Witnessing to the Spirit:
Reflections on An Emerging American Spirituality
Miriam Therese Winter
Chapter six from the book September 11: Religious Perspectives on the Causes and Consequences (2002), edited by Ian Markham and Ibrahim M. Abu-Rabi', reprinted with permission from Oneworld Publications.
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September 11, 2001. It began like any other day as the sun moved resolutely westward across the American landscape, but it was in reality a day without precedent in the history of our nation. Well before midmorning, thousands of lives were suddenly hurled from here into eternity. Our flesh and blood, our unfulfilled hopes, our best laid plans went up in smoke as towering infernos and flaming fields turned vital shards of the American dream into dust and ashes. It was a harrowing moment, a moment of mourning, of terror and tears, of sorrow and anger and disbelief. At the same time it was a turning point in the heart of a pioneering people. Despite theological ambiguities concerning God and good and evil unleashed in the conflagration, many of us knew instinctively that we who had come this far by faith1 would somehow muddle through it, that God, in Whom we trust, in Whom we live and move and have our being, did not bring us this far just to leave us. This defining moment for people of faith saw the spirit of America rise up like a phoenix from the ashes, cohesive and compassionate and determined to begin again.
What follows is a focused reflection on the implications of this catastrophe while the wound is still raw within us. From the perspective of spirit and spirituality, an attempt will be made to uncover what might serve as a light to our path as we move forward into the future. To do this it will be necessary to situate September 11 within a much wider context, seeing it momentarily not only at the epicenter of American concern, but as part of a global reality that exists within an expanding universe that has a lengthy relationship with galaxies beyond our own. A brief consideration of the value and the limits of organized religion in a time of national crisis will prepare the way for positing the importance of a distinctively American spirituality. Further analysis will show that such a spirituality is emerging and that this rudimentary phenomenon, which manifested itself prior to the events of September 11, has come of age within them.
Two primary convictions underlie these reflections on an emerging American spirituality, namely, that such a channeling of the American spirit in ways that unify is a legitimate and inclusive means of filling the current void caused by legislative curtailment of the sacred within our public sphere; and that a nation founded on principles that honor diversity and plurality can find within its rich and multifaceted collective consciousness appropriate elements for a meaningful response to events of significance.
The World of the Twenty-first Century
When the first astronauts soared into space and orbited our planet, they saw with their own eyes what mystics have intuited and scientists are discovering, that in essence there are no boundaries. Earth from a distance gives no indication of geographical borders, no lines of demarcation that apportion and divide. The stunning blue orb adrift in space that so transfixed the explorers continues to symbolize the impossible dream of one unsegregated world.
That image is visual reminder of a time long before recorded time when the continents of Earth were joined together and its waters intermingled, a period billions of years before the evolution of the human species and the advent of civilizations with all of their complexity and differentiation.2 Humanity’s expansion from tribe to village to urban setting to urban metropolis and into the modern era’s global societies gives our twenty-first century world historically unique characteristics. Now nations are at once connected to and yet disconnected from one another, largely by means of socio-political/economic realities and the technological omnipresence of the internet’s worldwide web. Conflicting currents of globalization increasingly traverse our planet, promoting a future that is said to be beneficial to all. Such claims carry within them the confluence of an overwhelming number of diverse experiences and unrealized expectations, raising hopes that almost always crumble of their own accord. Within this vortex the violent events of September 11 took sinister shape and spewed forth with venomous fury. From the same wellspring, however, also poured forth an avalanche of life-giving response. Our twenty-first century world is one in which good and evil, life and death, those that have enough and more than enough and those that are deprived live in close proximity, no matter how far apart. An axiom of our present era can surely be stated this way: how we live as individuals, what we do as a society, is bound to affect us all.3
This snapshot of the world today is not the total picture. If all we knew of our world were limited to what we could see from where we stand with feet firmly planted, we would know little of who we are and are capable of becoming. There is so much more to reality than what is visible to the eye. Beyond the horizons, beneath the surface, within the core of all that exists are unseen forces shaping our world in ways that challenge our assumptions and our priorities, inviting us to reconsider our physical world from the inside out. It may sound as though this reflection has slid into the realm of spirituality, but for the moment, it has not. What follows is strictly scientific.
Science has made a significant contribution to our knowledge of the origins of life, the nature of the universe and its unfolding story, and the inner reality and interrelationship of all life forms on our planet. The following aspects of quantum theory, rooted in quantum physics, have particular relevance here.
On the quantum or subatomic level at the core of all that is, where the fundamental elements of life remain invisible to the naked eye, nothing is fixed or static. All is in flux. Anything is possible. There is unlimited potential to change. Particles of energy constantly move in and out of relationship, manifesting potential as this or that and carrying within them the memory of what was made manifest. Waves of energy, packets of potential, comprise a variety of energy fields that fill the space within us and beyond us and throughout what was once thought to be the cosmic void, forming an invisible web of interconnectedness. Chaos, not control, is a basic principle, for what unfolds is unpredictable, yet chaos does not mean out of control, for that which exists contains within itself the ability to order and renew itself and to achieve a transformation. The most minute disturbance can trigger a systemic response that may prove to be beneficial. A local change can influence the whole and have impact at a distance because of a fundamental interrelationship and innerconnectedness.4
The scientific perspective of the inner workings of ourselves and the world around us suggests some vital linkages to the conversation at hand. It may require a quantum leap for some to perceive the connections between scientific theory and an emerging American spirituality, but the relationship is crystal clear. Conversations on the relevance of the new science to spirituality and attempts to articulate a quantum theology are already well underway.5 It is here that spirit and spirituality experience an energizing transformation with the potential to radiate out and into the hearts of the American people, a point that will be developed more fully later on.
Individual and systemic behaviors and beliefs are integrally related to how we view and understand our world. We have seen how the world around us has changed and is continually changing. Before proceeding to the specifics of an American spirituality, it is necessary to reflect briefly on religion, and more directly, religion in America, which is such a significant presence in so many of our lives.
Religion and Societies
From the dawn of civilization, individuals have responded collectively to manifestations of the sacred in a manner that bound them together and set them apart as a group. In diverse ways and in various settings, experience and interpretations of experience were codified over time in rites and creeds and canons. Lives were ordered according to precepts supporting mythological expectations, and shared convictions were periodically expressed in symbolic and ritual forms.6
Religion has played a central role in the evolution of civilizations, the shaping of societies, and the transmission of cultural values. It has been morally and ethically central to the way humans have behaved. From generation to generation, religion has brought out the best in us, at times evoking, at other times mandating concern for one another through specified services to those who are in need. On the other hand, it has also given rise to the worst in us, spawning all manner of confrontation and less than civil behavior. Religious wars have been among the bloodiest and most brutal in human history. Countless lives have been sacrificed on the altars of religion while invoking one of the many names humanity has for God. Nevertheless, it would be hard to conceive of society without religion, for its capacity to contribute to the good of the whole ordinarily outweighs other factors.
