“Religious”
Leaders Are Ignoring
Experienced
Workers Hit By Recession
Sooner
or later, it happens to each of us. There always will be at least one
situation in our lives that we cannot fix, control, explain, change
or even understand. Maybe you’ve been laid off from a job you held
for years. Perhaps you’ve experienced a nasty divorce. Or maybe the
crisis is more subtle: You suddenly realized that you’ll never have
the life you dreamed of living. Any life-changing moment can knock a
person down. But it can also open doors if a person learns how to
“fall upward.”
Older
Americans like myself face a problem: Religious leaders aren’t
paying much attention to us. Much of contemporary religion is geared
toward teaching people how to navigate the first half of their lives,
when they’re building careers and families, a kind of
“goal-oriented” spirituality. Yet there’s less help for people
dealing with the challenges of aging: the loss of health, the death
of friends, and coming to terms with mistakes that cannot be undone.
God
can sometimes also function as a spiritual survival guide for hard
times as millions of Americans young and old struggle to cope with
“falling”: losing their homes, careers and status. The phrase
“falling upward” describes a paradox. Nearly everybody will fall
in life because they'll be confronted with some type of catastrophic
loss or abject failure. Yet failure can lead to growth if a person
makes the right decisions. I’ve met people who, because of the loss
of things and security, have been able to find grace, freedom and new
horizons.
If
you’re falling in any area of your life, one of the first skills to
learn is accepting surprises. It’s easy for people to turn bitter
when things don’t go as planned. He sees such people all the time,
whether throwing tantrums at the airport because of long lines or
flocking to angry rallies in opposition to some form of social
change. If you don’t know how to deal with exceptions, surprise and
spontaneity by the time you’re my age, you become a predictable
series of responses of paranoia, blame and defensiveness. These
circumstances often teach similar lessons about hard times: [1]
Suffering is necessary, [2] the “false self” must be abandoned,
and [3] everything belongs, even the sad, absurd and futile parts.
People have learned these hard lessons for centuries, sometimes
through myth, but most of the time by trial and error. They must
first experience humiliation, loss and suffering before finding
enlightenment. They are often forced on their journey by a crisis.
Events
like the evaporation of a retirement fund or the death of a spouse
can force you to summon strength you didn’t know you had. Forced
liquidations of businesses that were once thriving enterprises is
another example that comes to mind. The key is not resisting the
crisis. Allow the circumstances of God and life to break you out of
your egocentric responses to everything. If you allow ‘the other’
-- other people, other events, other religions or cultures -- to
influence you, you just keep growing. That growth, though, is
accompanied by death -- the death of the “false self,” The false
self is the part of your self tied to your achievements and
possessions. When your false self dies, you start learning how to
base your happiness on more eternal sources. You start drawing from
your walk with Christ. You learn to distinguish from the essential
self and the self that’s only window dressing.
Those
who break through the crisis and lose their false selves become
different people: Less judgmental, more generous and better able to
ignore evil, selfish or stupid deeds of others. It may sound
esoteric, but many of us have met older people like this. They
possess what I call “a bright sadness”: they’ve suffered but
they still smile and give. I’ve seen that in the wonderful older
people in my life. There’s a kind of gravitas they have. There’s
an easy smile on their faces. These are the people who laugh, who
heal, who build bridges, who don’t turn bitter. This “bright
sadness” shouldn’t be confined to older people. I've met
11-year-old children in cancer wards who are in the second half of
life, and I have met 68-year-old men like me who are still in the
first half of life.
I
challenge the notion that success is a natural result of being
religious. Our culture is prone to imagine that growth takes place in
a sort of constant, upward movement. Even our religious culture tends
to focus on success and stability as ideals for religious growth,
while overlooking the grace of failure, from which far more growth
originates. In the Christian tradition, loss, collapse and failure
have always been seen as not only unavoidable, but even necessary on
the path to wisdom, freedom and personal maturity. I know older
people like myself, all of whom have vast work experience, who
struggled to rebuild their identities after they poured much of their
earlier lives’ energies into professional and personal success.
That is what happened to me after 2008, when I found myself forced
out of IT after an 18-month absence due to several health issues.
Our
culture tends to be youth-oriented, and a lot of spirituality is
youth oriented. But our elders are the embodiment of the wisdom that
life matters at a much deeper level than what we can achieve and
produce. Imperfect people are sometimes more equipped than perfect
people to help those who are struggling. The person who never makes a
mistake and always manages to obey the rules is often a person devoid
of compassion. He or she sees people for whom the wheels have fallen
off and they wonder 'what’s wrong with them'. But the person who
feels that he or she has ruined their life often has more capacity
for humility and compassion. I’m embarrassed as I’m getting older
about how much of my energy and vitality as a younger man was driven
by ego and a win-lose mentality.
As
I've gotten older I find myself driven by something altogether
different: The need for rest, and a need for more time for
contemplation. As a teacher once told me, “The first half of life,
you write the text,” he said. “The second half of your life is
when you write the commentary. You have to process what it all
meant.” I will be challenged to follow his and my own advice. I
will spend less energy on my “false self” as his old identity
dissolves. It will be a relief to me when the process is over. I am
ready, though, to fall upward. If I lose my position as a web
minister, author and respected church member, I would still feel
secure. Most of us don’t learn this until it is taken away, like
losing the security of your 401K as your entire career evaporates
before your eyes. Then the learning either starts or you circle the
wagons.