Letting Go

 A recent colloquy discussion at the Ethical Society of Austin asked us to discuss "What would you save?" in the context of disaster or emergency.  Aside from needing a Go Bag, I hadn't given it much thought.  My thinking these days is more centered on Letting Go, not merely "decluttering," but detaching myself from the things that, yes, clutter up my space, but also take up needed space in my heart and mind.  

One thing I plan to let go of is a plate.  It's a pink plate with a rose on it.  When I received it as a gift, it was part of a set of four pink plates with various flowers in the center of each.  I'm not really a pink person.  Rarely is there anything pink in my wardrobe, and I am not drawn to pink objects when fighting my urge to collect knickknacks.  I'm not much of a plate person.  True, there are several plates around on various book shelves.  My mother was a plate person, so I saved a few from her collection(s) that interested me for one reason or another, but no plates hang on my walls nor have I, that I recall, actually purchased a decorative plate for my own pleasure.  The thing about this plate is that it holds painful memories.  The person who gave it to me has done some damage in my life.  I let go of three of the four plates in the set when I moved, realizing that I had no room to display them and little room to store them.  The remaining plate sits on a shelf in a display rack.  Every time I look at it, I think of how angry the giver would be that the other three plates are not also displayed--if by some remote chance she ever set foot in this house again.  I love her.  I carry her in my heart.  But I think that this object is making me hold onto negative thoughts that won't allow me to heal--or allow for any healing in a broken relationship.  I will let go of the plate today.

Another object that I am thinking about letting go of is an ebony carving.  This one holds memories of a time in my life when I--pretty much unconsciously--accumulated symbols of motherly love.  The carving is a representation of a mother holding an infant, vaguely "Madonna and child."  I believe that I bought it to give to my mother, but I don't think that I did.  Instead, I kept the "message" ("please love me?") to myself.  Now Mama did the best she good.  She was significantly handicapped.  I have no idea how she managed to carry me to term, but her determination in the things that she really wanted to do was phenomenal.  She had suffered so much in her youth that it is unimaginable that she would subject herself to a pregnancy that would lead to a cesarean birth--in the forties.  And yet she did.  As much as that might have told me about my mother's love, there were a lot of years when she was ill and understandably (to adults) cranky.  More directly affecting me was her critical insistence on high standards of behavior, appearance, and achievement.  I often felt that I was "no good," certain not "good enough."  In the last years of her life, when she had dementia, she often didn't know who I was.  Sometimes she thought I was one of her sisters, other times I was an inadequate maid who could be curtly dismissed:  "You're dismissed," as she said when some family friends were visiting.  

In the ten years since my mother passed away, I have had plenty of time to revisit these moments of pain and doubt.  I have also looked through masses of greeting cards and journal entries and letters.  Over time, the pain has lessened enough for the joy and delight to come through.  Mama was fun.  She was brave.  She was compassionate.  She was beautiful.  That may sound vain, when I point out that I glanced in the mirror one day not too long ago, pleased about something or other, and saw my mother smiling back at me.  I might have a little too much of my father's nose (bless the Parkers), but I have Mama's smile, which came to me as part of the healing that these past years have brought.  Mama did love me; she did the best she could.

I am more or less cleaning and clearing these days (mostly "less" on the cleaning bit), so I picked up the ebony carving to dust and polish it.  At that moment, I realized that I had already let go of all of those feelings of insecurity about my relationship with my mother.  Then I thought I might let go of the carving.  I have a friend who lost her daughter and is going through some hard grief.  Could this carving of motherly love help her?  I will think about it some more, but I don't think I need the carving any more.  I can just smile at the mirror and see Mama smiling back.

One more thing for me to think about is the memorial webpage that honors my late husband.  Every year I am asked to pay a fee to renew that webpage.  Every year I think about letting it go and decide that I can't do it.  I have a link to his memorial site on the address-bar-thingie of my web browser.  I often glance at his name there and am comforted by his presence.  Now and then I click the link and visit the site.  Nothing has changed in all these years, but sometimes I just feel the need to visit.  I did that a few weeks ago, rereading the statement that I had written for the site.  I was actually surprised to realize that I was reading about an Ethical man.  Of course he was!  Even though we had never heard of Ethical Culture before, I should have realized that he was exactly the kind of person that we are all striving to be in EC.  Not that I'm saying he was perfect, but he certainly practiced the compassionate service that we often attempt in EC.  It pleased me to read that statement and come to that realization.

Imagine my shock, checking the site a few days ago, to find it gone.  The tenth anniversary of his passing is coming up in November.  I expected to be asked to renew the site, and I was thinking that, while it serves no one else, it comforts me.  I clicked the link, thinking that I would renew early, just in case my travel plans might make me miss a deadline.  The link, instead of taking me to his crinkly smile, goes to a search page for obituaries.  I was devastated.  Panicked.  

Eventually, I found him again.  Legacy.com has restructured their website.  They apparently did try to notify me with a message that went to the Promotions folder (which I mostly ignore).  The information is still available--after much clicking--but it is broken up into multiple parcels rather than all together.  Will I be forced to let go of this comfort?  The link is still on my address bar with the other important bookmarks--it just doesn't take me to my husband.  

I guess we don't have eternal life on the internet either.    

The Power of Words

Sticks and Stones (Wikimedia Commons)

Words have power.  For all that we learned as children to chant--"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me!'--words can hurt.  They can uplift as well.  The power of words comes not only from what they mean, but how they are used and how they are understood.  We learn, also as children, to seek the denotative meaning of words.  It is only through experience that we learn the connotative meanings and, sometimes, how those connotative meanings send additional messages by how and by whom they are used.

A denotative meaning for "bitch" is the female dog (or wolf, fox, or otter).  How it morphed into an epithet for women, I have no idea, nor do I want to ponder too closely how a woman and dog became somehow similar in the male mind.  These days the word is hate speech--when used as a noun by a male (human) and directed at a female (human).  There are still contexts in which "bitch" can be used as a verb (express displeasure, grumble or complain) without any gender (denotative or connotative) attached to it--except that we have to acknowledge that the behavior being labeled by the verb is understood--if we think about it--to derive from the behavior of the female human who can be called a "bitch" by those males still brave enough to utter the word.

On the other hand, there are contexts in which the word can be used as a positive statement.  Women may choose to label themselves as a "bitch" as a statement of self-empowerment.  Tee shirts, buttons, bumper stickers--whatever medium can be used to assert that power--may read "Super Bitch," "Certified Bitch," and, a favorite, "That's Queen Bitch to you!"  And so on.

