An Undivided Life
An Undivided Life: Seeking Wholeness in Ourselves, Our Work & Our World
By Parker J. Palmer (interviewed by Tami Simon)
Boulder: Sounds True, 2009
Review by Carl McColman
Parker Palmer is a wise and gentle teacher, and his books — such as The Active Life and The Promise of Paradox — are hailed as important works of contemporary spirituality. Ostensibly a Quaker yet clearly transcending any kind of sectarian narrowness, Palmer brings the deep contemplative ethos of the Society of Friends to his own work.
Although I’ve enjoyed reading Palmer’s writing, I’ve found this audio series from Sounds True to be singularly rewarding as a glimpse into the mind and heart of this living spiritual sage. Like Ken Wilber’s Kosmic Konsciousness before it, An Undivided Life presents Parker Palmer in the context of an interview with Sounds True’s CEO, Tami Simon. For this reason, this audiobook has an unusually intimate quality about it, and functions not so much as a teaching program but rather as an unstructured, almost rambling conversation in which Palmer comes across like nothing so much as an old, trusted friend, who is willing to take the time to share his wisdom in a relaxed and unhurried way. As an added bonus, Palmer’s voice is rich, deep, and resonant with a sense of earthy insight. The result is a listening experience that is as delightful as it is enlightening.
The key concept here, the undivided life, lines up nicely with what Ken Wilber calls the integral vision or what Richard Rohr calls non-dual consciousness. A lifelong educator, Palmer speaks of the importance of personal integrity and the willingness to orient our lives toward the deepest truths we can find within ourselves — even when such an orientation might call us to walk a path with others may not understand or appreciate. By honestly and vulnerably sharing his own repeated experience struggling with depression, Palmer ably speaks of the many forces in our lives that can serve to “divide” ourselves, such as the tendency to pursue a career that is at odds with our deepest values and desires, merely because of social or familial expectations. True spiritual health is found in our efforts to knit all the disparate elements of our lives together in a single whole, even though sometimes this might mean moving deeply into the reality of paradox, or learning to live with the soul as a wild, untamed and even “shy” part of ourselves.
Palmer is a natural storyteller, and whether he is recounting the tale of John Woolman’s struggle to lead the Quakers to take a stand against slavery, or the darkness he experienced in his own nights of depression, he knows how to make a story effortless to listen to, even as he wrings meaning out of each narrative. After five hours of hearing him speak, I felt that, without promoting a particular religious perspective or philosophical agenda, his words had truly nourished my soul.
Mysticism in San Antonio
I’ve just now learned about a program that looks really wonderful: A consortium of organizations in San Antonio, TX, including the local chapter of Contemplative Outreach, the Oblate School of Theology, and a local Ecumenical Center, have joined forces to sponsor a three year program called Christian Mysticism: History, Wisdom and Insights. The program consists of a monthly series of Saturday morning sessions that include a presentation on a major mystic or school of mysticism from throughout the history of Christian spirituality, along with time for group discussion and the practice of silent prayer. They have quite an impressive array of presenters, including Ronald Rolheiser, Carl Arico, Wendy Wright, and Susan Muto. The program is not onerously expensive ($200 per year), and those who stick it out for three years will receive a thorough grounding in the sweep and grandeur of the Christian contemplative tradition.
Here’s the syllabus:
Year 1: Foundations to the Early Middle Ages
• Introduction to Christian Mysticism: The Mystical Jesus.
• Mysticism in the Hebrew Scriptures
• Mysticism in the New Testament: John and Paul
• Desert Fathers and Mothers
• Origen and Clement of Alexandria
• Augustine
• Cappadocian Fathers: Basil, Gregory Nazianzen, Gregory of Nyssa
• Benedict
• Celtic Spirituality: Matter Matters
Year 2: Christian Mysticism During the Classical Period
• Franciscan Spirituality
• Pseudo-Dionysius and Eastern Mysticism
• Meister Eckhart and John Ruusbroec
• Ignatius of Loyola
• Cloud of Unknowing and Julian of Norwich
• Dominican Spirituality (Dominic and Catherine of Siena)
• French Mystics (Francis de Sales, etc.)
