What is a Miracle?

A version of this post first appeared in Light Reading, our weekly email newsletter. If you would like to receive messages like this every Sunday, please send an email to info@ChristInst.org.

What is a miracle? No matter how you define it, the word carries a certain weight. Obviously there is a spiritual definition. Miracles are astounding circumstances we attribute to God. They are sacred, supernatural, divine in origin and purpose. At the same time, a miracle can mean something amazing whose origin appears completely natural or even human: a miracle drug, a miracle of science, a miracle worker. Interestingly, the twin meanings of miracle—both its divine and a secular connotation—have never been far apart. In English, the divine connotation exists by the 12th century, and the secular connotation follows it in the 13th century.

Hanna Jacob Doumette, the founder of The Christian Institute, recognized that dichotomy as a false one. He said: “There is no difference between a miraculous and a natural occurrence except in man's understanding. A miracle is an occurrence not understood by the mind. What is open to our intellectual and logical understanding, we accept as natural and normal.”

In other words, miracles are things that appear to be impossible from a particular vantage point. For example, the abilities of living things to elemental things would be miraculous. If a rock could perceive the growth of plants or the movement of animals, it would seem to be a miracle, something completely outside its own abilities and understanding of what it means to exist. In the same way, some aspects of humanity—the complexity of our cities, our ability to manipulate elements, our capacities for innovation, war and abstract thought—must seem miraculous to plants and animals.

It's no different from how the expanse of the cosmos or nature as a complete organism appears miraculous to us. Explaining a miracle should not diminish it but rather simply illustrate how much more there is to reality than we initially see. There is always something beyond ourselves, and that is the realm of miracles. It is the space where we release ourselves to what is rather than what we want to be.

It follows that the greatest miracles for us as individuals are the times when we jump from one level of consciousness to another. We see that illustrated multiple times in the Gospels. For example, the Gospel of John reports a man who was blind from birth, but Jesus made him able to see. Physically speaking his eyes were healed, but spiritually speaking his inner vision was awakened. Before he had experienced only darkness; after the miracle, he recognized he had been surrounded by light. It was that jump—from blindness to expanded perception—that was the miracle.

Earlier in the same Gospel, Jesus healed a man who had been paralyzed for much of his life. Physically speaking his legs were restored, but spiritually speaking he could move through life in a new way. His very reality was regenerated, and his relationship with destiny was clarified, quickened and forever changed. He leaped from one level of being to the next.

In each case, vital elements of both men's identities were awakened and utilized as they came to know their true selves. Consciousness expanded. Purpose was realized. The lower self more clearly saw and took steps toward the higher self, which is the indwelling Christ. That is a miracle we work toward through our own everyday imitation of Christ, no matter what we choose to call it.

Miracles are things that only appear to be impossible, beyond understanding or out of reach. Forgiveness seems like a miracle to the stubborn and stagnant in mind; faith and prayer seem like miracles to those who aren't in touch with Divinity; that anyone would be kind is a miracle to the selfish; prudence is a miracle to the shortsighted; knowledge is a miracle to the ignorant; truth is a miracle to the cynic. As spiritual people, we know those miracles are waiting for us to realize as we unfold, expand and embrace our higher selves.

Perhaps the best definition of a miracle is it's a space where we allow ourselves a bit of compassion. If we don't try to discredit or diminish a miracle, if we simply recognize it as a good thing, then we have approached it without judgment. We see it for the positiveness it brings, whether that's a fantastic healing, an expanded sense of self, insight into the workings of the world or simply the joy at knowing something remarkable occurred. And as soon as we perceive that, we start to live in a world where miracles happen.

We can always try to understand more about how a particular event occurs, of course, but doing so does not diminish the presence of God within all things. Now can be a time of miracles. We simply have to let them be.

Let us pray:

Dear God,
Thank You for everyday miracles.
Thank You for the moments when things become clear;
Thank You for the times when our steps quicken;
Thank You for the love and support of our neighbors;
Thank You that there is always more to learn, to see and to become.
Thank You for giving us a world where such things can be.
Amen.

“Life is full of miracles as much as its kingdom is full of natural creation. The line of demarcation between miracles and natural functioning disappears under the rays of universal intelligence, understanding and reasoning. The power of faith is miraculous; so is the power of the prayer. The might of love is miraculous; so is the power of kindness. The power of goodness is miraculous; so is the power of forgiveness.” - Hanna Jacob Doumette, “The Miracles of Life”

Moving Into Positiveness

A version of this post first appeared in Light Reading, our weekly email newsletter. If you would like to receive messages like this every Sunday, please send an email to info@ChristInst.org.

