latest proposal, he resonated with the notion of “being an agent of grace,” one of the themes of my book.  Thinking this is a message the world needs, he encouraged me to be more explicit in explaining how we recognize grace and what we need to become agents of grace.

And so now the challenge is on:

• How do you define “grace”?
• How do you recognize grace – either God’s grace or another’s?
• Looking at Wallace Stevens poem, what is the “yes” upon which the future world depends? – Is it “grace” or something else?  Does it come from God or another source?

Hopefully this blog can become a discussion of grace – how we define and recognize it as well as how we become agents of grace. I welcome your thoughts.

This was my Easter sermon at The Park Church in Elmira, NY — the church of the early abolitionists, Thomas K. Beecher, and Sam and Annis Ford Eastman, and of people who understand the radical message of Christ’s all-welcoming love.

Taking a lesson from Howard Baker, eminent politician and ranking Republican on the panel investigating Richard Nixon – the question is: “What did he know and when did he know it?”

Nixon protested that he didn’t know about the Watergate break-in until a year after it happened. But when evidence surfaced that he was involved from the onset, it wasn’t long before he chose to resign rather than be impeached.  Now, it seems to me that if the question of what Nixon knew and when he knew is was a critical one for U.S. politics in the 20^th century, the question of what Jesus knew and when he knew it has been a critical one for … let’s see … almost 2,000 years!

What Jesus knew and when he knew it might also clarify the bigger issue of what he believed in. Why would he allow himself to go to the cross with nary a protest? If we can determine what Jesus believed in it might help us determine what we should believe in.

Did he, for example, believe that he was the one and only true son of God?  Did he believe he would reign from heaven after death? Did he believe that 2 millennia after his death, one out of every three people would profess faith in – and often be willing to die for – the values he espoused?  In short, did he – nailed to that shameful and vicious cross – have any notion that his death would change the world for all time?

If he had an exalted sense of himself as the son of God and just a few breaths away from heavenly paradise, then, in a certain way, that trivializes the viciousness of Good Friday.  And if the horror of Good Friday is diminished, so also is the elation of Easter morning. If nothing much happened on Easter, what are we doing here?  Why are we baptizing Tristan James – why do we call ourselves Christians, and why do we make certain life decisions and not others?

Something did happen on Easter morning – something very big indeed.  But I don’t believe that it has a whole lot to do with Jesus’ bodily disappearance from the tomb. As important as that is, I question whether it is the true source of our faith.  Let’s consider the bigger picture.

Many people assume that the bodily resurrection of Jesus is the singular act that defines our faith. For them, his disappearance from the tomb on Easter morning is incontrovertible proof that he was the Son of God.  Anyone who questions the physics behind the Easter miracle is, by definition, not a Christian.

Others say that Jesus’ body was removed by stealth or that his followers concocted the story.  Some scholars note that Jesus was not the first or the last person to be resuscitated after death – in fact, we have Biblical stories of Elijah and Elisha, to say nothing of Jesus’ raising of Lazarus and Jairus’ daughter. Later, his disciples reportedly raised some people from the dead.  There were also resurrection stories in Egyptian, Greek, and Assyrian cultures circulating at the time of Jesus. So the disappearance of Jesus’ body was not the single most important fact that gave birth to the most powerful religion in the world for all known time.

Equally problematic is the idea that Jesus was a willing sacrifice for our sins.  This idea – called substitutionary atonement – posits that Jesus was a ritual offering intended to appease God from wreaking greater havoc on the rest of us.  In dying a horrible death, some people argue, Jesus took on the sins of all so that we will have everlasting life in heaven with God, regardless of our sins on earth. But did Jesus believe that he was the scapegoat for our sins?  Did he believe God to be a sadist demanding such appeasement?  — I think not.

Then there’s the idea that Jesus thought himself the son of God, which would explain his willingness to go to the cross as proof of his divinity – sort of “I double dare you….”  But I don’t believe that, mostly because – with the exception of the gospel of John, which was written much later than the others and has a decidedly Platonist influence – Jesus never calls himself the “son of God,” but rather “son of Man.” He doesn’t call himself the Messiah either, except to urge his disciples not to refer to him by that name. This suggests that Jesus thought himself fully human, fully able to suffer, fully able to die as all mortals do. So did Jesus think himself the only son of God? – Well, that notion doesn’t work for me.

