Writing conversation: David Steindl-Rast

Catharine writes:

Today we introduce the second part of the outstanding work of our long-time friend and colleague Clare Hallward of Montreal.  You can read part one here.

Clare Hallward’s introduction to ‘David Steindl-Rast Essential Writings‘ part 2.

The call to a monastic life had clearly remained alive. When it was suggested in New York that he might be interested in a newly founded monastery in Elmira, where they adhered faithfully to the original rule, Franz immediately jumped on a bus to see for himself. He recalls that when asking for directions as he wandered about town in search of a large monastic building, people looked perplexed, until someone finally exclaimed, “You mean the monks?!”. Sure enough, he had not found them because they were living in a farm house. That afternoon while working on the land with one of the brothers, franz, reassured that the community was indeed committed to St. Benedict’s original vision, made his decision. He immediately returned home, where his mother, seeing his radiant face, burst into tears, knowing it meant he would soon be leaving her. Sure enough, Franz joined the order shortly thereafter, continuing his studies as Brother David.

We recognize Franz’s responsive spirit when challenged to a new adventure in that swift decision, so surely made. And that commitment could only have been reinforced when he heard that Father Damasus winzen, thefound of Mount Saviour, had noted that, “historically, the Catholic priesthood is an anachronistic prolongation of the Old Testament priesthood, which the early Church saw abandoned in Christ,” and that his vision of monks was that they served as the “successors of the prophetic lineage.” Indeed, before Franz went to the monastery, he would inscribe a book to his brother Max, “From your anti-clerical brother who is becoming a monk.” Even today, Brother David points out that many monks have looked at clergy as the “organizational men” and at themselves as the “loyal opposition.” Brother David recounts that Father Winzen himself used the image of “carps in a pond” for the clergy and for the monks the image of “those pikes one puts into carps’ ponds to chase them around so that the moss will not grow on their heads”! In short, Brother David’s inquiring mind is never at rest. Take his reply to a recent question about his spiritual reading: “Books on science are the top of my list, and I think of science as a contemporary form of ‘exploration into God.’” No false dichotomy between science and religion for Brother David!

Perhaps in addition to that curiosity and openness to surprise, Brother David’s responsiveness stemmed from his attentiveness, his ability to experience the fullness of life. Every experience fertilized the seeds of his burgeoning gratefulness for the wondrous givenness of all that is. To Brother David “being” has implied becoming, and one of his appealing characteristics has been his childlike delight in unexpected surprises.

In late 2008, just back from a retreat in the Sahara Desert, his bemused comment — at eighty-two years old — was, “One thing I never expected to do was ride a camel. And now I have ridden on several!”

Monastic Outreach

Continuing his studies, Brother David accepted a postdoctoral fellowship in 1958-59 at Cornell University, where he also became the first Roman Catholic to hold the Thorpe Lecture¬ship, following Bishop J. D. R. Robinson and Paul Tillich. In the 1960s, after twelve years of monastic training and stud¬ies in philosophy and theology, Brother David, at the urging of his prior, began leaving the monastery to give talks on monastic life at universities and other locales. He was also encouraged to widen his horizons by exploring the emerging Buddhist-Christian dialogue. Those were busy days.

He met both Thich Nhat Hanh and Thomas Merton dur¬ing the 1960s, at a time when both the Vietnamese Buddhist monk and the Catholic Trappist were passionately writing and actively working for peace. In 1995, when Thich Nhat Hanh asked Brother David to write the foreword to his book Liv¬ing Buddha, Living Christ, Brother David would write about his sense of privilege in meeting Thich Nhat Hanh, known to friends and students as Thay (teacher), and how he recognized in him a brother in the Spirit.

Less dramatic and less intellectual perhaps, but certainly physically demanding, was his participation in numerous -Zen retreats. Brother David helped open the Zen Mountain Center at Tassajara Springs, Carmel Valley, in the hills of California. A hot springs resort for over a hundred years, it was bought by the San Francisco Zen Center in 1966. In the afterword to the 2001 collection of essays entitled Benedict’s Dharma: Buddhists Reflect on the Rule of St. Benedict, Brother David recounts a “surprising little incident” at Tassajara that illustrates how quickly bridges can be built between East and West.

