I recently found this quote from Sadhu Sundar Singh in Plough magazine:

We have been created in the image of God. Our destiny is to be restored into that image. God came to us in the Master to restore us to God’s divine nature. In this way, the Master transforms us into flames of spiritual fire. To become spiritual fire means to become like God. Even the smallest flame of fire is fire and has all the qualities of fire. This does not mean that our spirit is God’s spirit, as some pantheists and philosophers suppose. We are not fragments of God’s spirit. We are not God. God is distinct from us, but our souls can only find peace in oneness with God.

A sponge lies in the water, and the water fills the sponge, but the water is not the sponge, and the sponge is not the water. It is the same when I immerse myself in God. God fills my heart, and I am in complete union with God, but I am not God, and God is not I. We are distinct though not separate.

People are very different from one another – in character, temperament, and abilities – even though we are all created in the image of God. Indeed, if all the flowers in the world were of the same color and scent, the very face of the earth would lose its charm. When the sun’s rays pass through colored glass, the color does not change, but the sun highlights and reveals its varied hues, its true charm. So the sun of righteousness shines through the varied characters of spiritual men and women, revealing God’s boundless glory and love.

~ submitted by Richard Russell

As I read Norman Mailer’s Of a Fire on the Moon, this description of astronaut Neil Armstrong caught my eye:

Armstrong, sitting in the commander's seat, spacesuit on, helmet on, plugged into electrical and environmental umbilical's, is a man who is not only a machine himself in the links of these networks, but is also a man sitting in (what Collins is later to call) a 'mini-cathedral.' a man somewhat more than a pilot, somewhat more than a superpilot, is in fact a veritable high priest of the forces of society and scientific history concentrated in that mini cathedral, a general of the church of the forces of technology.
 
Well, Mailer has a conflicted view of the technology that took us to the Moon, powers our computers, and even edits our genetic profile. He admires technology but also sees it as a threat to our humanity. Mailer fears that technology will take the poetry and mysticism out of life, becoming a substitute religion that ultimately makes humankind a cog in the machine, an afterthought rather than the center of existence. And yet he admires, almost worshipfully, that same technology.

I tend to share Mailer’s point of view although I’m probably less suspicious of technological advances. Take Zoom, for example, which we now routinely use in Old Chatham’s hybrid meetings. I’ve heard it said that you can’t really worship on Zoom, but I do it all the time. I’ve heard it said that Zoom images are no substitute for being in the same physical room; and, while that’s partly true, when I look at the face of a Friend on Zoom, I feel a living presence.   

So, like Armstrong ready to blast off to the Moon, I’m always ready to turn on my computer, launch Zoom, and travel into cyberspace. I know Friends will be waiting for me there.

~ Richard Russell

~ Ram Dass, author of Be Here Now

Below you’ll find a self-interview that I once did for a college history course. It would be wonderful to read real interviews of other Old Chatham members. Hmm. Wonder if I should do that?
 
1. Tell me your full name and when and where you were born.

My full name is Richard Stephen Russell. I was born in Austin, Texas on
November 20, 1946.

2. Tell me about your parents and grandparents.

All my grandparents were raised in farming families, mostly from Alabama, Arkansas, and Missouri. They came to work in the oil fields, first in Oklahoma and North Texas, later in the Permian Basin of West Texas. They eventually settled in
and around Monahans, Texas, not far from Midland-Odessa.

Because of the Great Depression, my paternal grandmother moved to Los Angeles, part of the massive migration seeking a better life in California. During World War II my maternal grandmother joined the millions of women who entered the labor force for the first time. She served as a clerk at Pyote Army Airfield, now closed, once the home of the Enola Gay, the plane that dropped the first atomic bomb.

My maternal grandfather managed Gulf Oil’s gasoline refinery at Wickett, Texas. My other granddad drilled for oil when he wasn’t drinking whiskey. Of course, both men were too old to fight in World War II.
 
