God Is My Partner

When we tithe, two levels are activated—a level here in this world and, at the same time, a mystical, invisible level. The mystical is a communication saying, “You are abundant and handle

abundance well, so here’s some more.”

The other level, in this world, is when we look at our abundance and contribute joyfully through tithing. We are actually cheerful about it. This action sets up a countenance that is a form of
glory in the human being, and that glory attracts more abundance.

From God Is Your Partner by John-Roger, D.S.S.

*

Upon entering the ballet studio a few weeks ago I was greeted by a most wonderful open smile. A young teenage ballerina was saying hello. I had not seen or met her before. She turned out to be a
fine dancer and her face radiated that same quality of good-humored
openness throughout the class.

Though I have not seen her in class since, the impression of her openness lingered and took me back to when I was around 8 years old and my mother taking me along with her when she visited her uncles.
They were bespoke tailors and the visit to Berner Street, in the heart
of London’s West End, included a long climb up wooden, carpetless,
creaky stairs. At the end of the hallway we would knock on the door and
enter a large room filled with the thick smoke of cigarettes, pipes, and
cigars. There, my four uncles sat—sewing by hand and by machine, and
cutting cloth. They were fairly aloof men but from out of the smoke
Uncle Moss would emerge with his arms outstretched and a large welcoming
grin and presence that radiated how glad he was to see my mother and I.
His graciousness was exactly what an insecure 8-year-old boy needed and
I recall feeling relieved to see him, and being relaxed and happy as a
result.

I wonder why such moments stand out. They are ordinary events. Nothing happened. Yet they etched themselves into my memory as highly significant. Another childhood memory comes to mind—the twinkle
in the eyes and beatific look on the face of my Uncle Alf as chaos
ensued when I accidently knocked over the Passover wine bottle onto the
pristine white tablecloth during Seder dinner. The image of wise
understanding on his face still inspires me fifty years later.

And, I am in MSIA because of John-Roger’s warmth, his welcome, and his unconditional loving for me many years ago. Apparently, I need grace in my life through the kindness of others. Perhaps we all
do. And we all have the power to radiate it.

*

If you will strive to have a pleasant disposition while you’re doing whatever you’re doing in the world, there is a greater tendency for your Soul, which is so perfect and so loving, to
radiate out of your pleasant disposition. A truly pleasant disposition
is loving, compassionate, and empathic, with the ability to know what’s
going on in the world, because it is not run by the ego. If you take
that same pleasantness back inside you, you live with an abundance of
enthusiasm that overflows to others. Now, that is truly helping the
planet.

From What’s It Like Being You: Living Life as the True Self by John-Roger, D.S.S., with Paul Kaye

*

There are people whose expectations are different than most of ours. These are people who have made the transition to adulthood and not lost the innocence, joy and power of childhood. They
are rare but perhaps you have been fortunate enough to know one of them.
These exceptional people are content as they are—where they are. They
are more responsive to beauty. They are less driven by egocentric needs
and more helpful and responsive to the needs of others. They are less
fearful. They are creative, innovative, and playful. They are loveable
and have an impish sense of humor. You may find yourself being drawn to
them and perhaps thinking, “This is a wonderful human being. If we could
all be like her our world would be a safe and beautiful place.” Abraham
Maslow calls these people “Transcenders.”

From Beyond Happiness by Frank J. Kinslow

*

I do not know if there is a greater blessing than to encounter a true old person, that is, one who is joyous. It is a blessing which is rarely given to us, because for most, alas, age is
nothing but the blank and degrading addition of physical years. But when
an old person is joyful, he is so strong that he no longer needs to
speak: he comes and he heals. The one who fills my memory is like this.
His name is Jeremy Regard.

Without a doubt, there exist in certain beings, as there existed in him, a rightness and wholeness so perfect that their way of seeing communicates itself, is given to you, for at least an
instant. And the silence then is truer, more exact, than any words.

One went to Jeremy as toward a spring. One didn’t ask oneself why. One didn’t think about it. In this ocean of rage and suffering there was this island: a man who didn’t shout, who asked no
one for help, who was sufficient unto himself.

He had touched the very depth of himself and liberated the supernatural or, if this word bothers you, the essential, that which does not depend on any circumstance, which can exist in all places
and in any time, in pain as in pleasure. He had encountered the very
source of life. If I have used the word “supernatural,” it is because
the act of Jeremy sums up to me the religious act itself: the discovery
that God is there, in each person, to the same degree, completely in
each moment, and that a return can be made toward Him.

(Excerpted from the story Jeremy in Against the Pollution of the I: Selected Writings of Jacques Lusseyran. The story recounts Lusseyran’s experience in the German concentration camp
of Buchenwald in World War II. Lusseyran survived the camp. Jeremy died
there.)