Browsing the archives for the unity tag

Harvey Milk & God Terrified Me

Harvey Milk and God each terrified me.  In that order.  I was a young white anti-apartheid activist in South Africa in the nineteen-seventies.  To be openly gay filled me with more fear than the fight against apartheid.  Yet I knew in my bones that Harvey Milk and anti-apartheid activists were pointing to the same truth about the magnificence of each person.

As a young man I rejected the theological and political notion that apartheid was divinely sanctioned.  It was inconceivable to me that humanity could be denied to another person based on race.  Yet that was the moral and religious justification claimed for a system based on the superiority of whites in South Africa.

My activism was strengthened by the courage of religious leaders like Desmond Tutu. They insisted that God loves every single person.  Equality, justice and human rights were expressions of that love.  As a young man I was certain that our differences were less significant than the oneness of our humanity. Except when it applied to me.  

Learning about Harvey Milk’s election to the San Francisco Board of Supervisors in 1977 was shocking news. It seemed impossible to conceive of an openly gay elected official in South Africa where legislation gave impunity to the police to act against LGBT people.

I was a candidate for ordination to the Anglican priesthood in South Africa in the nineteen seventies.   I’d witnessed the witch hunt conducted by the church against gay seminarians.  I used to go to Mass each day to get on my knees to plead for God to change me; to take away my sexual orientation. 

Following Harvey Milk’s assassination in 1978 I experienced an epiphany.  If God had no use for hatred and exclusion based on race, surely the same was true about sexual orientation.  The truth of this filled me with terror.  Was Harvey Milk’s courage an invitation for all LGBT people everywhere to stop pleading to be changed?

The possibility of Harvey Milk and God offering an invitation to get up off our knees was an exhilarating truth.  It would take me years to live fully into that liberating notion of becoming fully human.  In the process I discovered that the root word for courage is the same word for love.  Maybe Tutu was correct that the Holy loved all people without condition. I imagined God smiling on Milk’s courage.

Archbishop Desmond Tutu, Mpho Tutu & Robert V. Taylor

Fifteen years later I asked Desmond Tutu when he would add LGBT people into his compelling vision that we are all “made for oneness.” He assured me that it would be after the fall of apartheid.  This iconic leader has been true to his word.  To the ire of many and the delight of others, Tutu is insistent that there are no outsiders with God or the human family. 

The shadow side of Milk’s invitation to courage was violence.  To be physically harmed or killed because of who you are is not something that most people seek.  My experience of threats directed against me over the years because of my openness as a gay man remind me that we have a long way to go in the United States before LGBT people know that we are viewed as outsiders.

But Harvey Milk’s life continues to have a ripple effect.  The young videographer who recently filmed me for a Seattle Men’s Chorus video unexpectedly told me that I’d been a hero of his.  I could not imagine why.  He said that as a high school student my prominence as an openly gay leader had given him courage in grappling with his own sexuality.  It was a simple moment.  In every encounter like that one I give thanks for the courage of people like Harvey Milk.  A young millennial man took for granted his ability to be open about his identity.  It seemed like reason enough to celebrate!

In the rural farming community of Eastern Washington where my partner and I spend time, we know that the politics is not as progressive as it is in cities like Seattle or New York.  But we hear the stories of families who accept, love and include their LGBT members.  For these families it is not a struggle, but a given.  I imagine Harvey Milk and God smiling on such inclusion.

The terror that Harvey Milk and God instilled in me have long dissipated.    Terror has made way for courage.  My own experience of exclusion is a reminder that it is dangerous to dismiss or exclude any person or group of people.  Harvey Milk’s courage is an invitation to celebrate oneness with our own self and others.

Share your story here!

Join Robert’s YouTube conversation about the Holy who includes and delights in each person – Exclusion in the Name of God – by clicking here

Read or post comments

Dalai Lama – Invitation to Show Up with Compassion

The Dalai Lama invites us into compassion as a way of life.  Today’s meeting with President Obama at the White House elicited both praise from Tibetans and condemnation by the Chinese government.   While the politics of Tibetan-Chinese relations remain unresolved, it is the spirituality of His Holiness that makes him a global moral voice. He speaks to our hunger for meaning and purpose.

The Dalai Lama has said, “My religion is very simple.  My religion is kindness.”  No wonder so many throng to hear him.  Or that his spirituality connects with those on a spiritual quest.  It is a message of simplicity without being simplistic.  It stands in stark contrast to the divisiveness so often expressed in the name of religion.