My father did not want to be a foot soldier in the War. He avoided the draft by enlisting in the U.S. Army Air Corps. His most dangerous assignment was “flying the hump,” a phrase used by Allied pilots who flew supplies over the Himalaya Mountains to China, where Chiang Kai-Shek was fighting Japanese invaders. After a short stint in civilian life as a reservist, he was called back to active duty during the Berlin Airlift and the Korean War. He did not, however, see
combat. Instead, he taught instrument flight courses, later serving two years as an exchange officer with the Royal Air Force in Scotland. When his own father died in 1954, he left the U.S. Air Force and took over the “old man’s” struggling oil field business. With his salesman’s acumen and a total lack of scruples, Dad mademoney with Russell Tool & Supply Co.

My mother was a homemaker, high school English teacher, and director of a rehab program for juvenile offenders. She died in July of 2021 due to Alzheimer’s Disease.

3. What about your brothers and sisters?

My brother, after a rebellious teenage period, became an IT tech at the University of Texas of the Permian Basin. He is an accomplished bass guitarist and especially likes rock music of the 70’s. He took care of our mother in her declining years.
 
My sister, after serving in the U.S. Navy, became a nurse and nurse educator. Unfortunately, her professional career was cut short by a debilitating, treatment-resistant depression. Fortunately, she has recently been restored to full health by ketamine infusions every five or six weeks.

4. Tell me about your friends.

My best friend in high school was Carl Cochran. After graduation from U.T. Austin, Carl got Dan Rather’s old job as a TV news reporter in Houston. He later realized his dream of moving to San Francisco where he could live a gay lifestyle
without fear of reprisal. Regretfully, Carl contracted AIDS and died in the 80’s.

My roommate and best friend in college, Jack Burns, married a young lady who was an ardent feminist. Apparently, I was too much of a “male chauvinist” at the time. I rarely saw Jack after his wife decided I was persona non grata.

My present best friend is also my wife. Zoila was a student of mine when I taught English as a Second Language at Odessa College. She was born in Peru, has dark skin, and speaks English with an accent. People often assume that Zoila is from Mexico and married me to become a U.S. citizen—neither of which is true.

5. What was your most memorable trip?

Undoubtedly it was the year I taught English in Medellín, Colombia during the epoch of Pablo Escobar. Somebody—maybe Escobar, maybe leftist guerillas—had blown up my school just before I arrived. It was hard to teach while the school was being rebuilt around me. The subtleties of English pronunciation were frequently drowned out by power drills and jack hammers. Colombia is a country full of kind, generous people; but perhaps 250,000 Colombians have died in a civil war that began in the 1960’s and only recently ended.

6. What is your greatest achievement?

My daughter, Gabriela. Of course, Gabby owes just as much (if not more) to her mother. Gabby has a B.A. in Dramatic Arts and is presently an assistant manager at a Starbuck’s store. She makes almost as much money as I did in my last full-time teaching job. 
 
I should also mention that I have two dachshund children, Annie and Bentley. I’ve trained Annie to steal socks and hold them for ransom, i.e., a treat. Bentley simply barks when he wants to be petted.
 
7. Why did you convert from Catholicism to Quakerism?

Being Catholic was causing me too much cognitive dissonance. There are too many fundamental Catholic beliefs that I don’t agree with. I don’t believe that the bread and wine at Communion literally become Christ’s body and blood. I don’t believe in a literal Resurrection. While I do believe that Eternal Life is real, I don’t subscribe to the dogmatic Catholic system of Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory—a system that requires confession of any “mortal sin” if one is to avoid being sent to Hell. Not attending Mass is supposedly a mortal sin. Thus, if I don’t go to church one Sunday and die before confessing this sin, my soul will end up in Hell.
 
On the other hand, liberal Quakers, as one Friend put it, “can believe anything they want.” Who wouldn’t want freedom of belief? With such freedom, I can structure the spiritual Universe in whatever way appeals to me. (Of course, the spiritual universe may not be what I find appealing!)    

8. What are the most important things you’ve learned during your life?

Well, number three is, “Never trust anyone over thirty.” Number two is, “Make love, not war.” Number one is, “Be here now!”
 
