Loud Mouth in the Balcony Blog

One of the ministers at my church is fond of saying, “Prayer doesn’t change things; it changes us.” Now, an exhaustive $2.4 million study on the healing power of prayer may have revealed just that.

The study, conducted at six venerable medical centers, including Harvard University and Mayo Clinic, divided 1,800 patients into three groups. All were recovering from coronary bypass surgery. Strangers—all Christians—prayed for patients in two of the groups. The prayer was simple: a speedy recovery with no complications. One group knew that prayers were being offered for them; one did not. None of the strangers prayed for the third group; and the group was none the wiser.

Did those who received prayer support fare better than their cohorts? Actually, no. In fact, what stunned the medical researchers was that patients who were aware that others were praying for them had more complications than the others—including those who received no prayer support.

For a great many of the faithful, particularly New Thought Christians, this comes as no surprise. It’s not that these Christians don’t believe in prayer. They simply have a different view of what prayer is.

This worldwide non-denominational group that adheres to the teachings of Jesus of Nazareth identifies more with spirituality than religion. Consequently, they generally don’t read or teach any version of the Bible in isolation. They typically supplement holy scripture with ancient, theological, or scholarly texts that help them understand the languages and idioms of ancient people, as well as the historical, cultural and political climates in which Biblical scribes lived and wrote.

Like Jesus, New Thought Christians hold a non-theistic view of the Divine. In other words, they don’t view God as a supreme or supernatural Being that resides outside of us and manipulates events externally. To them, God is within us, constantly present through the Holy Spirit.

While that thought is not “new”, and neither is the movement, it’s certainly a more modern view of God than that of early man who struggled to define the Divine. As former Roman Catholic nun Karen Armstrong, author of A History of God, explains in her most recent book, A Short History of Myth, “Humans have always been mythmakers.”

Unable to explain certain natural phenomena, Armstrong says, early man created myths about gods and goddesses who looked and acted very much like humans. They had a gender, a physical body, personality traits, and they shared the same range of emotion as humans—from absolute calm to vengeful, sadistic rage.

Early man also believed that, like themselves, the unpredictable temperament of the gods and goddesses could be appeased. With the proper set of words, actions, or living sacrifices, man could calm their rage and consequently control or even halt the occurrence of natural disasters.

These beliefs were passed down as oral history for thousands of years. Today, many still believe that, through prayer, they can convince God to scrap His plans, and adopting theirs. Most are not aware that these petitions actually reveal a lack of trust in God to solve problems for the highest good of all concerned.

In this case, the researchers and petitioners assumed that what they desired for these patients was what the patients or the Holy Spirit within them desired. For some of these souls, complications from surgery may have been their “exit strategy” from the body, in perfect accord with their established timetable. Let’s face it; no soul has ever intended to stay here, evidenced by the fact that no soul ever has.

Prayer doesn’t change things. It changes us. Prayer time is an opportunity to consciously connect with the Divine within us, listen, and trust that It already knows our desires and will unfailingly resolve everything for our Highest Good.

If someone were to ask a crowd of people if God had ever granted their prayers, most, if not all of them would say, “Yes.” However, the same people could also cite many prayers that were not granted. This leads us to the ancient and, I believe, erroneous conclusion that God is unpredictable or capricious, rather than absolute and unchanging. Tomorrow they’ll talk to a friend or they’ll read a book that will advise them that they didn’t say or do the right thing to convince God that their desired outcome was the perfect outcome. After all, it’s all about what we want, isn’t it?

Perhaps this is what they spent $2.4 million to determine. Unfortunately, this costly study unwittingly rested on ancient myths that if we behave a certain way, God will say, “Eureka! I hadn’t thought of that solution. Let’s do it your way.”

Does this study prove that God is inconsistent or that prayer doesn’t always work? One could certainly conclude that. Alternatively, one also could conclude that what really doesn’t work is any attempt to control God.

There’s no dispute that prayer always works when it is in alignment with God’s will, rather than our own. A generic prayer such as, “I release this problem to God, knowing that it will be resolved for the Highest Good of all concerned” creates that alignment. It says, “God, I trust You to work this out perfectly. I detach myself from the outcome and allow Thy will to be done.” The outcome might not be what we hoped, but we can be assured that it is the perfect outcome.

Now there’s a new Christian thought: How about creating more productive ways to spend $2.4 million than testing the all-knowing, all-powerful, ever present Holy Spirit?

This is America: land of the free, home of the brave, the forceful, and the myopic. Where else can we speak our minds without fear of censorship, incarceration, or bodily harm? Where else can we send mixed messages and not be viewed as illogical, confused, or just plain duplicitous?

That’s why I love and appreciate this country. Periodically, I am reminded of how precious our liberties are—like today, when I stumbled upon a fascinating column on one of my favorite websites, Beliefnet, authored by the Reverend Richard Land. It was entitled “A Christian Defense of the War in Iraq.”

On the surface, there seems to be something blatantly oxymoronic about Christians defending war. Followers of Jesus’ teachings don’t engage in war, let alone defend it. So I figured there must be something more than the eye could see here. After all, Rev. Land is a highly respected theologian, the president of the Southern Baptist Convention’s Ethics & Religious Liberty Commission. (Southern Baptists are the nation’s largest non-Catholic Christian denomination.) He’s also a magna cum laude grad of Princeton who holds a doctorate from England’s venerable Oxford University. I was open to the possibility that I could learn a few things from him.