I'm thinking now about metaphors and how they shape our attitudes.  "Bitch" does not fit our formal concept of a metaphor, but it is a word used to identify a female animal extended to a new context:  a woman.  We often take words from events and experiences and stretch them to apply to some other thing or action or situation.  In this case, we are seeing a label for a particular animal anthropomorphized (correlating animal behavior to human behavior) to apply to a human with the effect, not only of equating the behaviors (animal and human), but also, and more importantly, to equate the human with the animal.  Once such an equivalence is made, we are thereby permitted to act toward the human as we would act toward the animal.  All too often that behavior is negative, abusive, demeaning.

I am not arguing against animal metaphors or similes, calling for a ban on their use.  Our language is enriched by our creative use of imagery from the world around us.  I am, however, suggesting that we might productively spend some time thinking about our casual use of animal epithets in relation to our fellow humans.  Why did we use that language?  Does this language reflect a tendency toward dehumanizing our fellow human?  Does this language reduce our commitment to respecting the inherent worth of the individual?  In this, I am only thinking in terms of our Ethical commitment to treat each other with integrity.  What are we saying when we use these words--dog, cat, horse, ass, pig, ox, cow, sheep, deer, fox, ape, baboon, rat, weasel, skunk, etc.--to describe another human being?  Is someone who "speaks (too) loudly" the same as someone who "brays like an ass"?  

One word, Ben: Plastics!

Where too much plastic waste ends up!

Or words to that effect, as I recall that moment in The Graduate when someone leans over to give the new graduate some advice for the future.  That phrase has continued as, I suppose, a meme ever since that remarkable scene.  I think the audience was as taken aback as Dustin Hoffman's character, Ben, was, and that reaction may have contributed to making the scene so memorable.  The advice of that encounter in a 1967 movie turned out to be prescient.  Plastics now dominate our lives on this planet.  Many consumable products are packaged in plastic.  Many products are themselves made of plastic.  Our homes are filled with plastic, and now our bodies seem also to be filled with microplastics.  What this bodes for the future of humans is not good.  The United Nations Development Program advises that the plastics that leach into our bodies from containers and other products:

are linked to serious health issues such as endocrine disruption, weight gain, insulin resistance, decreased reproductive health, and cancer.

In discussing what to do to observe Earth Month in April, members of the Ethical Society of Austin were challenged to "make one change" in use or consumption of plastics.  That change needed to be something that we are not already doing.  That caveat gave me pause.

I have already been "woke" to the dangers of plastics.  I certainly have not done enough to remove plastics from my life and my home.  I do, however, faithfully recycle the single-use plastics that come into my home.  I have two blue plastic recycling bins in which I place the items to be recycled (metal, paper, plastic, glass, etc.).  Whatever goes into those bins is placed in the larger plastic bin that is rolled to the curb every two weeks and picked up for recycling by a contractor with my local government.  I wash the contaminants from whatever goes in those bins to make sure that the items I am recycling are ready for recycling.  

One problem in this process is that so much single-use plastic still comes into my home.  That's why I end up saving a lot of plastic containers for other uses on the theory that repurposing items is also a way to extend the life of the material used to make the plastic.  One container, reused once, reduces the impact of the blob of plastic that made it by 50%--or so the calculation goes.  Multiple reuses of the same container would presumably continue to reduce its impact more and more over time.  In the meantime, if I am buying more of the same product in the same kind of container, I will, at some point, have too many to reuse.  I have, in fact, reached that point with several types of containers.

For the challenge to "make one change," I did make the change to stop buying beverages in plastic containers and switch to glass or metal containers.   Since my beverage of choice is sparkling water, I have plenty of choice in brand and type while sticking to my favorite unflavored drink.  

I do, however, have to be more careful now with the remaining plastic bottles that previously contained said sparkling water.  I have two Pellegrino brand bottles that I saved from a train trip last year, two Topo Chico bottles that showed up from a couple of trips around Texas, and two half-pint bottles that I got for free somewhere.  I like these bottles for their shapes and sizes, and I keep them filled with "still water" in my fridge.  I have sometimes carried them with me on errands, losing a bottle here and there.  These remaining bottles, I have now pledged, will be continuously reused unless I decide to stop using them and send them for recycling.  No new ones allowed.  

I don't know how significant an effect my "one change" will make for the planet, but it does make me aware--every day--that Ethics, to be central, requires making the same choice over and over again.  It has been a challenge to go into the grocery store and not pick up a bottle of water (in plastic) to sip while I shop.  Yesterday, I put a can of sparkling water in my purse, carried it into a big box store, showed it to the greeter, who waved me through.  It's more awkward to keep a can balanced than a bottle with a lid that prevents spills, but at least I'm learning to support my choices with a little advance planning.  

Stories about Social Service

Once again I have to refer to the work that I am doing on the Bibliography of Ethical Culture and the ideas that seem to be flying at me from my discoveries.  Today's idea is Social Service.  

Social service seems, in my knowledge and experience, to include assistive services provided to those who are somehow at a disadvantage in our community, whether they are disadvantaged by poverty, ability, genetics, place of origin, language, etc.  These would be services provided by public or private entities to relieve those disadvantages with food, funds, pro-social policies, translators, etc.  There's a great deal of assumption built into that notion of "disadvantaged," but the focus on social service will have to skip those assumptions for the time being and merely note that my and, I believe, our common understanding of "social service" speaks of services of whatever sort provided by a group entity to individuals who are considered to be "disadvantaged."

Today, I'm documenting a book by Frederick James Gould, called The Children's Book of Moral Lessons. Gould was a crusader (I think the word is apt) for moral education for children--in both public and private settings.  He worked with Stanton Coit to found the East London Ethical Society, was known as a "pioneer of secular humanism," and spoke widely as a representative of the Moral Education League.  This particular book is the second in the series, and focuses on "kindness" and "work."  The first, which I have not yet located, focused on "self-control" and "truthfulness."  The search is now on for the first series and any later series.

In the meantime, I took the opportunity to glance through the very lengthy table of contents and noticed a section under "work" called "social service."  I am increasingly disturbed by the attitudes I am seeing among my fellow members of Ethical Culture regarding "Ethical action," concerned that there is too much emphasis on the act of providing social services and not enough emphasis on the ethical roots and purposes of those actions and services.  I hope someday to be able to articulate that concern in some better fashion.  At the moment, I find that Gould has given me a new point of view on social services.

