"Pay It Forward"

The movie Pay It Forward was recently shown on television, and I was glad for the opportunity to see it again, as I like that movie -- and its premise -- very much.

In case you've never seen it, or read the book, the story begins with a middle school teacher giving his social studies class an assignment: come up with an idea that can change the world. One boy, the "hero" of the story, creates an idea that truly fulfills the assignment, and which he puts into action. He describes his idea as follows: when someone does you a favor or helps you out in some way, then you must "pay it forward" by helping three other people. Those people must each in turn help three more people, and so the wave of kindness and good-will increases exponentially.

I won't reveal any more of the story, but what a wonderful idea!

Another version of "pay it forward" happens in those villages in poor areas of the world where Heifer International brings assistance in the form of farm animals -- cows, sheep, goats, chickens, or the like -- along with agricultural training. When better circumstances come to a family because of their new animal, that family is expected to "pass on the gift" by giving one of their animal's offspring to another family. This is often done with much ceremony and celebration, and prosperity gradually increases throughout the village.

Finally, I also saw a brief note in a magazine from a woman who enjoys passing out small envelopes to people she meets or sees on the street. Inside is a dollar bill and a note: If you need the dollar, keep it. If you don't feel you need it, pass it along to someone else, perhaps adding more money to the envelope before sending it on its way.

All good ideas, ways of action to bring a bit more kindness, prosperity and well-being into the world. What kindness, small or large, can you add to your world today?

Prayer for September 11

I have just been reading in the newspaper about a minister (so-called), Rev. Terry Jones, in Gainesville, Florida, who plans to burn copies of the Quran on September 11. He has been warned by people as high up as General Petraeus, head of U.S. troops in Afghanistan, Secretary of State Clinton, and a spokesman for the President of the United States, that this act will only inflame Muslim extremists further, potentially leading to acts of violence against our soldiers, our diplomats, and U.S. citizens everywhere.

How excruciatingly sad that someone can be so blind to the huge, possibly world-changing, negative consequences of his own actions, as well as being blind to how his hateful words actually mirror the hatred of those he condemns. How can anyone have the temerity to destroy the sacred, sacred texts of another faith -- and in the United States, founded on principles such as freedom of religion?

For some reason, this news item disturbed me to an unusual degree. My first thought was actually to grab a flight to Gainesville, and. . . do what? Throw myself on his pile of holy texts and put the flames out with my body? There was such a helpless, yet galvanized, sense. What could I do to stop such a grossly disrespectful, potentially far-reaching -- and monumentally stupid -- act?

At one place in the article, Terry Jones was quoted as saying he was continuing to pray about the situation. Here, then, is the only hope: To pray for this man's change of heart. To pray with rejoicing at the clarity that constantly reigns supreme in the Conscious Light.

Dr. Kenneth G. Mills' poem on the power of prayer came strongly to mind for me. He says:

"Clear the way for the Light to be seen
By you who pray in the realm of dreams.
Take the stand: 'I see the Light'
And thus be held in wondrous might.

Thereupon take the imaged thought
And focus upon the one loved . . or loved not,
And bring to that spot the Power Divine,
Because you are not lost in the thought-filled mind.

That is how the Power works!"
(Poem copyright 1992 by Kenneth G. Mills)

What more fitting tribute to those who lost their lives on September 11 than to pray. . . for insight to come to one stubborn one, and for world peace.

"My Journey" Continued

The book literally fell off the shelf and landed at my feet. No one else was around; I hadn't touched the shelf. It was a sign. I of course checked the book out of the library.

The book turned out to be the memoirs of a woman who met and studied with G.I. Gurdjieff in the early decades of the 20th Century. I had never heard of this man or of the metaphysical movement that surrounded him. The woman's story was fascinating, all about what it was like to study with a spiritual teacher -- the dialogues, the challenges, the realizations. This was my true introduction to esotericism.

Again, I was being prepared, though at that time I had no idea for what.

I was, however, responding to the leadings I felt had been coming to me over the past several years: my reading of C.S. Lewis' Surprised by Joy and the other theologians I had studied at Lone Mountain College, my experiences with Christian Science, with Jack Schwarz, and even with the Hare Krishna parade through Golden Gate Park. I felt so strongly led, and I interpreted this the best I could, as something to do with religion. Could it be that I was being called to the ministry?

I was still quite active with the Religious Society of Friends at that time, and had even been appointed as an interim clerk of the San Francisco Friends Meeting for three months. The clerk was as close to a minister as this branch of Quakers came; he or she chaired the business meetings and otherwise attended to the official activities of the Meeting. There were, of course, no sermons to preach.

Nonetheless, there was a man on the faculty of the Pacific School of Religion (PSR), across the Bay in Berkeley, who was a Quaker. One of the members of the San Francisco Meeting knew him, and at my request arranged for me to have a talk with him. PSR was an interdenominational Christian seminary, operating under the umbrella of the Graduate Theological Union of the University of California, Berkeley.

How could I study for the ministry? Accustomed as I was to the uplifting silent meetings for worship of the Friends, how could I give sermons or perform rituals? I couldn't picture myself as a minister -- I didn't know exactly how this would play out.

Then one day as I was wandering happily through the woods of Golden Gate Park, I met a young "hippie" couple. We chatted for a bit, and somehow the conversation turned toward the meaning of life. I still recall leaning against a tree, engaged in intense, deep conversation with them.

It was another sign; I was sure of it. I was being called to enter the seminary. I had no idea what I would do with this education. But I trusted that if I made this move, the leadings would continue and I would come to see what I was to do next.

So I left my editing job at U.C. San Francisco and that autumn enrolled in the Master of Divinity program at PSR.