A Path We Can Imagine

As often as I think I am seeking other people out in order to get something for myself, the deeper truth is that I am hoping they will draw me out of myself. —Barbara Brown Taylor, An Altar in the World: A Geography of Faith

I began reading about Dorothy Day while a graduate student in Philosophy of Religion at Claremont Graduate School, in California. I had picked up a copy of the Catholic Worker in Los Angeles, a newspaper published to highlight social justice issues in the Catholic tradition. It was started by Dorothy Day and Peter Maurin in 1933 and has been published continuously ever since. I was taking classes in liberation theology and social justice at Claremont, learning about the movements in Latin America by Catholic priests to educate the people and to teach them to read, using the Bible. Then later, when I came to Columbia Union College in Takoma Park, Maryland to teach, I contacted the Sojourners community in Washington, DC, met Jim Wallis, the editor and co-leader, and became aware of some of the networks of Christians in the Metro area who were working with the homeless.

Eventually, I met Mitch Snyder, who was living and working out of a row house on Euclid St. in Washington, DC. He had been an adman on Madison Avenue before he dedicated his life to the homeless. He and some friends operated a soup kitchen in an abandoned garage across the street. My students and I would go down on Sunday mornings to cut up vegetables for stew and often we’d come back to hand out meals in the evenings. We continued to work with Mitch and his community over the years, as they advocated and cared for the homeless. Always aware of the official studied neglect by governments of the homeless, he fasted to the brink of death until the city capitulated and opened the DC Shelter on 4th Street in Washington. Many students worked and helped out at the shelter over the years.

My friendship with Mitch continued even after we were no longer actively involved in the community. One evening, he asked if I’d like to go up to Baltimore and meet Dan and Phil Berrigan, the Catholic priests who had been in the vanguard of protests against the Vietnam War and who had worked for decades in the civil rights movement. When we arrived we were ushered into a row house filling with young people as well as grizzled veterans of the peace movement. As the sun was going down, light streaming into the windows, Phil Berrigan led us in a worship and prayer service for the homeless. For me, this was a golden moment, a revelation of the commonalities of Christian activism that begin with prayer and are sustained through worship.

My interest in the Catholic Worker movement had begun much earlier, when a friend from college decided to become a Catholic priest. We were graduate students together at Andrews University and unbeknownst to me he was taking catechumen lessons at Notre Dame University. The night before Easter Sunday he was baptized into the Catholic Church. We stood in for him as witnesses, since his family, staunch SDAs in Southern California, had rejected him and his calling. He felt his calling was to work in East LA among the barrios, the poverty and the gangs. His life, after baptism, was brimming with hope; his enthusiasm for the Catholic Worker movement and its mission to reach those in poverty led him to give up his comfortable upper middle-class life and to enter a vocation that was open to the Spirit’s leading in all parts of his life.

Witnessing his baptism and seeing his joy caused me to reflect on what had brought him from Adventism to Catholicism, from wealth to voluntary poverty. While he was one of the most intelligent people I’ve known, it was his single-minded direction toward Christian activism that stirred me.

Years before, as a teenager newly-awakened, I was keen to witness. I wanted to fix the spiritual errors that I saw around me and to confront those, especially in the Catholic Church, who I felt were perpetuating these errors. One of our high-school faculty, our Bible and history teacher, invited a Catholic priest to his home one Sabbath, so that some of us could learn more about Catholic beliefs and his friend’s faith. I confronted the priest with all the bravado and ignorance that a 15-year-old on a mission from God could muster. He graciously answered my questions, parried my thrusts, and generally treated me with respect and interest. I came away feeling that I had made a holy fool of myself.

While at graduate school at Claremont I took a course in Liturgies of the Church. We studied all the major liturgies and their history, from the time of Justin Martyr in CE 155 up to John Wesley’s “Service of the Methodists in North America,” written in 1784. One of the requirements of the course was to attend a worshipping community outside of our own faith for the semester. At that time, I was an active member of the North Hills Seventh-day Adventist Church in Claremont, but I easily found an Anglican church in Ontario and began attending their Sunday services also.

I was immediately struck by two things. One was the homily delivered each week (without notes) by the priest. It was literate, deeply Scriptural, and invariably opened windows into the life of discipleship. It brought together the liturgy, the Scripture, and current news in ways that set my imagination on fire.

The second thing was the compassion and respect shown toward the gay couple that attended from week to week. This was in 1977, not a particularly easy time for gays, and especially not the norm for the Anglican Church. But each week that they were there they were surrounded by people who obviously cared about them, who did not regard them as either a curiosity nor an abomination, and who did not shy away from sharing the cup with them during the Eucharist.