In Chapter 41, Gould begins with a discussion of Michelangelo's statue of David.  He has a charming way of keeping his narrative at a child's level (I'm thinking elementary school level), defining his terms, making sure that, when he talks about the Italian setting for his story, he is providing parallels for understanding by the English schoolchild.  His story talks about Michelangelo's carving of the statue as a social service--service to his community--because he used an abandoned piece of marble, seeing in it the future David.  The marble had been laying about near the cathedral for "more than a hundred years" (p. 193), and Michelangelo's service replaced an eyesore with a work of art.  Gould's story continues with more "social service" by those who talked about what to do with the statue (where to put it), those who struggled for four days to move the statue with ropes and rollers, and even those who criticized the statue.  In all cases, individuals--sometimes working together, sometimes independently--provided a service to their community through their skills, their energy, their ideas.  That service he called "social service."

Later Ethical leaders referred to "public spirit" for some of the same "services."  They referred to the duty to vote, the importance of speaking out in councils (both public and private), the value of stepping up to serve on those same councils.  

I have talked in the past about four modes of Ethical action:  Living, Giving, Serving, and Teaching/Educating/Testifying.  (I am still working on that fourth label.)  In my thinking, some of these same modes of action fit into the notion of "social service" that Gould advocates and also with the idea of "public spirit."  As we make ethics central in our lives, how we live can (and should) be an Ethical action.  What we give (including time, talents, and money) can also be an Ethical action when it is given in the spirit of social service--and not merely as charity, which makes us the giver of bounty rather than a servant of the community.  Serving is easiest for us to see as both Ethical action and social service, but, interestingly, Gould turns the notion on its head when he tells the story of the cathedral bell-ringer in Switzerland.  Simple actions that serve the community, he points out, should be respected just as the grand deed of an artistic genius such as Michelangelo should be respected.  In that, the respect we give to others is an Ethical action.  The final mode--teaching, etc.--is simply how we use our voice to show others the ethics of the situation, whether it is to speak up and point out wrong, plan a better path forward, or to clarify the benefits to community and self in a particular course of action or event.  Speaking up to assert, challenge, praise, identify--all of the ways in which we can express our Ethical values in the presence of others--becomes, in that way, an Ethical action--and a social service.

OK, Boomer!

 

King Solomon in Old Age, by Gustave Dore

One of the rewards for working on the Bibliography of Ethical Culture is exploring new ideas and meeting new (to me) authors.  Right now, the Archive Team for the New York Society for Ethical Culture (and the Ethical Culture Movement) is focusing on the Adler Study in NYSEC's building in New York City.  So far so good; we have photographed the title pages and verso for most of the books in the first bookcase (there are 10), and I have started creating a bibliographic inventory of the case.  Of course, I can't just create a bibliographic entry without looking at the book (if it has already been digitized), so I've been taking quick peeks at a number of those books.  I've never, for example, read Carl Sandburg's biography of Abraham Lincoln.  A quick peek resulted in reading a few paragraphs of the chapter on Lincoln's humor and his religion.  I expect I'll return to that when I have time.  I also encountered Ralph Linton, an anthropologist that I knew through other works.  However, I hadn't seen The Tree of Culture before, and I expect I'll try to read that one before too long.  It was also kinda fun to see Ida Tarbell among the authors consulted by Felix Adler--and later Ethical Culture leaders.  (According to Wikipedia, Tarbell spent some time in Chicago, meeting and working with Jane Addams.  Is there a connection to Ethical Culture???)

Today's fun comes from Ralph Barton Perry, a prolific writer, labeled "a strident moral idealist" in Wikipedia.  So far, I've seen two of his books in the Adler Study, and, given his focus on William James, there could well be more.  Part of my process in working on the Bibliography is to check for online availability, so, naturally, I checked to see if the Perry books were available online.  The Internet Archive (archive.org) is my first stop, but, if they don't have a book, I'll check Google Books (and Scholar), Hathi Trust, WorldCat, etc.  Both books--Puritanism and Democracy and In the Spirit of William James can be found in the Internet Archive.  I didn't look too closely at the former, but I did look at the contents of the latter and read a couple of pages of the first chapter.  That persuaded me to check to see if I could buy my own copy for some, more or less, entertaining reading in philosophy.

After meandering through a rather long list of Perry's publications for sale at rather high prices, I happened to notice A Plea for an Age Movement, published in 1942.  There were photographs of the covers and one or two pages inside.  This poem by James Ball Naylor ("Ancient Authors") was cited on page 5:

King David and King Solomon

    Led merry, merry lives,

With many, many lady friends

    And many, many wives;

But when old age crept over them--

    With many, many qualms,

King Solomon wrote the Proverbs

    And King David wrote the Psalms.

My first thought was:  And we live in the age of "OK, Boomer!"  I bought the book.

The Art of Happiness and Life after Death

Arthur Dobrin has written a book titled:  The Lost Art of Happiness.  He, along with about 12 members of Ethical Culture from four Ethical Culture Societies, just completed a 10 week seminar, discussing the book.  We met for the last time this week--and the final discussion centered on death, dying, losing a loved one, and life after death.

Dobrin has a nice section in his last chapter that talks about the memories that we hold of those we've lost--and that others will hold of us when we are gone.  Not believing in heaven, hell, assorted deities, etc., we might still like to continue for a time in the hearts and minds of those we've touched on our journey.  While there was some discussion of this, there was more in the vein of not having so many connections in this life and feeling unsettled about what happens after life.  "Nothing" was not very satisfying.

I decided to keep my thoughts to myself.  My thoughts might have been even less satisfying to these, mostly, strangers to me, and I did not want to debate.  What came to my mind focused most intensely on funerals and that memory thing.

My experience with funerals falls mostly into the traditions of the Southern Baptist Church.  I've been to a lot of those, from quite an early age.  They have a pattern, which I don't need to recount, and they serve a need for the community.  Serving that need is where my thoughts went in that last seminar discussion.  I wanted to say that funerals don't do the deceased a damned bit of good.  Funerals are rituals that help those left behind adjust to their new status in life.  A husband dies, the wife is now a widow.  A mother dies, the child is now motherless.  Each new status will come with expectations for behavior--from the person whose status has changed and from others who must now shift their relationships to that person.  That's a fairly bald statement of a lot of years of anthropological research (not mine) that points to funerals (and other rituals related to life changes) as a means to assert community beliefs and maintain social organization in the face of change.

What we talked about in the seminar was making sure that we had planned ahead so that our family knows what our wishes are regarding our own funeral.  This will settle future family arguments about what to do--and give us some comfort about our dignity in those last hours above ground.  Well, yes, except that what I wanted to point out is that once you're dead, well, you're dead.  We all know that "you can't take it with you."  We all need to know that "you're not actually going to be present at your own funeral."  I wanted to say that funerals are for the living, not the dead.  What we should be wanting for our loved ones is whatever they need to get through the ordeal, if it is such, of separating from us.  What gives them comfort?  What gives them closure?