• John of the Cross
• Teresa of Avila
Year 3: The Modern and Contemporary Period
• Russian Spirituality
• Protestant Mystics (the Quakers, William Law, etc.)
• Thérèse of Lisieux
• Psychology and Spirituality
• Simone Weil
• Thomas Merton
• John Main
• Bede Griffiths
• Christian Mysticism Today
While I don’t think it’s perfect (e.g. not enough attention paid to Eastern Orthodoxy, or to the Cistercians, the Beguines, or Guigo the Carthusian), it’s still an awesome syllabus, and I for one am jealous for not living in San Antonio. But maybe something like this could be put together in Atlanta. What do you think?
Here’s the website about the program: www.christianmysticismsa.org. If you live in San Antonio, I’d encourage you to sign up.
Beloved Dust
Beloved Dust: Tides of the Spirit in the Christian Life
By Robert Davis Hughes, III
New York: Continuum International Publishing Group, 2008
Review by Carl McColman
I’ve quoted from this wonderful book more than once in this blog. Now the time has come to write a more in-depth review of it. First, a disclaimer: I’ve known Bob Hughes since the late 1980s, when I managed the campus bookstore at Sewanee: The University of the South where Bob teaches theology. I learned a lot from Bob back then, and so I approached the book with the assumption that it would provide an in-depth examination of its topic. It more than lived up to my expectation.
As Bob himself put it, this book aims to be “the first fully constructive spiritual theology since before Vatican II.” Beloved Dust: Tides of the Spirit in the Christian Life begins with about seventy pages devoted to surveying the history of spiritual theology (also known in earlier times as mystical theology or ascetical theology), particularly unpacking the reasons why mysticism became marginalized after the Reformation, and why the entire discipline of spiritual theology more or less collapsed after Vatican II, largely because trends in ascetical theology in the early to mid-twentieth century were essentially rendered obsolete by the council. Of course, even if theologians and the church at large were not paying much attention to a theology of the Spirit, the Spirit himself (or herself, as Hughes clearly prefers the ancient Syriac rendering of the Holy Spirit as feminine) was on the move, as evidenced by the post-conciliar explosions such as the charismatic renewal, the interest in Christian meditation and centering prayer, the growth in oblate and lay monastic associations, and the increased (actually, emergent) interest among lay Christians in the writings of the classical mystics (of which my own work post-2005 is but a modest example). Hence, Hughes correctly discerned a need in the larger discourse of the Christian community: a survey of the issues and concerns related to the theology of the Holy Spirit, anchored in the tradition but fully engaged with the issues of our time. This is what Beloved Dust sets out to do. And while I may lack the academic knowledge or credentials to identify any specific scholarly weaknesses in Hughes’ argument, speaking as a layperson for whom spiritual theology is deeply relevant to my own identity and practice as a Christian, I’d say this book is not only a splendid compendium of the first two thousand years of Christian spiritual wisdom, but it offers plenty of food for thought to nourish us as we move forward into the third millennium. (more…)
Does Julian of Norwich ride MARTA?
My friend Jason Herman saw this recently at the Martin Luther King Memorial MARTA Station (MARTA is Atlanta’s public public transportation authority). In his words: “I found Julian of Norwich at the King Memorial MARTA station! Well, I guess they didn’t have the phrase ‘OK’ back then, but still… ‘All manner of things will be OK.’”
I find it rather amusing that this unlikely paraphrase of Julian’s most famous quotation would adorn a fire extinguisher — after all, Julian’s optimistic theology and visionary understanding of the love of Christ is only of the best “fire extinguishers” I know of.
Carolina Liar: Telling the Truth
Since I’m such a public radio junkie, I’m not too dialed in to popular music these days. But the other night I was in Publix and the song from the following video was playing over the store’s sound system and I had to stop and listen. Unless I’m really missing something, I’d have to say that this is one of the most spiritually honest songs I’ve heard in a while: kind of a rejoinder to U2′s “I still haven’t found what I’m looking for,” which — hard as it is to believe — is now a generation old. Spirituality starts with a gnawing yearning for what C.S. Lewis called “I know not what,” and I think this is a lovely statement of such ineffable desire.
