On the Rise of ‘Casino Capitalism’
I found this one at the National Catholic Reporter website. I think it needs to be spread far and wide:
The cultural embrace of illusion, and the celebrity culture that has risen up around it, have accompanied the awful hollowing out of the state. We have shifted from a culture of production to a culture of consumption. We have been sold a system of casino capitalism, with its complicated and unregulated deals of turning debt into magical assets, to create fictional wealth for us and vast wealth for our elite. We have internalized the awful ethic of corporatism — one built around the cult of the self and consumption as an inner compulsion — to believe that living is about our own advancement and our own happiness at the expense of others. Corporations, behind the smoke screen, have ruthlessly dismantled and destroyed our manufacturing base and impoverished our working class. The free market became our god and government was taken hostage by corporations, the same corporations that entice us daily with illusions though the mass media, the entertainment industry and popular culture.
Adventures in Shameless Self-Promotion
How I envy Julian of Norwich.
Not only did she have an awesome experience of sixteen revelations of Divine Love, but she also took twenty years to reflect on her experience and then wrote a book that remains one of the finest testimonies of mystical experience in the Christian tradition.
Okay, there is the fact that she was deathly ill during her visions, and that she lived in the middle ages, and spent most of her adult life in a solitary cell. There’s a downside to everything.
But one more thing I envy about Julian: she didn’t have to promote her own work. No publishers, editors, or literary agents asking her how many hits her website is generating, or how large her email mailing list is, or how many Twitter followers she has.
Yes, I like getting up in front of a crowd and talking about mysticism and the spiritual life — but that’s mainly because I love talking about these things so much that it emboldens me to deal with the “crowd” bit. All things being equal, I’m a natural introvert and would much rather have intimate conversations with just one or two people at a time, or would just happily while away the hours at my computer, writing and then checking in with folks at Facebook to see what’s up. That’s a true introvert’s dream.
But I’m a writer in the 21st century, and so part of my job is to promote my work. Since I’m not a Big Name writer who can affort to hire my own publicity team, it’s all up to me.
I just wish it weren’t so embarrassing. It feels like calling up people on the phone and saying, “Hi, will you be my friend?”
So, my latest foray into the oh-so-embarrassing world of shameless self-promotion has been setting up an Author Page on Facebook. This is a more “public” alternative to my personal page, which theoretically is for my circle of friends. The Author Page is a more public forum, where I can post news about my work and forthcoming appearances, and (very interesting for me), my readers can ask me questions or even initiate discussions amongst themselves about my work. It’s really a neat concept, and so I’m glad I’ve finally set one up.
I actually have resisted doing so for a while — and that’s for one simple reason: Facebook has it set up so that each Author page describes the people who link to it as “fans.”
I think “readers” would be a more, er, useful term. I feel much more comfortable asking people to be my readers than to be my fans. I can hear my old high school buddies now: “Who does Carl think he is, asking me to ‘become a fan’? Harumph!” As a spiritual writer, I believe people who read my work shouldn’t be fans of me, but of God. I’m just the messenger-boy.
But Facebook has spoken, and so I’m stuck with the format given to me. If you’re on Facebook, I hope you’ll “become a fan.” Just don’t blame me for that verbage!
Here’s the link: www.facebook.com/carlmccolman.
Quote for the Day
The closer we grow to God, the more intensely we experience the love of God and the desire for God that awakens in us, the more painful become all those defects of character to which we still cling because they are part of our self-definition; this includes even our definition of ourselves in relation to God as we have experienced that to this point. We are now called not merely to detachment of worldly things from our egoism but the very giving up of those structures of self that we believe have defined us as persons.
E. Lynn Harris, R.I.P.
I’ve never read any books by E. Lynn Harris. Nevertheless, I was saddened to learn of his passing, apparently from a heart attack, at the young age of 54. This is because I can attribute the best piece of writing advice I ever received to Harris — even though I was merely overhearing his conversation with someone else, and he was talking about advice he in turn received from Alice Walker.