During one of the first practice periods at Tassajara in California’s Los Padres Wilderness, I was a dishwasher. It was a period when we were still working out the prac¬tical details of running that Zen Mountain Center. The dishes for scores of students had to be washed by hand outdoors in water from the hot springs and stored on makeshift shelves. When I was asked to leave written instructions for my successor on that job, I did so and added, “Bodhidharma’s contemporary, St. Benedict the Patriarch of Western Monastics, writes in the Rule which we follow that pots and pans in the monastery ought to be treated as reverently as the sacred vessels of the altar.”

A few months later, while visiting a Hindu ashram in New York State, I was asked, “Are you Brother David the dishwasher? We have your quotation from the Rule of St. Benedict posted above our kitchen sink.” fn so short a time, a passage pointing to the holy ground we share had traveled clear across the continent and from Buddhists to Hindus.

Over the years, Brother David has had many Zen teach¬ers, including Hakkuun Yasutani Roshi, Soen Nakag’awa Roshi, Shunryu Suzuki Roshi, and Eido Shimano Roshi. In 1968 he cofounded the Center for Spiritual Studies,and in 1975 he would receive the Martin Buber Award for his achievements in building bridges between religious traditions. He also served as moderator of the 1996 Gethsemani Encounter. In the foreword to The Gethsemani Encounter, the book describing that gather¬ing, His Holiness the Dalai Lama emphasizes the immense value of these get-togethers:

I believe it is extremely important that we extend our under¬standing of each other’s spiritual practices and traditions. This is not necessarily done in order to adopt them our¬selves, but to increase our opportunities for mutual respect. Sometimes, too, we encounter something in another tradi-tion that helps us better appreciate something in our own.

It is my hope that readers of this book may find in it inspi¬ration and understanding that in some way contribute to their own inner peace. And I pray that through that inner peace they, too, will become better human beings and help create a happier, more peaceful world.9

Brother David remembers a conversation with Thomas Mer¬ton that underlines the truth of the Dalai Lama’s convictions. Brother David had asked Merton whether he thought he could have presented the Christian teaching in the new, deeper, or fuller way he now had without his exposure to ^Buddhism. “Usually,” Brother David said, Merton “just laughed off ques¬tions like that, not really answering them; but in this case, he became very quiet and said, Til have to think about that.’ Fif¬teen or twenty minutes later, he came back and said, ‘You know, I thought about your question, and I think I couldn’t under¬stand Christian teaching the way I do if it weren’t in the light of Buddhism.’”10

While Thomas Merton and Brother David would grow into their roles as active peacemakers, both were also major figures in the renewal of religious life. Although both men influenced many people through their books and speaking engagements, Brother David’s outreach probably has had more to do with the development of communities. For instance, Brother David was involved with The Casa in Scottsdale, Arizona, a Franciscan renewal center that held services open to the public. Someone who attended in the late 1970s remembers “the fresh emphasis” on the presence and empowerment of the Holy Spirit, espe¬cially through song, prayer, the Eucharist, and loving service to others. She recalls that even a Baptist friend of hers from a staunchly anti-Catholic family used to risk the wrath of her father in order to go to the Sunday evening gatherings — proof to her that these services had something real to offer.

Brother David was also to become a leading figure in The House of Prayer movement, in which Catholics sought to renew their faith through prayer and other spiritual practices after Vat¬ican Council II. The idea, which kindled the interest of many persons reading the signs of the times, was first broached pub¬licly by Father Bernard Haring in 1965 and caught on like wildfire. Within a few years it would become an international movement. Those who speak of it today say that its influence has had to do more with its profound depth of experience than with its numbers, impressive though these are. The move¬ment affected some two hundred thousand members of religious orders in the United States and Canada, as well as untold numbers of lay people.

The Response of Grateful Living

Brother David has written extensively on universal topics, ex¬ploring spiritual themes that have emerged as prominent preoc¬cupations in today’s uneasy society. To him, the essential aspects of grateful living have always been belonging, beholding, and delight. In his writings he expounds on his major theme of gratefulness, with all its implications for an urgently needed global ethic. He stresses the universality of belonging as a pro¬found human need. He speaks of belonging to the universe; to our Earth Household (a favorite phrase originally coined by well-known environmental poet Gary Snyder) with all its humming and buzzing creatures; and to every last one of our fellow human beings, without exception. When asked in a 1992 interview, “What do you see America needing spiritually?” he replied:

What is most urgently needed in American spirituality today is an ecological awakening. That would be the most appropriate religious gesture for today. It would require all the virtues that religion implies — faith, hope, love, sacri¬fice— and it’s urgent. Unless this spiritual awakening takes place, we’re lost.

