Through the Red Door Blog

In 1936, in his book, Toward the Future, Pierre Teilhard de Chardin wrote: “The day will come when, after harnessing the ether, the winds, the tides, gravitation, we shall harness for God the energies of love. And, on that day, for the second time in history of the world, man will have discovered fire.” We can only wonder if de Chardin was aware that in the previous year a force had been tapped into that would change the twentieth century and centuries to come.

The fire that was ignited was that of two men discussing a common problem over a cup of coffee (and cigarettes)  . The fire was the desire to help other alcoholics find a way to live which, up till then, did not exist. True, there was prohibition; the Pioneer Total Abstinence Association, and numerous other ways to attempt to attain sobriety with little success.

The fire ignited was a love for living which was ignited by a Spiritual Awakening to see the world in a new way, through “a new pair of glasses” as it were. “This man spoke my language” said Dr. Bob. In other words, the Bible which he knew so well and taught, did not speak the language he needed to hear. The medical profession of which he was a part, did not speak his language. It was Carl Jung’s concept that, what was needed, was a Spiritual Awakening, that created the spark which ignited a chain of events culminating in Bill and Bob becoming the co-founders of this simple program “which is suggested as a program for sobriety.”

There had to be a fire burning in the hearts of these men as they met with opposition in various forms. After all, where did they go to learn about addiction other than their own devastating experiencing? This same heart that cried out for help; this heart that wanted to be better, that could not find a way out of the bottle, was finally released in an image described as “I became acutely conscious of a presence which seemed like a veritable sea of living spirit. I lay on the shores of a new world. ‘This,’ I thought, ‘must be the great reality. The God of the preachers.’”

A third man joined, then a fourth, and more. What were they to do but share their experience, strength and hope as they had little to no other programs from which to draw upon? Rising from the death-grip of addiction, these men wanted to breathe, they wanted to live. These men were on fire due to the love they experienced in their new life the likes of which they had not imagined prior to this. The fire, ignited by Carl Jung with Roland H. who carried that torch to Ebby T. and, from there the fire was further ignited through input from Sam Shoemaker, Fr John Ford, Bishop Fulton Sheen, etc.

Today, millions of men, women, and teens attend meetings that use the twelve-step spiritual program to help them live one day at a time. Some, initially, were put off by the fire of loving concern for one another. “Some of us held onto our old ways.” Sooner or later, that fire which we had experienced drew us back like a moth to a flame. We wanted what those others wanted. We might not have been consciously aware of that (I certainly wasn’t as it took me four and a half years of a dry drunk to get the point).

This past eighteen months have been a pain for so many of us and yet, this past eighteen months have been exciting as people reported being at meetings in Ireland, Australia, England, Germany, etc. The whole wide world (www) of Alcoholics Anonymous was and remains connected by Zoom. Newcomers have arrived in a little square box, asked for a virtual chip and received a virtual hug and they stayed. They stayed because they caught the fire that was burning through the screens of phones and computers, giving support, hope, laughter, compassion, and more.

I have no doubt that if de Chardin were here today he would acknowledge that, in Alcoholics Anonymous (and affiliated twelve-step groups), the fire of love has been harnessed and witnessed as millions of men and women are now living sober and serene lives, are experiencing the love and respect they craved, are now loving and caring wounded healers.

Séamus D

Greater New Orleans Area.

I’ll tell you “why,” I had nine years in the “program.” They weren’t really “high quality AA years” but at least I didn’t have a drink during those years. It frankly was “dry drunk” sobriety. But when I quit going to meetings and said to myself that “I understood the Program” and knew where to get help if I needed it or if I felt a slip was coming, soon, I went back out drinking for 6 or 9 months. And it was a hateful time for me. I knew what was going to happen, and yet, I did it.

So, I know and believe that if I don’t go to the meetings and participate in the inner-workings of the Program, I will get drunk.

But the answer is really “no you don’t have to go to meetings” for the rest of your life. You just have to go to a meeting today, for it’s a-day-at-a time Program.

If I can’t get to a meeting, I make certain that I have “an AA moment” or more every day: I can write this meditation. I re-read the Big Book and some of the new stories in the latest edition. I can reach out to my sponsor or someone I’m working with, and of course, with the experiences we have had with the pandemic, I can always ZOOM into any meeting in the world.