I write about this from some experience.  My husband's death was sudden, unexpected.  He had, however, frequently said that he did not want a funeral.  No fuss, no muss, just cremation.  He was also an organ donor.  I honored his wishes.  No funeral.  And I gave permission, at nearly midnight on the day he died, to the caller who let me know that they would be taking him away for a while to let him make one last contribution to others.  I didn't want to know the details, but, yes, he was a giving and caring man, and we both would want him to help someone else in their time of need--and certainly to increase our knowledge of medical science.  So, no funeral and a fragile body from which some parts had been removed--so that, once he had been removed from my late mother's home, I might never see him again.  It was a blow.  I had so much change to cope with at that point, and little support to cope with it.  

Still, I honored his wishes.  Except.  If he was to be cremated, I could not let his body just be tossed in a fire.  I ordered the special casket that is used for cremations and began the two-week wait for the one bay that could accommodate him at the crematorium to become available.  I also knew that his daughter would need to see him to say goodbye, so I arranged with the funeral home that we would have a "viewing" before he was taken to be cremated.  One request that I made was that his casket be covered with a flag.  Even though his "service" was in the Army Reserves, I thought his dedication and service-to-country extended well beyond that brief period of time.  The funeral home was helpful in placing a flag (a loaner) over his casket--and I was comforted by that chance to honor my husband.  Other than that, I had only a moment to talk to him, to tell him that I . . . well, I was cut off mid-sentence as the funeral home representative said that my step-daughter, her mother, and her step-sister had arrived.  And then the discussion turned on their comfort and solace.  A few days later, when I went to the crematorium, there was a moment, when the hearse left with his casket and I followed behind, when my grief overflowed.  This was the funeral cortege--a hearse and me, following behind.  It seemed both appropriate that there would be such a journey and so inadequate for the kind of man that he was.  At the crematorium, I stood at a window and looked at the bays where bodies were consumed in flames, all closed, of course.  I watched his casket enter that larger bay.  I held up as long as I could, but I know that someone came to stand by me and help me survive the closing of those doors.  

And that was it.  No magic words.  No ritual motions.  No comfort.  No closure.  No healing.  

Could I have found healing in words spoken by someone who did not know him?  Could I have had some closure with songs and flowers and family standing beside me?  I had left the church long ago.  I did not want, nor would he have wanted, bible verses and "when we all get to heaven."  Well, honestly, I do like the song.  I don't accept the meaning, but I love the joy and community in singing it.  But it would have meant nothing if sung at some service for my husband.  

His death remained a raw wound for years.  I wrote to him, as I had been doing before he died.  Years of emails exchanged while I took care of my mother in another city turned into long notes about my days, my thoughts, my concerns as I ended or began a day with "notes" written on my computer.  I joined a grief support group at a local hospice.  I eventually found community at the Ethical Society of Austin.  Every event meant to help someone else get through grief became a moment for me to seek some comfort for my own loss.

So what I wanted to say at that last meeting of the seminar is that your funeral is not about you.  You may be the center of your life today, but when you are dead, you are gone, not here, not aware.  Those you leave behind, however, are still living, still thinking and feeling.  It is not your ears that will hear the songs, not your eyes that will see the flowers.  Your mouth will not taste the food of your funeral feast.  The question is not what you want people to do to send you on to your grave (which is pretty much the end of the road for you) but how badly you want them to get on with their lives, grateful to have had some time with you, but prepared to continue living and breathing a little while longer.

Honestly, I don't know what could have helped me get through these past 10 years any more easily than I have, but I do think I needed a chance to say goodbye.  A chance to speak privately with my husband, to talk to him one last time, to finish my sentence.  I was grateful to be able to give him the small honor of a flag.  I could barely see to drive in that last mile before reaching the crematorium, but I remember being grateful to have that particular ritual, wishing that others could have been there to honor him on that journey.  But there was never a goodbye.  I think now that I should not have honored his wishes, because I really needed that goodbye.  Still do.

Fire and Ethical Friends

Fuego is a local eating establishment which seems to be popular with graduates of the local university.  I selected it as the place to meet up with several friends from Ethical (one of the New Jersey branches) who were passing through en route to view the upcoming solar eclipse.  I had intended to invite them to that local establishment also known as the Texas Stop Sign (DQ), but a quick check showed no coffee on the menu and an opening time of 10:00 am.  Fuego is open 24 hours.  

So we met.  I knew all three of my visitors either from working together through the American Ethical Union or attending the same meetings online.  It was really nice to meet them all three in person.  We had a chance to share some Texas foods (banana pudding, breakfast tacos, horchata--and coffee, of course).  We also shared a bond, each having our own experiences of the past few months of drama in the AEU and each extending spoken and unspoken words of empathy and compassion for the slings and arrows that seem to have flown out of that drama.  

What I had not expected was the depth of discussion that we had about the ups and downs of membership in Ethical Culture.  As with most forms of religious community these days, our membership is declining.  We talked about "nones," and the apparent commitment in that group to remain uncommitted.  We talked a bit about the social shifts that occurred because of the COVID pandemic, and the technology that continues to support our isolation.  

The conversation gave me a chance to talk about my own ideas about membership growth.  The 1% reversal of decline that moves us in a positive direction.  The need to be a visible to those who are needing--or seeking--our community.  The back and forth of discussion pointed out a weakness or two in my ideas and opened new possibilities of thought.  In other words, it was an Ethical discussion among Ethicals about Ethical--conducted ethically.  What a delight!

We often think of the positive benefits of our community in terms of a safe haven, a compassionate space, a warm welcome.  We share our joys and concerns and get to know each other better.  All true and good.  I think our community also provides a chance to exchange ideas in an open manner with respect for each other as well as for reality.  How refreshing!

Fuego ("fire" in Spanish) provided us with a different "light of understanding, warmth of compassion, and fire of commitment."  The banana pudding was good, too!

Coming Home

Between the Clouds

 After almost 3 weeks in New York City (visiting NYSEC), I flew home yesterday.  It was a long day of traveling, and I was already quite weary from a busy, almost non-stop schedule in NYC.  I had to change planes at Love Field.  The flight to Austin was delayed almost an hour.  When we finally got into the air, I was impatient to get home, to get up from having to sit for hours on end, to have some privacy after hours of jostling elbows.

And then we broke through the clouds.

