Quest Magazine

The True Power of Love

By Tim Boyd

Originally printed in the July - August 2007 issue of Quest magazine.
Citation: Boyd, Tim."The True Power of Love." Quest 95.4 (JULY-AUGUST 2007): 141-143.

The following is a description of the loving efforts of Bill Lawrence and the Center he started. It is told here by Tim Boyd who was one of the young men closely associated with the "Old Man," as he was affectionately called. Tim tells the story of the Center where lived and worked. The Center no longer exists. Since about 2000 its former members have been involved in different directions and different places. Tim still lives there, but now it functions as a home.

Theosophical Society - Tim Boyd was elected the president of the Theosophical Society Adyar in 2014. He succeeded Radha Burnier.

This Center, begun with a dedication to humanity, a love of young people, and a belief in their potential may serve as an inspiration to all who carry the illusion that the lives of many in the rough, deprived neighborhoods should be 'written off'; that the task of rehabilitation is too great and is useless.

The Center. . . was responsible for spiritually redirecting the lives of hundreds of young people in the Chicago area. It came into being through the efforts of Bill Lawrence in the mid-1960s. He walked away from a thriving grocery store chain, taking nothing with him and donating all the proceeds to a children's school. Chicago was experiencing a level of youth gang violence unparalleled in the city's history. Whole neighborhoods became the fiefs of the warring gangs, and the lives of the residents of these areas were ruled by a pervasive fear. Recognizing a tremendous untapped potential in the misguided youths, and following his inner guidance, Bill purchased and moved into a home in the very heart of some of the most intense gang activity. To say that the home was an eyesore is an understatement. All the windows were broken, the heating and plumbing were inoperable, the walls and ceilings were cracked and the entire house had sunk twelve inches on one side. Immediately he set about fixing the house and beautifying the yard. Although warned by his neighbors that the neighborhood kids would not allow flowers to grow, he planted and kept beautiful flower gardens with the aid of those kids.

Soon he came into contact with the young people in the area, many of whom were gang members. Never one to be intimidated, he quickly earned their respect. It was during this time that he became known as the "Old Man." He opened his home to the young people, even taking in many kids who were homeless. He would counsel them about the senselessness of violence and about the true power of positive thinking and of love. He spoke always in the language of the kids themselves. Many a life was saved heeding his advice, although often it went unheeded with foreseen consequences. The young people began to understand that the Old Man's counsel was wise and that his sole motivation was to aid and uplift them. Their trust and faith in him became unshakable.

During this time Bill first came into contact with Theosophy and the Theosophical Society. From the start he felt completely at home with the teachings and felt he was renewing old acquaintances with those who were to become his fellow Theosophists. From the time he joined the Society his work moved to a different level and took on new energy.

In 1973, as if in answer to some call, the group members who were to become the core of the Center were drawn together. Six young men, all of whom had either recently completed or were completing their college studies, hailing from various parts of Chicago and its suburbs, from Kentucky and New York City came to live at the house on Calumet Avenue. Without any advertising or fanfare, they found their way to the place they felt they were supposed to be. For some it was a chance encounter. For some the connection was made at a Theosophical meeting. Still others had heard about the Old Man by word of mouth.

In every case there was an awakening spiritual desire within the young men that brought them to the one they recognized as their teacher. Each one was a student of Theosophy and a member of the Society. From this point the work that was to be the capstone of the Old Man's life began in earnest.

Beginning by rehabilitating the house on Calumet, the boys gradually developed their skills. Within months the owners of the three buildings immediately adjacent to the home came without being requested or sought out and offered their buildings in a way that seemed more like a gift than a sale. After much hard work the place took on a new appearance. People who had once shunned the area were now driving through to witness the new life being breathed into the neighborhood. The energy became infectious. Residents who had given up hope of the community's revival began to paint, to plant, and to brighten up their homes.

During this time the group developed into a healing team. Regular meetings were held and there seemed to be an endless stream of people wanting advice, healing, or just to talk.

These achievements and numerous others are the "jewels in the crown" of Bill Lawrence's life. What remains is the wise and loving touch which brought beauty where others saw only decay and which fulfills the highest injunction to man: to help, to uplift, and to serve his fellow man. The life and teaching of the Old Man makes it clear that the pathway of ever-expanding service lies open to any and all who would sincerely tread it, and that the life of one man or woman can indeed imprint itself deeply upon the world when that life is intimately linked to a higher source and power.

