The Compassion Wars?

Robert V. Taylor

The Compassion Wars are here and they’re ugly. The loud cheering about health insurance and booing of gay soldiers is chilling. This is not the generous hearted spirit of America at its best. Where is the compassion that leads to hearts cracked open to discovering our common humanity and oneness with one another?

Self-compassion is a journey that leads to compassions for others. I’ve come to believe that we are each hard wired for compassion. So how does that square with what I witnessed in recent Republican presidential debates from the candidates and the audiences?  How does it affect your practices of compassion?

In early September at a GOP debate sponsored by CNN and the Tea Party in Florida one of the candidates, Ron Paul, was asked if an uninsured man with cancer should be allowed to die. The crowd whooped it up cheering the question.  Ron Paul suggested that it was a choice of personal responsibility on the part of the man and that charity could always step in to help him.

I’m all for personal responsibility and the debate on whether there should be universal health care coverage are still unsettled.  But the cheering on of the death of another person because of their lack of insurance reflects hardened hearts.  Would the cheerleaders cheer on their own death or that of a loved one if they were in that situation?

Compassion invites you to be at one with another person by knowing that you could be in their shoes. Our lives are all bundled together, intertwined. Compassion leads to asking if life is just a game of Russian roulette or whether we want the best for another person.

When Stephen Hill, a gay soldier serving in Iraq asked the GOP field if they would circumvent the repeal of Don’t’ Ask Don’t Tell (DADT) if elected as President the audience at the FOX News-Google debate booed him.

In both cases none of the candidates offered leadership by suggesting it is inappropriate to cheer the death of a person or to boo someone serving his country.  Their silence was breathtakingly disturbing.

To boo another human being for whom they are or their circumstance is to say, “You don’t count as a person. You have no value as a human being.” Is this an expression of a new mob rule in which those we do not approve of are discarded to a human trash pile?

It feels like a declaration of war on compassion. To respond with equal fire power is not the compassionate response.  So how do you respond?

In your personal life one expression of compassion is to detach from negative or life-draining energy while whole-heartedly hoping for the best for the person from whom you detach.  When the death of others is cheered or a group of people are booed you might detach from the negative energy as you deal with your anger and amazement.  But detachment is very different from disengaging.

Disengagement is not the answer! When I disengage I cede the ground of compassionate oneness, of wanting the best for all people to those who would consign others to the trash basket of life. To mindfully engage is vital because your life and that of others is stake.

Every intention of yours is important. Every time you give voice to the questions and hopes of compassion your voice joins that of others. Your voice, your imagination and your compassionate life matter just as those who have been cheered and booed matter.

Detach but do not disengage! How will you be part of the human circle expressing compassion for all? How will you compassionately speak to the cheering and booing ones engaging in the oneness of the human family that includes those gay and lesbian soldiers and the dying uninsured?

So how will you engage with compassion?

Join the conversation -  post your responses below

Check out the Charter for Compassion!

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At Ground Zero

Robert V. Taylor

Robert V. Taylor

I was unprepared for what I would see as I headed to spend a few days on the site of Ground Zero in November 2011.  Visiting the site again this week I am apprehensive about its impact. I wonder if a violent rupture is making way for transformed hearts about how we engage with the human family.

     As I walked from the subway station past St. Paul’s Chapel its wrought fences were a billboard of hand drawn posters from people across the United States and the world expressing love and support for the efforts underway. 

     The walk from Broadway in lower Manhattan to Ground Zero is just one city block long. Walking towards Ground Zero had an ominous steely grey quality to it.  Approaching the site I was struck by the quiet chill in the air of an otherwise frenetic, bustling city. 

     I knew this part of the city well from my years of living in the New York. I had stayed at the high rise hotel opposite the once World Trade Center. In 2000 I participated in a meeting on the 98th floor of the World Trade Center, finding it difficult to focus on the meeting when the panoramic view of New York Harbor and the Statue of Liberty kept luring the eye. I had enjoyed the July Fourth fireworks displays in the harbor the early 1980’s. Now, a once bustling area was a scene of carnage.