Is War Just—or Is It Just War?

Rev. Land’s first lesson was that judging, condemning, attacking, and imposing America’s will, beliefs, and form of government on others is not only right, noble, and just; it’s obligatory for a Christian nation.

“I believe [America’s] Declaration of Independence, which says that all men are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, and that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness,” Rev. Land asserted. “The Iraqis have the same right to freedom.” And war apparently was the only way to liberate them.

More than 15-hundred years ago, St. Augustine became the first in a series of religious scholars and teachers who have tried to justify war, and the bloodshed and destruction associated with it. First, they devised rules that would allow a war to be considered “moral”. Those rules have evolved into what’s now known as the “just-war theory”, which weighs factors such as proportionality (the gains outweigh the suffering and loss of life), self-defense, collateral damage, and other moral issues related to combat. It should be noted that the “just-war theory” trumps both God’s “thou shall not kill” commandment and Jesus’ edict to “love your enemies”.

According to Rev. Land, protecting or even introducing others to their unalienable rights is reason enough to invoke the so-called “just-war theory”. In fact, he says, America is obligated to uproot any dictator who is denying his people the rights endowed by their Creator—sometimes, anyway. There are a few exceptions.

“North Korea comes to mind,” he told Beliefnet’s Holly Lebowitz Rossi. “We certainly would like to help the North Koreans obtain their freedom, and there are certainly ways in which we can put pressure on the North Korean regime. But military action is not an option because it would not pass the test of proportionality.”

In other words, we could lose Big Time, because they have verifiable WMDs. Consequently, the North Korean people are not eligible for “just-war” liberation.

Last time I checked, machetes were not considered WMDs. And Rev. Land acknowledged that the gruesome murders of 750,000 Rwandans certainly passed the denial of inalienable rights and proportionality tests. Ditto for the ethnic cleansing rampages in Bosnia, Kosovo, and more recently, Darfur. He supported American intervention in each of those cases. But, he says, America needed the support of the international community. Without that support, our nation couldn’t act alone. Let me play that back for you: Without international support, America couldn’t justify war.

I have to admit, I am quite disturbed by Rev. Land’s rationale for the uneven application of the “just-war theory”. On the other hand, he has the right to defend any war—for any reason. And he can call it anything he likes.

But for Jesus’ sake, let’s not call it Christian, OK?

Headlines can’t possibly tell a whole story, but the one I spotted in an Associated Press report on this, the third anniversary of the U. S. invasion of Iraq, almost missed the mark completely. It read: Father Loses Taste for Revenge in Iraq.

This intriguing story unfolds in battle torn Iraq, where we meet Joe Johnson, a self-employed home builder who spent six years in the Army and Navy a couple of decades ago. In 2003, when war was declared, Johnson re-upped with the National Guard for the sole and express purpose of serving his country in Iraq. He told the AP reporter that he “was pissed off at the terrorists for 9/11 and other atrocities.”

Johnson hails from Rome, Georgia, a scenic town near Atlanta. But apparently, news that there were no Iraqis involved in the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks and that Iraq had no weapons of mass destruction apparently did not reach Rome or Johnson. That’s the best explanation I can offer.

In April 2003, a month after his 22-year-old son Justin had left for Iraq, Johnson traveled to Ft. Lewis, Washington on a mission. A guard unit there was slated to be deployed to Iraq; Johnson wanted to go with them. He reasoned that if he and Justin were in Iraq at the same time, his wife would only have to endure one year of anguish, not two.

It all seemed to make sense. But while Johnson was in Fort Lewis, trying to qualify for combat, that all changed. Justin was killed by a roadside bomb in an Iraqi slum. An already outraged Johnson returned to Rome, even more embittered.

A year later, after he and his family had partially healed from Justin’s death, Johnson set out for Iraq with his Georgia National Guard unit. He was on a crusade. Literally. You see, Johnson is a Christian missionary. He has traveled to the Arctic and Peru to spread Christ’s teachings.

As a veteran from the minefields of journalism, I can confidently say that this is breaking news; and the headline on this story should have read: Christian Missionary Loses Taste for Revenge.

I had no idea that revenge and violence were principles taught by the Jew that we Christians know and revere as Jesus of Nazareth. But, hey, I could be wrong. So, like any good journalist, I decided to do some fact checking.

I’ve discovered that the most efficient way to find the location of any word in the Bible is to search The New Strong’s Expanded Exhaustive Concordance, which claims to be “the most complete, accurate, and up-to-date” resource of its kind. The cover of this edition notes that the words of Christ are in red. That’s precisely what I’m looking for: bold evidence that Jesus instructed us to be vengeful and violent.

According to Strong’s, there are 18 scriptures that include the word revenge or any derivative. Sixteen were from the Old Testament; half of those scriptures included the word blood.

The two citations from the New Testament were found in Apostle Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians (7:11 and 10:6). In that same letter, he noted: “For though we live an earthly life, yet we do not serve worldly things. For the weapons which we use are not earthly weapons but of the might of God by which we conquer rebellious strongholds.” (2Corinthians 10:3, 4) In other words, “No swords and guns, guys. Fight with spiritual power, not earthly force.”