One thing I know; the only ones among you who will be really happy are those who have sought and found how to serve.

—Albert Schweitzer

Reminscences of James Scudday Perkins

By Richard W. Brooks

Originally printed in the JULY-AUGUST 2007 issue of Quest magazine.
Citation: Brooks, Richard W."Reminscences of James Scudday Perkins." Quest 95.4 (JULY-AUGUST 2007): 127-128.

Theosophical Society - Richard Brooks is a retired professor and chair of the Department of Philosophy at Oakland University, Rochester, Michigan. As a theosophist of more than fifty years, he served on the National Board for many years. His specialties are logic, Indic and Chinese philosophy, and parapsychology.

For most of his adult life, Jim Perkins, contributed in many different and significant ways to the administration of the Theosophical Society. Jim, as he was known to his theosophical family and friends, joined the Society in 1928 while practicing commercial art in Cincinnati and became a charter member of the Cincinnati Lodge. In addition to holding a number of local offices, including president of the Ohio Federation for five years, he was elected to the national board of directors of the Theosophical Society in America in 1936 and subsequently served as the American section's vice president from 1939 to 1945. On July 22, 1945, he succeeded Sidney A. Cook as president of the American Section, serving from 1945 to 1960.

In 1960, Jim was appointed international vice-president by then International President N. Sri Ram, who held the office until his death in 1973. From 1986 until his own demise, Jim served as President of Taormina, the Theosophical community in Ojai, California.

Raised in southern Louisiana, Jim had early aspirations of becoming an engineer. After graduating from high school, he enrolled in Cincinnati University to pursue his ambition, but a visit to the city's art museum caused a dramatic change in his career plans. Leaving the university after his first year, he began studying art, first at the Cincinnati Art Academy and later at the Art Students' League in New York City. Entering the field of commercial art, Jim further prepared himself as an illustrative painter with studies at New York's Grand Central School of Art. He subsequently returned to Cincinnati to work as a commercial artist.

Although he abandoned art as a career when he became president of the American section, he used his artistic talent to illustrate his major book on theosophy, Through Death to Rebirth (later completely revised, without illustrations, as Experiencing Reincarnation).

I met Jim and his lovely wife Katherine on my first visit to Olcott in 1954 while on a military leave from the U. S. Navy. Over time, I had the opportunity to know the Perkins better, first during a year I spent on the Olcott staff in 1955 and 1956 and later, at Adyar, during my Fulbright Grant to India in 1965—66. One of my lasting memories of Jim was hearing him as he walked to his office, striding down the carpeted hall at Olcott from his room on the second floor with strong, measured steps.

Despite his artistic abilities—usually associated in theosophical literature with a person of the Fourth Ray—Jim had definite First Ray qualities as well. I remember when he gathered all the Olcott staff in the building's living room and led us in hymn singing, probably a heritage from his early Southern Baptist upbringing, accompanying us on the piano. Another of my fond memories of Jim is listening to his lectures, especially when he would depart from his notes and speak extemporaneously. On those occasions, I felt, as I expressed it to myself at the time, "he could bring the buddhic plane down to the physical and wrap it around your ears."

One more delightful memory was during one of the Summer Sessions held at Olcott when I was in charge of the refreshment tent and constantly on the move to see that supplies were kept up. I happened to be standing at the back of the main tent, which had been raised on the tennis court, while Jim was thanking various people for their contribution to the success of the Convention and Summer School. He spotted me and, not remembering my first name, said, "And I want to thank Running Brooks for his work in the refreshment tent."

Assuming the office of president of the American section in 1945, he formed six committees to assist in the growth of the section: Field Technique, Publicity Pamphlets, Public Classes, Worker Training, Integration, and Headquarters Expansion. He also transformed the Publicity Department into the Department of Information, under the direction of Joy Mills, and initiated a small leaflet called Discovery. It contained a brief theosophical treatise and individual lodges and study centers could use its blank fourth page to publicize their own programs. Although Discovery was discontinued after about ten years, during its existence, its total circulation probably reached over a million copies.