Disasters can remind us to brush up on our disaster preparedness skills, even if they don't impact us (perhaps preferably if they don't impact us). Fires, floods and earthquakes all look different, but the tools we need to emerge from them successfully are largely the same. Being prepared for a disaster can be as involved as learning some first aid and CPR at a Red Cross, or as simple as knowing where the emergency exits are in your home or workplace, but it's all invaluable information when we need it most.

Something else that's invaluable in almost any emergency is a disaster kit or go bag, a handy collection of items you can grab and take when you have to leave in a hurry. There are multiple resources for how to build one. Some authorities recommend building a very practical kit, including a radio, flash light, tools and personal hygiene supplies. Another approach is the “six Ps”: people and pets; papers and phones; prescriptions; pictures and irreplaceables; personal computer; and “plasic”—that is, credit cards and cash. At the same time, everyone's go bag is going to look different because everyone's needs are different. Still, some of the more common elements will be bottled water, nonperishable food, a first aid kit and copies of important documents. What matters most is that the kit or go bag, whatever it contains, is ready before an emergency happens.

Spiritual practice functions like a metaphysical disaster kit. We keep up a spiritual practice now so that we're not scrambling to achieve its virtues after we already need them. In other words, when we need to be calm, empathetic, connected, thoughtful and seek meaning, we've already practiced inner peace, compassion, fellowship, mindfulness and consciousness expansion. And those virtues can be valuable in times of either spiritual, emotional or physical distress. In fact, another aspect of having a spiritual practice now is recognizing that, even in physical crises, people also need psychic support because we all have psychic identity.

One of the most significant things to practice is positiveness—not because being positive is the most useful in any situation, but because it can guide us to the other benefits of spiritual practice. The Christian Institute's founder Hanna Jacob Doumette described positiveness as the knowledge that we are truly one with God, and so it is the understanding that the forces and resources of the universe are working in our ultimate favor.

Mr. Doumette noted that positiveness is a form of motion. It is movement that is directed forward and upward, toward the unfoldment and ascension of the self. Through the realization of our oneness with God, we better recognize the good in life. When we recognize that goodness, we can naturally see more: the blessings that surround us, solutions beyond problems, possibilities beyond what is now. We move forward into that greater vision, and we are led to faith, hope, higher truth, spiritual strength, interconnectedness and individual well-being. All those encounters start with being positive about the outcome.

Mr. Doumette also contrasted positiveness with fear, which is a negative form of motion. Fear drives us backward, downward and ultimately into isolation—separate from others and separate from God. Fear stunts our growth and locks us in a place of stagnation. When we move into fear, solutions remain shadowy, and possibility hardens into apathy and nihilism. However, while fear limits us, positiveness opens us up and helps us see more, all the better if we have practiced being prepared to perceive and attain.

Positiveness is not simply wishful thinking. It is purposeful, proactive, creative, quickening and actualizing. Like any spiritual practice, being positive is not passive but active. Being positive begins with perceiving solutions and support, divine presence, possibilities and personal growth; being positive further stimulates us toward achieving those goals, recognizing they are constantly refining, and helping us attain both fully mastered self and closeness to the Divine.

Let us pray:

Dear God,
On the darkest of nights,
Your Light is there.
At the coldest of times,
Your Warmth is there.
In the emptiest of spaces,
Your Presence is there.
May we never forget that truth.
May we be positive enough to push forward,
And may we push forward into positiveness.
May Your Light illuminate the strength, peace and wisdom that await us;
May Your Warmth comfort us while we unfold;
And may Your Presence surround us,
All while we move into positive knowing, feeling and seeing.
Amen.

“When one believes in and practices righteousness, justice, universal goodness, brotherhood and peace, he fulfills the laws of positiveness and paves the road to mastery and overcomes fear. Positiveness is the living knowledge that one is a part of God, that all of the truth, might, and resources of life are the foundations of his being and the motivating power of his thoughts, will and action.” - Hanna Jacob Doumette, “Positiveness and Fear”

Who's the Most Famous Person You've Met?

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Who is the most famous person you've met? Maybe your line of work has brought you into contact with some of the rich and famous of the world. Or maybe it was a chance meeting, in a pharmacy or on the street, with someone who somehow moved society. Maybe it was a complex interaction or just a few words, but either way, it can be an interesting story to relate once it's all over. “You'll never guess who I met,” you might tell close family or friends. And then you yourself take on a temporary celebrity, a residual from your encounter—the person who saw so-and-so.

