People keep talking about Luke Timothy Johnson’s article on the role of mysticism within religion that recently appeared in Commonweal. If you haven’t read it, I suggest you do. Here is a link to it: Dry Bones: Why Religion Can’t Live Without Mysticism by Luke Timothy Johnson.
| 0 commentsLast night I had a lucid dream. It lasted for about 15 seconds, alas.
It’s interesting how it played out. The dream was set in a hotel — kind of a cross between the Denver Radisson Graystone Castle and the Hotel Albuquerque at Old Town, only my dream hotel was older and seedier than either of those fine establishments. I had walked in the hotel from the rear parking lot, and stumbled across a pile of documents and materials that were cordoned off and being held by lawyers who were involved in a lawsuit. I stepped over these items, and noticed that some of them had to do with a band I liked. I walked up to the front of the hotel where a photocopier sat, next to a couple of pinball machines. I was working on a project for a marketing job I had, and as I got ready to photocopy one of the sheets in my project, I realized I needed a photograph of the band. So I immediately started walking through the corridors of the hotel to go back to where the lawsuit materials were. As I walked down the corridor, I realized I was dreaming. “Hey, this is a lucid dream!” I thought to myself. “Cool! I can do anything I want!” But, alas, this realization proved to be my undoing. Suddenly I felt as if, no matter how hard I worked my legs, I couldn’t make any progress walking down the hall, as if some invisible force were holding me back or keeping me “mired” in the spot where I stood. I tried to work my legs harder and faster… and woke up, thrashing my legs in the bed.
Sigh. So much for my adventures in lucid dreaming. Now that I am fully awake, I feel more amused than perturbed by this nocturnal psychic process. Perhaps I was my own worst enemy here — if I had just gone with the flow of the lucid dream, allowing my subconscious to guide me while I just enjoyed the unfolding story, perhaps it would have lasted longer. But it appears that I have an irascible and unruly subconscious, not to mention an arrogant and overweening ego. And so, as soon as my ego got involved — “I can do anything I (i.e., the ego) want” — the subconscious just threw the circuit breakers and brought the show to an untimely end.
I suspect there’s a moral in there somewhere.
| 0 commentsIt is common for those who argue for and against the existence of God to assume that the word God is used by believers to refer to something that we can point toward, distance ourselves from, and dispassionately reflect upon. However, one can reject this idea of God as nothing but a form of idolatry . . . This approach questions any expression that would reduce God to the realm of objects. Here no theistic rendering of God is allowed to lay claim to God, for God dwells above and beyond all names. God is rather approached as the ineffable source that is received but never conceived. God is thus not approached as an object, but rather encountered as an absolute subject who transforms our relationship with all objects. Just as the light in the room cannot be seen but rather allows us to see, so God is not directly experienced but rather is the name we give to a whole new way of experiencing . . . Hence, religious experience is not really experience as such but the opening into a different way of experiencing.
— Peter Rollins, The Orthodox Heretic and
Other Impossible Tales
Fran and Rhiannon and I attended a gathering of the Friends of L’Arche Atlanta on Saturday evening. We’ve been meaning to get to a L’Arche meeting for some time now, but there always seemed to be one conflict or another. Now that we’ve finally made it, we are going to be more intentional about making L’Arche a priority in our lives.
If you’re not familiar with L’Arche, it’s worth getting to know. Founded by Jean Vanier and immortalized by Henri Nouwen in his book The Road to Daybreak, L’Arche (French for “the Ark”) is an international collective of communities and programs designed to support individuals with intellectual and learning disabilities by creating homes where such persons and those who assist them may live communally. As I quipped more than once Saturday evening, “We already have a L’Arche home!” because of Rhiannon’s disabilities. Of course, that’s not entirely true, as our “community home” is knit together by the bonds of family, but my sense is that L’Arche homes hope to create their own sense of “family” within the scope of intentional community.
