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Quote for the Day

I used to think that paired opposites were a given, that love was the opposite of hate, right the opposite of wrong. But now I think we sometimes buy into these concepts because it is so much easier to embrace absolutes than to suffer reality. I don’t think anything is the opposite of love. Reality is unforgivingly complex.

— Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life

My friend Martha just alerted me to this wonderful article by Thich Nhat Hanh. It looks like it’s quite a few years old, since in it he talks about wanting to write Going Home: Jesus and Buddha as Brothers, which was published in 2000. But its message remains important for us today:

Going Back to Our Religious Roots

In this article, the good Vietnamese monk tells the story of counseling a young Buddhist woman who had fallen in love with a Catholic man, and was distraught because his family was insisting that she become a Catholic in order to marry him. After speaking with her, Thich Nhat Hanh basically gave his blessing for her to enter the church, suggesting that if she continued to do mindfulness work, she could be a Buddhist on the inside, even while practicing Catholicism. She thought it over, and her reply is worth considering, as she weighs the merits of the two faiths: “[Buddhism is] a tradition that is so embracing, so tolerant, so open, if I abandon it and turn my back to it, I am not a person of value. [By contrast, Catholicism is] a tradition that is so strict, that has no tolerance, that is not able to understand, how could I formally identify myself with it?” Continue Reading »

Thirty-Three Years

Thirty-three years ago yesterday I had a profound experience of God’s presence in the midst of a Eucharist. I won’t go into all the details of that life-changing evening here; if you have The Aspiring Mystic, you can read all about it in chapter one; otherwise, you can find it elsewhere on my website by following this link: A Contemporary Mystical Experience?

As I strive to finish editing my book, I’ve thought a lot about that evening over the past few days. I was only 16 then; I’m 49 now, so it was 2/3 of my current lifetime ago. I did not yet have a driver’s license; I had never tasted Scotch or dropped acid, and yes, I was a virgin. All I knew about “what I wanted to be when I grew up” was that I loved to write. Before the events of 2-5-77, religion was not particularly important to me; sure, my family and I went to church every Sunday and I was active as an acolyte and a member of the youth group, but I did not have “a personal relationship with the Lord,” to use the evangelical jargon; to use language more congenial with my spiritual identity today, I would say “I had not yet entered fully and consciously into the splendor of the Christian mystery.” So I had no idea what was in store for me when, in the midst of a weekend retreat for High Schoolers, I participated in the Communion Service and experienced a luminous shift in my awareness characterized by the experience of love and light. Continue Reading »

Flawed Love

Part of what has surprised me about the loss of China has been how much my sense of grieving has been shaped by feeling guilty. Of course there’s the what-if’s surrounding her final illness: “I waited too long to take her to the vet,” “My inaction made her suffer,” “I waited too long to put her to sleep,” “I put her to sleep too soon” (ah, contradictory self-accusations! That right there should be a clue that what’s going on has more to do with me and my internal process than anything else).

But what is fascinating is that I’m also tapping into guilt feelings on a larger level — and mostly concerned with pushing her away when she would come begging for attention and I would be involved in research or writing. I mentioned this on my blog yesterday, and was curious to see if anyone would comment on it. No one did, which again suggested to me that this particular feeling was more about “my stuff” than about the universal arc of pet-loss-related grief. One of the monks yesterday reminded me that it’s okay to set boundaries with animals and that those rules don’t change just because we eventually have to grieve their passing. This was helpful, and enabled me to step back from the immediate tar-baby of the grief/guilt complex of feelings and ask myself, “Okay, so why am I feeling this, and just how ‘real’ are the thoughts beneath these feelings anyway?” Continue Reading »

China (1989-2010)

China & Carl, Feile Bríde 2010

Loving God, our beloved pet and companion, China, is on her final journey.  We will miss China dearly because of the joy and affection she has given us. Bless China and give her peace. May your care for her never die. We think you for the gift that she has been to us. Give us hope that in your great kindness you may restore China in your heavenly kingdom, according to your wisdom, which goes beyond our human understanding. Amen.

— Adapted from a prayer in Will I See My Dog in Heaven? by Jack Wintz

N.B. This is the third of a series of posts about the illness and death of my feline friend China. To read the posts in order, begin with The Lion in Winter and move on to The Die is Cast.

