What do you serve?
The call to service in challenging times
“Ultimately no one actually gets to choose not to serve someone, some thing, or some power….You can serve Baal or Zeus, the Virgin Mary or your own carnal appetites, a higher ideal of peace, a personal lust for fame, or the fear of death and danger. You can devote yourself completely to the security of your country, or to the salvation of humanity through carbon capture and nuclear nonproliferation. You can give every fiber of your being to ensuring the health and success of your children, or else to making sure that every single thing you do is an act of love, charity, or justice. But there is one thing you cannot do: refuse to serve anything.” – Jeremy England
Today’s post marks 100 posts on Radical Spirituality in a little over a year (two weeks, to be precise). That’s a lot of writing, even for me. It’s been a crazy year (especially this last 6 months) and it has been my hope that my words have offered some modicum of guidance, solace and service as we navigate the challenges we face. I am so grateful for the support of those of you who read this newsletter, as you inspire me to keep writing in a world that every day shows me how much we need our spiritual practices, whatever they might be.
When I started this newsletter, I really had no idea where it was going. I knew that my book, TEN WORDS: AN INTERSPIRITUAL GUIDE TO BECOMING BETTER PEOPLE IN A BETTER WORLD was being published and I wanted to share it, as well as the radical spirituality that informs it. But writing this newsletter has helped me clarify several things for myself: What is Radical Spirituality? What role can spirituality play in our modern, increasingly inhuman, technological world? What are my responsibilities as a teacher; and how can I best serve both the Sacred and the needs of others at this time?
At the heart of my thinking is the word, service. I mentioned service briefly in last week’s Passover post, when I explained that God wanted his people free so that they could serve Him (not other gods, and not so they could have a rave in the desert). Increasingly, I have been exploring what service means, who or what we/I choose to serve, and what forms service can or must take these days when it feels like we are living in a giant dumpster fire.
As always, this is an ongoing inquiry. I am not satisfied with a simple answer. So today, I want share a little of my own process and invite you to explore who or what it is you choose to serve. How do you serve? And why?
Service is at the heart of all spiritual traditions, whether we are tasked to serve some deity, some church, the community, the less fortunate, the planet, or any/all of the other beings with whom we are blessed to share our spinning home. We might call it Seva, or selfless service in the Hindu and Buddhist traditions, Diakonia, the early Christian Greek word for service to others, Avodah, the Hebrew term for both worship and service to others, or Ibadah in Arabic.
In many traditions, there is no distinction between service to God/Source and service to others. In English, for example, times of communal worship are often called “services” (and many people just attended or will attend Easter services today. Happy Easter!). In other words, from a spiritual perspective when we serve others, we are serving the Sacred, and vice versa.
Of course, that is all predicated on having the freedom to choose to serve a particular God/Source/community. Not everyone has the freedom to choose who or what to serve. Some are forced to serve a state, a leader, a master, or a God they don’t believe in: those living under autocratic rule, a group or leader who demands fealty, a boss or even a church or religious group that leaves no room for choice.
I think of my ancestors who were forced to serve the Russian Cossacks, the Nazis, or another’s God on pain of death. I think of our African-American brothers and sisters, forced to serve slave masters, or those who live under Myanmar’s, the Ayatollah’s or the Taliban’s tyrannical regimes. I think of the thousands and thousands of soldiers forced to serve in a military or militia they cannot support. I remember women the world over forced to serve men in all ways, children forced to labor in sweatshops. And in my more generous moments, I think of those in our government who, despite their consciences, feel somehow forced to serve a leader who publicly and cruelly punishes disloyalty.
Those of us who have the freedom to choose who, what, how and why we serve are fortunate indeed: but having the freedom to choose carries both fortune and responsibility. As the quote above states, whether we are aware of it or not, we are choosing to serve something. Even choosing silence or retreat is serving something.
Sadly, many of us are choosing to serve ourselves, pretending that we are serving others. Often, while it may appear differently on the outside, on the inside, we are actually serving our own reputations, our egos, our fears, desires or our ideologies. These days, that might look like virtue signaling. It might look like social media posts, getting that “community service” line item on your resume, or capitulation to tyranny because you might lose your job otherwise. I’m not saying that self-service is a bad thing: we HAVE to serve our own basic needs before we can serve others (put your oxygen mask on first!), and sometimes, we have to give up or give in to save ourselves or our loved ones. But if serving our own needs is the ultimate end game, it’s hollow.
One way to know if your service is genuine is to look at your expectations for reward. Every tradition teaches that selfless service is its own reward – joy – and is not dependent on whether or not you win an award, are recognized for your virtue, change the world, or save your own skin. If you find yourself not experiencing a kind of joy in your service, disappointed by not getting something in return for your service, or doing something only so that you will benefit, you fail the service test. And to be honest, none of us has a perfect track record on this (except maybe Mother Teresa).
But these days, at least in the US, self-service in the guise of selfless service is the name of the game. Many of our politicians, judges, business leaders and even clergy are obviously serving themselves first and foremost, but claiming otherwise. Our moral compass is way off, and for some of us, it’s causing a crisis of faith. The curtain has been pulled back and now we can see exactly what our civil “servants” and their supporters are really serving. It’s not pretty. We can choose to serve evil, too.
Which brings me back to looking at what it is I choose to serve, especially writing this newsletter, one year and 100 posts in.
For me, writing is a two-fold service. First, I have to write; it’s almost a biological need. Not a day goes by when something isn’t urgently pleading with me to write it down. Writing is how I think, how I make sense of the world and my own experience, and I love the process of figuring out exactly what it is I am trying to say, playing with words and ideas, digging deeper. I’ve been doing it since I first learned to write. It serves me deeply, and gives me great joy.