~ Richard Russell
 

To which the Bing Chatbot replied:
 
I’m sorry to hear that. I think everyone has values, even if they are not aware of them or able to articulate them. Values are the things that matter to you in life, the things that motivate you or guide you. They are not fixed or permanent, they can change over time or in different situations.

Maybe you can try this exercise: Imagine that you have a magic wand that can grant you any wish. What would you wish for? Why? How would it make you feel? What would it say about you as a person?

This exercise may help you discover some of your values by exploring your desires and emotions.

For example, if you wish for more money, it may mean that you value security, freedom, or success. If you wish for more friends, it may mean that you value connection, belonging, or fun. If you wish for more knowledge, it may mean that you value curiosity, learning, or growth.

Of course, these are just examples and not definitive answers. You may have different interpretations or reasons for your wishes.

Would you like to try this exercise with me?

Well, I didn’t pursue the conversation, but I liked the Chatbot’s answer. I think I’ll go back to Bing and ask the Bot, “How can I be a better Quaker?”

~ Richard Russell

Love had you on the brink.
I was impressed and rescued you,
But it’s just not what you think.

We spent some sunny carefree days,
Love had us in the pink.
We shared our dreams and happiness,
But it isn’t what you think.

We felt a closeness after all
And love finally made a link.
The plans we made were sure and true,
But it isn’t what you think.

My dreams were shattered all at once!
Love was to you a MINK.
You thought you’d do me in, my dear.
That’s certainly what I think!
 
Just the same, I miss you so
And that wasn’t what I sought.
I didn’t mean to fall in love.
That isn’t what I thought!
 
 The song above was written by my mother and refers, of course, to the husband (my father) who abused her psychologically and physically. In our opposition to violence, Friends should not forget to speak and act against domestic violence.            

~ submitted by Richard Russell

Great crowds came to him, bringing the lame, the blind, the crippled, the mute and many others, and laid them at his feet; and he healed them. (Matthew 15:30, NIV)
 
Now when Jesus saw the crowds, he went up on a mountainside and sat down…. He said:  “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”
(Matthew 5: 1-3)
 
I try to imagine our meeting house so crowded that every seat is taken, and people are forced to sit on the floor or look in from the doorways of rooms. While attendance at Old Chatham Meeting is quite good, I doubt that we’ve ever had such an experience. Jesus, of course, was always attracting throngs of people; and—while he was always respectful and compassionate toward individuals in a crowd—he frequently fled the crush of the crowds, praying in lonely and deserted places.

So, who made up the crowds? Yes, there was an occasional scribe or pharisee from the higher echelons of society, but—for the most part—those who came to Jesus were the poor and powerless. They were dispossessed farmers, day laborers, women, and children—half-starved because of Roman taxation, suffering  a variety of ailments like leprosy and mental illness. They were ignorant and despised, “unclean” and shunned by their betters.

Well, liberal Friends are not like these people at all! By and large, we have education and money; and we are not “poor in spirit.” We are instead the bearers of culture and a rich spiritual tradition. And yet—in our hearts, we know that we’re more like the poor than we’d care to admit. Perhaps we’re not addicted to alcohol or crack cocaine; but maybe we compulsively use social media, maybe material comfort and convenience is our drug of choice. And, as we age, we inevitably fall prey to the disability and illness that the poor have suffered earlier in their lives.  

Moreover, we did not give ourselves the advantage of good genes and good parenting. God bestowed those gifts on us. All human beings come from God, are created by God, and are therefore God’s children. The truth is—we’re part of the crowd of paralytics and demoniacs that Jesus ministered to, and we need God’s grace if we are to enter the Kingdom of Heaven. (inspired by a sermon of Diana Butler Bass)

~ Richard Russell               

A number of messages came through on art and the genius of art this morning.  The afterthought that I had was regarding the redemptive and regenerative power of art in our lives. 
 
As a wordsmith and a person who loves and writes poetry, the power of word has been a constant theme in my life.  An art form with so much promise and power.  Our word is something we strive to honor as Quakers, but also the utterances, the very act of speech and the choice of words, creates new worlds and new possibilities that we can then live into. 
 
Words can create or destroy and the mindful use of words could be our greatest human asset.   I am reminded of a poem that imagines space and time and solitude as love. 
 
