What We Do Not Transform, We Transmit

As I have said before, transformation is only possible when we are willing to shine a light in the shadowy places of our world, our communities and our own psyches. It is in these places that we will find unexamined and sometimes unnamed fears, desires, prejudices, disappointments, and losses, both great and small.

These darker places can be rich and fertile ground for transformation. In fact, we might think of them as points of opportunity for us to both co-create and transform the world we inhabit.

But, in order to be of any use to us or others, these places of darkness must first be seen. Otherwise, our individual and collective shadow sides will be passed along from person to person, generation to generation, forever.

Certainly, we see such patterns within families. A hidden or unspoken shame or secret has a ripple effect that reaches out from person to person and parent to child in waves that seem never to end--unless they are recognized and somehow transformed.

This phenomenon occurs not just in families but also in congregations, communities, countries and civilizations: what we do not transform, we transmit.

The work of religious transformation, then, begins with identifying those things that dwell in darkness, seeing them clearly, and working to transform them. Otherwise, religious communities simply transmit the same fears, prejudices and disappointments that they inherited from previous generations and from the larger culture from which they sprang.

For this reason, if no other, it is vitally important that transformation be at the center of our actions and aspirations. Transformation of self, community and world cannot happen in isolation and it cannot happen by accident.

If religion is that which binds us together, then we have a choice: we can either be bound together by those things that remain in darkness, or we can be bound together in our efforts to transform those shadowy things as we work toward reconciliation, healing and wholeness.

There’s a very old story that, when God created the world, he left one corner unfinished and in darkness. It is in this corner that evil spirits, ill winds, and all manner of catastrophes dwell. Our task is to deal with this unfinished corner of creation, to transform it and to bring it to completion.

The Role of Reluctance in Transformation

It’s one thing to talk about transformation, and it’s another to actually transform. For those of us who have lives that are fairly comfortable—and even for many of us whose lives are terribly uncomfortable—it is challenging to do something different and risky, even when we know that it is the right thing to do both for us and for our world.

In some ways, our reluctance to change is hard-wired. Unless we’re being chased by something, we’re likely to stay camped out exactly where we are, doing the same things that have fed and sheltered our families and loved ones quite well up to this point.

In addition, our cultural institutions—especially including our religious institutions—are organized in such a way that meaningful transformation is unlikely to take place at all, or only at a very slow pace.

This reluctance on both the personal and institutional levels is where we have to start because that’s where we are. It is useful to notice this reluctance and consider whether it is worthwhile to overcome it or not, to consider whether or not we are willing to pay the cost of discomfort in order to co-create something better than the status quo.

I’ve been feeling a great deal of reluctance in recent weeks as I prepare for some major changes in my life. After having lived in the same community for my entire adult life—30 years—and after having worked the

same comfortable and secure job for 20 years, I will be uprooting myself and my family to begin a new ministry somewhere as yet to be determined.

These changes are both terrifying and full of great promise. I have worked like crazy for the last three or four years to get to this place. And now that I’m here I’m feeling that familiar reluctance about as strongly as I ever have. And it is exactly in this place that much of the challenge of transformation lies.

As a minister, I will ask people to work to transform their own lives, their religious communities and their world. If I am to have any hope of succeeding, I must begin with my own life. And I must begin with this particular moment of reluctance—because this is where transformation occurs.

Moment by moment, each of us has the opportunity to try to keep things just as they are (which is, in the end a futile endeavor) or to work to become an agent of transformation (which is almost always risky and uncomfortable).

Of course, things aren’t as either/or as I am depicting them. There are moments of comfortable perching even in the wildest flights of transformation. And there are certain risks that must be taken just to remain in the nest.

However, I have chosen to fly. I invite you to do likewise. Just beyond our reluctance to change is something greater than we can now imagine.