People can be famous for being entertainers or inventors, athletes or artists, politicians or CEOs. What matters is they must be widely known, capable of being recognized by many, for their contributions to society. Also, we often award our attention to people whose contributions have been positive, and it's worth noting that synonyms for famous include “honored,” “celebrated,” “acclaimed,” “popular,” “notable” and “legendary.”

Does that nuance change your answer? If you had to pick a person based on their positive impact as much as how well-known they are, who's the most famous person you've met? Does that change make it easier or harder to determine and defend your answer? And, perhaps the most important follow-up of all, does this make you reflect on who it is that we pay attention to, that we as a society choose to call famous?

One person who met both definitions of famous in her day—and no doubt deserves to be more famous now—is Hildegard of Bingen, a 12th century Benedictine mystic who founded and led prominent convents in Germany. She could have been famous simply for her station, but she was also a celebrated teacher, poet, composer, herbalist and philosopher. In her day, she was well-regarded as a reflective and responsive counselor; many people, from humble monks to the Holy Roman Emperor, sought out her advice.

If you read some of Hildegard's writings, a couple of themes emerge. One is the importance of healing and reconciliation, which is present in everything from her encyclopedia on herbs and medicine to the inspirational letters she composed. Another theme is a respect for everyone and everything alive, including the spiritual nature of the Earth itself, because the presence of God was found within them all. Taken together, it becomes clear that Hildegard saw both the interconnectedness of creation and the significance of our impact on it.

Hildegard certainly lived her life that way. She might have been cloistered in a monastery, but she never withheld her wisdom from those who needed it. She recognized it was her spiritual duty to help others and learn from them, expanding herself so that she could more tightly connect to everything that is and better serve creation. The fact that she gave the same attention to commoners and kings also demonstrates she believed everyone was worthwhile. Hildegard reminds us we all hold the power to learn, expand and influence things for the better, assuming we recognize and utilize it.

So, once more, who is the most famous person you've met? If we rely on the metric of how influential a person is, it might very well be yourself. That may sound self-aggrandizing, but it's not. It's actually an indicator of the responsibility we have. Every word we say can take up someone's time; every action we perform can alter someone's perspective; every step we take can change the shape of the Earth. We already matter simply by being; what matters more is whether we make a positive or negative impact. Our significance is not measured in how many people know our name but in how good we strive to be.

Even the smallest things we do have the potential to start a chain reaction that reaches beyond what we'd ever expect. A kind word or an offer of help can change someone else's next interaction for the better, which can change another person's and another's, until the initial act of kindness has impacted people who have never heard of us or we of them. When we choose to be compassionate, to listen, to give, to be grateful, each of those everyday virtues can uplift people, inspire them to be more positive, and influence our own actions in the future to better ourselves. In fact, that's another reason why our thoughts, behaviors and reactions are so important; they also shape our personal and cosmic identity.

Our reach and influence are not only significant socially and psychologically, but spiritually as well. Our potential for positive impact is part of the divine plan. We know that because God shaped us, blessing us with intelligence, creativity, strength, wellness, willpower and the capacity for self-mastery. God's concern for us is in our crafting; God's confidence in us is in our connectedness with all that is.

The realization of our significance should quicken us toward our best, highest and truest nature—our Christ selves. Achieving the Christ self means to take the potential God placed within us and realize it: to be aware, to heal, to innovate, to uplift, to perfect and to become. To matter to everyone carries the weight of the world, to matter to God carries the weight of eternity, but we are up to the task. It's exactly who we are meant to be.

Let us pray:

Dear God,
Thank You for Your presence within us,
Which longs to connect to creation.
Thank You for Your presence in others,
Which longs to reach us.
May we nurture that part of ourselves
Through positivity, compassion, creativity and self-mastery.
May we strive to leave the world for the better,
And in doing so become better ourselves.
Amen.

“It is in your power to do the good, to fulfill the laws of life and to harmonize with the Spirit of love, brotherhood, and perfection. It is given to you to inspire creation to what you are in the depth of your being. It is in your power to quicken your indwelling Spirit, to resurrect your own divine faculties, and to enrich the world with this resurrection. It is your privilege to experience the universal powers concealed in your spirituality.” - Hanna Jacob Doumette, “Psalms For Today”

Achieving Forgiveness

A version of this post first appeared in Light Reading, our weekly email newsletter. If you would like to receive messages like this every Sunday, please send an email to info@ChristInst.org.

One reason we watch professional athletes is because they give us an opportunity to observe peak human physical form. Whether they're playing baseball, basketball or competing in the Olympics, those performers are among the fastest, strongest, most precise people alive. Their competition is a delight to watch in part for what it implies about human potential and achievement. We might never encounter such struggle in our daily lives, which makes it all the more thrilling in the watching.