     Thousands of people stood pressed up against the high wire fences enclosing Ground Zero. They looked like the pilgrims I had seen at various holy sites around the world, reverent and filed with awe. But theirs was a desolate awe. The smoke and noxious fumes floating upwards from the rubble and still smoldering ruins had none of the fragrant smell of incense. It was like a funeral pyre.

     I was there to be alongside my friend Rand who had been volunteering seven days a week as a chaplain working alongside the workers at Ground Zero. He led me through a secure entrance onto Ground Zero. Taking in the carnage I wondered what evil imagination had planned such destruction. Within a few minutes there was complete silence on the site. Part of a body had been recovered from the rubble. Excavation activities stopped and workers lined up in silence as the remains were carried from the debris. This was no ordinary work site. The reverence for the dead and those who loved them was sacred. I was walking on holy ground.

Firefighters at Ground Zero 2001

     Over the course of those two days I spoke with endless numbers of firefighters and police officers. They had each known colleagues who had died in the attacks. Most of them had been on the site for weeks without a break. Many of them were experiencing respiratory problems caused by the toxic fumes from the smoldering remains of the buildings that had collapsed. At the fire house on the edge of Ground Zero there were wreaths and flowers alongside the photographs of the fire officers who had died on September 11.

     The remarkable firefighters and police officers on the site revealed a richly textured face of human compassion and selflessness. Darkness and light seemed to wrestle with one another at Ground Zero. In those working there I experienced hands literally reaching out, delicately working in the rubble. Hearts were offered as if lighting a wick of hope.  Like lighting candles in the dark, their actions seemed to cry out to the darkness, “We beg to differ.”

     At the end of the second day, as I made my way past an exit area from the fenced-in Ground Zero work site, past police officers and sniffer dogs, I paused.  I stood with scores of onlookers pressing up against the fence, looking in from the outside at where I had spent two days.  I thought of Chanukah, the Jewish Festival of Lights.

     Chanukah is celebrated in the northern hemisphere at the darkest time of the year. The nine branched menorah, also known as a Chanukah, is placed in windows by way of pointing to the Light of the Holy One. The timing of the festival in the midst of winter reinforces the image of moving from darkness to light. Many of those who observe Chanukah understand the candles as offering a spiritual light enabling people to overcome difficulties, allowing them to move from places of personal darkness towards light.

      In the Jewish mystical tradition light is synonymous with the Divine. Robin Levinson observes that one such powerful image is of the overwhelming energy of God’s light shattering the vessel that held it and scattering it into countless “holy sparks” that spread across the entire universe. So we find the mystical tradition of “raising holy sparks” connected with the mandate to Jews of tikkun olam – repairing the world.  

     Looking down at the Ground Zero site that afternoon in 2001 each team of workers was like the nine-branched menorah. This was no place for working as a solitary individual. Together they were shedding light, differing with darkness, repairing a rupture in the world.  As I walked away with that image flooding my imagination I was crying. 

St. Paul's adorned with love offerings from around the world

The tears streaming down my cheeks were a common sight around Ground Zero. I wondered if others were coming away wondering how to be part of “holy sparks” of the Creator’s light. More than a cathartic response to the emotional intensity of Ground Zero, the tears were in recognition and acknowledgement of the internal shift on my spiritual landscape that came from being present at the site. Like most sacred places of pilgrimage the pilgrim comes away changed and transformed in some way because of being present in the presence of the sacred.

     I returned to historic St. Paul’s Chapel where George Washington was inaugurated as President of the United States. It had been transformed from a place of worship into a respite center for the workers at Ground Zero. A place of worship was revealing the meaning of service.

     Inside cots were set up for workers to nap on, food was served to them from the kitchens of New York’s finest restaurants, massages were offered to exhausted and stressed workers many of whom had not seen home in days.

     That night as I travelled on a train to rural Connecticut I realized that I was leaving a place where terror had ripped the veil of American innocence. I was heading to the bucolic beauty of a conference center alongside a river surrounded by the resplendent beauty of the colors of the last changing leaves of fall.  My destination felt both like a dislocation from the reality of Ground Zero and a reminder of human beauty coexisting with it.