Another question is what Jesus thought about the “second coming” and the “kingdom of God.” Scholars argue mightily on the issue of whether Jesus expected to return to earth in his human body, so I don’t know what to say about that.  Fortunately, there’s more clarity about the “kingdom of God,” so often illustrated by Jesus in parables.  The kingdom of God might (or might not) mean a future paradise in some far-away heaven, but it certainly does mean a loving and just world in the here-and-now.  This understanding of a generous and God-loving society undergirds Jesus’ every act and statement.

So, if Jesus didn’t believe himself the son of God, and if he didn’t believe he was the scapegoat for the sins of all mankind, and if he didn’t believe that he would come back to earth and vanquish all of his foes, and if he didn’t believe in a kingdom of God as happening only in some fairytale time and place, then what did he believe?

Writing 600 years earlier during the Babylonian captivity – a time of cruelty and dislocation for the Hebrew people – the prophet Jeremiah gives us a clue.  He assures the Israelites that God has not forgotten them and will come again in the future to restore their hopes and dreams.

“At that time, says the Lord, I will be the God of all the families of Israel, and they shall be my people…. I have loved with an everlasting love; I have stayed faithful.”

Like Jeremiah, Jesus believed in the goodness and faithfulness of God.  That’s the big one.  Jesus believed that God’s love trumps human fear and cruelty.

But was that enough?  Was that enough to give him courage to patiently endure a vicious and unjust death?  What did he believe that somehow got transferred to his followers to help them follow in his footsteps, often going to their own vicious and unjust deaths? What did he believe that changed the world for all time?

As I was struggling with these issues, I discovered a sermon by Annis Ford Eastman, one of few women ministers in the 19^th century, and a revered preacher and pastor here at The Park Church.  She begins her message by considering Satan’s understanding of mankind, as expressed in the conversation between him and God in the Book of Job.  The devil’s doctrine is this: “All that a man hath will he give for his life.”  According to Satan, life – and the more comfortable the better – is man’s prize possession.

But Jesus proved the devil wrong.  People are not driven only by love of life.  It’s not all about living for me and mine. Jesus felt that if he could illustrate the kingdom of God to decent, ordinary people, they would strive to change themselves and society so to create equity and opportunity for all. He believed miracles happen whenever individuals become agents of divine love, transforming the world through generosity of heart, mind, and spirit.

Jesus believed that we want to connect with God and each other.  We are happiest when we are doing good – not for ourselves only – but for each other and for God.  He knew that, despite the fear and cowardice that gripped his followers on the day of his crucifixion, their experience of transformation in his presence had forever changed them.  It was only a question of time before they emerged from their dark caves of mortal fear to follow his lead in bringing the kingdom of God to this earth.

In short, Jesus believed that selfless love can never be crucified or buried, but will rise again and again throughout our lives, throughout the centuries, throughout the millennia, whenever people give of their own pride and their own needs – and yes, their own lives – to become witnesses for and agents of divine love.

Jesus believed in the resurrection of the dead precisely because he – and any and all of us who give our lives to God – never ever really die.  Connection with God cannot die.  Goodness cannot die.  Love cannot die.  Even when our physical bodies disappear into the ground, the love we have shared and the goodness we have birthed live on through the ages.  This is the power of Christianity.  This is the miracle of Easter.

So, in closing, what did Jesus believe?  What did he believe in so fervently that he could endure condemnation and crucifixion? What did he believe in so passionately that it would change the world for all time?

In a word, Jesus believed in God , most especially the transformative power of God’s all-embracing love.

and he believed in … us!

… and that has made all the difference. Hallelujah!

Hello, dear friends and readers –

I apologize for not writing for a while, but things are going crazy in my life.  I’ve been called to The Park Church in Elmira, NY to be their next pastor.   It’s a bittersweet adventure because I have so many friends (and my wonderful son) in California while I’m also excited by the prospects in Elmira.

But what else is new?  Isn’t the journey always bittersweet?

In any case, Kyrie (the dog), Eleison (the car) and I will be driving East along Rt. 80 beginning next week.  It truly will be traveling mercies as we hope to discover new delights along the way.  We have 8 days to get to Elmira, and then up to northern New Hampshire for a family reunion and my Uncle John’s 95th birthday!  Wow — a good life, well lived.  I hope that I can do as well.

I am looking for suggestions on good places to visit along the way. It’s a geography issue: where does your soul live?