If we don’t maintain a “conscious contact” with the Program, we’re really on shaky grounds. It is best to be part of that energy of 20 or 30 people at a meeting to keep our thinking straight.

It’s your call. AA doesn’t take attendance. We don’t evaluate someone who hasn’t attended for a period of time. Working the Program brings an honesty we lost while out in the wilderness. We learned to be honest with ourselves and not play games that lead to a return to those old days. When you might be in doubt about this, get to a meeting for “a conscious contact.”  Why chance it!?

And besides, most meetings are a lot of fun -- meeting new people and old friends -- and I’ve learned that no alcoholic drinks are served at AA meetings.

So, see you at Monday’s meeting!

JRA/St. X Noon, Cincinnati

It’s anniversary time again and, receiving a coin with the Roman numeral VII tells me that it’s also a jubilee year – a time that lends resonance to my reflection on the providence of grace, particularly the gift of grace found in scraps.

Recovery, as we know, works one day at a time. Looking back over these 2,558 days, I find myself asking in wonder “how did I get here?” Ironically, it’s the very same question I asked in agony before I found the rooms of recovery. As a way of wrapping words around my gratitude, I offer some thoughts about scraps and pilgrimage.

Last Sunday, we heard John’s version of the Feeding of the 5,000. It's a story of God’s miraculous plentitude that we know well. But only in John do we hear Jesus’ direction: “Gather up the fragments left over, so that nothing may be lost.”

Only John tells us how Jesus, with exquisite purposefulness, cares for the fragments. He sees the feast that remains within the leftovers. We might think the miracle is that there is enough food for everyone. Yet for Jesus, having enough isn’t the end of the story. There is always more: a meal that depends on paying attention to what is broken and in pieces, what has been tossed aside.

Fragments. Scraps. Crumbs. Leftovers. Lost. Missing. Gone. These are hard words. Do you consider yourself a scrap? During my using life, thinking of myself as a scrap would have been a compliment.

But in Sunday’s Gospel, John tells us that, in Jesus, God takes extraordinary care of the “scraps,” so that none may be lost. God wants to give us what we don't even realize we need. God knows precisely what we need, which is more than we can ask or imagine.

So, let’s think about scraps for a moment. As the son of a quilter, I automatically think of boxes of fabric remnants. I grew up watching my mother carefully gather up scraps from everywhere – childhood clothes (ours and hers), table skirts, Boy Scout neckerchiefs, even old quilt tops – anything that had a thread of life still in it.

These were then sorted by color and type, and carefully stored against the day when they could be lovingly resurrected; pieced and quilted into something of beauty that hadn’t existed before. Now, somewhere in there, she would say, I remember the perfect little bit of yellow. Warmth and beauty created out of what had been cast away. The Kingdom of God can look a lot like a quilt.

A 12-Step meeting is another sort of collection of scraps. Fellow sufferers, who have been beaten down, broken open and, yet with a thread of life still in them, are washed into church basements and other such places, where each one is lovingly resurrected, remade one day at a time into a beautiful humanity that hadn’t existed before. Through the steps and within the fellowship, hope is created in what had been cast away. The Kingdom of God can look a lot like a 12-Step meeting.

+ + +

I’ve just returned from vacation. It’s the first time I’ve taken two weeks of rest since I can’t remember when. It was a splendid time with friends, family, and happy places in a spot I called home decades ago; it remains important to me to this day.

This trip “home” was different. Without intending it to, it became a pilgrimage of sorts, with stops at places I had lived, favorite museums and restaurants, and graves of long dead friends. Maybe it was because I had more time, maybe it was the particular headspace I was in, but there they were again…scraps. Scraps of my life before active chemical addiction took root. Scraps that reminded me of the wonderful life I had once lived, but couldn’t live into.

Leafing through this scrapbook of memories, what stood out was the gift of friendship and hospitality – sometimes extended, and far more often received. A pilgrimage of any sort, especially the journey of recovery, is unthinkable as a solo act. Hospitality, given and received, is essential. Every time someone welcomes you, or gives you a suggestion, or shares a mystical insight or spiritual place with you, scraps that had been gathered long ago are shared and find new life.