The core of every religious tradition is the mystical tradition, and mysticism is the experience of limitless belonging. That means limitless belonging to God, if you want to use that term, but also to all humans, to all animals, to all plants; that’s at the core of the mystical tradition. And since the mystical tradition is at the core of religion, that sense of belonging is both ecological and religious.11

Indeed, when elaborating on our belonging even in unfavorable conditions — conditions in which, according to brother David, we should “draw out the consequences all the way to loving our enemies” — he quotes author Elissa Melamed: “When you are in the same boat with your worst enemy, will you drill a hole into his side of the boat?”

“Beholding” is another word that sheds light on Brother David’s impact on our world. He helps us see! His beholding is vibrantly alive. I hear echoes in his writings arising from the nineteenth-century Jesuit poet Gerard Manley Hopkins. There is a line in one of Hopkins’s poems, “Hurrahing in Harvest,” which says it well: “These things, these things were here and but the beholder wanting.”12 I also detect understandings absorbed from Rainer Maria Rilke (1875-1926), one of Brother David’s favorite poets. Rilke includes his readers in his sensuous call¬ing to see things, to name them… to recognize the reciprocal nature of our relationship to God and to life itself. In many ways Brother David echoes Rilke’s love for the things of this world in his insistence that they, we, are what is sacred and in his capacity to see the holy in the ordinary:

I know that nothing has ever been real

without my beholding it.

All becoming has needed me.

My looking ripens things

and they come toward me, to meet and be met.13

Anita Barrows, a translator of Rilke’s Book of Hours, which she and fellow translator Joanna Macy called Love Poems to God, ends her section of the preface with Rilke’s declaration that our greatest summons is really to see the things of this world. “We are because we are seen; we are because vye are loved. The world is because it is beheld and loved into being. I am in the world to love the world.”       ‘

Brother David’s response to such poetry speaks to his attentive attunement to life in all its aspects. If, as the great Australian poet Les Murray contends, every religion is a long poem, then perhaps only poets can really be theologians — or at least intuitive people of imagination. Could the unsystem¬atic theology of Brother David itself reveal a truth about the untidy God of surprises — the living God, as unpredictable “as is everything that is alive”?

Of the several poems I know Brother David has written, the one called “Ever Deeper Roots in Love,” from Prayers for All People (180) collected by Mary Ford-Grabowsky, seems to capture a prayer from his heart:

You from whom we come And to whom we go,

Unchanging love,

You give us time for change and growth In this time of great change in my life, please, give me courage to change and grow and cheerfulness amidst growing-pain.

Let me take ever deeper roots in love Make me faithful without clinging And let me remain faithful in letting go.

Into your hands I lay my life And the lives of all whom I love.


True, this is perhaps more prayer than poetry. Yet again Brother David is of the same lineage as Gerard Manley Hopkins and Rainer Maria Rilke. He helps us start to behold, to see —things that were always there but which, somehow, we did not see. He writes, “True poetry opens our eyes to what Robert Frost called ‘the pleasure of taking pains.’ And what is gratefulness, but this playful engagement with life as it unfolds in all its challenges and delights?”  Brother David’s poem also catches the tension between opposites — between faithfulness without clinging, and remaining faithful in letting go. As Beatrice Bruteau has writ¬ten, “The interactions of the pairs characterize the vitality of the world,”16 and indeed, they characterize the life journey of this grounded wayfarer.

“Delight” is another recurring theme running through Brother David’s life and writing. He delights in words, colors, and images. In his book A Listening Heart (22), he writes about watching “a bumblebee tussle and tumble about in the silky recesses of a peony blossom, reveling… with total absorption of all its senses in this peony world, performing what is both vital task and ecstatic play.” For Brother David, his own pleasure in words, in poetry, his passion for “root-truth in language” — as Roshi Joan Halifax puts it — as he tussles with the meaning at the heart of things, is truly both “vital task and ecstatic play.” This man is buoyantly in love with life. As he explains it, “A sound intuition tells us: delight deserves first place and renunciation itself is merely a means for greater, more genuine delight.”17

Today, as stock prices tumble around us and jobs are lost by the thousands, it is not unusual to hear frugality* spoken of in terms of a necessary restraint. But to hear Brother David use the word is quite a different experience. He speaks of frugality with delight, almost as though he could taste it, as a quality that enhances the taste of life itself, as salt flavors our food. -His atti¬tude is somewhat reminiscent of that of Bernard of Clairvaux — an ascetic if there ever was one — who put at the top of a list of the benefits of fasting: “Food tastes so much more delicious when you are hungry” (see LH, 52-53). Yet at one conference, Brother David was genuinely taken aback to see that some people listen¬ing to him were reacting with dismay to his notion of frugality. But could the participants’ dismay actually have underscored their own reluctance to embrace the total self-giving that called for? Yet is that self-giving not the road to delight?