Quote for the Day
A monastery can never be merely an escape from the world. Its very purpose is to enable us to face the problems of the world at their deepest level, that is to say, in relation to God and eternal life. Everything in the monastic life down to the deepest level has to be viewed from this angle.
— Bede Griffiths, The Golden String
The Word as Icon
During my tenure as an Episcopalian, some of my friends and I used to refer dismissively to Biblical fundamentalists as Bibliolators — those who make the Bible into an idol, worshiping it (and their particular way of understanding its words) rather than the Word of whom it testifies.
Nowadays I’m inclined to see such name-calling as not particularly useful (and not evidential of much in the way of Christian charity), but I continue to have some concerns about the human capacity to turn anything — even the Bible, even the church, even the Blessed Sacrament, anything — into an idol, misplacing our worship toward a thing that we think we can control, instead of toward the untameable, out-of-control God who is not only beyond all human capacity for manipulation, but who remains even beyond the limits of human thought and reason and imagination.
Let’s face it. Highly educated liberals can idolize their historical critical method or Jesus seminar skepticism as much as a relatively unsophisticated fundamentalist can idolize his or her naive reading of the text. So, in the spirit of Matthew 7:3-4, perhaps instead of worrying about how others might turn Sacred Scripture into an idol, I/we all need to focus our attention instead on how to approach the text so that it functions not as an idol, but as in icon.
If an idol diverts our worship away from the living God toward a useless cul-de-sac of superstition or imagined control, then an icon functions as a luminous “window onto heaven,” directing our gaze and our love through and beyond itself to that which can never be contained by anything of human design.
I think the key to understanding the difference between an idol and an icon lies in control. An idol is something we seek to control, whether consciously or unconsciously. We bargain with it, we perform superstitious rituals to gain favor with it, we decide that we have it all figured out. An icon, by contrast, is something we approach in poverty and humility, conceding that we cannot control it and instead open ourselves up to be changed, transformed, illumined by it. When we encounter the icon, we open our hearts because we seek to be made new by that Divine Mystery to which the icon directs us.
My prayer for myself, and you, and all people today is that we can encounter the words of the Gospel, indeed of all Sacred Scripture, as sacred icons, that directly reveal God’s glory (Colossians 1:15-20) or even that indirectly reveal it, by pointing out how we human beings ignore it (Psalm 137:8-9). May we be transformed by the Word that pulsates before, beneath and beyond the words.
Distinguishing Mysticism from Contemplation
Gary asks: “Christian mysticism, contemplative Christian spirituality, (pardon my naive position but are these different, similar or the same?)…”
Regarding the distinction between contemplation and mysticism: I do address this issue in my forthcoming book (can’t resist the plug), but briefly, I would say mysticism is an umbrella term for spirituality that engages the mysteries of the faith (and this is a pun, for the Eastern Orthodox Churches call the sacraments the “mysteries”), whereas contemplation is a form of prayer that emphasizes silence, the surrendering of discursive language as a means of communicating with God in favor of entering the Divine darkness — the mystery of God beyond what our finite human minds can fathom — what in the fourteenth century was deemed “the cloud of unknowing.” Anyone with a passing knowledge of mysticism will recognize what an essential role contemplation plays in any form of mystical spirituality, no matter how humble or ordinary.
So they are different in the sense that mysticism refers to a type of spirituality while contemplation refers to a type of prayer; yet they are similar in that contemplation is a mystical form of prayer. Meanwhile, I think because mysticism is, in the popular mind, so associated with supernatural/extraordinary experiences on the one hand, or with occultism or new ageism on the other, many Christians are naturally hesitant to apply this term to themselves. I agree, for much the same reason why it is bad form to call oneself a “shaman”: a calling that is inherently humble (i.e., self-forgetful) would naturally be evidenced most clearly in those who do not bother to claim the calling for themselves.