That new life is evident at every meeting, in person or online, where the gathered faces show us each day the gracious abundance of God operating in us and through us – we who are scrappy scraps, and holy remnants. Broken, yet never lost. By living the 12 Steps we, together, are nourished, strengthened, re-formed, and transformed by grace, to do the work that God has given us to do…to show to the world that recovery is always possible.

And then, 24 hours later, it all begins again. And again. And again. Scraps of experience, strength, and hope are shared, and the result of our various pilgrimages, each of us trudging the road of happy destiny with our companions, is always, always, more than we can ask or imagine.

Paul J.

I’ve been thinking about integration a lot—being a person of integrity I mean—as in Eric Erickson’s final stage of human emotional development “Ego integrity v. despair,” that apex of psychic maturity reserved for those of us aged 65+ who have somehow managed to get our acts together as we hit senescence.

One of the best things about the Recovery Ministries of the Episcopal Church is that we can integrate our faith lives with our recovery lives. We who are bilingual, that is equally familiar with The Big Book and The Book of Common Prayer, find it comforting to be at a gathering (or to read a blog post) where the discussion slides easily from Twelve Steps to Ten Commandments.

When I was still an active alcoholic, I was perplexed by the inconsistency between my profession of faith and my behavior. I longed for integrity, for feeling/being at one with myself. How could a choir-singing, theology-quoting loving mother of two also get drunk regularly and spectacularly? How could my mantra be, “This one doesn’t matter.” I was far from being put together; I was disintegrated.

And then came recovery. I can say without batting an eyelash, “My worst day sober is better than my best day drunk.” More and more my values and my actions have been aligned. By the Grace of God, with respect to picking up a drink or a drug, I have made daily choices that have kept me clean and sober.

And I have not done that by myself. It is only by going to meetings and hearing thousands and thousands of other recovering people talk about how they have made it through life—through unimaginable losses, challenges, and joys—that I have been able to continuously head in the direction of wholeness, peace, and sobriety.

Not alone. On my first sober anniversary, my sponsor gave me a plaque with the Serenity Prayer on the front and her inscription “Alone no more” on the back. I treasure that gift and that truth. The readings at church this past Sunday (July 18, Eighth Sunday after Pentecost) included Psalm 23 (which always makes me cry with its familiarity and its promise of protection) and Mark 6, where Jesus and the disciples go off to a “lonely” (deserted) place” but the crowds were there before them, and Jesus had compassion on them because they were “like sheep without a shepherd.”

We become at one with ourselves, integrated, when we stop trying to do it by ourselves. We recover when our ears are opened and we can hear the voices around us saying, “Alone no more.” One of my hobbies continues to be rumination, relishing all the mistakes I’ve made, all the times in my life (yes, even, and especially since getting sober) when I’ve blundered into foolishness, made terrible choices, or run away from a solution. But the compassion offered to me by Jesus, the structure offered to me by the disciplines of faith and Program, and the fellowship I enjoy both at church services and 12-Step meetings enable me to integrate my okayness and my imperfections and reach out to see if there’s anyone I can help today.

Christine H.

In her book, The RECOVERING Intoxication and its aftermath, Leslie Jamison writes: “The drunk self becomes the self-revealed rather than the self-transformed, an identity that has been lurking inside all along; needy, desperate, shameless.”

How often have we heard it said, ‘in vino veritas” “in wine there is truth.” How I wish I had applied that to myself instead of others while I was active in my addiction. It is fascinating to look back and see how quickly, and, at times, how accurately, I was to spot the problem/addicted drinker/user while I could not see what was happening to myself.

The self-revealed came in emotions spilling out, talking honestly (which I would not do when sober) to acquaintances and a few friends alike usually in the early hours of the morning. Later in that day I would either have forgotten the conversation or, that which I remembered I drowned. I can recall days reading Will the Real Me Please Stand Up by John Powell and knowing exactly who needed to read it. I made notes, so I could quote it in a sermon or talk or in counseling.

