It is autumn in my corner of the world, and we are blessed here in the northeastern U.S. by dramatic seasonal changes that show off nature’s beauty in all its phases. The fall trees, in their reds, burnt oranges, and golden leaves, are magnificent. The changing seasons always highlight how quickly time moves along and how frequently change occurs.

As much as I love fall, I am always wistful to see the passing of warmth and outdoor weather. And at the same time, I know that the changing of external states mirrors the changing of spiritual states. Not all parts of the world experiences these seasonal changes as distinctly, but we all experience changes of states in a day: we always come to night. We human beings are not designed to remain in one state forever, even a very happy one.

This reality is in part on my mind because I was appreciating the especially sweet and tender reconnection with my husband after a tense week. It’s not that we must have disagreements or misunderstandings in order to be close, but rather that overcoming those misunderstandings—and seeking to find each other again after disconnection—brings a special intimacy.

I am reminded that we are told that even angels in heaven experience state changes: 

“…the delight of life and of heaven that angels enjoy because of the love and wisdom given them by the Lord would gradually pall if they were constantly engaged in it, the way it happens for people who are involved in pleasures and enjoyments without variety… Further, by these alternations of delight and discomfort, their perception of and sensitivity to what is good become more and more delicate.” Heaven and Hell 158 

It is helpful for me to remember that if we were constantly suspended in summer perfection–externally and internally–we would actually grow bored, or at least unappreciative. When we don’t have to work to improve our connections with others we can start to take them for granted, and miss out on the special closeness that comes after struggle. We can experience greater delight when we have walked through discomfort. 

I was recently asked to share some of my favorite passages from the Word. I’ve been appreciating how the ones that came to mind this time include both old favorites and others that occurred to me in the moment. The Word is, of course, written to reach us in all of our states, and I am drawn to those that speak to where I am—and what I need from the Lord—right now. My understanding is that this is why the Word includes some of the very ugly and difficult stories: the whole breadth of the human experience, in all its states and struggles, is known by the Lord, and He seeks to speak to us and lead us through each of them.

I wanted to end by sharing the passages that are speaking to me in this season and moment, in this state. If you are inspired, I would love to hear yours too! 

“Then He took the child by the hand, and said to her, “Talitha, cumi,” which is translated, “Little girl, I say to you, arise.” Mark 5:41

“And he showed me a pure river of water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding from the throne of God and of the Lamb. In the middle of its street, and on either side of the river, was the tree of life, which bore twelve fruits, each tree yielding its fruit every month. The leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations.” Revelation 22:1-2

“Freely you have received, freely give.” Matthew 10:8

“So he answered, “Do not fear, for those who are with us are more than those who are with them.” 2 Kings 6:16

Recently I wrote here about how I experienced a “Kingdom of uses” this past summer. Reflections on the kingdom of uses continues to evolve for me. 

In my late 20s, I worked for a program called “Amicus, Inc.” which served offenders and ex-offenders in the criminal justice system, offering them practical services and relationship and harm-healing. The goal was to fill in the often-gaping gaps of support and meaningful accountability for people who have numerous needs coming out of prison, and who are often tasked with re-building themselves into useful citizens by themselves with few resources or family help. I absolutely loved the work, and part of what I loved was working for my boss, the director of Amicus, whose name was Louise. Louise and Amicus were deeply intertwined over her decades of leadership there. Her vision and spirit were recognized and appreciated not only by offenders and their families but by judges, volunteers, mentors, law enforcement and probation officials, church leaders, and community members. I simultaneously worked for her and watched her: what is her magic? Why is it such a privilege to work for her? How is that those on the bottom (offenders) and those on the top (judges) seem to not only respect but love her? 

I came to see, or rather sense, a basic humility in which she walked. Subconsciously, she positioned herself below or behind others. Her job was to serve me, to empower me to do my very best. Because my job was a new one, and we were exploring together how to best accomplish it (restore or kindle necessary relationships for serious and chronic teenage girl offenders in Minnesota), she leaned heavily on my instincts, morals, and social skills. I became braver, more skilled, and more honest with her behind me. I learned to open my heart to parents who had terribly abused their children and then, the next day, to wealthy donors. 

Over time, I came to see Louise, in the “grand person referred to in the Wrigings,” as connective tissue. Her mind was always on the conversations that could lead to a good end. She not only saw the best in people—she strategized on how to bring that best out. Should she bring together the St. Paul police department with the head of public schools? Who in each department would be the best person to address the issues? What issues could best be addressed there? Her network of colleagues, partners, and well-wishers in even as large an area as the Twin Cities (population 2+ million) was so extensive that it was hard to go anywhere with her without being engaged by a “friend” somewhere. (Amicus, which also inspired the name of our sailboat, means “friend” in Latin). 

One of the lasting lessons she taught me was the importance of creating or finding a safe, respectful space for open-hearted, clear thinking conversation. As we grew in our Restorative Justice work (victim/offender/community dialogue), it seemed that the biggest barrier to success was simply “readiness.” One has to be “ready,” and waiting for or encouraging readiness (and believe me, patience is NOT my strong suit) was an area of continual challenge and growth.

Fast forward a quarter century. The need for safe, respectful places to share, brainstorm, challenge, and support, has never been greater. Currently, my work in media (I am a radio show host for a local radio station and a reporter for a local paper) brings to the forefront the constant question: who needs to talk to whom to bring about a good outcome? I am coming to see this as a network of uses. How can this person best serve his/her use? What are his/her skills to be tapped? 

