A Metaphysical Christian Statement of Faith

I believe in God,

One Presence and One Power,

Who speaks to me

..........personally, as a still, small voice within,

..........transpersonally, as the power of Omnipotent Goodness, and

..........historically, through teachers and prophets of all faiths

Wherever consciousness arises in God’s vast Cosmos. .

..

I believe in Jesus the Christ,

understood and reinterpreted through time as

the man of Nazareth, the Wayshower,

who calls people to serve all God’s children with compassion,

And in Christ Jesus, the crucified and risen Lord,

who demonstrates that all life is eternal

and points to the imago Dei in every sentient being.

..

I believe in the Holy Spirit,

the God-energy which empowers the Cosmos to be,

inspires creativity and understanding,

and leads people by holy wisdom

to discover the many paths to Divine Truth.

I believe in the equality of all God’s children,

in the rich diversity of their physical and spiritual expressions.

..

I believe in the unity of purpose

which gathers a community of people

to experience the power of affirmative prayer and

share the challenges and celebrations along life's path;

I believe in the communion of soul growth

by which all will one day participate,

And the eternal possibility for Oneness with God

through an endless, innovative union of joy and love.

..

Blessings and peace, divine order and refreshing inspiration, healing power and prosperity, wholeness of life and love eternal will accompany us now and forevermore, through the power of the Christ within. Amen.

_________ .

Written by - Thomas Shepherd, D.Min.

Disclaimer: I am opposed to formal statements of faith published by religious organizations. This is a personal view, not meant to be a final declaration; more psalm than creed. First draft 2006, re-written 2007, updated and posted 12-13-10, re-edited 12-14-10...You get this is a work in progress? Suggestions and corrections invited. Dialogue invited. (If you use it in your work, please cite the source--it will give you somebody else to blame.)

English Summer #9 (Final) - London to Fayetteville to Home

I was fortunate to have one final great experience in ministry before departing the United Kingdom.



Carol-Jean and I traveled by a combination of car, train and subway (the Tube) from Maidenhead to Balham, where we spoke at the Rev. Dr. Patience Kudiabor's warm and cozy church, Unity South London.






After a great potluck dinner CJ & I raced by subway and taxi to make the last train northeast out of London. We had already prepositioned our baggage via rental car at the Guest House of the RAF/USAF Mildenhall Air Base, but the trip back to the base by train took several hours and involved expensive taxis at both ends.

Then we learned that the space available flight which we expected for the next morning (Monday) was actually scheduled for Tuesday. I don't know if Monday being labor Day had anything to do with it, but we had a day of foot-travel around the smallish base and to the nearby Bird-in-Hand Pub for meals.

Tuesday Morning we were required to be at the Terminal--baggage in hand--by 4 AM. (You did not read that wrong. 04:00 hours. O-dark-thirty, as we used to call it when I was active duty.)

We were told the flight to McConnell AFB Kansas was full. Sorry. There would be four other flights, but none to the Midwest, unless you count Fargo, North Dakota, and there weren't any seats on that one, either. So, we opted for Plan C--Carolina. There was a flight leaving shortly for Pope AFB, Fayetteville, NC. They had room. Instead of leaving us an easy day trip from McConnell (Wichita to KCMO), this hop would deposit us 896 miles from Unity Village. We took it anyway. (See picture for CJ's reaction to my strategic planning.)

OK...now I have good news and bad news. The good news is this plane was a lot more comfortable and less crowded. The bad news is that we had to rent a one-way-drop-off car and drive home. We crunched the numbers and found that the combination of taxi fares and add-on charges for same-day airfares made it less expensive to drive. Besides, it gave me two more days of vacation and a chance to decompress from a whirlwind tour.

Driving through the Great Smoky Mountains, I kept thinking that, like Dorothy, I'd left Kansas and gone over the rainbow to a magical land full of strange and wondrous sights, warm and friendly people, and no wicked witches. Now, just like the story, I am even more convinced that there's no place like home...
[Last photo from Online Source.]