It is perhaps more accurate to speak of “religions” rather than “religion,” for there is much that distinguishes one religion from another in theology and in praxis, a point we need to keep in mind as ecumenical and interfaith efforts explore common ground. There were those in archaic societies before recorded history who celebrated the myth of eternal return around an axis mundi, and there was the cultic worship of the goddess in numerous places throughout all those centuries when God was depicted as a woman, as indicated by artifacts and figurines from archaeological finds.7 Today there are countless traditional religions among the world’s indigenous peoples that are distinct from one another and that differ dramatically from the religious traditions represented by churches, basilicas, stupas, temples, synagogues, and mosques. The locus of the sacred, ways of knowing and naming God, rites and rituals and symbols and songs from time immemorial have yielded a multitude of perspectives that shape reality. More often than not a particular approach is considered to be the right way, even the one and only way, if not for everyone, then surely for those who are said to belong. To complicate things even further, there are a growing number of syncretistic expressions where elements of more than one tradition have been blended to create hybrid forms that adherents find meaningful for the moment. There are also multiple ways of being a practicing Christian – of being a Catholic or a Protestant or an Orthodox Christian – and more than one authentic way to be a Muslim or a Jew. Of particular importance are the experiences and perspectives that gender, race, culture, and ethnicity bring to traditional understandings, initiating processes of ethical, theological, and ritual change. No wonder it is so difficult for us to enter into genuine dialogue or to unite in support of a cause.
Nevertheless, on September 11 and during the weeks that followed, individuals and communities of faith from a broad spectrum of religious traditions, without hesitation and with no strings attached, gave of themselves and their resources tirelessly and generously, bringing a dimension of hope to quell the temptation to despair. It was America at its finest as citizens from various faith perspectives came together as one.
It has not been an easy journey for religion in America. The Pilgrims who arrived in 1620 to begin a new life in a new world came seeking freedom to practice their religion and found it, for themselves, but only for a time. The fierce repression of indigenous peoples who had practiced their religions freely for centuries before the settlers arrived; the witch hunts throughout the colonies that led to the trials, torture, and execution of women for speaking up and acting out of their own religious convictions; and the despicable treatment of African slaves that deprived them of physical, social, psychological, and religious freedoms indicate that historically, in America, religious freedom has been a whole lot freer for those within the dominant religion than for those who are outside.
Freedom of religion in America is a constitutional guarantee embodied in the First Amendment, which reads: “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion [Establishment Clause] or prohibiting the free exercise thereof.” [Free Exercise Clause] To ensure this freedom the courts enforce a separation of church and state. But as Stephen Carter points out in The Culture of Disbelief, what that actually means in practice is often quite complex. “The metaphorical separation of church and state originated in an effort to protect religion from the state, not the state from religion.”8 An unfortunate consequence of this basic liberty often has been freedom from religion and its expression in the public domain rather than freedom for it. Although not the intended outcome, one can argue it is nonetheless inevitable as long as religion in America retains its historically Christian bias. The current push by the Christian religious right to have the Ten Commandments posted in schools, courtrooms, and other public places as a sign of our nation’s allegiance to God and to basic Christian values illustrates how difficult it is to be religiously inclusive in a religiously pluriform nation. American civil religion is indicative of how we as a people have often dealt with this.
The term “civil religion,” which first appeared in J. J. Rousseau’s The Social Contract in 1762, refers to “the beliefs, symbols, rituals and institutions which legitimate the social system, create social solidarity and mobilize a community to achieve common political objectives.”9 The signs, symbols, and rituals of an American civil religion are present all around us. The phrase “In God we trust” is stamped on all our currency. The nation observes Thanksgiving Day as a time to gather and give thanks for all our many blessings. We recognize our union “under God” every time we pledge allegiance to our flag and to the United States of America. In the aftermath of September 11, flags appeared everywhere in unprecedented numbers together with the phrase, “God bless America,” which was and is ubiquitous. The flag, a national and political symbol, is also considered sacred. Many of the symbols and rituals of American civil religion are unabashedly patriotic and often political. In many instances it is difficult to separate patriotic from religious, and we may not always want to. The recent outpouring of patriotic fervor has been a cathartic response to the evil perpetrated on America. It helped affirm our solidarity as a people and our allegiance to our nation, an important step in the healing process and in our commitment to carry on.
Witnessing to the Spirit
The ash had not yet settled on Ground Zero and its surroundings when the site was awash with the signs and symbols of an invincible American spirit, as young and old, rich and poor, blue collar worker and CEO, those at a distance and those nearby rose up en masse to help repair the hole in the nation’s heart. At the Pentagon, in a Pennsylvania meadow, and up and down the sidewalks of New York, courage, a rugged determination, a sudden surge of neighborliness, and an incalculable generosity kept alive what might have died along with those who were lost. Much has already been written, powerfully and poignantly, about what has transpired since that devastating day, so there is no necessity for simply a descriptive reiteration here. What I will offer is a perspective on this witness to the spirit – individual spirit, the American spirit, the spirit of God or Holy Spirit – knowing it will be one among many, because in the realm of spirit and spirituality, personal perspectives abound.
The response to September 11 will be reviewed through the interpretive lens of the Spirit, so that sacred and sacramental realities in the midst of secular settings might be identified. This may help us to see more clearly the transforming impact of what transpired, so we might trust that the Spirit will be with us should it ever happen again. Sacred here is understood to mean in and of the Spirit. The use of the word sacramental suggests a glimpse into another and unfamiliar level of reality, whereby something in our physical world bridges the expanse between seen and unseen in ways that evoke new meaning, enriching the here and now. The sacred was made manifest in many ways and in many places September 11, 2001 and during the weeks that followed. Through symbol and symbolic action, which at the time seemed to be simply the necessity of the moment, America was able to express its grief and to do what needed doing. Here are some of the means whereby the human spirit and the divine spirit converged to strengthen and inspire.
