99.9%

A few weeks ago, a reader commented on my post in which I expressed my support for the ordination of women:

One is either Catholic or he (purposely did not write “he/she” here) is not. One cannot be 99.9% Catholic. You either are or you are not. Obedience is better than sacrifice, and is best when it is a sacrifice.

In other words: the cafeteria is closed.

For those of you who don’t get the allusion: when Cardinal Ratzinger was elected to be Pope Benedict XVI in 2005, conservatives and ultra-traditionalists within Catholicism adopted the motto “the cafeteria is closed” as a way of expressing their belief that it is not okay for Catholics to differ with church doctrine on contentious issues, usually those involving gender or human sexuality. It refers to the pejorative label “cafeteria Catholic” which the purists use to denigrate those who have conscientious disagreements with the church.

“Cafeteria Catholic” and “the cafeteria is closed” are insults, typically used to imply that conscientious dissidents are traitors — disloyal to the church. I find it odd that the traditionalists would dare to accuse others of being traitorous, since Christ suggested that the one who calls another a traitor will answer for it in hell fire (Matthew 5:22).

Meanwhile, statements like “one cannot be 99.9% Catholic” are forms of judgment. So anyone who says something like this appears to be disobeying Christ’s command as laid out in Matthew 7:1.

Forgive my nitpicking; I merely wish to make a simple point. Those who take delight in attacking other Christians because they “pick and choose only what they want to believe” are, ironically, doing the very thing they are accusing others of doing.

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Remain in Love

Yesterday a reader of this blog named Simon made this response to my post in which I announced that I’m writing a book on Christian mysticism:

Just something that immediately springs to mind. Do we really need another book on Christian mysicism? I mean, when is it going to end? There are whole libraries full of them. How about everybody, start at the Gospel, take what Jesus said seriously and take it from there? So much of this search for mysticism is just plain navel gazing and distraction.

Do we really need another book on Christian mysticism? I don’t know. Do we really need anything new? Simon suggests that we just “start at the Gospel.” It’s pretty hard to argue with a statement like this, until you stop to think about it. There’s a lot more going on here than just a dismissal of new books on mysticism. After all, mysticism itself is rejected as a “distraction.” So anything that distracts us from Jesus or the Gospel is bad. Hmmm. Think about it: just about anything that isn’t Jesus or the Gospels could be accused of being a distraction.

I can’t help but wonder if Simon really understands what mysticism is. Christian mysticism is precisely about entering into a deep, intimate, communion with Christ. My book may be about “mysticism” but that’s just to say it will be an invitation to do precisely what Simon recommends, in terms of being centered on Christ and the Gospel.

Meanwhile, consider this: the hostility to mysticism that Simon suggests under the rubric of “Why study mysticism, why not just get to know Jesus?” can easily be applied to anything. Yes, anything.

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Quote for the Day

For Christ is revealed as the incarnation of God’s love for us: he is the great lover, and the Church is his beloved, and we in her. Academic theology finds its coherence, literally comes into being as a possibility, as we find in Christ God loving us and longing for our love. And it is this response to God’s love for us that is the central concern of spirituality. Prayer is in essence the loving pursuit of the beloved. The great part that silence plays in prayer has an analogy in the fact that silence becomes a mode of communion, and not an embarrassing pause, between people deeply devoted to one another. It is not without significance that the favourite single genre of mystical theology takes the form of commentary on the Song of Songs.

— Andrew Louth, Theology and Spirituality

Spirituality & The Aspiring Mystic

I have just finished a conversation with my literary agent, and I have wonderful news. My first two books, Spirituality and The Aspiring Mystic, both of which have been out of print for several years, have just been picked up by a new publisher that is specializing in reprinting books by living authors.

Spirituality will come out first, hopefully within the next few months. It will feature a new foreword that I will be writing, new cover design, and probably a new sub-title (I never did like the book’s original subtitle, which was chosen by the publisher). The Aspiring Mystic will not come out until the fall or even next spring; for this book we’re considering doing a complete revision so that it will be more of a companion piece to my forthcoming new book on Christian mysticism which is scheduled for a 2009 publication from a different publisher. It will also feature a new foreword and cover design, and will be entirely re-typeset for the new edition.

For an author, seeing books go out of print is like losing touch with your children. So having them come back into print is truly a blessing. Even better, thanks to the direction that publishing is going, this pretty much means these titles will remain in print indefinitely.

In case you just can’t wait for the new editions, used copies of both books are still available through Amazon, generally for embarrassingly low prices. Click on the images of the books to get your copies now.

Dogma, Dogmatically

My post yesterday on America’s Unfaithful Faithful elicited some very interesting comments. Consider these snippets:

Religion and Politics have one thing in common. They both make things more confusing.

Religion is a passing phase in the story of mankind on earth. There is no Truth in it at all, so you may as well not bother looking. The only truth ever is within you, and you know it when you hear it.

Sigh.