On the other hand, of course, is Rahner’s comment about the Christian of the future. But if we are all called to be mystics, doesn’t this mean we are all called to enter into the darkness of contemplation? I think so. And so, for this reason, while I don’t like to call myself a mystic, I am willing to speak of myself as a contemplative (or, perhaps, an aspiring contemplative), since I do yearn to encounter God in the space before, between and beyond my faltering thoughts. Classical ascetical theology distinguishes between infused contemplation (contemplation as gift from God) and acquired contemplation (contemplation freely chosen by the human being, in grateful response to God’s freely given grace). Furthermore, contemplation is related to unitive or nondual consciousness: the space beyond words is also the space beyond dualistic or oppositional thinking. While I think it is true that we attain that degree of consciousness only through grace, I also believe it is a level of consciousness available to everyone, and therefore attainable by those who are willing to embrace it (as Richard Rohr teaches, usually through great love, great suffering, or a sustained practice of contemplative prayer).
So I think it is not inappropriate to call ourselves contemplatives, as a way of affirming our intention to respond to the mystery of Divine Love by offering our own feeble attempt at love in return, in the empty places where human words always fail.
Yes I said Yes I will Yes
Okay, the only reason I’m quoting Molly Bloom in this post’s title is because I wanted a snappy way to say yes. But of course, I’m a James Joyce fan, so it only makes sense that Molly would show up in this blog from time to time.
My respondents to yesterday’s post (all seven of you, four more than I had hoped for) all seem to be urging me away from the idea of finding a single focus for this blog, and instead just embracing it all. Which, to be honest, is pretty much what I figured I would be doing anyway. And while Gary (an old friend from my home town church with whom I recently re-connected, thanks to Facebook) might see in Celtic Christianity, Interfaith Dialogue and Emergence Christianity a “trinity of topics,” I think I’ll just go ahead and up the ante — for really, the topical focus of this blog is a trinity of trinities:
- Contemplative topics: Cistercian spirituality, Christian mysticism, and Celtic wisdom;
- Active topics: Interfaith dialogue, emergence Christianity, and current events (particularly eco-justice concerns);
- Miscellaneous topics: Book reviews, family/personal notes, and announcements of upcoming classes, etc.
Perhaps a bit contrived, but I think it begins to shed a bit of light on the kinds of conversations that I find interesting and feel eager to initiate (or participate in).
But wait, there’s more. (more…)
For the Future
First, the good news: I have finally — after several delays and re-negotiated deadlines — submitted the manuscript for my “big book of Christian Mysticism” to my editor. Long-term readers of this blog will recall that I signed a contract to write this book almost two years ago, so it’s been a long road. The book is much different from what I originally envisioned — at first, I thought I would place a lot of emphasis on the historical mystics themselves, unpacking their life stories, contemplative experiences, and mystical writings. Eventually I gave up on that idea, not only because several other authors (such as Bernard McGinn and Louis Bouyer) have already done magisterial chronological surveys of mysticism, but also because I found too many other such books to be, quite frankly, dreadfully dull. I saw no point in pouring two years of my life into a book that would be just more of the same, just another historical overview of my topic, that would go from “New Release” to “Publisher’s Overstock” in just two years. So what I originally envisioned as being fully one third of the book was reduced to an appendix, merely a few pages long.
So the bulk of the book ended up eerily similar to the structure of Evelyn Underhill’s Mysticism: A Study in the Nature of and Development of Spiritual Consciousness, which, first published in 1911, will be almost a hundred years old when my book gets released. (more…)
A Kiss from Mom and a Lesson About Suffering
Early this morning I had a dream in which I was standing outside a building, like an officer’s club on a small military base. It felt like I was in Florida or somewhere else where the winters are mild. There may have been palm trees, but I’m not sure. What I do remember is that I stood outside the building, with tables and chairs all around me, as if this were a place where people can gather and share a meal. Perhaps there were a few others milling about; again, I don’t recall for sure, because what I was about to see took all of my attention. I saw, walking out of the building and toward me, a couple, holding each other arm in arm. They looked to be in their early seventies. He was in full officer’s dress, and looked quite smart, even for his age. She, however, was head to toe in white.
It was Mom and Dad.
For those who are reading this and do not know, my Mom died at 83 following a stroke and a battle with vascular dementia. It’s been two and a half years since she passed, and my Dad, now 86, is in a nursing home, ravaged with Parkinson’s disease and Parkinson’s-related dementia, which has left him confused and his frail body confined to a wheelchair. Thankfully, he always seems to be in a good mood when I visit him, and everyone who knows him marvels at his serenity in the midst of such a debilitating illness.