I once heard His Holiness counsel a member of the audience not to abandon her own religious tradition, but instead, learn how to be more compassionate and kind in her daily life.  His lack of proselytizing or expecting a “buy-in” to all Buddhist teachings from the spiritual seeker is telling.  In itself it is an example of practicing the compassion and kindness that he expresses as the heart of spirituality.

People who encounter His Holiness invariably leave with a renewed sense of life, usually feeling optimistic about their own purpose and spirituality.  It is a message far more profound than passing “feel good” emotions.  His message is rooted in the moral high ground of what we call inclusiveness; of what he describes as all things and all people, being intertwined.

The question which the Dalai Lama has suggested we ask in our conversations with the Holy is how can I “show up in the world in a way that will cause the world itself to change.”  Compassion and kindness impact our way of being.  They offer a new mindfulness to whom and how we are!

The issue may be human rights in Tibet, the way in which we each exercise leadership, our care for the environment, the hope of a more compassionate world for our children or any number of things affecting the life of all.

Compassion and kindness are not just good ideas!  It is about how we show up in the world each day. No wonder the Dalai Lama connects and speaks to our longings, inviting us to become fully alive.  Kindness and compassion are possible to practice, to integrate into our living.  As if he is always coaxing, inviting us on, the Dalai Lama knows how to keep showing up.

Read or post comments

Mandela – the Spirit of Being Human: 20th Anniversary Celebration of His Release.

Nelson Mandela is a reminder of what it means to be authentically human.  As the world celebrates the 20th anniversary of Mandela’s release from prison, a story of courageous hope and courage is celebrated.  His authentic leadership and bridging of divisions are rare commodities of hope.  There is a craving for such integrity among the global human family. We celebrate an icon who reminds us of what it means to part of the human family.

Many throughout the world remember exactly what they were doing on the day of Mandela’s release on February 11, 1990.  I was leading church services in New York as a global audience watched him walk out of the Victor Verster prison.   A few hours later he stood on the balcony of Cape Town’s City Hall and spoke to the world and the 50,000 who had gathered there.  “Our march to freedom is irreversible” he said.  As a young anti-apartheid activist I had often sat on Cape Town’s Signal Hill, looking across Table Bay to Robben Island wondering if he would ever be freed.  Many of us were as joyful, as we were incredulous, at his release.

During apartheid it was a criminal offense to own the writings of Mandela and quote or display images of him in public.  My heart pounded as I smuggled his writings into South Africa in 1978.  Government paranoia of his message was related to its powerful simplicity.  He envisioned a diverse nation in which democracy, freedom and equality for all were the foundation of a thriving country.  Apartheid enforced divisions were the antithesis of his vision of a shared and common future for all.

Mandela re-appeared on the world stage, striding out of prison on February 11, 1990.  In spite of being jailed for 26 years, his own persona remained free, courageous and unwavering in his vision.   He may have been in prison, but his personal identity and vision were never imprisoned.  His release from jail was a reminder that he had never left the world stage; he was re-entering it with even greater gravitas.

The attempt to silence and diminish Mandela was an unmitigated failure – a truth that F.W. De Klerk, then President of that country, acknowledged in admitting the moral failure of apartheid’s cruel, unjust divisions.  De Klerk said he realized that all South Africans were “an omelet you could not unscramble.

A more compelling version of De Klerk’s observation was the message constantly offered by Archbishop Desmond Tutu, that all people are made for oneness.  Mandela’s iconic status is etched in history because of his leadership in building common ground, unity and oneness out of the ashes of division.

Clint Eastwood’s Invictus is a reminder that Mandela steadfastly resisted the yearning for payback expressed by some of his supporters. Instead, Mandela was resolute in using every tool at his disposable to work for the oneness so often elusive in post-traumatic political landscapes.

The South African Constitution, widely regarded as a model of constitutional law, reflects Mandela’s vision and the yearning of a nation with no outcasts among its citizens.  Unique among constitutions, it enshrines legal protections for children, women and gay and lesbian South Africans among others.

Mandela and Tutu believed in a proactive effort to avoid any possibilities of vengeance.   These two Nobel Peace Laureates set up the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, chaired by Tutu.   Any South African could apply for amnesty from civil and criminal charges if they confessed to and asked for forgiveness for their actions.  Nothing quite like it had ever been attempted in any part of the world.