I had scheduled to be off work on February 3 in order to finish the copy editing for my forthcoming book, The Big Book of Christian Mysticism. Now it turns out that I’ll have to rearrange my schedule for this coming weekend, to complete the editing I had hoped to do yesterday. As it turned out, February 3 was my day for saying goodbye to an old friend. Continue Reading »

The die is cast

China, February 3, 2010.

I have scheduled China’s final visit to the vet for 5:30 PM today.

Yesterday was a blessing. I had some errands to run, but when I came home China hobbled into the living room and climbed into my lap — and stayed for about 90 minutes. Mostly she slept, and purred just a little bit. I stroked her and cried and eventually just placed my hand on her back. Finally she got up and wandered off.

I opened a can of gourmet beef, and she ate a little bit. Later, Fran made some salmon dip and gave China the juice from the can, with little ground bits of salmon mixed in. This was always a special treat for China, which she would guard ferociously. But last night, she barely licked at it for a about a minute before walking away. We covered it up and tried giving it to her again this morning, but she showed almost no interest in it. Fran thinks that these last few days she’s been eating a little bit only to please me.

I took her to the vet this morning for some more fluids and we took her temperature again, and it was 97.5 — better than Monday, but still seriously low. The vet asked me to consider that I was just prolonging China’s suffering. In my heart, I knew she was right.

So I came back home, and asked Fran what she thought. It’s as hard for Fran to make decisions as it is for me (we are both INFPs). She said, “I’m just going to miss her so much,” and we both cried. Then we went and sat with China and petted her. She didn’t even purr. Fran said, “She always purrs for you, Carl. This, to me, is the sign that she’s ready.” I nodded, and then we cried some more. And then I called the vet and set the appointment for this evening.

Pray for us.

Quote for the Day

Take this as a Christian axiom: (1) All statements and beliefs about Jesus are also statements about the journey of the soul (birth, chosenness, ordinary life, initiation, career, misunderstanding and opposition, failure, death in several forms, resurrection, and return to God). (2) All statements about “the Christ” are statements about the “Body” of Christ, too. We are not the historical Jesus, but we are the Body of Christ. “Christ” is not Jesus’ last name, but the field of communion that includes all of us with him.

— Richard Rohr, The Naked Now: Learning to See as the Mystics See

The Lion in Winter

China and Carl, October 1990. She's 17 months; I'm 29; which means that developmentally, we were both brash young adults.

China and Carl, February 2010. She's a few months shy of 21, while I'm 49. My midlife, and her old age. Despite her failing health and loss of weight she still looks great; whereas I am clearly road-worn. But at least I've learned how to hold a cat.

My eldest cat, China, is well over 20 years old. She was a rescue kitty — she came to me when I managed the bookstore in Sewanee, and a fraternity boy at the college found her, a stray kitten, and took her to the local vet; the same vet who on the very next day I asked “Do you have any kittens up for adoption?” He brought China out to me, and it was love at first sight. The frat boy, who was a true animal lover, came and talked to me to make sure I would be a good “daddy” for the kitten; I must have passed muster, for he gave his blessing to the vet and China got to come home with me. This was in July 1989. I had an older cat, Julian, whom I loved but with whom I never truly bonded — not like I bonded with China. Whether it was just a matter of disposition, or truly a miracle of human-animal relations, China and I became heart to heart buddies. For years she slept next to my pillow; and whereas Julian was not much of a lap cat, China claimed my lap as her own natural habitat. When Fran and I got married in 1993, I swear China was jealous (she got over it, eventually). Up until the last few years when she has obviously become hard of hearing, she would even come to me when I would call or beckon her (please don’t spread this too widely, for I’m sure most cats would be mortified to learn that one of their own engaged in such dog-like behavior).

With her naturally outgoing personality, China quickly would win over the hearts of pretty much anyone who came calling. She was a graceful jumper — my house in Tennessee was passive solar, with windows twelve feet high from the floor, and probably a good six feet from the nearest rail; China and Julian both would jump from the rail to the windows to bask in the sun, nearly giving me a coronary every time they did it. Even as a middle-aged cat when we first moved into our current home, China would climb onto the dresser and leap over to the bed, falling square onto my chest with terrifying force. Continue Reading »

Feile Bríde

Statue of St. Brigid at the holy well of Liscannor, Co. Clare, Ireland. Affectionately dubbed "our lady of the phone booth" by an irreverent friend. Photograph by Carl McColman.