Chatting with friends at the San Francisco Writers’ Conference, I was happily ruminating on the benefits of endo- and exoskeletons in the context of spirituality and religion, explaining that there are times in our lives when, like bugs, we need external structures to keep us safe and functional. Though we delight in the strength and mobility offered by our internal skeletons, we often need external buttresses as well. Most notable examples are when we are growing and our bones are not yet strong enough to support us adequately, or when we are experiencing personal or social stress during times of trauma and transformation. A protective parent, a crib, armor, and a cane are all examples of external physical structures that we need in order to flourish. But there are also non-physical supports that we need in order to be fully alive and effective. These include such things as a therapist, a twelve-step program, a personal trainer, a deadline, or a religious community.

Most people have a yearning for connection with the natural world, with other humans, and with God. Whether there is a “God gene,” or just social conditioning, I do not know. But while we may yearn for a personal relationship with a loving God, many of us have turned away from religious institutions as being more about hate than love. Those of us who have abandoned the institution often describe ourselves as “spiritual but not religious,” meaning that we see ourselves as principled, loving, and connected to a higher authority without the constraints of an overly rigid religious institution.

So far so good, but …

I think of religion as the exoskeleton and spirituality as the endoskeleton of faith. Most of us manage very nicely with a strong spine of spirituality and a direct connection with the divine. And certainly the exoskeleton of religious systems and dogma can keep us fettered and unable to develop as we ought. Like the crib that the child outgrows or the shell that a hermit crab molts out of before it can grow, many of the creeds and dictates of the institutional church (or synagogue or temple or mosque) may be useful in our infancy but can impede true growth as we mature.

But there are times when our inner spines are not enough and we need more. Parents who know how to protect and push, friends that know how to comfort and challenge, and religious organizations that use external structures to empower without enfettering are life-long gifts. Though we prefer the mobility and strength of spirituality (our internal skeletons), we should also acknowledge the benefits of the religious institutions (our external skeletons) for helping us manage life’s challenges.

“Okay,” said one friend. “How do you answer someone who asks what to look for in a faith community? How can one identify a church that provides an external structure that is empowering rather than limiting?”

“Well, friends and neighbors can tell you a great deal about the strengths of a particular church or faith community. And a robust and updated website is an important tool,” I answered.

He pressed. “But what if someone doesn’t know what to look for or what questions to ask? What advice would you give then?”

It took me a couple of days, but here goes:

First of all, a yearning to be part of a faith community is all about connection. We want a connection with God and our fellow creatures on the journey. And to the extent that searching for God is like scaling a mountain, we need ropes.

So here are the clues (presented in the Biblical chiastic structure) that I would look for in finding a religious community that offers me a rope to climb rather than chains that will keep me in enslaved:

• Respect – I look for genuine respect between all of the people of the community. This includes appreciation for but not adoration of clergy. Disagreements are healthy as long as they’re out in the open. The Golden Rule of treating others as we wish to be treated is critical. Respect is also evident in how we treat people of different ages, races, socioeconomic backgrounds, sexual orientations, and lifestyles. I worry when I go into a religious community where everyone looks like each other. I delight in seeing different ages, clothing styles, accents, and opinions (both theological and political).  It’s a good sign if there are people with obvious physical and mental challenges, as this means that they feel valued. As a visitor, I like it when people come up and show interest in me, rather than trying to get me interested in them. Respect is a key part of being welcoming. Respect

• Openness and Opportunity – A community that is willing to try to new things is healthier than one that insists that doing it the same way it’s been done in the past. Equally important is the practice of openness and transparency in decision-making. Further, it should provide many and diverse opportunities for celebrating, learning, and serving. Thus, a wide variety of educational and arts programs, mission trips, service opportunities in the local community, book studies, prayer groups – to say nothing of different styles of worship – are signs of an empowering church. Always look for a community where the large majority of people are involved in providing services and making decisions.

• Play and Pray and Passion – Joy is a really good sign; laughter and playfulness are green lights. But so also is the acknowledgement of sorrow. A faith community needs to provide opportunities for sharing pain and providing support for those in need. Organizations where lay people engage in visits to hospitals and shut-ins and are active in providing spiritual care are healthier than those where clergy do it all. (Churches where the pastor does most of the work – whether it be in worship or in pastoral care responsibilities – are often communities that are being cared for, not empowered.)  A religious community should have passion, i.e., a delight in witnessing and sharing the love of God and a yearning for justice among all people.