And yet, there are some things that seem much more mundane than those feats of physical prowess, but they can feel no less challenging in the doing. Forgiveness is something that can take tremendous effort. We know it's better to forgive than hold onto something negative, but it can be hard for many of us to actually do. Sometimes we just don't want to forgive.

There are different reason why forgiveness can be difficult. We might feel we're showing weakness if we forgive someone who did us wrong. We might feel they that whatever wrong they did us was too much, and they aren't worth our compassion. And when we hold grudges, we can get invested. We commit to our perceived correctness and the hurt we've felt, to the anger, resentment and bitterness. It's hard to let go of that kind of investment, especially if it lingers for a long time. When we're holding tightly to something so emotionally charged, it can become a part of who we are.

But there is another thing that happens when we hold onto grudges: They hold us back. When we fail to forgive, we fail to move on. We stew in the past where we were hurt or wronged, sticking our heels into the temporal dirt. The only problem is that reality doesn't stop moving. Creation moves; that is its nature. Planets spin. Plants stretch toward the sun. We can't stop that no matter how hard we entrench ourselves. So to forgive is not just to move on--it's to join the rest of creation.

To fail to forgive is to stagnate while the rest of reality evolves, matures and becomes. Forgiveness propels us forward in our lives. We can move on, and in doing so, we too can grow, progress and become what we were meant to be. In that way, forgiveness is directly related to assuming our destined selves. It is a consciousness expanding practice that causes us to leave our limited perspective—where our perception stops at our own pain—and commune with the rest of humanity and the Divine.

When we forgive another person, we recognize that that's what we'd want if we were in their place. When we do wrong, it's a pretty safe bet that we want forgiveness for it. We want understanding. We want compassion. Perhaps we want to make amends, but that's part of the process of being worthy of forgiveness. So when we forgive someone else, we are acknowledging our common humanity, our potential for both mistakes and for compassion.

Forgiveness also puts us in touch with divine understanding. Throughout the Pauline letters to the Colossians and the Ephesians, the point is repeatedly made that forgiveness is a spiritual virtue because it's what God does. So when we forgive, we are behaving like God. Accordingly, to forgive is to assume Christ identity and to align oneself with the natural motion of the universe, with the transcendent mind of God.

To forgive is not to excuse bad behavior, nor is it to forget something that happened. Rather, forgiving is the process of acknowledging our own flaws, permitting our own compassion, and moving forward with a renewed sense of strength, humility and maturity. No matter how difficult achieving forgiveness can feel, it is ultimately a positive process, one that helps us shed the negative, earthly weight that pins us down to our lower natures. Instead, it is a spiritually quickening practice that allows us to ascend to our higher, truer Christ natures, which is wisdom that has reappeared throughout the ages. The 18th century English poet Alexander Pope probably put it best: To err is human; to forgive, divine.

Let us pray:

Dear God,
“Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.”
May we feel the weight of those words.
May we forgive because we are generous;
May we forgive because we are compassionate;
May we forgive because we are as one.
May we forgive and be like Christ,
Quickened in spirit and ascending in form,
Channels for your Mind and Presence and Peace.
Amen.

“Man was born rich in goodness, blessed with love, empowered with kindness and compassion. Through these qualities he appreciates life and all that is embodied within its scope. This appreciation is the source of inner sight, mental discernment, great inspiration, and realization of Divine Presence and the eternal value of humanity.” - Hanna Jacob Doumette, “Psalms For Today”

Things Unseen

A version of this post first appeared in Light Reading, our weekly email newsletter. If you would like to receive messages like this every Sunday, please send an email to info@ChristInst.org.

Familiarizing oneself with logical fallacies is a good way to construct and understand better arguments - not because it explains what to do, but because it illustrates what not to do. Logical fallacies are positions that have hasty or lazy logic, and they fall apart on closer examination. For example, “appeal to probability” is an argument that says something might happen, so we should behave like it will happen; “appeal to authority” says that because an authority says something, we can take it for granted that it's true. Those fallacies rest on speculation and assumption rather than examining conclusions ourselves. The most famous fallacy might be slippery slope, which posits that if X happens then Y will happen, and if Y happens then Z will happen, and since that will be bad we have to stop X. It seems logical because it flows, but it's based on compounding speculations and the conclusion that X and Z are basically the same thing.

By knowing logical fallacies, we not only better recognize when we're hearing bad arguments, we are also more clearly able to examine our own beliefs. Understanding the illogical and irrational can help us have a closer understanding of what is, and then help us construct a stronger defense of what we know to be true.

