Spiritual Threshold (Updated from 12/17/2013)

"The unbroken realization that you are indivisible from the universe, from universal consciousness, from the source of everything - that you are that source, that there is no other, no second, nothing that is not part of that unity, except as transitory illusion. If you could maintain that realization at all times, through waking and sleeping states of consciousness, across the threshold of death itself, what would you be?"

-- Daniel Pinchbeck

Since my two years of penance (Catholic school), the threshold of a church used to be as close as I dared go to one, safely. Crossing through the doorway was entering "no man's land."  There was no proof that anything negative would occur, were I to cross the threshold.  Yet, I would wander around outside, visit with families, or the wedding party, as I got older, tug at my tie, and generally look uncomfortable until someone finally said, "We better go find a seat," at which point my hands would go clammy and my mouth would go dry. 

I would try my best to wait until the last minute before slowly approaching the front doors. I would stop with my toes on the line separating the concrete walkway from the swept, mopped, and holier-than-thou tiled foyer.  I would look down at the threshold as I took a tentative step across, squeezing my eyes shut before I placed one heel down on the tile; waiting for the well-deserved lightning flash followed by the fully expected electrocution and the resounding explosion of thunder.  If nothing happened, I would then dare to bring the other foot forth.  My sins were forgivable, but I still had a fear of being smitten by the Almighty Smiter.  My fears were, of course, driven by blind faith pounded into my by nuns who knew I was headed for trouble.  My faith in the wrath of a God was handed down, in a culture of Catholicism, from the nuns and priests of my misspent youth. 

Once on "holy" ground, I would dab at the cold sweat beading on my brow before following my mother, girlfriend, or wife, to our seats, hopefully toward the back and, unfortunately, usually at the front.  The front was where the priest or minister would subject me to mental torture for the next hour. I tried my best not to nod off.  I counted it as a blessing when it wasn't a drawn-out Catholic wedding, and a second blessing that none of the proceedings were in Latin, since the church did away with that dead language years ago. You haven't "enjoyed" Latin until you hear it from an old Irish priest with a brogue thick as molasses.  Gibberish spoken by someone you can't understand.  Always a treat.

I reasoned that all the standing, sitting, kneeling, and repeat, ad nauseam, in any Catholic service, was due to the physical danger caused by lack of blood flow from sitting on a hard church bench for a couple of hours with no chance of a seventh-inning stretch. Anyone who ever wondered why the line for "Communion" were so long, only has to do a stint on those benches.  One would jump at the chance to walk to the front for couple of waffers, just to get the blood flowing back into your feet. I wonder if the priest realized that the blessed, contented, look we all possessed, along with receiving the Lord's host, was more due to receiving back the comfortable warmth of the blood flow and feeling we lost from our ass down.

At each of my visits to "holy ground" no lightning strike ever materialized and, therefore, no small pile of Tony ash had to be vacuumed up or swept away.

It finally dawned on me, somewhere along my life, the reason there was no feared lightning strike was that I was expecting it. Not really God's style, that, giving them what they expect. What good is the lesson if you don't learn it for yourself? So I became aware that God would punish me for any transgressions in numerous small ways, spanking me again and again, especially out of left field. Of course, I well knew, as with any father, this would hurt God more than it hurt me. Fear and pain were not the objects of the lesson, but if you have a head as hard as mine...  

So it was that I found myself freely entering "holy ground" and still looking up with one eye closed, just in case, and uttering a silent thanks to God for the "free pass" to the hard benches.

I stood on the threshold of love,

fearing to enter the house of my family,

where I found unconditional love

and easy expectations;

To search, grow, love, minister,

show tolerance and understanding,

and try, and when trying fails,

ask "Why?"

Do not strive for the Kingdom of God,

for heaven surrounds us.

We are the custodians of it,

and the ministers of all which is good.

We already enjoy everlasting life,

how we live it is at hand.

From one life to the next we grow,

learning to be worthy.

I stood on the threshold of love;

ever-present, unconditional, love,

with only expectations of myself,

to be worthy of those around me.

As I got older, I developed a habit of visiting the church early, so I could have a private moment with the "Omnipotent Power of the Universe." I would take this short bit of "me time" to ask for blessings and assistance for those around me, as well as forgiveness for my shortcomings as a person of faith, and as a hypocrite and sinner, of which there is no doubt. I think it was during these moments I developed a personal relationship with God, Christ, and the Blessed Mother. My relationship with Mary is most special in my heart; I know this because all I have to do is stand before her effigy and I begin to cry freely. Perhaps this show of emotion is due to the attachment to one's own mother, only here, it was on the spiritual plane.

A loving God should not be feared, as long as you toe the line. Like any child, we have lessons to learn, and tutoring if we have a tough go of it. Crossing the line of faith, the threshold from religious to spiritual can be such a lesson. The answers, for many of these lessons, are found not in traditions, scripture, and the like.  More often, the answers to our questions are found in what we discover for ourselves.

I found in the Blessed Mother a calming influence, and it became evident to me that in Her I found a mirror of the emotion, discipline, love, and forgiveness I would find in a loving home; the discipline of the father, the understanding of the mother, and the "older brother" I never had, with his unerring balance, intuition, and sweet reasonableness.  I wear a medal of her around my neck, so I never forget.

"...and here was an almond tree in bloom before me: I must reach out and cut a flowering branch. For, by believing passionately in something which still does not exist, we create it. The nonexistent is whatever we have not sufficiently desired, whatever we have not irrigated with our blood to such a degree that it becomes strong enough to stride across the somber threshold of nonexistence."

-- Nikos Kazantzakis

Editor's Note

(Re: disclaimer cum "get out of jail free" card)

Before you go getting your panties in a bunch, it is essential to understand that this is just an opinion site and, as such, can be subjected to scrutiny by anyone with a differing opinion. It doesn't make either opinion any more right or wrong than the other. An opinion, presented in this context, is a way of inciting others to think and, hopefully, to form opinions of their own, if they haven't already done so. This is also why, occasionally, I will present an "opinion" just to stir an emotional pot. Where it may sound like I agree with the statements made, I'm more interested in getting others to consider an alternate viewpoint. 

I fervently hope that we keep open and active minds when reading opinions and while engaging in peaceful and constructive discussion, in an arena of mutual respect, concerning those opinions put forth. After over twenty years with military intelligence, I have come to believe engaging each other in this manner and in this arena is the way we will learn tolerance and respect for differing beliefs, cultures, and viewpoints.

We all fall from grace, some more often than others; it is part of being human. God's test for us is what we learn from the experience, and what we do afterward.

Pastor Tony spent 22 years with the United States Air Force Intelligence as a planner, analyst, briefer, instructor, and, finally, a senior manager. He spent 17 years, following his service career, working with the premier, world-renowned, Western Institutional Review Board helping to protect the rights of human subjects involved in pharmaceutical research.

Ordained 1n 2013 as an "interfaith" minister, he founded the Congregation for Religious Tolerance in response to intolerance shown by Christians toward peaceful Islam. As the weapon for his war on intolerance he chose the pen, and wages his "battle" in the guise of the Congregation's official online blog, The Path, of which he is both author and editor. "The Path" offers a vehicle for commentary and guidance concerning one's own personal, spiritual, path toward peace and the final destination for us all. He currently resides in Pass Christian, Mississippi, where he volunteered as the lead chaplain at a regional medical center.

Feel free to contact Pastor Tony: tolerantpastor@gmail.com