The Mission of the Theosophical Society

Printed in the  Winter 2019 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation:  Boyd, Tim"The Mission of the Theosophical Society" Quest 107:1, pg 3-5


Tim Boyd
International President

At our most recent General Council meeting, a mission statement for the Theosophical Society (TS) was finalized. In the 143-year history of the TS, although many statements have been made related to the mission and purpose of the TS, there has never been a formal mission statement.

In The Key to Theosophy, in a short section titled “The Abstract and the Concrete,” HPB addresses the subject of the relationship between Theosophy and the Theosophical Society. One of the things she says is that “Theosophy is divine nature, visible and invisible, and its Society human nature trying to ascend to its divine parent.”

In that same section, she also says that “Theosophy is the shoreless ocean of universal truth, love, and wisdom, reflecting its radiance on the earth, while the Theosophical Society is only a visible bubble on that reflection.” She tries to help us understand the relationship between Theosophy, which is divine, and our work within this organization, which has a form. She closes by saying that the TS “was formed to assist in showing to men that such a thing as Theosophy exists, and to help them to ascend towards it by studying and assimilating its eternal verities.”

In a sense, the idea of a Society whose purpose is to show the existence of an ever-undefined Theosophy is a statement of mission. However, for someone not yet fully grounded in a studied awareness of Theosophy, it is an unsatisfying statement.

For a little more than a year, the General Council of the TS, with input from other members, has been engaged in the process of trying to refine a concise and comprehensible statement of the mission of the TS. Much like a sutra in the scriptures of the world, the attempt has been made to make the expression of mission so brief, compact, and easy to remember that it can be quickly communicated, but so conceptually rich that dwelling on it reveals ever-deepening layers of meaning.

The Mission Statement which has been adopted for the Theosophical Society is a total of twenty-four words: “To serve humanity by cultivating an ever-deepening understanding and realization of the Ageless Wisdom, spiritual self-transformation, and the unity of all life.” In the remainder of this article, we will try to unpack this one sentence. Much like a sutra, every one of those twenty-four words adds something meaningful.

Service

To serve is the primary function of the TS. Service is often interpreted in different ways, but for our purposes it involves a conscious participation, a conscious, compassionate activity that connects us with others in ways which relieve suffering. Of course, our service is often unconscious. For example, the simple act of breathing gives plants the carbon dioxide they require to live. Plants breathe out the oxygen that humans and other life forms require. So it could be said that just breathing is service. However, part of the role of the Theosophical work is to become fully conscious, fully aware, so that our service is not just random activity, but charged with awareness and compassion.

Humanity

In what direction is that service focused? The mission is “to serve humanity.” The normal conception of humanity is as the seven billion individual human beings which populate the Earth. The collectivity of all these human beings is what we tend to call “humanity.” From the perspective of the Ageless Wisdom, there is the idea of the divine human. What we think of as humanity is not merely an amalgamation of seven billion different people; it is a single entity in much the same way that we as individuals are composed of many tiny lives, but think of ourselves as a unit. When we think of our bodies or “I” myself as a human being, if we are a little more precise about it, what we call “I” is a combination of the activity of trillions of human cells, more trillions of bacteria living on and within the body, and the unseen participation of every range of consciousness from the lowest mineral to the highest spiritual beings. The cooperative activity of all of these units and streams results in what we call “I.”

So there is this humanity that we serve in our limited ways. Conscious service begins with a recognition of our unity with this greater Whole, and with a deepening understanding of the ways we participate within it. Humanity in another sense is an as-yet-unrealized ideal. In our behaviors and present level of development, we are not yet fully human. On numerous occasions HPB compared so-called “human” behavior with that of animals. To the degree that the focus of our consciousness lies in the realm of desire, selfishness, separation, humans become “the most consciously and intelligently bestial of all animals” (HPB).

Genuine, or realized humanity, is what we strive toward. The realized human, it is said in the Stanzas of Dzyan, has within themselves the “mind to embrace the universe,” a holistic, all-embracing mind. This is still a distant goal for us. When we speak of service to humanity, it is twofold. We give service to the collective whole by serving the individuals and groups which form its body; and we are servants of the divine ideal planted within us in our efforts to root ourselves in its all-embracing consciousness.

