Back in the early 2000’s, I hadn’t contributed much to my writer’s basket of spiritual insights. Nevertheless, even then I felt an increasingly powerful compulsion to understand and articulate what my redefined spiritual identity might look like. I needed a baseline, a set of parameters to follow in my search for Grace. As usual, I found my answers through banging away on my laptop.
Just for fun, in 2001 I joined the editorial staff at the local newspaper near my home in rural western North Carolina. My role as a monthly columnist began shortly after the hotly contested Bush/Gore presidential election. Although the nation’s citizenry had accepted the election’s result, the nation remained distrusting and increasingly at odds.
That’s why I chose Finding the Middle as my column’s editorial theme where I attempted to use the Op/Ed space to foster a public debate that might find solutions through an open exchange of perspectives. I’ve done a lot of dumb stuff over the years, but those columns were, without a doubt, the most naively conceived effort of my life.
Instead of generating accommodating points of view, my editorial thoughts fanned existing flames of anger from the entrenched. Living in a southern rural area which also features resort amenities resulted in a community with a challenging socio/economic mix of Locals versus Outsiders.
My first columns attempted to articulate how each demographic benefited the other. The community response, however, was one of resentment and animosity. Locals attacked Outsiders and their big money as disrespectful and haughty while Outsiders labeled the year-round Locals as both ignorant and judgmental.
As an admitted hardhead who rarely learns his lessons easily, my ego-driven self has always followed the gamblers’ creed of “In for a buck, in for a bundle.” I therefore persisted with my theme of accommodation in subsequent columns, even venturing into the political arena. No matter how tactfully I tried to argue for the center, audience reaction was, as often as not, with fangs bared.
Despite being pummeled by the newspaper’s readers during my tenure as editorial writer (western North Carolina is the Bible Belt’s buckle, after all), I never stopped trying to find a language that might establish common ground rather than eliciting attacks from the partisan extremes. I realized even then that I must base my columns on seeking and expressing editorial Grace within the larger community.
My North Carolina friends called me foolish, even encouraging me to follow the Biblical admonition to “cast not pearls before swine.” But that is what my human sense of self had done in every previous relationship: demonize the listener as too stupid to understand the message. I honestly did not want to define the town’s citizenry in such a way. Instead, I saw my role as that of a teacher, responsible with providing an informed point of view.
Fun, huh?
That was the swirl of my world as my search for Grace got underway. My written musings eventually wondered out loud how God might be expressed if He/She remained a part of the world as I saw it. I was looking for connections, hungrily searching for a new language to translate my pursuit of Grace into tangible steps that I could follow and bring to others. That internal exploration finally coalesced into my final editorial column of 2003, a Christmas epistle of sorts that I’ve edited for Village presentation purposes:
A Christmas Eskimo
Beyond all the merriment and exchange of gifts, for many of us the spirit of the Christmas season is best reflected by thoughts of hope, charity, and renewal. This applies as well to those of us who have walked away from Judeo-Christian doctrine. To be honest, I see the journey of human existence as an opportunity to learn and grow . To that end, I see each person who enters my life as both teacher and student . Somehow, in the greater cosmic consciousness, I believe there is always a reason or purpose for someone stepping into my field of vision.
Invariably, to the extent I’m able to remove my sense of self, I am provided a unique opportunity to learn from another person’s presence. Sometimes, it’s a painful lesson... sometimes a new way of perceiving the world around me, and sometimes simply a chance to give of myself and share my own vision. In that spirit, I’d like to offer a parable I heard many years ago at a Twelve Step retreat, one that wonderfully illustrates what the spirit of Christmas means for me:
Two guys are having a friendly argument while sharing a beer together in northern Alaska. One of them is a true believer, a man who sees himself only as God's perfect child. The other is a died-in-the-wool atheist. Naturally, the debate is about the existence of God. Finally, the atheist exclaimed, "I can prove to you God doesn’t exist!
Last Christmas, I went hunting about twenty miles outside of town. A blizzard blew in leaving me totally lost and disoriented. With the storm worsening and darkness about to fall, I knew I was going to die. So, I lifted my eyes upward and said, "God, if you exist, PLEASE HELP ME!"