It was sometime in the mid-1990s, when I was an employee of the bookstore at Georgia State University (and was working on what would eventually become my first book). Harris appeared at the University, and I sold books at the reception given in his honor. He sat at a table next to me and signed books, with a long line of his fans waiting to get an autograph and have a brief word with him.
At one point, a woman getting a book signed mentioned that she was an aspiring novelist. He warmly encouraged her, and said, “Do you know what the best advice I ever received on how to become a writer? Alice Walker gave it to me, when I was working on my first book. She said, ‘Write something every day. I don’t care if it’s just a sentence. Just write something.’ And that simple advice made all the difference.”
The woman thanked him and left, and he turned his attention to the next person in line. I don’t remember anything else he said all evening long. But that one little bit of advice burned into my awareness. At the time, I was struggling to find the discipline to write. And there it was: as simple as learning to meditate. Just do it every day. Who cares if you only do it for a minute or two: just make sure it’s every day.
And so, both my writing and my spiritual practice blossomed. Because, naturally, out of that daily discipline, writing “only a sentence or two,” just like “meditating only a minute or two” will blossom into a real, meaningful discipline.
To this day, if I struggle with my writing, I get through the “blocked” periods by clinging to the advice Alice Walker gave to E. Lynn Harris (who, in turn, gave it indirectly to me); and I write something — something — every day.
Rest in peace, E. Lynn Harris. Thank you for helping me to live my dream as a writer. May your (and Alice Walker’s) words inspire many more people.
Wikipedia & Me
Tonight I discovered that there’s a picture of me on Wikipedia. It’s on the page for the Monastery of the Holy Spirit, in the “Book store and religious gifts” section. No caption with my name, so unless you knew it was me, you’d miss it.
Here’s the picture, which I’m saving to my Facebook profile and to this blog, knowing the something can disappear from Wikipedia at any time…
To see this snapshot in its native habitat, go to http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monastery_of_the_Holy_Spirit.
And no, I had nothing to do with this. I do vaguely remember someone taking this snapshot and saying they were going to use it on Wikipedia. But tonight is the first time I bothered to look at the Monastery entry, and I wasn’t even looking for pictures of the store (with or without me), I just wanted to see what Wikipedia had to say about the Monastery.
But it was fun to find this. It’s way cool. I feel almost famous.
First Communion on the Moon
In honor of the fortieth anniversary of Apollo 11 and the first human beings to set foot on the moon, my friend and fellow blogger Bosco Peters has posted a wonderful article about a little known fact: that the first food consumed on the surface of the moon was the Body and Blo0d of Christ. Click here to read the article.
The Epistemology of Post-Fundamentalism
A friend of mine, formerly a devout Christian who is now an atheist (and, unfortunately, a rather bitter and cynical one at that), wrote this to me recently:
I got into religion as a literal believer, and I became disappointed when I discovered that I was repeatedly lied to (the earth is not 6000 years old, for instance, and now I suspect that Jesus is not God in the flesh, any more than anyone else is anyway).
Sigh.
I understand his feeling of being lied to. But I am reminded of Meister Eckhart, who defended himself against charges of heresy by saying, “I am able to be in error, but I cannot be a heretic, for the first belongs to the intellect, the second to the will.” So, did my friend’s teachers lie to him in the sense of willfully deceiving him, or did they merely pass on the contours of their own limited and erroneous beliefs, which eventually led him to concluding that he had been deceived, once he had amassed enough data that challenged their religious worldview?
I think the latter is the more likely scenario, but either way, the result is the same: a man, disillusioned and angry, when he considers alternative ideas and decides that those who had taught him must have been unethical because they themselves had not sufficiently considered — let alone presented to their students — these conflicting worldviews.
I suspect this righteous anger at “having been lied to” might be fueling many of the militant atheists in our society. I think it represents an interesting inversion of the fundamentalist mind: fundamentalists often anchor their theology in a strong demonology that not only asserts the literal existence of a Satan, but argues that Satan is in the business of deceiving human beings — and that souls will be lost merely for being deceived (don’t believe me? Pick up a Chick tract and read it. That’s a common theme of Jack Chick’s). In the scary-clown funhouse of ultra-conservative Christianity, gullibility is a mortal sin.