Perhaps their reaction was similar to Brother David’s own when he first went looking for synonyms for asceticism and found “abnegation, penance, mortification”—nothing but neg¬ative terms — at which point he skipped to the noun “ascetic,” only to find that the list of synonyms culminated in “self-tormentor.” Today, he concludes that the notion of asceticism has been twisted out of shape by an unhealthy attitude toward the body. He expands:

In contrast I remember gratefully the body image with which I grew up. A ditty I liked as a child sums up the appreciation of the body that was instilled in me; roughly translated it reads:

A crystal is your soul.

It shines with light divine.

For this most treasured gift

Your body is the shrine.

On Sunday afternoon visits to the Hapsburg treasifre cham¬ber in Vienna, my brothers and I had stared in wonder at treasure chests gilded and jewel-studded even on the out¬side. They shaped my idea of the body as a shrine for the soul and of the reverent treatment my body deserved. This shaped my own view of asceticism.18

Echoes of delight can also be heard in Brother David’s under- standing of spirituality as aliveness, with gratefulness as the measure of that aliveness — a theme that runs through his talks, whether he is speaking to a small group or to large audiences on lecture tours across five continents. He buoyantly gives of himself to all people, whether his audience consists of starving students in Zaire or faculty at Harvard and Colum¬bia Universities, Buddhist monks or Sufi retreatants, Papago Indians or German intellectuals, New Age commune visitors or naval cadets at Annapolis, missionaries on Polynesian islands or Green Berets, or participants at international peace conferences. In October 1975, he was asked to give the final blessing at the five-day celebration marking the thirty-fifth anniversary of the founding of the United Nations.

There is a subtle differentiation in Brother David’s use of the word “gratefulness” rather than “gratitude.” He invokes responsiveness, rather than just our response, perhaps best caught in the difference between “a” response and a self¬spending life of responsiveness. He casts further light on this distinction in his emphasis on the associated qualities of alive¬ness, alertness, and wakefulness. He emphasizes the dynamic growth in saying “yes” to belonging, and speaks of the impor-tance of caring about life itself, rather than our all-too-human tendency to grasp hold of the structures that life creates. As always, his very words are dynamic:

The great danger… the trap into which one could fall … [is] to conceive of ultimate order as static. On the contrary, it is profoundly dynamic; the only image ‘that we can ultimately find for this order is the dance of the spheres…. We are invited to attune ourselves to that har-

mony to which the whole universe dances          That order

is simply the expression of the love that moves the uni¬verse, Dante’s Vamore che muove il sole e I’altre stelle [the love that moves the sun and the other stars]. But the fact is that while the rest of the universe moves freely and gracefully in cosmic harmony, we humans don’t

The obstacle which we must overcome is attachment, even the attachment to our own effort. Asceticism is the profes¬sional approach to overcoming attachment in all its forms. Our image of the dance should help us understand it. Detachment, which is merely its negative aspect, frees our movements, helps make us nimble. The positive aspect of asceticism is alertness, wakefulness, aliveness.19

At the Heart of Brother David’’s Humanity

Perhaps Brother David’s greatest gift to the world has been his quality of heart. Indeed, his human qualities have shone forth throughout his life, all bearing witness to the central message of his life: “Spirituality is aliveness — super-aliveness.” As we have already seen, some of those qualities were particularly appar¬ent in his refugee work after the war. In truth, Brother David’s life and actions communicate his theology in the only authen¬tic way possible, through his personality. Take Brother David’s reply at a weekend retreat at the Upaya Zen Buddhist center with Roshi Joan Halifax, when she asked us all who we would like to be in our next life and whom we would serve. Every¬one had a different image. Brother David’s answer was simply that he would like to come back as a skateboarder and make all other skateboarders happy! But other qualities of heart, such as his compassion, humility, humor, a sense of urgency about the state of the world, are also communicated in his writings and presentations. Still others are seen in his lifelong love of ani¬mals, for example, in his charming word portraits of the cats he has cherished: family cats, monastery cats, and wild cats. If it is true that our strongest influence is the one we are not con¬scious of—not something striven for in order to affect others — Brother David is such a man. His fundamental happiness speaks louder than his words, for he embodies that vision of children, “that integral and naturally poetic vision we all have before reason, the dream, and the dance drift apart in us, and our perceptions flatten.”