How often have we heard it said, or said it ourselves, “S/He would be a lot more fun if s/he had a drink.” I knew that to be true. I was a lot happier (I thought) when I was drinking/using. It wasn’t the drinking self I abhorred it was the self. Drinking gave me a shot at being happy. It was when I got into AA and began to admit I had character defects that I was disgusted at my former self. What I had lost were my values and had lost them so slowly that I had accepted that I didn’t care what others thought of me. Alcohol released the bonds of values instilled and not digested. I was living a lie to the extent that I disliked myself as being “good.” I wanted to be good and be able to drink and I didn’t know that the drink had taken control of me.

I would never have described myself as being “needy, desperate, shameless.” And yet, when I got into recovery, I was able to look back at a life I could hardly recognize and begin to admit to these defects of character which only became more obvious as I spiraled out of control. RECOVERY, SERENITY, and a good moral house-cleaning brought about the self-transformed whom I learned to love and appreciate. I looked back and saw just how distorted my thinking had become and frankly it scared me, embarrassed me, humiliated me.

As an ACOA, I kicked off my addiction to alcohol and drugs at a time when I thought I knew it all, a college student whose brain was just beginning to open while my mind was closing. This needy, desperate, shameless young adult was looking for affirmation in all the wrong places and unaware that that is what I was looking for. I became a loner to avoid those whose company I wanted to be part of but who had boundaries I failed to comprehend. They could take a drink or leave it, they were comfortable in their own skin, I was anything but that.

After five weeks in a four-week treatment program, I spent the next four and a half years on a dry drunk. During this time, I continued to be needy and desperate. I needed people to like me, I needed to be needed as a speaker, as a person willing to go on 12step calls. What I needed was a sponsor, but I didn’t think I needed one. I needed to read the Big Book and apply it to myself, but I read it to quote it at meetings. I needed to go to meetings and listen instead of thinking I had all this information to share.  

Today, words can’t express my gratitude for all those who talked to me, shared with me, confronted me about my behavior, and were sufficiently patient that I finally experienced what was needed to get into the program - an admission of powerlessness and a spiritual awakening that led to a self-transformed who I could love and like and become comfortable in my own skin.

Séamus D.

Greater New Orleans area

Alcoholics Anonymous is not a “one trick pony” after that Step 4 inventory. But we are called to periodically undertake another inventory and to do so “continuously.

We are humans after all and our lives change, sometimes through drastic changes, but change might be subtle and seemingly appears out of nowhere. We attend meetings and in the discussions we may discover some way we have changed, perhaps a new thought prompts us to ask ourselves the same question this newbie has put on the table. Perhaps we are confronted with a personal problem or sudden family crisis both of which may prompt us to ask, “What’s my role in it?” Then it’s important to sit down, take out a piece of paper and analyze what the issue is all about and map out what you may have said or done that has caused the harm. But just because you haven’t been confronted by one of those “pop-up” crises, you still are on the hook, for Step 10 calls us to “continually” undertake that examination. Who knows, perhaps in doing so you avoid a sudden surprise issue that pops up.

These review efforts provide us with a chance at an honest and complete look-see at ourselves.  We’re human beings after all who at one point in our lives were less than honest with ourselves, and with others, perhaps having engaged in a lot of falsehoods especially as to our conduct.

To do this “continuously” is why this Program is such a grand piece of our living a life that is something more than going through the motions. Here is a suggestion along those lines: use your inventory as a means to checkout your spiritual life. Sometimes that responsibility gets lost with the pressure of our lives in today’s busy world. But a spiritual life is one of the keys to a deep understanding of “who we are, what are we doing” and is “my value system on the proper page?”  An examination of your spiritual life may be the complete focus of your Step 10 work.

At the heart of Step 10 is your affirmation that you will take responsibility for your conduct, face it, and make amends where necessary. Some have done this at set times of the year, perhaps during the Christmas holidays. Maybe after an important project is completed and the usual “down time” before the next one comes along. Perhaps this is that quiet time to work on Step 10. Of course, religious retreats are a natural place to work through some of these issues especially when the retreat involves a facilitator who is skilled at keeping you headed in the overall best and productive direction, and to “call you” when you get off track or start playing games.

Well, Step 10; is another benefit of being part of the life of the Program.

“Gee, thanks Bill and Dr. Bob!”

Jim A/St X noon, Cincinnati

Am I glad we can see the end of all the restrictions of gatherings of people and especially the standards relating to the wearing of masks. I’m certain there may be situations where we won’t attend some large gathering or situations where the exposure is higher than we might want to chance.

