A Kingdom of Mercy

In the year 863, King Harold becomes enamored with Gilda, the daughter of Prince Eric of Hadaland.  He sends messengers to propose a marriage.  Gilda replies she will never marry Harold as long as he reigns over only a few provinces rather than the whole of Norway.  Rather than be discouraged, Harold regards the message as a summons to glory.  He assembles his troops, attacks all the other chiefs, captures their provinces, and executes his competitors.  In so doing, Harold wins the hand of Gilda in marriage.

Now this is what we expect from kings of old.  They are bold, entitled, ruthless, irrational, and above all victorious.  Kings get their way, take what they want, and are indifferent to the concerns and opinions others. 

Thus it is we come to this day – Christ the King Sunday.  Today’s assigned reading from the Gospel of Luke suggests the reign of Christ is not at all what we might expect it to be.  Jesus is dying on a cross while being mocked by soldiers, onlookers, and even a criminal who is being crucified with him.  This is not a scene of triumphant kingship.  It suggests not victory, but defeat and no king gains a kingdom through defeat.

Bishop Hollerith, in a sermon he preached earlier this month at the National Cathedral, observed many readings from Luke turn on reversal. The sinful tax collector is justified, not the religiously observant Pharisee.  The hungry will be feed, but woe to those who are full now for they will be empty.  The mighty and glorious Temple will be destroyed.  And today, Jesus on the cross reigns as King.  Luke is challenging our expectations.  He is telling us God works in ways we don’t always see or understand.  And he is suggesting we need to act in a different way if we want to be a part of the Kingdom of God.

Jesus speaks just twenty-four words in today’s reading as he hangs on the cross in in so doing makes just two “royal” pronouncements.  “Father, forgive them; for the do not know what they are doing.”  “Truly, I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.”  His words speak of reversals. 

The path into Jesus’ kingdom is unlike any other. “Forgive them.”  Victory is equated not with conquest, but with remaining true to who God calls you to be, no matter what the circumstances you face.  Last week we named this as enduring.  Reigning, normally thought of as dominating others, becomes equated with mercy, which is defined as “compassion or forgiveness shown toward someone whom it is within one’s power to punish or harm”. Note that the person who has the power in the relationship is the only person who can offer mercy.  Jesus can call down an army of avenging angels, but does not.  He forgives.  He can reject the plea of the penitent criminal, but offers an embrace.  His reign is a reign a mercy.  

Vinita Hampton Wright is senior editor at Loyola Press and recently worked on Pope Francis’ book The Church of Mercy.  She writes some interesting reflections on what mercy looks like in everyday life:

Mercy relinquishes control when doing so allows another person to grow and learn.  Mercy makes it his business to help others succeed.  Mercy clears the way for others, so that they can walk on an even path, no matter how halting their steps or injured their souls.

In all these situations, mercy treats power as a sacred trust.  I can be merciful because I have some sort of power, the means to affect another’s life, if only for a moment.  I act mercifully when I use my power to do kindness in this world.

I was at a conference recently, and it was interesting to observe how the well-known, powerful people wore their power, how they responded to others’ admiration, how they spoke to those who were not so well-known or admired.  Some used their power to make room for others and invite their voices; others used their power to dominate the space and the conversation.

In my own work, I have achieved a certain level of expertise and others’ respect.  When I sit in a room with colleagues, they feel the weight of my opinions.  With a sentence or a glance, I can crush or I can encourage.  I can open up the conversation or shut it down.

Most of my sins involve failure at mercy.

Each of us has power in our lives.  It may be broad and expansive, or it may be able to affect only one or two people.  Because we have power, we have the potential to be merciful.  It is very challenging to be merciful – to make a space to learn and grow for a person you have power over – when a person who has power over you is not merciful.  It is so easy to come home after a hard day at work and take it out on the kids.  “Most of my sins involve a failure of mercy.”

In a reversal of sorts, Vinita Hampton Wright moves from reflecting on how mercy is manifested through one’s use of power to describing tale-tell signs in seemingly insignificant events:

My mercy will not show up in grand gestures, and most of the time mercy reveals itself in fleeting moments.