Now I've flown many times in the past and seen many clouds in various parts of the world.  White, fluffy, like a bale of cotton.  Yesterday's clouds seemed, somehow, different.  For once I noticed the layers of clouds, thick and billowing below, thin and wispy above, casting shadows on the shadows.  A massive gray bank in the far distance looking at times like a coming dust storm (like the special effects we see in movies) or far distant mountains (impossible as we fly from Dallas to Austin).  I have never been one to see shapes in clouds, but I even managed to discern several sleeping giants--or at least their faces--in some of the clouds below me.  

It was a wondrous moment, not least because I was aware of both my sense of awe and wonder and the uncurling of tension within.  I (more or less) floated above--and below--the clouds in a liminal state, appreciating the power and the beauty before me and absorbing the peace I felt in those moments.  While not silent, given the drone of the jets, it was a time to be and to heal.  As we flew over those clouds, I was no longer departing from but coming to.  

It's good to be home.

Thinking about silence

A Silence Not Empty

A new year often brings with it the urge to clean and organize.  There's always the rubble of the holidays to clear away, and suddenly the idea pops up:  "How did that closet get so messy?"  I'm clearing out this blog.  I found several posts in draft format, most of them incomplete as if I had been distracted by other matters or lost the thread.  This one is complete enough to get the gist, and it's very much on point for how I'm feeling right now.

Do you ever just long for peace and quiet?  How often do you get it?  I think about it now and then, when I spend too much time rushing from appointment to appointment, meetings, even visits with friends.  My mind works better, I believe, in silence--or at least with white noise. 

Yesterday I sat in my den, listening to the silence around me.  It was quiet, yes, but silent, no.  I could hear the faint hum of the refrigerator.  Being on my own now, that is not a white noise.  It's a worry.  Is that sound normal?  Does the thing need attention?  I could also hear the ringing in my ears.  More hearing loss, I suppose.  If I tried that sitting on my porch, which I love to do, I would hear the not-as-distant-as-I-would-like sounds of traffic.  But I would also hear the birds, which seem to abound in my neighborhood these days.  Sometimes there might be the slight sound of a breeze through the trees.

Perfect silence is difficult to achieve, and the sterility of that silence might be less comfortable than we think.  Even so, at times we need to shut out the noises of our lives and take the time to regroup.  I am not at this point suggesting the new mindfulness or the old meditation.  I am thinking more about getting off the merry-go-round of our days long enough to look around at our lives--past, present, future.  Are we going in the right direction?  Is there something that we have forgotten?  Are we satisfied that we are doing the good we mean to do?

 

I think we have to make silence in our lives.  Turn off the phone.  Shut down the computer.  Make a day without commitments to others.  We might do some necessary activity that doesn't take much thought--wash dishes?--we might find some pleasant place to sit and plan the coming days--pen and paper?--we might take a break from reality with a good book or a movie--try Bollywood!  What you're looking for is a chance for the really urgent things in your life, the important things, to bubble up to the surface.  

I wrote that on April 15, 2016.  I have no idea why I didn't post it, unless I thought it was too personal or too directive.  It is both, I suppose, but the changes struck me as I read it for the first time in nearly 8 years.  I've moved, so I am farther away from the nearest highway.  I have only one small tree in my yard, not the 20+ that grew around my former home.  Birds do come, but I can no longer hear their song.  I am less worried about having to cope with appliance repair and such.  For one thing, I don't hear the refrigerator come on or give any indication that it's not functioning well.  For another, I have resigned myself to accommodating the uncertainties of calling for repairs versus the amazingly easy choice to just live with it.

What hasn't changed is that need for silence.  I now wearing hearing aids--sometimes.  I often leave the house only to discover that I left the hearing aids at home.  I don't wear them enough while in the house (it helps protect from faster hearing loss to keep the brain busy with sounds) because they eventually become annoying.  Mostly it's because of the noise.  This is a very noisy world, uncomfortably so.  That makes it even more important to me to seek silence.  Why?  There comes a time to be still.  Just to be.  And in the silence, our minds can bring forward those thoughts that were pushed down and back and away from our conscious attention so that we can see the problems and issues and neglected ideas that may be just as important as that meeting or that podcast.

Silence can come in many forms. Nancy Billias and Sivaram Vimuri bring together a variety of issues related to silence in The Ethics of Silence:  An Interdisciplinary Case Analysis Approach.  I think that their work will merit further study for the insight that it will give us to the importance of silence as a carrier of meaning and message.  However, I am thinking more in line with Felix Adler's approach in "The Moral Value of Silence."  I am thinking of what Adler calls "the silence not empty" in which we give ourselves a chance to heal and to grow and to come to new understandings of our world, our needs, our relationships.  

Recycle Your Ex

I couldn't resist opening an email captioned "Flush Your Ex Is Back."  I was amazed to read a message from Who Gives a Crap toilet paper company (their bamboo is my paper of choice) to see that they were recycling (pun intended) a previous campaign to turn karma into a reality with an invitation to send in old love letters, poems, and other paper evidence of a love gone bad.  Their promise was to recycle those notes (literally) into toilet paper, which could then be, well, used and flushed.  Their call was to "Get Petty," "turn heartbreak into toilet paper," and remember "What goes around comes around."

All in good fun, right?  With a side dose of therapy.  I do recall, sitting with a friend at her chimenea, a tot of some very smooth adult beverage in hand, burning her divorce papers and, I, some old letters that I really didn't need to keep around.  As healing as that act (or beverage) may have been, I am a little saddened that I did not, at that time, know about "Who Gives a Crap" as anything but an expression of dismissal.  Fire is good, but flushing would have been even more satisfying.

But seriously, folks, recycling matters. For Who Gives a Crap, recycling comes with a double purpose.  (1) They recycle paper into a useful product.  (1) A portion of their profits is donated to charities that build functioning toilets in places where few or none exist.  

Even better, I found this at the end of their front page (and other places on their site):

Acknowledgement of Country

We first started in Melbourne, on the traditional grounds of the Wurundjeri people. Today our team spans the globe, but most of us are still on land whose rightful custodians are First Nations peoples who have cared for our land, water and sky for tens of thousands of years. We pay our respects to Elders past and present and commit to Wominjeka - to come with purpose - leveraging our business, products and community to uphold our responsibilities to protect this planet according to their example.

 Wominjeka.  Sounds like "Ethics" to me.  Nothing petty about it.

Patriotism

 

Adler Study, Case A, Shelf 5

As part of my work on the Bibliography of Ethical Culture, I have begun to try to make a case for a better record of the contents of the Adler Study at NYSEC.  It wouldn't be any of my business, of course, except that there is a literal treasure trove of history, knowledge, and seriously interesting stuff on those shelves.  One step that I am recommending is the use of photography to document the current configuration of each bookcase and shelf.  The above photograph was taken with my old Android phone (don't ask me the model).  