Sacred space. Too often in attempting to discern the sacred we tend to ignore the ordinary. More often than not we think the sacred is anywhere else but here. The last place we would look for God is in the wreckage of Ground Zero, and that’s where we were wrong. God was right in the midst of things, neither willing nor preventing, but as Being at the core of those precious beings who, unexpectedly and irrevocably, ceased to be as they had been and came to be as they are. In the cries of terror, in the tears of regret, in the words spoken silently or aloud to loved ones left behind, God wailed, wept, whispered to them, then welcomed them home beyond the veil where now, no longer wounded but whole, they are in a place of peace. And God was there in the heroic efforts to salvage life from the rubble, in the outpouring of compassion, in the agony of loss. God was, is, and always will be at the heart of life as we know it, no matter how it unfolds, because God is life generating life, pulling from the debris we leave behind infinite possibilities to begin again anew.10 We will remember these sites as sacred spaces, if only for a time: the void where once twin towers stood, the gaping wound of the Pentagon, a field of fallen heroes. If ever a place was holy ground it is there in the belly of Manhattan. In this hallowed place blood, sweat, tears intermingle, and deep within its aching womb, love lies interred.
Story. The story of life – our story, God’s story – is a sacred story, although we seldom speak about this with the life-stories we have known. It is time to change that now. Life-stories are potentially life-changing for others, for stories are ways in which the Spirit transmits wisdom and meaning, which is why scriptural stories have such a capacity to empower. Every life lost that fateful day, every life that lost a loved one that day, every life that reached out to another that day and in the days that followed is part of a larger story that has become a primary source of inspiration for us all. So many of the narrative accounts in the news, in the eulogies, in shared memories were just like those heard in former times about the lives of saints and martyrs, who once were one of us. We must never stop telling these stories, for telling the story of those who are gone keeps their memory alive and their spirit here among us.
Candles. There is something primal about fire, something mysterious about the flame’s ability to ignite a spark within us and to link us to worlds beyond ourselves. There is something about a candle. A microcosm of cosmic light. Our kinship with a distant star. Prelude to the rising sun when the wavering voice within us says there will be no morning after. Promise to oneself at night not to be afraid of the dark. Bolt of light in a violent storm. Vigil lamp in memory of a loved one not returning. Radiant witness to life beyond life. Beacon illuminating our way. Glimmer of hope. Ray of relief. A burning passion to never give up but to live life regardless. Everywhere and anywhere, people came together. They came carrying candles. Flickering light. Rippling light. Rivers of light. Holy light. Sometimes the only comfort we know is a candle in the wind.
Shrines. There is a lengthy, unbroken tradition going all the way back to ancient times behind the practice of memorializing an experience with a shrine. In the biblical era and long before, stones would often mark the place where someone had encountered the sacred or had wrestled with the divine. Throughout history and around the world shrines have taken many shapes and forms, from wooden markers and wayside altars to chapels and basilicas, sacred icons, the Taj Mahal, a black granite wall with the names of those who died in the Vietnam war, a tombstone or a mausoleum, a room, a plaque, a flowering tree. Some shrines were meant for the moment and have since passed into history. Others like the Oklahoma memorial were erected to live on. Memorials are sacred places that put the living in touch with that which only the heart can see. They capture a timeless moment in time, invite us to return and remember, are visible witness to the passerby to stop and pay attention, for once upon a time something of utmost importance happened here. The shrines that sprang up spontaneously in response to the experience of September 11 are living memorials of lives lost and of spirit living on. The photos, flowers, and artifacts, the relics of those remembered, help integrate the before and after, providing an opportunity for holding close, letting go, moving on.
Sound. The sound of steel smashing into steel, of fuselage exploding on impact, of towers crumbling, sirens wailing, people screaming, children crying, whether or not we heard it, no matter how far away we were, reverberates within us, for the violent wounding of America is personal pain to all. Those who were in the midst of it have unique issues to deal with. For the rest of us, the media made it feel like we were there. The sound of human voices. Healing sounds, encouraging sounds.
Conversations. Consoling words. A word of thanks. A whispered prayer. Sounds of recovery helped us transition to another phase with familiar sounds, yet one sound in particular will remain long after the rest fade away – the tolling of the bells. The sound of a bell includes within it the full range of harmonic overtones, unlike musical instruments, all of which resonate with a partial overtone series. The bell towers of New York rang in harmony with the tolling of the bell to herald a new beginning. The haunting, penetrating sound at and around the site of Ground Zero symbolized the inclusion of all Americans who cherish liberty. Steeple bells. The Liberty Bell.11 Ring the bells to honor our dead. Ring the bells to proclaim our freedom. Ring the bells to celebrate solidarity in the midst of our differences. Far and near, glad tidings tell. For this, the tolling of the bell.
Silence. There is no more riveting sound than the hollow sound of silence. Within silence we are able to hear the sounds of generations before – their songs, their celebrations – and we open ourselves to the song of the universe and the silence of the spheres. Be still and know that I am God, the psalmist prayed before us.12 Be still and receive insight from God – a flash of intuition, heightened imagination – for wisdom waits in silence for an occasion to be heard. We bring to the surface discarded dreams when we listen for signs of their stirring. We find a way where there is no way of getting up and moving forward. We still the urge to take revenge, to retaliate, to get even. When we take time to be silent, we hear one another into hope, for silence is the only way for another to be heard. Silent vigils. Silent witness. Those rituals of silence in past months that marked our solidarity in spirit and brought us to this moment revealed to us that in the silence we sensed something new about ourselves and learned to live with it.
Service. From September through December, the dominant image of American response was that of selfless service. The numbers of those responding to the clarion call to action are already legendary – more than anticipated, more than was needed, far more than could be utilized – yet still then continued to come. There were those engaged in public service who went the extra mile and then kept on going. From the swamps of the deep south, they came; from the wilderness out west, they came; from the coastal regions and from the plains and all across the middle, they came; from the north and all throughout the northeast, they rolled up their sleeves and got to work, expecting nothing, giving their all, stooping to pick up the pieces, helping to put those broken in spirit back together again. Emergency service. Military service. The many facets of public service. Liturgical and worship service. Funeral services, ad infinitum. Countless acts of kindness. Performing mitzvot. Giving alms. Whenever we begin to get down on ourselves for all the things we are lacking, there is an image that can move us to tears or to lift up our hearts in thanksgiving. There was a call to action, and everybody came. Even those who had nothing to give, nothing to do, nowhere to go, made their contribution by being there in spirit. All over America, spirit called out to spirit and everybody came. It was this power of presence, this witness to the spirit, that turned our nation around. It was and is a tribute to that which is the best in us, that which had been there all along. How good it was to see it.