There was not one red-letter scripture listed in Strong’s in which Jesus of Nazareth was quoted directly or indirectly as promoting, teaching, or even mentioning the word revenge.

Since the word blood was most often used in connection with revenge, I also searched the number of times it was cited in the Bible. According to Strong’s, blood appears 447 times. Toss in the words bloodguiltiness (1), bloodthirsty (1), and bloody (16) for good measure.

There were 15 blood citations in red, which directly linked them to the world’s most famous Jew. None of these scriptures was within the context of violence, revenge, or any of their malevolent kin.

So how did a devout Christian—especially one who was spreading the teachings of the Prince of Peace to other parts of the world—conclude that revenge, bloody violence or pre-emptive attack were part of his worldly mission? I wouldn’t have been as stunned if he had asserted himself as a conscientious objector, citing chapter and verse proving that the Lord of his heart taught and practiced non-violence.

Jesus of Nazareth is widely known to have had some serious issues with many of the Hebrew Scriptures that modern Christians embrace, including those that endorse and encourage violence to resolve disputes. For example:

In his famous Sermon on the Mount, Jesus taught, “You have heard that it is said, ‘Be kind to your friend, and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies, bless anyone who curses you, do good to anyone who hates you, and pray for those who carry you away by force and persecute you…”

Jesus went on to say that God causes the sun to shine upon the good and the bad, and pours down rain upon the just and the unjust. In other words, God does not discriminate or judge; we’re all treated the same way. And Jesus told us to “judge not”, unless we wanted to be judged.

It’s fascinating that those who claim to be followers of Jesus have veered onto another path. In this case, we have a missionary who probably would be at a loss to explain, in purely Christian terms, how he could tell a reporter, “I don’t really have love for Muslim people…. It’s hard to love people who hate you.”

Here’s some breaking news, Missionary Johnson: That’s precisely what followers of Jesus do.

To his credit, according to the report, Johnson has had enough of war after six months. He says that he shouldn’t have even gone to Iraq, and he hopes to leave without any blood on his hands.

“I really don’t want to kill innocent people,” he reportedly said. “I don’t want to live with that the rest of my life.”

Now that sounds more like a Christian missionary. Peace, be still.

Here’s some news you can use: Former Serb leader Slobodan Milosevic, labeled the “butcher of the Balkans”, has finally left the stage. His body was found Saturday in his prison cell.

Milosevic is allegedly responsible for the deaths of at least 250,000 people—almost twice as many civilians as America’s political leaders killed in Hiroshima and more than six times as many as they’ve killed in Iraq (estimated between 33,489 and 37,589, according to a website that tracks these vital statistics).

Why should you care? Why shouldn’t you? Each of these humans had loved ones. They were mothers and fathers and children. Some were elderly. Many were babies. They baked the bread and repaired the cars, and washed the clothes. They mattered.

When did we stop caring?

I saw a powerful play last week: “I Have Before Me a Remarkable Document Given to Me by a Young Lady from Rwanda”. It was another personal story of triumph over the breathtakingly brutal genocide there, and another dramatic reminder that the rest of the world simply didn’t care.

Earlier today, about 100 citizens gathered in a university classroom to share their concern about the Americans and Iraqis who have died and many more who must try to survive in what’s left of the unstable country we’ve bombed and invaded for reasons that remain an elusive target. On the way to that meeting, I passed thousands of shamrock and green top hat-wearing folks packing the downtown Chicago sidewalks after the St. Patrick’s Day parade. Who would dare to parade through the streets of Baghdad these days?

When did we stop caring?

I’m sure that the answer is different for each of us, but according to a study in the March 9, 2006 issue of the journal Science, we might have begun caring for others long before we realized it. In a world where we’ve been told that we were born as sinners because two newborn creatures in adult bodies made a poor choice thousands of years ago, this was news I really could use.

The journal report documents a dramatic experiment at the Max Planck Institute of Evolutionary Anthropology in Leipzig, Germany. The cast of characters included 24 toddlers and one Felix Warneken, a psychology researcher. Reportedly, Warneken performed a series of mundane tasks as the toddlers watched: hanging towels with clothespins and stacking books.

As his drooling, diapered audience watched, Warneken pretended to be challenged by these tasks. And this is where it got interesting: Almost every time Warneken dropped clothespins or knocked over the books, the 18-month old baby with whom he was experimenting quickly scrambled to help him. If the baby didn’t help, it was because Warneken didn’t appear to need it. This happened 100% of the time.

Not once did Warneken ask for help, but a video of his experiment revealed how the toddlers discerned that their help was warranted. But before making a move, the baby glanced at Warneken’s face, then at the dropped clothespin. Not once did a toddler bother to help when Warneken deliberately pulled a book off the stack or threw a pin to the floor. But if his facial expression broadcast that he was helpless, the baby immediately crawled to the pin, pushed himself onto his feet and eagerly returned the object to Warneken.

What was the payoff for the baby: A toy? A Zwieback teething biscuit? A piece of fruit? Nada. Zip. Zilch. These kids didn’t even get a thank you. Warneken didn’t want to manipulate the outcome or taint his research by training the babies to expect praise whenever they helped. Remember, this was a test of altruism. True altruism, true caring gives without expecting personal reward.

