A Study Group or Humanity in Miniature
I have been part of a study group since 2018. I thought I had seen that you had to have read the entire book prior to joining one, and it took me about two years to read it through. Then D-Day arrived and I found a phone number on the internet:
“Hello, I’ve read the whole book. May I join your group?”
A long silence follows, and then the reply: “How did you get my phone number?”
So I arrive for this first meeting at the sweet home of one of the participants. There are six of us. I introduce myself, but there is no subsequent round of introductions. First imbalance: known without knowing the others. The study begins, and after about an hour, a scuffle breaks out between two people. Harsh words fly back and forth like a ping-pong match. I think to myself: there’s no point in driving an hour and a half to see this, especially with people who claim to be on a spiritual quest. I might as well just pack up my things and say, “Bye-bye, everyone.”
But I didn’t pack my things and say goodbye. I even returned over and over again, either at one’s place or another, and these scuffles lasted for several years. I would leave the meetings exhausted. Despite this, over time, relationships turned into friendships that were all the more precious because they were spiritual. The altercations came to an end just as evil will do so on earth. So I continued my minimum hour-and-a-half drive and came “in person,” as it is fashionable to say.
Mystery of the work of the unseen. Reading together is sharing our perspectives on The Urantia Book, sharing our differences, and enriching our knowledge through the knowledge of others.
Yes, but…
Practically speaking, I observe hands raised like in school, eagerly awaiting their turn to speak. I wonder: how well am I really listening while I hold on to my idea so as not to lose it as I wait impatiently for my turn to speak?
To push it some more, sometimes after a meeting, we call each other: “Did you hear what X said? How beautiful it was!”
“No, I have not perceived anything concerning the richness of this distinction. I must be spiritually deaf and am truly mediocre at listening to others.”
And then there are these completely unfamiliar topics, so afar from me and my everyday life; discussions that I don’t understand at all. The group pushes me. I have to reread what I wouldn’t have reread and delve deeper into what escapes me. Here again, is the mystery of the unseen work of planting seeds and waiting for them to germinate. As the years go by, they sprout into open air and restructure my mind without my realizing it.
Our group is very diverse. We read, each of us immersed in the book, trying to understand it in our own way. Even if we’ve already read it, it doesn’t matter, it’s always new. So we’re always beginners. After two paragraphs, we usually stop reading and share our thoughts. Everyone gives their own interpretation, one goes back three paragraphs, another refers to a passage a thousand pages later that corroborates what is being said. We talk about concepts in the midst of experience, about the I AM in the midst of a TV show, like mixing meat and vegetables to make a personal dish, without forgetting the spices that enhance the flavor with our more or less funny, more or less delicate remarks. Sometimes a little too salty.
After three hours, we stop and return to earthly pleasures: cookies, pizza, and large cakes accompanied by fruit juice. It’s easier to swallow than three hours of UB! With time, we’ve gotten to know everyone’s tastes and we supply accordingly.
Then we all start talking at once, discussing on what we’ve studied and on health, family, and current events. All that’s left for me to do is to drive an hour and a half to go home.
My God, why am I participating? Why do I keep going when most of my understanding comes from studying the book on my own?
The answer is obvious: alone, there is no humanity. That brotherhood we brandish at the end of every email with “fraternally” and “your brother in spirit” (we should add “Sister in spirit”). Our group is a reflection of the humans who populate the earth: everyone goes in all directions, everyone with their nose in their own conception of the world, holding on to it and defending it. Listening? Listening is silencing my ideas so that I can see the world through the eyes of others. I learn; every time I truly listen, it changes the patchwork of my ideas and of my place in the world. True listening never leaves you unchanged. And so, do I leave each time, after my hour-and-a-half drive, feeling a little different? Yes, and the best evidence of this is the dissatisfaction I feel when I return home because the group does not give me exactly what I expect. It challenges me, shifts me away from my comfortable reference points, and reminds me that fraternity is built on willingness, courage, and time.
So it is with some paradox that I keep following our group in all directions, and it would be unthinkable for me to stop participating. Nothing can be taken for granted. You have to constantly try to understand how the other person has understood, why they refer to that other passage in the book, accept their detours when they seem to be talking about something else while they are actually making a connection. It’s a bit of a mess, just as our Adjuster must find our minds very messy. And yet it is in this disorder that he works.
In conclusion, I would say that study groups are only partially devoted to studying. The ladies’ lipstick and eye shadow, the gentlemen’s close shaves, and the cakes chosen according to everyone’s tastes all say that we come together to share the best of ourselves, our ideals of brotherhood and humanity, which we strive for when we immerse ourselves in the book. The book provides the words, but the people present give them meaning.