Mourning Our Innovators

I've been thinking a lot about why so many of us have been affected by Steve Jobs' death. I had a moment of real sadness and shock when I saw the headline, and Facebook lit up that day with people's reactions to his death. Of course any death is sad, but why are we--who didn't know him--so sad?

I can tell you the answer doesn't have to do with how much we like our ipods. Or not exactly, anyway. My sense is that one reason we mourn people like Steve Jobs so deeply is that we are aware of how special he was; we know he was an innovator, a creator, on a scale that we don't see just every day. Just like Wangari Maathai, the Kenyan creator of the Greenbelt movement who also died recently, Steve Jobs was a rare human being.

And somehow, there is something human about us that instinctively recognizes that rarity, that celebrates their place as part of humanity--as giving to humanity in a particular way. Paradoxically, their celebrity in this case is really about our connection to them as fellow human beings, ones that we know have particularly contributed to our humanness writ large.

Apology Accepted?

My daughter goes to a Jewish preschool (sort of by accident--we loved the preschool and then realized it was Jewish), so of course she's been learning a little bit about Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Featured prominently is a song called "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm really really sorry." I heard her singing this at home and thought...oh great, another way for her to get out of doing the right thing.

Wait, what?! That's right, I am annoyed by my daughter saying sorry so much. She's great at apologizing, and I often find myself thinking (and sometimes saying) "Well, it's nice to apologize, but it would be better not to do the bad thing in the first place."

But how does this parenting experience resonate with my broader belief in the power of apology, and in the possibility of redemption? Does it all fall apart when I'm called on to actually walk the walk with a three year old?

I think the answer is found in what can, or should, accompany an apology. The times when I get frustrated are when I observe my daughter repeating the same behavior without trying to change it...and thinking that it's all right if she just apologizes afterward. So the solution, I think, is in the extent to which we are open to actually changing our behavior, to transformation. Mary, the other clergyperson at the Washington Ethical Society, gave a great platform about transformation last Sunday. And it turns out that the song my daughter learned has the idea embedded in it: the last verse goes "I won't do that again."

Apologies are wonderful. Transformations are even better. Here's hoping for both of them in all our lives.

Good News: Good for the Body and the Soul

Need a lift? Check out this New York Times series on simple advances in health around the world.

I just love stories like this; they are somehow both remarkable and totally unremarkable. And beyond all else, they remind me of how many people spend their lives working to make things a little better for others. Imagine all the folks who contributed to each of these health advances, and will continue to do so. There is something in us that yearns to be of use to humanity. These are great examples.

Reflections on the DADT Repeal

My, it's nice to get good news sometimes, isn't it? I'm celebrating the repeal of DADT today...and thinking about one of my favorite phrases (from UU minister Theodore Parker, and then rephrased by Martin Luther King Jr.): the arc of the universe is long but it bends toward justice.

Some days, like today, I think that must be true. Other days I'm not so sure. As the income gap in America widens and more people are worse off than their parents, I have my moments of despair.

I think there are two things I hold onto. First, although the universe might actually bend in lots of directions, not always toward justice, I am heartened by the fact that what we celebrate, in the moment and years or decades later, is the justice bending. Something in the human psyche can see that this is the right way to bend...something yearns for goodness, as Adler said.

And that's part of the other piece. Whether or not the universe bends toward justice, or frankly whether or not it bends at all, I choose to live my life as though it does...and as though I must be part of that bending, to help it along.

Today it feels as though we've rounded a corner. So, at least for a moment, the bending feels true enough.

America, Land of Persecution?

A couple years ago, I started out the WES year with a platform address about whether we were a secular nation or a Christian one. Then, and still now, I was struck by the number of people who thought we were entirely one or the other: the Christians who went on TV to complain about how the entire nation was becoming horribly secular, the atheists who sued various groups in complaint of the overwhelming and inappropriate Christianization of America. Surely, I thought, America can't be both too secular and too Christian?