Ashes. One stark and penetrating symbol emerging from September 11 is the thick covering of ash all around Ground Zero. Reflecting on this phenomenon, we are forever reminded that we are dust and ashes, that this is the matrix from which we come and to which we will return. What we don’t often talk about is the fact that we here on earth are intrinsically related to the stars, for the dust of earth is stardust, gift from some far galaxy in some primordial time. We come from light and return to light, radiant with love. The ash that blocked the New York sun and settled everywhere is visual reminder that those who are gone are still right here among us and will be absorbed into whatever it is that we in the future become. We breathe in the remains of their vibrancy, breathe in their valiant spirits, breathe in the ways they influence and inspire in the tragic wake of their passing. Their spirits merge with our spirits, transcending the limitations and separations of finitude, and we continue on together, one with the spirit of God.
Such is the way of Spirit, who infuses elements of our everyday world with sacramental potential to energize and inspire. The sacred symbols and rituals of service emanating from this decisive event have the power to evoke within us a wealth of associations that give meaning to our lives. What we do during these days is not just for now but forever. The passing of time will embellish the myth and reinterpret the symbols, so that those we have known appear larger than life to succeeding generations. But that is exactly what happens when transforming events occur. We can only hope that one day we can all look back on the recent devastation as a time of saving grace.
An Emerging American Spirituality
Spirituality means different things to a lot of different people. The tendency today is to distinguish between spirituality and religion. Spirituality is spontaneous, dynamic, and always open to change, with freedom to follow the Spirit, often discerned intuitively and now and then through signs. Religion is formal, fairly set in its ways, and follows established traditions. The two are not mutually exclusive. In fact, they are often compatible, for many who practice spirituality within the framework of their religion find that both approaches meet their needs. The terms are often used interchangeably in print and in conversation, contributing to the confusion about precisely what spirituality is and what the word really means.
There are those who would dismiss spirituality as frivolous and ephemeral, saying it is too subjective, that its emphasis on finding one’s personal path is isolating and narcissistic, that it ignores critical issues and the needs of the wider world. Feminist women in particular counteract this critique by insisting that “the personal is political,”13 that spirituality provides a forum, freedom, and opportunities to address those very things. A study of American women who participate in feminist spirituality groups documents a strong correlation between spirituality and social justice, noting a high level of engagement in actions oriented toward systemic change.14 The proliferation of spirituality groups indicates that these are or can be alternatives to isolation, offering those who feel alone a secure setting in which to safely engage with other people. In fact, a strong sense of community is a hallmark of women’s spirituality and of small faith communities seeking to live authentically.
There are multiple paths and myriad ways to approach spirituality according to the present generation of seekers.15 Most profess a concern for this world, a desire for peace and justice and a sensitivity to environmental issues, often seeking to live by faith in a manner that integrates body, mind, and spirit. In the present context it would not be unusual for a distinctively American spirituality to emerge as a way of meeting our need as a people to come together in public places and acknowledge that we are “one nation,” that we are “one nation under God,” that we are “one nation under God, indivisible ….” There are signs of such a spirituality in our national response to September 11. Its expression is shaped by and takes place within the raw realities of the moment and reflects the following characteristics: spontaneity, generosity, hospitality, compassion, courage, sense of community, adaptability, and patriotism. These eight gifts of the American spirit, bedrock virtues and values, have the potential to unite us in spirit under the guidance of God’s spirit in ways that further the welfare and well-being of our nation.
Spontaneity. This is something we Americans are known for all over the world. It reflects a willingness to take a chance, to risk pioneering ventures. It got us to the moon and back and into other situations where no one has gone before. The downside is our propensity for instant gratification. We want things fast – fast food, fast forward, extremely fast computers and cars – and are quick to tire of our latest successes. Ours is a culture of impermanence. Just look at our fashions and fads. Yet there are many positive aspects to our spontaneity. It is why we are quick to jump in or reach out or to act instinctively. We respond to emergencies, we volunteer, we gamely roll with the punches, and when things don’t go according to plan, well, we improvise. On September 11 our spontaneity was a paramount virtue. Spontaneous prayer. Spontaneous rituals. Spontaneity is a welcome trait in spirituality.
Generosity. Whatever else we might say about America, we have to admit we are generous. Philanthropy, foreign aid, tithing, almsgiving, organ giving, the giving of blood, our daily sharing of our goods and of ourselves are acts that flow from a quality that is core to our understanding of who we are as a people. This is not always apparent. Our basic inclination to accumulate and to horde and our fear that enough will never be enough mask our innate altruism, particularly in the global arena, where we often give aid with one hand and collect interest with the other, thereby driving those already destitute more deeply into debt with our consumer-driven economy, or gobble up most of the world’s resources to support our national interests to the detriment of our planet. That said, there are many throughout our nation who advocate forgiving the debt of the world’s poorest nations, who insist we act more responsibly in relationship to the environment, and who promote a more just and equitable distribution of our resources, both at home and abroad. We need to be reminded, we who are so accustomed to the practice of reciprocal giving, which means, if I give something to you, well then, you had better give something to me … we need to be reminded that in gift-giving societies, the one who receives a gift is expected to give a gift of equal or higher value in return, but not to the original donor. It is given to someone else, perhaps even a stranger, perhaps anonymously, so that the giving goes on. A gift in gift-giving societies is to be given away again, freely given away with no expectation of return. America was originally a gift-giving society. The early settlers discovered this among the indigenous people and it took them a while to adjust.16 Some of that gift-giving spirit remains embedded in our psyche. It shapes our Thanksgiving Day observances. It surfaced again full force last fall. We who have been given so much are compelled to give in return. A generous spirit – a giving spirit – is a vital and valued characteristic of spirituality.
Hospitality. In essence hospitality means our door is always open, the kettle is hot, the welcome is warm, there is always room at the table. Genuine hospitality would add that the heart is always open. The bruised and broken spirit knows it can find sanctuary there. American hospitality placed an ad on a billboard on a statue in the New York harbor that reads:
Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore,
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!17
We need to remind ourselves that there was a time in our country when it was safe to talk to strangers, when we invited them in, welcomed them home, and made them part of us. We need to recreate a climate where strangers again feel safe among us, where those who are different in any way feel acceptance and respect. When we stared death in the face last fall and searched frantically for the missing, we wept and prayed for everyone, accepted help from anyone, were hospitable to all. Hospitality does not victimize our innocent brothers and sisters because of ignorance and fear, but says to prejudice and xenophobia, “You are not welcome here.” Without genuine hospitality, spirituality is only a six-syllable word.