MEDITATION IN SUNLIGHT
by May Sarton

In space in time I sit
Thousands of feet above
The sea and meditate
On solitude on love

Near all is brown and poor
Houses are made of earth
Sun opens every door
The city is a hearth

Far all is blue and strange
The sky looks down on snow
And meets the mountain-range
Where time is light not shadow

Time in the heart held still
Space as the household god
And joy instead of will
Knows love as solitude

Knows solitude as love
Knows time as light not shadow
Thousands of feet above
The sea where I am now

Creating these spaces, these containers, as we do in Quaker Meeting and the other groups we participate in is by and of itself a transfiguration. A complete change in form or appearance. I have watched the debt of fear, worry and concern lift in community as we feel the love in solitude.   The regenerative aspects of what we share in messages and the healing power of the gathered community is, I think, more than any of us can fully comprehend.  

Words fail to describe experience but also offer a glimpse. 

Words create. 

Word = creation

Creation of the world we seek. 

~ Joseph Olejak 

Well, bungee jumping isn’t my idea of fun; but April Fulton in an NPR article argues that—instead of obsessively seeking happiness—we should concentrate more on fun activities.

Looking back, what endeavors have been fun for me? Well, camping, hiking, and travel come to mind. Fulton maintains that scheduling such activities is important if we’re to actually engage in them.

So, what—specifically—should I put on my calendar? I could drive to the Austin-San Antonio area for some interesting camp sites. I could also travel to Big Bend and camp out in the Chisos Mountains, perhaps hiking up to the South Rim. At age 76, that might be a challenge as such a hike is somewhat strenuous, entailing six miles of upward climb. I’d have to first undertake an exercise program to restore strength and balance lost to old age and sedentary habits. Moreover, I wouldn’t dare go on such a hike without a younger, more vigorous partner to help in case of emergencies like falling in the trail rubble or being bitten by a rattlesnake.

Of course, foreign travel is a lot of fun for me; and my wife and I are in the first stages of planning a trip to Peru, where staying with her relatives would help keep costs down. A lot of the fun of such a vacation is simply speaking Spanish all the time, which—for me—produces a mild exhilaration. In lieu of an actual trip, I guess I could watch Spanish-language TV and travel documentaries in English or Spanish.

And, while New York is not a foreign country, it’s enough different from Texas to make it a fun destination. Visiting Old Chatham Friends is always refreshing. With Covid around, I would even wear a bunny suit to talk face-to-face with Bill and Beverly Thompson. Then, there’s the possibility of going to the North Carolina Conservative Yearly Meeting and seeing Mary Linda McKinney, Mark Wutka, Sarah Miller, and Nat Corwin. While I appreciate the diverse spiritualities of Old Chatham Meeting, the North Carolina group is definitely Christocentric and more in harmony with my own spiritual identity.

If you, Friend, are thinking of putting more fun into your life, perhaps you should follow April Fulton’s advice:

1. Stop worrying about how happy you are.
   
2. Find your ‘fun magnets’ (pastimes you enjoy).
   
3. Put fun on the calendar.
   
4. Unplug (from social media, email, etc.).
   
5. Share the fun with someone (i.e., bungee jump with your wife, girlfriend, etc.).
   

Have enough fun, and you may well find yourself on the road to happiness.

~ Richard Russell

by Mary Jo Russell

When we tried once more to part
Our friends said that we cared too much.
But I’ve known within my heart
That our love was just a crutch.

Though we’re lonely when apart,
There’s always calm instead of storm.
All those teardrops from the start
Can’t keep my life and love from harm.

Chorus:
Till today I wasn’t sure
Why my life was insecure.
Now I know I can’t deny
I just can’t wait to say “goodbye.”

Though we’ve tried and tried anew,
Hoping our dreams would come around,
Another’s affection for you grew
And pushed aside the love I’d found.

Chorus:
Till today I wasn’t sure
Why my life was insecure.
Now I know I can’t deny
I just can’t wait to say “goodbye.”
 
The song above was written by my mother, no doubt referring to my abusive father. There are a multitude of good causes for Quakers to support, but the struggle to end domestic violence is surely one that Friends should consider.