When I spoke about this two years ago, I tried to explore what made us secular and what made us Christian, and how Ethical Culture--with its emphasis on diverse beliefs and united action--could bridge the differences. But I'm thinking now that I was barking up the wrong tree.

Because it's almost as if we want to be justified in thinking we're in the minority, want to be the persecuted party. You never hear a secularist talking about all the ways our society is secular, or a Christian noticing that there really is a lot of Christianity around. I guarantee that December will find the Christian pundits railing against the war on Christmas and the secularists writing long diatribes against the fact that you can't escape Christmas. I'm not saying individuals and groups don't experience persecution--they certainly do, at times--but I don't think it's ever quite as bad as the pundits would argue.

So my question today is--what is it about us that wants to be persecuted? Do we get points somewhere for being the most put upon? Is it just media hype and sensationalism? Or is there something deeper at work, something about American society and the appeal of being the victim? What do you think?

Mama Mindfulness

There are really only two ways to hold a baby.

First, you can devote your whole mind and body to the holding, cradling and bouncing the baby, inhaling her scent and gazing at her little dimpled knees. Or, you bounce and jiggle and rock while you're scanning the newspaper, or talking on the phone, or trying to listen to your spouse, or your other child, or the radio. If you're really talented, you can bounce and rock while checking email or reading a book (having a Kindle helps--much easier to turn pages with one finger).

The truth is that most of the time, both ways work just fine. A relatively happy baby doesn't mind that much if you are also reading the newspaper while you cuddle him. But just wait for the baby to turn sad--or hungry, or tired, or otherwise cranky--and you will find that there is suddenly only one way to hold a baby. I've never yet successfully calmed a fussy baby while also checking email.

As I ease back into my professional life, while still spending most of my time with my now 8-week old, I'm aware of how tempting it is to try to do everything at once. To check email while talking on the phone, to surf the net while watching TV. I've even tried multitasking meditation: surely I can get in a workout while doing a walking meditation and occasionally checking my cell for text messages?

Just like a baby, a happy and smooth day allows us to do a certain amount of multitasking. But when life gets rough, we need to drop the phone and let go of the newspaper and just calm the baby, or ourselves; just attend to the person in front of us, or the email that needs answering.

So here's to the times when we can do it all, and the times when we can do just one thing, but do it well.

Monogamy: Truth and Lies

The New York Times has a great article in this weekend's magazine about infidelity, monogamy, and what marriages are for. For me, it picked up on a lot of pieces that I explored last February, in a platform address I gave called "Ethical Sex." In the address, I wondered about what makes sex ethical: is it a covenant between two people, unbroken over years? Or is it about the respect and caring brought to the relationship, whether that relationship lasts decades or one night?

The NYTimes piece opens up the possibility that non-monogamy--rather than unsuccessful monogamy (which would be referred to as cheating)--might be a valid choice for some married couples. It also explores, though, what happens when someone does cheat, and what a strong marriage's reaction could be. The basic idea is that marriage is about stability, about creating stable families, not about two people being everything for each other for all time...and not about saying to heck with the stability offered if one of the partners isn't faithful.

Of course I was especially interested in two references to clergy in the article, and the preparation they do (or don't) offer to couples before marriage. I've changed my own pre-marital spiel to include some conversation about how fidelity is important--but can mean different things to different couples. I encourage couples to talk about and explore what it means to them, and to be aware of how it might change over time.

But I haven't specifically talked about betrayal--whether it's romantic or sexual, as in this article, or some other kind of betrayal--and the importance for married couples to see the value of the relationship as the higher good. I'm no advocate of staying in horrible marriages, of course, but I do agree with Dan Savage (the columnist highlighted in the article) that forgiveness is as important a value in a marriage as fidelity.

So maybe I should be asking the hopeful, excited couples I marry to think about betrayal a little bit more...and how their marriage can withstand it.