Compassion. The word means to feel sympathy, to have sorrow for the sufferings of others. It also means to suffer together and is accompanied by an urge to help.18 We can safely say we have been there. We have had compassion, individually and collectively, so many times in so many ways for so many different reasons and for so very many people right here in America and all around the world. Compassion for women and children who are victims of violence and desperately poor ignites anew our desire to help and to make a difference. Compassion is more than just doing good. It seeks to have an impact, to affect systemic change. Compassion knit us together as one in our response to September 11. Our compassion for families in their tragic loss and also for one another softened our rough edges. We need to do more of that. We need to push ourselves to a more sympathetic response to the wounds of the world and to a more empathetic concern for those disadvantaged here at home. If we say we are a compassionate people, then let us take an inventory of when and where and how. Whose suffering have we felt? Whose suffering are we feeling? Who needs our sympathy now? A spirituality of compassion could turn the world around.
Courage. You can feel it. You can taste it. You know it when it’s there. It is at the heart of all we have been able to do and be as a nation. With courage we overcame our fears when we had to cross the great divide and embark upon the wilderness: over sea and land and then out into space, moving through uncharted waters to create a national entity that would encompass all manner of diversity with freedom and justice for all. Courage gives us the right stuff to do what it takes to save lives, expand our horizons, ensure liberty. The courageous were where they needed to be on September 11. The courage of those living and dead gives us the courage to continue on. The courage to act. The courage to accept. The courage to live life justly. The courage to forgive one another when we fall short of our goal. Commitment to a transforming spirituality is also a call to courage.
Sense of Community. When something of significance is on the line, we hunker down together, garner strength from community, and work to get things done. Shoulder to shoulder, hand over hand, bucket by bucket the heartbreaking task of digging friends out of the rubble could be done because of community. Anything is possible when ordinary people are committed to work as a team. We discover that the gift each person brings is precisely what we needed. Warm socks. A hot meal. A massage for weary shoulders. Someone who will sit and hear us out, or whisper a prayer, or hold our hand. These symbols of solidarity are characteristic of community and they are surfacing everywhere. I have never seen anyone bowling alone, but I do see people in many places finding ways to be together. We seem to be cultivating a whole new set of habits of the heart.
Adaptability. Versatile. Changeable. Handy. We have learned to live with that. There are times when it does come in handy, our ability to adapt, our capacity to change, our versatility. How often have we found ourselves cut off or up against a wall and managed to find a way out? Survivors craft alternatives. Those who have hope savor the opportunity for a second chance, for they know the future belongs to the ones who can facilitate and adapt to change. We did not anticipate the carnage that interrupted and brutally rearranged our lives, but we managed to make the adjustment. That kind of versatility requires imagination and a willingness to give it a try. A spirituality that is dynamic and continually evolving is congruent with who we are.
Patriotism. No one would argue that patriotism is one of our more dynamic traits, but can it really be considered a characteristic of our spirituality? After careful consideration, I would have to say, why not? Consider our patriotic fervor. It’s everywhere. We’re good at it. It is one thing at which we excel. Put aside for the moment the critical issue of who feels comfortable within the metaphor and who has opted out and why. What we have at the heart of American society is a mechanism for making things happen. While patriotism means different things to different people and functions in a variety of ways, not all of them gratifying, it does have unifying strength and unlimited potential to evoke and engage the spirit. For many of us we mean it to mean we’re proud to be an American, and that can be a virtue if we choose to make it so. The more we take time to think about it, the more it makes sense to say that an American spirituality, to be viable and valid, would have to reflect a deep integration of patriotic values and a faith-based response. This presumes a patriotism free of political manipulation, a stream within the mainstream that is capable of expressing patriotic dissent to ensure that principles of justice will not be compromised. Such a commitment would prepare the way for embracing what Michael Lerner calls “the politics of meaning.” One of the goals of the nation-wide movement based on his initiative is “to create the social, spiritual, and psychological conditions that will encourage us to recognize the uniqueness, sanctity, and infinite preciousness of every human being, and to treat them with caring, gentleness, and compassion.”19 Such an outcome is the intended effect of our emerging spirituality.
Imagine what it would be like if we took certain symbols seriously, ones we don’t really see any more, even though they are all around us, symbols that could add depth and new meaning to our patriotic bent. What if we were to reenergize the symbols that have become peripheral so they effect what they signify. For example, look closely at the coins in your pocket and the dollar bills in your wallet, in fact all the bills that are in your purse. On every single one appears the phrase, “In God we trust.” We could not ask for a better prayer in times such as these. Why not use our money to trigger an awareness of God, and instead of choosing between God and money, invoke God when using money. We might think twice about how we spend it, might remember to share more liberally with those who are in need. The street word for money would give our financial transactions a whole new meaning. “Give us this day our daily bread.”20 Give us enough to pay the rent, put food on the table, make ends meet. Suddenly that which is engraved with symbols becomes in itself a symbol, acquiring new associations that can change the way we relate to money and the role it plays in our lives. Symbols integral to daily life are potentially sacramental. They have the capacity to open us to one another and to God.
There are other ways of integrating the secular and the sacred and of blurring the lines between patriotism and spirituality. For example, our Pledge of Allegiance in which we the people publicly affirm that our nation is “under God.” And “God bless America.” These words we so easily say or sing have become habitual and are appropriate anywhere, even in the classroom. God in these contexts seems to have been liberated from the conundrum of theology in a way that allows the reality to function unencumbered. It is possible for all who participate to embrace this God as their own, if they choose to do so. There is freedom to mentally embellish the word with an image or a name, or simply to feel a connection to the Sacred through the word. In some strange way the patriotic here is functioning as spirituality would, transcending the inherent divisiveness of theological interpretations to facilitate an interconnectedness among us and between us and God. What is needed now is to prevent the words “God bless America” from becoming a cliché or simply another slogan or something one says without thinking. We need to pay attention, to invoke God’s name with awareness as in a mantra or in prayer, thereby giving moments such as these some sacramental substance. These are precious opportunities either to pray or to center ourselves, if only for an instant. Such moments in time are potentially occasions of divine blessing, when words are no longer simply words but vehicles of grace. There is a poignant irony in this paradoxical juxtaposition of patriotism and spirituality, with each contributing to the other’s growth in authenticity.
Symbols achieve their purpose through the integrity of their application and with consistent practice. They shape a spirituality by continuity and habituation. Through elements such as prayer and song and rites and rituals, an underlying spirit is embodied and made visible through core characteristics such as those previously described. These enact and reiterate the values, ideals, and assumptions of an underlying myth.