There is a sociological and communications theory known as Symbolic Interactionism that counts among its strengths the idea that “it is through social interaction that (our) identities are formed, maintained, and changed,” as scholar Joel Charon puts it in his Symbolic Interactionism. Founded on the work of George Herbert Mead and extended by Herbert Blumer and others, SI says that we form our self-identity through interaction with others. We are social beings, said Mead, and we shape each other through our interactions. That may seem self-evident, but Mead believed that it is only through what he called ‘role-taking’ that we can communicate, develop a self-identity, and become part of a society.

Role-taking relies on imagination, a central characteristic of humans that makes it possible to put ourselves in the place of others. The ones who influence us the most are our significant others; they may be parents, friends, role-models, heroic figures, people we emulate or admire. They may even be people we fear. We imagine how our actions will affect them, and we imagine what they might be thinking, feeling, and understanding in certain situations. It’s impossible to ever take on another’s role with complete accuracy, but it’s essential for everything that we do as human beings to try our best. As we grow more capable of it we become more understanding of others, better communicators, more able to anticipate the expectations of others so that we can conform, rebel, choose, and exercise our will in relation to others.

Mead called another group of people our ‘generalized other,’ a combination of several significant others who make up a group or a community, a society of sorts that we visualize as we act. We might think of ‘my friends,’ or ‘my family’ or ‘my church’, or even ‘my generation’ and ‘my country.’ Another term for this is a reference group, a group of significant others we hold in our imagination.

While we need to take others into account in almost everything we do, there are two exceptions to this: those who are extremely selfish and those who hold extreme power. Those who are almost totally self-centered may regard others as simply objects to be manipulated, and those who have extreme power may actually do so. Of course, by provoking fear or anger in others, such people can expect retaliation in kind, which generally reinforces their selfishness. As long as their power is intact they are personal hurricanes of chaos. They lack the imagination and the social intelligence to take the role of anyone but themselves.

Symbolic interactionism gives us perspectives through which we can actively and consistently see ourselves and others in a new light. It provides a consciousness which can be turned to great good or to evil. We can learn to empathize with others or to manipulate them. It means that we go through our days with eyes wide open, continually attempting to see the world — and ourselves — through the eyes of those we are communicating with.

As a Christian, a person attempting to live in grace by faith, it helps me to visualize and imagine the lives of others. It helps me to learn from those with whom I interact. To try to see the world through the eyes of a person in the LGBTQ+ community or to try to imagine how a Protestant asking a Catholic about sexual abuse by priests must seem to a Catholic — those are exercises of the imagination worth attempting.


In recent years I have been teaching at two universities, both embedded in the history of the renegade order of nuns who came to America from France and established colleges for young women in the early 20th century. My friendships with colleagues at both schools have opened my eyes to larger issues of justice, education for the disadvantaged, and the power of a constant witness to biblical activism in the nation’s capital. In a way, the ripple that began at The Basilica of the Sacred Heart at Notre Dame on that Easter many years ago has finally lapped against the shore. The sisters of Notre Dame de Namur, whom I have gotten to know at Trinity, were once as young as my college friend. In their lives of devotion to scholarship, service, and compassion, I imagine the trajectory of my friend, now lost to me these many years. He moved me to question how fervent was my faith; the sisters’ lives are testament to a steady will in a singular direction.

These kinds of moments might have come to me in other ways. Perhaps because of temperament, inclination, opportunity, and curiosity I leaned this way instead of other ways. I needed work, they opened their doors, it turned out well for both parties. Going forward, I did not have a long-range plan. We rarely do in life. Nor did I determine to follow a specific course to meet people who understood and practiced faith in ways different than mine. Rather, I found myself responding to intuition, the promptings of the Holy Spirit, the openness of God to “strangers,” and the curiosity that searches out how others worship and come to know God.

The experiences that we have and the people we meet may seem random, but there is reason to believe that the paths we cross with others can be seen, in time, as part of a larger pattern. God has a multitude of ways to meet us in unexpected places and to reveal the moments of grace we need in the midst of the mundane, the sublime, and the tragic.

Barry Casey taught religion, philosophy, and communications for 28 years at Columbia Union College, now Washington Adventist University, and business communication at Stevenson University for 7 years. He continues as adjunct professor in ethics and philosophy at Trinity Washington University, D.C. More of the author’s writing can be found on his blog, Dante’s Woods.

Photo: Unsplash.com / Inbal Marilli

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This is a companion discussion topic for the original entry at http://spectrummagazine.org/node/9007
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I taught eight years at Marquette, a Jesuit university and eight years at Loma Linda as well as 9 years on the board atbLoma Linda and 11 years on the Board at Southern. I can give testimony that I found true Christians at each place. But only at LLU and Southern did I find vindictive narrow minded witch hunters. The truth is demonization does not define a person, discipleship does.


Superb, Barry. There is no way to understand how we got where we are without looking back and finding the surprising moments when what we had planned took a detour which led to a new experience of grace. Thank you.


I was one of those students who went with Dr. Casey to serve at the soup kitchen, all those years ago. At the time, it was a box I needed to check off for a class requirement. It was not until some time later that I realized how those brief experiences changed my perspective. Dr. Casey’s class started to pry my eyes open. I am still grateful.


