LOVE

by Sarah Hollier

It feels like the older I grow and the more I learn.... the less I truly know. These days I'm more interested in the questions than in definitive answers. There is one thing I can say I believe in with certainty though: love. And I'm not speaking of romantic love, but something wider, deeper. But what do I mean by that?

As a child and family therapist and crisis clinician, I was often in highly emotional situations with people under extreme duress. Some of this distress got aimed at me and it was easy to become defensive. It was easier to care about the children, especially the young ones, and tempting to blame their adults, who had often fallen short of providing the physical and psychological safety every child needs in order to thrive.

This challenge led me to a practice of taking a breath and reminding myself that even the angriest, most belligerent adult was once a lovable, little baby with infinite possibility. It wasn't hard to see how along the way, hurt, neglect and worse had affected that little person, who in turn, was now affecting the next generation. When I pictured the adult in front of me as the vulnerable beautiful little child he or she once was, and still was, buried deeply within, that image became a conduit for compassion, and my heart was able to expand and connect more effectively to everyone in the room. In doing so, I became less likely to add more shame or blame into the equation, more able to identify the fragments of hope and possibility and healing in what had initially looked like a hopeless mess. I know it sounds unconventional to count love as a critical component of a professional job, but I experienced the miracle of it – the necessity of it – over and over.

Maybe that is one reason Jesus arrived in the form of a helpless tiny baby, to remind us that each one of us started out as a miraculously beautiful small being, unquestionably lovable. But the theme didn't stop there. That baby Jesus grew up to challenge and invite us to love all of our neighbors – and our selves – and then – and this is one of the hardest parts – he went on to expand the definition of neighbors way beyond the obvious and the easy to love ones.

When Christmas is Blue

by Rev. Laura Folkwein

As a kid listening to secular Christmas music, I was so tickled when I figured out who Mommy was really kissing. However, these days at my house we are more likely to play quiet winter solstice albums (and Storyhill’s Bethlehem, of course). Have you heard Sting’s If on a Winter’s Night? It is gorgeously subdued. Music leads me deeper into the melancholy undertones of the season, which I suspect most of us carry beneath the holiday hum.

Who hasn’t experienced a loss or emotional wounding that tugs against the expectations of celebratory joy? Family estrangement, grief for loved ones who no longer grace our holiday tables or call home, or the heaviness of ongoing pandemic uncertainty all linger. Some of us struggle especially with mental health or issues of addiction this time of year. Most of us in the U.S. northwest yearn for longer days with more daylight.

How does a person get through the holidays when one is not feeling so merry and bright? Over the years I have collected a few tips from mental health professionals and chaplains that have truly helped. Here are a few:

• Give yourself an out. It’s ok to leave a party early or to skip an event or two. It is also ok to hide in the bathroom or step outside for a breath of air.

• Let the people close to you know that you are feeling a little blue this season and may not be up to your usual traditions.

• Tend to your physical needs by getting enough rest, a little exercise, and eating something a little healthier than cookies and eggnog all season.

• Find comfort. A cozy nap? A walk with the best listener you know (might be your dog). A favorite treat. Soft socks?

• Let the tears or the melancholy be your companions for a time. Try not to fake it or ignore your feelings hoping they just go away. Sadness and grief tend to hang around until we pay them the attention they require.

• Let melancholy music carry you along and limit the loud stuff if it shakes your nerves.

• Hang an ornament or light a candle to honor yourself and your loved ones.

• Volunteer if you have the energy for it. Helping someone else can be a welcome and wonderful distraction.

• Find mental health resources if your thoughts become worrisome to you or others, or if it feels like the cloud will never lift. Hospice workers, chaplains, local mental health workers, and even your pastor can all refer you to someone to talk to, if they are not available themselves.

Know that your blues are probably not permanent. Grief and sadness ebb and flow, shift and mellow over time, especially if we welcome them in as part of life and love, even at the holidays.

Here are some additional resources from my favorite folks at Tamarack Grief Resource Center: https://www.tamarackgrc.org/tipsheets

It may also help to remember that the beloved characters in our Advent and Christmas stories were not strangers to pain and grief, nor was Jesus himself. Elizabeth dealt with infertility. Zacharias lost his voice. Mary was a teen mom, and with Joseph she parented a child who would die young. The shepherds were social outcasts who likely did not have enough to eat or stable housing. The wise men were late to the party at the manger. Jesus’ closest friends betrayed him. You and I are not alone in our struggles. These lonesome paths have been trod by others before us. Whatever the season holds for you, may Christ’s gentle and enduring presence comfort you on your way.

Laura Folkwein (she/her) is our current pastor at Pilgrim Congregational UCC. Laura is currently working on a writing project with her family to re-story her family’s western pioneer narratives alongside local Indigenous histories.

Actively Waiting

by Kerry Williams

I’ve been thinking about the Advent Season a lot this year. I know it is often characterized as a time of waiting and anticipation. Years ago I even participated in one of our Advent services describing how the Spanish word “esperar” translates both “to wait” and “to hope,” which I think is beautiful and especially fitting. What I’m realizing this year is that I am in a mode of active waiting which is new and different for me. Personality tests often peg me as a “wait and see, slow to warm up” type in general, and during Advent that usually looks like taking in the preparations that others are making and appreciating their efforts while quietly checking off my list of what needs to be done without any fanfare. This year, through a series of calendar alignments, our family has acknowledged Hanukkah November 29-December 6, Sinterklaas on December 6, and are getting ready for Santa Lucia on December 13, all before celebrating Christmas. We’re not going overboard by any means, but by coming together to eat special food and decorate for the occasion we are actively marking the time during this period which has so much meaning for so many different people. It makes me want to know more about how traditions are kept around the globe, and I remember fondly the course that was offered at Pilgrim a long time ago, where we learned about other religions and were introduced to their stories and practices. I especially remember seeing the I Ching for the first time and being taught how to use it. It was a mind-altering experience for me, not because the book itself pointed to anything, but because it hit me that the human experience is one of making meaning. It kicked off a restructuring of my thoughts that maybe I wasn’t supposed to figure out the meaning of my life on earth but actually create it. I forget that important tidbit over and over again, but this Advent season has been a time when I’ve been able to hold that idea a little more naturally. So, as I wait to see what this particular season will bring, I am involved in small changes to set a path that will move me forward, not to a place that was destined, but in a way that feeds me and makes the world a little brighter as I go. Showing up to wait with others and making their experience lighter simply through the presence of another human being seems to be where I am finding the most meaning right now. I hope that you also are able to create meaning right now, and if that’s difficult, as it often is, then you stumble across the ones out there who will meet you where you are and lighten this time, actively waiting together with you.