In 1946, he inaugurated the "Spotlight" program. "Spot" was an acronym for "Speed the Popularization of Theosophy." Among the members who participated in this effort were Jim's wife, Katherine, Joy Mills, Alan Hooker, Nedra Ruder (later my wife), and Iris White. When Joy became president, "Spotlight" was renamed the Field Expansion Program and was for many years thereafter conducted mainly by Felix and Eunice Layton, and subsequently by Mattie Louise Gebhart. The efforts of these various members resulted in a considerable increase in the membership of the American section as well as in the formation of several new lodges and study centers and the strengthening of existing groups. One of the Laytons' talks I attended in downtown Detroit drew over 1000 people!

In 1947, as a result of a generous bequest from Herbert A. Kern, a successful businessman, the series of paperbacks, later called Quest Books, was launched. The first title was a reprint of The Essential Unity of All Religions, written by Bhagavan Das in 1932. In 1949, Jim inaugurated "Radio Theosophy," an idea originally proposed in 1923 by American section president at the time, L. W. Rogers. This program, although small by modern broadcasting standards, still continues today, utilizing audio tapes of talks recorded at Olcott by a variety of different speakers.

Also in 1947, Jim established a Theosophical Scholarship Fund which financed trips to Adyar by Mrs. Ann Kerr (later Mrs. Ann Greene) in 1950 and by Mr. and Mrs. Norman Pearson in 1951. In the same year, he proposed a series of National Theosophical Conferences which were held in various cities between 1955 and 1962.

In 1950, to commemorate the seventy-fifth anniversary of the Society, he commissioned and designed a "Brotherhood Stamp" which was sold through the Theosophical Publishing House. American members affixed them to the backs of their letters like Easter Seals or wildlife stamps.

In 1952, Jim developed a "master plan" for the development and expansion of the American section headquarters. His vision was later realized with an addition to the Olcott Library, the construction of a separate Theosophical Publishing House building and its adjacent storage facility (not actually part of his original plan), and a series of garages for staff members' cars.

He also enhanced the grounds of the headquarters, commissioning a pond to the east of the main building, now affectionately, if somewhat flippantly, known as "Perkie's Puddle." However, his idea of a separate lecture hall, to be named Blavatsky Hall and situated on the hill sloping down to the pond, has not yet been realized.

Jim began a series of worker training seminars in 1954, an effort that continues today at Krotona, the theosophical center in Ojai, California. In 1955, with a generous bequest from little-known member Clarence Ohlendorf and additional financial help from Herbert Kern, Perkins established the Theosophical Investment Trust. The Trust continues to fund a variety of programs, now overseen by Herb Kern's son, John, an active TS member in the Chicago area. In 1960, Jim was succeeded as president by Dr. Henry Smith (1897—1979); under Jim's leadership, the American section membership had reached 4,565, its highest point since 1933!

It is easy to see, even in this brief summary of his accomplishments, that the American Section owes a deep debt of gratitude to James Scudday Perkins. As one of many who were fortunate enough to have known him, I am delighted to honor his memory by reminding us of his numerous and significant contributions to the Theosophical Society over his many years of service.

In addition to my personal memories, I am indebted to Joy Mills for information from her book 100 Years of Theosophy: a History of The Theosophical Society in America as well as James Scudday Perkins' book Through Death to Rebirth and its reprint Experiencing Reincarnation.

Richard Brooks is a retired professor and chair of the Department of Philosophy at Oakland University, Rochester, Michigan. As a theosophist of more than fifty years, he served on the National Board for many years. His specialties are logic, Indic and Chinese philosophy, and parapsychology.

Explorations: Unbelief—A Path to Enlightenment

By Clare Goldsberry

Originally printed in the JULY-AUGUST 2007 issue of Quest magazine.
Citation: Goldsberry, Clare."Explorations: Unbelief—A Path to Enlightenment." Quest 95.4 (JULY-AUGUST 2007): 146-147.

Theosophical Society - Clare Goldsberry is a professional freelance writer and volunteer teacher with RISE, a continuing education program for older adults, on Eastern philosophies, the Ageless Wisdom, Gnosticism, and Kabbalah.

