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Many years ago I was reading a Hindu scripture late at night. The Hindu Vedas are some of the most ancient scriptures in the world if not the most ancient. The translator mentioned that in his lifetime of study he had discovered four great truths that reoccur throughout the Vedas.

I instantly sat up in bed. I love when people share their summary statements about complicated topics. The translator said, in his long career of translating the Hindu Vedas from Sanskrit into English he had found four great truths:

“All is one,”

“I am that,”

“This too is God,”

And “All is intelligence.”

“ALL IS ONE”

While we cannot understand an infinite universe, we can remember we are part of something infinitely larger than ourselves. When our own lives seem small and pointless, it can be helpful to remember that our lives are just a pinpricks in much vaster story. For us to live a self centered lives would be like the internal organs deciding to become free agents. Sometimes our lives only make sense if we give them on behalf of a larger context.

“I AM THAT”

Life can be a futile search for a savior or teacher if we do not realize that we are embodied expressions of WHATEVER is true or sacred. Jesus said we are the light of the world. The true teacher always leads us to our own hearts and minds. This saying means instead of trying to find someone to tell us what to do, or trying to get to a heaven somewhere else, we need to let our light shine here and now.

“THIS, TOO, IS GOD”

I don’t remember the exact wording for this insight. Hinduism is very rich when it comes to words for the sacred. A non-theist might translate it, “This, too, is reality.” I suspect this saying is intended to help us confront interruptions, accidents and other unpleasant moments. This insight is a reminder that the parts of life we don’t like can be as essential as the parts we do.

“ALL IS INTELLIGENCE”

This last insight surprised me. I don’t believe the universe thinks, but it does seem to have an underlying mathematical grid. The laws of physics, the periodic chart, DNA are all expressions of what appears to be a non conscious intelligence that holds reality together. Everything changes, but the universe transforms by consistent patterns. For that reason, we can observe the patterns of reality and find wisdom all around us.

Let me just share in closing, that I do not read religious texts for factual truths or moralistic rules of conduct. World religion are a mixture of profound insights and staggering nonsense. When I read religious wisdom literature from around the world I am hoping for my own version of the 4 great Vedic truths: I want to have a wider context for living, I want to feel my “roots” into reality more deeply, I want to be more present even to experiences I don’t like, and I want to observe the reoccurring patterns of nature thus making reality itself my teacher.

Although I have been a Christian minister most of my adult life, I want to be very clear that I am not the kind of Christian who denies science, oppresses people who are LGBTQ, treats women who are pregnant like community property and feels superior to non-Christians. So, when people ask if I am a “Christian” I don’t feel comfortable answering until I know what kind of Christianity they have in mind.

I am no longer interested in the kind of Christianity that calls itself “non-political” yet serves an unjust status quo. I don’t want to participate in worship that uses sexist language for God, or that confuses blessings with the sordid fruits of an unjust economic system. I don’t want to praise God by lifting hands made bloody by complicity with militant Christianity’s assaults on non-Christians, or by the religious nationalism that assaults immigrants and vulnerable peoples the world over.

Just looking at the Sermon on the Mount it seems to me that an honest Atheist is closer to the teachings of Jesus than a disingenuous preacher. It seems to me the kind of love Jesus spoke about calls us out of every unjust hierarchy of power, every unfair system of economics, and every form of sectarian religion that believes it holds the copyright on love.

I have been born in the one right religion, in the one ethical nation, and as a member of the one correct political party. “Faith” means not questioning the beliefs of my religion nor the actions of my nation.

Ideas that make me feel uncomfortable must be stupid because they don’t make sense to me.

I am honestly investigating an issue when I go online and cherry pick information that favors my own viewpoint or use one source for all my news.

I should never test my beliefs by any objective standard.

Labeling someone is the same thing as understanding them. If I call someone “liberal” or “conservative” I can use foolish statements of anyone else from that group interchangeably with the person I want to refute.

When I can’t refute what someone says, I can always dismiss their arguments by ascribing bad motives to them.

Leaders who ridicule their opponents mercilessly and smirk a lot must be strong and know what they are talking about.

Ridicule counts as a rebuttal.

I believe the word “God” is a symbol for everything too deep, too big, and too immediate to understand. Whether one chooses to use that word depends more upon personal temperament than substance.

I believe any “God” needing to be protected from heresy has been made up by the orthodox to defend dogma too weak to stand on its own.

I believe any “God” who gets offended at the human condition has been made up by moralists to frighten us into conformity.

I believe any religion based on saving us from an invisible threat is probably a sham.

I believe all nondemocratic religious hierarchies are privilege garbed in velvet piety.

Likewise, I believe dogma that cannot be questioned is usually superstition in sanctimonious disguise.

I believe healthy religion does not ask us to find scapegoats for our problems but calls us to present ourselves as living sacrifices for the common good.

I believe true “saviors” do not call us to love themselves but to recognize our kinship with all humankind and the web of life.