Lost: a meditation

by Tim Dolan

In this time of world history we are being challenged and even traumatized by by personal and public events I find it important to notice the flood of media information and gently turn it off temporarily and find a quiet place and time to contemplate.

What do I do when I’m lost in the forest?

Poetic rendering by David Wagner:

LOST

Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you are not lost.

Wherever you are is called ‘Here’

And you must treat it as a powerful stranger-

Must ask permission to know it and be known.

Listen, the Forest breathes, it whispers, “I have made this place around you.

If you leave it you may come back again, saying, ‘Here’.

No two trees are the same to Raven. No two branches are the same to Wren.

If what a tree or a branch does is lost on you, then you are surely lost.

Stand still. The Forest knows where you are.

You must let it find you.

As we approach the darkest time of the year let us sense with our whole being the dawning of the Illuminator himself, the miraculous birth- miraculous because is it was mothered and fathered from the Holy Spirit and not by the will of human parents.

Here is an image to contemplate from the book of 1 Enoch:

His body was white as snow and red as a rose, and he had hair on his head that was white like snow, and his thick curls were beautiful. And when he opened his eyes, the whole house shone like the sun- or even more exceedingly...

As you sit in stillness, listening, breathing an openness into your chest, let the “Forest” find you. Let the Christ be born in you as the sun rising and filling your whole being with light.

Ponderings

by Susan Wordal

I find myself occasionally blessed with "windshield time". For any of you who find yourself on a longer drive than just tooling around town, this is a time for contemplation, unless you are fortunate enough to have a really good radio/CD player or MP3 connection in your car, or an audiobook to listen to while driving to occupy your mind. It's hopefully not a time when you are juggling your cell phone and your computer or your tablet, or your kids are not hollering at you every 5 seconds "When are we going to get there?!?" OR "Stop touching me!".

But what do you do with this blessed "windshield time"? I know some people who just enjoy the view and appreciate the natural world as it is revealed as the miles go by. Living in Montana, we are truly blessed with a natural world that is ever changing and full of color, even in that in-between period from fall to winter. I know others who are constantly alert, as they should be in Montana, for the wildlife that can cross their path. And, I know others who work on that paper they have to write for work, or that project that just landed on their desk. While they can't really write things down, some people have figured out how to connect their technology so they can speak and have their thoughts recorded for later transcription or to remind themselves of what they worked out. But whatever they do with that time, they don't realize, always, that they enjoy that first blessing: Nature in all its myriad glory.

I found myself driving home from a meeting last night and in the Bridger Mountains at 10:30 p.m. Usually, I like that time of night, except for the deer, elk, and other critters who decide to be out and about. However, the road was just slightly snowy and I needed to keep my eyes on the road. But, despite the roads, and my need to go really slow because I don't like driving in the snow with my not 4-wheel drive vehicle, I found time to appreciate the state we live in and the wonders to be seen in our beloved Montana.

Ponder this the next time you get behind the wheel. You might see something you didn't expect.

Blessed Be.

Social Media: the Wizard Behind the Screen

by, Carl Krieg

The largest human psychological event/experiment in history is happening as you read, involves everyone, and has momentous consequences. To learn the details, tune in and watch “Our Social Dilemma”, a Netflix documentary featuring young former top executives of social media companies such as Google, Facebook, and Instagram. The common message is simple. Entities, business or political, pay the companies to influence the way people think. The influence can have two purposes: either entice people to buy my product, or entice people to behave in a certain way, such as voting, demonstrations, or activism of any kind. How do the social media companies achieve these goals? They know us, individually and collectively, as they continually gather data about us from the choices we make that are constantly being recorded on our computers, tablets and cell phones. Every day, all day. Huge memory banks hidden away in non-descript buildings contain the voluminous data that defines who we are. Given that information, which includes our personality traits deduced from our recorded behavior, they know how to fill the screen with suggestive material, the most obvious of which are advertisements, but also include content that is “suggested for you”. Raw Story, a small news organization, recently posed as a 13 year old, celebrating his birthday, who entered “Muslim” on tik tok, and within 10 days was receiving videos about killing Christians and Jews. Having initiated a search, algorithms lead us on. With the advent of biometrics [eg heart beat recorded on your watch] the algorithm has that much more with which to work. Our excitability, as measured in our biometrics, provides suggestions as to what may be next suggested for us. Not only so, but the Artificial Intelligence, aka an algorithm, is able to identify thousands more who have the identical profile, and an army of consumers or activists becomes suddenly possible. Meanwhile, the tech companies make more money.

Dopamine, along with oxytocin, serotonin, and endorphins are referred to as the “feel good” chemicals that activate the pleasure center of our brain. Inasmuch as we prefer pleasure and not its opposite, we trend to those activities and thoughts that trigger the dopamine. Integral to the grand experiment going on today is the identification of what it is that activates the pleasure center. Different individuals can be under the influence of different triggers, which can change as life moves on, but there are also triggers that appear to be quite common, if not universal: violence and community.

Yes, violence, strange as it may seem. We have long known that sex, food and drugs can be addictive, and we have more recently learned that money as well can have that effect. Big Tech has seen, in actual real time human behavior, that violence entices a person to click to the next screen, indicating that dopamine has been released. Studies with animals have also shown this to be true. Bar brawls apparently excite us, and social media knows how to manipulate this violent behavior to turn a profit. Of course, it’s not only Big Tech and it’s not only social media. The insurrection of January 6, 2021 is a prime example of violence feeding on itself in a dopamine feedback loop.

Integral to that loop is a second major trigger of the feel good chemicals: community. Or at least some kind of togetherness with others who share our profile. We can accept it as well-established fact that homo sapiens is a social animal. We enjoy being with others who share our worldview, just as we find it uncomfortable to be with others who have a different perspective. We much prefer to have our biases confirmed rather than challenged. Here again, social media appeals to our sense of belonging, either through advertising that draws us into a community of fashion or product, or through the spouting of social critique and commentary that draws us into a certain brand of populism and activism. We have “friends” with whom we “like” things. Thousands of people will travel thousands of miles to join up with others who share the same belief, no matter how ludicrous. Being together validates the belief, incites the violence, and activates the dopamine.

