'How many minds are there?'

At various times during Christian Science class instruction, especially when our class seemed to bog down in some particularly sordid aspect of mortality, our teacher would pause, look around, and ask, “How many minds are there?” I loved this question because it allowed no equivocating. For anyone naming the name of Christian Science, there was only one possible answer: a resounding, “One!”

I have lost count of the times that this question, frequently in our Christian Science teacher’s crisp tone, has resurfaced when I needed to hear it during contentious meetings, personal confrontations, and my ongoing prayers for the world. Often I have asked it of people who have sought advice about the many problems that arise from the error of many minds. Who can say how much healing has resulted from that simple query?

Here is one of many that I have witnessed.

About a year after I took Christian Science class instruction, two other anthropology students and I traveled to do a field study in a nomad pastoralist camp. Although our team leader had properly followed protocols for admission to the community, our reception was guarded at best. At first we thought we had unwittingly offended our hosts. The situation was uncomfortable for all.

After we waited around awkwardly for some time, the village headman arrived and told us that it was possible the camp would be raided that night. Cattle rustling is common among the nomads of the region. Raids usually involve yelling, posturing, and barroom-style brawling, but seldom does anyone sustain injuries more serious than a black eye or a sore foot from being stepped on by a cow. On the previous night, however, a routine episode had escalated into a fight in which a man had been killed. People were worried that his relatives would come to exact revenge. The chief felt that we might endanger ourselves if we stayed.

We all felt that we had committed ourselves to the village, and that we would be reneging on that commitment if we left. So we decided that we would stay, and asked what we should do. The man in our group was given a spear and hustled off to patrol the camp perimeter. The other woman and I were inducted into the ladies’ machete militia and joined the other women who waited in a nearby house.

I decided that the most helpful thing I could do was pray. It wasn’t long before the familiar question “How many minds are there?” burst into my thoughts in my teacher’s familiar tone. There was only one proper answer, of course.

That thought did away with any anxiety I had been feeling, and shortly after that, when the other woman in our crew asked me my thoughts about the situation, I could honestly respond, “I feel absolutely safe.”

My sense of security was well-founded. No raid took place that night or any time during our stay. Moreover, our willingness to share the perceived peril gained us a measure of respect in the community, and our dealings with them thereafter were mutually friendly and productive.

I could honestly respond, "I feel absolutely safe."

The idea of the existence of only one Mind, God, played a role in a more recent healing as well. One morning, just after I had read a Sentinel article about the importance of looking beyond the material picture to see the spiritual reality, I went to fetch my mail at the post office. While I was sitting in my car sorting letters, I glimpsed a man walking across the parking lot. He appeared mentally disturbed.

Primed by my reading of the article, and by years of responding to the “how many minds are there?” question, I mentally greeted the man as the beloved child of God. He then walked over to my car and began pounding on it with his fist, before opening the rear door and beginning to climb inside.

Later I realized that this could have been a frightening encounter, but at the time I merely asked him in a nonthreatening way what he was doing. What followed was most interesting. He clearly came to himself and was embarrassed by his behavior. I made a joke about it, and we both had a laugh. His face took on a truly beautiful look, and he politely shut the car door. As he started to walk off, he turned back to me and said, “God bless you.” Shortly afterward I saw him once more, and he warmly said, “Thank you again.” I have not seen him since, but continue to cherish him and his identity as the beloved child of God. This mental activity has blessed me in other ways, too, and I am confident that the question “How many minds are there?” and its answer, will continue to bless him as well.