I believe the exclusiveness to which true religion calls us is not loyalty to any sect, but a commitment to universal love, radical honesty and a passion for justice that is embodied in our own lives.

If, when you die, you could choose to be reborn on one of two planets, which of these would you choose?

On the first planet you would be completely safe. You would live in a padded cell with unbreakable windows to keep you protected from your neighbors. On that first planet a guardian angel would ensure you would not be hurt even by your own mistakes. Everything on the planet would be covered with bubble wrap. Every corner would have an opium dispenser in case of the mildest pain. There would be no threats to your existence, but no adventures either. You would die as you lived, comfortably numb.

Or you could choose to be born on a second planet where your mission would be to learn and to teach what it means to be fully human. On that second planet your mission would be to learn and to teach courage, therefore, dangers would be real. On Planet 2, your mission would also be to learn and then teach wisdom. You would be surrounded by propaganda and misinformation so you could learn to filter out untruth. You would seldom have all the information needed to make your most difficult decisions, but you would discover the truths that abide through real life experiences. On Planet 2, there would be very real habits and addictions so you would have to learn to keep your balance. On this planet, people would worship winners and ridicule losers, so you would have to learn not to live in other people’s opinions. You would have to learn to choose justice even when it was costly.

I don’t need to tell you that we have both been born on planet 2. We get to decide whether we will live out our time in search of fleeting trophies, or in developing noble characters. Here on Planet 2 life is not fair, but we get to decide if we will be victims of fate’s unfairness or as ambassadors for the noblest virtues of humankind.

Van Morrison sings a beautiful song entitled “Into the Mystic.”

Morrison’s verses can be heard as a simple love song, but, I also hear them beautifully describing what I think of as elemental mysticism- that strange “place” between who we are as human observers and what we are as elemental matter.

In the song, Morrison sings:

“We were born before the wind

Also, younger than the sun

‘Ere the bonnie boat was won

As we sailed into the mystic.”

Hinduism has a saying, “Thou Art That” which serves as a touchstone when we become lost in the storms of life. The saying reminds us that in our brief lives we are like flying fish in which the ocean becomes embodied for one brief moment of flight, but, we are never actually separate from our source.

In some forms of Hinduism the separateness we see around us is considered to be an illusion. To conquer our individual griefs and fears we need to remember that we are expressions of a deeper creative principle and so we do not really lose anyone or anything in life because we are never really separate from the cosmic process.

Between who we are and what we are is very mysterious and wondrous “place.” In every fleeting love we can feel the pulse of a deeper and more abiding ocean. Every birth is a standing apart that allows us to experience living and loving and every death is just another version of the inevitable way back home. The womb that fills us with hope and the tomb the fills us with dread are actually the same place.

As I say, “Into the Mystic” can be heard as a simple love song, but whenever we love anyone or anything profoundly we may feel ourselves dissolving into an oceanic depth that feels deeper and truer than our fleeting selves. Every time we empty ourselves into living and loving we feel the pulse of a deeper current of which we are beautiful but ephemeral waves.

Or, as Morrison sings:

“Yeah, when that fog horn blows

I will be coming home

Yeah, when that fog horn blows

I wanna hear it

I don’t have to fear it.

And I wanna rock your gypsy soul

Just like way back in the days of old

Then magnificently we will float

Into the mystic.”

I am used to people implying that, as a liberal, I am not a good Christian.

It no longer bothers me to be called a heretic just because I believe religion should not be a shackle to the loving heart nor to the honest mind. But, I also know that some of you are just now stepping out of toxic Christianity and are enduring the charge of being second rate Christians or worse. I would like to say several thoughts to you.

First of all, I want to thank you for your courage. It is not easy to step out of the institutional bullying that holds abusive sectarian religion in place. I hope you are giving yourself credit for the enormous bravery it took just to get out of the metaphysical prison into which you were born.

Second of all, I want to congratulate you. The life of love is a much more joyful and truthful of a path than that of dogmatism, ritualism, or moralism. You have chosen the Sermon on the Mount, and more importantly, you have chosen love as the heart of your path. You will not be sorry but you will have much to endure.

“Liberal” or “conservative” are not ethical categories. We all seek a balance between what needs to be liberated and what needs to be conserved. But liberalism can disguise a superficiality in our values and conservatism can disguise an unwillingness to change systems that are unfair.

Obery Hendricks Jr. is a wonderful religious scholar who has tried to show how extremist forms of right wing Christianity can get stuck defending the indefensible. People can end up defending “God, Guns and the Flag” in a way that shows no commitment to the religion of love and justice. What some people of think as “apolitical” is often a defense of the status quo for power and wealth. Here are three of Hendricks’ sayings you may find encouraging as you endure criticism:

“First, the good professor tells us how to spot false prophets. He says there are two telltale criteria:

“(1) they are silent about issues of social justice, and (2) they function as uncritical supporters of rulers and politicians, rather than as their moral conscience and dedicated arbiters of biblical justice.”