Why, we may ask, do community and violence create that good feeling? From a historical, evolutionary perspective, given that we have evolved and continue to evolve, community and violence must have proven advantageous to the survival of the species. The reason might lie in our hunter/gatherer days. We once existed as small tribes who hunted and gathered the food needed for survival. Although there must have been interpersonal tension in a tribe, the overarching necessity was tribal cooperation for survival. The opposite might have been the case for inter-tribal competition. Constantly moving, it was critical to have access to areas where food was plentiful, and it is easy to see how competition and conflict between tribes could arise. However, whether in peace or in conflict, intra-tribal cooperative community was mandatory and desirable, and in inter-tribal conflict, on the other hand, violence may have proven advantageous.

In addition to evolutionary analysis, we can also analyze the situation from a logical perspective. We all come into this world and are bombarded by stimuli. We order the stimuli and create a worldview through which we filter future stimuli, and in so doing create a rather limited and egocentric view of reality. Two choices present themselves. We can either realize that our worldview is limited, and through contact with others seek to learn from them and expand our understanding accordingly, or we can become closed in upon oneself and live in the illusion that your world is the real world and that everyone must agree with you. The danger in becoming open to others is that one must become vulnerable.

Suppose you are aware of your limitations, meet another, share what you know, and seek to learn from the other. Unfortunately, the other takes advantage of your honesty, learns where the good hunting is, and misleads you with false information about a watering hole. The peace-lover dies out, the violent competitor wins, and he is chemically rewarded for his deceit and violence with a good feeling induced by dopamine.

This might explain why egocentrism is a universal situation. It just won out. That seems to be the point of the Cain and Abel story. Cain was a farmer while Abel was a shepherd, so it could be that this is a mythological explanation of why farmers and shepherds are always fighting. But there could be more. We don’t know much about Abel, other than that God looked upon him with favor and he was happy. The impression one gains of Cain is that he was a competitive crybaby [God likes Abel better than me], was sullen and angry, and took it out on Abel by killing him. It appears to be a case where the peace-lover loses out to the violent competitor just because that’s life, and, as a mythological statement, is meant to apply to all of us.

Whatever the cause, be it rooted in evolution or logical inevitability, the fact is that today violence and community are dopamine triggers. The question is: is there a different way to put the pieces together? It may be that evolution has brought us to where we are, but inasmuch as evolution is an ongoing process, we have the potential to move on to a different place and need not remain as we are. Considering community, it is the case that belonging to a community does in fact trigger good feelings. That is not at issue. The issue is: to what kind of community do we belong? The best guess is that belonging to a loving community would precipitate all sorts of good feelings, creating a powerfully uplifting environment. We already know that sexual attraction makes us “in love” through release of oxytocin. Perhaps immersion in a community of agape love would trigger a cascade of chemicals, both known and unknown.

And perhaps that cascade would suppress the ability of violence to be a trigger. Think about that. We already know that nurturing love is required for an infant/baby to have a chance for a happy life. Might it not be the case that nurturing community is required for a happy life? Perhaps this was what Jesus was trying to do. He gathered a family of friends to be an example of what fulfilled life could be, a microcosm of a humanity wherein it is love that triggers the dopamine. After the manner of Jesus, it is our challenge today to offer an alternative algorithm, in which clicking leads forward in a healthful, helpful direction. The community within our grasp can begin with as few as two and grow from there. We have reached a moment in our evolution where cooperation in community is necessary for survival. We know the way. Can we do it?

Disclaimer: I am neither a neuroscientist nor a historian of evolution, and, though unintended, might be in error on some of the suggested connections. Comments most welcome!

Not My Terms

by Mindy Misener

I have always been a little suspicious of sayings like Be gentle with yourself. Sometimes this is framed in the negative: Don’t be so hard on yourself. But I don’t need to be all that kind to myself if I can be fair with myself, right? And I know that I have to be fair with myself. That I have limitations. I know, for example, that I need a certain amount of sleep each night to function in the long run. If I lose a lot of sleep for a few days or more, I start to struggle. I make mistakes. It’s hard to think. But I don’t get mad at myself about this fact, because I am reasonable with myself.

I would wager, though, that one of our biggest obstacles to offering ourselves true kindness is thinking that if we can “reasonably” forgive ourselves in some areas, we can be “reasonably” hard on ourselves in others. We think we can keep our worst impulses toward self-hatred in check, at least most of the time, while still giving ourselves little talking-tos every day. That was the wrong thing to say. Do better next time. You shouldn’t have made that mistake. You know better.

Have you ever messed up, and had someone tell you it’s okay, except that everything else about their demeanor suggests that it’s very much not okay? That’s what I think our “reasonable” self-criticism is like. It’s sort of okay, except it’s not really. Which leaves us in the position of needing to appease our judgmental selves somehow: we must be sorry enough, or mean enough to whatever part of us made that mistake, or make enough promises to never ever ever do that again.

Recently, I was reminded that true self-kindness—not the “It’s okay for now, but do better next time” version—is actually good for us, good for our relationships, and good for our communities. This insight came thanks to an episode from one of my favorite podcasts. According to psychologist Kristin Neff, who was interviewed for the podcast, people who are kind to themselves do not slowly go bad, like fruit left on the counter too long. They are productive and, in an interesting turn, actually more capable of taking responsibility and making apologies when they need to.

I would argue that self-kindness offers more than a backdoor into a healthier psychology. Something about it is a little astounding. It feels, in fact, like brushing up against the love of God—or better yet, letting the love of God brush up against me. I want to keep looking over my shoulder as if there’s some catch. But there is no catch. You can try this at home. Start pulling on any stray strand of your belovedness that you can find; let the silver thread pool at your feet while you search for its opposite end. Good luck!

Self-kindness is, paradoxically, an exercise in humility. We let God love us as we are. We do not force our standards or ideas of goodness or worthiness upon ourselves or others. We say, “The terms are Yours, not mine.”

— Mindy Misener teaches creative writing at Montana State University

Church Surprises

by Rev. Laura Folkwein

A clergy colleague of mine accepted a new call a few years ago and spent the first few months sharing “church discoveries” on social media. These were little tidbits, and sometimes big surprises, that she encountered as she learned about the people and the place she was joining in ministry.

I have decided to steal her idea.

I am looking for “Church Surprises,” large and small. In my mind, surprises are small winks from the Sacred, that remind me that something greater than myself is alive and active among us in daily life. An unexpected bit of joy from the Spirit says, “Hey, I see you. You are loved. Keep going,” or “Stop. Take a breath right here.”

Here are a couple of surprises I have encountered at Pilgrim.