This was a small sample, only two dozen babies. But the fact that each of them behaved the same way, 100% of the time, is very significant. Whenever I encounter a new personal development or New Age technique for manifesting a “better life”, I look at it through this lens: “If it doesn’t happen 100% of the time for 100% of the people, it’s not a law. It’s a possibility, a potentiality, not a law.”

I’m impressed that Warneken got the same results 100% of the time. It leads me to believe that at a very early point in our lives, we cared. We not only cared, but we cared enough to extend ourselves to help others—even strangers. We saw someone in distress and we were motivated to bring them some relief. What does that say for the theory that we are inherently bad, natural born sinners.

According to this study, it is quite the contrary. We are inherently good, caring, and helpful. We naturally extend ourselves, even when there’s no personal reward; that’s who we really are. At some point, we made a conscious decision to be less than that.

When did we stop caring?

Every decision we make has a natural outcome. But every day offers new opportunities to make different choices and create different outcomes. We can choose to destroy others’ lives and others’ homelands or we can choose to care. We can choose to huddle in small groups to heal ourselves, our personal relationships and our own communities, or we can let them die.

But if we are naturally altruistic from the time we are 18-months old, it appears to me that the path of least resistance is to care for ourselves, care for others, and help those in need, without expecting reward or recognition.

I wonder what a difference that would make in our world–starting with that rising body count.

Sometimes we pay attention; sometimes we don’t. Apparently, even the most attentive parents are oblivious to what their kids are ingesting. According to a study released this week, we’re feeding our kids some pretty deadly stuff. Who knew?

Imagine being a kid, chillin’ in your bedroom, snacking on high sodium chips and a beverage laced with high fructose corn syrup, totally engrossed in your favorite cartoon show, Shaman King, when “Wham!” One of the characters stabs the other with a sword; then he reaches into his mortally wounded victim’s chest and scoops out his soul.

Would you flinch? Would you cover your eyes? Would you run screaming, “Mom, this is gross!” Probably not.

Why? Because you’ve seen thousands of folks beheaded, gutted, stomped, shot or stabbed during your young lifetime. This is normal.

According to the Parents Television Council, our kids are devouring a steady diet of violence on a daily basis. Last summer, the council analyzed 444 hours of children’s television. I’m sure it felt more like 666 because when they turned off the set, they’d seen nearly 2,800 acts of violence. That’s an average of more than six violent acts per hour.

Think about it: If throughout your childhood, you saw your heroes solving their problems by whacking people, what’s going to be your knee-jerk reaction when someone gets on your nerves or is wearing a jacket or gym shoes that you’d like to have? What’s the “normal” response for any kid who witnesses gratuituous and inhumane violence six times an hour?

A former colleague’s son answered that question for me, not too long ago. I met this kid when he was about five years old. His father occasionally brought him to the newsroom. He was an absolutely adorable kid; and my colleague’s world revolved around this child, who matured into a bright, charming young man.

During his first year in college, my colleague’s son had an altercation with a classmate that turned into a long-running feud. One day, the young man had had enough. When he spotted his enemy walking down the street, he used his car as a battering ram and plowed the other boy into a tree.

In an instant, two promising young men were lost. Two families were devastated. Neither will be able to hold their son in their arms again. One is buried. The other is incarcerated for life. Both are from a generation of kids who repeatedly saw violent problem solving on television, where the line blurs between reality and fantasy.

My daughter was a toddler the first time she saw me on TV. She went running to the set, squealing, “Mommy!” She couldn’t yet distinguish the Mom reporting the news from the one who made her breakfast. All she knew was that this one wasn’t acknowledging her. And she didn’t like that one bit.

One evening, I was home by the time my story hit the air, so you can imagine her confusion when suddenly there were two of us in the room wearing the same clothes. Her reaction was not surprising.

According to Dr. Michael Rich, director of the Center of Media and Children’s Health at Harvard University’s medical school, children under age eight are cognitively unable to distinguish between what’s real and what’s not; and that includes TV violence. In fact, after studying reactions to the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks, Dr. Rich discovered that kids were much less upset than their parents. One conclusion: the children couldn’t distinguish it from what they regularly see on TV.

Fascinating, isn’t it: We were traumatized, but our kids were desensitized. If that doesn’t remind us, I don’t know what will: we are what we eat.

Ah, the good ol’ days! Travel used to be so simple then.

When I was a kid, part of the excitement of any trip south of Chicago was the picnic in the car. There were always sandwiches, fried chicken and cookies. If we were lucky, there was cake. If someone had to tinkle, we merely pulled onto a shoulder and ran down an embankment, out of view.

We knew where we could stop and where we couldn’t; we knew what we could say and what we couldn’t. Choose the wrong stop, say the wrong word, have the wrong expression on your face, and the males in the car would most likely inspire an even larger picnic. Folks would come from miles around, toting their blankets and young ones to see humans hanged from trees. And this was wholesome family entertainment.

How soon we forget those perilous times. Here I set off on the road to Forgiveness…the Final Frontier–alone, with no rations, and not the slightest bit of apprehension. What, me worry? Times have changed. I fully expected that I would be able to stop anywhere and that I’d be accepted, if not welcomed.

Earth to Pat: Wake up and smell the coffee. Forgiveness isn’t always embraced. It doesn’t always heal; in fact, sometimes it incites full-blown rage. I found out the hard way.

