Fear. I’m so over it.

It seems like I’m being told to be fearful of everything these days. Don’t vote for this political candidate because she will take your rights away. Don’t vote for that politician, either, because he will be bad for the economy. Be suspicious of anyone who doesn’t believe in the right kind of God. Don’t drive, fly, drink bottled water, or even eat quinoa, because you’ll be a bad person. Don’t eat eggs; that’s just asking for a heart attack. Avoid doorknobs at all costs

If you’re Catholic, don’t you dare speak your mind; you’ll be silenced for having an opinion.

You know, it’s no wonder many of us are stressed out, anxious, eating too much, and not sleeping enough. We’re constantly told to be scared. Of everything. We live in a soup of fear.

What’s worse, we’re told to be scared of ourselves, our ideas and opinions, and the way we live our lives.

Maybe it would be worth it if fear worked as a motivator. I’m not convinced of that, however. If it did, wouldn’t we live in a happier, safer, more egalitarian world? If fear worked, would the diet and sleep aid industries be making billions? Wouldn’t pews be packed on Sunday and seminaries and convents filled to the rafters?

I know how I react when I’m afraid. I don’t feel motivated at all. In fact, it’s just the opposite. Tell me I need to lose weight or bad things will happen, and I will reach for the nearest chocolate bar. Warn me I’m not getting enough exercise, and I’ll spend the weekend on the couch playing video games. I react to fear by shutting down and going on autopilot. It’s not a way to motivate me to change.

When we’re afraid, we also make bad decisions. As a communications professional, I’ve counseled clients through some tough crises. Inevitably, a client’s first response to a perceived threat is either to adopt a bunker mentality or go on the attack. Neither posture is terribly supportive. As an outsider, I’m able to provide a more levelheaded perspective on the right course of action. The reason? I’m not amped up on fear. I can think clearly.

I think Jesus also knew fear wasn’t a winning strategy. He did not say, for example, “Blessed are the fearful.” He knew Peter would deny him three times out of fear. Even the angels heralding his birth told those poor freaked out shepherds not to be afraid.

Jesus did not operate from a fear-based mentality. His approach was one of openness, peace, and understanding. That is an attitude in complete opposition to fear. You can’t be open, peaceful, and understanding if you’re afraid — or fear mongering. Try it. I dare you. Just like I dare you not to think of a pink polka-dotted gorilla wearing a tutu now that I’ve mentioned one. See? It’s impossible. (And, you’re welcome.)

If Jesus did not embrace fear, why do we, his followers, insist on it? Why is our response to a new idea always condemnation? Why do we base our faith around a fear of going to hell rather than embracing the Kingdom of God that Jesus told us was already ours through grace?

Why have we made fear our eighth Sacrament, and a requirement for being loved by God?

For me, personally, it’s time to take fear out of my faith. Thankfully, there are good models to follow.

I recently found out that St. Francis of Assisi, who I always thought was just naturally saintly, was actually deeply afraid of lepers. But, here’s why St. Francis was a saint: he pushed through the fear, and kissed pretty much every leper he could get his holy mitts on. He didn’t let fear affect his response to others.

Now that is an evolved spirituality I can get behind. As a follower of Jesus, and admirer of Francis, I’m going to strive to give up my addiction to fear and kiss more of my own personal lepers. It won’t be easy, but I think continuing to live out of a spirituality of fear will be far worse.

For the good of the world, I fervently hope others pucker up as well.

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A friend recently paid me the greatest compliment.

He said “For someone who is studying theology, you are the least religious person I know.”

I laughed, but he said he was serious. I knew he was. The reason I laughed, I said, was this misconception about what “being religious” means that draws me to my studies in spirituality and the new cosmology.

What my friend meant, I think, was that I’m apparently not a moralistic, dogmatic, judgemental kind of person. I’m not out to convert. The words “God” and “Jesus” or “repent” don’t come out of my mouth every other sentence. I rarely feel the need to self-identify as “Christian.” Don’t get me wrong, I can be annoying and awful, and judgmental in my own way. But my friend didn’t see in me as what he would call “religious.”

This conversation points to what I see as a real problem for those of us who see the world through spiritual eyes: we’ve had horrible PR. For those who don’t consider themselves spiritual, or religious, we’re seen as, well, what my friend meant by religious. And this is not just a problem for us, it’s a problem for the rest of the world, too. Because having a sense of the Divine and a notion of a power bigger than ourselves at work in everything is important if we want to change the way we’re going.