~ submitted by Richard Russell

In 1 Corinthians 15, Paul writes,
For what I received I passed on to you as of first importance:
that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, that he
was buried, that he was raised on the third day according to the
Scriptures, and that he appeared to Cephas, and then to the Twelve. 
After that, he appeared to more than five hundred of the brothers
and sisters, at the same time, most of whom are still living, though
some have fallen asleep. Then he appeared to James, then to all the
apostles,  and last of all he appeared to me also, as to one abnormally born.

Jesus’ disciples believed in his Resurrection because he appeared to them after his crucifixion and death. It’s possible, but improbable, that the appearances were objectively real: that, for example, if anyone had been with Peter (Cephas) when Peter saw the Risen Lord, that person—Roman or Jew, skeptic or believer—would also have seen Jesus. More probable is the conjecture that the appearances were hallucinations.

The word “hallucination” instantly brings to mind schizophrenia, a mental disorder in which people see, hear, or otherwise sense something that is not really there. But the disciples were not schizophrenics; and hallucinations are actually quite common, even among people who are psychologically normal. For example, A. Y. Tien in a 1991 study of 18,572 people found that 13 percent of them claimed to have experienced at least one vivid hallucination. Only 1 percent of the general population is schizophrenic. (statistics from Bart Ehrman)

Particularly common are so-called “bereavement hallucinations,” in which people sense the presence of a loved one who has recently died. Such hallucinations are often accompanied by a sense of guilt over some aspect of the relationship with the deceased. Certainly, Peter felt guilt over denying he knew Jesus; and the disciples in general must have felt shame over so consistently misunderstanding him during his life. Moreover, bereavement hallucinations tend to be associated with anger at the people or situation that caused the death of the beloved. Surely the disciples were angry with the Romans! Finally, stress makes hallucinations more likely. And the disciples were certainly stressed by Jesus’ death. They fled to Galilee after the crucifixion, fearing that the Romans would also want to execute them.

Based on Paul and the Gospels, it seems likely that only a handful of the disciples “saw” Jesus immediately after his death—perhaps Peter, James, and Mary Magdalene, perhaps one or two others. Of course, we can’t know for sure. We do have Paul’s testimony that at some point over 500 of Jesus’ followers experienced his presence. Ridiculous, right? Mass hallucinations are impossible!

Well, no. Mass hallucinations do occur. Even in modern times crowds of people have seen apparitions of the Virgin Mary. Notable is the phenomenon of October 13, 1917, when a crowd of 30,000 to 40,000 people in Portugal saw the sun fall toward the earth and zigzag in the sky while multi-colored lights flashed over the clouds and the landscape. The event was taken by many to be the miracle promised by the Virgin Mary to three Portuguese shepherd children, the so-called “Miracle of Fátima.” Skeptics have, of course, cast doubt on aspects of the Fátima event.  

Well, granted that some of the disciples saw “Jesus” after his death, who or what did they think they were seeing? The disciples had apparently expected Jesus to reveal himself in Jerusalem as the Messiah. A mysterious, cosmic “Son of Man” would descend from Heaven in power and glory, free Israel from Roman rule, and set up Jesus as the earthly King of the Jews. Instead, Jesus suffered the death of a slave or criminal.

When Jesus appeared to the disciples after his death, those appearances were usually brief. No matter that they were illusions, the disciples believed they were real. “Well, then,” asked the disciples, “Where was Jesus the rest of the time, between appearances?” The answer: he had to be in Heaven. God must have exalted him from merely human status to a semi-divinity. And now the disciples had solved the problem of the crucified Messiah. Jesus was both Messiah and Son of Man. Very soon he would return to earth permanently and rule Israel or even the whole world.  

One final question remains. Were the disciples’ visions merely psychological, or did they refer to some external, spiritual reality that is not a part of our every-day world? I vote for the latter. My faith tells me that the visions of Jesus were visions of someone who somewhere—somehow—still exists.

(This post closely follows the argument of Bart D. Ehrman in his book, How Jesus Became God.)

~ Richard Russell