Happy St. Brigid’s day, everyone! Or, to call it by its proper Irish name, Feile Bríde (the festival of Brigid). Since I’m trying to spend more time editing my book than updating this blog these days, I’ll keep this brief: first, here’s a couple of links to explore…

Now for the splendid “beer prayer” traditionally attributed to the good Irish saint:

I’d like to give a lake of beer to God.
I’d love the Heavenly
Host to be tippling there
For all eternity.

I’d love the men of Heaven to live with me,
To dance and sing.
If they wanted, I’d put at their disposal
Vats of suffering.

White cups of love I”d give them,
With a heart and a half;
Sweet pitchers of mercy I’d offer
To every man.

I’d make Heaven a cheerful spot,
Because the happy heart is true.
I’d make the men contented for their own sake
I’d like Jesus to love me too.

I’d like the people of heaven to gather
From all the parishes around,
I’d give a special welcome to the women,
The three Marys of great renown.

I’d sit with the men, the women of God
There by the lake of beer
We’d be drinking good health forever
And every drop would be a prayer.

— St. Brigid of Kildare (translator unknown)

Finally, one more image: a photograph of beautiful stained glass windows featuring two of my favorite saints…

Stained glass windows featuring St. Teresa of Avila and St. Bridget of Kildare, St. Joseph's Catholic Church, Macon, GA. Photograph by Fran McColman.

On my writer’s page at Facebook, my bio used to read like this:

Carl McColman is the author of 10 books on the spiritual life. Most of his works published before 2005 concern Pagan and Celtic spirituality. In 2005 he became a Catholic, and is now writing a book on Christian mysticism to be published in late 2010.

As of this morning, I have re-written it thusly:

Carl McColman blogs about Celtic, emergent, mystical, & contemplative spirituality at the Website of Unknowing (www.anamchara.com). He is the author of 10 books. The 11th, “The Big Book of Christian Mysticism,” will be published in August 2010.

I’ve done this for several reasons. First, I felt that, at least at this point in my journey, I am known more for this humble blog than for my even humbler books. Although my book sales are respectable enough, in any given month far more people read this blog than buy my books. So I wanted my Facebook blurb to represent me as a blogger first, booksmith second.

Then there is the minor matter of changing the anticipated pub date of The Big Book of Christian Mysticism from “late 2010″ to the more precise and accurate “August 2010.”

But the most important reason for my self-revisionism involves my growing unease with oppositional thinking, as well as an equally growing recognition that both my own spirituality and my vocation as a writer are shaped by four equal and very important dimensions of Christian experience. Continue Reading »

Quote for the Day

Prayer is not so much about convincing God to do what we want God to do as it is about convincing ourselves to do what God wants us to do.

— Shane Claiborne and Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove,
Becoming the Answer to Our Prayers

Separated at Birth?

People at work have been teasing me that John Michael Talbot is my long lost brother.

What do you think?

I personally don’t see much resemblance. Sure, we’re both jaw-droppingly handsome, but his beard is much more epic than mine could ever hope to be…

Quotes for the Day

All the way to heaven is heaven.

— Catherine of Siena, as quoted in New Monasticism by Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove

You are as holy as you want to be.

—Jan van Ruusbroec, as quoted in Ruusbroec and His Mysticism by Paul Verdeyen

God never grants mystical wisdom without love.

— John of the Cross, The Dark Night of the Soul

Last night I got an email from young person who asked me to explain Christian mysticism to her. She noted that she was a Christian but had never heard of mysticism before. Indeed, how many faithful church-goers are there, who know nothing about the splendors of the contemplative tradition?