Some of the most rewarding work I have done in the last twenty years was simply in having the conversation that needs to be had. On the radio, the question becomes “How can a public conversation better the situation?” Once there was a scare at the Two Harbors high school in the form of a social-media-driven rumor about a gun in the school. It began in the evening and by 5:00 a.m. the principal felt it would be impossible to open school as usual. So school opening was postponed, then canceled. Students arriving were told to go home. To say the rumor mill was flying is an understatement. Parents on Facebook were the worst of all; accusations and rumors became enshrined in comments with nothing but fear or malice behind them.

The investigation continued throughout the day and by the end of the day, the administration was able to say with full confidence that there was no danger and never had been and school would resume the next day. That was not enough for most parents or students and the rumor mill, including a frightening vitriol against the perceived offender, continued unabated on social media.

I contacted the principal, whom I had interviewed many times before, inviting him to share what he could on the radio the next morning. And he did—he laid out exactly what had happened, the actions they took, the results, and the plan. Word had gotten out about this interview, and everyone was listening. After that, the social media craze simply fizzled out. There was nothing left to say. With direct communication in real time, the issue had passed.

All of which is to say, it’s far more difficult to maintain our foreboding or fearful fantasies of each other when the connective tissue is in place. The connective tissue not only holds things together, but ensures that they can function. 

From the Swedenborg Foundation website:

The spiritual lesson of the Universal Human, then, is that we, like the various parts of our own body, should find ways to provide a useful function in human society. At the same time, we can appreciate the many and diverse ways in which other people are playing their role in helping us. When everyone works together in harmony, moved by divine love and guided by divine wisdom, there is an image of God—the Maximus Homo, or Universal Human.

In May this year we spent a few days in Antwerp, Belgium (travelling entirely by train! Very satisfying). One reason for the trip was to visit the home and workshop (now a printing museum) of Christophe Plantin, 1520-1589. My husband trained as a graphic designer and over his career has become very experienced with the whole process of printing books. As a proofreader, I too have learned the specific details of how books are published. 

This museum – a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 2005 – has an exceptional collection of typographical materials, and holds the world’s two oldest surviving printing presses. And there’s an extra reason for a New Church person to appreciate it – the reason the Word was given to this planet, of all those in the universe, was because eventually PRINTING developed here. Isn’t that amazing?

“The Word could be written in our world, because the art of writing existed here from the most ancient times, at first on tablets, then on parchment, later on paper, and finally it could be disseminated in print. The Lord’s providence caused this for the sake of the Word.” Worlds in Space 115 

“The art of printing is indeed a sort of Messiah amongst inventions.” Georg Christoph Lichtenberg

“The invention of printing is the greatest event in history. It is the mother of all revolution, a renewal of human means of expression from its very basis. Printed thoughts are everlasting, provided with wings, intangible and indestructible. They soar like a crowd of birds, spread in all four directions and are everywhere at the same time.” Victor Hugo

“The whole world admits unhesitatingly, and there can be no doubt about this, that Gutenberg’s invention [the printing press] is the incomparably greatest event in the history of the world.” Mark Twain

As we wandered through the rooms we learned more and more about what this printing house accomplished. There were replicated books we could leaf through – maps, Bibles, philosophical discourses, illustrated natural history books, dictionaries; pages showing three or more languages all saying the same thing; actual pages of very old books and documents (including a double spread of marked-up proofs: the proofreading symbols used in 1560 are virtually the same as those I have used! Despite not having a clue what the words were, I could understand what was being corrected, and how); real typecases filled with rows of real metal type, in different alphabets, in a room full of real printing presses. 

There were videos showing how metal type was made – a surprisingly detailed and intricate process – and working models you could have a go with. The tools of the printing trade are myriad, and the number of different skills needed by people working there was astonishing. Getting a leaflet, let alone a book, from idea to publication was complicated back in the 16th century: those who undertook to do that work were skilled and dedicated craftsmen and women. 

By the time we finished (3 hours later!) we’d become more deeply aware that this process – printing – was a vital part of the spread of knowledge throughout the world, from the Reformation through to the Age of Enlightenment. It produced a virtual explosion of information, made accessible to far more people than verbal stories or hand-copied manuscripts could reach. Sebastian Brant, a 16th century poet, said, “What the rich man of yesterday and the king possessed are now found even in the most modest of homes, namely a book. Thanks first be to the gods, but also immedately thereafter to the printers who master the oustanding art so cheaply through their ceaseless efforts.”

Thanks be to the gods indeed – or rather to the Lord and His providence. This inspiring visit made me feel, deep down and humbling, that the proofreading skills I used to check the digitized versions of Potts’ Concordance and Dole’s Bible Study Notes have enabled me to play my own tiny part – not much more than a single apostrophe – in spreading knowledge of the Word and the Lord, via the internet, throughout the world.

“A Kingdom of uses.” Sometimes a phrase I  have known since childhood takes on new meaning with a new state in MY life. This happened to me this summer, a season full of unexpected developments—a long-awaited sailing trip in Greenland, an epic 6-day journey home, my mom’s death, a stent for my husband’s heart, a re-injured head for a niece, and a family reunion at memorial service time. It may seem like an unlikely time to discuss use, but now that fall is here and life is settling down, I notice things that I did not see before, that seem to live out this idea of a “kingdom of uses.”

I did not start out the summer thinking much about the kingdom of uses. First, there was a long-planned adventure. My husband Mark and I joined another couple to sail in Greenland together, a rare opportunity. As it turned out, this trip was dampened almost from the start with the realization that my mom was failing, maybe this time finally.  By the time we got far enough north to take ferries and flights back south, it was clear that we might not get back in time to say good-bye. While Mark and I were flying over the fjords of Greenland, he in the pilot cockpit in a most unusual turn of events (another side story), the most beautiful flight imaginable, my mom made that transition to the spiritual world.