Ground Zero Reimagined

     On the train ride I remembered some lines from Yeats – “I have spread my dreams under your feet. Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.” I wondered, as I still do, how we will tread softly on the dreams of the Holy for the entire human family.

     Perhaps the answer lies beyond the memories of the carnage of Ground Zero in the other story of Ground Zero. It was a story of people uniting in their common humanity across boundaries of religion, place or race. Selflessness was unassumingly assumed. Holy sparks of light were present in the determination to overcome the darkness of what had happened. Anger, loss and grief were giving way to oneness discovered in service and generous hearts at work.

     I don’t know your memories and experiences of Ground Zero but mine were transformative. 9/11 and Ground Zero still beckon with the invitation to oneness that takes us beyond our own memories and into the well-being of all. We’re still invited to be holy sparks for goodness and repairing the world.

Join the conversation – share your experiences of Ground Zero and 9/11 below

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Silencing the Dalai Lama?

Robert V. Taylor

Robert V. Taylor

The attempt to silence His Holiness the Dalai Lama is an exercise in futility akin to trying to block the flow of eternal spiritual truths. Yet this is what the government of South Africa is trying to do. Their refusal to grant him a visa to give a lecture in Cape Town in honor of his friend Archbishop Desmond Tutu’s eightieth birthday is ironic at best and, at worst,  hostile to free speech and religion.

     These two iconic human beings are honored in much of the world for their willingness to speak truth to power out of the spirituality of their respective Buddhist and Christian traditions. Tutu’s fearless defense of the voiceless and the inclusion of all people is an expression of the abundantly generous love of the God he believes in. The Dalai Lama’s insistence on the inter-connectedness of all beings arises from his Buddhist tradition.  He says that his religion is one of kindness. These two Nobel Peace Prize Laureates share a common spiritual and pragmatic insistence on the power of forgiveness over retribution.

     There is nothing kind, inclusive or generous about the obfuscating responses of the South African government as they dither about whether to succumb to China’s pressure to keep the Dalai Lama out of South Africa.

     In 2009 the Dalai Lama was denied a visa to give a lecture in South Africa with News24 reporting that the government admitted its move was made “in order not to jeopardize ties with China.”  The Sunday Independent reported that the South African Embassy in New Delhi had not received the Dalai Lama’s visa application. On August 22, 2011 the Ministry of Home Affairs spokesman was quoted by Phayul News saying, “The Dalai Lama’s visa issue is not only administrative but political and diplomatic in nature.” In others words the South African government is considering colluding with China in an attempt to silence His Holiness’ voice in South Africa.

Archbishop Desmond Tutu

Archbishop Desmond Tutu

    The irony lies in the history of apartheid giving way to a robust democracy in 1994. Many members of the current government were silenced by the apartheid regime under which freedom of expression and association was unknown. It was Archbishop Desmond Tutu’s voice against apartheid that could not be silenced at home or on the global stage. Calling for the end of apartheid and for justice he insisted that the human family is made not for separateness but for togetherness. He calls it Ubuntu – we are only human beings in the context of others human beings.  

     The long fought for freedom of expression, association and democracy in South Africa is called into question by not granting a visa to His Holiness to deliver the inaugural Desmond Tutu International Peace Lecture in honor of his good friends eightieth birthday on October 7.

     Driven by the spirituality of their respective traditions Tutu and the Dalai Lama tirelessly work for freedom, reconciliation and the inclusion of all. In addition to the Tutu invitation the Durban based Gandhi Development Trust intends to honor His Holiness in South Africa with the 9th Mahatma Gandhi International Award for Reconciliation and Peace.

Robert V. Taylor, His Holiness the Dalai Lama & Archbishop Tutu

Dumisa Ntsebeza, Chair of the Desmond Tutu Peace Center in South Africa, expressed a generous hope saying, “Althoguh uncertainty over the visa has proved challenging…the Peace Center is confident the visa will be granted.”

     Archbishop Tutu and The Dalai Lama will not be silenced by any government. The question is why, given the remarkable history of South Africa’s journey, it would even consider trying to keep the Dalai Lama’s voice out of the county?