Somebody once quipped that the god of an old religion becomes the devil of a new religion, and perhaps this is the dynamic at work here. Having been taught that evil is particularly bound up with deception, the person who leaves literal religion might conclude that, because he was deceived by his religion, that it is in fact evil — and so my friend does not say he was “misled” but that he was “lied to.” Bamboozled by the Bible-thumpers; conned by the Christians.
Twenty years ago I thought that goddess religion was the archetypal spirituality of our times. These days, however, I think that distinction goes rather to militant atheism. Jim Marion, following the ideas of Ken Wilber, writes about ” the death of the mythic God,” which of course is an echo of the radical “God is dead” theology that emerged in the 1960s, following the writings of Nietzche. We are all called to surrender God-as-Santa Claus, or, for that matter, God-as-enraged-father-figure. Those of us who insist on holding on to our childish images of God collapse into fundamentalism. Many others will let go of these immature God-images, but only by rejecting the Divine Mystery altogether, retreating into a kind of anti-religious scientific positivism that has its own internal logical coherency but, as far as I can tell, seems to be consumed with bitterness and anger. When it comes to emotional tonality, Richard Dawkins has more in common with Jack Chick than he’d like to admit.
But what lies beyond mythical-literal religion and ideological atheism? Ignoring for now the rapidly-shrinking and theologically timid varieties of liberal Christianity, as well as the various consumer spiritualities that have emerged over the last fifty years (buy this crystal to enhance your aura), I believe that ultimately, the heart of any kind of sustainable post-fundamentalist religion can only be in what I call holy agnosis: the landscape of the Divine Mystery, where mythical religion need not be entirely dismissed but rather can be rehabilitated into a narrative of personal and collective transfiguration, even if its old truth claims must be re-evaluated in the light of science. But holy agnosis is not merely an arena where the truths of science finally triumph over the myths of faith; for this is likewise a forum where science must be evaluated not only in terms of its claim to truth, but also in terms of its efficacy in promoting what is good (nuclear bombs?) and what is beautiful (toxic waste?). In short, I believe holy agnosis requires science, and religion, and for that matter art. Knowledge in search of truth does not lead us to solid “things” to be grasped or an unchanging reality “out there” to be mapped, but rather functions as a tool for exploring the realm of unknowing, always with an eye to balancing truth with goodness and beauty. Fundamentalist religion will not long survive in this environment, any more than will ideologically dogmatic atheistic science. A more humble religion and a more humble science will find that they need each other, with art (which includes storytelling) functioning as the uniting element which will allow them to come together.
I called this post “The Epistemology of Post-Fundamentalism” not because I have any words of wisdom on such a topic, but mainly because I’m not sure how to promote a world where theists and atheists, both of whom know that they know “the truth,” can transcend their limited/partial perspectives and embrace the profound mystery that lies beyond the limits of their knowing. I wish I did, though: for the sake of everyone I know who is bitter and cynical because they’re tired of being “lied to.”
Who’s In Charge? (Purrrrrr….)
In honor of the recent news article from LiveScience.com that reports a study which has finally scientifically proven that cats control their “owners” (I put it in quotation marks because I think it’s a coin toss as to who really owns who), I’d like to commend to you this short little video which was produced a few years back, and which pretty much demonstrates a plain truth: that anyone who lives with a cat could have spared those researchers all their effort and money; we just know for a fact who’s boss.
Twenty Books I Want to Read
I’ve been tagged in yet another Facebook meme. This one asks me to list fifteen books that I would like to read. That seems to be a pretty cool list to draw up; in fact, it seemed worthy enough to publish to my blog as well as to Facebook. Of course, fifteen seemed impossible, so I have taken the liberty of listing twenty books.
So here goes. This list is presented alphabetically by title, and of course it represents only a tiny fraction of the books on my “to read” list. If you want to read any of these books yourself, follow the links to purchase a copy at Amazon.