For me, I have enjoyed the ZOOM methods many groups utilized. It took a bit of learning the rules of the drill but when learned, it all worked just fine. These  ZOOM sessions of St. X Noon, my home group, usually drew a goodly number, perhaps not as many as the regular sessions. But, it only takes 2 to “have a meeting” so attendance wasn’t an issue. It was interesting to see the number of people from around the country, some were fairly regular attendees.

But of course, I missed the intimate feelings from participation with people of like minds as far as our alcoholism is concerned, and I really look forward to reconvening our “live” discussion meetings.

I felt a problem some days about 30 minutes before a ZOOM meeting started. I felt less disciplined to turn the ZOOM program on. I knew there were hundreds of meetings “on the internet” which would enable me to excuse myself from my regular meeting and pick up a substitute later that day.

But the lesson I re-discovered is that an important part of the Program is the discipline we attach to ourselves that calls us to set a program, a path, a known time we have gone to a certain meeting. We found we always learned a lot, picked up some wisdom and enjoyed the relationships we developed by personal contacts.

I didn’t mind ZOOMing, but I am looking forward to this Fall when I suspect we will shift back to that old platform of physical gatherings to share the message.

“See you at the meeting.”

Jim A, St X Noon, Cincinnati

“Your worth is not what you have, but who you are.”  Matshona Dhliwayo.

“Seamus, this man collects the trash at my house every Monday. At a time when I thought I was nothing but trash, he picked me up, brought me here, and has taught me everything I know about alcoholism.” This man, I learned, was a rather wealthy individual but now that made no difference. At the door we checked out our last name, our status in society, etc. and we shared one thing in common ‘I’m_______and I’m an alcoholic.”

Once I accepted that I am an alcoholic – which was about four and a half years in the program – I began to learn more about who I am. There is so much more to me than being an alcoholic and yet, without acknowledging this aspect of who I am, I could, again, lose everything I have gained.

When I came into the fellowship, I believed that because of my educational background I was going to be a great asset to the group- a background in theology and counseling. What I eventually learned was that I had to relearn everything I thought I knew.

I sometimes have a quiet laugh as I find myself in places where one’s status in society, their level of education, etc. are the mark of success and who will spend time with you. The real joy is walking into the fellowship, getting a cup of coffee, introducing myself as “I’m Seamus” and that’s all that is needed to be part of a genuine fellowship.

I’m one of those in the fellowship who, periodically, experiences a brief period of depression; a time when I don’t feel like sharing; when I don’t believe I have anything to share, when my self-worth has suddenly gone down the toilet bowl. It is at a time like this I return to Steps one -three; I am powerless, I need help, God help me.

At times like this I revert to my old ideas of self-worth and look at what I don’t have, what I could have had if only…..; and quickly I have a pity party going on in my head. It’s at times like this I have to remember: “Your worth is not what you have, but who you are.”

A few hundred years ago I remember reading. Will the Real Me Please Stand Up and using the contents of that book to apply to others. None of that talk of  “masks” applied to me, I had a healthy self-image, or so I thought. Then God decided she had waited long enough for me to get the message. She pushed me into my boss’s office where I found myself saying, “I think I have a drinking problem.” I didn’t have a drinking problem I knew how to drink. The problem was I had no control over it once I started and the absence of control was due to the absence of self-worth; a hole in my heart that I was attempting to heal with the alcohol and negative behavior which, in a disfigured manner, made me feel good.

Steps four, five, six and seven opened my eyes to my behavior and who I am. That was quite an eye-opener. And even then, I did not get well. I took my sweet time making amends and then I had to live this program on a twenty-four-hour basis seven days a week. ”Seamus, if you’re not living the program you ain’t working the steps” said one of the old timers. It took a while but, in time, I came to realize just how right he was. Learning to live the program on a daily basis and applying it to “all my affairs” opened my eyes to a different me, a ‘me’ I could now live with and enjoy my own company without my companions of Jack, John, Bud, etc.

When I sobered up, I had little to nothing of value. However, I knew I had something no one could take from me – sobriety. That was the turning point for me. Sobriety and serenity was what I unconsciously had been chasing in all the wrong places. Now here it was, a gift, and all I had to do was acknowledge that I am powerless, that my life had become unmanageable, that I need help and ask for it. It is a unique feeling to own nothing and yet to feel I have everything I need – sobriety. That simple and that difficult. Live the program and work the steps.

