A LONG ROAD ALONG THE ROAD

The story starts early (1937) with my parents and their connection to a community of faith in the small town where I was born and spent the first 18 years of my life. The church was called The First Congregational Christian Church. I don’t know why it was called First since there wasn’t a second or a third. Some years ago, its membership declined and in 2020 it merged with another group and is now known as the Baptist Gospel Church.  Almost all my friends and their families were attached to a local church in the 40’s and 50’s.  It was that kind of community.

Sundays were synonymous with church, first Sunday School, devoted to learning about the Christian faith through songs and verses from the Bible in both Old and New Testaments. Then an hour of worship upstairs in the sanctuary with hymns, more Scripture and a choir plus a sermon by the preacher. These teachings and principles were supposed to be incorporated into our lives, not only as beliefs but in behaviors as well. The “curriculum” included characters and stories in the Bible from Moses to Jesus by way of the Prophets and the Disciples. The life and teachings of Jesus were central and as “followers” we were expected to demonstrate compassion for others; a “do unto others as you would have them do unto you” Golden Rule philosophy and to be like the Good Samaritan, a foreigner in a strange country, in our willingness to help others in need.  My parents were exemplary role models and remained so throughout their lives. I learned a lot from them that was a positive influence on what I believed and how I acted.

Later in my journey while studying church history at Princeton Seminary in the early 60’s, I learned there were as many as 244 different Protestant denominations in the United States.  It was hard for me to believe or understand how small disagreements over doctrine or Biblical interpretations could result in so many divisions. It is still beyond why.  During the first two years of theological studies, I had to learn how to read enough Hebrew and Greek to translate some of the earliest known Biblical writings into my own native language of English.  What I enjoyed most was reading some of the highly regarded theologians at the time – Paul Tillich, Karl Barth, Reinhold Niebuhr, his younger brother H. Richard Niebuhr, and Dietrich Bonhoeffer. They shaped my beliefs as much or more than anyone else.

I was not all that settled or comfortable in these studies and during the first year, 1959-60, I looked for a way out and thought I had found it when I applied to become a pilot for the Navy.  I took some tests at Lakehurst Naval Air station in NJ, passed them and they said I could start training at Pensacola in January of 1960.  I informed the seminary and asked them if I washed out of pilot training, would they hold a place for me the following year.  They said yes. I then asked the Navy if I could delay my flight training until the end of my first year at Princeton.  They said, yes, I could join the next class starting in June.  So, I had both sides and conditions insured and went on to complete my first-year studies in theology.

Between December of 1959 and June of 1960, two good friends and fraternity brothers from college who were in the NROTC program, and who became Navy pilots, were killed in separate crashes and a third, the brother of a good high school friend, who was flying for the Marines, was killed in his plane at El Toro in California.  Knowing those three people well, and their families, caused me to step back and look at the risk versus reward ratio and I decided to not pursue pilot training and finishe two more years in my studies at Princeton.

For seven years, 1962-1969, I was part of a mainline Protestant church, the United Presbyterian Church, USA. I was also following my own beliefs about the importance of social justice, equity and diversity.  The first church that I served was in New Jersey and the second was in suburban Detroit, Michigan. That work led me to become active in helping to integrate housing, education and employment and protesting our involvement in the war in Viet Nam.  And, then I met Martin Luther King, Jr. in 1968, just a month before he was assassinated.  The following year, feeling attacked and isolated because of my beliefs and practices, I left the institutional church and returned to graduate school at Penn State to pursue studies and advanced degrees in human development and human behavior. There’s a back story to this with details I can share later.

That turning point was significant for many reasons as I found a way to hold on to what I believed while finding other ways to pursue a life of serving others.  As the next many years evolved, my work in psychology and education, in different venues including hospitals, schools, colleges, private practice and consulting was richly rewarding. I had many privileges and opportunities to join colleagues in our pursuit of a common vision, a common purpose and shared goals. I remain grateful to all of those who contributed along the way and who added meaning and value to our work together.

People often ask if there’s a difference between having a spiritual life and a religious one.  My response is that you can have either or both and, depending on your personal preferences and practices, it is possible for one to support the other.  Religion often gets a bad reputation because of what some people have done and continue to do under its name.  A spiritual life does not depend upon a particular religious view and can incorporate things from A (Animism) to Z (Zen).  What enriches the Spirit is diversity, in the same way that biodiversity enriches the environment.  What nourishes a life of the Spirit are those experiences that put us in touch with the sources of creation by any name you want to give to those entities.  What sustains a spiritual life is similar to what sustains a religious life, incorporating beliefs into practice.  This journey of the spirit has been a long one and it continues  toward new adventures and experiences.  The road goes on and on.