Cultivating

How do we serve humanity? There are many organizations in the world that focus on service to humanity: the Red Cross, Doctors without Borders, homeless shelters, soup kitchens, and so on. What is particular to the service that the TS envisions? In the Mission Statement it says, “to serve humanity by cultivating an ever-deepening understanding and realization.” Let us examine what might be meant by “cultivating.” It is a very particular term that normally relates to gardeners, or people who focus on growing or caring for plants. It is directly linked to the natural world and to the processes of life and consciousness.

Just planting a seed in the ground does not make someone a gardener. A person who takes on the role of caring for plants must engage in an intensive study of the cycles of Nature and the potentials of the seeds. They have to be aware of the needs and requirements for the growth of these living things, and be prepared to provide for these needs at the proper moments. All of this is involved in the process of cultivation.

The TS exists to bring about a flowering of a deeply hidden human potential—a Divine Seed. What is the seed that is planted within humanity that the TS exists to nurture? The next portion of the Mission Statement gives an indication.

Ever-Deepening

We are here “to serve humanity by cultivating an ever-deepening understanding and realization.” “Ever-deepening” speaks to not only the direction but the nature of this process.

The fact that this cultivation we engage in is without limits means that it is continually deepening. Often in spiritual dialogues we talk about “depths” and “heights.” In a way, “depth” and “height” are synonymous terms for a certain expansion of consciousness. As a word, “ever-deepening” is perhaps more appropriate, because the idea of depth tends to draw our awareness inward, whereas height seems to move awareness up and out. The intention of the language is to turn our vision inward.

Understanding

We make a mistake in our appreciation of the meaning of “understanding” if we confuse it with “knowledge.” The two are different in nature and quality. Knowledge can exist in the complete absence of genuine understanding. It is very common for people of profound knowledge to have no sense of its relationship with all other things, which is the basis of understanding. This condition of mind is so evident that we should not require any additional proof beyond our daily observation. All we need to do is to look at recent history, at any major scientific invention or discovery that has come into the world—whether it is electricity, atomic energy, or biological substances. To the understanding mind each revelation of Nature’s powers deepens one’s recognition of relationship with the world around us, with others, and with invisible realms.

A sense of connection is a necessary component of the understanding mind. But, to take the example of electricity, driven by the mind that is focused only on knowledge, one of its early uses was in capital punishment—electrocution of prisoners. Rather than to behead, hang, or shoot someone, the knowledge-bound human genius, which made creative use of electricity possible, used it to kill other human beings. The discovery of atomic energy had the same result, but worse. Instead of killing single individuals, its very first use was in war and the massive annihilation of human life. Knowledge can be used in ways that deny connection and relationship with all life. Understanding, on the other hand, is the perception of relationship; it is an expression of the intuition, of buddhi. It is a recognition of unity.

Realization

We are here to “serve humanity by cultivating an ever-deepening understanding and realization.” Realization means a full awareness, whether it is of an aspect of the Divine Wisdom or, in the case of a realized person, the total awareness of an undivided state of being. In a sense, realization is the necessary outcome of a deepening understanding.

The Ageless Wisdom

The Mission Statement specifies an understanding and realization of three things. First, the Ageless Wisdom, sometimes referred to as Sanatana Dharma, the Eternal Wisdom. Within Theosophical circles we sometimes find “Ageless Wisdom” and “Ancient Wisdom” being used synonymously. Although the two terms are closely related, they express different ideas.

“Ancient Wisdom” refers to a specific expression of the Ageless Wisdom tradition, something that has already come into existence, that has a history. The Greek and Egyptian Mystery schools, with their specific deities and ritual, and Vedic practice in India are some examples of Ancient Wisdom—specific expressions of the Ageless Wisdom, appropriate for a certain time, place, and people. “Ageless,” by definition, applies to the past, present, and whatever traditions develop in the future. It is the “rootless root” from which all else springs. At the commencement of our current cycle of growing global interconnection, the most recent expression of the Ageless Wisdom was introduced with the founding of the TS in 1875. At some point in a distant future, Theosophy, as we have come to know it, will also fall into the category of an Ancient Wisdom: completely true, eternal in its nature, but very specific and time-bound in terms of its form of expression. This is the ever-renewing nature of Theosophy—the Ageless Wisdom.

Spiritual Self-Transformation

The Theosophical work we do as individuals we describe as “spiritual self-transformation.” It is rooted in the idea that the self, the norm of separative, personality-based living, can be transformed, acted upon by the indwelling spirit in ways that make it transparent to what Annie Besant described as the “Hidden Light shining in every creature.”