I posted my Get out of a Jam with the “F” Word essay on Gather.com last week, because the community over there actively shouts back, and we have great dialogue even if we don’t always agree. The “F” Word essay was selected by the Gather editors for the blog site’s home page, which heightened its visibility.

That was good news–and bad news. One reader not only objected to the topic; he characterized it as “cult like, cypto-religious psychobable” that “bleeds over into the islamic cartoon mentality”.

I’m not sure what shift this guy works on the blog police force, but I’ll try not to post again when he’s on duty, lest I inspire another one of those ill-fated picnics. He was particularly outraged that I had the temerity to take it upon myself to do something divine.

“Who and what are YOU, to forgive anything?” he screeched.

Alrighty now. This brother obviously was not having a good Friday, and I apparently hadn’t made it any better. Maybe his paycheck was short, I don’t know. But despite all his ranting, this dude had as much chance of goading me into a wrath-filled tirade as I had of convincing him to give his carcinogenic rage a rest.

But he did get my attention, for a reason that was both peculiar and eerie: It was the second time in less than 24 hours that I’d heard these venomous words. The first time, I was watching a public TV segment about the premiere of the documentary, “Forgiving Dr. Mengele”.

The 80-minute doc profiles a Terre Haute, Indiana woman Eva Mozes Kor, who survived Nazi doctor Josef Mengele’s diabolical medical experiments on 1,500 sets of Jewish twin children. Fewer than 200 survived.

During a public ceremony at Auschwitz in 1995, Eva decided to free herself from those painful memories. As she later told a Catholic Herald reporter, “I realized that I had the power to forgive, that no one could give me the power and no one could take it away. And for a little victim, who was a victim for almost 50 years, to realize that I have the power made me feel very good.”

Eva loved that feeling, so she openly forgave her torturers and the other Nazis whose intolerance of difference led to the murders of her parents, siblings, millions of other Jews, and almost as many Jehovah’s Witnesses and homosexuals.

How dare she.

“Who are YOU to forgive anyone?” another survivor angrily screamed at her, declaring that forgiving the Nazis was an insult to their victims.

Why does forgiveness attract full-blown rage? Who knows? Ask Gandhi. Ask Martin. Ask those who love their anger and pain so much, they’ll resentfully attack others who choose inner peace. Some attacks are more vicious than others, which truly tests one’s resolve to forgive, as Eva discovered when arsonists destroyed her small Holocaust museum.

To err is human, but why do we think that only God can and should forgive? Why is it that when we resolve to act less human and more divine, there are always those who will dramatically demonstrate the difference between the two?

What happens when we decide not to let anger fester inside of us? According to Eva, “I felt immediately a burden of pain was lifted from my shoulders, that I was no longer a prisoner of my tragic past, that I was no longer a victim.”

This, from a woman who was snatched from her parents and older sisters, who stepped over the skeletal corpses of other captive children in the concentration camp latrine, whose young body was poked and probed and injected with germs that were expected to kill her. And we’re still ticked off with someone…about what?

If you ask Eva, she’ll tell you in a minute, “Forgive your worst enemy. It will heal your soul. It will set you free!”

As for me, I’m kicking it into passing gear–and putting my bail bond card on the dashboard, in case I run into another hard-nosed blog cop between here and the Final Frontier.

While being interviewed this week for Dana Roc’s “Inspiring People” column, she asked me, “One hundred years from now, what do you want to be remembered for?”

It reminded me of this scenario Stephen Covey painted years ago in his inspiring bestseller, The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People: You’re at the funeral of a loved one, approaching the casket. When you look inside, you come face to face with…yourself.

Stunned, you sit and wait for the services to begin, reading the program. There will be four speakers. One is a family member, another is a friend; the third is a business associate, and the fourth is someone with whom you’ve performed charitable or church work.

What will they say? The question is both provocative and eerie for me. First, it’s disconcerting to imagine myself at my own funeral, primarily because I’ve forbidden my family from hosting one of these gatherings on my behalf. If they feel compelled do something, absolutely no lifeless bodies are allowed on the premises. Jiminy Christmas! They’re such a downer.

Despite my aversion to these momentous events, I must admit that Covey’s illustrative example of highly effective people’s #2 habit, “beginning with the end in mind” made me think. I’d resolved that I’d play hooky from the whole affair, but I’d never thought about what would be said about me after I leave Pat’s body.

Think about it, Covey urged: “What would you like each of these speakers to say about you and your life? What kind of husband, wife, father or mother would you like their words to reflect? What kind of son or daughter or cousin? What kind of friend? What kind of working associate?

“What character would you like them to have seen in you? What contributions, what achievements would you want them to remember? Look carefully at the people around you. What difference would you have liked to have made in their lives?”

Pow! Even now, 15 years after I first read Covey’s words, they still pack a punch. I recall thinking back then what a terrific opportunity he’d given me: the chance to re-write my script, “with the end in mind.” Sometimes, we get so caught up in our daily dramas that we lose sight of that unavoidable end, and we forfeit the opportunity to fine-tune the speeches the other actors will read in that final scene.

I find that it’s helpful to take inventory, periodically. Don’t you?

When’s the last time you asked yourself, “How am I impacting others? What difference am I making? Are my family, friends and business associates observing that I’m growing in character, understanding, and compassion, or that I’m simply growing older?“

What will they say? What lines will you have written for them?