English Summer 2010 #8 - Bard and Bailey

Carol-Jean and I still wanted to explore nearby Windsor Castle (see picture, round tower), so we dedicated a full day to the enterprise. Needless to say, by the time we got going it was afternoon, but thankfully Windsor was less than an hour's drive from Maidenhead where we were staying. I don't have any inside pictures of Windsor; photography within the buildings is prohibited. These external shots are nevertheless some of the best I took on the trip, IMHO. Windsor is an active residence, the Queen's primary abode, and you don't get to visit when she's at home.

The previous time we were at Windsor (2008) she was in residence and we only got to look inside the compound through an iron gate. Fortunately, this time Elizabeth II and the royal family had gone to Scotland for the summer, which apparently is their custom. Windsore Castle has several baileys, inner courtyards. Inside the stone walls we discovered the England of old--art treasures and suits of armor. There was even a huge room with swords and polearms literally papering the walls to a height a vaulted ceiling.


In regard to the art, there were three--count them--three Rembrandts side-by side in a room where every wall surface was covered with priceless paintings. I kept seeing images that I remembered from history books, to include the portraits of rulers like Queen Victoria and King Henry VIII. Kings and Queens, living and immortalized--No wonder they had soldiers patrolling the grounds!



We had one more mandatory stop-spot on our English summer 2010. As a writer, I wanted to make a pilgrimage to the town where a youthful William Shakespeare courted a well-to-do Anne Hathaway, Stratford-Upon-Avon. (See full picture of Anne Hathaway's house, top of the blog.)

This would be our last full day of unrestricted sightseeing. We drove to Stratford-Upon-Avon with a more-or-less minimum of loss time, due to map-reading goofs and endless games of "Which Exit Do We Take?" at the ubiquitous, dreaded, left-side-driving, clockwise-flowing roundabouts.

Parking at a pay lot and boarding an on-and-off tour bus, we managed to see most of the main Shakespeare-related sites, narrated by a great, pre-recorded, plug-in system in every bus. Anne Hathaway's cottage is a mandatory stop. (Heck, how many of you had to BUILD a model of the thatched-roof country farmhouse in high school? Show of hands,please? Ah-huh. Thought so. Me, too. In 9th grade, I think. At least I recall working on something in class.)

You probably didn't include this view (inside window), because it was taken surreptitiously from inside the second floor of Anne's house. They said no pictures inside, but this actually looks OUTSIDE. (No flash, just available light, so it did no damage. And I didn't get caught.) I remember wondering if Wild Bill made it up here alone with Anne some Saturday afternoon when Mr. Hathaway was in town marketing his produce. Maybe this part hadn't been built yet.

In those days, families slept together in the one room with a fireplace. CJ and I had visited this well-preserved historical bulding twice before, and not surprisingly it had not changed much.


The drooping, thatched roof and time-worn wooden rafters are still there, still evoking the real presence of a flesh-and-blood mortal who gave the world such treasures of the pen and stage. Here an 18-year-old Will Shakespeare walked across open fields to court 26-year-old Anne. His mental scent lingers in the flowers and vegetables of the garden surrounding the house of Anne's father and mother and many siblings.


Shakespeare didn't need to travel to exotic locales to study with great masters--although those who feel the call to seek guides and gurus are equally wise for their endeavors. However, the small-town youth who became the greatest author in English history found inspiration in the winds of May and the stories taught at ordinary schooling, even though formal education was far from ordinary unless, like Will, your parents had "the chinks" (coin).

When we boarded the tour bus to continue our circuit of Stratford it was late afternoon. I wanted to visit the Bard's grave, but he is buried inside Holy Trinity Church in the town, along the banks of the Avon. We retrived our rental car and followed tourist maps, but by the time we arrived the old stone parish had closed for the day. I was intensely disappointed at first, then we found the church property included a lovely park by the river.
I sat on a bench in the shadows of old trees and communed with Shakespeare's presence. (Leave it to a Unity minister to find a way to transcend four hundred years of history and a thirty-minute tardy arrival.) I closed my eyes and did a self-directed guided meditation, imagining Brother Will on the other end of the bench. We had a nice talk, and he suggested a few plot lines for my new sci-fi novel. He's a Trekkie, by the way.