• Experience and Encouragement – Several commentators have noted that those religious institutions that emphasize belief about God are in decline whereas those that emphasize experience in the Holy are growing. This makes sense to me, because one person’s belief can be another’s anathema. Some people use the Bible as a bludgeon – which is not helpful to them, their opponents, or God. What faith communities must do instead is to provide opportunities for people to experience God. There are as many different ways to experience the divine as there are individuals on this earth. Thus I look for diverse ways to connect through worship, study, service, e.g., choral classics, African drums, lessons for Scripture, modern poetry and stories, art, drama, dance, meditation, training in spiritual disciplines, book studies, volunteering at the local homeless shelter and elementary school. Perhaps most importantly, I look for churches where I can experience the divine through the genuine kindness and care of each other. Also, since encouragement means, literally, “to give heart to,” a religious community should be one of encouraging each other to be the best that we can be and to share our gifts and skills with those in need.

• Spirit – Is this a faith community or a Fortune 500 company? Is the focus on numbers or on spirit? Are people more focused on budgets and people in the pews or on celebrating God and serving God’s people? While good stewardship means a healthy respect for budgets and numbers, the time we spend in fellowship with a religious community should be markedly different from the time we spend at work.

I welcome your comments on this. Do you have a better explanation or list of things to look for? I would love to hear your stories.

Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, and we celebrate the reality of love – or, better, of joys of connection.  Most of us yearn not just for love – which is rare and fairly private – but equally for connection. We need to know that we are living lives of synchronicity and right relationship with the world. We want to connect – to live in harmony – with both spirit and substance.

Surely it is suggestive that we share the same air – the same molecules of nitrogen, hydrogen, and oxygen that swirl through time and history from the earliest life forms through the great people of history to those we love and us.  It is the same air that connects us with the people of Asia and Africa, with saints and sinners, with apes and zebras.  We are all unified and blessed by the gift of air.

It is no wonder, then, that God breathed over the cosmos on the first day of creation and brought it to life.  It is no wonder that breath/air/wind is the same in Hebrew (ruach), Greek (pneuma), and Latin (spiritus).  It is no wonder that when we breathe this air, we are inspired.  All life and all creation begins with breath.

…including grand dreams and silly songs.

Yesterday, I was privileged to give the invocation of the San Francisco Writers’ Conference. Until last year, it was The Very Reverend Alan Jones, the retired dean of Grace Cathedral, who had the honor.  But, beginning last year, he was traveling or otherwise unavailable. So Michael Larsen and Elizabeth Pomada, organizers of the conference, asked me. With the help of the Holy Spirit, I “discovered” a long-lost version of Psalm 23 and the Lord’s Prayer composed especially for writers.  (See http://felicitywright.com/blog/2009/02/16/a-prayer-for-writers-the-invocation-at-the-sf-writers-conference.) It was well received – which only added to the pressure when I was expected to ferret out another long-lost gem.

But, with prayer and supplication, Spirit came once again to my aid. So here is the invocation, for your amusement:

Good afternoon. We have come together in this, the seventh convening of the San Francisco Writers’ Conference, to learn, create, and connect.  And whatever our religious beliefs, we are woven together in a sacred web of art and creativity as we pray for “Spirit,” holy or otherwise.  So let’s pause and breathe deeply of the same air that inspired writers from Aeschylus to Zola. As we exhale, we share Spirit’s blessings with one another.

And then we sing:

O beautiful for spacious sighs

That soar o’er the mundane,

For purple patches’ majesties

Above the phrases plain.

O poetry and prose sublime! Muse shed her charms on thee

And crown our arts with happy hearts

From A through M to Z.

O beautiful for writers’ dreams

That see beyond the shame

Of impoverished oblivion

To works of great acclaim

O poetry and prose sublime! God shed His charms on thee

And crown Thy good with authorhood

From A through You to Z.

As we give thanks for the sun, rain, and earth that grew this food, the hands that planted and prepared this feast, and the friends who brought us together, we also honor the Holy Inspiration that lies at the core of the cosmos.  And we say:

I pledge allegiance to the Word

Of the creative force of the cosmos

And to the connection for which we strive

One yearning with the Spirit

Indivisible,

With inspiration and success for all.