What is involved in transformation? Probably the process is simpler than the way we generally approach it. It is not a matter of adding more ideas or knowledge. The purpose of the knowledge that we accumulate is to assist in stripping away the many obstacles that we have created within ourselves to the natural and ever-present flow of spirit.

The Unity of All Life

The final words of the Mission Statement of the TS are “the unity of all life”: “an ever-deepening understanding and realization of the Ageless Wisdom, spiritual self-transformation, and the unity of all life.” The Mission Statement ends where the work of the Theosophical Society begins. The First Object of the TS is brotherhood, which could also be expressed as unity. There is no spirituality in the absence of the realization of unity or oneness. Unity is the basis of all understanding, spirituality, and even physical well-being. Even at the level of our personality, there is no strength where unity is absent. When we look at a small child in its first efforts to walk, the child fails time after time. The reason for the failure is that the newborn body has yet to become united with its various parts. The muscles of the arms and legs are not fully under the control of the person. In human relations the absence of unity expresses itself as fragmentation, weakness, and illness.

The basis of everything that we call Theosophical comes back to the unity of all life. Life is omnipresent and is necessarily intelligent, intelligence expressed in movement. All is in motion—not randomly, but in a patterned manner. Life’s underlying intelligence impresses itself on matter. Whether it is gravity, electromagnetism, or karma and reincarnation, we can speak about the Laws of Nature or the Laws of the Universe, because there is an intelligent patterning to life that we can perceive.


This brief article has been an attempt to highlight a few of the thoughts and insights that arise in dwelling on the Mission Statement. In order for it to come to life for us, we must each make our own exploration, in thought and in quiet reflection, allowing its depths to unfold for us. Like anything that is truly Theosophical in nature, the depths that are possible for us to uncover are without limit.
So, once again, the Mission of the Theosophical Society is:


To serve humanity by cultivating an ever-deepening understanding and realization of the Ageless Wisdom, spiritual self-transformation, and the unity of all life.

 

 


Alchemy of Gender

Printed in the  Fall 2018  issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation:  Mayer, Gwynne"Alchemy of Gender" Quest 106:4, pg 10-11

By Gwynne Mayer 

The minute I heard my first love story,
I started looking for you, no knowing
How blind that was.
Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere.
They’re in each other all along.
                    —Poem inspired by Rumi

Although the soul, or Self, has no gender, our earthly personas are definitely wrapped around our gender roles. We have genetic memories of being in union with the One, and we long to go back to that state, but in our horizontal, three-dimensional plane, we seek to fulfill this mission of union through relationship. To understand gender and the sexual roles we play in our earthly bodies, we must look at the psychological archetypes representing our origins.

The psychologist C.G. Jung found that gender roles were socially differentiated. They represented the ego, or lower self, as opposed to the qualities of the higher Self, which are the alchemical combination of the inner feminine and masculine archetypes known as the anima and animus.

Anima is derived from a Latin word meaning current of air, wind, breath, the vital principle, life, soul. Jung’s use of this word differs from its Latin meaning. For him, anima refers to the unconscious feminine dimension of a male, which can often be forgotten or repressed in daily life. It is often manifested in traits such as vanity, moodiness, bitchiness, and touchiness. The man often lives out his anima by projection. He looks for his feminine counterpart to complete him, but in reality he is seeking the feminine within. As a result, he sees women only through his own projections.

Theosophical Society - alchemical images from the early modern era reflect the duality of masculine and feminine in the psyche. Here the androgyne surmounts a base around which the caduceus is wrapped, symbolizing the integration of the subtle masculine and feminine energies that travel up and down the spine   Theosophical Society - Naarden. Alchemical images from the early modern era reflect the duality of masculine and feminine in the psyche.  Here the figure’s head is the astrological symbol for Mercury, which often represents the androgyne. In the second, a two-headed figure, again surmounted by the Mercury symbol, represents the integrated masculine and feminine energies. The figure is stepping on a dragon, indicating mastery of the prana or life force.
These alchemical images from the early modern era reflect the duality of masculine and feminine in the psyche. In the first image, the androgyne surmounts a base around which the caduceus is wrapped, symbolizing the integration of the subtle masculine and feminine energies that travel up and down the spine. Above the figure’s head is the astrological symbol for Mercury, which often represents the androgyne. In the second, a two-headed figure, again surmounted by the Mercury symbol, represents the integrated masculine and feminine energies. The figure is stepping on a dragon, indicating mastery of the prana or life force.

