One of my favorite books begins like this:
1. There was a Master come unto the earth, born in the holy land of Indiana, raised in the mystical hills east of Fort Wayne.
The book is Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah, by Richard Bach. The author encounters a divine being - a messiah - who has given up the life of preaching and miracles to give people airplane rides. He shares the secrets of being a messiah with Richard; ideas so simple, so beautiful, and so obvious. It blew my mind the first time I read it in high school, and the torn and creased cover of my signed paperback copy speaks to how often I still read it. There are only a few books I brought along on this trip – and Illusions is one of them. I always learn something new, every time I read it.
When it first came out in 1977, seven years after the extraordinary Jonathan Livingston Seagull, it caused a LOT of controversy. How DARE this man, this writer, a) blasphemously claim to have met a Messiah in this modern world when we all know JESUS H. CHRIST is the ONLY messiah, b) have the audacity to suggest that he himself is a messiah and c) suggest that the messiah would be casual and common… and RELUCTANT? That the messiah might choose to back out of the job?
As Janice would say, “Oh. My. GOD.” The heresy!
It seems those folks who were outraged had forgotten all about Jesus asking – begging - his dad to give him a pass on the whole crucifixion thing. Gethsemane was the Garden of “Get Me Out of This” - and I believe Jesus, who was a spirit having a human experience, made the decision himself to just go ahead with it - to fully experience all the pain, all the terror, and all the physical death that a human could have. (It’s interesting to think about what would have happened if God had said, “Okay, son. You really have done enough. Come on back home and we can spend Shabbat together tomorrow. Your mom will make a nice challah…”)
The heresy! I will sit right here and wait for the smiting.
To be fair, those offended folks have probably also forgotten about the other stuff Jesus said. Like ‘love your neighbor’ and ‘whatever you do for the least of your brethren you did for me’ and ‘it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God’. What about all that stuff? As the brilliant content creator Jen Hamilton says: “Read the red words.”
Maybe they don’t know how to read.
But that’s a whole nother ball of wax.
Both Jonathan and Illusions opened my eyes to an entirely different way of viewing spirituality. (As much as I adore the Chronicles of Narnia, even as a child I understood them to be religious: Aslan = God. Those books were controversial, too!)
But in my teens? I had no idea what to do with all that new age hippy-dippy information – no one I knew was on a spiritual journey – far from it! We were teenagers! Religion was something we were forced to do, if we did it at all. I myself had eschewed the whole idea of God after His Community (for that fun story, see my posts ‘I Know How All This Sounds’ parts one and two). So as amazing and beautiful and glorious as those books were, the idea of putting those ideas to practical use was beyond my teenage abilities. Or interest, frankly.
Over this past nine months, I’ve talked to people about my belief that Jesus was just one of the millions of us spiritual folk who was out there spreading love, light, and healing; he just happened to get famous, is all. Let me tell you: when I said those words… wow. It caused spiritual sphincter clench in nearly all of them. Seriously. I could see it in their eyes: they were not going to even acknowledge the comment. Maybe they thought something bad would happen if they entertained the thought – that god would strike them down them right then and there for even considering the possibility - that we are all divine. They looked at me and I could see them shutter themselves. In that split second, it registered that I was considering myself to be on the same level as Jesus H. Christ, and it was like a gong – or a church bell – clanging a giant alarm in their brains. They took a mental step back, so as not to be too near me when the lightning struck.
All I can say is, shutter away. Take a step back, clench that sphincter, clutch those pearls, hold up a crucifix and sprinkle salt around yourself all you want, but it’s the truth.
We.
Are.
All.
Divine.
But, for argument’s sake let’s say that it’s NOT true. I concede. Jesus was it. Billions of people have lived and died, and are still yet to live, but Jesus is the ONLY divine one, ever. To me that’s like saying that our planet is the only one in the Milky Way galaxy with intelligent life. It’s ridiculous, arrogant, and hella presumptuous. Humans are amazing, for sure, but they aren’t the only intelligent life in the universe. They aren’t even the only intelligent life on this planet. Who are we to make such an assumption about god, and what they choose to do?