Then it was back into the rental car and navigate the traffic circles and country lanes back to our apartment atop Silent Unity-UK's building at Maidenhead.


As I write this I am sitting at the kitchen table of our Maidenhead flat. (See picture. If you've been following my wife's blog, you might recognize this as a view from within CJ's Window. ) This will be our last night here... Sunday I speak a London South, and Monday we attempt a Space-Available return flight on military aircraft. Not necessarily a done deal, but we feel so good about this summer that we are open and receptive to whatever comes our way. Carol-Jean and I are filled with the joy for this time in England, but we are ready to come home...

English Summer 2010 #7 - Lake Country to London Eye

We had completed our major teaching tasks and now we had another week of playtime. Carol-Jean and I drove south from Hadrian's Wall through the Lake District, which is a favorite vacation spot for Brits. Later that day we stopped for tea in a seaside town.







The next day we caught the train at Huddersfield and rode through the countryside toward London, where we changed trains for Maidenhead. Altogether a satisfying few days, with plenty of good memories to stack upon the others. We spent the next day near "home" and visited the shops of Maidenhead. (See picture of CJ, below.)


I'm probably going to hell for taking this..well...I don't believe in hell...but the picture was too good to miss. I had to ask my unsuspecting wife to adjust left and right a few times to block the word "uni" in the sign for this Maidenhead "CJ's Uni-sex" hair salon.

Hmmmmm....Why has my special pillow and teddy bear suddenly appeared on the living room sofa?



We found the Prime Meridian at Greenwich. In the picture, I am standing with left foot in the Eastern hemisphere, right in the Western. Climbing the hill behind and below almost killed me...well, not literally, but with a little cardiac dysfunction it was an oxygen-depleting assault on Mt. Everest. They told me Tom Thorpe loved this place, and I figured if he could haul it up here, so could I. Then, gasping for air, I get to the top and find the taxi stands...OK, Brother Thorpe. You got me that time.


It wasn't such a bad day actually. In this picture we're having Mexican food in Greenwich. We caught the boat back to London, and when we returned there was one major sightseeing attarction we decided to experience.

The London Eye.


You've probably seen pictures of the huge ferris wheel by the Thames. It moved so slowly that passengers literally stepped aboard as each enclosed gondola car swept across the entry deck. The view from the top was extraordinary (see picture). Although the trip was enjoyable and, with unexplained, frequent stops and goes, lasted over 30 minutes, it probably wasn't worth the 18 pounds sterling per ticket (about $30 each). Still, it was something to experience, one of those "Now-I-can-say-I've-done-it" moments.

We had only a few days left before I spoke in Unity London South at the Sunday services September 5, so we decided to visit two places that anchor the heritage of the Mother country--Stratford on Avon and Windsor Castle.

English Summer 2010 #6 - From the York Minster and Shambles to Herriot's House to Hadrian's Wall

We drove north from Huddersfield in a hired car--that's Brit-speak for a rental. About an hour later we reached the ancient city of York. If Manhattan, Kansas is the "Little Apple" and Manhattan, NY, is the "Big Apple" then this walled town must be the old apple tree. We wandered down the Shambles, a cobbled footpath between a row of shops and tea rooms, some of which were built before Columbus sailed. (Note the irregularly shaped stones in the street behind Carol-Jean.)


The interior of the York Minster is vast. The photo shows only one wing of the complex. A "minster" is a church that was considered a missionary post at one time, which includes even London's Westminster Abbey as a Christian outpost in Roman times. If some of my students are considering the option of pioneering a new church, I guess they could call it a minster... which is not too far removed from the common Unity practice of calling all centers of spiritual service a "ministry".

After dodging raindrops at York we headed northwest to the small town of Thirsk, made famous by its best-known citizen, the veterinary surgeon J. Alfred Wight, best know by his pen name, James Herriot.



Nice doggie...