Friends of L’Arche Atlanta is a network that is seeking to establish a number of L’Arche homes in Atlanta, with the first one scheduled to open in 2011. Part of what made Saturday evening’s meeting so much fun for us is that, even though this was our first time at a L’Arche gathering, we were surrounded by people we know and love — folks we’ve known through the greater disability community, through St. Bartholomew’s Episcopal Church or the Monastery of the Holy Spirit, and even through the Contra Dance community (L’Arche’s monthly meetings have a strong social focus, and this meeting featured a contra dance, with a band and caller that were comfortable working with people of differing abilities. Needless to say, it was rollicking good fun).
I don’t know if L’Arche qualifies as “new monastic” or not, but for my purposes the excitement I felt Saturday evening seemed to fire the same synapses in my brain that I find when I read the writings of Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove or Shane Claiborne or, for that matter, Dorothy Day. Part of what I’m looking for in a spiritual community is the intentionality of a daily practice of contemplative and liturgical prayer, and my sense is that L’Arche, being inclusive and ecumenical, does not emphasize such a discipline. But just because I’m not sensing much of a call to live in a L’Arche home doesn’t mean I can’t plug in to this community on an at-large level… it seems to me that L’Arche needs its “oblates” or “third order” members just like any other intentional, spiritual community. And so that’s part of why I’m writing about it this morning — to encourage my readers to make your own connection with L’Arche. L’Arche communities can be found around the world, with new ones developing all the time, so look for L’Arche near where you live. I think just hanging out with follks, some of whom have serious disabilities and others who don’t, just having fun together, laughing together, getting to know one another — without any particular “program” to work or task to complete — gives birth to some powerful energy. It rather feels like the Body of Christ.
Here are some books to explore if you want to deepen your sense of L’Arche, or of its founder, Jean Vanier:
Also, for those of you who are on Facebook, join the Friend’s of L’Arche Atlanta’s Facebook page.
| 0 commentsIf you’re going to participate in the class on the Protestant Mystics that I’ll be teaching at First Christian Church of Atlanta starting on April 6, then you might enjoy reading one or more of these books. They’re all written by Protestant authors and each one features a different dimension of Christian spirituality that is mystical and/or contemplative in its focus. None of these books are required for the class, but they are all well worth reading — so I’m listing them here for your optional consideration (and if you’re not going to be in the class, or live outside of Atlanta, reading one or more of these books can be a way for you to explore the mystical dimension of Protestant spirituality on your own. Remember, for the purposes of the class (and this book list) “Protestant” is used as an umbrella term to describe any of the western churches with roots in the Reformation or its aftermath, including the Anglican, Reformed, and Evangelical traditions.
Happy reading!
The Voyage of the Dawn Treader by C. S. Lewis. Yes, this is a children’s book — but it is for “children of all ages,” and furthermore is a richly evocative allegory of the traditional understanding of the spiritual life. Conversion, reconciliation, liberation from the bondage of sin, temptation, embracing of silence, growth in holiness, the dark night of the soul, the experience of illumination and consolation, and the final dazzling experience of union are all treated in turn, under the guise of a charming story of children taking a magical sea voyage to the “End of the World.” It’s fascinating, in that C. S. Lewis, like many devout Protestants, was uncomfortable with the term “mysticism” and disavowed that he himself was a mystic. But reading The Voyage of the Dawn Treader with an eye for the elements of mysticism, you might begin to think that Lewis was overly-humble.
Practical Mysticism by Evelyn Underhill. This classic book, first published in 1915, is a wonderful companion piece to Underhill’s earlier work, Mysticism: A Study in the Nature and Development of Spiritual Consciousness. In the earlier work she established herself as a scholar of Christian mysticism with a scholarly, academic treatment of her topic. Practical Mysticism, as its title implies, is not so much about the theory of mystical spirituality as it’s real-world relevance to, in Underhill’s pre-inclusive-language words, “the average man.” Assuming no knowledge of mysticism, she begins by defining her terms and explaining the value and importance of mysticism in the language of ordinary men and women, drawing her illustrations from family and professional life as much as from religion. Underhill provides step-by-step instruction for engaging in basic spiritual practices such as prayer and meditation; although her century-old language is somewhat dated, the content of her work remains relevant today.