The problem is we don't always live in a logical and rational world. Sometimes things just happen that don't make sense: emergencies, disasters, unforeseen and unfair circumstances. Sometimes we do things that don't even make sense to ourselves, that leave us later wondering why we did anything at all. In those instances, the rational flow of A to B to C is not necessarily enough to get us through. We need something that is neither rational nor irrational, but exists wholly outside and above the realm of the rational. That is where the spiritual virtue of hope comes in.

Hope is defined as a desire, expectation or anticipation of something to be; it has also, notably, meant to trust. But regardless of its intensity - from merely wanting something to be true, to knowing it will be true - hope is also about something that is not obvious or immediate. That's why Paul, in his letter to the early church in Rome, described hope as necessarily about things unseen.

Hope in something you can see isn't really hope because it doesn't take the transcendent into account. In fact, by practicing hope, we are articulating with both the temporal and transcendent, the material and cosmic, the immediate and eternal. We articulate with the immediate when we hope for the best possible outcome in the short term - hoping for something to happen or improve today, tomorrow or by next week. It's still the unseen, but it's unseen that is nearly tangible. We articulate with the eternal when we hope for the future, when we hope that everything will work out in the end. That is when we enter the realm of destiny and divine planning.

We know the plan is true because we know that, regardless of whether an outcome now is the one we want, everything will be all right in the end. In the context of deep time, all things return and return to God. The sun will rise again. The convoluted will find equilibrium. Broken hearts become proving grounds for understanding, wisdom and an appreciation for what has been. Things don't have to make sense now for us to know that those things are ultimately true; our knowledge of that is what drives us forward, after our tears have dried, to step bravely into the new day.

Hope is an active thing. In his book “Mere Christianity,” author C. S. Lewis illustrated this by noting that some of the most significant things that happened in history - the abolition of the slave trade, the building projects of the Middle Ages and Renaissance, the establishment of Christianity in the shadow of the Roman Empire - came about because the people who did them were occupied with heaven rather than earth. Their hope, which was pointed toward eternity, was not passive escapism, but rather something that helped them to act and endure. To hope in the immediate is what gives us the courage to continue another day, no matter how things look now. To hope in the eternal is what gives us the strength to drive toward our destinies: becoming, completion and perfection.

Let us pray:

Dear God, may we dwell forever in hope.
Hope in the plan that was sketched out before time;
Hope in our potential to learn and love and heal;
Hope in a peace, without and within, that passes understanding.
May our hope in things unseen hurry us toward destiny,
Toward the perfection found in Your ultimate Presence.
Amen.

“You are destined to victory. God's will was done in your life before you came to the world. Through His will you entered the world rich in intelligence and possibilities and charted to happiness, progress and peace. Through His will you live creatively. You find the light of truth and receive the power to live as you desire in the heart of your higher being.” - Hanna Jacob Doumette, “Psalms For Today”

Finding the Rhythm of Summer

A version of this post first appeared in Vol. 206 of Light Reading, our weekly email newsletter. If you would like to receive messages like this every Sunday, please send an email to info@christinst.org.

Today is Father's Day, and with its emphasis on things like barbecue, baseball and fishing, it can feel like the unofficial start of summer. Still, the beginning of summer probably doesn't mean as much to us now as it did when we were schoolkids; if you had that experience and expectation, summer was a special time, separate from the rest of the year. Perhaps you even looked forward to it all year, and it probably felt like it took forever to reach.

When did we stop thinking of summer as distinct? When did the seasons blend into “the year,” an amorphous blob of time punctuated by holidays? When did we start treating days like a straight line, barreling toward some eventual end? We know that is not true intellectually. We know it's not true instinctively. One only need pick up a calendar to be reminded of it. The months tumble into each other, of course, but altogether they form a pattern that we recognize in an instant: damp and growing, to hot and active, to dry and cooling, to cold and sleeping, before waking up again.

Time is neither a blob nor an unbroken line, but a rhythmic process of rising and falling and rising. The ancients knew that intimately, and they expressed it in their mythologies, the frameworks they used to comprehend and commune with the cosmos. Interestingly, they often tied the seasons to cardinal directions, spatial forces tied to temporal ones, holding the world in place across time and space, and mapping out the complex of its pattern.