      It is a futile flourish that the old apartheid government would have been proud of.  Perhaps it is the South African government that is need of reconciliation – the reconciling of a country’s liberation and constitution with a visa that will welcome one of the great religious and human rights crusaders to its country. What is to be feared from the voices of these two Nobel Laureates celebrating their voices and those of humanity in the quest for spiritual and human freedom?

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9/11/2001 – Stuck or Transformed?

Robert V. Taylor

Robert V. Taylor

What memories of September 11, 2001 do you have?  Was there some transformative power at work that continues to reveal itself in you today?

I was up early that morning in Seattle, made coffee, returned to bed and then uncharacteristically turned on the TV. The first plane had hit the North Tower of the World Trade Center. At first glance I thought it was a surreal stunt.  And then the second plane hit the South Tower.  I reached for the phone and called key staff members telling them what had happened and said, “We’re having an interfaith service; can you meet at the Cathedral in 90 minutes?”

Interfaith services took place across the United States in the days following the events of 9/11. The terror that lived in most of our hearts because of the attacks in New York, Pennsylvania and Washington DC was compounded by the stories of attacks and hatred directed to members of various religious communities.  These attacks came not from abroad, but from within the United States. 

As we tried to make sense of what the terrorist attacks, committed in the name of Allah meant, many were also grappling with internal attacks on the founding American principle of religious freedom.  President Bush’s suggestion of a religious crusade ricocheted in the hearts of many. It invited the question of whether the violence inherent in a crusade was a descent into greater darkness accompanied by the erosion of the values of liberty and justice that characterize America’s story and ideals. 

In the complex mix of emotions unleashed within us, the “other” became a scapegoat for many.  We always have the choice of accepting or rejecting the practice of scapegoating.  The Sociologist Keith Doubt believes that the scapegoat takes on symbolic significance as we develop a collective understanding of the scapegoat resulting in prejudice, which in turn leads to legitimizing violence under the “cloak of righteousness.” He says that when we scapegoat, human rights become invisible and moral actions become paralyzed. 

I kept asking myself, “Where is the light that shines in the darkness?  What is that light revealing to us?” 

Anxiety, horror, anger, uncertainty, bewilderment and fear were all combustible elements living side by side. For the hundreds of thousands who attended interfaith services across the United States and elsewhere that week there was a flickering hope, a refusal even, to have the dream of a common humanity shattered by a few. 

Unnamed and unspoken by most, these gatherings of prayer, lamentation and hope embodied a refusal to scapegoat.  They clung to a belief that the darkness of jettisoning human rights and moral paralysis invited a descent into further darkness instead of seeking the possibility of light in the midst of darkness.

Images of some of the traditions of the human family

In the largest of these services in Seattle, participants came knowing that in the six days following September 11th there had been attacks in that city on members of the Sikh and Muslim communities while synagogues required protection at Rosh Hashanah.  Fear had led to threats and actions of violence aimed at people because they were not part of the Christian majority or because they looked different.

At the interfaith service in Seattle I said, “When I light a candle, I say to the darkness, ‘I beg to differ.’”  We can beg to differ with the darkest darkness.  That night a sea of lit candles filled sacred spaces and then shed light on the streets of Seattle as people walked together in the streets, moving from one sacred space in the city to another. We begged to differ with the darkness whether it was coming from abroad, from our own leaders, from within our own community, or residing among our own unresolved and complex reactions. 

The power of people coming together refusing to succumb to fear and darkness pointed to a powerful ancient truth that, “the light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it.”  The light is revealed in our shared humanity, in our oneness and in the Holy or sacred discovered in all. It is a very different engagement with being human than the obsession with crusades reported by The New York Times.

Is the invitation of the tenth anniversary of 9/11 revealed in what it means to discover our oneness as a people together?  What it means to find God revealed in the many sacred traditions practiced in the United States and among the human family? What it means to refuse to scapegoat and deny the rights of others? And in the truth that our humanity is revealed when we work together for the well-being of all?  

Is the transformative gift of the 9/11 observances discovered in knowing that we need each other as members of the human family now more than ever? That is a power that no hatred or violence can scapegoat.

Join the conversation! Share your memories, reactions or transformative experiences below

Click here to watch Robert’s video conversation The Life-Giving Power of Darkness

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Stones of Hope?