Back to my dream, where Mom and Dad seemed to be as they were some 15 or so years before Mom’s death, retirees but strong and vigorous. Mom had padding on one knee, perhaps a playful twist from my subconscious, as the last Christmas I saw her before her stroke she had an injured knee and was walking with a cane. But other than that, they both looked great.
They came up to me, and swept me into a three-way hug. I was filled with joy not only at how good they looked, but at their obvious love for each other and for me.
Mom kissed me and said something like, “Oh, Carl, it’s so good to see you!”
I pulled a little back so I could cherish the delicious joy of seeing her. I said, “Well, Mom, it’s good to see you.” And then, acknowledging that this was a lucid dream, I said, “You’ve shown up in my dream!”
Dad was silent, but smiling. We continued to hold each other, the three of us. I jerked my head in his direction, still looking at my mother, and I said, “Mom, when are you going to talk Dad into coming to be with you?”
She answered me with a confident and serene voice, so unlike her rather childish singsong that became her trademark as dementia had taken its toll on her. “I know, honey. He’ll come when he’s ready.”
Dad interjected, “Son, I’m fine, I’m fine.”
I turned to look at him, and yes, he did look fine, dashing almost in his officer’s uniform.
“But Dad, I don’t like watching you suffer.” No point in being anything but honest here.
“It’s okay, really.” He looked me square in the eye as he said this, and his eyes were dancing with light.
“But, Dad —”
“Look,” he said, cutting me off. “I’m never going to go his way.”
That’s when the dream faded. (more…)
The Table of Contents
Okay, so here’s the Table of Contents for A Big Book of Christian Mysticism — as it currently stands. Everything, and I mean everything, about the book is subject to change: the title, the names of individual chapters, the way the book is organized, etc. But with that disclaimer in mind, I thought it would be fun to share this with you guys. Now, obviously, some of these chapter titles are more poetic than descriptive: for example, “Wood, Water & Wine” is a chapter about day to day living the contemplative life, using the Zen tale of “Chop Wood, Carry Water” and the story of the miracle at the wedding in Cana of Galilee (changing water into wine) as its guiding metaphors. And in case anyone is wondering, the dark night of the soul is explored in that chapter (and theosis is explored in “The Heart of the Mystery”). Okay, those are all the hints I’m going to drop. Have fun!
PREFACE & ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
PART ONE: THE CHRISTIAN MYSTERY
1: THE PROBLEMS WITH MYSTICISM
2: LOVE IN A BOTTLE
3: HOW MYSTICISM BECAME CHRISTIAN
4: THE EVOLUTION OF CHRISTIAN MYSTICISM
5: CHRISTIAN MYSTICISM AND WORLD MYSTICISM
6: WHY MYSTICISM MATTERS
7: THE MYSTICAL PARADOXES
8: CHRISTIANITY’S BEST KEPT SECRET
PART TWO: THE CONTEMPLATIVE LIFE
9: THE MYSTICAL BODY
10: A CONTEMPLATIVE APPROACH TO THE CHURCH
11: EMBRACING THE PATH OF HOLINESS
12: THE JOURNEY THAT ISN’T A JOURNEY
13: LECTIO DIVINA
14: THE HEAVENLY CONVERSATION
15: PRAYER BEYOND WORDS
16: WOOD, WATER AND WINE
17: THE HEART OF THE MYSTERY
APPENDIX A: THE COMMUNION OF MYSTICS
APPENDIX B: A CONTEMPLATIVE READING LIST
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Mark your calendars: retreats next summer
I’ve confirmed dates for two weekend retreats that I will be will be co-conducting at the guesthouse of the Monastery of the Holy Spirit in Conyers, GA. Mark your calendars — I hope to see you there! For more information including registration information, click here. The Monastery Website still has the 2009 schedule online, but if you email the registrar at the retreat house, you could go ahead and make reservations for these retreats. They both filled up this year, so they probably will again next year.