For example, in ancient Greece and Rome, the personification of summer, Theros, was depicted as the wind, Notos, one of the four direction wind gods. In Chinese tradition—picked up in Daoist thought and translated to Japan—directions and seasons, among other things, were governed by mythical beasts that were arranged along cardinal points. Pueblo folklore perceived the changing of the seasons through an agreement between Miochin, the spirit of summer who brought corn from the south, and his nemesis Shakok, the spirit of winter who brought snow from the north. All these elements existed in tandem with each other, as steady as the seasons came and went, as surely as the arrows on the compass formed opposing points on a balanced beam.

In the Hebrew Bible, the language is more expansive. The book of Ecclesiastes ties the passing of seasons not just to planting and harvesting, or even to birth and death, but also to simple tasks like sewing and huge jobs like construction, moments of joy and bouts of sadness, even how to conduct oneself—when to speak up and when to stay silent.

We can ignore it or complain about it, but we can't stop summer or winter from coming, any more than we can stop them from returning again next year. In the same way, we all feel a little happiness sometimes, we all feel a little sting, and we will again and again as part of the human experience. Seasons and sentiments, things individual and cosmic, all travel forward in sequence, like the crests and troughs of a wave. And just like a wave, the more we fight against that pattern, the greater resistance and so more turbulence we feel. Those who combat nature and bully their way through life end up destroying their environments and shattering themselves. On the other hand, those who align themselves harmoniously with the patterns of life find within those moments of heights and depths inner peace.

Those of us with spiritual perspective recognize not just the rhythm of life but also the conductor behind it. The presence of God is in the pattern, driving it toward its final goal. What is that goal? It is to achieve the good—harmony, unity, peace, completion. It is the goodness that was in the beginning and is now and will be again; the goodness that Paul said we know exists for those who love God, even in the trials of life. Perhaps the most interesting thing about Paul's proclamation to the Roman church is that he states all thing work together for good for those called according to God's purpose, which means those God foreknew, those destined to be in the image of Christ. But if it refers to everyone God foreknew, who is not included in that number? Who lacks purpose in God's pattern? We are all invited to live in the image of Christ—to take on Christ mind, Christ behavior, Christ identity. We are all invited to experience the good that God, over seasons and years and lifetimes, ultimately brings.

Life is not always great, but it's not always an amorphous slog either. It's not any one thing but instead a complex pattern, like an engaging melody, which we are all invited to hear and learn and play. We can feel the presence and purpose of God within its pulse; we are free to realize the truth of ourselves within its rising and falling, its descent and ascent, a pattern from which our identity and destiny emerge, become clear to us, are realized to be good, and bring us back to the Godhead.

Let us pray:

Dear God,
Thank You that life goes on,
And that there is purpose in its step.
Thank You for the turning of the Earth,
The changing of the seasons,
The passing of time, both terrible and beautiful.
Thank You for Your comforting presence,
Written into its pattern,
There tomorrow and the next day and the next,
Waiting for us, whenever we are able to perceive it so.
Amen.

“Life follows the path of evolution and involution. It comes from the Godhead and returns to the Godhead. It is the spontaneous and inevitable universal exhaling and inhaling of the Spirit of Life.”
- Hanna Jacob Doumette, “The Sun of Higher Understanding”

The Better Angels of Our Nature

A version of this post first appeared in Vol. 145 of Light Reading, our weekly email newsletter. If you would like to receive messages like this every Sunday, please send an email to info@christinst.org.

Last Monday was the 214th birthday of Abraham Lincoln, a president who has long interested me. I was always fascinated by his era, the 19th century, particularly as it relates to frontier, innovations in technology and human thought, and conflicts like the American Civil War. As I've matured, I've come to recognize Lincoln as more than a statesman. He was a person of tremendous feeling and hidden strength, both of which were necessary during his turbulent presidency, as was his remarkable talent as a wordsmith. In fact, Lincoln was likely the most skilled writer who ever inhabited the White House.

That is far from an original concept. Lincoln's mastery of words was praised in his time, and his heartfelt letters revealed him to be a leader with a soul, which manifest as humility, kindly wisdom, and a great and terrible vision beyond himself. Further, Lincoln's skills as an orator were legendary then and now, and I imagine it's hard to find any student of speech writing in English who cannot recognize the opening to Lincoln's Gettysburg Address.

However, out of Lincoln's writing, my favorite piece is the conclusion to his first inaugural address, which reads:

I am loath to close. We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.

With the drums of war already pounding on the continent, Lincoln's first official speech as Commander in Chief was as much a declaration of intent and a reminder of national identity, as it was a plea for peace and unity from an unquiet country. Just as the Gettysburg Address gave us “four score and seven years ago,” the first inaugural gave us “the better angels of our nature,” and that is the phrase I wish to examine today.

