The Light of Ethical

At this time of the year, there are many festivals that focus on light.  December 21 is typically identified as the first day of winter; it is the winter solstice, the day when the northern half of the planet is tilted farthest away from the sun and begins to reverse its tilt.  This reversal is, to many humans throughout history, the return of the light.  Days now will become longer.  It is, to many of us, a promise that spring will eventually come again and the earth will warm and produce its bounty.

I ran across a different kind of festival in my research on Ethical Culture.  The New York Meeting House was built by October 1910 (I can't find the date for the groundbreaking ceremony) and dedicated, first, to its Ethical and Religious Purposes and, then, to its Civic Uses in ceremonies on October 23 and 24, 1910.  Included in those ceremonies was a poem written by Percival Chubb, called simply "Dedication Ode."  

I'm no judge of poetry, so I can't suggest how this poem might rate in form or language, but the idea of the light is a powerful one for me.  I am sensitive to the changes that we experience as the seasons pass when the light changes (and the temperature as well).  I imagine the delight of those first humans to "capture" fire and then to discover how to "make" it, turning the dark of night into something nearer day, gaining both warmth and the comfort of light to their camp.  I imagine living more in tune with the seasons, knowing what the earth will produce as the light and the temperature changes (if the rains come on time), having my life channeled by the boundaries of nature's time, not that of humans.  

In The Ethical Society of Austin, when we mark the beginning of our Ethical discussion, we light a candle and say ritual words:  "May we kindle within ourselves the light of understanding, the warmth of compassion, and the fire of commitment."  These concepts are very meaningful to me.  When I light a candle here in my home, I sometimes utter them as a reminder of how powerful such a light can be. I light a candle and think of how much such a tiny light can mean when the world is dark and so are the hearts of men.

One thing that our candle lighting ritual does not encompass is that comfort that humans have felt in the presence of a burning light.  It pushed back the darkness and gave a slight sense of increased safety.  It included hope that the time of darkness would end and the full light of day would return, but for now . . . just for a while . . . the world is not so dark.

Percival Chubb's "Dedication Ode" spoke to me as the lighted candle does.  He talked about the nature of the light that he saw in the Meeting House, emphasizing that it was not supernatural, but produced by humans:

Flame of the kindled heart by which we love;
Light of the single mind by which we see.

He then calls on that light to bind us together:

Blend all our separate lights to one great whole
As in one perfect fellowship of soul;
That in the pure effulgence we may see
The splendor of the prophecy
Of man harmonious in the true society.

It is, however, the ending of the poem which speaks to me with the strongest emotion:

When low our spirit's flickering flame may burn
And our feet falter on their starward way.
Hither our steps unwittingly shall stray.
Hither our longing turn.
Here to the quiet and the calm;
Here to the peace . . . the light . . . the fire.

The peace, the light, the fire--the comfort that comes from Ethical when we see each other with understanding and compassion, committing ourselves to cherish the best in each other with our own best selves. 

How shall we meet?

Having specified a simple format for Sunday meetings and having made it clear that ritual and formalism were not to be part of those meetings in his Founding Address, Felix Adler had some specific thoughts about what would go on in a meeting:  mostly lectures and some music.  While Adler didn't actually say "but not a sermon," he did assure his audience (and us) that he did not intend that there would be a need for a "priestly office after a new fashion."

Adler did clarify that all these lectures should have a purpose:

First, to illustrate the history of human aspirations, its monitions and its examples; to trace the origin of many of those errors of the past whose poisonous tendrils still cling to the life of the present, but also to exhibit its pure and bright examples, and so to enrich the little sphere of our earthly existence by showing the grander connections in which it everywhere stands with the large life of the race. . . . Secondly, it will be the object of the lecturers to set forth a standard of duty, to discuss our practical duties in the practical present, to make clear the responsibilities which our nature as moral beings imposes on us in view of the political and social evils of our age, and also to dwell upon those high and tender consolations which the modern view of life does not fail to offer us even in the midst of anguish and affliction.

Hoo boy!  So history, religion, philosophy, human nature, standards, duty, responsibilities--no easy path does Friend Felix lay down for us.   Plus music.

How does this play out 140 years later?  In Austin, the Ethical Society meets most Sundays (did I mention that before?) if the meeting space is available (we are looking for new meeting space, in case you know of anything).  Meetings are said to be either a Platform (lecture) or Colloquy (discussion).  Sometimes they are a mix of the two.  Lectures can be presented by members or guests; colloquies are lead by our Program Chair (Adam Gravois) and quickly turned into a group activity.

There is, however, more.  Come early and share coffee and conversation.  A chance to meet and greet, touch base on Society business, get to know fellow members a little better.  Come even earlier and help set things up.  Arrange chairs, make the coffee, set out the songbooks, get to know fellow members a little better.