 

Animus in Latin means rational soul, life, mental powers, intelligence. Jung again uses it in a different way from its Latin meaning. For him, the animus is the unconscious masculine dimension in the female psyche. This masculine element can often be inhibited and suppressed. Again, it is often lived out in projections: a woman looks externally for the other to complete herself while in reality she is seeking the inner masculine. Sometimes she lives out the animus in such forms as mood disorders and overachieving.

We are constantly working with our own dual active and receptive qualities, even though we tend to project them outside ourselves. Nevertheless, in order to psychologically progress and reach greater internal balance and harmony, both men and women need to recognize and embrace the opposite gender in their own characters. By recognizing the inner image of the opposite sex within us, we can free ourselves from the trap of projections. We can finally learn to accept others of both genders as they are, and we can stop expecting them to fulfill our unconscious needs. We can integrate our own uniqueness and live out our own individual purpose without having to be augmented by the opposite sex. That does not mean avoiding partnership, but rather partnering from an individuated state of being rather than one of longing and need.

In our society, we often see females discovering the masculine qualities in their psyches, as well as males discovering their feminine qualities. We no longer have to be trapped by traditional gender roles, but can develop further understanding and balance if we bring those masculine-feminine qualities to the forefront and move toward androgyny. Androgyny, in Jungian terms, refers not to bisexuality but to the harmonious integration of male and female qualities in ourselves.

How do we see our projections, and realize that these are inner realities we are externalizing? How do we individuate, becoming more aware of our personal processes? How do we balance and connect the roles in our outer world with the masculine and feminine within? How is all of this connected to our esoteric and Theosophical studies?

Working with projections and images in dreams and fantasies, as well as meditation and contemplation, enables us to become more actualized and more responsible. By keeping a dream journal, we can see how we play out these roles and conditions in our dreams. As we evolve and become more aware, we start to see how we are living out these scenarios; we are also more able to cope with what they are showing us.

Evolving into our inner worlds may take repeated lifetimes of experiences in male or female roles, but eventually we move into a state of Oneness. As we do so, we further the evolution of both the horizontal, “earth” world and the “vertical,” cosmic world from which we originated.

 

Gwynne Mayer, M.A., is a retired psychotherapist and educator with forty-five years of experience in depth studies of world religions, ancient mysteries, esotericism, and divination.

 


Viewpoint: Getting Off Autopilot

Printed in the  Fall 2018  issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation:  Hebert, Barbara"Viewpoint Getting Off Autopilot" Quest 106:4, pg 10-11

Barbara Hebert
National President

Theosophical Society - Barbara B. Hebert currently serves as president of the Theosophical Society in America.  She has been a mental health practitioner and educator for many years.Gender continues to be discussed from a variety of perspectives: identity, roles, socialization, sexual orientation, stereotypes, feminism, patriarchy, dysphoria, harassment, assault, and so on. As we know from spiritual studies, the soul, or the higher aspect of ourselves, is not gendered, so conversations about gender inevitably revolve around the physical level. Regardless, the dialogue regarding gender issues allows us, and hopefully requires us, to deeply consider our perspectives as well as our societal conditioning.

We are all conditioned. It is a fact of human existence. Conditioning begins before we are born, it seems. We identify with ourselves (or the way we think we are supposed to be), with our ideas about values, morals, beliefs. J. Krishnamurti spoke about conditioning for many years.  During an interview he said:We are conditioned—physically, nervously, mentally—by the climate we live in and the food we eat, by the culture in which we live, by the whole of our social, religious and economic environment, by our experience, by education and by family pressures and influences. All these are the factors which condition us. Our conscious and unconscious responses to all the challenges of our environment—intellectual, emotional, outward and inward—all these are the action of conditioning. Language is conditioning; all thought is the action, the response of conditioning. (J. Krishnamurti, “The Urgency of Change,” Jiddu-Krishnamurti.net, accessed June 27, 2018: http://jiddu-krishnamurti.net/en/the-urgency-of-change/1970-00-00-jiddu-krishnamurti-the-urgency-of-change-conditioning)

 Krishnamurti goes on to say that it is the personality, the impermanent “me,” that is conditioned. How often do we observe ourselves in order to attempt to identify some of our conditioning?

