FLOWERS & FREEDOM: A Story of Our Faith

THE FLOWER COMMUNION: A Story of Our Faith

June 3, 2012

SUNFLOWER SUTRA (excerpted)

I walked on the banks of the tincan banana dock and

    sat down under the huge shade of a Southern

    Pacific locomotive to look at the sunset over the

    box house hills and cry.

Jack Kerouac sat beside me on a busted rusty iron

    pole, companion, we thought the same thoughts

    of the soul, bleak and blue and sad-eyed,

    surrounded by the gnarled steel roots of trees of

    machinery.

The oily water on the river mirrored the red sky, sun

    sank on top of final Frisco peaks, no fish in that

    stream, no hermit in those mounts, just ourselves

    rheumy-eyed and hungover like old bums

    on the riverbank, tired and wily.

Look at the Sunflower, he said, there was a dead gray

    shadow against the sky, big as a man, sitting

    dry on top of a pile of ancient sawdust—

….Poor dead flower? when did you forget you were a

    flower? when did you look at your skin and

    decide you were an impotent dirty old locomotive?

    the ghost of a locomotive? the specter and

    shade of a once powerful mad American locomotive?

--We're not our skin of grime, we're not our dread

    bleak dusty imageless locomotive, we're all

    beautiful golden sunflowers inside, we're blessed

    by our own seed & golden hairy naked

    accomplishment-bodies growing into mad black

    formal sunflowers in the sunset, spied on by our

    eyes under the shadow of the mad locomotive

    riverbank sunset Frisco hilly tincan evening

    sitdown vision.

Alan Ginsburg.

This day, June 3, in 1870, Norbet Capek was born in Bohemia. Capek is known to Unitarians world-wide as the one who introduced the flower communion to us and the composer of over 90 hymns, as well as the founder of the Unitarian movement in Czechoslovakia, a movement the numbered over 8,000 members in his day!

How did he do it? Through LOVE & TRUTH.

After all these years of leading one of our own Unitarian rituals, the Flower Communion, I discovered I’ve been doing it wrong.  We’ve been doing it wrong, and I’m guessing 99.9 % of UU congregations have been too. 

Actually, it was in about 2000 that a letter, written by Norbert Capek’s widow, was circulated among UU clergy, a letter that stressed the importance of making the Flower Communion replace Easter traditions. 

"Delighted to hear that there are intentions of releasing a pamphlet on the Flower Communion. While I do not care what and how the individual churches perform this service, as I told before, I was a bit dismayed recently over the fact that some churches (the San Francisco one included) use it as a substitute for Easter or any other myth. Norbert never meant it to be this nor was it ever and is not to this day held at Easter. Čapek's only motivation was to stress and bring about BROTHERHOOD. As a symbol he used flowers because in the name of a floweror flowers no wars were waged as was the case with the Cross or the Chalice. The flowers are used as symbols of the gifts which each person can make to the church and through the church to other persons. Because of the large variety each person is able to express his individuality. The exchange of flowers means that I shall walk, without reservation, with anyone - regardless of his social status, or his former religious affiliation, as long as he is ready and willing to go along in search of truth and service to man."

When I heard about this letter, I encouraged this church to move our Flower Communion to the early weeks of summer ~~ even though our church does not disband for the summer, we do take a breath from the relentless pace of church year activity~~ and the church agreed!

But I didn’t read far enough. Capek, who introduced the Flower Communion in 1923, in his congregation in Prague, was the founder and promulgator of the Unitarian Church in what was called Bohemia when he was born, then Czechoslovakia, now Czech Republic. He wanted the ex-Catholics and former Jews in his congregation to have a ritual which would give them everything ritual does: symbolism, hope, a larger purpose, but would not remind them too closely of those former rituals, like bread and wine, with which they had grown uncomfortable.

But Capek also encouraged the members of the congregation to choose any flower as they left, "just as it comes without making any distinction where it came from and whom it represents, to confess that we accept each other as brothers and sisters without regard to class, race, or other distinction, acknowledging everybody as our friend who is human and wants to be good."

This is a Humanist ritual.

Today I suggest we shift our ritual a bit to incorporate that part, perhaps the most important part of all. What I see too often is that we do the first part well: celebrating the bouquet of diversity, but we are way too picky and discriminating about which “flowers” we take home, eschewing those who aren’t like us: poor people, working class people, uneducated (but not necessarily unintelligent) people, Hillbilles, rednecks, the gypsies among us, Republicans.