“The experiences that we have and the people we meet may seem random, but there is reason to believe that the paths we cross with others can be seen, in time, as part of a larger pattern. God has a multitude of ways to meet us in unexpected places and to reveal the moments of grace we need in the midst of the mundane, the sublime, and the tragic.”<

Barry thanks…, me thinks you almost sound like a Calvinist on the above point. :slight_smile:
Most of us, especially believers, can look back and see God’s leadings as we interpret our own unique Journey.

Now for a little uplifting folklore theology! :slight_smile:

Stay on a few seconds and “The dance” may also come on.

That song is a great fit.

Thanks, “The Dance” by the same singer is a lesson in why it is sometimes best not to know the future…you may have heard it.

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Thiught-provoking stuff. He is still phenomenal in concert. The audience has 98% of the playlist memorized which makes the experience great.

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My last year of college was at the University of San Francisco and in their alumni magazine which I receive regularly, the consistency off good works is a consistent theme.

Unlike Adventism where the focus is on the fulfillment of ancient prophecies to the Hebrews, the other Christian churches spend their time and efforts on the many humans in need all around. They live the message given by Jesus and the early Christians.


Even better if one has experienced the words in ones journey. :slight_smile:

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The meaning is a lot more rich when you’re in your fifties, assuming one has been paying attention. Hearing those songs performed live is, for me, a spiritual experience.


Ya’ll are killing me today! I had tickets last November to see him and Tricia Yearwood, and that’s when my back went totally out. :sob: Needless to say, I missed it…oh well, stuff happens.

I love it when the audience sings along, thousands of people in sync. There is such a good energy when people are all feeling happy and together…all ages, all different walks of life, so fun!


Great post, Elaine.

So good to see you again! We’ve missed you greatly!!! Welcome back…


Uggh, you have my sympathies. (I was convinced he would spend a lot of time on new stuff, but happily, that was not the case.)

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I was soooo disappointed. Country music in general isn’t my usual genre, but i do enjoy some performers a lot. I really like Tricia Y. too, so it was a double win for me…until it wasn’t!

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I like her too, but spend more time with her cooking show than her music these days. Country music seems to me more profound and listenable when it’s from the 80’s and 90’s, compared to more recent times. A sign of age for sure-HA!

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Matthew 8:28 When he (Jesus) arrived at the other side in the region of the Gadarenes, two demon-possessed men coming from the tombs met him. They were so violent that no one could pass that way.

Au contraire, my fine instructor and board member of various Christian institutions for the edification of Jesuits and SDA’s alike. That must have been an enlightening experience for you, yes?

I believe only God can read the heart, even of a dying criminal on the cross, which may not have been on your list of ‘the fine Christians’ at that point in time…

On the other hand, Satan himself can appear as an angel of light. Would you be able to see through the actions, words and appearance of the master deceiver to see, the devil inside? Interesting question, yes?

We missed you Elaine, Glad you’re back with us.

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You know if you actually knew what all Adventists have done or are doing, this statement would make sense, but you don’t and yet you post…hmmmm.

Nor should you make the statement that other Christian churches spend their efforts on many humans in need all around, excluding Adventists.

I find it hard to believe that the scope of your travels would make that possible for you.

I can remember years ago, when I was in my early twenties attending a Church that found it to be a necessary requirement for me to speak in tongues to prove that I was a true Christian. Well, after about 15 minutes of laying on the ground, wanting a true experience (I wasn’t going to fake it), while they all chanted so that I could be filled with the Holy Spirit, nothing happened.
The psychological pressure to do SOMETHING was enormous. I was then shunned as a failure, and a disappointment, and was given council to go to God and repent of whatever it was that prevented me from speaking in tongues, so that God would bless me. And then of course I could be a true blessing to others.

I suppose you could see this Church’s viewpoint as an example of ‘other Churches’ helping those in need (What could be a greater example of need, then having the ability to speak in tongues, proving oneself to be a Christian, to lead others to Christ, AND thus be qualified to genuinely meet the needs of others? )

I am certainly in favor of addressing others needs, asking for the Savior to give me HIS sight, so I can effectively meet peoples needs, a genuine expression of giving, and I have done so and will continue to do so as the LORD leads me…and I am SDA.

I attended an SDA Church in Texas that fed the homeless every Sabbath and ministered to some of their other needs as well.

There was one SDA fellow that said that wasn’t enough. He said we should pick up the homeless if we were driving by. Which he had done. Feed them, and if impressed to do so lead them to Christ. And help in any way that seemed appropriate. This created quite a bit of discussion. There were some that said just keep to what we were doing and others said no lets do this on an individual basis.
Then one fellow stepped in and said how about doing this both ways?
Both ways? O.K. then…both ways.
Oh those evil beast loving Adventists…what could possibly have changed their evil ways…?