For example, mercy gives you his seat on the bus, acting as if he was about to get up anyway rather than making you feel that he is doing you a favor.  Mercy does not let out that sigh -- you know the one -- the wordless disapproval toward the person in the check-out line ahead of you whose card didn’t swipe, or who can’t find her coupons, or whose toddler is having a meltdown.  Mercy offers quiet sympathy and does not convey with her body language that this holdup is ruining her day.  Sometimes mercy chooses not to send back the food that isn’t just right, simply because the waitress looks overwhelmed.

Early in his ministry, Jesus sits on a hillside overlooking the Sea of Galilee and teaches his followers about the essential nature of his vision.  Perhaps the single most important insight into the Kingship of Christ is this:

Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.

If you open up a space for others to learn and grow, the power and the energy and the creativity responsible for all that is seen and unseen will make a space for you to learn and grow and flourish.  If you use your power to dominate others you will find Jesus’ power will not bend to your benefit.  Jesus reigns as King whenever and wherever any one of us makes the choice to be merciful. 

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.”  I doubt Charles Dickens was reflecting on today’s lectionary readings when he penned the first line of his novel A Tale of Two Cities, but it certainly applies. 

Today’s first reading is Isaiah’s poetic, daringly optimistic vision of the future: 

New heavens and a new earth. 

No more weeping. 

No more distress. 

Health and longevity. 

Food and habitat security. 

The end of enmity and strife in the animal kingdom.

The times cannot get any better than this.

It is worth noting this vision does not emerge during a period of economic abundance or national resurgence, but in the midst of tremendous uncertainty and anxiety.  The people of Israel have been in exile in Babylon for nearly fifty years.  Two generations have never laid eyes on the Promised Land or stepped foot in Jerusalem.  All they know is exile in a foreign land and they have adjusted to this new, if unwanted, life.  They are comfortable in this setting.

But over time the Babylonian Empire begins to decline. Persia is the new power in the region.  Slowly, but surely, its army expands the territory it controls, getting closer and closer to Babylon, which is certain to fall eventually.  What life will be like for the exile community when it happens is unknown, thus the uncertainty and anxiety.  Change, even if you live in exile, can be unsettling.

Isaiah, recognizing the Persian policy of allowing exiles to return to their homeland, proclaims God is working through the new foreign power to fulfill promises made long ago.  God’s people will return home and God will bless them in ways almost unimaginable.  It will be the best of times.

Jesus, on the other hand, describes a future more in line with the worst of times: 

The Temple will be destroyed.

Leaders with nefarious intentions will try to deceive the faithful.

War.

Natural disasters.

Famine.

Plague.

Betrayal by family and friends.

Persecution, imprisonment, and (in some cases) execution. 

It is a bleak vision indeed and to make matters worse Jesus tells his followers there is no way to prepare in advance for what is to come. 

Jesus speaks these words around 30 AD, some 450 years after Isaiah offers his.  They live in different times and different settings.  Luke writes his gospel some forty years after Jesus’ resurrection.  The future Jesus describes is now the reality his followers experience.  The Roman army has sacked Jerusalem and destroyed the temple.  People who survive the devastation face famine and plague.  Christians, being a distinct minority, often are singled out for blame and punishment.  

While Jesus and Isaiah offer very different visions, each says something important to us in our time. 

After Tuesday’s election we now live in a time of uncertainty and anxiety.  President-Elect Trump is unlike any person ever to hold this office before.  It is very difficult to imagine what the future holds.  If Isaiah could speak to us he would implore us to trust… not in the president, but in God.  This is God’s world and God continues to remain deeply invested in it.  While we don’t know what tomorrow holds, we do know God will remain present and faithful.  Our future is found in God and nowhere else. 

If Jesus could speak to us I believe he would say to us what he said to his followers: “By your endurance you will gain your soul.”  In its root, the word endure means to make hard, to harden, to bear or tolerate, to keep up or maintain.  At some point, the oak tree became a Christian symbol of endurance.  The oak tree stands in a variety of seasons and conditions.  It holds is own no matter what it faces.  Christian endurance looks like remaining steady in unsteady times.  It looks like holding firm to your principles when circumstances try to make you change.  If you don’t strike me, I won’t strike you.  If you do strike me I will turn the other cheek.  What you do will not change who I am.  I will endure.

I am glad we have the opportunity today to renew our baptismal covenant because it affords us the opportunity to remember who we are and who we will be in the best of times as well as the worst. 