When I wrote my first book (which came in 1997), one of the bad habits that my editor had to break me of, was making sweeping generalizations.

  1. If I wrote “Contemplation makes you happy,” he would patiently reply, “If there is one person somewhere in the world who has not found happiness through contemplation, then this statement is false.”
  2. So I would go back and say something like “Many, perhaps even most, people who contemplate find that it helps them to become happier.” Then he’d write, “Can you prove this? Where’s the research, where’s the evidence?”
  3. Finally, I’d write, “In my experience, contemplation has helped me to become a happier person.” And then the editor would let it stand.

This is a made-up example, because it’s both too early in the morning and the editing of that book happened too long ago for me to recall an actual example from the book. But you get the drift.

What is at issue here is similar to something that Wikipedia calls Peacock Terms. A peacock term is a statement or assertion that is offered as being self-evident, when in reality it isn’t. As Wikipedia bluntly puts it, “Instead of telling the reader that a subject is important, use facts to show the subject’s importance.” Put another way, instead of telling the reader that your assertion is true, use facts to show the veracity of your assertion. When it comes to religion and spirituality, often the only “facts” at our disposal is our own experience. That’s okay, but then our writing should reflect that.

I’d be less annoyed by the above statements if they had been cast like this:

In my experience religion, like politics, just seems to make things more confusing.

I think that religion is unreliable as a means of finding truth. Frankly, I believe it’s better to seek truth within.

These statements, unlike the examples quoted at the beginning of this post, actually invite the reader in. I for one would be curious to hear why the first commentator finds religion so confusing, or why the second one prefers personal experience to external tradition as a means for apprehending truth. But in all honesty, when someone projects their opinion into an all-encompassing statement like “Religion is confusing” or “Religion contains no truth,” I stop listening to them — because my experience of religion is different. I find religion no more, or less, confusing than life in general (granted, I have a pretty high tolerance for ambiguity and paradox). And while I recognize that religion can be a haven for all sorts of untruth, in my humble experience I’ve found insight into truth through the received wisdom of religion that has literally expanded my consciousness, over and over again.

The problem with peacock terms is that they are tossed off as dogmatically self-evident. “Everyone knows religion is full of it!” Well, no, everyone doesn’t know that. And everyone doesn’t agree with it, either. Religion already has enough problems with dogma — statements accepted as true within a given faith community that may or not appear as evidently true to outsiders. To use unverified dogmatic language when writing about religion, it seems to me, just compounds the problem.

America’s Unfaithful Faithful

A recent study by the Pew Forum documents the growing “spiritual mobility” of Americans: more and more Americans are abandoning the religious affiliation of their upbringing and taking on a new religious or spiritual identity (or non-identity). Read an article about this study here.

My friend who alerted me to this fascinating study notes, “What it says to me is that people are seeking something behind church doors that they aren’t finding.” I’d agree with that, but I also think it speaks to how religion has increasingly become more like a marketplace phenomenon (just because I like to drink Guinness doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy a Foster’s now and then), suggesting that changing churches is for many people no more momentous than deciding if the new car will be a Chevy or a Ford. I still remember how shocked I was the first time I heard the phrase “health-care consumers” (I was in college at the time) — that something as holy and sacred as health care could be reduced to the mentality of the free market struck me as just somehow terribly wrong. I suppose we are rapidly moving to the day where churchgoers will be seen as “spirituality consumers.”

Memory Lane

I just discovered an online resource that archives old versions of websites. I’ve had a website at www.anamchara.com since 1996, and yes, the archives go back almost that far. It’s not by any means perfect — lots of broken links — but some of the archived versions are pretty much complete, and for me it was quite a trip down memory lane to look at the evolution of my website, from the amateurish page at the beginning that was essentially an infomercial for my one published book, to the blog that I am lovingly nurturing at the present.

Follow this link to see www.anamchara.com as archived on May 22, 1997. At that time I called the site “The House of Breathings: A Virtual Sanctuary for the Contemplative Way.” I was still an Episcopalian (although with marked pagan leanings), had a ponytail, no beard, and barely any grey hair. My first book had literally just been published, my second one wouldn’t appear for another two and a half years. I was only 36 years old. Yes, the site looks like something a 5th grader could do today, but give me a break: this was 1997!

A fistful of dirt

Here’s a wonderful story recounted by John Shea in Daybreak: Daily Reflections for Lent and Easter:

There was an old Celt who loved his wife, his children, his friends, and his jar. But most of all he loved the land he trod and fought for food. So when his time came, his sons carried him from the stone cottage and laid him on the stone earth. He clenched a fistful of Ireland and was gone.

When he arrived at the gates that only swing in, God appeared in the long robes of judgment. He noticed the closed hand. “Old man, you are not allowed to bring anything in.”

But the hand with the loved land heaved beneath the judge’s nose, “Then I stay outside.”

After a while, God appeared a second time as a pub mate with cap and pipe. He threw a tavern arm over the old man’s shoulders. “Friend, dust belongs to the wind. Let go of that earth and come inside.”