It is the great challenge of this faith to practice, over and over, the flower communion in our hearts and minds. To challenge ourselves to accept and walk beside all of our fellow humans, with one small exception.

·        

We don’t have to accept without question Nazis, KKK members, God Hates Fags sign holders, or any stripe of people who abuse, or perpetrate injustice upon the weak and innocent, especially children. As Capek even said, 

 "...as long as he is ready and willing to go along in search of truth and service to man

·        who is human and wants to be good..."

It is written that Capek’s faith was a “sun-drenched, pre-Holocaust faith…” There is evidence that even when he was arrested after preaching one Sunday in Prague in spite of Nazis standing in the back of his congregation, then tried and sent to Dachau as an invalid age 72, he led church services among his fellow victims, sand and composed hymns, and kept alive some vestige of faith and hope even in that most evil and despicable of environments. 

What he said that Sunday in 1942 was this:

We all know that this is the worst winter in our history and the ground is terribly frozen. We also know that the Spring must come, and the seeds now buried will sprout and bloom again.

The Nazis saw through the symbolism … it was not winter, after all, but early Spring…. And the next morning at 6AM he was arrested at his home. His death was a horrible one in the gas chambers and he was, furthermore, a victim of the dreadful medical experiments performed at Dachau.

It is said by liberal Christians that you cannot have the resurrection without the crucifixion. What that means is that a faith not tempered and earned by devotion in spite of hardships is no true faith. It is no more significant than a belief in fairies or a Pollyanna –ish optimism that denies the very real presence of evil and violence and despair. You can’t have LOVE without TRUTH.

A shallow faith is Mac Donald’s compared with the slow food meal of organic produced cultivated locally. It is a bouquet of plastic flowers or roses grown on mega-farms in Columbia by workers paid $39 a month, compared with locally grown seasonal wildflowers. It has no roots and it will not make any difference in the world or in your own soul. 

Our movement (NOT our faith) has two major weaknesses. It is, like much liberal thought, too complacent and somewhat too optimistic. It does not call evil when it sees it. It practices a sham of love, a love without discernment or truth. 

At the same time, liberal movements are too insular. We can be self-congratulatory and and elitist, and in our isolation, fail to see our true interconnectedness. That’s truth without love.

 symbol of the Prague church

Subscribing to no theological system, Norbert Capek celebrated the "hidden cry for harmony with the Infinite" in every soul. "Every person," he wrote, "is an embodiment of God and in every one of us God struggles for higher expression." "Religion," he said, "can never die because human beings. . . cannot but be religious regardless of the form of [their] religion." Religion should, before all else, provide that "inner harmony which is the precondition of strong character, good health, joyful moods and victorious, creative life."

"It is my ideal," he wrote, "that unitarian religion in our country should mean a higher culture. . . new attitudes toward life and practically a new race. . . . In short, unitarian religion should mean the next advanced cultural level of a certain people." The church's task, he felt,"must be to place truth above any tradition, spirit above any scripture, freedom above authority, and progress above all reaction."

Capek himself points to both of these challenges we face, as a congregation, as a movement, as liberal people in an increasingly fear-driven world. 

The first: to continue to celebrate all that IS  good in humanity and the world. That’s LOVE.

The second: to face and speak the truth, fearlessly, freely, and sometimes forcibly. That’s TRUTH.

The flower that symbolized the Unitarian Church in Prague was the sunflower. Of course, Capek did not survive to read Ginsburg’s poem, The Sunflower Sutra, written in 1955. But especially given what we  must call a post-Holocaust, post-September 11^th, faith, I think he might have approved. For Ginsburg names in his poem, literally and symbolically, all of the things that dirty the sunflower: greed, exploitation, inhumanity, waste and destruction. Still he sees with delight that the sunflower stood its ground through all of these. A kind of victory.

The motto of the church was Veritas Vincit. Truth is victorious. It was changed to Latin from Czech to fool the Nazis, but it has been the deep core of our religion since Servetus was burned at the stake, and even today when we stand for immigrants, against bullying, when this church hosts a WomanPriest ordination or the first Gay Pride prom, and whenever we act with clarity and love TEMPERED with TRUTH.

This is our challenge.. may we meet it, individually and collectively, with joy and hope.