The true believer stopped the atheist right there and with a knowing smile implored, "Then you must believe in God. You lived! You’re here! God saved you!" With a firm shake of the head, the Atheist replied, "Nope. An Eskimo came along and showed me the way back to town.
When I first heard the tale, my takeaway was that God works through people. That precept remains a cornerstone of my belief system now. Mankind is here, first and foremost, for one another. I am constantly reminding myself that apart from life’s human concerns, my primary place is one of openness to others. I must always be prepared to freely interact with each person who crosses my path. I never know if a person has come into my life to show me “the way back to town”. Conversely, maybe that person just needs my Eskimo support.
As far as I am concerned, those who are genuinely standing in the light share a common perspective. We need to find our way and belong. Human beings are not meant to be isolated creatures. Every person I know yearns to feel the warm secure embrace of another. In our purest sense, we seek to become as one. Some way, somehow.
So, what is the point of this human journey fraught with separateness of experience and opinion? Speaking for myself, it is to learn how to support, encourage and listen to one another, taking every opportunity as presented to heal the divisions, misunderstandings, and ego-driven conclusions that only separate us further.
Sometimes though, even often, we require assistance to stay on course, just as Three Wise Men are said to have used the brilliant light of a star to guide their way to Bethlehem over two thousand years ago. Regrettably, such clear signposts are few. However, countless people cross our paths, each a potential Eskimo who stands ready to provide needed direction. Our only obligation is to ask and be willing to hear the answer.
By touching each other with such loving simplicity, we receive a depth of meaning to our shared human experience. We enter one another’s lives, however unexpectedly, to extend or receive the warmth, comfort, and security of another kindred soul. That way we help each other bind our wounds and heal our spirits, at least based on my all my years.
For me, there is no greater reflection of the Christ-like ideal than our willing expression of unconditional love, acceptance, and forgiveness . What better time to remind ourselves of this most precious of gifts than during the Christmas Season when the over-riding sentiment is Peace on earth, goodwill towards men .
We are all incredibly blessed to share the warmth of friends and family at this special time of year. But an equally great blessing is knowing there are Eskimos stepping into our field of vision each day ready, willing, and able to help. That is our true Christmas gift. Each one of us has the capacity to become an Eskimo. We need only open our eyes to the abundant goodness that every person crossing our path has to offer.
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At that early stage of Grace’s search, clear sight was all I really wanted. What the Eskimo allegory did was pivot my spiritual focus away from a search for God to finding how Grace’s qualities could most effectively be expressed: by and between one another.
Without realizing it, that newspaper column shouted to the rooftops my rebirth as an Eskimo dedicated to the pursuit of Grace. As relayed in the Eskimo story, Grace’s power is not one of spellbinding wisdom but the simple voice of clear direction. The tale’s implication was that the Eskimo provided his help as God’s unwitting instrument. I inferred this when I first heard the tale. But as my search for Grace evolved, I developed a different interpretation.
Rather than seeing myself as a hunter who has lost his way, I identify with the Eskimo whose role is responding to a need. The Eskimo does not care about the stranger’s identity or belief system. He just knows the guy is lost and requires assistance. Moreover, it probably never crosses the Eskimo’s mind to question whether this lost soul believes in God before proceeding as God’s medium.
In fact, I don’t believe the Eskimo thinks of himself that way nor would he agree with such a definition. He is simply doing what he always does: stay present to life. Stumbling upon a lost hunter just happened to be what came along next as he walked his daily path.
What makes the Eskimo’s act of generosity so spiritual, and the story so powerful, is how freely and easily such assistance was provided. The Eskimo’s offer of help was automatic upon discovering someone in need. No further qualifications were necessary.
That’s why after writing my Christmas column, I figuratively picked myself up and moved into life’s Eskimo Village. To become a fully converted Eskimo required I take a new approach to securing a spiritual identity. My quest would continue to be the pursuit of Grace, but I would now express it as an organic part of each day.
That translated to finding ways of becoming comfortable in a world that can be as harsh and forbidding as the subzero frozen tundra. It meant educating myself to learn how to live strictly on what each day provided, sharing in its bounty with my tribe. The goal was to learn how to take life day by day rather than trying to make it something it never was nor will ever be.