At Swim-Two-Birds by Flann O’Brien — A legendary comic Irish novel that is said to be as much of a masterpiece as anything by Joyce or Beckett.- The Cloud of Unknowing with the Book of Privy Counsel: A New Translation by Carmen Acevedo Butcher — Dr. Butcher lives near Atlanta and is friends with my good friend Darrell, who says this new translation has helped him to fall in love with The Cloud all over again.
- The Complete Julian of Norwich by Father John-Julian, OJN — an annotated edition of Julian’s Revelation of Divine Love by the former superior of an Anglican contemplative order devoted to Julian.
- Consuming Jesus: Beyond Race and Class Divisions in a Consumer Church by Paul Louis Metzger — This book is one of several titles on my to-read list that connect the dots between the Holy Eucharist and the subversive promise of Christian social thought.
- Crunchy Cons: How Birkenstocked Burkeans, gun-loving organic gardeners, evangelical free-range farmers, hip homeschooling mamas, right-wing nature lovers, and their diverse tribe of countercultural conservatives plan to save America (or at least the Republican Party) by Rod Dreher — I might love this book or I might hate it, but either way I’m interested in the greening of the Republican party, which is what this book explores.
Deification and Grace: Introductions to Catholic Doctrine by Daniel A. Keating — deification is usually associated with Eastern Orthodoxy; this Catholic-oriented survey by a respected scholar (and published by a conservative press) looks interesting.- The End of Food: How the Food Industry is Destroying Our Food Supply—And What We Can Do About It by Thomas F. Pawlick — The politics of food production is something I think we all should be concerned about. It’s far beyond just being sure to buy organic: between GMOs and agribusiness, our health, our economy, and the ecology of the planet are all at risk.
- Faithful Dissenters: Stories of Men and Women Who Loved and Changed the Church by Robert McClory — A reminder that there’s more ways to be a good Christian than just blindly following the rules.
- The Gethsemani Encounter: A Dialogue on the Spiritual Life by Buddhist and Christian Monastics edited by Donald W. Mitchell and James Wiseman, O.S.B. — Christian-Buddhist dialogue emerging from a historic interfaith gathering of contemplatives at Gethsemani Abbey, where Thomas Merton lived.
- The Gifts of the Christ Child & Other Stories and Fairy Tales by George MacDonald — Recommended to me by the abbot of the Monastery where I work, the fiction of this 19th-century Scottish mystic is saturated with his Celtic, optimistic worldview.
God Speaks in the Night: The Life, Times, and Teaching of St. John of the Cross edited by Silvano Giordano, OCD et al.; translated by Kieran Kavanaugh, OCD — Lavishly illustrated biography of one of the Christian tradition’s greatest mystics, assembled by members of his Discalced Carmelite Order.- The Habit of Being: Letters of Flannery O’Connor by Flannery O’Connor, selected and edited by Sally Fitzgerald — Beneath the southern gothic weirdness of O’Connor’s fiction is an intelligent, perceptive, and devout Catholic artist, who shines through in this anthology of her correspondence.
- Inhabiting the Cruciform God: Kenosis, Justification, and Theosis in Paul’s Narrative Soteriology by Michael J. Gorman — There’s been quite a buzz about this book on Twitter; I’m particularly interested in it because it’s a Protestant exploration of deification.
- Joyce’s Book of the Dark: Finnegans Wake by John Bishop — I’m not sure if this book will make Finnegans Wake any more comprehensible, but it looks like a fun exploration of the mythic dreamscapes found within that most enigmatic of Irish novels.
- King of Mysteries: Early Irish Religious Writings by John Carey — anthology of the treasures of ancient Celtic Christian literature, edited by one of the most perceptive scholars of the field.
Merton & Hesychasm: The Prayer of the Heart (The Eastern Church) edited by Bernadette Dieker and Jonathan Montaldo — A generous anthology of writings by and about Thomas Merton, concerning his interest in Eastern Orthodox spirituality and the Jesus Prayer tradition.- Power, Gender, and Christian Mysticism by Grace M. Jantzen — Jantzen’s book on the theology of Julian of Norwich was wonderful, so I’m curious to see what she has to say about mysticism as a whole.
