Similarly, my deconstruction has created an open space free from the distractions of inherited notions and expectations. Against this simple backdrop, I can notice my own experience as it arises. I am free to observe, to question, and to experience with freshness—one might call it ‘beginner’s mind.’

The jeweler’s black velvet is similar to other parables about the importance of freeing ourselves from the morass of life’s demands and focusing our attention on what matters most. For example, Jesus told of a merchant who discovered a precious pearl and sold everything he had to acquire it. Another time, Jesus described a man who found a treasure hidden in a field. The man buried the treasure, then bought the whole field to possess it. 

Dickens’ A Christmas Carol is another parable that conveys the same truth. After surveying his entire life in one night, Ebenezer Scrooge confronts his own mortality. For Scrooge, death becomes like the jeweler’s cloth upon which he finds the pearl of ultimate value: life itself in all its joyous wonder.

These various metaphors of focus choose different objects of value. Buddhist traditions, for example, give us metaphors, such as gazing into the surface of a clear mountain lake to awaken to the stealthy operation of the mind in shaping our experience.

In my case, the noise of beliefs clouded my experience of the numinous. Recognizing my own beliefs, thoughts, and emotions as they arise, and clearly noticing my experience in the present, has the quality of awakening from sleep. It also leaves me empowered—less buffeted by circumstances, and more inclined to act.

And, remarkably, my black velvet of deconstruction has enabled me to view Jesus’ words and actions with fresh eyes. I experience insight and inspiration reading his words as well as those of Lao Tzu, The Buddha, and contemporary sages.

So, no, I didn’t throw the baby Jesus out with the baptism water.

I made a conscious choice to bring my whole being to the challenge of making meaning from life. 

At this crucial juncture in human history, we need to work at the top of our human capacities—our intelligence, as well as our virtue, character, love, and wisdom. 

If we are to thrive or even survive as a species, we need to be like the “good steward” in another of Jesus’ parables, who brought treasures old and new out of his storehouse.

This means we must question all of our inherited assumptions and examine our beliefs and accepted truths. 

Let us ask penetrating questions, seek truth courageously, and faithfully knock down barriers that stand between us and a thriving future. As Eliot wrote, “We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.”

Shine,