In his work on the New Atheism, theologian John Haught shows the damage done by religion. And by religion, I mean much of organized religion, the kind that excludes, moralizes and, quite frankly, causes a lot of pain. Many of the New Atheists — Dawkins, Hitchens, etc… — focus on that religion’s version of God. Yes, it still exists, and yes it is still doing damage, but in sweeping aside that version of God, the New Atheists don’t stop to think about the version of God they’re dismissing. It’s as if nobody ever asked them “Are you sure this is the only concept of God out there?”

For example, my perception of God, of the Divine, includes evolution. It includes the Big Bang. It includes 13.7 billion years of cosmic history. My spirituality is not lessened by scientific knowledge; it is expanded. I am also comfortable with paradox, with not-knowing. Or, at least I try to be. My spirituality is not an “if I behave in this way I will go to Heaven” way of being in the world. It’s much broader, it’s much more mysterious. And it places just as much emphasis on science as it does the work of the unseen.

John Haught says we need a third way to look at science and religion. This third way, he says, makes room for both. Haught says that theology has no place in science. Science should explore and attempt to explain what is observable and verifiable. Where theology comes in, says Haught, is at the edges, at the liminal, where meaning and mystery and paradox exist. In the third way, science and religion inform each other. They are not enemies, but co-creators, co-explainers, of this reality we live in.

I think we desperately need this third way right now. People need to know that to be a spiritual person does not mean throwing logic, reason and science away. Rather, it means looking at what we learn from science with wonder and awe at what the Divine has brought into being. And this attitude of reverence is so important, because we need to see our world differently if we are to save it. It’s time that we end this false dichotomy between science and religion, because it’s not real. It never was. It was a human conceit that no longer serves any of us. In fact, it is damaging us all.

For me, I think the challenge from John Haught is to embody that third way in all that I do. As I continue on this journey, I’m aware of the words I use to describe the Divine, and how I talk about what I’m doing with others. I choose my language carefully. I don’t hide what is my passion, but I don’t overwhelm or threaten with it, either. I’m not out to convert people. I’m just hoping to show that what they may think about God or spirituality or science could use a little tweaking.

(Note: Links to books in this post are Amazon affiliate links. If you buy a book from one of these links I get a little bit of money from Amazon to put towards hosting and other costs.)

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Women religious becoming a force to be reckoned with on Wall Street

August 27, 2012

Came across this really good article today on the role that women religious are playing on Wall Street. Primarily this involves how they direct their pension funds, and getting involved in shareholder activism. They are also putting together coalitions and community groups.  

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The Vatican, LCWR, and Definitions of Dialogue (longer version)

August 11, 2012

As promised, here’s the longer version of my commentary piece that appeared in the NCR on August 8. It’s funny how things happen. I’ve had Judy Cannato’s book Field of Compassion on my bedside table for several months now. Ironically, I had bought it to read the chapter on intentionality, but hadn’t gotten around to [...]

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National Catholic Reporter publishes my article on the Vatican, LCWR, and dialogue

August 8, 2012

So thrilled that the National Catholic Reporter has published my article on the Vatican, LCWR and definitions of dialogue. Feel free to go check it out. I plan on posting a longer version of the piece on the blog in the next couple of days. If you’re here after having read my post, welcome! Please [...]

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Meeting a Hero, Struggling to See the Divine

July 25, 2012

I met one of my heroes a few weeks ago. She’s not a rock star, or an actor — though Susan Sarandon played her in a movie. She’s Helen Préjean, and I’ve admired her work and courage for a very, very long time. Ever since I saw the movie “Dead Man Walking,” I’ve wanted to [...]

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How to Shift Your Day: Take a Sacred Mulligan

March 16, 2012
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I don’t know about you, but I’ve been having one of those weeks. From the moment I got up on Monday things seemed to just be spiralling out of my control, taking my mood with it. It got to the point where I was waking up annoyed and frustrated, even before anything had happened in [...]

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Poem: Time to Shed That Skin

March 12, 2012
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So, it my last post I wrote about the need to retire my Loyal Soldier so I can experience new things and, ultimately, grow. The following is a poem I wrote along a similar theme. Shed That Skin Tonight I sit on a rock at the edge of an obsidian lake that effervesces in the still [...]

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Letting my Loyal Soldier Rest

March 11, 2012
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I’ve done some boundary-pushing things since starting my program at Sophia. I’ve drummed and chanted with Afia Walking Tree. I’ve practiced tai chi. I’ve danced in a library courtyard. I’ve read something I’d just written with Joanna Macy and Anita Barrows looking on (along with about 80 or so complete strangers). But I think the [...]

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Poem: When Grace Sneaks Up on Us

January 24, 2012

I’ve been thinking a lot about grace lately, especially since the event I write about in this blog post from the other day. It got me to thinking about what grace is, howe we experience it, and why we experience it. Out of that, came this poem. When Grace Sneaks Up on You Grace is [...]

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