Parts of the covenant are unique to our Christian calling.  While I commit to seek and serve Christ in all persons, I do not expect our president to have this same spiritual focus.  However, I do expect our president to strive for justice and peace among all people, and to respect the dignity of every human being.  I will not compromise my values and whenever I come up short I will repent and return to the Lord. 

I am not going to criticize our president’s policy decisions.  Policies represent priorities.  The priorities of politicians differ.  This is why we have elections so that we the people can have leaders who reflect our priorities.  Candidate Trump did not strive for justice and peace among all people nor did he respect the dignity of every human being.  President Trump must do much, much, much better.  I will endure in my efforts to fulfill this vow and I will speak out whenever I see a person with power or influence falling short. 

Trust and endure.  This is what we people of faith must do when it is the best of times and when it is the worst of times. 

Knit Together

Almighty God, you have so knit together your elect in once communion and fellowship…

We began our worship service by acknowledging how God has connected us – not just with one another, but with all people in all times and all places.  We are knit together with all those who have come before us as well as all those who will come after us.  We are more than a piece of fabric or a bolt of cloth.  We are a beautiful tapestry, each one of us contributing something unique and glorious to God’s vision for all humanity.

Knit together with what is past as well as with what is to come.  This is more than fancy theological talk, it is a mindset, a perspective, and a statement of faith giving us purpose and hope.

I spent some time this past week reading through the Rector’s annual reports at previous congregational meetings (I know, you don’t have to say anything!).  In the years leading up to the 1989 renovation of the Parish Hall and kitchen, Jim Newsom, our rector at the time, reminded people the space in need of attention was almost 100 years old and had not seen significant change since 1921.  He saw the building as a gift from the past and he was driven to make it right for generations to come.  He possessed a ‘knit-together’ mindset, giving him perspective, and creating a sense of purpose. 

On Tuesday we will exercise our right to vote.  It is a sacred moment and obligation.  When I walk into my polling place free of fear and with no concern of reprisal for how I fill out my ballot I will think of soldiers who fought and died first in the Revolutionary War to establish this right and then in subsequent wars to defend it.  And I will think about future generations.  I will cast my vote for candidates I deem best suited to carry forward our government for the next generation and generations to follow.  Election Day is a ‘knit-together’ moment in our national life.

All Saints’ Sunday is a knit together moment as well.  This year the Worship Committee has come up with a new twist for our annual streamer tradition.  We thought it might be interesting to write the names of those we love but see no longer on individual tags hanging in the space on invisible line.  I sat back in the pews earlier in the week taking in the sight and evaluating it.  I like how the tags float and move above the chancel.  And I like how you can see through them to the Resurrected Jesus in the triptych above the altar.  His arms are open to the tags and his gaze is fixed on them.  It is a poignant and powerful visual reminder of how every celebration of the Eucharist knits us together: things past, things present, and things to come.

Through our collect we prayed…

…that we may come to those ineffable joys that you have prepared for those who truly love you…

It reminds us a part of the purpose of All Saints’ Sunday is to strengthen us along the way.  It is to help us eventually find our way to the “ineffable joys” God has prepared for us.  “Ineffable” is not a word you hear thrown around much in everyday conversion.  It means “that which cannot be described” or “that which is beyond words.”  There awaits for us something so wonderful we cannot even find a way to speak about it.

I was thinking about my father earlier in the week.  He died 37 years ago when I was 20.  Who was he, I wondered.  I cannot say my sisters or I knew him well.  We knew him only as a father.  It occurred to me there are only two people alive who knew him with any great depth – my aunt and my mother.  Sometime in the not so distant future they too will be gone and with them any living sense of who my father was.

As I pondered this during a nice fall walk in the woods I realized the same will be true for me.  One day I will be gone, followed eventually by everyone who knows me.  All that will be left will be copies of Rector’s Reports from Annual Meetings and who in their right mind will ever go back and read them?

Surely all of this would be too depressing to bear if not for one thing.  We live in a world God is knitting together.  We are blessed by what has come before us.  We do our best to be faithful in our time.  And somehow, someway, I believe something ineffable awaits and once there I believe we will know and see all that has been essential and good to what we have added to the tapestry.  Nothing in the tapestry will ever be lost.  Every part of it – you and me and all those we love but see no longer and all those no one even remembers – will be a part of something indescribable and eternal. 

What Do You Lack?