<-- --->


Upon entering the surgery, I was fortunate to be able to say hello to Mrs. Pumphrey –whom all Herriot fans will instantly identify as the owner of an obese Pekingese named Tricki Woo. Apparently, she stopped by and refused to leave until Uncle Herriot himself attended to her pampered darling.



This was one of my favorite stops. CJ and I are great fans of James Herriot, who practiced veterinary medicine in the vicinity of Thirsk and other Yorkshire towns until he retired. We sat in a cafe eating scones, then walked the streets he traveled not many years ago before going to the building which served as the model for "Skeldale House" in Herriot's books. We were actually able to book a B&B across the street, so for one night the Herriots were our neighbors so to speak, a few decades removed.

In the evening we ate at the Darrowby Inn (see picture), a nod to fantasy by the tourism-savy locals, who recognized the benefit of identifying their village with Herriot's conflation of several Yorkshire locales into the fictionalized town of Darrowby. The food was basic pub fare, wholesome and tasty and bad for you, but the highlight to the evening came when I began casually chatting with a few older gentlemen sipping beer at the next table. They knew Alf Wight the vet, and you could tell they were respectful of this man who had so much money yet continued to work in the profession he loved. "Aye, that man were a gentleman," one of them said gravely.

During our tour of the Herriot House that afternoon we had seen a clip when Alf Wight was interviewed on American network TV at the height of his popularity. At that moment several of his books were on the New York Times Bestsellers List, and his BBC/PBS TV series was wildly popular. The interviewer asked what Alf would do now that he had all this money and noteriety. He said there wasn't time to do anything special, because he was a veterinarian, and that was a 24/7 job. It was the life he loved, and he never gave a thought to abandoning it just because he had wealth and fame.

I thought--what an fantastic prospertity lesson! Here was a guy who already had everything he wanted, so he was already prosperous. It isn't about quantity of stuff, or the amount of money in the bank, or how many admiring fans you have. Happiness and prosperity are about balance, about quality, not quantity. What fool would abandon a perfect life for mere money?

The next morning we visited the Thirsk church where Alf Wight and family worshipped and were treated to an impromptu pipe organ concert as the musician practiced for Sunday. Then we drove north to Hadrian's Wall (see pictures, below).


Carol-Jean and I have always wanted to see this 70-mile-long attempt to keep the Scots from conquereing Roman British towns. It was a masterful achievement in its day, built by soldiers and not by slaves or abducted locals. The guidebook says there were "Romans" stationed along the wall that came from every part of the Empire--Germans, Spaniards, even a detatchment of Arabs from the marshlands of the Euphrates valley. I stood on the wall at one point, near the ruins of a Roman fort, and said a silent prayer for the soldiers on both sides of this line who faced the terrorism of their day.

The Scots saw the Romans as foreign devils; the Romans saw the Scots as barbarians at the gate. Good thing we don't think like that any more, now that we're spiralized and civilized.

We've got minsters of consciousness to build, my brothers and sisters...

More later, from Windsor Castle.

English Summer 2010 #5 - Bouncing at Birmingham

Saturday, August 21. After teaching several crash courses at the Maidenhead Silent Unity-UK headquarters, Carol-Jean and I headed north to classes scheduled for Birmingham and Huddersfield. Jane Goug, the metaphysical Methodist who helps guide Silent Unity-UK through its daily activities, drove me to Birmingham today. Jane's actual title is "Director of Administration and Director/Editor of Daily Word UK," and she is one of the nicest people I've ever met. CJ rode in another car with Margaret Kennedy, whose cats sometimes drive with her and therefore made that vehicle a sneeze-and-wheeze machine for me. (Sorry, cat-lovers--I like kitties, but they give me an asthma attack.) Margaret has attended all the classes I've been teaching at Maidenhead, and now she is heading to Birmingham and then on to her home town of Huddersfield, where I will complete this northern leg of my teaching journey tomorrow (Sunday Aug 22). CJ and I plan to take some time off and just sightsee after that.





