By Hans Hallundbaek
My childhood was somber. I was born in Denmark into the darkness, doom, and financial hardship of the Great Depression. The aftershocks of the collapse of the stock market in 1929 still had my country in its grip, and even more so, our poor farming community on the windswept North Sea coast. It was in this environment that I adapted and grew up with much love from my mother and stern old-school discipline from my father.
Our attendance at the Sunday morning church service was obligatory. I later realized my father had an additional motivation: Half the people who lived within reach of his general store were church-goers and valued customers. Of course, the “heathens” were customers too and often spent more money in the store than the “saved” ones. Both groups were essential for keeping the business going. My father never discussed this issue, but I am sure it must have been a moral dilemma for him.
I found Church not only boring but fear inducing. The pastor repeatedly warned against the snares of the devil, which were bound to get us in trouble if we succumbed to their tempting call. He did not mince words about what he meant by salvation from eternal damnation: Unless we were washed in the blood of Christ, we were condemned to suffer the eternal fires of hell. A graphic painting over the altar of the crucified Jesus added a chilling visual image to the pastor’s words. With such a guilt-inducing message repeated in various forms each Sunday, we walked out of the church with our heads bowed lower than when we arrived.
While the pastor often warned that the tinsel of the world – the glitter, lure, and false luster of the city – was bound to get us in trouble if we succumbed to its tempting call, my relation to tinsel was different. For me it was the thin strips of shiny foil we put on the Christmas tree. The beautiful decorations, lighted candles, brightly wrapped gifts, and the joys of Christmas all put a positive spin on the word tinsel for me. I began to doubt the pastor. The doubt grew in my mind, until one day I decided to act. I hid in a corner of the barn and negotiated a deal with God: “Let me go to the city and experience the luster, fun and excitement of the tinsel; in return I promise to come back to You when I am older.”
Now that I am older, I realize God fully accepted my childhood deal. I have been in and out of great cities on five continents, and I have experienced the luster, fun and excitement of the tinsel. However, I have also experienced more emptiness, selfishness, deception, and suffering than I care to remember. I owe my childhood pastor an apology: His interpretation of tinsel was right, and I was wrong. I just had to learn it for myself.
A turning point for me occurred when I was stationed in Japan on business and dedicated to climbing the corporate ladder. I had left my childhood Christianity in the dust as my values became totally worldly. I lived in downtown Tokyo close to a tiny Buddhist temple. On my morning walks, I often saw people visiting the temple, which had a little bell tower and a rope. They would ring the bell and call the spirit. I watched a mother with her children on their way to the store; as she passed the temple she stopped, rang the bell once, said a quick prayer, and then continued on her way. I saw a businessman with his attaché case and dark suit do the same thing. Throughout the day, hundreds like them would take a minute or two out of their busy lives to acknowledge the eternal and the spiritual. I was fascinated by the relaxed yet sincere attitude of the Japanese to religion. Such devotion prompted me to return to my own religious roots and learn about the real teachings of Jesus. Within a few years, I had left the business world and was fully ensconced in academic studies, first at a Catholic theological school and later at a progressive ecumenical seminary in New York City. I found the study of Bible history, interpretation, belief systems, and Theology fascinating. However, I was never taught how to experience the eternal spirit in my own life.
My search took me to the bottom of the social ladder – prison – where those who did not conform to the rules of society were hidden from public view with only limited tools for rehabilitation. I spent 25 years in the New York State prison system teaching various college-level classes in Sociology, Philosophy, and Theology, as well as serving as Chaplain. It was in prison that I learned the important lesson that helping someone to grow and heal would simultaneously lead to growth and healing of yourself.
Over the years, my faith walk expanded from mainline Protestant and Reformed Christian traditions to include other major world religions and various spiritual systems, such as A Course in Miracles (the Course). In the beginning, I found the teachings of the Course convoluted, but good teachers and well-designed study material helped unfold it for me over the years. For example, I had a lifelong fear of death. I was impressed with the ability of the Course to undo such wrong perceptions, and with the Holy Spirit guiding me from illusions to the truth, that fear is almost completely gone. For the last 30 years, the Course has been my preferred spiritual path.
Similarly, the Course’s emphasis on my oneness with God and each other, and its call for forgiveness and Atonement slowly ground away my deeply ingrained thought patterns of fear, guilt, and shame. In their place, a bright new view of God’s love for all his creation gradually opened up. These days, as traditional religious teachings lose public appeal and the world seems to slide closer and closer to some sort of Doomsday scenario, I feel it is essential to share the Course’s message of hope and trust with the world.
Three years ago, I was introduced to The Complete & Annotated Edition (CE) of the Course and started attending weekly classes at the Circle of Atonement. It was only then that I felt I had the true understanding of the teachings of the Course. The Course’s unique interpretation of the message of the Jesus of Nazareth combined with deep psychological insights, meditative reflections and repeated exercises provided me with a profound learning experience. Of all the various spiritual practices I have explored over the years, A Course in Miracles is the pinnacle.
Each morning now I look forward to my study and meditation time, convinced by experience that it will provide new insights for me. The Course and its global community of like-minded brothers and sisters have become my “church,” and for that I am grateful.
(See Hans second story here)
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