Spiritual traditions throughout time have encouraged self-observation. When we pay attention to what we are thinking, feeling, doing, and even imagining, we become the observer. We place ourselves outside of the “me” that is thinking, feeling, doing, and imagining. We can see ourselves more clearly and hopefully gain some sense of self-awareness. As we expand this self-awareness, we begin to gain control of ourselves. We can decide what to think, feel, do, and imagine. We realize we have choices, and in this realization we may feel a sense of power and direction in life.

In one respect, the observer is simply that—an observer. But beyond that, the observer is the authentic self—the real “I” that is looking out of these physical eyes and can watch what is happening. It is the higher aspect of ourselves; some may call it the Higher Self, while others may call it the soul or spirit, while still others may call it something different. In any case, there is no judgment in its observation. It is objective and detached.

An example of self-observation involves a young man who became very angry about a situation at work. He walked outside of the office building and began to vent his anger. While this was happening, he heard a small voice in his head that said, “You are so angry. You haven’t been this angry since you were a kid.” At that point, even though he still felt angry, he realized that there was a part of him that was simply observing the anger. The observer was not feeling it or being caught up in it, but was simply watching it. There was no judgment in the statement the young man heard in his head. The awareness that came about through this observation deescalated his anger almost immediately. It gave him the power to choose his response to the situation and to realize that he was more than the feeling he was experiencing. It was a significant experience in this young man’s life.

Self-observation is helpful in many other ways as well. Often we live in a state of autopilot. Airline pilots can put a plane on autopilot so that it is flying itself, and there are now self-driving cars that can maneuver on their own. Likewise, many individuals live their lives on autopilot. There is no one in control; there is no thought involved; everything simply follows the established pattern. If I am on autopilot, I get up in the morning and do the things I typically do without giving thought to much of anything throughout the day. I simply live my life automatically.

But if I’m observing myself, then I am no longer on autopilot. I am piloting the vehicle (otherwise known as my brain or my body) and making conscious choices and decisions. Self-observation moves us away from autopilot. It can help us determine when our beliefs and our behavior are not in alignment. For instance, if I believe in the mission of the Theosophical Society in America (open-minded inquiry, respect for the unity of all life, and spiritual self-transformation) but I refuse to expand my understanding of a specific idea or tradition, then my beliefs and my behavior are not in alignment. On autopilot, I may decide that expanding my insight into Buddhist meditation by taking a special class is not useful because I don’t have time. I feel like I “should” be taking the class, but quickly say no to it. When I move away from this nonthinking stance, I may decide that meditation is extremely useful and worth finding time for in a busy schedule.

Furthermore, self-observation can help when the words we say or the facial expressions we show are out of alignment with the way we truly feel. An example of this situation is a time when I might be smiling and acting as if there is no problem, but I’m really feeling very sad. My autopilot has me smiling, while my authentic self would observe that this is not the reality of my feeling.

For these, along with many other reasons, self-observation is an important component of growth and development, both personally and spiritually. Observing the self may also help us to look at the larger choices and decisions we are making in life. We may find that some of these are not really in our best interest. An illustration involves a young woman who is in a relationship. Her partner is extremely critical, and the young woman often feels belittled. This young woman can continue in the relationship on autopilot, simply accepting the behavior of her partner without any thought. Or, if she observes herself and her feelings, she may realize that the relationship is not helpful to her. At that point, she may decide to talk with her partner and attempt to change things in the relationship, or even leave. In any event, once she has become aware of the situation, she can make choices for herself. Clearly self-observation is a valuable tool for freeing ourselves of our conditioning.

With gender too, it is evident that we must observe ourselves, become aware of our conditioning, and move our beliefs and behavior into alignment. What thoughts, feelings, and behavior do we display concerning gender that are a part of our conditioning? Are we on autopilot when it comes to these issues? Are we observing ourselves, our responses, and our reactions to the various components of gender? This is the real work that must be accomplished. We need to exercise self-observation and self-awareness in relation to gender issues so that we are making conscious choices and decisions about our thoughts, feelings, and behavior.

From Theosophical teachings, we know that the highest aspect of ourselves, regardless of what we call it, is not gendered. There is no duality, no division, in those realms of consciousness. It is here, in the physical realm, that we need to explore the complexities of gender with self-awareness and with as much detachment from our conditioning as possible. Aligning our beliefs and our behavior through continuous and objective self-observation—becoming the observer—plays a significant role in our spiritual growth.


