Can political activists also be spiritual teachers? That's a valid question at a time when large groups of people are pursuing both active involvement in the political sphere and the development of personal spiritual practices, often outside of the conventional wisdom traditions. My good friend Andrew Harvey has written a new book called The Hope that promotes the fusion of political activism and spiritual practice into what he calls "sacred activism." Although I haven't yet read the book, on several occasions I have heard Andrew discourse for hours on this subject, and I can tell you that it's essential wisdom he is purveying, and that The Hope is highly recommended reading. Indeed Andrew would say that the two--spiritual practice and social activism--need to be inextricably intertwined in our contemporary world.Andrew's book has just been published by Hay House, but the whole issue came to me synchronistically as I watched a film dramatization of the life of Abbie Hoffman, entitled Steal This Movie
(after the title of one of Abbie's books). Originally released in 2000, the film was directed by Robert Greenwald, who went on to create a string of superb documentaries on topics ranging from Rupert Murdock's Fox News to Wal-Mart to Iraq war profiteers. Greenwald worked with Hoffman's widow, Anita, and some of his closest allies, including Tom Hayden and lawyer Jerry Lefcourt, to create a fairly realistic, if imperfect, movie. Watching it reminded me how much I miss Abbie now. To say that is to acknowledge the dearth of profoundly inspired players on the stage of political theater--intrepid, maybe even reckless souls willing to take equivalent risks and suffer the consequences. As you may recall, while Abbie was in hiding from the CIA, he worked as a community organizer helping to save the St. Lawrence River in my beloved upstate New York. Even while living underground and in fear for his life, he just couldn't help himself from helping others. And although I'm cheered to see another former community organizer occupying the White House, we still need more leaders like Abbie out in the field.
But he's gone, like John Lennon--another cultural guerrilla who might have filled the leadership vacuum these last few years--and, of course, Martin, Malcolm, Bobby, and more. All taken out of action and no longer available to us, except in spirit. That spirit is powerful, though, and one that we need to invoke and recall in times like these. Lest we forget, in 1967 Hoffman and Jerry Rubin made headlines by talking their way onto the visitors' gallery of the New York Stock Exchange, then raining dollar bills down onto the exchange floor and sending traders into a frenzy of grasping for free money. As a result, the visitors' gallery was closed until a barrier of bulletproof, shatterproof glass could be installed, to prevent further acts of inspired lunacy. How much could we use him now?
As far as I know, Abbie was not a fan of religion--I can imagine him saying, with apologies to Groucho Marx, that he wouldn't want to belong to any religion that would have someone like him for a member. Nonetheless he was a deeply spiritual being who placed principles of morality and decency above his own material welfare and physical safety. That might even qualify him for the job description of mystic. Like some well-known mystics, he suffered from what was diagnosed as bipolar disorder. And although there is no record of his ever having levitated like Teresa of Avila, Hoffman did try to levitate the Pentagon.
In an interview in 1987 quoted in his obituary in the New York Times, Abbie Hoffman declared himself an unabashed leftist. "I believe in the redistribution of wealth and power in the world," he said. "I believe in universal hospital care for everyone. I believe that we should not have a single homeless person in the richest country in the world. And I believe that we should not have a C.I.A. that goes around overwhelming governments and assassinating political leaders, working for tight oligarchies around the world to protect the tight oligarchy here at home.''
His vision, which shares the social gospel of the Sermon on the Mount, has been absorbed by many more people in the decade since his death, and never sounded more appropriate--or more spiritually on target.
But he's gone, like John Lennon--another cultural guerrilla who might have filled the leadership vacuum these last few years--and, of course, Martin, Malcolm, Bobby, and more. All taken out of action and no longer available to us, except in spirit. That spirit is powerful, though, and one that we need to invoke and recall in times like these. Lest we forget, in 1967 Hoffman and Jerry Rubin made headlines by talking their way onto the visitors' gallery of the New York Stock Exchange, then raining dollar bills down onto the exchange floor and sending traders into a frenzy of grasping for free money. As a result, the visitors' gallery was closed until a barrier of bulletproof, shatterproof glass could be installed, to prevent further acts of inspired lunacy. How much could we use him now?
As far as I know, Abbie was not a fan of religion--I can imagine him saying, with apologies to Groucho Marx, that he wouldn't want to belong to any religion that would have someone like him for a member. Nonetheless he was a deeply spiritual being who placed principles of morality and decency above his own material welfare and physical safety. That might even qualify him for the job description of mystic. Like some well-known mystics, he suffered from what was diagnosed as bipolar disorder. And although there is no record of his ever having levitated like Teresa of Avila, Hoffman did try to levitate the Pentagon.
In an interview in 1987 quoted in his obituary in the New York Times, Abbie Hoffman declared himself an unabashed leftist. "I believe in the redistribution of wealth and power in the world," he said. "I believe in universal hospital care for everyone. I believe that we should not have a single homeless person in the richest country in the world. And I believe that we should not have a C.I.A. that goes around overwhelming governments and assassinating political leaders, working for tight oligarchies around the world to protect the tight oligarchy here at home.''
His vision, which shares the social gospel of the Sermon on the Mount, has been absorbed by many more people in the decade since his death, and never sounded more appropriate--or more spiritually on target.
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