In many ways, Brother David evokes a strikingly contempo¬rary note when he challenges, both in his life and his works, the encrusted dogmatism that almost obscures one of the most basic teachings left to us by Jesus. When people said of Jesus, “This man teaches with authority, not as the Scribes and Phar¬isees,” they were referring to the way Jesus appealed to the inner knowing and conscience of each individual — encourag¬ing them to stand on their own two feet — something which has never been, and never will be, popular with authoritarian regimes. Today, of course, we might talk about “authenticity,” which is a very modern preoccupation. And it is to that par¬ticular hunger for authenticity that Brother David speaks with such relevance. He does this partly by helping us to see clearly the false claims of our consumer society — not *by a violent stripping away of our blinders, but by leading us to recog¬nize God’s “self-revealing.” As he explains so vividly in his book Belonging to the Universe (29), in which he and Fritjof Capra explore new paradigms in both science and theology, when searching for your authentic self, “the correct image is not that of your pulling away a veil but of the bride unveil-


ing herself for the bridegroom.” And that, he says, comes close to Heidegger’s notion of truth, connected With the Greek word for truth. Thomas Matus, O.S.B., who was part of that same conversation, adds that the “word is aletheia, which means ‘unhiddenness’ in other words, the truth deliberately “unhides itself, lights itself up” — something, he claims, that “we all experience.”

To Brother David, this is an understanding that reaches beyond the limitations of rigid traditionalism, infusing tradi¬tions with life — an understanding that reaches to the gnawing emptiness of heart beneath the striving for success that our soci¬ety urges so relentlessly upon us. In writing about the quest for meaning, he emphasizes that our happiness hinges not on good luck, but on peace of heart. His contagious trust in life includes what the Bible calls “living by the Word of God,” which he teaches us “means far more than merely doing God’s will. It means being nourished by God’s word as food and drink, God’s word in every person, every thing, every event” (A Listening Heart, 3). He also calls for a resilience of heart and spirit as things unravel around us. Indeed, the war had so profoundly affected Brother David that when he heard the line “keep death always before your eyes” in St. Benedict’s rule, he knew he could henceforward never live any other way. Life had become a gift, borrowed time.

There are increasing numbers of thinkers studying gratitude and happiness, not only as solace for the afflicted, but as a powerful new awareness arising in human affairs. This is hap¬pening at the same time as institutions are crumbling around us. Originally created to foster and protect life, these institu¬tions, when old familiar certainties dissolve and change, too easily lapse into self-preservation mode. But “anything rigid will crumble” writes Brother David. “Anything that hardens iias no future.” Here, then, is a steady hand offered to those fearful souls who clutch at their pitiful little bundle of beliefs and call that faith. Here is a man calling us all to a courageous trust in life, a man echoing Krishnamurti’s call to trust that the river of life will carry us if we entrust ourselves to it.

Brother David has always stressed the importance of our experience, saying simply that if something does not correspond to our own experience, it is not true for us. Indeed, his whole understanding of the ancient Christian tradition of the Trin¬ity, the subtle relationship between the One and the Many has always been expressed in his own experience of “more and ever more.” More seeing, more understanding, more grateful¬ness, and ever more gifts. In Brother David’s interview with Ken Wilber in Integral Christianity, on August 30, 2008, they agreed that there is an aspect of God, our selves, and the uni¬verse that is best described as being ultimately “One,” and there is an aspect that is best described as the “Many.” And while we may all be looking at (and as) the very same ultimate Oneness, it is our interpretations of that Oneness that determine our rela¬tionship with the Many. To underline the truth of this, Brother David added, “I am a little concerned that so many people who have discovered the One simply eradicate their sense of the Many, or consider it unimportant.”