Recently, just out of curiosity, I enlarged this photo to see if I could read the spines of these books.  Decades of light exposure have faded many of the titles, but I could see a few.  One struck me as a matter of interest for the Bibliography, so I checked it out on archive.org.  Sure enough it is there, since it was published in 1918 and is now out of copyright.

The volume is by Horace J. Bridges (1880 - 1955), born in England and recruited by Stanton Coit as an Ethical Culture leader; Bridges served in the Chicago Society until about 1945.  This one of his many publications, On Becoming an American:  Meditations of a Newly Naturalized Immigrant, can be seen in the picture above (the red book between the black one on the left and the green one on the right).  I really can't read every item that I add to the Bibliography, although I sincerely wish I could.  In this case, however, I took advantage of the scan published in the Internet Library and took a look at the Preface.  A faint underline in pencil caught my attention, and I read the following:

. . . Patriotism denotes the spirit which is ready to live and die for the ideals of one's country, not only in war with foreign enemies, but also when its standards have to be asserted against the perverted sentiment or irrational impetuosity of one's fellow citizens.  It implies, accordingly, that one shall be ready to think for one's nation as well as fight for it. (pp. viii-ix)

Yea, verily.

And this is why I do this work.  Lacking an Ethical Culture leader in the Ethical Society of Austin, we must conduct our own conversations with the past, because the past is not only our foundation in Ethical Culture, it is our passport to the future.  Without it, we wander in circles, repeating the same mistakes and solutions, making little forward progress into new paths. 

Lest we continue to wander in circles while I try to get to my point, let me say that I find this "message from the past" very relevant to our present.  Even more so when I connect it to Adler's reminder in his Founding Address that "the future calls to us."   I believe that we are called by our future--our future country--the fellow citizens of our future--the children and grandchildren of our future--to serve our country well as we go into this election.  Yes, we should register to vote--and encourage others to register.  Yes, we should vote--and encourage others to vote.  We should also "think" for our country, think for the future, about the issues being used by candidates to influence voters.  Are they being accurate?  Are they being fair?  Are they looking at the whole picture?  Are they recommending ethical policies?  How can we turn our thinking into action--into words--that clarify the ethical issues that will have a positive or negative effect on our future?  

BeltBusters and Other Hyperbolic Foods

 

I had a small window in which to find something to eat a few mornings ago.  I had fasted for some bloodwork, forgot to pack some nuts to tide me over, and had another appointment coming up.  Rather than go for physical therapy (and a fair amount of exercise) on an empty stomach and nothing but water since the night before, I thought it prudent to stop at the nearby Jack-in-the-Box for something to take the edge off of my hunger.  That's when I read their breakfast menu and realized that it was packed with prompts to overeat.  Words like "loaded," "extreme," "ultimate," "jumbo," and "supreme" prefixed almost all of the items on the menu.  

I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised, but I hadn't been to Jack-in-the-Box for several months, and my eating habits have changed substantially.  I am now more aware of carbs and proteins, looking for vital nutrients wherever I can find them.  As I try to confront my past eating habits and make new ones, I have become somewhat sensitized to the degree to which we are bombarded with messages that push us toward (unhealthy) food in excessive amounts.  It's no surprise that those messages are generally not promoting green things.

I decided to check the other fast food menus in the area.  Burger King tended to have adjectives related to its name:  Bacon King, Big Fish, Royal Crispy Chicken.  Sonic also played on its name with SuperSonic, but generally just named the item and indicated whether something was its "regular" size or larger.  Whataburger was even plainer in its naming practices, just naming the item and then allowing for extra ingredients.  That includes "double meat" and "triple meat" options, so we are still looking at oversized meals.  Regardless of the names, extra large portions were readily available.

The pressure to eat more and more is not just our moms telling us to clean our plates (although that might be a good place to do some rethinking).  We are influenced by advertising on television as well as other media.  Billboards invite us to stop and eat.  Even at the grocery store, we are nudged in the direction of buying more with "jumbo" and "giant" size packaging and special deals that have us buy items in multiples and "save."

Even our concern for the environment can take some of the blame.  While those "giant" packages give us more to consume, they also take less packaging, giving us a real saving on the use of non-renewable materials for packaging.  Americans literally waste a third of the food we grow.  Knowing that, I find myself sometimes eating a bit more than I need to just to keep from wasting the food.  (Faulty logic, I know.)

Certainly obesity is a national crisis, ending lives prematurely and undermining quality of life in the years leading up to death.

What to do?

Perhaps we could start with a conversation about food.  How do we center it in our personal lives and in our Ethical Societies?  This is not a conversation about veganism, although that conversation might at some point be appropriate.  It is a conversation about how we value food as a means to build community, about how we center food as a focus of celebration and occasion, how we are affected by the availability of foods, how advertising shapes our relationship with food.  From this conversation, we might see some changes that we can make in our foodways--at home and at our meetings.   We might also see some changes that we'd like to see in our community--whether it is finding better sources of food or improving health education in our public schools or looking more closely at the food pyramid above and figuring out where to go from there.

Food Pyramid:  Copyright © 2008. For more information about The Healthy Eating Pyramid, please see The Nutrition Source, Department of Nutrition, Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public Health, www.thenutritionsource.org, and Eat, Drink, and Be Healthy, by Walter C. Willett, M.D., and Patrick J. Skerrett (2005), Free Press/Simon & Schuster Inc.”

Individualism vs Community

A Selfie with Felix Adler

Because of the work that I am doing on the Bibliography of Ethical Culture, I have had the opportunity to read some of the early works of leaders in the Ethical Culture Movement.  One theme that tends to appear over and over again is the distinction between individualism and community.  That is, while Ethical Culture is based on strong commitments to freedom of conscience for the individual and and the right of all humans to be treated with dignity and respect for their inherent worth, there is an equally strong counterpoint that no individual singly and on their own can succeed in becoming the better person that we all strive to be.  The latter achievement requires accepting and working within relationships in family, Ethical Society, and community to come to understand the right way to live and work in those relationships.