A father approached Jesus out of a crowd of people that always seemed to surround him wherever he traveled. The man begged Jesus to cure his afflicted son. Jesus inquired how long his son had suffered from these fits that often caused the young man to fall on the ground, gnash his teeth, and foam at the mouth. "Since he was a child," the man replied, begging Jesus to have compassion on them. Jesus then said to the man, "If thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth." Then the father replied, "Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief."(Mark 9:21-24) At this point, his son was cured.

The interesting thing about this comment is that the father didn't stop with his statement of belief, but went on to request help with his unbelief. This might indicate that a person's unbelief could be as beneficial to the path of enlightenment as a person's belief, perhaps even more so.

Belief often indicates a rigid structure. The term "belief system" is often used to designate a person's religious affiliation. Whether or not one is a believer can indicate whether or not a person is a true member of a specific religious group. Prior to admitting a person as a full-fledged member, religious organizations often require a statement or profession of belief as an indicator of one's commitment to that religious organization's doctrines or dogma.

However, from a theosophical standpoint, belief is something that is fluid, moving, living, breathing, and can change as we journey along various paths of life. Indeed, the ability to allow our beliefs to be flexible enough to lead us into new ways of being and seeing the world is critical to the quest for Self and for God or the Divine within us.

Putting our beliefs in suspended animation long enough to allow us the opportunity to look at something in a different light, and ask questions in the light of new learning or experience, is critical to our spiritual progression. Enlightenment can never become a reality if we are trapped in the darkness of a rigid belief system, unable or unwilling to ask the questions that can lead us forward into the light.

Many people find a sense of security and certainty in blind acceptance of their belief system. Many religious belief systems discourage the quest, telling their followers that questioning can destroy belief. Yet often, just the opposite happens. Questioning can open up new doors and new avenues for self-discovery. Of course, religious leaders fear that if they encourage questioning and questing, it may also lead one out of the particular religious organization to which one belongs. It might lead one to a different religious organization or to no particular religious organization.

In his book The Soul's Religion, Thomas Moore notes that people often use their belief system as a basis for their faith. Yet, he says, "What they call faith looks like its opposite. Like those who whistle in the dark, some seem to parade their beliefs precisely so they don't have to face the anxiety of not knowing the answers to the basic issues in life." Moore agrees that belief should be fluid and flexible. When belief is rigid and inflexible, Moore writes, ". . . there is no room for movement and no motive for reflection. When belief is rigid, it is infinitely more dangerous than unbelief."

I found tremendous resistance from my family, as my own journey led me beyond the belief system of my childhood religious upbringing. In one outburst of rage at my newly chosen path, my brother accused me of not knowing what I believed. My brother can recite his beliefs word-for-word, as if out of a book. His chosen path lies in an organized religion that provides him with structure and certainty, but discourages anyone from asking questions or taking on a quest of their own. Perhaps his anger grows out of a fear that outside the structure of the organization, one becomes lost in a sea of unbelief. Perhaps he fears that when the protective walls come down, one is left standing alone in the darkness, when in actuality, the opposite often happens.

When the walls of rigid belief systems come down, the light begins pouring in and one becomes free to seek enlightenment by asking the questions and embracing the answers; answers which, by the way, might be in the form of more questions that propel one still further along the path. Becoming comfortable with this process requires confidence in the quest and certainty in the path, rather than in any particular belief system. Within the shadows of unbelief lies the openness to receive the light of spiritual possibilities; within the fertile soil of unbelief lies the seeds of new faith that can grow into knowledge and enlightenment. It is what led to the healing of the son of the man who asked Jesus to bless his unbelief.

In the esoteric community, many people on "the path" disdain belief and the connotations it holds as being a dogmatic stricture of the church or of Christianity alone, and think that somehow belief precludes one's ability to be a seeker of truth. That is not the case. As Larry Witham says in his book By Design: Science and the Search for God, "One must believe in something in order to proceed to the next thing."

Belief is only the beginning. Belief is the first step toward understanding, as the father of the sick child knew. St. Anselm, the medieval logician, said, "I believe so that I may understand." As one moves from belief, through the twilight of unbelief, one is ultimately led to the light of knowing, and to enlightenment itself. Unbelief is not something to be avoided as one seeks enlightenment and self-knowledge—it is something to be embraced.