A single chime will halt the busyness of these activities (but not the coffee), and we all take our seats and focus on the day's leader and our purpose in meeting.  This is the point at which someone--whoever the day's leader may ask to do so in the moments before the meeting begins--and it varies--reads a statement of purpose.  We have several variants of these statements, so the reader chooses which he or she may want to read.  All of them, I have to point out, are powerful and inspiring words that help us remember why we are present and what we need to be doing during the meeting.

The leader makes or calls for a few announcements about upcoming events or decisions that the Board has made.  Then we are all called to consider whether there have been matters of ethical concern that we have encountered during the previous week.  This is an opportunity to examine ourselves and our week--if we have not already done so--to consider where there have been conflicts or victories in the values that matter to us.  We can recount what the issue was and how we resolved it or ask the group to help us figure out a resolution.  From ethical conflicts and concerns the leader then guides us to talk about "concerns or joys."  These are usually brief statements from members which range from the revelation of a happy or sad event in the previous week to a broader statement of personal concern about state-national-international events and trends.

Once everyone who needs to speak about these more individual-but-now-shared-matters has done so, the day's leader calls for another just-appointed volunteer (again, it varies) to light the lantern.  I'll write more about what follows in another post (or posts!).

For now, it's worth considering that this early part of an Ethical Society meeting is a reflection of the early part of Adler's Founding Address.  While he was trying to establish an organization that met weekly to discuss serious and high matters, he prefaced the establishment with a review of the current situation in our nation.  In some ways, the Ethical Society is doing the same by opening the floor in an entirely democratic fashion to all--members and visitors alike--to present their awareness of ethical conflicts in our society and in our personal relations as well as evaluations of life and public events that have impressed themselves upon individual consciousness and conscience.  As Adler laid out the context for ethical culture, so we lay out the context for our own small community's attempt to live better lives and make the world a better place.  The effect, from my perspective, is a closer sense of community and a better understanding of how we can help each other be and do . . . better.

Ethical rituals

Continuing with my study of Felix Adler's Founding Address, I am struck by the sparseness of what he proposes:

The exercises of our meetings are to be simple and devoid of all ceremony and formalism.

And later:

We propose to entirely exclude prayer and every form of ritual. 

No prayer.  No pledge to a flag.  No . . . but wait.  As I look at the Ethical Society of Austin, there are indeed rituals.  Simple they are indeed, but ritual they also are indeed--at least in the sense that they are repetitive, somewhat symbolic, carrying a minimal element of meaning for those present.

I've referred before to the limited rituals as I observed and participated in them.  Seeing now Adler's notion that there should be no "ceremony or formalism," I must consider them anew.

Adler had two purposes in avoiding ritual-prayer-ceremony.  First, he was seeking to avoid even the appearance of "interfering" with those to whom such things were an important part of their religious expression.  His effort was to eschew imitation or implied alternatives in order to avoid conflict with those already and firmly committed to a set of religious beliefs.  Second, he was also hoping to avoid offending those already more or less offended by religious rituals and, perhaps, supernaturalism.  His concern was, he said, reconciliation.

It is my dearest object to exalt the present movement above the strife of contending sects and parties, and at once to occupy that common ground where we may all meet, believers and unbelievers, for purposes themselves lofty and unquestioned by any.

Still, there it is.  I see ritual.  Where did it come from?  How widespread is it?  How necessary is it?  And what does it mean that the founder says "no ritual" but the practitioners have opened the door to these teensy tiny rituals?

Well, one thing I see is that Adler was an influence, but not the final word.  Ethical Culture is nearly 140 years old, and it has evolved in form and, I expect, in content as well.  It is not so much that in 140 years we added a chime, a lantern, and a burning bowl as it is that we added so little.  It's also, as I have noted before, a factor that the process is informal.  "Oops, I forgot the chime."  "Oops, the candle went out."  "Oops, my paper didn't fly up to burn."   These are rituals that have no power beyond the moment or our willingness to grant them personal meaning.  They provide structure for our function, focus for our higher purpose of considering the meaning and direction of our lives in promoting a more ethical world.  Somehow, I don't think Adler would mind.

What is Burning Bowl?

When the Burning Bowl was first announced as a program activity for the Ethical Society of Austin, I had no idea what that might entail, but I was anxious enough about this new ceremony to begin researching it.  I wanted to know more than the what and the how.  I also wanted to know why and who originated this ceremony and who practices it and when they do.  Are there variations?  How long has Burning Bowl been practiced?  In the US?  In the world?  And where in the world is it practiced?

These days, for casual information on a subject, Wikipedia is often a first step. Imagine my surprise when I found that Wikipedia does not give the term "burning bowl" alone or paired with "ceremony" or "ritual" a separate entry.  Wikipedia did allow me the option to have the page created, but I did not pursue it.