Last week, I found flowers on my desk after the beautiful church service of transition between Rev. Dick Weaver and myself. Beauty lifts the spirits, soothes the soul, and is better when shared. Thank you.

Yesterday, I went rummaging in the church kitchen for a spoon for my soup. I found drawer handles in the shape of the silverware inside, indicating spoon, knife, and fork-drawers! What a gift of hospitality and help in an unfamiliar place. God bless you, Kitchen Design Saints of Pilgrim! What a creative and helpful surprise. Thank you.

Over the past few weeks, I have been poking around the church locating the HVAC closets (are there seven? Five? Oh my!), but more importantly I have seen so many memorials: plaques, benches, gardens, photos, a small sign on the edge of the conference table. These are precious surprises and reminders that many have gone before us on this journey. They are not forgotten. I am enjoying the chance to stop and read names, dates, and stories as I find these little surprises and stories in prominent and mysterious corners. Thank you.

A surprise is fun (some of us like them more than others), but perhaps there is more to it than that. These surprises are also crumbs on a path of generosity, offered without expectation of recognition or thanks. Someone created a bouquet, designed a kitchen, or built a memorial in hopes that later on someone like me or you would find and enjoy, remember, or get some use from that very item. Perhaps its originator has left or forgotten about their efforts. All the more joyful, to be continuing the pleasure after its initial inspiration is long gone, don’t you think? Small miracles are everywhere. Maybe you will join me in taking a little time to look and appreciate these bits of love, left just for us.

We are the Elders: Insights from Generation X

By Danielle Rogers

I was having a conversation with my husband the other day about health and wealth inequalities and changes that can be made to better serve our community. I casually mentioned the work our Elder generation has done and how I learned to advocate for myself and others through their good deeds. So many of these wonderful people have transitioned or have their own health concerns that coincide with aging. I realized that the Elders I fondly remember were younger then I am now when they began their social justice work. As I become more engaged in various projects, I realize I have become the Elder.

I was astonished and a bit scared knowing my generation shoulders the responsibility to mentor and learn from our younger brothers and sisters while serving and learning from our Elder brothers and sisters. It is a strange feeling when your age demographic is listed towards the bottom of the survey, or when society no longer considers your age group culturally significant.

In a way I should have been prepared for this realization. I am a part of Generation X, categorized as those born between 1965 and 1980. We are mostly known as the "forgotten generation." We were latchkey kids, faced two recessions during our prime working years and are considered highly self-sufficient and individualistic. I always feel a sense of melancholy with my generation. We were raised at the height of the self help era, watched family sitcoms and exploitative talk shows. Our generation was undefinable; once thought to be lazy and without challenges, our perception has morphed to being highly reliable and, dare I say, pessimistic?

Generation X has seen so much: The rise of the video game era, personal computers, internet usage, recessions, war in the Middle East, terrorist attacks, the rise of the AIDS epidemic, global warming, school shootings, trickle down economics, and much more. We are the generation that saw these things first hand, and our collective memory is long.

I often think of the disciples and how they continued the teachings of Jesus Christ after his crucifixion. The myriad emotions they faced are palpable and their constant fear persisted, as the Roman Government was quick to end any sort of conceived Political Agenda different from their own. How did they keep going? What motivated them? They were at the helm of a ministry that ended in the gruesome death of their beloved teacher, yet we know the ministry continued and survives today.

There is a tipping point in every civilization since its inception where new ideas surround the government, and societal norms are questioned and often evolve. The tipping point for Generation X is now. Our experience and close connection to both the Baby Boomer and Millennial generation helps us understand and create dialogue that can rectify certain qualms and misunderstandings. Our voices need to be a part of the discussion and we can no longer be seen as undefinable or simply languishing into our own inner trials.

Aging is a gift not all are afforded. It can bring confidence and wisdom and stability. Our Elders have set the societal frame but the framework is being redesigned. We, as the new Elders, need to pick up our collective hammer and do what our generation does best, get the work done.

-Rev. Danielle Rogers is Director of Christian Education at Pilgrim

Grace And Adolescence

by Kerry Williams

My family is currently experiencing a full circle moment in our sons’ lives, as our youngest entered his freshman year in high school and our oldest finishes his senior year. It is only the second time they have been in the same school together, the only other time being the year our youngest started kindergarten, so they will have a shared school experience only during one's very first year and one's very last.

I am not inclined to romanticize the high school experience, but I am interested in beginnings and endings. I wonder about the difference between the times we are aware of moments of transition and the times we don’t know they’re happening. There are so many instances when we look back on our life and see the seed of a new beginning that we didn’t know was there, or sense that something is winding down and changes are coming though we aren’t sure exactly what they’ll be.

This time of parenting for me feels like I have a keen intellectual understanding of the endings and new beginnings I am witnessing, with the added sense of having no idea what this transition will look like for both my kids and for me. It perfectly parallels this season for our church. We here at Pilgrim knew that there was an ending coming a couple of years ago, as a minister’s retirement is a tangible thing, but we thought we would be celebrating that ending and a new beginning simultaneously, with maybe a hiccup or two but basically keeping on keeping on.

Little did we know that we would be spending so much time in the space in between. In between ministers, in between pandemic surges, in between economic forces, you name it!

So now we might feel a sense of relief, purpose, and maybe a healthy dose of weariness as we look for a very clear new beginning with our new minister joining our flock. But I wonder if “beginning” is the right word for our state of being at the moment. We began the transition to a new minister as soon as we started writing the profile of our church to try to capture who we were, who we are, and who we would like to become. In a process that very much mirrors adolescence, we seem to have so many different ways we could grow and a few insecurities about what our future may hold. We are starving for some guidance and yet certainly don’t want to compromise our identity and independence. Can you pinpoint the time your adolescence began and when it ended? I doubt it. We all tend to flail about for a while before we realize we’re not flailing anymore, and we don’t know exactly when that shift occurred.

I think that’s where we are during this time for Pilgrim. We are embarking on something that we know is new but we’re not sure what the journey will bring. We know what we value and we are ready to become something we haven’t fully envisioned yet. The thing we need to give ourselves right now is grace. Grace to try new things, grace to make mistakes, grace to get where we’re going in the time it may take, grace to be a little unsettled. It is an exciting time! We may not want to experience adolescence again (I know I don’t) but we can’t deny that that time of stretching and figuring things out made us who we are today. So let’s enter this time of transition as a church family with all the grace we can muster for ourselves, for the process, and for everyone else along on this journey. And maybe we can check back in this time next year to look back and see ourselves flailing just a little bit less, stronger and far more interesting for all we’ve done together.