Last week was a great one for going to movies – I managed to get to Avatar and Invictus. Watching them, I considered the differences: one is fiction, the other fact; one set in the future, the other in history; one swimming with color and art, the other mired in darkness and racism. Yet they share the same message – that of connectedness with the world and each other. And since we are also honoring Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. this week, I like to think that Dr. King’s courageous life and non-violent message was a common thread in the minds of Mandela, James Cameron, and Clint Eastwood.

Pondering the connection, I remembered one of Dr. King’s most powerful (but too infrequently quoted) speeches. Delivered in December 1956, the message of “The Challenge of a New Age” is as important today as it was back then. In it, he sets before us three challenges:

“First, we are challenged to rise above the narrow confines of our individualistic concerns to the broader concerns of all humanity. The new world is a world of geographical togetherness. This means that no individual or nation can live alone. We must all learn to live together, or we will be forced to die together….

A second challenge that the new age brings to each of us is that of achieving excellency in our various fields of endeavor. In the new age doors will be opening to us that were not opened in the past, and the great challenge which we confront is to be prepared to enter these doors as they open….

A third challenge that stands before us is that of entering the new age with understanding good will. This simply means that the Christian virtues of love, mercy and forgiveness should stand at the center of our lives…. This love might well be the salvation of our civilization…[for] the end is reconciliation; the end is redemption; the end is the creation of the beloved community. It is this type of spirit and this type of love that can transform opposers into friends….It is this love which will bring about miracles in the hearts of men.”

Is that not also the message of Invictus and Avatar? Is not the “beloved community” what we all yearn for?

It was the philosopher Josiah Royce*, founder of the Fellowship of Reconciliation, who popularized the term “beloved community” in the early twentieth century, but it was Dr. King who made it a byword for hope, self-restraint, justice, and love. And while Dr. King certainly knew the writings of Dr. Royce, most of us believe that he got his vision, his courage, and his words from the Bible. The “beloved community” is an idea often associated with Jesus, especially in the Gospel of John.

But what is the “beloved community”? Is it something that might happen in heaven after we die? Is it the same as the “kingdom of God”? Can we learn the message of tolerance and care from Avatar before we try to bomb our way to conquest, or is the “beloved community” just a placebo for hope without action, for feeling good without doing anything? In short, is it for real?

I truly hope so and certainly believe so! And I have been blessed to witness it on at least three different occasions in the last decade.

The most recent were the weeks in the two different orphanages in Nepal, where I was privileged to witness courage and kindness woven together to create a beautiful tapestry of new possibility. Since I have already written about that trip in this blog, I will leave that image to go back to 9/11. I was one of a team of trainers who spent the previous summer working for New York Port Authority in the World Trade Center, but I was fortuitously called away to help another client during the first two weeks of September. Thus, I was just west of Newark Airport on the morning of 9/11, when six of my colleagues and thirty of my Port Authority friends lived through the horror that has changed our world forever.

But what does 9/11 have to do with the “beloved community”?

– Statistics tell the story: of almost 25,000 people working in the World Trade Center that day, only 3,000 were killed. Seven out of every eight managed to get out safely. Seven out of every eight people walked down forty, sixty, almost eighty flights of stairs, and made it out. Seven out of every eight people groped their way down crowded stairwells that, for the last twenty or so minutes before the tower fell, were pitch black and filling with smoke.

How did they do it? Some of my friends made it down by holding hands and singing (until the smoke got too bad) and then by sharing handkerchiefs and words of encouragement. Three men worked together to carry down a young woman and her special motorized wheelchair from the 69th floor. Another nine took turns carrying down a quadriplegic from the 75th floor. There was very little screaming, except when a tremendous explosion – and the sudden loss of the emergency lights – sent many people tumbling. (This was the crash of the other building, although no one knew it at the time.) Throughout the ninety minute ordeal from the time the plane hit until the building fell, yells of “fireman coming up” and “make way, victim coming down,” meant that everyone squeezed to the sides to let others through. Of all of the dozens of people I spoke with and the hundreds of pages of newspaper stories that I read, there was not one report of anyone bullying his or her way through. People walked deliberately, but orderly, quick to make way for those in greater need.

The person I most remember was a woman named Victoria. She never made the news media, but she told me that she fell to her knees and began praying when the plane first hit. After seeing God directing the angels to protect her, she heard the words, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.” She got up and proceeded to lead a group of about 25 people down from the 62nd floor by singing praise music and gospel songs.