The power of myth is legendary. It is a fundamental perspective at the core of a culture, a religion, or a nation and is very slow to change. There are many underlying myths that shape our image of America and our understanding of ourselves. For example, the myth of American supremacy. It is expressed in the manifold ways we as individuals and as a nation strive to be number one, an image that disrupts dialogue and mocks equality. Or the myth that implies that there really is equitable liberty and justice for all. Tell that to the descendants of slaves, to indigenous tribal nations, to lesbians and gays, and to those who are devastatingly poor or in other ways disadvantaged. For reasons both historical and personal, there are those who reject patriotic trappings because they feel that much of what these represent does not apply to them. It is necessary for such myths to change before their metaphors and symbols can release their power to transform us. Sometimes the problem is not the myth but its interpretation and distorted applications. The myth of liberty and justice, to be valid in principle and not simply an ideal, must be applicable to all.
It is important to point out that this reflection on patriotism and its implications for an emerging spirituality that is distinctively American is simply the opening word in a much lengthier conversation, one that must move immediately toward locating our nation more realistically within the context of the rest of the world. Step one is to access and release spirit on personal and national levels. Step two is to harness that energy to bring about good in the world. This brings us back to the question of myth. Joseph Campbell, an authority on mythology, writes: “The only myth that is going to be worth thinking about in the immediate future is one that is talking about the planet, not the city, not these people, but the planet, and everybody on it.”21
That is indeed our agenda. We can begin by ensuring that our enthusiasm for our nation is not isolationist or disproportionate. When we say “God bless America,” why not extend the blessing to “God bless America, and God bless everyone,” or something along those lines. Add a global perspective to prayer, choose planetary symbols. Sing songs about the world and our responsibility to it.
O for a world where everyone respects each other’s ways,
where love is lived and all is done with justice and with praise.
O for a world where goods are shared and misery relieved,
where truth is spoken, children spared, equality achieved.
We welcome one world family and struggle with each choice
that opens us to unity and gives our vision voice.
The poor are rich, the weak are strong, the foolish ones are wise.
Tell all who mourn: outcasts belong, who perishes will rise.
O for a world preparing for God’s glorious reign of peace,
where time and tears will be no more and all but love will cease.22
A Final Word
Quantum theory may be relatively recent, but its roots extend all the way back to the first cosmic whimper. An intuitive understanding of the innerconnectedness of all life forms is the birthright of life itself and a source of hope within us. Wise women and men through time perceived what the eye failed to see and the mind dared not imagine. Scientists identified energy as primary source, as wellspring of life. Mystics experienced the mystery and knew that it was God.
I am that supreme and fiery force
that sends forth all the sparks of life …
I shine in the water,
I burn in the sun and the moon and the stars.
Mine is the mysterious force of the invisible wind.
I sustain the breath of all living.23
It is remarkable that in an age of skepticism the pragmatic mind of the scientist, the philosophical soul of the theologian, and the passionate faith of the mystic overlap in conversations about the reality of God.24
When one considers the universe,
can anyone be so simple-minded as not to believe
that the Divine is present in everything,
pervading, embracing and penetrating it?25
At the heart of authentic spirituality is the desire to be one with God. It is the impetus for ordering our lives according to what we believe God’s expectations to be. There is an integral relationship between our understanding of the Divine and how we view the world around us. The converse is also true, for we necessarily image God in ways congruent with our worldview. For the greater part of Christian history, the spiritual focus within institutional religion was on other-worldly matters. To be spiritual, the goal of spirituality, meant feeling disdain for the things of this world and living for the hereafter. My understanding of spirituality springs from the root words “spirit” and “ritual.” An applied spirituality in the midst of this world, one that is committed to transforming the world, is open to God’s spirit and to spirit everywhere. What follows from that is life in the Spirit energized through life-giving rituals of spirit in which God’s spirit, one’s own spirit, and the inner spirit of all that lives overlap and intertwine. It is through this ongoing celebration of the liturgy of life with its cosmic implications and global applications that mystery is made manifest. Within this primal connection to and through the Divine Spirit, we are one in spirit with all that lives and with all who have gone before us. It is here that the events of recent months are invested with deeper meaning. It is here that our experiences of the sacred in and through things we may not understand receive power to transcend the limitations of our theologies and become graced theophanies. It is here we are energized to answer God’s call to be agents of wholeness and healing in a war-weary, war-worried world.
It may be easier to embrace spirituality than it is to understand it. Defining it is like trying to catch a butterfly with your hand. Rabbi Lawrence Kushner writes: “Spirituality is where you and God meet – and what you do about it.”26 This is exactly what happened in the fall of 2001. Without warning we were confronted by the incomprehensible ways of God, and we did something about it. Millions of Americans went to work rebuilding a slice of our nation, while giving an earful to God. People from a multitude of religious traditions, people with no formal religious affiliation, people on diverse spiritual paths worked together and wept together in solidarity as a nation. They were visible witnesses to the spirit of God in the spirit of God’s people. Characteristic of an authentic spirituality is its capacity to invite into community people from all walks of life who arrive by different paths. It rejoices in diversity, which it sees, not as divisive, but as manifestation of the divine. Perhaps one day we will look back to September 11 and recognize it as foundational for a new way of being in relationship with the sacred, with one another, and with the world. We may also perceive the beginnings of a distinctively American spirituality, and we will be amazed at how reluctant we were to even suggest such a thing at the time.
To be changed as a people, transformed as a nation, it is wise to use those vehicles that already have power to persuade us. It makes the process more integrated and the effects more enduring. When we channel energy to bring to birth a more just and compassionate world, suddenly an impossible dream awakens to a new day dawning. We are able to see that a spirit of liberty, a spirit of love, a wholesome and holy spirit of life are already here among us. God bless America. God has blessed America. May God continue to bless us with generosity and compassion and give us the grace to be less self-centered and more responsive to others. May blessings extend through our concerted efforts to heal the brokenhearted and transform a divided world into an oasis of peace. God bless our world and all that lives with bountiful, beneficial blessings. God bless us all, healing us all at the level of our deepest need, making us living witnesses to the spirit of Shalom.
© Medical Mission Sisters 2002
ENDNOTES
1. Adaptation of the opening line of a song text by Albert A. Goodson (© Manna Music Inc. 1965). The rest of this sentence is constructed on phrases from: American currency; Acts 17:28; and an African American spiritual.