Robert V. Taylor

Robert V. Taylor

If ever we need mountains of despair to be hewn into stones of hope this is the moment. The unveiling of the Martin Luther King Jr. monument on the National Mall in Washington DC is a gift to the nation. King’s unabashed hope in our capacity to transcend differences and work for justice that celebrates our need of one another is as timely today as it was during his remarkable life. How will you honor this legacy of his?

     King once asked if you and I would make a career of humanity, committing ourselves to a noble struggle – “You will make a greater person of yourself, a greater nation of your country, and a finer world to live in.” His words are as poignant an invitation to us today as they were in 1959.

     In my thirty-one years in the United States I’ve never before experienced the despair and sense of creeping malaise that is fueled by a confluence of factors. Persistent high unemployment, widening gulfs of resources, declining home values, brinkmanship politics, rabid divisiveness, wars that are not just unfunded but morally bankrupt – this are just a few of the realities coalescing in our collective psyche at this juncture in time. 

MLK Memorial

MLK Memorial

     And yet I remain filled with hope about our potential for goodness, our innate compassion and our capacity to be part of what Dr. King described as the “arc of the moral universe” that bends towards justice. I see and hear it expressed it in the people who attend my workshops and presentations; they’re each longing to be part of a new way to be human – together.

     They’re obviously self-selecting participants on a journey of personal growth and discovery about becoming more fully alive.  But their personal quest usually reflects a profound longing for deeper inter-connection. It’s a yearning that reflects Desmond Tutu’s talk about Ubuntu – that a person is only a person in the context of other persons. Or King’s observation that, “We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly.”

Entrance to MLK Memorial

Entrance to MLK Memorial

     The monument unveiled on the National Mall invites us to step beyond the current mood of despair or disgust and into its invitation.  In his “I Have a Dream” speech given on the Mall in 1963, King rallied the nation with the call that “We will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope.” You approach the site by walking through a split boulder and discover on the other side a solitary stone in which his image emerges.

     It is an image inviting us to move beyond the mire and envision the hope that becomes a reality when people of compassion and love make choices not to remain silent. It is an invitation into a collective consciousness of what exists beyond the mire of despair. Some may refer to it a quintessentially American optimism. It may be that but it is also more – it is a reminder that every thought, intention and action joins together with those of others to forge a new path.

     The new monument is nestled alongside a Japanese gift of cherry trees given as a sign of unity and peace between nations that were once at war. The spring cherry blossoms are a reminder of rebirth, renewal, beauty and hope. They are qualities that reflect our individual journey to becoming more fully alive as well as our collective human arc of becoming more fully human in our mutuality.

     The unveiling of the monument at this moment in our history re-births the timelessness of Dr. Martin Luther King’s courage, vision, leadership and abiding hope in our goodness. We best celebrate and honor his life and the monument’s invitation by asking how we each hew stones of hope.

     How will you become a stone of hope? The world needs that hope from each of us.

Post your comments about the Memorial and Stones of  Hope here 

Watch Robert discuss what it means for each of us to be a Repairer of the World – click here

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Cafeteria Spirituality?

Robert V. Taylor

Robert V. Taylor

Who would have imagined that a Mormon candidate for the Presidency of the United States would be mainstreaming cafeteria spirituality? John Huntsman, the former Governor of Utah, is doing just that and giving voice to the nuanced and rich spiritual practices of tens of millions of Americans.

Huntsman says that his Mormon practices are “tough to define” and that he gets “satisfaction from many different types of religions and philosophies.”  That may be startling to hear from a Mormon because it upends what many Americans perceive as monolithic Mormonism. Huntsman’s courage in naming his truth reflects the satisfaction he describes as much as it breaks open stereotypes about Mormons and spirituality.

Is Huntsman just a postmodern spiritual person? He describes himself as more spiritual than religious but so do countless numbers of people who, like him, profess a primary grounding in the teachings of one tradition.

