In Gratitude for my Beloved Teacher

This past June has largely been a difficult month for me beginning with the passing of one my beloved teachers, the late Rev. Ron Roth, on June 1, 2009. The ending of the month was no better with the death of the King of Pop, Michael Jackson on June 25, 2009. Both men were important to me for various reasons. It would be disingenuous for me not to mention Michael given the amount of hurt I have experienced at his passing.

I grew up with Michael's music and his presence in my life as far back as I can remember. I have never imagined a day without Michael Jackson. While I am choosing to focus this entry on Ron, it is important to note that I believe Michael to be an inspiring artist, humanitarian and healer. A troubled soul, perhaps. I refuse to believe that his conduct was inappropriate with children. I am grieving his death. I am grateful for all that his life and work contributed to mine and millions of others.

With regard to Ron, for the last forty days, I have lit candles and incense in front of his picture. When I started this ritual, it was in imitation of the practice observed both in the Gospel of Luke and the Acts of the Apostles (they were written by the same author) where there was a forty day period between the Resurrection of Jesus and Pentecost when the Apostles received the Holy Spirit to continue the healing and teaching ministry of Christ. The imagery of the Holy Spirit was liken unto a gushing wind, a powerful fire, that transmitted a sacred energy to the Apostles. I vaguely remember whatever high minded notions I began my forty ritual, but it has ended in a rather different place than I would have assumed.

My forty day process has been primarily about grief. By grief, I mean mourning the death of my teacher. I have had a tremendous amount of sorrow at his passing, as well as an uncertain sense of anxiety and trepidation about what the future would hold for me. As an aside, I have discovered that many spiritual people don't do well with grief, as an emotion or process. They tend to have high minded notions regarding the death process or use lofty language to describe their beliefs about life after death. All of which, by the way, may be true.

Still, as a therapist and spiritual teacher in my own right, I recognize denial when I experience it. Spiritual caregivers must take death seriously as a process; at least, that is, for those still alive in the wake of someone's death. Knowledge by itself doesn't help people to deal with their emotions. Regrettably, it may only help them to deny or suppress it. Spiritual caregivers have to face their own fears about death to help others do the same.

In the aftermath of my teacher's death, one of the things that I have stared to realize is that as long as one's spiritual teacher is present, the student can hold some level of ambivalence regarding the teachings. In some respects, a student doesn't have to engage certain spiritual practices, because the teacher is available to do them on behalf of the student. Faith, then, becomes the lending of trust to the teacher, rather than trusting the experience one has with the teachings themselves.

Ron's death has forced me in some capacity to confront what I believe. By belief, I don't mean a cognitive assent to statements of truth. Instead, I define belief as developing the capacity to make personal meaning and contain the experiences derived from engaging the spiritual practices given by the teacher. The responsibility for one's spiritual practice belongs with each of us, not a teacher.

My grief over his death has been extremely painful but valuable. I have been able to let go of the person of Ron to invite the spirit of Ron to become more a part of my life. Ron taught me how to connect with the Sacred that he identified as the Presence in several different religious traditions. Ron was a mystic. I remember him saying that he did more work for the dead than for the living. With his death, the shift of emphasis may now be aimed at the living.

Of one thing I am certain: I am one of the legitimate successors to his teachings. Both in the body and spirit, he continues to teach me things that are elevating my own work as a teacher, healer and artist. Whatever shape my own life and work takes, I am incorporating the best of what he gave me.

*On a personal note I need to mention that Ron has already demonstrated his intercession on my behalf by responding to a deeply held prayer of mine. I shared with Ron during the first few days of his transition that I would need help to make it through the 40 days. Through his intercession, I have met an amazing woman, a healer, a muse and companion to help transform the burden of his passing into an opportunity of grace and support. I am deeply moved by her love and light. I am already a better person for it. As Jesus did not leave the disciples alone, so Ron has not left me alone either. Thank you Ron for bringing S- into my life.

In Memory of the King of Pop

Michael Jackson's death has devastated me. I don't know how to write about it. I have known his music my entire life. It feels as if I have lost someone I knew personally. His death hurts deeply! I cried long and hard over it. I keep telling myself this is a bad publicity stunt, a joke gone too far. I don't want to accept that Michael is dead!

I am not alone in my reaction. I have been stunned by the outpouring of grief by fans all over the world that loved him. I didn't realize or had forgotten how much he was appreciated. The King of Pop was recognized as a genius everywhere except in his own country. He should have been revered as a national treasure rather than reduced to some sort of oddity.

For all of his talent, he was a tortured soul. It is ironic that an artist whose music literally changed lives could not be saved by it. While his troubles were largely exploited, if not exaggerated by the media, there are certain things about him that I never believed. For all of his personal angst, I never believed that he was a pedophile. I am angered that even in death, the American press continues to re-hash the same old accusations regarding his supposed debt, casting doubt regarding the paternity of his children, ridiculing his changing appearance, and so on.

The scrutiny of the American press, and the soul destroying mechanism of the entertainment industry hastened Michael's demise. I am angry that for all the good this man brought to the world that he was reviled for it. I am saddened that the genuine care and support of his fans were not enough to save him. I am at a lost that like many African American men, he died prematurely.

I refuse to reduce Michael to a tragedy. He deserves better than that as his epithet. I have too many fond memories of him to remember him that way. For instance, I was blown away by when he performed on Motown's 25th Anniversary special. Yes, I saw him do the moonwalk on TV for the first time along with his dynamic performance of "Billie Jean." I was speechless after his performance on the '88 Grammy Awards with his gospel, soulful rendition of "Man in the Mirror." I watched faithfully the premier of video after video late into my college years including "Black or White" and "Remember the Time."

Michael is the reason there is an African American presence on MTV and its affiliated stations. He broke through, crossed over, led the way for artists of color onto the pop stations. Michael had to surpass many obstacles to reach the world music community. He earned the right to be the King of Pop.

I am still trying to make sense of Michael's passing. This blog entry is incomplete. I don't know what to make of it. In fact, for right now, I have to think about Michael's death more as a friend that I won't see for a while rather than accept the finality of it. In time, I can write something more adequate. Suffice it to say, he was the world's greatest entertainer.