New Age Stuff

Three years ago, when I was excitedly beginning the part of my journey living much of the year in northern New Mexico, a couple of older fellow Episcopalians—both educated and experienced—gave voice to their perceptions of the spiritual reputation of Santa Fe. After we finished lunch (they were in Santa Fe to visit her brother), she advised, “Don’t let yourself get caught up in any of this new age stuff.” Or something like that. I don’t think she said ,“woo-woo”. I think about this once in a while, especially since I decided a year ago that the church-going path I was on at the time, and had been for most of my adult life, was just not resonating for me.

There had been times along the way that I got caught up in moments of my religious and worship journey, but something clearly was missing from the spin I was putting on how all of this mattered to my life. I don’t think I had ever been unclear on what I consider the heart of the message of the man from whom the whole Christian epic began 2000 years ago. But what to do with this message was for me incomplete and tampered with. Such is the lot of many Christians for these two millennia since Jesus of Nazareth walked this earth.

This past week I had an opportunity to hear Episcopal Bishop Gene Robinson deliver a sermon here in Texas. When I saw that he was going to be in Dallas, I immediately seized the idea of driving the 165 miles to hear him, although I didn’t know he was preaching. I thought he would be talking on his memoir. But it was a church service, although not in the Episcopal Church, fully complemented with an orchestra, chorus, featured vocal ensemble, communion, readings from the scriptures and sermon—and two collections of offerings.

In fairness to the circumstances and the sermon, I was more than a little excited to hear Bishop Robinson, and though his sermon centered on the importance of gay and lesbian folk claiming their rightful place among God’s own, it was a sermon. As I make baby steps toward growing beyond the standard message of much of the Christian tradition, that of sin and redemption, that of how we fall short, and move into the true message of Jesus, the great teacher, healer and mystic—a message centered on love, worthiness and equality in God’s eyes—I find it harder and harder to sit for the message that I’ve heard all of these years. When it came time for communion, I had retreated to the back of the worship space and stood next to one of the large limestone pillars that mark the entrance to the seating area. Do I go for communion, I asked myself. If I do, what does it mean? Am I compromising where I find myself trying to walk these days—not judging, not feeling unworthy, not feeling wrong and fallen short? Although the confession which I have been accustomed to for four decades was not part of this worship, we were reminded that evening that we are all equally unworthy in God’s eyes.

“Almighty God,
Father of our Lord Jesus Christ,
maker of all things, judge of all men:
We acknowledge and bewail our manifold sins and wickedness,
which we from time to time most grievously have committed,
by thought, word, and deed, against thy divine Majesty,
provoking most justly thy wrath and indignation against us.
We do earnestly repent,
and are heartily sorry for these our misdoings;
the remembrance of them is grievous unto us,
the burden of them is intolerable.
Have mercy upon us,
have mercy upon us, most merciful Father;
for thy Son our Lord Jesus Christ’s sake,
forgive us all that is past;
and grant that we may ever hereafter
serve and please thee in newness of life,
to the honor and glory of thy Name;
through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.” (“Book of Common Prayer,” Rite I)

I’ve been learning a new message over the last year—that we are all worthy in God’s eyes, that we are all loved equally by God, that we are all expressions of God, of the Divine, the Spirit. I am learning that the world is abundant—even though through the manipulation of human kind heart-breaking deprivation exists all over the world, including here in America where wealth achieves mind boggling and disgusting statistics. While it remains hard for me to say that I am god, even though I trust that the one God, the Divine, the Spirit, dwells in me, even though I know that God is in everyone and everything, I am learning. To be reminded, as I was last Wednesday night, that in the traditional Christian view we are all equally unworthy—regardless of our sexuality, race, intelligence, economic birthright or achievement—seems more and more irrelevant to me.

The teachable moment is always at hand for each of us. A few years ago I attended a worship service at the Episcopal Cathedral in Houston. The young priest preaching that day talked about the work and writing of Verna Dozier, who at the time was in her 80s. An African American, Ms. Dozier was retired from a long, accomplished career as a public school teacher. For many years she had been an active leader in the Episcopal Church. What the priest spoke about was from Ms. Dozier’s book, “The Dream of God.” The message from Verna Dozier: Do you want to follow Jesus? Or, or you just content to worship him? In her eyes, the church chose centuries ago to worship Jesus, rather than to follow his teachings. We can all do our own homework about that history.

Each time I go to the center in Santa Fe where I meet with others for spiritual nurturing and growth, my God consciousness increases. Each time I hear from the podium about our relationship with God, the Divine, the Spirit, I smile. Each Wednesday night, we sing the words:

“I am an expression of the spirit, of the spirit
A beautiful expression of the spirit, of the spirit
Magnificent expression of the spirit, of the spirit

A unique, un-repeatable expression of God”
(Robert D. Anderson)

As much as I love all of the traditional hymns I have sung in worship over the years, oh, how I prefer to hear—rather than that I am an unworthy wretch who has been saved—I prefer to hear that “I am free, I am free/Everyday of my life, I am free-free-free-free-free. I am love, I am love/Every day of my life, I am love-love-love-love-love. I am blessed, I am blessed/Everyday of my life, I am blessed-blessed-blessed-blessed-blessed. When I wake up in the morning, ‘til I lay my head to rest, I am blessed, I am blessed.” In spite of my ego that gets in the way oh so often, I stand in gratitude knowing that I am an expression of the Divine, and that sometimes I even measure up to the responsibility that goes along with that expression. Even at my worst, I am worthy.

New Age Stuff—Normangee, Texas (March 28, 2010)
R. Harold Hollis