Flannery O’Connor, in her essay “Mystery and Manners” observes when fiction writers write about the rich, they are more concerned with what the person lacks than with what the person has.  Although St. Luke’s gospel is not fiction, he takes the same approach when he writes about Zacchaeus.  Luke lets us know who Zacchaeus is (what he has) with two very brief descriptions: he is a tax collector and he is rich.  But Luke does not dwell on the benefits of Zacchaeus’ economic status; although we can be sure they are many.  He enjoys a much better life-style than most.  He lives in the most prestigious housing development in Jericho.  He enjoys the best methods of transportation, the finest clothes, the most sumptuous foods, and all the other privileges associated with affluence.  What we dream about doing if we win the lottery, Zacchaeus is able to do just about whenever he wants.

In telling us about Zacchaeus, Luke does not tell us any of this.  We might say he looks at Zacchaeus from Jesus’ point of view.  He tells us about what Zacchaeus lacks.  Luke does not lay it out in black and white.  You have to read between the lines to get the specifics, but it is there for all to see.

You get the sense that Zacchaeus is isolated, that there is a hiddenness about him, that all his bravado is a mask for a deep-rooted sense of inferiority.  Luke does not identify a single important family member, friend, or acquaintance in Zacchaeus’ life.  He is shut off from the community because of his job and the tax-collector’s typical tactics of extortion.  And, perhaps most important, Zacchaeus is hiding from God.  While he may be been short in stature, it feels as if Zacchaeus believes himself to be even shorter in soul.  What does Zacchaeus lack?  He has everything the world offers, but nothing that comes from God. 

The conversion of Zacchaeus – the personal transformation achieved with blinding speed – is one of my favorite stories in the Bible.  It tells us so much about God’s nature, about the authentic spiritual life, and about how “churchie” people sometimes get it all wrong.

The best sermon I ever heard on Zacchaeus had two simple points.  First, Jesus tells Zacchaeus “I love you where you are.”  Hiding in a Sycamore tree, cheating everybody in town out of their hard-earned money, alone and miserable and isolated, but nicely dressed! – Jesus says to Zacchaeus, “I love you where you are.”  Then Jesus says to him, “I need your help.  I want you to do something for me.  I want to come to your house for lunch.”  And there, at Zacchaeus’ home, surrounded by all his ill-gotten gain, Jesus is able to look past all that is wrong with Zacchaeus.  He is able to see what Zacchaeus lacks. 

No one had ever told him “God loves you right here, right now – no conditions, no qualifications, no catches, and no hidden fees.  God loves you.”  Do you realize what a radical statement this is?  In Zacchaeus’ day people believe God loves you because you are a part of the Chosen Nation and because you follow all the rules and regulations and because you keep yourself ritually clean for worship in the Temple and because you make the right sacrifices at the appointed time.  Basically, folks believe you deserve God’s love when you do all the things required to earn God’s love.

2000 years later I don’t know if things have changed all that much.  We still attach God’s love to conditions like attending church and quoting the bible and being a “good person” – however you might define ‘good.’  Now, as then, we want to put limits on God’s love.  We are more comfortable with a Savior who says “Be a better spouse, be a better parent, be a better person, get to church more often, and serve on some committees when you are there.  Do this for several years and then maybe you will be worthy of my love.” 

The problem is, when we put these kinds of words on Jesus’ lips then our Savior doesn’t really save us at all.  It all rests with us and with our ability to get our own act together.  When the Church says to a person you need to come around to the right kind of life before God can love you, then we are saying in effect, “Save yourself.”  This is not the Gospel message of Jesus Christ.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the German Lutheran pastor and theologian, wrote this:

Christ is not concerned, himself, with being good.  He is concerned solely with love for the real person, and for that reason He is able to enter into fellowship with our guilt and to take the burden of our guilt upon Himself.  Jesus does not desire to look down on us as the only guiltless One while each one of us goes on to our ruin under the weight of our guilt.  He does not wish to acquit Himself of the guilt under which we die.  He wishes to assume it.  A love which left us alone in our guilt would not be love for the real us.  From His selfless love, from His freedom from sin, Jesus enters into our guilt and takes that guilt upon Himself in His body, on the cross.”

This is why we proclaim Jesus as the only Savior!