The Birmingham Unity group was lively. I lectured on Connie Fillmore's concept of five Unity principles, took lots of excellent questions, and basically stirred up the troops a little. The Unity group meets in a Swedenbourgian church building. This picture is during break time. There were over 20 people attending the day-long session.




.



Hey, Unity of the Lakes!
You need to install one of these--I've hit my head on your rafters too often! (See picture.)







.









CJ & Margaret Kennedy, one of the guiding lights of the Huddersfield Unity community.










A lovely elderly Methodist lady named Jean graciously provided room and board during our stay in Huddersfield. This is the rear of her home, which she opened to us because of her friendship with members of the Unity group.




We traveled to Huddersfield in two cars also, but Jane had to return to her home in London and so another pillar of the Huddersfield Unity community, Winifred Hirst, arranged with another Methodist friend (another Margaret...stay with me) to drive me in a catless conveyance. So, Winifred, the Other Margaret, and I spent a couple of hours chatting and following Margaret Kennedy's tail lights up the Motorway from B'ham to Huddersfield. CJ rode with Margaret again.

Now here's the problem...

I had tossed my C-PAP machine and case in the back of Jane's trunk (the boot, in Brit-speak). CJ didn't know it was back there, and she had loaded our single travel bag into the back seat of Jane's car. Jane had to leave for London during the lunch break, and when they transferred the travel bag to Margaret's car they missed my blue C-PAP case. Jane drove away with it to the South of England. I can get along without the breathing support, but the problem is that all my medications were tucked in the pocket of the bag. Blood pressure, etc. The really scary thing is that I only had one dose of the beta blocker I take to control my heart rate. The last time I went off that medicine was about 12 years ago, and I ended up in an emergency room with a pulse rate over 170. It was 8 PM at night. Jane was five hours away, and everybody was exhausted after a long day.

I've got to admit, it was a little scary. CJ told me everything would be OK. I said it was too much to ask anyone to travel that far after a lengthy day on the road. She said to relax, that worst case she would drive with Margaret and meet Jane halfway to London, if necessary.

OK...suddenly I'm feeling like the Hebrew children lost in the wilderness. "Moses, Moses--why did you bring us out here to die? We had it better in Egypt!" Forget that they just saw the sea part and walked across on dry land. (Stay with me, here--I know it didn't happen historically...but it's a great metaphor.)

Then I look up and see Noah's rainbow, literally, in the sky. See picture. (OK, that's a seriously mixed metaphor, but I am not in charge of the Cosmos at this stage of my development.)


And I knew everything would be all right...




We contacted Britain's National Health Service (NHS) by telephone. A nurse called back within the hour, took notes, and promised a doctor would call. I thought, "Right...on Saturday night?" Within half an hour, a nice physician who sounded East Asian called and said he would fax a prescription for a week's medication to a "chemist" (pharmacy) nearby. He gave me a complete refill of all my missing prescriptions--I will not bore you with the list, but it was extensive--and took my word for it that I had misplaced them in good faith. Within another hour I had journeyed to the appointed druggist and received my refills.

"How much will that be?" I asked, shamelessly hoping for a senior discount.

"You're a senior? There's no charge."

I blinked. "No charge."

"Yes."

"Wowzers...thanks."

I collected my bag of prescriptions and went back to the nice Methodist lady's house, where CJ waited to remind me she'd told me so.

Poliical aside: Let those who say abusive things about countries with "socialized medicine" ask themselves how I might have fared in similar circumstances in a US city on a Saturday night. I would have been required to go to a hospital, wait endlessly, and pay enormous charges. It made me wonder why my native country has been so far behind the rest of the civilized world on the basic human right to have medical care.

The meeting next day in Huddersfield went very well. Small but lively group. Then we went back to the rainbow house and arranged a rental car for tomorrow. We would journey further North--onward to York Minster, to James Herriot country, and to Hadrian's Wall.

The fun work was almost over; the non-work fun was about to begin.