Famous and Infamous Mothers

5/13/12

Who is the most famous Mother in our culture? The most iconic.. the one portrayed always giving to her son selflessly, a vessel for his birth and nurture, even as he grew older, sacrificing all for his well-being?

No, I am not talking about the breastfeeding mom on the cover of Time magazine!

I am referring to Mother Mary, the one who lived and breathed only for her son, according to the gospels, and to Christian legend and doctrine. 

Although far more revered and even worshiped in Catholicism, she is “there” in our culture as a standard that even until present times haunts women. 

 I just heard a woman tell me the other day, a woman younger than me, that her Catholicism made her feel obligated to stay with a husband she knew was dangerous to her, until finally he tried unsuccessfully to kill her by stabbing her five times in front of her sons, then 2 and 4. Extreme?  Maybe.. but the troubling arc of the story is a core of the motherhood issue in the West.

One of the most excoriated mothers, in fact one of the most hated people on the planet, was Madelyn Murray O’Hair, the founder of American Atheists, who famously disowned her younger son, William, before she, her son Jon and her granddaughter were all kidnapped and murdered violently. O’Hair was not   a sweet lady.  Of her son, who had become a Christian fundamentalist, she said: 

 "One could call this a postnatal abortion on the part of a mother, I guess; I repudiate him entirely and completely for now and all times...he is beyond human forgiveness."

Her son, who is a Baptist preacher and head of Religious Freedom Coalition, a conservative organization, wrote My Life as an Atheist, and said of his mother: "I used to ask people to pray for my mother's salvation. I don't do that anymore…. My mother was an evil person."

Somewhere in between these extremes is Viola Liuzzo, Unitarian and mother of 5 who became a martyr in the Civil Rights era when she was killed by KKK members while transporting marchers from Montgomery to Selma.  She was excoriated during the years that followed, not because she was not a loving mother, but because she left her young kids at home with her husband and risked her life, putting a cause above her family.

Liuzzo is fascinating. Even during my early years in the UU church, when I read and heard about her, it was with the implication that she had just impulsively run off to Selma to get involved, rather recklessly driving for three days to get there. But, looking more carefully at her story, she had been a civil rights activist in the making since childhood, when she lived in the segregated south and witnessed first-hand the injustices dealt to African Americans. Her best friend in Detroit was a Black woman. She had found and joined the Unitarian Church there a year before her death, because it fit both her theology and her social justice beliefs.

A friend said of her:

"Viola Liuzzo lived a life that combined the care of her family and her home with a concern for the world around her. This involvement with her times was not always understood by her friends; nor was it appreciated by those around her."

As I look over the lists of Unitarian and Universalist women who were major contributors to the cultural, theological, and even scientific evolution of society, I am struck by how few of them had children at all, or, of those who did, how late in life they gave birth.

Poet May Sarton, Red Cross founder Clara Barton, Astronomer Maria Mitchell, writer Louisa May Alcott, kindergarten and education activist, Elizabeth Palmer Peabody, first Unitarian woman ordained, Celia Burleigh, even suffragist Susan B. Anthony … none had children.

Mary Wollstencraft (Vindication of the Rights of Women) had two very late (the first illegitimate), and died after giving birth to her second daughter at almost age 40, a daughter who became Mary Shelley. Margaret Fuller, Transcendentalist, early feminist, and editor of the Dial, also perished along with her infant son, at age forty. Even without children almost all of these women were questioned or criticized for not following the expected path of womanhood.

Julia Ward Howe gave birth to six children, and still managed to write extensively, poetry, essays, and both The Battle Hymn of the Republic and the Mothers’ Day Proclamation of 1870.

 But her accomplishments were done in spite of a husband who thwarted her at every turn. Of her husband, she said: "I have been married twenty years today. In the course of that time I have never known my husband to approve of any act of mine which I myself valued. Books—poems—essays—everything has been contemptible in his eyes because not his way of doing things. . . . I am much grieved and disconcerted."

Although she tried to leave him, he insisted on keeping two of their children, at which point she wrote:

"his dream was to marry again—some young girl who would love him supremely. . . . I thought it my real duty to give up every thing that was dear and sacred to me, rather than be forced to leave two of my children. . . . I made the greatest sacrifice I can ever be called upon to make."

