However we Americans have tied that harvest festival to a semi-historical event that happened up at Plymouth colony. Those who decided to tie our harvest festival to this particular story were trying, I really believe, mostly to show the power of cooperation, of mutuality.
We can learn that helplessness isn't inherently a trauma. We are each born into it, and someday each will return to it, but it's a natural state of living and being alive. Do we approach helplessness as the infant?
There's a new survey out showing how people feel about being of color in our contemporary culture. Not to put too fine a point on it, it suggests a lot about white privilege. And gender, while we're at it, let's not forget gender
It is time that our communities of faith formed partnerships to do the work of affirming and promoting our first and fifth principles -- our understanding of the inherent worth and dignity of every person and our commitment to the democratic process in our society.
Faith is about finding ourselves again; helping our neighbor do the same; and trying to figure out how together we might heal the places of brokenness in our lives and the world around us. Faith demands that we keep a place for hope and meaning at our center.
In the eighteenth century when Europeans and North Americans noticed they could take the same skills that were revealing the secrets of the natural world to the workings of the mind and heart and even to their religions.
This dream manifests as a spiritual center, this place, this community, where we can look deep into our hearts, and from which, renewed and inspired, we can act in this world with more skill and grace than would otherwise be possible.
People appear to have all the old needs for some sense of certainty, for some sense of direction, but increasingly find the old ways unhelpful, or even harmful. We are at a time of crisis. And, as people sometimes notice at such moments, we are also at a time of opportunity.
There is one ritual, one sacred physical activity that I still miss from my inherited faith, and it surprises the hell out of me: Head bowed, eyes closed and knees pressed into the God's holy ground, so that I can surrender myself in prayer physically, mentally and soulfully.
Last Sunday morning began like most other mornings around our house. The mood was carefree, relaxed and lazy. Until, that is, I announced that it was time to get dressed so that we could leave for church.