— Kerry Williams is a member of the Minister Search Task Force
and serves as Vice Moderator for Pilgrim Church

A New Season

by Dick Weaver

It’s time for a final report and reflection on the whitetail deer who hung around Camp Mimanagish all summer.

They were beautiful, frail-looking creatures—especially compared to mule deer—smaller than I am used to seeing in whitetail deer. At least one of them must have spent the winter and maybe the entire 2020 summer season too, hanging around under the tall trees near the camp’s gazebo. When Dilynn and Jonna showed up, she even bedded down for a brief time within yards of them. Almost unheard of for whitetails, in my experience.

We enjoyed them almost all summer. Two does and a spotted fawn. We theorized about the does being a lesbian couple, but this pattern is apparently quite common. They would watch us carefully if we walked by, and sometimes they would scurry off, but occasionally they let us come pretty close as long as we weren’t focusing too much on them. It was one of my most pleasant experiences to see how they’d adjusted to this small amount of human activity.

But in late August, they pretty much disappeared. I don’t think I saw them at all as we got closer to the Labor Day weekend. It was disappointing, but I knew they were doing what deer do, and didn’t concern themselves with whether we missed them or not.

As with many animals, whitetail deer follow patterns that, while not rigid, are noticeable in their regularity. By August, the availability of food changes, and the needs for certain kinds of nutrition in their diets change, too. It’s early for the mating season, but the does were moving in that direction, following those age-old biological urges. So their disappearance from camp was not a reason for concern.

Autumn brings change. I’ve been worshiping with you, virtually or in person, for over a year, now. Who knew it would go this long—the search for your new “designated minister?” But the pattern has shifted, in a normal if somewhat delayed fashion. We have spent some time and energy being together and getting to know one another, and now we’re moving into a new phase—a new season. You’re ready for a new experience, a new period in the life of Pilgrim Church. I’m ready for new experiences, too.

It’s been a good season! I’ll miss you. I know that God has been with us in this time, and I know God will be with us in whatever the new season brings. Thanks be to God.

— Rev. Dick Weaver currently serves as Supply Pastor for Pilgrim Church

The 60s and Today

by Carl Kreig

Our understanding of God is impacted by the historical context in which we live, and often changes with the season. A comparison of the 1960s with today is a case in point. It is also a span of time that brackets the theological journey of some of us, including myself.

It was almost 60 years ago in 1963 that I started a three year course of study at Union Theological Seminary in NYC. Imagine 200-300 future pastors, theologians, and musicians, all would be revolutionaries, along with their spouses and a few children, living and learning together in a Gothic quadrangle in Manhattan, but a few blocks from Harlem, surrounded by theological dialog, and immersed in both the excitement and horror of the 60’s. We gathered in the evening to hear Walter Cronkite and Eric Sevareid detail the latest body count from Viet Nam, describe the confrontations between justice-seeking Blacks and hostile Whites in the north, and show us freedom-singing Blacks attacked by night sticks, dogs, and fire hoses in the south. Martin Luther King Jr inspired us with the voice of God. The culture war, embodied in long hair, beards, and free sex, challenged and threatened the status quo of the 50s established after WW2. It was all happening at once.

And there was hope. Hope not as against the odds, but hope as knowledge and expectation that a new day was in fact arriving. Too often we remember the 60s as a time of turmoil, and it certainly was that. But it was also a time of great hope, at least in my corner of the universe. Dylan was singing about how the times they were a-changing. Demonstrations were everywhere. Freedom and justice were on the march. The old was passing, and the new seemed just around the corner. And a beacon of this certainty was Union Theological Seminary in the heart of it all, an embodiment of community, faith, dedication to right the ills of the world, and the expectation that we were and would continue to be part of that divine process. It was not naive, -after all Reinhold Niebuhr with his Christian Realism had taught there for 30 years-, but neither was it down-hearted, because, after all, we were working with God. Certainly Union was not alone in this optimism. It was everywhere.

The theological bedrock of this hope was the belief that God was active in history, doing things in the political arena to bring about justice and freedom. Actively political, that’s who God was, leading the Hebrews out of Egypt into the Promised Land, leading today’s dispossessed into a new promised land. That vision informed progressive theology of the time, inspiring a whole generation to hope and to carry on the divine purpose.

But something happened, or rather, did not happen along the way. Life continued as it had, with the rich and powerful becoming even moreso, culminating in today’s morass. Parochialism and nationalism are on the rise. Out-of-control irrationality, conspiracy theories, and rejection and distortion of truth, all throw into question our ability to deal with the crises facing all of us. Half of Americans refuse vaccination while poor countries remain unable to even get it. The earth becomes hotter and our collective ability to reverse the process requires a collaborative perspective that seems beyond our ability. Racism, sexism and suspicion of the “other” are as strong as ever. Of course there is anecdotal evidence of all the good things that are happening, but if one had to offer an overall judgment about the direction of the US, if not the world, optimism would come hard. The broad scope of the 60s hopefulness about the future of the planet has given way to a much more disheartened- some would say realistic- perspective today.

The basic question for Christianity is whether our view of God has changed, and it seems it has. God has a dual nature, as Person and as Being, as One who loves, on the one hand, and as the Ground of all that is, on the other, and the duality of this historical/ontological Presence can neither be understood nor explained. It is a mystery that just is. If one emphasizes the political activity of God, one tends to ignore the givenness of what is, thereby hoping for more than is possible. In retrospect, I think this is what happened in the 60s, including the theology at Union. We became overly optimistic, somewhat but not totally like the Social Gospel of the 20s that expected the imminent arrival of the Kingdom of God. We today may be making the opposite mistake, ignoring the active involvement of God in history, and focusing on Being, of which we all are a part.

Personally, if we have to indicate a preference, I prefer emphasizing the involvement of God in history, and speaking of a God who is active in this world to make things right. This is the prophetic tradition that leads directly into social change. The world today needs this prophetic critique more than ever.

— Carl Krieg is the author of ‘What to Believe? the Questions of Christian Faith’ and ‘The Void and the Vision.’ He is a regular contributor to the website Progressing Spirit.

My Kingdom is Not of This World

by Tim Dolan

There are many references in the Bible referring to the “Kingdom of God” even at the very end of Jesus' earthly life as He stands before Pontius Pilot: “Are you the King of the Jews?” Pilot asks. Jesus responds in the affirmative. In Mark 4:10-12 the inner circle of disciples requested Jesus to tell them parables and He said, “To you is given the mystery of the kingdom of God; but to those outside all things are done in parables...”