When Lincoln made that statement, he was not appealing to the country's history, to patriotic duty or to political logic. He had made those arguments before. This time, he was appealing to the higher identity of every member of his audience, to their better natures—to their ideal selves, the selves who recognized wisdom, compassion and peace, the selves who expressed those values, the selves who were sometimes forgotten or ignored in hotheaded moments. Lincoln clearly believed that such selves existed. He would not have bothered engaging those selves, nor would he have closed to the speech, if he thought otherwise.

Something you might have seen making the pop psychological rounds in the last few years is the phrase “living one's best life.” That can be a harmless, even healthy, concept, when it encourages fitness, wellness and self-actualization; but it can also lead to self-indulgence when used as an excuse for pursuing desire rather true betterment.

Lincoln's concept of a better nature is more spiritually mature than a best life because it is expansion, cohesive and holistic, concerned with others as well as the self, concerned with eternity as well as the present. It is not strictly of the material world, which is why Lincoln likened it to angels, placing it above pure physicality. Our better natures are lighter and loftier than dense material, but that does not mean they are out of reach.

In his letter to the churches of Galatia, Paul noted that through Christ identity we became closer to God. That was why Christ identity superseded the petty differences we saw on earth—Jew and Greek; slave and free; male and female. All were truly one in Christ. God is one. All are one. Lincoln recognized a similar unity through his earlier allusion to mystic chords of memory stretching across time and space, connecting us all to truth, to potential, to something greater than ourselves.

We might not have a responsibility to hold a country together the way that Lincoln had, but we have a similar responsibility to own identities and destinies. Because of its connection to Divinity, it is a sacred duty, and to shirk it is only to hurt ourselves. It is a responsibility to our complete identities, to our future, to our purpose. It is expressed through self-awareness, unfoldment, and a commitment to the Christ values of humility, wisdom, compassion, creativity, peace, infinity and unity. With a vision of its power and purpose, it is ours to attain.

Let us pray:

Dear God,
Thank You for our better selves.
Thank You for those who we see
Pointing the way forward
When we look back.
Thank You for our higher selves,
Transcendent but never beyond reach.
Thank You for the mystic chords that connect us:
One to all;
All to You.
Amen.

“Christ is the Spirit of God animating creation and enriching the soul of the world. We live in Him and He lives in us as our divine and all-pervading self. Through Him God vested in us the perfection and might of being. The kingdom of being is the throne of virtues, and human virtues are the spiritual powers that emanate from the impulse of Christ. God created our eternal virtues, and the Christ Spirit enables and empowers us to live them spontaneously as the glory and radiance of being human.” - Hanna Jacob Doumette, “Psalms For Today”

The Mystery of Heat

A version of this post first appeared in Vol. 114 of Light Reading, our email newsletter. If you would like to receive messages like this every Sunday, please send an email to info@christinst.org.

Summer is officially upon us, and it's hot out there. The first day of the season brought triple digit temperatures to the west coast, while other parts of the country saw roads literally melting. We all know what we're supposed to do to beat the heat - drink plenty of water and stay hydrated; try not to go out in the middle of the day; wear sunscreen and breathable clothing; cook in the morning; take cold showers - but for those of us who pay attention to the spirit as well as the body, even the heat offers novel opportunities for reflection and unfoldment.

To meditate upon heat as a means of personal unfoldment, one must begin by understanding its symbology. On its own, heat is simply energy. In psychoanalysis, heat symbolizes psychic energy, the life drive pushing individuals forward. Heat is invisible, abstract, metaphysical, and to better understand it, we need a means to visualize it. To do that, we have to turn to the source of heat.

Heat radiates off flames and fire, which is a complex symbol. The negative aspect of fire is destruction. As a punitive symbol, it appears in multiple passages of the book of Leviticus, which describes moral law for the Israelites, as well as in the ancient “Book of Two Ways,” a guide to the perilous Egyptian underworld. In the Gospel of Matthew, fire separates wheat from weeds. The fire Jesus describes in the parable is as purifying as it is punitive, and it points the way toward fire's more positive aspects.

In alchemy, fire was the element of transmutation, used in efforts to turn base metals into gold, which indicated the transformative journey of spiritual attainment. Fire also is associated with the cosmic sun, and therefore it is Divinity, the act of creation and the origin of life. Altogether, fire is the creator, transformer and destroyer, a complete cycle. Accordingly, the folklorist Sir James Frazer associated traditional fire rituals with harvests, growth and human well-being.

