A few weeks ago, four young American soldiers lost their lives while serving overseas.
In the days that followed, their remains were returned home through a series of dignified military transfers that started at Dover Air Force Base in Delaware before each was escorted to their family in their home state.
Like so many of you, I watched the news coverage.
But something unexpected caught my attention.
It wasn't the military ceremony.
It wasn't the government officials standing in silence.
It wasn't even the solemn procession itself.
It was what happened afterward.
As one soldier's casket arrived at Raleigh-Durham International Airport, passengers waiting for their own flights noticed the transfer taking place on the tarmac. No one instructed them to stop. No announcement asked for a moment of silence. There was no program, no rehearsal, no expectation.
One by one, people simply turned toward the windows.
Conversations faded.
Phones lowered.
The airport grew quiet.
For a few precious moments, complete strangers stood together in reverence for four people they had never met.
And suddenly, I wasn't watching a story about military service.
I was watching humanity remember itself.
A Course in Miracles teaches that whenever we meet another, it is a holy encounter because, beneath every appearance, we are meeting ourselves. Most of the time, the ego distracts us with differences. It wants us to notice nationality, politics, religion, age, profession, opinions, and personalities.
The Holy Spirit asks a very different question.
Not, "Who are they?"
But rather,
"What are we?"
For a brief and beautiful instant, that airport stopped being a collection of separate people waiting for separate flights.
It became one heart.
No one needed to agree politically.
No one needed to share the same beliefs.
No one even knew one another's names.
They simply recognized something sacred.
That recognition is what forgiveness is really for.
Forgiveness is not overlooking someone's mistakes.
It is looking beyond every label until only the shared light remains.
It reminds us that beneath every uniform, every title, every opinion, every nationality, and every life story is the same innocent Self created by God.
Perhaps that is why these moments move us so deeply.
We are not merely witnessing another person's experience.
We are remembering our own.
We recognize a grieving mother because, somewhere within us, we know what love feels like.
We honor a fallen soldier because, somewhere within us, we recognize the courage it takes to play any role in this human classroom.
Compassion is not something we manufacture.
It is what naturally flows when judgment becomes quiet.
For just a few moments, the passengers in that airport forgot to be separate.
That may have been the real miracle.
The nightly news often tells us that humanity is becoming more divided.
The Holy Spirit quietly shows us something else.
Again and again, we witness moments when strangers rush toward disaster to help people they've never met.
Communities rebuild homes together after hurricanes.
Neighbors feed one another during wildfires.
Crowds fall silent in shared reverence.
The news measures conflict.
The Holy Spirit measures connection.
Perhaps the greatest miracles are not the ones that suspend the laws of nature.
Perhaps they are the quiet moments when ordinary people forget themselves long enough to remember one another.
I found myself thinking of John Lennon's beautiful song Imagine. Although A Course in Miracles would remind us that Heaven is not something to imagine but an eternal Reality, I believe Lennon's deepest longing resonates with the heart of the Course:
"I hope someday you'll join us,
And the world will live as one."
Isn't that what every sincere spiritual path has always pointed toward?
Not uniformity.
Unity.
Not everyone believing the same thing.
Everyone remembering the same Truth.
Maybe that day is closer than we think.
Every time we choose forgiveness over judgment...
Every time we extend compassion instead of condemnation...
Every time we pause long enough to recognize ourselves in another...
...the world forgets to be separate.
And perhaps one day, we won't need reminders like four fallen soldiers, natural disasters, or shared tragedies to awaken our hearts.
Perhaps we will simply live as though we have always known.
Because one day, we will.
The miracle isn't that we become one.
The miracle is remembering that we never stopped being one.
In Oneness,
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