This so-called cafeteria spirituality can be more aptly thought of as a balanced spirituality. It describes those who, like Huntsman, are secure in their Christian, Jewish or Mormon identity but know that the spiritual practices, wisdom and mystical truths revealed in other traditions enhance rather detract from their spirituality. They are not fearful that life-giving transformative truths are revealed beyond their chosen or cultural religious background.  

A few years ago I sat with a group of 30 people exploring membership in a Christian church. Every person spoke of their spiritual journey being enriched by practices learned from the spiritual wisdom of traditions as diverse as Sikh, Buddhist, Jewish, Hindu and Wiccan to name just a few. The fear expressed by each person in the room was that they would be asked to abandon or never speak of those riches in their new spiritual community. They were not interested in playing God with truth or being agents of religious certitude.

Those who are more spiritual than religious yet choose to be religiously affiliated are less likely to be doctrinaire because they know that eternal truths are not revealed in pronouncements; they have distinguished between religion’s institutional needs and the journey of the spirit. They have learned the importance of navigating competing truths and intuitively settling on core truths. They’re more likely to place their energy in life-giving pursuits than those that are negative.

Spirituality is after all about the “breath of life” – by its nature it invites expansiveness and inquisitiveness. John Huntsman’s truth-telling invites an expansive embrace of spirituality as part of the reality of American life. 

So where do you place yourself on this spectrum?

Share your story of Cafeteria Spirituality or Balanced Spirituality here

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Your Freedom to Shine

Robert V. Taylor

Robert V. Taylor

An Independence Day reflection from Wake Up Call! the weekly resource with tools for a spirituality of becoming fully alive on your daily journey

The freedom to shine is one of the marks of the spiritual journey.

I always look forward to Independence Day. Raised in a country where the ideals of liberty, justice and freedom were squashed by the government I cherish what July Fourth stands for as much as I enjoy the holiday barbeques and fireworks. I reflect each year on what it means to be part of a country where these ideals are a common bond.

I could just leave it at that which would not be a bad thing to do! Instead I allow this holiday to be an invitation to think about what freedom means on my journey.

This year I am thinking about what I am free from in my life – free from government intervention in my spiritual journey or that of others. I’m also thinking of what I am freed for – free to be as authentically human as I was born to be.

The result is renewed appreciation for my freedom from and my freedom to be. It brings new awareness to the truth that our spirituality is marked by being fully alive. This is no small thing to me because my consciousness and actions are then invited to be in harmony with this same truth for others.  

 Call-to-Action:

In reflecting on your freedom:

  • Name your freedom to shine and be authentically human
  • Reflect on what your freedom means for your consciousness and actions
  • Celebrate freedom as a treasured gift

Notice how your awareness shifts as you are mindfully awake to freedom’s invitation.

Share your story of freedom to shine here

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The Sword of the Lord – Transforming the Experiences of Fundamentalism

Robert V. Taylor

Robert V. Taylor

In speaking engagements around the country I hear stories of those recovering from the wounds or abuse of fundamentalist Christianity. In his new book The Sword of the Lord: The Roots of Fundamentalism in an American Family, Andrew Himes offers a path to healing and transforming those experiences.

In the telling of our stories a spiritual pathway of connecting stories is revealed. As we listen with attentiveness to our own story and those of others we are on sacred terrain in which the Holy is revealed through connecting stories.

I am a friend and admirer of Andrew Himes’ work. In The Sword of the Lord he offers a lavish invitation to discovering the Holy in our stories and experiences of fundamentalism that may have caused us to believe in a harsh, unforgiving and dour God.

Himes’ invitation comes through telling the stories of his own family who were formative leaders within American fundamentalism.  Among them is his grandfather John R. Rice whose opinions expressed in his weekly paper named The Sword of the Lord exerted more influence on twentieth century fundamentalism than any other single person.  

The book is an eye-opener in revealing the crucial role that fundamentalism played in much of American history from the Civil War and Reconstruction to Civil Rights. If love is the only commandment offered by Christ and justice is its expression you will leave this book wondering where love and fundamentalism intersect for those who are not part of fundamentalism’s restrictive and harsh interpretation of Christ’s teachings.

The arc of Andrew Himes’ story is the captivating glue of this book. As he journeys away from the fundamentalism of his own family to explore other teachings and traditions Himes travels a journey to a fuller, more expansive and generous love of the Holy.