All this points to the esoteric nature of the kingdom of God. Esoteric refers to hidden spiritual teachings or “Gnosis.” Some people take exception that there should be anything obscured in the Christian teachings and that it must all be simple enough for a 5-year-old to understand. The mystery of the kingdom is more of what Jalaluddin Rumi termed, 'an open secret' — that when one truly opens oneself to truth and goodness in humility, then the truth is revealed.

The nature of the kingdom of God is a life long journey of discovery and practice for those of us on the Christian path. We should not be distracted or diverted by worldly kingdoms that compete for our loyalty. Presently trust in authority is at an all-time high, with people lining up to defend one political party or the other. One side wants to completely silence the other party. Families are divided according to their affiliation with opposing camps. Sometimes we are lucky and a ruling party will be acting in harmony with life-serving values and other times not. Everything should be measured against what furthers the kingdom of God and what does not.

I remember the beginnings of the Peace Corps where young people were recruited to help less fortunate people in other parts of the world, which was life serving. In contrast you see governmental blockades of food, medicine, energy, and building materials to vulnerable countries in efforts to dominate them. And in other instances, sadly, bombs are dropped.

Beware the rise of 'medical authoritarianism' in our home country, surveillance, and control. Let us keep our eyes on the prize which is a heart guided by the spirit of the Living Christ. Judge all things by their fruits.

— Tim Dolan is chair of Pilgrim’s Spiritual Life Committee

Being Human

by Wendy Morical

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

— Rumi, from Rumi: Selected Poems, trans Coleman Barks

Children are taught from an early age to love others as they love themselves. This is a Christian lesson that derives from the gospel of Mark, although it becomes a cultural universal when it morphs into the Golden Rule, connecting people across all lands and faiths.

The second [commandment] is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no commandment greater than these.” (Matthew 22:39, NIV)

This succinct admonition is intended to serve as a reminder to be as kind to all humans — including those we don’t know or don’t even like — as we are to ourselves. It’s a reminder to not be selfish in our love.

In the day-to-day reality of being human, however, many of us don’t act as though we love ourselves. We find fault with ourselves, are disappointed in ourselves, and act in ways that are not representations of our true selves. We can be our own worst critics, rather than seeing ourselves through eyes of love and acceptance.

Months ago, in our service on March 14, Edis and Cliff shared a song written by Karen Drucker that reminded us to be gentle with ourselves. The lyric “I will hold myself like a newborn baby child” was particularly poignant because those of us who are parents — and, here in Bozeman, I might even include dog parents — know that a loving parent’s heart doesn’t feel disappointed or find fault; it lifts up and cherishes the good, and gently redirects the less-welcome behaviors. What if we could love ourselves as if we were cherished in the way a newborn is cherished?

I believe we don’t need to love others as we love ourselves, we need to love them better.

In the meantime, we can work toward loving ourselves as whole, conflicted, imperfect, and wonderful beings. As Rumi suggests in “The Guest House” we can embrace the aspects of our lives that do not align with our expectations for ourselves or do not feel comfortable to us. We can welcome and entertain all elements of our experience – and be gentle with ourselves when we fall short of our self-imposed expectations. Then, perhaps, we can love ourselves as much as we love others.

— Wendy Morical services as Moderator for Pilgrim Church

This Compost

by Mindy Misener

My new favorite poem—admittedly, the rankings change often—is Walt Whitman’s “This Compost.” These days, I cling to it as I would a life raft. Here’s why.

In the first line, the poet finds himself “[startled]… where I thought I was safest” and withdrawing from the natural world he loves. The reason? Essentially, because he is meditating on the rot and the illness, actual and figurative, of Earth. “Are they not continually putting distemper’d corpses within you?” he asks. “Is not every continent work’d over and over with sour dead?”

The last time someone used the word distemper with me, they were describing a vaccination schedule for my cats. Distemper is, in the veterinary sense, a highly contagious viral disease marked by fever and cough. It is also, in its archaic sense, used to describe political disorder. As a verb it means to throw out of order. It can also mean, simply, a terrible mood.

Distemper is all too fitting word for our times.

Whitman, like any poet worth their salt, doesn’t simply hammer one idea. He sees where the idea takes him; he follows its lead. Next he meditates on the way “this compost”—even the “distemper’d corpses”—breed new life, and argues that “The summer growth is innocent and disdainful” of all the heartache and loss and pain that has preceded it. This thought actually makes Whitman

…terrified of the Earth, it is that calm and patient,
It grows such sweet things out of such corruptions…
It distills such exquisite winds out of such infused fetor,
It renews with such unwitting looks its prodigal, annual, sumptuous crops,
It gives such divine materials to men, and accepts such leavings from them at last.

This last stanza really resonates. Some pains are so old and dark, others so fresh and aching, it seems impossible they would ever become anything else—it seems like “this compost” all around me is and will only be rot forever. So to look at the evidence of new life, a new cycle, another try, can be unsettling. Maybe this is what the ancients meant when they talked about the “fear of the Lord.” It’s not necessarily pleasant to find the Lord’s goodness where we think we shouldn’t. Sometimes it can even feel wrong.

I think it’s okay to feel afraid or upset or even angry about God’s goodness, which doesn’t make sense and never has. I also hope that when the moment is right, we will remember again how deep and wide and everlasting is that which sustains us. We will remember that something keeps pushing green plants through sidewalk cracks. Something sends flowers into a burned area. Something meets us wherever we are and says, “The story is still unfolding.”

— Mindy Misener teaches creative writing at Montana State University
and serves as Pilgrim's 2021 stewardship chair

Let People Be Wrong About You

by Rev. Danielle Rogers

I recently read a Facebook post by Ana Verzone that said the following: “Here's a little secret. One of the most relaxing things you can do for yourself—better than a spa vacation in a remote mountain area—is to let people be wrong about you. Yep, when people are wrong about you, let them be.”

As a young adult this concept seemed radical even a bit dangerous to me. Let people be wrong about you? How? Surely it is better to clear any wrong feelings, especially if you are not at fault, right? Haven't we been taught to prove our naysayers wrong by showcasing our good standing and ease any misunderstandings at any cost? With enough time, shouldn't we be able to clear false assumptions? Now, my short answer to those questions is no.

In my early adulthood I had a epiphany. Some people will never like you or see your talents and that is okay. Do not worry about others perceptions. Keep your eyes on God's calling in your life, pray for them and move on.