- Quest for the Grail by Richard Rohr — I love Rohr’s work on emergence Christianity and contemplation, so I figure I’d enjoy seeing what he has to say about masculine spirituality.
- Saving Paradise: How Christianity Traded Love of This World for Crucifixion and Empire by Rita Nakashima Brock and Rebecca Ann Parker — Not sure if I buy this book’s thesis or not, but I’m willing to give it a try: the authors argue that early Christian art (and, therefore, theology) was far more positive and life-affirming than the obsession with the crucifixion that emerged in the middle ages.
- Sex, Economy, Freedom and Community: Eight Essays by Wendell Berry — A book recommended to me by a spiritual director years ago, but which I never read: arguing for the link between authentic/healthy faith, community, small-scale agriculture, and living in harmony with the earth.
So there you go. Now, what’s your list?
Sorry, Mr. Weigel, the Cafeteria is Closed
I don’t normally venture into politics in this blog. I believe that contemplative prayer and Christian mysticism are for everyone, across the political spectrum. However, a blog post that I have just read, critiquing a prominent Catholic pundit who appears to have let his partisan politics cloud his assessment of Papal teaching, is, I believe, worth passing on, and contains a lesson for all of us.
George Weigel, who has made a career for himself exploiting the relationship between Catholic teaching and conservative politics, has shot himself in the foot, now that Pope Benedict XVI has issued an encyclical, Caritas in Veritate (Charity in Truth), which in part dares to challenge Mr. Weigel’s ideological right-wing political agenda. After praising Pope Benedict for years — ever since his days as Cardinal Ratzinger, in service to Pope John Paul II — now Weigel is suddenly attempting to deconstruct (and, thereby, discredit) the Pope’s message, blaming it on internal intrigue at the Vatican rather than simply rushing to defend it (which is what Weigel usually does, whenever a Papal document is sufficiently conservative). Thankfully, the blogosphere is taking him to task for this about-face, and none more eloquently than the Evangelical Catholicism blog, in this post: On the Sheer Implausibility of George Weigel’s Story.
As someone who has long been uncomfortable with the way that politically-conservative Catholics attack those who are left of center for alleged disloyalty to the church, it’s satisfying, if not entirely consistent with Christian charity, to see a prominent conservative get a dose of his own medicine.
Particularly illuminating are the comments that readers have left in response to the Evangelical Catholicism piece. I think this one pretty much says it all:
My less than charitable opinion of George Weigel has always been that he is 75% neocon and 25% Catholic with an unfettered ego bordering on arrogance. I believe this piece proves me correct. And don’t expect him to retract it. It would be much more in character for Weigel and his fans in the Neocon Alternate Universe to attack anyone who dares to attack him (for attacking the Pope).
Now, what is the lesson here? I believe that it is both foolish and unchristian to denounce our political (or theological) opponents for being defective in their faith. It’s one thing to say “I disagree with you, and here’s why,” but it’s another thing to say “Not only do I disagree with you, but you are therefore a bad Christian.” If we want to challenge one another’s politics, fine; if we want to critique each other’s theology, well, all’s fair in love and war (and blogging). But for too long now, when liberal and progressive Catholics dare to criticize church teaching or Papal pronouncements, the right has rushed to attack the left for being “disloyal” to the church. But by doing that, the conservatives have unwittingly painted themselves into a corner: for if a document like Caritas in Veritate comes along that displeases the right, how can conservatives critique it, without laying themselves open to the very charges of “disloyalty” that they have so frequently hurled at progressives?
The moral of the story: vigorous debate and thoughtful criticism are essential components of liberty — even in a hierarchical church. “You shall know the truth, and the truth will set you free” (John 8:32). But in order to serve God in truth and integrity, we all — regardless of our political position — need to refrain from applying double standards to our search for truth. Celebrating Papal teaching as beyond criticism when we agree with it, but then trying to explain it away when we don’t, simply doesn’t work — no matter how you vote.
Brad Culver on Mysticism
I’ve just stumbled across a pretty sweet looking blog by a guy named Brad Culver, Living Water From an Ancient Well.
