My spiritual path has taken many twists and turns. I have been a member of quite a few different spiritual traditions. Some might call me a spiritual dilettante, but the truth is that I always jumped in with both feet, genuinely feeling each time that I had arrived at “the way, the truth, and the light”. It took me many decades to realize that what I was genuinely seeking wasn’t dogma, but a dependable truth of the Divine.
In the 1940s and 50s, I lived in a suburb north of Chicago, attending St. David’s Episcopal Church. The liturgy grounded and guided me. Even though my parents and siblings weren’t interested in getting up early for church, I would walk to a neighbor’s home and catch a ride, sometimes trudging through deep snowdrifts that connected our backyards. I loved the ritual, and my heart soared when Father Upson would chant, “With Angels and Archangels, and all the company of heaven, we laud and magnify thy glorious name, saying HOLY, HOLY, HOLY, Lord God of hosts, Heaven and earth are full of thy glory: Glory be to thee, O Lord most high.” That chant still echoes in my mind today. My church attendance also gave me another joy: the chance to play dress-up by choosing a hat from my mother’s closet every Sunday.
I might still be an active member of the Episcopal Church if it hadn’t been for Father Perkins at St. James Episcopal Church in Alexander City, Alabama. I married much too young—at 19—and before petitioning for a divorce, I sought my priest’s advice. He told me that if I went through with the divorce, I could no longer receive communion.
A powerful resistance rose within me to Father Perkins’ authority. I burned with defiance at his power to deny me what I held sacred. Father Perkins was like the mother in “Jack and the Beanstalk”, throwing the beans out the window—his proclamation blocked my path, but it also gave rise to my own beanstalk, inviting me to embark on a new spiritual adventure that continues to this day. Looking back, I thank him, as his refusal may have helped me discover a much broader spiritual path.
This journey led me through several other Christian communities, including Southern Baptists, where I found joy in singing with the choir. I later became a Jehovah’s Witness, drawn to their more intellectual translations of the Bible and their emphasis on social order. Knocking on doors to spread “the good news” lasted about three years, until I met Michael.
Michael threw me into the deep end of the pool when he introduced me to Buddhist practice, and together we attended many retreats. I remember how I struggled not to fall asleep as I was learning to meditate. I’m deeply grateful for the Buddhist teachers who have shaped my journey and I still hold my Buddhist practice close to my heart.
These days, my spiritual home is with a Reconstructionist Jewish synagogue. I cherish my family’s Jewish heritage and have found a progressive community that draws from both Reconstructionist roots and Jewish Renewal. It is warm and inclusive, embracing Judaism through ritual, social justice, music, learning, and laughter. Ner Shalom’s membership includes interfaith families, LGBTQI folks, people of color, people with disabilities, Sephardi, Ashkenazi, and Mizrachi Jews, and those without Jewish backgrounds.
To give a sense of this spirit, here is “A Prayer for Peace” from the Ner Shalom synagogue in Cotati, CA:
A Prayer for Peace
August 5, 2025
Great Mystery, Loving Shechinah,
Come close. We need you near us now.
Answer our prayers for peace.
Do not turn away from us.
Bless the people of this planet with peace.
May their hearts be inclined toward kindness
and their hands toward service.
May the love of power give way to the power of love.
May wounds heal before they cause more wounds and more wounds.
May peacemakers be protected and empowered; may their voices be sweet and irresistible.
May the people of Gaza be blessed with visionary, game-changing leadership, ample food, health, and hope.
May the people of Israel be blessed with visionary, game-changing leadership, ample food, health, and hope.
May all hostages come home.
May all whose lives have been disrupted and uprooted by war find comfort and support.
May all the nations of the world expose their kind heart and generous welcome.
May no harm be done in our name.
May no harm be done in anyone’s name.
I recently finished reading Richard Rohr’s “The Tears of Things: Prophetic Wisdom for an Age of Outrage”. Rohr, a Franciscan friar and ecumenical teacher, presents a unique approach to the Hebrew prophets, describing revolutions as evolutionary steps for humanity. He encourages us to strive for a consciousness rooted in justice, mercy, closeness to God, and moving beyond group narcissism. Rohr writes, “If you do not transform your pain and egoic anger, you will always transmit it in another form. This transformation is the supreme work of all true spirituality and spiritual communities. Those communities offer us a place where our sadness and rage can be refined into human sympathy and active compassion.”
Today, I recognize it was never dogma that attracted me to any spiritual path. Instead, I sought a spiritual truth that kept me outgrowing religious boundaries. In searching for the greatest truth about God, the Divine, or Source, I’ve developed a personal, evolving definition:
“God is the quantum field of infinite intelligence and animating force of love: A pervading, responsive, and dynamic co-creative energy in which all life is embedded, including us. A force that exists within everything, enlivens everything, and from which everything is made manifest.”