God has a calling for everyone of us. We are all ordained with the gift of life and a purpose of our choosing. Be true to God and your own path in this life even when fear enters.

Anytime someone has said a hurtful thing about me God has always helped keep my tongue still and let my actions speak for themselves. I do not retaliate or do anything except stay in quiet contemplation. Doing nothing is powerful in itself. Let people be wrong about you and continue God's calling in your life. Remember, hearts can be changed but it is not your job to change them. Give that to God and release that burden.

Recently I have become engaged in community conversations regarding a equity policy in our public school system. I started giving public comments because our youth group wanted me to convey specific thoughts on how the policy helps their class mates receive specific help for those with learning disabilities, or homeless youth, or those with physical disabilities. This policy addresses the various reasons students are not excelling in math and reading and attempts to provide resources to help our youth graduate. Last summer, as part of the School Board's preparation for writing the policy, they all read Ibram X Kendi's book, “How to be a Anti-Racist.”

I had no idea so many in our community objected to the words “equity" and "diversity training" and "inclusion.” Somehow, those words have been classified as “Critical Race Theory” and used as code words to persuade our community members to believe in a racist concept, instead of a field of study in law school that looks at the intersection of race and U.S law. It is a field of study developed by U.S. Civil Rights scholars and activists, and is still taught at the graduate level. There is no curriculum teaching Critical Race Theory in Montana, or in any elementary, middle, or high school in our Union.

Being one of the only People of Color in the room during our school board meetings was intimidating, but I gave my public comment anyway. I had a duty to God's calling in my life and to our youth to speak for the hundreds of children in our school system who need help. I spoke up for them.

I am sure there were many who were very displeased with my involvement and my comments, but I have not let that stop me. How other people feel about me is not my concern. Following God's calling is. I stand on the shoulders of other women like my Mother Rev. Denise Rogers who spoke against racism for over twenty five years with her organization The Montana Hate Free Zone. I watched her stand up against the Militia and White Supremacist groups. I prayed as she received death threats for following God's Call as a Black woman in the early 1990s in Bozeman. I also watched our community learn to galvanize and denounce White Supremacy many times over in the last several decades. Each time it's scary. This is when you lean in and follow the words in Matthew 5:44: “But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.”

I am not sure how the Equity Policy will be implemented, but I will be in the room when we have our community conversations along side community members whom feel very differently from me. My job is to keep to God's calling, to see them as children of God, and to move forward. I will let them be wrong about me.

— Rev. Danielle Rogers serves as Pilgrim’s Christian Education Director

Searching the Path (for a minister)

by Kerry Williams

As you may know, we have just announced and are celebrating a new minister for our church. We have been working without a dedicated leader for over a year, since Glover retired last summer. And though it’s been a crazy time outside of Pilgrim’s community, we have held together surprisingly well under the circumstances. One would have expected a hiccup or two under the best conditions, and we should be proud of ourselves for making it through these rough seas intact.

The process of finding a new minister to help steer our course was long and members of the Task Force were often ready to throw up our hands as we wondered how far from “normal” every step of our journey was. It’s funny how just hearing that another has gone through similar ups and downs can serve to calm the rising panic.

The ministers we met along the way — the ones we talked with about taking the role who somehow didn’t fit — were beacons that helped light our path. They would mention a transition approach to shifting from a long-term pastorate that they thought would match Pilgrim well, or they would find pieces of our story that might be viewed as negative and show us the upside of what we were doing right, or they would forward our profile on to other clergy who might be looking to serve a church like ours.

What I appreciated most, however, was not these helpful nudges but the feedback about the way we were going about the process of moving into the next phase of our community’s life. We heard that it was productive and worth the time and effort we were putting in. We heard stories of other churches, in non-pandemic times, mind you, taking longer than we were to find their new minister. We heard about churches that had so much baggage to unravel that multiple interventions were required before they could even think of forging ahead. These prospective ministers assured us that a critical part of the process of moving into a new ministry is living the experience of the search. I can tell you that we didn’t always want to hear that. It was frustrating and time-consuming and confusing to be in the in-between, as it always is. Here’s what I came away with, though.

I had struggled with the idea that, if we could only zoom out far enough, we could see why everything falls into place the way it does. One could look at our minister search as a series of conversations with people who needed to give us wisdom along the way, and that the time we spent searching was necessary in order to line up with the schedule of the one who is meant to show up with us. I don’t dismiss that view at all. And it is true that we gained great perspective and have arrived at a good moment with a great minister.

What I feel is more important is acknowledging that along the way, as we struggled, there were people out there — relative strangers — holding us and soothing us and rooting for us. Did we have to struggle to make it here? No, I don’t believe that was a necessary component to our experience. But because that’s the experience we got, I am thankful that God was there in form of other humans to show us love and support.

Maybe God was guiding us to work through the obstacle course that was our minister search, maybe not. Either way, I’m glad God was there, and I hope you felt it too. It’s like the entire Pilgrim community was living the footsteps in the sand story that winds up with just the one set: God’s. The search involved heavy lifting for sure, and it was uncomfortable for all involved. But, but we made it, thanks to lots of patience and hope during the past year.

There are more hiccups ahead, no doubt. But I thought everyone should know that there are people all over the country cheering us on. And that no matter what form the next phase of our journey takes, God’s got us. We are Pilgrims, after all; maybe it’s in the search itself that we find where we’re going.

— Kerry Williams is a member of the Minister Search Task Force
and serves as Vice Moderator for Pilgrim Church

May We See Them

by Dick Weaver

When we showed up again at Camp Mimanagish back in June, there was evidence of at least one deer making herself at home under the trees near our Gazebo. Having arrived a couple of days before Cathy and me, Dilynn and Jonna were sitting at the Gazebo when a whitetail doe actually approached and bedded down within 20 or 25 yards of them.

Lately, we’ve been visited in the early morning by two does and a spotted fawn.

These are whitetail deer, which are usually much more shy than the mulies that help trim the landscaping in people’s yards all over Helena. So it’s a bit surprising to see them so close. I suspect that the lack of human activity in Camp in 2020 made it a very comfortable and even safe place for these deer.

Whitetails are smaller than mule deer, and these seem particularly small and vulnerable. So if they feel safe in Camp, we’re glad for them.

The fawn seems like a late one, to me. Sometimes, if the whitetail does don’t breed successfully in October or November, their cycle comes around again and maybe they breed in January. I’m wondering if that’s the case here. I hope the little one is sturdy enough to survive whatever winter brings us. I can’t predict how things will work out, of course. We feel fortunate to have such gentle friends allowing us to share their space, but there is no guarantee that nature will see things my way.