As he enters into a mutual telling and listening to stories with members of his own family you feel privileged to be present for experiences of hearts cracked open to one another. It is in these powerful connecting stories that you experience the transformation of hearts and lives.

On one level this book is a must read for anyone seeking to understand or make sense of American fundamentalism. For any of us who have been shaped, formed or disfigured by fundamentalism The Sword of the Lord is an invitation to take some next steps on your own journey of healing.  

For anyone interested in the power of storytelling and the pathway that connecting stories offer on our journey to becoming fully alive and fully human this book is filled with wise, compassionate and  deeply engaging examples of how to authentically make such a journey.

If you buy The Sword of the Lord today on Amazon you will help make it on to the top ten best seller list of the day. Whenever you buy it and read it, it will become a familiar companion of hope, transformation and generous radiant living.

Post your comments about fundamentalism, love or The Sword of the Lord below

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Queer Crusade: Christianity Run Amuck in Uganda

Robert V. Taylor

Robert V. Taylor

Uganda’s Anti-Homosexual Bill is a Christian crusade dressed up as legislation. If enacted it will represent a triumph for Christian fundamentalists and open the floodgate to further violence against LGBT people in Uganda.  The theology motivating the bill’s proponents is in stark contrast to notions of love, mercy, justice and compassion.

The creation of the Anti-Homosexuality Bill followed the 2009 seminar sponsored by Uganda’s Family Life Network to “Expose the Homosexual Agenda.” American evangelicals Scott Lively and Don Schmierer partnered with the Family Life Network in promoting the view that LGBT people are recruiting children to their cause and destroying the family structure.

Rick Warren from Saddleback Church is quoted by leaders of the Queer Crusade in Uganda as saying that “Homosexuality is not a natural way of life and thus not a human right.” Warren’s comments put him at odds with the Obama administration’s decision in 2009 to sign the United Nations declaration calling for the decriminalization of homosexuality.

Under pressure Warren, Lively and Schmierer have attempted to separate themselves from the bill’s harshest measure which calls for the death sentence for “repeat offenders.” In a Christmas video to Ugandan’s Warren tried to have it both ways by claiming that “While we can never deny or water down what God’s word clearly teaches about sexuality, at the same time the church must stand to protect the dignity of all individuals.” Warren ignores that Christ said nothing about homosexuality and very little about human sexuality. His nuance obfuscates his case that Christ would not have wanted homosexuals killed. 

The Queer Crusade in Uganda is widely believed to have led to the January 2011 murder of Ugandan gay rights activist David Kato. A Ugandan tabloid published Kato’s photograph, along with photos of 100 other supposedly gay Ugandans, under the headline “Hang Them.” Several others identified in that publication have been attacked or stoned.

If the Anti-Homosexuality Bill is passed it will allow for any person who “aids or abets” homosexuals to be imprisoned for seven years. A sibling or parent who waits longer than 24 hours before turning in a LGBT relative can be imprisoned. The expected consequence of the legislation is to tear families apart and to incite violence against any person suspected of being gay.

The bill is an aberration of human rights and violates Uganda’s constitution which assures the protection of universal human rights. Even more alarming is the Queer Crusade it will unleash in the name of Christianity.

The ethic and spiritual practice of “loving your neighbor as yourself” cannot be applied selectively.  It invites us into discovering our oneness with the rest of the human family instead of devising ways to imprison or kill in the name of religious hatred and God. There is nothing resembling Christian notions of love, justice, mercy or compassion in the legislation.

The system of apartheid in South Africa was built upon the edifice of a theology that claimed the supremacy of one group of people over another as the will of God justified by scripture. That theology turned into legislation allowed for the government of South Africa to commit deliberate and wonton acts of violence against those who were believed to be less than fully human because of their race. Uganda’s bill transposes race with homosexuality. It is as much of a scourge on the religion it pins hatred to.

International pressure has contributed to the recent delay in voting on the bill in the Ugandan Parliament. Emma Ruby-Sachs in Huffington Post reports that the bill could be voted on this Friday. Avaaz has already collected over 1.1 million signatures urging the Ugandan President to withdraw the bill. The attention and pressure might just halt the passage of this bill. 