I went back to Port Authority shortly after the bombing to help them regroup. The difference between working conditions in August and October was marked. We were in makeshift offices in a hastily remodeled warehouse, with ongoing threats of anthrax, concerns about more attacks, and the reminders of ongoing memorial services – as many as five a day. But the affection between the Port Authority employees was palpable. For one month, I worked with people who were not ashamed to show their unabashed love for each other. For one month, I lived in a beloved community.

The other time was January 2001, during a trip to South Africa with the Wesley Seminary choir. We were sponsored by two churches in adjoining suburbs of Cape Town. One was a black township called Langa, and the other a white village called Pinelands. On our last night, a half dozen of the white families from Pinelands came with us to worship at Langa. It was the first time that any of them had set foot in a black church, and they were unprepared for what they found. No pipe organ. No Books of Worship. Just spontaneity, fellowship, and joy! After the service and the goodbye reception, some of us were milling around in the parking lot. One of the older black women came up to me, gave me a powerful hug, and said, “When we and you and them (meaning the folks from Pinelands) are here in church, singing and dancing, and praising God together, I think that maybe, just maybe, that heaven has come down to earth.”

As tears welled up in my eyes, I could only agree and hug her more deeply. We were in community and we were all beloved. If it can happen even in the “decade of fear,” then surely we can take the message of Jesus, Dr. King, Nelson Mandela, Invictus and Avatar and spend the next decade working on creating a beloved community, learning to live together before we die together.

* Dr. Josiah Royce is one of the most important American philosophers, an idealist in the tradition of Hegel. He was professor of English at University of California Berkeley and of philosophy at Harvard. He emphasized will over intellect and believed that religion was the basis of human loyalty, which is the cohesive principle of ethical behavior and social norms. He argued that the highest good is achieved by “the willing and practical and thoroughgoing devotion of a person to a cause.” A diverse thinker, he also made contributions to psychology, social ethics, literary criticism, history, and metaphysics.

Dear readers: I’m taking a little break from writing about the spirituality of animals to reflect on Epiphany, the day when the wise men brought gifts to the baby Jesus. The following is excerpted from a sermon I gave many years ago. The last year — to say nothing of the last decade — has been challenging for many of us and I (for one) would like to start the new year with more faith than fear. So I share this message in hopes that it will feed you with courage on the remarkable journey we call life.

Follow the drinking gourd

For the old man is a-waitin’

For to carry you to freedom

Follow the drinking gourd.

Do you see it?  There, up in the sky?  Okay, you see the constellation that some folks call the Big Dipper, and is also called the Drinking Gourd?  Yes, the one that looks like a great big water ladle.  Well, look at the two sides of the cup that are opposite the handle.  Figure out the distance between the two stars and multiply it by seven.  Move your eyes that far distant, and you will see the North Star.  It’s also called Polaris.  But I call it the Freedom Star, because if you follow that star long enough – months or years, not weeks – then you’ll find your way north, and you’ll be free.

During the darkest days in the history of our country, when whites bought and sold blacks whom they could then treat worst than the vilest of farm animals, there were a few courageous souls who developed an elaborate system of secret hiding places and coded messages to help runaway slaves find their way north to freedom. The system including such things as markers in trees, special lights hung out at certain hours, and quilts of particular colors hung out to dry. People walked hundreds, even thousands of miles, hiding in swamps, caves, and barns by day, and following the North Star – the freedom star of the Drinking Gourd – by night. Called the Underground Railroad, this secret network helped somewhere between 60,000 – 100,000 slaves find their way to freedom. The verses of the drinking gourd song were elaborate codes devised by an itinerant white carpenter – this is the “old man” referred to in the song – who went from plantation to plantation, teaching the song to slaves from Alabama and Mississippi. It led them up along the Tennessee and Ohio Rivers to the northern states and Canada. Hounded by dogs and slave owners, the runaways and their accomplices faced torture and certain death if they were caught. But, as the prophet Isaiah wrote 2500 years earlier, “The people who lived in darkness have seen a great light.” Think stars, think freedom. Follow the drinking gourd.

The black slaves and their white supporters were not the first to follow a star to freedom. January 6 is the celebration of Epiphany, when the wise men from the Orient followed a star to Bethlehem. It comes to us as a nice, romantic little story, but it was much, much more than that. First, it was a time of terrible oppression. The period of Roman occupation in Palestine was different – but fully as gruesome – as the days of slavery before the Civil War. Taxes were upwards of 60-70%, and people lost their land to pay tribute to the Roman empire and the Jewish authorities who supported Caesar. Some people sold themselves and their children into slavery, because it was that or starvation. Five percent of the people owned 95% of the wealth, and the rest suffered, cruelly and unmercifully.