This past Sunday I was visiting a class on Christian spirituality at a mainline Protestant church here in Atlanta, and, impressed by the articulate and eloquent expression of personal spirituality among the students, I began to ponder this question: what is the difference between Christian mysticism and, for lack of a better term, “ordinary” Christian spirituality? I know it’s counter-intuitive to start worrying about these kinds of distinctions, for this immediately puts the dualistic mind into high gear. Trying to talk about mysticism through dualistic consciousness is like trying to talk about lovemaking using only military metaphors. But, with that caveat fully in mind, here I go where angels fear to tread… Continue Reading »

Quote for the Day

For those who abandon themselves to it, God’s love contains every good thing, and if you long for it with all your heart and soul it will be yours. All God asks for is love, and if you search for this kingdom where God alone rules, you can be quite sure you will find it. For if your heart is completely devoted to God, your heart itself is this treasure, this very kingdom which you desire so ardently.

— Jean-Pierre de Caussade, Abandonment to Divine Providence

What’s Up…

We interrupt the regularly scheduled programming of this blog to bring you a few notes about what’s up in the life of your humble blogger.

I’m currently reviewing and responding to the copy-edits of The Big Book of Christian Mysticism. This process will continue until February 10, when the manuscript is due back on my editor’s desk. From there the book will go to the designers, who will do the layout; copies will be mailed out to potential endorsers and early reviewers. I’ll review the book one more time after the design is finished, but that will be only for proof-reading or fixing last-minute minor glitches. The plan is to have the book to press by the beginning of summer, and in bookstores by the beginning of August.

So… that’s all to say that between now and February 10 I probably will not be posting to this blog every day. Or I’ll be posting more quotations from mystics and other authors, since I will be putting more time into making sure I meet my deadline. Readers who were following this blog before last August (when I was still writing the book) will remember what the rhythm was like. Not to worry, I love the blog and as soon as the copy editing review is completed, I’ll be back to posting daily.

In the meantime, I thought I’d post a few reminders and notices of upcoming events:

Upcoming Classes — I have two classes scheduled through Emory University’s Center for Lifelong Learning, starting in February and in April. Normally these classes fill up in a hurry, but this year enrollment has been sluggish; has the economy finally caught up with the Ken Wilber fans and mysticism lovers in Atlanta? Anyway, if you’re interested in them, please register soon: if we don’t reach a certain threshold, we’ll have to cancel the classes and of course I’d rather not do that. Follow the links to sign up.

  • A Brief History of Everything through Emory University’s “Evening at Emory” Program.
    American philosopher Ken Wilber writes books that combine eastern and western spirituality, psychology, biology, cultural theory, and other strands of contemporary thought to create what the author calls “integral theory.” Wilber seeks to bridge the divide between science and religion, explain the dynamics of human consciousness and moral development, and speculate on the future evolution of our species. Despite the complexity of his thought, many of Wilber’s books are written in an accessible style, including the textbook for this class, A Brief History of Everything. In this class we’ll read the book, discuss its merits and flaws, and consider how Wilber’s ideas can impact both the scientific and spiritual communities.
    Textbook: A Brief History of Everything by Ken Wilber.
    Instructor: Carl McColman
    February 10-March 10, 2010
    7:00-9:00 pm

    To register, click here

  • Introduction to World Mysticism through Emory University’s “Evening at Emory” Program.
    Madonna is studying the Kabbalah. The Shack is a runaway bestseller. Centuries after he died, everyone’s reading Rumi. Yoga, Buddhism and other eastern practices are more popular among Americans than ever. So what gives? At the heart of all these cultural trends is mysticism, a vague word that can be translated as “the spiritual principle at the heart of religion.” Many people believe mysticism is the golden thread that unites all the world’s religions. Others scoff at the idea. Come decide for yourself in this class as we explore major themes and writings from the world’s great mystical traditions. Using Andrew Harvey’s The Essential Mystics as our textbook, we’ll examine the world’s great wisdom traditions — Taoism, Hinduism, Buddhism, Judaism, Christianity, Islam, as well as pagan and philosophical forms of mysticism — acknowledging both the common ground and the distinctive qualities of each mystical path. Class is taught from an academic/nonsectarian perspective.
    Textbook: The Essential Mystics : Selections from the World’s Great Wisdom Traditions.
    Instructor: Carl McColman
    April 14-May 5, 2010

    7:00-9:00 pm

    To register, click here

Also… I’m currently in conversation with a church in Atlanta to host a class on The Protestant Mystics, probably on a series of Tuesday evenings after Easter (in April/May). So keep those dates free if you’re interested, and I’ll post more information on this blog when we have the details nailed down.