Mystical Hope by Cynthia Bourgeault. Bourgeault is the only author in this list who is alive now; an Anglican (Episcopal) priest from British Columbia, she is a respected teacher of centering prayer and her books have been lauded as some of the best available literature on that particular spiritual practice. But Bourgeault’s contribution to Christian spirituality goes beyond merely supporting the revival of Christian meditation; she has a clear vision of Christian spirituality as transformation of consciousness and her work is based on the idea that Jesus is not only the Savior and the Son of God, but is a profound wisdom teacher whose words can literally transform our lives. Mystical Hope is Bourgeault’s shortest book, about transforming our relationship with God from fearful duty to joyous love and trust; it’s a brief and accessible introduction to the visionary nature of her teaching.
Gift From the Sea by Anne Morrow Lindbergh. This inspirational classic was written expressly for women, but I think its message is sufficiently universal that men should read it as well. While not “mystical” in the sense of dramatic or extraordinary, this gentle and unassuming book uses the metaphor of different seashells to celebrate the promise and pleasure that can be found in a contemplative, mindful approach to life. The book recounts the story of the author’s retreat on a Florida beach; reading it can be almost an “inner retreat” for those whose life circumstances may not permit a month or so spent by the shore. Written in the 1950s before the significant social changes of the following decade (including the rise of modern feminism), Gift From the Sea sometimes reads like a memo from a lost, earlier, simpler age; but the values it advocates — putting family before ambition, for example — remain, if anything, even more urgently important today than ever.
Hind’s Feet on High Places by Hannah Hurnard. This book is kind of a twentieth century homage to The Pilgrim’s Progress, in that it features allegorical characters with stylized names like Much-Afraid, Dismal Forebodings and Grace and Glory. Like her name indicates, Much-Afraid struggles with lack of faith, and finds her transformation by learning to trust the Shepherd, and allowing herself to be led to new heights of love, joy and victory. Moving through her fears and torments to reach the High Places, Much-Afraid receives not only a new name, but a new calling — to take her transformed life back down into the valley of Service.
So there you go — several books to read with an eye to how Christians from the Anglican and Reformed traditions have explored the call to go deeper into the Christian spiritual life. Enjoy.
| 0 commentsOne of the fun things about blogging is the fact that I’m always getting in trouble, one way or the other.
Here’s my latest infraction — on Thursday when I wrote about the Annunciation, I dared to say “Whether the Annunciation be a miracle or a myth, it’s a powerful story that is well worth our consideration.” This was too much for a reader named Andy who commented:
I’ve been following your blog with interest for a few weeks now, but I suppose I finally see I’m just in the wrong place when you feel the need to spoil an otherwise insightful and moving reflection on Mary’s Fiat with “Whether the Annunciation be a miracle or a myth…”
Another reader promptly came to my defense:
Andy, for those of us who struggle with what we’ve been taught to believe, Carl gives allowance for us in his inclusive language. If you believe Mary’s Fiat was miracle, then there is room for you. If I believe that it is a great and beautiful myth, there is also room for me here. And in the sharing we are both informed and informing.
For my part, I’m sorry that Andy decided my blog is “the wrong place” merely because I try to be honest about my own agnosis. Of course, this is his decision. But as an alternative to that type of decision, I hope that we can all learn, in Christ, to offer hospitality even to those who say or write something with which we strongly disagree. Not that we have to submit to their views; we can let their opinions be theirs and ours be ours. After all, Christ may have argued with the scribes and the Pharisees, but he also was willing to break bread with them.
The Zen master Hakuin said there are three qualities necessary for Zen: great faith, great doubt, and great perseverance. I think the same can be said for Christianity, at least for contemplative Christianity.
Read More» | 0 commentsNew Monasticism: What it Has to Say to Today’s Church
By Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove
Grand Rapids, MI: Brazos Press, 2008
Review by Carl McColman
“We are waiting not for a Godot, but for another — doubtless very different — St. Benedict,” says Alasdair Macintyre at the conclusion of After Virtue, his withering critique of the ethical vacuum in postmodern society. And while the triumphalist voices on the hard Catholic right might loudly proclaim that this mantle belongs to Benedict XVI, for many others the current pope is too awash in the church’s scandals and intransigent polity to be relevant too far beyond the adulation of the super-faithful. Meanwhile, perhaps the “new Benedict” is not a person so much as a movement—which is what makes the “new monasticism” or neo-monasticism such an interesting phenomenon.