Now let’s consider that maybe – just maybe – there have been other people throughout humanity who have touched the hearts and minds of others; altered them, changed the trajectory of their lives. It’s not hard to imagine, is it? I bet several people instantly sprang to mind at that thought - people like Mother Teresa or Ghandi or the Buddha. They are all humans, right? Okay, so, perhaps other people can be divine.
Now imagine that you are one of them. C’mon, try it! Close your eyes. Or, actually, don’t, so you can keep reading. LOL. Close them metaphorically. Close those inner eyes of disbelief, release those tensed sphincters (not all the way, of course). Look back on your life. Hell, look back on your day. At any time, did you do something kind? Have you ever given someone a compliment? Have you ever assisted anyone who needed it? Have you ever given money to a houseless person without taking a video of it? Have you ever sat with someone who was hurt, or ill, or scared, or grieving – and helped them feel better?
Well, guess what, my messianic friend? Without you even being aware of it, you have changed someone’s life for the better. That small thing, that kind thing, that loving thing? It sent out a ripple. It did. Don’t look away – it’s you I’m talking to. Look at yourself. It’s okay to think about it, it’s okay to acknowledge it. There is nothing shameful in being loving; nothing shameful in recognizing kindness in yourself; nothing shameful about feeling proud that you – simple lil’ old you – have already spread love without even thinking about it.
Now imagine that you are thinking about it. Doing it with intention. In the back of your mind, in your heart and soul, you know you have that gift, that power to change someone’s life by just being your loving self. Imagine you are fully embodying it. Not by deliberately and performatively doing kind things, like Eleanor in the first few episodes of ‘The Good Place’, no. I’m talking about just letting simply letting yourself be kind. Choosing kindness, choosing love. If it helps, think “WWJD”, if you must.
Most importantly, extend that kindness to yourself first. Put on your own oxygen mask before assisting others. One of my favorite TikTok creators, Jen Butler, talked about looking in the mirror and talking to yourself like you do a beloved family pet. “Aww, good morning baby girl! What a sweet girl! What do you want to do today? Wanna go for a walk? Wanna have a treat? Let’s do that. Anything for you, you cute little fuzzball!”
I tried it. It works… because it will make you smile with its silliness. You make yourself smile - an act of loving kindness - because you love yourself. Just in that moment, anyway. Give yourself more moments.
It’s easier said than done, I know. I really do know. Having love and kindness and hope right now when the world is just such a hot mess? Depression, anxiety, life… there are endless challenges, and things feel hopeless sometimes. I’m not denying that: those feelings and realities seem to be the ones that get the most attention. Honor that. Just - work on love, whenever you can.
Here’s the thing: you don’t have to love yourself completely, fully, warts and all, on the first day you try this stuff. Just a little bit to start. It’s like a muscle – you have to work out for awhile before you start seeing progress. So start with just being kind - to yourself or someone else - a few times, and then love yourself for your niceness. Love that you let someone merge ahead of you. Admire yourself for bringing a smile to that person’s face with that compliment. Be proud that you put that grocery cart back! Look at you! You are love. Own it. Fill up on it, and it will start spilling over onto those around you. Then guess what? They will start to do the same. That’s how this works. That’s love, bay-bee!
You are love. And thus, you are divine.
So, yeah.
I’m going to wrap this up now, whatever the hell this is, lol, with another quote from Illusions.
Don Shimoda – the reluctant messiah – is talking to Richard about the job, and how it was getting to him, and he finally resigned. Richard said that the idea of a messiah being able to just quit and walk away - Jesus going back to hammering nails for a living? - sounded odd.
Shimoda replies:
“Strange thing about that is that he didn’t quit when they first started calling him Saviour. Instead, at that piece of bad news, he tried logic: ‘OK, I’m the son of God, but so are we all; I’m the saviour, but so are you!’ Anybody in their right mind understands that.”
I simply try to stay in my right mind. All the time.
As I closed my ragged copy of the book after typing that quote, the front cover came clean off. That book has stayed together all these years, lived in so many different places I lost count – and today it decided to change. To let go of its face. LOL. Is it a metaphor for something? Could be.
Or maybe all it means is that I need to decide whether or not it even needs to be fixed.
‘Til next time,
Rhon