June 4-6, 2010:
Spiritual Writing and Journal Keeping
(with Fr. James Behrens, OCSO)
Explore your personal connection between the inner life and the written word. This weekend includes time for silence, for journaling, and for reflections on the relationship between writing and the spiritual life. Suitable for professional and amateur writers at all skill levels, this weekend does not include personal criticism or feedback. Instead, it simply creates a space where you can write, you can pray, and perhaps even combine the two into a unified spiritual practice. New for 2010: the weekend will include breakout sessions – one for bloggers & journalists, the other for professional (and aspiring professional) writers – where writers with similar goals and interests can gather to share ideas and experiences.
July 23-25, 2010:
Wisdom of the Christian Mystics
(with Fr. Tom Francis, OCSO)
From the Desert Fathers to Julian of Norwich to Thomas Merton, Christian history is filled with stories of men and women who experienced a profound sense of God’s presence in their lives. Can the teachings of the mystics still speak to us today? The mystics themselves would say “yes” – and furthermore, that their message is not just for priests or monks or nuns, but is indeed meant for the entire people of God. With this in mind, during this weekend we will look at several ways in which the wisdom of the Christian mystics can provide insight and inspiration for our age. This will include the universal call to holiness – St. Paul ‘s directive to “pray without ceasing,” and the promise from the Psalms to “be still and know God.”
Currently, I only have one other weekend confirmed for 2010: the weekend of October 30-31, 2010, when I am scheduled to be in Portland, Oregon, appearing at several events over the course of the weekend (times and locations to be announced).
Meanwhile, are you interested in having me come to speak to your church or organization? If so, please contact me (my email/snail mail information is located in a widget to the right of this blog). I’ll be happy to design a program to support your community’s needs, on topics related to Christian mysticism and contemplation, Celtic spirituality, interfaith dialogue, the spirituality of stewardship for the earth, or a related concern. Please contact me with any questions.
This is embarrassing…
I’ve had a quotation go mildly viral online. But the embarrassing bit is, I don’t remember where I said it! In a book? Online? In an interview? Eek. I have no clue. Fortunately, it’s a positive quote, and it does sound like something I’d say, so I have no doubt that it’s really me. I just don’t remember when the words first left my mouth (or my fingers). Here’s the quote:
We live our relationships not through terrific planning but simply by being present with the ones we love. This is true whether the loved one is another person – or God.
It’s been picked up by marriage enhancement websites, usually attached to a paragraph encouraging spouses to be more intentional about spending quality time together. Of course, my original point was about the main purpose of contemplative prayer, but certainly this quote is just as meaningful on the strictly human level.
It’s too long to be a Twitter Tweet, so at least I can rule that possibility out.
Anyone have any ideas where I said this first?
Gee, I must be getting old! 
The Contemplative Fantasia
Last night I posted a video to one of my favorite Contemporary Christian songs, “Speak to Me” by Rebecca St. James. But you know, if you want contemplative music, it doesn’t get much better than this:
In 1986 I saw the National Symphony perform Vaughan Williams’ Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis at the Wolftrap Performing Arts Center, a gorgeous outdoor amphitheater located in the rolling hills of Virginia not far from Washington DC. It was 16 of the loveliest minutes of my life. While this Youtube video goes nowhere near to the splendor of hearing this music performed in a beautiful outdoor setting, it nevertheless gives you a taste of just how evocative of deep prayer lovely music can be — particularly music from the hands of two of England’s finest composers, Thomas Tallis from the sixteenth century and Ralph Vaughan Williams, four centuries his junior. I commend this music to you both as something to accompany the reading of great mystics like Evelyn Underhill or Julian of Norwich, but also — and especially — as worthy of your undivided attention. It will be sixteen minutes well spent.
“Unveil My Heart, Let Me Know You”
A lot of contemporary Christian music is simply garden variety praise and worship music, perfectly fine for what it does — but generally so kataphatic that it doesn’t have much of a contemplative focus. But there are a few exceptions. Check out this song from an early album by the Australian singer Rebecca St. James:
It has an authentically contemplative vibe. I particularly like the line “Unveil my heart, let me know, know you” — for even a cursory knowledge of Christian mysticism reveals that a truly contemplative knowledge of God comes through the heart (and love) rather than through the mind & cognition.