English Summer 2010 #4 - Slumming at Oxford

Look at that incredible doorway! I was wandering around with my straw hat in hand, sheepishly refusing to put the thing on my head amid the hallowed halls of learning, when we entered the courtyard of the Oxford Divinity College. This august institution has turned out students for the ministry since the early 1400s. Suddenly, the dated inscription on Unity Institute's official seal, proudly claiming New Thought antiquity due to our establishment in 1931, made be glad we call it New Thought.






Not that there is anything necessaily wrong with old thought. I suspect that more than one of our Friends in High Places has graced that courtyard on the way to class and to a life of delightfully heretical mischief-making which followed. (Divinity School interior, right.)







The pulpit of the Church of St. Mary the Virgin (left). This sanctuary is also known as "The University Church," and the pulpit overlooks the spot where Protestant church leaders like Bishop Thomas Cranmer were tried, convicted, and led forth to burn at the stake. And our students think Unity's L&O committee can be tough!


That was a baaaaaad third interview.




As I sat there in the space where people trained for the ministry over 600 years ago, it occurred to me that times and ideas change but the acts of service to which we committ ourselves continue in unbroken line. Some of these men--for they were, sadly, all men in those days--went forth to change the world. But far more of them graduated and took posts as ordinary teachers, pastors, and parish priests. They visited the sick during the great plagues. The collected food and clothing for the poor. They made the rounds of the villages and comforted widows and the elderly. And, yes, they said mass and preached doctrines which we will doubtless find outmoded today.

Yet the energy of ministry--to do good in the Name of God--unites us through the centures with these long-gone, unknown, friends in middle places. I sit on a time-worn bench and think about an average student who learned his Latin and chanted his prayers in this space half a milllenium before I was born. Across time and space, I say a quiet thank you...

English Summer 2010 #3 - Teaching & Sightseeing

NOTE: Check out Carol-Jean's great blog at CJWindow


I've been working fairly hard over here--just completed two days of a four-day, 20-hour class called Bible Overview. This came after presenting Hibrew Bible Interpretation and an introduction to my book Good Questions. Carol-Jean volunteered to answer phones for Silent Unity UK while I was teaching. Fortunately, we were able to work in some nice sightseeing time as well.



Carol-Jean and I have made two treks to London on the train from Maidenhead, about 45 minutes for the express or closer to an hour when riding the local. Our first outing was a pilgrimage to the center of the English-speaking world, Big Ben. After posing for the required photo (see left), we scooted across the street to Westminster Abbey to pay our respects to Queen Elizabeth. Not the one who lives at Windsor, but the one who commissioned Shakespeare to write plays in the 17th century.


The Abbey is a vast cavern of a place with famous dead people tucked away everywhere you look. Actually, you have to look down to find the best ones. Before I knew it, I was standing on the marble slab under which Charles Darwin is buried.



A few steps away is Sir Isacc Newton. They have poets and writers, too--Chaucer (the original), Kipling, Dickens, etc. Well, it's their language, so I guess they're entitled to hoarde the great literary figures.



After touching the stone monument under which lies Elizabeth I, Carol-Jean made our way across town via "the Tube" to the last stop on our Anglo-Saxton Haj, the British Museum. When we visited two years ago the Library was under repair so we couldn't sit in the same space where Karl Marx, Vladimir Lenin, and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle had worked. Now, in 2010, we whole-heartedly expected to enter this sanctum of radicals and high achievers. Alas...the work progresses yet. The nice man at the desk told Carol-Jean there would be two more years of renuvations. (See picture, above, which I did not take. Downloaded from the Museum website. URL below.)


The next day we repeated this process but aimed for different cultural Kaabahs. We managed to see (not necessarily tour or experience in depth--just see)the Changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace, St. Paul's Cathedral, London Bridge,
the Tower of London, the "London Eye" ferris wheel, the recreated Globe Theatre of Shakespeare, and the church where the founder of my native state, William Penn, was married.


We stopped at Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese Pub where Dickens wrote for great lunch.







And we saw a familiar word in a surprising context.



More to follow....






Cheers!
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www.britishmuseum.org/the_museum/history_and_the_building/reading_room.aspx