Mandela’s life story and integrity supported the words he spoke 20 years ago that “the march to freedom is irreversible.”  In a country where the roadblocks to freedom for all were abundant, Mandela led the widening of the path to oneness and unity.

Mandela the icon may be iconic because he transcends the politics of divisions.  In place of discord, his life story is about freedom for all, an innate freedom that not even the harshest imprisonment can destroy.  The march to freedom is irreversible. Hundreds of millions in the global family know it. We celebrate freedom, justice and dignity for all in Mandela even as we yearn for others to take up the mantle of his spirit.  The mantle of being authentically human.

Read or post comments

Your Footprint of Compassion

The compassion of people throughout the world to the people of Haiti has been remarkable.  Some estimate that at least 50% of all Americans have contributed to the Haitian relief effort in some way!  I believe we are each hard-wired to be compassionate and generous.

If you haven’t done so yet, please consider supporting groups with trusted, effective on-the ground relief capacity in Haiti.  Perhaps an organization like one of these:

Every compassionate and generous action makes a difference, joining that of others. We are hard-wired for generous compassion.  We grow into it by practicing compassion and generosity. Soon your part and mine reveals the face of compassion, hope, love and justice.  So we begin to leave a footprint of compassion.

Read or post comments

A New Year Spirituality of Hope?

Does the turning of a year invite some spiritual optimism and hope for what lies ahead?   Joyful, festive celebrations express a spirituality of delight and feasting.  But is there something that reminds us of the other dimensions of a spirituality of oneness, of unity and of justice for all?  I believe there is.

For over three decades my own New Year’s Day practice has been to recite, sing or reflect on the words of the gospel song, This little light of mine.   The song is a reminder of the spiritual light which flickers in each of us, going before us, illuminating the path and inextinguishable.  This annual practice has always felt to me like a reminder of the light which precedes us in the world.  A light which invites us to be radiant in what we try to do.  This annual practice and tradition is a reminder of the ground beneath me and before me.

A practice much older than mine provides a reminder of a profound spiritual yearning for freedom, emancipation, justice and liberty.  For surely these things are the expression of any spirituality of love and compassion?  At the cusp of a new year the reminder of this yearning comes in the form of Watch Night.

Watch Night is a prayer service that takes place on New Year’s Eve in black churches across the United States.  The practice began in 1862 when free African Americans, joined by abolitionists, gathered to pray that the Emancipation Proclamation would be signed by President Lincoln as he had promised to do on the next day, January 1, 1863.

In many black churches the Emancipation Proclamation is still read in its entirety, or in part, at every Watch Night service.  In some churches the lights are dimmed for the service and then completely turned off for the five minutes before midnight as congregants kneel in prayer. As midnight strikes, the lights are turned on and people rise from their knees and a new year is celebrated!

This tradition may celebrate one particular emancipation epiphany.  Its particularity invites reflection and participation in the universal hope it points to. It invites us to the window of what a spirituality of being beloved of the Holy means for the emancipation of all people.  The Watch Night rhythm of prayers offered on bended knees, the movement from dimmed light to darkness which welcomes the blazing light of a New Year is a metaphor for the cycles of dimness, darkness and the many shades of light which lead into promises of hope, justice and emancipation for all.

The celebratory partying of New Year’s Eve need not stand alone as an expression of a spirituality of delight and joy.  The Watch Night tradition is a reminder of the hopes for oneness and unity emerging from the shadows into the full disclosure of light.  The two strands of celebration are not separate but spiritual cousins.

My own treasured tradition with, This little light of mine, at the turning of the year is not diminished by these other traditions.  It is enriched and enhanced by them.  I am reminded that we each play a role in making the promises of the year ahead happen.

Perhaps your own traditions at the turning of the year reveal spiritual insights for yourself and others?

Join the blog, post a comment at http://www.robertvtaylor.com/blog/archives

Read or post comments

Breaking out the light of Chanukah?

Chanukah is a reminder of light breaking out.  One rabbi refers to the light of Chanukah as “holy sparks”.  Another says that within Judaism there as many words for “light” as Eskimo’s have for “snow”.  Chanukah offers a reminder to what grounds our way of being.  What does it mean to discover sparks of light in our lives?

It is not by accident that the Hindu festival of Diwali, the Christian celebration of the birth of Christ known as the “light who shines in the darkness” and Chanukah all come within weeks of the shortest day of the year in the Northern hemisphere.  These celebrations of light occur when lengthening shadows and parsed light invite us to reconsider light as the metaphor which grounds our lives.

