Last week I posted a message
about the recent allegations and reported actions (or non-actions) of officials
at Penn State University. I focused on the power of institutionalization and
drew parallels to the process the early Church in determining what to include
in the New Testament and to the recent scandals involving the Roman Catholic
Church.
I also broadened this power of
institutionalization to include the subtle power of my identification with
race, with nationalism/patriotism, and with economic class. I concluded that if
I am already a loved/accepted spirit simply having a human experience right
now, it is easier (but not easy!) to keep my True Self separate from the
institution with which I trade effort for pay/image/self-definition or from
limiting concepts of nationalism, political persuasion, or perceived economic
standing.
Since posting that message my
thoughts kept coming back to my own initial experience of the power of
identification and its influence on who I think I truly am.
I grew up in a small town in
West Texas about 30 miles south of Lubbock. I went to some Texas colleges and
experienced a little cultural broadening. All in all, my college experiences
reflected a life basically the same as high school – same attitudes, same
foods, same white students, same worship of sports.
Then I went to graduate school –
the Presbyterian-affiliated Princeton (NJ) Theological Seminary. Since I had to
work, I took a position as a Student Assistant Minister in a downtown Trenton
(NJ) Presbyterian Church on Prospect Street. I worked with the congregation's
youth and began an outreach program into the mostly black, mostly impoverished
local neighborhood. After Seminary I took a position as a Street Gang minister
– a position that was new and uncharted. I did that for two years before it
almost destroyed my marriage.
What a wake-up call! In the late 60's, culturally, Trenton's
ghettoes were about as far away from West Texas as a person could get. Working
as a street minister, however, taught me several very important lessons.
A group of concerned citizens in
Princeton wanted to host a fund-raiser for my ministry. Most were members of
Princeton's Episcopal Church. I was very grateful. However, for the first time
in my life I was the VERY conspicuous
minority. These Princeton residents, most of whom were black, were medical
doctors or PhDs in biology or chemistry with the World Health Organization
(WHO), senior analysts or managers with the United Nations, planning consultants
with UNESCO, policy wonks with the Princeton Testing Service, physicists at
Einstein's Institute for Advanced Study or with Princeton University itself.
From the aspect of race I was the only white person there. From the aspect of
economics I was the poorest paid. From the aspect of education there was only
one other person – an Indian woman –who, like me, only had a Masters
Degree. In terms of race, economic status, and education I was the little,
poor, undereducated white guy. Talk about a blow to my ego! What kind of world
was I living in? This was definitely not the world of "Leave It To
Beaver."
I learned that Christianity is
not synonymous with being a good little middle class Boy Scout. If I could've
told churches that was my goal – to transform these angry young men into good
little citizens, I would never have had a problem raising money for my
independent-of-any-single-congregation ministry. But these were not aspiring
little Boy Scouts. These were 17- to 24-year old, angry, young black men. They
were proud of who they were and they violently resented attempts to make them
Oreo cookies – black on the outside and white on the inside.
It was in Trenton, as it rioted
following Martin Luther King's murder, that I came to understand:
·
The matriarchal nature of their society: I saw firsthand the inequities built into the
administration of our political and religious/moral codes that kept husbands
and fathers away from their homes so mom and the kids could get the help they
needed. These policies applied to governmental assistance programs, as well as
to private charitable organizations. So, in effect, our moral, Christian
society was forcing the break-up the family unit in order to "help"
them. We kind of did the same thing to Native Americans.
·
The middle class American whiteness of myinterpretation of Protestant Christianity:
I had learned, for example, to share my lunch with someone less fortunate.
That's what loving your neighbor as yourself meant. What do you say to a whole
group that has no lunch to share? To a group that steals to pawn to get money
for lunch? To a group that steals to "get back at the system?" So I
said, "Why not steal cereal, powdered milk, fresh fruit? At least you can
have some lunch and you can take the remainder home for your little brothers
and sisters."
·
The power of acceptance and the meaning of"caring and sharing," which became our motto: During the MLK riots, there was a curfew at night.
During the day I would conspicuously walk the streets so people could see I was
still there – I had not retreated into the suburbs. One of my guys, named
Ronnie, came running after me one day, trying to drag me back to the pool
parlor where I made my headquarters. His cousin had gotten a pistol and was
looking for me. Ronnie was willing to risk his life (and his familial
relationships) to shield me.
All of this played a significant
role in laying the groundwork for my desire for a spiritual path as opposed to
the pursuit of a sense of "rightness" stemming from my religious
dogma. In short, what I learned is the critical importance of always trying to
use 2 little words: "…for me." I came to understand that my thoughts
of "right, normal, accepted, and Christian" were influenced more by
my cultural/racial/educational/economic sense of identity than by dogma or some
form of religiosity. I found if I could simply add the prepositional phrase
"for me" to the end of most sentences, truth would begin to penetrate
all the way to my True Self. For
example, rather than saying, "The Bible is the source of truth in spiritual
issues," I began saying the Bible is my source of truth in spiritual
issues because that makes sense for me."
Those 2 little words began
opening the door for me to accept someone else's different perception of the
rightness of things – cultural or spiritual – as being just as valid as mine.
That was the beginning of my
spiritual journey. That's how it all started for me.
If all I've been saying rings
true for you relative to getting to your True Self, then the reality of the power
of your perception becomes unmistakable. If what's real about my world is
simply my perception of it, then my world really doesn't exist. If that's the case, how
can one really be IN this world but not OF it? What world are we talking about?
My perception or yours? That's a great question and I'll address it in next
week's message.
Thanks for listening and, as
always, it's okay to forward this, if you choose.
Don
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