At first blush, the new monasticism seems quite different indeed from the old variety. New monastics often (but not always) are married, wear no distinctive clothes, take no vows, and are just as likely to worship in non-Catholic as Catholic churches. The poster child for the new monastic movement is Shane Claiborne, a skinny tall white guy with dreadlocks and a goofy laugh who hailed from the hills of Tennessee but then moved to Philadelphia where he became an activist for homeless persons and a founding member of the Simple Way, a collective of folks who describe themselves as “a web of subversive friends conspiring to spread the vision of ‘Loving God, Loving People, and Following Jesus’ in our neighborhoods and in our world.” In other words, the new monasticism is all about relationships; it’s not about leaving the world so much as immersing more fully into it, heading not out into the desert or the wilderness (although presumably that’s possible) but rather finding monastic stability in “the abandoned places of Empire” like the inner cities or neighborhoods that have been blighted by crackhouses or toxic waste dumps.
If the old monasticism focused on liturgy, the new monasticism focuses on service — as Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove says in this book, “Less services, more service.” The old monasticism strove for holiness through moral purity, while the new variety is more likely to stress hospitality as the means to a holy life. Both old and new emphasize contemplation, but the old too often saw the contemplative life as “higher” than the active life (see The Cloud of Unknowing) while the new monasticism insists that contemplation only works as a partner to action.
Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove may not have quite the star power of Shane Claiborne, but he is an important voice and a key player in the new monastic movement, and this book serves as an introduction both to him and to the communities he represents.
Read More» | 0 commentsToday is the feast of the Annunciation, commemorating the encounter between the Archangel Gabriel and the young maiden Mary, when Gabriel announced that Mary would conceive the child Jesus.
Whether the Annunciation be a miracle or a myth, it’s a powerful story that is well worth our consideration. It’s a story about call, about vocation, about how our individual destinies or life purposes are knit together in a larger, grander, cosmic story. I’m reminded of the song “Terrapin Station” by Grateful Dead: “The storyteller makes no choice, soon you will not hear his voice; his job is to shed light, and not to master.” Certainly this was the kind of energy that Gabriel brought to the peasant girl: the archangel did not imperiously decree that she would submit to this fate chosen for her — “you’re going to do this and you’re going to like it” — so much as simply stating the situation (“you’re going to have a baby”) and imbuing it with mystical light (“God has found favor with you… nothing is impossible with God”). It was Mary’s fiat — her affirming response: “let it be with me according to your word” — that functions as the dramatic capstone of the Annunciation. God may have issued the call, but it was Mary’s call (pardon the pun) as to whether or not she would receive her vocation with joy, with serenity, with faith.
We can get lost in gender politics here, and this story certainly can be interpreted as an unfortunate chapter in the history of the silencing of women. But I think such a reading downplays Mary’s dignity. Mary didn’t have a choice in whether or not she would conceive, true enough. But she did get to choose how she would deal with it. Frankly, by the dictates of common sense, Mary should have been freaking out on an epic scale: as an unmarried pregnant woman, she would have been a likely target for social ostracization or even murder (what they matter-of-factly called “stoning” in her day, now perversely described as “honor killings”). Mary’s fiat was a dramatic twist, an ironic moment that flew in the face of convention and social propriety. God may have surprised her with a miraculous pregnancy, but she surprised God back by choosing to go with the flow, mindfully and consciously.
So I wonder if this Feast Day shouldn’t be renamed the Feast of the Fiat, or perhaps the Feast of Mary’s Declaration. I remember a preacher once saying that what was remarkable about Jesus was not the resurrection — any self-respecting deity should be able to raise himself from the dead — but the crucifixion, to which Jesus offered his own fiat. Every one of us has the opportunity to declare our willingness to embrace our purpose, our destiny, our call — or even just the unfair challenges that tumble down into our lives. Thankfully, such a call will not always entail embracing a miraculous unplanned pregnancy or facing a cruel, painful death. But that’s not to say the call will always be fun or easy. After almost 18 years, I’m still trying to figure out how to say fiat to my calling to be the stepfather of a seriously handicapped young woman, without indulging in anger or bitterness or other shadow emotions that lurk in the more stressful moments of our shared family life. When the angel comes to you or to me to make the annunciation, who knows what we will be told? Feed the poor. Consume less energy. Befriend the person who votes differently, or whose sexual ethics are unlike your own. Stop judging your parents (or your children). Get help for your drinking problem. Join an intentional community. Devote an hour a day to silent prayer. Accept the fact that you will never walk again, or that you will be dead in six months. And on and on the list can go.