We’re all messengers. What message are we leaving for those who are close to us and those we encounter, even casually, enroute to our end?

We’re all here for a purpose. What’s yours? If you don’t know it, when do you plan to find out? Are you content to wander aimlessly in the desert until they shovel sand in your face, or will you leave a message that neither time nor windstorm can erase?

Who are you, really? Are you today the person you want to be? Do you know who you want to be?

What will they say when the curtain falls? What will be their indelible memories about you? How will you direct that final scene?

Time’s almost up. The interview is drawing to a close. There’s just one more question:

“So Pat, 100 years from now, what do you want to be remembered for?” Dana asked earnestly.

I thought for a few seconds. Then I knew with certainty. “I want to be remembered for delivering Truth…joyfully.”

Surprised, she wondered, “Anything else?”

Now that she mentioned it, there was one more thing.

“Loving unconditionally.”

(To read the entire interview, click here.)

My mother isn’t the only one who used to say that, is she? Nah. We’ve all heard it, at some point. Sometimes we believed it, and brought our behavior in check. Other times, we did what we wanted to do because we thought we could get away with it.

It’s our belief that we can do things with impunity that often causes us trip over our own feet. We conveniently forget or bend the Golden Rule, or maybe it’s just that we don’t connect the dots from cause to effect.

I was reminded of this today when I opened two email messages from a friend. The subject lines hadn’t grabbed my immediate attention when the messages initially arrived. They were about a genie in a bottle. Didn’t seem too urgent to me. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Tucked inside those messages were two gems: one was a short documentary film; the other was a suburban Chicago newspaper article about the filmmakers. Their message boiled down to this: A Hard Head Makes a Soft Behind.

This drama isn’t about somebody else’s life. It’s about YOURS. I invite you to take 16 short minutes out of your life to watch Genie in the Bottle Unleashed.

(By the way, you’ll need QuickTime Player to view it. Here’s the link for the fr*e download, if you’re on a PC platform.)

If you want to know more about the awesome young filmmakers, here’s a terrific article.

The last time we chatted, the Loud Mouth was on the road, journeying to the Final Frontier. Few roads have more detours than this one. Opportunities abound to use the “F” word with reckless abandon.

The first stop was at the door of a client who signed a hefty one-year contract that he didn’t have the financial resources to fulfill.

“F” him! Yep, I forgave him. In fact, every time he crosses my mind, I shout the “F” word again. I’ll keep practicing that line until I can recite it with loving sincerity.

The next speed bump was the prospective client who dramatically demonstrated what disrespect looks like when it’s taken to the extreme. He had offered an even more lucrative contract. Got lost on his desk, I guess. He refuses to talk about it. “F” him in generous helpings with unlimited refills. Ooh! That was so satisfying!

Wait a minute. What happened? Am I on the right road? Didn’t I pass this intersection before? The corner of Shallow Pockets and Shady.

OH! And look who’s standing there. It’s Client #1. He knew that I wasn’t the slightest bit entertained by his first performance. But he also knew that I suddenly needed a client to fill the gaping hole in my schedule, a client with both integrity and money in the bank. So he disguised himself as one.

“Tsk, tsk, your sharp teeth are showing, Sir. “

Do you know that karma-creatin’ clown actually tried to trick me into doing a massive project on 100% contingency? “F” HIM!!! And, please God, make it stick this time so I’ll never attract anyone like him into my life again! It’s time to move on.

Screech! What now? Just as I thought I was ready to shift into the passing gear, I slammed right into a four-letter F word: none other than the illustrious James Frey, big-as-if-you-please, casting an ominous shadow of suspicion on every author who ever wrote a memoir. I needed this cloud over my first book?

“F” James—and my former colleague Oprah, who dared to say that truth doesn’t matter. She changed her mind. Not sure he’s gotten there yet. But I’m gonna keep forgiving him, anyway. “F” you, James–and Random House.

Who knew the road to the Final Frontier would be this tough? Forgiving everyone, including myself, for random acts of unkindness is not for punks. How long will it take to get to my destination at this rate? This is not exactly how I want to spend the rest of my life—on a path to somewhere that always seems just a few miles ahead.

What should I do? I wondered.

Do what you always do: Create a different reality with your mind.

Duh. What was I thinking?

In the blink of an eye, I created the world’s largest coliseum. State-of-the-art, of course. A first class venue, if you ever saw one. The concession stands sold the best food in the world–and at reasonable prices. It had plush seats, cup holders holding beautiful crystal champagne glasses, and under each chair was a mysterious looking sheet of shiny metal.

With another thought, I recalled every encounter in my eternal life that still held some residual anger, guilt, judgment, condemnation, or resentment because I had never said or thought the “f” word. Instantly, the stadium was filled with those who were pivotal to each scene. I mean this place was packed. In fact, there were so many folks in the parking lot that I had to build another stadium!

The air was buzzing with anticipation—curiosity mostly, but I could sense a bit of hostility, too. Some weren’t exactly thrilled to see my behind again. Others were embarrassed and ashamed to look at me.

I smiled, took a deep breath, and lowered the gigantic four-sided screen that hung over the playing field. As the lights dimmed and music slowly faded in, I explained that we were about to witness the most amazing reality show ever. That got their attention.