The divergence of these ideas can be a fairly tough knot to untangle, especially (and perhaps ironically) for the single thinker.  Nevertheless, I want to become that better person, so I do spend a fair bit of time trying to untangle that knot.  Here's what I think I know:

• Freedom of conscience allows each individual to reach their own conclusions about what to believe about whatever matters matter in their world.  If one's concern is how humans came into existence, one has an abundance of explanations for that existence to choose from.  Those who follow the Abrahamic religions tend to think that the first man and first woman were created by a supernatural and omnipotent being in a Garden.  Other traditions in the Americas, Africa, and Asia offer other explanations.  Darwin's theory of evolution was shaking the foundation of a number of belief systems from the middle of the 19th century, offering a different explanation of human existence based on science and material evidence.  In his founding address, Felix Adler asserted "Believe or disbelieve as ye list; we shall at all times respect every honest conviction."  Many who belong to the Ethical Culture Movement are non-theists, but there is strong culture within Ethical Culture that respects those who do have theistic beliefs both within and outside of our Movement.  
• One reason why I found Ethical Culture as I was looking for a "like-minded" community was the realization that both organized atheists and organized humanists asserted their non-theism as their only positive belief and spoke in demeaning terms about those who had theistic beliefs.  I didn't like the negative emptiness that seemed to be their belief, and I really didn't like the hate speech that came out as opposition to the "honest convictions" of others.  While I don't follow the belief systems practiced by any of the world's major (and minor) religions, I do not care to be among those who attack the believers as somehow inferior for having those beliefs.  Fortunately, I found a footnote that referenced Ethical Culture and so found a like-minded and like-hearted community.
• The inherent dignity of each individual person--regardless of "value" or "character"--is essential to the ECM.  This includes everyone regardless of color, creed, national origin, gender, ability, etc.  That worth requires that we act in a manner that respects it and the person who carries it.  Even if we don't like them.  Even if we don't believe what they believe.  Even if we don't like what they do.  
• "Worth" and "dignity" seem to be used interchangeably, with "dignity" being a more modern term.  "Dignity" is also echoed in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.
• "Value" is typically distinguished from "worth," being something that might increase or be compared from one person to another.  "Worth" simply is.  
• Respecting the worth of another person may imply a minimum standard of courtesy for all interactions, but it definitely precludes anything that is harmful or disrespectful.

Both freedom of conscience and inherent dignity/worth relate to individuals.  I have freedom of conscience.  I have inherent worth.  But so do others, which implies that I  should respect their beliefs and their dignity as a person--just as they should respect mine.  This leads rather quickly to the matter of relationships and how we treat each other.  Ethical Culture goes further, however, to value the various relationships in which we find ourselves, requiring us not only to act properly within those relationships but to consider that the relationships are an opportunity to learn about ourselves as well as others and to grow in the direction of better and more Ethical behaviors.  As we are a spouse, we should seek to become better spouses.  As we are siblings or children or parents, we should work to become better in those roles.  Similarly in our community lives as students or workers or citizens.  Each relationship requires more of our effort to become the best we can be in those roles because our roles affect the others with whom we are in relationship.

Relationships become, then, the tool that we use to become better persons.  It is not enough to isolate ourselves to study ideas and the facts of science or history.  Where there are no relationships, there are (it seems) no Ethics.  It is when we interact with others that our Ethics are applied and tested.  Where they succeed, we succeed.  Where they fail, we learn what not to do and try to do better.  In this way (it seems), community is essential to Ethical Culture because it is in our community that we learn from (and with) each other and grow together.  In this way, the freedom and worth of the individual becomes  whole only in community.

Or so it seems to me.  What do you think?

Giving Ethically

What are your reasons for giving?

Discussions now going on in the American Ethical Union suggest that there are different motives for giving to that organization; some fairly strong voices even say that AEU should be giving money to its member Societies rather than the other way around.  The Ethical Society of Austin is also in budget-making mode, trying to balance projected needs against projected income.

I had the privilege of speaking to another Ethical Culture Society a couple of years ago.  The topic was giving, and I was invited to help inspire the opening of wallets.  There just wasn't enough money to do the things that the group wanted to do unless people started contributing more than the occasional $5 bill.  It's a common problem for all our Ethical Culture Societies.

Looking through my papers I ran across a draft of that speech.  It was titled "Giving Ethically," and based on a model that I use for framing Ethical Action as Living, Giving, Serving, and Educating.  Three reasons that I cited in that speech for giving to the Ethical Culture Movement seem relevant to current discussions.  I called these the "Why" of my giving.

• First, there is still much work to be done. Democracy is in danger. The end of racism is still so far away. We do not act like a peaceful nation no matter what our leaders say. Ethical Culture’s voice–and its reason and its humane concern–are all needed in today’s public dialogue. This moral voice can lead, inspire, teach others to be better, to be their best. I would give all I can to support the voice that says that ethics is and must be central to all we do.
• Second, there are other people like me still out there, people who have never heard of Ethical Culture. These are people who long for the light of understanding, the warmth of compassion, and the fire of commitment. Those words–”the light of understanding, the warmth of compassion, and the fire of commitment”--are what we say when we light a candle at the beginning of our Sunday meeting in Austin. Those words were what first drew me into Ethical Culture. I would give all I could to turn that candle into a beacon that signals from hilltop to hilltop that here in Ethical Culture is a community of kindred spirits in which you can grow and flourish to do and be your best.
• And third, on a more practical note, I have always been one to pay attention to the basics. I’ve been known to give the kids new underwear for Christmas. Once, when I had no cash to give, I supplied a candidate’s campaign with toilet paper (I just bought extra supplies when I bought groceries). In 25 years of managing non-profit organizations, I am well aware of the dreaded administrative costs. I know from experience that the smaller the organization the higher the percentage of budget allocated to administration. Ethical Culture–to be a beacon for those who would join our Movement and to be the voice of ethics for this nation–must have a sound foundation for its daily operations. I would (and do) give to make sure that the lights stay on and there’s someone there to keep things going.

 Nothing has changed for me in the past two years.  These are still my reasons for giving.  I have to ask:  What is your "Why"?

Team Austin in Commun-I-Tree

The AEU recently held an All-Society Platform (ASP), featuring Audrey Kindred, NYSEC, as the speaker.  Her topic was Human-I-Tree, emphasizing the relationship between humans and trees (take a breath, thank a tree) and the lessons that we can learn from trees about our connection to each other.  It was an inspiring program, and I hope that we can continue to explore and expand the ideas that Audrey shared with us on New Year's Eve morning.

Team Austin played a big role in that ASP, and it's a good thing we did.  This ASP almost didn't happen.  New Year's Eve is a holiday to many Americans, and Ethical Culture Societies often make a decision not to hold a meeting that falls on a major holiday.  Since Mother's Day or Martin Luther King Day and others not known for fireworks or adult beverages don't cause the same amount of hesitation regarding our Sunday gatherings, I am led to think that this is more about the secularization and conflation of Christmas and New Year's (and the sanctification of Independence Day, but that's a topic for another day).  Indeed, the importance and treatment of any holiday in the Ethical Culture Movement will have to wait for discussion another day.  On this occasion the holiday (eve) fell on a fifth Sunday and was the unusual fifth fifth Sunday in 2023.  There was some hesitation among those now leading the AEU on preparing for this extra fifth Sunday.  The planning team--a variable group of individuals from several Societies who volunteer to plan and present these ASPs--was hesitant to push back against what seemed like the inevitability of skipping this fifth Sunday.  (We're all polite and want to be respectful of each other's ideas.)