Looking ahead, I have two retreats at the Monastery of the Holy Spirit this summer, a writing retreat on June 4-6 and a Christian mysticism retreat July 23-25. For more information or to register, click here.

I’ll be in Portland, Oregon the last weekend in October. We’re working on those details now, but it will include at least 2-3 events open to the public. Stay tuned, details will be posted here as they come available.

More events will be happening once the book is published. Certainly more events in the Atlanta area, and I’d love to travel, but because of family commitments my travel time is necessarily limited. If you or your church/organization would like to host me for a speaking/teaching/retreat event, please contact me (my contact information is listed in a widget on the right-hand column of this blog’s home page).

Okay… that’s it for now. I’ll be posting here, just probably not every day between now and 2/10. Please keep me in your prayers.

Quote for the Day

Contemplation is life itself, fully awake, fully active, fully aware that it is alive. It is spiritual wonder. It is spontaneous awe at the sacredness of life, of being. It is gratitude for life, for awareness, and for being. … Contemplation is also the response to a call: a call from Him Who has no voice, and yet Who speaks in everything that is, and Who, most of all, speaks in the depths of our own being; for we ourselves are words of His. But we are words that are meant to respond to Him, to answer to Him, to echo Him, and even in some way to contain Him and signify Him. Contemplation is this echo. It is a deep resonance in the inmost center of our spirit in which our very life loses its separate voice and re-sounds with the majesty and the mercy of the Hidden and Living One…

— Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation

In her classic work Mysticism: A Study in the Nature and Development of Spiritual Consciousness, Evelyn Underhill devotes two chapters to the subject of “introversion,” in which she explores three essential mystical practices: recollection, the prayer of quiet, and contemplation. Recollection, she points out, is a technical mystical term, not to be confused with ordinary remembrance; rather she defines mystical recollection as “the deliberate consideration of and dwelling upon some one aspect of Reality — an aspect most usually chosen from amongst the religious beliefs of self” (p. 314). In other words, recollection is a technique for focusing and perhaps stilling the mind. By this way of thinking, the method of centering prayer is a form of recollection. So also would be meditating on a single attribute of God, such as love, or forgiveness, or joy. The point behind recollection is to bring our awareness into a place of rest and repose where we can prepare for the prayer of quiet.

Such quiet Underhill describes as a profound experience which emerges out of recollection. “Out of the deep, slow brooding and pondering on some mystery, some incomprehensible link between himself and the Real, or the deliberate practice of loving attention to God, the contemplative … glides, almost insensibly, on to a plane of perception … characterized by an immense increase in the receptivity of the self, and by an almost complete suspension of the reflective powers. The strange silence which is the outstanding quality of this state — almost the only note in regard to it which the surface-intelligence can secure — is not describable” (p. 317). If recollection corresponds to centering prayer’s use of a single word to silence the discursive mind, than the prayer of quiet represents those moments in the centering experience where the repeated word gently falls away, leaving the person in prayer resting in the deep silence of the Divine presence.

If Underhill’s language (from a century ago) leaves you a bit cold, then compare her descriptions to a much more recent (2006) discussion of these topics, from John Crowder’s Miracle Workers, Reformers and the New Mystics. For Crowder, recollection is that moment of prayer “in which the Holy Spirit ministers healing and cleansing to the soul. It is here where we release the hurts, guilt, and wounds of the past … We release our burdens tot he presence of God. We are also cleansed from the expectations, fears or longings for the future … we begin to see God in the present … This first stage is a place of purification. It is where we lay our cares at the cross” (p. 235). He goes on describe the prayer of quiet as “a place where we recognize our inability to calm our own thoughts with our own strength. We become utterly dependent on God to lead us in prayer … It is a place of pure listening and quietness. Divine love pours over us and our spiritual senses are awakened” (p. 237).

It’s interesting to compare these two perspectives. Crowder’s definitions seem at first blush quite different from Underhill’s, but I think this may be driven largely by the fact that she was a British Anglo-Catholic, he an American charismatic evangelical. They are basically, it seems to me, describing two different paths up the same mountain. No doubt because of my own bias, I rather prefer Underhill’s descriptions, but I do find Crowder’s perspective both refreshing and insightful, if only for their ability to make me look at these foundational elements of contemplative experience in new ways.