In the deeply edited version of my life, many of those in the stands were on-screen, co-starring in scenes that had no entertainment value. Absolutely none. But these were valuable scenes, nonetheless.

What all of us dramatically discovered by watching the big screen is that Life is always fair: whatever you do comes back to you. Every thought, every action, and every word ricochet, leaving dark impressions on our eternal souls.

It was spellbinding, eye-opening stuff, those bigger-than-life scenes in front of us. We noticed that an act performed during one encounter encored in another seemingly unrelated scene. When those scenes were played back-to-back, however, we could instantly connect the dots that we had failed to connect previously.

We were mesmerized. It was so clear why the Rule is Golden: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Because…it will. Eye for an eye. We’d heard it, but we didn’t understand it. Now, it was so clear why Jesus had advised us not to judge or condemn, unless we wanted to be judged or condemned. It was clearer still why we should love our neighbor as we love ourselves. Our actions are interrelated, and so are we.

I like quoting my friend, Rev. Dr. Vici Derrick of Seattle’s Joy Chapel, who says, “I am not my brother’s keeper. I am my brother.” Roll the credits.

Stunned silence greeted the movie’s end. No one moved.

Perfect! I didn’t want them to. (That’s the great thing about directing your own dream.)

I asked my guests to lift the glasses in their cup holders. Instantly, they were filled with pink champagne.

With my glass held high, I made a 360-degree turn, bowed humbly to each section of the stadium, and did what I should have done ages ago: I said the “f” word. I forgave them and I forgave myself for anything I might have done to hurt them in any way. I followed it with the “l’ word. I told each of them that I loved them the way Jesus taught us to love, the way God loves His prodigal children: unconditionally.

We saluted each other and sipped the delicious champagne.

“One more thing, Loved Ones,” I said. “Please pick up the iridescent sheet that is under your seat and hold it high.

I didn’t even know what was going to happen, frankly. So I was as surprised as they were when the forgiveness I had gently cast their way reflected off of those panels right back at me. It seemed to bounce off of every panel, multiply and intensify. There was joy in the house!

The Light of Forgiveness dispelled the darkness of anger and resentment that had blocked our personal paths, lifted it out of that stadium, and we watched it disappear into nothingness.

The cheers were deafening. We were free, thank God Almighty! We were finally released from our self-imposed prisons.

When I opened my eyes, I could still feel the overwhelming joy, the chills from the experience. I had witnessed a miracle. I could physically feel that I had removed roadblocks in my own path that had hampered my progress, created unhappy relationships, and attracted people who are not impeccable with their word.

Something had changed. I had changed. Days later, I’d discover how much.

I had trusted others to be honorable. I made plans based on their misrepresentations. As a result, I was in a real jam. Stuck, almost to the point of paralysis. Every time it appeared that the ambulance was pulling up to my door, it would suddenly disappear. Poof! Gone. As if I had never seen it.

Poor perception on my part—and yep, poor memory. I’d forgotten that we can’t solve problems on the same level that we created them. I’d also forgotten that my rescuer, like my problem, is never outside of me.

More important, I’d forgotten how powerful the “f” word is and how it reflects back on you and heals you where you most need it. Yesterday, that stadium full of forgiveness made an encore performance in my life in the most unexpected and miraculous way.

From now on, if I find myself in a jam, the first thing I’m going to do is “F” it! In fact, I’ll probably make a grand production of it, and write the most powerful, life-altering script I’ve ever penned.

One scene.

One soliloquoy: “I forgive…”

I was nearing the climax of another “Deeply Disappointing Drama” when I decided to simply surrender, just let go. I had examined every scene and every actor from every conceivable angle, and I couldn’t make any sense of it. None!

Like all No-Drama Queens, I take full responsibility for scripting every life drama I experience. We queens don’t shrivel into victimhood where we’re certain to attract more bullies.

In this particular drama, I had cast some business people onto my stage, and they had performed a series of inexplicably disrespectful and financially painful acts. I was risking irreversible brain cramp trying to figure out why I wrote this script, and how it served my Highest Good.

“What is the lesson?” I cried. “Where is the blessing?” I knew it was in there, somewhere. Here? No. There? No.

I became still and asked God to join my search. Almost immediately, I was led to the bookcase that holds my treasured spirituality library. Days earlier, while in a full-blown Virgo snit, I had lovingly alphabetized the entire collection. I was a proud mama, looking at my babies neatly organized on the shelves.

I saw my arm reaching into the “R” section. It pulled out a book that I had rushed to order months earlier: The Disappearance of the Universe by Gary Renard. It had been recommended to me by a scholarly young minister at my church.

Once the book arrived, it traveled from my office desk to my bedside table. Then it inched farther away to the bedroom loveseat. Finally, it found a resting place in the coveted “R” section of the spirituality bookcase. The title hardly sounded as if my answer would be within its pages; but hey, it was practically the only place I hadn’t looked, so I turned back the cover.

Eight hours later, more than a quarter of the way through the 400-page book, I detected that I was edging closer to my answer, beginning to see light in the distance.

There were a lot of “uh huh” moments as I recognized some of the same spiritual principles and insights I’d been given while writing EARTH Is the MOTHER of All Drama Queens. Dramas in my book were called Dreams in Renard’s. While I had unmasked a whole new world to my readers, he was unveiling an entire new universe.