Second, “kings” is a misnomer. The three men who came to Bethlehem were probably astrologers from Persia or further east. Astrologers were the first astronomers, who were, in turn, the scholars and scientists of the ancient world. The term “magi” meant someone of exceptional wisdom and knowledge, someone who could envision a world of goodness, kindness, justice, and freedom. In presenting Jesus with gold, frankincense, and myrrh, the Magi were acknowledging Jesus’ kingship, his priesthood, and his humanity, that is, honoring the fact that the powerful king and priest is also human and vulnerable – just like us. In recognizing the love of God embodied in this tiny child, these wisest of all wise men could see a way out of the oppression and injustice of the Roman empire. Think stars, think freedom.

Epiphany is a Greek word that means to “shine upon” or to “give light.” It is the Greek equivalent of the Hebrew term that Isaiah uses when he writes, “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.” Epiphany means a dramatic uncovering or sudden awareness that changes one’s sense of reality. Suddenly you see what is happening and what is possible in a whole new light. It’s an “ah ha” moment, in which you blurt out, “Eureka – now I see it. Now I understand.” St. Paul’s vision on the road to Damascus was an epiphany. The slaves’ vision of freedom was an epiphany. The Magi’s recognition that a tiny infant could change the world was an epiphany.

I had a dramatic epiphany about fifteen years ago. My life had fallen apart – or so it seemed at the time – and I felt emotionally, financially, and spiritually destitute. One autumn weekend, I was camping with friends and we went walking late at night to watch shooting starts. Suddenly, some of the stars gently feathered their way to earth, making everything twinkle. The shrubs and trees and my friends and I had all been gently dabbed with fairy dust. I experienced a unity that I had never known before, in which there were no boundaries of time or place. Past, present, and future were one; here and there were one. The stars were friends and relatives who cared for me. The sparkles said, “You’re okay. You can do it. We’re here with you.” I felt hugged by God.

I told few people about it in fear that I would be labeled a religious nut case. Yet that autumn evening was the beginning of a transformation that eventually led me to seminary and ministry. The stars that came to earth and surrounded my friends and me were the most powerful gift I have ever received. I thought my vision was fairly rare me until I read a wonderful new book – Fingerprints of God by Barbara Bradley Haggerty, the NPR religion correspondent – and discovered that fully 50% of Americans have had a life-changing religious experience similar to mine. Think stars, think freedom. The people who lived in darkness have seen a great light. Follow the drinking gourd.

So what about you? What is your sudden new revelation on this Epiphany? Take a moment to consider those attachments that keep you from being fully free. Consider those fears that keep you bound in fetters. Is it anger? Is it jealousy? Is it loneliness? Is it an addiction that you would like to liberate yourself from? Is it a feeling of inadequacy – physical, psychological, financial, or other? – We are so attached to our emotions and material supports that they cloud our vision. We live in darkness, blind to the stars and to the Christ in our midst.

In your mind’s eye, feel the magi’s gifts coming to you. There is myrrh to recognize your humanity, incense to affirm you as an agent of God’s love, and gold to acknowledge your power. Feel also the stars that come and dance around you, kissing you with God’s comfort and affection. The gifts of courage, clarity, and vision are God’s gift to you. They are gifts of liberation from false attachments and false fears. Think stars, think freedom, follow the Drinking Gourd. On Epiphany, the twelfth day of Christmas, this is God’s most incredible gift to us.

Consider also the drinking gourds in your life. Certainly the communion cup is a reenactment of God’s greatest gift: to see ourselves, others, and the world in a new way – the way of liberation and of love. So also is a glass of water if we acknowledge it as the primary life force and also a means of baptism into a world ruled by hope instead of fear. Like the stars that point the way, these drinking gourds represent freedom from bondage, freedom from false attachments, freedom from fear. This is what the followers and supporters of the Underground Railroad saw. This is the Epiphany that the Magi saw – in the baby Jesus, we can find our freedom. Follow the freedom star. Follow the drinking gourd.

Follow the drinking gourd

Follow the drinking gourd

For the BABY is a-waitin’

For to carry you to freedom

Follow the drinking gourd.