Chanukah is a lesser Jewish festival with wide appeal inviting non-Jews into its radiance.  It transcends its own tradition because we each know about shadows or darkness.  We might wonder how to bring light to endless teenage killings in Chicago, the homeless hungry in our cities, justice and peace in the Middle East, Burma or the Congo.  Chanukah makes Jews of us all, if only for a season.

The lighting of the Chanukah candles, placed in a window, is a powerful symbol inviting us to ask how we ground our lives.  It says, “I invite the light of the Holy in.”  It is a life-affirming consciousness that it is possible to move from darkness to light.

What happens when we shine a light on what needs to be repaired, healed, restored or re-created in our own life or the life of the world?  We can choose to become part of the “holy sparks” of making the world a better place for all.  Chanukah offers a consciousness about how we want to be throughout the year.

The Buddha once told his followers to “Make a light of yourself”.  We are not created to be passive, pliant people.  The gospel song, This Little Light of Mine was originally sung to remind people of the Holy light burning inside of them, that no person could ever extinguish.  It was also a song of claiming our own destiny and power as people made I the imagination of the Holy.  Was this why it became an anthem of the Civil Rights movement?

Light can never be stopped from bursting out.  Our part is to let it shine.  Leonard Cohen wrote that we should “Ring the bells that can still ring” suggesting that we forget about perfection and perfect offerings.  He says “There is a crack in everything.  That’s how the light gets in.”

Chanukah invites us to be gentle to those “cracks” and so allow light in.  The light of Chanukah summonses our own courage to the let the light be radiant as we go about our daily lives. Those holy sparks become grounding for lives of justice and compassion.

This may be a lesser Jewish festival elevated to broad popular acknowledgment.  But I’m grateful to our Jewish friends for such a gift.  A gift of holy sparks breaking through the cracks.

Read or post comments

Scapegoating Muslims is Kooky

The tragedy of the Fort Hood massacre is horrific. A backlash against Muslims serving in the US Armed Services is expected. This is kooky. This is classic scapegoat theory at play. It is misplaced energy cutting away at the heart of what it means to be an American. The kookiness will stop if we expect our leaders to avoid the cheap fleeting advantages of nodding and winking at scapegoaters. Our “No” to scapegoating will be a measure of who we are.

The rational for the backlash is that Major Hassan is Muslim. 3,500 of the 1.4 million who serve in the US Armed forces share his faith. The evidence to date suggests he was a lone operative, possibly deranged. The unanswered question is why his known comments in support of suicide bombing were never acted on by authorities. Muslim Americans such as Corporal Karen Rashad Khan have served with distinction and given their lives for the US.

There was no public backlash against Christians when Scott Roeder assassinated Dr. George Tiller in Kansas. The Christian groups who applauded Tiller’s murder for performing abortion services were not described as terror cells. What is at work unleashing a backlash based on one claimed faith and not another?

Scapegoat theories tell us that people act out their anger, fear and prejudice by choosing a group that they dislike. We did it to Japanese Americans during the Second World War. The most extreme example of scapegoating remains German targeting of Jews in that same war.

In the immediate aftermath of the September 11th attacks, many American cities experienced a sharp increase in attacks against those perceived as “different”. In Seattle, attacks were committed against the Sikh community while threats made it necessary to protect mosques and synagogues. Fear was driving equal-opportunity scapegoating.

Major Hassan and Scott Roeder do not speak for the majority of those who claim the Muslim or Christian faith. To use these extremist bearers of terror to tarnish entire groups of people is opportunistic fear-mongering. Left unchecked, the backlash that is feared for Muslims in the US will feed the perniciousness of scapegoating.

The overwhelming majority of Americans are tolerant and proud of the freedom from religion which is a defining mark of our nation. Inter-spiritual understanding is needed – urgently. Eternal spiritual truths of love and compassion towards our neighbors are not feel-good sentiments. They’re made known in concrete actions. The values and principles of our nation invite honoring difference.

The kookiness of back lashing becomes less powerful when named and confronted. We need to reclaim the conversation. Perpetrators of violence of any kind are to be resolutely condemned. As are the scapegoaters. New conversations about shared American mores and common spiritual values will have the kookiness make way for forging a stronger diverse America. Scapegoating tears people apart. Surely it is time to build up?

Read more at www.robertvtaylor.com

Read or post comments