Your voice matters as much as the lives of those Ugandans which are at risk. According to the LA Times the controversial death penalty for “repeat offenders” was removed only becuaseo f international pressure.

Each voice raised against what is happening in Uganda diminishes the potential of the new Queer Crusade, speaking instead to our oneness as members of the human family. Love, justice, mercy and compassion are best known in the coalescing of words and actions.

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Can Ground Zero be Transformative?

Robert V. Taylor

Robert V. Taylor

President Obama has missed an opportunity at Ground Zero. Beyond the pathos of his visit is an invitation beyond the cheap closure he talks about. Is it possible that Ground Zero invites transformation from fear into freedom for compassion; transformation into a new common humanity?

ABC News correctly identifies the “flurry of emotions” around the Ground Zero meeting.  The loss suffered by the families of those killed in the attacks of 9/11 is real. Our emotions are engaged in surprising, unexpected ways in the years following loss of any kind. The talk about bringing closure makes the President sounds like our Therapist in Chief. There is never closure about any significant loss or abuse because the reality of loss never disappears. Instead the process invites learning that is transformative.

The President is missing the opportunity to be a transformative leader on this one. It is we who are each accountable and responsible for the transformative work that leads to new insights beyond grief and loss. The President can set a tone but he cannot do that work for us any more than a therapist or friend can.

The events of 9/11 have marked the national and personal psyche of many of us with two powerful forces – fear and righteousness.  Both keep us from our truest selves.

In November of 2001 I was privileged to spend time on the secure site of Ground Zero. Two images from that place of devastation speak to being transformed from fear and righteousness into life-giving responses.

The first is of body parts discovered among the rubble. Each time this happened the rescue workers halted their excavations and silence enfolded the site. The reverence for the dead and those who loved them was arresting. People from over 90 nations were killed in the attacks of 9/11 and they included people from many spiritual traditions or none at all. The reverence knew no boundaries.

Fear paralyzes us and creates a paradigm for viewing the world as a battleground between whatever construct we create of “us” and “them. The first victim of fear is usually truth – our own fears separate us from the larger human story we are part of. We then choose to imprison ourselves behind an enclosure. In the moment we do that we give power to those who use fear to stoke division, hatred and mistrust among people, nations and spiritual traditions. We become victims.

Every time we say “I beg to differ” with fear we spread the light of a candle on the murky shadows of fear. When we live in fear we give victory to those who keep us from hope and compassion. The fears represented by 9/11 do not invite us to be mushy about security or stopping terror. But they do invite the transformation of stepping beyond our enclosures into life-giving actions of compassion and hope.

St. Paul's Chapel NYC adorned with messages of hope

The second image came from the historic St. Paul’s Chapel adjacent to Ground Zero. This church where George Washington was inaugurated as President was transformed from a place of religious services into a respite center for the workers at Ground Zero. Food from New York City restaurant kitchens, cots to nap on and massage services for stressed workers were all freely offered. The balcony and pillars were adorned with hand drawn and heart-filled posters from around the world.

Instead of righteous anger or litmus tests for those who entered its doors it was a nerve center of the compassion and care that we are made for. It knew no boundaries for the religious traditions or country of origin of the workers or those killed. No one person’s suffering, trauma, grief or need was more righteous or compelling than that of another. No group of people was scapegoated. Each was real, each was honored.

We often think of the extraordinary generosity and hospitality of Americans. It is legendary. Is it simply a different expression of the same human generosity and hospitality that many of us experience across the globe?

Transformation begins when we make understand and befriend our fears and righteousness. Instead of enclosing us they invite us to understand and enter into those same reactions experienced by any person who has experienced violent loss, terror, abuse or inconsolable grief.

Transformation moves to its own rhythm in the dance of our lives. It is always inviting us in. We can choose to be transformed by the very experiences that change or upend life as we know or imagine it. Each of us can choose to be participants in saying “I beg to differ” with the imprisonment that fear and righteousness brings. This is waking up to being our truest selves – compassionate and at one with others. Is it worth the journey and the work to you?

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