Accepting the moderator position called me into a journey with Spirit. Could I access spiritual empowerment, which would serve the entire evening? How would "I" handle the Neo-Nazis if they showed up? How was I to go beyond the pride of being selected as moderator? What were my intentions? Could I rise to the requirements of this mantle? How could any potential clash be turned into a unifying event?

Everyone predicted that the separatists would not bother to show up to a gathering on compassion. Spirit told me differently. As I strove to hear Spirit's promptings, I was aware of the message: be psychologically prepared to hold the space even with the Neo-Nazis present. The reality of having to face them scared me. Should one include those who exclude? Is it compassionate to show compassion for the uncompassionate? What if they disrupted the entire meeting? Was I big enough to include them? Would there be a violent confrontation? How does one unify?

Preparing the content of my introductory remarks was small potatoes compared to this inner psychological initiation. Yet I knew that my introductory speech could, and should, be the icebreaker. I visualized a freighter's hull crashing through the frozen arctic waters. My remarks could, and should, open the space for the forum speakers to take risks, to be bold, and to share from their hearts. Compassion demanded at least that.

But compassion called for more. I was amazed. As I worked with the subject of compassion, it called me ever higher. Compassion revealed itself to me as a kind of ultimate litmus test for my (for our) spirituality. In its heart, it knows no bounds. It stops nowhere. No one is excluded. No thing is excluded from its embrace. Thus, it deigns to destroy our need to bind and to bound our little ego world. "Love thy neighbor as thy self" is the radical invitation to crash the subject-object dualism. The bodhisattva's vow to delay enlightenment until everyone reaches enlightenment is a depth of concern for others I found harrowing.

I remembered a day in my integrated ecology class when we held the "Council of All Beings." We built a campfire, made primitive masks then donned them, and spoke from the voice of that realm. Suddenly, everything had a consciousness. Everything wanted to be included in the heart. Starfish and moth, fire ash and salamander, butterfly, bear, and botulism. True compassion is compassion for ALL beings. We humans can barely conceive of that. We humans have a struggle finding compassion for a single species ~ our own - out of 100,000 species. In fact, the true human struggle with compassion arises from our non-compassion with ourselves. There are parts within ourselves 'the needy, the greedy, the unevolved' that we push away daily.

That we humans still do not really know how to be compassionate with others, or with ourselves, may have an evolutionary context. There is some evidence to support the idea that compassion is, perhaps, a tendency, which is only recently breaking out in the evolutionary unfolding. Compassion is a fragile skill we humans are just learning. Other species do not necessarily show compassion. The honeybees reject from the hive the sickly and the aged. Female praying mantises eat their mate after copulation. Eagles push their young from the nest.

Could it be that as the universe evolves into higher states of complexity and differentiation, compassion is a new possibility just appearing on the scene? If compassion has only "been hanging around" for, say, 5,000 years out of 5 billion years of Earth time," then it has only been present as a possibility for .000001% of the Planet's unfolding.

There are findings in brain research to support this idea (assuming the idea is not just another version of the "we humans are the superior species" story, so destructive to the world unfolding). The neurobiology of the triune brain, as described by Paul MacLean, shows that the prefrontal cortex is the latest evolutionary outcropping of the human brain. And what does the prefrontal cortex do? It allows our awareness of our life process, which makes possible identification with other life processes and may allow the first inkling of empathy and compassion (from "The Human Face: An Interview with Frederick Franck," Parabola, Fall, 1998).

If compassion were a relatively new evolutionary possibility, it would help explain why we humans have such a difficult time with it. It helps me, anyway, be compassionate with myself when I am flailing around in judgment and fear. It helped me be compassionate with myself as I prepared to meet the Neo-Nazis at our community forum on compassion. I got that my human personality needed to access something bigger; something deeper inside myself than my unusual state of judgment, revulsion, and fear of separatist ideas. My small self was, well... afraid. I wanted to separate from the separatists! I prayed. My wife and I prayed together. We prayed for guidance, strength, and for compassion. We opened ourselves to this possibility. And it surprised me the way that it burst through.

On the afternoon of the forum, I had finished writing my introductory notes (in order to be prepared), taken a nap (to be rested), and started on a jog (to be in my body). Half way through the jog, I was suddenly graced with an awakening. The dripping green trees were stunning. The moment was liquid crystal clear. I realized that I had been jogging in a mental fog, endlessly revising my notes, unconnected to my body, hopelessly split off. It was as if now I had suddenly burst surface from the murky underwater into the wide, open world. And with this flowed a feeling of immense power.

I want to take some pains to try to describe this power, because I think that it is something that we can all ask for, and be graced with. It was as if the mantle I had both feared - and prayed for - suddenly dropped over my shoulders. I was now radicallyin my body, I was my physicality. But more, I could feel energy coursing through me. I was suddenly more than just me. I was a conduit, a presence, a re-presentative of Spirit. The connection was made; the switch was on. I was it. All of us can be it.

At the community hall, ten minutes before the meeting, I saw them walking in the door. The neo-Nazis had arrived. The personality part of me groaned. The empowered part just smiled. I took a deep breath, and went to introduce myself and welcome them. We actually exchanged small talk.

The forum started and I struggled momentarily with whether I had the courage to deliver my prepared remarks. I knew my flowery remarks would offend the separatists. Yet I had a responsibility to the bigger picture, and I had the power if I would use it wisely. The resistance I felt in the room was a reflection of my own resistance - to be out on a limb; to purpose a depth of compassion I was having to walk that night; to wear the mantle, even as my small self continued to squirm.