From the Editor’s Desk

Printed in the  Fall 2018 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation:  Smoley, Richard., "From the Editor’s Desk" Quest 106:4, pg 2

Theosophical Society - Richard Smoley is editor of Quest: Journal of the Theosophical Society in America and a frequent lecturer for the Theosophical SocietyIn his article for this issue, Jay Kinney uses a funny word: essentialist. What could it possibly mean? The belief in essentials? The opposite of existentialism?

The answer to both is yes, but the term has come to have a very specific meaning, and it’s not a nice one. It’s often used in feminist discourse to describe the long-held views that women possess certain essential and universal characteristics, such as caring, nurturing, mothering, and so on.

These seem to be good things, so why is essentialism bad? Because (as the theory goes) it is simply a set of assumptions that have been long held about women. It has little or no intrinsic truth, but is simply a matter of cultural enforcement. It is a dogma that has been used throughout history to relegate women to second-class status.

Even from this brief introduction, it’s obvious that we are again confronted with the great debate about nature versus nurture. Essentialism would claim that there are certain characteristics—including gender characteristics—that we are born with; there is no getting rid of them. The opposite view holds that virtually all gender characteristics have been imposed by society on the infant, which, as John Locke argued, is a tabula rasa—a blank slate.

Certainly cultural norms do dictate gender roles in many respects. All the same, I find it too extreme to attribute the characters of men and women solely to cultural accretions. Sometimes, in fact, it appears that gender differences are too easily blurred, and what is true for one sex may not be true for another.

Joseph Campbell famously wrote about the hero’s journey, and many have assumed that the heroine’s journey is more or less identical except for some changes in pronouns. But as Campbell himself noted, this is essentially a man’s journey: departure from home, heroic quest and deed, return to home in triumph. In her insightful book Jane Eyre’s Sisters: How Women Live and Write the Heroine’s Story, Jody Gentian Bower explores a feminine equivalent: what she calls the myth of the Aletis (from the Greek alētēs, or wanderer), the wandering heroine. “The Aletis is not a hero,” Gentian writes. In fact she is almost the diametric opposite of the hero. “The heroic quest is a circle back to home,” for example, but “the Aletis wanders, moving on again and again, . . . before finding or creating her true home somewhere altogether new” (emphasis Bower’s).

Along the same lines, I think that the emotional life of the male has been misunderstood by seeing it too much in the light of feminine emotion. The male is stereotypically rational, the female stereotypically emotional, so, it is assumed, men often do not have access to their emotions. But I think this is not entirely correct. Instead, I would say, male emotions are not fundamentally relational, as they appear to be for women (of course I am talking in generalities here). Masculine emotions seem to have much more to do with allegiance.

We can easily see allegiance in its positive sense: the medieval knight’s allegiance to the chivalric ideal; the soldier’s to his flag or monarch; even the company man’s allegiance to his corporation. Most of these involve standards of conduct that are praiseworthy: loyalty, reliability, honor, duty.

Of course there are also negative aspects to emotional allegiance. A man can have just as much dedication to a false ideal as to a good one, or his dedication to his ideal may crush all other virtues. In Heinrich von Kleist’s novella Michael Kohlhaas, the title character’s search for justice deteriorates into vengeance. Fanaticism is a result of aberrant allegiance.

Today there is a great deal of material on the distorted ideal of the male in American culture. Supposedly many men cannot express their emotions, or can only express them in negative ways. No doubt this is true to some extent. But if you look deeper, you can see that in many cases, men’s emotions are not seen (by themselves or others) because they do not look like women’s emotions. Even when men are genuinely isolated from their emotions, it is still a question of allegiance—here to an ideal, however mistaken or constricted, of the stoic, imperturbable male.

Thus, I think, a great deal of damage has been done by facile assumptions that men’s and women’s spiritual journeys are the same or that their emotions are the same. Further damage has been done by the assumption that all roles are inherently repressive. Many people free themselves from conventional roles (including those of gender) only to feel themselves straying and rootless. Or they are simply put in a catchall category of the “weird” or the “nonconformist.” These of course are just roles too, and are equally unlikely to enable others to embrace a person’s true self.

As Barbara Hebert points out in this issue’s “Viewpoint,” liberation from roles and identities is possible, but it does not come by refusing them or rebelling against them. It comes from the realization that we are not our roles. As a matter of fact, we are not our bodies either, no matter what sex we ascribe to them.

Richard Smoley


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