Olympia Brown, the first female minister (Universalist) did have children. But she also had a husband who encouraged and supported her work. Even so, Olympia Brown, whose husband “shared in all my endeavors,” still received criticism from her church in Bridgeport, CT after giving birth:

During her maternity leave for her first child, a faction at the Bridgeport church started agitating to terminate her ministry. As she writes in her autobiography: "although (or because) my parish gave me a vote of endorsement passed by a large majority, these enemies continued....calling in ministers from neighboring churches...promulgating the doctrine, 'what you need here is a good man.’

She resigned the following year, but lived on to serve very successful ministry in Racine, WI and to be a prominent leader in Women’s Suffrage. She was one of the few who lived to see suffrage passed and to vote for the first time at age 85.

Celia Burleigh’s husband urged her to enter the ministry.

"Unitarian as I am, I am yet a devout believer in a trinity, a trinity consisting of God, woman and man, and that the cooperation of these three is essential to the salvation of the race. I believe in love as the one vital force of the world, and that by means of love, acting through the souls of men and women, the world is to be saved."

What is most remarkable is how little motherhood and feminism have progressed since these early Unitarian and Universalist women fought for the rights of women, children, the poor, abolition of slavery, to end domestic abuse and to gain the vote.

From Vindication… 1792: Wollstonecraft states that currently many women are silly and superficial (she refers to them, for example, as "spaniels" and "toys) … she writes: "Taught from their infancy that beauty is woman's sceptre, the mind shapes itself to the body, and, roaming round its gilt cage, only seeks to adorn its prison."[83] She implies that, without the encouragement young women receive from an early age to focus their attention on beauty and outward accomplishments, women could achieve much more.

How far have we evolved? Yes, it’s true that women are “free” to pursue careers, but increasingly I see and hear a tension between successful working women, stay at home mothers, and working moms who feel they have no choice. Are we happier?  Are we free? It is as if industrialization, commercialism, and the downward spiral of our economy have created a monster, taken us back to the dualism where we feel that as mothers we must either be the Virgin Mary, Madelyn O’Hair, or torn in-between like Viola Liuzzo. That’s to say nothing of women who choose not to have children or who are not biological mothers, and who, although they may have more freedom and flexibility, always remain slightly suspect.

Some recent books have explored this philosophical dilemma; among them is French intellectual and mother of three Elizabeth Badinter’s latest, The Conflict,  just released in English. Badinter, who has nothing but condescension  for what she calls postfeminist mothering, writes:

“The reverence for all things natural glorifies an old concept of the maternal instinct and applauds masochism and sacrifice, constituting a supreme threat to women’s emancipation and sexual equality.”

She refers to La Leche League women in America as the “ayatollahs of breastfeeding.” I look forward to her take on the Time cover. She argues for a kind of part-time parenting, almost a throwback to wet nurses and children being reared by caregivers, but note that she is one of the fifty wealthiest individuals in France, so perhaps a bit out of touch.

In fact, I think part-time parenting is what we have been trying for about the past twenty years, and I am not sure it’s working. If American children are the result, it’s not. They are overweight, troubled, doing poorly at school, diagnosed and drugged as elementary students, and increasingly lost and troubled as adults.

The jury is out on whether parenting differently, either more or less, might have altered this in any way, but one thing’s certain. Apple pie ain’t what it used to be, and motherhood ain’t either. That’s why I thoroughly enjoyed reading Anne Lamott’s article, Why I Hate Mothers’ Day. 

Mothering has been the richest experience of my life, but I am still opposed to Mother’s Day. It perpetuates the dangerous idea that all parents are somehow superior to non-parents. (Meanwhile, we know the worst, skeeviest, most evil people in the world are CEOs and politicians who are proud parents.)

Don’t get me wrong: There were times I could have literally died of love for my son, and I’ve felt stoned on his rich, desperate love for me. But I bristle at the whispered lie that you can know this level of love and self-sacrifice only if you are a parent. We talk about “loving one’s child” as if a child were a mystical unicorn. Ninety-eight percent of American parents secretly feel that if you have not had and raised a child, your capacity for love is somehow diminished. Ninety-eight percent of American parents secretly believe that non-parents cannot possibly know what it is to love unconditionally, to be selfless, to put yourself at risk for the gravest loss. But in my experience, it’s parents who are prone to exhibit terrible self-satisfaction and selfishness, who can raise children as adjuncts, like rooms added on in a remodel. Their children’s value and achievements in the world are reflected glory, necessary for these parents’ self-esteem, and sometimes, for the family’s survival. This is how children’s souls are destroyed. (Anne Lamott)

I don’t hate Mother’s Day, but my feelings about it have changed. Now that I have a son who is not my biological child, I see that love is not the province of biology, that women and men can do well what has been called “mothering,” and that what really matters is care and compassion for one another, not genetics. I see that people can love one another regardless of any biological ties or duties and that that the accident of reproduction does not automatically provide happy-ever-after. 