With this in mind, it should be clear what the spiritual lesson of heat really is. Heat is not simply energy; it is energy realized. It is the potential of raw, elemental fire transformed into metaphysical reality. Fire - which is life, transformation and perfection - is too hot to touch. However, we can safely encounter heat, which is life giving, transforming and purifying. Heat is both tangible and invisible, a reminder of its spiritual dimension. When we embrace that kind of heat in our own lives, we are bringing the spiritual forces that create, uplift and perfect ourselves into our personal reality.

Heat is a reminder that our spiritual values are recursive, and have both a creative center and a radiating path. For example, thoughts about compassion should not lay dormant but stir us toward charitable acts - the spiritual and intellectual made physical and communal. When we act charitably, we have an opportunity to be useful and realize a better world, and in doing so, we feel better about ourselves and those around us - the physical and communal remade intellectual and spiritual. Such actions produce a synergy between our material and metaphysical selves, uplifting and unfolding us as holistic beings. That is the goal of spirituality: personal unfoldment, positive realization without and within, and a more enlightened reality, all aspects of a bright and beautiful whole.

True Change

A version of this essay first appeared in the May 23, 2021, Light Reading email. Light Reading is our regular Sunday email newsletter. If you would like to be on our Light Reading email list and recieve messages like this every Sunday, please send an email to info@christinst.org.

There's a story about a Buddhist monk who goes to a pizza place, and when the guy at the register asks what he wants, the monk says: "One with everything." The pie costs $12. The monk hands over a $20 bill, but the cashier just deposits the money without giving him any cash back. The monk asks for his change, and the cashier says: "Change must come from within."

Jokes aside, change is an important topic to consider in spirituality. Tales of transformation abound in folklore and mythology, which can provide a vital link to forgotten religious practices. In fact, some of the earliest images painted on cave walls depict transformations, human-animal hybrids, hinting at humanity's questioning, questing nature and desire to know what could be.

Transformation is the heightened understanding of simple change. One of the goals of spiritual practice is to realize that kind of change, a transformation of the simple, physical self into a metaphysical self, a heightened, complex and complete self. The process is most purely presented in the ancient practice of alchemy. If we only associate alchemy with greedy medieval mystics trying to get rich quick by turning lead into gold, we are selling it short.

Alchemy stretches back into antiquity. Its goal of turning base metal into gold was meant to reflect an occult and cosmic philosophy of comprehending, translating and perfecting human identity. Alchemy was not about material wealth. It was about overcoming material limitations and achieving spiritual perfection. Base metal represented the unenlightened self, and gold represented the ideal human self.

In our own spiritual practice, we call that enlightened and ideal human self Christ identity. That is the human identity available to us through the Godhead. Our complete identity as both created physical humans and perfect spiritual humans is found in Divinity, and we are corporeal reflections undergoing a process to achieve that true identity.

That the totality of our identity is reflected back at us from God is an indicator that, while we are like God, God is not like us. This is why the book of Genesis can state that humankind was created in God’s image, but the prophet Isaiah can observe that God's thoughts and ways are not humanity's thoughts and ways.

God is the cosmic mirror that reveals the entirety of creation, us included. We are one part of the greater complex of Divinity. This is vital to our spiritual practice and human existence, since it gives us both a means to comprehend God and a perfect image toward which we can strive. We recognize ourselves in that divine reflection as potential and perfection, the best image of our selves that we can pursue, the image that we are duty bound by spirit to pursue. The name of that pursuit is transformation, alchemy and change.

Change means "to become different," and that can give us pause. We might be afraid of change, or we might think that change is too much for us to handle. However, we might also be focusing on the wrong part of the concept. If we are too focused on "different," we can miss "to become." The change that results from spiritual practice is not something becoming different. Rather, it is something becoming.

What that changed identity becomes is not really different at all. Christ identity is no different from our own identity because it is the true and ideal identity that has been waiting for us. It is not new. It is simply something we are in the process of becoming.

All that we could be and should be is available for us to see in the Godhead and achieve in our lives. The positive aspects of Christ identity – awareness, compassion, satisfaction, peace – are already within. Realizing that identity only seems new to us because our vision is limited. From a cosmic perspective, our perfect identity has already been achieved precisely because it is waiting for us to achieve it. That's why the writer of the book of Ecclesiastes, from a heightened vantage point, was able to so neatly state that what is has been before, and what is will be again. We are a continuum, and realizing our ideal self is the true goal of our spiritual practice.

Let us pray:

God of alchemical fire,
May we seek the bright glow of your Divine flame.
God of transformative light,
May we become aware of our capacity for wisdom, strength and peace.
God of ultimate destiny,
May we realize our True selves.
Amen.