“Never,” said the tightfisted one.

After a while, God came out a third time as a small boy. He ran to the ear of the old man. “Grandfather, the gates only open for those with open hands.”

The old man rose with a slow sadness and never looked down as caked and crumbled Ireland fell.

The gates opened like arms flung wide and the old man entered. Inside was all of Ireland.

Holy Eros, or, “Only God can sleep with everyone”…

Other folks in the Christian blogosphere are worked up over a Michigan Assembly of God pastor’s decision to post a lengthy quote on his blog from Ronald Rolheiser, a Catholic theologian who ponders the erotic dimension of life in Christ (not in a salacious or profligate manner, but certainly in an honest and candid way). One of these days, I hope that the average Christian will stop being afraid of the power of our God-given sexuality. I suppose it should not surprise me that this day has not yet arrived.

Here is the quotation in question, from Pastor Chris Hooton’s blog:

Janis Joplin was once asked what it was like being a rock star. She replied: “It’s pretty hard sometimes. You go on stage, make love to fifteen thousand people, then you go home and sleep alone.”

Jesus was once asked, as a test: If a woman marries seven times and all her husbands die before she dies, whose wife will she be after the resurrection? He answered that, after the resurrection, we will no longer marry or be given in marriage.

These two answers, Janis Joplin’s and Jesus’, are not unconnected. Each, in its own way, says something about the all embracing intent of our sexuality. What Janis Joplin is saying is that, in our sexuality and our creativity, we are ultimately trying to make love to everyone. What Jesus is saying is not that we will be celibate in heaven, but rather that, in heaven, everyone will make love to everyone else and, already now, we hunger for that within every cell of our being. Sexually our hungers are very wide. We are built to ultimately embrace the universe and everything in it.

To understand our sexuality and to live with its unfulfilled tensions, it can be most helpful simply to understand this. In loving, the ultimate wound is not to be able to marry everyone. The greatest human hunger, felt in every cell in our being, is that we cannot be completely united with everyone and everything….

It is important to understand this, but it is also important not to misunderstand it. Because our sexuality is ultimately geared to embrace everyone does not mean that we can be promiscuous and, already here in this life, try to live that out. In fact, paradoxically, it means the opposite. Only God can sleep with everyone, and thus, only in god can we sleep with everyone. In this life, even though our sexuality has geared up for universal embrace, we only have two options that are life-giving: Either we embrace the many through the one (by sleeping with one person within a monogamous marriage) or we embrace the one through the many (be sleeping with no one, in celibacy). Both of these are ways that will eventually open our sexuality up so as to embrace everyone. If we go the route of promiscuity, eventually, we will embrace no one.

— Richard Rolheiser, The Holy Longing

Random Saturday afternoon thoughts about the existence of angels

When William Blake was a little boy, he saw an angel in a tree. On his deathbed, he sang songs with all the angels that were surrounding him.

Like most people, I don’t have angel-vision anywhere near what Blake enjoyed. I’m the kind of person who occasionally sees someone or something out of the corner of my eye, and then I turn and whatever it was is gone. If it was ever there at all.

This most vividly happened a few years back when I visited a holy well near Clonmel in Ireland. I saw a woman dressed in white standing by my car. But then I looked again and no one was there. I was parked in an open space along an empty street. Was it just my imagination, playing tricks with me? Or did some sort of incorporeal being momentarily break through my psychic defenses?

I’m rather skeptical by nature and I tend to be suspicious of people who get all sorts of psychic messages or marching orders from God (or the gods, or the angels, or Mary, or whomever). I translate our solid legal principle “innocent until proven guilty” into a scientific way of approaching preternatural phenomena: I assume such things have a perfectly reasonable and down-to-earth explanation. So I guess I’m saying I consider nature to be innocent of rogue metaphysics (unless proven guilty).

But I’m not an atheist. I believe in God. I believe that it’s simply arrogant to assume that evolution pretty much topped out with humans and whales. But the question, of course, is where will the dance of evolution take us, from here? Will we transcend our bodies, like the Organian race on Star Trek? Which is another way of wondering: are angels just the next rung up on the evolutionary ladder? In the absence of any kind of evidence, this can only be a matter for speculation. But as Ken Wilber points out, validity is measured in matters of consciousness not by how representationally true something can be shown to be (because we simply can’t measure any consciousness, not even our own). Instead, validity is found in truthfulness.

Angels, spirit beings, heavenly messengers: they appear in cultures the world over. Sure, there are plenty of cranks and attention-seekers who tell stories of their angelic encounters. But there are also seem to be plenty of humble, ordinary people, who have keen minds and are willing to question themselves, who nevertheless have experiences that they interpret as angelic in nature.

So maybe the existence of angels is only a matter of speculation. But I think it’s worth the speculating. And just perhaps, the more open we are to doing the speculating, the more likely we will get to walk with the likes of William Blake: and sing the celestial song.

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