Of particular interest is his post on Mysticism.
Wendell Berry on Christianity and Creation
The following quotation landed in my email inbox this morning from my good friend and co-conspirator Phil Foster, who in turn found it on Facebook… I traced it back to a wonderful website run by a Zen Quaker organic farmer in Virginia. The farm is called White Flint Farm and you can visit the website here. The quotation actually comes from an essay by Wendell Berry called “Christianity and The Survival of Creation” which can be found in his book Sex, Economy, Freedom, Community: Eight Essays. That’s when I had a “could’ve had a V8″ moment, complete with forehead-slapping. You see, a spiritual director of mine, back in the 90s when I was still an Episcopalian, recommended I read this book. Of course, I never did, more’s the pity. It would have been to my benefit to become familiar with Berry, who — based on this quote — is clearly a prophetic voice about Christianity’s responsibility to the environment. Anyway, it’s better late than never and so now I’m eager to (finally) read this book. Meanwhile, if you want to know what the fuss is about, here’s the quote:
“Despite its protests to the contrary, modern Christianity has become willy-nilly the religion of the state and the economic status quo. Because it has been so exclusively dedicated to incanting anemic souls into heaven, it has, by a kind of ignorance, been made the tool of much earthly villainy. It has, for the most part, stood silently by, while a predatory economy has ravaged the world, destroyed its natural beauty and health, divided and plundered its human communities and households. It has flown the flag and chanted the slogans of empire. It has assumed with the economists that “economic forces” automatically work for good, and has assumed with the industrialists and militarists that technology determines history. It has assumed with almost everybody that “progress” is good, that it is good to be modern and up with the times. It has admired Caesar and comforted him in his depredations and defaults. But in its de facto alliance with Caesar, Christianity connives directly in the murder of Creation. For, in these days, Caesar is no longer a mere destroyer of armies, cities, and nations. He is a contradictor of the fundamental miracle of life. A part of the normal practice of his power is his willingness to destroy the world. He prays, he says, and churches everywhere compliantly pray with him. But he is praying to a God whose works he is prepared at any moment to destroy. What could be more wicked than that, or more mad?
The religion of the Bible, on the contrary, is a religion of the state and the status quo only in brief moments. In practice, it is a religion for the correction equally of people and of kings. And Christ’s life, from the manger to the cross, was an affront to the established powers of his time, as it is to the established powers of our time. Much is made in churches of the “good news” of the gospels. Less is said of the gospel’s bad news, which is that Jesus would have been horrified by just about every “Christian” government the world has ever seen. He would be horrified by our government and its works, and it would be horrified by him. Surely no sane and thoughtful person can imagine any government of our time sitting comfortably at the feet of Jesus, who is telling them to “Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them that despitefully use you and persecute you…” (Matt. 5:44).
— Wendell Berry
A Call to Religious Life Worldwide
If you’re interested in the future of monasticism and other forms of consecrated religious life, read this article by Jose Maria Vigil, CMF: A Call To Religious Life Worldwide
Father Vigil argues that the collapse of religious life in Europe (and, by extension, in North and South America) is due not only to the secularization of society, but also to problems related to institutionalization: to excessive control by the church heirarchy and to the tendency that religious bureaucracy has to stultify prophetic and charismatic movements.
Even for those of us who are not “in” monastic or consecrated religious life, but who look to the traditions of monasticism and religious orders for our own spiritual guidance, there’s plenty to chew on here.
Dream wisdom
Last night I had a dream, and most of the details I now can’t recall. But I do remember that someone in the dream offered this nugget of wisdom:
In marriage, when you keep score, nobody wins. Frankly, that also holds true for miniature golf.
Mary and Martha Revisited
A friend of mine wrote me this note:
I struggle at times to see the point of non-mystic relationships with our Abba. I don’t want to judge but it feels as if mystics connect with God and all else is religion. Even as I prepare to go to a contemporary church service where many enjoy the worship and talking, I would rather just be somewhere quiet with my Source and Lover of my soul.