I believe that something miraculous occurred that night. And it was decidedly not just me "making" it happen. It was a synergy with Spirit, with Quan Yin, bodhisattva of compassion. The panel speakers each broke new ice. They too were courageous, firm, steady, and open. The audience was filled with members of the community on the spiritual path. I knew that many of the audience members were holding the space of unconditional love in their hearts, no matter what was said, no matter what happened. My wife later said that she was blessed with the experience of no fear (and she has been frightened of the neo-Nazis). The cumulative effect of all of our spoken and unspoken intentions was a powerful, and immensely respectful, force field. I don't know how else to talk about the energy in the meeting room that night. The field held the sacred space for the possibility of moving into true compassion.

Here's a small example. A neo-Nazi sitting in the front row was videotaping the entire meeting. Was this an act of intimidation? Let's get personal here: what will they do with me on their videotape? At the break, he moved to the other side of the room. I went over to him and casually asked why he had moved. He grumbled about his batteries running out and needing to plug into a wall socket. Then he said a remarkable thing: "I was going to get up in the middle of the meeting and find a wall socket, but I didn't want to disturb everybody." I thought to myself: the force field of respect and compassion envelops him, too. And no matter what hateful thoughts he had or would speak, there dwelled awareness, respect, and kindness in his heart.
So it didn't matter to me when he also stated that the meeting was "just drivel." I asked him about Christ's injunction to "love thy neighbor as thy self." He informed me that, "You don't understand the meaning of the word neighbor in the Bible. Neighbor means only those of your same race." Although I secretly wondered how someone could misuse the Bible in this way, it really didn't matter to me, because he had said "I was going to get up in the middle of the meeting and find a wall socket, but I didn't want to disturb everybody." His actions, not his words, spoke to me.

Still, there were tests, nevertheless. When the audience handed in their written questions for the panel, I clearly saw before me two questions that would raise the tension dramatically. Would I, should I, read them aloud or skip to the innocuous questions?

One of the challenging questions was from a neo-Nazi stating that only the Adamic Race (the separatist belief in the pure Aryan race allegedly descended directly from Adam's seed) was capable of compassion. I braced with a belly breath, and told the audience, "OK, we are going to take a little risk here, so fasten your seat belt," and then I read the neo-Nazi's comment to the room.

The Tibetan Lama on the panel plunged headlong. He said what most in the room were thinking: "I totally disagree with this statement. Compassion is available to all human beings regardless of race. To limit compassion to a single race is one of the most uncompassionate ideas I have heard."

The force field in the room groaned, as if a heavy strain pushed against it. I peered tentatively out into the audience. Was this the spark needed for a violent confrontation of ideology? I scanned the force field with my intuition. The force field of respect was holding. Evidently, we were being allowed by Spirit to pass go, and proceed to the next level of the test.

The next in-your-face question was this: "Should we be compassionate with community members who are uncompassionate of others, and who spread hate literature and harass community members of different color?"

I turned to the audience and said: "OK, now we are going to take a really big risk. So take a deep breath, and let's see if we can walk our compassion talk." And I read the question aloud.

In their own unique and extraordinary way, each one of the panel members said, "Yes, we need to be compassionate with those who are uncompassionate." And the amazing thing was this: These were not just sugar-coated spiritual platitudes being mouthed in a group of like-minded spiritual seekers. These words were spoken in the presence of neo-Nazis. Moreover! The room was suffused with compassion. We were walking our talk.

The final test, for me as a moderator, was when I asked everyone in the audience to write down the most inspiring idea from the evening, and we would share them. As hands raised, I could see the leader of the neo-Nazis raise his, too. Up until this point, I had "controlled" the proceedings by forcing the audience members to respond through written comments (which I read and only the panel could respond to). Now was the time to take the risk of removing the controls and let audience members speak out loud.

As the leader of the neo-Nazis spoke about our need - not for compassion - but for redemption under the Aryan Race, all I could feel was the sea of love that the audience was creating for this man. Everything was being held in the highest light. It didn't matter what he said, because he was being loved. As he continued his pontification beyond the time I had allotted for this "sharing", I felt the power once again flow through me. I said; "Sir, will you please wrap up your remarks in the next minute so other people can also speak." He did.

As a number of us talked about the meeting later, we all wondered if he could feel the love - not agreement, mind you - but the love that surrounded him. We wondered if the compassion that night walked in its undefended way into an unguarded place in the hearts of the neo-Nazis, beyond words, beyond dogma, beyond rigid belief systems. Compassion certainly walked into the hearts of most of the audience.

And maybe that is how compassion spreads, undefended, in quiet ways, through the invisible heart.

We planted seeds that night. The seeds of compassion are beginning to push up through the dark soil of conflict. First of all, we all realized that compassion is the mother of all contexts in which to hold our community. It is the rallying word that cuts across all religions and separating dogma. It is something almost everyone can embrace as an idea. Perhaps we are beginning to see that although we as humans can not allow (tolerate) certain actions (harassment, hate crimes, etc.,), we can have compassion for all human beings - even those who commit such acts.

Other seeds have sprouted from that night. There are plans afoot for an international peace bridge here in Sandpoint with prayer flags; the Mayor has called a town meeting on healing the youth in our community, and numerous articles are appearing in our local paper on the subject of a more compassionate community.