So Zacchaeus responds to unconditional love – perhaps the first time in his life he has ever known a love like this!  And then he responds to Jesus’ call to service.  Long-dormant gifts of hospitality resurface.  He makes a meal for Jesus and his disciples.  And at the meal, overjoyed with a new sense of love and purpose, with a new sense of community and a renewed fellowship with God, Zacchaeus makes the kind of moral and ethical changes so many people would demand of him before they would allow God to love him.  But notice the process.  Notice how love comes first, purpose follows, and finally repentance and amendment of life become a possibility. 

St. Augustine believed we are created with a need for God – a God-shaped void in our souls.  He observed that people try to fill their God space with everything else but God.  This surely is true of Zacchaeus and it points directly to what he lacks.  But Jesus does not demand Zacchaeus divest himself of all the corrupt and worldly ways crammed into the space where God alone can be.  He loves Zacchaeus and he calls him.  And this sense of love and calling grows and grows and grows in the place only God can be.  Then and only then, is Zacchaeus ready and able to get rid of the stuff that does not belong in his life.

This is how God works.  This is how grace works.  This is how salvation comes to us throughout our lives.  Sometimes it is dramatic, other times it is a small step forward in the process of sanctification – of being the saints God created us to be.

What do you lack?  Do you sense God loves you right now, right here where you are?  Can you discern God calling you to service – giving you a reason and a purpose in life beyond surviving the daily grind and paying the monthly bills?  These two spiritual elements seem to be prerequisites for real transformation.  If they are not present, change will not occur.

By my reading of this account, Zacchaeus does one thing to initiate the change in his life.  He climbs a tree.  He is too short to see over the crowd as Jesus passes by.  He is not well liked so no one will let him pass through to the front row and goodness knows he probably does not want to be front-and-center when Jesus passes by anyway.  So he goes to the back and climbs a tree and this alone sets him apart from everyone else in the crowd.  This is why Jesus is able to see him. 

If you are listening to my sermon this morning and thinking you are not all that different from Zacchaeus, that you are lacking something you cannot live without, that you are putting all the wrong things in the place where only God can be, that you have never really sensed God’s unconditional love for you, or that you don’t believe you have anything of value to contribute, do me one favor… call me some time.  Climb a tree as it were and lets talk.  There is nothing more important I can do for you as your priest. 

When I was ordained I did not take a vow before God and the Church to highlight all the ways a person is unlovable.  I took a vow to proclaim the Gospel of Jesus Christ so that all people might come to know the power of God’s love and the healing of God’s forgiveness.  Call me some time and let’s talk.  Lets talk about you and about Jesus and about how Jesus can love and use a person just like you – right now, just as you are.

A Beautiful Soul

Those of us who gather between services to discuss the day’s Lectionary readings always seem to find depth and wisdom in the Collect of the Day.  We have a way of allowing it to ask questions of us and this always takes us to interesting places.  Today’s collect is no different.  I love its first petition: “Increase in us the gifts of faith, hope and charity”.  Simple and straight forward, right?  Notice what the prayer asserts: faith, hope, and charity are not something we muster in and of ourselves.  They are gifts from God and apparently they can grow and develop throughout our lives.  Conversely, it seems possible they can atrophy if not used or diminish if left unattended for a long, long time. 

Here is a question to ponder: if we ask God to increase the gifts of faith, hope, and charity in us, how does God answer our prayer.  Is it like a software update?  Is our prayer similar to clicking on a button, accepting the terms and conditions, and then having something new and more glorious operating in us – faith, hope, and charity 7.0?  Do we pray and then be passive until what we ask for is installed in us?

I don’t think so.  In my experience, the gifts of faith, hope, and charity increase in us when we are challenged and stretched and (often times) brought up short.  Reflection, confession, and amendment of life is often the process required for true growth.

So it was when I found myself in the rural, wooded countryside of Spain ten days ago walking the English Way of the Camino – an ancient pilgrim’s path to the Cathedral of St. James in Santiago de Compostela.  In front of me was a dirt path on a very step uphill grade rising up approximately ¼ of a mile or more.  A woman stood at the beginning of the grade, appearing apprehensive about making the climb.  She was a large woman with the body shape and looks of an East German shot-put Olympian.  She had elastic sleeves on her knees and clearly had been struggling.  The challenge before her was daunting.