You’ve written somewhere on your website about the connection between mystics / contemplatives and INFP’s. Do we all connect with God in different ways and only a few of us are wired to be contemplative or are non-contemplatives living Martha lives busy doing for God instead of sitting at His feet?
Is it wrong to encourage others to this life because they are wired differently than me?
Here’s my reply:
My first thought is that I think we need to keep as broad a definition of “mysticism” as possible. My own spiritual director (a Trappist monk) has a very strong bias toward apophatic prayer, and I’m continually teasing/reminding him that the kataphatic path can be just as blessed by God. Based on what you’re saying, it sounds like you share my director’s natural affinity for the apophatic path. Alleluia. What is tricky, of course, is learning to accept those whose path is different from our own, especially when they seem to be hostile/critical in their assessment of our path.
As for your Mary/Martha question, I think the answer is “It depends.” Discernment is essential here. I do believe that even the most Martha person is occasionally called to Mary moments, and vice versa. If you come to the edge of a river and someone is drowning and there’s a rowboat with a life preserver there, “praying about it” is the wrong response. Those of us who are naturally apophatic/contemplative are continually being taught that loving service/work is a form of prayer — just as the natural activists have to learn that quiet contemplation is a form of action. I know this may sound like I believe ultimately we’re all called to some sort of uniform integration, but I don’t think that’s the case. The “Mary’s” of the world will always be more Mary than Martha, and vice versa. Incidentally, I believe that when Jesus tells Martha that “Mary has chosen the better part” it is NOT meant that contemplation is somehow “higher” than action — no matter what the Cloud of Unknowing says. Rather, I believe Our Lord is praising Mary for her presence and serenity — Mary could have been sitting there feeling guilty for letting Martha do all the work. Likewise, if Martha had been centered in joy as she served the guests, she too would have had “the better part.” Of course, I’m guilty of eisegesis here, and who knows, maybe Mary was a habitual slacker.
Back to you. I think the most telling statement in your letter is confessing your struggle to see “the point” of non-mystical religion. That’s worth investigating. I think several lines could be followed:
- Isn’t it possible that many people are what Thomas Merton called “masked contemplatives” — they engage in a contemplative practice without realizing it, or naming it as such? The Anglican theologian Martin Thornton wrote admiringly of the woman who got closer to God cutting up lettuce for a salad than did the monk busy with his Psalms and Rosaries (now there’s an inversion of the Mary/Martha story).
- Another thought is more evolutionary: today’s churchgoers are, at least potentially, tomorrow’s contemplatives. We don’t begrudge a seven-year old because they haven’t figured out calculus. Now, the problem with this analogy is that many churches try to inhibit the onset of contemplative consciousness, but that’s an obstacle to be overcome, not an ontology that can’t be avoided. And perhaps it’s up to us contemplatives to evangelize those who are only potential contemplatives?
- Finally, to quote my friend Bob Hughes, in his wonderful book Beloved Dust: “Indeed, because love of God cannot be seen reliably, the only visible measure we have for someone’s progress in the spiritual life is an increase of effective love for the neighbor.” In other words, God gives us people to love so that we can grow in both love of God & love of neighbor, and sooner or later this means learning to love those we see as hard to love or unlovable. For contemplatives, those who are frenetic and activist in their religious observance are often trying and tiring. But those are precisely the people God has made our neighbors. We have our marching orders…
As for your final question: no, I don’t think it’s wrong to speak of contemplation with others; as I say, maybe we are called to evangelize those who have not yet tasted refreshing waters found at the well of contemplation. But just as ordinary evangelists can backfire if they come on too strong, I think discretion is essential here. Maybe rather than encouraging others, we simply should be in the business of inviting them when we feel led to do so. And then leave the “encouraging” to the Holy Spirit. Also, I do think that learning to love non-contemplatives just as they are is a necessary pre-requisite to effectively sharing contemplative spirituality with them. If people get an intuitive sense that we’re trying to “fix” them or somehow make them more like us, they will naturally (and probably justifiably) defy our efforts, no matter how well-intentioned. As always, humility is a strong ally here.
I hope these thoughts are helpful in some small way. Stay in touch!