But I also hope that my writing serves the spiritual needs of others in some way. While I could happily fill my computer with writing that never appears in front of another’s eyes (and believe me, there are plenty of unseen essays, sermons, poems, plays, stories, etc. on my hard drive), I feel compelled to share some of my thoughts with others with the hope that they are useful, challenging or comforting. I choose to believe that my words serve someone or something besides my own needs.
I might be wrong on that, but enough of you have written to me to tell me that what I write serves your spiritual growth, so I am going to keep believing it for now (and it does sustain me in my darker moments).
Nevertheless, some days, I wonder if my writing is enough service. I question if hiding behind words on a page or screen is just a cop-out. Shouldn’t I be more “out there?” This feels urgent, especially these days, when there is so much injustice, cruelty and corruption to protest in our world. Would I be better off closing the laptop and taking to the streets? Or, should I be writing more vigorously about something more “important” than spirituality?
The problem is that I am not a street activist, unless you call writing about spirituality a form of activism. At times, I think of it that way. Not to equate myself with the prophets of yore, but were they not activists? Weren’t Abraham, Jesus, Muhammad, Buddha, etc. trying to serve and change the world for the better through their words and teachings, helping people find hope, courage and faith? More importantly, did these prophet/activists consciously choose to serve the way they did? I don’t think so. It was just what they had to do. It’s who they were. (And some paid a steep price for it).
The same is true for me. I write about spirituality because it’s who I am and what I have to do. I can’t not do it (willingly), and I actually can’t think of anything more important to write about or another way of serving at this particular moment in time. I truly believe that times like these demand spiritual support and guidance, and that’s what I have in my toolkit. When the pipes are leaking, call the plumber.
Here’s when I suspect that our form of service isn’t as much of a choice as we think it is. I believe we all have some unique gift with which to serve the world, and it’s not entirely within our control. I have a friend whose passion and genuine service is caring for the trees on his land, so they are healthy homes for birds and other animals. Another friend is an incredible musician, whose concerts bring joy and healing to so many. And yet another serves as a home care aide for the elderly, and I know for a fact that her genuine presence and care serves the needs of her clients.
In all these cases, people are doing what they love, AND serving the needs of others at the same time in their own unique ways. And they didn’t fully choose it; it chose them. Not all of us are protest leaders or activists, but it that’s who you are, fantastic! Go do it! But if your way of serving God/Source, yourself and others is writing or painting or cooking or building engines, mowing lawns, or praying, who is to say that is not genuine service? Not me.
I suspect our way of serving chooses us. If it is something we can’t not do, and it helps others in some way, that’s a good hint that it’s what we are supposed to be doing. As my teacher used to say, “Do what’s in front of you!”
At least that’s how I think about writing this newsletter. It’s what’s in front of me. For now. I’ll let you know if that changes (and it might, if something else calls more loudly).
Who or what do you choose to serve? Maybe you don’t know…yet.
We each must find our own way of serving the world. Quaker writer, teacher, and activist Parker J. Palmer says, “Our deepest calling is to grow into our own authentic self-hood, whether or not it conforms to some image of who we ought to be. As we do so, we will not only find the joy that every human being seeks—we will also find our path of authentic service in the world.”
Likewise, in the Bible, it is noted that “We have different gifts, according to the grace given to each of us. If it is to encourage, then give encouragement; if it is giving, then give generously; if it is to lead, do it diligently; if it is to show mercy, do it cheerfully” (Romans 12:6-8). Knowing ourselves authentically, what we love, and what we can offer that the world needs is the key to authentic, joyful service.
In his book, Let Your Heartbreak Be Your Guide, New Monastic leader and Episcopal priest Adam Bucko suggests that you follow your heartbreak to find your way of serving the world. What breaks your heart enough to want to do something about it? For many of us, that can be an overwhelming question. There is so much suffering in the world; where do we start? One way of thinking about it is to ask what is intolerable to you personally. What makes your personal world unbearable? Is it the suffering of animals? Of the planet? Or is it hunger? Injustice? War?
That’s one approach, but here is another way of thinking about it. If we only truly care for the things we love, what do you love enough to serve? What do you love enough not to lose? To preserve? To support or to enrich? If we come to our service in the world from the place of love, not anger or outrage, we will want the object of our love to thrive, so we will do what we can to support that. Love will naturally act with kindness, generosity, and compassion as long as we remember that the most loving service we can offer is to support others in getting their needs met, not imposing our own beliefs and desires on them in the name of “love.”
Ultimately, our calling to service, which comes from deep within ourselves and our connection to the Divine, will be part of what helps us feel alive, engaged, and connected. Jack Kornfield reminds us, “What is truly a part of our spiritual path is that which brings us alive. If gardening brings us alive, that is part of our path; if it is music, if it is conversation...we must follow what brings us alive.”
That aliveness and urge to serve takes many different forms at different times. The question is what is yours to do right now? And right now is the point. What calls to you now? What is alive for you now? What does the world need now? What can you do now? Who can you be now?
That is the point of choosing what or who we serve and how. All we can ever do is be present to what is happening now, respond appropriately, and serve as best as we can from a place of humility and love. We do what we can to “Leave the campground in better condition than we found it” today, even if it’s just to sit in awe of what is before us.
That might be service enough.
After all, remember that service and worship go hand in hand.
"The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in service of others." - Mahatma Gandhi
Thank you Lauryn 🙏💜