At seventeen, Charles Gibbs was asked to stay after Sunday school class by a well-meaning elder -- and left with a message that would redirect the entire arc of his life: we don't ask questions like that here. Rather than killing his spiritual hunger, that closed door sent him into theater, into poetry, into decades building the United Religions Initiative across six continents -- all of it, he now sees, is the same search wearing different clothes. What emerged from an unplanned conversation is a man who has made peace with living inside the questions themselves. He draws on Wordsworth's poem, "Lines Written a Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey" -- and the image of "an eye made quiet" -- to gesture at the contemplative states where questions finally dissolve, not because they're answered, but because the one asking them temporarily disappears.