It was mind-stretching stuff based on A Course in Miracles, another book I had rushed to buy years ago, but didn’t get too far because I didn’t really understand it. Jesus was trying to tell me something vitally important; but when he expressed it in iambic pentameter, this English major’s eyes quickly glazed over.

Renard’s book is a great primer for that meticulous piece of work. But, like the Course, his book is not for everyone, particularly if your view of God is a bit limited. In other words, if in your favorite book, God acts angry, vengeful, and sadistic, and His eternal punishment grossly exceeds any finite human crime, Renard’s book will literally rock your world. It even made mine shimmy a bit; and I think God’s conflict resolution skills, if needed, are infinitely more divine than have been holy recorded.

Not everyone is open to the possibility that the invisible, unchanging spirit of God is real, and that the entire visible, constantly changing physical universe is not. Few can allow themselves to imagine that this physical universe and the dysfunction within it were created by the ego, who tricked us into believing that we’re separate from, rather than united with the Loving Allness that is God. Renard and the Course say we are currently living in an illusion, a dream. Our physical bodies are here, but we are Home with God. Always were, always will be.

If you found it difficult to swallow that morsel, try washing it down with this: What if the ego–the idea of separation from God–keeps us imprisoned in the limited physical world by making us hurt, judge and condemn each other? That way, our belief in separation looks and feels real, and it is constantly reinforced.

Welcome to Hell, dear friends. Now we know why it feels that way.

As Renard explained, in the unchanging world–the real world–everything is absolute. Not so, here in the illusion, the world of drama. Over here, we have things such as “right” or “wrong”. Make no mistake: These are not absolutes; they’re judgments. Judgments are totally subjective.

Pop quiz: Is homicide right or wrong? “Wrong!” you say. Really? Ever heard the term “justifiable homicide”? That just made it right. The truth is, under certain circumstances, we have always justified, supported, and even voted to intentionally kill other human beings–in other words, commit homicide.

So let’s eliminate judgment as a criterion if we’re seeking absolute answers. Instead, visualize someone in an absolutely non-judgmental environment. Almost every minute of the day, she has a choice to make. At this moment, her choice is whether to be honorable or untrustworthy. If she believes that each of us is an individual, she could easily think that betraying someone else’s trust has no real impact on her. After all, in a world of absolutes, there’s no right or wrong; no one is going to judge or condemn her.

If, on the other hand, she believes that she and others are a collective One—part of the Loving Allness that is God—she’s now aware that it’s impossible to hurt someone else without hurting herself. So she bases her chosen actions on whether she wants to hurt herself.

According to Renard and A Course in Miracles, it’s the ego’s illusion of individuality that causes us to make decisions that are not in our true best interest. We unwittingly and repeatedly make decisions that cause pain and chaos–our own.

I frequently nodded my head as I read. Drama Queen Workshops also teach that we are not our bodies, and that whatever you do comes back to you. But I realized that I hadn’t connected that truth to the We-Are-One dot. In the “real” world, whatever we do is literally being done to us in “real time”. Duh.

My heart raced as I tried to figure out what to do with this revelation: If I believe that nothing is outside of God, that everything IS the omnipresent God, I must connect the dots that lead to the inevitable conclusion that we are ONE. There is no “us” and “them”. There is no “other”. The people who anger us, disrespect us, betray us, lead us to war, bankrupt our pension systems, pollute our environment, and play starring roles in our deeply disappointing dramas are US! Yikes!

“Is this my answer ?” I screamed. “The ego has duped, hoodwinked, and bamboozled me into pointing the finger away from myself. I’ve been judging and condemning others for one thing or another, only to find out now that they are ME?” What was I supposed to do with that?

Set yourself free. Let it go. Stop judging. It’s just an illusion. None of it happened in the real world, anyway. So forgive. Forgive yourself.

Forgive. The word leaped off page after page of Renard’s utterly profound book.

I didn’t resist. Hey, I’m a huge fan of forgiveness. It’s one of the four DQWorkshop principles. There are Forgiveness Coupons available for download on the workshop website. But I had thought that we were forgiving individuals: ourselves first, then the “other” person. Renard was insisting that there’s only one of us.

Jiminy Christmas! I tried to squeeze myself into this one-size-fits-all garment. I closed my eyes and “called” in the last two actors who threw all the props on my stage into disarray. As a card carrying No-Drama Queen, I had already forgiven them. But now I was being called to take my forgiveness to a celestial level. I not only had to see God in them and see no wrong in them, I had to BE them.

I resisted the urge to hold my nose. (These actors really did stink up the place). I tried to fully focus on the truth that forgiveness is the miracle that paves my path back Home.

“You’re choosing to stay asleep in the illusion or awaken to reality. Choose the ego or God,” I coached myself, citing the only two choices Renard and the Course offered.

Next step: dress rehearsal. I must practice miraculous forgiveness with every actor and every act in the illusion that gets on my nerves. I’m sure I’m going to script plenty of opportunities to get this required practice, until I evolve from conscious forgiveness incompetence to unconscious competence.

It’s like the first time behind the wheel of that bright red Comet Caliente with the three-speed gear shift on the column, my Dad’s present to me during my senior year in high school.

Now my Father has given me another gift. This time, I’m taking it on the road to Forgiveness: The Final Frontier.