In Brother David’s generous sharing of his owlt experience with us, he has shown us the way of all prayer, of the great full¬ness of life, of living gratefully. As we explore Brother David’s writings, may we all experience the expansion of heart he invites us to share. May we all choose to allow the world to give itself freely to us, to shower us with the gifts of perception. In Brother David’s words: “Nothing gives more joy thai>when your heart grows wider and wider and your sense of belonging to the universe grows deeper and deeper.”21

What Brother David has articulated in his books and is still articulating in the written word, in the contagious example of his life, and in the extraordinary outreach of the website http://www.gratefulness.org adds the evolutionary imperative to the unfolding of our lives. As Anne Hillman writes in a recent book, “The desire to love is not just a personal consecration but one sourced in the depths of life itself. This longing and the need of the earth and its peoples are one and the same.”22 Indeed, Brutus’s famous proclamation, “There is a tide in the affairs of men… ”23 rings true across the centuries. And that tide is rising as the practice of grateful living becomes the global ethic for our planet Earth.

Clare Hallward


1.            A quote from Nancy Roof, Ph.D., president of Kosmos Associates, Inc., founding editor of Kosmos Journal, a partner of the Global Com¬mons Initiative, and cofounder of the Values Caucus and Spiritual Caucus at the United Nations.

2.            Written by Brother David in praise of Women, Wisdom, and Dreams: The Light of the Feminine Soul, by Anne Scott (Freestone, Calif: Nicasio Press, 2008), November 15, 2008.

3.            Brother David adds: “During that time, however, I traveled twice to the United States: the first time as a delegate of Young Christian Stu¬dents to an international convention in River Forest, Illinois, in 1948; the second time in 1950 or 1951, when I accompanied the Vienna Choir Boys as a counselor on their tour through the United States. After that, I stayed on as counselor to the Apollo Boys’ Choir in Palm Beach, where I did the experiments for my doctoral dissertation on voice expression.” This entire quotation is part of an email from Brother David in response to my own questions.

4.            This and the following paragraphs are all taken from Brother David’s unpublished World War II memories.

5.            Taken from a journal and letter written by Annemarie Heidinger for the years 1945-46.

6.            Fritjof Capra, David Steindl-Rast, with Thomas Matus, Belonging to the Universe: Explorations on the Frontiers of Science and Spirituality (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1991), 6.

7.            Ibid.

8.            Patrick Henry, O.S.B., ed., Benedict’s Dharma: Buddhists Reflect on the Rule of St. Benedict (New York: Riverhead Books, 2001), 122.

9.            The Gethsemani Encounter (New York: Continuum, 2003), x.

10.          Ibid., 274.

11.          Excerpted from an interview with Richard Smoley, Gnosis Maga¬zine (Summer 1992): 41-42.

12.          The Poems of Gerard Manley Hopkins, 4th ed., ed. W. H. Gardner and N. H. MacKenzie (New York: Oxford University Press, 1976), 70.

13.          Book one, second verse of first poem in Rilke’s “Book of a Monas¬tic Life,” first book in Rilke’s Book of Hours, trans. Anita Barrow and Joanna Macy with the title, Love Poems to God.

14.          Music of Silence: A Sacred Journey through the Hours of the Day (Berkeley, Calif.: Seastone, Ulysses Press, 1998, 2002), xxi.

15.          Taken from the introduction to the poetry feature on the website http://www.grate fulness, org.

16.          Beatrice Bruteau, God’s Ecstasy: The Creation of a Self-Creating World (New York: Crossroad, 1997), 19.

17.          A Listening Heart: The Spirituality of Sacred Sensuousness, rev. ed. (New York: Crossroad, 1983, 1999), 53.

18.          Ibid., 46-47.

19.          Ibid., 11.

20.          From a poem by Australia’s leading poet, Les Murray, “Embod¬iment and Incarnation” in his book of prose, A Working Forest (Potts Point, NSW: Duffy & Snellgrove, 1997).

21.          Words of Common Sense — for Mind, Body, and Soul (Philadel¬phia: Templeton Foundation Press, 2002), 84.

22.          Anne Hillman, Awakening the Energies of Love: Discovering Fire for the Second Time (Putney, Vt.: Bramble Books, 2008), 11.

23.          William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar, Act IV, Scene III.



First and foremost my grateful thanks go to Brother David himself, for having the courage to ask me to put this book together. They go also to Patricia Carlson, executive director of ANG*L — A Network for Grateful Living, for her encour-agement and help on so many occasions and her prompt and willing readiness to answer numerous questions. Many thanks, too, to Wendy Dayton, for her most helpful editorial advice and encouragement. And a grateful mention to Janet Boeckh for her laborious work in transcribing the recorded interview with Michael Toms of New Dimensions Radio. Fiona Macfarlane, my friend who took it upon herself to free me from earlier responsibilities so I could work on this anthology, you know of my boundless gratitude for those generous actions so selflessly undertaken.


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