Then, from behind, an attractive young woman riding a mountain bike approached.  Now, if you know me, you know I am a big fan of mountain bikes… and attractive women.  Up the hill she pedaled in the highest gear ratio her bike offered.  Up the hill I walked in pursuit.  Much of the trail had been washed out making it difficult to bike.  Up ahead I could see her struggling.  Finally she got off her bike and walked it to the level summit.  She was still breathing hard when I made it there.  Winded, I too stopped to catch my breath.  We did not speak the same language but managed to communicate a little.  I indicated I ride a mountain bike as well.  She said of the hill “Too steep for me.”

Soon she was off and riding again and I was ready to continue walking.  I glanced down the hill and did not see any sign of the woman at the bottom.  She still had not yet mustered the energy or the courage to begin the climb.

I began to walk and as I walked I thought about the woman down the hill.  Should I have offered to walk with her?  Perhaps some encouragement and companionship was all she needed.  Why, I wondered, did I respond so positively to the youthful, athletic, attractive woman and so indifferently to the one who was unattractive?  Why does physical beauty trump spiritual beauty?  I don’t have a highly developed theology of the Christian doctrine of resurrection of the body, but I suspect once we die physical beauty will be no more.  All that will be left is spiritual beauty.  Perhaps the stocky woman one day will be a soul-beauty queen in heaven.  As I walked I began to ponder the beauty, or lack thereof, of my soul.  How attractive or how ugly will I be in the next life?

Today’s readings invite us to ask what God requires and expects of us.  The Pharisee in Jesus’ parable manifests all the outward signs of religion – prayer, fasting, tithing.  He is by the standard of institutional religion a “beautiful” person, and he knows it.  The only problem is all the outer beauty cannot mask his inner, spiritual ugliness.  The reading from Sirach describes the integrity necessary to make an offering to God and what is required to come before God with a prayer.  A certain posture of heart and spirit is absolutely essential.  The psalm describes to joy of making a pilgrimage to God’s house.  The desire to dwell in the Temple – to be in the physical place where God lives – certainly is pleasing to God.  Paul’s letter to Timothy describes his faithfulness as he endures persecution for his religious beliefs.

What is the one thing God asks of each one of us?  What is the one thing God requires of you?  As I walked on the Camino I asked myself this question and here is the answer I came up with:  All God asks of each one of us is to make it your mission in life to make your soul beautiful.

As with the prayer for faith, hope, and charity, the opportunity to make our souls more and more beautiful comes to us over and over again.  And, as with my pursuit of the mountain biker as opposed to helping the woman at the bottom of the hill, often times the moment passes us by and is lost forever.

What makes a soul beautiful?  I think it involves a certain desire for God.  It looks like growing in reverence, gratitude, and humility.  It involves a sense of awe and wonder and joy in all God’s works.  If you are bored in church it may be because your church is boring.  But still, you are sitting in the presence of the Holy One and if you believe this with even 1% of your heart, mind, and soul you will never be bored by the opportunity to praise God and to worship God. 

As we were leaving the Cathedral in Santiago after the Pilgrim’s Mass, we encountered sporadic cheering and applause outside the transept door.  John, our English guide, blurted out, “Oh my God, it’s the king.  It’s King Juan Carlos of Spain.”  He was 25 feet away and walking right toward us.  John’s entire nature changed in an instance as he was overcome with a severe case of “royal fever” – trailing after the king like a star struck zombie.  He was in absolute awe.  Every time we step into this space we are entering the presence of Royalty.  Our heavenly King dwells here.  Like the hymn says, this is a time to be “lost in wonder, love, and praise.”  A beautiful soul knows this.

What makes a soul beautiful?  I believe it also involves a certain disposition toward other people.  Kindness, compassion, generosity, selflessness, thoughtfulness, gentleness, humility, and respect – not just for some people, but for all.  We’re talking about behaving exactly the opposite of what we have witnessed in the Presidential Debates.  I believe people desire to cultivate a beautiful soul because so many of us are so repulsed by the behavior of the candidates.  Unlike what we see in some of the hard-core supporters of one candidate or another, more and more I am noticing how everyday people in and around Suffolk are consistently kind and considerate.  I think people are making a conscious choice to renounce the ugliness typifying this political season in order to embrace something more beautiful.

How, when, where, and to whom can you exhibit the marks of a beautiful soul?   The more you do it the more natural it becomes and the more natural it becomes the more beautiful your soul becomes.