References

Moore, Thomas. The Soul's Religion. San Francisco: Perennial/HarperCollins, 2003.Witham, Larry. By Design: Science and the Search for God. San Francisco: Encounter Books, 2003.

Clare Goldsberry is a member of the Phoenix Study Group. She is a professional freelance writer for business and industry trade magazines, and also writes articles on religion and spirituality. Clare is the author of A Stranger in Zion, a non-fiction book that received the 2003 Glyph Award for Best Religion Book from the Arizona Book Publishers Association.

July - August 2007

VOLUME 95, NUMBER 4

Contents

Take a Bite
By Betty Bland

Reminisces of James Scudday Perkins
By Richard W. Brooks

An Irish High Priestess in India
By Lowell Thomas

Harry Potter and Dugpa
By john Algeo

When You Are One with Every Heart That Beats: The TS International Presidents in History
By Linda and Pedro Oliveira

The True Power of Love
By Tim Boyd

Explorations: Unbelief—A Path to Enlightenment
By Clare Goldsberry

Trusting

By Les Kaye

Fundamentally, I do not think it makes much difference what spiritual practice we choose. What is important is that our expression of spirituality be founded on trust; in particular, trust in something very great, something that we cannot see or explain, but is inherent in everyone and everything. It makes little difference what name we assign it or how we address it: God, Allah, Buddha, Great Spirit, Ground of Being, or True Nature. To be authentic, our spiritual life must be based on learning to put our trust, without limit, in what exists everywhere, what is expressed in every life.

In the affairs of daily life, the nature of trust between people is very complex. It is based on both our direct experience of each other and what we carry around in our mind, such as another person's reputation and our own beliefs and prejudices. Yet despite its troublesome politics, everyday life is the only place where we can express our spirituality. If we truly want to feel our spirituality, we have to trust everyone; even those individuals whose everyday behavior we cannot always rely upon. We must place our trust in the fundamental purity or True Nature of humanity. But how can we find that deep trust with someone who we feel cannot be trusted in the affairs of daily life? We can begin to nurture this trust only by first trusting ourselves.

In high school, I had a good idea of what kind of work I wanted to do when I grew up. Even though I was very certain about this, I was obliged to meet with the guidance counselors anyway. They said: "You can do anything you want." I was shocked to hear them say this and did not believe them. I felt that I could do one or two things with my life, but not "anything." I thought they were giving me false encouragement, that it was their job to say such things. Simply put, I did not trust them.

Many years later, I understood that they were right, and came to recognize that it was myself I had not trusted. As a young man, I had various ideas about myself and saw myself in a limited way. I could have trusted my teachers if I had trusted myself and not held on to limiting ideas about myself.

Trusting requires us to let go. My own spiritual practice of Zen Buddhism stresses this point: let go of opinions, attachments, and desires; those self-orientations of the ego that limit our lives. If we cannot let them go, they create walls around us, separating us from one another. It is impossible to trust ourselves outside these walls and we certainly will not trust anyone we believe wants to "attack" our walls.

The mind can be very stubborn. Old, ingrained habits make it difficult to let go of limits we have imposed on ourselves. Usually it is not very helpful to say to ourselves, or to someone else, "Just get over it!" Instead of trying to force our minds to let go or change, we can simply engage our spiritual practice with an attitude of trust. We can pray, meditate, or chant to express something very great and without limits, with no expectation of gain for ourselves.

Trust depends on accepting things as they are, letting go of fixed ideas of good or bad, like or dislike. This is the best way to let go of the habit of limiting ourselves. It is a matter of simply expressing our spirituality in the midst of things as they are, trusting that our unlimited True Nature will express itself through our activities of daily life.

The foundation of trust and spirituality is the recognition that untrustworthy people are suffering from a misunderstanding about themselves; they do not trust their own True Nature. Trust includes forgiveness when we feel harmed by someone else's behavior. In this way, forgiveness is an expression of letting go of limiting ideas about ourselves. It is also an expression of not putting limits on others, and instead trusting in their True Nature.

Even though we may limit a relationship with someone because of the complex nature of everyday trust, we can continue to trust the fundamental True Nature that is always with us, present everywhere.

Quest Magazine

The True Power of Love

Reminscences of James Scudday Perkins

Explorations: Unbelief—A Path to Enlightenment

July - August 2007

Trusting

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