My worth is no longer based on what I have or had or wish I had. Rather it is based on the maintenance of my spiritual condition- one day at a time. I am sober; I am at peace with self, others and God. What more do I need? Nothing.

Séamus D

Greater New Orleans area

No, this is not a new version of a highway stop sign. For the recovering alcoholic, it’s shorthand reminding us of dangerous points in our recovery program.

H –“You’re hungry.” We start thinking of the good foods and drink we enjoyed fairly regularly—a time for us in a sneaky fashion to “sample” various wines and special bourbons. We can snap back to those thrilling days of yesteryear when out of a smokey grill, a flashback takes us to cold beer, delightful company, and a grand time. Ah, those were The Days—but, we now know, they “weren’t”.

A – “You’re angry.” The Big Book says an alcoholic in recovery can’t afford anger. It’s an irrational approach to a perceived hurt, or disappointment, or aggressive action by someone. We need to always “keep our cool”, and not leap at an irrational reaction—a reaction that removes safeguards of patience, “letting go”, “easy does it” and a host of reminders we pick up at meetings.

L - “Lonely.” We learned we had to change our friendships, maybe of longstanding relations. Our acquaintances now were mostly fellow recovering alcoholics. “I miss the old fun days.” If we admitted it, we’d say that we always drank onto that slippery slope with these former friends. Being with them is taking a risk to our sobriety. Let ‘em go their way. Your new way brings you to a new and positive life of serenity.

T - “Tired.” Being tired, stressed out, and so forth is just a way of saying you’re letting your guard down. In some ways it’s a self-indulgent habit. Get to a meeting, work with a newbie—anything, but don’t continue to indulge your own feelings like the old days and use them as an excuse to “take that first drink.”

There, you see? The Program offers a variety of teachings. Go to a meeting today—and maybe tonight make the coffee.

Jim A, St. X Noon

“When the spiritual malady is overcome, we straighten out mentally and physically.”

The Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous, p. 64

In all the things that have unfolded in this past pandemic year, my recovering life has kept on a fairly good path for the most part. When in-person meetings were suspended, online meeting offerings emerged a-plenty to fill the fellowship void. Phone contacts and spiritual walks [masked and at proper distance] with recovery friends continued. My work with others individually beginning a recovering life, as well as working with a team to develop a diocesan recovery ministry program resources have kept this semi-retired priest busy. Life has been good on life’s terms overall. And then …

I was donating blood at the end of April as part of the parish outreach program where I am serving part-time. In preparation for the donation, check-in procedures were conducted – temperature check, the multiple Covid questions to be asked, and blood pressure taken. The intake nurse noted that my BP was rather high by the concerned look on her face. She suggested it might be good to check in with my physician. And then … It was obvious to me that something must have been wrong with her BP measurement! I went to a local pharmacy and used their machine – and it registered higher than the first reading. I tried again a few days later with the same result.

My first reaction was to return to my old patterns of “stinking thinking” as those CD’s [and I don’t mean Compact Discs] subtly emerged again after all these years – All these machines must be wrong … I am in good health, just look in the mirror … They can’t be right! I had taken to steering my old frigate called Rationalization to sail down that River of Denial again. And then …

I remembered what the program has taught me. I stopped, prayed for God’s wisdom and will, and listened. From this place of grounding in the spiritual Presence, I called my doctor for an appointment and check of my blood pressure. No surprise it was still too high, and so I began with medication support and reconfiguring my diet – not that ANYONE’S diet has not been out of sync this past year!! In essence, I grounded in myself in the principles of what the program or a recovering life has taught me – Do the next right thing and the next thing right. And then … on the day of my 24^th AAnniversary, the reading from the Daily Meditations was the title of this offering! Who says there are coincidences in the world? For me, they are only God-incidences for which I am grateful.

Life happens. Our health changes as we grow more “mature” in chronological ways. Thanks be to God for this program of recovering life I have been blessed to live. I am off my frigate called Rationalization, off the river called Denial.

I am responsible. I am grateful.

Paul G.

Newark Delaware