Once the annunciation is made, then comes the silence. Soon you will no longer hear the storyteller’s (angel’s) voice. In that open, luminous space, we make our declaration to life, to God, to the cosmos. We can say fiat or we can begin to whine and argue or make excuses. If you’re like me, chances are you’ll do some of both: you’ll say “yes, but” which is , I suppose, part of being human in a less-than-perfect world. That’s okay. But I don’t want to let us off the hook, either. For our declaration, whether irenic or combative, will not only shape our own experience of our destiny, but will also color how we live out our lives in relation to others. Cue the serenity prayer: saying yes to the things we cannot change, and being wise and heartful about those things we can, will make all the difference. There’s plenty of room to chart our own course even in a world where big things happen that we cannot control, big things that will shape our lives in horrible (or glorious) ways.
Cleaning the cobwebs out of our own minds (through the discipline of contemplation) is always a good place to start.
| 0 commentsThe other day a woman named Diane Stranz posted a lengthy comment to my Contemporary Mystical Experience page, in which I quote the passage from my book The Aspiring Mystic describing an extraordinary experience I received as a teenager while attending a Lutheran youth weekend. In the passage, I go on to mention that, at a later date, I experimented with psychedelics. Ms. Stranz has some interesting thoughts in response to my experience, and I quote her in part:
It is my belief, and the belief of many like-minded others, that no one who has had a genuine mystical experience of God’s presence would decide thereafter to try drugs for any reason. God’s presence cleanses us, sets our feet on a path towards union with Him, and provides us with the strength to engage only in activities of His choosing . . . and doing drugs is not on that list. … To be honest, Carl, the fact that you later tried LSD is one indicator amongst many that the supernatural experience of ‘glowing presence’ you describe in this blog post was not a genuine mystical experience, but, instead, a chimeric illusion. Deceptive supernatural presences — be they rogue elements within the collective unconscious, per Jung, or spirits acting in rebellion to God per classic Judeo-Christian belief — ABOUND in the world, and they LOVE to induce feel-good experiences of light, warmth and peace. These comforting experiences lull individuals into thinking God loves them just the way they are and there is no need for self-examination, the confession of sin, contrition, or attempts to conform to a higher standard of conduct and attitude. New Age literature is full of testimonies similar to the one you recount here, and none of them advance one’s spiritual evolution towards union with God.
Okay, I’ll try not to get defensive here. But please forgive me if I fail. I suppose the interesting question here is not about me — it’s not about whether my own experience was chimerical or not; in the larger scheme of things, I suppose vindicating (or dismissing) something that happened to me over thirty years ago doesn’t really matter. But what does matter is the theology that lies beneath the logic that would dismiss my experience because of a subsequent choice I made. What Ms. Stranz appears to be saying is this: a genuine mystical experience will result in immutable, lasting changes in consciousness and behavior that will, among other things, result in a permanent fast from mind-altering substances. Logically, therefore, anyone who undergoes an extraordinary or mystical experience who does partake in mind-altering substances must have had a deceptive, rather than enlightening, experience, arising either from their own ego or from a malevolent spirit.
Several things bother me about this line of thinking.
Read More» | 0 commentsAn interesting article talks about research showing that the depiction of the food at the last supper in art over the last 1000 years reveals a trend, over time, of depicting the meal as, well, bigger. Generally speaking, the older the painting, the smaller the portions at the first Eucharist.
Here’s the link: Study: Last Supper paintings supersize the food
I know that the “Agape Meal” folks suggest that the Eucharist ought to take place in the context of a shared meal. Perhaps such a shared meal needs to be modest in its proportions, however.
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