2. See James Lovelock, The Ages of Gaia: A Biography of Our Living Earth (New York: Bantam, 1988); Brian Swimme, The Hidden Heart of the Cosmos: Humanity and the New Story (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1996); Brian Swimme and Thomas Berry, The Universe Story: From the Primordial Flaring Earth to the Ecozoic Era: A Celebration of the Unfolding of the Cosmos (HarperSanFrancisco, 1992).
3. For further reflection, see: Thomas Berry and the New Cosmology: In Dialogue with Gregory Baum, James Farris, Stephen Dunn, Margaret Brennan, Caroline Richards, Donald Senior, and Brian Swimme, edited by Anne Lonergan and Caroline Richards(Twenty-Third Publications, 1987); Thomas Berry, The Great Work: Our Way into the Future (New York: Bell Tower, 1999); David Toolan, At Home in the Cosmos (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 2001).
4. For an introduction to quantum theory, see: David Bohm, Quantum Theory (London: Constable, 1951); Paul Davies, ed., The New Physics (Cambridge University Press, 1989); Nick Herbert, Quantum Reality (London: Rider & Co., 1985); Tony Hey and Patrick Walters, The Quantum Universe (Cambridge University Press, 1998); J.P. McEvoy and Oscar Zarate, Introducing Quantum Theory (Totem Books USA, 1996). For some applications of quantum theory, read: Margaret J. Wheatley, Leadership and the New Science: Learning About Organization from an Orderly Universe (San Francisco: Berrett-Koehler, 1992); Danah Zohar, The Quantum Self: Human Nature and Consciousness Defined by the New Physics (New York: Quill/William Morrow, 1990); Danah Zohar and Ian Marshall, The Quantum Society: Mind, Physics, and a New Social Vision (New York: Quill/William Morrow, 1994).
5. John David Ebert, Twilight of the Clockwork God: Conversations on Science and Spirituality at the End of an Age (Tulsa, OK: Council Oak Books, 1999); David Lorimer, ed., The Spirit of Science: From Experiment to Experience (New York: Continuum, 1999); Andrew Newberg, M.D., Eugene D’Aquili, M.D., and Vince Rause, Why God Won’t Go Away: Brain Science and the Biology of Belief (New York: Ballantine Books, 2001); Diarmuid O’Murchu, Quantum Theology: Spiritual Implications of the New Physics (New York: Crossroad, 1997).
6. Joseph Campbell, The Masks of God: Creative Mythology (New York: Viking Press, 1968); Mircea Eliade, Myth and Reality (New York: Harper and Row, 1963).
7. Riane Eisler, The Chalice and the Blade: Our History, Our Future (New York: Harper and Row, 1987); Mircea Eliade, The Myth of the Eternal Return: Or, Cosmos and History (Princeton University Press, 1954); Mircea Eliade, The Sacred and the Profane: The Nature of Religion (New York: Harcourt, Brace & World, 1959); Marija Gimbutas, The Language of the Goddess (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1989; Merlin Stone, When God Was a Woman (New York: Harcourt, Brace, Jovanovich, 1976).
8. Stephen L. Carter, The Culture of Disbelief: How American Law and Politics Trivialize Religious Devotion (BasicBooks/HarperCollins:1993), p. 105.
9. refer, the web’s reference engine (www.xrefer.com/entry/104898).
10. Most of this paragraph and part of the subsequent section on ashes first appeared in my column entitled “Another Perspective” in The American Catholic (published in Connecticut: October 2001).
11. Commissioned by the Pennsylvania Assembly in 1751 to commemorate the 50-year anniversary of William Penn’s 1701 Charter of Privileges, which speaks of the freedoms valued by people all over the world, the Liberty Bell sounded from the tower of Independence Hall in Philadelphia on July 9, 1776 to summon citizens to hear the first public reading of the Declaration of Independence. Engraved on the bell are these words from Leviticus 25:10: “Proclaim Liberty throughout all the Land unto all the Inhabitants thereof.” Information courtesy of www.ushistory.org
12. Psalm 46:10.
13. Sheila D. Collins, “The Personal is Political,” in The Politics of Women’s Spirituality: Essays on the Rise of Spiritual Power within the Feminist Movement,” ed. by Charlene Spretnak (Doubleday: Anchor Books, 1982), pp. 362-367.
14. Miriam Therese Winter, Adair Lummis, Allison Stokes, Defecting in Place: Women Claiming Responsibility for Their Own Spiritual Lives (New York: Crossroad, 1994).
15. For example: Maria Pilar Aquino and Elisabeth Schussler Fiorenza, eds., In the Power of Wisdom: Feminist Spiritualities of Struggle (London: SCM, 2000); Joan Borysenko, A Woman’s Book of Life: The Biology, Psychology, and Spirituality of the Feminine Life Cycle (New York: Riverhead Books, 1996); Stephen C. Barton, The Spirituality of the Gospels ((Peabody, Massachusetts: Hendrickson, 1992); Joseph Epes Brown, The Spiritual Legacy of the American Indian (New York: Crossroad, 1991); Robert McAfee Brown, Spirituality and Liberation: Overcoming the Great Fallacy (Louisville: Westminster, 1988); Barry L. Callen, Authentic Spirituality: Moving Beyond Mere Religion (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2001); Joan Chittester, Heart of Flesh: A Feminist Spirituality for Women and Men (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998); Kenneth J. Collins, ed., Exploring Spirituality: An Ecumenical Reader (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2000); Elizabeth Conde-Frazier, Crossing the Wilderness and Desert Toward Community: The Spirituality of Research and Scholarship (Princeton University Press, 2000); James Conlon, The Sacred Impulse: A Planetary Spirituality of Heart and Fire (New York: Crossroad, 2000); Joann Wolski Conn, ed., Women’s Spirituality: Resources for Christian Development, second edition ((New York: Paulist, 1996); Lawrence S. Cunningham and Keith J. Egan, Christian Spirituality: Themes from the Tradition (New York: Paulist, 1996); Robert S. Ellwood, ed., Eastern Spirituality in America: Selected Writings (New York: Paulist, 1987); Michael Thomas Ford, Paths of Faith: Conversations About Religion and Spirituality (New York: Simon and Schuster: 2000); Matthew Fox, Creation Spirituality: Liberating Gifts for the Peoples of the Earth (HarperSanFrancisco, 1991); Urban T. Holmes, Spirituality for Ministry (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1982); Cheslyn Jones, Geoffrey Wainwright, Edward Yarnold, eds., The Study of Spirituality (New York: Oxford, 1986); Rabbi Lawrence Kushner, Jewish Spirituality: A Brief introduction for Christians (Woodstock, Vermont: Jewish Lights Publishing, 2001); Steven J. Land, Pentecostal Spirituality: A Passion for the Kingdom (Sheffield, England: Sheffield Academic Press, 1993); Ian Markham, “Spirituality and the World Faiths” in The Spiritual Challenge of Health Care, edited by Mark Cobb and Vanessa Robshaw (Churchill Livingstone, 1998); Francis X. Meehan, A Contemporary Social Spirituality (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis, 1982); Diarmuid O’Murchu, Reclaiming Spirituality: A New Spiritual Framework for Today’s World (New York: Crossroad, 1998); Virginia Ramey Mollenkott, Sensuous Spirituality: Out From Fundamentalism (New York: Crossroad, 1993); Seyyid Hossein Nasr, ed., Islamic Spirituality, Volume I: Foundations (New York: Crossroad, 1987); Seyyid Hossein Nasr, ed., Islamic Spirituality, Volume II: Manifestations (New York: Crossroad, 1991); Parker J. Palmer, The Active Life: A Spirituality of Work, Creativity, and Caring (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1990); Peter J. Paris, The Spirituality of African Peoples: The Search for a Common Moral Discourse (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1995); Joan Puls, Spirituality of Compassion (Mystic, Connecticut: Twenty-Third Publications, 1988); Ronald Rolheiser, The Holy Longing: The Search for a Christian Spirituality (New York: Doubleday, 1999); Ronald Rolheiser, Spirituality for a Restless Culture (Mystic, Connecticut: Twenty-Third Publications, 1991); Wade Clark Roof, A Generation of Seekers: The Spiritual Journeys of the Baby Boom Generation (HarperSanFrancisco, 1993); Mary Hembrow Snyder, ed., Spiritual Questions for the Twenty-First Century: Essays in Honor of Joan Chittester (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis, 2001); Carlyle Fielding Stewart, III, Soul Survivors: An African American Spirituality (Louisville: Westminster, 1997); Wayne Teasdale, The Mystic Heart: Discovering a Universal Spirituality in the World’s Religions (Novato, California: New World Library, 1999); Phyllis A. Tickle, Re-Discovering the Sacred: Spirituality in America (New York: Crossroad, 1995); John R. Tyson, Invitation to Christian Spirituality: An Ecumenical Anthology (New York: Oxford University Press, 1999); Nicki Verploegen Vandergrift, Organic Spirituality: A Sixfold Path for Contemplative Living (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis, 2000); John Welwood, ed., Ordinary Magic: Everyday Life as Spiritual Path (Boston: Shambhala, 1992); Miriam Therese Winter, Adair Lummis, and Allison Stokes, Defecting in Place: Women Claiming Responsibility for Their Own Spiritual Lives (New York: Crossroad, 1994); Miriam Therese Winter, The Singer and the Song: An Autobiography of the Spirit (New York: Crossroad, 1999); Robert Wuthnow, After Heaven: Spirituality in America Since the 1950s (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998); Takeuchi Yoshinori, ed., Buddhist Spirituality: Indian, Southeast Asian, Tibetan, and Early Chinese (New York: Crossroad, 1993).
16. Lewis Hyde, The Gift: Imagination and the Erotic Life of Property (New York: Vintage Books, 1979), pp. 3-5.
17. These last five lines of the sonnet entitled, “The New Colossus,” by Emma Lazarus, who emigrated to the United States, are engraved on the Statue of Liberty. The Story of America (Pleasantville, New York: The Reader’s Digest Association, 1975), p. 329.
18. Webster’s New World Dictionary, 1974.
19. Michael Lerner, The Politics of Meaning: Restoring Hope and Possibility in an Age of Cynicism (Addison-Wesley, 1996), pp. 56-57.
20. A phrase from “The Lord’s Prayer,” also known as the “Our Father” in the Christian tradition.
21. Joseph Campbell, The Power of Myth (New York: Doubleday, 1988), p. 32.
22. “O for a World,” hymn text by Miriam Therese Winter, set to the hymn tune AZMON, in Songlines: Hymns, Songs, Rounds and Refrains for Prayer and Praise (New York: Crossroad, 1996); recorded on Hymns Re-Imagined (http://mtwinter.hartsem.edu), © Medical Mission Sisters 1990.Also available in these collections (see below) is Miriam Therese Winter’s adaptation of the text to “America the Beautiful” by Katherine Lee Bates. © Medical Mission Sisters 1993.
How beautiful, our spacious skies, our amber waves of grain;
our purple mountains as they rise above the fruitful plain.
America! America! God’s gracious gifts abound,
and more and more we’re grateful for life’s bounty all around.
Indigenous and immigrant, our daughters and our sons:
O may we never rest content till all are truly one.
America! America! God grant that we may be
a sisterhood and brotherhood from sea to shining sea.
How beautiful, sincere lament, the wisdom born of tears,
the courage called for to repent the bloodshed through the years.
America! America! God grant that we may be
a nation blessed with none oppressed, true land of liberty.
How beautiful, two continents, and islands in the sea
that dream of peace, non-violence, all people living free.
Americas! Americas! God grant that we may be
a hemisphere where people here all live in harmony.
23. Hildegard of Bingen (1098-1179), Liber divinorum operum: Patrologia Latina, volume 197.
24. For some recent conversations, see: Marcus Borg and Ross MacKenzie, eds., God at 2000 (Harrison, Pennsylvania: Morehouse, 2000); Marcus Borg, The God We Never Knew: Beyond Dogmatic Religion to a More Authentic Contemporary Faith (HarperSanFrancisco, 1997); Donald Dorr, Divine Energy: God Beyond Us, Within Us, Among Us (Liguori, Missouri: Triumph Books, 1996); Patrick Glynn, God: the Evidence: The Reconciliation of Faith and Reason in a Postsecular World (Rocklin, California: Prima, 1997); Elizabeth A. Johnson, She Who Is: The Mystery of God in Feminist Discourse (New York: Crossroad, 1992); Sally McFague, The Body of God: An Ecological Theology (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1993); Sallie McFague, Models of God: Theology for an Ecological, Nuclear Age (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1987); Henry Margenau and Roy Abraham Varghese, eds., Cosmos, Bios, Theos: Scientists Reflect on Science, God, and the Origins of the Universe, Life, and Homo sapiens (Chicago: Open Court, 1992).
25. Gregory of Nyssa (c. 330-c. 395), The Great Catechism of Gregory of Nyssa, chapter 25.
26. Rabbi Lawrence Kushner, Jewish Spirituality: A Brief Introduction for Christians (Woodstock, Vermont: Jewish Lights Publishing, 2001), p. 9.