It is this love, the ever-expanding love of humanity, the love that does not cling or demand but sets free, allows, encourages, and honors, that will take us forward as humans. And all beings have access to that love.

 "During the first two thirds of my life," Howe recalled, "I looked to the masculine idea of character as the only true one. I sought its inspiration, and referred my merits and demerits to its judicial verdict. . . . The new domain now made clear to me was that of true womanhood—woman no longer in her ancillary relation to her opposite, man, but in her direct relation to the divine plan and purpose, as a free agent, fully sharing with man every human right and every human responsibility. This discovery was like the addition of a new continent to the map of the world, or of a new testament to the old ordinances."

YOU REAP WHAT YOU SOW

            I never really believed in Hell, but had I been taught that hell was real from childhood, I would no doubt have believed in it for some period of time.

          

            I am probably more of an ethicist than a theologian.. my quest is not so much for answers about the great mysteries, which I am happy to leave in the realm of mystery, but for answers to the questions of how we humans can live, with more dignity, more integrity, and perhaps most importantly, more JOY.

            This is not a homily about the afterlife. To the extent I believe in or even think about an afterlife, I agree with Bishop Spong: what I call God is the human experience of expansive and expanding love, and to enter into eternity is to enter into this love without fetters.  (Spong, Eternal Life) It is also truth. The eternal is available to us in this lifetime, and while it can never be fully articulated or scientifically proven, those who touch the mystery through experience  will know it exists. I do not have to know whether or not there is anything more for me after my own personal existence. This life, lived fully, is enough. To count on more is a kind of greed I cannot  participate in.

            Still, humans appear to be driven by greed. That greed appears to extend even to the refusal to let go of life; hence, the vast popularity of religions and expressions of faith that focus upon and promise something “more” and “better.”

Whether you understand it as Darwin did, survival of the fittest, or Richard Dawkins, “the selfish gene,” or as Eastern religions do, “grasping, tanha, addiction,” there is no denying the greed that lurks within each of us and also in groups and institutions. Indeed, to deny it within you is to doom yourself to Hell on earth, the hell of living in delusion.

                        The Universalist faith, of which most of us profess to be a part, was founded upon just this issue. Early Universalists, among them Ballou and Thayer, as well as Unitarians like Emerson, rejected a Calvinism that proposed a God who would relegate a large number of his followers to eternal damnation. Placing themselves in a tradition with Origen, 3^rd century theologian who taught a form of universal salvation but was displaced theologically by Augustine from whose teachings damnation, original sin, and partial election were largely derived, these men & women risked censure and scorn for standing up to the widely prevailing doctrines of Calvinism during a time when the Great Awakening was making them ever more widespread. According to Hosea Ballou, “hell was not  a place of punishment but a state of rebellion against god and against the unity of humans and God. Heaven is the accomplishment of that unity. To argue for endless punishment would be to argue for a permanent division in the fabric of the cosmos, a dualism so monstrous that it would rout any claims on the omnipotence of God."  (Robinson,  The Unitarians and the Universalists, 65)

            Thomas B. Thayer wrote that the whole doctrine of eternal damnation was a pagan corruption of Christianity, based as it was upon Egyptian  and other Eastern metaphysical schemes. But it was Thomas Whittemore who in the Plain Guide to Universalism,  described Universalism as the religion of “Those who believe in the eventual holiness and happiness of all the human race as revealed to the world in the gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ.” (Robinson, 71)

To Whittemore, sin is itself Hell, which “is not delayed until future existence… but is swift, sure, and inevitable.” (72)

            And Emerson, who went farther than Ballou and the Universalists who remained committed to Biblical truths, wrote in Compensation, “you cannot do wrong without suffering wrong.”

            As Spong counsels, it is only Fundamentalism that today claims to have the inerrant truth about matters like God, death, and Heaven & Hell . Mainstream religion and virtually all thinking people have moved beyond biblical literal interpretations. Universalism would not thrive today as it did in its heyday because it has become a part of moderate orthodox faith.