The second step, a Google search, did, however, provide an abundance of images, videos, and webpages to give a fair indication of how widespread and diverse the practice of burning away <something negative> might be.   I sampled only a few of the search results.

One of the more interesting results was a link to the song "Burning Bowl," sung by She Keeps Bees.  It seems that Burning Bowls are fairly common in Unity and some independent Christian churches as well as some Eastern-based healing traditions.   There may be other practitioners that I skipped over in my haste.  The Burning Bowl might also be practiced by individuals in a personal ceremony.  It is common to practice the ceremony at the end or the beginning of the year, but some practice it during a full moon and others at any important life or personal transition (burning away the old to make room for the new).  All one needs to make the ceremony happen are:

• a personal need to let go of something negative;
• a bowl or some fire-resistant surface;
• a source of fire;
• paper (flash paper optional);
• writing implement;
• community (optional);
• transitional occasion (end/beginning of time period, life phase, etc.).

I used a number of keyword searches and combinations to try to find out more about this practice.  There are some who think it originated in Hindu traditions, but I could find no quick resource on the web to confirm this.

A few days ago, I talked about the ESOA Burning Bowl ceremony and what it meant to me with a friend, who happens to be an active Methodist.  She told me that her church has a similar practice around Easter when church members can write down a problem or concern, pin it to a cross provided on the altar, and so have that problem or concern taken away, presumably by the Christ.  I am familiar with the belief that one can pray and have one's burdens taken away, but I had not previously heard of this sort of paper/cross activity before.

Are there other (or similar) practices being used in (other) sacred and secular contexts that include this process of writing down a <negative idea/feeling/problem>, then destroying or otherwise "letting go" of the written problem so that the individual can, through the physical act, symbolize the desired emotional/physical/social release/relief?  An old idea with new forms?  An Eastern idea that has moved to the West?  When?  How?  And how widespread has it become?

Just curious.

Lighting the Burning Bowl

On the first Sunday of the year, the Ethical Society of Austin held a Burning Bowl ceremony.  Each of us present wrote down a problem or trait or issue that we wanted to "get rid of" in the coming year on a small piece of flash paper.  We each lit our paper and watched our problem/trait/issue burn and, in some cases, float away.  As moving as a Burning Bowl ceremony can be, this one had a special feature.

As it happens, we used the humble kitchen match to light our papers.  To light the match, however, we touched it to the flame of our meeting lantern, rather than striking it on the side of its box.  The striking panel, alas, was just too worn to do the job.  After the ceremony had ended and we were reflecting together on its meaning and impact, one member (was it Lucy?) noted the significance of the fire that we used.

ESOA has few true rituals.  We call ourselves together with the note of a single chime.  This is the signal to turn off cell phones, stop chatting, come sit together, and focus on the meeting.  Once any announcements or preliminary discussions are completed, a member is called to light the lantern.

As the lantern is lit, the day's leader reminds us:

May we kindle within us the warmth of compassion, the light of understanding, and the fire of commitment to build a brighter future for all.

This is the point at which we turn to the heart of the meeting, the activity, platform, or colloquy that will help us to reflect on the meaning and direction of our lives.  On this day, the activities included the Burning Bowl ceremony. At the end of a meeting, our leader reminds us:

As the candle is extinguished we ask that you keep within you the warmth of compassion, the light of understanding, and the fire of commitment to build a brighter future for all.  

These are simple statements that never fail to inspire me.  The lighting of the lantern, the invocation of meaning, the solemnity of the moment all enrich the experience of the meeting.

How fitting it was, then, that we used the fire of that lantern, transferred through the kitchen match, to burn away the problematic issues that we sought to end.

Now we all knew--and know--that the action of lighting the lantern is merely symbolic.  It's not always a perfect process for all that the symbolism of lantern and fire are powerful in many cultures.  Sometimes the lighter is cranky.  Sometimes the candle goes out.  Once, at least, a leader forgot to have the candle lit until the program had already started.  Stuff occurs.   The ideas behind the lighting of the lantern are not subject to the vagaries of circumstance.  Even so, it does seem that circumstances did work on this day to increase our sense of meaning in the Burning Bowl, to increase the power of the image of our burned-away problems.

For me, the ceremony was already beneficial.  The notion that we used the flame of our lantern to burn away the pain took things a bit further and enhanced my confidence in my ability to do the real work that the Burning Bowl had symbolized.  I had--have--a heartache, a pain so strong that I know it will harm me if I continue to hold on to it.  With the Burning Bowl, I learned that I had the power to choose to let go of that pain.  I could objectify it, separate myself from it, and turn it to flame and ash.  With the added symbolism of the lantern's fire, I could see where understanding of the source of the pain and compassion for both myself and that source could allow me to commit myself (fierily?) to making my future one where I have left that pain behind.  It's work in progress, yes, but the lantern's fire gave me some tools.