Secondly, he warns us:

“Right-wing evangelicals have evolved what might be called a “Jesus personality cult” that is obsessed with the person of Jesus as spiritual savior rather than with the principles for justly living in the world that he taught and died for.”

Finally, Hendricks points out that, in scripture, prophets are never called to conserve unfair systems of power and wealth. Almost by definition Prophets are calling us to change.

He says:

“In our time, when many seem to think that Christianity goes hand in hand with right-wing visions of the world. It is important to remember that there has never been a conservative prophet. Prophets have never been called to conserve social orders that have stratified inequities of power and privilege and wealth; prophets have always been called to change them so all can have access to the fullest fruits of life. In fact, it was the conservative forces—those who wanted to keep things as they were—that in every instance were the most bitter opponents of the prophets and their missions for justice.”

Again, thank you for having the courage to choose the awkward and unpopular path of universal love over the popular status quo of bullying in the name of sectarian religion and narcissistic patriotism.

Whether Trump is an unique hero or a narcissistic demagogue, he cannot save a nation committed to patriotic symbols instead of civic principles.

Lone heroes cannot save a democratic republic. Only an informed and engaged citizenship living by the principles of a democratic republic can do that. A president “presides” over that process. Only in times of war does the president become Commander in Chief.

Demagoguery is inevitable in a land where everyone praises the nation but each of us thinks of ourselves as the exception to everyday civic responsibility.

With Donald Trump soon to be inaugurated we have been promised mass deportations, removal of further environmental protections, and further demolition of the wall separating church and state. I understand many people cannot help but choose despair at this time, but it will be important for as many of us as possible to live as examples of the kind of people that make the social contract possible in the first place.

In an age of memes, propaganda, AI, and outright lies, some of us need to become better examples of truth seekers. We must go to boot camp to remember that wisdom must be built upon facts discerned by reason and science. We must fact check our every public utterance as a sacred duty owed to truth.

In a time of cruelty and arrogance, we must go to boot camp to remember that justice must begin with compassion and empathy, not with judgment or vengeance. A national unity built on scapegoating outsiders and dissidents is not love of nation, just hate and fear of the “other.”

In a time of gold encrusted bibles and crass wealth held by fewer and fewer hands, some of us must go to boot camp to remember that nature and human beings have a worth far beyond their price tag in capitalism.

Our nation will not be saved for long by patriotic emotionalism combined with the principles of Wall Street. My hope is that many Americans will go to boot camp to learn and then live the principles that will make a democratic republic possible in our time.

Shunryu Suzuki said in Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind:

“In the beginner’s mind there are many possibilities, but in the expert’s there are few”

“This is also the real secret of the arts: always be a beginner.”

New Year’s is a secular version of enlightenment or being “born again.” New Year’s is an invitation to look out at the world through new eyes.

May you wake up this day refusing to be defined by your past.

May you look at the mirror and see someone with a completely clean slate.

May you forgive every mistake that you or others have made. May you untether from every grudge and accept this day as an invitation to a fresh start at living.

May you stop carrying the burden of a religion of memorized answers. May you be “baptized” in your own version of awareness, forgiveness and grace.

May you wake up to this day with new eyes for beauty, a new mind unfettered by yesterday’s answers, and with a new heart unscarred by yesterday’s wounds.

Most importantly, may you always be a beginner.

When I was in high school back in Dallas our PBS station began to air episodes of the British comedy group Monty Python, and a local radio station began featuring lectures by Allan Watts.

Both the strange humor of Monty Python and the eclectic thought of Alan Watts were liberating for me. My brothers and I would religiously watch Monty Python at night and I make a point to listen to Watt’s lectures on eastern thought whenever I could.

Since those days I’ve realized Alan Watts could sometimes present a simplistic westernized understanding of some eastern religions, but his gift to me was in demonstrating there were vastly larger spiritual options than what I had learned about in Sunday School.

The religion I had learned as a child was kindly but it focused on words. We would listen to sermons, read the Bible, or pray to God; but there was never a time where we just sat and absorbed the silence. There was never a time when our minds got silent. The prayers I was taught as a child were focused on my personal wants and fears. I had learned a religion of belief, but not wisdom; of ritual, but not art; of service, but not love.

Reading Eastern texts taught me there was a space between my thoughts that contained the key out of my little self-centered prison of desires and fears. When I stopped dividing life into nouns and verbs I began to sense an oceanic unity that was deeper, broader and more immediate than I could have possibly imagined when all I knew were words.

I began to suspect that Jesus was concerned much more with that deep sense of unity than he was about creeds, rules and rituals. Before long, I would discover the writings of Trappist monk Thomas Merton who taught of a version of Christianity that allowed for contemplation and inner silence.

Thomas Merton said:

“The silence of the spheres is the music of a wedding feast. The more we persist in misunderstanding the phenomena of life, the more we analyze them out into strange finalities and complex purposes of our own, the more we involve ourselves in sadness. But it does not matter much because no despair of ours can alter the reality of things, or stain the joy of the cosmic dance which is always there.”