            So it is really just the courage to say what everybody already knows when Spong declares that Hell was created by religion to instill fear. He turns to Meister Eckhart and the mystics to demonstrate that some have always recognized the oneness of God & man and the artificial nature of religious institutions, which he says were meant to “control life in the here and now” with its “weapons of hate and fear.” The real question is: can humans behave well without an external system of reward and punishment? We seem to require laws and criminal justice, flawed though it is. I doubt many of us would choose to live in anarchy. But could it be that it is precisely the acceptance of a “monstrous dualism” in our faith tradition(s) that keeps us from re-imagining humanity and re-inventing our human communities in ways that promote peace, justice, harmony, and joy?

            To explain, let me turn to a gardening metaphor:

Whenever I mention the word “organic” in relation to church life, organization, or faith development, a few people cringe, because to them, organic is all about messy, disorganized, and perhaps even chaotic.

Yet the reality of organic farming suggests something quite distinct.

And I think it can tell us a great deal about how we live, now and forever, if there is a forever.

Soil is the key. One does not plant things that aren’t suited to the soil. One works with, not against or in spite of, the given conditions. Just as inorganic farming has led to disastrous effects upon the environment and people, so can forcing and twisting solutions and external controls lead to toxic and poisonous effects upon humanity. What I mean by that is that our modern age of depression, drugs for every malady, addiction, consumption, and the virtual 1984 control of thought and action through electronic means is an evil that all of us participated in and still participate in every time we shop, watch certain TV shows, and ingest certain substances. We ignore the soil of our lives, and the punishments are already here, manifold and manifest.

Second, once planted, seeds require careful cultivation. Most of us do not want to get dirty enough to tend our own spiritual gardens. Just as it is easier to spray poison on plants and to engineer plants to resist disease, so we humans find it easier to attend drive-through churches, read self-help manifestos, and take pills than to dig deep into the soil of our own lives, our own experience, our own self-awareness. The latter can be painful. It ought not be done in solitude. It is risky; there will be loss. Everyone who gardens knows that organic farming has its risks.

We really do reap what we sow. A harvest that is bountiful, tastes like real food, and is healthful both for the individual and for the environment, now and in the future is the result of patience, care, and “affection.”

So it is with organic living and organic faith. Working with, not against, the resources we have, we live moment to moment, cultivating truth, awareness, patience, and most of all, generosity.

As Spong states, Every act, individual or corporate, must be judged as right or wrong based solely upon whether it enhances or diminishes the life of another. If my action diminishes another, it also diminishes me. A diminished life is never the place where holiness will be found. Diminished lives will never be loving lives. (Eternal Life, 162)

Spong argues convincingly that Christianity (that corporate entity we might equate metaphorically with factory farming or GMO farming) must “change or die.” I would expand that to say the entire realm we call “faith,” religion, spirituality must evolve.. in some ways, even take a step back to its former iteration in which Nature and humanity were closely aligned, just as farming must step back while maintaining awareness of the present.

But what about disasters: the potato famine? Tornados? A late freeze? All the blights and misfortunes that destroy crops and thwart harvests? It is the same question in Theology: How do we explain tragedy, torture, terrorism of man and nature? 

I believe we must accept these mysteries as part of the bargain that was made for us when we entered this earthly existence. Bad things happen; in organic faith &/ life as in organic gardening, accepting this is essential. I recall a conversation I had with an Irish farmer who is mostly progressive but did not buy the European aversion to genetically-modified crops. “Look at the potato,” he said, and being in Ireland, immersed in that history of grief and loss, I understood. Still, it was equally clear to me that had the potato famine not occurred, the world would be vastly different in ways we could not even imagine. For it is the diaspora of Ireland that has brought untold beauty, wisdom, and talent to our shores and to the world. Not the least of which: JF Kennedy, Wendell Berry, and Barack Obama!

That doesn’t make the potato famine a good thing; it simply means that we can not hope to know what beauties can be born of even terrible tragedies and it is only ours to avoid them within the bounds of human dignity and humanity.

 

Evil is not always its own punishment and good does not always guarantee immediate reward. There is if you will, no such thing as instant karma. There is a random and arbitrary quality to life. But there is also order, mystery, and immense beauty.  We really choose between Heaven and Hell every day, every second, when we choose gratitude and hope over despair and misery.  AMEN