Quote for the Day

But did anyone ever tell you that Jesus’ very first message in the Gospels, which is usually translated as “convert,” “repent,” or “reform” (Matthew 4:17, Mark 1:15) is the Greek word metanoia, which quite literally means to “change your mind”? Jesus’ first word to us was “change!” — and mind change at that! What we have translated as “repent” is not a moralistic or even churchy word at all; it is a clear strategy for enlightenment for the world. Once you accept ongoing change as a central program for yourself, you tend to continue growing throughout all of your life.
Jesus knows that self-critical, yet not negative, people will always keep growing and engaging with the world around them, with themselves, and with God.

— Richard Rohr, The Naked Now: Learning to
See as the Mystics See

Jesus Freak

Jesus Freak: Feeding — Healing — Raising the Dead
By Sara Miles
San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 2010
Review by Carl McColman

Sara Miles and I have something really cool in common. We are both excited about the radical social, political and spiritual implications of the gospel, and we are both flat out nuts in love with Jesus. And, if this book is any indication, Miles shares my experience of sometimes finding it tricky to put those two realities together. “You’re such a freakin’ Jesus freak, Sara,” her own priest tells her. And then he adds, “I mean that in the nicest possible way, of course.”

But Sara Miles understands that Christianity isn’t really about “the nicest possible way.” It’s about being odd, being mysterious, being ironic and revolutionary and passionate and always managing to color outside the lines. In many ways, Jesus Freak serves as a sort of sequel to her inspiring conversion story, Take This Bread. In Take This Bread Miles gleefully connects the dots between the Eucharist, the overall thrust of the gospel, the politics of food, and the pleasures of cooking, and the result is a book filled with miracles and a knowing, smart wonder. Her conversion story ends with her holding on tight as the Holy Spirit blows through her ministry of feeding the hungry, multiplying her original food pantry on a level reminiscent of that day Jesus fed a crowd with just a few loaves and fishes. Jesus Freak revisits the author’s haunts: St. Gregory of Nyssa Church and the Food Pantry — where a Friday afternoon giveaway sounds far more mystical than anything the priests do on Sunday morning. But where Take This Bread is more of a travelogue, as we tag along with Miles’ adventures in New York, the Philippines, and Central America before landing in San Francisco, Jesus Freak has more of a sense of Benedictine stability about it, as most of the action takes place right there in the Bay Area. And while her earlier book was very much a confessional work, this new outing, while mostly just a journey through Sara’s world, feels more relevant as an invitation to all of us readers — to go and do likewise.

Do what, exactly? Consider the chapter titles: “Come and See,” “Feeding,” “Healing,” “Forgiving” and “Raising the Dead.” These are, pretty much, the marching orders of Christ’s followers. And while religion “in the nicest possible way” pays plenty of lip service to these kinds of pious exercises, Miles isn’t very interested in being polite for Jesus’ sake: she’s a Jesus Freak, she’s on fire with the Holy Spirit, and she wants to feed everybody, heal those most in need, forgive even her enemies (!) and… as for raising the dead, I don’t want to give too much away, but let’s just say that there’s a five star pun hidden in that particular story.

What I love about Sara Miles is that she somehow manages to combine the savvy of a veteran political activist with the wide-eyed innocence and wonder of someone who has fallen nutty in love with Christ for the very first time. Indeed, she refers to the Jesus as the “Boyfriend” — a delicious twist on bridal mysticism that just might make you squirm a little bit (she admits that even she finds it really edgy). Like a wild and alluring lover who dares you to break through limits you didn’t even know were holding you back, Jesus — as celebrated by Sara Miles — keeps inviting her, and her priest, and the folks who work with her at the Food Pantry, to keep doing wild and outrageous things to celebrate God’s lavish love and the possiblity of a new world and a new economy that is based on grace rather than profit. Maybe it won’t inspire you to start a food bank, but I bet Jesus Freak will call you to live more passionately for the gospel, in whatever envelope-pushing way is right for you. And that, my friends, is a freaky good thing indeed.

N.B. The publishers have put a short little interview of Sara Miles up on Youtube, with a little bit of footage from St. Gregory’s and the Food Pantry. Here it is:

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