The forest is a wonderful place to renew and refresh our souls. We hope we’re giving our human visitors the opportunity to do that. Amid the bustle and work of repairing things, helping fix meals, and doing the daily tasks before us, we do sometimes get the chance for renewal ourselves. Experiencing this part of God’s creation so up-close and personal, we do fall into routines and take the surroundings for granted. Having these whitetail friends visiting is a reminder to me, and a blessing, as well.

God and the works of God are all around us. May we see them.

Love, Power, and Serenity

by Connie Myslik-McFadden

For many years I have been a student and teacher of the Pathwork, a wonderfully spiritual approach to life and all the challenges we experience as human beings. The Pathwork teaches that we are all spiritual beings on a human path, a path that over many lifetimes leads to union with God, light, love. We are here on earth to learn and evolve. We are here to give our gifts.

Because we have been given free will as part of our nature, it can take a long time to learn what are wise choices and what gives us temporary pleasure with often unwanted consequences. Sometimes we repeat the same mistake many times before the negative consequence becomes so serious we finally wake up. Christ came to lead us out of the path of selfishness, greed, and cruelty, and into a path of love, gratitude, forgiveness, and humility. It is not an easy path. The Pathwork is one of the best ways I know to awaken to the truth of God’s love and the possibility of wholeness: the healing of body, mind, emotions, and spirit.

One of the issues that has come up many times in my psychotherapy practice is the frustration and pain that exists in a relationship in which one person tries with all her might to be loving only to experience rudeness, criticism, rejection, or worse. Often I hear “No matter how much love I give, it’s never enough.”

According to the Pathwork, there are three Higher Self qualities: Love, Power, and Serenity. These qualities exist in all human beings, but usually one or more of them is distorted unless and until we do the work of self-exploration and transformation. This is because we all have experiences, particularly in childhood, that teach us that only certain attitudes and behaviors are acceptable and will reward us with love and approval. Over time we develop a mask, or persona, that has some elements of our higher self but is really more ego based. In other words, we present ourselves to the world as we want to be seen. We develop an idealized self-image, and we hold to it as much as possible, while hiding our true feelings and motives. This is true of Love, Power, or Serenity. We all know people who appear very powerful to the exclusion of being loving or serene. Others appear unruffled no matter what the circumstance. In their pure state, Love, Power, and Serenity are beautiful qualities. In distortion, they create problems for ourselves and others.

For someone who develops a mask of love in childhood, the underlying motive is to be loved. The underlying belief is that “unless I am always generous, loving, good, I will not be loved. Therefore, no matter how I truly feel, I will be loving. Then I will be loved in return. If this means submitting to rude, unkind behavior, so be it.”

The problem with this is that there is, unconsciously, a demand to be loved. After all, if one is this good, this loving, one deserves to be rewarded in kind.

Unfortunately, humans being the way they are, reciprocal love isn’t always forthcoming. The distorted form of love, which is submission, doesn’t work. Then resentment and anger build, and sooner or later those not-so-loving feelings erupt. Often the end result is angry withdrawal from the relationship.

So is it possible to give too much? Yes. True love needs to come from a cup running over, a full heart. When we give too much, the cup is emptied, and we are left feeling depleted, angry, and resentful. When this happens, it’s a golden opportunity to search for any distortion in our expression of love and begin to balance the legitimate longing to have a loving relationship with the genuine power to speak the truth of our feelings. Then we can begin to make healthy changes to our distorted way of loving. The work of developing a relationship of mutual love and respect will take time, but in most cases it can be done, and it’s worth it.

— Connie Myslik-McFadden has been a Jungian-oriented psychotherapist
and writer for many years, and is a member of Pilgrim

The Naked Truth

by Tim Dolan

According to a 19th-century legend, the Truth and the Lie meet one day. The Lie says to the Truth: "It's a marvelous day today!” The Truth looks up to the skies and sighs, for the day was really beautiful. They spend a lot of time together, ultimately arriving beside a well. The Lie tells the Truth: "The water is very nice, let's take a bath together!" The Truth, once again suspicious, tests the water and discovers that it indeed is very nice. They undress and start bathing. Suddenly, the Lie comes out of the water, puts on the clothes of the Truth and runs away. The furious Truth comes out of the well and runs everywhere to find the Lie and to get her clothes back. The World, seeing the Truth naked, turns its gaze away, with contempt and rage.

The poor Truth returns to the well and disappears forever, hiding therein, its shame. Since then, the Lie travels around the world, dressed as the Truth, satisfying the needs of society, because, the World, in any case, harbors no wish at all to meet the naked Truth.

Doesn't this legend resonate in today's confused media climate? The birth of the Internet appeared to herald a time of free speech and open collaboration, not just of the great news networks, but of smaller voices of individuals. In the time of Corona our fear of personal and societal danger leaves many longing for one true voice and so we turn to corporate media giants to censor all but the consensus advocates. Initially this gave us some peace until these dominant voices begin to spout opposite assertions of truth.

Where are we to place our trust? Jesus said that “my kingdom is not of this world” and “Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth...” We prepare for the truth by opening our hearts in a spirit of devotion, receptivity, invitation to the Divine and in emptiness.

How to sort out truth from error? In the Gospel of Philip the metaphor of hidden roots is elaborated. “For as long as the root of evil is hidden, it is strong. But if it becomes known, it has dissolved. But it becomes visible, it has perished... As for us, let each one of us dig for the root of evil which is in him and let him pluck it out of his heart by its root. But it will be plucked out if we recognize it.”

What I take away from this is that when we simply open our awareness to ignorance and bring it into the light of consciousness it loses its power over us. Then the Gospel of Philip compares this exposing of the root also to Truth: “...they will be perfected when the whole truth is revealed. For the truth is like the ignorance: while it is hidden it rests within itself. But when it is revealed and recognized, it is glorified. Inasmuch as it is stronger than the ignorance and the error, it gives freedom. The Word said: 'If you know the truth, the truth will set you free.' Ignorance is a slave, knowledge is freedom. If we know the truth, we shall find the fruits of the truth in us. If we unite with it, it will receive our fulfillment.”

Ignorance dissolves in the light, while truth is glorified. In the Biblical sense glorified means enlivened with the indwelling Christ.

These words are meant to lead us to warm contemplation and open communication internally with the Holy Spirit and outwardly with one another.

— Tim Dolan is chair of Pilgrim’s Spiritual Life Committee