One of us (guess who) felt strongly enough that we should have an ASP on 12/31 that she spoke up to say that she thought we ought to go ahead with planning.  Why?

• It is one of few clear programs/services of the AEU for its member Societies to sponsor a national gathering on the fifth Sunday.  This is more important than ever while many programs and committees are "on pause."
• Some of the smaller Societies (such as Austin) appreciate the relief of not having to plan programs for the four or five Sundays when a national program is provided.
• The ASPs originated (thanks to Bart Worden) during the COVID pandemic when all of our Societies had to stop meeting in person.  The ASPs became the national campfire around which we could gather during that period of crisis.
• We ended up liking the ASPs.  A survey of the Societies ranked these national platforms as one of the top five most valued--and used--AEU services by their members.
• Now that many Societies are meeting in person again, there is still a need for a "national campfire" to remind us that we do have a national community and to allow us a chance to meet and get to know each other.  

At the next meeting of the planning committee, Audrey Kindred said she had a program that she'd like to present, and things took off from there.  Sorta.  There was still the problem of how to support Audrey with the technical tools required to host a national meeting on Zoom.  Greg Bonin, the new Director of Administration for AEU, juggled many simultaneous projects to make sure that the ASP was on the calendar and eventually publicized, but he was not able to be present on the day of the event to provide technical support.

Well, it was kinda my "push" that kept this program going, so I kinda had to step up to "take the lead" on tech support.  If you've seen me on Zoom, you know I can't hear, I get the buttons messed up, I talk to myself (and everybody else) while I try to find the right buttons, and and and.  This was now scary--for me and for the ASP.  I did ask for help from other Societies (folks from the now disbanded Ethical Action Committee--and others that I knew had done tech support for AEU meetings), but, sadly, no one was available.  Well, my only choice was to go to Team Austin and tell them the situation.  Well (again), my faith in my community was more than validated (again).

• Hans said he had the week off and would be glad to help (and attend rehearsals).
• Cortney and Nathan were committed elsewhere but could show up on the day.  O Happy Day when they were available the day before the event to join our rehearsal.
• Adam was committed elsewhere but could show up on the day.  And he did.

And we did it.  We managed everything we needed to do.  And I felt so supported by the Ethical Society of Austin that these young folks (you're all young to me!) would be so willing to help.  

It doesn't hurt that 8 other members of the Society also attended the ASP.  Indeed, the Ethical Society of Austin was 10% of the audience for this fifth fifth Sunday with the AEU that almost didn't happen--and, with Audrey and the Kahns from Brooklyn,  we made it happen.  We were indeed part of the Commun-I-Tree.

Shake those branches!

Time for Commitments

 

When I go for physical therapy, the exercise bike on which I am expected to "warm up" is placed facing a window that looks across the parking lot at a wonderful tree--Chinese tallow maybe--which has absorbed my attention for many "steps" on that bike.  On the wall next to the window is a framed poster:  Commitment to Commitments.  Now and then I read through these statements and compare them to our own Commitments in Ethical Culture.  The list at Texas Physical Therapy Specialists (a fine and caring group of folks) includes a commitment statement followed by a second clarifying statement followed by a paragraph of amplifying examples and scenarios.  The TPTS list goes like this (without the paragraph of amplification):

1. I commit to Rabid Responsibility.  I own my commitments.
2. I commit to Confidentiality and Alignment.  I keep confidences.
3. I commit to Empathy.  I picture myself in the other person's shoes.
4. I commit to Authenticity.  I acknowledge that I am an intrinsically valuable person.
5. I commit to Gratitude which Reinforces Humility:  What I appreciate, appreciates.  We rise when we rest on the foundation of Humility.  
6. I commit to Life-long Learning.  The learning never stops.
7. I commit to Perspective.  Playfulness and fun make people better.
8. I commit to Do What's Right.  Very, very Simple:  Would mom approve?
9. I commit to Serve with Passion.  My passion drives me to make meaningful differences in lives and business.  
10. I commit to Sisu:  I will face challenges head-on.

Our Eight Commitments are very similar.  We make doing what's right central in our lives and acknowledge that doing so begins with a choice--every day, every time.  We commit to treat each other with integrity, which includes keeping our word, keeping confidences, being authentic and honest.  We commit to treat each other as an end, not a means.  We commit to life-long learning--and democratic processes.  Overarching these commitments, we have the Supreme Ethical Rule:  Act so as to elicit the best in others and thereby in thyself--empathy, gratitude, humility, perspective, and passion.  

The one thing I can't immediately see shared in common in these lists is sisu.  I had to Google that one.  It turns out to be a concept originating in the Finnish language (and culture) that is now becoming more common in English.  It is an amalgam of the concepts embedded in courage, fortitude, stoic determination, and endurance in the face of overwhelming odds.  

At first, it is rather hard to place this within the context of Ethical Culture.  However, when I think about what I am learning about the history of Ethical Culture and Felix Adler's role in nurturing the Movement from its earliest days, I suspect that Adler had more than a little bit of sisu to carry him forward.  From the moment he delivered his first address at Temple Emanu-El, Adler faced challenges and opposition from those who disagreed with him.  As I work on the Bibliography for Ethical Culture, I find articles and commentaries that paint him (and the Ethical Culture Movement) as ignorant or blasphemous or both.  Yet Adler continued to work for the Movement until he died in 1933.  Throughout these many years, he developed and refined his concept of Ideal Ethics and the paths (manifold) we need to take to seek that Ideal, patiently explaining over and over again that our goal is to become better humans and that we do so by working to make the world a better place for other humans to do the same.  As far as I can tell, he didn't give up, nor did he back down.

As we begin a new year, we are faced with some daunting challenges.  Climate change is not a joke.  The possibility that Donald Trump might win the presidency again is a nightmare.  We keep getting closer and closer to nuclear war.  Racism, sexism, inequalities in so many realms--the list goes on and on.  It would be easier to retreat from these issues, to avoid thinking about them.  The thing is:  Ethics is central.  And we need to tell people that integrity matters and how we treat each other matters and that peace is something we make.  It could be time for sisu in Ethical Culture.  Where shall we start?