Phosphorescent Effigy

Dolmena offers this in response to my most recent post, Contemplative Geek? Mystical Fan?:

Maybe I am misunderstanding what you mean … but I don’t see the problem. Of course I think my type of spirituality is inherently deeper and more mature than others, but we all grope toward enlightenment, or joy, or salvation, in our own ways. Is a dancing teddy bear truly more ridiculous than a glow-in-the-dark, caucasian plastic Jesus? (Or are they in fact equally sacrilegious?)

The "problem" stems from a cultural relativism that characterized a perspective I held for many years: that there’s no such thing as absolute truth, therefore any assertion is as true (or false) as any other, and therefore mysticism has value only from a strictly phenomenological perspective. In other words, if mysticism is meaningful for you, then it’s meaningful, but that’s as far as its meaning goes.

My decision to return to mystical Christianity (thereby eschewing mere nature spirituality as my spiritual center) was driven as much by my no longer believing in absolute relativism as by anything else. Why do I reject mystical relativism? Because I believe it reduces all spirituality to the level of psychological experience: mysticism is only valuable to the extent that it’s a discernible shift in my own consciousness. Now, my argument with this assertion is strictly with the word "only."  I have no problem with the enormous power and beauty inherent in the phenomenological experience of mysticism. But if that is all there is to it, then we’re back to relativism: the only mysticism that matters is the mysticism that matters to me. My argument with this kind of reductionist spirituality is twofold: first, nothing prevents such a perspective from sooner or later collapsing from subjectivism to nihilism — "the only thing that’s true is what’s true for me" all too easily can devolve into "nothing is true." All it takes is a deep enough existential crisis on the part of the relativist/subjectivist thinker, and the relativism/subjectivism gives way to the meaningless void that lies beneath it. My second argument stems from my conviction that subjectivism and relativism ultimately undermine community. Community, by definition, rests on shared values and objectives; but how can values and objectives be shared in a world where truth itself is entirely for grabs? Sure, even in today’s relativistic world we have many lovely models of community, but I have yet to see a truly postmodern community that does not in some manner exist based on modernist or pre-modernist assumptions about "the common good" or "the rationality of sublimating self-interesting to a higher good" or some other such value in which lurks some sort of notion of Truth-with-a-capital-T.

So my anxiety, as I expressed it the other night, is simply that postmodern expressions of mysticism (such as becoming geeky-fannish about one’s favorite mystic, as I have done more than once about Julian of Norwich in my blog) may in effect be a reductionistic approach to mysticism, unintentionally diminishing it to our relativistic/subjectivist world, thereby subtly sabotaging mysticism’s authentic witness to transcendent values/experiences. It’s not a fear that dominates my thinking, but it does crop up from time to time. Hence my blogging about it.

Now, regarding the dancing bear and the glow-in-the-dark Jesus…  I don’t see the dancing bear as either ridiculous or sacrilegious at all, and I suppose that’s because I don’t think anyone seriously thinks the dancing bear is pointing to a transcendent reality. Even the most whacked out acid-casualty deadhead does not (as best I can tell) ascribe any kind of objective ontological spiritual "truth" to Jerry and the Gang. Sure, hardcore deadheads find a mysticism in the GD experience, but it’s a natural mysticism, earthy and pagan rather than supernatural or theistic in its orientation. The dancing bear evokes a sense of whimsy, celebration, perhaps humor, but it doesn’t presume to point to anything beyond itself. For this reason, it works perfectly well, in so far as it goes. But a transcendentalist would suggest that it doesn’t go very far. Again, I say this not to put down the GD experience (read my article about Mickey Hart to get a sense of where I stand in relation to the Dead), but simply to note that, as wonderful/ ecstatic/ mind-blowing/ consciousness-expanding as the GD experience might be, Christian mysticism always asserts that it goes much, much further. Whether you believe this or not, that’s the claim that Christian mysticism makes. Not that nature mysticism in its many forms is bad (the Christians who attack nature mysticism are usually the same ones who also attack Christian mysticism, which sheds light on what their true agenda is), but simply that it is limited. Think of it this way: Michelob is a perfectly adequate beer, at least as American beers go. But if I note that Guinness is far, far superior, I am not putting Michelob down. I am merely trying to be honest in assessing their relative merits. Those who think that I am putting Michelob down merely because I dare to note that it fails to measure up to Guinness suffer either from a faulty, dualistic understanding of logic or from a particularly pernicious form of relativism that insists it is not okay to make comparative value judgments — a perspective that may be amusing when we’re talking about beer, but is truly appalling when it comes to meaningful conversations about different religious perspectives.

So while I don’t reject the dancing bear as either "ridiculous" or "sacrilegious," the glow-in-the-dark statue of Jesus just might test positive on both counts. Why? Because as a Christian, I place credence in the assertion that Christian iconography points to something bigger and more Real than anything in our universe, either visible or invisible; and believing this, I am moved to worship that which is so Real. As part of my devotion and worship, I feel led to eschew anything that would belittle (or dismiss) that which I adore. The phosphorescent statue could be seen as merely whimsical or playful or even as a teaching tool designed for reflecting on Christ’s declaration of being "the Light of the World." But the more we assign a transcendent Reality to Christ, the more doubt is cast upon the ultimate value of such whimsical playthings: What, then, would be their purpose — to reduce the transcendent to mere silliness? Or to attack the belief in the transcendent, through parody? Either way, it leaves a bad aftertaste in my mouth.

Now, I wrote the preceding paragraph mindful of the many ways in which it could be misinterpreted. So I want to go on the record that I am not declaring all phosphorescent religious items to be sinful!!!  For one thing, I just don’t see the world in such stark black-and-white terms, and furthermore, since I have such a high theology of God as the ultimate source of love and joy and delight, I’m not entirely sure that God wouldn’t be rather fond of playful (read: ridiculous) stuff like glow-in-the-dark rosaries. To be honest, I personally would rather err on the side of God’s sense of humor. So with that in mind: bring on the ridiculous and sacrilegious pop-culture representations of the Christian faith. But just don’t assume that’s all there is to it. For I believe with all my heart that we mortals have barely scratched the surface of that unfathomable mystery that we monotheists call God.